Archive: tristeze

A Collection of Scary Things

May I present to you a collection of scary things scraped from the Internet (though they are not as scary as the Internet can get). I hope you like The Three Stooges because now they are going to haunt you forever. Please enjoy!

True story: Once I bought all this…lady stuff…from Duane Reade. You know what I’m talking about. I’m talking about tampons. Because I am an adult lady who does adult lady things. I feel that we can just talk openly about this because, come on, this is not some kind of secret. People will tell you they went to India and shat out of their eyes, but if you get your period you are supposed to be all coy about it. Like tee hee, I’m doing “the lady thing” right now, so I’m going to skip spin class! (For the record, spinning is the last thing I ever want to do. I hate riding bikes–much less a bike that doesn’t fucking go anywhere–and I never, ever want to be yelled at to go faster.) Anyway, point is, I got lady stuff from Duane Reade and then the cashier said “Enjoy!” And I sort of looked at her and then the contents of my bag (tampons) and I said, “Uh, thanks?”

The point is that even though I’m telling you to “enjoy” what you’re about to see, I know in my heart of hearts that you will not enjoy this and will instead fear going to bed every night.

So thanks, and enjoy.

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An Imaginary Conversation Between My Neighbors

“You know what I feel like doing?”
“Dancing?”
“Yes! What else?”
“Singing show tunes?”
“Yes! What else?”
“Playing the ukelele?”
“Yes! It’ll be fun!”
“It’s a great time to play the ukelele.”

-My neighbors, May 19th, 3:30 am.

Texts from my Mother

My mother just got a new phone. It is what the people call a “smart phone.” It is so smart that you can text people on it and check email, only she doesn’t check her email because she forgot her address, the password, and doesn’t know anyone’s email address. But those are just minor details, right? Her phone is smart! But my mother does not need a smart phone. She only needs a regular phone that drops calls so she can blame it on MY phone, which, by the way, is smart. Honestly, she only got one because her friends kept on making fun of her. You know how you have that one friend with a flip phone and you are like, oh shit look at your stupid fucking phone, haha loser and dude, where are you, I emailed you the address to the place and they are like, my phone sucks and my contract is up in two years and don’t want to pay full price and you are like, dude, seriously? Now pretend your friend finally got a Samsung Galaxy but doesn’t know how to use it and asks you how to use it even though you have never seen a Samsung Galaxy outside of a commercial. Well that is my mother. Kind of.

My mother’s old phone could text, but only in bullshit English language. Who wants that? Her new phone can text in Korean. Baller time! So she is learning to text in Korean but she’s not particularly good at it. Basically this text says:
L
N
Annie call me

Final score:
Samsung, 373827
Mother, 1
Annie, 0

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Flamer

I wrote a review of my toaster oven on Amazon. You should probably read it and definitely buy it, if you are a fire enthusiast or prefer your toast to look like this:

I still have not found a good toaster oven though. It’s been really hard, you guys. Life is, like, so hard. Sniff.

HARDCORE

I went to the dentist YET AGAIN, to continue the work from last time. Now the left side of my face and tongue are completely numb. I mean TOTALLY NUMB. As in I cannot feel anything, which is precisely the definition of numb.

As I was sitting in the chair, I was thinking how I can take advantage of this numb face of mine. I could get that face tattoo I’ve always wanted. You know that book The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo? Of course you do. Well I could be that girl, but be WAY MORE FUCKING HARDCORE than her by having the dragon tattoo on my FUCKING FACE. This is probably one of those things that when I get older I’ll be known as the Old Lady with the Fish Tattoo. Probably not the most flattering thing I could do to my FACE. But it’d be so HARDCORE you guys.

Then I thought well I suppose I could get some piercings. Like a lip ring or a tongue ring. But that is pretty played out. I mean who doesn’t have an effing lip ring or tongue ring? I am betting your MOM has a tongue ring. Bish, please. I need to next level this shit and get my lip STRETCHED. You know what I’m talking about? Like a sticking a dinner plate into my lip and keeping it real. I’m not going to post a photo here because I don’t want to scare you n00bz with the HARDCORE nature of lip stretching. But just know that this lip plate thing is totally HARDCORE and SHREDS HEAVY METAL. It is next level. Plus I can store food there. Close proximity to my mouthhole. It’s like having your pantry right next to your bed. Save some traveling.

You guys may have seen Dr. Taaakemoto around Annietown, and he says his dad (also a dentist) had given himself a ROOT CANAL. I thought holy shit this SHREDS THE METAL HARD. So I told my dentist about it and he was all, pssah, it was probably a front tooth. “That’s not that hardcore.” So I say, well have YOU ever given YOURSELF a root canal? He says no. So I say, WHO IS HARDCORE NOW? Dr. Takemoto’s DAD gives himself a root canal and all YOU’VE done is drilled a little cavity on yourself. Pssah my nuts (I didn’t say that last part). I should note that my dentist is like a hundred years old and into wine and goes to dinner parties with salmon mousse. (No, no he doesn’t attend the party with salmon mousse as his companion, but salmon mousse is served at said dinner party). And here I am getting him to say stuff like “hardcore” and “face tattoo”. Two things he probably has never said in his entire life. This is probably one of the most notable accomplishments of my lifetime. I really do like my dentist. He is a nice man and very, very patient and answers all my questions. And I ask him the dumbest shit. Also he likes salmon mousse, which is just a weird thing to like and a weird thing to tell your patient that you like but hey, we are tight now. When someone spends a lot of time sticking their fingers and foreign objects into your mouth, you get really intimate. I said “Why would you do that to salmon? Or to mousse?” That was probably the one question he couldn’t answer, actually.

Anyway on my walk home I looked down at my clothes and realized I HAD BEEN FUCKING DROOLING like a crazy person. The good news is that this is NYC so I fit in quite nicely. Har har. Actually I think there are very few crazy people left in NYC anymore. They moved to Jersey. I am one of the last few here.

My Teeth (Still) Suffer

I’ve been going to the dentist a lot lately. It’s a long stupid story, one that doesn’t have much of a happy ending, unless you consider paying hundreds of dollars a happy ending, and if you do, then my ending is so fucking happy it comes “with release” as the saying goes. Anyway, I have this new dentist who is a kind, gentle, meticulous man and very nerdy and I like him because he is good natured about answering all my questions. Sometimes he even answers them WITH SCIENCE, which I enjoy. I am a very curious person, which makes me annoying because I ask a lot of really bizarre questions, such as “Do you ever clean your own teeth?” or “Do you ever drill your own teeth?” or “Can you use this machine to x-ray parts of your body other than your teeth and if so, can you please x-ray my middle finger because it’d be funny?” or “Why can’t they make that goop you’re shoving in my mouth taste better? Like candy? Then kids would be really psyched about going to the dentist. For adults you can make bacon flavored goop because people like the bacon. You should look into that. There’s money in that somewhere.” or “What would happen if I ate my crown? That’d be like eating $800 dollars.” or “Why do people like salmon mousse?” or “What happens to all the teeth that get extracted?” or “What does a nerve look like?” or “How do you know if you’ve hit a nerve? It’s not like I’m going to feel it since I can’t feel anything inside my face.” Anyway my dentist is very cool and answers them all and so does the assistant George who is this Asian man with seriously the longest hair I have ever seen on a man over the age of 45. He wears it in one long braid and it goes down to his lower back. BRAIDED. So that means without the braid he can probably wipe his ass with his own hair, but that’s really fucking gross and I’m not even sure why I even brought that up.

So what I’m trying to say here is that my dentist does NOT clean his own teeth but he DOES drill his own teeth. I find that pretty insane. Why one but not the other? I have no idea. But DRILLING YOUR OWN TEETH seems seriously severe. I mean sometimes I cut my own hair and I think damn, this has the potential for major failure but at least my hair will grow back. But teeth don’t grow back, which I think is a serious design flaw. Then I asked him if he ever gave himself Novocaine and he looked at me as if I was nuts. So a man who grinds off his own teeth with a power drill draws the line at injecting himself in the mouth with anesthetic? But then I realized, you know, he is a dentist, he probably takes really good care of his teeth. I dunno Annietown’s resident dentist Dr. Tahhhhhkemoto, do you care to weigh in on this?

Memorializing

Today is Memorial Day. I have been memorializing all weekend, let me tell you. Yesterday, friends and I went to the park, and I memorialized JoMo’s trip to Modell’s to purchase a badminton set, and memorialized JoMo’s seemingly simple and yet overly complicated set-up of the badminton net, and then memorialized Marco and JoMo’s game of badminton and then memorialized Lizzard and Stephanie’s badminton game. It was a lot of work, all that memorializing. I was so busy memorializing on the picnic blanket that I didn’t have time to play badminton, with all that bread and cheese and strawberries I had to eat. Really tough work, you guys. So tough. I should get a medal for all the work I did. You guys should be memorializing me because honestly, I really ate the shit out of those strawberries. I should get credit for that. A medal even. A certificate of participation. Anything.

Anyway today is about memorializing my shitty apartment and cleaning the shit out of it. So, I cleaned the windows. The last time I did this, we had a different president. Anyway, I realized a few things.

1. Windows get really dirty. I know this comes to a surprise to many of you. Hah.

2. When you clean windows everything in your home looks a lot brighter.

3. When you clean windows and these windows happen to be in a shitty apartment, it makes your shitty apartment look even shittier.

So my conclusion is this: if you live in a shitty apartment, don’t clean your windows.

Finally, I’m memorializing the horrible event that unfolded on Friday. I was making simple syrup-that’s when you take equal parts sugar and water and then simmer it. Well, I set the pot on the stove, turned on the burner, AND THEN LEFT THE HOUSE.

FOR ALMOST TWO HOURS.

The pot did NOT catch on fire and my shitty apartment was not burned to a crisp. However, my apartment still smells like burnt sugar. Now you might think: but burnt sugar smells nice, like a candy shoppe! The kind of candy shop that spells it “shoppe,” you know, to be cuter. After all, isn’t caramel just burned sugar?

NO. It does not smell like this. Maybe after five minutes it smells like a candy shoppe. But after ALMOST TWO HOURS it smells more like burning hair. Fact. If you do not believe me, come over and take a whiff and you will be like “dude, are you baking a hair pie?” and I will laugh because “hair pie” is really funny wink wink but then I will tell you NO it is BURNT SUGAR and also ask WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU IN MY HOUSE? And you will say BECAUSE YOU INVITED ME YOU PSYCHO BITCH and I will be like shit you are right, I hate it when you are right.

The Return.

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.