the subway is a rollercoaster that takes you to work.

I bought nothing yesterday. Today I bought boots. I live in buffalo. It snows.

In other news: Happy Hannukah!!!!!

Best thing about thanksgiving other than turkey:
I found a six hour marathon tape of Newsradio from I guess about three years ago. Is that possible?

The Three Best Things about a six hour Newsradio marathon from three years ago:
1. Bob Odenkirk was in "Injury" as the doctor. I didn't know that. ("are you the boyfriend?" "no, I'm the employer.")
2. "Battlefield Earth" commercials. bwah ha.
3. "If he could juggle you'd be pregnant by now."
I am so stealing that.

Which "Saved By The Bell" Character Are You?

teeheehee.

I'm a New Aquarian as well. I wonder if New Aquarians match well with Thrill-Seeking Materialists. Like peanut butter and bread. Like potato chips and cheese. Like leos and sagattarians. Alright, you got me, like leos and everybody-we're such sluts.

Randomly depressed and drunk too early. Sorry.

There was some kind of snowstorm in my neighborhood so I was stuck here at my mom's house last night and had to sleep in my old room. It's so bizarre that I used to live here. I am nothing even resembling comfortable. I think I got an hour of sleep and I haven't taken these pants off in twenty four hours. But, there is so much food. Will not. Go. To. Waste.

It's windy as hell outside. It's beating the shit out of the house.

The more I hear about "Affleck" and "J-Lo" getting hitched and Presley and Cage heading to Splitsville, I just sit back in the wonder of it all and think: This never has been and god-willing never will be my business. What is the justification for knowing these things and how is it the job of several people to report on it?
Two guys that I used to work with got married over the summer and I didn't know about it until a month later. And that is ok by me. I'm not trying to be self-righteous, but come on already.

Hey!
I used "agnes beane" as a "handle" for a brief stint on a message board. I'm still obsessed with it. I love the name Agnes. She's the patron saint of virgins. Of course, anything sounds good when your last name is Beane, everybody knows that. So, call me that from now on.
I said do it!

I'm going to make a list of things I'm thankful for, not just because I'm twelve, but because there is shit that goes on in the lives of people I care about that I could never begin to understand, more or less cope with, and I have no right to complain about anything, ever ever ever.

hilarious.
this is fun.

I am both creatively dwarfed and emotionally embiggened by your talent.

It's kind of hard to find the song "Breaking the Law" menacing. If you were the kind of person who broke the law, would you really sing a song about it?
"I'm kicking your ass
kicking your ass!"
No you're not. You're singing. With a parasol.

I'm full of chocolate chip cookies and envelope glue.

I was having a cigarette outside of the subway station this morning and I saw what looked like "I can" carved into the concrete sidewalk. I thought, 'what a lovely sentiment! what an inspirational piece of graffitti!' Upon closer inspection, it actually said, "Carl".
You can, Carl, don't let anybody tell you different.

Have you ever had a friend whose life is so shitty you don't even know what to say to her anymore? God, I don't even know how to start a conversation with this girl. I guess the best I can do is listen and say, "My god, your life is a shitstorm and it refuses to abate. I'm really sorry."

I lost the auction. I really wanted the invitation, but the more I think about it I probably can't spare the cash. The website said they are planning on doing another something next year, too. Next Year Sarah will be able to afford it.

Three of us are throwing together a sketch group as fast as possible. They are having auditions at some entertainment complex* downtown, that's as good a reason as any to start a "troupe", I say. My experience has been, the process is more fun than any possible outcome. That's what I'm looking forward to: a Sunday night meeting, three hands, a tight five. Picking out a name.
I've given up trying to impress people, I no longer treat auditions like blind dates. I just want to do something really funny and let it be what it is and like it while I'm doing it.
The intrinsic value of performance always gets lost in the heat of competition.
Good times.

*I realized this is the place with the enforced "dress: smart" dress code. I really hope (secretly, of course) we don't get hired there, but I hope we do put together a show to perform somewhere where you can be smart and dress like an asshole if you want.

Whatever is making me itch needs to cut it the fuck out.

Punk Drunk Love.
yeah. . . just.

God.

The kind of movie that makes you wonder why anyone would ever spend their time and energy on anything that wasn't completely smart and genuine.

I finally got the white stripes out of my head.
with:
How about some erotic magazines?
erotic tangerines?
erotic letters from Ben Vereen?

Pootie T gets me everytime.

this is the greatest love in history
a monstrosity of nudity . . .

The snl newsgroup depresses me. It's a constant barrage of flamewars which, I'll admit, I love to read. But whenever they discuss the abilities of a female comedian, whether they think she's funny or not, her looks are always the most important factor. They can never talk about any female comedian without talking about her looks.

Regarding the funnyness of Janeane Garofalo: "I think she's witty, not funny. unfortunately, she's going to look like fran leibowitz in ten years."

What? I'm sorry, what? what the fuck would that have to do with anything?
I know at least 50% of the group are borderline personalities who think they're going be on the show someday and there's no reason to take it personally, but I think it's pretty indicative of the way any woman in comedy is viewed. It's sad. It's sad that in order to do this thing I want to do I not only have to do it ten times better than a guy to get noticed but I also have to have really nice hair and abs. Being funny or being a good writer isn't enough, but, whatever. That's how it goes, I guess.
Cowboy up about it, girl. You're still just a secretary.
*I did just totally overreact there, by the way. The guy didn't really deserve the amount of vitriol I spat in his direction and I came off sounding like a bitter failure. Meh. oh well.
"You can't take something off the internet. That's like trying to take pee out of a pool."

and I still can't get the goddamn white stripes out of my head. kill me.

My things-lately:
David Cross
"going to utrecht"
grilled cheese sandwiches.

I've been Sondheimed. Finally. I took a borrowed copy of Into the Woods into. . . the streets for a nice long walk.
I stopped by a friend's house* last night and he and some other people were watching some kind of Sondheim/follies thing from the 80s. I came home with four cds and strict orders on how to listen to them. This has been a very musical week. It's one of those weeks I wish I had stuck with tap dancing.

Fun times, you guys. I wish I was there. I am looking forward to Moriarty's backstage review.

Can't afford it, but I'm going to try. Hey fellas? Try not to do this RIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS next time. kay? kay.

*to visit the lamp. I sure miss it, now that it's gone. That, and those old paint cans.

1. The rain turned into snow.
2. My left eyelid keeps falling asleep, but in a really endearing way. I look like Miss Sophie from The Color Purple.
3. If I squint I can kind of picture it.
4. That's what I'm talking about.
5. My sweater makes me look like a hobbit. Except for when I put the hood up, then I look like a Jedi.
6. I am never not queasy, not hot or not tired. I make it a point to not to complain about this around new parents.
7. Today I wish I was somebody's mom.
8. Gas station pizza is the devil's handiwork.
9. I dreamt last night that I accidentally created lightning and that I was really embarassed about it. Sorry guys. Didn't know what I was doing there . . .

Last night I spent 2 1/2 hours with singing, dancing hippie-clowns and I still can't get the White Stripes out of my head. I'm so over them.
I do so love Godspell. It's the perfect actor-y show. Everyone is wearing warm-up clothes and they're completely commited mind and body to wide-eyed splendor.

A friend of mine told me last night that h/is/er father was caught stealing from work. What a bizarre thing. It's almost like we have the facilities to cope with being the victim of such a crime, but for the perpetrator to be someone you love and trust? How do you deal with that?

My mom (mid-thought, mid-sentence, on the phone), regarding Fox News Channel:
" . . . Charlotte, NC? S-H-A-R-R. . . .well, they're nice people. They can't spell, but we won't hold that against them."

I'm Sully!

Take the Jimmy Fallon recurring SNL character quiz here.

created by stomps.






24 hour crush in effect.
remain calm.

I wrote a long post about how a friend of ours stole a lamp from our living room. Blogger ate it.

I caught an accounting error and saved the company three thousand dollars today. yay me.

I have added to the muddled mess on the right a list of words I've looked up for meanings and/or spelling. From now on I consider the use of any of these words in any context a shout out to me personally. Holla.

You will live in House.You will drive a sheer orange the bus.
You will marry mark mckinney and have 3 kids.
You will be a trapeze artist in peru.

I wanted to be a hobo.

Link from sonya via jennifer

Don't let chemo kill your dream-o.
I spat out my coffee right about here.

I find myself unnaturally drawn to David as Pootie T. I'm serious. My crush on Pootie is its own separate entity. It has its own apartment and it makes more money than I do. I blame the open shirt and the fact that he's funny.

They cancelled everything in the Playhouse for the "Cream of Comedy" taping and didn't tell anybody. We drove for two hours to watch ten minutes of warmed-over Second City "classics" and spend $7 on a beer. If you ever go to the Second City in Toronto, get drunk first.
:D
I sound really bitter, but it was good to see Jack and to be in Canada.

I was going to go into a whole rant about how open hostility ("Do you want me to kiss your ass just because you're from the States?") can create ugly americanism where maybe there wasn't very much to begin with ("No, I just want you to kiss my ass."), particularly coming from a guy wearing a "Red Wings" jersey, but I won't. America is smug and vicious, getting frozen out of conversations at a bar because of my nationality is hardly something worth crying about.

I have an audition in a few hours at Studio Arena. The only headshot I can find is from three years ago when I decided to take my eyebrows into my own hands.

I'm doing The Pick Up Game tonight.
Smell that? That's the scent of rust after a long car ride.

It seems I'm wasting this weekend as well.

I went to the galleria with Kristen after working out yesterday because she won't stop complaining about how she hasn't seen Red Dragon yet. We got there, at 8 o'clock on a Friday (s-m-r-t) and it wasn't playing anymore. The only thing that was up that didn't offend either one of us too much was Sweet Home Alabama, but after a moment's consideration we decided there was no way we were going to spend our last eight dollars on it. (I only would have spent the money because Mary Lynn is in it. It'll be on oxygen soon, I'm sure.)

I got tacos instead. Just as entertaining. Kristen told me about an annoying girl at work who is engaged to a redneck unemployable named "Randy".
I don't think I've ever laughed so hard in my life. I've never met the man, but at that moment it seemed Randy was the loserest name ever spoken. There are Phineases and Gileses who make fun of guys named Randy.
(I know a guy named Giles, he's actually very cool.)

The director of Pandora's Box wants me to do something I wrote for the festival. It's ridiculous, you bust your fanny daily with no results and then one time you make a girl cry at a party and she's handing you perfect opportunities. (I was complimentary, she was drunk, it was both uplifting and uncomfortable like . . .

an underwire bra out of the dryer!
ding
every religious retreat I've ever been to!
ding
the special olympics!
ding
Forrest gump!
ding
when Ozzy Osbourne cries!
ding ding ding!

Where the heart is is on. This is the movie I thought I was watching last Saturday, but that was Anywhere But Here. I kept saying, "When is she going to have her baby in the WalMart already?" But I was wrong. Silly.

I wish I was in LA right now. Never thought I'd say that, did you?

My body makes no sense. I work hard, right?* I work very damn hard. If there were no change in my weight I'd be cool with that. I'm not trying to lose weight. But to gain seven pounds? A solid seven, even? I look smaller, feel better, and weigh more than I did in January when I made this stupid resolution.
blah blah blah asscakes. I'm fine. whatever. My body is a miracle and a work of art. My body is a joyous wonderland. My body's a traveling carnival, filled with excitement and funnel cakes and odd smells and faulty equipment. I love me. I look forward to me.

In other news, I covet the season 4 invitation. I want a KITH hoodie, but come on . . .youth large? Youth large? Have they seen the collective chest of their fanbase?
(I'm all about the itallics today.)

*I try to be hard worker man, but refrigemator so so messy

Go spend some money.
For the kiddos.

c'mon already.
The funny thing is, I'm #2 of 2.

Hello.

Don't you think that lady who plays Mimi on Drew Carey is sick of that shit already? God. If it were me, and I'm aware that it's not, but if it were, there wouldn't be enough money in the world.

Where did this crush on David Wain come from? I hope it's just going to be one of those 24 hour things.

New on fox: One
"My name is Jack Bauer, and this is the longest lunch break of my life."

It was funny yesterday.

I have no concept of insomnia. I understand that it exists, I've even had it a few times. How can a person not sleep? I can sleep in the middle of having fun. Last night I was at a friend's house, having a few beers and playing with the lotr/aotc dvds, and I still fell alseep on a lap. Maybe it's the weather, but my pillow is so much more alluring than anything else the world has to offer after 9pm.

I found this under my favorites. I love that picture. I save the weirdest shit.
a handy scientific explanation for alien abduction.

I thought this was important enough to keep around.

Did you ever have things you probably should have been embarassed about, but you're just not? I do. Alot.

I've been complaining about money a lot lately. Ever since a friend who is into feng shui told me to plant a money tree in the left/middle section of the "grid" in my apartment I have been painfully broke. Yes, I planted a damn money tree. I just dropped a big hunk of change into an empty flower pot and hoped my money problems would go away. Because that is a realistic and responsible way to deal with debt.

Tonight I am going to dump it all out and roll it. I think it might do me more good sitting in my savings account than gathering dust on my dad's old foot locker. Maybe. I could always request they store it in the middle/left quadrant of the bank, you know, to cover my bases.

Wanna hear something funny?? Me too.

My student loan payments went up. Lil bit. It's like, more than three times what I was paying over the summer. Nice. I can't afford that shit at all. Thanks, Mr. President. Asshole. It went down at the beginning of the year, supposedly as part of Bush's tax cut or whatever. Then halfway through the coupon book it more than triples. I don't know what I'm going to do. I'm going to call and see if there's anything I can do to get it lowered.
I remember last time I tried to get my payments reduced, the guy on the phone said, "Well, you dropped out of Buffalo State. [this was before I thought about going back to finish.] If you go back to school, let's say, you go to cosmetology school . . ." I found that antiquated sexism way too delicious. "Yes, ok, so if I'm at cosmetology school . . ." For the rest of the conversation we worked under the assumption that I was going to become a beautician.

So yes, I'd still like to hear something funny.

I love tim hortons. I love trying to imagine how many unwashed heads that place sees on any given morning.

I have the heart of a lovesick twelve-year-old.

I'm wasting this weekend.

How can I label you?
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I'm so cute. sniffle.

I'm actually really worried about my archives. That's almost two full years of petty bitching down the drain.

There are currently more people working on finding just the right place to have our holiday party than on any given multi-million dollar project that's come across our collective desk. Large gatherings move from drawing table to drawing table, people leaving in pairs and threes to check out banquet rooms in Buffalo's swankier establishments, words like "open bar" and "pecan-encrusted" are bandied about. One place, deemed near-perfect, has already been eliminated based in it's lack of a bar area.
"That would defnitely slow us down." I was overheard saying.
We are a collection of screaming jackasses, and we drink.

On a more terrifying note, Jessica made me a logo for my nebulous one woman whatever that I've been writing and performing nightly for the items on my coffee table. It rules so hard. It's a girl with a hoodie and slouchy pants on and all of her hair in her face. I wish I could figure out how to put pictures up here. i think I'm going to go ahead with the show, if only for the opportunity to use that picture and pick out good pre-show music.

Oh god. "a hoot".

Banished from the english language:
"How goes it?"
Each of those words individually is still legal, but saying that combination in that order is now an arrestable offense.
Also, referring to someone as "well-off" and meaning it.
I offer the phrase "Give a sniff" to fill the void.

I went into default on a stupid store card that Todd opened for me on his credit. I am about to cry. So stupid. I could have paid it all, but instead I wanted to prove I could pay for my half of the living room furniture without starving. I had $30 left to pay. That's the funny/sad part. $60 in late fees on it, on his flawless credit. It's such a stupid little thing, if it were my credit I wouldn't care, but since it's his I'm about to cry in the middle of work. Dumb dumb dumb.

I'm so sad and lonely and hungry and itchy.
I need something good to happen.

My nails do not, however, resemble dancing sugarplums. Unless I do this...

Mummenshanz!


I am under the desk laughing.:)

New link-
(We all work for) Omar G.
He's a nice and funny guy that recaps Smallville for TWoP.

I read more journals than I link. Monkey need update.

My name is Gwen I'm here to waaaaaash yer vagina.

I have nothing to say.
I made chili.

"So and so is so fat, when s/he sits around the house, s/he really sits around the house."

Ok, so the house exists inside this person? Or does s/he move in a pattern outside, because said person is so "fat" sitting inside is impossible, but rather s/he sits on the perimeter of the property, thus "around" the house?
I'm asking.

My brother booked a commercial with american movie classics. Cool. It's one of those "people in front of white backgrounds talking about movies" things.
And also, for the rochesterariansesites, if you see a commercial with a girl hopping on appliances and just generally being excited about low low prices, it's my friend Tracey.

I have to go to my class now. Monkey hate Chekhov.

You know what guys? Don't do monologues from movies. Don't audition with them, don't perform them in front of people. I'm not a snob, they're a bad idea. Anyone will tell you the writing isn't generally very good, and someone else did it before you on film which makes it a lot harder to make it your own. Plus, it's just bad manners.
(Of course, I only got this referral because I spelled it wrong. )

So anyway.

There's a limo idling in our parking lot. Mmmkay.

[I just found out it's one of the goo goo dolls, who has a recording studio at the back of our lot. How inconspicuous of you, Mr. Goo. Whatever, dude. No one is going to mob you, as much as you want them to. If I had one good song on the City of Angels soundtrack, I wouldn't pay a guy ninety dollars an hour to cart me around so I could pick up my mail. I would find it pretentious and presumptuous.]

Who keeps putting chocolate in my mouth? Stop it.
My abdomen feels completely spherical.

I submitted one question to "the feedbag", it went something like "would you guys consider doing something like a tour diary from the road?"
The answer:
A ridiculous TOUR DIARY and STILLS are on the way.
Even though I am aware that I did not invent the concept, I'm going to pretend they got the idea from me. No, I will not get over myself.
Evah.

My archives are gone. hm.

I slept from 9 pm last night to 9 am this morning. It was

AWESOME.

I took some people to Mohawk place and they loved it. It's my new favorite bar. I was worried, because Ski Mask was first and he can be disconcerting to the uninitiated, and a Misfits tribute band was playing later, which left us all feeling the tiniest bit underdressed and undermadeup.
It was all good fun, and I'm glad, because now I can hang out there without having to meet new people. So that's great. Great great great.

I got walked-in-on whilst putting some graffiti on the bathroom wall. whoops.

I'm shameless.

I don't get bored, seriously, I self-entertain.

Kristen is getting her drink on with her dumbass (and yet her perfect mate) 'boyfriend', Tracey is playing board games with the physical conditioning guy for the Mets, no one has called. I'm going to bed. This sucks. I've had it.

Oh, so this is weird: I was waiting at the bus stop and this old guy comes up to me and says, "I'm a sculptor and I'd like to sculpt you, you have a great shape." and then he showed me this not-even-kinko's pulled together little shitty booklet of pictures of things he's "sculpted" like, huge bronze indians and busts. He kept trying to get my number from me, and I was being really nice and cordial because I have no real moxie where it counts, and I hate myself but I ended up giving him my work number.
God, I'm a fucking retard.
"but . . but . . .he said I was pretty!!"
That should have been my first indication. I got into a nice conversation with another guy after that, who told me about how he did 5 years for killing the guy who raped his cousin. It was probably the nicest conversation I've had with a stranger ever. So yeah, my day was totally fucked up, how was yours?

"Does y'alls peoples eat oatmeal?"

Is it possible to mourn a relationship you're still in?

It snowed for real today. It's so damn pretty.

The best thing ever in the world is sitting at the bus stop for a half an hour listening to cds and smoking.

Last night was pretty fun.
A lot of rowdiness and yelling.
Drinking and smoking and drinking.
Oingo Boingo's "Dead Man's Party" is a great song.
Spilling and barking.