I realize I haven’t been blogging much these days. Mostly because I have writer’s block. It’s pretty bad. Really bad. I’m having problems. And it’s not like one of those problems you can throw money at or one of those problems where you can just amputate something or one of those problems you can just throw something out and start over like a souffle or a custard. What do you do when your brain refuses to help you out? I say, hey brain, let’s write about this, and the brain says, I have an idea, why don’t I suckerpunch you in the face or stick a shiv in your gut. Pow! And then I say, but brain, seriously, it’s time to get serious. We need to write something that doesn’t suck and the brain is like, oh my god, you totally need to handwash that scarf right now.

So I handwash that scarf and now it’s ruined. The yarn is like falling apart, I guess the detergent was too heavy duty (Sorry Erin, it was the one you made me).

So then I’m like, OK brain, let’s do this. I’m totally serious this time. We’re gonna squeeze something out. We will write anything. We’ll write an essay, or a letter, or EVEN A PIECE OF FICTION GOOD GOD HOW HORRIFYING and then my brain is like, you know, this isn’t working out. I want to break up with you. I want to see other people. And I’m like, dude you can’t leave me just because things are tough, we’ve been together for a long time, for as long as I can remember, you can’t do this to me and my brain is like oh yeah? Watch me. Then I hear the door slam and if I (only) had a brain, I’d think oh my god, I think my brain just left me and is never coming back. I mean if I were my brain, I’d leave too.

So now my brain is totally at the club,doing the cabbage patch on the dance floor, doing coke with, like, everyone from Gossip Girl and probably getting it on with James Franco or Peter Petrelli from Heroes and I’m sitting here, with a wet scarf on my table. The good news is that I washed the walls in the bathroom so now they’re not as moldy.

So hello, friends. If you see my brain, tell her I miss her and want to get back together again. We’re meant to be together, like Hall and Oates.

I’m here in the San Francisco Airport blogging live and in beautiful Cinescope color. I was here for work, attending the Game Developers Conference. Oh yes. Games. No wait, g4m3z. 31337 g4m3z, u n00bz. I haven’t seen this many nerds in one place in a very long time. Highlights include two seperate incidences of guys in kilts. And like they’re not Scotsmen. We’re talking long ponytails and bad skin and kilts. Kilts! Dude! One wasn’t even tartan. It was khaki colored. Like you know, a more casual updated kilt. For a night hitting the bars or just working it out on the dance floor. Or maybe just throwing it on when you have a delivery at the front door and you’re still in your jammies. Lots of options here, folks. Please don’t ask if they were going commando. Some things are better left as mysterious mysteries of mystery. One was daintily crossing his legs. So maybe he had no nuts. Look I don’t want to talk about it. Why do you keep making me talk about it? Go away! Away!

Anyway I did learn a lot though I can’t really tell you what I learned exactly.I like the game Uno. That’s it really. I have too much to think about. So instead I’ll think about nothing.

You know what would be awesome?

If I had hot water.

It would be so awesome.

I’ve only heard good things about hot water.

What’s interesting is that I pay for hot water every month.

And yet I don’t have it.

But, as I said, I’m sure it’s very nice. Maybe one day I’ll have it so I can know how awesome it is. I mean, it could certainly suck. That’s a possibility. Maybe it might be too hot and I have to turn on the cold. I am familiar with cold water.

In related news, this is my new desktop photo. Why? Because it made me laugh. He’s so unabashedly a douche it’s almost refreshing. He’s skateboarding with training wheels. Look, I do not understand it, I only understand that he is a douchetruck full of douche. Enjoy, friends

HEY FRIENDS IT’S SAINT PATRICK’S DAY LET’S GO GET MAJORLY HAMMERED AND SAY WOOO WOOOOOOOO WOOOO EVERY THREE SECONDS AND PUMP OUR IRISH FISTS IN THE AIR IN HONOR OF SAINT PATRICK WHO, IN CASE YOU DIDN’T KNOW, WAS IRISH. HE WAS SO IRISH THAT HE ATE GREEN BAGELS AND DRANK GREEN BEER AND GREEN MASHED POTATOES, TRUE STORY I READ IT ON WIKIPEDIA SO YOU KNOW IT’S FACT. HE ALSO LIKE TOTALLY PUT THE POT O’ GOLD AT THE END OF THE RAINBOW, NATCH. THOSE IRISH, THEY HAVE ALL THE LUCK. ANYWAY WHILE WE ARE OUT GETTING MAJORLY HAMMERED, WE WILL EAT GREEN BANGERS AND MASH AND SOME KIND OF BOILED MEAT, ALSO GREEN. OMG I’M SO READY TO GET TRASHED. LET’S DO THIS, GUYS. I’M READY. I’M WEARING MY GREEN LEPRECHAUN HAT AND I’M ALSO WEARING ALL GREEN BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT THE IRISH WEAR. WHEN YOU GO TO IRELAND IT’S REALLY HARD TO BUY CLOTHES THAT’S NOT GREEN. ONCE I ASKED IF A SWEATER CAME IN RED AND THEY PUSHED ME INTO A DITCH. WOOOOOO YES IT WAS AN IRISH DITCH COVERED IN SHAMROCKS BUT IT STILL HURT MY FEELINGS. LET’S GO GET SOME MIDORI SOURS! IF I GET ME LUCKY CHARMS, I WILL TOTALLY BUY THE FIRST ROUND AND THEN WE WILL GET MESSED UP, PEOPLE. I WISH I HAD RED HAIR.

On my way home, I saw waaaayyy too many drunk people, including a girl who was vomiting behind a car. It was, like, 5:30 or something. And this morning the bagel guy tried to slip me a green bagel and I had to holler back at him. No dude, I said plain bagel, and he was like, it is plain, and I said, I mean plain colored. Dude. Green bagels! Jews everywhere are crying. First the Holocaust, now this. JUST KIDDING (Aura Weisbaum that joke was just for you).

For no particular reason I am feeling hyper, I feel like dancing a jig. That’s right, a jig. The Irish kind. But not the Riverdance thing, because that’s just going too far, man. If I had any Irish friends (except for VK who reads this blog and whom I have never met so that may or may not count), I am SURE they would despise the Riverdance. You know who loves Riverdance? My mom. She loves it. Nothing is more Irish than my mom. I’ve never been to Ireland, but I don’t have to since we have Saint Patrick’s Day, right? Am I right?

Anyway on Friday I am going to San Francisco, I hope I sober up by then.

This is how the window situation is being “addressed.” Yes that’s a cooking spoon. It’s the only way the window will kind of close but not really close. MacGruber!

But what will I use to mix things? A mystery. A conundrum.

My co-worker just got a communist pig. A gift from China.

I love it.

It must be mine.

Oh god it must be mine.

My window just broke. The springs snapped because I have cheap windows. I should get paid for these windows. They are obviously some off brand shit. I don’t even know brands of windows but I’m sure these are from Ned’s Discount Window Warehouse and Buffalo Wings. Actually, I’m surprised I even have windows in this shit shack. I’m surprised my landlord didn’t just sledgehammer a hole and put a trash bag over it ta daaaa! Curtains! So tomorrow I will call the super who will call the landlord who will call the handyman who will come by and say yes it’s broken and he’ll call the window dude who will order the parts, but they won’t come for a week, just sit tight, ok? But here’s the thing: the window is open and won’t stay closed. It is going to be cold. I’m busting out the sleeping bag perhaps. I will be camping in my own home. Under the stars, at one with nature, etc. I will read some Thoreau. Then I will plot some deaths. I’m pretty sure Thoreau did that. He wrote about it in his book, Massacre at Walden Pond: Ruminations on Transcendentalism. This, of course, wasn’t nearly as good as Aesthetic Papers and the Goblet of Fire. But whatever. I’m not gonna be a literary snob. No one likes a snob.

And on a separate note: I love Excel.

I got a new iMac at work! It’s ENORMOUS. Oh my god. The screen takes up my entire peripheral vision. Dude, ALL I SEE is screen. I want to live in it. Roll around in it. Frolic. I also want to eat it. I was working on some BULLSHIT screen before. And at home I have a stupid 15 inch laptop (which after dropping it, only works if it’s plugged in so now it’s a 15 inch desktop). So I have this SWEET iMac with this IMAX screen that makes me so happy to do work, which seems wrong. But here are things that I’ve learned:

1. You can run two programs at once. Maybe even three! Oh my god! Four! I’m running four programs at once! Dude! I can browse the tubez AND edit some copy. This may seem so simple, but my last computer gave me a big finger whenever I wanted to do two things at once. It wasn’t just giving the finger too, it’d be super obnoxious about it, hey Annie I have a gift for you, and it reaches in it’s pocket and busts out with a middle finger. Then it laughs, shakes a beer and opens it in my face, and goes to a frat party to bag some hot chix. Well guess what, old computer? Suck it.

2. I can have two Word documents open side by side. SIDE BY SIDE, people. They both FIT on this SCREEN. Do you understand this? WTF is wrong with you? Why aren’t you happier for me? SIDE BY SIDE. I have MULTIPLE windows open. Mind explosion!

3. It takes less than a minute to start up. My last computer? Over ten minutes. I’d come in, turn it on, and then go make myself coffee and you know, make instant oatmeal, talk to co-workers, and then come back to my desk and STILL wait for my shit to boot. It was offensive. Sometimes I could eat my entire oatmeal before I even saw my desktop. It’s important to note that I eat oatmeal very slowly. It’s like eating drywall paste. With raisins.

4. This thing makes me want to do it with Steve Jobs all night long except he’s really not my type but I’d do it anyway because sometimes you have to take one for the team and be a soldier about it.

5. I am very much enjoying kale. I have been eating a lot of kale. I really enjoy kale. This has nothing to do with my iMac, but something I feel like you should know and understand. Kale.

6. I want to deliver a savage beatdown on my old computer like that scene in Office Space, but I can’t even stand to look at it. It’s doing a timeout in the corner.

7. I used to have a labelmaker when I was little. Those plastic labels that get punched with white letters. You know what I’m talking about. Anyway I was TOTALLY INTO IT. Labeled everything. EVERYTHING. My mom made me take off labels from my dresser drawers. (“Just look inside instead of label.”) Anyway I was a big fan. I was very organized. I went to my friend’s office last night and there was a labelmaker and I labeled everything in their office with “suck.”

8. That is all! New computer dudes! I’m so stoked!

Jomo left his basketball here about a year ago. I keep it on the fire escape next to my plunger and wireless thermometer/barometer. Wilson looks cold.

I am boiling water to keep my apartment warm. These are tough times, friends. My landlord us “being green” by lowering the thermostat to zero.