yummy turtle

You Can Call Me (narwh-)Al

2008-05-13T16:26:59Z

This morning at about 3:30am, I somehow didn't realize what would happen if I tried to sit on the spindly table.

It was embarrassing. Luckily, the only two people who saw it were Zach and Ned. Ned dashed away in terror, and Zach concernedly (yet sleepily) asked me if I was okay, as I sat there blinky-eyed and o-mouthed on the floor amid the table detritus. I am fine, I thought, just confused. What am I doing on the floor? Did I just try to sit on the spindly table? In what universe did that seem like a good plan? There are chairs surrounding the spindly table. And I say no, not good enough. I think what I will do is sit on the table. It's a new level of tired when your common sense completely departs. Also: I BROKE A TABLE; I AM A WHALE WAHHHHH. Happily, it broke in such a way that is easily fixable. Add it to the list: fix table.

(Also: LOSE WEIGHT. I AM A WHALE WAHHHHH.)

I had four hours of sleep and I'm at it again! In addition to last minute benefit planning and putting out fires, fundraising cheerleading, painting my bedroom, designing the program, and screenprinting the team t-shirts, I have decided now is a good time to make a couple of lamps. I am using power tools again. RECIPE FOR DISASTER.

all I am capable of

2008-05-13T00:08:19Z

shit! man! too much happening! vacation please!

Oh, by the way, I have a free pair of tickets to the Supersnack benefit that I can give away. All the cool blogs are doing free ticket contests nowadays, so what the hell, me too. Email me (angela dot hamilton at gmail.com) your favorite type of pie, and I'll enter you in a drawing and you'll be like, selected at random and shit. I'll announce via email on Thursday.

Slack/Snack

2008-05-07T21:33:11Z

I am sorry to have been neglecting my Livejournal duties lately. My entire brain has been consumed with one of two items: AIDSWalk (fundraising! benefit! fundraising! benefit!) and redecorating my apartment.

Zach, I think, is beginning to be fed up with my inclination to think up/take on more and more projects, increasingly complicated and time-suck-ish. What is that old saying about if you want to get something done ask a busy person? I mean, not that I'm super productive, because haha, not. (I love saying "not." I propose that we bring it back.) Anyway, what usually happens is that I start doing something and then I start doing something else, and then I get distracted by this other thing, and then I realize now is probably a good time to play guitar, but first I should really start some laundry, and I wonder if the good guy is working at the smoothie place up the road, but real quick before I go I will take some measurements of the alcove in the hallway so I can start drafting a drawing of the new shelving system, and so on and so forth into oblivion.

Which is my way of excusing myself for going away from Livejournal for the last week-ish. My cousin Scottie joined the Peace Corps (a holy shit awesome balls-out move that I very much envy and would like to emulate someday), so I went to visit him last weekend. I've been moving, rearranging, and puttering all over my apartment, which is probably making my roommates and animals want to kill me or themselves. And of course, at the forefront of my brain at ALL TIMES is the AIDSWalk benefit. I stress about it every year, to some degree, but this year, with the cavernous maw of theater space and bigger-name people performing, well, the stakes are high. I am very scared it will be a miserable failure, that no one will come, and that I will die cold, friendless, and alone, and Zach keeps having to remind me that no, nothing bad will happen, hey, look, a nickel, and so forth. Oh also, Zach's brother and sister-in-law added a baby to the family. I had nothing to do with this, but it's still been occupying precious brain real estate in the last few days.

Does everyone else do this too? Pile projects on yourself when you already feel dangerously time-stretched? I would like a nap, but I don't want to take one because if I do everything might crumble into the ocean.

Anyone reading any good books? I just finished The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen, and it was yummy. Need more reading gobbles.

Oh yeah, go see this show. I hear it's going to be good.

May Day!

2008-05-01T17:14:11Z

First things first: today is Ned's 2nd birthday. Some things he has accomplished during his second year of life:

1. Whenever Brian's dogs venture near him, instead of doing Halloween cat and hissing, he now just flattens his ears and swats half-heartedly in their direction. This is known as Progress.
2. Tried, and eventually disdained, the Great Feline Toilet Training Debacle of aught seven.
3. Having all houseplants relocated to high, out-of-reach shelves where they will never again be watered. It's either death by draught or death by cat teeth. Pick your poison, feckless houseplants. Actually, you can't, because the cat has already chosen for you.
4. Once, when Arthur (Ned's favorite toy) was accidentally sequestered in a basket on top of the entertainment center, he stood on top of the TV stretched out and fished him out with a paw.
5. Escaped the apartment every time the door was left unlocked for even a nanosecond. In fact, he did it this morning.
6. He's tricked many unsuspecting bipeds into thinking he wants to play, only to sit there looking smug and disinterested when a toy is tossed near him.

Here's a video of Ned from his first birthday. My little Shark! My baby kitten! He will probably never stop being the kitten in my mind. This is because when I met him he was one day old or something. So little! Little floppy tiger cub ears! Man, baby animals are the best. I am a fan of neutering pets, but I am also a fan of hanging out with baby animals. Such a conundrum! Anyway, please enjoy sharkiness:

Today is my last day working for Fancy Event Planning. Please note: Events produced by Fancy Event Planning are not especially fancy. I simply cannot think of abandoning the "Fancy" pseudonym that I've been appending to my every place of employment for the last five years: Fancy Publishing, Fancy Magazine, Fancy Museum, Fancy Clothing Designer, Fancy Insurance, and so on. Although… I guess I could tell you all those names freely now, though, couldn't I? Since I no longer work for them? Right? Right?! Conde Nast! Men's Health! Museum of Modern Art! Polo Ralph Lauren! Marsh & McLennan! I am drunk with freedom! What other enticing kibble-crumbs can I reveal now?! One time I pretended I'd done my geometry homework… but I really hadn’t. Ahh, rebellion is sweet!!!!

And now we come to the terminus of my time with Fancy Events. Well, I will not reveal the name just yet. This is because I still am relishing the hope that they're going to chase me down and grab hold of my ankles as I am leaving this afternoon. And then I will probably be injured, and can sue them!

So why am I leaving? Skrait up: the business is very sick and can no longer afford to keep me. Business has Lou Gehrig's Disease. Tragedy! They held a big ugly round of layoffs two weeks ago, which I survived, but freelancers are never truly safe in these situations. One time I was working in HR for a company which was laying off like, everyone in the company, plus some people who didn't even work there, but were just passing the building at the wrong time. It was harsh. Anyway, once the layoffs were done, they were like, "Okay Angela… peace out!" I almost had to laugh at that one since, like, dude, what did you THINK was gonna happen?

This one, though, is sad. It's sad because it's been a lovely experience, as far as skill/challenge/not having to work with jackholes (everyone here is awesome), and both sides, me and my colleagues, are just like, "Well… this sucks." I don't take it personal. It sucks, but I WILL SURVIVE! Have survived before, will survive again. As Kurt Vonnegut said, ~~"So it goes"~~ "She is like a person who has put on full armor and attacked a hot fudge sundae." It's like he read my mind!

Good news is, this is happening at a very good time relative to AIDSWalk, since it will be beneficial to have all my energy focused on that for the next two weeks.

Here's another side benefit: Some people came over to Casa Snack last night, and anytime someone gave me a hard time about anything (playing "The Joshua Tree," for instance, or wanting to close a window), I wailed despondently, "BUT I GOT FIRED TODAY, WAAAHHH, HOW COULD YOU!!!" It was fun. I intend to milk this for as long as possible. Also, Zach brought home cupcakes. What a guy!

Reason #157 To Deeply Envy the Residents of San Francisco

2008-04-30T18:57:46Z

"As we near the end of George W. Bush’s presidency, we think it is important to select a fitting monument to this president’s work. On matters ranging from foreign relations to fiscal and environmental stewardship, no other president in American history has accomplished so much in such a short time."

Tapes and Tapes. And Painter's Tape.

2008-04-28T15:24:18Z

Breakfast this morning. Not ashamed. It was delicious. Okay, maybe a little bit ashamed. Still delicious, though.

Zach found a pair of tickets to the Supersnack benefit for sale on Craigslist. This makes me feel alternately proud and kind of sad. Proud because: we have arrived! Our event is being re-sold on Craigslist! And sad because, I'm not sure. I guess because this person isn't coming to the show.

By the way, if you're wanting tickets, here's that link.

Today continues my home remodeling project. I am repainting the purple wall in the living room back to white (actually, cream. ACTUALLY, "lotus flower." hee) and we are going to make it a wall in flux. Fun! Doing the spackling and subsequent sanding makes me feel like Donna Reed in "It's a Wonderful Life" (only the scene where she was doing the home remodel, though), and there is something eminently satisfying about seeing those silty dried grout particles snow down and running my hand over the newly smooth wall. I love redecorating. I love everything about it. And while I paint: rocking some muxtape.com. It's great, even if it does make me feel like a grandma due to the high percentage of bands I not only know nothing about but have never even heard of.

The cat is going to be a great help, obviously:

EDIT: Crisis! Apartment's reserves of precious "Lotus Flower" eggshell paint dwindling to extinction, with project only 90% complete! Hoping to thwart home remodel disaster, off to hardware store to fetch another gallon - possibly the last gallon. Please observe my fly "running to the paint store in the rain" costume. Note: Cat, ever assiduous, still helping.

EDIT #2: Victory! Well, sort of. Paint store, as feared, was sold out of rare "Lotus Flower" version, so I was instructed (by unfriendly and authoritarian Hasidic men who run the paint store) to choose another color. Rather than drive myself mad trying to match, from memory, Lotus Flower to any one of the dizzying array of off-white shades I was presented, I decided "Fuck it, it's off-white, no one will ever know the difference" and hastily set about making my selection based on which paint color name sounded the most unintentionally gross. Colonial Cream, Mannequin Cream, and the effectively-if-tersely-named Mayonnaise were all on the short list of contenders, but of course Cream Froth (!) took home the ribbon. I am off to go cover my wall with it.

Shelves (now with holes!)

2008-04-27T19:20:54Z

Made these. It took literally from the beginning of time until now. But it was worth it.

The amount of labor and time I have paid into these shelves ensures that I can never get rid of them ever. Good thing I like them a lot.

Oh and by the way.

BETRAYAL!!!!

2008-04-25T18:56:43Z

Do you believe this?

DO YOU BELIEVE THIS?!

Receptacle Trash has a dent in it! A dent! How dare it make a mockery of me?!

So clearly for this one I have to go with Carlos's suggestion of Winehouse. I mean, obviously. Winehouse is going straight back to the simplehuman factory (um, uh... rehab) for some straightening out. I have high hopes for her.

I suppose I should pity her since it is clear that during her long cross-country trek she fell in with some thuggish wrong-sides-of-tracks trash receptacles who roughed her up. Aww. Poor Winehouse. I guess it's also possible that the white plastic trashcans (thugs!) snuck out while we were sleeping and exacted their revenge upon their replacements. Terrifying thought. This whole personifying the trashcans affliction is really a slippery slope. I'm having a hard time not thinking of them as actual sentient beings with emotions and plans for world domination and stuff. Maybe soon the novelty will wear off. In all honesty, though, probably not.

EDIT: I'm going to name the other one Mrs. Norris, in deference to popular opinion, and her ability to follow rules and stuff.

OH, I LOOOOOOOOOOOOVE TRASH!

2008-04-24T16:47:18Z

You may now begin admiring my new trashcans! Aren't they amazing! Also! They each came packed in not one but TWO enormous cardboard boxes, so those of you who have ever met a cat will know that Ned is losing his little cat mind with ecstasy too.

Since I've made such a big damn deal of this, I was planning to do a photo shoot of the trashcans puttering around my house last night - you know, laying in bed, watching TV, cooking us dinner - but I realized that all I really wanted to do was stare at them. They are so sleek and clean and fabulous! You could hump that hood!

My friend Nikki did try to talk me down off my ledge about the trashcans, by revealing to me that she possesses a magic trash can which opens automatically when she waves her hand in front of it. Or when she walks past it. Or whenever the dog is around. This sounds terrifying to me. She says that her children actually like throwing stuff away (mind control!) and that she has to contort herself whenever exiting or entering her kitchen to avoid opening (and upsetting) the trashcan (body control!). I don't know, Nikki. I were you, I'd drag it out back and shoot it. Just to be safe.

Anyway, the naming contest is now open. To help you differentiate between the two, the Receptacle on the left is a regular old giant trashcan inside there, while the Receptacle on the right conceals two square-shaped recycle bins. Oh my gosh I know! TRANSCENDANT!

(This hoop-la probably just makes you all think I am crazy, but if only you could see the cheap white plastic bastards I've been tolerating for the last five years, perhaps you would have some sympathy.)

I have just posted my fourth trash-related post in a row. Pulitzer, please.

We Have Confirmation!

2008-04-23T15:47:56Z

Three posts in a row about my trashcans! But I know you have all been anxious about it, and will therefore be relieved to know that, according to UPS, they have arrived home safely at long last. This is thrilling. I can hardly wait to go and see them and start throwing things away. I can't remember the last time I got this excited about some trash cans. Probably, you know, never.

Speaking of trash! The new season of Tila Tequila! Or whatever!

Wayward Trashcans Update

2008-04-22T22:04:37Z

They arrived in Secaucus at 3:30pm. Oh, the adventures they'll share of their four-day cross-country journey!

Statistically Improbable Phrases: "Fancy Trashcans," "I Love Tila Tequila"

2008-04-22T11:46:04Z

Thank you for all the help yesterday, Livejournal Land. It turned out that all I had to do was write about my problem and it went away. It's also possible that I only repeatedly hum the Rocky theme (while inserting the syllables of my pets' names) when the Pope is within a 25 mile radius. Had you guys heard that he's been in New York City? Had any, I don't know, news outlets covered it or anything? Is he gone yet? I have to think he is, since I'm not humming the song anymore.

Tonight is the season premiere of A Shot at Love With Tila Tequila. My roommate Ryan and I decided (kinda at the last minute) to have people over for a premiere party. So far, not one person has issued an acceptance. I think people are starting to quietly suspect that our love for the Til is not as ironical as we'd like them to believe. But you guys! This time she's for real. Oh, I love Tila Tequila. I love everything about her. I know, I shouldn't be revealing this fact about myself.

Last night I had a dream that my friend Pluta kept impersonating Roberto Benigni. Like, to a fault. To the point where people were starting to get annoyed. I don't know either.

My AIDSWalk team just reached $20,000. You guys! $20,000!! Squee! Have you donated yet? It's so easy. While we're on the subject, I received an email from my buddy Shawn Decker this morning - who has decided for reasons that I'll get into ~~later~~ never that Kenneth Cole is our nemesis - which said, in part: "I'm really afraid of Kenneth, though. He beat us by $3,000 or so last year. He wears tight jeans and presumably has sexual relations with his wife." I love my AIDSWalk team.

(My cat is biting a door. He's a goddamned genius.)

I have another problem I could use your help with. Last week I ordered myself two fancy trashcans. I am very excited about my new fancy trashcans, because I have never owned fancy trashcans before, and because I have been coveting a fancy trashcan since, like, moving here in 2003. All I've had are these regrettable white plastic trashcans and they are hateful and ugly. But now finally my dream is coming to pass. I believe I will even need to start calling them "receptacles," and possibly even capitalizing. Now, I have been obsessively checking the UPS "track package" link for my package of fancy trashcans - as you do - and it appears no one has seen nor heard from my trashcans since last Friday. Very early on Friday morning - at 1:28am, in fact - my fancy trashcans were known to be "in transit" to Secaucus. After that, they seem to have disappeared. There's no update. No one even knows if they ever arrived in Secaucus. No "arrival scan" at holding facility in Brooklyn. Certainly no "out for delivery." What happened to my fancy trashcans? What? Were they abandoned? Executed gangland-style? Did they get set upon by a rogue gang of not-quite-as-fancy trashcans? Did they decide to become actors and hop on a Port Authority bus? So many questions, and regrettably, no answers. I can't stand the not-knowing! I find UPS' lack of update suspicious and frankly heartrending. Oh, I know! Perhaps one of you can call up UPS and talk menacing to them so they'll expedite me a new set of fancy trashcans. No, it won't be the same, but it might help fix the hurt inside. My dismay is like an ocean. (Dismay Like An Ocean = new emo band. Watch. It'll happen.)

Somewhere within the last paragraph, my new fancy trashcans became like children to me. I think it's because I'm just that good of a writer.

Upsetting New Compulsion

2008-04-21T13:37:04Z

A distressingly large percentage of my weekend has been devoted to singing the Rocky theme song in the direction of my pets, most of the time using their names as the song's syllables (i.e., "Ned ne-ne Ned ne-ne NED ne-ne Ned, Ned Ned ne-ne Ned ne-ne NED ne-ne Ned"...)

Does anyone know how to make this stop?

i went too far

2008-04-17T20:18:10Z

too much jamba today. tummy full. want to barf.

The Long-Winded Part of My Brain Takes Over Once Again

2008-04-16T16:46:22Z

There's so much to tell you about! Let's get in it!

PARANOIA: GOOD FOR ~~NOTHING~~ ONE THING?

My workplace, Fancy Events, has been conducting layoffs. I'm not sure if it's due to the anniversary of the VT shooting (thinking of all ya'll Hokies today by the way) or just a general inclination toward paranoia and worst-case-scenario-fixation, but I'm finding myself more than slightly concerned that someone is going to roll up and go postal. I happened to let a guy I didn't recognize onto the floor this morning (wearing a suspiciously overstuffed backpack, too - THE FAVORED ACCESSORY OF EVERY CRIMINAL MASTERMIND), which got me rolling on the Paranoia Express (next stop: What If Greta Chokes On That Piece Of Pistachio Shell She Ate The Other Day And Dies? All Aboard!).

Oh, I don't know. I'm being ridiculous, I'm sure. I mean, it's not as if your average neer-do-well could ever hope to subvert the impregnable lobby security. No criminal will ever realize that if you so much as flash a piece of laminate with some writing on it in their direction, the building security jackstools are like so much warm putty in your hands. In any case, I've developed a contingency plan, which is: at the first sound of a dust-up or deployment of a firearm, turn off my monitor, throw my croissant away, and climb into my (empty) bottom desk drawer. I will totally fit, too. Movie producers take note: I will never, ever be your screaming flailing extra in your crazed-gunman bloodbath scene. I'll be calmly climbing into my own desk drawer and fetaling it out. I was a Boy Scout!

WINGARDIUM LEVI-SEW-SA!
(Harry Potter humor! Welcome to The Land That Dork Forgot.)

Yes, the sewing machine arrived. Yes, it is beautiful and perfect and I love it. No, I haven't started making things with it yet. Yes, I imagine that these questions are at the forefront of all of your brains at all times. Okay, I'll level with you. I am intimidated by my new toy. I haven't the first clue what to do with it other than stare at it greedily and will it to start sewing all by itself. I kind of thought I'd get it and plug it in and just start rocking out, but it turns out you have to… know stuff. The manual that came with the machine could only be less helpful if it was just a bunch of blank pages stapled together, too. It's all bla bla bobbin bla bla weft bla bla other impossible sewing terminologies bla bla and in conclusion, have fun staring at your $300 plastic box, sucker! So it turns out I'll have to take a class or whatever instead of just punk-rockingly teaching myself, as I'd intended.

'WARE THE EVIL MACHINES

I'm in full home-remodel mode (the joy of once again having a job that pays in actual money as opposed to discarded peanut hulls) and right now I'm busily designing and constructing some new shelves for my kitchen. I stayed up until 4:30a working on this and they are only 1/4 done. I've got a HOLE SAW attached to my drill. Have you guys ever experienced a hole saw before? Because the thing about this is, yes, sure, a regular old drill could kill you, but a hole saw could like, COMPLETELY KILL YOU. Terrifying! When I work on the shelves, I sequester all the pets away because I imagine my cordless drill turning on the human race like in that one episode of Futurama where there was a robot uprising, and cutting a bloody swath through my nine-inhabitant apartment. Although, do drills contain robots? I'm taking no chances. Safety first! Other safety precautions observed: climbing precariously on stepladder for better leverage; sometimes remembering to engage the safety lock between drill sessions; resting beer bottle on the OTHER counter while I am drilling.

ASLEEP/AWAKE/JAM, NOT NECESSARILY IN THAT ORDER

I had insomnia last night - as I mentioned I was up until 4:30a noodling with my shelves. I then got into bed and read for twenty minutes, because no matter how late I get to bed or how tired I am, I always read for a bit before I go to sleep. This is a lifelong compulsion and I have made my peace with it. So I finally drifted off to sleep, only to be beset by an episode of sleep paralysis. After which I couldn't get back to sleep again. Wow, nattering about sleep patterns! This is thrilling content, huh! I bet none of YOU are having trouble going to sleep at the moment!

And speaking of wakefulness: despite my avowed dislike of horror films, two of them were forced on me over the weekend. One, The Ruins, was silly enough that it happily did not keep me awake with nightmares, although it did keep me awake trying to imitate the German character's plaintive and surprisingly empathic line delivery: "Cut zem off!" "Somesing's wr-rong!" "HEINRICH!", etc. We went to a bar after to drown our sorrows about the movie's dumbness. This was the first time I have ever seen Shacid, Pluta, Nat, and Zach in one room together, and as they are possibly the four funniest guys I know personally, I was excited. They did not disappoint, either, except for when Shacid totally broke this drawer artifact thing about one (1) second after he sat down at the bar. That disappointed me deeply. Another thing that disappointed me was how they would not stop throwing their peanut shells at me (it was one of those kinds of bars) even after I issued a STERN REMONSTRANCE TO STOP IMMEDIATELY. Don't go out with them, is what I'm saying. They'll force you to go to movies against your will and throw trash ON YOU.

I also watched The Shining at 2am after a seven-hour music practice (The Shining at 2am. How? Why? Such a bad idea. Judgment obviously impaired by hurty fingers and beer) but I have to tell you: it's a good movie! I mean, I really was able to enjoy it despite the fact that it scared me silly. Although, the whole "Red Rum" thing might have been scarier had I not just been beset by Peter Gabriel's "Red Rain" playing on loop in my head the whole time. Not the first time a former member of Genesis has ruined a film experience for me, and I'm sure it won't be the last.

I mentioned a seven-hour music practice. Nat and Pluta and Zach and I went a-singing and a-playing in Union Square on Sunday. (Shacid came to provide moral support, too!) It was fun overload! I have always been kind of terrified to do the playing-on-the-street thing, but I have to tell you, this was good times. If only we were a real band! HINT!

POETS-CUM-PORN STARS

I will leave you with a fun game of Pluta's invention which, once I tell it to you, you will be powerless to make your brain stop playing. You have been warned.

Inspired, I think, by the chalk board outside my apartment, which is currently inscribed with an Ezra Pound poem ("In a Station of the Metro") heldover from Poem Night a couple of weeks ago, Pluta turned to Zach and me on the way down to the train the other day, and posited the following:

PLUTA
So, what if canonical poets became porn stars.

ANGELA
...

ZACH
… what?

PLUTA
You know, like, what would their porn star names be? Like, Ezra Pound would probably become Ezra Pounded.

ZACH
Ummm… I mean… e.e. cummings?

PLUTA
Emily Dickinme.

ZACH
Virgil could be… hmm, Vergin?

ANGELA
And Homer could be Foamer.

ZACH
Walt Whiphim.

PLUTA
Edgar Ballsand Hos.

ZACH
William Butthump Yeats.

ANGELA
Robert Froth.

I type type type! My gosh! Look at me go! I haven't been much good on content lately so hopefully this will be okay and not make you wish I would seriolzly shut up already. I have even more to tell you about that I didn't even get to! Pets! Supersnack! Dead mice! Rhea Perlman vs. Ron Perlman! Next time.

By the way, this oversized entry contains three (count 'em!) separate references to nut hulls. Impressive.

Soon-to-be Seamster

2008-04-09T15:35:53Z

I've ordered a sewing machine. I already have plans to turn an unused black skirt into a shirt, some scrap pieces of fabric into a different shirt, and some curtains into a dress.

Oh but seriously, how utterly, utterly great would it be to be the person who actually ripped the curtains down and made a dress out of them? The mind thrills. I hope I do it. If so, I plan to actually tear the curtains dramatically from the wall (after securing that all pets are safely tucked away from possible flying curtain rod detritus) and scream like Joan Crawford. Assuming that's the kind of stuff she did. I actually have no idea.

Hey look, bagels.

NEW YORK AREA LIVEJOURNAL FRIENDS: On Sunday, I will be busking in Union Square on behalf of Supersnack with members of Supersnack, provided it does not rain like a bastard. You should stop by and say hello to us. fishmonger19 will be there, and so will gleep_glop, truckface, and MAYBE EVEN joshacid.

I Brought Enough To Share With The Class

2008-04-07T22:01:20Z

I like when I'm home alone and I have a smoothie and I can slurp away at it like a kid with a near empty chocolate milk carton, and not worry that I'm annoying people.

Ned is the cutest when he fishes a bunny poop out of the cage and bats it all over the apartment. This is a paradox of disgusting and adorable.

I just did my Monday errands (I will make you all hate me if I start crowing about precisely how much I love having Mondays off, so I will just leave it to this parenthesis which no one will see: I LOVE HAVING MONDAYS OFF!!!!) and I made the mistake of including a trip to Union Market. I'd already been to Grab for cheese, the bodega for a $1 leftover New York Times Magazine, and the other bodega for bunny produce. I popped into Union Market intending to get ONE thing - more of the sea salt and olive oil crackers that the Josts brought over Saturday night - and instead, I walked out with: crackers, a hunk of parmiggiano, a tangerine, a tub of Moroccan cornichons (I find food that looks like tiny versions of other food impossible to resist; see also baby corn, petits fours, and Cookie Crisp), and two containers of dried mango. Dangerous, that place. Zach has a bug up his ass about Union Market, and I understand sort of why because a place that full of itself sitting in the middle of a neighborhood which also is so full of itself is a little hard to take - but seriously, how smart are they putting all that bread next to the door like that? It smells like heaven when you walk in that place. I wish I could just unhinge my head at the mouth and dump it all directly down my gullet.

Saturday evening we had a few folks over for poetry night. This was really just an excuse to eat delectables and drink a lot of wine, so far as I can see. No actually, I've been wanting to have an evening of poetry reading pretty much since I moved here, so I was very happy at how it all came together. I like to say poems aloud. I also like delectables and all the people who came over, so it was a win of a night. Also, Nat was there.

While you're here, why not check out the new Supersnack website!

And the new Supersnack T-shirt design!

I Like To Scale Mountain Piques, Too.

2008-04-03T15:38:41Z

For the past week, I've been communicating with a person in the internet who I've never met (she handles marketing for a speaker I've been trying to court for an upcoming event). She has sent me maybe five emails total in my whole life. In two of the five emails, she has used the phrase, "peaks your interest."

Livejournal Land! A conundrum!

Should I tell her she's spelling it wrong? On the one hand, she's just a random person in the computer. She cannot harm me physically if it pisses her off that I corrected her spelling. On another hand, since it's an internet discussion, it will probably come off all wrong no matter what nice phrases I couch it in (possible nice phrase: "other than this disastrous fuckup you do seem to have a somewhat basic grasp on the English language"). On a third hand, I know if it were me, I'd want to be told that I was spelling it wrong, and she clearly uses it often since she's said it twice in the week that the two of us have been internet friends. On a fourth hand, this one time, I was at a cookout at my parents' house and my cousin's husband referred to something as a "chaise lounge," and Zach offered, "Actually, as Angela will tell you, it's actually spelled l-o-n-g-u-e, chaise longue," and I was alternately pleased and mortified. Pleased because Boyfriend WordNerd knows "chaise lounge" is one of my biggest lingual pet peeves because it is the HEIGHT of lazy usage becoming actual dictionary usage, and mortified because I swear it was like in a movie or something, everyone did this slow head swivel toward us as though they were just seeing us for the first time and did not much like the view. On a fifth hand, don't wish to compromise professional standing by being a dick about spelling blar blar blar. On a sixth hand, I'd actually be doing her a favor. On the seventh hand, Jamba Juice. Mmmm.

What would Livejournal Land do?

Hey, you guys remember that time I was working for Abs'n'Sex (n'Abs) magazine (hint, may or may not be the publication's actual title) and the editors used the word "toothsome" to refer to something being ferocious, like a shark, I believe the phrase was "ever more DANGEROUS AND TOOTHSOME" and I practically had to burn the building down to get them to change it? That was awesome, wasn't it?

Countertop

2008-04-02T01:32:28Z

You didn't ask (AND WHY NOT), but hey, here's a picture of the stuff that's currently sitting on my kitchen counter.

1. Letter blocks spelling "COY," "PEEKIE," "FOAM," and "RIM." The purpose of these letter blocks was to spell out the phrase "YES I COME FROM IKEA," and display it on my entertainment center, because seriously, for few months, every new person who walked into my apartment would say, "Hey, is that entertainment center from Ikea?" And I'd have to say, "... yes." So I made these petulant blocks - in Ikea font and letters, so there would be no mistaking the situation. But then visitors to the apartment decided that a better thing was to spell other words and place them in strategic locations all over the apartment. I decided to go with a "vaguely perverse" theme tonight, but forgot to put them around the apartment after I'd assembled the words, so that Ryan, heading into the kitchen to get a cup of herbal tea, paused, looked at the blocks, and said, "This is kinda gross. I guess talking about Clooney earlier got you all riled up." Side note: The word CRAM was part of the initial lineup, but that used up too many consonants and I couldn't come up with enough other words. Shame. CRAM is a great word. Other side note: that entertainment center is out the door. I have had it with its giant Ikea-lookin ass.

2. Assorted electrical pluggy and switchy and bulby type things, from assorted electrical pluggy and switchy and bulby projects.

3. New cat food to try on Ned, who barfs up his current cat food entirely too often for us to handle. People have suggested a possible food allergy, but the truth is? He doesn't chew his food.

4. Peeps, leftover from Easter. Mercifully have not found their way into the microwave. Yet.

5. 18 beers. These came in the mail today in a big giant box, addressed to me. Enticingly, there was no note of explanation included, so I turned accusingly to Pluta. "Did you order this?" He looked offended. "Why would I address it to YOU if I'd ordered it? It would say, 'Brian's mouth, Apartment 1.'" Pluta and I spent a delicious half hour imagining that I had somehow won the favor of a Secret (Beer) Admirer, until Zach got home and revealed that the beer was a gift from him. How sweet! So it's not a stalker, then? SHAME! Anyway, I'm pretty excited about the new beer. Thanks, Zach-in-the-box.

April Retards!

2008-04-01T15:12:33Z

I am not prankstery enough to think of my own April Fool's joke (although I am totally game if anyone would like to buy me some April Fool's candy, what do you mean you've never heard of that), but I did want to show everyone Improv Everywhere's brilliant prank. I got the following email from them:

We are proud to announce a new website design for ImprovEverywhere.com. With all of the traffic
and press we have been getting lately, it was time to spice things up around here. We’d like to
personally thank our designer Ken Newell for his hard work on this new site. Ken charged us only
$4,000 for his design (which is half of his normal rate.)

Things are going to be “under construction” around here for the next couple of days as we work out the kinks and give the tires a kick or two. Bare with us. In the meantime, we’d love to hear your feedback on our new look. Check the site our and leave us a comment:

http://improveverywhere.com/2008/04/01/site-redesign-2/

Masterfully done, no? Personally, I was transported back to McMurran Computer Labs, c. 1996. Is there anyone reading this who remembers the halcyon days of skipping freshman History to sit in the computer lab to work on our TOTALLY POINTLESS websites for hours on end? No? Just me? Guess what, you guys -- back then, Santoro Hall was brand new. And Ferguson was still a high school. I'm talking like total ancient history. (For those who did not go to college with me, just imagine your own college campus, and regret loudly at whoever is nearest to you about all the pitiable cosmetic changes that have transpired since graduation. Same thing, only my college also had a traditional Japanese teahouse stuck in the middle of some woods. I don't know either.)

Dude, one time, this guy Jack had a napkin leftover from his dinner at Subway, and we decided that what would be good would be to engage the computer lab's one prehistoric black and white scanner to scan the napkin and put an image of the napkin online. This seemed like the height of both technological advance and also hilarity. Can you imagine anything more frivolous and inutile? I suppose not much has changed as far as my outlook on web content in the last 12 years, as I am still dribbling out the equivalent of Subway napkins day after day, only now I probably use more curse words.

Anyway, a gold star to Improv Everywhere for the flawless execution and also the nostalgia trip. I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT WAS TWELVE YEARS AGO.

Smack! What a Happy Drug! Smack Is The Happiest Drug I've Done!

2008-03-31T17:17:08Z

I recently got talked smack about. By someone who very much should not have been talking the smack. It wasn't a close personal friend, so I don't feel deeply betrayed, but it was a person who knew very little of one part of one situation and who could maybe possibly get in a vat of hot water for having talked smack in the manner that the smack was talked in. I found out about this last Wednesday, and for the last five days I have gone around smiling and seeming okay but on the inside stewing, seething, and feeling as though I have been converted into a walking-and-talking question mark, because what if the smack talking alters the trajectory of some other things and do I really deserve this in the first place and wahhhhh. Not recommended, by the way. It reminds me of when I used to compete in beauty pageants and people would leave horrible anonymous comments on pageant message boards about what a bad singer I am or how I have a big visible vein sticking out of my forehead. Only this time I cannot perform the ego-saving measure of imagining to myself that the smack was talked for reasons of personal jealousy. O woe! O discordia!

The uproarious punchline to this vignette (because there has to be one, doesn't there, otherwise I could be accused of being a self-indulgent bore in laboriously recounting it all for you) is that a friend of mine, in a fit of indignant Google-rage, discovered that Ye Olde Talker of Smacke is perhaps just reeling from the frustration of a failed film career. IMDB has yielded that the person made some deeply regrettable (and hilarious!) career choices in the 1980s. This may prove useful if we ever determine that the Courthouse of Snarky Justice is now in session. You have been charged with Petty Pettiness, smack talker. How do you plead?

Stupid smack talker. I punch your head.

Spending Money Like The Government Told Me To

2008-03-26T16:05:57Z

Hey guys! What's everyone planning to spend their tax return and economic stimulus money on?

Zach and I are using ours to redecorate our living room, which is something I've been wanting to do for quite awhile. Redecorating a living room is not Zach's number one priority, when he thinks "what shall I spend this free money on," (nor is it even in the top five, can you imagine?!) but I think I've sweetened the deal for him somewhat by allotting part of the money for a deliciously unobtrusive wall-mounted flat panel TV. (TV also for me! Don't tell him!)

Also: A Saarinen table. EXCITED!

"Slum of legs" in the American home? Crazy multicolored walls? Large tile-y table and large unattractive entertainment center? Tchotchke hell? Out the door, all of it. It's spring, and it's time to clean house. I am pretty excite!

LINKS WHICH YOU MAY OR MAY NOT ENJOY, I MAKE NO PROMISES

- Coca-cola is a bunch of goddamned evil geniuses. Look at this graphic! Let's all buy the world a coke. Fuck.
- High pitched singing. Annoying and fascinating, the perfect work-place entertainment. Crank them speakers up, now.
- Bust claims that the guys from Flight of the Conchords are sexy. Are they? I can honestly say this had not occurred to me. Funny, clever, smart, genius, and probably sneaky, yes. But… sexy? Please explain yourself. Maybe you meant a different word, like "hairy" or "elfin."

AIDSWalk Benefit - May 16th

2008-03-25T15:15:50Z

AIDSWalk! AIDSWalk AIDSWalk AIDSWalk!

I know, right!

So you guys, check it. Supersnack is having its THIRD ANNUAL AIDSWalk Benefit in May. I have compiled a list of reasons you'll probably want to go buy your tickets right now.

1. Sarah Bunting, who we all love and cherish, is gonna perform. She'll either read something funny that she wrote, or she'll dance around wearing a giant foam tomato, or possibly both at the same time. Either way, I know you don't want to miss seeing it.

2. John Oliver (of The Daily Show) will be doing standup. If you have only ever seen him do the Daily Show correspondent thing, my friend, you are missing out. He is amazing.

3. The Mountain Goats are going to perform. So many of you have been going on and on about The Mountain Goats for so long. Now is your chance to see them live and in person, and perhaps even touch one.

4. Mountain Goats fans are avid. We have already sold about 10% of our tickets (it's an 1100 seat theater) and we have done very very little promoting. This is great news for us, but potentially bad news for you, if it sells out. What I'm saying is, it IS gonna sell out, so buy your tickets as soon as you can.

5. Come on, you know it's a great cause. Also, if you come, I will personally buy you a beer.

6. The theme of the benefit is going to be "carnival," which means we're going to have burlesque dancers, authentic Coney Island circus freaks, gotham girls roller derby-ers, stilt walkers, people in costume, and so on and so forth. Personally, it is the party of my dreams. Seriously, it's going to be a really fun time, which I promise you (and all your friends that you're planning to bring along) will enjoy immensely.

7. You will be one of the first to see me modeling my brand new hair color (will it be cerulean? will it be mauve?). You might even get to vote on that hair color, if you give me all your money. Okay, you don't even have to give me all of it. Actually, just $25 will do. You got $25 lying around, right? You totally don't need to buy another copy of The Police's Synchronicity Concert on DVD - there you go.

If you live within 100 miles of New York, you have no excuse. I know people who are coming from Virginia to be there. I know people coming from Chicago and San Francisco to be there. I even know a person coming from BRITISH COLUMBIA to be there. You better represent. If you live in Brooklyn and are on the fence about this event, a pox upon you. You are just screwing yourself out of a good time!

SPECIAL NOTE TO TEAM MEMBERS: Remember, you do not need to buy tickets to the benefit, as long as you raise some amount of money.

Supersnack's Third Annual AIDSWalk Benefit
~ all proceeds to AWNY ~
May 16, 2008
Doors 8pm
Brooklyn Masonic Temple
317 Clermont Avenue
Fort Greene, Brooklyn
YOU BETTER GO BUY SOME TICKETS

I Could Quote Boyz II Men In This Here LJ Subject Line, If I Wanted To, But I Do Not

2008-03-24T17:16:44Z

Button was my parents' dog. But before that, she was my beloved grandmother's last dog. Last pet. Button, so named because she was said to be as cute as one, lived to the very respectable age of 18 (18! that's like, 250 in dog years), so we cannot complain that she was with us for too short a time. It's still hard, though, to say goodbye to an old friend, particularly one with such a big presence. Button was a purebred toy poodle, and as sometimes happens with purebred dogs, she was a little bit crazy. Okay a lot crazy. A big heaping ball of crazy. Because of this, though, she never came up short on entertainment factor, and what she lacked in sweetness, she made up for in punishing adorableness. Button has been cantankerous since she was born, I think. I can't remember a time that she didn't constantly growl and/or bite people and/or both. Had her mouth not been the size of, like, an eraser, she would probably have been more universally hated. Button passed away last week, and as she's the last of my childhood pets to move on to the great chewy bone in the sky, this is a hard one.

Ten Favorite Memories of Button

1. When she was a puppy and still lived with my grandparents, I'd lay on the floor facedown on their Oriental rugs, and Button would jump all over me, trying to dig at my face and put her snout in the crook of my arm. It kind of hurt, but was also really cute. Puppies rule. I was twelve. Twelve!

2. Button, meet wild fox. Wild fox, meet Button, domestic raccoon, and two teenage cousins. How my grandparents ever endured this setup, I will never know. We believe the reason Button was so neurotic is because she grew up from babyhood running around with a wild fox. Which, you know, will do that to a person. Or dog.

3. Gran discovered that if you picked Button up around her ribcage, she'd stick her front legs out in front of her in prayer position and splay her back legs, and she'd hold this position, even if you zoomed her all around the room yelling "WOnnnnnNNNNder-Dog!" I mean, not that we did that, like, all the time, or anything.

4. To see me through long winters of Button-less-ness, my grandparents would send videos of Button from Florida, my favorite of which involves her soccering a key lime all around their living room.

5. At some point we discovered that if you massaged the skin on Button's lower back, she would growl hideously and snap at you. My high school girlfriends and I did this so often and so relentlessly that eventually I could stand ten feet away from her and hold my hands up in the air and make grabby motions, and she would start growling warnings at me. If I kept it up, she'd bark and snap at the air.

5a. Nicole and I used to like to make home movies, and the piece de resistance of our collection was probably the time we anthropomorphized a quartet of dog biscuits and had them crooning along to Patsy Cline songs. (Believe it or not, we probably were not drunk when we thought this up.) The dramatic tension came when the dad dog biscuit left to use the toilet (doll house furniture, obviously. It's exactly dog biscuit-sized), and Sandy and Button came in and ravaged the entire Dog Biscuit family. We had to have monstrous growling dog sound effects, and of course we used Button and her growl-on-command talent to achieve that. She was an artist.

6. She howled. She had a very hoarse little voice, but she warbled along whenever I practiced piano. Her favorite song to howl along with was Fur Elise. Howling dogs are the cutest.

7. Button disliked sudden movements, and one time a guy I was seeing tried to vehemently tickle me while we were sitting on my parents' couch, and, sensing the need to defend her turf, Button leaped across my lap and totally bit him on the hand. I felt bad, but not really that bad, because it was pretty funny. He did not try to tickle me anymore after that. Lesson learned. Related: my parents' next door neighbor, The FBI, was legitimately scared of Button because she tried to attack his feet every time he set foot in their house. Button hated The FBI with a deep and abiding passion. We aren't sure why. Button was just kind of a hater. Also: crazy.

8. She felt safest when she was riding in a car draped across someone's neck, preferably my grandmother or my mother. One night I was home alone for the weekend and my friend Zach (now boyfriend Zach!) was visiting me. I didn't want to stay home alone because there were thunderstorms or something and anyway I was kind of a coward about staying in my parents' house (whatever, dudes, it's a scary house. I can't believe I ever spent nights there alone at all), so I loaded the dogs into the car and drove Zach home and on the way over, Sandy sat in his lap and Button climbed up his shoulder and draped herself around his neck.

9. When Button started to go a bit dotty, sometimes she would stand in the middle of the room and bark and howl at nothing, for no reason. My mom would eventually get tired of this and yell, "Button! Go lie down or go eat dog food!", and Button would do it.

10. Button had an operation on her chest, maybe three or four years ago, and I will never forget the expression on her face following her surgery. She'd had teeth extracted too, so her mouth looked all snaggly and she was totally groggy and high, all, "check it out, my paw has itsh own aura and shit, hey you guysh want to order mexican?" Drugged up animals are hilario.

We will all miss you, Wonder Dog. (Except for maybe my parents' next door neighbor.)

Happy Bunny Day!

2008-03-23T22:53:13Z

Behold the nauseating email I just inflicted on like, everyone in my address book:
_______________________

It's our big day!

A very Hoppy Easter to every-bunny, from Greta and Artie Hamilton-Walker! Let's saladbrate!

(We're very sorry about all the puns. We're totally drunk on pineapple.)

Love and bunny kisses to all,

-Greta and Artie