Sweet!
Awesome! Historical! Riveting!
Ok now, note to President Obama: FIX IT!!!!
Mesa
Two things, completely unrelated.
The first is that I saw Jeremy Sisto at a bar on Sunday. It is like a bar/restaurant in Tribeca, not fancy, but it’s not like some dive bar full of old men with no teeth. It’s you know, classy but with chicken tenders, you know what I mean? A completely acceptable casual bar with completely mediocre but acceptable food at completely acceptable, casual prices. Anyway homeboy was wearing sweats. SWEATS. Come on. Like workout pants. They were Adidas. I know they were Adidas because they had stripes on them. But then he was wearing a regular suede coat on top. So it’s like only his legs worked out. Anyway I say this because I like Jeremy Sisto, but come on, you are on TV, you make a million dollars an episode, why don’t you wear some real pants. However, I just want to make it clear that it’s not really acceptable for anyone to wear track pants with a suede coat, whether you are some kid from Jersey or if you are Jeremy Sisto. I did not see if they were the rip-off kind of track suit pants. Those are hilarious. Like break-away pants, here are my nuts!
The second thing is that I had to look up the word “mesa” on Wiki for something at work and I am very sorry I did. “A microsurgical procedure to extract fluid and sperm directly from an epididymal tubule, where sperm is stored.” Good GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE? WHAT HAVE I DONE? I did not do a image search.
So, to review, Jeremy Sisto, thumbs down, mesa, thumbs down. It is one of those days.
I am covered in rain.
Columbus! or Thanksgiving!
Happy Columbus Day! Which is a weird thing to say, actually. Happy winding up in the wrong part of town and raping the natives day! Yay! Give me your spices, you Indians from India, that is, if the India were the Bahamas! Let me reward you with rape and slavery!
OR, if you prefer, happy (Canadian) Thanksgiving! In Canada, it is just known as Thanksgiving. In the States, it’s known as (Canadian) Thanksgiving. I’m not sure what the history of it is, but I’m gonna guess it has also to do with natives and some kind of raping, which is put on hold, to give thanks, for just one day. I am sure the Canadians of Annietown can illuminate me on this. I could go to Wikipedia and learn all about it, but it’s much better if I can make up my own little story about it until someone corrects me, just like the way Fox News does it. And then, like Fox News, I will ignore it. Trust me this is a much easier way to do things. Try it at work, it is so much better. “Duncan, you missed the deadline!” “No I didn’t, chief. It was last week.” “No, no, didn’t you see the schedule?” “Oh the schedule! I see that I am actually early. Sweet, I’m going to take the rest of the day off.” So much better. My god, I should write an employee handbook. Maybe that will be Book 3. (I am working on Book 2 now. Tentatively titled, Book 2.)
SNACK ATTACKED
Listen, I’m very angry right now. I’m not sure how to handle this anger. There’s so much of it. So. Much. Rage.
So I go into Karina’s office because I want snacks. Karina and I have a very special relationship where she buys snacks and I eat them. It’s very sacred, something I hold very dear. She keeps buying snacks and I keep eating them. We’ve been doing this for several years now. Sometimes she is in the office working and I go in, grab my snack, and then leave. I occasionally mutter thanks. Most of the time I demand them. WOMAN SNACKS IN MY BELLY NOW! And she just points to her desk drawers and feeds this monster she calls her friend. Then the next time I come back there are more snacks. We have a very good and special relationship, as I mentioned above.
So this afternoon I go into her snack drawer. The woman keeps two snack drawers. TWO. That is how serious she is about keeping me snacked. She does not fuck around. Karina might take forever to make a decision about where to go to dinner, but when she is at Whole Foods she is in full fledged Wall St. nosedive to the snack aisle. Seriously, get out of her way. FUCKING SNACKS you feel me? So the top drawer has a bag of flaxseed and a box of instant oatmeal. Kashi Oatmeal. Maple and Brown Sugar. That is her “breakfast snacking” drawer. I am unimpressed. The time is almost 3 post meridian, I am not in breakfast snack mode. I am in SNACK SNACK mode. So I open drawer number 2. This is where she keeps the good shit. Last week she had Annie’s Organic Chocolate Graham Bunnies. Holy shit it’s like little chunks of crack cocaine. Heaven in a 100% post consumer waste recycled box. So I am hoping she has more bunnies for me.
I open the drawer and I see a box of Chocolate Brown Rice Krispies Treats (which are good despite the name) and a bag of Soy Crisps, BUT OH MY GOD WAIT THERE ARE HOLES AND LITTLE BITS OF FOOD EVERYWHERE.
Mice.
FUCKING MICE. Attacking my snacks! Thwarting my snacktime! Eating MY snacks that Karina bought FOR ME (her). WTF!!!!! NOOOOO! MY SNACKS! Those fuckers ate it all. They chewed through the box and through the wrappers, leaving a trail of snack behind. I’m so ANGRY at these dumb mammals. Listen, mice, you did not PAY for these snacks. Nor did I but at least I am a human mammal. I work and could conceivable BUY my own snacks, but don’t because I am too lazy. I am also getting “the milk for free” etc. Listen, mice. Do not go near my (her) snacks again or else I will destroy you. I will set out traps and when you are dead I will scream and then have someone else take care of the situation. Because I am human. I have the opportunity to get someone else to handle my situations. Like, for example, my snacking situation.
So long story short, I do not have ANY snacks! No snacks! I’m going to starve, do you understand? Already I am feeling weak.
I also learned an important lesson, which is that mice do not like Kashi instant oatmeal or flaxseed.
The Report Report
On Saturday night, Lizzie gave me and J.Mo extra tickets to see a New Yorker Festival interview with Stephen Colbert. Holy. Shit. He is honestly the Best Guy Ever. They should call his show Best Guy Ever with Best Guy Ever. Anyway it was an interview where he wasn’t in character. The man teachers SUNDAY SCHOOL! Dude, can you imagine going to Sunday school, whining all morning about going, and then your parents dragging you in the car and you’re like waah I hate jesus I hate it all I hate church it sucks and it’s for god loving losers and then you go and STEPHEN COLBERT is your effing teacher? Dude. I had no idea. Anyway he was saying the kids have these insane questions like “Who came before god?” and “What is outside of time?” Hahaha obviously the answers are eleven and refrigerator, respectively. These questions are pretty similar to the kind we get at the office, but then there’s occasionally a kid who has been totally brainwashed being like, you are wrong there are no such things as dinosaurs and we are like oh dear god no. (Which reminds me of a kid I knew in kindergarten who was CONFIDENT that lions did not exist and unicorns were real and totally REFUSED, as in throwing tantrums, to believe anything else and you could tell my teacher was like you know what, kid? Suck it, life is going to suck for you.) Anyway I do admire the fact that Colbert tries to believe in and practice a religion but also questions it. (“Sometimes I’m good at it, sometimes I’m not.”) It’s not an easy thing to do and a pretty brave thing to admit to a room full of New Yorker readers who, you know, have a thing for being not religious and are sometimes small-minded about people who aren’t the same. Either way, it makes Colbert like a human with human abilitiues, which is strange. He also talked about the one time it was hard to keep character was when Jane Fonda was on and like sitting on his lap and blowing in his ear and he was like totally embarrassed and his staff writers went out and bought him flowers that he could take home to his wife. So he brings them home and his wife is like WHAT DID YOU DO? She watches the show and was like DON’T YOU EVER LET ANYONE TAKE OVER YOUR SHOW LIKE THAT AGAIN. And Colbert was like “But then I’d have to flip her over on the desk and really go at it. She still has some Barbarella in her.”
So there you go, that was my review.
Here is my review of EnvironKids Peanut Butter Panda Puffs:
Boner.
Thank you.
Don’t Ever Get Married
My friends Karina and John are getting married this weekend, so I’ll be heading out to the Jersey Shore (pronounced sho-uh) to get drunk, pretend to get shit stuck in my eyes, and refuse to dance to “YMCA”. But I just wanted to say OH DEAR GOOD GOD NEVER EVER EVER GET MARRIED EVER. The amount of work required so that everyone can party is totally insane. I mean get married blah blah, but just, like, do it at Pizza Hut or something. If you do it at Burger King you’ll get a crown, for FREE! None of this eight thousand dollar deposit crap or whatever it is. I don’t even know, I pulled that number out of my ass, but I know Burger King would be cheaper. Anyway, it’ll be fun. There is some kind of beach/water/ocean involved and I believe the couple is getting married underneath a skeleton of a whale. I dunno I’m totally making this shit up. I’m excited! I’m staying at a place that looks like Barbie’s dreamhouse (but in a good way?) and Karina said there will be dolphins. DOLPHINS. In fact she keeps texting me OMG OMG DOLPHINS DOLPHINS. I have not linked her to all the YouTube videos of dolphins trying to sex up people, and vice versa, because I am a classy lady. Anyway I better see a fucking dolphin or I’m totally going to GO OFF. In Canada, I did not see minks or beavers as promised so I’m on high alert for bullshit promises, but I should be used to this since I live in America. But you know what I mean.
The Final Frontier
I DID NOT KNOW THIS:
Uranus, seventh planet from the Sun, (INSERT YOUR ANUS JOKE) actually ROTATES ON ITS SIDE. On it’s side!!! So the other planets spin like a top, but Uranus spins like a rolling ball. That means its poles are where other planets have their equators. DUDE. MIND EXPLOSION. How have I lived this long without knowing that? Did everyone know this? I am totally late to this party. And now I show up and everyone’s dressed up like Karl Lagerfeld except me. Like I just totally missed something. DUDE. ROLLS LIKE A BALL. I hate myself.
Scientists think a planet hit “your anus” when it was just starting to form and knocked it on its side.
Listen, I want to LIVE THERE. Except for the fact that it would suck royally, it would be really nice to live on a planet that rolls but I would get really tired of the anus jokes.
ALSO!
I like the word “kibble.” It’s a very cute word. It’s way cuter than “nibble” which to me sounds a little snooty. Mostly because when I think “nibble” I think little cucumber sandwiches that taste like air. But “kibble” is kind of cute. If I ever have a pet I will name it “Filbert” after the nut.
I am alive! Eaten alive!
I have returned from Canada, where I was conversating with nature. There was this thing called a “lake”, you might’ve heard of it. Totally strange. All this water…like totally surrounded by land. And yet there’s still fish in there and everything. Trees. Rocks. Birds that float in the water. FLOATING BIRDS do you understand? TOTALLY INSANE. What is up with that? And then people ride this thing called “a canoe” where they paddle with very large chopstick things and I was like, but wait, why paddle when you can attach a motor on that shit? Ha ha ha. No really.
The week was spent learning “white skills”. In fact we called it White Assimilation Week. I learned to canoe, play squash, and sail. Squash is fun, I have to say. I’m very shitty at it but I do like to hit things very much. Very satisfying I can see why Paleface likes it. I did not water ski because it looked totally painful like the boat is going to pull your arms off. Maybe white people’s arms can come off, I need to run more tests to find out. But, can it even GET WHITER than sailing? I don’t know. But I had a good time. Sailing is pretty fun, especially when you accidentally throw someone out of the boat without even knowing. All the sudden I turn around and like I’m alone in the boat, Hey! Come back here! Anyway I learned an important lesson: White people sure know how to have fun! Also, stars. There are a lot of them. AT least three or four dozen.
I went hiking too. Lathered myself in so much insect repellent my skin was burning off and I got a spider bite anyway on my arm and it’s all swollen and pussy. Totally disgusting, I do not recommend stepping foot into Canada because the entire country will try to eat you alive. Anyway it sucks to be back. New York City is basically the complete opposite of where I was.
I woke up to find a cockroach in my cabinet. Ugh.
Anyway, I see that Doretta has behaved very well. I’m surprised she didn’t run amok and call everyone assholes. But thanks to Doretta for subbing here at Annietown. She will now go to her regular Canadian Prime Minister of Annietown duties. Doretta your country was beautiful, you’ve done a great job. I hope you are proud, etc.
From the Guesthouse: On Rain and “Keeping It In the Pants”
Annie is “going hiking” in a part of Canada that I’ve never visited, and likely will never visit. It is a place of cottages and Easterners. I get itchy just thinking of the mosquito bites. Lucky for me, Annie will be collecting the mosquito bites while I enjoy my West coast summer, which is like winter, except with less rain.
Anyhow, I spent all night wondering how I would “keep it in the pants,” yet write about Rain, the Justin Timberlake of Korea, not Vancouver’s main form of weather. I figured I’d get my mandatory Rain post out of the way on my first day in Annietown. Why? I want to win the love and affection of Anne-Mommy, whose adoration of Rain is greater than mine. And I want to stick to Annie’s Rules, because I like the way my neck works and really don’t need Annie to punch me when I next visit her.
So yeah. I’m writing about Rain…but I must “keep it in the pants.” This is hard. Things keep trying to leap out of my pants. I mean, look at him:
How am I supposed to “keep it in the pants”? I really don’t want to be punched in the neck or impeached or have loyal Annietown readers rip the special Annietown sash off me. I’m in a bind. Should I just comment on his dancing skills? Or on his much-improved wardrobe choices over the years?
I get it. This was a test from Annie. It was Annietown-style hazing. I think I passed. I kept it in my pants.
P.S. A big thank you to Nathan for fixing my tech issue! Otherwise, Annietown would have been a ghosttown all week and Annie would have punched me in the neck.