I often ask myself, hey Annie? and I answer yeah, Annie? I’ve been doing some thinking. Oh yeah, what you been thinking about? And then I answer, well I was thinking that I’m not edgy. Then I answer, oh Annie, you are so totally edgy, what are you talking about? And then I guffaw–which is kind of like a scoff and a sneer and a pooh pooh–and I say, dude I’m so not edgy. Look at me, or, uh, you. I am not edgy. I am not wearing drop-crotch pants. Made of leather. And then I’m all, omg wtf hfs, etc. And then I have to break it down for myself.

Point 1:
I have a baritone ukulele. Edgy people have regular ukuleles. Made out of orphans.

Point 2:
I have very low blood pressure so when I stand up I sometimes get really light headed. This makes rock squats really really difficult to pull off when I am at the grocery store.

Point 3:
My fridge reeks of cauliflower. I mean really really reeks. It smells like garbage stuffed inside a rotting carcass.

Point 4:
I love toast.

Point 5:
If I drink any beverage that contains alcohol, I turn bright red and then eventually lean on a surface so I can fall asleep.

Point 6:
I would like to have a Soda Club seltzer maker. It makes seltzer. It is a seltzer maker. SELTZER MAKER. Oh my god, it is like the headgear of home appliances.

Point 7:
See Point 4, above.

Point 8:
See Point 7, above.

Point 9:
My friend Kim taught me how to drive stick shift in the Von’s parking lot one summer, and then I pulled up a street and stalled right in front of a party of 10 year old boys who then proceeded to make fun of me because I kept on stalling. Eventually I got out of the driver’s seat and made Kim drive us home. Later, I was driving stick shift in Europe and wondered why the car handled so poorly and then I was at a border, and the border patrol dude pointed to my parking break, which was on. I must’ve been driving with that thing on for miles.

Point 10:
Cheese kind of gives me gas. And when I mean “kind of” I mean like it totally does.

So after making these points to myself, I agreed with myself that I was not edgy. And in order to make myself edgy I needed a nap. The end.

Dudes. It’s been at least a year since my last blog post. I apologize. I cannot say what I’ve been doing these past few weeks. Not because I’m working on a supersecret project, but because I honestly don’t remember. In fact, if you read my Twats I haven’t been doing much of anything. Look, I lead a boring life. I am a boring person. I eat, I read, and then I fall asleep while I read. Somewhere in there I write something, drink something, and wake up feeling bad about myself and other people. Occasionally I feel bad about children, good god think of the children! There’s not much to talk about. I shot a bear. No that was a lie. I just lied. Sorry.

Tonight there is rock practice. Starting now, each of our practices have a theme. Tonight’s theme is “no pants.” This means that no one is allowed to wear pants. No pants. Quite simple. Pants are not allowed. I realize in British English, pants means underpants. This theme could stand if we were in British England. I do not care. British, American, Canadian. Whatever you call it, no pants.

Thank you.

Man, I cannot tell you how great it’s been eating things like potato chips and Triscuits. I keep forgetting to eat with the left side of my mouth, so it’s like I’m a chipmunk with this wad of food in one cheek and then it dawns on me that I CAN EAT WITH THE OTHER SIDE HOLY CRAP. Dual-side eating! TWO SIDES. I did not know there were two sides of the mouf. Now I know. I feel like I can eat twice as much as before. TWO! It’s my favorite number. OK, fine, I don’t have a favorite number, but if I did, it’d be two. Glorious two. Now you’re gonna tell me I can walk with oth feet too. Hah, I’ll believe that when I see it, buddy.

My good friend Chris wrecked on his bike over the weekend and broke his collarbone. Now he’s getting surgery to get plates and pins put into his shoulder. He’s gonna set off metal detectors, which is cool only to us because we’re not the ones who have to get strip searched every time we fly. Anyway, I was thinking that I would really like to be half robot. This shoulder of Chris’s is INDESTRUCTIBLE. It is METAL. It probably has some space age alloy crap in it. On a side note: I love the term “space age” because it means absolutely nothing. We’ve been in “the space age” for like 50 years. Space age can mean macrame or plastic or neon vinyl or maybe like that memory foam stuff. Anyway, the point is you can punch or kick Chris in the robotic collarbone and it will not break. NO IT WON’T BREAK. I dare you to try it. Anyway I think I would like some metal parts. I get hurt a lot. This would just be a lot more convenient for me. Convenience is everything.

I went to the dentist YET AGAIN yesterday. This time to get a permanent filling. My final appointment. So I’m sitting in the chair and the dentist comes in and asks, how are you? And I say, pretty good, and sorta you know, do a half smile. Like how good could one possibly be at the dentist finishing up a root canal? OH YEAH I’M FANTASTIC, I HOPE IT HURTS SO BAD IT MAKES MY GUMS BLEED FOR WEEKS AND THIS TIME I WOULD REALLY LIKE TO PAY AN EXTRA $500 JUST BECAUSE I FEEL SO GREAT RIGHT NOW HEY LET’S BE BROS AND GET BEERS. Anyway, I’m not rude, I’m just reserved. I am not what people would “bubbly” and “effervescent” or “chipper”. And he just kind of stares at me and says “How come you’re never happy?”

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That is SO unbelievably rude, even if he meant it as a joke. We are not “girlfriends” here. He can’t ask me that kind of shit until we’re friends first. And we are not friends. I wanted to take the suction tube and strangle him for being such a toolkit.

Then he got snippy with his dental assistants for not getting the cementy filling stuff prepared in time. And he gets all flustered with them and says, I’ll just do it myself. No. NO. I’ll just do it myself.

You know how your parents never yelled at you in front of guests? Or, if your my mother, not yell at you as bad. Like they are on better behavior? It was awkward. I felt as though my dentist should’ve been on better behavior with me sitting there with toobz in my mouf. But I guess not. Sure, the assistants probably should’ve had everything ready and all that, but like, be nice in front of guests. I dunno, I know I am not “BFFs 4 eva” with this dentist so I’m hypercritical. But come on, dude. PLAY NICE.

Anyway, this makes me realize how much I love my regular dentist, who is awesome and professional and his office is from the future and also he is from Pasadena and his dental assistants make fun of him for saying “awesome” and “fabulous” too much. If you guys want a fierce dentist (who sadly does not do root canals), go to mine. I would marry him if he wasn’t gay. I would love to have his gay dentist babies with perfect teeth.

So, it’s over now. I am going to eat potato chips because they are crunchy. I’m very excited about crunchy foods right now. Crunchayyyyy.

Oh my god, I’m going to eat a gigantic pile of carrots too.

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 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!

The answer to the quiz was Mike Score, from Flock of Seagulls! Miss P was the quickest and she received her prize already. She is the winner. Who is the loser? Well, that would be me when I googled Flock of Seagulls and then got his picture. Ugh. I had “I Ran” stuck in my head, felt the need to see the video, and then I lost at life. The Internet is a blessing and a curse, remember that kids. The “I Ran” video led me down a horrible YouTube spiral that ended with “Heat of the Moment” by Asia. Dude. ASIA. I’m not proud of this. I’m not. I’m ashamed. Filled with shame. ASIA. A supergroup of pure crap. A bunch of guys got together, and they said, man we are so crappy apart, but together we can come together like Voltron and be supergroup of crap! And then they high-fived and did it. Awful. When I grow up I want to be a bouncer. Like not for clubs, but for life. Then I can say SORRY ASIA NOT TONIGHT, THIS CLUB IS FOR WINNERS ONLY. And then billyclub them to the ears. I’d be very good. Fair but strict. Honestly though, my club would be empty. It’d be like Clint Eastwood and giant pandas and a salad spinner inside.

Anyway, back to Mike Score, I do not understand when people lose their hair and they decide to “grow it out.” You should leave the “growing it out” to people who actually have it. Think of it as a beauty tip. Anyway thanks to all who played. He does actually look like Kelsey Grammer.

As for the SuperBowl, go stillers, etc. My friend Doug Jones was on the Pedigree commercial!!! as the friend of the dude throwing the frisbee to the water buffalo. That was a funny sentence out of context. Anyway I had no idea he was on it and then he just pops up and I am like HFS! DOUG! You can watch the ‘behind the scenes’ clip for the commercial here. Go Doug! It’s always a pleasure to turn on the TV and see someone you know. Not that I have a TV but you know what I mean. It’s nice to turn on someone else’s TV and see someone I know. Most of the time I turn on the TV (at someone’s house) and I see people who I really don’t want to know. Like David Caruso and everyone on MTV.

Also, I do believe I baby sat for Max Weinberg’s kid. Pre-Conan days. You know, not to show off or anything. Ha ha ha. No really. I AM NOT SHOWING OFF. He was a good kid actually.

Lately I have been clucking at Karina when she is in her office. I enjoy this very much. I have no idea where this came from, but when I pass by her office, I go bok-BOOOOKK and then I scram. Sometimes she looks up. What? Is that a chicken I hear? But now I think she is used to this clucking. I will have to find another sound. Or maybe I will do it in French or Spanish. I actually do not know how a chicken sounds in French or Spanish, but I imagine it’s like this “le cluckeaux! le cluckeaux!” or “la clucka! la clucka!” If I were fancy, I would use the upside down exclamation mark for the Spanish one, but guess what? I don’t know how to do that. I am just not fancy. I will learn how to live with this. Anyway I am very good at clucking. Sometimes Karina looks under her desk. Maybe there are some farm fresh eggs?

Speaking of which, have you ever seen an egg that is literally fresh from the chute? It’s kind of gross. Like there’s this ‘film’ on it and it’s warm. Like body temperature warm. It’s nasty dude, just nasty. I was wondering how often chickens lay eggs and researched on the interwebbingz and learned that it’s about once every 24 hours, but that to get the eggs fertilized, the hen can store semen in her oviducts for a MONTH. That’s like a Manhattan Mini-Storage up in that hoochie. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I just had a egg moment where I wanted to vomit.

My tissues smell like bacon, for no real reason. I just got Planet Earth via Netflix. I think it has a sad ending.

I think that covers it.

Happy (lunar) new year, everyone! It’s the Year of the Ox! It’ll be a year of ups and downs and hard work, but also a lot of fun. You will enjoy being with friends, but also being alone. You will have moments this year when things go your way, and moments when things don’t. You’ll be busy, and then you won’t be busy. Then you’ll be busy again. You’ll buy socks. You will eat something you regret. It may or may not be partly cloudy at some point this year. You’ll meet new people. You may not like them. At all. You’ll learn how to say “bellybutton” in another language. You’ll get good news. And bad news. You’ll struggle with technology. You’ll get a phone call. Iceland’s government will collapse. You’ll sneeze (gesundheit). You may come into money. You may lose this money. You will spill something. Someone will give you a hug.

This is going to be a very good year, like all the other good years. But it’ll also be a very bad year, like all the other bad years. Yes, this is the Year of the Ox.

Also, my sign is the dragon. I would make “an ideal king.” I find this very exciting.

Also: “ombligo.”

I’m here blogging live from Beth Israel Hospital where my friend is getting a lumpectomy. That is when they feel your boobies and say hey there’s something not right about your boobies. They are a nice size and shape and whatnot but there’s something a little strange. Oh look at this! It is a “mass” but let’s call it a lump because it’s cuter and not as scary. (Why not call it Henry or James or even Henry James since he was a big fan of boobies? I don’t know.) So now they are removing Henry James which is good because quite frankly, he was a real prick. There I said it. We got here at the ass crack of dawn, at the hour when the only people on the train are constructuon workers going to work to build homes and homeless people who will not be living in said homes.

Anyway now she is inside going sleepy time and I am in this waiting room with three other people who are also sleepy time. One has his mouth gaping open. I’m trying to resist throwing pennies into it like a fountain.

An aside: Au Bon Pain has really shitty coffee. It’s like light brown tepid water which might come out of my faucet.

Anyway the point is this: if you are a girl and have boobies, as girls most likely do, check your boobies for Henry James. The guy is a dickface. The kind of bro who will show up to your place uninvited and eat all your cereal. Do you like cereal? Yes? Ok then check your boobies. Done and done.