the subway is a rollercoaster that takes you to work.

I went a little amazon crazy last night. I got:
a book that i heard was really funny, but can't remember where I heard it.
I also got Godspell, The Shins and The Yeah yeah yeahs.
A little overboard, considering I'm broke and trying to save money to move to NY.
sillypants.

friday5:
1. What's your favorite piece of clothing that you currently own? army green pants and a woven choker.

2. What piece of clothing do you most want to acquire? I need everything. I need workout clothes. I want a nice pair of doc maarten somethings. and a super super long scarf. I'd like to look good in hats.

3. What piece of clothing can you not bring yourself to get rid of? Why? I have a rust colored long-sleeve shirt from j. crew that has huge holes in both elbows and is completely threadbare. I've had it for 12 years. It's the first thing I ever ordered from a catalog with a credit card. Did I have a credit card when I was sixteen? I think I may have. That's really wrong. I totally defaulted on that card and my credit was fucked up for 7 years. I still wear it over other shirts and it looks good.

4. What piece of clothing do you look your best in? nothing at all. ha ha. A long sleeved baby blue boatneck shirt. as much as I love black, I look good in baby blue, which I don't really like at all. I love boatnecks. They're out of style right? yeah, just checking.

5. What has been your biggest fashion accident? I had B.O. one time. (one time that I know of.)

"I got four young 'uns. I can't put my children in danger like that," she said.

I'm sure it was very important that the reporter use the 'apostrophe u' instead of an 'o'. Elitist dick.

This morning, I got to work so early I had to go somewhere to get coffee and wait for someone else to show up (because I don't know how to work the security pad thingy) and the gentleman gave it to me on the house. There are roofers just outside my window, and one of them is very lucky-charms-alicious*. I feel so "sex in the city", sipping on my free hazelnut latte and mentally undressing construction workers. I've never watched the show, but I bet it's just like my life!

"What the fuck?!" you say, "What's wrong with Boulder Colorado? We have breakfast and motels and hot spots too." Well, there's nothing wrong with Boulder, in fact we hope to go there the next go 'round. That's right, I said "go 'round". So you guessed it, there will be a second tour.

I keep waiting for this day to start sucking. Just me wait.

*I dig on Irish guys hahd-coah. especially the those of the shag-haired vaguely emo variety.

Today I'm going to the gym at lunch for an aerobics class to see if it "works logisticly into my schedule". (ie, can I change, workout and shower without getting fired?) I'm also going after work with Krissy. I'm in the midst of a big exercise binge in case I haven't been explicit. It's all about showering. I'm perpetually showering or planning my showers.

Speaking of which: i left the house without looking in a mirror again today. Is that out of the ordinary? It seems like it should be.

I got all signed out and ready to go home and realized I had ten more minutes.

I've decided what my least favorite word for the female genitalia is. "Box". That is the the Least Sexy Word For It. Not that all the others are, but at least they're Kind Of Hot In Context. The only thing "box" is good for is the phrase, "One more word and I will kick her in the box."* *Said matter-of-factly only.**

**How is that working for you? The right-away footnote. Very rare indeed.

how cool is it that someone from the National Radio Astronomy Observatory looked at my site?
I don't normally pay attention to who is reading my site, but now I feel so insignificant. Like a little tiny ant, a little tiny ant that blathers endlessly about her crushes on boys and how much she drinks.

(Whoever you are, fish that sky. Fish the crap out of it!!)

I am going to invent a mouse pointer that is a middle finger instead of a pointer finger. Then I will make a fat wad of cash, retire and live in my parent's basement. I am going to be so drunk that day.

1. I want something crunchy and salty. chee-tos, maybe. alas, no money, no salty. alas, i say!!
2. of everything I listened to yesterday I only got into the yeah yeah yeahs.
3. remind me to stop thinking about sex at work. what is it with me? is it the boredom? is it all the porn? wait . . no, not porn. something else that isn't porn. is it that, do you think?

Alternate Mr. Show theme song.
Is there any reason I should be hungover after four drinks? when did I become a total lightweight?
I finally watched the royal tenebaums yesterday. It was good. I love wes anderson.

I also finally got to see david cross's hbo special. I read some article about it and it was very "ooo-he's so controversial, he's so angry, he's so inappropriate" (this is not a direct quote). I just didn't see it. He's funny, he's smart. I found him pretty accessible. I also find him pretty.

By the way, no TMBG show last night, got drenched and went home. It was still fun, getting drenched and running around in the pouring rain. Tracey and I went back to my apartment, ate pizza and talked about sex. It was great.

She gets hit on a lot, by the by. A real, whole lot more than I do.
At least three times last night:
Drunk frat guy: uhh huh huh, buffalo weather huh? aw man. Look, you're all wet, you want my shirt?
Tracey: No, I'm ok like this, thanks though.
DFG: So (shut up dude, don't be an asshole) are they gonna play or what? wahoo (shut the fuck up dude, no I'm working on something)
Tracey: um, I don't know.
DFG: So. . . the rain huh? woooo.
Tracey: yes. the rain, indeed.

I could be jealous of her for all the attention she gets, but I really don't ever want to have that conversation.

friday five:
1. What is your current occupation? Secretary.
Is this what you chose to be doing at this point in your life? Why or why not? I do choose this right now. It's not my favorite thing, but it's not half bad either. My life begins at five, that's when I do the things I really want to be doing. I look forward to the day when I will be doing what I really love for a living and doing secretarial work in my spare time.

2. If time/talent/money were no object, what would your dream occupation be? I'd like to be a writer of some ilk. I've always wanted to work construction. I'm not being flip, either. I think it would be cool to get dirty and sweaty building something.
3. What did/do your parents do for a living? Has this had any influence on your career choices? My father is a dispatcher for a wheelchair transportation service and a Fed Ex courier. My mom is an x-ray technologist. I purposely didn't go into anything medical because my father missed every single holiday when we were kids(and still does) as did my mom when when she went back to work. It didn't really have as much to do with him being in the medical field as it did with him being a total workaholic, but I still associated the two and therefore I'm one of the few in my family who isn't a nurse/x-ray tech/emt. I don't know what the meaning of life is, but I hope it doesn't have anything to do with working overtime everyday.
4. Have you ever had to choose between having a career and having a family? I guess I want to be able to support myself before I start making new people, and I can't really do that yet. I grew up poor and I don't want to do that to my kids. I don't need to be rich, either. I just want to meet their needs and not stress them out with the possibility of losing the house every two weeks.

5. In your opinion, what is the easiest job in the world? What is the hardest? Why?
Easiest- sitcom actor. It's hard to get there, but there's nothing to it. It's tons of money for easyfunplaytime.
Hardest- teacher. I would never ever ever be a teacher. It takes balls and dedication and patience I do not have.

Anyway, when I asked what Tom was up to, he told me he had just recorded the commentary tracks on the Mr. Show: Seasons 3 & 4 DVD!!!

Fucking right you did.

I opened this up and forgot what I was going to say.
TMBG show tonight. I am happy.


Yesterday I worked out for an hour and I hadn't eaten anything but a grapefruit and some broth. That is a stupid thing to do. It's a rotten feeling and it renders you incapable of even the most casual conversation. I went home and ate a pound of mashed potatoes. I'm such a moron.

My house is lonely. I see him for five minutes in the morning and he gets home after I'm asleep. It starts out like it hurts and then it stops feeling like anything at all. I'm glad he's in a show, he deserves it, he's good. I'm glad he's doing three in a row. I'm good alone, too. I clean up, I've written more the past few weeks than I have in recent memory. But I'm in that weird phase I get into where when he's not around I stop missing him and then when he is around I feel like he's in the way. I don't like that feeling. I need to spill to somebody in private. pwah.

My wrists still hurt. I'm going to sue rawhide and velocity.

Last night Todd noted that the term "glove compartment" is quaintly antiquated.
I can't wait to go to New York.
I can't wait to go to New York and
I can't wait to go to New York.
I want to move there today.

I'm thinking I might get a hotel room in town for after Mr. Show, because it would be stupid to have my brother and my sisinlaw wait for me and escort me home at 1 am on a work night.
Well, I think I'll just go through my entire thought process for you.

brought to you by "Asbes-tios!"
(It's either a cereal or a corn chip, I haven't decided.)
((wait, I didn't even make that up, did I?))

I found out yesterday that two of my good friends got married this summer. Two guys from my old job that I've lost touch with. I miss my old office, even though I gained about 40 pounds in the year that I worked there. I really liked them, I'm not sure what happened. The weird thing is, I always picture cara at her desk reading my blog aloud to the rest of the office and mocking me out. I'm awful for thinking that, because she was always so nice to me. It's just that weird thing that when too much time passes you can't go back because there's no explaining what happened in the interim. I just assume they all hate me.
Plus, I don't think I am capable of being in a room with Steve. I saw the back of his head at the Sloan show and I almost passed out. I've never crushed on anybody for this long. 4 years, from first sight. Now he's married, which is great. I should probably hurry up and get over it, huh? I realize more and more what a bitch I am every day.
Ok, I'm over it over it over it.
I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.

currents, cuz I haven't in forever:
feel:: like making out with a stranger
eat: green apple and pamplemousse
listen:white blood cells
write: monolouges devoid of any real comment or subtext and unfunny.
hair: done using only a clip and the shadow my head cast on the side of a building
look: all retro and shit. If I had horn-rimmed glasses I could take over the world. or at least look like I could!
smell: like someone else's coffee
crush: can never discern between appreciation for talent andsexual attraction
watch: ladri di biciclette
read: the rest of American Gods as soon as I find it.

I watched sweet november last night because I:
a. finally got hbo
b. got "in trouble" for ordering it and will probably have to change it back and
c. am attracted to the lesser transvestite
it was damn good for a larf.
Keanu is so so awful, there aren't words for what a bad actor he is. the writing is so bad, the story is wafer thin and the characters aren't even broadly drawn, they're barely drawn at all. (If you're going to make her a flake, make her flaky. She wasn't even pleasantly quirky, she was barely bohemian. cartwheels on the beach do not a flake make.) But it's worth it for the scene where the little kid refers to big K's character and says, ". . well, he makes me feel smart."

I also worked out at the new gym (inspirator :P) with Kristen, who has made it her job to get me in shape. My legs felt like rubber when I was done. The good thing is, we got to watch friends while we worked out. Wait, did I say good instead of annoying? I always mix those two up . . .
Oh, and I'm sitting here at work in sweatpants because I sat in huge puddle of coffee on the bus. I am a loser.

I'm Jo, which ambiguous dyke are you? Quiz by Turi.


courtesy of j.pardilla

I messed up my hand at the batting cages. The idiot behind the counter didn't give me a helmet, either. I asked for a bat, and from that he still couldn't glean that I was going to hit balls? I had to share helmets with the guys I was with. What a mormon.
The slow pitch was occupied, and I have no patience, so I did the fast pitch. Once I started hitting a few, it dawned on me that the balls were hitting the bat a hell of a lot harder than I was hitting them. I had one really good swing that messed up my thumb and forearm something awful.

My new article isn't up yet. I am so livid. He keeps fucking with our deadlines and then when he doesn't feel like writing he doesn't publish. But if we miss our deadline he publishes without us. I didn't feel like writing this week either, but I did, and, well, it shows, but, but, you know, stuff. I'm writing current events up in here.
c'mon now, cut a sister a break.

hells yes, bro.

I just got off the phone with a sales rep who said, "yeah, I got a friend who just moved from san diego to buffalo, must have been quite a culture shock, huh huh."
If you're going to talk about weather in buffalo, do it in the damn winter. and If you're going to mock buffalo's "culture", don't do it to my face. Only I am allowed to mock the rednecks of the north.

It just started pouring. On the one day I don't have a ride home. Yay!
I'm going downtown to meet my old roomate for dinner and I think she may be bringing along with her a random chick from work. yay!

from my made up version of the non-Billy Joel Bosom Buddies theme:
We live with chicks in a chick hotel
can you tell?
I've got a woody!
But I'm wearing a dress!
What a mess!
I put the "bosom" in "bosom buddies"
'Cause bosom means BOOBS!

thankyou . . thankyou . . .

today's funky refferal
and what's the deal with people wanting to see amy sedaris barefoot?
can't help you, folks.

(freaks.)

dead fairie.

I screamed an obsenity at a stranger for the first time last night. I'm not proud of it, but I think I was justified. I was out walking, on my way home actually. I had my headphones on, listening to dance hall crashers and being rained on ever-so-slightly, when out of nowhere, my cd player was knocked out of my hand and on to the ground by a huge crazy barking dog. I was kind of stunned, and then I turned around to watch where the dog went, which was right up a house where some people were milling around with their front door open. I shouted in the general direction of the house, "would you mind keeping your fucking dog on a leash?!?!?"
Such language!
I feel bad about the swearing part, because I bet they're a nice family. But seriously, if your dog is nutty like that, you know it and you should keep it secured when it's out or at least be mindful of keeping your doors shut. I could have been holding a baby. And if you love the dog, don't you NOT want it to run into a busy street? Morons?
The "would you mind" part is kinda funny. "would you be so kind as to secure the canine with a restraining device, muthafuckas?"
anyway.

I'm in the mood to take one of those surveys about my likes and dislikes. does that make me a bad person, or a good person, just self-centered? mm.
I bought the white stripes: white blood cells and the brain candy soundtrack (finally. thank you newsgroup.) yesterday. and a little treat for my Mr. Buddy. (I know you read this, c'mon you guys, cutitout.:P)
Speaking of which, the director of his show has farted audibly at every rehearsal for the past week. Not that there's anything wrong with it or that kind of stuff is funny, but you'd think after the first time he'd find a reason to leave the room or something.

I am creatively impotent.

Every once in a while I have a dream in which I find my dog, Gypsy, (for the Stevie Nicks song of the same name. Oh, mom.) and I freak out because I realize I haven't fed her in a long time. Ten years, in fact. I feed her, we talk. It's nice.

It is pretty much impossible to find the new york times around here. I refuse to subscribe online. So you fuckers with online subscriptions quit linking to stories I want to read.
deal?
no?
ok. sorry I got mad. I love you, baby, don't be like that . . .

I really hope my boss doesn't have one of those big brother spy-on-your-employees'-internet-usage things. Not that I spend all day on it, or I should be fired or anything. I would just be really embarassed. Really embarassed.

My mom: They had an Abe Lincoln impersonator at the um. . .
me: . . .
mom:what's it called. .
me: . . .
mom: the party before the wedding . . .
me: . . .the bachelor party?
mom: yes! No, the rehearsal dinner. right? yes.

The wedding was really nice. It was all in stark contrast to the crapass motel room where we spent the night. Gross. Smell of peepee. No clocks. Adam stayed with us and snored so loud I didn't sleep at all. I kept yelling at him to wake up and turn over or something, but he didn't budge. I had to tie a sweatshirt around my head. You know, the old 'sweatshirt' trick.

The reception was at a fancy golf club. The schtick with the country side of the family was that they didn't "understand" cocktail hour and that they couldn't pronounce the names of the hors d'ouerves. (You know, I get it, you're out of your element and you're uncomfortable. It's ok to just enjoy it. You don't have to comment on it. No one is going to kick you out if this is your first time having spanikopita.)
Our family sat a table together, which was something we haven't done since we were kids. Adam ate a flower and my dad ate a candle. My mom ordered a giant plate of mashed potatoes for my brother's girlfriend, who was mortified. It was Irish and lovely. They were showing Raiders of the Lost Ark at this really nice old theatre as part of the city's film festival so we caught that after the wedding. It's a cool thing for a small town, I was surprised at the turnout.

Sunday was about not doing anything.
I think I might have kicked the TV habit. I don't watch nearly as much as I used to. Lately I've been getting things done on days off instead of being glued to a true hollywood story or watching "American Anthem" again. (that is, by the way, the funniest unfunny movie ever made) Late last night after shakespeare let out I went down to the park and ended up at a midnight cookout, which wasn't nearly as fun as it sounds. Todd's friends with all of these actors, I can hang out with them form time to time but I just get bored. You're ostracized if you're not working on something. Nobody wants to talk to you because they assume you don't have anything to say. Maybe it's me, maybe I avoid people when I'm feeling low self-esteemy. No matter how much time I spend with them I still don't feel like I'm a part of them. wah wah. I'm ready to move.
Because there's nothing left to make me want to stay.

Also, the people who knew about mouth tobaccos felt the sweet taste was a definite factor with the kids.

hey, thanks!

I went shopping with my mom last night. It was so fun. She told me stories about how she and her friends get sexually harassed by quadrapelegics (and how she threatens to overturn their wheelchairs) and we had another, "mom, gay people are ok, they're happy. they're not bothering anyone. Just be happy for them." conversations. I think she's coming around.
I bought a lovely green purse and a hippie pie green shirt for the wedding tomorrow. I'm going to look very bohemian and be very comfortable. Ha- eat that, lawyercakes. (my cousin is marrying into a lawyer family, all very rich and very schmancy. and really nice, so I shouldn't be giving them shit.)
I am going to stay an extra day in new york. I switched my flights so I can go to a show at the Luna. whee.
Wanna go?

friday five is all about driving. I can not participate.

-I'm pretty sure I'm hitting my sexual peak. How long do you suppose a thing like that lasts?
- I have the incidental music from Brain Candy stuck in my head. Oh, Northey.
- I'm dizzy and in a pissy mood. dizzypiss.
- you're supposed to pee 8 times or less a day. I've peed 7 times and it's only 3 in the afternoon. And I have to go right now. I guess I have to hold it until tomorrow.
- I wrote my article about the Floridalaw that makes women print their names and sexual history in the newspaper before they can give up children for adoption. There is more to it than that, but not much. It's reprehensible (the law, not the article), and I got pretty mad. I hope it's at least a little smart and funny. Now that I think about it, I don't think I did my subject justice. I'm going to go put my head under the faucet.
- They have lime flavored tic tacs. It's like a margarita for my mouth!
- Dinner last night rocked hard, thank you for asking.
- make that eight.
- nine.

For my birthday I treated myself to a 45 minute psychic reading at this lady's house by the airport. It was awesome. I sat on her ornate gold and white couch with plastic slipcovers while Tracey waited in the family room and watched the real world movie with the psychic's daughter.
I will be moving to New York, which will be a positive force in my life, not to mention a huge surprise since I have only been toying with the idea/paralyzed by the concept of leaving home.
She gave me alot of stuff. Like, my real soulmate is an attractive blond man. I'll believe it when I see it. She also said I could have a great relationship with a woman. Like, a particular woman. Weird. Not that women together is weird, it's just that I've never been gay. I would almost consider myself 'violently straight'. I also didn't go there for relationship advice at all.

Tonight is the closing ceremonies of "Birthday Spectacular 2002". I swear I'll stop talking about it after this.
Is it anti-climactic to have your birthday dinner the next day?
I don't care. It was like a festival this year. I did something fun and birthday related on every day from Saturday to today.
Oh, um. 28, by the way. I can kind of see myself getting older. I can see the contour of my face has changed. The odd thing is, I think my face is prettier now than it was when I was 18, which feels kind of counterintuitive, but shouldn't be.
Anyway.

There was nothing I needed less than to have another celebrity crush.

I was laughing really hard yesterday at the bob odenkirk character (drippy? droopy? I couldn't tell after they said it a hundred times on the commentary) when he pays for the doughnuts and says "keep the chaaaahhhnge."
So at cake time I turned to Dave and, inspired by this bit of hilarity said, "Time for caahhke."
Say it out loud.

Yeah.
I'll never live that one down.

I got a golden ticket to hooray for america.
9/22 -11 pm.
I am going to be sitting by myself. And I don't care. Not one bit.

I saw Signs on Friday.
Oh. My. God.
Go, now. See it before people ruin it.

Saw Sloan last night with my brothers. I looked for people I knew, but they must have been right up close to the stage ;) It was a great show. I only have two of their albums, so I wasn't as familiar with half of what they played, but it was all good. As my brother said, "You can't dick around with labels for these guys . . .they're pure rock and roll."

So far for my birthday I've made over a hundred bucks. I love being hard to understand. No one knows what to buy me. ha.
I got Brain Candy on DVD, two more wooden jewelry boxes (but no more jewelry) a red velvety throw and two candles. Wednesday my friends are taking me out for Thai food. This will be the test to see if I like Thai food or if I just really like the Regional Thai Taste in Chelsea.

I'm going to try to see Mr. Show in New York in September. I may have to go alone, which would not be half bad. I'm in the mood to be all by myself lately.

Our office manager's wife had a baby girl, my brother is on his was into town, we're going to see signs, my birthday is in four days, I deposited my check, it's time to go home.

Life can be good.

friday five:
good morning
1. What is your lineage? Where are your ancestors from? Half Polish (paternal), half Irish blend. (maternal, mostly Irish with tiny bits english and french.) raised Catholic.
2. Of those countries, which would you most like to visit? Ireland, in France: Nice or Grenoble but not Paris.
3. Which would you least like to visit? Why? Poland. Probably because I hate the Polish part of me, I hate my Polish traits. My dominant features in my face and my coloring are typical polish and I can't stand them. If I understood it more I might embrace it. I grew up in a very Irish parish at a very Irish catholic school, if you weren't Irish enough you weren't popular. It sounds stupid, because it is. It's still like that.
4. Do you do anything during the year to celebrate or recognize your heritage? My family doesn't do any real heritige-y stuff since we stopped hanging out with my dad's side of the family. Polish people have special meals before easter and christmas which consists of all gross white food and fish. The only tradition I liked was how we broke little wafers on christmas. You go around to everyone in the family with your wafer and you each take a piece of the other's at the same time and say something nice to each other, (wish luck for the new year or thank them for their help during hard times, the older people put a blessing on you) then you eat piece of the wafer you broke off. My family doesn't do it anymore, but Todd's does. I like the symbol. I always liked tradition. That's the only thing I liked about Catholicism, the traditions and the solemnity. I like being solemn.
The girls in the family put a sixpence in their shoes when they get married. I have no Idea where that came from. I don't even know where we got the sixpence. (and there's the fruit hat. . . . but this is getting too long as it is. )
Oh, and I always get wasted on St. Patrick's day.

5. Who were the first ancestors to move to your present country (parents, grandparents, etc)? Not sure about my father's side but my maternal great grandfather moved from Ireland to England to be an actor, then he moved to America and met my great-grandmother doing summer stock theatre (!) and moved to Pennsylvania to be a farmer. That's the only good "coming to America" story in my family. Nobody else really talked about how they got here. From what I picked up listening to people talk as a kid it was really fucking hard, especially on my father's side of the family.
I guess I can say I'm third generation American.

not me.

I'm eating a sweet granny smith apple. It fuckin rules.
I'm sending a sample to skittles.

Just kidding, I'm not really.

Dislikes:
Figuring postage
heavy breathers
not-niceness

new likes:
when my niece emails from Barbie.com
when guys call me "man"
the word "joist"

What the!

Only two women have been enshrined in the Hall of Brains. I am not allowed to answer. Come on, ladies. Let's do it!

Last night I stayed up staring at the ceiling and writing a monologue in which my lips and tongue try to convince me not to fire my skin. Hmm. Think it'll play?

You're joking, right?
Barbie� activates her night vision goggles and prepares for a pursuit on her pop-out skates!