"You Get Everyone Addicted to your Coffee and Off you Go"

Why do I not own August Rush? Have you effers seen that film? It's amazing. It's moving. And shit. Sorry I called my readers effers. I mean it in the most loving of ways. I'm listening to the August Rush soundtrack right now and it's just improving everything around me. I think some imaginary grass started growing and imaginary birdies are singing their birdy lullabies all around me. What.

Medium coffee.

My mind is moving a million miles a minute this morning. I dragged myself to my favorite yoga class this morning and I am SO glad I did. Instead of getting discouraged and distracted by my knee injury like last week, I was able to put my worry aside and gently work though it. The result was an open mind and heart. Because I'm so zen.

I just realized I've called the current time 'morning' twice so far. It's 1:49 PM.

I heard today is the only day of the year that is a command. Get it, March fourth? I think that's just incredible.

Tonight I'm attempting to create MUSHU CHICKEN with my fellow cooking friend, Klapperita. I'm really excited about this. I got the idea from a catering event I worked last week where the chef was making little schezuany pancakes of spiced duck breast, fried duck skin, julienned cucumbers, scallions and a nice hoisin sauce. He didn't let me have one, even though I was standing next to him for two hours serving the steamed dumplings like a good little girl. Obviously I'm going to hold this against him until at least the time I die. So, needless to say, since it looked so damn easy, I needed to create these little treats myself. And who better to provide the free-range chicken than my good butchery friend, Klapper. I wonder what kind of wine matches this dish. I should really buy some sort of Asian beer, but I reckon I'm all beered out for this week. It is possible.

Should I start a food blog? I've been losing sleep over this question lately. Just kidding. Just kidding actually I've been thinking about it for approximately 10% of each day for the last two weeks. So maybe it's time. I need to brainstorm. And talk/email with other people. I mean, I don't know if I'm completely ready to join the 'professional blog' world. No offense pro bloggers, but it's kind of like joining an adult forensics team or a chess league in high school. I mean, I could bring the 'cool' to food blogging. The umph. The chutzpah. The glam. The sexxxie vibe. (I urge you to spell sexy with an -ie; it'll make you feel better.) The point I'm getting at here is if anyone has any serious recommendations or advice, do leave a comment!

Either way, it's going to be an experimental process at best. And maybe I could get my lazy ass back into HTML-coding and create a real cute-like design. I definitely have a good amount of artist friends these days that could help with the layout.

F, I am typing SO FAST. I am like Mavis Beacon's favorite god daughter right now. If you got that reference, I'll probably make out with you sans tongue. What an offer.

I hope at my funeral people will not say "Katie was a lot of talk."

That is seriously my worst fear.

See, I'm open and vulnerable this mor--afternoon. Sharing my worst fear with you weirdos.

Just kidding, everyone who reads this is neat.

STROMBOLI.

I'm sorry, it's the coffee. You know how I get.

I should hold a walkathon to raise money for my new blog. Not that it's going to cost any money. But I really just would like some more money burning a hole in my pocket. So I can go see "How to Succeed" on Broadway and vacation in India. Right. Top two things on my list. The other top two I got out of the way yesterday. That's right, ordering free samples online. I would be lying to you if I didn't admit I am expecting some free tamponz and a cookbook thanks to the internets. Now, that is some mail. I can put in a tampon while I read the cookbook. Oh my god. I just lost 45 readers. Or gained 45 women readers. Either way, I'm laughing pretty hard at my own joke. Go figure.

Have yourselves a splendid weekend and cook something good in the name of the spring season that is almost upon us! Ow ow! UNT

Nasal laughter.

I need to either decide what I want this blog to be about . . .

(AKA make a decision)

. . . or create a new one.

Stream of consciousness writing is just not cutting it for me anymore.

Time to create a through line.

To focus.

Which is scary, but exciting.

I'm also trying to do that in my life in general.

My next project on this blog will be a love letter to myself. Doesn't that sound nauseating??!

Have a pleasant Tyoosday.

UNT.

This year I'm going to be more private. Like my private parts.

Happy New Years from katieofthesea.blogspot.com. We are all so happy to start a new year. Just kidding, I'm the only one who works on this site. How funny is 2011? And by funny, I mean how uncomfortably awkward is it to say two thousand and eleven? Which is what I've been saying, in case you were wondering. My good friend, Cara, explained to me that I can just say 'twenty eleven'. I choose to be more uptight about it.

I will now update you with my current favorite things.

I am really into wine, which is a brand new thing for me.

Just kidding.

I'm currently reading "The Art of Eating In" by Cathy Erway. It's the most amazing book I've read in a long, long time. I'm only halfway done, and I highly recommend it. Especially if you are a foodie. Or if you enjoy memoirs written by women.

I'm currently listening to the new Sara Bareilles album: Kaleidoscope Heart. And now because of her album, I can spell kaleidoscope on the first try. How colonoscopic! Hm. Wanta hear a funny story about her new album?

Just a moment, my ADD has something to say. She says, "Holy FUCK, why can I smell those mashed potatoes so clearly through this apartment wall?" I don't know man, just chill out.

Back to my story.

I just thought of updating my Facebook status to: "Writing so much right now. I will write you into a corner."

Back to my story.

My funny story about Sara Bareilles' new album is that I received a brand shiny new one for Christmas, was so excited about it, I played it wherever I went in my hometown. On the family

stereo, in the car, and then fatefully, on my brother's crappy CD player, which inevitably ruined it. So, when I returned home, I wasn't able to load it on my computer. But instead of blaming it on my brother or informing my parents (the gift givers), I just bought a new one on iTunes. What a FUNNY story. Tell me more, you say.

No.

Umm, here's a photo I took of myself yesterday afternoon, and I thought it would be funny to add this caption to it:

This is What Depression Looks Like

That just cracks me up.

Sorry, I'm not sorry.

Ready for my New Year's Resolutions???!!

#1. SHARE (in every sense of the word)

2. Stretch more

3. Let go; relax; etc.

4. Make more money, save more money

5. Do what I want

6. Philanthropy/volunteering must be part of every month of 2011

7. Sing more

8. Get out of NYC for June-August, preferably in an international location

9. No expectations

10. Learn to love New York again

but mostly, the big one, the big guy, is FIND INNER PEACE.

Semi-real New Years resolutions:

1. Take birth control more on time

2. Don't become an alcoholic

3. Stop dating gay men

4. Stop begging lame friends to hang out with me and enjoy the solitude instead

5. Keep my apartment clean and "man-ready" at all times

6. Be more positive when talking to Mom on the phone

7. Be more serious, less Ron Burgundy in daily life

8. Date a bearded, manly man

9. Date someone for longer than 3 months

10. Own a plant and not kill it; Rest in Peace "Jasmine"

My, look at those lofty goals. I mean ambitious.

On a sidenote, I had the most incredible time of my life (no exaggeration) December 31-Jan 5 this year. Quite an improvement from last year.

I'd write more, but I can barely focus anymore. On to something more interesting! UNT

Voldemort Times

It's been almost a month since I've posted. I'm aware, don't worry.

Life over the past month has become somewhat heavy. A little too heavy for this comedienne's blog.

I've still been making jokes. But not quite so frequently...

A friend of a friend recently asked me "how I stay so happy and bubbly all the time". I found that incredibly ironic, and felt somewhere between halfway relieved that I can still always put on a happy clown face for everyone who expects it and halfway saddened that I'm not even the tiniest bit transparent with my emotions. Or perhaps it's better to be more guarded around strangers.

Who knows anymore.

I was technically offered the chance to get away, and I mean AWAY for 3-6 months. This means I would have to sublease my apartment and leave this beautiful city behind. I weighed the pros and cons, and decided this little opportunity was not exactly my cup of tea and just an easy way for me to run away from problems, or life, in general. Not exactly a solution.

I'm forging through.

Yep. Took my balls, right out of their cup, where I keep them, and laid them out on the table.

In other news, here are three Twitters you should follow immediately.

These 3 always put a smile on my face:

1) Steve Martin

2) Billy Eichner

3) Cole Escola

Off to refresh the mindsicles, AKA sleep. UNT

Pizza in the House

Just now I was thinking, what justifies eating an entire BBQ chicken pizza after already having dinner?

So, I made a list.

Reasons that justify you eating an entire BBQ chik pizza after already having dinner:

- You just ran the New York City Marathon.

- You just got the sense of taste back after not having it for two years.

- You are 85 pounds.

- You are in a pizza-eating competition, and winning.

- You are rich.

- You're married.

- The money for the pizza is going to charity.

- You have the flu and are going to throw up in a couple hours anyway.

- You're not eating for the rest of the week due to a religious holiday.

- It's your last meal.

And now, an anecdote from my childhood.

I used to hate pizza. Mostly because my dad made homemade pizza all the time and I didn't care for it [because I was a snobby foodie even at the ripe young age of 6]. But in general, pizza and the gooey cheese grossed me out bigtime.

When I would go to other friend's birthday parties, I would ask if they had salad. It also didn't help that I disliked cake and ice cream, so I was generally seen as a nuisance. Attending birthday parties as a kid was one of my least favorite past times. Especially if it was held at Chuckie Cheese's, home of the world's most disgusting pizza. For my own birthday parties growing up, my parents would home-make another dish for my party. I think one year we had lasagna. At my high school graduation party, my Dad made all different kind of salads and hamburgers; a much classier option in my opinion.

It wasn't until college that I unwillingly discovered a love for pizza, mostly due to budget constraints. This 'love' eventually escalated into obsession and then later into a possibly unhealthy addiction. But that's because I was spoiled as far as pizza goes. My college campus featured what is arguably the single best specialty pizza restaurant in the United States, nay, the world. PIZZA HOUSE (my one true love until I die or can afford to visit other pizza shops in NYC besides 'Famous Ray's') was king at MSU. That shit was gourmet, yo.

Their Southwestern BBQ chicken pizza was prepared by gods, or at least college students with god-like hands. I even made time to order a personal BBQ CHIK pizza when I was in East Lansing for a wedding in July. That's right, you heard correctly. After a wedding and a full three course meal with hors d'oeuvres, I went home and consumed an entire pizza. It was one of the most thrilling moments of my life, right up there with moving to New York City and having sex for the first time. Okay, that is an exaggeration. But the point is, I savored that moment like nobody's business.

The moral to this story is I have no real justification for eating an entire bbq chicken pizza right now. Especially for $20 at stupid old hat Famous Ray's. Not like I was considering it or anything. I'm going to go and eat a tablespoon of raisins now, which is like pizza, only the exact opposite. UNT.

Knee-deep

Things my Doctor Didn’t Specifically Prescribe Me after my Knee Injury Diagnosis:

Remove underwear whenever sitting or lying in bed

Sex to replace lack of cardio

8 large meals a day

Drink more alcohol to forget about knee pain

Work less

Hide at work

Sleep at work

Spend money frivolously

Dye your hair

Take weekend vacation to Michigan

I want to heal faster. And eat a pizza. And sext. All at the same time. UNT.

Kray Kray

Happy Saturday, bitches. This afternoon, these are my concerns:

1) How can I secure a hair updo without using any hair ties, barrettes etc.?

2) Why didn't the blogger I frequently follow allow my complimentary comment to be posted? Perhaps I should not follow her anymore--yeah! That'll show her! alwaystakeitpersonally.com

3) How can I finish this post in three minutes and still make it substantial?

Guys, I just came back from the Caribbean and I'm knee-deep in work.

To alleviate stress, I decided to play some Blues Traveler and take pensive pictures. See below.

Really? That's your answer?

This is a pretty awesome picture.

I hope to use it on the back of my book jacket someday as my "About the Author" headshot.

"I will drink it and always be full." - Blues Traveler

Im gonna go out a limb and say this song is most likely about egg nog.

Lately, I've been into song writing.

That's a lie.

In other recent news, I listed that I was 'single' on Facebook and received an alarming, yet bountiful response. I decided it was important to be more honest about that and really put myself out there . . . on Facebook, the most vulnerable of all social medias. I hate Facebook. That's why I want to see The Social Network. To hate/love it more.

I have 29 minutes to take a shower, eat a salad, pack a bag and dinner for work, and reserve a library book online. Speaking of, I just finished my first David Sedaris book. I devoured it, as one does. Sooo, I'm obsessed with that, bla bla bla.

Also, I've decided my 2011 New Year's resolution is going to be mumble less. I know this will be an exciting time for many of you, as you can now hear more clearly my brilliant jokes. But until January, I'm still going to utter most jokes under my breath in a low private voice.

I can't tell if these posts are getting more erratic or more erotic.

Probably both.

Ok bye. UNT

Rainy Monday.

Well, it's a busy day up here in Manhattan. Got a grape eating contest slated for this afternoon on my couch. So far I am the only one competing. Unless the mailman plans to join. After that, I'm lightly considering uploading an album of summer photos to Facebook. Directly following that, I should have just enough time to brew some tea and wash my armpits before work. Ah, all in a day's work.

Being a cater waiter is really weird. I should definitely start doing some creative things in this newfound free time of my mine. And apply to some freelance writing jobs.

But first, I need to get over this sinus infectiony illness I contracted. I'm doing a really good job resting today, I think. Except for when I went out in the rain to buy a $5 pumpkin spice latte. Now I'm soaked and I've blown my budget for the week. God, I make really good decisions. On a side note, suddenly I'm compelled to draw a cartoon of a person giving a blowjob to something labeled 'budget.' Get it?

Remember when I was a kid and flicked off my neighbor and told her what it meant. And when she didn't respond, I was like, "Don't you get it? Or did you not hear me? It means eff you." And she was like, "I heard you, Katie." That was a very strange interaction. Here I think I'm imparting some amazing wisdom to this goody-two-shoes neighbor hauling a Radio Flyer wagon down her driveway, and next thing you know I'm getting totally snubbed.

I've got two hours to get ready for work and eat everything in my cupboards. Is that enough time?!!!

iTunes is ruining my life right now. Along with this runny nose.

Alas, things could be worse. I'm actually quite happy these days. Huzzah to that. UNT.

On Friday nights, typically I skype with dogs.

Hey, at least I know the dog. He's not a stranger dog. A dog stranger.

I'm double-spacing this entry so the MLA police doesn't come after me.

On a side note, if you haven't watched the season premiere of 30 Rock yet, get to it.

30 Rock is so fantastic sometimes I just want to climb into its lap and take a bounce on it.

OK bye. UNT.

My whole life summed up by Demetri Martin in one concise paragraph

Excerpt from Demetri Martin's weeklong electronic journal:

"I have never crossed every item off a to-do list. I'd like to think it's because I make ambitious lists. But it's not. I'm unfocused. With things like "Figure out one-man show" and "Fix Web site" on my list, I'm kind of set up for incompletion. Sometimes I cross out something and put "1/2" next to it—because I almost did it. Other times I remember something I completed earlier, so I write it down, just to be able to cross it off."

Read more: Here

Here's to maintaining motivation this entire week! UNT.

And by "I thought about you the other day," I meant "Every day."

I can't decide if life is going by too quickly or too slowly. Or too mediocrily.

Let's check in on my stand-up career, shall we? Or as I like to call it, my Fake Twitter account. As some of you know, I record various thoughts and jokes throughout the day in my electronic notepad, also known as an iPhone. However, recently I noticed I hadn't been writing down jokes from the period of pretty much late April to early August. I'm sensing a pattern. Anybody else? It seems I tend to write on average less jokes when I'm in the thick of dating. And that, my friends, needs to change.

Let's take a gander at the few notes I did record recently:

"You're going to transfer to the train towing garbage cans with all of its lights out? Yeah, me too."

"If I sit here any longer, I'm gonna get propositioned for a threesome."

"This is exactly like Nick and Nora's playlist. Only I'm completely alone."

"I title this look in the mirror: shameless."

"From now on I've decided to end every joke with the question, Is this thing on?"

"If Menupages had its way, I'd be eating grass from Central Park and that's IT."

"Just mistook a hummingbird for a winged rat. Time to get out of New York."

"I was so tired after work I actually got lost in my NYC studio apartment."

Ay yi yi. Okay, you can say it. Or I'll just say it. Those might be some of the worst things I've ever written. Albeit, most of those I seem to recall being drunk during, but STILL. I also admit I do not even recall the Menupages one and have no idea what in the hell I was referencing, so I am not sure how I would write a joke around that line. Yikes.

In other news, Chipotle. Just. Chipotle. I had the best meal of my LIFE there after a 10-hour shift the other night. It was just a veggie bowl, but it was basically sex on a plate.

Here's a fun link I use for all you healthy Chipotlinites: HERE.

Howtogetworkdone.com

a new website by yours truly

I just laughed for way too long at this youtube comment:

nice song and nice face. i want to do sexy time.

Thought I had today: what if I counted how many times people told me I had pretty eyes? Then, when I was 80, during my "Katie is 80" themed birthday party I'd been planning since I was 22, I could say, "Excuse me, I have an announcement everyone. I have officially been told I have the prettiest eyes by 52,402 people. Well. Done. Me." Then everyone would clap and shit all over the walls. But just kidding about that last part.

I need to be men-in-blacked for various reasons. Anyone got one of them there memory wipin' devices? Device is a hard word to say in the Southern language.

I wrote this post yesterday and edited it today. Life might indeed be moving by a little too quickly for me to catch my breath. Calorically yours, me. UNT.

Needs More Seasoning.

Three thoughts for today:

1) I think I will still be asking 'what do I want to be when I grow up?' on my 80th birthday.

2) Regarding number 1, this was my morning:

3) This woman can do no wrong, and she now has a new album out:

Go big or get the eff out. UNT.

Why I Don't Need Your Validation Anymore

Daddy is done.

Put a fork in her.

She's more done than my roommate is done with meat.

That was a terrible analogy, I am so. so. deeply. sorry.

But you know what I'm NOT sorry for?

- Being myself whole-heartedly

- Not picking up sight reading fast enough

- Spending 4 years on getting a degree I might never use

- Having no interest in becoming a professional actor

- Quitting my job without two other ones lined up

- Not knowing exactly what career path I want to follow

- Being afraid of being 25

- Being deathly afraid of rodents (including bats)

- Hell, being afraid of riding horses when they gallop

- Counting my calories most days of the week

- Overdoing it on the exercise sometimes

- The fact that I prefer looking lean and thin over just 'fit'

- Cooking elaborate meals daily like I'm feeding a small army of 400 Ethiopians

- Having expectations for my friends, boyfriends and family members

- Eating my weight in Turkish Borek for lunch and then having some disgusting milk chocolate with nuts I wasn't even hungry for

- Drinking that bottle of wine by myself on Sunday because I. felt. like. it.

- Planning my 25th birthday party six months in advance

- Wanting to have a 'bring your own exotic cheese party' for my 25th birthday party

- Taking money out of my savings to go to the Caribbean at the end of this month

- Lamenting a common dating breakup for longer than a week

- That sexual intercourse means something to me

- That I don't always know how to effectively communicate to people that I need something or what I want

- Telling the lady at Chase today that I felt like I was being punished for losing both of my debit cards in one day and asking for the fee to be removed just for me

- Liking Anchorman and quoting the shit out of it

- Taking more cabs to work this year than I could afford because I had a fun evening the night before

- Mispronouncing "Turmeric" more than twice last week

- Planning social activities a week in advance

- Having crushes on boys with girlfriends

- Being frugal even when I'm rich; being frugal when I'm poor; Being frugal

- Shamelessly inviting myself into other people's plans because I prefer to be social over solitary on the weekends

- For knowing I deserve more

This post was inspired by an interesting entry by Rachel Wilkerson:

Check it Out Here

And here was my response to her entry, for your reference:

"I have been thinking A LOT about guilt lately and just recently realized how much it directly corresponds to confidence for me. I do agree, as a woman one is more prone to getting too much advice and I often feel that perhaps I could have wasted much less time and energy if I would have just owned what my gut was telling me to do from the beginning.

I don’t think people can even “stop making you feel guilty” as that implies they were in control in the first place. I erased the phrase “s/he makes me feel ____” from my vocabulary a couple years ago; something I had to force myself to learn to do in order to start owning (and taking responsibility for) my emotions. No one can ‘MAKE’ me feel a certain way. I ‘CHOOSE’ to react that way. And as New York taught me assertiveness/confidence over the years, I’ve been learning to just stop giving other people so much gd control–even over my feelings. And that for me completely involved getting rid of a lot of the guilt.

That said, I love the mantra of ‘Sorry I’m not sorry” and I might just have to bookmark this post when I need a reminder to own it!"

I think this September is gonna be a good one. And I know all this change, especially the career one, is gonna be great for me. For additional reference, please reference Ceelo's "F**k You" song--in case you had any further questions. Stay true, take responsibility and don't ever let people tell you how you should feel, for godssakes. Go Big or Shut the Eff Up! UNT

I'm sorry, but those are not real problems.

A sense of humor about things is just so necessary in this life. For example, sometimes the more I strike out, the funnier it seems to me. Thoughts like: how can this be happening? I am ri-DIC-ulous. Are you kidding me? Holy. Shit. No. No no no. and the ever-sarcastic, Well, that went well.

I generally try to take a Jason Bateman-on-Arrested-Development stance on my life. That look he gives the camera like 'seriously?' I use it all the time . . . I constantly pretend there is a documentary film crew following me around. Constantly. This post is turning into one big italic fuckfest. MY BIG FAT ITALIC WEDDING.

In other current events, a lot of people are posting this new song on Facebook. It'll probably go viral soon.

Anyway, I listened to it about 40 times in a row over the weekend. And I have formally decided the video needs a remix. And I want to direct the new video. I have the perfect vision. It obviously involves muppets. Muppets driving in cars. Muppets with diamond rings and bedazzled boom boxes. One star lady muppet with a trampy mouth. One muppet that looks like John Legend. Etc. in-depth artistic vision etc.

Whoa! On a side note, I just googled the artist of that song. And he looks like this:

Ahh! What if you woke up to that face in the morning? I might scream.

I might ask him to make me some eggs and bacon . . . bitch. I just cannot picture that singing voice coming out of that face. Maybe it's a bad picture . . .

Nope. Aahahaha. Wow. Maybe he sucks 18 ounces of helium before performing his songs?

WHY am I making fun of this poor man?! He just got dumped by his girlfriend for not being rich. According to his song, of course. My favorite line of the song, by the way, is: "I guess he’s an XBOX and I’m more Atari." That is just pure excellence if you ask me. Anyway, check it out; it's catchy. Not herpes, the song. But also herpes. It's too early for these jokes. Jesus.

By the way, I put in my notice at my full-time job. My prediction is I will be less financially stable, but more mentally stable. So, cheers to that. UNT.

Shocking Announcement.

I want to be in a relationship.

UNT

"Don't smile."

They say if your passport photo actually looks like you, you should probably go to the doctor. This morning I took some ravishing 2x2 photos at a place near Grand Central. The very nice young man took approximately five photos for me. We both agreed they all looked exactly the same, no matter how many different shots he took. So, I chose the one where I looked the most like Mona Lisa. Can't go wrong looking like that smirky little bitch, right?

I can't wait to see what the final product will look like in my brand spankin' new passport book.

The answer is yes, this is the first time I will own a passport. The only country outside of the U.S. I have visited is Canada. Applying for a passport might have been the most exciting moment of my adult life so far, besides the obvious milestones of turning the legal drinking age, getting arrested for the first time, and having someone other than a family member or friend tell you they love you.

I'm sure I will always remember the day I applied for my first passport because of the guy working at the post office. Little old Korean man. Reminded me of my Papa. That's the important part. He told me that "traveling is wonderful." Maybe not so profound, but the story that accompanied those words were memorable at least. Apparently there were only ten people in this man's college graduating class in Korea. A few months ago, he come across an old photo album in his house and remembered how much he missed his classmates. This is when he looked me in the eye and told me, "Always follow your heart." So somehow he managed to get a hold of all of these people (the details were sketchy; somebody was behind me in line, etc.) and he flew to Korea, where he said each and every one of his classmates met up with each other for the first time in 25 years. The important part being all ten of them came! The way he told his story that was so special to him was what reminded me of Papa the most. Couldn't stop watching his eyes twinkle while he told it---plus the story was peppered with simple advice that I might otherwise consider cliche, except that it was coming from a man who's been around on this Earth for a while. A great feeling of satisfaction, excitement and pride came over me, like it was Papa encouraging me to embark on my travels! He wished me good luck, I bid him a good day, and I smiled all the way to . . . Starbucks.

Applying for passports requires a Starbucks iced coffee. It's just so American.

On my way back to work, I daydreamed about all the possibilities that will emerge after this new passport arrives. Besides my scheduled trip to St. Kitts to visit my best guy friend from high school and his girlfriend, I thought about the trip I want to take with Lisa to Prague and Greece . . . and the long-awaited journey I will take to Italy someday with my mom or Laura.

Then I thought about my coffee that I happened to be enjoying, which leads me to a new segment I am going to call: "In a Perfect World."

IN A PERFECT WORLD . . .

. . . you could sue corporate coffee companies for serving you regular instead of requested decaf

. . . you could take someone you're dating to small claims court for lack of communication, failure to respond to text messages, or failure to relay the message that he/she has decided to cease dating you indefinitely

. . . Freaky Friday experiments would be implemented as punishment for selfish and/or rich people, called the "Forced Karma Law"

. . . you could punch one person in the face without penalty every 3 years

More to come at a later date. Must take my leave. UNT

"Homesick for a place that doesn't exist"

This is how it works
You're young until you're not
You love until you don't
You try until you can't
You laugh until you cry
You cry until you laugh
And everyone must breathe
Until their dying breath

No, this is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into some
Someone else's heart
Pumping someone else's blood
And walking arm in arm
You hope it don't get harmed
But even if it does
You'll just do it all again

(regina spektor)

UNT

Things are Lookin' Up for Ole Liz Lemon

Are things really looking up for ole Liz Lem? TBD.

You know, I originally starting writing an entry yesterday entitled "Big Hairy Expletive." It started out as a minor rant about why I can't eat peanuts like a normal human being (instead I shovel them in my mouth like a starving ape), but then the entry naturally progressed into half pity party/half too intimate rant about my dissatisfaction with my volatile dating life. It was horrendous. I had to delete it. So I scribbled some shit down in my trusty tangible journal instead and turned on Arrested Development and watched approximately 7 episodes. That always cheers me up. I even got to watch the episode where Buster makes my favorite acting choice of the entire series. It's the one where he gets his hook stuck in the dashboard of the truck because he's trying to dance to Mr. Roboto. And he turns to the side to look at Job who is driving. The look and noise he makes is pure genius, I tell you. It makes me laugh every time. And then I always have to rewind it and watch it a few more times. I may have even taken a tiny recording of it on my iPhone (illegalities) for really miserable days in the future. Ah, planning ahead! You go type A, you . . . go.

Today my mind was still feeling a little cloudy, but apparently all I needed was a frozen half banana smeared with nutella and approximately ten minutes of making fun of people with the housekeeper. And Kate Nash's "Shit Song". Honestly though, is there ever a case when making fun of people doesn't lift your spirits at least a little? Or nutella? Can somebody consume nutella without cracking a smile? Or singing lyrics to yourself like "Darling, don't give me shit, 'cause I know that you're full of it." That's pretty fun to sing. All sassy-like. And cockney-like. Yes, I do affect a dirty British accent when singing Kate Nash songs. It's really endearing, I swear.

And then an old friend from college texted me and I get to plan a small meal to cook tonight!

So basically what I'm saying is, I'm good enough to fake a smile now. #ProgressDotCom

I think when 30 Rock comes back on, quality of life will automatically be improved by 10-percent. Scientifically speaking, of course. Come onnnn September 23rd! Oh man, I wonder what my life will look like on that day. I feel so eerie-bubbly-anxious about that date! Besides the fact that it's Jordon and my brother's birthday.

I wish they invented a Wii game called "Anger Management" where you could just use the controller to virtually simulate punching somebody in the face. And you could maybe upload pictures of various people's heads or just choose a local stranger. How incredible would that be? Because sometimes, just daydreaming about it isn't enough. Maybe I shouldn't have posted this fantastic idea . . . I am going to be such a big young millionaire.

UNT

Crabcakes and Cum

What an attention-getting title. I'm aware.

I just had to get this down so I never forget:

THINGS I'M GOOD AT:

1) Cooking

2) Writing

3) Dancing

4) Making People Laugh

There's obviously a lot more than four, but those are the main things I need to not forget.

Because it can be easy to forget sometimes, right?

UNT

With a high chance of stalking on the East coast today

After checking up on my blog roll today, one particular update about Hudson Valley vacations struck my fancy as I came across this delightful little getaway:

That's right. It's a muthafuckin' lighthouse.

I am obschmessed. And look at that kitchen you can cook in! I might just have to fish in the morning off a tiny little schooner and then cook myself up the fishy deliciousness that I caught!

My imagination seriously did a 10K this afternoon. At one point, I forgot I was alive even. I was just staring off into the corner, maybe not even breathing? Breathing lightly? What the hell was I dreaming about, you ask? Oh, so many things. Trips. Futures. Camping on an island in Lake George. Riding a horse to a winery in the Adirondacks. My stunning bearded boyfriend that doesn't exist yet . . . which brings me to my next point.

Sexy Lighthouse Keepers

While doing thorough research on this lighthouse vacation I can't afford, I also came across a biography of their current lighthouse keeper. He seems like a dashing young man. According to the website, we work the same hours (8AM-4PM). Just another thing I'm sure I would have in common with him. That, and the fact that he is "accustomed to living in remote locations and working in minimal conditions." I think the dangerous island of Manhattan that I inhabit is very . . . remote. And I often work without wearing any underwear . . . so that is very minimalistic. Again, tons in common. But in all seriousness though, here is the kicker. According to his bio, Patrick (a name that writhes in sexual pleasure, historically speaking), enjoys cooking AND baking. Well, there you have it. Soulmate. Done.

He's a keeper!

So, while I drooled over bearded lighthouse boyman (manboy?), I happened to notice that the keeper keeps a daily log. Which is like a blog, but much more . . . lighthousey! Naturally, I read 2010 and 2009's entries. It was very informational. Who knew you could ice sail?! But the best part I found was an entry written by Patrick himself, a modern poet, if you will. According to him, it is maritime services tradition to write a rhyming entry for the logbook at midnight on New Year's Eve. And so he did, quite eloquently I might add:

The tide table tells me what this cloudy sky will not:

full moon overhead on New Year’s Eve.

The wind is not talking either,

mute like these clouds that refuse to leave,

but the river speaks of the moon,

shore ice cracking with the the tidal heave.

(Patrick Landewe)

I think this is actually what made me stare off into space for 20 minutes. While he was writing this (hopefully scrawling it on a weary lighthouse notepad by candlelight; his dark beard hairs glistening in the moonlight), I was watching Justin Bieber perform the worst choreography I've ever seen in my life on a television in Midtown East and simultaneously wishing a certain somebody had the balls to kiss me in front of their friends. Hah! Guess which setting I would have preferred? Okay, I'll tell you. The muthafuckin' lighthouse. MC. DUH.

But in all honesty, I really really enjoyed that rhyming post and especially daydreaming about what that man's life must be like . . . pretty positive it's a lot more interesting, rugged and full of character in comparison with mine. So now, I'm going to compose a miniature rhyme of my own, fashioned from my daydreams today:

I close my eyes, it shuts it out:

endless work days full of blood-boiling strife.

Amidst my worry, a vision appears--

bitter yet inspiring, such is this life.

I dream like a child-- unbridled, passionate and wild too.

Ah well, he probably already has a wife.

(Katie Of The Sea)

I think it's fair to say his was better, even in an objective sense. But hey, I haven't written poetry in ages. Aged cheddar years! While I was writing it, it also reminded me of that awkwardly hilarious scene in High School High where one of the students reads a poem she wrote aloud for the class and her teacher (Jon Lovitz), and it turns out to be this vile, disturbing thing with all these really putrid images about pus and stuff. Totally defies everyone's expectations, which is obviously why it's so funny. But yes, the first few drafts I wrote were really really dark, like 85% cocoa dark, so I decided to tone it down a little bit . . . for my child audience.

Back to the daily grind. Take a minute today to close your eyes and dream with reckless abandonment . . . even if just for a few minutes. I promise you'll breath better afterward. Unless you have a heart condition. Then, I don't know what to tell you. Ask your doctor. UNT