It’s New Year’s again! Again! It happens once a year.

I am still waiting for my lunar horoscope from Doretta, who gets them from some old Chinese lady who is apparently an authority on all things zodiac related. It is unclear how someone becomes an authority on these things, but I’m guessing you have to be an old Chinese lady? Last year, if you recall, I was told I was going to have a good year for money, but bad year for health, which would impede on having a good year for money. Turns out it was a perfectly acceptable year for money, in that I had it and did not lose my job, and it was a bad year for teeth, in that I had them and did not lose them, but they hurt. This is the year of the dragon, which probably means money will continue to exist, but only a little of it will be for me. I will have an acceptable year for health, meaning that someone will sneeze on me. I will spill water, on my pants and on other people’s pants. I will break a keyboard and a mouse (I already broke a keyboard, actually). Something important will happen in space and no one will care. We will depend on foreign oil. Giant pandas will look exceptionally adorable this year and insects will win. My brother will call someone a “douche-and-dick,” as in “dude, that guy is being a total douche-and-dick,” and in that sentence “that guy” is our father. Our mother will continue to assess the quality of my skin, particularly its dangerously low moisture level, and continue to critique the shade of my lipstick, which is “the color that streetwalkers wear.” That’s loosely translated from the Korean.

The year of the dragon is going to be acceptable for hookers with dry skin.

Am I here? I can’t tell. Maybe I’m dead? Hmm. Hard to say? I’m like 63% sure I’m not here. Maybe I’m not here? Maybe we are all dead, and this is all just a dream. A dream where I live in a shitty apartment. I fully admit it’s not the best dream. I could be having a way better dream, like one where I’m eating some peach cobbler on a mountain of money. The good kind of money, not the bad kind. That’d be a good dream, especially since peaches aren’t in season. Or are they?

I hope you guys survived the Rapture. Or maybe you didn’t?

Ths s cnvrstn hd wth m gd frnd, Chrs. Vwls r nncssry pt of nglsh lgng. Crrntly n th fnc bt “y” thgh. Prhps rmvng “y” s smrt thng. Mght s wll mk nglsh mr strmlnd bcs trthflly, ts stpd lngge tht mks N sns. Srsly. Whtvr. Njy.

ANNIE
dstry ll vwls
ys
xtrm
dstrctn

Chris
h?

ANNIE
dstry
dstrctn
gddmnt

Chris
wht s dstrctng y

ANNIE
py ttntn
vwls
dstrctn
gddmnt

Chris
h? = oh?
fck y

ANNIE
YS
FCK Y
hhhh

Chris
hhh
hhhhh!

ANNIE
hhh
ll

Chris
ll

ANNIE
sht

Chris
pss
blls

ANNIE
cck blls

ANNIE
ys
crp
sck

Chris
lctmtv!
trn!

ANNIE
mm?
That looks like “locomotive train”

Chris
ys

ANNIE
Hhhhh
myb pst 2 m blg, nntwn.cm

CHRIS
y shld pst t
snd m th lnk whn y pst t
thnks

ANNIE
s lng pst
mmm

CHRIS
th rdrs wll b fn. thy r sd t rdng

ANNIE
mm?

CHRIS
(the readers will be fine. they are used to reading)
ths n vwls thng cld b gd fr yr fngrs
dnt lk t s y sffr

ANNIE
rt bt typg slwr scks bg ft chd

CHRIS
pck yr psn
m jst tryng t hlp

ANNIE
ys knw
ths hrd 2 pst
mb nt s fnny?

CHRIS
dt? jst pst t
d nt wrry s mch
wh crs
ppl wll lk t th pst nd jst thnk – “dmn! thy rlly cmmttd t th n vwl thng!” thy wll nt rd th ntr trnscrpt

ANNIE
K

I just caught the lady who pees all over the seat. I know this is gross to talk about it, but I have to share it because I fucking just caught her.

We share the bathroom with some other offices on the floor, and most of the time the ladies bathroom is fine, it’s awesome etc.

But then sometimes there’s like A MESS OF PEE.

Everywhere.

EVERYWHERE.

Like the perimeter of the stall is covered in pee. Imagine if someone like hosed down the place with urine. Except this person doesn’t have a hose because she has lady bits. It is fucking insane and disgusting.

So I go to bathroom. I see lady come out, of the stall and I go in, and then it’s like raging waters.

And I say OH MY GOD.

Like I literally say OH MY GOD and then OH GOD THIS IS SO DISGUSTING! This is so this lady can hear me explode and get angry.

So then the lady basically runs out of the bathroom more or less.

Hopefully she will start using bathroom like a normal sober person and not hover while she’s drunk at 3:00 in the afternoon on a Tuesday.

This isn’t a club bathroom. This is no cha cha palace in the Meatpacking. This is the Flatiron, natch! We keep things classy here by not peeing all over the place.

But it’s just unclear how one lady can make SUCH a mess. Which leads me to believe she has two peeing holes and one is aimed at a 45° angle.

Happy (Lunar) New Year! It is the year of the rabbit. I could go into how it really is Lunar New Year and not Chinese New Year, but I won’t. I will not explain how it sounds funny when people say “Thousands of Koreans gathered in Seoul today to celebrate Chinese New Year.” No, I will not do that. Nor will I explain that on Jan 1, I plan on celebrating American New Year. No, no. I won’t do that again. You see, I have given up. I cannot beat 1 billion people. The Chinese now owns this day, I understand that now. So to celebrate the (Chinese) New Year, I’m going to write your very own personal horoscope for the year! This is a gift from me to you. A Chinese gift.

Health: You will be healthy most of the year, except for when you’re not. You’ll get the flu and blame it on the fact that you did not get the flu shot, or you’ll get the flu shot and get the flu anyway and vow never to get the flu shot again because what’s the use? You will eat or drink something bad at some point and feel sick. This may or may not be caused by one of the following: a seven-layer burrito from Taco Bell, food from a truck, half-off sushi, or too much beer, vodka, and/or whiskey. You will drink too much coffee one day and your pee will smell weird. You will wonder if you should tell someone, and you will, and then regret it. You will get a sunburn. You will get a rash. You will think a mole looks funny but then stop caring about it. If you have health insurance, you will go to the doctor. If you don’t have health insurance, then you will need to go to the doctor, but won’t be able to. If a doughnut shop opens up in your neighborhood, you will gain a little weight, but you know what? You’ll be happy. Your teeth will be yellower this year than last year, unless you whiten them. Avoid cold foods.

Love: If you’re single, you will meet someone, but that won’t work out. Then you’ll meet another person and that, too, won’t work out. Then you’ll meet someone else and that may or may not work out. If you are in a relationship, then the relationship will continue as long as you don’t break up. To continue the relationship, you will need to be honest and do fun stuff together and communicate and share desserts. Sometimes it’ll be easy and sometimes it’ll be difficult. Sharing desserts will always easy though. You will get into an argument over something petty. You may or may not get married this year. It depends on if you are single, in a serious relationship, or are already married. However, if you are engaged, it is highly likely you will get married in the year of the rabbit, or the next year, whatever that is.

Money: If you have a job, you will make money. If you don’t have a job, money will be hard to get. You will apply for jobs, some of them jobs you do not want. You will get a job. You may or may not hate this job. You may hate most of your coworkers, except for a few people. Or you may love most of your coworkers, except for a few people. You will work hard for stretches of time, followed by stretches of time where you waste it on YouTube. You will check your email at work. Someone will send you a picture of their child, pet, or child with their pet. Unrelated to that, you may or may not get laid off. If you get laid off you will go on unemployment and be really happy for awhile until you are not happy anymore. You consider a career change. You will buy one or more of the following: clothes, books, shoes, a new bed. You will steal music and movies but you will also buy music and movies. You will not buy a panther. You may or may not buy a house, that depends on if you have money. You will spend too much on one thing, and get a deal on another thing. You will find a quarter on the street.

You’re welcome, everyone!

Thanks for the happy birthday wishes! It was a swell birthday, but it was also a birthday that was EERILY SIMILAR to another birthday I had not too long ago.

Let us flashback to…say…CHAPTER ONE of my book Happy Birthday or Whatever. The title of said book draws from the chapter in which my PARENTS FORGET MY BIRTHDAY.

Now let us flashforward to present day, August 25, 2010, also known as my birthday (and the birthdays of Regis Philbin, Elvis Costello, Ivan the Terrible, and, in addition, my friend Natalie. I should note that I’ve only had dinner with one of those four people. Hint: It’s not Ivan the Terrible). It was a good birthday. I ate a very civilized dinner with a few of my closest friends, including Chris who was carrying a murse. We made fun of him and agreed that in order to offset the mursiness he had to carry bacon, ammo, power tools, various knives, and a bottle of Old Spice. Anyway point is, it was a very pleasant evening, murse and all. I did not want a rage-a-thon this year. Figured I’d wait for the weekend like a responsible grown-up, which I now am. Not really.

But wait…something is missing…hmmm…something is misssiinnnggg.

Oh right. My parents TOTALLY FORGOT AGAIN. Again!!!

You’d think that when your kid writes a BOOK about forgetting her birthday, you’d start, you know, remembering.

So the next day August 26, is my parents’ anniversary. So I call my mom and I’m like heeeyy girl, what’s up? And I say happy anniversary! And she goes, oh is that today? Really? What’s the date? I say it’s August 26th. She goes whoaaa, where did the time go, are you sure its our anniversary? And I say yes, I am sure because I have a thing called a calendar, it is a device from the future in which you can annotate important dates. This “calendar” is also available in digital forms, such as on a computer or on a cellular telephone. And then I wait for it. You know, the REALIZATION that she has made A HORRIBLE MISTAKE. And she goes, oh well, I’ll call you daddy later, what are you doing for your birthday tomorrow?

*forehead slap*

I say DUDE my birthday was YESTERDAY, and she goes, NO, and I say YES and she says NO, and that keeps going for awhile and then she says sorry and says “Oh my gosh, I’m such a zero.” Which actually made me laugh because I have never heard her say that before, I have no idea where she picked that up. Sometimes she says “I’m going to give you knuckle sandwich” which is pretty hilarious and my father calls rolling through a stop sign a “California Stop” instead of a “California roll” even after I explained that it’s a play on words with the type of sushi, but he thinks that is nonsense. I think that cream cheese in sushi is gross. Cheese and seaweed is weird, you guys. Seriously. Who was the dude who said “Oh shit I just had a great idea. What if we take some raw fish, add some cream cheese, add some rice and wrap it with seaweed? Awesome, right?” The man was obviously from California.

Anyway my mother says sorry, I go it’s fine, but really, what is wrong with you? Then she says, oh it’s really hot in Los Angeles! I’m not sure if she was trying to change the subject or if perhaps the 103 degree heat has actually made her “go full retard.”

So then I think, do I call my father, wish HIM a happy anniversary? And I think no no no, in just a few minutes, he will call me. Because my mother will call him and tell him that they forgot something important and in addition, did you know it was our anniversary today? No, me neither! OMG!

Anyway he ended up calling and apologizing.

Oh, I should also mention that my brother had REMINDED/WARNED them it was my birthday. Like, seriously people. He said he tried, but failed. Anyway the whole thing is hilarious and sad, but probably more hilarious. More sad the first time, more hilarious the second time.

I learned an important lesson today: Always order more desserts, even if people say no no no I’m full I don’t really need to eat dessert. Because they are lying. Everyone needs to eat dessert.

World Cup begins this week. I do not know anything about soccer. I don’t. Seriously. I know that the ball is black and white. I know that people chase this ball and that other people chase the people with the ball. I know there’s a net with someone in front of it. I know at some point, a bunch of bros line up in front of this net and cover their testicles with their hands. I don’t know why they do this because from what I understand, people are aiming the ball at the net, not at testicles. But what do I know? I don’t know anything about soccer. Oh, but I do know that many of these players are rather good looking gentlemen who are much younger than I am, not that there’s a problem with that. Nope, no problem at all.

Here is something else I know: I love to bet money on sports I know nothing about. Interestingly, I love to bet money, and yet I hate to lose money. And I often lose money because I don’t know anything about sports. This creates a situation. A situation in which I lose money and have complicated feelings of anger, confusion, loss, regret, despair among others. I should also mention that I hate losing. Maybe somewhere there are people who lose and think “It’s not about winning or losing, it’s about how you play the game.” You know what? Good for them. They are better than I am. I’m sure they floss every night and use ethical traps to capture and release mice. Listen, I’m not a good person. I like to WIN. I hate to LOSE. I want to DESTROY mice.

The point is, I have joined my friend’s World Cup pool. During the March Madness pool, I believe I came in second to last. It was truly madness. I was pretty mad, in fact. Mad that I WAS NOT A WINNER. DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? I AM A WINNER. EVERYONE TELLS ME I AM A WINNER, LIKE FOR EXAMPLE, MY PARENTS. Actually that is a lie. My parents do not think I am a winner. Mostly because I have not produced human offspring and also because I am not a doctor.

So yes, World Cup soccer. Very exciting. I cannot wait to watch some games and HAVE NO IDEA what is going on. Sure, I could read about it on Wikipedia, or have one of you cats out there explain it to me. But, you know what? I’m ok this way. I love mystery. It’s tasty.

Sidenote: If there is an award for best username/handle, then I should win it. Because mine is Clam Scene Investigation.

If you want to see my picks and follow along at home, you can do so here. Send me your picks too!

My posse and I roll into a supermarket because that is how my posse rolls, and we are looking for ice cream because we are a very hard posse, and we roll into the “ice cream & frozen novelties” section. And next to the Klondike Eskimo Pies and next to the Popsicle Brand Fudgsicles, we see this.

READ CAREFULLY.

FROSTY PAWS.

IT IS ICE CREAM FOR DOGS.

Ice cream. For. Your. Dog. For your goddamn dog, you guys!

A few things:

1. This “treat” is right next to shit people eat. Like nestled between frozen novelties specifically created for HUMANS. Between the Klondike Bars and the Fudgsicles. As if to say “IF YOU LOVVEE KLONDIKE BARS, THEN YOU’LL LOOVVEE FROSTY PAWS!” I can foresee a situation where someone quickly picks this up because of the cute packaging and then goes home and then, upon discovery, becomes sad. And maybe, just maybe, a little curious. Like, hmm, what if I tried this? And after a few sniffs and rudimentary licks and a double-dare from your stoner of a roommate and then a choke and a gag, the depression truly sets in. Not to mention the fact that when you want ice cream, you really want fucking ice cream and now you are left without ice cream. Or a dog. That is the true sad story there.

2. The packaging looks very close to a kids’ cereal, which makes the whole thing even more disturbing.

3. JUST BECAUSE PEOPLE EAT ICE CREAM, DOES NOT MEAN DOGS SHOULD.

4. DOGS DO NOT NEED ICE CREAM. They lick their own buttholes. They eat garbage. They don’t need ice cream, you guys.

This kind of goes along with what I was saying before about dogs not needing sweaters because they are born with them. They don’t need ice cream. They don’t have to eat the same food as you. In fact, they shouldn’t. I imagine, and correct me if I’m wrong here, that when packs of dogs were running buck-wild, they did not eat ice cream. A raging mutt did not hunt and catch a squirrel and think, god I can really use a Frosty Paws right now. They also did not think, man life would be so much cooler if I were in someone’s handbag.

Ugh. I can’t stand that dogs are turning into people. We have enough people on this planet. Let dogs be dogs. THUMBS DOWN!!!!

A new store just opened on my street, where a men’s shop used to be. This men’s shop kind of sucked. So I was hoping something useful would pop up in it’s place. Like a bookstore or a music store or a natural foods store with a bulk section (I LOVE bulk sections shut up) or a candy shop or a musical instrument shop or a nice, chill bar or a place with really excellent coffee or a shop that serves stuff on toasts or a place that only sells kale because kale is tasty or a place that teaches you how to tie bowties or maybe a public living room where you can go and hang out and watch TV and cook dinner or a place with ping pong and pinball. What i mean to say is that the potential for awesome was very, very high.

It’s a store called Wool and the Gang hahaha The tagline is “Crazy Sexy Wool”. This is where you can insert your own pun (Angela already said Celebrate Wool Times, Come on!) It is a high-end yarn place. Like fancy ass yarn. Fancy fancy yarn made by some ladies in some part of some place with some kind of animal raised on some kind of organic business so that it grows some kind of magical hair or fur that gets shaved and then spun by children with large dewy eyes and nimble fingers and during lunch they run around in mountain meadows. Mind you there is ANOTHER fancy yarn place a block away. This other yarn place happens to be expensive too. Can someone tell me WHY does my neighborhood need ANOTHER fancypants yarn place? Why not a Target or a Commes Des Garcon pop-up store or a place that lets you play with kittens and ducklings by the hour? A YARN store? Seriously, people. It’s bad enough there’s two doggie lifestyle places in my neighborhood.

Oh I meant to mention that this place also has dog sweaters. Dogs don’t need sweaters. They are born with sweaters already. That is what makes dogs rad. They come clothed, it is awesome. So now, in a block, there are three places where one can buy doggie sweaters. This is NOT including the American Apparel down my street which also has doggie clothes, but those aren’t sweaters, more like gold lamé unitards. For dogs. Obviously. Duh.

I’m sorry, dear friends. I was sick. I know it’s no excuse, and I’m sorry I haven’t been here. But now I am back. I can now climb three flights of stairs without coughing up an alveolar sac, which, in case you’re wondering, looks NOTHING like a nutsac. Seriously. I myself was surprised. I mean a sac is a sac is a sac, right? Like a sac can only look like one thing, and that is a nutsac. But, NO. I was WRONG. Alveolar sacs and nutsacs actually do not look alike. I feel like I’ve been living a lie all these years. Feel free to share that fact. That one is yours to keep.

This has been a week of me breaking shit. The most recent casualty is my computer mouse at work. I think I spilled coffee and water on it too many times, so it got fed up and said, eff you loser and then the little red light wet dim, just like that scene in the original Terminator where the robot gets crushed in the George Foreman grill and it’s little red eye goes dim and it is all, so sad…so dark…and cold…so…alone. That was my computer mouse. Later it came back as sweet fucking liquid metal, and then it came back again, this time as a girl that is not Charlize Thereon but kind of looks like her if you squint, but I didn’t see that one, so I can’t say for sure. Then I guess it came back again to the past to go back to the future. God these things are so confusing sometimes. I need to waterproof my life, that is the lesson learned, friends.

I also busted my wallet. Normally I bust wallets because it’s filled with COLD HARD CASH and it’s like yo dawg, can you break a C-note and they are like uh no don’t call me dawg and I don’t have change, and I’m like whatever, loser!

So here is what I’ve figured out: In order to buy a wallet you need to spend money. That means it comes out of a wallet. But you don’t have one. But let’s say you somehow buy a wallet, but then you don’t have money to put in it. Like, this is some kind of weird black hole/time-space thing, maybe.