For Christmas this year, I got a soprano ukulele. This brings my total ukulele count up to TWO. Which is probably TWO MORE than what the average person has. My ukes are SHRED TASTIC. Sometimes I play it with my FACE because it adds this extra layer of shredly metal.

Anyway, reader Karl just sent me this! I’ve watched it, like, four times already. Not even joking. It is combination of sweet, sweet puppets, ukes, a melodica (which I also have, actually), and a random beach setting in Japan. All things lead to SWEET SWEET SHREDDING OF THE EARHOLES:

My acupuncturist is Japanese and said something very funny awhile ago: “You know the Japanese, we see people having fun and we want to have fun too. But we’re Japanese so we want to have MORE fun.” Haha I love her, she just says it like it is. Then, she stabbed me with the needle. (Speaking of which, NYC peeps in need of a really awesome acupuncturist, email me. And ladies: This will do wonders on the lady-bits. I’m telling you, I’m not really into this hippie-dippie shit, but the lady-bits are in a fine state these days. Even I cannot deny it. I’m for serious! No, no, no you shut up!)

OK, I bring this up because my friend Stephanie Choi (no relation, but is the other half of our “band,” Choi Division) sent me something very, very righteous. It is the Japanese version of the SNUGGLIE and here it is:

It is like EXTREME SNUGGLIE. An EXTREME Snugglie that makes a bold, bold statement: “Hi America, It’s, me Japan, and I TOTALLY PWND YOU.” This makes other Snugglies look like a regular blanket without sleeves. It might even make other Snugglies look like a stupid cloth napkin. I’m foreseeing some serious Snugglie proliferation. Like…a Snugglie Cold War, if you will. Now America has to step up and find the next generation of Snugglie.

Canada will try to get in on the action, but no one will care. Everyone will be like, get out of our sandbox Canada! Go be polite and enjoy your national health care somewhere else. This is for big kids!

The Europeans will, as usual, laugh at this but secretly want it. I mean look at that thing! It’s a COCOON of AWEZOME.

I can’t wait for the Snugglie with wifi.

Hello, friends. It is very very cold here. I know there is some place that is colder and someone will say oh yeah? I live in Anarctica and it’s a lot colder here, quit complaining you rancid whore, you have it so good. But that still doesn’t change the fact that it’s cold here. It “feels like 12F” if you believe the rancid whore that is the Weather Channel.

The bad part is that my landlord turns off the heat at night for several hours because he, too, is a rancid whore. And also cheap. A cheap, rancid whore. But apparently this is legal, which means somewhere someone is responsible for making these wack laws and when I find this person I am going to deliver a very severe and savage beatdown. I would like this person to live in my apartment. I would also like my neighbors to have really loud and obnoxious sex without using their curtains just so this person can truly understand what it is like to be me in my apartment. It is a sorry state of affiars in cold windy Annietown.

I actually wrote to my public advocate regarding the heating laws and the rent stabilization laws last year and all I got back was a form letter saying hey, we received your letter, sweet bro. And that was it. But now like every other week I get re-election flyers. They don’t have time to look into every request or letter, sure, but it’s a little insulting to get re-election stuff saying shit like “we care about you and your community and your rights blah blah issues blah blah concerns blah blah let’s make our communities better one block at a time blah”. Like, how about you shut up ans get us some heat, narch! I am not so sure my public advocate is even doing anything other than trying to get re-elected.

It’s kind of like when I finished graduate school. I got my first loan payment notice the same day I got a letter asking me to donate to the school. Like, dudes. I owe you over $50k. I am not going to just GIVE you more money just to be nice. I’m not that nice. I am, in fact, poor. Go away.

The good news is that I still owe a lot of money! Yay!

New neighbors moved into the unit across the alleyway from me. So we are in two different buildings, but they are basically next door to me. If I go out onto my fire escape, I can almost touch their fire escape. That is how close we are to each other. We could set up cute little sytrofoam cup phones. That’d be cute right? Not really. Styrofoam is bad for the environment. Our beds face each other. Like! At camp! They are practically my roommates. Except they are not. Because they suck. That is not to say a roommate cannot suck, but if my roommates sucked, I’d totally throw them out of my house. I’d probably get all dramatic too, like throw their clothes out the window. I’ve always wanted to do that. It’s like a dream of mine. GET! OUT! OF! MY! HOUSE! And then there’s this cascade of clothes and bad CDs and random sporting equipment and maybe a TV if it’s not too heavy. The point is, my neighbors are NOT my roommates and I cannot throw my neighbors out of their house, which is sad, because I really want to.

They moved in weeks ago and didn’t have curtains. NO CURTAINS! Ladies and gentlemen, CURTAINS are among the FIRST things you put up. Curtains and toilet paper. Everything else you can do later. But you NEED curtains (especially if you live in NYC and you can touch your neighbor’s fire escape). And, of course, you NEED toilet paper. I cannot say for sure if my neighbors have toilet paper. I mean, they may not. I don’t know. If they don’t have curtains, why would they have toilet paper? But I can definitely confirm that THEY DID NOT HAVE CURTAINS.

So I did all these passive aggressive things like walking past MY window so it is obvious that YES NEIGHBOR YOU CAN SEE ME WHICH MEANS I CAN SEE YOU! OMG! And then I modeled good behavior by closing my curtains. OMG NOW I CAN’T SEE YOU! RAD! YOU GUYS SHOULD REALLY GET ON THIS CURTAIN THING. IT’S THE BUSINESS. So for weeks, I’d see my neighbors spooning or whatever, etc. Really awkward. It’s like coming home and finding strangers spooning on your bed. Like. Dudes. That’s.. my bed.

Fast forward to a few days ago. Neighbors! Got! Curtains! Joyous! Celebration! Balance was restored. Now we can both trade off having them open. That is what I did with my previous neighbor Monsieur European-Underwear Man. That is another story for another day.

So then, today, I come home. My curtains happened to be open. And there I see my neighbors. Having sex. Loud sex. With. Their. Curtains. Open.

So what I’m trying to say, is that my neighbors do not know how to use curtains.

Also I’m trying to say that my neighbors do not understand the value and sanctity of private space in the City of New York. Or they just don’t care that they are having sex in my apartment. MY apartment! Strangers! Having sex! In my apartment! Seriously, I just washed those sheets, too.

Also I’m trying to say is that what I have seen cannot be undone. There is no control-Z (command-Z if you are on a mac) FOR MY EYEHOLES.

Dudes. My inbox is so totally awesome. Seriously, you WISH you had my inbox because it is so righteous. It is full of all kinds of crap. I mean real…garbage. Sometimes I can smell my inbox fom miles away because of all the hot trash in it.

Today I bring you audio clips!

That is from a friend or a stranger or maybe from someone who is pissed off. Maybe this person thought my dog shit on his lawn or something, except, of course, I don’t have a dog. Ha ha ha! A hilarious misunderstanding! Actually, funny story, I was living in this house with three other people, and this neighbor used to come and let her dog shit on our driveway and not clean it up. What a total bitch (both the neighbor and the dog).

OK, I guess that wasn’t funny.

But, you know what is funny? A neighbor (different one) used to come knocking on our door looking for syringes because he was dealing heroin in the neighborhood. The sad part is that my housemate actually had syringes.

OK, that wasn’t funny either.

Alright, this one’s funny: One of my housemates made a chore-wheel for us. A chore-wheel. We were, like, in our mid-twenties and thirties. It was humiliating. And, incidentally, we refused to do our chores. Humiliation is not a good motivator. That pissed him off. I guess that wasn’t funny either, more boo-hoo sad than ha-ha funny.

Incidentally, no joke, he was a captain. Like, of a boat. A ferry of some kind. But seriously, a captain. I thought that was sweet. I wanted to call him captain but he was like no, that’s OK. Please. No really. I mean it. Don’t call me captain. And then I was like well, what if I call you “Cap’n” like in Cap’n Crunch, and he did not find it funny. You know, maybe I am hard to live with.

Anyway, my office phone at work has this amazing feature that will email you a wav of a voicemail. It is like…a phone FROM THE FUTURE. It’s like the greatest thing that’s ever been invented. No. It is. Shut up. Anyway sometimes people leave me messages. Sometimes they end up on the blog.

This one’s from Butler.

That might be the most annoying thing ever. I was trying to loop it to make it extra annoying for you guys, but you are lucky I am not smart enough to figure it out.

Here’s another:

Translation: Uh…uhh…uhhhhh. Goddamn, I love my goddamn phone.

This was sent to me by Marco. Taken in a Taipei hotel room, I think.

It’s an Internet Hole! A hole from which you get the Internets. Some people thought the Internets came from the air, but actually it comes from a hole. See? You learn things here at Annietown.

I am continuing to clean out my inbox. It’s like stepping into the Way Back Machine. Except the Way Back Machine is filled with all kinds of crap.

Here is something I just found. This was sent to me by Aaron. Found on a plastic bag that came around his new laptop. I can’t tell if they are warnings or instructions. Either way, you don’t need warnings or instructions on a effin plastic bag.

Remember you guys, don’t put plastic bags on your head and choke yourself. You probably only need to do one or the other, but not both. Both seems overkill. Just saying.

Also don’t put a plastic bag on a baby’s head. If you want to keep the baby fresh, put the bag over the entire baby and store it in a cool, dry place or in the crisper of your refrigerator.

A friend called me in the middle of the day today. He called because he had some very important news to deliver.

He told me that his high-class call-girl-cousin-turned-model’s dad died. I felt bad and then realized, wait, you have a high-class call-girl-cousin-turned-model? Then I said, oh I’m so sorry, dude, you have my sympathies and then he told me to shut the fuck up because the real important news is that

IT IS THE TWENTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF “U CAN’T TOUCH THIS.”

Yes. U can’t touch this. U really can’t. Sorry. I mean I know u want to touch it, but u just can’t. It’s just not possible. Mostly because I am so hot, therefore, u can’t touch this. I mean u can touch it, but then u’d get burned, so maybe it’s just best if u don’t touch it. Don’t take it the wrong way. Most people can’t touch this. Nor should they. So, just to review, u can’t touch this. Now, stop.

Hammertime.

Then he clarified that it’s the single’s twentieth anniversary, not the album. And then I was all, no derrr you asshat, the record is called “Please Hammer Don’t Hurt ‘Em” not “You Can’t Touch This.” What am I? An idiot? Bish, pleaze.

So in honor of the great MC Hammer who is busy melting his gold medallion of him wearing a gold medallion and his gold sledgehammer, baby I shall post something you cannot touch.

Dude that man is so…aerobic. He practically invented the Running Man. I mean have you ever seen anyone run in place like that? Now imagine if he were actually running! He’d be the Usain Bolt of hip-hop. Unstoppable. Also those pants are so effing street. Inside his pants there are actually other pants. Also there is the biggest set of balls you have ever seen. I mean it takes a real man to wear those pants, you feel me?

Remember when he tried to challenge Michael Jackson to a dance-off? I was like whoa, this guy is 2 legit 2 quit.

And that pretty much killed his career. Also, I heard he had a house in the San Fernando Valley, which is also kind of a dealbreaker. Though, Dr. Dre does live in the Valley too, but still. He’s Dr. Dre. He lived in COMPTON. To him the Valley is a nice part of town. But Hammer. He is so not street. I mean if you wore those pants in the CPT you’d get shot. You’d get shot with normal pants on too, but hammer pants? Might as well just paint a big target on your ass. Dr. Dre couldn’t even wear Hammer pants in the CPT and make it out alive. Seriously. U can’t touch this? Yes you can with a bullet. Just saying.

Whilst walking to the Village of the East I came across this beast. According to the banner in front, it is an “award winning” building. I believe the award is for Biggest Suck.

I know its hard to believe but the double helix band aid in front is not structural. It’s “decoration”, the way you might stab yourself in the eye so you can have a really cool scar that makes you stand out and, I suppose, win awards.

Comments are back! Comment at will! I promise to be better about commenting on your comments so we can make sweet comment-love. Also, I need to blog more, I know this. I need someone to throw things at me so I remember. Preferably throw something soft, or something tasty. Or both. Yeah, both.