makes a hard man humble

Why is "One Night in Paris" $34.99? This is just bad marketing. You make that video $9.99, everyone will buy it. Well, not *everyone*, but everyone like me. And there are a lot of us. I'd pay $9.99 to see the September 11 "tribute" dedication alone. $34.99 is just foolish. For every one they are selling for $34.99, they'd move 10 at $9.99. Believe me, I've done the research and the math. PS Rick Salomon is totally gross.

And this is why I don't read the New York Times. Awesome. I like a feeling of community in my papers, and nothing forges that sense of community like a good bit of us vs. him. Especially when him is him.

you like to ... move it!

My Chinese restaurant fortune today said, "You are offered the dream of a lifetime. Say yes!" Wow! I wish they could be a little more specific, but still, best fortune ever.

Also, I got a second interview request today from the nice job with the good normal interview. I don't really know what to make of a second interview, but I guess it can't be all bad. I imagine they don't say, "We're pretty sure we don't want you. Could you come in one more time so we are certain?" But what do I know?

Still no computer. Come on Apple.

Speaking of that, .MAC comes with two logo stickers. Two? That's pretty cheap, people. If you want me to spread the word, you've got to send like 10 at least. Do you know how many albums Sloan has sold since I put that Action Pact sticker on my truck? Millions, baby. Is that even what those Apple stickers are for? You know I have no idea. I imagine I will have a lot of these stupid questions, so get ready.

I am trying to stop saying the F, so I started saying Butt instead. Like, "Oh butt!" Or "What the butt was that?"

One time I said, "What the butt!?" except with the F was last night, when these two hugging teenagers in the middle of the street wouldn't get out the way until we went to move (we are in a 1984 Jeep that has brakes, but you wouldn't know that by looking at it) into the opposite lane -- at which time they moved into that lane. Those bitches were lucky my window was closed, because I would have jumped out of it to beat them with The Club. For real. Stupid kids. That's how you know your neighborhood is gettin' ghetto -- people just standing in the middle of the street when a giant rusty truck comes barrelling at them. Dame.

I could be sleeping, I could be dreaming

I got a spam email this morning that said, "You used to be mind-blowing. What happened?" Sure, it was an ad for some penis enlargement thing, but the question remains.

On last night's news, they were telling the story of some subway shooter (like the 10th in 3 weeks or something. Remember back when stabbings were the preferred means of subway violence?) ,and the copy must have said the shooter was 5'7" (confirmed by this mornings update, wherein the suspect is 5'7") but the lady said he was between 5' and 7' tall. I can't even tell you, hours of laughter.

Can I just tell you that I haven't had a new Degrassi since Thursday? It's not OK.

Yesterday my computer (my very first own Mac, as it happens) was supposed to come, but it didn't. AppleCare and .MAC came though. Useless. Apple, this is not a good start to what I hoped would be a long and loving relationship.

I should be working.

It was so cold this morning, but so hot last night. This is a weather phenomenon I can't get my mind around. Is it that it is so hot all day it takes hours to cool down? Is it even less logical than that? Why do I even pretend to understand these things? Anyway, it is the worst way, because you go to bed and are too hot and uncomfortable and can't sleep, then at about 5AM you get freezing and try to find your blankets, then when you are supposed to get up at 7, you are still freezing and can't get out of bed. I don't know who makes the weather, (Jesus, is that you?) but he/she/it -- let's just say they -- really need to get it together.

I really thought "24 Hour Party People' would explain Ian Curtis' suicide more, not make it even more confusing. I need to get a book or something. The movie was good, though, worth your 2 hours for the genesis of Bez scenes alone, even.

Do I owe you an email? Likely, as I owe roughly 88% of everyone in existence an email/real mail/some mail. It isn't that I don't love you, it's that I don't love me. OK, not that, just that I am a mess. I will get to it. I promise.

this town's your sinking ship

Sometimes you just need a cocktail. After abstaining from alcohol for far too long thanks to a head injury (Thanks, head injury!), I rejoined the living with Alize Red Passion and cranberry yesterday, and now I am having pina coladas. Yum.

Man, I love Degrassi.

Goran played his last ever match on Friday. If you don't know Goran, you should. Know him. Love him.

For fun vacation times, we stay close to home. Wednesday we played in Williamsburg, Thursday we had That Party in Greenpoint, yesterday there was Coney Island, today there was DUMBO shopping. Tomorrow is Manhattan.

Will I see you at the Joel Plaskett show at Central Park? I hope so.

everybody's doing it

From Greschya, Emmalola, Agentlulu, et al.

1. Go to Google
2. Type in "You know you're from {insert your state} if..."
3. Copy and paste a list.
4. Bold the statements that apply to you and italicize the statements that apply to people you know.

(I had to search to find one that wasn't totally idiotic.)

You Know You're From New York When...

1) You're 35 years old and don't have a driver's license. [close enough]

2) You ride in a subway car with no air conditioning just because there are seats available. You and the other three passengers look at each other and know you have pure grit.

3) You take the train home and you know exactly where on the platform the doors will open that will leave you right in front of the exit stairway.

4) You know what a "regular" coffee is

5) It's not Manhattan, it's the "City".

6) You get upset that a cabbie is obeying all the rules of the road

7) You're willing to take in strange people as roommates simply to help pay the rent.

8) There is no North and South. It's uptown or downtown. If you're really from New York you have absolutely no concept of where North and South are.

9) You cross the street anywhere but on the corners and you yell at cars for not respecting the fact. [I hate this.]

10) You move 8,000 miles away, spend 10 years learning the local language and people still know you're from Brooklyn the minute you open your mouth.

11) You return after 10 years and the first foods you want are a "real" pizza and "real" bagel.[10 years? Try two days]

12) A 500 square foot apartment is large.

13) Your co-worker commutes 45 minutes by train to a 2,000 square foot house in the suburbs that was the same price as that same 500 square foot apartment of yours that takes only 35 minutes to get to and you think he's a sucker.

14) You know the differences between all the different Ray's Pizzas.

15) You are not under the mistaken impression that any human being would be able to actually understand a P.A. announcement on the subway.

16) You have at least 50 menus in your apartment, two thirds of which you have neither ordered from nor even heard of.

17) You wouldn't bother ordering pizza in any other city.

18) You know that off - the - shelf insecticides are just laughing gas to the superior roaches cohabiting with you in the 500 square foot apartment.

19) You get ready to order dinner every night and must choose from the 4 major food groups: Chinese, Italian, Mexican or Indian.

20) You're not in the least bit interested in going to Times Square on New Year's Eve.

21) Your internal clock is permanently set to know when Alternate Side of the Street parking regulations are in effect.

22) You know what a bodega is.

23) You know how to fold the New York Times in half, vertically, so that you can read it on the subway or bus without knocking off other passenger's hats. [Please. Real NYers don't read that rag.]

24) Someone bumps into you, and you check for your wallet.

25) You don't even notice the nice lady walking down the road having a perfectly normal conversation with herself.

26) You pay "only" $230 a month to park your car.

27) You cringe at hearing people pronounce Houston St. like the city in Texas.

28) The presidential visit is a major traffic jam, not an honor.

29) Film crews on your block annoy you, not excite you. They take up all the parking spaces!

30) You can nap on the subway and never miss your stop. [Slept through just once in 15 years. And I was really drunk]

heaven ain't close in a place like this

Word 'em up.

Speaking of yummy, my job interview went well today, I think.

Also, my new boyfriend eMac ships tomorrow.

If it would just be less hot and rainy, I'd be on a roll. Or something.

PS did you see the picture of Joel Plaskett in the Village Voice? Yeah, well, he sounds even better than he looks, kids. Come on down.

Also, yesterday, when the Jehovah's Witnesses rang our buzzer and insisted on talking about God to the "English-speaking people" (our non-Polish last names tipped them off, no doubt), Dollie sent them away politely. After she closed the door, she admitted to me her fantasy send off, "Go Awake someone else." See, that's why I love Dollie.

Oh yes, and Dollie loves Craig and I love Spinner. If you guessed, I'm impressed.

they'll never give up

Let's say you sent an email to a rockstar. And last time you sent an email to this rockstar, he didn't get it, and complained to you that he must have your wrong email because the one he independently sent you at about the same time totally bounced back. So you sent him another email just recently, and he didn't write back, which is, based on past patterns, out of character, save this last time where he didn't get it. Do you send him another email and risk appearing insane?

Dear Rockstar, I'm glad you are coming to town!
Two weeks pass.
Dear Rockstar, Still glad you are coming to town!

PS I finally got paid!

In other news, I love Snake. Love him, love him. I know it for official sure because not only did I love him when he was a cute tall dorky juniorhighschooler, I even love him now that he is a cute tall dorky media immersion teacher. Whatever that is. I wonder if the real guy is really married? Because he should probably marry me. Remember when he was on "Twitch City"? Yeah. And last weekend I somehow totally accidentally came across this awful movie that he was in a whole lot. It said, "Introducing," as if I hadn't been introduced to him in 1986 or whatever. Please.

This is the saddest sad, isn't it? Yes, Jane, it is. Only that I haven't seen any real boys (save El Fano) in weeks now. Because I don't leave the house, and they aren't coming over. Bastards. Snake is in my living room every night. What else can I do?

PS The Snake thing would be beyond awful, if it wasn't all just a smokescreen to hide my (definition of all that is awful) love for one of these boys. Listen, just because I'm not 16 doesn't mean I don't still realize that some boys who are 16 are cute. Right? It's not like I want to make out with him or anything (Whereas, I really would marry Snake). Also, the one I like is 18 now. Anyway, in this Degrassi band, I like one and Dollie likes one. You will never ever guess which and who. Never. I defy you. Or not.

in times of crisis, the modern log

Is this the hottest week on record? Because I am sweating, man. And I am not into it. I think this might be one of those times when one would say, "It's not the heat, it's the humidity," but I just say, "Ugh, this is really gross."

Speaking of gross, I ate 3 bananas today. How weird is that? It's pretty weird.

I was realizing that I never told you the story of The Modern Log (by you, I mean The Modern Log, clearly). So here it is, the story of your birth.

Once upon a time, there was a girl and she had this record by this band.

Wait, maybe I should go back further.

Once upon a time, there were these two girls who went to Cambridge, MA to see a show. They were very early for the show because they were going to interview one of the bands playing. During the soundcheck, a soundman came over to these girls and asked if either was Sheila Divine, who was due on stage. They weren't. So afraid of hearing some warbling chick with a guitar and a dream as the opening act, the girls sat in the far corner, sipping drinks and watching the Sammo Hung show on CBS (or was it that Don Johnson show? Or was that the same show?) instead of checking out what was actually a rocking all-male three piece called The Sheila Divine. Who knew?

Some time later, the two girls were in Cambridge again, in a bigger room, seeing another band. This time they watched the openers and fell in love with The Sheila Divine. Magic.

Soon after, these girls got the band's EP and then their album (pre-release, bitches!).

The girl you know so well, she loved this band and was particularly fascinated with a track called "The Modern Log," a song with a meaning so inscrutable to the girl that her mind was nearly blown. Literally <-ahhahaha. Oh man, how annoying is that? Anyway, it wasn't until years later, when the girl's friend Other Girl (her fellow girl from the previous stories) introduced the idea of the log as a log (not unlike this here log) as opposed to a log one would throw on a fire. Did the girl you know so well really think for all those years that the song was somehow about wood? Yes. And maybe it is. Who knows? The girl doesn't, but she was (and still is) astounded by the fact that she never even considered log's alternate meaning.

Once she did, it was clear to this girl that someday, the sooner the better (and here's where procrastination got the best of her) she would rename her online journal of ridiculousness The Modern Log, for is there anything more befitting the name, anything that so encapsulates that which is modern and also a log? No, there isn't. And don't get into the rest of the lyrics to the song. The girl hasn't decided how those figure into the plot yet, and she isn't sure she can fit any more mindblowings into her schedule right now.

I must confess, I still believe

For some hellish reason, I have "My loneliness ain't killing me no more" from Britney Spears' "Stronger" stuck in my head. Horrible video. Great line though. You know, because it references "Hit Me Baby, One More Time" (still her best shot) and you know how I love songs that reference other songs by the same artist (see Joel Plaskett's entire catalog.)

Guess what I did yesterday and this morning? Did you guess, "Take on extra work for that company that owes you six weeks pay?" Well, if you did, you're right! Am I deranged? Quite possibly. But I just earned a sweet sum I'll likely never see. Jealous?

PS Whenever I say, "Jealous?" be sure that it is an impersonation of Amy Poehler's one-and-a-half legged lady.

What else? Hmm. Oh! I have a job interview on Tuesday. I think. At a place that wants me to work during the day for a sensible amount of time at sensible pay. What? Yeah, so we'll see what happens with that.

You want to know why I love Blogger (despite the name)? It is because just now I accidentally (in a caffeine-fueled typing frenzy) hit some combination of keys that left this page and went to Google for no reason, but when I came back, all this type was still here. Suck on that, Diaryland. Oh, don't be sad. I still love you Diaryland. I'm just not IN love with you ... no more.

so long, Andrew. I [won't] miss you

I didn't believe the commercials. I never do. The (universally hated) love triangle ends with a death? No, it can't happen.

But it can. Oh good God. Thank you for listening. Every little miracle makes my world a little brighter.

From Dustin's Passion's Page
Christopher Douglas (Antonio) is leaving the show and will air through June 24th. Though rumors currently circulating indicate the character will be killed off, right now these are just rumors. There are other rumors that Antonio's exit may in fact leave an opening for his return. Thanks to Renee for some of this info!

Will this be good enough news that I can return to the show? Maybe. Maybe not. Definitely not today, as since we put "The View" on to see George Michael, I've left the TV on channel 7. I have no idea what is going on on "All My Children" or "One Life to Live," and I'm finding it to be the perfect background noise -- lots of talking, nothing to care about.

let's say you owe me something

Lily The Polar Bear Put To Sleep At Zoo

It is, as they say, to cry.

Yes, I did learn this yesterday, but why not just heap it onto an already awful day, eh?

So not only did I not get paid today (not a huge shock) but the person I need to contact in order to find out if I am ever getting paid ever is on vacation, thereby creating a huge panic attack. Thanks! I suppose everyone in the company can go on loads of vacations since they are saving so much money (ahahha) by not paying me.

Oh, speaking of that, this is just the richest rich: "MTV Networks and Viacom are in great shape to invest in a new cable network." ... because they are saving so much money by not paying Jane, apparently.

Yes, people of the world, it is all about me. Only 16 more days until the end of the month of butt. You hear it first.

a bird once told me June the 4th is not your lucky day

The question of the day is: Why is June "the month of butt" (TM Dollo)?

Because it is, you know.

Although I do like this pretty pretty new journal at my pretty pretty own website away from cranky cranky Diaryland which can like never ever work ever.

Anyway, with the car traumas and never getting paid (STILL!!!) and speaking of that, !!! themselves and all manner of buttness, I spend my time either hating, or being rolled up in a ball sleeping or bleeding over a cover letter for a job I am overqualified for, that is in an annoying area, that would require me to work overnights, that I shouldn't even want. Mostly I just sit around and hate, and watch "Degrassi: The Next Generation" (my only joy) and never leave the house ever.

The month of butt. I hate. Hate hate hate.


Ooh, look at these!! Remember those? I liked plain Chocolate Snaps better (the brown box, 'member?!), but this reminder of less butt times will do.

Now I must get back to my apparent volunteer position. Because when I do volunteer work, I certainly pick a multibillion dollar corporation to give a hand up to, don't you?

Does this work?

Does this work?

something's always wrong

A national day of mourning? You're kidding right? No mail on Friday? Friday, when my first paycheck in a month is supposed to come? So that I will have to hope it comes Saturday, drag myself into Manhattan (because you know my bank is so not open on Saturday) to deposit it and then wait until Monday to get it. So that I can have another crappy weekend. Thanks, Ron. Still keeping the poor folk down after all these years.

You know, I feel as bad about dead people as the next guy, but he was 93. People die. The world goes on.

In other news, for some reason, when we tried to renew the registration on Ol' Oscar, our inspection confirmation # came up as invalid. I hate. This is all well and good, so long as you have the receipt. We didn't. So we have to have the car re-inspected, which the DMV lady thought was just fine seeing as how the inspection was up next month anyhow. You want to ask her, "Have you seen what year this car is? Do you get that passing inspection isn't easy? Do you understand that an extra $50 isn't just falling out of our pockets? We are driving a 1984 rustbomb." Hate.

This morning, when trying to get the car re-inspected (please note that the registration is up at midnight, thanks) our mechanic's inspection machine was down. We drove an hour out east to try the guy who did it the last two times (who always passes Oscar somehow) and his machine was down.

Oh wait! I forgot the great middle part. In front of our regular mechanic is this "No Parking" zone that everyone ignores. There's nowhere else to park while you are waiting for your car to get took in. After Jack said, "Sorry," I ran to a payphone (cell is off due to poorness) and Dollie ran to get breakfast and when we ran back we had a ticket. No one else did. We did. We are the most legal parkers ever. The one time we don't park like good girls, we end up with an extra $60 tacked on to our breakfast bill.

Yeah, back to the inspection. I know for many of you, having a lapsed registration or inspection isn't a big deal unless you get pulled over. In New York City, the police just routinely drive by and look at stickers all day in a effort to give out more tickets. Thanks, Bloomberg!

So we left Oscar out east with the parents (believe me, we all wished we could have taken a trip to the beach to wait for inspection, but noooo, some people have to work, bleh), who can park him behind their building in the private lot and hopefully avoid the prying eye of the po-po.

We drove Car (a teal 1993 Cavalier station wagon. Please note: we call our Jeep a truck, my parents call their Explorer a Jeep and everyone calls the station wagon Car. Maybe we don't deserve to have vehicles) back to Brooklyn (which took approximately 78 hours. At least there was air conditioning!) Every permutation of getting our car registered and returning all vehicles to their rightful owners seemed wrong.

Dollie headed out to work and I waited. My old man called to tell me the truck was newly inspected and happy as Larry.

The only problem is, our inspection receipt is now in Rockaway and all the other paperwork is in Manhattan. I don't expect you to understand NYC geography, but we're talking about a solid hour on the A train. Great.

We decided to try the mighty fax machine. Sure, it came out all grainy (Thanks for the quality machinery, Jerry!) but maybe they would accept it, somehow.

"Cry if they don't," I advised Dollie, who heroically took a lunch hour from a non-lunch hour workplace in order to wait on line at License Xpress (which lived up to its name). 40 minutes later she called to tell me all was well. The lady she had this time was uninterested in stupid details and unfazed by the fax.

I love this woman. I want to be this woman. Someday, when this woman retires, I hope to fill her shoes (watch, she's 6 years younger than me), to keep the dream alive.

Anyway, when I started typing this story, everything was a horror. Now things are looking up little by little. I'll spend tonight driving back and forth from the Rock, but it could be worse -- at least there won't be that traffic. And at least I will have a legally-sanctioned automobile.

Ooh, maybe I won the MegaMillions. Imma go check.

I feel like I won the cup

The Stanley Cup final was pretty exciting last night. I only peeked quickly during the game (purposely; for some reason Tampa Bay can't score goals when I am watching) and then I watched the last minute and the Cup ceremonies.

"No hard feelings, Miikka. We just had to win this one. I was trying to impress Jane."

Yes, it was exciting, but not as exciting as when it was us. Remember?

That was ten years ago. Man. I think 2007 is our year. Don't ask why 2007, it just is.

My horoscope today is very odd.

The very last thing you'd ever think possible is about to occur -- right before your very eyes. Resistance is futile. Buckle up and enjoy the ride.

The *very* last thing? Man, I hope it isn't a job, only because I think every job place has my cell phone, and since I have no money, I couldn't pay them and so it is currently shut off. Sad. Maybe they will email. You know today will come and go and nothing at all interesting will happen. Or occur, as they say. But I'm trying to be open to it. I am surrendering to the power of my horoscope. Ooohhhhh!

You never give me (my) money

I really didn't forsee this Friday being worse than last Friday, but it managed to outdo it's older brother. Ah, kids.

Yes, so while I didn't collide with any wildlife today, and my car wasn't carted off on a flatbed truck for not starting, I did manage to not get the three weeks worth of pay I had coming. If you're keeping track, that means I haven't really been paid in two weeks. So I have $0. Actually, this morning I had -$45 in the bank, -$.78 in PayPal, and $25 in my pocket. So that's a grand total of $29.78 down. And we're not even talking about bills.

I'm not an overdrawn at the bank kind of lady (the PayPal thing happened because I didn't realize ol' PP charged a buck for ATM withdrawals). I was holding steady at $1.06 after the rent was paid (expecting a tidy sum to be deposited this afternoon -- where tidy is synonymous with measly). AND THEN! Lynda Barry finally cashed my $25 check. Which is magically awesome as I now have my own personal for real and amazing original drawing of Marlys and Arna eating sunflower seeds that says "To Dearest Jane" and a wonderfully nice and totally unnecessary note apologizing for the delay in doing the piece. I mean, who am I to rush Lynda Barry? And who am I to not have $25 in the bank. If not for that bastard EZ Pass, it all would have cleared nicely. But instead I was -$24. And then they took another $30 out as a hateful fee for covering my check for me (Thanks and all, though. How embarrassing it would have been to bounced the check, eh).

So my baby brother floated me $80 to get my bank balance back in the +#s. He's a good man.

Better about today was that The Girl brought home fish and chips for dinner, though last week I did have an amazing grilled ham and cheese sandwich.

Better than all of these times happened seven years ago today, when I met Chris Murphy, Andrew Scott and Kim Stitzel for the very first time. All in all, it's been a good show.

raise your voice in celebration of the days that we have wasted

Hey, did you know there was a difference between DVD-R and DVD+R? Well, I didn't. Argh.

Eight years ago today, I joined the end of a line to meet Pulp and a homeless guy came up to me (to ask me for some money and) to tell me that two girls further up on the line were talking about me. One was Seana. The other was Dollie. And look where we all are now. Wait, where are we? Where am I? And what happened to my shoes?

Yeah. Friday is another big anniversary of first meetings. You'll just have to wait for that one.