12.30.2008

2009, RING IT IN, BITCHES.


It's that time of year again...when people decide to lose those pounds, quit those ciggies, drop from 3 cocktails straight up a night to 3 on the rocks. I have to be honest...I've never made a New Year's Resolution in my life, but 2009 is my year to shine, I've decided. I'm fresh out of the dentist's chair from a root canal, the wrinkle between my eyebrows taunts me to no end, I am getting saggy and loose, tired and dispassionate, in other words, OLD.

My list may appear to be somewhat indulgent and focused on the outside (as opposed to my still very young-at-heart inside)...but I think I have to get my body into fighting shape, and then my neurotransmitters, inner id/ego, and that buried down deep, I know you're in there somewhere, once resilient and seeking soul will follow.


1. Walk uphill, both physically and mentally (I think that will be the most targeting exercise for my bum...which needs the most work; and my brain is in desperate need of a workout)
2. Moisturize
3. Detoxify/JUICE!
4. No meat 4 days a week (except for fish)
5. Create a home

HOPEFULLY, JUICING WILL MAKE ME LOOK LIKE LALANNE!!!



So, that said, tomorrow is New Year's Eve, and before one can detoxify, one must intoxify...who's got the Veuve?

See you in 2009, filled with fiber.

12.19.2008

Great Gift Idea #2

So you want your holiday gifts to be substantial, conscientious, and entertaining... I have the perfect gift idea for everyone on your list--mom, grandma, massage therapist:



BOYZ N THE HOOD.

This movie has everything you need...a great soundtrack, intense drama, a message, a unique sense of Americana, a dude who sucks on a binki throughout the film, and most importantly, the best-ever-named, most serious on-screen father of all time...


FURIOUS STYLES!
(Laurence Fishburne)


Thanks to the incredible performance by Mr. Fishburne, I will never pack heat or do a retaliation drive-by. He taught me to know better, and to de-stress using, instead of violence, these:


Baoding Balls!

So, there you have it, TWO great gift ideas-a movie and some balls. Merry Christmas!


12.17.2008

Girl Crush, M.D.


Those who know me, know that I have had a lot of strange career goals in life. At five years old, when a typical response to "What do you want to be when you grow up?" would be, "Ballerina" or "Veterinarian", my well thought-out and passionate response was always, "Clerk." Like, grocery store clerk. Why? Because I liked to press buttons and found the scanner mesmerizing. It also seemed like a good job for an elderly person, and I was born very very old.

Once matured, by the ripe age of eight or nine, I wrote a letter to the Mickey Mouse Club (like the Britney/Justin version) decreeing that my new dream job was, wait for it, OBGYN. Gross, you may think. Why would such a young girl want to be a vag' doctor? Well, let me remind you, Dr. Cliff Huxtable, my forever hero, was an OBGYN. The only think better to me then being an OBGYN was being a black OBGYN, but I would settle for being a white one. The thrill of delivering babies! Having an office in my Brooklyn brownstone! Nothing could talk me out of this path, until I took a cab ride in London--then I had a whole new perspective on my future (although that's a whole other post).

Back to my dream of being a vaginacologist... My motives were pure, my inspiration Cosby-ian. So, it seems to make sense that going to the gyno for me now would be no big deal...not only no big deal, but like, a little peak into what would have, should have, could have been. If only my gynecologist wasn't the prettiest girl ever, who is so super cool she puts every cool girl you've ever met to shame. She's rich, tall, drops 'f' bombs while you're in the stirrups, has a beagle mix, etc... In short, I have a freakin' girl crush on my gynecologist. On paper, this sounds funny. But, in real life, it induces complicated feelings of intense terror (especially during the breast exam) and complete and utter embarrassment.

When the exam begins, with the casual talk and easy questions all is well. It's like we're old friends; all we need is a cocktail and some genuine knowledge about one and other in order to facilitate some actual gossip. I feel like I've entered some upper social echelon. I'm bff's with some hip young doctor. Then, I realize that she has had enough small talk, that she's just being polite and making me comfortable for what becomes that most awkward 7 minutes of my day, week, month, year, probably life.

Sometimes I miss the old days when I would sort zone out and pretend not to know what they were looking at down there. But then, I remember, this lady is a good doctor...and that's all she is. My doctor. My super pretty, super cool doctor.



P.S. I'm not the only one...I've had several friends who I have sent there, and all of them come back feeling conflicted, yet somehow giddy.




12.06.2008

Womanizah, Womanizah


GRANDMA, A True Story
[A One Scene Play]
Starring: My Grandma


MY GRANDMA, an 82 year old Italian woman with a penchant for judge shows and a distaste for the unfamiliar, and I sit over a plate of home cooked food.

GRANDMA
He was a gigolo...would grab your tush every time you walked by. What a shame...

ME
Well, why do you think men cheat?

GRANDMA
The other woman...she has a twat of gold.
Fin.

No Job? Let's Haiku!

In unemployment
There is much time for writing
A blog no one reads.

I awake mid-morn'
Nothing on my agenda
Should I brush my hair?

Myself and my dog
Share many things in common
Eat, Sleep, Crap, Eat, Sleep.

I'm not unemployed
My job is to find a job
Where is my paycheck?

12.03.2008

Great Gift Ideas

Have you ever gone to the hospital to visit your newly post-op transsexual friend or coworker? I haven't either, but I have considered a potential gift:

Go to the hospital gift shop, purchase an "It's A Girl!" balloon in the baby section (or "It's A Boy!", depending on the post-op status), cross out the "It's" and add a "You're".
Voila, Great Gift Idea #1!

12.01.2008

Meow Tse-tung

I am considering getting a cat and naming him Mao. He will either become a Communist dictator with a funny haircut; or at the very least, he will be able to say his own name.