Do you think it's not a great sign--fashion wise
that transvestites are often seen shopping at
my favorite clothing store?

It's Valentine's Day

Where's My:

Caviar
Champagne and chocolates
Diamond ring
Dozen roses
Etable underwear
Eternity ring band
Gift basket wrapped in red cellphane
Gift certificate to Bliss spa
Hallmark Card
Heart shaped helium balloon
Heart anklet
Lobster dinner gift certificate
My bed & breakfast weekend get away
Pearl necklace
Poem
Personalized GUND Teddy Bear in an 'I Love You' T-shirt
Precious Moments Valentine's Figurines
Red mug with cinnamon candies
Ruby heart shaped necklace
Valentine Cookies
Victoria's Secret gift certificate

Don't you LOVE ME?????!!!!!!

I Wanna Like It

I wanna like Time Out magazine but I just can't.
When I flip through it it makes me feel all stressed
out like, 'Hey you-here are 176 pages worth of shit
you really should be doing instead of going home
after work, cracking open a Bud and putting on
your freakin' cozy pants-again.'

I'm Working I Swear

My boss just yelled out, 'Who printed out
a recipe for Tempura Batter? Anyone?'
Um...oops. Me. I'm working I swear.

If It Gets Real Bad

"This fucking country's lost its grip
Sub-conscious hold begins to slip
The scales of justice tend to tip
The legal system has no spine
It's corroding from inside
Slap your hand, you'll do no time…"

It's nice when you get Slayer stuck
in your head in the morning. Sort of
sums it all up doesn't it. I guess if it
gets really bad we could always move
to Anaheim and breed snakes and
show-dogs like Kerry King. Sigh.

Who Cares

Am I the only person alive that doesn't give
two shits about Oscar nominations?

Actual Personal Ad

Hey, what up ladies, what's going on today?
Damian here 6', 220, light skin, no kids I swear.
I work, holding it down for myself. You and me
whatever happens, happens. You like cultural
events? Wanting to see the Producers? Think of
me. I'm into playing pool, hanging wid my peeps,
bowling, love the movies, going out to the movies
or just staying home to watch movies and making
it a Blockbuster night. I also love walks on the
beach at night-depending on the weather,
bubble baths, great listener. Call me.

Breakin' Up Is Hard To Do

Last night I attended my friend's birthday party.
At the end of the night her dick boyfriend dumped
her-yes on her birthday.

Getting dumped sucks. I was super dumped once
by my high school boyfriend of a few years. I was
going to college eight hours away and he was off
to Vassar where the girl to guy ratio was in his favor.

The summer after the big dump he brought the girl
home to our small town. People asked, 'Wow. Are
you two back together?' everywhere I went because
she and I looked so much alike. And as if that wasn't
bad enough I constantly ran into the two of them
driving around in their VW bug or walking hand and
hand around town. Once I ran into them rolling in the
surf at our favorite beach -her in a tiny white bikini-
him golden tan and me…well me in charge of
babysitting two bratty kids and carrying a giant
blow up dolphin raft under one arm. This love stuff
can really be so cruel.

Look Out Blog World

Look out blog world my little sister has come to town
and if I do say so myself she's pretty fucking hilarious.

Wah

I just burned the fuck out of my arm.
At work I reached over a steaming tea
kettle like an idiot and was scalded
across the wrist by the steam. It hurts
like hell! After stomping my way to CVS
in the snow, I bought burn cream and a
bandage and can officially say that I am
now really crabby. Plus I have about $70
to last me until the 15th. Great. Someone
get me drunk.

So hey, I got the new job. I guess wearing
the rant pants and boots and no top to the
interview worked. Har Har.

For those of you that can appreciate a sad
yet amusing tale of one's favorite office chair
being taken away read this and be sure
to send your condolences.

The Red Pants Are Talking

Today I wore fire engine red pants to an interview.
The pants screamed 'WOW! HELLO RED PANTS!'

I also wore black boots with holes in them.
My boots screamed 'HELP! WE NEED MONEY!'

It is my second round of interviews. The people
are great. One was chewing gum. The first question
they asked was, 'Do you ski or snowboard?' and
they were serious. I said neither but I'd like to try
snowboarding. Then I launched into an embarrassing
story about how in 8th grade I wiped out in front of
the class hunk on a ski field trip. Ba da dum.

The President of the company said, 'I'm impressed
by your resume and experience. I find you bold and
aggressive but in a good way. We need someone
that is not afraid to manage a team of artists their
own age or older. I'm confident you could handle it.'

Gulp. You are? I think can I think I can I think I can
said the little train that could. Or was it the red pants
talking?

I hate when I dash off to work late and
unshowered having thrown on a short
sleeved green zip up sweatshirt thing only
to find out when I get there that I am late
for a new client meeting and am dressed
like the Incredible Hulk. *grunt*

Sugar Rehab

One time in junior high I came home to find
a bag of chocolate covered espresso beans
in the kitchen. I was very excited. We were
not allowed to eat any candy or cereal or
anything with sugar on it growing up so you
can imagine my delight.

Unfortunately I was like a crack addict and
was not able to stop at one or two. Before I
knew it I had eaten the entire bag until my
mouth was literally numb and my heart was
beating so fast that I was convinced I was
going to die.

My mom came home and found me in bed
sweating up a storm and chanting, 'I think
I 'm going to die..' repeatedly. She thought
I was on drugs until I pointed to the ground
at the empty bag of espresso beans.

Today, someone brought chocolates from
Geneva to the office. I can honestly say I've
eaten about twenty of them. Help. I think it's
time for sugar rehab again.

Being Childish

One time during my sophomore year in college
I was forced to share a ride home for the holidays
with the campus freak named Julia. She wore
'Dr. Who' T-shirts (and not in a hip Brooklyn
kinda way) and in class she constantly made
bizarre references to the lives of various cartoon
characters. I was shit out of luck because Julia
was the only one that posted a flyer heading north.

'WHOOOO ARE YOUUUU? Need a ride north
for the holidays? As Dr. Who says 'The best way
to find out where you've come from is to find out
where you're going, and then work backwards.'
Call me Julia for a ride x7345'

Julia picked me up in a large pea green Scooby
Doo style van with a shiny sticker on it reading:

'When Things Get Rough There is HR Puff N' Stuff!'

The interior was adorned with Dr. Who crap, candy
wrappers, cartoon stickers and stuffed animals. Ten
minutes into our trip after Julia found out I never saw
nor wanted to see an episode of Dr. Who and that I
thought Scrappy Doo was a 'waste of a dog' she got
into a royal huff and popped in her '101 Cartoon
Theme Songs' cassette and sang along to some
of the words while humming along to the rest in
a way I found very, very annoying:

'He's Popeye the sailor man..toot toot! He hmm
hmm hmm hmm hmm hmmmmmmm..'

Julia may have been strange but she did share
one piece of good advice with me I still recall,
'You know there's no point in being a grown up
if you can't be childish-sometimes.'

Football For Girls

When I was younger my dad (poor guy
never had any sons) wanted to teach me
the rules of football. He asked me to sit
down while he set up two folding chairs
in our living room and said that basically
the point of football was to run from one
'chair' to the other thus scoring a 'touchdown'.
At the end he asked if I had any questions.
After a long pause I said, 'Um...do they use
real chairs???'

Oh Dear

To all of you that I have manged to
piss off with my sarcastic sense of
humor in the last week-sorry. I plan
to be better about that.

Jimmy Carter Proposes Plan to End
Venezuelan Financial Crisis

Do you ever wish you could borrow Jimmy Carter
for a day? Have him over for coffee and crumb cake...
spread out all of your financial documents across
the kitchen table and say, 'What now Jimmy?'

Well I do. I'm sure it would be a lot better than
any book written by that scary coke snorting,
cliché vomiting, financial advisor Suze Orman.