I went to the dentist yesterday about my toof. Turns out I needed a crown. Turns out this little crown costs EIGHT HUNDRED UNITED STATES DOLLARS. This is WITH insurance. WITH!!! I was like just pull the whole thing out and my dentist laughed and I was like no really, I’m serious and he was like no really, it’s eight hundred. If you want you can pay for half now.

Great. How convenient. Pay FOUR HUNDRED now and in two weeks pay another FOUR HUNDRED. Because in just two weeks my entire financial situation will change! In two weeks I’ll be all, ONLY four hundred? Shit, I could pay you NINE HUNDRED just because you’re such a nice guy. So anyway, what am I gonna do? Put it on the card.

So then he was like it’s probably time to replace this old silver filling you have in the back because there might be a cavity under there it’s hard to say, and since you are already Novacained up, I can go ahead and replace it. (I got that thing when I was like seven). And I’m like shit but that’s another THREE HUNDRED! I have to WAIT. Or else I’ll be pouring my entire paycheck into my mouth, and yet somehow NOT in my stomach which is where it usually goes (I eat a lot for a small person) or to my APT which is where it SHOULD go.

So now I have a temporary crown and my mouth and gums are kind of sore. They took a molar, grinded it down to a little nub and then put a fake crown on top of it while the real thing gets cast in porcelain or whatever. I haven’t felt like eating, which is really sad. I am an eating machine! I am always hungry. The first thing out of my mouth is almost always: dude, you hungry? I dunno I require more food than most humans. It’s because RAGING is energy-intensive. Or I’m just grossly inefficient at processing food, like a panda. Anyway I can’t chew on my left side so only the right side of my mouth will be having Thanksgiving dinner. I’m going to Perry Street. It will be douchetastic and “pretensh” but delicious (for the right side at least).

Yay and boo.

I don’t really remember my dreams, but the other night I had a funny one. I was living in a sweetass apartment in Tribeca, right next door to Steve Nash. He does actually live in Tribeca, right near Chambers St. He lives near my old gym, which was a nasty, nasty place (read: cheap) that smelled like jockstrap. I’ve never actually smelled a jockstrap but I don’t really have to because I’ve smelled my gym. There were guys literally hopped on roids. Big as a trucks these guys. I believe their testicles had pulled up inside their bodies by that point, because that is what the roids do. Anyway totally off topic. So I’m trying to get into my building, but I am carrying like the biggest bags of groceries ever. So then Steve Nash runs up to me and says, let me help you with that. No, he is not wearing his uniform. He’s wearing jeans. And I remember thinking, dude Steve Nash, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with actual pants on, only big polyester shorts, you look kind of funny. (You know like when you see someone who always wears a hat without their hat.) But I don’t actually say that because I am not an ass. Anyway he is a gentleman and helps me carry my stuff, and then I say I’m Annie and you are totally Steve Nash! And he is like yes, I am totally Steve Nash! (I remember thinking that Steve Nash seemed shorter in real life). We talk pleasantries, and then I ask Steve Nash and his wife to dinner, and he agrees, and I am all surprised and I say well it’s a dinner party, you can meet my friends. It will be good times. And you don’t have to bring anything special, just bring yourself. I find this last statement kind of weird. Because he’s Steve Nash and he’s bringing Steve Nash to the dinner party, which is pretty special if you think about it.

And so I have this dinner party, and the only people there are ARCHITECTS. OH GOD. ARCHITECTS. Who ultimately BORE THE SHIT OUT OF POOR STEVE FUCKING NASH. And they are arguing over something totally inane and not applicable to real life or real people and they have no idea that this is STEVE FUCKING NASH! And then Steve Nash and his wife leave early, and I feel guilty because I have not thoroughly entertained the guy. Steve Nash. I don’t even like basketball. But Steve Nash seemed pretty cool. I would totally have dinner with him (again).

The moral of the story is that Steve Nash looks funny in jeans.

The End.

I am officially on staycation! It is the second best kind of vacation. Vacation is obviously the best kind vacation, but a staycation is not that bad. I am here, blogging live from my apartment in New York City. I have already vacuumed and mopped. I have cleaned the bathroom. I have washed the dishes. I had a Very Satisfying Cleaning Experience where I took the hose attachment out and vacuumed the wall moldings. Oh yes. That is what I did. It was maximum satisfaction, just like a Snickers bar or whatever. Seriously, I had a little vacuum woody I was so excited. Then I vacuumed behind the heater. It was like a graveyard of dust bunnies. I could’ve made a sweater out of that shit. I was scared of it and yet highly satisfied at the same time. Hmm what now? I am downloading music. I am purchased clothing from online stores. I am drinking coffee. I am looking for a new apartment on Craiglist like I do every week and like every week, I am not finding anything.

It is a truly glorious day already.

Except for the fact that I have a CAVITY!!!!!!!

OMFG. My tooth is screaming at me. It is calling me horrible things. It is calling my mother horrible things. Every time I drink something hot or cold or basically drink anything wet it gives me the big finger and then clocks me in the jaw. I want to drill that shit out myself but instead I am going to the dentist tomorrow. My dentist’s office pumps in Cher and Britney and George Michael remixes and my (gay) dentist totally sings along as he drills the crap out of my mouth. It is painful on many different levels, but fun in a strange way. If you guys need a dentist, my dentist is the jam. Cher comes free with the cleaning. You also get a toothbrush. Come for the toothbrush, stay for the Cher, that is what my mom always says.

I forgot to mention that on Saturday night, Lizzie made the most insane dessert ever. It was a tower of cream puffs. A TOWER OF CREAM PUFFS. No, dude. You don’t get it. A TOWER. Of. CREAM PUFFS. As in an edible edifice of boner-making mind-blowing creamy deliciousness that makes you weep and sing sad Irish melodies about loss and longing once you have finished destroying said TOWER with your belly. Holy crap. And to top it all off she spun sugar all around it. You know just to push it over the top. Go big or go home. But there is a fancy French word for it: croquembouche. It loosely translates to “cream puff dildo”. Oh those French ooo la la so naughty. I am sad that cream puffs are in my belly. If could, I would barf them up just to eat them again. Oh yeah. I am not afraid. You would too.

Also it was topped by a baby wee pineapple that was just too cute for words.

I just guest-blogged over at Clarabella for another Movember post. This week features child predators and Blu-Blockers ™. Yay! Everyone loves child predators and Blu-Blockers right? Right?

Thanks to everyone who came out to the Rubin on Friday night. I heard people were sitting on the floor. They gave me a sweet prayer scarf (for safe journeys) and a membership. So now I can see the crap out of Himalayan art. The best line of the night: To get to the bathrooms, make a left at the Ganesh. I’ve always wanted to say that.

I have to say the movie situation is pretty awesome. On Friday nights the museum cafe turns into a veritable discotheque and they were pumping out the new Beyonce jam and there was pink lights. Total dance party. Dude, if you liked it you should’ve put a ring on it, that’s all I have to say. Then you can drink martinis and watch the Most Depressing Movie Ever.

Seriously, the movie was good. But depressing. What’s worse is that the story the movie is “inspired by” is even MORE depressing and messed up. Good god. It’s one of those things where if the movie had actually been about the real incident no one would’ve believed it, that’s how messed it was. A few of us just stood around afterward and felt like dying. It was good times. Then we ran into Zechariah on the street. He was drunk. His eyes were like spinning in his head and he kept on wanting hugs. Hahaha good times.

What is everyone doing for Thanksgiving?

I made a boo boo. The Rubin Museum is at 150 W 17th St. It is at 7th Ave. I think I gave the wrong cross street before because I am an idiot. I’ll see you on a bit. Or not. Maybe I won’t see you. I’m ok with that, I think.

Mike lives in Hawaii. Hawaii is a magical place. Yesterday, we had a meeting. Mike was “there.” I say “there” because he was actually “there,” but in a very virtual fashion. He was trapped inside of a laptop. His head took up the whole screen. When you see Mike in real life, his head is very large. It’s larger than a laptop screen, in fact. But somehow through a complex combination of magic and technology, Mike managed to fit his head inside of the computer. Throughout the meeting I kept on hearing tropical birds in the background. They were taunting me. Oh yeah, chirp chirp, we come in colors other than brown and gray. Chirp chirp. DO YOU WANT A PINEAPPLE? OH YEAH? WELL TOO BAD YOU CITY PRICK. Seriously though, the birds were very loud. Some suit at the meeting asked where Mike was and he said, “out of state.” Someone in the room said “out of the country,” to which I laughed but then remembered that sometimes people forget that Hawaii is a state. It really shouldn’t “belong” to the U.S. it’s disorienting. All I can say is if I lived in Hawaii I’d be telling everyone and their mom. OH YOU LIVE IN NEW YORK? THAT MUST BE NICE BECAUSE I LIVE IN HAWAII. I’M SORRY I CAN’T HEAR YOU THE WATERFALLS ARE JUST TOO LOUD. YOU KNOW WHAT’S A DRAG? I AM ALLERGIC TO COCONUTS. THERE ARE COCONUTS EVERYWHERE. LIFE IS HARD HERE IN HAWAII.

So then I was thinking that in Hawaii, everything comes with an umbrella. I drew a picture for Mike. I am going to share this picture with you. Keep in mind that I write for a living. If I could draw, I would draw for a living. There is a reason why I do not draw for a living.

For the next few weeks, I’ll be guest blogging on Clarabella, the site for Erin’s boutique on the lower east side. She has a blog, and more importantly, she has sweet-ass shit. And as we all know, if you buy sweet-ass shit and you will be the sweet-ass shit. It’s math. Math doesn’t lie. This is why I like math. For it’s honesty.

Anyway, Clarabella is supporting Movember, which is all about raising awareness for men’s health issues during the month of November. One does this by GROWING A MANLY MOUSTACHE and then raising money for the Prostate Cancer Foundation. I am blogging about two MANLY MEN who are WORKING IN A MANLY FASHION to grow a MANLY mo’. If you want to get in on Movember, contact Erin over at her blog. She’ll work you in. Growing a moustache is so much easier (if you are a guy) than running a marathon or biking across the country or whatever torturous shit people do to raise money for a cause. The only thing that could be easier is if I sit on my ass and watch my (imaginary) TV to raise money. The best part is that you can watch TV AND grow a MANLY MOUSTACHE and raise money. Insanity! Can it be any easier? Anyway, you can donate money via the Clarabella blog. I just posted there now.

I suck! To be clear: Thursday night is the rock show. Friday night is the movie and reading. Saturday is wait, Sunday always comes too late. Got it?

I’m here blogging live from Fire Island where we are, at this very second, watching Phantom of the Paradise, which is like a seventies version of Phantom of the Opera. Complete with a phantom wearing a motorcycle helmet, black lipstick and a pleather body suit. One part goth, one part WTF. Oh also he has metal teeth and talks through a vocoder too, though I am not sure why. Paul Williams is in it oh yes, that Paul Willams, of Muppets fame, Mr Rainbow Connection. Look, this is all very confusing and I’d recommend you to watch this movie, but actually you could just kick yourself in the nuts to get the same experience. And if you don’t have any nuts to kick just find the nearest pair and go to town. Why are we watching this? No idea. It’s amazing.

Anyway on Friday night at 9:30 I’ll be reading at the Rubin Museum of Himalayan Art. They’re hosting a film series called Cabaret Cinema where you get a drink and watch a movie, two great tastes that taste great together. I’ll be reading something mysterious, meaning I am not sure what I’m reading. And I’ll be introducing Nobody Knows, a Japanese movie about kids who are abandoned in Tokyo. It’s hilarious, if you think bawling your eyes out is hilarious, that is. Come and watch and listen and be a cultured winner. Winner! Annietown is for WINNERS ONLY.

And if you want to be an extra winner, on THURSDAY night you can come to the Last Known Settlers show at Matchless in hip Greenpoint (Manhattan Ave & Driggs). We go on at 10. Yes it’s late and yes it’s a school night. Be a WINNER. Two nights of Annie HFS OMG!!!

Ok end of promo/self sucking.