Thank you, architects, for all the comments and emails. Most of you were so very nice and gracious, and some of you, not so much. But that’s OK. I’m just happy that I can write something that drives strangers to ask me on a date or tell me that I am a horrible person who needs to die a horrible death (most likely by taking meeting minutes) for all the horrible atrocities I committed against all the innocent, starving, orphan architects just trying to make a living. Just so you know, the letter has not stopped any of my architect friends from talking about architecture. Plus, the three non-architects I know are now talking about architecture, so it appears that my plan has backfired. Damn you, architects! Damn you! You’ve won this time, but I’m watching you. Don’t fuck up.

And in other news: Harry Potter finally dumped me. After ten years of what I felt like was a deeply committed and loving relationship, he gave me the finger (or two fingers if you are in the U.K.) and said, “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.” Just like that. We’ve been together for ten years. I spent the best years of my life with this douchebag. And now what? No thank you, no comforting hug or squeeze on the shoulder. Just a big F U and a flippant wave of the hand. So that’s how it all goes down. I also learned that he was apparently cheating on me with, like, millions of other people, including MEN AND CHILDREN. Not that it’s a bad thing, but a little heads up would’ve been nice. Maybe just a few words: Hey Annie, I really like you, but I want to see other people. I would’ve been hurt, but I would’ve understood. God, Harry Potter, I hate your guts. Wait, you know what? You can’t dump me because I DUMP YOU FIRST.

About a year ago, I wrote a piece for Pidgin Magazine, an architecture journal out of Princeton. More or less all of my friends are architects, except for maybe three of them, and they don’t count because they are writers and are not “real people”. I guess I know doctors too, but they don’t have time for me because they are curing a little something called AIDS. You might’ve heard of it.

Anyway, the point is, I have a very complicated relationship with architecture, which is to say that I don’t really give two poops to the wind about it, but all my friends are architects and the only thing architects talk about is architecture. They don’t have time to read or watch a movie or even buy me dinner. All they do is go to the office and complain how they are at the office. So they talk about what they know, which is architecture, and even though I try my hardest to not pay attention it eventually seeps into my brain like selenium in the East River and then I gain knowledge that has no relevance and takes up valuable space in my brain, which I could’ve used to learn how to bet on horses or how to make a souffle. Anyway, I wrote an open letter to architects and it got scanned and posted to an architecture blog called Part IV and now I’m receiving hate mail (with a few love letters sprinkled here and there). Turns out, not all architects understand irony or humor, this is because they are not humans. They are robots with a soul made of steel and concrete. Except they are not as cool as Transformers because they do not blow shit up.

I spent Friday night with a bunch of architects (and Saturday night for that matter) and Kathy had mentioned she was working on a 11-inch sidewalk. And I got really confused because I wasn’t sure if the 11-inch sidewalk was some kind of design element, the kind of crap normal people see and get really pissed off by its lack of practicality and usability and common sense, or if it was something that had to be repaired. So I guess what I mean is that sometimes architecture can be really confusing and makes no sense to me and in fact, a little irritating, like a diaper rash. (The latter is the answer by the way.)

My friend Aura sent me this today and thought I should share. Because it’s important to share, my kindergarten teacher taught me that. Sharing is caring, sharing makes the world go around, it takes a village, two birds with the stone is better in the bush, if you see something, say something, etc.

I can totally imagine the mom sitting down with her son and being like, hi Scout, your father and I love you very much but we think you might have a camel toad problem and need help. We are not judging you, we love you and want to help you with your camel toad. It’s tearing our family apart. And of course the son would be like, no one understands me, I’m going to my room. And then blast his music and play Halo 2. And then the parents will be concerned that the music and video games are what’s causing him to hit the camel toad hard. Then maybe the father will think, well when I was his age I experimented and certainly had a few drinks and listened to the Beach Boys and my parents thought I was high on LSD all the time, even though I was just drunk. And the mother will think, but that was different back then. This is CAMEL TOADS.

Also does anyone want a kitten? My co-worker really likes to take in stray animals, and a cat in her backyard just had five kittens and they are super cute. The mom is grey and the dad is black and white. But one of the kittens is Siamese. I guess mom…gets around.

So New York Times told me that “teenage visitors” are “down” at MySpace. At first I thought they meant like “down” as in “hip” and “cool” and “with it” and in addition “the bee’s knees” and “the cat’s pajamas.” Then I realized they meant that there are, like, no teenagers on MySpace, thereby declaring MySpace dead. So now the “place for friends” is really like a “place for totally unhip dead friends who will wind up cold and alone with no friends, not even dead ones.” I don’t know how that’s going to fit on their banner, I’ll leave that up to the designers. Myspace is dead. The new hot jam is Facebook. So I have started a Facebook account with the help of my friend Doretta who is now my Canadian Minister of the Cat’s Pajamas. She will help me maintain the razor-sharp hip edge that everyone has come to expect from me. Doretta, mush mush. Help me get my profile running before Facebook is dead and I have to join another “networking” site. Anyway if you have Facebook, you can find me: annie at annietown dot com. Be my Facebook friend. “Poke me.”

In other news, I have signed up for this 40 days of yoga for $4 a day special promo at this studio. Let me tell you, I will KICK YOUR ASS AT YOGA. Oh yes. I am so AWESOME at yoga I will out-yoga your lily-white butt back to Level I. I will beat you so hard you’ll have to run to a Pilates class in tears. Tears of shame. Brought on by being beat at yoga. By me. Fear my Ardha Chandrasana, it will kick your ass straight into last week, natch.

Seriously though, it’s been pretty cool, but what I’ve noticed is that I sweat like one thousand times more than the average person. Why is this? During an average day, I’m not really that sweaty. But then I start running or doing yoga and all of the sudden I have jumped in a lake of my own human sweat. I’m disgusting. A mystery.

I saw Transformers on Tuesday night and I have to say, it really fulfilled every need. If you

A) like robots
B) like cars
C) like planes
D) like robots turning into cars and planes
E) like things that go boom and catch on fire

then you won’t be disappointed. I am totes serious as the kids say. If you are expecting some kind of earth-shattering statement on politics and technology and the human race, you will also not be disappointed. Meaning that the Earth actually shatters in the movie so that is kind of cool. And there is also some kind of statement on politics and technology and the human race but I don’t know what that was because I was too busy FOCUSING ON THE CARS TRANSFORMING INTO REALLY SWEET ROBOTS THAT BLOW SHIT UP. I kind of wish they had lasers but I mean they are only cars, that’d just be too extreme. (AS IN EXTREMELY COOL, DAMN YOU TRANSFORMERS.)

The editing was kind of crappy, not that I cared. I mean things were blowing up why am I even going there. Also the director recycles the same shot over and over from like all of his own movies, but whatever. Why am I even talking about that? THERE IS A ROBOT THAT TURNS INTO A TANK, WHO CARES. What really bummed me out was that the transformations didn’t really make mechanical sense like in the toys. It just looked like a big Rubik’s Cube and then ta-daaa robot! In the toys it was all cool to see that the wheels become the joints on Optimus Prime’s legs. Oh man I am totally geeking out here. But let me geek out some more:

I’m sad they didn’t get the actual voice actor for Starscream who was also the voice of the Cobra Commander in G.I. Joe. He didn’t really talk in the movie so there was no cheeky Deceptocon humor. They focused on the humans as if you know we care about them. DUDE ROBOTS COME ON.

Tonight I’m seeing I’m a Cyborg but That’s OK starring Rain, also known as the Justin Timberlake of Korea. The guy is unstoppable, I think he is out King of Popping the actual King of Pop in Asia. Anyway it’s directed by Park Chan Wook, so a romantic comedy seems a little off but probably pretty cool. But I am told there are no robots despite the title, which kind of bummed me out. But Rain is nice to look at. Rain if you are reading this I think we should go out because I bet my mom would be like totes into you.

My friend Aaron just got a new computer. It is FROM THE FUTURE, and by the looks of things I’d say that the FUTURE KICKS ASS and I cannot wait to get there. Seriously. I am waiting for it to happen but it’s all happening very slowly. This future thing can use a little speeding up. Note to future: HURRY UP. NEVER KEEP A LADY WAITING.

1. Aaron’s computer has drain holes.
If you spill coffee, it will drain nstead of frying up your hot jam. This is something that was designed with me in mind. IBM experts and engineers (from the future) actually sat down and thought, What would Annie need? How does she mess shit up everyday and how can we prevent her from messing shit up everyday? And the answer is DRAIN HOLES. If there is water or coffee or any other kind of liquid near me, it will wind up inside my computer. Or my keyboard. Or my mouse. I started drinking out of bottles instead of cups so I can limit the amount of equipment I destroy, but it still doesn’t do me any good. I need a sippy cup but that looks…really stupid at work.

2. Aaron’s computer has a roll bar.
This is like the SUV of laptops. There’s a roll bar and when the computer is falling it apparently KNOWS that it’s falling and locks up the harddrive. It knows! Like it’s thinking: Hey I’m falling, I better lock up my hot jam. Totally ridiculous, right? It’s also made with titanium so you can throw it out of a window or at a co-worker if it pisses you off. Apparently in the future, computers protect you from yourself. But also protects you from others.

3. Aaron’s computer would have the fingerprint reader if he spent a measly extra $30, but he decided to be cheap and now he is full of sorrow and regret.
You can get a fingerprint reader to log on to everything. So let’s say you want to log in to your mail or to MySpace or to a cool website like www.give-annie-a-bucket-o-cash-and-a-cookie.org. You can just swipe your finger on the mousepad. DUDE! It’s the future! Aaron, if you are reading this, you are a dork. Why are you scared of the future?

Of course, the future has some disadvantages. Aaron tells me his computer locks up once a day and yells at him and makes him feel bad about himself. Like it says “System Error! You are worthless and nobody loves you.” or “Contact your Administrator: You can stand to lose a few pounds.” or “Error: You are ugly. I hate you.” or “Fatal Error: No one respects you.” That’s tough. I guess in the future no one minces words. They just lay it all down. In the future, computers do not tolerate losers. Fair but strict.