ATTENTION: MOUSE HAS BEEN CAUGHT. SUCCESS! IT IS THE ONLY SUCCESSFUL THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED IN MY LIFE.

TURNS OUT THAT THE MOUSE VERY MUCH ENJOYED ORGANIC PEANUT BUTTER FROM THE WHOLE FOODS WITH AN ORGANIC ROASTED WALNUT GARNISH. IT IS A VERY BOURGEOISIE MOUSE BECAUSE IT LIVES IN NEW YORK CITY, IN SOHO. WHAT I MEAN TO SAY IS THAT THIS MOUSE DOES NOT KEEP IT REAL IN THE STREETS. ACTUALLY, RIGHT BEFORE EATING ITS SNACK AND THEN DYING, IT WAS READING THE NEW YORKER AND COMPLAINING ABOUT THE WINE SELECTION IN MY APARTMENT. IT WAS JUST ABOUT TO WRITE A TUMBLR POST OF ANIMAL COLLECTIVE’S INSTALLATION AT THE GUGGENHEIM WHEN IT HAPPENED UPON THIS VERY DELICIOUS, VERY BOURGEOISIE LOCAVORE RAW ORGANIC SNACK AND THEN, GOT ITS NECK SNAPPED. I VERY MUCH DOUBT IT ENJOYED DYING. LISTEN. I DON’T FEEL BAD. I DON’T. SUE ME. NO I DARE YOU, EFFING SUE ME YOU CLOWNS. ALSO, I’M TOTALLY OVER THE NEW YORKER. I AM MORE OF A HARPER’S PERSON.

NOW, I SHALL SANITIZE MY ENTIRE APARTMENT. INCLUDING MY OVEN. MY OVEN, YOU GUYS, IT WAS IN MY EFFING OVEN!!!!

THEN, I SHALL RESUME writing blog posts in upper and lowercase so I can stop yelling at you. I’m sorry for yelling, I…just get so excited. And ragey.

VICTORY!

ATTENTION: I HAVE FOUND THE MOUSE. IT HAS FOUND ITS WAY OUT OF THE OVEN AND NOW IT IS RUNNING LOOSE IN MY APARTMENT. I AM HAPPY TO ANNOUNCE IT IS IN GOOD AND ACTIVE HEALTH. I HOPE SOON TO DESTROY IT.

HEY MOUSE, I HOPE YOU LOVE PEANUT BUTTER. IT IS ORGANIC AND FROM WHOLE FOODS. YOU CAN FIND IT RIGHT HERE, CONVENIENTLY LOCATED BETWEEN STOVE AND REFRIGERATOR.

PLEASE ENJOY. IT IS JUST FOR YOU.

I have a mouse.

I have had mice before. I’ve probably had a lot of mice, actually, but I don’t really want to think about that. In my time here in this crapbox apartment, I have killed two mice. By execution traps. I do not believe in sticky traps, those are cruel. But I also do not believe in those have-a-heart traps because, sadly, I do not have a heart. I want to DESTROY and KILL. DESTROY AND KILL TILL THEY ARE DESTROYED AND KILLED. It is not like I am killing giant pandas here. They are mice. Yes, they have feelings. But, I also have feelings. These feelings include rage, anxiety, maybe a little bit of fear, disgust, and the ability to ignore feelings of compassion to kill mice. I am human! I’ve got opposable thumbs. Opposable thumbs that help me set traps to kill mice. Muuhahaha! That is my evil laugh! Which I can do because I am human! Muuhahaah!

So the problem here is that the mouse is stuck in my oven. And not like in the baking area. I mean INSIDE my oven. In the guts of my oven. Where the pipes and the wires and coils all meet in some kind of oven jungle. I have a feeling it’s stuck inside and can’t get out because I hear it gnawing at something. And not gnawing on food, but like, on something metal. It’s really trying to get out of there. So when you bang on the oven, it sorta just stops. And then starts right back up again. It doesn’t scurry away. Probably because it CAN’T. FUCKKKK. There’s a mouse stuck in my oven!

So yes, I turned on the oven, but then I felt guilty and also, baking a mouse is thoroughly disgusting and probably not healthy. Also I am vegetarian, so baking an animal is not something I do. Also, like, what’s the best temperature to bake a mouse at? 375°? 450°? That’s degrees F (Europeans you will have to do the math). So I turned the oven off. But then all night this fucking MOUSE was trying to gnaw its way out of a stainless steel box. Look, buddy, COME OUT THE WAY YOU GOT IN. Oh wait, you don’t remember because you are a stupid mouse. Gah.

Right now the mouse is quiet. However, I know that mice prefer the night, much like hookers. So I must wait to see if it found its way out, somehow. Why did it get into my oven in the first place? I barely use that thing because it leaks carbon monoxide. Not to mention the fact that now it’s probably leaking a shitload because the mouse ate through the tubes. So now I’m probably going to die. Yeah, I do have a carbon monoxide detector, but sadly, it is out of batteries. Oh well. If you don’t hear from me it’s because I got really, really sleepy.

Hey friends,

Things got a little sad for the past two weeks or so, but now I am back and better. For those of you who do not know: a friend from college passed away and then a co-worker also passed away. Two separate incidences that happened more or less within 48 hours of each other. It’s been sad. But, things are better. For the record, I am glad February is over because it is truly a bullshit stupid month.

The last time I saw Peter was at my friend’s wedding. He showed up in Rhode Island without a hotel, because why would he bother with a hotel? Classic Peter. Just show up and it will work out. People will take care of you. It is like 50% sweet and 50% pure annoyance because I am more or less the opposite. I had my hotel reservation for like…six months. I am all organized n’ shit. So he and my friend Don (who also did not bother with a hotel because, let’s face it, only one person in a group needs to be organized, everyone else can just chill and hit the bong or whatever) crashed with me and Rosalyne and Peter spent all night snoring something FIERCE (like fierce in a bad way, not fierce in a fabulous, Lady Gaga in a camel-toe-leotard way) and in the middle of the night, Don punches him and says PETE YOU ARE FUCKING SNORING and Pete says, “What? What do you want me to do about it?” All indignant. And guess what? He was right. What the fuck is he supposed to do about it? It was a golden moment. But, in addition, I wanted to kill him because seriously, he snored SO LOUD it is like a pile driver in your earholes. I should also mention that Rosalyne snores too so it was like snoring in STEREO. I had to roll Rosalyne over on her side at one point. Like an infant. Then Pete woke up and made himself a bloody mary. Again, classic Peter. He was like, do you want some, and I was like uh I just brushed my teeth, dude.

Also, I should mention that Peter’s favorite book was HAWAII by James Michener. It is probably the worst book ever written. Seriously. You read the first paragraph and you are like WTF this is pure CRAP. I can shit a better book than this. I don’t even know how many times he read it. He would finish the last page, and then start right back at the first page, cigarette dangling form his lips, with an ash about an inch long. Worst. Book. Ever. At first I thought he loved it ironically. But then I realized he actually truly, madly, deeply loved the book. I want to say it’s about indigenous Hawaiians and maybe some white people come along and fall in love with some kind of Hawaiian and maybe there’s some kind of war with the natives? I don’t even know. All I know is that the book is about Hawaii and does not feature Magnum P.I. so I was not interested. But now I feel like I should read it. He would be so proud of me if I read it. But I would also hate him for it. Which, knowing Peter, he would also like.

So thank you Peter. It was truly an honor, and there are many people who will miss you. You should know that. I’m sure you do not give a shit, because that is your nature, but you know, people miss you. No, no, no! YOU shut up! My love to Eunice and his family. I’m not sure how a family recovers from something like this, honestly, but it will happen. It has to.

As for my co-worker, Naomi, she was battling cancer for a long time. What’s surprising was how strong she was. She just was always together. Like hey, this thing I have, whatever. I will beat it maybe, or maybe I won’t. But I’m just going to live a normal life and meet deadlines, checking email while getting her treatments. It’s crazy. If I were in her position, I probably would’ve bawled my eyes out and then really hammed it up so people would bring me ice cream. That is how I roll, sue me. Naomi and her husband have one of those relationships that make you realize that relationships can actually work. Truly one of those ‘love of my life’ connections and you are surprised because it’s so rare to see that now. But, she laid out what she wanted, and everyone carried it out. She made things easy. I missed the funeral service because I was in California for Peter’s. There’s nothing like missing one funeral because of another. But, I heard it was beautiful and fitting for someone so beautiful. So thank you, Naomi, it has been an honor. Tell Peter I said hi and to shut up.

So friends, I thank you for all your support.

And, in other news, my neighbors are still naked. I am now leaving my curtains OPEN in the hope that they will SEE ME and realize OH SHIT SHE CAN SEE ME and then get curtains that actually work. But so far this plan has severely backfired. The other night, the girl was BUTT NAKED and sitting on her futon and she was FIGHTING with her boyfriend, who was fully clothed. I am not entirely sure how you even get into a fight with a naked girl. Like you must have done something really, really wrong for that to happen. I was confused. But also, she does not know how to use her indoor voice. So she was just yelling and quite frankly, it was kind of shrill. Too shrill to make out separate words. I can only imagine what it is like inside their apartment.

Then she storms out, and soon after the dude drops his trousers, scratches his nuts and talks on the phone.

That is when I decided to close my curtains.

I guess officially I am spying on them, but DUDES THAT IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DO NOT HAVE CURTAINS.

Attention NYC area peeps: Tonight it’s Pecha Kucha from 4-7 at Cooper Union (in the Great Hall). It benefits Architecture for Humanity’s efforts in Haiti. $15, but suggested donation of $20.

What is Pecha Kucha? Each speaker presents 20 slides but gets only 20 seconds to present each slide–the slides move on with or without him or her. It’s fun and awesome and if the presenter sucks, it’s guaranteed to be short anyway, so no big deal.

Tonight’s line-up is JAM PACKED WITH ARCHITECTS. This may scare you. That is, SCARE YOU WITH AWESOMENESS! The program is full of heavy hitters: Stan Allen, Jesse Reiser, Steven Holl, Gregg Pasquarelli, Paul Lewis etc. There’ll be black sweaters and expensive eyewear and good times. This is a great chance to see what people are working on. For example, Paul Lewis is working on his double McTwist 1280. Stomp it!

Check it here:

http://pecha-kucha.org/night/new-york/9

Come tonight! I’m helping out in some capacity, working the door maybe? Come say hi. It’s for a great cause.

I hope that the next Pecha Kucha benefits a cure for OLYMPIC FEVER.

Thanks to Marco for organizing the event!

I just had a very sad day of flying. It snowed A FOOT in Dallas/Fort Worth, which messed up the airports. Plus Texans are like what is this white stuff y’all and it’s like yo, buddy, it’s SNOW but you don’t have to DRIVE THREE MILES PER HOUR IN IT. I mean seriously, Texas. It’s snow. It’s not like small Chinese orphans lining the street. You can actually drive on TOP of it and no one will die. However, I have to say Texans are like the nicest people. Everyone was saying hi and thank you and it was just totally off putting. I was like no one has told me to fuck off in two days I feel a little lost. I need a hug. And a swift kick in the nads.

It also snowed a thousand feet in NYC, so it messed up those airports. I happened to be flying through Dallas to go to NYC so I was double punched. Pow! Pow! So what that means is that I spent a lot of quality time at the airport and then spent quality time on the runway. And then we spent quality time in the plane while it was getting de-iced. And then I spent quality time in a cab sitting in traffic. So much quality, you guys. It was restaurant quality, in fact.

The cabbie was UNREAL though. We were sitting in traffic because, hello, it’s rush hour and before a three-day weekend, and I was trying my best to direct him around according to the Google Maps traffic fairies and the dude just blows up. Laying on his horn, yelling at people, yelling at ME because it’s obviously my fault that everyone wants to leave NYC over Prez Day weekend. And then, we’re on the streets and there’s this fire engine trying to back up into its garage and the cabbie flips out and is laying on the horn. AT THE FIRE ENGINE. I was like dude, it’s a fire engine! And it’s like one of those firehouses where half the guys died in the towers on 9/11 too so there’s always flowers and candles and photosin front of the firehouse so the cabbie is looking like an even bigger monster prick. I was totally embarrassed. So I was like come on, just let the dudes park their truck, it’ll take five minutes, tops, and then he totally ignored me and kept on laying on the horn. What I mean to say is that the cabbie was not projecting a very positive image.

So now I’m home.

What a better way to relax than watch some shiba inu puppies! Warning: You may squeal.

Hello, friends. It is very very cold here. I know there is some place that is colder and someone will say oh yeah? I live in Anarctica and it’s a lot colder here, quit complaining you rancid whore, you have it so good. But that still doesn’t change the fact that it’s cold here. It “feels like 12F” if you believe the rancid whore that is the Weather Channel.

The bad part is that my landlord turns off the heat at night for several hours because he, too, is a rancid whore. And also cheap. A cheap, rancid whore. But apparently this is legal, which means somewhere someone is responsible for making these wack laws and when I find this person I am going to deliver a very severe and savage beatdown. I would like this person to live in my apartment. I would also like my neighbors to have really loud and obnoxious sex without using their curtains just so this person can truly understand what it is like to be me in my apartment. It is a sorry state of affiars in cold windy Annietown.

I actually wrote to my public advocate regarding the heating laws and the rent stabilization laws last year and all I got back was a form letter saying hey, we received your letter, sweet bro. And that was it. But now like every other week I get re-election flyers. They don’t have time to look into every request or letter, sure, but it’s a little insulting to get re-election stuff saying shit like “we care about you and your community and your rights blah blah issues blah blah concerns blah blah let’s make our communities better one block at a time blah”. Like, how about you shut up ans get us some heat, narch! I am not so sure my public advocate is even doing anything other than trying to get re-elected.

It’s kind of like when I finished graduate school. I got my first loan payment notice the same day I got a letter asking me to donate to the school. Like, dudes. I owe you over $50k. I am not going to just GIVE you more money just to be nice. I’m not that nice. I am, in fact, poor. Go away.

The good news is that I still owe a lot of money! Yay!

New neighbors moved into the unit across the alleyway from me. So we are in two different buildings, but they are basically next door to me. If I go out onto my fire escape, I can almost touch their fire escape. That is how close we are to each other. We could set up cute little sytrofoam cup phones. That’d be cute right? Not really. Styrofoam is bad for the environment. Our beds face each other. Like! At camp! They are practically my roommates. Except they are not. Because they suck. That is not to say a roommate cannot suck, but if my roommates sucked, I’d totally throw them out of my house. I’d probably get all dramatic too, like throw their clothes out the window. I’ve always wanted to do that. It’s like a dream of mine. GET! OUT! OF! MY! HOUSE! And then there’s this cascade of clothes and bad CDs and random sporting equipment and maybe a TV if it’s not too heavy. The point is, my neighbors are NOT my roommates and I cannot throw my neighbors out of their house, which is sad, because I really want to.

They moved in weeks ago and didn’t have curtains. NO CURTAINS! Ladies and gentlemen, CURTAINS are among the FIRST things you put up. Curtains and toilet paper. Everything else you can do later. But you NEED curtains (especially if you live in NYC and you can touch your neighbor’s fire escape). And, of course, you NEED toilet paper. I cannot say for sure if my neighbors have toilet paper. I mean, they may not. I don’t know. If they don’t have curtains, why would they have toilet paper? But I can definitely confirm that THEY DID NOT HAVE CURTAINS.

So I did all these passive aggressive things like walking past MY window so it is obvious that YES NEIGHBOR YOU CAN SEE ME WHICH MEANS I CAN SEE YOU! OMG! And then I modeled good behavior by closing my curtains. OMG NOW I CAN’T SEE YOU! RAD! YOU GUYS SHOULD REALLY GET ON THIS CURTAIN THING. IT’S THE BUSINESS. So for weeks, I’d see my neighbors spooning or whatever, etc. Really awkward. It’s like coming home and finding strangers spooning on your bed. Like. Dudes. That’s.. my bed.

Fast forward to a few days ago. Neighbors! Got! Curtains! Joyous! Celebration! Balance was restored. Now we can both trade off having them open. That is what I did with my previous neighbor Monsieur European-Underwear Man. That is another story for another day.

So then, today, I come home. My curtains happened to be open. And there I see my neighbors. Having sex. Loud sex. With. Their. Curtains. Open.

So what I’m trying to say, is that my neighbors do not know how to use curtains.

Also I’m trying to say that my neighbors do not understand the value and sanctity of private space in the City of New York. Or they just don’t care that they are having sex in my apartment. MY apartment! Strangers! Having sex! In my apartment! Seriously, I just washed those sheets, too.

Also I’m trying to say is that what I have seen cannot be undone. There is no control-Z (command-Z if you are on a mac) FOR MY EYEHOLES.

Whilst walking to the Village of the East I came across this beast. According to the banner in front, it is an “award winning” building. I believe the award is for Biggest Suck.

I know its hard to believe but the double helix band aid in front is not structural. It’s “decoration”, the way you might stab yourself in the eye so you can have a really cool scar that makes you stand out and, I suppose, win awards.

A new store just opened on my street, where a men’s shop used to be. This men’s shop kind of sucked. So I was hoping something useful would pop up in it’s place. Like a bookstore or a music store or a natural foods store with a bulk section (I LOVE bulk sections shut up) or a candy shop or a musical instrument shop or a nice, chill bar or a place with really excellent coffee or a shop that serves stuff on toasts or a place that only sells kale because kale is tasty or a place that teaches you how to tie bowties or maybe a public living room where you can go and hang out and watch TV and cook dinner or a place with ping pong and pinball. What i mean to say is that the potential for awesome was very, very high.

It’s a store called Wool and the Gang hahaha The tagline is “Crazy Sexy Wool”. This is where you can insert your own pun (Angela already said Celebrate Wool Times, Come on!) It is a high-end yarn place. Like fancy ass yarn. Fancy fancy yarn made by some ladies in some part of some place with some kind of animal raised on some kind of organic business so that it grows some kind of magical hair or fur that gets shaved and then spun by children with large dewy eyes and nimble fingers and during lunch they run around in mountain meadows. Mind you there is ANOTHER fancy yarn place a block away. This other yarn place happens to be expensive too. Can someone tell me WHY does my neighborhood need ANOTHER fancypants yarn place? Why not a Target or a Commes Des Garcon pop-up store or a place that lets you play with kittens and ducklings by the hour? A YARN store? Seriously, people. It’s bad enough there’s two doggie lifestyle places in my neighborhood.

Oh I meant to mention that this place also has dog sweaters. Dogs don’t need sweaters. They are born with sweaters already. That is what makes dogs rad. They come clothed, it is awesome. So now, in a block, there are three places where one can buy doggie sweaters. This is NOT including the American Apparel down my street which also has doggie clothes, but those aren’t sweaters, more like gold lamé unitards. For dogs. Obviously. Duh.