Saturday, March 29, 2008
Danny Grinberg finally had his housewarming party at 415 Leonard St. What a treat! He has a beautiful new 1 bedroom with a balcony, a gourmet kitchen, and a view of the city.
At the party we not only enjoyed good company, we also enjoyed good music, gouda cheese, and a great pair of sunglasses. Wow those sunglasses got around.
Above you will see how each person looked in said sunglasses (you may see some VIPs in there twice), as well as the whiteness of Danny's walls.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Are You My Mother?
There is a new blog out there that I wish I had thought of. Check it out!
http://postcardsfromyomomma.tumblr.com/
In similar spirit, here are some emails from my Mom from over the past year or so:
On Children:
I never like it when people talk a lot about their kids ( I mean, who gives?) so I actually don't talk a lot about you guys. For example, my co-workers know you live in Brooklyn and do something with books, but they don't know about your new job or anything. Also, what is your brand of mascara? I really liked the look.
On Haircuts:
Well, I’m very very happy for you, Laura. I know you’ve been feeling like Job, though you have always been beautiful. Who cut the bangs shorter, you or your friend? Do you curl them, or keep them very straight?
I can’t believe you actually took my fashion advice on ANYTHING! I’m proud of myself.
On Romance:
You are f****** gorgeous and f******* funny and f****** out of his league.
On Faith:
Your sister is a little atheist these days. She cracks me up.
On Money:
Well, she started at 50, so I assumed she was well over 60 by now. You will catch up and then some, and you’ll be in an industry that’s interesting.
I know Michael got another raise- I bet he’s about 55 now.
I know Geoff got another raise. He went in to the boss’ office to resign and they threw a LOT OF MONEY at him. He must be making buckets.
Let’s see… who else can I mention to make you feel bad today? I don’t have any idea how much Emily makes; I know she despises her job. John Bonner doesn’t make much. I don’t make much. Mary doesn’t make much. Dad does.
You lucky dog!
On Hope (and the audacity, thereof. Thanks BARACK):
Faith, faith, faith, just a little bit of faith. Old song, but wise.
The faith is not in the job you have or don't have, or even the relationship you have or don't have, but that you yourself have a meaningful life that is blessed to yourself and to those around you. You are probably, for now, where you are physically supposed to be. That might change in a single day, but I have a sneaky suspicion you are in the right place for today.
Do you think there's something you're not doing that you should be doing? Then do it. Otherwise, let the day be the day that it is, and know that good is coming.
http://postcardsfromyomomma.tumblr.com/
In similar spirit, here are some emails from my Mom from over the past year or so:
On Children:
I never like it when people talk a lot about their kids ( I mean, who gives?) so I actually don't talk a lot about you guys. For example, my co-workers know you live in Brooklyn and do something with books, but they don't know about your new job or anything. Also, what is your brand of mascara? I really liked the look.
On Haircuts:
Well, I’m very very happy for you, Laura. I know you’ve been feeling like Job, though you have always been beautiful. Who cut the bangs shorter, you or your friend? Do you curl them, or keep them very straight?
I can’t believe you actually took my fashion advice on ANYTHING! I’m proud of myself.
On Romance:
You are f****** gorgeous and f******* funny and f****** out of his league.
On Faith:
Your sister is a little atheist these days. She cracks me up.
On Money:
Well, she started at 50, so I assumed she was well over 60 by now. You will catch up and then some, and you’ll be in an industry that’s interesting.
I know Michael got another raise- I bet he’s about 55 now.
I know Geoff got another raise. He went in to the boss’ office to resign and they threw a LOT OF MONEY at him. He must be making buckets.
Let’s see… who else can I mention to make you feel bad today? I don’t have any idea how much Emily makes; I know she despises her job. John Bonner doesn’t make much. I don’t make much. Mary doesn’t make much. Dad does.
You lucky dog!
On Hope (and the audacity, thereof. Thanks BARACK):
Faith, faith, faith, just a little bit of faith. Old song, but wise.
The faith is not in the job you have or don't have, or even the relationship you have or don't have, but that you yourself have a meaningful life that is blessed to yourself and to those around you. You are probably, for now, where you are physically supposed to be. That might change in a single day, but I have a sneaky suspicion you are in the right place for today.
Do you think there's something you're not doing that you should be doing? Then do it. Otherwise, let the day be the day that it is, and know that good is coming.
I Have a Skin Complaint
If you search for ‘rash’ in a thesaurus, it provides ‘skin complaint’ as an alternative. Oops. I didn’t mean to start this web log (aka ‘blog’) as most high school students begin their history essays (“Webster’s Dictionary defines ‘tyranny’ as …”). I’m just saying that ‘skin complaint’ and ‘rash’ have essentially the same definition, but one word will start rumors and the other probably doesn’t elicit any response at all.
I have a skin complaint on my legs. I have a skin complaint about my legs? I’m pretty sure it’s just a wicked case of razor burn, but as the bumps don’t seem to be going away, I finally decided to make an appointment for a professional opinion.
In my place of business, there are no secrets. In the spirit of Bloomberg’s bullpen, the office is set up so that everyone sits in the same open space within eyesight and earshot of everyone else. The walls of the cubes that surround our desks hit at about bridge-of-nose level. If you’ve ever been to a public restroom where the stall door only rises to about your chest when you stand up, it’s a similar concept with a similar feeling; you won’t do anything naughty if everyone can see and hear your business and you feel, well, exposed. While this setup took some getting used to, most of the time I’m fine with it. As far as business is concerned, I’ve got nothing to hide. However, when I’m breaking up with my boyfriend or when I have to call someone about a … um … skin complaint, I’d like some privacy, ok?
Instead of taking a minute to make a personal call (on a cell phone) from the comfort of our own desks, we’re forced to either go out into the hallway (that we share with another company) or go into one of the conference rooms (that have transparent glass walls anyway). There is no option for complete privacy. When making my doctor’s appointment this morning, I elected for the hallway. Everything was going fine until she asked for my insurance ID number. Shit. I left it at my desk. I kept the receptionist on the line while I walked all the way back inside the office and then back to my desk to retrieve my insurance card from my wallet. No big deal; people probably assumed I was ordering a sweater over the phone or something. “What is the purpose of the visit?” Shit. If I had thought that she might have had a thesaurus handy, I would have said, “I have a skin complaint.” Instead, I asked her to hold on another minute while I walked back out into the hallway to tell her, “I have a rash on my legs.” Despite my best efforts, I was still in earshot of a co-worker who was on his way back from the bathroom. While I’m sure he really doesn’t care enough about my skin complaint to mention it to someone else, I simply wouldn’t be surprised if someone else asks me if my condition is improving.
Thanks a lot, Bloomberg.
I have a skin complaint on my legs. I have a skin complaint about my legs? I’m pretty sure it’s just a wicked case of razor burn, but as the bumps don’t seem to be going away, I finally decided to make an appointment for a professional opinion.
In my place of business, there are no secrets. In the spirit of Bloomberg’s bullpen, the office is set up so that everyone sits in the same open space within eyesight and earshot of everyone else. The walls of the cubes that surround our desks hit at about bridge-of-nose level. If you’ve ever been to a public restroom where the stall door only rises to about your chest when you stand up, it’s a similar concept with a similar feeling; you won’t do anything naughty if everyone can see and hear your business and you feel, well, exposed. While this setup took some getting used to, most of the time I’m fine with it. As far as business is concerned, I’ve got nothing to hide. However, when I’m breaking up with my boyfriend or when I have to call someone about a … um … skin complaint, I’d like some privacy, ok?
Instead of taking a minute to make a personal call (on a cell phone) from the comfort of our own desks, we’re forced to either go out into the hallway (that we share with another company) or go into one of the conference rooms (that have transparent glass walls anyway). There is no option for complete privacy. When making my doctor’s appointment this morning, I elected for the hallway. Everything was going fine until she asked for my insurance ID number. Shit. I left it at my desk. I kept the receptionist on the line while I walked all the way back inside the office and then back to my desk to retrieve my insurance card from my wallet. No big deal; people probably assumed I was ordering a sweater over the phone or something. “What is the purpose of the visit?” Shit. If I had thought that she might have had a thesaurus handy, I would have said, “I have a skin complaint.” Instead, I asked her to hold on another minute while I walked back out into the hallway to tell her, “I have a rash on my legs.” Despite my best efforts, I was still in earshot of a co-worker who was on his way back from the bathroom. While I’m sure he really doesn’t care enough about my skin complaint to mention it to someone else, I simply wouldn’t be surprised if someone else asks me if my condition is improving.
Thanks a lot, Bloomberg.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
The Girl Who Couldn't Blog
HI! Whoa. Is this thing on?
Well, Stephanie and Laura have been blogging for some time now, so I guess it is time for me to enter my first blog.
First let me write blog one more time. Ok. On your mark, get ready … BLOG!
The weird thing is, I used to have all of these random thoughts in college, but there wasn’t really an outlet to share them. I tried to use “away messages” through AIM to share funny thoughts, and well, I guess that kind of worked. However, I had longer, more luxurious weird thoughts that didn’t quite fit into the AIM character limit. Instead of writing them down, I merely shared them with Karen, one of my college roommates. For example, I thought a good idea for a movie would be a romantic comedy that was pretty standard in plot and characters, except they could also fly. There would be no mention of this ability; it would simply be something people could do along with walking down the street and buying groceries. Anyway, my point is that now that blogs exist, I have nothing left to say.
I’ve been walking around New York City since the creation of Apartment 3R, just waiting for something blog-worthy to happen. Turns out, things are pretty normal around here. Two weeks ago I was riding the subway to work in the morning on a relatively empty L train (Empty L train? I know! Weird!), and I chose to stand near the doors, leaning against the metal bars with my gym bag at my feet. A middle-aged man in business attire got on the train and stood right in front of me. As most straphangers know (look at THAT term! I’m a real New Yorker!), if someone stands face-to-face with you when your back is at the door, it usually means that A) the train is crowded B) that person is your significant other, or C) that person plans to exit the train at the next stop. None of those things were true. This guy basically had me cornered, the train was practically empty, I was not dating him, and he didn’t exit the train at the next stop or any of the next 4 stops. I should have said something rude to him or just moved, but I decided to stand there since gathering my gym bag would have been a difficult maneuver at that point. Instead, I opened my copy of Metro (look! Another thing REAL New Yorkers do!) in his face. I had my arms fully extended with the paper fully open, creating a barrier from face to just above the crotch region. If this didn’t give him the message that he was being an asshole, I’m not sure what would have. Still, in this city, that’s not such an outrageous story, and I’m not sure someone would want to read about it in a blog.
Before I moved to The City, I lived in the suburbs of The District. There, subway rides and riders are a little tamer. Sure, the NYC subway is relatively quiet during the morning commute, but it doesn’t really compare to the silence on the DC Metro during rush hour. No one speaks. No one looks up. Therefore, if anyone makes any sort of noise or movement that doesn’t resemble reading the Express, listening to music through earphones, or sleeping, it upsets the herd. For example, I’ll never forget the time this old, Asian man got on the train when we were at West Falls Church on the Orange Line heading toward DC during the morning rush hour commute. I had seen this guy before. He liked to share his love for Jesus through song, especially during the holidays. I found it rather obnoxious, because his singing made it difficult for me to listen to my iPod. However, this one time he got on the train, and the guy sitting in front of me (the seats on the subway trains are different in DC, don’t you understand? The seating is like that which you would find on a bus or Amtrak train) was not having it. The Asian man stood near the door and began singing a song about loving Jesus, and the guy in front of me yelled very loudly. His message was something like, “DO I HAVE TO SIT HERE AND LISTEN TO THIS! WHY DON’T YOU SHUT UP!?” I guess I was a little surprised that the Asian man was not fazed in the least by this yelling. I mean, this guy was really yelling. At this point, I was getting irritated because the singing and now the YELLING was really drowning out my iPod. Come on, people! Pipe down! This is DC! We’re all dressed in black, navy blue, or khaki; can’t we get along? The guy in front of me continued to yell, and then this woman across the aisle got up and told the guy in front of me to be quiet. “Let him sing his song!” She felt so strongly (I think about Jesus) that she got up and stood behind the Asian man trying to sing along with him from him book of hymns. I was nervous that the guy in front of me would start throwing punches. Random people were yelling at both the Asian guy and the yelling guy to shut up. I think the Asian guy and the woman (and possibly others on the train) really felt like they did something for Jesus that day. A real triumph for Christianity, if you will.
You see, in NY, the Asian guy would have been singing his song, but life on the train would have continued on as usual. Meaning, girls on their way to high school would continue to talk loudly about whom they plan to beat up and whom they plan to fuck (you can replace high school with middle or elementary school as well). The homeless guy or gal on the train would have continued to panhandle. The hipsters would have continued to read Nietzsche and generally look and feel ironic. No cause for agitation or hard feelings. Nothing unusual.
Anyway, so I’ll continue to look for things to blog about, but when the weird and unusual is standard, it’s like WHAT DO I BLOG ABOUT, you guys?
Well, Stephanie and Laura have been blogging for some time now, so I guess it is time for me to enter my first blog.
First let me write blog one more time. Ok. On your mark, get ready … BLOG!
The weird thing is, I used to have all of these random thoughts in college, but there wasn’t really an outlet to share them. I tried to use “away messages” through AIM to share funny thoughts, and well, I guess that kind of worked. However, I had longer, more luxurious weird thoughts that didn’t quite fit into the AIM character limit. Instead of writing them down, I merely shared them with Karen, one of my college roommates. For example, I thought a good idea for a movie would be a romantic comedy that was pretty standard in plot and characters, except they could also fly. There would be no mention of this ability; it would simply be something people could do along with walking down the street and buying groceries. Anyway, my point is that now that blogs exist, I have nothing left to say.
I’ve been walking around New York City since the creation of Apartment 3R, just waiting for something blog-worthy to happen. Turns out, things are pretty normal around here. Two weeks ago I was riding the subway to work in the morning on a relatively empty L train (Empty L train? I know! Weird!), and I chose to stand near the doors, leaning against the metal bars with my gym bag at my feet. A middle-aged man in business attire got on the train and stood right in front of me. As most straphangers know (look at THAT term! I’m a real New Yorker!), if someone stands face-to-face with you when your back is at the door, it usually means that A) the train is crowded B) that person is your significant other, or C) that person plans to exit the train at the next stop. None of those things were true. This guy basically had me cornered, the train was practically empty, I was not dating him, and he didn’t exit the train at the next stop or any of the next 4 stops. I should have said something rude to him or just moved, but I decided to stand there since gathering my gym bag would have been a difficult maneuver at that point. Instead, I opened my copy of Metro (look! Another thing REAL New Yorkers do!) in his face. I had my arms fully extended with the paper fully open, creating a barrier from face to just above the crotch region. If this didn’t give him the message that he was being an asshole, I’m not sure what would have. Still, in this city, that’s not such an outrageous story, and I’m not sure someone would want to read about it in a blog.
Before I moved to The City, I lived in the suburbs of The District. There, subway rides and riders are a little tamer. Sure, the NYC subway is relatively quiet during the morning commute, but it doesn’t really compare to the silence on the DC Metro during rush hour. No one speaks. No one looks up. Therefore, if anyone makes any sort of noise or movement that doesn’t resemble reading the Express, listening to music through earphones, or sleeping, it upsets the herd. For example, I’ll never forget the time this old, Asian man got on the train when we were at West Falls Church on the Orange Line heading toward DC during the morning rush hour commute. I had seen this guy before. He liked to share his love for Jesus through song, especially during the holidays. I found it rather obnoxious, because his singing made it difficult for me to listen to my iPod. However, this one time he got on the train, and the guy sitting in front of me (the seats on the subway trains are different in DC, don’t you understand? The seating is like that which you would find on a bus or Amtrak train) was not having it. The Asian man stood near the door and began singing a song about loving Jesus, and the guy in front of me yelled very loudly. His message was something like, “DO I HAVE TO SIT HERE AND LISTEN TO THIS! WHY DON’T YOU SHUT UP!?” I guess I was a little surprised that the Asian man was not fazed in the least by this yelling. I mean, this guy was really yelling. At this point, I was getting irritated because the singing and now the YELLING was really drowning out my iPod. Come on, people! Pipe down! This is DC! We’re all dressed in black, navy blue, or khaki; can’t we get along? The guy in front of me continued to yell, and then this woman across the aisle got up and told the guy in front of me to be quiet. “Let him sing his song!” She felt so strongly (I think about Jesus) that she got up and stood behind the Asian man trying to sing along with him from him book of hymns. I was nervous that the guy in front of me would start throwing punches. Random people were yelling at both the Asian guy and the yelling guy to shut up. I think the Asian guy and the woman (and possibly others on the train) really felt like they did something for Jesus that day. A real triumph for Christianity, if you will.
You see, in NY, the Asian guy would have been singing his song, but life on the train would have continued on as usual. Meaning, girls on their way to high school would continue to talk loudly about whom they plan to beat up and whom they plan to fuck (you can replace high school with middle or elementary school as well). The homeless guy or gal on the train would have continued to panhandle. The hipsters would have continued to read Nietzsche and generally look and feel ironic. No cause for agitation or hard feelings. Nothing unusual.
Anyway, so I’ll continue to look for things to blog about, but when the weird and unusual is standard, it’s like WHAT DO I BLOG ABOUT, you guys?
Monday, March 24, 2008
Causes of Eye Twitching via The Internet
Corneal irritation or injury
Stress
Lack of sleep
Fatigue
Prolonged staring or eye strain
Neurological disorders
Possibly Hereditary
I'm keeping my fingers crossed for Neurological disorders. I mean, March is SO boring. A hot neurological disorder could really shake things up for all of us.
Stress
Lack of sleep
Fatigue
Prolonged staring or eye strain
Neurological disorders
Possibly Hereditary
I'm keeping my fingers crossed for Neurological disorders. I mean, March is SO boring. A hot neurological disorder could really shake things up for all of us.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Sounds of the City (as you can see, I like lists)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You actually DO hear these sounds living in the city... just like in the movies!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
sirens
breaking glass on the sidewalk around two a.m.
honking
screeching trains on rusty tracks
honking
neighborhood ladies yelling at each other from across the street
sirens
loud whistles, "HEY", and "Ooooo, BABY YOU BE PACKIN!" shouted in my ear when I'm simply trying to cross the street.
Buses, trucks, and big engines racing onto the expressway, shaking my apartment's foundation
bike messenger bells
neighborhood ladies strolling down the street saying, "I need to go upstairs to get my pennies if were gonna play poker!"
Jack hammers and construction
Italian cousins in the grocery store going on and on about the Yankees.... or the Giants... or the Knicks (very rarely the Knicks).
honking
-----------------------------------------------------------
Sounds I miss from the suburbs and small towns...
-----------------------------------------------------------
marching band practice vibrating off neighboring houses
morning birds
silence
distant dogs barking at each other at dusk
squirrels playing in the gutter
silence
turn table playing Joni, wind whistling in through open windows, leaves rustling from the yard
delivery trucks slowly wheeling by - looking for an address
baby children happily discussing their latest thrill while digging in the sidewalk cracks for a rolly-polly
silence?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You actually DO hear these sounds living in the city... just like in the movies!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
sirens
breaking glass on the sidewalk around two a.m.
honking
screeching trains on rusty tracks
honking
neighborhood ladies yelling at each other from across the street
sirens
loud whistles, "HEY", and "Ooooo, BABY YOU BE PACKIN!" shouted in my ear when I'm simply trying to cross the street.
Buses, trucks, and big engines racing onto the expressway, shaking my apartment's foundation
bike messenger bells
neighborhood ladies strolling down the street saying, "I need to go upstairs to get my pennies if were gonna play poker!"
Jack hammers and construction
Italian cousins in the grocery store going on and on about the Yankees.... or the Giants... or the Knicks (very rarely the Knicks).
honking
-----------------------------------------------------------
Sounds I miss from the suburbs and small towns...
-----------------------------------------------------------
marching band practice vibrating off neighboring houses
morning birds
silence
distant dogs barking at each other at dusk
squirrels playing in the gutter
silence
turn table playing Joni, wind whistling in through open windows, leaves rustling from the yard
delivery trucks slowly wheeling by - looking for an address
baby children happily discussing their latest thrill while digging in the sidewalk cracks for a rolly-polly
silence?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Monday, March 17, 2008
Notice Me! Giving My Notice!
I quit my job yesterday.
It feels very, uh, anti-climactic.
I've barely been here a year. I haven't gotten to know people all that well. So WHY do I want them to start crying and roundly embrace me as I tell them, sorry, I'm SO sorry, but I just can't be your collegue any longer?
What a strange sensation! It's not like I'm some attention monger, hell-bent on getting the world to notice me and I'm only truly content if I'm being discussed in some way... and it doesn't even have to be in a flattering way ....because when are impactful people ever universally liked? Never.
Quick seque. Do you notice that as time goes on you truly DO care less and less what people think of you? I do. I mean I don't. I mean, I don't care what you think! Okay, SOCIETY? Let me wear blue tights and red skirts SANS judgement. And so what if Iwant to start smoking cloves and listening to Queen? Much like the multiplication tables, I somehow missed that phase. I am beholden to no man nor child. The world is my oyster and I'm going to suck it up. (You know, like an oyster.)
So, my jorb. I'm leaving my jorb. And even though there is nothing in me that thinks this is anything less than a GOOD, WISE and eventually PROSPEROUS move.....I guess there is still some feeling of loss, some shreds of regret, some pangs of doubt.
It probably goes to show that moving away from ANYTHING no matter how terrible, or boring or innocuous...there is still come cause for mourning.
So, dress up my martini in black, recite a litany to office emphera, shove my memories into the creamator....... and I'll keep them in a pretty vase.
Also, I'm a sucker and gave four weeks notice. So! I'll probably be bringing this up again!
It feels very, uh, anti-climactic.
I've barely been here a year. I haven't gotten to know people all that well. So WHY do I want them to start crying and roundly embrace me as I tell them, sorry, I'm SO sorry, but I just can't be your collegue any longer?
What a strange sensation! It's not like I'm some attention monger, hell-bent on getting the world to notice me and I'm only truly content if I'm being discussed in some way... and it doesn't even have to be in a flattering way ....because when are impactful people ever universally liked? Never.
Quick seque. Do you notice that as time goes on you truly DO care less and less what people think of you? I do. I mean I don't. I mean, I don't care what you think! Okay, SOCIETY? Let me wear blue tights and red skirts SANS judgement. And so what if Iwant to start smoking cloves and listening to Queen? Much like the multiplication tables, I somehow missed that phase. I am beholden to no man nor child. The world is my oyster and I'm going to suck it up. (You know, like an oyster.)
So, my jorb. I'm leaving my jorb. And even though there is nothing in me that thinks this is anything less than a GOOD, WISE and eventually PROSPEROUS move.....I guess there is still some feeling of loss, some shreds of regret, some pangs of doubt.
It probably goes to show that moving away from ANYTHING no matter how terrible, or boring or innocuous...there is still come cause for mourning.
So, dress up my martini in black, recite a litany to office emphera, shove my memories into the creamator....... and I'll keep them in a pretty vase.
Also, I'm a sucker and gave four weeks notice. So! I'll probably be bringing this up again!
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Short Ideas on Me... and This City... and LiiiiiiFE!
-I almost asked a cute hipster couple coming out of this Italian restaurant if it was any good because I'd only seen Italian people there and didn't feel like I belonged. They turned out to be an Italian Hipster Couple.
-I like when 9 or 10 year old boys are the same height as their short mothers.
-Sometimes I get scared when I'm underground and there's a train rolling over me and a train rolling toward me... these tunnels were built by man which is... essentially me.. and I'm not even able to carry a few ice buckets at work without complaining.
-I fall in love every day on the train. And every day the train doesn't just stop because, I don't know, the universe WANTS us to be together... my heart breaks.
-Last night I glared at my whiskey... and it glared right back at me.
-Hey! Dudes with the free A.M. and METRO newspapers... why are you so happy? Do you get paid lots and lots? Do you have some sort of a competition going on for the "Happiest Free- Newspaper-Dude in New York City"? Naw... I don't want one of those.
-My soles are worn down from walking all over this city. I aint got no car.
-"I would rather wear out the soles of my feet than the soul of this Earth."... I just made that up... but it sounds like something someone dumb might say. Yeah! It's cool to make fun of people who care!
-Every once in awhile there comes upon me a quiet contentment. Then I ruin it... by reveling in it too much.
-Last night I ate dry cereal out of a box because it was all I had to eat. I spilled most of it on the floor because it... was... dry.... cereal.
-I have hope for the future of me. Thank goodness!
-I don't like cave drawings. They're sooooooooooo boring!
-When I fly over the West Coast... my heart knows it's home. Why does it KNOW that? Maybe the dry air sucks out all of the blood and says, "There. You were born here, Fuuucker."
-I still get confused between the difference of the literary Heart and the anatomical Heart. Ugh, my cereal is called: "Heart to Heart."
-What could possibly be better than spring blossoms, white wine, sweet friends, and a bowl of cheese puffs? Nothing. That's what.
-I don't believe in Cherry Ferries. Probably because they don't exist.
-Japanese would be a hard language to learn. Unless you're Japanese.
-I like when 9 or 10 year old boys are the same height as their short mothers.
-Sometimes I get scared when I'm underground and there's a train rolling over me and a train rolling toward me... these tunnels were built by man which is... essentially me.. and I'm not even able to carry a few ice buckets at work without complaining.
-I fall in love every day on the train. And every day the train doesn't just stop because, I don't know, the universe WANTS us to be together... my heart breaks.
-Last night I glared at my whiskey... and it glared right back at me.
-Hey! Dudes with the free A.M. and METRO newspapers... why are you so happy? Do you get paid lots and lots? Do you have some sort of a competition going on for the "Happiest Free- Newspaper-Dude in New York City"? Naw... I don't want one of those.
-My soles are worn down from walking all over this city. I aint got no car.
-"I would rather wear out the soles of my feet than the soul of this Earth."... I just made that up... but it sounds like something someone dumb might say. Yeah! It's cool to make fun of people who care!
-Every once in awhile there comes upon me a quiet contentment. Then I ruin it... by reveling in it too much.
-Last night I ate dry cereal out of a box because it was all I had to eat. I spilled most of it on the floor because it... was... dry.... cereal.
-I have hope for the future of me. Thank goodness!
-I don't like cave drawings. They're sooooooooooo boring!
-When I fly over the West Coast... my heart knows it's home. Why does it KNOW that? Maybe the dry air sucks out all of the blood and says, "There. You were born here, Fuuucker."
-I still get confused between the difference of the literary Heart and the anatomical Heart. Ugh, my cereal is called: "Heart to Heart."
-What could possibly be better than spring blossoms, white wine, sweet friends, and a bowl of cheese puffs? Nothing. That's what.
-I don't believe in Cherry Ferries. Probably because they don't exist.
-Japanese would be a hard language to learn. Unless you're Japanese.
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