In Love Again

Word on the street is that I have a very big...

HEART. God, what is wrong with you people? Did you think I was going to say...? First of all, this is a family blog. Second of all, I'm a girl so how does that EVEN make sense?!

I guess I could be a secret tranny.


Anyway, I have a very big heart. Got that? You're so dumb. I hate you! Because of the size of my heart, I am, from time to time, want to fall in love. Sometimes it's with things. Sometimes it's with ideas. Other times it's with people. Mostly the first two, though. I'm not a whore or anything.

Well, it's happened again. Sigh. I'm all in a tizzy and I can barely keep my head straight.


It started on Friday morning. I was gchatting (totez obvi), and I remembered seeing a few dogs recently that had caught my eye. They were pug-like, with big ears, and of course I had no idea what they were called. What was the identity of these MYSTERY dogs that were catching my attention?

I looked on a few dog websites (AS I was chatting...how's that for multitasking?) and found a picture of the dog that was the object of my desires. But, for some reason, there was no name attached to it. WHAT KIND OF CAT-LIKE-DOG WAS THIS?!


I sent a link of the picture to the friends who I was chatting with and asked them if they knew what kind of dog it was? Someone (which one of you was it?) told me it was a french bull dog. I google imaged (google google google...are they paying me for this? they ought to be, ahem.) 'french bull dog' and sure enough, my love was staring at me x 20. I looked at pictures for a little while and then got distracted.

Later that night, I went to see the New York Philharmonic perform in Prospect Park

with my friend, Dave. (HI DAVE! You'll actually READ this and get jazzed that I mentioned your name, and how good looking you think you are in a public forum...unlike some other people I give shout outs to here...um.) We got some bagels (DROOL DROOL DROOL...bagels are just awesome...man) and joined a group of Dave's friends. I heard a panting noise and NOTICED that two of Dave's friends are also proud owners of FRENCH BULL DOGS! OH MY GOD!

I was way too happy about this. I'm not kidding. Ask my good looking friend, Dave. He will verify that my frown turned upside down and I giggled for a lot longer than is normal for someone who isn't eating candy / isn't a baby chasing something / isn't drunk. I was so happy.


During the intermission (because who can really take long intervals of orchestral music without a break, am I right? AM I RIGHT?!), I got to walk each of the dogs on their leashes. It was the happiest I've been in a while (what does that tell you about my current situation?) (what does this parenthetical writing tell you about my current relationship with parentheses?)(what about this one?)...(and this?)...(?).

One of the French Bull Dogs looked like this:

And the other one looked like this:


OMG AREN'T THEY SO CUTE?! THE FIRST DOG HAS EARS LIKE A CAT! AND THE SECOND DOG HAS A TONGUE LIKE CANADIAN BACON (read: ham).

If you're reading, and have great attention to detail, please go out and find those dogs for me. I think their owners live...either in Brooklyn or Manhattan. No need to waste your time in Queens, The Boogy Down, or Staten Island.

If you can't find both dogs, I will, reluctantly, accept one of them. Preferably the black and white one because he doesn't have the loud panting problem that the tan-ish colored dog has.

If you can't find either dog...you really suck at finding things. I gave you pictures and two specific locations. UGH. But seriously, you can buy me a dog for my birthday. It's in three months.

Thanks!

<3

A subway ride to remember

I hung out with Jason a few Tuesdays ago (It's taken me a lot longer to write this entry than anticipated. SHOCKING) We saw a free concert of the band Live (so awesome. so amusing. fortunately for the singer, he's always looked like he was 40...so now that he actually is he still looks good...or at least, ok) at City Winery in the West Village and then walked around the city for 20 years.

Ok
Ok
Ok

You got me. It wasn't twenty years. It might have been more like a long 19.

We ended up at a Venezuelan place in the East Village (read: arepas! ole!), where we shared a delicious empanada and I enjoyed a shrimp and avocado arepa. MMM. I could kind of go for that right now. SHRIMPZZZZZZ

We continued our walk (Jason kept insisting that it was 'pleasant' out. As I sweat through my clothes, I made him look up the temperature on his iphone. It was 97 degrees. Um, Jason...97 is not pleasant. 97 degrees is also not weather where people should be dressed in layers or pants or leggings. Jason wasn't wearing pants or layers or leggings, to be clear, but I just feel like ranting about this a bit. IT's not debatably hot when it's 97 degrees out. It's not weather where you might want to bring a sweater with you, or pack a long sleeve tee incase you get chilly out at night. It's UNIVERSALLY HOT WHEN IT IS 97 DEGREES OUT! WEAR AS LITTLE AS YOU CAN WITHOUT GROSSING OUT PEOPLE AROUND YOU / GIVING AN INDIRECT SEX-ED LESSON TO CHILDREN. Can I get an amen?!). After dinner, I thought I might stop in Trader Joes in Union Square before getting back on the R train to Queens (holla!).

But I didn't stay too long in TJ's because it was too f-ing crowded. Usually if you go to Trader Joes after 9:15 it's pretty quiet. Not that night.


So I walked back to the subway. If it was 97 outside, it was 120 down on the subway platform. Seriously. Ugh. After about 10-15 minutes the R finally came. 'OK', I thought to myself. 'I can cool off, play diner dash on my cell phone, and I'll be home soon'.

Boy was I wrong.

***

(JK...I've always been intrigued by those *'s though).

Well, to start off, I got on the train and noticed that no one was sitting on one half of the car. UM. It seems unlikely that in a hot, crowded city like New York everyone on the R train would suddenly want to sit right next to each other, so I had a feeling something was up.

I looked around at the empty seats and noticed something they all had in common:


Someone had poured water in each of the seats. The clear pools glistened in the heat and, unless you felt like getting your butt wet, rendered the seats useless. Luckily for me, someone had made the mistake of sitting in the water, leaving their bottoms soaked, but that one particular seat water-free. I sat down and appreciated the AC and the emptiness around me.

At the next stop, 23rd st. if you're keeping track, Someone got on the subway and looked around at the empty seats and then, me. They wondered why a cute girl like me, with such great fashion sense and winning charm, was sitting all by my lonesome. Then a glint caught their eye (like a big pizza pie) and they saw that all the seats around me were filled with water. We made eye contact and I saw a flashing thought of 'did that little bitch pour water in all these seats?' go through their mind. But, because of my aforementioned wonderful qualities, they realized I was OBVI innocent. That and my halo



halo
halo

I can see your...

Anyway.

A few stops passed. At 42nd st I noticed two things: three different people got on and without even looking SAT DOWN in the water filled seats. It took a few seconds for them to feel the water that had soaked through their bottoms but when they did, they jumped up. It was pretty amusing to watch. In case you're curious, it takes about three seconds for water to soak through yoga pants, and four seconds for water to soak through blue jeans. Black jeans? Whole other animal ;)

Again, these people looked at me and took me in. They wondered if I was behind the act of trickery. But, the fact that I was listening to my ipod, and half asleep probably steered them away from that conclusion.

It was at that time, at 42nd st, after leaving Union Square around 9:15, that I realized it was 9:40. It shouldn't take 25 minutes to go 4 stops. The Q train was pulling in across the platform, so I decided that I would either take it to 59th st. and try to transfer to another R train, or take it to the Broadway stop and just walk home. I got on the Q train...and it sat in the station.

Flash forward, because this part is really boring, but I basically didn't get to the Broadway stop around 10:30. That's an hour and fifteen minutes that I was on the subway...for what's normally a 35-40 minute ride. And, to conclude the fun, when I got OFF the subway, I wasn't even at my stop since I'd taken the Q to Astoria. So I got to walk 15 additional minutes home.


I have a theory about the subway. If I've spent my time in a good way, if I've taken the opportunities that the universe has offered me, and am where I'm 'supposed' to be when I'm getting on the subway, then the train comes right as I'm going down to the platform. I hop on and an home quickly.

But, if I go astray, maybe I don't go to an event I was supposed to, or I go shopping and I probably shouldn't have gotten a new dress, I wait and wait and wait on the subway platform. I feel it is a way of the Universe punishing me. Yes, this is kind of paranoid / REALLY stupid, but it's who I am.

According to this theory then, I basically killed a guy that Tuesday night, and also spit in a baby's face, and also pulled a nun's hair and stiffed a waitress on a tip and stole from orphans.



In conclusion, be rich so you don't have to take the subway.

Something funny

I read a lot of blogs that are awesome and funny. I enjoy reading things that creative people have written because, in a way, they remind me that most people are good and humanity isn't completely f-u-c-k-e-d.

I've probably mentioned it to you personally, and if I haven't, I don't claim any originality in this, but I do enjoy the blog: www.hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com a lot. I also came across a new blog, thanks to my AWESOME sister, Kate: http://stuffnoonetoldme.blogspot.com. That blog is called 'Stuff No One Told Me But I Learned Away'. Many useful lessons in there, guys. Also, many awesome pictures! You know I love pictures, right?

The reason I'm bringing these blogs up is because, I admire them. I find them really funny. How do these people come up with these GREAT jokes AND pictures? How do they get more than 6.5 people to read their blogs? (Though, I would like to say as an aside, that I apparently have 5 followers of my blog now, 4 of whom I don't know personally. I also got a comment on the entry about DEADMA from someone who I don't know. I will call this person my third fan. HI THIRD FAN! Thank you for reading my blog AND commenting on it! You are many steps ahead / many rungs above my 'friends' who I communicate with in person or via gchat or facebook or carrier pidgeon who can't take time out of their 'busy' schedules to read this blog and comment on it. THIRD FAN, you are a star!)

I really don't know. If I knew what was popular and funny I would 150 % say or do those things. I would mold myself into a product that people would like. I would lose my identity just for the sake of others' enjoyment. I would...

No wait. I wouldn't do any of those things! I'm not a sell out. Sure I'm a second away from putting ads on this blog, and right now I'm carrying an IPAD, and wearing jeans that look like they're from the salvation army but were actually $200 at a boutique in Williamsburg...and...I can't think of anything else that involves selling out off the top of my head. Oh maybe something with a kindle? But then I already mentioned the IPAD. TOO MANY CHOICES!


So what do you guys find funny?

Maybe I can just tell you a story. So a guy a Rabbi, a Priest, Jason Preastley, David Lee Roth, Method Man and Red Man, and Lynn Redgrave are walking down the street. The guy, who's just a layman (obviously, or I would have given him an official title like the Rabbi and Priest, or told you his name like Jason Preastley, David Lee Roth, Method Man, Red Man and Lynn Redgrave), slips on a banana peel. As he's slipping, David Lee Roth (jokester that he is...am I right or am I right?!?!?!), pulls out a smirnoff ice.


'You've been ICED!,' David Lee Roth says to the guy. The guy, whose face is severely scratched (he has bad reflexes and didn't catch himself before he hit the ground), takes the ice and gulps it down.

Then...someone knocks on a door nearby. Knock knock, the person says. Then she puts on a banana suit.

'Who is it?' asks Lynn Redgrave.

'A banana'

'A what?'

The woman clears her throat. 'A banana'

Red Man and Method Man get pissed at this point. 'HURRY UP OLD BITCH! WHY YOU TAKIN' SO LONG?!'

'Pardon me, but someone is knocking at the door! Wouldn't be rude not to answer? Yes, yes it would. Who's there?'

At this point, the woman in banana suit has changed into an orange costume.

'Orange. Orange you glad I didn't say banana again?'

In conclusion, I can't be funny on purpose. I don't know why I wrote this entry...but maybe one of you laughed for a second.

In another conclusion, would you guys want to attend an ICING party? At the party there would be cupcakes with icing on them, people would wear ICE (doesn't need to be real, duh), and we'd all ice each other. I'm thinking it could be a theme for my 25th birthday...but so far every person I've told thinks it's a bad idea. Is all my invitees not liking the theme of a party I'm going to hold reason enough to change my idea if I think it's funny? Is there a better way to word that last sentence? Man that sentence looks weird.

In another conclusion, hos can totez ice hos. I don't care what the F you bros say.