Friday, October 30, 2009

Tomorrow is Halloweeennnnnnnnnn!

So, this week = midterms = terror= erotic lust for lofty, my only companion, and snuggle time with Moo, my overweight cat, who is just too soft for words!

When I eHow'ed "how to get over a crush" a few weeks ago, it, sagely responded, to go out on a date. I then eHow'ed "how to find a date" and it suggested to ask friends. So, I am now putting out a blanket request for a date. (Which I will then, blog about.) And it will be amusing, and self-deprecating, like the remainder of my life/blog.

Also, in an effort for self improval, I will lay off the baked goods and try to get a job. My last job interview did NOT result in a hiring. Perhaps because my facebook status that day was a line from "Baby, I'm an anarchist." Or maybe because when she "presented me" to the rest of the staff members I didn't ask them enough about their deepest, darkest, fears. Anyhoo, I am currently late (for a lunch, not my period, suggesting a mightily unwanted pregnancy). So, I shall depart. Until, next time, friends, be safe. Be warm. Be sluts. That's all I ask.

p.s. I am also attempting to pluck my eyebrows. Which is like a huggggggge act of self-improvement as well. I think I deserve banana pudding for this...

Monday, October 26, 2009

Romance in the Air

Dear balloon boy,
I wish you really were up in that balloon. That would have been really cool. And I would have liked you lots and wanted to have your babies. I know you're only 6, balloon boy, but in 14 years, you'll be 20, and I'll be 34, and then it won't be so awkward at dinner parties. RACHEL MADDOW MSNBC. Balloon boy, I can be a bit obsessive, I'll admit, and sometimes I talk to myself and stare catatonically at other people in order to make them feel uncomfortable. Sometimes I hear my neighbors screaming, "F*** you!" overandover and wonder if they're about to shoot someone. Sometimes I see men palming knives who ask me for a quarter and I jump and run away quickly. Sometimes I think I'm liberal, and then I realize that in NY I lean a bit more conservative. Sometimes I just want a Whole Foods salad for dinner. Sometimes/ all the time I wake up in the morning and count how many hours until I can go back to sleep. Oh, balloon boy, if you had really been up in that balloon, you would have been the kind of man I could spend the rest of my life with. Oh, balloon boy, I know you're a child, I'm being hypothetical not pedophilical. I have 2 more weeks of midterms, balloon boy, enough work to last me a lifetime, an unrequited inappropriate crush to keep me entertained and enough self-loathing to lift a large, misshapen balloon, balloon boy. So good night to you, dear balloon boy, and to you, Rachel Maddow of MSNBC...may your life always be full of hot air.

Love,
J

Thursday, October 22, 2009

My inorganic, irrelevant life

Every Monday and Wednesday, before we all file into the Bobsty classroom of LL50 for talk about martyring and such, there is another group of children in the room. (Smarter, perhaps? Grad students?) Who take a little class called inorganic chemistry. Everyday the class runs over, and everyday eager students approach the prof and talktalktalktalk to him. We awkwardly stand outside, self-conscious of the fact that we have no comprehension of the class in which they sit. Last Wed, I remarked to my prof that the class before ours was "intense." When he asked what I meant, I said, "Look at the board. I don't understand any of it." It was then that my prof approached the other prof and asked, half jokingly, whether any of it was real. Unfortunately, this started the prof on a 15 minute diatribe/rant/explanation of inorganic chemistry. I could not see my prof's face, but I had to imagine it looked something like mine when I was asked if I ate the last (dog) cookie.

Then--silence. Until inorganic chem prof inhaled a deep breath and said, as if coming to this realization after quite a bit of soul searching, "What you guys are doing is JUST as relevant as what I do." By relevant, I suppose he meant to life. And the patronizing reality of being told that I'm relevant to life made me burst out laughing. The chem prof took my laughter as disbelief of my own relevance and launched into an explanation of what he presumed our class was about, and how...IT REALLY DID...matter in life, and such. Then my prof, biting his tongue, said, "We're not getting to that until next semester. You're ruining the surprise."

All in all it was awkward. All in all I now LOVE this patronizing inorganic man.

All in all I am now relevant.

All in all I have TWO (unfinished) midterm papers for martyrdom due tom!

All in all my mommy is coming to visit me this weekend for her 50th birthday!

All in all, happy birthday, mommy! Much love.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Diet Soda Escapades/ No dignity

RACHEL MADDOW MSNBC.

I would just like to start this out by wishing aloud that I was more of a slut so every month when I got my period it would be such an overwhelming relief that I didn't even mind the sheer annoyance of it. I am not. Currently. So much a slut.

Also, I am AWAKE. Attempting, in vain, to write one of my TWO midterm papers for martyrdom due Fri. Which really just means that I'm listening to "Baby, I'm an Anarchist" on repeat on Youtube and facebook f***ing, and eating Sunchips, and going on quests to find diet Sunkist that involve multiple convenience stores, mean Asians (I mean, I apologize if I offend, but I only had $2 and the a*hole wouldn't just give it to me for that like EVERY other store owner on the l.e.s. Actually most of them are less than 2.) So then I went to John's Convenience store to visit my boo (John?) who offered to order it for me, but, alas, did not have it at the moment. So, then I went to Duane Reade where the diet elixer was $2.28. More reasonable, yet still over the 2. So, I picked up a sprite zero (which my roommate later informed me has no caffeine which seemingly fucks with my drink caffeine to stay awake and write essay plan.). But apparently, the tax is astronomical and the $1.89 bottle would come to $2.11. $0.11 over my limit. omg. omg. omg. Just then, as all hope had been seemingly lost, Elias, the cashier, ie my savior, swiped his store/member card thingy bringing the price down to $0.99 and therefore the total to $1.13. I mean, I lovelovelove him. So I took $0.75 of the change and left the other $0.12 in case some one was short. PAY IT FORWARD, MAN.

Today, Rachel Maddow MSNBC, I also had a laundry adventure/escapade which I will not get into now, but rest assured it involved being tricked by the cashier at the chinese market, then saved by the other cashier at the chinese market who didn't know today was f*** with the jaclyn day, a weird (english speaking? russian?) who doesn't carry pocket change. LOTS of stairs. Idiocy. Running. And a certian girl on 3 who likes to steal and put shit covered blankets in with your already drying CLEAN clothes--just for kicks.

omg. I will never sleep again. Until, next time, Rachel Maddow of MSNBC. Love.

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Rachel Maddow MSNBC

I am writing from a curious, yet uncomfortably perched position, as my pseudo cat is lying, comfortably perched on my overly warm, right thigh. Today during my walk home, I heard some people shouting, continually, and eventually turned. The girl looked extraordinarily embarrassed, covered her mouth (with her hand) and turned her head, as the cab rounded the corner. It was quite peculiar because I thought she was yelling, "GARY! GARY! GARY!" As if she thought my name was Gary--meaning I had a small penis. On second thought, she could have been shouting Kerry! There's no way to know for sure. I'm not sure if being mistaken for a man, even though it's dark, should still make me feel badly about my womanhood.

I didn't see Rachel Maddow today. Mostly because I didn't have tickets, but also because the tickets were $30, I'd have had to take the subway, and it was early, raining, and burrrrrrrr. I still love Rachel Maddow, more than my own life, and harbor unfortunately derranged and intense thoughts about befriending her. Oh, Rachel Maddow of MSNBC. I Love you: Rachel Maddow of MSNBC. You are the greatest! Rachel Maddow, of MSNBC. I want to have your babies, Rachel Maddow of MSNBC. I REALLY hope you're vain enough to google yourself, Rachel Maddow, of MSNBC. (or at least, your girlfriend is.)

My cat filled thigh is sooooooooo warm. My cat's name is Moo. She is a fatty. I love her lots.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Boys' Club

There's a man outside watching TV and laughing far too loudly when: it's almost midnight, I'm studying and I have to be awake again in 6 hours. AS IF I need another reason to hate all men. Rachel Maddow is a Goddess. She's on MSNBC. Rachel Maddow. MSNBC. Rachel Maddow. (p.s. I'm trying to get Rachel to notice my blog. I figured if she ever googles herself, and this comes up, and she sees how extraordinary I am, she'll fall in love and make me her personal assistant/blogger/love slave). p.s. Rachel, you should read a few of my older blog posts too, to get a feel for the real me...

Today was a day for the boys...

Boy 1: Really short. Talks too much. Wore tight pants the other day that accented his "package" to such an extent that that's all I can think about every time I see him now.

Boy 2: G-d help me. I KNOW his voice sounds like a girl. I KNOW he's a boy. But everytime he speaks I think, who's the lady commenting? And then I turn around and am all, whoops.

Boy 3: Breathing loudly next to me ALL nat sci. How f***ing dare he! Fo' real.

Oh, boys. I hardly notice you exist at NYU. STAY STRONG.

Shut up, neighbor. I will beat you down.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

And Yet Again



I am supposed to be writing a paper about this:
IE. Gender and early Christian Martyrdom.


Instead I am doing this...(Erotic Child Dance Party with slightly unwilling parties.)
I.E. Listening to my Tegan and Sara Station on Pandora. Eating mini Snickers. And contemplating emailing my Prof to explain to him how brilliant I am and how that's getting in the way of my paper actually being good.
2.5 days sans facebook! When do I get my first sobriety chip? Ooooh chips...

Monday, October 12, 2009

Kill the man. I don't know what the fuss is. I'm just looking for some California Justice

This morning I saw a man shove a plastic spoon into each one of his (two) socks. As I turned (innocently) to watch. His creepster friend leered at me.

My shoes always come untied when I walk. It's a problem.

I hate insurance companies. I refuse to go to the doctor even though I'm reasonably sure I have a massively large intestinal parasite growing within me because I hate insurance companies. I tell myself this is not a problem. Because babies are, in effect, stomach parasites. And people really like them.

This is the end for today. I hope you enjoyed. I know I did.

P.S. I now watch Californication. I hope this makes me a cooler human being.

P.P.S. 1.5 days sans facebook and counting! I'm trying to exercise a bit of self-control. Actually, that's a lie. I was getting too depressed every time I signed onto facebook and had no notifications. Sad. I know.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

I think I'm getting Swine Flu.

So, I just ran into Matthew Broderick. On West Houston. While alone. At 11:30 pm. Carrying only a single roll of toilet paper. I had one of those, "Hey, you're Matthew Broderick" moments. And after passing him completely, admonished myself for not having yelled out, "Hey, you're Matthew Broderick." Then, I smiled. And was happy, because I realized he already knew he was Matthew Broderick, so really, I would just sound like a shit-head. I was carrying a single roll of toilet paper because I was out at my apartment, and needed to go home and shit my pants. So, my friend gave me her roll. It was an interesting experience walking home along--only a roll of toilet paper as company. I got many interested looks from passers-by, and was reminded, forcibly, of the childhood book, nay fairy tale, "Everybody Poops."

This is my New York.

After I got home I received an email regarding submissions for the NYU in Ghana student guide. We were all asked to submit a paragraph. I haven't decided if I'm going to do it. Mostly because I'm illiterate. (See above). But also, because I find it incredibly painful to try and squeeze an entire experience into a single paragraph. (I can't even squeeze a Matthew Broderick sighting into one sentence. And let's be honest, Mr. Sarah Jessica Parker is cool and all, but...) Whether the experience was good, bad, intense, lame, I can't even begin to choose words that would feel in any way adequate. In any way relevant or coherent. I don't analyze very well in the moment. And afterwards, my analysis is tainted by my own desire for self preservation. I say that happiness is just a synonym for contentment. And if you're content...not constantly striving for something more, something better, you may as well be dead. So, I exclaim in earnest, I do NOT wish to be happy. Or perhaps I do. But I see it as such an unattainable ideal that my mind forces me to dismiss it as bullshit.

I have continual thoughts about someone. One friend tells me that maybe thinking about someone is the universe's way of telling you they're thinking about you too.
Another says that perhaps I need to do ALL the thinking because the other person doesn't give a shit about me. The former is definitely more comforting to my supposed delicate sensibilities. But assuming it were true, I'm not even sure if I'd be happy about it.

Ah, it is late. I have a mini Snickers in my tum, and a phone a-charging next to me. Until later, dear readers. May your lives be filled with dense caloric intake and yellow submarine dreams.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Sometimes I think rapists will climb in through my fire escape.

So I've discovered that frequenting the same local convenience stores has lead to all of the employees at all of the said establishments asking me where I live. Which, if I were like 2 billion blocks away, I could just answer far to...but when I live right across the street, becomes a bit more bothersome. Especially because they know exactly where I am. When I'm home. When I'm coming home late, etc. I really hope they'll use this knowledge for good. (world peace, and being my own personal body guard) as opposed to evil. raping/murdering/pilaging me.

So, there is this sound. This beeping. It comes in 3's. Beepbeepbeep. And it will continue for hours on end. It's outside my apartment building. I have no idea what it is. And I have no control over it. Consequently I am going insane. I want to murder beep maker. With my bare hands.

This afternoon I had a lovely brunch with my boo and her mother. (Boo-by which I mean friend, that I spend enough time with to qualify as a relationship.) I had an egg dish and we ordered an entire pitcher of yummy sangria. And the waiter didn't card me! Score! I always find it easier to get to know new people while mildly intoxicated!

Then I went home. And legit like legitlegit nearly peed my pants...I had to go soooooooo bad. Then I napped for an hour and woke up all headached (sangria + lack of water + sleep = slight dehydration known as midly/half-assed brunch time hangover)...took excessive amounts of pain pills...and ventured out to meet some extended family members for din din. Which was phenom and dim summy...but I felt like an ass for being the ONLY vegetarian and thus making us order extra dishes because only I wouldn't eat the carnivorous ones.

Now, I should be reading about early Christian martyrs. But rather I am blogging. And before this I was vainly channel surfing to find something on our TV. We do not have cable. This is a much more arduous task than it should be. Before that I was going on a find diet sunkist adventure. And before that I was eating mini-snickers and napping. They should make a Lifetime movie of my life.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Inappropriately attached to Taylor Swift.

Jaclyn needs sleep like a hoe needs leopard stilhettos. And yet, she cannot, because she just got home. Her cell phone is dead, the cell phone + charger won't make it up onto lofty. And no phone means no alarm, means no getting up in 6 hours. Sad. So I figured I'd write a short, delightfully self-indulgent blog post while I wait, and watch my hours of precious sleep slowly ticking by...

So, this girl in the Starbucks line yesterday in full on glam gear, skirt, nice shirt, nice coat, done-up hair and make-up--standing behind me in my 10 day old jeans (by which I mean, worn 10 days without being washed) and sneaks was on her cell phone. Telling her friend quote, (I know I just need the symbol, but the word increases the flow...) "So, I'm wearing flats today. I know, they're cute and black, but I just feel so un-feminine." It was 9 in the morning. Cue rage.

The other day there was a very hot man in Silver in a slightly douchey chef shirt with an accent who asked me where the bathroom was. Not very romantic, perhaps, but it made my day. Mostly because I pretended he asked me where it was because he wanted to f*** me senseless in it. Aw, sweet daydreams of 20 year olds.

When sketch looking men walk alone at night closely behind me with only one arm shoved deep inside a puffy coat, I think he is palming a knife/gun and is planning on robbing/raping/r-murdering me. I don't appreciate this. I nearly got hitted by a car running away from said sketcher.

I know this goes against everything I ever learned in health class, but some people REALLY ARE hotter when they're smoking. :) LOVE

SLOW WALKERS. IM NOT KIDDING. I WILL BEAT YOUR COLLECTIVE ASSES.

I DON'T BELIEVE IN GLOBAL WARMING. I MEAN, IT'S COLD OUTSIDE.

I DO BELIEVE IN BANANA PUDDING. I THINK I NEED TO STOP EATING SO MUCH OF IT THOUGH, AS DAIRY MAKES MY PARASITE RIDDEN BODY WANT TO VOMIT. EXCESSIVELY. YES, THERE IS A DISTINCTION OF EXCESSIVELY VOMITING. I'VE LEARNED.

Monday, October 5, 2009

A day for Odes.

An ode to slow walkers:
Oh, slow walkers on the NYC street.
When I see you, I want to punch the back of your head.
That would be a real treat!
Without my morning Starbucks brew,
I'm not sure if there'd be retraint.
You're just lucky I have dining dollars to buy Starbucks coffee,
Or I'd beat you until you faint.

An Ode to Bernie Madoff:
Why, oh why, did the person running the scholarship I was going to apply for have to invest with you and lose all their money and cancel the scholarhsip and deprive me of my chance to be slightly less in the quicksand of insurmountable death, debt and sadness?

An ode to myself:
You are a crazy bizotch.
The end.

P.S. Vik Keenan. My ex-NYU advisor. If you ever read this: where did they send you? Are you still alive? Can we be (facebook) friends now? I miss you. I sometimes form unhealthy attachments to people. I REALLY miss you.

P.P.S. I eHow('ed) "how to get over a crush." One of the first suggestions I got was to go on a date. I then eHow('ed). "how to find a date." I have a feeling it's going to be a long semester...

Saturday, October 3, 2009

I'm waiting until the last possible second to urinate.

Things currently on my mind.

1) I NEED to lay off the baked goods. Especially banana pudding. Which isn't necessarily a valid baked-goods categorization. But it is good. And contains baked items. And I am eating far too much of it.

2) Why do armpits smell so much worse when you wear a tank top? Wouldn't they smell better because they're getting aired out?

3) Starbucks perfect oatmeal truly is perfect. Mostly because it fits into the lid of the coffee cup perfectly, so you only need one hand to hold both. But also, because you can steal the packets of nuts and eat them as snacks throughout the day. And sweeten with either brown sugar or sweet-n-low.

4) I just found out it's sweet-n-low. Not sweet-and-low. I'm not sure how I feel about this revelation.

5.) I'm obsessing over the thought that I need to work on being less obsessive.

6.) There is a random man in my apartment. I just heard him come in. I'm hoping this is the mysterious dog walker I was told about. If not, uhm, this shall be quite an eventful night. I am hiding in my room. Snuggled on lofty.

7.) Stanley Milgram's shock experiment = the BEST psych porn ever! Specifically when you watch it on an overhead projector. And see all the normal folk give increasingly painful/presumably lethal shocks to some random dude because a guy in a white coat told them to. The intensity grows and grows until finally they're let in on the tricksies, light up a smoke, and let out a sigh. So, like porn. Except hotter.

8) I REALLY miss the days when psychology had no ethics. And people smoked in the lab. I mean they just look so darn cool.

9) So, Starbucks has been advertising this "taste test" of their regular brewed coffee and their new instant brand. I thought it would be all...can you tell the difference?!?!? If you can, we give you a free cup. But alas, no. They give you one small ass cup of their coffee then one cup of hot water for you to make your instant. Then you take them to the table. And drink. And there's no competition. Or testing of any kind. But you do get free coffee...

10) Starbucks closes at 11. Half the lights were off at 9. I mean, we're college students. Turning the lights off won't actually make us leave.

11) I need to pee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!