I have two things to say.
1. This Meyer’s countertop spray in basil scent which I bought because I liked the packaging doesn’t really work in terms of cleaning but boy, it sure smells good!
2. I passed a second hand furniture place today and there was a table on display with a small sticker in the corner which said “top potatoes.” It drew me in because it made no sense. Upon closer examination I saw that it said “top rotates.” The whole thing reminded me of “easy pickles.”
Wendy and I chatted about pants.
Also, I’m on Red Eye tonight.
Also, my toe kind of hurts.
Also, I’m uploading a couple videos of Diana Falzone and me right now but they are taking forever. FOREVER!
So many things you guys! I think this calls for a list.
1. Wendy and I chatted today and whilst chatting she posted because she’s stealthy like that. She also taught me a new word: perseverate. This is a big deal because basically wherever I am I’m pretty sure I’m the smartest person in the room. It’s just the way it is. Does it sound vain? It should. But Wendy has now taught me three words I didn’t know so I think she might be smarter than I am. Dustin taught me one word I didn’t know. I always remember where I learn words. I often forget who I sleep with though.
2. The words were perseverate, herding cats (the phrase. It’s funny story because I told Wendy that I overheard someone saying working with someone was like “working with cats” and Wendy asked if the person said “herding cats” and explained that it’s a phrase). The other word was… hm… something you carry people around on. Like a rickshaw but not. Apparently that one didn’t take.
3. Dustin taught me the word concatenate. If I had more energy I would link to all these words but I don’t. My links aren’t very hyper today.
4. My McSweeney’s thing is up: http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/yourmoney/
5. I’m really excited about the second installment of the above column which I’ve already written and is apparently in the queueueueueueueue.
6. That’s how you spell that word, duh!
7. I’m going to two parties tonight. TWO. Who’s fancy? I am.
8. So I’ve been given the opportunity to be one of those comics who comments on celebrity fashion disasters in Life & Style magazine. I’m brushing off my zingers and my ripsnorters as we speak. I have to send them a headshot though. Which one should I use? Help me decide! It will be small and black & white.
9. I’d just go with the first one except an agent once told me it didn’t accurately reflect my personality. It’s all I can do not to post the duckling photo right here right now, by the way.
10. If there’s another photo you think I should use, let me know.
11. Um, what else? Hm. Oh! Well I was working on my stand up set because I’m going to audition for a potential regular slot at a comedy club MAYBE and it turns out I’m pretty heavy on the pedophilia jokes. Who knew? Is that my niche? The super messed up twisted niche? It’s so not what I expected of myself. I may have to abandon all that and instead go in the other direction: jokes about carob.
12. Oh yeah so the store I go to sells zucchini but calls it green squash and I would like to know why. Does zucchini only refer to something specific, like champagne? Does it refer to squash that comes from the zucchi region?
14. See what I did there, number wise?
15. I guess I don’t have anything else to say.
So it’s day 2 of crazy allergies from hell and so far I’m doing pretty well. Except for that rhyme which was unintentional and I hate it. Also, I’m in need of a manicure, girlfriends! I haven’t had one since I was maybe 17? Can you believe I’ve been wearing the same coat of nail polish since I was 17? If this nail polish could talk it would say… “I’m really old.” It might also say things that are more clever if my head wasn’t filled with cotton and my mucous membranes weren’t ready to attack. Have you ever been attacked by a mucous membrane? It only happens in England. Here you can be attacked by a mucus membrane. Anyway, it’s runny and disgusting and I think I’m going to make myself barf if I keep up with this.
I’m sorry, this is yet another post which didn’t live up to it’s post potential. Its postential. And now I’m off to get lunch with a writer with whom I’ve been planning to get lunch for about two years. Two years! I hope she hasn’t been at the restaurant this whole time.
Also… wait no, I’ll just tell you later.
And I don’t think this date will move around. Also, I’m tired. Also, it’s really cold in New York. Also, this couldn’t be less witty or clever if it tried. Also I had a dream that I was wearing retainers and orthodontic rubber bands. I blame Cathy’s teeth below.
It’s totally going to cut into my sitting around and doing nothing time!!!!!!!
Too many exclamation points? Probably. I’ve radically changed my opinion about excessive punctuation. I used to hate it. But now I’m okay with it. Possibly even more than okay, provided I’m the one overusing it. If you’re the one overusing it? I don’t know. Let me get back to you on that.
And now I have to go do important things.
So yesterday I was meeting someone in the village and I noticed, as I was making my way there, that I passed a bunch of people with roughly the same face which is a situation I find myself in not infrequently. In this case, they all looked like Dianne Wiest.
So here is the question: what’s really going on when this happens? Is it that there are only a limited number of faces, which is something I think I may have blogged about before? Is it really that people of a certain type live clustered together or that I possibly stumbled onto a pocket of Dianne Wiests? Of course not, right? So then it must be that for some reason my brain is processing certain stimuli in a certain way and lighting up with all the Wiest potential and either seeing it in everyone or rather just noticing a certain set of similar features and grouping them together. It’s an issue of parsing and perception. Sort of like how once you become aware or sensitized to a certain notion you’ll suddenly see it everywhere and wonder whether it was there all the time and you’re just now noticing it or it’s actually suddenly all around you. For example, I think people everywhere are absolutely in love with me and so I see that quality in everyone I come across. Also, I think dogs and babies are cute and so I see cute babies and cute dogs everywhere, particularly in pet stores and nurseries. Or also I just learned that there’s this place where you can get coffee called Starbuck’s and wouldn’t you know it, now I see Starbuck’s on every corner.
I’m joking, though not very successfully, but this is a situation I find myself in often when I travel. I’ll be in an unfamiliar city and I’ll see someone who reminds me of someone I haven’t thought of in awhile (someone from my past usually) and then I’ll see a bunch of people who look like that person. For example, San Francisco many years ago was filled with people who looked like a guy named Frank. Brooklyn is often teeming with people who look like someone named Michael. And apparently I also used to date Dianne Wiest. But it’s not just people I’ve been involved with, obviously. And all these thoughts make me feel like I’m wandering around in a Charlie Kauffman film. Another film reference? Ok then: Everything Is Illuminated had a scene at the end which captured this face thing perfectly. Did anyone see it?
For a spill-prone person like me who is usually pretty conservative with paper towel usage (what a sad sentence that is, but it’s true. I even buy those sheets that you can tear in three pieces) there’s a comfort that comes from having bought in bulk. I currently have a bounty of Bounty.
A comfort that’s off-set by this action:
But lest you are thinking I’m saying I’ll just substitute one paper product for another, that’s totally not what I’m saying. I’m just pointing out the paper inequity.
Also, unrelated, I seem to have developed a tremor today. My hands are shaking a little. So, that’s awesome news. I’m going to assume I just had too much caffeine until something makes me think otherwise.
But on the upside, should the shaking cause me to spill anything, my ass is totally covered. Well, my ass is the one thing that isn’t covered, but you know.
Am I belaboring?
Don’t answer that.
Could I be any less focused right now? No. I’m trying to write this thing that’s due and instead I feel like my brain is stuffed with old socks. In fact, I wonder if it IS stuffed with old socks which would explain why I can’t ever find socks when I need them and why I’ve taken to no longer caring if my socks match. In fact, I think it’s time the world de-embraces matching socks as a goal and yes, I know de-embrace isn’t a word. I remember telling a coworker some time ago that a guy had seen my mis-matching socks (that whole thing sounds euphemistic, right? but it’s not) and this was back in the days when only laundry emergencies would lead to mismatching socks, not my general disregard for doing what society tells me to do vis a vis socks (I’m kind of a sock rebel, you see) and anyway, she said, “Well I bet he just thinks you’re the cutest thing ever.” She had a British accent, too, so it was really convincing. Then she spoon fed me some applesauce and patted me on my helmet.
What was the point of this? Oh yes, there’s socks in my brain. And thoughts on my feet.
It’s all very upside down.
I also have a headache in my brain so technically my brain is filled with socks and stress. What are stress provoking socks? Some kind of super tight athletic socks? Just thinking about it seems to be making it worse which means I think I’ve located the specific sock which is causing the grief.
Also, there is a curious bruise on my hand and I remember yelling ouch at some point but can’t really remember much more than that, which is a good feeling.
Must think good socks!
In general, I’m in favor of calorie counts being posted on menus (as they are in NYC in most chain establishments) however last night the whole enterprise bit me on the ass as I found myself in a truly embarrassing restaurant in Times Square poring over a menu and realizing the only thing I could order that I wouldn’t feel terrible about the next day would be the chef’s vegetables for 60 calories. How am I feeling today? Terrible.
Here is the thing: I find it hard to believe that small steaming terrine of oil with a couple soggy green beans in it was only 60 calories. I also find it hard to believe those were vegetables or that this restaurant had a chef. If it did I take issue with his vegetables. If anything, it almost seemed I’d pissed him off by ordering this item. When I bit down I tasted anger. Anger and regret and canola oil. Probably not even canola oil. What’s a cheaper oil? Vaseline? I think these vegetables were served in a terrine of Vaseline. A Vaseline terrine.
So then upon realizing this wasn’t going to do the trick of putting anything into my stomach since I hadn’t eaten all day, I asked for a side of bread. Glistening soggy bread sticks were delivered sans calorie count. But as a professional dieter, I know lard when I see it (on my ass or on a bread stick). I had to then attempt to peel each bread stick to uncover the virgin center, untouched by oil or man. Then I’d dip the small bread pellet in the sauce, which actually had a vegetable floating in it. A green pepper sliver. It all comes back to green peppers, doesn’t it?
I feel I had something else to say? Did I?
