This morning, I eat oatmeal. I think there is no possible way my tummy will protest. Oatmeal is chewable water. I get the oatmeal. I eat the oatmeal. It is surprisingly delicious. I think oh yes. This is food. I am enjoying it.

Then the tummy hurts. I am displeased. But I soldier on with my day.

Later I get vegetable sushi. I think well this is rice and cucumbers. It is about as mild as if gets without being oatmeal. I eat it and decide no, no this won’t work at all. I can’t eat it. It does not taste good. My tummy believes it is poison. It says no thanks. Please send this back to the kitchen this won’t do at all. I am hungry and I cannot eat. This is basically my hell. I am usually an eating machine. So when the machine breaks, I am sad. Very sad. I cry emo tears. Emo tears of hunger. I wonder if people will start raising money to feed me. Probably not.

Later a coworker offers me a potato chip. I eat it.

IT IS GLORIOUS.

Salty. Crunchy. Delicious. It becomes clear quickly that I will house her whole bag. So a coworker buys me my a bag. It is my destiny. I eat it. No tummy ache. So salty. So crunchy. It is what I need. I am happy. I have found something that agrees

And then I get a tummy ache. I get ginger ale. I try to hide my emo tears.

It is dinner. I am hungry. There is a large group of people. They want pizza. I say ok. On a normal day, pizza is my death. My kryptonite. I cannot eat it without feeling some form of regret. Cheese is a real ballbreaker of a friend. I get a salad. But the pizza calls to me. It says eat me. I am delicious. I can be yours forever. I try to resist. I eat my salad. It is a salad, not a pizza. So obviously not a pizza. So I eat a small slice.

I have lost this battle. It was a horrible choice I made. Imagine you swallowed a grizzly bear whole. Imagine now the grizzly bear does not like being in your tummy. Now imagine it trying to claw out. It Is like a reverse Little Red Riding Hood.

It will not have a happy ending.

It is however a great way to lose weight.

I just had my first meal in twenty hours. I had toast. Toast is always so friendly and kind and loving. It appears to be staying inside my body so far. This can change. Things change.

Yesterday I had mentioned that I had returned to the living. Well guess what?I was lying. I am a liar. My pants are on fire. Sue me. As soon as I wrote that I got a crazy fever and passed out. And then I tried to eat something which only succeeded in making me totes nosh, as the kids say. I am miserable. I want to die again. My stomach feels like something is clawing its way out. I do believe I have pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicavolcanoconeosis. That’s a real disease. It’s fatal. Side effects include dry mouth and uncontrollable high fiving. My goose is cooked.

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.

So this morning, I come to the office and just like any other day at the office, I open my drawer to get out some papers. Documents, if you will. But what do I find underneath my documents?

MICE SHIT.

SHIT. FROM MICE.

How do I know it’s from mice and not say, a dog? Good point. I’m not sure. I can only ASSUME it’s from mice. I have not SEEN the beasts who have made the shits. It could very well be a dog. It could also be a minotaur. I hear those shit too. But let’s assume it’s mice. Once a co-worker came to the office and smelled something bad and it was a dead mouse. In his office.

MICE POOP IN MY DRAWER.

But wait! What if it’s just ONE mouse? How do you know it’s mice, as in plural of mouse? Hmm, good point. Well, there was a lot of poop. So it’s either one mouse with a very active and enthusiastic lower G.I. or a bunch of mice was slightly less active lower G.I.’s. But still active nonetheless. There was also dried pee.

I threw EVERYTHING out. All my documents. Totally. Fucking. Disgusting. I doused the thing with bleach wipes. I then I washed my hands with the bleach wipes, put hand sanitizer on them, and then washed my hands with soap.

I don’t even keep food in my drawers. I don’t even have food. Karina has my food, remember? So I think, what if they are LOOKING FOR A PLACE TO NEST. Oh my god. I’m getting the hurlies just thinking about this.

MICE! Poop! In! My! Drawers!

My friend Mary P-S tells me that mice do not like spearmint. You get spearmint oil, douse it on some cotton balls, shove it in the drawers, and hope they scamper off to somewhere else. Most likely to the desk next to me. I just purchased some spearmint oil on the tubes. If this shit doesn’t work, I’m lighting the whole place on fire. You think I’m kidding but I’m not. Do I work in an alley? No. I work in an office. A modern office, not some turn of the century Oliver Twist shit, you know what I mean? At least I don’t work above a Wendy’s, but still.

Hopefully the exterminator will come and napalm the building. And the city with it. But this won’t really help my drawers. I SHALL EMERGE THE VICTOR. I am outnumbered, no doubt, but I SHALL BE VICTORIOUS.

In other totally unrelated news, I am writing a movie on “cups, pints, quarts, and gallons” and was researching on the interwebz and googled “what comes in quarts?” Because, I wanted to know (other than milk, juice and paint.) And then I found this.

http://comesinquarts.com

Keep refreshing!!!

Hello from (greater) Los Angeles! My time here has gone something like this: driving, driving, driving, park, driving, driving, driving, oh no traffic, beer, beer, taco truck, brrrrr, Lost Boys 2: Shit Sandwich, driving, driving, huevos rancheros, yay, zzzzz. That’s it. I’m helping my brother find an apartment and holy shit it sucks. No no it SUCKS with a capital SUCK. I realize no matter what city you live in, finding a place is exactly like kicking yourself in the neck. But wait, Annie! It’s imposible to kick myself in the neck! That’s where you’re wrong, buddy. And right. Today’s gem included a studio that had a shared bathroom which the landlord didn’t mention in the ad. Like did she think we wouldn’t notice? That was some New York shit right there. Also I’d like to point out that L.A. was COLDER than NY the last few nights. That’s COLDER with a capital SUCK. Tomorrow we shall continue the pain and suffering. And driving. Did I mention the driving? Also I’m helping Mike find a car too. I’m like his PA. That’s personal assistant, to be clear. I am not his Pennsylvania or whatever. But I should get some kind of trophy or something for doing this. Mike: give me my trophy dammit. Where is my trophy!!!

Also Korean food, how I missed you, old friend. You never judge me. You just love me and give give give. Sniff. I love you.

I’m here at lovely John Fitzgerald Kennedy International Airport waiting for a flight to the greater Los Angeles area. On the way here I saw a rainbow over Queens. It was the filthiest, most polluted rainbow ever. Then whilst in line at Jamba Juice, a woman flipped out because she didn’t like the employee’s attitude, and got all “I’m going to sue!” and then an old man collapsed in the terminal and the medics came. And now they are playing Wham! in the terminal. Which came after Kenny G version of Auld Lang Syne. I can’t tell if I’m having a positive or negative experience.

Happy Holidays!

Today I’m going to the dentist, where he will ask me to open my facehole so he can install a crown on my toof. This crown happens to cost eight hundred United States dollars. In addition, while he is “there,” he would like to replace an old silver filling that is more or less the same age as myself. This will cost fifty United States dollars even.

It occurred to me today that the crown is the most expensive thing I own, except for my computer and my keyboard (musical, not USB with the coffee on it). Actually the crown is worth more than my computer since that beast is about three years old. So the second most expensive thing I own is this stupid crown. EIGHT HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS! I must part with EIGHT HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS during this economic meltdown! I feel like it should come with a free toaster. A few years ago if you opened an account at a Commerce Bank in Chinatown they gave you a free rice cooker. A FREE RICE COOKER. All I get is a toothbrush, but I have to ask for it because during these tough economic times, the dentist is being stingy with the toothbrushes.

I went to the dentist yesterday about my toof. Turns out I needed a crown. Turns out this little crown costs EIGHT HUNDRED UNITED STATES DOLLARS. This is WITH insurance. WITH!!! I was like just pull the whole thing out and my dentist laughed and I was like no really, I’m serious and he was like no really, it’s eight hundred. If you want you can pay for half now.

Great. How convenient. Pay FOUR HUNDRED now and in two weeks pay another FOUR HUNDRED. Because in just two weeks my entire financial situation will change! In two weeks I’ll be all, ONLY four hundred? Shit, I could pay you NINE HUNDRED just because you’re such a nice guy. So anyway, what am I gonna do? Put it on the card.

So then he was like it’s probably time to replace this old silver filling you have in the back because there might be a cavity under there it’s hard to say, and since you are already Novacained up, I can go ahead and replace it. (I got that thing when I was like seven). And I’m like shit but that’s another THREE HUNDRED! I have to WAIT. Or else I’ll be pouring my entire paycheck into my mouth, and yet somehow NOT in my stomach which is where it usually goes (I eat a lot for a small person) or to my APT which is where it SHOULD go.

So now I have a temporary crown and my mouth and gums are kind of sore. They took a molar, grinded it down to a little nub and then put a fake crown on top of it while the real thing gets cast in porcelain or whatever. I haven’t felt like eating, which is really sad. I am an eating machine! I am always hungry. The first thing out of my mouth is almost always: dude, you hungry? I dunno I require more food than most humans. It’s because RAGING is energy-intensive. Or I’m just grossly inefficient at processing food, like a panda. Anyway I can’t chew on my left side so only the right side of my mouth will be having Thanksgiving dinner. I’m going to Perry Street. It will be douchetastic and “pretensh” but delicious (for the right side at least).

Yay and boo.

I am officially on staycation! It is the second best kind of vacation. Vacation is obviously the best kind vacation, but a staycation is not that bad. I am here, blogging live from my apartment in New York City. I have already vacuumed and mopped. I have cleaned the bathroom. I have washed the dishes. I had a Very Satisfying Cleaning Experience where I took the hose attachment out and vacuumed the wall moldings. Oh yes. That is what I did. It was maximum satisfaction, just like a Snickers bar or whatever. Seriously, I had a little vacuum woody I was so excited. Then I vacuumed behind the heater. It was like a graveyard of dust bunnies. I could’ve made a sweater out of that shit. I was scared of it and yet highly satisfied at the same time. Hmm what now? I am downloading music. I am purchased clothing from online stores. I am drinking coffee. I am looking for a new apartment on Craiglist like I do every week and like every week, I am not finding anything.

It is a truly glorious day already.

Except for the fact that I have a CAVITY!!!!!!!

OMFG. My tooth is screaming at me. It is calling me horrible things. It is calling my mother horrible things. Every time I drink something hot or cold or basically drink anything wet it gives me the big finger and then clocks me in the jaw. I want to drill that shit out myself but instead I am going to the dentist tomorrow. My dentist’s office pumps in Cher and Britney and George Michael remixes and my (gay) dentist totally sings along as he drills the crap out of my mouth. It is painful on many different levels, but fun in a strange way. If you guys need a dentist, my dentist is the jam. Cher comes free with the cleaning. You also get a toothbrush. Come for the toothbrush, stay for the Cher, that is what my mom always says.