The big news today is, of course, Eliot Spitzer and his love for whores. Listen, people love sex, that’s why people have it. People love whores, that’s why we have them. So it is not unreasonable to think that some people love sex with whores. It’s the transitive property. See? Math is useful it teaches you about Eliot Spitzer. Either way, what sucks here is that he cheated on his wife and screwed over his family in public. Like if you are a politician and/or married, you just have to not love whores. At the very least be a little more secretive about your love for whores because people are watching you. That’s what I don’t get. How many sex scandals has our government seen? And yet…there are more scandals. Like dudes, don’t you watch the news? Are you an idiot? Also, paying four grand for a whore? I am clearly in the wrong profession. I think in France every politician sleeps with every whore in Europe and no one seems to care because maybe politicians are not held to the same moral standards, which may or may not be a good thing. Maybe they are just more transparent, like yeah, man, I love whores and you elected me, so what? It is kind of refreshing, but still, if you have a family then you have made a commitment to not be an asshole, you know what I mean? I don’t have a problem with the whores. I have a problem with people being assholes. Either way, our government needs a bouncer.

Invention Deathmatch is coming soon, Aaron B (THE LOSER) and I are working out the details. It will be amazing, especially when Aaron B. dies from losing. He’s going to get Spitzered big time.

I can’t tell if the universe is like, hey Annie, I am down with you let’s be BFF 4-eva k thx or if the universe is like, hey Annie, I hate you and I will slap you on the mouth.

About two weeks ago, I had band practice. You know how moving is a pain in the ass, with all the packing up heavy stuff and moving heavy stuff and then unpacking heavy stuff? Well basically everytime I have band practice it is like moving. It SUCKS. Monthly spaces are too expensive, so we use hourly spaces and that means we have to HAUL HEAVY SHIT across town. So to make my life easier, Heather keeps my xylophone for me because she doesn’t have to bring anything with her, except for her voice, which is pretty portable last time I checked. Meanwhile Andy and I have to bring like two tons of shit. Which is fine. I will move heavy things in the name of rock. DO YOU SEE HOW DEDICATED I AM?

Anyway she accidentally left it in a cab two weeks ago and we basically went into oh-shit mode. That is when you say “Oh shit” several times in a row, in case you are wondering. We filed a report with the Lost Property Unit. This sounds more official than it really is. Basically you call, leave a sobbing message about your lost property, and then no one calls you back because there are more important things the NYPD does than look for your stupid xylophone, like track down criminals and tow cars. Then we called every taxi garage in Long Island City and Manhattan to no avail. There’s literally like 50 garages in Manhattan alone. So as a last-ditch effort, I posted an ad on Craigslist’s Lost & Found, which is like a forum of desperation. It’s full of people who have lost their cute pets and their iPods and their wallets and their grandmother’s wedding ring and it’s like you KNOW no one is ever going to find anything. But I posted anyway. Long shot. Now we have a show coming up so I thought, OK. I have buy another one. THIS SUCKS. So I bought one on Ebay.

Last night I got an email from a woman who was trolling on Craigslist and she happened to work for Checker Cab. And she happened across my ad AND OH MY GOD SHE HAS MY XYLOPHONE. One of her drivers brought it in. I almost peed myself. I was like HOLY SHIT ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? What are the odds?

Then I thought. WAIT A SECOND. I just BOUGHT a new one and can’t return it because it was from Ebay. So that is when I realized the universe was taking a piss on me. I am standing here, wet from piss. I can tell you right now the universe had asparagus for dinner last night.

So now I have TWO xylophones. TWO! That’s one more than I need, and like TWO more than normal people need.

If you are not normal and want a xylophone I will sell one to you.

If you already have a xylophone, and want another one, I will sell one to you.

And in an unrelated note, we just got an email from a kid “What do emo people do? What is emo exactly?”

So I am working at home today and suddenly I heard this INSANE LOUD sound. Like the sound of a building crashing. And I kind of sit at my desk/kitchen table/coat rack thinking, oh man, do I go outside? Do I want to see whatever it is that made that sound? Then I heard the ambulances and the fire trucks and then I heard helicopters and people yelling. So I thought, do I really want to know what’s going on? Am I better off not knowing? I am conflicted. So I think, OK. I’ll go outside, and be that rubber-necking gawking asshole.

Turns out there were a lot of other rubber-necking gawking assholes gathered on my street because they had evacuated some of the buildings in the area. Apparently there was an accident at the construction site for the new Trump “Hotel/Condominium” on Spring and Varick. It’s not totally clear what happened, but sounds like scaffolding fell, wet concrete and debris fell and hit nearby buildings, the 42nd floor collapsed into the 41st floor, and one construction fell to his death. It’s bad. That Trump Tower has been a huge controversy mostly because Trump is a total dick and really sleazed out on this project. It’s a huge tower that’s going up and he had to finagle the zoning in order to do it. Is it a hotel? Is it a condo? Who can be sure!

According to NY Times: Owners will be permitted to live in those apartments for 120 days out of the year, or 29 days out of any consecutive 36 days; when not living there, owners will be able to rent out their apartments.

Ha ha ha, he is not fooling anyone, except I guess for the city officials who let them do this garbage.

Trump had problems with the area being landmark so they are racing to finish the project before the courts decide on it. This means accidents happen. The whole thing is sketchy. But more importantly, IT IS UGLY. Like fine, if you’re gonna be a dick, at least make it cool. But you know, it’s Trump. I remember watching an MTV Cribs (best show ever) with Trump and it totally blew my mind how ugly the whole thing was. I’m like this is a joke, right? LIFE-SIZE CERAMIC TIGERS. That’s all I have to say.

It’s hot and I’m pretty sure something has crawled into my air conditioner and died because when I turn it on it smells like death. OK you’re right, it doesn’t smell like death. It smells like mildew. So that means mildew has crawled into my air conditioner and died. I cleaned the filter, but it still smells like junglefoot. Did I mention it’s hot? No? OK, it’s really hot, did you know that?

Last night there was a tornado in New York City. Or maybe it wasn’t a tornado. The scientists haven’t agreed yet. NY Times says OH YEAH BIG TIME TORNADO LOOK AT BROOKLYN IT IS HOSED. And them some meteorologist says NO CALM DOWN YOU JUST GOT A LOT OF RAIN. 17 INCHES IN AN HOUR TO BE EXACT YOU KNOW OTHER PEOPLE HAVE IT WAY WORSE HAVE YOU SEEN SOUTHEAST ASIA STOP FREAKING OUT. But you know, it’s New York. People like to freak out. That’s why I live here. For the ample opportunities to get my freak out. Anyway, the point is this: I don’t really care. Tornado or not, it wrecked the trains and I had to walk to work, which isn’t bad because I don’t live so far, but I really like the option of taking the train because I like options. Options are what makes us human and not like amoebas. Amoebas have only two options: Do I divide now? Do I divide later? Humans have at least six, maybe seven options. But apparently taking the train was not one of them this morning. So now we’re down to like five options. Which makes us just a hair better than amoebas.

And this architecture thing refuses to go away: Marc, editor over at Pidgin, tells me Abitare, some fancy high-fallutin’ (sp) architecture magazine is going to reprint my piece. I only know that it’s a fancy high-fallutin (yes still sp shut up) architecture magazine because architects tell me that. I’ve never heard of it. Because I’m not an architect. As we have already discussed. Man, I don’t talk about much on this blog anymore do I? Anyway, this means more hate for mail and love letters for me. I’ve been told it’s been translated to Italian, Hungarian, and some strange language where the c has a fancy, little hook. Portuguese? I like languages that have festive letters. Like, I totally want a c with a fancy hook in my name. It’d give me major pirate cred. I’d even settle for an ñ. That’s like an n with a festive hat. Hats are cool. I dig em.

It’s 11:44. I’m about to go eat dinner. Why? Because I was waiting for a friend to finish work. Oh you know where this is going I don’t even have to say it. We’re going to Blue Ribbon because it’s close and open, two things I value in a restaurant at this hour. Sadly it is expensive, but home to the best $12 hummus you’ll ever have.