Aaaah, More Drunk Picture Blogging

Yet More Evidence That I Am Very, Very Lazy

This is my sorry first attempt at a Halloween costume, actually worn to costume parties this past weekend. What am I? Lazy, that's what I am. No, really. Look, I'm wearing my pjs.

On an out and about note, the tea house I'm in, Cha Fahn, is fucking awesome. The ambiance rocks, the tea kills, and the sake blows your mind. All in my little corner of the world, Jamaica Plain.

Super Avoider! Look At Her Run Away! With Such Skill!

This is one of my friends who gets very excited whenever I attempt to take his picture and does things like pull his hat over his face. He's a very lithe guy. Lately I've been wondering, if we wrestled, who would be able to take the other down. I actually really considered this. Something along the lines of a Superman v. Batman fight, but on the complete opposite end of the spectrum. More like Strawberry Shortcake v. Rainbow Brite. I was even going to ask him his thoughts. Then I realized I was being slightly, ok, outright delusional. I couldn't even take my grandmother down. I am SO LAME in the wrestling/fighting/physical maneuvering/any confrontation at all department. Can Extremely Weak be considered a superpower? Or how about Fight Avoider? That could be my superpower! I always manage to squirm my way out of every confrontation. That's a skill, people.

The Moral Is: Don't Ever Have An Orgy Without Including The Head

Mmmmm. Dramatic clouds are greeting me out of my 17th floor window. They make everything feel so much more momentous. I took the day off yesterday, so I'm really relaxed and feel like I have all of the time on the world. Know what I did this morning? I went to the gym! Aaaaaaah! I'm totally serious. My booty woke up at 5 am. The plan was to get up at 4 am, but I have this affliction wherein no matter what time I set my alarm, I will invariably snooze for exactly one hour. Not 45 minutes. Not one hour and 20 minutes. One hour. Weird, huh? Or, rather, pretty lazy, huh?

Sometimes I like to think of my life as a fable or, better yet, a great Grecian myth. Something like one of the gods wanted to have sex with me, but I refused- or no!- I was in an orgy with like 5 other well endowed gods and busty females and the head god got jealous, so I have been banished into this cube to live out the remainder of my days. Forced to amuse myself within these windowed walls, with nothing but the internet to entertain and educate me.

This is cookies made up to look like cat shit. Or so I was told they were cookies. I wasn't brave enough to try it. Although, I did attempt to force everyone else to eat it. Cause I'm cool like that. Anyway, isn't that the most FANTASTIC idea? Cat shit! People eating it!

These are little apple shrunken heads.

Here I Am

amusing myself with my blog on a Friday afternoon. What can I unload upon the vacuous and cluttered internet in 40 minutes? Oh, I don't know. I'm powerless with my blog. Or, ineffective is more exact.

I've tried to be productive this week. I added some narration to my latest short. But that was done Sunday. Maybe that doesn't really qualify. But, I've listened to it a few times since then, and you know what? It's got to go. Because you know why? It's freaking embarrasing. Not that most of my stuff isn't. But this whole new world of voice over is something I have not come close to mastering. When I narrated, I watched myself on the short and kind of commented on what I was doing. Saying things like, "Maybe I'll stand up now" as I watch myself stand up. I KNOW! What was I thinking?! Why was I narrating what was CLEARLY visible on the screen? I am so defenseless. For some reason, at the time I thought it was very transgressive. But now I realize, oh no. No, no.

I be silly.

Bad Nation, Bad Holiday

I was one of only five people forced to work on Monday, the sacred Columbus holiday of our country. I never, ever realized people literally celebrated (read: get the day off of work) this holiday until I moved to Boston. Boston is down with every single national holiday in the book. Veteran's Day? Hell yeah! You, your mother, and her dog will have the day off. Except for sad, little, admittedly wanting in national spirit, me. But I don't begrudge YOU for this, so I will move on.

I did partake of some actual celebrating. Albeit of the very tedious, boring, stuffing of food variety. Did you know "Columbus Day" is pronounced "Thanksgiving" in Canada? Since I have a Canadian friend who has become recently invigorated about throwing house parties, a big group of us were invited to celebrate. When I received the invitation, I replied with a quick "YesI'llbethereandI'llbringcorn!" In other words, I was excited from the get go. Me and a couple of others even got more in the spirit of things and placed feathers from a duster in our hair and painted unintentionally ugly markings on our faces in red paint. And, I wasn't doing these things only to be cute. I was preparing for something. I didn't know exactly for what, but definitely something. From previous experience, the Thanksgivings I end up sharing with friends usually rank among the highlights of each year. There was one most fantastic Thanksgiving where I nearly made out with my gay roommate, but later found him licking his boyfriend's nipples on the dancefloor. Now, that was a good time. (Ok, that might be a very subjective opinion.) However, within 10 minutes of us arriving, I realized this affair was going to be a very sorry exception. This was a party hosted by, and entirely consisting of, dare I utter the word?...Adults! Or, adults behaving like adults, or however you want to phrase it. What I'm trying to say is, the only things that welcomed me when I walked through the door were bland conversation, excessive politeness, and, ok, I have to admit, really good food.

Bwaaaaaaah! How did this happen?! Damn you, 30th birthday! I knew this is where you were leading me. We all sat around making inoffensive conversation and peeling ourselves off of the leather couch every hour to refill on 5,000 more calories of carbs until it was time to go home. Isn't that horrible? Can you think of a worse way to spend an evening out? I think not.

I love stuff like this.

Oh My God!

I just got the most horrible picture cd back from CVS. Not because my pics are bad. Nooooooo. Because they digitized the pictures at the wrong cut off points. Can you believe it?! So sketch. Each picture is cropped off on the left side and has part of the next picture attached to its right side. How horrible.

Be forewarned.

Us Kids Know

Have you ever had to stop everything you're doing just to listen to a song? This happened to me on the subway this morning. I felt a little queer, suddenly crunching down the newspaper I was reading, grabbing my ipod and cranking the music up. Then sitting there with eyes half closed, swaying my head from side to side, lost in reverie land. I realized everyone on the train could probably tell I was obsessed with the song I was listening to. I couldn't help it, though. Arcade Fire does this to me now. I loved their cd to begin with, but watching their concert brought them to a whole new level in my eyes. I had heard good things about their live show, so I was ready for a good time, but really nothing could have prepared me for the visceral response I felt. They are officially now one of two on my favorite bands list.

I'm too lazy and generally distracted to describe the concert in minutiae or visually at all, really. But I will tell you this- I don't normally rock out at concerts. Yes, I dance and enjoy myself, but I don't, I don't know, move in tandem with the beats swirling like waves through my being. Or something like that. It fucking rocked, is basically what I'm trying to say. The very first song mesmerized me. So, I pretty much stood there with my eyes wide like saucers and my mouth hanging open in dumbfounded amazement. Then, with each passing song, my energy elevated into a complete loss of self-awareness and utter sensory enjoyment.

Did You Know?

I used to be so poor when I lived in LA:

-that I used to steal toilet paper from my office;

-my roommate and I would get excited about 2-for-1 cheeseburger Wednesdays at McDonalds;

-I lived one block away from the infamously corrupt Rampart police station;

-people at the grocery store made more money than me;

-in winter, we would use our stove to heat the apartment, often standing for an hour each night warming our hands in front of the open grill, before donning our winter coats (with hood on) to go to sleep;

-I shared a very tiny one bedroom apartment and could hear all sexual shenanigans occurring in every room. (However, we were always very supportive audiences of each other, often applauding after clearly satisfactory romps.)