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April 24, 2004
muffle
i have been deathly ill for a week and a half. first it was the flu (thanks, C), then it morphed into a sinus infection. the sinus infection that will not die. the sinus infection turned into pinkeye in both eyes (that only last 4 days, thank god), which was annoying. the worst part of the sinus infection, however, is definitely the ear blockage. my sinus get blocked and somehow the pressure inside my head blocks up both my ears. haven't been able to hear for a week. feels like someone took that pink liquidy insulation stuff that they spray in walls and filled up my head with it.
all i ask is for one ear. just one. then i could have people talk into my good ear.
Posted by me at 12:15 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
April 21, 2004
Call Me Esquire
Call me Esquire. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my Citibank account, and nothing particular to interest me in the world of normal, working adults, I thought I would flail about a little and go to Law School. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my sense of responsibility and work ethic get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and getting some sort of normal 9 to 5 job like a responsible adult - then, I account it high time to get to some sort of graduate school program as soon as I can. This is my substitute for having to work for a living. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly collect thousands of dollars in loans and hit the books. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men with just a bachelor's degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards avoiding real life as me, and long for law school.
It's over. I was sworn in today. I am now officially a member of the Bar of New York State. I am a real lawyer.
I still know nothing.
Think I'll get my PhD in history next...
Posted by me at 05:00 PM | Comments (11) | TrackBack
April 18, 2004
i would like to be completely honest
because I am on sudafed sinus and just got out of a 10 hour nyquil induced haze, i have decided to be completely honest. I know, bad idea. oh well, what're you going to do?
1. I hate my job and would like it to go away.
I hate you, job. I hate how you expect ridiculous things out of me that are way above my skill level. I hate how you want me to be a fourth year but pay me a first year's salary. I hate how you yell at me when I get things wrong that I didn't know how to do in the first place and you wouldn't explain to me. I hate how you leave me to unwind a company that is holding tens of millions of our clients' money when I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I hate how you're always hanging over my head, even on good days, waiting for one typo. I hate your dishonesty, feigned concern, and ridiculous hours. Go to hell. (As an aside: I hate the clients, too. Oh, you want a set of closing documents? Hmm, that's nice. Hey, maybe if you actually sent me your signature pages after I've been asking for them for two fucking months I could send you a fucking closing set. Morons.)
2. I hate Williamsburg.
Fuck you, you fucking new wave/mod/faggy/euro trash/japanese/funk/artiste/nyu hipster assholes. Get off my sidewalk selling the tea pot your mom gave you when you got your first apartment in Madison, WI at college and your homemade t-shirts. Stop buying $100 sweatshirts at Brooklyn industries, impeding my walk to the laundromat. And, hey, if you didn't wear those awesome 70s aviator sunglasses at 11pm at night, maybe you'd be able to see me before I have to collide with you and call you a fuckwad hipster!
3. I hate the subway.
Yo, racist little latino girls (or, as the case may be, 28 year olds) go harass some Hasidim and leave me the hell alone. May I suggest "Look at all the Yentl motherfuckers on this train!" Assholes who lean against the pole/hug the pole to read the Wall Street Journal: you love that pole so much, how'd you like it up your ass? People who try to push on the train before people get off: yes, I did body check you on purpose, and I will do it again, so learn your lesson and get some respect. Hey, bookworm! That book's really good, huh? Well if you keep reading it while walking up the stairs from the platform during rush hour, I'm going to take it and beat you with it so hard that you'll be able to read if off your body because the text is going to be imprinted there. Finally, to the bike guys on the L train (I don't think I've opined on the bike guys before): I have an idea. If you have to ride your back in Manhattan, how about you ride it there? We have these nifty things called bridges, and in fact, we have three! Williamsburg, Manhattan, and Brooklyn: use them. If I have to be pressed up against one more fucking greasy chain or some dog shit encrusted tire so that for some bizarre fucking reason you can ride your bike up broadway, I'm going to have to start shooting bikers. I'm sorry, that's just the way it is.
4. I hate the war, and I hate George W. Bush.
The New York times hides the body count deep within its pages. I think it should be on the front page, in 36 point font: "Here's how many Americans died today for George W. Bush:". Good job, old boy.
5. I hate feeling second-class.
I hate feeling like my relationship is cute, or revolutionary, or anti-establishment, or a sin against god, etc--anything but normal and worthy of as much respect you'd give any other male-female people in their 20s relationship of almost 2 years (which granted, may not be much. so be it.). I hate explaining myself. I hate feeling like I should take whatever I get from people because it's all I should expect. I hate knowing that one day my dumbass brother (sorry. but he is a dumbass. a nice one, but still a dumbass.) will get married to some dumbass girl and it will be the best thing ever, and I will get married (or whatever the state I'm living in decides I'm allowed to do at that point in time) to C and will generally get nodding and "hmm hmm"ing from people. Do I want to have a big wedding where people will spend at least 4 hours (wedding plus reception) acting as though C and I are god's gift to the world, may we prosper and multiply? Maybe not. But I'd llike the fucking option.
6. I hate feeling guilty when I order a drink at a bar.
I am 26. And a lawyer. And if you think my license is fake, call the police. (which someone actually took me up on once. The police confirmed my license was real and the bitch STILL threatened to throw me out after they left.)
7. I hate New York City.
I hate Times Square. I hate tourists. I hate native New Yorkers who think 4 people live in Iowa and all they do is grow corn and fuck cows. I hate ugg boots. I hate bike messengers, and their less evolved brethern, the food delivery men on the bike. I hate cab drivers and their near universal willingness to spew their hatred for america and americans onto anyone with the audicity to to ask them to go some place that isn't above houston, below 96th (or Laguardia. They seem to be ok with Laguardia. Don't suggest JFK, though, you dirty heathen american). Have I mentioned how much I hate the subway? I hate the term "on line". Where is the line you are standing on? There isn't one. Stop it. I hate how 50% of the people who live here are just waiting for a confrontation, and will actively seek one out if one doesn't just happen upon them. I hate the burning pretzel smell that tells you a pretzel/hotdog cart is coming a mile away. I hate rats, roaches, hipsters and all other types of vermin. I hate that there are so many people here that my grades, my schools, my accomplishments will never be impressive--there will always be someone (usually an employer. In this case, a few of my employers) who are looking only for the Harvard and Yale grad, no matter what their grades are. I hate the NY Post. I hate grocery stores so tiny that they only stock one type of ketchup.
8. I hate myself for being so __________
Uptight. Crabby. Angry. Worried. Stuck in this city. Afraid. Tired. Bored. Boring. Wimpy. Short. Apparently under 21 looking. Unassuming. Not proactive. Sick all the time. Into drinking. Into smoking. Into generally self-medicating. Blah.
I would like some of C's spunk (I hate that word, but I think that pretty much sums up what she has: spunk) and outgoingness (know that's not aword). R's surliness (no, I don't have enough of my own). C2's odd, super-human ability to let every roll off him like it's nothing (I know, I know, I should read Tao of Pooh again). T2's "so today I really fucked up. Oh well, one day I'm going to go off on them and get fired and I don't care" attitude. Both D's professionalism, and her ability to scare people into submission (especially any sort of customer service employee). L's faith in humanity and God. I's -- I don't know. I just miss I. RRC's sense of adventure (but not her taste in music. No, never that).
Thanks. Please note: There are things I do love about New York (including the ability to body check someone and call them a fucking moron without being arrested for assault! Oh, and the bagels.) but I'm not feeling them today. Perhaps I'm having Nyquil Rage (you know, like 'Roid Rage? Nevermind). One day perhaps I'll post about the good things, but I'm not feeling like it today.
Posted by me at 08:53 AM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
April 14, 2004
strangled by his own leg warmers, man thanks me for putting him out of his misery
Yes, I've already seen this. And this. I enjoyed them both. Thank you to the 10 or so people who sent me links to one or both.
Yesterday while getting on the train to go home some tall guy elbowed C right in the eye (by mistake) but she scared him so much by glaring at him after he said "sorry" that he ran to another car. Way to go, C! Not sure if this happened on the L train or the NR, though. I didn't get the full story, as I was too busy looking at apartments in manhattan on the internet to pay much attnetion. Once I get my business cards, I am so getting out of this touristy art mecca. Thanks CNN!
Posted by me at 11:16 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
April 12, 2004
How
Is it just me, or does Hosni Mubarak look an awful lot like an Apache chief here?
In other news, I went to a bar on Friday and a friend of a friend of a friend called me "surly", apropos of nothing. Here is how the conversation went:
Friend of friend of friend: Hi, my name is Dave.
Me: Hi, my name is X.
F of F of F: Wow, you're surly.
Oh, I'll show you surly, you small dick wonderboy.
The thing is, of course, that I AM REALLY SURLY USUALLY. But when I said "Hi, my name is X" I was incredibly drunk and in a good mood and not being surly at all.
What else? On Saturday we went to Peter Luger's with D and JT and the waiter didn't believe I was 21 OR a lawyer (I know, what's new?) but soon I will have my business cards and I will be throwing them at waiters and bartenders all over town! Yes, the greater NYC area will experience a thunderous shower of my business cards. It will be like a ticker tape parade. And on the back of each and every one of those cards I'm going to write "I am over 21 you fuckers."
Surly. Growl.
Posted by me at 03:43 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
April 06, 2004
another new york moment!
you know, when J was verbally assaulted by the hispanic women on the L train--i was really upset. no one messes with my monkey and then calls her dawson's creek, unless they were referring to katie holmes' character --hot stuff.
so this morning, on my way to work--crossing 42nd street to 7th avenue, there was a walk sign! this is a first for me. i usually have to wait a few minutes before crossing. i am almost to the other side, when this van is coming at me!
the driver looks at me. mind you, there is a walk sign and i am still walking. he is ready to run me over. he turns almost into me to the point where my face is almost smacked up against his driver's side window.
obviously, i had to do something so i flicked him--pressing my hand against his window. he had the nerve to smile and stick his tongue out at me. how old is he, 3? i should've known. he was a typical williamsburg hipster; i can spot them a mile away. mop-top hair, scruffy, dirty t-shirt driving a dark green van. all he was missing was his trucker hat, which i am sure that was on the passenger seat next to him. as he drives off, i punch the side of his van. very lady-like, i know. i learned all of my moves from C2.
apparently, i had an audience--mouths agape on 42nd and 7th, in the heart of times square. little corporate girl taking on a huge van in times square. i am sure i will make it into some tourist's journal tonight.
i couldn't believe what a prick this guy was. i should've opened his car door and pulled him out and beat his scrawny williamsburg ass to a pulp. motherfuckin' hipsters. go fuck yourselves. i am so ready for a fight.
do you think that J has rubbed off on me? i used to be such a nice person.
Posted by monkey at 03:02 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
April 05, 2004
a note about spam
Just a friendly reminder: spam is no longer just for e-mail anymore! It's for fax machines! It's for cellphones with text messaging enabled! It's also for the comments section of blogs!
Look, there are these programs that spammers use. They search the internet for blogs, usually the Movable Type sort (which is the program I use), and then post inane comments. The comments are weird because they're trying to trick you into thinking they're real comments. What they really want is for you to click on the url they provide, which leads to celebrex/viagra/teen porn/low interest rate mortgages/fake college diplomas/etc. I never though anyone could actually believe that the comments were real since they're so stupid, but apparently I was wrong (you guys are morons. And whoever took the screen out of my bathroom sink to use it in a bong and then forgot about it and left it on the side of the sink is a moron, too. Oh, you know who you are. You'd better finish building it because I don't know what to do with that screen and I'm damn well not reaching up into the faucet to put it back.).
It ain't Sibyl, folks. It's some 30 year old using passages from a Charles Dickens novel to sell fake viagra out of southern India. I try to delete them as they come in, but as about 30 come in a day, sometimes I miss a few.
Posted by me at 09:36 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
April 02, 2004
in the land of the mohegan sun
Went to Mohegan Sun (casino in CT. I can't spell CT so I'll just keep referring to it as CT) last weekend with JT and D and C. Circumnavigated the state of CT getting there because of the huge truck explosion on I-95. We finally got there, I was in awe of the 7 story indoor waterfall and the number of fat old white people, C loved the hotel room (you know how you buy toddlers presents and wrap them up and then they only care about the wrapping paper and the box? Yeah, that's C on trips. All about the hotel room.). It was fun. Everyone won money except for me. C and I were only carded once; D had to sign a form promising the VP of the Casino, God, NATO and John Ashcroft that she was really 21 (apparently they thought her idea was fake or something). We then had a somewhat shorter trip back to New York, ate shrimp fritters at J and D's apartment, and went home to pass out. A good time was had by all.
I went out with co-workers last night and drank entirely too much. I feel like I'm going to fall over, even though I'm currently sitting down. I'm going to fall right out of this chair! then i'm going to throw up under my desk. I felt ok until around noon, so I don't get what this is. Maybe it's not a late-breaking hangover. Maybe it's food poisoning! Shit, why can't i get food poisoning on a tuesday so i can take the day off?
Woe.
Posted by me at 03:11 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack