Sunday, March 30, 2008


[insert incredulous sigh]

Sunday, March 23, 2008

easter on the island of long.

I have a big update brewing inside of me. I've also gotten my hands on a ton of photos from decades past. Yikes.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

amanda overmyer

If Pink and Rachel Ray had a baby...

Friday, March 14, 2008

I went skiing!

So I went skiing.

Ryan's dad and girlfriend planned a skiing trip for all of us (the two of them, me, Ryan, Ryan's brother Brady, his sister Becky, his brother's girlfriend Blair, and his sister's friend Amy)a few months ago and the trip finally came into fruition last week. I don't know why I decided to call everyone out by name, but it's a say something dress day so why not be carefree?

The trip was fantastic. Aside from desperately needing time away from this awful city, getting away cleared my head a bit. I'm not seeing things any clearer, but the urge to backhand everyone I come into contact with is at ease for now. It was a much needed and much deserved vacation. Sometimes I forget how hard me and Ryan work because we're not out there "busting our asses" digging wells or building houses or whatever it is grown men do in the square states. It's a lot of work making people feel pretty, whatever avenue it is you travel down to do so. Anyway, skiing.

It was fantastic. My ski outfit was fantastic. My jacket is navy blue with yellow and red strips about the chest. I had a brown/tan striped scarf, gray gloves, and BRIGHT SPRING GREEN snow pants. It looked like the '70s vomited all over me. I was in heaven. Hanging out in hotel rooms, eating out with newfound friends and family, 24hr cuddle parties. Good things, good times. Although, there may have been a snafu or two whilst we danced down those icy slopes of upstate New York. I may or may not have killed an Asian girl. Here's the thing; she was asking for it. I followed along a line of skiers, bounding back and forth from one side of our path to the other when all of a sudden the girl in front of me decides to a) stop and b) turn around. Um, what? You're not doing a toe-spike and this isn't the Ice Capades, Michelle Kwan. SO suffice it to say my chest came into contact with her entire life and a split second later I found myself side-stepping back up the hill to check on this broken pile of girl laying, stunned, in the middle of the pathway. She says she's fine but her arm really hurts. She assures me she will be okay and so I go on my merry way. But as I start back down the mountain I look over my shoulder and see her collapse (intoapileofporkfriedrice :x)and I am almost moved enough to stop again and make sure she's okay. But by that time I was hundreds of feet away and there were other people swarming around her. Long story short, don't fuck with me. I also got going down another slope at around, 900pmh. Ryan was sure I was going to die but I came out of it and pulled off a dazzling performance... not unlike one Ms. Michelle Kwan!

Our hotel room was fantastic. Eating wine and cheese and watching planet terror is what I think life is all about. Lots more happened, but I'm not one to list my every joy in the world. I like to keep my secrets. Although I do feel closer to Ryan than I have ever felt before. And I think walking back up that mountain over and over again has taught me to pace myself somewhat. I will not roll with the punches because I do not roll with the punches; I think now though I will try not to punch back so hard when said punches are being punched at me. Punch.

It's almost midnight and I'm naked watching Forensic Files in our living room. I'm curled up in a blanket that isn't anywhere near as warm or comfortable as the bed Ryan is currently passed out on BUT I can't go to sleep without sharing some NYC stories with you. First, as I was walking with some friends during my lunch break yesterday a large, juicy, black man said "How you doin' baby?" in my general direction. I thought he was talking to my friend Sara so of course I couldn't resist myself. "I"m fine, how are you?" I replied. But it was one of those replies that wasn't really directed at the juicy black man, it was just shot out into the sky. AND HE ANSWERED ME BACK! He said "GOOD! WHAT ARE YOU DOIN' TOMORROW NIGHT!?!??!" My reply to that was a brisk walk away from my juicy suitor, though I did happen a glance back at him. Never in my life have I seen a juicier, blacker, older, gold-toothedier man. Never. He looked like Aunt Jemima in Blackface. He looked like he gave birth to the crushed velvet suit. He was so juicy, I'm almost certain it was all grease, fatback, and crisco. I wish I had a bag of sand to throw on his face and sop him up. Gross.

Then today on my way home I was sitting in between my usual Latina Sandwich. Latina #1 was texting up a fury, cursing into her sidekick. Latina #2 was molding a section of curls with HER OWN BAMBOO EARRING! While I thought my riding situation couldn't get any better, a fight broke out between a black woman, herself, her friend, and a white guy. She could not believe that we had to get off of the J train at Marcy and transfer to the M train (because the J runs express, the M is local). She couldn't believe it. From Canal St. to the Williamsburg bridge to the platform to the M train. She was in shock and everyone needed to know about it. White guy looks in her general direction and she goes off. Telling her friend she's not crazy, and that white people are always looking at her like she's crazy. But she is not crazy. And while she is not crazy her friend is staring at her as though she is crazy. She asked Latina #3 if she "could believe this shit!" but #3 was lost in a cloud of Jay-Z, neon high-tops, and beef patties, so she was no help. All of a sudden she quiets down and tells her friend she's acting crazy. And that somehow white people always manage to see her when she's acting crazy. Her friend points out the fact that she denied being crazy while her fit was still going on... and she laughed. Then she walked over to white guy, said "you know I was just playing right?"; gave him a pound, and then exited the train before me. The moral of this story is... should you find yourself white, in the company of women who are several shades darker than you, and traveling to one of the lesser boroughs... avert your eyes. You will, perhaps, incite a riot within a single crazed black woman that will scare you, confuse you, confound you, and then shake your hand.

Clearly, I can't. I just can't.
I wonder what treasures tomorrow has in store for me.

Monday, March 10, 2008


I just woke up crying/sweating/panting from the worst nightmare I've ever had. Ever!
Maybe I'll tell you about it.

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

one line

and i draw a line
to your heart today
"to your heart from mine
a line to keep us safe"

slick girls and sick boys.

About Me

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Brooklyn, New York, United States
I do not approve of clapping or snapping fingers. ever.