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March 26, 2005
and i will send you to bed early, mister
I just told Mordecai, who is running around like a maniac, that if he knocked my can of diet pepsi over, I swear to god I would have him castrated.
not much of a threat, I guess, since it's already been done.
The last, and I think only, time that he has knocked over a can of diet pepsi was after I got home from work to take a shower, hang out for an hour, and then go to penn station to get on a 7am train to Delaware. I was too tired to be angry though.
Posted by me at 07:27 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
March 25, 2005
on food and the Mc***** family
on the eggs in the Mord picture:
c. shops (and forces guests, girlfriends, animals and best friend's named C to eat) like some sort of stereotypically "ethnic" eastern european grandmother.
she buys like 40 eggs at time.
we use like 3 a week.
so probably some of those eggs, especially the ones at the bottom, are like from 2003
and that is the explanation for the eggs.
pass the 10 lbs of kieshka:
ten pounds of kieshka, wrapped in wax paper and placed in plastic freezer bags (more on that below) in our refrigerator. note that the kieshka is curshing the frozen potato products we subsist on. on top of the kieshka is another bag with a mere 1.75 lbs of kielbasa, and on top of THAT are some meatless fake chicken patties, which I'm sure are recoiling from all the pork and blood and what not.
we are going to florida tomorrow, to visit C's family and sit on the beach (OH YES, I WILL BE SITTING ON THE BEACH) for a week. per usual, they requested 10lbs of kieshka, a type of polish sausage which I believe is comprised mostly of congealed blood and pork. yum. I think the polish guy at the polish butcher though C. was trying to fuck with him when she ordered 10lbs of kieshka, in english. I wish I'd had a video camera. "I need 12 kieshkas" (they're about a lb each. We ended up with only 10 because he only brought out 10 from the freezer once he finally believed she knew what she was asking for and she didn't want to go through the whole process of begging him for two more). "Vhat?" I need TWELVE" holding up all ten fingers and then two more. It is hard to single the number "12". I think he understood WHAT she was saying just fine, I just don't think he believed she knew what she was talking about. Perhaps this silly american thought "kieshka" was some kind of small, polish candy.
Anyway, the TEN POUNDS OF FROZEN KIESHKA (all of which is now slightly freezer burned because besides being an ethnic grandmother, C. is also a born and raised in some dustbowl state in the heartland grandma, who was raised during the great depression and buys cheap, generic freezer bags which don't do what freezer bags are supposed to do, which is keep frost from forming on food) will be put in a duffel bag and checked and sent in the cargohold of some unsuspecting Delta aircraft to Florida. Everyone's luggage is going to smell like sausage when they get it back.
The kieshka will then be delivered to a REAL eastern eruopean grandma: C's own.
picture of a kieshka. not for the faint of heart.
I expect to gain at least 15 lbs on this trip. Not from eating kieshka (kielbasa is good, but I'm not big on congealed blood), but from being force fed by C's parents. She learned from the masters.
Posted by me at 05:23 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
March 23, 2005
fridge
Yes, it looks like we eat really healthy, doesn't it? Lies, all lies. That's all guinea pig food. We eat tater tots and ritter sport milk chocolate.
Posted by me at 11:35 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
March 22, 2005
ok I got it (sometimes)
FLOWERS in the attic. FLOWERS FLOWERS FLOWERS. you can all stop e-mailing and IMing me about it now. I've got it. Thank you.
In filling out my bar application I had to revisit a rather ugly period in my junior year of college where the fattest bitch on earth accused me of harassing her and being afraid for her life because I expressed my distaste for her on a website (she was an ex-roommate and owed me and my other roommate rent. lots and lots and LOTS of rent). she told the vice president of student affairs that she was afraid for her life. it would have been funny, 'cept it was right after columbine so they took her seriously. like i could have killed that fat bitch, she could have smothered me with just one fat roll from her arm. anyway, somehow writing "my housemate who will remain anonymous and is ticking me off owes me rent" = i threatened her life and deserved to be expelled from school. the last sentence of all these letters i got from the school's student affairs office is, to paraphrase, "i hope you learned your lesson and will use more discretion in the future."
jesus, the internet is dangerous.
but i haven't learned my lesson:
HEY BITCH, THIS WEBSITE ISN'T ON A SCHOOL SERVER. YOU OWED ME RENT AND YOU'RE UGLY. Don't fuck with me again, or else I'll say other dangerous things like "you owed me LOTS of rent!" and "we want our money!"
Now, hopefully, I will never have to revisit that file folder (which my 21 year old self named "[School Name] v. [my last name]" again.
You can call me "Columbine" from now on.
Posted by me at 10:39 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
March 21, 2005
ps
if you thought that last one was crazy, you should actually blame TMR, since she pressured me to post and I couldn't think of anything interesting so I just decided to give you a stream of consciousness "this is what i am irrationally worried about now."
oh and i have told the cats repeatedly that we are moving far away from the east coast and they are not happy. they both keep telling me that LA they could handle, but chicago? in the middle of the country? wwhere they crow corn? mordechai especially is unhappy, as this means he will no longer be able to pass off his eccentricities as peevish new york charm (a la woody allen) and will instead be pegged as just another crazy, overweight midwestern asshole. like the oldest children in that movie that i can't remember the name of from the 80s that was a book (you know that movie where there are four blond siblings and their parents die or something and they get locked in the attic of some mean relative who doesn't feed them and then the oldest ones turn to each other for (incestuous) comfort and then they all feed the little kids blood--roses in the attic!)--much like roses in the attic, mordechai and lily are comforting themselves by grooming each other seductively.
calgon, take me away.
i heard that during christmas the CTA decorates a christmas train in a christmas-y manner? is this true? because this may make up for the rampant threat of mugging. how quaint.
Posted by me at 11:34 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
i worry
I haven't been posting because I haven't been doing much but worry. Worry, worry worry.
We got an apartment. It is $400 dollars cheaper than our curren apartment. It is a thousand times nicer (I know, Monkey, all we need is loge to make our apartment nice!) in the sense that it has a washer/dryer in it, fireplace, big counter, two real bedrooms, blah blah blah. It's great. I have to admit to being disappointed that it isn't at the North/Damen/Milwaukee intersection, but I can't really articulatre WHY I'm disappointed by this. I guess I'm a little freaked out about living three blocks away from the expressway, and a little freaked out about how desolate and residential Chicago is. When I walk home from the subway at 10pm on a Tuesday night in Brooklyn, 20 people are walking with me. When I walk around these residential blocks in Wicker Park at 2pm on a Saturday, you pass one person in 15 minutes. It creeps me out. So I guess that's the problem: I wanted to be in a busy intersection because it feels less dangerous because there are people around. I don't care about proximity to stores, restaurants, etc--I just want crowds. What has New York done to me?? I have no idea why I'm so freaked out by this, and I know it is dumb if you're reading this and have never been to NYC and think of it as big, bad and dangerous. But I have always felt safer in New York than in Chicago.
ANYWAY I'm sure it will be fine. So I can see the Kennedy expressway barely 3 blocks down? So what? I can't hear it. The subway is a 5 minute walk. TMR assures me that I could go running down Ashland at midnight and be fine (I'm not going to, thank you). God why the fuck am I suddenly afraid of Chicago? Today on the train ride home I saw a crack whore wearing flip flops on filthy fee with OPEN BLEEDING PUS-ING SORES put her leg through the door at Delancey as it was closing and hold it there, screaming "mother fucker open the door!" until the conductor opened the door 3 minutes later. Then she wished us all happy passover (early) and asked for change. And I didn't bat an eye. And now I'm mysteriously afraid of my five minute walk home on a residential block. So help me god I look so pissed off all the time that all the muggrs I'm inventing in my head are going to be afraid of ME.
I'm also disappointed that the apartment isn't close to a gym. That is a much more rational disappointment.
The good: I'm getting a car to drive home, take C. to Target and go up to the cabin. I will have a garage for this car. For $75 a month. Suck it, Brooklyn Heights. [Street parking wouldn't even be a problem. But I've had windows bashed out and this will be the first new car I've ever owned and I want the garage. Plus I can hide from all the muggers I'm making up in the garage on my way home through the dark, lonely alley, because in my paranoid neurotic world my apartment no longer has a front door.)
(Note that this "desolate" street I'm describing appeared to be full of yuppies in town houses with Audis and BMWs parked on the street).
Oh, the more good news! I officially gave notice at work (well, kind of--I told the important partners. I didn't call HR because frankly I got tired of telling people. I will call them tomorrow). My last day is April 13th (the day I accrue 5 more vacation days so I can get paid for them). Goodbye, hell firm. Hello, firm that may or may not be a new hell firm.
I need to call the movers and confirm with C. when she wants to move. I'm thinking 17/18/19th-ish. I plan on spending the 14th through moving day packing and getting stoned to mellow my crazy ass out. The movers come, take our stuff, we spend the night on an air mattress, the next day we wake up super early, get in the rental SUV/station wagon/minivan I will have picked up the night before and drive 12 hours with two cats and three guinea pigs to Chicago.
If that's not something to worry about, I don't know what is.
Posted by me at 11:14 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
March 11, 2005
story
STORY
X: are you going out for your birthday tonight
Y: yes
Y: i am waiting for them at home
Y: watching nature shows
X: drinking beer?
Y: no
Y: sigh
Y: and let me tell you why
X: ok
Y: so i come home and there is no beer
Y: and c. calls me and tells me to buy beer for the people coming over
Y: so i look in my pockets and i have $9
and i'm like "that's ok, i will get money from the atm in the bodega"
Y: so i go to the bodega and the atm is broken. and i am too lazy to go to another atm and i do not have enough money to buy beer and i go home
Y: and then i get home and realize that was stupid, i could have bought a 40 for myself with that money
Y: but now i am too lazy to go back out
X: fuck yeah you could've
END STORY
you could've gotten two forties
been passed out by now
Posted by me at 06:52 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
March 06, 2005
it's been a long fucking week
or perhaps i am not sinking into a deep, can't get out of bed type depression, and just need a nap.
Posted by me at 04:13 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack