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The tragedy that almost happened in my kitchen

So I’m in my kitchen eating gherkins which are sweetened with Splenda (Vlassic makes them, I didn’t invent this combination) which many people including my mom have informed me sounds gross however I like them, and while we’re at it I also like the new Heinz ketchup that’s sweetened with Splenda, in fact I would like to sweeten my water with Splenda except I don’t drink water because it’s filled with disgusting H20 molecules. The Hindenburg anyone? The hydrogen atom bomb? Are you just going to forgive all that? Just because the hydrogen atom’s all like “no, I’m different, I’m stuck to another hydrogen and traveling with an oxygen atom?” I don’t think so.

Anyway, I’m eating pickles when suddenly a particularly slippery one kind of gets ahead of itself and starts sliding down my throat and I sort of try to dislodge it and for a second it goes down further and my sad life passes before my eyes as I imagine the pickle getting stuck in there and not being able to get it out and what would I do, would I go bang on my landlord’s door, begging for the Heimlich, what if they didn’t hear me, what if I die in my kitchen choking on this pickle. It’s amazing how fast that can go through your head. Meanwhile I did something which I can only describe as “hoarking” which isn’t really a word but whatever it was, it worked because the pickle shot out of my throat and rolled across the kitchen floor. I’ve since outlined it in chalk, just in case.

But seriously, how do people who live alone not choke to death more often?

Now I have a terrible headache but I think it’s from the panic.

UPDATE: I just choked on my own saliva and started coughing. What the hell is wrong with me? I hope it’s that I’m compromised from the pickle incident as opposed to losing motor skills.

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See me, hear me, love me, snuggle with me

I updated that junk on the right side of this here page to reflect tomorrow’s radio interview on Devore and Diana and the stand up which I’ve been talking about so much it’s like, lady, shut up already. You know?

Also, I bought some green beans today at the store because the quirky and whimsical placard said “Give your sous chef the night off,” with these pre-cleaned and trimmed and ready-to-eat beans. I don’t even have a sous chef but if I did he’d be named Henri and I’d never give him the day off because he’s a slacker and I’m thinking of firing him anyway. These water spots on my silver? Unacceptable, Henri! And is that a chip in my fine bone china which was made from ground down parakeet bones and purchased in China when I was sent overseas as part of a military gravy boat buying mission? The Audubon Society never let me hear the end of it.

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I'm home

I’m home! And I was worried that I was going to feel weird in my Brooklyn apartment since I haven’t really had all that much time to make it feel like home but I don’t. I feel normal in it. So: hooray!

On the plane I watched a couple episodes of House. I never really got into that show, perhaps because I can’t get past my disbelief that anyone’s last name is really HOUSE, but it was pretty entertaining. Now I’m going to go not unpack.

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Why I don't have photos from last night

I went to a party last night and took out my camera to take some photos for you, my favorite blog readers, but the screen said “change battery pack.” What it really meant? “Change battery pack, dumbass.” What it really really meant? “Change battery pack, dumbass! You’re finally going to a party and not only any party but one with a Bollywood theme and people are wearing all sorts of crazy outfits and all your friends are here, well, maybe not all, but many, and this would obviously be a night where you’d want to take photos and you didn’t think to charge your battery?”

I hate chatty batteries.

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My two cents

Yeah, but…

Right, but…

But I…

But I think it’s that…

Okay seriously…

Nevermind

No, it’s cool…

Really…

I like shiny objects!

Okay fine, that’s not a fair assessment of last night. I got some words in both edgewise and horizontally. Five across? How do words enter when they aren’t edgewise? On rails? On skates? By carrier pigeon? Anyway, my words totally got all up in that shit.

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Post Red Eye

On my way back to OC after doing Red Eye. The LA bureau is a whole different vibe than New York. It's almost like a local branch of a bank, except the pens aren't on chains and actually this bank metaphor is a terrible one. But it's very relaxed and kind of sleepy and bungalowesque as opposed to nyc which is big and imposing and bustling and frenetic. That was kind of redundant, huh?

Anyway in the midst of doing the show I read an email from a fan that kind of rattled me which I'm embarrassed to admit since I think I'm supposed to be above all that or something. Anyway. I need to learn better email management.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

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The Final Bang (on YouTube now)

You may have already seen this one but if you haven’t, here it is. Perhaps you’re wanting to know the backstory with the helicopter shot? Okay then. But maybe you should watch first before I blow your mind? Okay go watch while I sit here admiring myself in this rusty butter knife.

Back so soon?

So Erik and Ben were going up in a helicopter and I was supposed to stand on the top of the dimple hill and they’d get an awesome shot of the roof with me on it, waving. So I get this call from them saying they’re about to go up and that I should go up on the roof in about ten minutes and I say “you’ll call me to let me know when you’re shooting the roof though right?” except I don’t get all that out because they have to go and their phones are being confiscated and just wave at all helicopters. So I haul my toned and shapely caboose up there and there happen to be a lot of people setting up and there are some drums on teh top of the dimple hill as well but I explain that I have to go up there and wave at helicopters. I offer to soundcheck their drums but they don’t take me up on it and also they want to make sure I’m not “drunk or anything” WHICH I WASN’T, I’m just clumsyish and kind of lost at most times. So I’m up there looking in the sky and one of the guys explains that I don’t have to look, I’ll just hear the helicopter. This was probably right and it’s good he said taht because every time i craned my neck to look at the sky I started to get dizzy and worried I’d take a tumble down dimple mountain, taking out a snare drum and a drummer and possibly a guitar on my way. There was also a guitar up there. So then I developed a dog like sense of hearing, or whatever animal has crazy good hearing, and lurched at all loud noises and waved like a maniac at planes and various things flying by including a flock of birds. Finally after about half an hour I gave up and went downstairs. Erik and Ben told me they didn’t see me up there but then they didn’t see much of the roof either.

The next day they were goign to go up to the observation deck of the Empire State Building and film me on the roof that way so that it would look like it was from a helicopter. “Is the human eye so good that people know roughly what helicopter shots shoudl look like?” I asked. Ben assured me it would work, however he misunderstood my question. I wasn’t asking if people would be able to tell the difference between a helicopter shot and an Empire State Building shot. I was asking if we really need to go up to the Empire State Building for this shot, can’t we just hold the camera above our heads and shake it and pretend that was from a helicopter with some kind of phenomenal zoom function. I’m kind of glad he didn’t understand my question though, as this is why I’m in front of the camera and on a blog and not behind a camera, etc. So again I hauled ass up to the roof with my microphone and waited while explaining to the guys what was going on and worrying they would think I think I’m being filmed but really the whole thing is in my head since I’m saying I’m going to be filmed by peopel on the Empire STate Building and that’s why I have to wave at no one.

But it was goign to take an hour and a half to get to the observation deck, so we scrapped that and filmed what you saw, instead.

Also, by this point my throat and my interviewing style was a little raw.

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New New Yorker cartoon idea

If I drew cartoons for the New Yorker I’d do one of a guy on a horse near a cactus and maybe some antlers or sagebrush or a skull and he’d be wearing a sombrero and a poncho and he’d have a look of total confusion on his face, like he didn’t know how he got there or who he was. The caption would be “Mr. Smith has a señor moment.”

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