Monday, May 30, 2005

Dude, I am like, so out of it right now . . .

from Flirting with Disaster
I watched two David O Russell movies on HBO On Demand in the last few days. Man he's so great. He makes just anything seem so interesting. The first I ever saw of him was Three Kings, which is just so much more than meets the eye. He writes and directs. He creates scenes which I think about for days later. That reminds me of what this art professor once told me about what makes a good painting. She was talking about the kind of painting you would want to put on your wall, that you could always look at and always enjoy. What's weird is that right now I know exactly what she said about it, but I can't remember any of the words she used to talk about it, all I know is the sentiment of it . . .


the mark of a remarkable movie for me is one that I can't stop thinking about for days later, one that permeates the back of my mind so much so that it melds softly into what seems to be my own memories and dreams.

Oh yeah, those movies were Spanking The Monkey and Flirting with Disaster. Spanking the Monkey had such amazing acting performances. Man I love Jeremy Davies. Russell manages to make a movie that's actually about something, while at the same time being relevant, real, and funny. And it's about a topic that I would normally expect not to want to see a movie about, but he managed to make it very interesting. Flirting with Disaster is more a ridiculous comedy. But it had this great quote- "Every marriage is vulnerable, otherwise being married wouldn't mean anything, would it?" Good point about commitment in general . . .

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

I Hate My New Cellphone

I hate this fucking thing. I liked my old one. It was small and it didn't text message or take pictures. It did what it was supposed to do, make phone calls and recieve phone calls damn it. And sometimes it got fancy and made voicemails for me. It was a flippy n small clamshell one with caller ID on the outside and it did every damn thing I wanted it to. That was until a few days ago when it stopped giving me decent reception and I couldn't talk to people with it. And then it always went "boop boop" and clicky click in its charger cradle and then the fucking red light went to green and blinked when it wasn't supposed to do that and boy oh boy.

But I liked it.

Now I have this massive picture taking state of the art flippy colorful blinky web ready musical peice of technojunk making my phone calls and I spite it. I hate it. I am plotting against it. Yet I place it so gently against my body in my hoodie pocket like it's my own kin. But it's not. And I'm here to remind it that it's adopted. It's not my baby. Actually I look down upon it with so much malice that I think I am going to return it to the store today to get a less futuristic one and not the one that Ronald from the Verizon Store told me I had to have. Why can't my computer be for typing stuff to people and my phone be for phone calls? Why? why why why. I don't want pictures and clip art and symbols and games in there. I want to be able to leave my computer or apartment and actually interact with the world. Stupid telephones- leave me alone with all of your capabilities and special powers. I'm trying to keep it real.

(this looks cool)

Somebody go on Katie Holmes vomit patrol, cause this kind of namby pamby behavior is enough to give me the queezies were it happening because of me on national television. Seriously though, would you want a new boyfriend declaring the crap that Cruise is coming up with on tv? Damn scientologist.

This would make a better America.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

Ah, so I see you are at Heather Fink's Website. Are you Lebanese like we are?

We are Lebanese people. That means we are from Leban. Leban is a beautiful country with many magic ponies and spicy desserts. We like that we are Lebanese because that word is so beautiful and rolls of the tongue.

I am a lil busy so I am gonna push this post out a little hastily. I am hugely massively scatterbrained right now. Cause I am training 2 people with my current job so that it can soon become my old job cause I start my new job soon.

"Grandpa" used to shave his sack.


PJ Jones and his special candle.
This Saturday's BBQ was one of the funnest days I have had in a long time. Aside from Ms. Christina Savage's hot dog trauma, there was much jumping on things, fire, standing on the kitchen counter so as to pour vodka into everybody's mouths. Me- I didn't participate in that. I was glued to the couch at that moment in time. And why? Cause I was blazin like a blazer is why. But then later I got up. There was lots and lots of dancing. Dancing makes parties good, it's a fact. Thing I liked the least on Saturday: When Ms. Christy Cicatello and Ms. Kaya Mulkowska tried to kill me by smooshing. My back still hurts from that.

I signed up to do stand up this week, but I realized I was actually too busy for it and so, I shall be doing it again in 2 weeks- next week I have to move to my new apartment. So yeah, more of that to come.

My roommate got robbed on the subway yesterday. It sucks. She had lots of cash on her, much much more in fact, than she ever normally carries. If you see her, buy her a drink, a sandwich, or slip her some singles. I think that would help.
Current Irritation
It's really really depressing when men fail miserably at cat-calls or pick-up lines. It's really sad because I just can't do anything for them to help. I prefer crude awful ones to failed ones, for example, this weekend, I am at a bar, I order Jack and Coke, Jack and Diet, a shot of Jack and a Bud light. (note, the shot and bud were for me)

The guy next to me overhears and says, "Picky, eh?"

And I mean, I know this was him having reason to talk to me, but his observation simply didn't apply to the situation. I mean, no. Not really picky. I ordered a lot of Jack, maybe that was what he should've worked with there. But it's just so awful that this guy couldn't think of something to say that I could even respond to.

Or yesterday, there was this cool lamp in a window that was shaped like an Uzi and I was staring at it. So this guy pulls up in his car and yells, "I like that lamp. You like that lamp?"

I just, just don't feel the motivation to bitch about how lame these things are, just cause it's so sadly piss poor. Not even mean or bad, just limp. But man, failed come-ons just sadden me. There's no motivation for me to bother to respond, to give them something quircky and bitchy or sweet and nice back to them when they suck like this. My brain's just not able to offer them an ounce of thought time.

Goga exists again.


Dammit I am so addicted to Kelley & Ping. And wheatgrass. And kisses on the nape of the neck! nape nape

Sunday, May 22, 2005

Yesterday PJ was juggling hot dogs and hit Christina so hard in the eye with a hot dog that she cried.

Thursday, May 19, 2005

Cherry Popped

Well, I didn't bomb. People laughed at almost everything, people said it was good. I know it wasn't great though, but I didn't feel embarrased or stupid after, so all in all, I would say this was a good first time. What was so frustrating though was that I was a little nervous and uncomfortable, with never having done it before, so stuff didn't come out the way I had planned, and I never said my favorite joke- oh- and I swore so much more than I planned. See when I talk with friends I tend to use a lot of bad words, and it all just started spewing out. I guess I was hitting my Jersey bone.

Anyhow, I am going to start doing this now at least every week or every other week until I get good. It's kind of like blog writing- you think of commentary everyday and just kind of put it out there. And stand up is cool like that- you're just presenting your (hopefully) fresh ideas on stage. One thing that I think would help make a great routine is to try different stuff every time for the first few times and then figure out what works the best and make a routine of the best stuff.

I am also really glad that only a few friends came out- it was great to see some friendly old law school faces, and it was a small enough group that I didn't feel too much pressure.

It really is frustrating though how little control you have when you are nervous- I just wanted to say things the way I had intended them to come out- but I feel confident that with time, I'll be able to do that.

Anyhow this is the beginning of my own dreams in action. I remembered yesterday that it wasn't in fact my first time. In 3rd grade I used to do stand up shows for my class. I think it was Mrs. Derenthal that let me do that. I really hope that this is me, not dicking around with the wrong path in life, and finally working towards what I was meant to do. And I hope I was meant to be a comedy writer.

I dropped a big metal bar on my toe about an hour before the show. It bled all over the place.

I feel erratic, like at any second I could just pour a glass of water on my computer or . . . or . . . or god, nothing else, just to pour a big fucking glass of water all over my computer.

I need to relax. Rawr, I am so done with the f'ing job and this f'ing season! I love my mom and my dad! Britney Spears!
Bright Eyes Concerts, so much to do . . .

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

I'm so damn mustachioed I can barely breathe

It's gonna be ok Mr. Vaderpantsies!


Hey baby, I'll show you my dark side.


I got some Force for you.
Wanna touch it?
With your nut?

My first time doin Stand-Up:
Don't you forget: Tomorrow, Wed, 8pm, Bleeker and Thompson/Sullivan,

Cambodians have earned my respect. An excerpt from the article: "his midgets will "... take on anything; man, beast, or machine." Damn. I really can't say the same for my midgets.

Vicente Fox: "Mexican immigrants in the United States take jobs "that not even blacks want to do."
That's crazy. Blacks will do anything if you offer them enough blow or a white woman. (but in all seriousity, it's pretty hilarious that he said that and meant it)

If you're real media, you can write words like "mustachioed" and pretend like they are real cause you just don't give a fuck, that's how hardcore you pimp it when you pimp cnn style media cause you pimp it hardcore.
"Franz Reichel, a mustachioed Austrian tailor, was killed leaping from the first deck in 1912 to test a tent-like parachute coat he had invented. He is said to have died of fright before hitting the ground."

Anyhow, I am so fucking pissed off at bad boss yesterday and today. I just don't fucking care about doing anything for him at all. But the other boss is the coolest man ever. Grrr . . . crapbaskets. And Paris Hilton.

Good boss just said, "Hey Heather, can you read German" Then shows me some German spams he's been getting and says "This looks cool." I say "Don't open it!" He says "Why", I say "Cause you could get a virus, just delete it." And he's pointing to it like, "that sounds crazy, what are they saying" and goes "Would it be a German virus?" . . .
Now he's curious. Maybe he's right and it would be cool.

Monday, May 16, 2005

See me do my first night of Stand-up EVER this Wednesday night at 8pm- here:

Woo Hoo!!!

The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the Force.

This man was standing in front of the PATH this morning holding a sign that read "It's hell for all those not Roman Catholic." He was standing there very calmly and peacefully delivering this news to us all. But he got me thinking, hmm, I'm going to hell . . . are there going to be rides?(always always ask this whenever going somewhere new) Does it have vinyl siding? I hate vinyl siding and I really think that paint on wood looks a lot better, you know, not to cookie cutter suburbia. Oh that's silly. Hell probably doesn't have any kind of siding, vinyl or otherwise. Anyhow, I don't think this hell will be so bad. If it's anything like in Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey, I think I've got some idiosyncratic misadventures ahead of me. Boy oh boy.


Saw Miss Julie, a play, this Friday, and was pleasantly surprised. Haven't seen a plain ol play in a while so it was nice. The three actors in it do a damn fine job. It's basically about a hookup gone terribly wrong. The whole play is good argument for NOT letting the fuckers sleep over past hookup so you don't have to deal with them in the morning.

Saturday was weird though. I think we unknowingly jumped into that pink slime from Ghostbusters 2. There was so much negative energy, nothing bad in particular happened, it was just bad bad vibes everywhere. I don't think I've ever had a night like that before, where randomly everything seemed so off and sinister.

New weather, new job, new apartment, new hair (I died it red again), and . . . I'll know by 5pm today if I am going to be doing stand-up this Wednesday. That's right, my stand-up cherry may be popped this Wednesday at 8pm in the NYC baby! New is the new old.

Natalie Portman is just so damn P.I.M.P. (and I'd like to storm troop Hayden Christensen's sweet ass).

Kaya just reminded me of our favorite new past time, shooting butterflies with rifles.

Thursday, May 12, 2005

I mean business.

Do they teach business in business school? What kinda business? I think it's probably this kinda business:

Where people do stuff together.
I wanna make those guys in the picture talk.
The man at the desk will be named Jorma, and the guy in the seat is Ray.
Jorma: So you say you have tried apple juice?
Ray: I mean, I have per se. I don't think it's going to get in the way of our deal though.
Jorma: I know. You want me to sign this paper document. I will. It's just . . . I lack confidence.
Ray: Don't open up to me Jorma. Not again. I can't be your therapist. You have to stop pushing people. We went over this last time. I'm not going to lend an open ear to you until you end your pushing problem.
Ray: Oh Jorma, not this again. I told you I can't talk to you about this. Now sign the goddamn deal, I've got a can of pork and beans waiting for me at my desk just waiting to be opened. Did I add that they've got maple flavoring? They've got maple flavoring.
Jorma: You drive a hard bargain Ray, but you know what's got to happen now.
Ray: Fine fine. Push me, just get it over Jorma, give me a good ol shove.
(Jorma shoves Ray)
Jorma: I like you Ray.
Ray: I like you Jorma. You can have some of my beans.
Jorma: Thank you! Thank you so much Ray. You're great.
(they exit)

There's not much in the fridge at work, but thank my lucky stars cause I was forced to pair to unlikely matches together for a taste sensation- Peanut Butter and Yogurt taste awesome together! It's vanilla yogurt and natural style peanut butter (Henry that free peanut butter you stole from those people you're staying with sure is going a long way!) It's so delicious I feel invigorated! Look at all these ----> exclamation points !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lots of my friends are done with classes today and yesterday. Good. I want you to come out and play. Isn't that an Offspring song? I remember seeing them at Woodstock 99. These people took a sheet and tossed people in the air off it. I went on that and it was lots of fun till they didn't hold it tight enough and I hit the ground. But for some reason it didn't hurt. I'd do that again. I should do that again soon.

I am faced with a trifecta of hard decision making to make. I don't know what trifecta means, I'm not looking it up. But I am certain that's what I am being faced with.

Woah dude, post-writing this I made a decision- I don't want this one job at this one place. This one place promoted me 3 times before even starting there (we think you'd be great for this other job kind of thing), but each job didn't pay that much more. Anyhow, got a good offer at this tribecca place with a super cool vibe, cool people, awesome space, pool tables, flat screen tvs everywhere, lots of cool stuff going on. That's it. I'm gonna do it. I'm too distracted. THE END.

Oh and also I contacted 2 open mike places. I am gonna try stand up next week.

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

The Fuzzy Apocalypse

Hell is nigh! Stop all the clocks! Teddy Bears is usin' adding machines!!!

Moving on,
I feel like I swallowed a bunch of fuzzy things and they are all up in my brain pissing it off cause it doesn't know what to do. I have to make ill informed decisions about things and I have choices, both good. I've been offered two jobs.

Not only can I not choose between the two jobs, but I now have some people telling me I should hold out because they think I could get an even better job. I don't know, maybe they're right. But these jobs I am being offered are really cool, and I really can't stand working for one of my two bosses right now. Plus, I don't want to be stupid and lose out cause there's not all that many jobs out there. One office has more cute guys in it, one office has a pool table, one has 2 sun terraces and they were making waffles and bacon in there this morning, one has funky chairs, both look cool, do about the same thing, offer about the same thing, and have cool people working there. Which one is gonna make me happier I DONT KNOW RAWR!

Thump thump thump
I feel like my heart is beating in my head. That's my brain reminding me of how congested I am. I am getting over this cold and my head has remained congested for days even though I am super not sick anymore. But there's all this leftover junk up in my head making my brain stupid and thumpy.
It's not helping. I'm not pleased.

I'm addicted to wheatgrass juice. Been drinking a shot everyday for 2 weeks now. That shit is so awesome. I feel like I am treating my body like a Ferrari and juicing it up with like some super fancy motor oil or something. I like feeling like a Ferrari. I wouldn't be opposed to someone suiting me up in fine Italian leather and having some amazing European supermodel ride me into the sunset.

You son of a . . . get your feet off there you whacko boozebag!

Why can't NIN's new album be better? I mean it is good and I like it but it's so beneath Trent's potential. Did he do too many drugs in his last hiatus? Oh well I'd still let him eat an ice cream cone off my bottom on account of his being so brilliant (and sexy). Naturally.

I have to have to start doing stand up asap. But what if I suck? I hate sucky stand up. Fuck it. If all else fails I'll just show them my third breast. Everyone just loves ol whack-a-mole (as my parents lovingly call it).
Oh dear. If only I could resort to pleasing the crowd with such eye candy as that. Nope. I'm a pathetic two-titter I'm sad to say. Yep, just call me Debbie Double Boob, cause there's only 2. Oh crapforest . . . I should probably just give up now . . .

Monday, May 09, 2005

Jagged edges making runs in panty hose.

I can't talk to you people today. Everything I want to say is too dangerous and unrefined. Like a ninja covered in raw sugar.

I feel like the world is moving in such slow motion that every little bit of life affords me the opportunity to see it. However, there's a freeze in my consumption of what I'm digesting. Any sentence I develop in respect to the things I see lately wouldn't properly contain a whole thought with any respect to accuracy. I see too many details. I see many things in flux. I'm zoomed in too closely, my objectivity is blurred. Everything is changing. Again. It seems a current me only has a shelf life of about a year these days.

This is what we call gentle overwhelm. But we can't call it that because its manifestation is underwhelming. I know exactly what I see, but each thing I see matters and doesn't matter at the same time. It just is. Not making any sense? I told you I couldn't develop the proper sentence. I'm too absorbed in the metaphysics of something that doesn't want you to touch its metaphysics. I'm just gonna give you links to cool things:

Bright Eyes on Leno
This Music Plasma thing is sooo cool.
Hot Conversations (thanks David)

And here I am being a B.J. (blog jockey) spinnin up a request:

PJ dancing.

Any other requests you namby pambies?

Sunday, May 08, 2005

My Working Mother


My mom at 16 working at Polaroid in Holland.

I grew up in a household where my mother worked my entire life. When I was a kid in the 80s, my dad had a job where he drove to the city and worked at a fancy company, and dropped me off at daycare in his awesome car that had a cassette player in it and listened to Olivia Newton John's greatest hits over and over again. And then my mom would pick me up and I would join her at the end of her day on the construction site. Yep. The construction site.

My mom grew up in Holland and her father was a minister and a carpenter. She was the youngest in a family of saints. By this I mean that they invited the whole town into their home and fed them, and they also sang together like the Brady Bunch. This was a good, wholesome family. But my mom was (is) the mischievous one. And oh so independent. Determined not to follow the ordinary path in life, she didn't take homemaking classes, though she's a fantastic sewer as well, she set out for the big jobs. Working for Polaroid as an executive secretary in Holland at 16 yrs old, she was smart as a whip and she always wanted to be something more than she could predict.

Off she came to America for the first time at 19 with my Jewish father in hand- they had met on a train in Germany during the Vietnam war- and eventually made her way to New Jersey, my hometown, where my parents bought some land, built the house where I was born and raised, and my mother began her career in construction. She was the superintendent of the site. She had her own small company and she specialized in building mansions and one-of-a-kind houses in Morris County's loveliest neighborhoods. She loved organizing, planning out the houses, building people's dreams. She even worked on the actual construction with her team. Her colleagues were big burly builder men, and no one questioned whether she belonged. My mom is boss. I mean boss in the urban dictionary type of way. She's super fly, and super slick, and commands respect in the way she handles things.

The construction industry went sour by the end of the 80s and it was time for her to peace out. My father was peacing out as well. My father never worked for anyone- else- since that time period. He's a big dreamer. And he means well. And he started his own business. He's invented brilliant inventions and scientific science things. Unfortunately to this day he's not made more than he's spent on the business. But we love him and support him, and this is not his story, this is my mother's.

She started out as a secretary at Rutgers University, from there she moved on to working for a financial company in the World Trade Center. I went to visit her on the first "take your daughter to work" day. And she showed me the magical city where mommy spends her daytime hours. I tried sushi for the first time in the park next to Trinity Church, she said "Try the salmon kind, it's kind of like lox." And I'd visit again, looking out of the windows of these magical towers, across to the Colgate Clock in Jersey City. And I was special. I was not a tourist. I was allowed in the special employees’ cafeteria on the 43rd floor. Not the top, but high enough to keep my eyes peeled to the window the entire time.

And my mom worked hard. She still works hard. And she's been making her two hour each way commute every morning and she wouldn't have it any other way. My father is an excellent cook, and since he works from home, he always has a hot dinner on the table when she comes home.

And today my mother still makes that commute, and still works in that big beautiful city. Some things have changed. I can't visit that magical world that my mom worked in back in the day. But now I am in an office in this city, and she's in midtown. But now she works as an executive at a big company. She's got a team of assistants working for her, and all of her co-workers not only have college degrees, but most have doctorates or law degrees. And she's only finished high school. In Holland, at my mother's time, college and women were a rare combination. Just this week my mom sealed a multi-million dollar deal with another big company, and she's still as impressive as ever.

People say that a woman's place is in the home. People say that kids need their mothers at home with them to grow up right.

My mother loves me endlessly and has always been there for me whenever I needed her. I cherished my independence and ability to make food for myself and watch TV when my mom wasn't around. I learned how to do all kinds of things by myself and my independence and fearlessness that I gained has given me a solid backbone as an adult that no one can deny. People say that I'm not typical for a woman. That I like things that boys like, and have the confidence and humor that boys do.

Well I was raised by a woman like me. And a woman's place need not be in the home. Her place is everywhere.

Thanks, mom, for showing me that I could go and be anywhere and everywhere, because that's just what you did.


Your Allerliefste Schatteboutje,
(pronouced allur leaf scha scutt about cha)

Happy Mothers Day.

Friday, May 06, 2005

Hi, my name is Heather Fink and I sit alone in an empty office in SoHo on many days. The phone rings, I pick it up. A fax comes in, I take care of it. I check emails, run errands, burn DVDs, edit things on Final Cut Pro in an uncreative and functional way. Some days there's fun and exciting things going on. Some days I get to learn the ins and outs of the entertainment industry and the art of directing.

But this is not one of those days.

On days like these I sit in my luxury SoHo loft and fill the hours with daydreaming. I look out the window at the big apple tour bus people as they wave at me, the tourists always like to do this, and I do one of three things, wave back and smile, give them an evil and angry look, or show them my bare 'gina (I don't actually do the former). And then I look down to the people in the street. Most of them look like models. Beautiful women who remind me, hey silly girl, no matter how round that ass of yours is, or how blue those eyes, you'll still never be as tight as this peice of ass. Because there's a whole other level of hotness out there, and we're it. And fake ass women who've placed the obligatory platinum blond dye in their heads, and have had their hair straightened into donatella versace land. Ass. I use the word ass a lot. Ass. Ass. They've got their tans on their faces which make them feel beautiful, but unfortantely make them look older and cheaper to the rest of the world. But not too cheap, because their purse cost them more than a month of my rent.

And men who would otherwise be cute (to me) if they didn't dress so homosexually. I can smell their hair product from here and the stale trail of their arm candy's perfume. But then there's plenty of hot little hipsters walking by these parts with faded jeans and messy-on-purpose hair who stroll the street and tease me because my hair cannot possibly go down far enough to be let down so they may climb into my window.

Rapunzel was a naughty naughty sadmasochist. If someone tried to climb on my hair and pull it hard I would slap his ass up and query "What the fuck are you doing. Ouch. Asshole. Get the hell off my hair. Damn son what is your fucking problem. Seriously. Get off of my hair."

Ah but such are the dreams of a girl all alone in her loft on West Broadway. She fills her time writing to the most permeated void of voids, the internet, and using office supplies to burn mix cds to give to people because she loves to spread the joy of good music. Something she sees, like some lazy hippies see pot, as something that brings people together on positive levels.

She wants to stop talking in third person but she's too wistful right now. Yesterday I ate a cupcake and I got some. In the same day. The world is fantastic and filled with tigers. Don't forget about tigers. They're so pretty. Like these women. Their smiling faces are making me so fucking horny.

Thursday, May 05, 2005

5-5-5 The mark of the near-beast

I am in love. So so in love.

Reading about Bob Saget turns out to be surprisingly engrossing.

Crossing my fingers tomorrow for my interview for a phat position at this phat place. They have a fucking terrace. Sunbathing plus work equals . . . sworkathing. I want that.

"I'm still a millionaire and you're a piece of shit." Dammit, I want to be able to say that and mean it.

Cool people like me will find this entertaining.

Peace out-
Yours Truly,
Kitten Rape Fink

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

Double The Penetration Means Double The Fun!

Dinosaurs: So Great!
It's funny the things that can boost your self esteem. Yesterday my friend and I had an important discussion about dinosaurs. She asked me, "Heather, what's your favorite dinosaur?".
"Hmm." I thought.
"Maybe Triceratops, I like his spikes, they look cool like a dragon. Dragons are cool."
She said "Yes but Brontosaurus is cool, he's seems nice and friendly."
But then I realized, "Well, T-Rex is pretty bad-ass." I mean, he's the Chanel No. 5 of dinosaurs. Classic. The original king of the jungle. Hmm, that reminds me, lets be sure to file lions under things that I like. Back to business:
She then replied, "Oh no wait, I like those ones that fly, what are those?"
"Pterodactyls?"- Heather Fink
"Yes! Wow Heather, you are really on top of that. I am impressed not only by your knowledge of that, but how you responded without hesitation." - She exclaimed.
She was right. I knew my dinosaurs very well, and no I didn't have to search around the brain for that answer. I sure felt good about myself in that moment.
She later impressed me by knowing the names of the characters on everyone's favorite mannequin show "Today's Special." We sure are a couple of swell girls, no? Ahhhhh. I'm just going to go ahead and pat myself on the back.

File this under good.

In other news, my parents got scammed by this company recently, and so they contacted some other people scammed by them, and long story short, news people are getting wind of it, and so John Stossel's people at 20/20 and inside edition and CBS contacted my dad yesterday. If you know my parents you know how hilarious this is. The Fink's on one of them shows! Ha! My friend drew a really funny picture of his artistic interpretation of my parents on one of those shows- only funny if you know my parents. Email me if you do know em and want to see the drawing. It makes me laugh lots.

Also, one of my friends yesterday told me that he did double penetration with this girl. If you don't know what that is, google it and I am sure the internet will have a wealth of knowledge on the subject. OMG can you believe that! He's the first person I know of who's not in a porno that did that. YIKES! There's just some stuff that amazes me that real people actually do. Don't even get me started, don't even!

Email is so wonderful cause people offer you all sorts of great things for your penis. I was recently offered some great penis patches for my penis. That was my favorite offer so far. I don't have a penis, but I like to know that if I did there's these great patches out there for it. And to make things better, today I was offered these things called Horny Pills- only 2.99 a bottle! I'm so excited that I have an opportunity to take advantage of an exciting offer like this. Just think- other chumpers out there pay up to 100 dollars a bottle at leading retail locations! Suckers.

Life is good.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Boom Boom Kitty

I'm so sleepy like a little kitten, which reminds me of something important that was said last night. Wouldn't it be great if an adorable kitten tried to rape you?

Oh god I just downloaded NIN's new album and it's giving me tingles in my down-theres. It's so good. I also downloaded Carly Simon's "Nobody Does It Better". What a great day of listening I have before me.

I got an audition for this comedy type thing this Saturday and for part of the audition I have to do 2 celebrity impersonations. I do a pretty good Katie Holmes, so that's one, but I'm not sure what to do for my other. Anybody got any suggestions? I was thinking Andrew Dice Clay, or maybe Paris Hilton/Melania Knauss Trump/Mischa Barton. Cause I'd just have to do a cool emaciated stance. There's always Anna Nicole but that's maybe too obvious.

Frowned Upon's show was awesome this weekend. They got one this Friday and Saturday too so you can still get a peice of the action!

Man oh man do I get annoyed at the vulnerability of the human body. I haven't been getting much sleep lately, to a somewhat absurd degree. Went to bed at 4am Friday night only to get up at 8am to help a friend with something, got in a nap Saturday from 4-6pm, went to bed at 7am Sunday, transported myself back to Hoboken at 9 am, back in bed from 10- 12, woken up by parents visiting with a doorbell ringing right in the middle of an awesome sex dream. Grrr. Bummer. Up late Sunday night with various thoughts in the brain (see yesterday's post), up late last night heatedly debating human nature. Surprise surprise I don't feel well this morning. Stupid body. I much prefer it to be able to do anything at anytime.

On June 10- a Friday, I am having a big housewarming party/birthday party. Details TBA. But I was thinking maybe to have a theme like a slutty prom. Prom, but smaller and sluttier. But I don't like going to theme parties myself all that much cause it seems like a pain in the ass. So it's probably just going to be a regular party with much effort put into the cd mixes and really yummy drinks.

Recently spotted in the streets of New York: a live sheep.

Billy Joel ruminations (thanks Jordan)
Good Music Videos from Reggie and the Full Effect (keyboardist from Get-up kids with a Mike Pattonish vibe)
Tegan and Sara
Watch "Lecture Musical"

"Riding the bus with my sister" is the name of a new movie starring Rosie O'Donnell as as a retarded person. Could that title be any more retarded?

Stupid fingers always falling off. Silly rascals.

Jesse Camp. Ahead of his time.

Monday, May 02, 2005

It's time

I am up past my bedtime right now because I just can't put some thoughts out of my head. On Friday I finally found a new apartment- a two bedroom- one intended for two roommates. And I am really happy because the place is great- it's absolutely perfect and it's a great price too. But it's not just that.

I can finally fucking leave this place. I can finally put a big part of something behind me that hurt me a lot. I have felt like such a prisoner in this place. When Brian left me after I had already signed this lease he only gave me two choices. He said that he would still live with me in the living room, or that I had to find a new roommate. He refused to take the apartment and find a roommate himself. It was somehow my problem. Since I thought that living with a man who cheated on me and broke my heart was not a good option, I was left to try to find someone who would actually split a one bedroom with me. And fucking thank god that I not only found a roommate, I found the awesomest roommate ever. Without that I don't know what the hell kind of situation I would be in. I mean I don't think I could've gotten through this without her.

But either way, sharing a small one bedroom is not the ideal situation for 2 people in their mid twenties. And it is worse to be in this place. I wouldn't choose to live in this place, its ridiculous here. We eat dinner in our beds and we have to have guests in our beds if they want to watch TV with us. And that's just the half of it. But anyway, this place was to be the place that me and Brian lived in. And it's really shitty to still be here. He got to cut ties and move on with his life, and now it's finally my turn.

Signing this new lease, which starts June 1, is making me feel really positive about the future. I can finally free myself from something quite significant. Not just that I don't have to live like I am in a dorm room anymore, and I can actually live like an adult, but that I can free myself from this baggage- this leftover crap- this symbol of the fact that I in fact got screwed over big time. I don't have to look at these walls surrounding me and be reminded of how screwed I was. I don't have to look at the other side of the bed and think of it as empty. I am going to have a new apartment, with a room intended just for me, which he has nothing to do with. I can get back some of my dignity, and some of my own heart.

I just can't wait to shut the door.