I have a headache.
I have a wicked headache.
Not wicked as in cool,
but wicked as in bad.
And not bad as in good,
But bad as in bad.
Not bad as in Michael Jackson,
But bad as in Michael Jackson.
You get me?
This is the part where I curl up under my desk with my binky and not answer my phone. And then ultimately my coworkers will find me under my desk and I have to pretend I am fiddling with cables or something. Oh hey, I have another USB slot here, etc.

I have just trapped a spider underneath a glass because I did not have the cojones (ballz) or the cajones (drawerz) to kill it. I’m not sure what to do with it. I am considering my options. It is not a large spider, but it is not a small spider. For example, I see that there’s a little blue spot on the spider. Interesting, very curious. No doubt it is poisonous and will kill me and small children and puppies. However, it is not hairy, which is a plus. But now it is under a glass. I am looking at it. Hello, spider, I’m sorry. Also, you have many legs.

This is a very similar situation to the cockroach I found in the bathtub a month ago. I put a piece of Tupperware over it and also considered my options. My options consisted of calling up various friends to “take care of the situation.” Eventually it was JoMo who “took care of it.” He said it was dead already but I assured him it was very, very alive when I trapped it under the Tupperware. So I guess Tupperware does not really keep things fresh. Something to consider when you are in the market for Tupperware. Anyway this spider is very much in an alive state of being, and I am once again, considering my options.

On Friday night I had drinks with a big group (read: architects) to honor Troy who was leaving OMA and heading off to teach at Rice. I think eight or nine offices were represented. At some point Troy tried to count but he was too wasted and got confused and then someone handed him a beer and he was not confused anymore. That is a good tactic. If someone is confused at work, hand him or her a beer. Suddenly, everything is clear. I’m telling you, it’s magic. Anyway that’s totally beside the point. We were drinking and dining al fresco, which is a fancy way of saying “eat and drink outside and watch Annie get eaten alive by mosquitoes.” Note that no one else got bit. I have no idea how this works, but I got something like eleven bites all over my legs.

So here is something interesting: mosquitoes feed mostly on nectar, but females are the ones that bite and feed on blood because they need the extra protein and iron to lay eggs. What I’m trying to say here is that the bitches are the ones causing problems and getting out of pocket. Also what I’m trying to say here is that the bitches love me. I need pants made out of Calamine lotion.

So last night I saw this amazing apartment in Greenwich Village. It was in a MEWS! Like a carriage house behind the actual apartment building that is on the street. Very cute. Gardens on both sides! 300 sq ft! It was an illegal sublet but whatever. Anyway I was really into it and the guy renting it seemed really excited about me and I was filled with….hope. For the first time ever. Hope. It feels a little strange and I didn’t realize what it was. And then I figured it out later. Hope. It kind of feels warm and fuzzy, but also sparkley. You know like fairies and ponies and unicorns, shit like that.

And then he told me he had to go with the first person who looked at the apartment. Which was not me. I was crushed by hope. This must be what Hillary feels like. Beat by hope. Bleah. I’m right back where I started. I’m never feeling any hope ever again. EVER. It sucks.

My loud Australian neighbor who talked on the phone (loudly) on the fire escape and talked about her Man Trouble (loudly) moved out! I just looked out my window and noticed her unit is empty. Success! Also, she was in big, big need of curtains. I don’t know if she didn’t realize or didn’t care that everyone on my side of the building could see her naked, but you know, not in a good way. Also, she is kind of a slob, but no judgment here. She is gone! I hope that my new neighbor does not suck it. I am kind of surrounded by sucking neighbors so one less is an improvement.

I am in a bit of a quandary. JoMo’s co-worker is moving out of his apartment and there is a chance I can take it. It’s pretty much the same size as mine, if maybe, a little bigger and more like a narrow rectangle as opposed to mine which is shaped like the state of Utah. It’s cheaper, which is good, but I wasn’t necessarily looking to move into a CHEAPER place, just a bigger/better place. The apartment is on 1st St and 2nd Ave which isn’t a bad neighborhood but I feel that I’m a little too old to be living in the East Village. There’s a lot of kids screaming like OH MY GOD BEEER YEAAAAH or CHICKS! YEAH! WOO HOO! At least my neighborhood now is quiet and empty at night. I’m not sure what to do. I hate this apartment but it looks like I’d be moving to another apartment that I’d hate too, it’d just be cheaper. Bleah. I mean I like my neighborhood better, I like living next to good friends, and being a few blocks from the Hudson, but you know, it’s a shoebox.

I have trapped a cockroach in my bathtub underneath a Tupperware container. It is ready if you want to take it “to go” or for “take away.” It will stay fresh. You can have leftovers tomorrow.

You know how earlier today I posted about how I spilled water on my computer but MIRACULOUSLY things were ok?

Well. They’re not.

The keyboard is totally messed up, as is the touch pad I think. The bottom keys don’t work at all (I’m using an external keyboard right now). So now I have to go to the APPLE STORE and get a new keyboard. But that means I have to schedule an appointment with a “genius” because I think I still have Apple Care on this assbag but I’m not sure. I really really hate Macs. But I also really really hate PCs. People hear me whine about this all the time. If you can get SIXTEEN kinds of sugar from the store and all of it comes from the same stupid plant, why can’t we have 16 options for computers? Anyway this isn’t nearly as bad as the HARD DRIVE failure from a few months ago. I am backing up now. I suggest you all do the same.

So there you go. Sadness everywhere. It surrounds me. I should never ever drink water again.

In other news, RT, an old classmate who now lives in Minneapolis, is a very crafty kind of lady, in addition to being a kick-ass writer. I believe when I first met her I thought to myself, Oh my god she is totally student class president. Not the popular annoying one, but the ambitious one that wants to change things for the better and you are like oh man you are making us look bad please go away. But the she did go away, to stupid Minneapolis. God I hate her.

Anyway, as I was saying, the lady is crafty, which means she makes things with her hands. Like things involving needles and I don’t mean like shooting up or anything. She has created a bag NAMED AFTER ME! Sweet! I am going to buy it because it’s literally my bag. But for those girls who like a good tote, this is it.

I can’t sleep. This sucks.

I just cleaned the bathroom. It is very clean. I am now debating whether or not to dust the shelves. But what I really want to do is vacuum, but I don’t think my downstairs neighbors would appreciate that. On the other hand, he is like 100 years old and can’t hear for shit. But still, I should be a good neighbor and all that crap.

You know every time it rains, my apartment smells funny. Funny, not as in ha-ha, but more like funny as in my apartment grew a poopchute and something crawled up in it and died while wearing gym socks filled with chum. I don’t know what it is. It’s dank and kind of icky. I don’t get a lot of circulation either. You know, what? I live in a real dump. One day I will get the cash monies to live in something suitable for a real grown-up. There are a few ways I can get the cash monies.

1. Rob a bank which has many cash monies.

2. Mug a person who has many cash monies.

3. Make my own cash monies.

4. Ask people with cash monies to give me their cash monies just because I am a nice person who doesn’t vacuum in the middle of the night to wake up her ancient deaf neighbor.

5. Not be a writer.

I guess those options kind of seem impossible.

Alright, I should go lay in bed and look at the ceiling and watch out for the crawling eyebrows because they tend to come out after it rains.

All day I’ve had to answer this annoying question, “So, what did you do over the weekend?” Listen, everyone. Stop asking me this question. Just because everyone gets a holiday, doesn’t mean everyone has to do something. Really, this question only reminds me that I didn’t actually do anything over the weekend. Nothing at all. Literally, I did nothing. But it wasn’t a good kind of nothing. It was the kind of nothing you feel guilty about because you should be doing SOMETHING because hey, it’s a three-day weekend, what a great opportunity to do something. Go out of town. Go grill something. Go to the park. See some people. Go see some art n’ shit. Get some writing done. But instead I did nothing but think about doing many things and then totally did not do them.

“So, what did you do over the weekend?”

The answer is nothing.

Let’s see, after I did nothing…I did more of nothing. Then later, I did nothing. I was very busy with nothing.

Meanwhile everyone else did many things. People went all over the place, what is that about? My friend’s brother proposed to his ladyfriend. People went to Fire Island. There was some rooftop parties involving champagne. Moyer went to Mexico. I was here. I can’t even say I was sitting on my ass doing nothing. Because that’s actually doing something. I just sort of floated maybe.

At some point over the weekend, I got two mosquito bites on my arms. No idea how that even happened. Mosquitoes decided to punish me. Very curious.

You know how sloths remain so still that algae grows in their fur and there are like entire little ecosystems going on in there with bugs and all that stuff? And how their internal organs are shifted because they hang upside down all day and don’t move? I like sloths. I understand them. I see a sloth and I’m like hey man, I dig your style. And the sloth looks at me and is like, word. But you know, says it really really slowly. Wooorrrdddddd. And somewhere in the middle while saying that it falls asleep. Now how can sloth be one of the seven deadly sins? I mean they are so cute. They are like children wearing a suit of hair.

Speaking of hair, this week is Beast Week. I am going to take care of the beast for a week and a half. This is the same beast I had to take to the vet’s office a few months ago, for those who remember. For some reason, Aura asked me to cat sit again and for some reason, I said yes. I think we were both surprised by the answer. Aura says if the beast dies on my watch it’s OK because she really wants a dog. That made me feel better. She also told me that while in Florida over the weekend (she is one of the many that did something), she ended up in some pet store and they were selling doggie shirts that said “I miss my balls.” I thought that was funny. It would be extra funny if a guy were wearing it. Just saying.

I was house-and-cat-sitting on the Upper East Side again, this time for the Siben-Manning-Davies family. I realize that is what I do for a living now. I just go to people’s apartments and pick up poop and marvel at how all of that can come out of something so small. A total mystery. Anyway, the S-M-D family has a cat named Bailey who is the most non-cat cat I’ve ever met. And I don’t mean that it’s like a dog, it’s just not very cat-like. Like if you try to chase it, it immediately rolls over on its side. WTF? What cat does that? It’s docile and passive and I am used to Aura’s cat which will fill a tube sock full of rocks and smack you in the balls when you aren’t looking. And if you DON’T have balls, it would find the nearest set and smack them just to send a message. Kind of like how you have to beat someone up in prison right when you get there. This is why everyone who visits Aura’s cat has to wear a protective cup. Anyway this is not the point.

I decided to be healthy and take advantage of Central Park while I was house-sitting. Their apartment is a block away from the park. I figured, OK, Annie, time to jazzercise and run even though nothing is chasing me. Just run willingly in the name of health. So I did it.

It sucked.

First of all, every single plant in Central Park was blooming. Do you know about this? Apparently in the spring, all these stupid green things decide to do stupid things like grow and release anthrax into the air and this causes my face to blow up and my eyes to start watering and my nose to start running and it is like I’m taking a shower in my own snot (in Korean “snot” is translated directly to “nose water” which sounds a lot nicer than it actually is). So I run around for a bit, crying my eyes out, and then I run into a SWARM OF GNATS. Do you know about this? They swarm in like large patches and then ultimately I run through it because I don’t run with my glasses on. Then they decide to swarm around me for the rest of my run. And then when I opened my mouth about half of them went down the hatch and I ended up swallowing it. So my guess is that I ate 20% of all the gnats in Central Park. Good news is that I’m not hungry.

Now, if you excuse me, my entire office is going to go bowling.