I Hate Myself For This

but I am strangely drawn to that new Hilary Duff song. It goes something like "Wake up, wake up/On a Saturday night/something something something/Maybe Tokyo!" Ok, I've clearly butchered it, but you've more than likely heard it. Be thankful I'm not standing right next to you, because I would attempt to sing it, which would more than likely further confuse you. (I'm tone deaf more than you ever believed was possible. I'm like, case study tone deaf. I'm like, are your vocal chords congenitally defected tone deaf. I'm like, are you sure you're human because you don't sound like it tone deaf.)

No, I'm not going to say I love the song. Yes, I know I'm falling in love with a lot of things these days, but I have limits, too. Very undefined, spotty limits, but limits nontheless. I watched the video this morning (they play it every morning) and she's an attractive girl, no doubt. (Again, not in love with her.) She's got this weird bobbing thing going on with her head in it, though. Like she's one of those bobble head dolls. You know, those dolls with the small bodies and huge heads that are constantly moving back and forth? Yeah, one of those. Something I like about the video is all of her different get-ups, particularly the wig. It's getting me geared up for the wig and moustache party/pub crawl that will be taking place this Friday. Isn't that a fantastic idea? A gang of us will descend upon the bars in Boston, each of us wearing either a wig or moustache. That's just crazy! I can't wait to try and pick up guys with facial hair. I really can't.

Netflix, I love you.

Oh, me. Falling in love with the Netflix. Well, something's gotta replace the new love interest void in my life. Cut me some slack! I know I'm falling in love with inanimate objects these days- first the Dr. Pepper and now the Netflix. But, baby steps, people! Baby steps! I will never be ready to plunge into hair pulling/mind consuming/every song could be dedicated to him(her?)/I want to talk to you for 4 hours every night on the phone/passionate lovemaking love- unless I teach myself to love again first.

Step 1 is with inanimate objects.

Perhaps, Step 2 will be with animals. Don't be dirty! No, not with like a donkey or goat or something. With a fuzzy kitty or potbelly pig or something along those lines.

Back to my new love. The new (or not really that new anymore) Friends feature on Netflix is divine and fun. I can keep up with all of the movies my friends are watching. Not only that, I'm able to see what they thought of the movies via the 5 star rating system AND if they jotted any comments down about the movie (their "2 cents"). It's fantastic! It helps me feel connected to all of my friends spread across the States. Often, I'll place a movie in my queue after I've noticed they've placed it in theirs, then we're able to discuss the movie while it's still fresh in our minds. What's better than that? Nothing, that's what. Because I LOVE movies. Yeah, baby!

Hey, if you want to be my Netflix friend, bring it on! Dude, I will totally add you. Drop me a line.

Everything they do is so dramatic and flamboyant. It just makes me want to set myself on fire!

Drama, drama, drama. Oh, those museum types. Always getting their panties in a wad. It seems the yachts on the front lawn of the MFA are stirring controversy. Yes, they're commercial and for the uber-rich. But, I also think they're fantastic and spicy. Hell yeah, they grabbed my attention. They're fucking huge! And so...blatant. Honestly, it may be the closest I ever get to one, so I find them fascinating and dramatic. That's worlds better than being stuffy and endlessly the same, MFA.

To The Birds in Downtown Crossing Eating Mashed Up Bits of Chocolate Chip Cookies and Croissants

That's bad for you. Stop.

"I know how to spell, Mother"

I have been a poo pooer of a blogger lately. I'm an easily distracted person, so please forgive. Let's see, what's going on with me? I'm drinking another Dr. Pepper, that's one thing. I bought a 12 pack. I feel like Buster with the J-U-I-C-E. I've been rewatching the 1st season of Arrested Development and I seem to be relating my entire life to the show as a result. Mmmmm, you know who I like? That Jason Bateman. Mmmmhmmmm. I like him a lot. I can't believe I'm writing this on my blog. What about when I become famous? This will be so embarassing when it's brought up in the tabloids.

You know who else drinks Dr. Pepper like it's water? I'll give you 5 gazillion guesses. You know, I actually know someone who literally tries to guess whenever I say that to him. And not just a couple of guesses. He will guess and guess and guess and guess and guess and guess and guess and guess and guess and guess until he gets it correct. Or, more than likely, until I have to yell the answer to him out of sheer frustration. Isn't that crazy? I mean really, isn't that just not done? It's not a thinking game! It's a rhetorical question! Am I right or am I right? Crazy man. Oh, the correct answer is my dad.

I love Dr. Pepper.

It makes me happy.

The Day Has Begun Ominously

My judgement has broken down and I have scarfed a sausage mcmuffin washed down with a Dr. Pepper. This can not be a good sign of the outcome of future decisions today.

That pregnant lady is drinking a glass of wine! What a crazy pregnant lady!

HA HA!!

I was trying to take pictures of my freshly cut mullet, but you can't see it. This is the second time I have ended up with an unrequested mullet after visiting a hair salon. I must just speak a foreign language when I talk to my hairdressers. Do they just look at me and say, "Oh, no. No. She does not KNOW what she is talking about. I will not listen to her anymore. See, I will give her a BEAUTIFUL mullet. She will LOVE it. Oh, yes Yes!"

So, I have a mullet. Did you hear that, world? I HAVE A MULLET!!! And then, to rub salt, vinegar, soy sauce, the whole freaking baking aisle into my wound- she styled it into some...er....thing. This crazy, teased to the sky, wasp's nest catastrophe. I went from beyond the land of the annoyed into downright giggling. It was just too funny. I couldn't wait to show my friends, actually. I had to walk down Newbury back to my car and, without a doubt, I got some looks. Probably because I seem normal enough from the neck down. Even in the face, actually. No garish makeup or the like. But the hair. Lordy, the cotton candy teased mullet hair. But, you know what? I'm going to own this hair. Yep. I'm through with wallowing in self pity about my inability to communicate with people with scissors. I'm going to look people straight in the eye. I will know what they're thinking. And they will know that I know what they're thinking.

And I will giggle.

My Mask is a Sweater Vest, Which I Hide Behind in a Hollow Attempt to Blend Into this Society Called "Office"

I'm D-Y-I-N-G today. Just dying. I almost dropped to the floor and napped mid-sentence while talking to my boss. I was falling in and out of consciousness at my desk, which is fine. No harm, no foul there. But, then, I had to answer the phone and get up to tell him who was calling. Instead of waking me up, these actions somehow made my body even more sleepy. So, my eyes were doing funny things as I spoke to him. I ended up staring very intently at him, in order to appear awake. I'm sure it did not go unnoticed.

So, I'm just back from Peet's. Yes, the cute 20-25 year old was there. I avoided eye contact. I am wearing a sweater vest. And to make me feel even more old, the iced coffee is perking me up. My body has to be cajoled into acting alive. It doesn't do it naturally anymore, clearly. In high school, I remember bursting through every morning with a bounce in my step and yelling the lyrics of Freedom '90 (George Michael, natch) out my driver's side window all the way to school. Ok, maybe I'm being a little revisionist here. Not about the George Michael, but about the bursting. I was voted Most Tardy after all.

There's a Mexican restaurant on the first floor of my office building called Andale. I pass it every time I go to Peet's, so I pass it daily. And every time I see it, I imagine a little mouse with a sombrero running by waving his hands in the air. I think he's one Mexican I have a lot in common with. He's very excitable and runs from one thing to the next getting super worked up about everything. How ADD of him. Speaking of my heritage, I've also been reading Paz's Labyrinth of Solitude. In it, he psychoanalyzes the Mexican character. A lot of the traits he expounds on I tend to identify with too, but they're traits that are pretty general. It's kind of like reading your horoscope. Basically, he says we wear masks and like to party a lot. I am QUITE the Mexican.

Speaking of Quality Films and Bow Wow...

I'm A Really Nice Person With Good Taste

I'm planning on taking a trip to the ICA tomorrow. It being free and all after 5 pm. One of my Wellesley friends is joining me. I recently discovered she's a big arts fan, too. I'm super excited about being able to discuss art with someone. Back in LA, people were more slanted toward that front. Here in Boston, well, my roommate's friends are all science people and essentially clueless about these things. Not to mention, they go watch movies like The Island on opening night. Wait a sec, I just realized something. I'm being snobby! I am acting like a full on snob right now. But...but...they have bad taste! I mean, that's just an obvious fact, right? I can't pretend that I don't poo poo on their choices and their complete lack of art awareness. But, (and here is where I redeem myself) I still hang out with them. See, how nice I am to still be friends with them? That almost makes me an even better person, really.

Blog Rap

I'm in love with Lil Bow Wow and I can't help myself. It's so wrong. I made myself an extra 5 unnecessary minutes late this morning to watch his new video Let Me Hold You. Oh, Lil Bow Wow, er I mean, I see you're going by just Bow Wow now, I will let you hold me down like a good man's supposed to. How old are you now? 15? 18? At any rate, without a doubt, you're bigger than me. It's pretty much guaranteed, if you're over the age of 12, you're bigger than me. So, if I was a rapper, I should be Lil Cee Dee. Wait, that's bad. That sounds like seedy. I would NOT want to be referred to as Lil Seedy. That's like the worst rap name in the history of the world.

You know, I actually did used to be a rapper. Swear to god, hand on my heart. My adopted name was La Carmen. Sorta bringing it back to my latina roots, if you know what I mean. I was part of a rapper group, kind of like Salt n Pepa, except our names weren't as complimentary. Hers was Gizette. La Carmen and Gizette. She's a whitey and who am I kidding, I'm a whitey, too. So we were Northern State before there was Northern State. Except not as good. Thankfully, we didn't try to lay down any politically correct science. We took our cues from the usual bragging and hooking up stories ubiquitous in rap. We mostly wrote stuff about guys trying to get with us and us being too good for them. Because ain't that the truth! I'm bummed, but I can only remember one couplet from all of our raps:

Admist the confusion stand La Carmen and Gizette
And believe me baby, you ain't seen nothing yet

Oh yeah.

Blogeoke Posteoke

Why can’t they have this stuff here? If there’s one thing I’ve noticed since my return to Boston, it’s that this is no movie town. Well, my lucky L.A. bff got to check out the movie theater/lounge/nightclub hybrid on Saturday. I need to check back in with her to see how successful the place is. But I don’t see how you can go wrong with a combination of a full bar, movies, and dance music. That is just win, win, win, win, win, win, win. It’s a wet dream, really.

As most y’all know, I’m headed to Austin very soon for ACL. WOOOHOOO! ROCK ON! KICK ASS! Oh, sorry. I get inappropriately excited about it every time it’s mentioned. And I’ve heard that the best get-your-drink-on-and-chow movie theater IN THE WORLD (ok, not the world, just the states) is in laid-back, liberal arty, paradoxically capital of Texas, Austin. So, I’m all over it. Like nacho cheese on chips, baby. I was checking out their site and noticed they have this thing called videoke. Which evidently is already a fine art in New York. Pretty trippy and- I’m being perfectly honest here- the exact way I’d want to spend my Saturday nights. Fuck lame bars and cheesy clubs. Bring on the hops and the dead on interpretations of Some Kind of Wonderful and Zoolander. It would take a lot of courage for me to force my untested acting abilities on others. Although, my tone-deafness surely ain’t stopping me from the karaoke. Now that I think about it, I think I could really do service to the intro scene of Bridget Jones. The one where she's shitfaced and alone in her pjs and singing her heart out to sad FM/easy listening for the over 30s. As a matter of fact, I've been rehearsing that scene most of my adult life.

Get Dressed Poker

Oh, we women. It wasn't enough to just have poker faces. We also had to have poker fabulous hair.

Guys take note: poker is more fun with funny things on your head.

Insane # of people. Oh, this is the Coldplay concert, by the way.

Ashbloem's pantomimic interpretation of whistling while drinking through a straw.

Impressive. Very impressive.

Good times

Friday Night

Dude, I was TIRED yesterday. So tired, all I could do was sit on my couch and watch television. But the programming was disappointing. Seeing as how I currently have American Psycho and Harold and Maude as my at home Netflix movies, both of which I've seen already, I had to take matters into my own hands and actually go out and physically enter a video store to rent movies. I usually do this whenever I've been drinking and am in no mood for the quasi-intellectual fare I normally order from Netflix.

Although in my pj bottoms and a VERY LARGE shirt- a shirt that would fit Godzilla probably, I threw on a windbreaker thinking it somehow made my ensemble presentable, and hopped into my new 3rd world country loaner car. I don't think I've mentioned my loaner car yet. It's some brand of Mazda made in the early 90s that is missing many things: a.c., hubcaps, horn, tail light, etc., etc. We adopted it from a friend of ours who just bought a shiny new Liquid Night Mini. (I don't think Liquid Night is the official name of the color, but it should be.) Since my boyfriend...err I mean roommate...oh what the hell! I'm so confused...has a car his parents drove down from Illinois for him, I am the lucky driver of the aquamarine, 4-door, time bomb. One feature I do love about the car is that at whatever turn I make, even if it's at .2 miles per hour, the car makes a peeling sound, like I'm about to chase after the bad guys or something. Awesome.

At Video Underground (http://www.thevideounderground.com/) (I'm using the mac and can't add links for whatever reason), I rented Arrested Development, Bridget Jones, and the anime feature AKIRA (for the roommate). If you check out the store's site, you'll notice it's actually a quite cool little place. When you walk in you immediately feel the indie vibe, ot to mention all of the employees look like they're members of rockabilly or emo bands.

I cracked my shit up watching the Bluths and Bridget. Sometimes, drinking at home, scrawled on the couch in your pjs, is the absolute best time ever.

Waking Up at 11 is Most Fabulous

Notyomomma Made A Film!

I made the most laughable, fantastic piece of 'art' last night. It is so fab. It's kind of along the lines of German Expressionism. Or Dieter. In other words, I'm wearing a black turtle neck and I don't smile. It is titled "If This Isn't Art, I Don't Know What Is."

I do not lie.

There it is!

Biopsy Tale

The nurse asked me, “Have you ever had a blistering sunburn?”

“If I have, it hasn’t been since I was a kid.”

“(Sigh.) Have. You. Ever. Had. A. Blistering. Sunburn.”

“I guess not.”

“Do you normally use novocaine for dental work?”

“I haven’t been to the dentist (extended self-aware pause) in a number of years.”

“(Sigh.)”

“Rosacea, eczema, rashes, ringworm, psoriasis?”

“No, thank you.” Or, the response I wish I’d said. I can’t blame the nurse for not liking me, though. I actually called in my visit to the dermatologist today as a last ditch effort to avoid work. Who can blame her for hating her job, too?

Ok, I admit, I actually kinda had a bonafide reason to be there. See, one of my moles was growing a tail. I don’t know if it decided it was disobeying the laws of gravity for too long or it thought it would be neat to meander down my arm or it’s punishing me for all those sessions in the evil manmade uv ray machine. I won’t know for a week, actually, if my body is angry with me or just being decorative.

Everything happened so fast. One moment, my dermatologist is telling me about her dad living on a sailboat in Tahiti and the next thing I know, she’s scooping a 4mm pit out of my arm. Voila! I am now the bearer of two mean looking stitches. If my sleep deprived boyfriend wasn’t using my phone as an alarm (I think he’s up to 4 alarms now- note to world: being a doctor sucks), I would take a pic.

The 6 Different Ways I Can and Do Spell Federal Express

fedex
Fedex
Fed-ex
Fed-Ex
fed ex
Fed Ex

Hustle and Flow: The 5 Second Review

Not as great as the 81% led me to believe. Not to mention, I was more than beguiled by its commercials. Very good commercials. I thought it would be more arty. It had a blaxploitation vibe to it. However, it was a pretty paint by numbers story. It did manage to rise above that a bit, but in the end, the story kept it as more rentable than worthy of the price of admission.

Today's Presentation to the World

Hair: Parted in middle. Overly whispy. 3 months overdue for haircut.

Attire: Beige collared shirt. Pink belt. Black sweater vest. Gray slacks which drag on floor behind me (note to self: grow six inches). Single buckle sandals. Hot pink toenails.

Makeup: Moisture replinisher for eye area. Lip balm.