Showing posts with label other people in my family have jobs i swear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label other people in my family have jobs i swear. Show all posts

Sunday, July 13, 2008

pre.boat. ... 7-13-2008 ... autographed fun of the day

It wouldn't be a fun-filled stress-free vacation without a few Nth hour Catastrophes -- I write to you in a state of arrested attention which'll ideally be dissolved in 24 hours when I'm floating towards the allegedly breathtaking landscapes of New England and Canada as a bunch o' gays in shorts and matching t-shirts perform highly conceptual parodies of showtunes while dancing in relative unison. I will also, clearly, be blogging, and also -- vlogging. The fact that those verbs have become a real part of my vernacular is either awesome or embarrassing, I can't decide. UPDATE: I have decided -- embarrassing/AWESOME. On the up-side, though I've eaten all the groceries I purchased two weeks ago, I have NOT drunk the wine I purchased two weeks ago. Obviously, I'm taking care of that right now, lest good food/drink go to waste. I've put a photo of my sponsor child above my desk to remind myself how ridiculous I am and that I need to be doing more to save peoples of the world. It's totally working, actually. Also if you haven't watched our advice column vlog yet, you're pretty much gonna be getting fourtunes like "Let's Go: Non Fat Whole Wheat Green Tea" for all your many years of future time in grasshoperworld.

First of all, big news re; The 'Nards
:
1. My Mom pretty much won the diary contest. She mixed up '06 and '07, but that was clearly a typo (I've fact-checked this w/Mom) 'cause I know she knows which diary entry was from '07, obvs. That's how cool I am you guys, my Mom won the contest. Also, my Mom entered the contest! My Mom is kinda magical.
2. Also my brother Lewnard has started his own blog! He likes to write complaint letters to corporations that let him down, an activity he's been pursuing since the age of 7 or 8, and now he's taking it to the streets with "Memo to the Man." We learned this anti-corporate spirit from our parents, Actual Hippies who eventually saw Lew & us employ their Vietnam Protest chants against their insistence we go to the furniture store (1-2-3-4-We don't want your fucking war = 1-2-3-4 we don't want your furniture store) to watch cardboard televisions while they stared at couches.
3. Next thing you know, Tinkerbell's gonna be getting her own myspace page or hanging out with Barack Obama and Brangelina.
4. OMG!
*

"Yes we can!"
-Tinkerbell

Madamme Tussuad Loves Tinkerbell

Tinkerbell = Also Having Twins


[Contents of a Dream of Genie, Carla Ganis ]
*
Quote:
"I went into a glass maze called the Palace of Mirrors.
I wonder where the dreams I don't remember go.
I do not know what to do with my hands when there is nothing for them to do.
Even though it is never for me,
I always turn around when someone whistles in the street."
-Edouard Levè, from "Autoportrait"
*

[Defining Madness, by Mary Jo Rosania ]
"Sometimes, if I talked for too long, I'd be yanked beneath, into cold and weedy water.
Down there, I could not see or breathe; I was dragged backward and it wasn't even the submersion that was the worst part, it was that I had to come up again.
My present world was always, in in its mildness, a little disappointing.
I've never since Ault been in a place where everyone wants the same things; minus a universal currency, it's not always clear to me what I myself want. And anyway, no one's watching to see whether or not you get what you're after -- if at Ault I'd felt mostly unnoticed, I'd also, at certain moments, feel scrutinized.
After Ault, I was unaccounted for ... I've never paid close attention to my life or anyone else's as I did then.
How was I able to pay such attention?
I remember myself as often unhappy at Ault, and yet my unhappiness was alert and expectant;
really, it was, in its energy,
not that different
from happiness."

-from "Prep," by Curtis Sittenfeld

Ethan and His Blue Things - -SeeWoo and Her Pink Things
[JeongMee Yoon]
*
Auto-Fun for the Time Being:

1. An intelligent summary of the last few weeks of automated phun (like "fun" married "phat" and had a ferret) ending with a BANG w/an excerpt from one of my favorite David Foster Wallace essays ever: The Internet and its Enemies (@The National)
2. Really all I can do w/r/t this shared item is quote stef's google reader note on it: "I don't even know what's going ON anymore.": In Which We Recommend You Become a Better Person (@this recording)
3. Biexual Species: Unorthodox Sex in the Animal Kingdom (@scientific american)
4. The life of an artist -- a writer, in fact -- is, just as I suspected, a lot like being a psychiatrist. It's proven here. (@the guardian uk books)
5. Death by Gonzo: Hunter S. Thompson had fear & loathing for, also, himself (@ny mag)
6. Number one feeling: dancing. Number two feeling:is it sexist to be sexy while dancing? (@dance magazine)
7. I think this could also serve as an answer to question 7 in the Junot Dìaz discussion: "How do you win a booker prize?" (Take readers to a faraway place, fyi) (@bbc news entertainment)
8. It almost makes me LOL, how predictable the major news-outlet Web 2.0 stories are ... everyone announcement; last month you wrote about self-indulgent writers, this months you write about asshole commenters ... ooo! Time! You're rarely good at this, so you get to go first. Go!: "Post Apocalypse" (@time)
9. Obama on reading Harry Potter (@motherreader)
10. A woman is dedicating her life to doing everything Oprah recommends for a year. I hope that includes Gayle, just saying. (@chicago tribune)

Insomnia Poem #4: Ode to a Grecian Sutter Home

I used to think pink wine was trashy
I haven't changed my mind
about pink wine
but I've changed my mind
about trashy.

Wine - oh. Wino. Oh!

I'd like to be the wife of bath
leave bubbles in my path
clear like glass, empty and fast
before I sleep
I try to go deep
not sheep
but
as far away from real as me
so the body gets some sleep

you want to know
why I'm such a parody
it's 'cause people bring out the worst in me
like boyz ii men i'm on bended knee
i can't trust 'cause i see just what i see
like roger rabbit i jump with glee
like jessica rabbit it's not a cartoon, it's me
i mean
you who've drawn mememememe.
your pencil pops bubbles friendships
you prodded, i burst
i mean the general "you."

When I turn off the lights

it gets so dark in here
I was joking about the cave
but not about the emo
I've never seen finding nemo
And I don't want to.

P.S. Also I don't want to see Wall-E. Sorry-e.
P.P.S. I'm listening to Tori Amos.
I don't know why
but I don't care 'cause sometimes I said sometimes
I year your voice and it's been years years

This is a Happy Phantom

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Live Blogging my DONE To-Do List: 1. Auto-Fun - DONE, 2. Book Club/B-Day Contest Info- - DONE

I completed the auto-fun last night, and then said: "Now I am tired and must retire to my chambers. There are bunnies and littlefoots waiting for me with tea and crumpets and a lullaby. Tonight's lullaby will be "Major Tom" sung by the Langely School Choir. I'll do the book club stuff tomorrow at the end of the auto-fun."

It is now the bright shiny morning of our content, and scroll down for all things Junot Diaz and LJLBF (those are my brother Lewis's initials, in full).

quote: "And how I feel right now about that is a little sad because I want to live so much and have all my time and do so many things. So I have to attend to the thing in front of me because if I am not focused I can get overwhelmed by my desire to do everything still, yet as they say the clock is ticking and I won't get to it all. I can't. And the impossibility of that choice, of the everything when I was young, that choice made me a poet because I could have some purchase on everything and do a little bit of it all day." (Eileen Myles, "Live Through That?!")

auto-fun:
1. An advantage to my elite education is that I was compelled to read this entire story from start to finish: The Disadvantages of an Elite Education (@the american scholar)
2. Gay Men and Straight Women Have Similar Brains, Study Says (@the la times)
3. Another great Dirty Girls Review. (@city paper)
4. Rich people actually are happier than poor people. Ta-da! (@portfolio)
5. OMG, this is really sweet. (@the planet podcast)
6. "there's still nothing like a good old-fashioned hardback." Editorial Notebook (@nytimes)
7. Top Ten Family Guy Newscasts (@nerve.com)
8. Interview with Drag Historian Joe E. Leffreys (@naked city @the village voice)
9. Media Bitchery: The Definitive Biography. (@gawker)
10.
The Microfame Game. .A lot of feelings about this. (@nymag)
Y'all rocked the Birthday Contest. You made me & Lewis laugh & smile over and over. The videos! The Jesus-postcards, personally selected songs, e-cards, animated postcards, personal photographs etc. -- y'all blew me away. SO it's hard to pick a winner. I shouldn't hold contests, I feel bad about all the people who didn't auto-win. I'd be better as a teacher where I can grade people. Contest judging is like teaching a class where everyone's pass-fail, and only one student can pass.

I wonder if there's anything I'd be qualified to teach a class in. "The Collected Works of Cecily Von Ziegesar" or "Contemporary Writing By Urban-Dwelling Sexually Flexible Women" or "The Contemporary Memoir" or "The Short Story after 1950" or "Suburban Discontent in the Modern Novel." Anyhow, back to Lewis.

Rather than waste a tree by literally pulling names from a hat, I made a numbered list of all the entries in order of submission, and then emailed Alex:
Number 17! Dorothy, here's lookin' at you! Email me with your address and you'll get a book in the mail, or, if you've already got the book, you can get next month's book when it's decided, or auto-gear.

The creative award was a little harder. So I narrowed the field and then asked Lewis for his faves -- and, having disqualified his first two selections 'cause I'm not about to give a free book to someone who's already endeared to me (a.k.a. people i know outside of blog-world), especially 'cause obvs they'll be buying the book on their own or else I'll kill them ...

As y'all know, I'm a sucker for things that are so bad they go all the way past good, back to bad again, and then into the beautiful realm of terrible/AWESOME. Chaitee wrote a poem, Lewis cited that as a favorite because though it was "terrible," it indicated admirable "effort." Of course, I love it.

Highlights include:

Happy bishday Lewis, I thought your name was Leonard
Can I call you Leonard? I think that name is splendid.

I hear your car uses diesel
So does mine
It's not really feasible
To use petrol
With fuel prices the way they are
Though diesel is $1.70 a litre and climbing here in Australia which makes me want to gouge my eyes out with spoons, mash them into a fine meal, mix with water; and use as my own special brand of fuel
I forget what word I was supposed to be rhyming
Diesel
Rhymes with weasel, maybe you should get one for your birthday
Or get a sticker of one, to put on your car window, that'd be awesome, I say.

What a blow
No giant rubber fists
as gifts
For your birthday

Howevs, Chaitee's already confessed to buying the book, which means she'll be taking another prize. So ... Sarah R., want a copy of The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao?

Lewis was very heartwarmed by all your good wishes and wrote this story for all the heartwarmers. Apparently he already posted it on his Facebook, so if you're facebook friends w/Lewis, you've already read it. I'm not facebook friends w/Lewis, 'cause I'm scared that one day I'll get something in my feed like "Lewis Bernard has added 'booty calls' to his interests," and then I'll be scarred for life. Which's probs how he feels every time he tries to read my blog or published stories.

Also, Lewis was inspired to catch up on my blog and would like to make it known that he hasn't worn Axe Body Spray since high school, and that since abandoning the allegedly irresistible scent, his luck with the ladies has increased exponentially.

Here's Lewis:

I'd like to thank all of you who wished me well on the 24th anniversary of my escape from my mother's womb.

Looking over the list I see a nice variety of friends from the third coast to the dirty coast, spanning a couple of continents and countless (well, like 6) states. It's a privilege to have touched so many lives and so, for those of you don't know about June 16th's bender at the Maple Leaf (for the record, neither did I, surprise!) I'm gonna share my favorite story from it.

Early in the night I'm chatting it up with this girl. (I don't remember her name, hair color, age or really anything besides her saying she's some sort of singer and that she had a nasty bruise on her arm.) She says the bruise on her arm is a result of taking too much Valium on her private plane, apparently, though she couldn't recall specifics. I'm bleeding from the elbow for some reason too, so I find her admission comical and noteworthy.

The conversation shifts to astrology ... so, I leave her at the bar, find my friends on the patio, and one thing leads to another and before you know it the five of us are at the front bar ready for birthday shots. I look up to see Valium Girl standing on a bench, watching the band.

"Come take a shot with me, it's my birthday!" I yell. Valium hops down and joins me and together we find my friends -- money unspent and no shots to be seen.

Dan explains: "There's no sugar for lemon drops so Margot went to Jaques-Imos to borrow a cup."

Valium starts laughing: "I thought you said MAKE OUT with me, not ..."

Oh, I know what she means, and it's awkward, but I manage: "No, no I said take a shot with me --" and then -- excellent! "... but you followed me!"

"You just looked so confident and it's your birthday! So I just figured."

So there's the lesson: Carry yourself with confidence, say it's your birthday, and the world is your oyster.

(Additional Life Lessons from the Lew-Man are here.)

Book Club
:

Okay. I'm gonna give y'all a week to get your hands on Junot Diaz's The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao and then you'll start reading like wild rabbits. It's cheapest online. Wao has received numerous awards including the New York Times Notable Book Award, National Book Critics Circle Award and the Pultizer Prize for Fiction. A brief Wiki-hijacked description: "The novel chronicles not just the "brief wondrous life of Oscar Wao," an overweight Dominican boy growing up in New Jersey and obsessed with science fiction, fantasy and women, but also the curse of the "fukú" that has plagued Oscar's family for generations and the Caribbean since colonization and slavery. The middle sections of the novel center on the lives of Oscar's mother Beli and his grandfather Abelard under the dictatorship of Rafael Trujillo. Rife with footnotes, science fiction and fantasy references, and street Spanglish, the novel is also a meditation on story-telling, Dominican diaspora and identity, masculinity, and the contours of authoritarian power."

You must be at page 160 by July 2nd for our first team meeting. If you aren't, you will suffer. Look at Junot in that picture! He's standing by a wire fence on an urban street! You know what that means. I wonder where my author picture will be taken if I ever have one. Hopefully on the roof. Of my urban street. Anyhow.

While awaiting your book's arrival, you should read his short fiction: I love the story Alma (@the new yorker) and FYI; Wao started as a short story, I've not read it (Fear of Spoilers), but I imagine it'll be interesting post-reading. Last summer I ate Wildwood -- (not available online), and I'm recognizing much of it in the novel. I was encouraged to read that Drown was his only book before this one, so, coupled with The New Yorker's stories, I've read almost everything he's published and therefore I am a Junot Diaz expert! Perfect for my position as book club leader!

In the mean-time ... if you've got any questions you think would be good to ask/discuss, vocab you didn't know, or opinions about what you've read so far, email me at Automatic_Win@yahoo.com. I'm gonna try to finish it within the next few days so that I can field your requests regardless of how far you're reading ahead.

I'm compiling a list of some of the english translations of spanish words I didn't know (nothing that'll give anything away. I'm only on page 100) Not knowing a few words here and there really doesn't matter, though. FYI.

OK -- I'm still figuring out exactly how one operates an online book club, and how I will make mine super-special and fun ... but I will figure it out and obviously you will be the first to know. I'll be posting online interviews and other related tidbits over the next few weeks. But I promised some information today, and I like to follow-through on at least 65% of my promises.

Also! I'm really excited. This is more-or-less my fantasy about anything a blog could ever be. We're all gonna read a really fucking good book together and have good conversations about it! Srsly, I've had a legit pep in my step for the past week just thinking about it. You can ask my neighbors on my urban streets all about it.

Monday, June 16, 2008

It's YOUR Chance to Auto-Win Some! SWEEPSTAKES! :: And Auto-Fun! :: 6-16-2008

Happy Bloomsday, everybody! Yes, today is the day that James Joyce wrote about in his famous book "Ulysses," which I haven't read and probably never will. It's also my brother Lewis Bernard's 24th birthday. In order to best celebrate this momentous occasion as well as the launch of the Auto-Win Book Club, I'm giving you (yes, you! ALL OF YOU!) the chance to win a free copy of the book club's first selection (if you already own it, you can select a substitute prize of auto-gear or the Book Club's second book or a date with Lozo) ... it's super easy, so listen up:

1. Send an email to "Lewnard@gmail.com," with a BCC or CC to automatic_win@yahoo.com. The title of the email must be "Happy Birthday Lewnard."
2. There will be two prizes awarded: one will be selected at random from everyone who completed the mission, probs pulled out of a hat by one of my unpaid interns/personal assistants.
The second will be selected based on overall creativity and genius displayed in your birthday wishes. For example:
- Animated gifs
- Clever wordplay/poetry
- E-greetings of some sort that might make his computer explode
- Anything involving an e-greeting for a different occasion, but tailored for the birthday situation
- Creative photoshopping
- Any photos or other images
- Music
3. If you choose a format which won't allow you to send it to multiple recipients, then just forward it to me.
4. If you don't have time for anything creative, just say Happy Birthday and send it off, you'll still have a shot at love with Tila Tequila and a shot at winning a book/whatevs and contribute to my delight, re: Lewis's inbox today.
5. You have until midnight on June 16th (today) to complete this mission. If you live in Australia, that means you've got 'til 2 P.M. on the 17th. Late submissions are accepted, but not encouraged.
6. Some extraneous information about Lewis: he lives in New Orleans, he is very tall, he is 100% heterosexual, his car uses diesel, he's an engineer, he thinks I'm crazy, and we have very similar senses of humour.

Even if you don't want to win a book, you should do it anyway 'cause I LOL'ed just thinking about it. If you're my 3-D friend, you're pretty much obligated to do this. Too busy you say? So am I!

As for the book club, I've done some research and discovered that Junot Diaz's The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, due to its bestseller status, is usually about the same price as a paperback anyhow, and there are used copies available, the library, etc.

Try allbookstore.com for price comparisons of various online outlets. You've got about 7-10 days to get your hands on this book while I figure out what a Book Club is.

It will involve team meetings, as the book is being read. These will be very exciting and involve strategy development, watch out! Read fast!

The First Auto-Win Book Club Book Is:

Why this selection? It's the only list book I know fo'sho is legit genius (it won the Pulitzer), no one spoke out against it & everyone wants to read it. LK's already started! I'll pick something more specifically special (maybe from the same list) next time.

I'm guessing the "Finish Date" for the book will be mid to late July. I don't know exactly what'll happen in the meantime (team meetings!) but I'll have a few more ways for you to get the book this week.

This contest though is the only one for sure I know I'll do, 'cause I just did it!

I wrote a Sunday Top Ten, read it after you read "Ulysses" and e-mail Lewis.

quote"Andy [Warhol] saw the world through different-colored glasses, ones that we will never imagine. He was fortunate but tortured. Torture of his kind seems to plague all great artists because of their vision. They see deeper, they think deeper, and they translate their ideas from the mundane to the realistic. Not that there will ever be anything realistic about Andy's vision. It will never be conceived as mundane or realistic -- only poetic, and visionary, and mind-blowing." (Elizabeth Taylor)

links:
1. How to Nap. (@boston.com)
2. Also, you can rent one from enterprise for $25/day. (@lifehacker)
3. The Tonys happened. (@nytimes)
4. If the photos turn you on, just buy a vibrator! (@street carnage)
5. Lit 101 Class in Three Lines Or Less. Great Gatsby: "I love being rich and white." (@mcsweeny's)
6. It's all about the list: How We Read Online. (@slate)
7. Oregon Trail is somehow not included on this list, I don't know why. (@nerve-61fps)
8. NEA finds California tops in artists. Or, "artists."? (@latimes)
9. Rich points out that Tila Tequila "really is the stupidest person to have been given a public platform in some time.." Also, watch the video ... Kathy Griffin's facial expression is priceless. (@fourfour)
10. Poem: Slow Drag Blues, by Kevin Young. (@the new yorker)

Saturday, June 07, 2008

H & R! Haviland and Riese Advice Column #1: You've Got Feelings, We've Got Answers

Hello! Welcome to the first installment of H&R: Haviland and Riese's stunning advice column. This is where we fix all your problems instead of fixing our own. By default, we're answering the first five e-mails we received but keep 'em coming, and we'll keep on coming ... all over the keyboard. Also, P.S., my Mom is here this weekend, and she's: 1. watching some weird "Broadway Promos" channel where Mary Poppins is singing crazy, 2. Convinced I need to get a master's degree in social work, so that I can devote myself to advice. That's great advice. That's exactly what I need to do, is pour additional money into the University system, which's so far proved immensely useful. Anyone want a ten page paper on the rise of the modern American novel? I'm selling it for $10, it's a buyer's market. 3. Is now telling me that I need to begin this column with a disclaimer that we are not mental health professionals, we are "literary" and "humor." If you have a real problem, you should see a professional. Like my Mom, the social worker.

Mom: "If someone asks you advice about killing themselves or killing somebody, you need to direct them elsewhere. People take things seriously and they will find you and track you down and kill you. If you think I'm joking or exaggerating, I'm not. You think I'm being overdramatic, don't you?"
Me: "No! I'm trying to transcribe, you're talking too fast."

Got it? Okay!

Also -- we'd like to invite you -- the reader -- to chime in with your advice if you've got it. Also, this is sort of a test run. Hav's coming out to NYC in a few weeks, so we'll do an advice vlog for a few special questions, and we're gonna cover some questions on ichat, etc. So send us more questions, we need more questions, more! more!

Dear H & R,

My new boss recently relocated desks and is now sitting next to me. Her ringtone is 'Clocks' by Coldplay, and every time I hear it ring I want to throw myself off the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Her taste in music is severely affecting my time in my cubicle. My co-workers have advised that raise this issue directly with her, however confronting people just isn't how I roll. If you could suggest a more passive aggressive solution to my problem then it would be well appreciated.

-Cold for Coldplay


Dear CFC,

Haviland: Confront. Srsly. Try this, "hey, would you mind turning your ringer to vibrate?" You obviously need to learn to be more aggressive. Do it with a smile, and your boss will understand. She's being very disrespectful to have a cell phone ringing in the workplace, anyway! This happens in dressing rooms all the time, and the best way to go, for sure, is just to ask nicely. I'm all about the direct approach. (of course you could just say, "oh em GEE!" every time it rings, but like i always say, why waste that kind of time?)

Riese: Although I'm a big fan of passive passiveness and aggressive aggressiveness in relationships w/friends, I fully support passive aggression in the workplace. What Haviland is suggesting is the kind of thing you might do if you were a confident, pro-active, forward-thinking problem-solver with a great deal of poise and direction. I'm not like that, I'm a wimp at work. Let's go:
1. Find out what music she hates the most and make that your ringtone, then set your phone to email alerts so it'll go off all the time. I can email you all day. Oh wait, I already do, Secret Person. She'll get so annoyed that she'll start to question her own behavior.
2.Next time it rings, grab it and throw it against the wall and go 'I HATE COLDPLAY!'
3. Start playing "Clocks" by Coldplay on an old-school boom box on repeat all day so she can't tell if it's her phone or the boom box. And if she's like "Stop playing Clocks on repeat all day, it's annoying," say, "Funny you should mention that ..." and so on.
4. All of those things take longer than just confronting, but c'mon, what else are you gonna do at work? Work? Right-o.

Dear H&R,

My girlfriend is moving cross-country to live with me (we've lived together before, so those dynamics are worked out). So, what should I do to make things easier for my girlfriend when she moves here? I worry pretty equally about the outcomes of either forcing her to hang out with my friends endlessly (whether she likes them or not) or leaving her at home alone all the time while I go socialize. Not that I don't think she'll make her own friends, of course, I'm just worried about the transition period between cutesy I'm-so-glad-you're-finally-here-let's-do-everything-togetherness and normal (somewhat separate, I hope) lives. Any advice would be appreciated.

-Full House

Dear FH,

Riese: So I have this theory which's that people expend the least amount of effort possible at all times in order to make it from sunrise to sundown without slitting their wrists. Which's just to say that if she gets on w/your friends straight away, she'll probs never bother to make her own, and then you'll be trapped in a 24-7-togetherness that'll eventually lead to either double suicide or the end of sex. I think you must ask yourself: "Do I truly want my girlfriend to attend this social event? If we didn't live together, would I invite her?" and if the answer is "yes," then invite her. But if you start inviting her for any reason besides a genuine desire to have her there (e.g., obligation, wanting her to feel included), that'll get unhealthy fast.

I did the cohab thing once. Howevs, 'cause I'd cheated on my boyfriend with a pledge at his fraternity as a prelude to what I saw (incorrectly) as our impending breakup, I was actually formally prohibited from attending his social gatherings. Then about four months post-cheating, he went out of town and his "brothers" invited me over and ragged on him all night and I had an a-ha! moment. Was there a point to this story? Oh, then I dumped his ass and his "brothers" helped me move out. Don't let that happen to you. Hey-o!

Ok, enough about memememee. Also, totally JK'ing, I just wanted to talk about myself and be humor, that would never happen to you, speaking of you; let's get back to you. Leaving her at home alone won't do anyone any favors, 'cause she's not gonna make new friends with your couch (howevs, there is the internet!). Work or school will be the best area for her to have a life separate from yours. Also, make out frequently and when she arrives, answer the door in nothing but whipped cream.

ALSO! (omg, I have so many feelings about this) If it's a big group gathering, you never know who your gf will click with. Maybe she'll end up being besties with a peripheral friend. Magic social evolution! KaZAM! It's not bad to have many of the same friends as your girlfriend, it happens often, just try to be aware of it happening organically instead of by default, if it does.

Tinkerbell says that your girlfriend wants a vodka-tonic and a back massage.

Haviland: I basically agree with the Riesling, except I haven't had the experiences of which she speaks, with the frat boys, etc. The main thing is to make sure you're still living your life, even while she's entered it. You absolutely do want to make her comfortable, but not at the expense of making yourself miserable. Make sure she feels like your place is also her place, and that can be as simple as picking out some cute things to decorate - candles, throw pillows, autowin collages, whathaveyou. I'm hoping she has a job, and she'll be able to make friends there. In any event, you should talk about this with her - tell her your concerns and that you are excited about making a life with her, but are cognizant of being too codependent, and want to keep your relationship great and sexy and honest and healthy. Hopefully she'll be respectful of your alone time with your friends, she'll meet her own, you'll have date time, alone time, etc...and it'll all work out. Just keep those lines of communication flowin'. (Did I just say that? oy...)

Riese: The main thing is to be sure you make an effort to maintain some romance and mystery -- a romantic night out is often less romantic when you witness your partner preparing for it, instead of seeing her just show up looking fantastic. Don't pressure each other to check in all the time (it's nice sometimes to go to Wal-Mart w/o your SO knowing you're going to Wal-Mart) and be sure you have lives just separate enough so there's still stuff to talk about. Like don't be "How was your day?" "Um, you should know, you were there for the whole thing." Etc.


Dear H&R,

How can you make people attracted to you without always having to be the friend... i.e., I would rather not be Ross to the Rachel, the Will to the Grace ... In other words ... what do I do?

-Friend Without Benefits

FWB,

Haviland: Oh, honey, haven't we all been here! You can't make anyone like you, dear - it'll just happen. If you're into someone and you're not sure if they reciprocate, flirt a little bit and try and figure it out, or ask one of their other friends. Leave a little "circe" (gift) at their place or at their work...nothing too romantic at first - better if it's sweet and/or funny. Make sure whatever it is can later be sluffed off as being a friendly gesture, but also, something that, if they are into you, they'll think is super sweet. If you find that they aren't into you, let it go! Don't waste your precious time obsessing over someone with whom it just ain't gonna happen!

Riese: I think what Haviland is saying is "lower your standards." Howevs, I think you can sometimes win someone over by showing them (subtly!) you can treat them right (if that's what they want) ... or by making yourself indispensable to them, like make them super codependent on you and then be like "look, either we take this relationship to the next level, or I'm outta here," and then they're like "fuck, I better keep you around otherwise who's gonna make dinner?" Mostly, I'd say that you need to talk about other romantic exploits (make some up if you don't have any) to make yourself seem like you're being desired by people all over the world.

But srsly, the most attractive trait a person can carry off is confidence. If you don't wanna be slotted as a "friend," then you need to be someone who knows what they're doing. Don't confess anything embarrassing or radiate neediness or inexperience right away. That'll come later, once you've already had a few rounds of riding the hobby horse wink wink.

Also:
1. Axe Body Spray.
2. Be mysterious and aloof, or better yet -- mysteriously aloof.
3. Didn't Ross & Rachel end up getting married? Just sayin' ...
4. I believe a great pop song once sang, "I can't make you love me if you don't, I can't make your heart feel something it won't." Right? Yeah. Think about it -- you can't force someone to be with you and you wouldn't want to. If they don't see how fabulous you are, then they're not the "one," 'cause "Thinks I'm fabulous" is a very important trait in a partner.
5. Get drunk and go to Manhunt.com, it works every time.

Haviland: I agree about the confidence thing, but the other advice? hm...maybe the axe body spray...this is a very good idea.

Riese: Secretly, I think my brother wears Axe Body Spray. And for someone with my genetic makeup, his luck with the ladies is not too shabby.

Dear H&R,

I've been with my girlfriend for about ten months. We're good together. The only problem is, she bites me. Really hard. I don't know how to explain away neck and shoulder bruises. What do you suggest?

-Bitten


Dear Bitten,

Riese: Listen up, Semi, I told you to just say you fell down the stairs! Oh wait -- ten months. NM. Um, okay anonymous Bitten, if you were my friend and you had neck and shoulder bruises and I was like, "what are those?" and you went, "my girlfriend bites me. Really hard," I'd be like HOLLA! and give you a high-five, and then we could go to the record store and have a few beers, maybe listen to some rock n' roll, etc.

But seriously, I think you need to make up a story -- like tell your girlfriend, "OMG, so apparently everyone at work has been chatting about my shoulder and
neck bruises and they think that you're like, abusing me, or -- I dunno, everyone's looking at me funny and thinking i have some sort of sordid secret life. So you have to stop! I know it's hot and fun, but I can't explain away these bruises forevs!" or something. Also, are you sure she's not a vampire and she's actually eating your blood? I think there was an L Word episode about this.

Haviland: I don't know about "making up a story." I'm never a fan of this. Do you like the biting? If not, then just ask her to stop, that you're into her, but not into that. If you do like it, you should just ask her to take a nibble on all the places that people at work won't see. What I would do is tell her she's really sexy (make sure to boost her up, so she doesn't think you're putting her down) and all the true things you love about her and her biting, but tell her you're afraid people are staring at your bruises. Suggest some places to nibble that aren't so visible.. In any event, talk to her about it - tell her this is kind of hard to bring up (obvs it is if you're writing to us about it and not just talking to her) but that it's important to be honest, because you do really think the relationship is great and that you're good together. This is a minor thing. The thing is, if you're in an intimate situation, and your mind is on "omg there she goes with that - how am i going to explain it this time?", then you're not really being all that intimate, and your mind is taken off of her. And don't you think she wants it to be on her and how good she's making you feel? So, thats the deal...communicate.

Riese: While we're on the topic, FYI ... DO NOT TOUCH HAVILAND'S FACE."

Haviland: "Do NOT touch my face."

Riese: "I just had another idea -- coat your body in poison, like people do when they don't want to bite their nails."

Dear H & R,

I came out to my parents two years ago, when I was 18. My mom's Cuban (w/very strong religious beliefs & "family morals") and my Dad had just been getting back into religion again. My mom stopped speaking to me for five months and my Dad thought I should let go of all my sins so God would forgive me, but I don't like being forced into religion ... or anything. Also, they asked me not to tell my younger brother, who was 15 at the time, and I agreed to wait 'til he was older -- I guess I wanted to give my parents something.

Last November, I put my foot down. I told my Mom I didn't want to just be "tolerated" and I had a right to tell my brother and so I did. He said he kinda already knew but it was still weird and when I tried to talk to him about it, he'd just shut down.

To make everyone else comfortable, I never talk about being gay or about girls I find attractive, but it's getting to a point of ridiculousness. Today I was driving my brother home from school, listening to Katy Perry's CD -- she sings "I Kissed a Girl" and "UR So Gay" (although Perry herself is straight). My brother FLIPPED OUT and asked me to change the song 'cause the last seven songs have been about "that." He can't even say the word "gay."

I love him so much and I'd do anything for him, but I'm getting so tired of trying to make everyone else comfortable while sacrificing being myself. I don't ever overstate it or throw it in anyone's face, and I never would, but I think listening to a song that mentions girls kissing each other or uses the word "gay" shouldn't be a problem.

Am I overthinking this? How do I approach my brother w/o him shutting down? Do I have a right to feel the way I do?

-IM So Gay.

Riese: Do you live at home with your parents? I feel like maybe you feel a little guilty for being gay 'cause they've told you to be, and that repressed self-loathing enables you to not feel you've got a right to actually be a whole person and demand that your whole person be loved and respected like everyone else.

Have you had a girlfriend? I'd suggest that you find a smokin' hot girlfriend who's totally into you, and then bring her over, and your brother will think it's hot and your parents will be like "omg, there are lesbians who don't wear flannel and chop down trees with hairy armpits," and she can win them over, etc. Actually I think what I am describing is a prostitute (not a bad idea!) In general ... I think it's hard to live your life feeling any kind of guilt for how you've chosen to live it. You'll never be able to feel fully comfortable in your skin until the people who love you can look at your skin and your face and your whole self and say, "it is good."

Haviland: I have a lot of feelings about this. Do you have anyone in your extended family or family friends who could be your ally on this, and help you to talk with your family? You need a team. Sadly, many, many people go through what you're dealing with - a family who believes fully in the "don't ask, don't tell" policy. So you're left feeling that if you even reference possibly thinking someone might be attractive, that you are being sinful and inappropriate and wrong. YOU ARE NOT WRONG. It's amazing that you told your mom you didn't want to just be tolerated -- maybe you can take it a step further and get her help on this? I think it freaks out families to think of their kid/sister as being gay because it, annoyingly, puts their mind into thinking of that person (you) in a sexual situation, and no one wants to think about their sister or kid having a sex life. What's important for your family to understand, and MORE importantly, for you to really be at peace with, is the fact that being a gay is really not a big deal. Really. Instead of dating a guy, it's going to be a girl. That's all. Align yourself with an ally or two, or 100. They are out there. You've found a blog full of them here, in fact! Didn't Jimmy get the memo that lesbians are hot? Send him the links to our websites! I'll leave you with this, from "Silent Legacy" by the Queen of being guilt-free about who you are, the extraordinary Melissa Etheridge, "Mothers, tell your children -be quick - you must be strong. Life is full of wonder. Love is never wrong."

Riese: I think you need to ask your Mom what it is precisely that concerns her -- is she worried you'll be poor w/o a man 'cause women have unequal earning power, or that you'll be ostracized, or is she legitimately worried that you're going to hell? Confront those concerns head-on. (Directly to the forehead.) Also, I feel like a lot of homophobia stems from the homophobic person being angered by/ashamed of their own gay feelings (a.k.a. The Fairbanks Syndrome) (see also: the evangelical Christian preachers getting blown in gas station bathrooms). 'Cause sometimes we're all a little bi. Ask your brother what exactly it is that bothers him -- is he embarrassed? Grossed out? (and if so, point out the idea of thinking about him having sex with a girl also grosses you out). Maybe if they're just worried what other people will think, you can offer them your closeted behavior around their friends and family in exchange for love within your immediate family. Or say you understand they don't approve, and that that'll never change, but you'd like to be able to be yourself around them, and that accepting you doesn't mean they're backing down on their beliefs. Ultimately it's their problem -- you've got no problem with how they live. They're the ones creating all this drama.

They need to know it's not their "fault," and that it's not gonna change. Show them books and movies and shows and Ellen & Portia! As long as you internalize their loathing, they'll get away with it -- they probs still think you can change, 'cause they don't understand that it's a part of you that you can't change. Once they do, they'll realize they've got two choices: accept it, or loose you. And the art of losing is hard to master, no matter what Elizabeth Bishop says.

FYI; there's nothing in the bible against lesbians. Just -- so you know. As Ruth told her gay son in Six Feet Under when he came out; "I don't get to chose which parts of you that I love like some kind of chicken."

Haviland: Yes, asking your mom what scares her so much would really put the ball in her court. Also, the more I think about it, I feel annoyed by everyone always saying that they aren't flaunting their sexuality or whatever - like as though you are walking down the street naked, waving a pride flag? I don't really get this. Most lesbians I know are pretty boring, actually - they live in homes, some of them have kids, many of them engage in gossip and obsession, not unlike seventh grade girls...but basically, if "flaunting" it means just being cool with who you are, whats the problem with this? I used to feel awkward about holding my girlfriends hand in front of my parents. But then I had to think, ok, if this were a guy, would I feel awkward? Well, probably. But the point - when you are passionate about something, don't you want to share it with the people you love?

Riese and I obvs have SO many feelings about this, and since I've been thinking about it for 15 years (srsly, I'm not kidding about that), I have a lot to say, and I feel like many of our readers might have thought a little about this, too! So, let's continue this dialogue!

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Automatic Lose, OR: "How About Ohio?"

My life and this blog have a very clean-cut relationship:

x+2x=y

x=the quality and rockstar-factor of my actual life
y=the quality and rockstar-factor of Automatic Win's life

This equation ensures that I appear 100 times cooler than I am. I think. I haven't taken math since like, before the internet was invented.

Let's look at the numbers:
-I've been going crazy/writing an article for [redacted very well-paying] Magazine for 5 weeks--it's just been killed. No "launch-pad," no "income [aside from kill fee]."
-I've got 18 days remaining in this apartment. Aforementioned sublet: fell through, obvs.
-I'm totes hands-down under-employed [by design, but still.]
-I've gotta re-work my book before I can sell it.
-I've got a weird feeling I'll forget to do my taxes.
-However, I don't live in Darfur. That's something.
-Which doesn't make me feel much better.
-So now I just feel like an ungrateful asshole. Still reading?


Those unlucky few who've had the pleasure to speak to me on the phone this morning have suggested I think of this as a great opportunity to "start all over." Hm. "Start all over." I've started brainstorming:

Move to a Square-Shaped State, Purchase Panty-Hose and "Pumps."
This might be super-educational. Like: what's a hedge fund? What's insurance? What's "investing"? What are "tax professionals"? What is "human resources"? These are all questions I cannot answer. But if I worked for a "distribution" or "sales" company or something? Then I'd be knee-deep in the salt of the earth, etc. Also, hello tinted stockings, goodbye TANNING!

Bender.
I've never done heroin; does it look better in the movies? I should do laundry so I can have appropriate bender clothes; like something hot-hot-hot and devastating. All like "Look at me, I am so tortured on my mattress, I am writhing, I am hot and writhing!" Currently: wearing Abercrombie sweatpants from 1999, eyeliner-smeared wifebeater. More devastating-dorm-style than devastating-Little-Girl-Lost-style.

Renouncing Material Possessions, Living on Street, Eating Macaroni con Queso
Which might make me a spoiled girl who's used to a standard of living she takes for granted when she should realize there are plenty of people out there with bigger problems than no apartment, no job, and a month spent on an article that just got killed. Seriously, though, this article has not only BEEN killed, but it's killed me. [I'm moaning about this on my mac-book.]

Getting Million-Dollar Abs for a Buck
Seriously, I'm watching this thing on TV RIGHT NOW. What if my ABS were worth a million dollars?!! I just need to order this chair. Then my abs'll earn money in my sleep.

Go Back to School
According to Careerbuilder.com, the best fields for the Class of 2007 include such tempting careers as "Auditor," "Registered Nurses" and "Computer Software Applications Engineers." I think what I really need is an M.F.A! Then I'll be a REALLY good writer, which will make me 0% more employable.

Peace Corps
I wonder if I could get to Guatemala before May 1st? It'd suck to go through the trouble of finding a new apartment just to move to a shack in South America.

Go Live with My Mom
Dial-Up problem aside--there's something about surburban Detroit that makes me slightly suicidal. However, there'd be free food and no rent. Until I drove my Mom completely crazy. Approx. 10 days?

Watching Americas Next Top Model marathon, crying softly to self, writing embarrassingly self-pitying blog entry
Oh wait. That's what I'm already doing.

Monday, January 22, 2007

Sunday Top 10: Life Lessons From the Lew-Man

Today's guest blogger is my younger brother, Lewis, who lives in New Orleans, LA. I was very excited to have Peter (and "helnad"!) comment during Natalie's guest-blogging spot, and I want Lewis' friends to know I expect no less from them. And Lewis, you too.

I'm 22--practically a baby, so you may be wondering why I'm writing on Life Lessons (although you're actually probably wondering why my older sister isn't writing on Life Lessons--not because she's been Alive Longer, but because this is her blog). As to the former: I may have the facial hair of an awkward 7th grader, but I also have many qualities generally associated with being grown-up: a bad back, car payments, dental insurance and a vibrating La-Z-Boy chair. So it's not how old you are, but how old you feel--and I feel like getting the early bird special. As for the latter--I'm not sure why Marie can't write this week but if I had to guess I would guess: rock cocaine.

(Riese Side Note 1: "The L Word" is actually not unlike rock cocaine. Pleasurable in the short term though ultimately unhealthy, addictive though you know it's not redeeming, etc. On that note...see recap HERE)


SUNDAY TOP TEN: WHAT I'VE LEARNED, OR "THINGS IT WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE TO KNOW WHEN I WAS YOUNGER."

10. Mediterranean restaurants are BYOB.
I used to have a vegetarian girlfriend (Marie's side note: WHAT?!! Who was this girl?) who had established a routine of me paying for everything. (That should really be an item of it's own: "Don't pay for everything the first time or it won't be the last time!") This routine was becoming taxing until I discovered Mediterranean restaurants. Not only do they have a variety of vegetarian options but typically the owners have accepted Mohammad as the restorer of the original monotheistic faith of Adam, Abraham, and the other hard-drinking prophets we studied in Hebrew School. Translation? They won't serve alcohol, and I'm happy to BMOB. $3 corking fee! That's practically free.

9. Don't be in Charge of Anything Unless You Can Fire People.
I was elected to head up my senior design project: a solar powered boat. We inherited a carbon fiber hull, solar panels, and marine grade batteries from the year before.

Marie's side note: Carbon fiber what?!!! Marine grade batteries? As opposed to like, canine batteries? Aquamarine grade? Why is my brother doing things that involve solar panels and I'm writing jokes about lesbian TV shows? The answer is: Legos. Lewis used them to build things. I used them to produce stop-motion animation movies with 90210-esque plots (but with pirates and astronauts instead of teenagers) when Lewis wouldn't be in my movies anymore 'cause I always made him wear ridiculous costumes and lip sync to songs he didn't know.


We had good people on our team, but we also had all the worst people on our team, and basically our project was done before we even started. The boat never made it to the competition and only made it to the water once and then the whole Tulane Engineering department was eliminated. Logic dictates that the blame for this mishap should be directed at the top, but I would like to reflect that blame back down to the bottom, perhaps with a solar panel, to all the students with: 1. bad attitudes, 2. poor work ethic. They knew we were gonna get an "A" no matter what, I couldn't kick them off the project, and today these people design your oil pipelines, nuclear power plants and missile defense systems. So now they aren't just MY problem anymore.

8. Sunshine Special
I just found out about this sandwich 8 months ago and since then I've consumed about 200 of 'em--some brilliant chef came up with the idea to cram french fries, scrambled eggs, grilled peppers, cheese, sausage and house sauce into a 12' loaf of french bread. Slurp it down with a 99 cent can of iced tea and....Hangover Averted! Also: it's in my neighborhood and they deliver.

7. 74 degree days in January are nice/-4 degree days in January suck
I don't think that people in the north realize they don't have to be cold for 75% of the year. (RSN: I don't think people in...ok. I can't. But you've had some rough weather yourself, y'know?) I keep telling my friends from home that down south we have all those things Ann Arbor has (colleges, businesses, coffee shops) but without the periodic need to "layer up." Last Friday I played boche ball at the park. I just did a load of laundry and had to wash several pairs of shorts. Sure, it's hotter than hell during the summer but unlike up north, everyone here has AC. We keep ours at a brisk 64 degrees. It's like walking into a pool.

6. Hurricanes Blow But More Importantly: They Flood.
I had this idea that it was just a lot of wind? Before we left, I actually moved stuff from near the window to the floor so nothing would get knocked over. I live in an area that was relatively undamaged--the first floor of our house was flooded/ruined as well as our cars, but the only broken window in our house was the one our friend broke to get in and take refuge on the second floor. Katrina took me totally by surprise. It was the third time we've been evacuated since we started school, and for Hurricane Ivan my friend and I just sat it out. If I'd known Katrina was coming I would have brought more stuff with me when we left. I really can't complain; I was at my friend's country club in Atlanta drinking beer during the worst of it.

But it wasn't the wind itself that made it so catastrophic for the rest of the city and it wasn't seasonal rain. It was because the levees broke and everything flooded. Everyone has a story--"I evacuated with only suntan lotion and a wifebeater!" Now every time it rains people gather their belongings and head to the parking structure. I'm a drainage engineer so I know that we have enough pumping capacity to take care of seasonal rains, so that's not really necessary. We don't need to stand under a parking structure with our dogs and medications, we need proper Levees. Like, now.


5. Hot Sauce Makes You Feel GOOOOOOD
Here's a little bit of science I overheard at the Maple Leaf Bar, a reputable source for urban legends, French Connections and local gossip: When you eat spicy food your mouth burns, this causes pain, nerves run a chain reaction to your brain, endorphins shoot back down to your central nervous system. Endorphins are those sexy little pleasure chems that reward your taste for cayenne with a pint-sized rush: not uninhibited, but it's definitely there. This fact, coupled with the availability of spicy foods and local hot sauces, has changed my life. It's like sex without the uncontrollable weeping. Actually sometimes it's exactly like sex.
(RSN: Okay, so I've published a lot of sex-related writing, used to work at nerve.com, even once got paid far too much to write straight-up smut for a porn mag under a ridiculous pseudonym you could never find in a million years, and maybe even mentioned sex here, and Lewis found my birth control pills in the computer room in 1998 and asked Mom what they were, but um ommgggggi asdsadasopigopipi whahassss my brother doesn't have sex, he's my brother! AWHAHSHHH!)

4. Business School is more fun than engineering school, and well paying!
I worked my ass off trying to snag an engineering degree, and then in my final semester I decided to take a few finance, management and marketing classes. Not only were the courses engaging and interesting but they were EASY! During "Investments," we might spend a day calculating the slope of a 1st degree polynomial (what is this, middle school?!).

(RSN: Poly-what?)

In marketing, we'd discuss the benefits of Coke placement in the cafeteria vs. Tostitos in "Survivor". In "Intro to Marketing" I learned that watching TV pays dividends. Every project was conducted in groups, giving me an opportunity to interact with the girls I'd normally only see at 50 cent night. We had three girls in the Mechanical Engineering Department and they weren't the type you'd see on top of a pool table at 4 am. Plus the average starting salary with a MBA from Tulane is over $72,000. Its a win-win-win.

3. The Line Between Mean and Funny is Razor-Thin
I'm still figuring this one out. Actual conversation I had with a roommate (name changed to protect innocence) after I heard she slept with this boy on my floor who disappeared and then turned up dead mysteriously freshman year:

Me: I heard the funniest rumor about you!
[redacted]: Oh what's that?
Me: You slept with the dead kid!
[redacted] (storms out of room, presumably goes to a Dark Place to cry and experience all 12 stages of grief all over again)

That was over a year ago. It's probably not the best example because that line wasn't necessarily razor-thin. It was pretty big, bold and well established.

(RSN: I think perhaps, my dear brother, that our own experience with untimely/tragic death makes us slightly less capable of dealing with grief properly when talking to those who do not live with it and the lasting psychological damage of dealing with it improperly every single day as we do. Like, for example, in this side note. Deep, huh?)

2. Bourbon Whiskey is Great.

(RSN: When exactly would you have liked to learn this information? Age 12? "No Mom, enough with the Manichevitz! Bring on the WHISKEY! White grape juice is for pussies!")

I still remember the day that I discovered a taste for whiskey. (Side Note: Not many people can say that. Bravo!) December 31, 2005, I had a friend in from out of town and we were facing an impressive liquor selection at the store, pondering the best selection for our itinerary: BBQ in the park, walking parade uptown, an all-night concert with Galactic--and, it turned out, an unscheduled early morning drinking at Snake n' Jakes. Most people, when faced with this night requiring intense energy, would have turned to something a little less legal. We turned to whiskey sour. I had never had the drink before but found the mixer strong enough to cover any ratio. We loaded up the car with Jim Beam and PB & J and made the rounds. Best New Years Ever. I was drunk for over 14 hours which remains a personal best. Oh and in case you want to buy me a drink, now my drink is "Bourbon and Soda."

1. Don't Date Anyone From Your Inner Circle
I don't even really want to get into this. Though it, perhaps even moreso than my awareness of flooding or the sunshine special, is a wise tidbit I absolutely could have used a little bit earlier in life (a year ago? two years ago?) than the golden years in which I actually did confront it.

(RSN: For assistance in dealing with "1," I recommend "2")

Saturday, December 23, 2006

What's Worse, the Stomach Flu or Dial-up? Or both at once?

One of the differences between New York City and suburban Detroit is that people are not piled all up on top of each other, sharing their wireless service like tuberculosis. That means that not only am I attempting to update my blog from a machine that is not my pet Sparky the MacBook, but I am doing so from my Mother's "computer," using dial-up, via America Online which apparently still exists. I tried to sign on under my old screen name 'R Pop Tart' but I forgot the password. I can't remember who I had a crush on then.

"This might be more blog-worthy than Greyhound"
-Carl, after my 45th trip to the bathroom to wretch up my intestines, followed by chills, hot/cold flashes, and other symptoms that I am fairly sure are related to either SARS, anthrax, the West Nile Virus or Meningitis.

Thus, I am actually NOT in Ohio.

I am in my sweatpants, eating cup-o-soup, and I've spent the entire day in various poses of misery. Maybe Jesus is punishing me for coveting Emmit Honeycutt. I've been told that Christmas cookies aren't going to be good for my stomach but I can't help myself. Also I felt that perhaps around 2pm I was completely out of body fat and I felt very cold. So I'm trying to bring sexy back, via sugar cookies, which so far are going down better than the two sips of water I dared to ingest 12 hours ago.

But really how could I feel wretched sitting at this lovely desk.

To my right we have a variety of social-work and psychological therapy type literature, such as "choices & consequences," "paths to recovery" and "facing the shadow." Also I see a back-issue stockpile of Real Simple magazine and seven single-serving sized packets of McDonalds grape jam. Yes that's right, grape jam. I also find this a bit perplexing, though perhaps it is somehow related to the 'Anatomy Coloring Book,' which I am too weak to retrieve. There is a box labeled 'Faith.' Again, my weak limbs are overruling my perverse curiosity in this particular matter.

In front of me is a stunning photograph of Lewis and I dressed like monks or something in a sadistic Disneyworld photo shoot re-creation of Fanastia. I have a bucket in my hands like Little Red Riding Hood and Lewis has a wand. There's also a photo Alina and I took with the Mall Santa Claus, circa high school I think. Both of thse photos are very romantic and employ pleasent cultural figures (Mickey Mouse, Santa Claus), which is nice, right? (who am I? where am i? my head hurts. my stomach hurts. Haaavvvilanndddd) Also there are some motivaitonal greeting cards that claim the brightest light you can hope to see is the one I give to you when I smile. Also May success wash over me with everything I do, etc.

To my left we have "Robert's Rules of Lesbian Living," which include:
-Life is a process. Lesbian life is the process of processing the process.
-It is not against any written lesbian law to wear panty hose. They just seem silly under your softball uniform.

Either I am freezing or dying.

The true Christmas miracle is that Carl was a sweetheart the whole time I was sick although he missed the great chance to drive me to Ohio this morning as I was unable to walk or move. And although his car did not have heat, it was not particularly unpleasent as we drove from my Mom's place to his place, and the no-shock thing was kinda like riding a really dangerous roller coaster.

They don't get "The N," which means I don't know what happened with Spashley tonight. The agony, the absolute agony!

No photos. You have no clue how long it took just to load the 'create a post' page.

I've decided that when I get married, i want krista and natalie and haviland and ingrid to be my bridesmaids and I want Lewis to be my ring bearer and I want him to wear a monkey suit. I think that would be really funny. You know, a monkey at a wedding?

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Channukistis Wish Lists: If I'm Gonna Go Down, I'm Gonna do it With Style

I wasn't going to do this, but I think I have to. Mom claims not to read the blog (except, oddly enough, when I "joke" about stealing her Xanax) which she says is because she respects my privacy (let's take a moment for the concept of my mom respecting what millions thousands hundreds of people read every day when I ask them to. OK. good. thanks. moving on.) I think it's mostly because she still has dial-up, and I could probably take the M14 bus to South Ferry and back before her computer would load all the snazzy graphics employed on my wild little corner of the webbernet. Like stock photos of "lesbians" with bows on their coochies for the "holidays/celebrations." (see image, right)

Okay so: last week I had a fleeting thought like this:
"Wow. My life is going really well right now. I am so lucky to have these people in my life, I'm making progress in so many areas, I love my life! " and then: "I feel too good for this to ever really last."

So obviously a few things have fallen apart since then.
So you know, what have I got to lose? That's right! My family!

On with it!

When I was a kid/adolescent, we always put holiday "wish lists" on the kitchen door. These lists tended to easily spawn into spirals of absolute futility, as Lewis and I, the young and fundamentally ridiculous people that we were, found it endlessly amusing to clutter our requests for Abercrombie Jeans (me, 96-99), Pirate Legos (lewis, late80s-mid90s), Tommy Girl Perfume (me, 1997-->), Sim City 2000 (both of us, 92-94), Boyz II Men CD (me, 91-93) with the standard: Porsche, Sega Genesis, A MILLION DOLLARS!, a pony, a puppy, a VCR, a trip to Puerto Rico, a HARLEY DAVIDSON!, a date with Leonardo DiCaprio, etc.

Now we do wish lists via e-mail. Though my Mother sent an e-mail containing the desires of herself and her wife (My Other Mother) about a week ago, to which I responded promptly with my Amazon Wish List ...
My Amazon.com Wish List
it took me 'til now to really look at their list and consider it.

I'm crossing my fingers that they will think it's fun to laugh at themselves too, just like I do. I'd be willing to provide a long list of times I have made fun of myself. (see archive, left hand sidebar)

The following is the wish list, with commentary.

My Mother:

Cutlery Set with Steak Knives
This is really nothing compared to what's coming up. But I think this would be a funny item to buy in New York and bring on an airplane. Also I recall being told that those CutCo knives we bought in '98 would last forever. Forever never seems to be around when it ends, eh?

No Batteries Flashlight/Lantern
What's going on? Really?!! A flashlight? What's next...you want a can opener? Some twine? I think it's my job as the starving artist to ask for things like flashlights. Is there a spelunking expedition in the future? A possible tornado? A stock market crash?

Queen Size Flannel Sheets--no flowers!
Again with the what-an-exciting-gift thing. I guess she did ask for socks for like, five years in a row. Maybe she doesn't trust me to pick out anything special or complicated. What's going on here? I tend to feel people are best at picking out their own sheets, especially when they're telling me to avoid florals. Jesus. What then? Trucks? Solids? Calico? Calico is a flower. My sheets are patterned with bleach stains, and I like that. Something about this feels uncomfortable to me.

Anyhow, I think these are really sexy. I found them at The Lesbian SuperStore L.L Bean.



But if flowers are really gonna kill the mood, how's this:


Beading How-To/Starter Set
Can flowers be involved in this one? Is beading complicated? What is beading? Can I get you a 'starter set' without a how-to? Will you know how to start without the how-to, if you just have the starter? What comes after the starter set? Will you be able to bead what you need to bead? Will I get you started but not teach you to fish? Are you going to bead things? Like flowers? What's going on? Whatever happened to Fimo? Fimmooooooo

Mac Word
Oh, wow.

This is problematic on a few levels. The first is that I know my mother is sitting there at home with the AppleWorks program that came with her Mac (WHY DOESN'T MAC COME WITH A GODDAMN REAL WORD PROCESSING PROGRAM? THIS IS HIGHWAY ROBBERY AND IT NEEDS TO STOP) and she's annoyed that it's ancient and not compatible with other computers made after 1996. However, attempting to solve this problem with MacWord is a bit troubling. I think she means Microsoft Office for Mac. It's okay, Natalie thought The O.C was a channel.

Gas Card
That means a like, gift card to a gas station. Where you put gas in your car. Nothing says "I love you" like 10 bucks at Texaco.

Movie Theater Certificates
OK. Fair 'nuff.

Sharper Image Digital Dashboard Compass & Weather Station-CE352
HOLY CRAP. Gas Card, Flashlight, SHEETS...and now you're busting out with not only a brand name and a specific store, but an ITEM NUMBER?! I haven't even begun to imagine what on earth this gadget is, though it is from Sharper Image and thus I imagine it massages something or perhaps plays jazz in the shower, but I am absolutely getting one for myself, it sounds very useful, how specific, how dynamic, I mean, wow, really, wow.

Another Copy of that Great CD Marie gave me last year that I've lost.
Aw, Mom! I love making CDs for my Mom, because she granted me many musical gifts as a child, including but not limited to: David Bowie, The Beatles, Carole King, The Indigo Girls, The Who and Raffi. So I can give her Nellie McKay and Martha Wainwright, or something. A woman can only listen to so much Dixie Chicks.

Okay, since My Other Mother and My Mother have only been married for 2.5 years I don't know if I have earned the right to make fun of her yet, but if I had, I would absolutely point out that it is amazing, and in another context would have struck me as clearly a tongue-in-cheek request, that she has requested a:
Lawn Tractor,
Reciprocating Saw,
and "other cool toys/tools." If you don't know why this is funny, I'd suggest you treat yourself to a little lesbian humor. It doesn't mean you're a lesbian, it just means that you think it's funny when lesbians make fun of other lesbians. Like, about tools. And stuff.

The "for both of us" list includes only three items:
gas grill, snowblower, canoe.

"We're not getting a canoe, because then they are going to want me to ride in it."
-Lewis.

Wait one more thing ... tool/toy? Sheets? Flashlight? Just putting it out there.

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

November Burnout, or Give Me Crack and Anal Sex, Take the Only Tree That's Left, And Stuff it Up the Hole in Your Culture


There's something kind of post-modern about reading the following paragraph in New York Magazine....

"Our obsession with efficiency at work has unfortunately seeped into our attitude toward leisure, with the multitasking of our downtime as the loony and paradoxical result. We run on the treadmill while listening to music while watching TV. We cook while flipping through a magazine while yakking on the phone."

....while riding the elliptical trainer, listening to music and....yeah...watching television. I also was texting Haviland to tell her to read the article. I'm also writing this while: cooking dinner, talking to Stephanie (who is now reading the article), writing Chapter One, copying down survey data.

I'm pretty sure I had my first major burnout at the age of 18, which resulted in me swimming 5000 miles in the Sarah Lawrence pool and then telling my Mom I was dropping out of college, and another one has been lurking for the past few months. I reassure myself that everything will be okay because "We're all going through this, this is our time at the edge" as I learned in the seminal film St.Elmo's Fire. I know that sounds like standard sarcasm but I am dead serious. It gets me through, St. Elmo's Fire.

Haviland googled her own existential crisis (which is SO post-modern!), and came up with a WikiHow article on how to deal with an existential crisis, which she passed on to me, because it is more cracked up than a burnout-oriented "CrackBerry." Let me share some of this insight:


1. Turn on a light, preferably 75 watt or brighter.
Okay, but seriously: I'm a vampire. Light makes the baby go blind. Jesus, no matter what Emily Webb may have said, no one really wants to look at each other! I mean, florescent lights are probably another cause of burnout, that's why teenagers are so depressed all the time (cause of school, and the lighting there, y'all). Ew. I don't have a 75 watt lightbulb anywhere. Gross.


2. If necessary, clean whatever room you're in. Changing your surroundings both clarifies your power over the world and gives you a few minutes to do some problem-solving on a less grandiose scale. Don't just straighten, clean. Use a cleaning product. (Note: Does not apply if you have OCD -- cleaning isn't your problem).
You know, a few days ago MM and I were proposing finding someone who's like, really down and out (possibly insane/homeless/on drugs) to clean our apartment for us, for like 40 bucks, because we don't have time for that bullshit. Where's The Email? Where's my Hat? Pippi! Is something burning?


3. Now, try to verbalize what your problem is. Some people write full-length sentences to help clarify their issues.


Har. Har.


4.Imagine several *different* people you like or respect giving you advice. Don't pick anyone abusive. Or try Mr. Rogers, your first grade teacher, and that girl (boy) you had a crush on in 9th grade. They don't help very much, do they? But it's fun talking to them.

I think it's really funny to think about Mr. Rogers, Mrs. Doman and Derek K. sitting on a couch together giving me advice about time management. Especially because Derek, since he was a total bad-ass, like, didn't even have time to go to school because he was really busy smoking marijuana, selling drugs, trying to get his girlfriend Beth to sleep with him (pick meeee Derek pick MEEE!!!) and sleeping in Meijers. These are the people in my neighborhood, y'all. Word.


5. Then imagine yourself giving someone else with your situation some advice. Really, if you were just the person talking to yourself, would you really think this was as big a problem?

If I was myself talking to myself I would tell myself: your hair looks really nice today. or: um, jump off a bridge, like, asap.


6. If it's between 8 am and 10 pm, consult someone who loves you like a friend or a parent.

Problem A: I don't have any daytime minutes. Is this what that T-Mobile my faves thing is for? God, I need a new phone. I think Sprint is giving me a crisis.
Problem B: I think this involves a lot of assumptions and a lot of problems in general as to like, what is love? Does anyone love me? Does Lionel Richie love me? Does Derek? Does sprint pcs? If I called someone I loved with a crisis, would they still love me? (No)
Problem C: I don't have any friends
Problem D: My Mom goes to work all day
Problem E: If I DID Have friends, they would be BADASS friends who'd be up all night long and I could call 'em whenever I fucking wanted to, HOLLA! (except like, before 10am)

More tips:

Don't decide to refuse to confront your problem on the romantic basis that life is prettier when you suffer. This is crap, and only applies if you actually can't deal with a problem. Most likely you can, even if it's only later.

Whatevs. Who wrote this, Mr. Rogers and Mrs. Doman? Someone who lives in a house with wall-to-wall carpeting and a pool and pays one-quarter of what I do for rent in my closet-sized bedroom?

Suffering is freakin' beautiful. Didn't you see Jordan Catalano in Requiem for a Dream? (I didn't, it's hard for me to sit through a movie because I always want to be writing/checking email/revising my Amazon wish list/making out, but I've seen photos so I know a thing or two.) But I did see The Basketball Diaries, which in my estimation was the hottest Leonardo DiCaprio has ever looked before or since.

Don't do too much thinking after midnight. Trust me, that never goes well. You might turn into a gremlin or worse yet, a pumpkin. Seriously, you never know.

Seriously, first you're all like, don't call someone after lights out, and now you're getting all Black Cauldron on me. Also, I like pumpkins.


Whatever you do, don't kill, cut, or maim yourself. Don't make any permanent changes because of temporary problems: destroying the only copy of your novel or getting a facial tattoo is unacceptable. You may use henna or dye your hair blue, if you want to get in a fight with your parents.


Somehow we got from like, killing yourself to using henna. HENNA?! Henna is so 1997. And anyone who destroys the only copy of their novel is saving some poor literary agent the pain of having to read their query letter about how they felt like they had burnout and then wrote a novel to pursue the joy of being a writer because all the words just "spilled" onto the page or something, which is doing us all a favor. Move to Key West and become a fisherman or something. You can read all about it in Thomas McGuane's Ninety-Two in the Shade. You know I think there should be a category of literature called "Burnout Lit."

Here's some titles for Burnout Lit:
Independence Day, Richard Ford
Sideways, Rex Pickett
Fight Club,Chuck Palahniuk
Music for Torching, A.M Homes
The Stories of John Cheever, John Cheever
American Pyscho, Brett Easton Ellis
American Appetites, Joyce Carole Oates
The Quality of Life Report, Megan Daum

In any event, I'd like to see a facial tattoo resulting from an existential crisis. Just thinking about it kind of makes me LOL, almost.

Don't hesitate to call hotlines. They are there for the benefit of people who have similar difficulties with the troubles life throws at them. Life is hard. Help others and ask for help when you need it.

Can I quote this article I just read in New York Magazine? Alright then, I will.

As one Florida social worker told her, “I recently received a call at night, and while I was getting dressed, I was screaming and cursing these motherfuckers for calling me with their goddamned problems.”

Right-o!

In conclusion: I fully believe that we are given too much to handle. Seriously. I think the level of output and energy that is required of the average New Yorker is beyond what our bodies were designed to deal with. Which is why I recommend alcohol, drugs, hookers, and massages, or perhaps some other bizarre vice (destructive relationship, over-use of henna tattoos, therapy, crossword puzzles, eating disorder, nymphomania). Whatever. This is our time at the edge.

If you are going to kill yourself, please first buy me some things from my Amazon wish list, thanks!