So today I go to yoga. Because I want to, you know, “step into the flow of the universe” and “align mind, body, spirit” and “be what is” (whatever that means). So I go to the studio and take the mat out of my cubbyhole. Then I place my glasses inside my cubbyhole. This is what I do. I put my glasses there so I don’t have to wear them while I get all namasté. I also put them there so no one steps on them. Because what would happen if someone stepped on my glasses? Bad things. Bad, bad things. Might involve some crying. Perhaps some bloody feet too. Point is, I put my glasses in my cubbyhole. I’ve been doing this for years.

So today, I come out of my class, go put my mat back and my glasses are not in my cubbyhole. I think hmm, maybe I put it in the wrong hole, which incidentally is what your mom said last night. So I look in other cubbyholes. Nothing. So I look in the bathroom. Nothing. Then the locker room–perhaps I left it on a counter. Nothing. So then I START TO FUCKING PANIC. Because why? I have no glasses. It is very hard for me to see because, you see, I need glasses to see. I do understand there is quite a bit of irony in trying to LOOK FOR SOMETHING while one is blind. So I go up the front desk and ask, hey, maybe someone turned in some glasses. And they say nope, nothing here. And I go, OK, well I’m missing some glasses and a kind lady comes and helps me search the other cubbyholes because oh right I’M FUCKING BLIND.

So it dawns on me, I guess they might be stolen. FUCKING STOLEN.

WHO STEALS FUCKING GLASSES? WHAT ASSHOLE LOOKS AT A PAIR OF GLASSES AND SAYS OH YEAH I WANT THIS. I’M GOING TO TAKE THIS AND HA HA HA TO THE BLIND FUCK WHO WILL CONTINUE TO BE BLIND AND IN ADDITION, CONTINUE TO BE A FUCK. That is a shit move. A fucking low blow. I’m trying not to jump to conclusions. I am trying to think that someone accidentally picked them up from MY cubbyhole (they are assigned) and accidentally thought this sweet pair of glasses was theirs and accidentally brought them home. This is what I’m hoping. But the New Yorker in me knows that some FUCKING ASSWAD has stolen my glasses. Which, by the way, are EXTREMELY awesome looking and vintage and one of a kind and everyone loves them, and apparently someone loves them enough to STEAL them. But for WHAT? Why would you do that? If I see some bitch in the yoga studio with my glasses on I will fucking cut the shit out of her.

And really, who steals at a YOGA studio? Have you not learned anything from YOGA? So while people are meditating and nailing their revolved triangles and feeling at peace, some dickless asshole is LOOKING THROUGH PEOPLE’S SHIT and taking their prescription glasses? WHAT? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? I guarantee this shitbag does not have the SAME EYESIGHT as me. My left eyeball is SQUISHED and the right eye is like basically perfect. So what are you going to use my glasses for? WHAT. To ‘look smart’ while you….do what? Go to a bookstore? A bookstore you will steal from because if you steal from a fucking YOGA studio you’re certainly going to steal from a bookstore. Why not go to the pre-school and steal their crayons? Might as well right? Everyone loves crayons.

So I had to walk home blind, at night. I had to walk really slowly because I don’t know if you ever notice how blind people walk very slowly, but they do this because they do not want to TRIP over shit or BUMP into shit or even GET HIT by a VEHICLE. So that is what I did. I should also add it was POURING rain and I’m walking like a blind geriatric with a club foot.

BLIND FURY YOU GUYS. LITERAL BLIND FURY.

Today I honor the memory of an incredible genius.

His name is Arch West and he is the inventor of Doritos, easily the most important snack to be developed ever in the history of flavor. Where would I be without Doritos? Probably the same place, but I’d be much less happier.

So Arch West died at 97 and his daughter buried him–along with some DORITOS. Listen, if I fucking invented Doritos, I would definitely want to be buried with them. The afterlife probably has shitty snacks. The dead don’t understand fucking snacks so you have to take them with you. The ancient Chinese were buried with horses and the Vikings were buried with entire ships–you know, because they’ll need them for the afterlife. They’ll be riding their horses and ships wandering around but OH WAIT WHAT they are hungry I guess they will STARVE because they did not think to take Doritos with them. They will be sad, they will think, man I wish I had something salty and crunchy and loaded with awesome nacho cheese or cool ranch or ZOMG TACO flavor, and instead they will eat, I dunno, celery sticks. I hate celery. That is a bullshit snack right there. Even nacho cheese can’t help celery. A lost cause, just like the war on drugs.

How awesome would it be to have a dad who invented Doritos? Like people at school would be like oh what does your dad do, and people would be like oh my dad’s a lawyer, my dad’s a dentist, my dad works for the Long Island Railroad, OH YEAH? COOL, MY DAD INVENTED DORITOS. And then everyone would be like HOLY SHIT YOUR DAD INVENTED DORITOS and you’d be like IT’S PRETTY COOL, I GUESS, you know, trying to downplay how fucking BADASS your dad is. And you’d be the life of the fucking party because you’d have unlimited access to Doritos and including some secret flavors and for the record, jalapeño Doritos, totally delicious. Also, for the record, my dad is an asshole because he did not invent Doritos.

I’m still here! I’ve been waiting over an hour for a trial to start, but it’s taking forever because…I have no idea. I want to cry. Inside I am crying. It’s a lot like being in detention, but we didn’t do anything wrong. Endless waiting in a room with no windows, except there’s a TV that’s on mute and playing CNN. The jury clerk said there was no ESPN, and there was an audible gasp. Seriously. You’d think it was some sort of national tragedy. Civic duty, while important for a just society, is really beginning to make me wish we were in the “olden days” (again, their words, not mine, I would’ve used “days of yore”) when we could just throw people into a river or a fire. So much more convenient, and everyone loves a good fire. Just saying. Maybe they are settling? Settle, dammit! Settling isn’t always bad. For example, the pioneers settled, and that worked out for us, though not the Native Americans. But, in general I fully support settling so I can go about my day and hopefully eat a sandwich. It’s 11:30 and I want a sandwich!

There are a lot of people asleep here, including one lady wearing sunglasses (again, we are in a room without windows) and sprawled across a row of chairs. With her jacket covering her and her purse as a pillow. She looks so snug. I may spoon her.

One guy is totally bored, gazing at the ceiling, mouth agape, just fully hating life. I want to take a photo, but i’d get arrested, which woikd be convenient since I’m already at the courthouse. You’d think he’d bring a book. I was thinking of offering him my copy of The Economist, like hey, guy, why don’t you read about some people with real problems. Also, their captions are so pithy!

I’m going to share a few memorable people who are here with me in the jury pool. Here they are in no particular order:

Lady wearing leggings as pants. Which means that she is not really wearing pants. In a courthouse. She is also wearing a lot of make-up and sneakers. So her face looks like she’s going to hit the clubs later, but the rest of he might be going to the gym and hitting the elliptical? I dunno it’s confusing.

Man wearing POWA SUIT. Navy suit with pink shirt and a headset. He is in “acquisitions”. Not entirely sure what he
acquires, other than money. But he is important, and also has hair that looks like he didn’t do much to it, but you know he spent hours on that shit and billed it to a client.

A hairdresser! Who works around the corner from my office! Immediately after he said he was a stylist, everyone touched their hair (except me, actually, only because my hair is so fucking awesome, in a greasy ponytail, natch!)

A lady who coordinates scavenger hunts. Seriously that is what she does. But I’m guessing what she really wants to do is direct.

A talent agent. A math teacher. A former corrections officer. An actress. A retired social worker. A guy who ships art to museums. A person who sued because of curtains. A person who can only understand 70-80% of
what’s going on. Dude I love NYC. I’m like you guys are all so interesting and all so bored and hating life right now. It’s our civic duty!

So I got chosen for a case, of course, and the lawyer does this weird breathing thing where she gulps for air through an open mouth. She looks like a fish. Like a lawyer fish. She told us “This won’t be like the OJ Simpson case or anything.” OH REALLY?

So I’m returning tomorrow. Bad for life. Good for blog. I guess.

I’m here live blogging from the jury pool where I am currently watching a twenty minute video about the history of
the court system. The opening sequence happens in “olden times” (their words, not mine) where a bunch of Medieval barbarians with beards and pelts drown a man. Not even kidding. The mob ties his ass up and throws him in a river and then everyone cheers. Seriously. This is actually on the video. And you know everyone is thinking, wow, watching this video is a lot like watching someone die, it is so horrible.

Then the rest of the video is hosted by people with incredible amounts of gravitas, including DIANE SAWYER and one of the old dudes from 60 Minutes. Doesn’t matter which one. It’s an assemble cast, obvs.

The video was made in the 90s and there’s some excellent hair and the fashunz and Diane particularly has some savage anchor hair. She seriously has a Lego head. Shit won’t move. It’s some kind of science miracle.

Also, the Jury Clerk keeps making jokes about how the state has no money and asks for donated pens and pencils for people to fill out the surveys. Then it dawns on me that he’s actually serious. Yay New York. Sad tear.

And now a Chinese lady asked me to translate for her. This is going to be a long day.

Last time I served, I was selected for a child predator case. I got removed from the group though. But the defendant was there and all I could think was ohhhhhh hmm, that is what a predator look like. He did not have a moustache. I know, I was surprised too.

My father gives me a set of beakers. All of different sizes, including a tiny one that is so adorable you want to explode. These are all from his lab and MAY OR MAY NOT have been used to store caustic chemicals. But I do not care because these beakers are totally BOSS. They are awesome! I also got these little test tubes with screw tops, also very adorable. I have no idea what to put in them. My brother says to store urine in them but then he stops himself and says, actually you know what? It’s too small for urine–as if this is something I’m seriously considering. Yes, Mike, let me piss in a test tube and you know with this screw top, I can easily store it for…later? So I thank my father. I will enjoy these beakers. They’re even graduated! Bad ass, right?

So then my mother says, why are you giving our daughter beakers? What is that about? My father says well it’s for decoration. She can put pencils in them, store things, she can even drink out of them! My mother says, why on EARTH would Annie want to drink out of a beaker? She has CUPS for that. She doesn’t NEED beakers. Why would she want to drink out of that? My father says, because it is FUN! FUN! But, you don’t know FUN, do you? You don’t know it!

And then we all laugh because throughout all this, my father is wearing SUSPENDERS. But not just any suspenders. They are like 2.5 inch wide straps made out of the same material you would use for, like, a duffel bag strap. AND they are holding up plaid madras bermuda shorts, which do not actually require suspenders and also do not “go” with suspenders AND in addition, these are suspenders a carpenter would wear in order to hold up a heavy toolbelt, which, if you are paying attention, my father is not wearing because we are at home eating dinner together. The man does not even wear a toolbelt at work. And apparently not a regular belt. So a man wearing carpentry suspenders is telling my mother she does not know fun.

I tell my father, hey, why don’t I get you suspenders that are not, uh, THOSE suspenders. Something classy? And he goes WHY? Those probably cost, like $25? What a waste of money. And I go, how much did THOSE cost and he says $15 and I say for an extra ten United States dollars I would totally buy you nicer suspenders that don’t look like you are wearing an actual backpack except without the pack. And my brother and I have a discussion about suspenders, in which we bring up the rainbow ones that Robin WIlliams wore in Mork & Mindy (nanu nanu, what a retarded show, seriously that show is seriously retarded). So my father says what is the point, I do not wear these in public. But he is soooo close to wearing them in public I can feel it. I mean he’s wearing them around the house, what is to stop him from being like, shit I need to run out and get some milk, and then boom suddenly he is wearing suspenders in Ralph’s. This is what I’m saying.

But even backtrack from that, why is my father even WEARING suspenders? Why wear suspenders instead of a belt? It’s not like he has no belts. My father is a man with belts. So, I ask him this. What is up with the suspenders? He says because belts make him itchy. He has been wearing belts for over 60 years at this point and NOW he decides that belts make him itchy? How can belts even itch? They’re not made of wool. It makes NO sense at all. I don’t understand, but my father is wearing suspenders a steel worker would be wearing to hold up, I don’t know, some kind of badass tool that uses fire to cut metal. But my father is there at the kitchen table eating vegan spring rolls with his hands.

I have been trolling Craigslist for a new apartment. I have been doing this for…eight years. Yes, I have been trying to leave my apartment for eight years. That’s not really the point though of this post (it is the point of many other posts, just not this one). So, I found a post on Craigslist, about an apartment up the street. I wrote an email, hey is it still available? And this is the response:

Dear Applicant,

The apartment is still available for rent and as furnished or unfurnished there is a storage room in the unit where you can keep our furniture, my husband and i are the owner of the apartment located at ([Dedacted] New York NY 10012).

Let me tell you little about us. My husband is currently working(A permanent Job in United Kingdom, Where he work with Coca-Cola company in London) I was working as a Medical Doctor here in the state but i finally lost my Job on the month of Jan 18th 2010 due to the accident I had during the envy snow, the accident which almost destroyed most part of my body especially my legs, but I thank God today that I am still alive and i can at least walk again…but I can’t talk very well cos the shock are still in my body according to my Doctor, the best way I can communicate is through writing but I believe with God all things are possible, I have the faith in him that I will be healed perfectly it is just a matter of time.

I just relocate to live with my husband cos my doctor said i need his care, maybe he can help me get well soon.
Anyway, my husband his a very busy man that’s why i told him that i will find a nice,honest and responsible person for this our lovely home It has been a hard time for us.

The apartment is $1,350 per month we are asking for 1 month rent and security deposit $1,350. it comes with all utilities Like + Gas, water and electric, dishwasher and microwave and Laundry. A parking space is available.

The kind of tenant we want is A responsible person, serious and trust worthy, who is willing to pay 1 month rent and a security deposit (your credit does not matter to us). Also someone that can take care of the kitchen, because i loves the kitchen very much…

I know you will like to see the unit that not a problem because my husband still need to Pick up some things from the Unit and some documentation in a few days. HE WISH TO USE THE OPPORTUNITY TO SHOW THE UNIT.

NOTE: IF YOU ARE REALLY INTERESTED KINDLY FILL OUT THIS GAP PLS IS VERY IMPORTANT AS A CANDIDATE FOR THIS APARTMENT.

Applicant Full Name:…………………….

Profession:…………………………….

Number of Adults:…………

Number of Children:…………

Pets:………………………

Cell Phone:……………………..

Present Address:………………………………………………..

Calling from a Home Phone: Dial 01144 702 409 4702 or Calling from a Cell Phone: Dial +44 702 409 4702

Regards and God bless
Mary E Knox.

Hahahaha!!!! I love it! I’ve gotten a few of these responses via Craiglist, but this one is probably my favorite thus far. First, I love that this apartment comes with a PARKING SPACE. Yes in SoHo! For only $1350!!! In addition to the dishwasher and microwave. And of course the storage unit. For only $1350!!!! If you are going to steal all or part of my money, I want you to be better at it. I mean COME ON. Be fucking realistic here. She should’ve said, “small, cozy apartment, steps to subway, five floor walk-up but well worth it.” That is a little more realistic, no?

But, what I really love is the fucking amazing story regarding the accident during the ‘envy snow.” ENVY SNOW!!!! I don’t even know what that is, but it sounds like a bad ass Japanese movie from the 60s where the heroine is carrying out some sort of rape revenge. Envy Snow!!!!! Fuck, I love it. I want to do envy snow angels in the envy snow. Then all the non-envy snow will feel jealous, which I suppose would make that envy snow too.

So, I’m actually considering going through the next step and seeing how it all plays out. Just because I am curious, especially in regards to Envy Snow.

Remember, “with God all things are possible” which includes stealing your money.

This afternoon, I got a wrong number. It was a little kid, totally babbling and going da daaaa? Da daaaa? Total drunk dial. He was like “OMG I just wanted to tell you-hiccup-that I like toootttallly dig youuuuu—hiccup—I mean you’re—hiccup—so aweesommmee, you know that? Oh shiiittt I’m sooo waassstteeedddd. Sooo fuckked up!”

But really, I ended up just hanging up on the kid because there’s not much you can say to a three year old who has drunk dialed you. Yes, I am a person who hangs up on children. Better than a person who hangs children, am I right, guys?

I have moved into the new office and into my new desk. And I did throw stuff out, I really did. But some of my shit I just could not part with. And other stuff, I was like WUHHHHHHH? You know, I spend a lot of my life saying WUHHHHH. And also OH SHIT.

So here’s more of my shit.

JURASSIC TATTOOS. I believe it was part of a birthday gift. I have used exactly two of them so far. I felt so POWAFUL when I walked into a bar in hip-and-with-it Williamsburg with my fucking badass Jurassic tattoos. When the bartender saw me, he flipped out and poured me a shot of whiskey with a razor blade. SO EDGY YOU GUYS.

Glow in the dark dinosaur. Yes, yes, everyone, I realize it is kind of pointless to have a glow-in-the-dark toy AT THE OFFICE.

Ricola. This isn’t really special EXCEPT FOR THE FACT THAT THEY EXPIRED IN 2005. People kept telling me they don’t go bad. But let me ask you this: Let’s say you are sick and have a sore throat. Would you eat a circa 2005 Ricola? Ok that’s what I thought, dick.

Say you are in Piccadilly and you are eating a casual breakfast. Dare I say it is a ‘continental’ one. You wonder, hmm, what tea you should I drink? Probably not this one because IT ALSO EXPIRED IN 2005.

You can’t tell in this photo, but the sugar inside the sugar packets feels like one big piece of wood. YES EVERYONE I SAID WOOD GIVE IT A REST. This probably expired in 2004.

This expired in 2002. WHY DO I STILL HAVE THIS and more importantly, WHY DID I MOVE THIS TO THE NEW OFFICES?

Cotton pads in a zip-lock baggie. There is a very, very good reason why I have this. A while back I opened my desk drawer and found MOUSE SHIT. AS IN, SHIT THAT COMES FROM A FUCKING MOUSE. This was around the time we walked into the office and “smelled something funny” and someone discovered a dead mouse behind his desk. It was a heavy scene. So, I read online that mice do not like peppermint oil. You just douse a bunch of cotton pads with peppermint oil and they will take a whiff and go shit in someone else’s desk. It worked by the way.

Shoes, one pair. Brown. From J.Crew, but from 1995. I guess I was going to donate them and they fell out of the bag and have been sitting under the desk. So I was going to donate them and then realized, wait, these are kind of cute now because the NINETIES ARE BACK. My feet have not grown since 1995. I have whimsical little elf feet. Sometimes I frolic through meadows and jump off of daisy petals.

My architect friends used their laser cutter to make me these. They spent like an hour in AutoCAD doing this. I think we can all agree it’s the best use of CAD we’ve ever seen.

One Darth Vader, in LEGO form. Given to me by my homie-4-lyfe Nathan Bowers.

People like to give me bacon toys. It’s just something people like to give me. Nathan’s relatives used to give him tons of elephant shit. Like little figurines or what not. And I was like dude, do you even like elephants and he kind of shrugged. It’s one of those things that ONE person gives you an elephant and then everyone thinks you actually like elephants and suddenly you have this curio shelf littered with elephants. That might be my bacon. This is Monsieur Tofu and Mr. Bacon. They are frenemies of the state.

In related news, I would like a monocle but it is unlikely due to my Asian face. But man how badass would a monocle be? OH LOOK I HAVE 20/20 OUT OF (only) ONE EYE. The only dude who can pull of a monocle is Mr. Peanut.

CAMPING STOVE. I’ve had this under my desk since 2006. It’s not even MINE. I mean, really. Do I look like the type of person who’d own a camping stove? But this is what I know: During the apocalypse, I will be prepared. While everyone else cries emo tears into their can of cold, condensed soup, I will be having fajitas.

YOU’RE WELCOME EVERYONE.

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.