I am not a fan of Mute Math, but they really just have the most KICK ASS video ever. Check it out here. Note how everything is backward, but the singer and the drummer are playing along. So awesome. The sad part is that their music probably sounds better backward. Coldplay did a similar video a while ago but Coldplay makes my ears bleed with boredom. Whenever I hear them I think, oh dear, it’s you again. I thought we got rid of you, but here you are, with that voice. I don’t trust men with voices that high. They are hiding something. I love how people used to say that Coldplay was the new Radiohead which was so stupid because Radiohead is the new Radiohead.

This weekend I am going camping with a bunch of people, some I know, most I don’t, to Lake George, which is in upstate New York. I am presuming by the name that there is a lake involved. Which means various kinds of wildlife, all of which will want to bite me and give me hives and possibly an infection. I am so allergic to nature that I’m surprised that I actually agreed to this camping business. If you are ever need bug repellant, then just keep me around. Everything will ignore you and just hang out on me like I’m some kind of insect discoteque. Anyway I figure it’ll be good for me to go see some nature so I can understand my enemy.

I went camping a few years ago in Maine with some friends and around the same time some crazyperson in Maine was hiding in/under women’s port-a-potties on campgrounds so he could look up their skirts. There are so many things wrong with that I can’t even start. I mean really. There is some idiom in Taiwanese that is said about “special” people which loosely translates to “someone has to marry him/her.” In other words, there is someone for everyone. So if you want to look up a woman’s skirt, just ask. She may say yes, you never know. Haha. Anyway, the point is that the whole thing really freaked me out but then all the mosquitos bit the crap out of me so I forgot about the latrine lunatic all together.

Today at BrainPOP, I’m writing a movie on lice. And I want to vomit in my own mouth, only to swallow it, so I can vomit again.

Seriously, the best way to kill your appetite and perhaps destroy your will to live is to research and write about lice and their eggs, called nits. Nits are tan/brown before they hatch and then white after they’ve hatched. Oh my god this is so gross.

Then of course there’s body lice but I’m only focusing on head lice. That is a whole other “situation”, one which belongs in the “Situation Room” and out of my brain.

I’ve had lice TWICE, as in two times! Once in kindergarten when the entire class got it. My mother was totally mortified and kept blaming my classmates and the teacher and then blamed Americans all together, as if they don’t have it in Korea or something. And then I got it again in seventh grade from my friend Karen’s little brother who was in first grade. That was awful. My hair was way past my shoulders and Karen had to sit there with this metal comb and get rid of all the dead parasites. What a total nightmare. And of course my mother was like, damn white people and their lice.

Right now, as I write, I keep itching my head and thinking oh man what if I have lice? Apparently Brooklyn has a bedbug problem which is just disgusting, and to be honest I rather have lice because I think it’s easier to get rid of, though I could be wrong. Maybe bedbugs are better. I don’t know. I can’t choose. Why must I choose? Stop making me choose, shut up.

I have battled the MONSTERS OF MEMOIR and I have emerged VICTORIOUS. The MONSTERS are slayed! Who’s a winner? ME. No wait, YOU. Crap, how can I decide? We are all winners. winners = us

Thanks to everyone who caught a reading and also caught bronchitis (sorry about that). I can’t thank you enough for all your support and your gracious pimpage of Happy Birthday or Whatever. Special thanks to all the friends who housed me and fed me and drove me and all the good people at the fine, quality booksellers and bars that hosted me and my stupid book. Now I shall sleep. Oh wait, I’m at work. They won’t like that.

So what is next? That is a good question. I’m working on a young adult novel with a friend and working on a screenplay about zombies in the workplace. It’s a comedy. If Harper lets me write a sequel, I’ll do it. My mother wants to go on a trip with me through Asia, which sounds like the worst idea ever, so I’ll probably do it. Just thinking about that gives me hives. And I’ll continue to work. Because if I don’t, I will starve. There is no money in books, sadly. You know where else there is no money? IN MY WALLET.

Let’s see what else will I do? Keep the blogorrhea alive. Laundry. See a movie. Make some scrambled eggs. Bathe. Think about why towels smell after you use them. It’s like you bathe, you are clean. And yet the towel smells. Gross, right? Man I am so busy, lots of things to think about.

Stay tuned.

The last day of my MONSTERS OF MEMOIR tour has come and let me tell you, I am happy. Ecstatic. Thrilled even. I am actually sick of the sound of my own voice. PSYCHHHHHHH! NO way! I love my own voice! It’s so beautiful and soft and calming and peaceful and it never curses or yells things or gets me in trouble.

The final stop of the MONSTERS OF MEMOIR tour is on THURSDAY at Bluestockings Radical Books, which is located at 172 Allen between Stanton and Rivington. The reading begins at 7:00 post meridien.

Please note that YES BLuestockings is kind of an anarchist bookstore and YES it is apparently also a gay bookstore, but if you love gays and you love anarchists, then this is the place for you. There is also free trade coffee and probably some kind of vegan baked good. So if you like those, they will be available. Dredlocks and Molotov cocktails are free. Hugs will cost you. At least from me.

I’m reading with poets: Carly Sachs, Alexander Dickow, and Amy Lawless

and of course ANNIE CHOI.

So yes, come this Thursday! If you can’t then I must present you with the FINGER and send you a box of diapers, you big baby.

Yesterday I was getting a coffee and a pigeon took a dump on me. It grazed my glasses and then landed on my lap. I really, really despise birds. I only like birds that eat other birds, I’m totally serious. I don’t care that they can fly, that doesn’t make them special. I mean I have fingers and they don’t. Hey birds, can you play piano? That’s what I thought. You’re not so special are you? Anyway I was totally disgusted by the whole thing and the guy at the table next to me said “At least it wasn’t a hawk.” Hahaha that was pretty funny, but it did not change the fact that I had bird poop all over me. I had to go to the bathroom and wash my skirt in the sink because the last thing you need is a white stain on a skirt. So then it looked like I had peed myself, which is always very classy.

Here’s the thing: a bird takes a dump on me EVERY YEAR. And I don’t even spend a lot of time outdoors. In fact, one might say that I do not like the outdoors and am generally suspicious of anything that does not have four walls and a roof. Last year I was walking down 8th Ave and 50th St. and a bird just laid one on me. I mean it’s MIDTOWN. There’s zero chance of nature there. And yet there I was, with bird shit on my sleeve and all over my watch. The year before that it was actually on my head. Everyone loves to tell you that it’s good luck, but then why don’t they make bird shit key chains like a rabbit’s foot? Everyone is clearly lying and they are horrible horrible people. It’s good luck for the bird.