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.

Early Saturday morning I woke up with this strange feeling that I was being watched. Something in the room. I don’t know if you’ve ever woken up with this feeling, but it’s like you suddenly wake up because something is off. Your body senses it. You feel that something is not just looking at you, but maybe even looking through you. With crazy eyes. I dunno how I got this feeling while I was sleeping, but it just kind of came up. So I woke up. And what do I see?

AN EYEBROW CRAWLING UP MY WALL.

NO, IT WAS NOT MY EYEBROW. SHUT UP.

I don’t know what kind of insect it was. It’s the kind that looks like an eyebrow. It’s probably poisonous. A poisonous, creeping, crawling, squirming, slithering eyebrow that has way more legs than it needs.

Listen, insects, why must you have so many legs? Everyone else gets along fine with just four legs and or even two legs. Because two is all we need. Having six seems totally unnecessary. And having twelve legs or however many this eyebrow had is just offensive. Like you are showing off. Guess what? I AM NOT IMPRESSED. YOU DO NOT NEED THAT MANY LEGS.

I have no idea how this eyebrow got into my apartment, but it was raining the night before so it was probably like, hey, this place is nice and dry and look she has cereal. I think I’ll hang out here and oh look I think I see some friends rocking a party on her face. Oh wait, those are just HER EYEBROWS. Oh well, now that I’m here I shall just hang out and look at her until she wakes up.

*sits and stares*

So, of course I flip out because I am not a big fan of insects, which is to say that I hate them and I am afraid of them. I mean, I like what they do for us and our planet, blah blah blah but I rather not see or hear them, kind of like children ha ha ha. No really. Anyway I ran to get a cup and a piece of paper because I just did not have it in me to kill it. NOT because I am against killing insects, I just really did not want to deal with the mess. I just imagined squishing it and then having like all these legs fly everywhere, all over my bed, which is totally NOT an option. So in the four seconds it took to gather my trapping tools, the eyebrow climbs up to where I can’t catch it. Clearly it knows I’m coming. I mean it probably has twelve eyes to go with its twelve stupid legs. So then I kind of wait and watch it crawl very slowly. With all those legs you’d think it’d be really fast, but actually it’s quite slow. But then it FALLS OFF THE WALL so now you know that having two really good legs is better than having twelve crappy ones.

So it actually FALLS INTO MY SHEETS and I flip out and actually cry OH GOD NO and move the sheets around to get it under the cup and it falls BEHIND THE BED. And I realize I can’t move the bed because it has drawers filled with stuff. So then I have these nightmares of this eyebrow making more eyebrows in my winter sweaters and whatnot. Then I see it come up the wall again and by that point I have lost my cup somehow. So I grab the most toxic thing I can find in my apartment, which is Tilex. And I spray the crap out of it and it falls BEHIND THE RADIATOR where I can’t reach it, so I spray it some more and hope it dies. And now there is a dead eyebrow behind my radiator. Getting crispy.

I mean I hope it’s dead. Maybe it’s not dead. Maybe it is still somewhere here.

Current mood is disturbed.

THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN DO OR SAY TO STOP ME. I AM GOING TO THROW THIS PIECE OF CRAP OUT THE WINDOW AND WATCH IT FALL SIX FLOORS FROM MY OFFICE BUILDING. THEN I WILL DOUSE THE CRUMBLED PARTS IN GASOLINE AND LIGHT IT ON FIRE. THEN I WILL GET THE ASS WHO HAS BEEN PISSING IN OUR STAIRWELL TO PISS ON THE FIRE SO I CAN THEN DOUSE IT WITH MORE GASOLINE AND LIGHT IT ON FIRE AGAIN. YOU CANNOT STOP ME. YOU CANNOT HOLD ME BACK. THEN WHILE I’M THERE, I’LL DOUSE THE ASS WHO HAS BEEN PISSING IN OUR STAIRWELL IN GASOLINE AND LIGHT HIM ON FIRE. THEN I WILL ROLL AROUND IN THE ASHES OF MY COMPUTER AND THAT ASS WHO HAS BEEN PISSING IN OUR STAIRWELL. I WILL REVEL IN HAPPINESS. I WILL MAKE LITTLE ASH ANGELS OR USE THE ASHES TO ROLL IT INTO A FATTY AND SMOKE IT.

Or, I can ask the tech guy to help me out. He is on his way.

BUT IF HE DOESN’T COME NOW I’M GOING TO THROW THIS OUT THE WINDOW. OR MAYBE I WILL THROW IT AT THE FIRST PERSON I SEE, WHO HAPPENS TO BE A VERY NICE PERSON BUT IN EVERY WAR THERE ARE INNOCENT VICTIMS.

Today I am at the office, making the Internets. Because that is what I do. I make the Internets for a living. A series of tubes I help create just for children. Anyway, what I’ve noticed the last few weeks is that our stairway smells like pee. As in urine. It’s overwhelming and disgusting. I do not like the smell of pee. I think in general, people do not like the smell of pee. If people did, then they’d make pee incense, air freshener, potpurri, and scratch n’ sniff stickers, and that is just not the case.

Anyway, I just found the source. It is indeed urine. Someone peed in our stairway, sixth floor. Guess what? It was not me.

If you are reading this, and you have peed in our stairway, please clean it up. It will be challenging since it is dried, but the stain and stench is unmistakable. You have peed in our stairway and people are cross. Please refrain from peeing in our stairway in the future. I’d like to recommend peeing in a toilet. Toilets are nice because you can pee in them and then your pee goes away (only if you flush). I’d like to recommend flushing too.

Thanks.

ROACHES ARE IN MY BATHTUB. They get in, but they can’t get out. Just like the mafia.

Current mood: disturbed

OH GOD.

They are coming out of the faucet. OUT OF THE FAUCET! The only thing that should come out of a faucet is water. Or beer. But definitely NOT ROACHES. I imagine turning on the water, and then just a string of roaches gushing out. I feel nauseous.

Current mood: nauseous

They are big. Like New York City-sized. We’re talking airplane carriers. When you cut them open more roaches come out THAT IS HOW BIG THEY ARE. So I am sitting here wondering what to do. I do not like to kill them. No wait, I want to kill them, but I do not want to touch them. I do not want to squash them and see their roachy bits all over my bathtub. Also when you smash a roach it has this distinct smell. It smells like vomit and darkness and hopelessness. Like you kill this one but there are MILLIONS MORE COMING DOWN THE FAUCET RIGHT NOW. AT THIS VERY SECOND. It’s really the hard candy shell that gets me. Like they have this hard shell but inside they are all juicy, so they squirt when you kill them. Some of them come out OF THE FAUCET dead, which is a mystery. Others are peppy and ready to rage and party in your apartment and drink all your beer eat all your scooby snacks and take all yoru wimmin, if they could just get out of the damn tub. I tried turning on the hot water to boil one to death, but guess what? My urine is hotter than the hot water that comes out of the faucet. Yes that is disgusting, but IT IS TRUE. I had to sit there while it took this nice bath, it was like ah, this is it, right here. Can you give me some bubbles? Maybe a little antenna massage? Meanwhile I am like DIE MOTHERFUCKER WHY WON’T YOU DIE?

I am feeling ornery today. I do not know why. There is something in the air that is making me want to deliver serious beatdowns. At first I thought that the something in the air was onions, because that is what my apartment smells like because the restaurant downstairs really likes to fry onions for no particular reason other than to make my apartment smell like onions. A friend suggested I cook fish to get rid of the smell. I remember going to a dinner party and my friend made scallops and dinner and it was all delicious because he is a good cook but everyone’s clothes smelled like scallops and even my mittens and my hair smelled like scallops and then I went to another party where everyone was like what smells like scallops? And I was like, I dunno it’s totally disgusting, that person should leave right now. And then when I went home to shower, it smelled like a scallop steam bath, it was totally redonk. I don’t even eat scallops, but you know what I learned? A little scallop steam bath makes the ladies go wild. Take note boys, I had to beat them off with a stick. Like beat them really hard. I felt kind of bad about doing it, but it also kind of felt satisfying. I don’t think that gyms should have boxing or Tae Bo or whatever. They shouldn’t even have weights. They should just have a ring with a car in the middle and then give out bats and have people go apenuts on it, kind of like Michael Jackson in Bad except without the crotch grabbing. I mean I guess people can grab their crotches, I am not one to make the rules in a gym. I leave that up to the professionals. But I would join that gym and actually go, crotch grabbing aside.

Anyway this thing in the air is also making me want to scream and kick things, mostly people. It is also making me want to throw sweet ninja stars at the fashionistas who are in town for Fashion Week. The things people are wearing on the street are totally out of control. Like you look like an idiot! Stop it! You are making me look like an idiot just by being near you. Second hand idiocy. I heard someone say that the “collection this season is very spiritual.” I do not know what that means unless the collection was designed by Jesus. But maybe that is just me.

Sorry. I am being ornery.

I am going to listen to Sam Cooke and do the cha cha.

Steve just told me that his Homie got SNATCHED. He received an envelope with my note, but with no Homie. I’m really sad. And in addition angry. If you have to steal and be a jerk, then take money or drugs or some electronic equipment that you can actually GET MONEY FOR, YOU MORON. LEAVE THE HOMIES ALONE.

So now I worry that all the Homies I have sent off in the world are going to be Homie-snatched too. And all of you will remain homieless. I’ll have to start some kind of fundraiser for the homieless. So to my human homies, I apologize that New York-based United States postal workers cannot be trusted with toy Homies, I’m sorry if you don’t receive yours because of some filthy Homie pirates.

I will be mad pissed if my Homie doesn’t make it to Australia. Can you imagine? It takes like a hundred years for crap to get there, and then on the other end, you just get a stupid note without a Homie. Like what is the point of even living.

Boo.