I am now at the JFK airport where I am waiting for my flight to Hong Kong and listening to an extended Muzak version of “Whatever Lola Wants”. The original song is already “easy listening” but I have to say, this version has to be the easiest thing I’ve ever listened to. It is like the audio interpretation of 1 + 1 = 2. If this song was a quiz question, it’d be “What is your last name? _______” I suppose someone could find that question not so easy. For example, Prince. He might be like, ladies and gentlemen love has no last name. Madonna might take issue with the question too. But, I take issue with Madonna, so there’s that. Oh and Cher! What about Mr. T? Point is, this song sucks it and Mr. T is a bad ass. His underwear is made out of Chuck Norris.

I am here way too early. This marks a very important milestone for me and I demand some form of acknowledgement. Even a slow, sarcastic clap will do. Normally I am running through the airport and cursing everyone in front of me who hasn’t learned that dude, you can’t bring that 40 oz of Gatorade, oh look you are trying to chug it like a pro, and yes, take off your shoes, oh hi there lady on the cell phone with the perfume. you are wearing boots with a thousand lace holes, maybe you should’ve worn your Ughs. Sometimes I want to die because I’m behind the family with a toddler and infant twins on the lap of
an old lady in a wheelchair, yeah I know that makes me an insensitive prick to children and the elderly but you know when I’m late I’m a total insensitive prick and do not act like you have never been in that situation before.

But now I’m luxuriating at Gate 6 with like an hour and a half till boarding. I’m dying of boredom even before I get on my SIXTEEN HOUR FLIGHT. Why is Asia so far? Let’s move it to California. it belongs there.

So yes, I’m super stoked about going to HK and Ho Chi Minh City!!!!! It’s on like Kong, yo.

I meant to post this earlier. But if any of you are in the Los Angeles area and wonder, hmm if there was only a place where I could get a sunless tan and also a flu shot… Well, hit me up because I have a great recommendation. The bad news is that it’s in the VALLEY. But the bonus is that it’s ONE STOP SHOPPING.

Next door you can find a place where you can get a colonic, a knitting class, and get your dog groomed. Note that “dog grooming” is not code for anything. JK. It is total code for a handjob shack. OH SHIT ANNIE PLEASE BEHAVE.

I went to Fire Island.

This is what it looks like during the day:

This is what it looks like at night:

This is the “most photographed dead tree on Fire Island.”

This is a (different) tree wearing shoes:

This is a gate with a hole in it so the dog can poke her head out. It’s a doghole. Which is what I call your mom, OH WHAT?

This is graffiti with a confusing message. Keep it classy, Fire Island.

Today is my birthday. This means you can’t yell at me for not blogging in a long, long time. I’m specifically blogging today because I know you guys have to be nice to me and not bitch me out for being a bad blogger because it is the anniversary of what is most likely the third most important day in my parents’ lives. Maybe even fourth. Shit, maybe I’m not even in the top five! That is sad, though not surprising I suppose. There’s their meeting/getting married, moving to the States, having my brother, and having me. The question is whether or not my mother kicking cancer is more or less important than me and my brother’s births. Hmm, anyway, the point is, it is a somewhat important day. For me, I’d say it’s an adequately important day. Therefore, you must be nice. Let’s keep things civil, people.

I just returned from my yearly visit to Canada. It was very Canadian, thanks for asking. This is what I saw:

It was a regular, non-double rainbow all the way. You can’t see them, but that rainbow is entirely composed of mosquitoes that were all chasing me. I managed to get a mosquito bite on my face, which feels awesome, and one dangerously close to my ass. They attack me when I’m going to the bathroom and my defenses are literally down. Bastards. Bastards!!!!

I should mention that while I was there, I did see another Korean girl. She was working at the grocery store. I am sure that she went home and told her parents that she, too, saw a Korean girl. Funny how that works.

So what have I missed?

I took this picture in Berlin last fall. Specifically this was taken at Checkpoint Charlie.

Yes people, that says Snackpoint Charlie.

So when like people were like trying to escape the war and the death camps and all that boring shit (zzzz), they totally made a quick stop to get an eggplant parm and a chicken lo mein. It was crazy! They were like holy shit, next time we should come here for dinner instead of waiting in line for soup. And everyone was like for realz, Fraulein, pass me the soy sauce these egg rolls are da bomb and then everyone laughed because you know, saying something is da bomb is particularly hilarious during WWII. Then they opened their fortune cookies and did that thing where they end the fortune with “in bed.” So funny, even back then. Fact.

And another photo: My friend and I were walking around Wall Street area just for the goof as they say, and we happened upon the Wall St. bull.

Here is a person touching its balls. Rubbing them for luck, I presume. I don’t know who this person is, but I am positive this person is going to have really good luck just like everyone else on Wall St. I should note that there was a group of tourists WAITING IN LINE TO TOUCH ITS BALLS. And, in addition, people taking picture of said balls. I suppose I would fall into the second category.

But seriously dudes check it out. The bull has gigantic balls. And he is a lucky bull because there are many people who want to touch its balls. Note how shiny its balls are. They have been touched many, many times.

OK, one last photo. I recently took a look at a West Village apartment. The dude tells me, listen it’s on the ground floor, but it still gets light. So I go take a look because I am curious.

That’s the front window. As in facing the front. Yes those are stairs blocking the window. Yes the apartment isn’t technically ground floor. It is more like basement floor. Which is to say lower than the ground, or, if you will, underground. It is also a very small apartment. So it is a perfect apartment if you do not like light or space. It is also a perfect apartment for those who love to spend money on rent. If you like the smell of trash, then it is perfect because the building’s trash cans are conveniently located outside your window. Rats and heat are free though, which is nice. Oh, also, the other windows face the air shaft. So it is also a perfect apartment for those who do not enjoy air, or enjoy air that has been in one place for a long time.

My naked neighbors finally got new curtains! Actually, they are blinds, and they even go all the way down so I no longer have to see their nether regions. I no longer have to see the dude talk on the phone (loudly) and scratch his testicles. For this I am grateful. You know what I was thinking? The dude would scratch his sweaty balls whilst on the phone and then eventually he’d switch hands so his ball-covered hand would be all over the phone. So what I’m trying to say here is that his phone probably smells like balls. OMG I AM NAUSEOUS. It’s like sometimes you use a mic and it smells really really bad. Like the contents of someone else’s stomach. It is kind of gross. So do you think his girlfriend ever picks up the phone and think, hmm, this phone smells funny. And yet familiar. Like my boyfriend’s balls. Anyway this is what I was thinking. And now, through the power of words, you are thinking it too. Enjoy that, it was for you. A gift from me to you.

Your welcome.

In other news: My lease is up. So I must decide whether I should stay in this crapbox apartment or move into another crapbox apartment which may or may not be the same rent. I have a feeling it might be more. So I must make a decision. I am thinking I should move to another crapbox apartment. Seems like the right thing to do, I think. I like that after months of my neighbors being naked and making loud sexy time, they finally get curtains, and THEN I move. Ha ha ha. Sigh, sob, laugh, repeat.

Last weekend I went to Detroit. Yes, Detroit. Yes, there. No, I didn’t get shot. No, I didn’t see Eminem. I did however drop my camera and shattered it. The ironic part is that I did this while TRYING TO PUT ON THE WRIST STRAP SO I WOULD NOT DROP IT. Basically it was like destroying $300. Like oh is that $300 I see? I better rip it up and then light it on fire.

Look how nice it looks! I did notice that I can still take pictures, I just can't see what I'm taking a picture of. Nor do I know what settings I am on. This could be a fun little device. Or it can BE TOTALLY FUCKING USELESS. Gah! I destroyed $300! If you see me on the street, punch me in the neck. Then, give me opposable thumbs. Obviously it is something I lack.

Anyway, I totally digressed there. So yes, I went to Detroit. One of my best friends on this planet Rosalyne is teaching at University of Michigan (surprise, surprise she is an architect) and she and the other teaching fellows pooled their fellowship cash monies to buy a house for $500 at an auction. Then, they installed cool shit. You can learn about the cool shit here. As you can see, it is very cool shit. They sold the house to some local artists for $1, which is also very cool shit. I would like them to come into my crapbox apartment and “deal with the situation”. This would mean ripping out part of a wall and sticking in another window, which is what Rosalyne did. Then of course, I would install curtains because this is what people do when they have windows. They put up curtains so they can be naked in private. This is something that happens pretty immediately and not, say, a few months after the fact. OMG I AM BEING PASS AGG.

I am in Philadelphia! I like this city. I find it pleasing. I’m here for work and the hotel kind of ran out of rooms so I ended up with a room that ALSO DOUBLES AS A CONFERENCE ROOM OMG. It has…

*a murphy bed! MURPHY BED Y’ALL. It comes DOWN FROM A WALL. Like from the future, or perhaps, from the past.

*living room! LIVING ROOM Y’ALL! Ok fine, it’s not a separate ROOM per se, but there’s a coffee table, a love seat and, like, 3 big ass chairs. They are plaid. I don’t know how I feel about that. I’d like to meet an interior decorator for this hotel. I have a lot of questions.

*breakfast nook! BREAKFAST NOOK! Like a little table with two chairs next to a window.

*TWO CLOSETS

*A LARGE DESK

*windows on TWO walls

*AN UGLY CHANDELIER

Dude I don’t even know what to do with myself. I just ran across the room twice just to have the experience of running indoors. When was the last time I ran around indoors? I don’t even know. In my apartment, it takes two steps to walk from the door to the bed. It takes two steps to walk from the bed to the bathroom. I can take, at least, twenty steps in this PALACE. If the decorating wasn’t so heinous I would totally live here.

One day I will grow up and live like a grown-up in which a door separates where I eat and where I sleep.

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, happy New Year!

People have been saying LET’S MAKE THIS THE BEST YEAR EVER! And this is all peachy fine. HOWEVER, I’m thinking why should we make this year the BEST EVER? Why not just make it NOT suck? It’s not that I’m a pessimistic person. I’m just more into setting goals that are achievable. I mean BEST year? How can you possibly know that this year will be the BEST EVER? I mean you haven’t lived all your years yet, so “BEST” is kind of a hard thing to judge. This year might be the SECOND best or THIRD best. I mean maybe in five years you will have a really really awesome year and THAT will be much better than this year. So what I’m trying to say is that let’s just make this year not suck and it will bound to be better than 2009, and, quite possibly, the best, but it certainly doesn’t have to be THE BEST. If 2010 is better than 2009, then we can be happy with better. We can be happy that it doesn’t suck because honestly, not sucking is truly a big accomplishment and we can be proud of that. I’m already proud that 2010 is not sucking, erego, I have achieved my New Years’ resolution of not sucking. DONE AND DONE.

Also, I’ve also noticed everyone saying how 2009 was truly the WORST year ever. Again, you have no way of judging that. There might be really really shitty years to come. Also, I can think of a few other years that sucked more than 2009. The year was BAD, maybe, but it wasn’t THAT bad. I mean it sucked, yes, but I thought 2008 was actually worse. There were probably some years during the 50s that sucked too. I bet you year 1 sucked too. Transitional year and the whole year-re-numbering thing probably was a real pain in the ass. Like you know how after daylight savings you get all confused? I rest my case.

Los Angeles was fun blah blah blah except for the part where my family forgot to pick me up from the airport blah blah blah. It was like 3:00 on Christmas and I get off the plane and I’m like YEAHH I’M PARTYING IN THE CITY OF ANGELS! I go outside, call to see where my ride is and my mother’s like “Airport? Is that now?” And then I fall into some insane rage and I’m like did you FORGET TO PICK ME UP FROM THE AIRPORT and my mother says I didn’t forget to pick you up from the airport, I just thought you were coming at 3:30. And I say no, it was always 3:00. Keep in mind that my parents live about 45 minutes from the airport (WITHOUT traffic) so even if she thought it was at 3:30, she should definitely be ON the frickin road by 3:00. Which she was not. And she starts backpedalling and being like, no actually you’re brother is picking you up. And I’m like oh is he already here? And she says no he just left. Sigh. So I spent a good 45 minutes hanging out at the airport and suffering from acute rage. Yay. I love Christmas. So of course I’m at the airport yelling on the phone being like why do I bother even coming here for Christmas. Why don’t I just come another time when it is easier and cheaper to travel, we don’t even celebrate Christmas, it is just like any other day in our family. And then I realize I’m totally that asshole who is yelling on the phone at the airport on Christmas. And people are like all staring at me and my eyes are like spinning in my head and smoke is coming out of my ears. The works. Then my brother picked me and I said don’t you guys realize that if you fuck up I’ll write about it? Have we not learned anything? And he says no, do you have $2 for parking I have no cash on me.

But the rest of my vacation was rad and did not suck! Mission accomplished! My bandmate Andy Burne got engaged to his ladyfriend Julia! Nathan and his ladyfriend are coming to visit in February! I saw the Bauhaus show at Moma! I got cushions for my shoes! My apartment is really clean! And according to the Weather Channel “It feels like 1°F”!

Also, please note that Annietown has migrated. Things should be all awesome on your end. One of my best friends in L.A. Micah is taking over and hosting Annietown from his living room which may or may not have mice. Special thanks to Ravi who has been hosting the past 2 years and being a good sport about my asshole texts at 3 am OMG RAVI ANNIETOWN IS DOWN. Ravi I love you and you continue to be awesome and full of win and bacon, you’re two favorite things. Now Micah will be my bitch.

Micah! Fix my sidebar! (uh when you get the chance?)

I’m considering doing a redesign of Annietown. Part of me is like, why change it? It’s fine, it doesn’t have to be fancypants, I’m just sharing WORDZ here, not doing anything insane. Then the other part of me is like, well I could make it snazzier? i.e. HAVE MORE EXPLOSIONS. I shall ruminate.

Hello friends, I have returned! I am EXTREMELY HORRIBLY INSANELY INTENSELY JETLAGGED. Jesus. It’s bad. I woke up this morning BEFORE THE SUN (dude BEFORE THE SUN!!!!) and really wanted spaghetti. Spaghetti, you guys. And I know this is hard to believe, but it is really really really hard to find someone who serves spaghetti in the morning. It is just not a breakfast food for some stoopid reason. Italians don’t even eat spaghetti for breakfast. There is some kind of lame conspiracy going on. Anyway I would make my goddamn spaghetti myself, but I know for a fact that if I did that, it would taste disgusting and also, it would not be exactly what I wanted. When you have a craving, you have to like GET ON THAT EXACT craving or else you’ll feel sad and unsatisfied. NO people, I am not pregnant. I just want goddamn spaghetti. Sue me! So now I have to wait for some spaghetti joint to open. Apparently that means I have to wait for lunch, local time. My problem is that I am SIX HOURS IN THE FUTURE where it is already lunch, and in fact, PAST lunch. Tick tock people. Dude I think I just drooled on myself. Spaghetti sounds salty and chewy and warm and cheesy. Good god, someone save me.

Anyway, Paris and Berlin were effing AWESOME. I’ll post some pictures soon. I’m not a big fan of posting vacation photos though, so I will “keep it real” and try not to “annoy the shit out of you”. Instead I’ll post funny stuff, like the group of people on Segways at the Holocaust Memorial.

Ah yes, Segways and the Holocaust, two great tastes that taste great together. Segways will never, ever, ever be cool you guys. Seriously. Sometimes I see cops on Segways and I feel so bad for them. Like you know when they got the Segway beat a little piece of them died and they had to cut off their balls. And if they are women, they had to grow balls first just so they could cut them off. Being a Segway cop is worse than being a bike cop. Here’s what I do know though: Nothing is more badass than a cop on a effing horse. Horses own. Segways suck. The end.