they wonder why you are never around

Well, since you asked, Vincent Gallo fans are, by and large, pretentious art wanks, with a sprinkling of frat-boy meatheads mixed in, evidently (very odd. I think they must be fans of that one scene in "The Brown Bunny").

The weirdest weirdness was that people just kept taking pictures. Incessantly, thoughout the whole show, 60% of the audience, easy. No lie.

"Oh, Vincent stood up! I better take 10 more photos. ACK! Sean is behind the drumkit. Good thing this is digital, I don't even have to reload!" Weird.

Then when it couldn't get any weirder, Yoko Ono played the encore. You can guess how that went. The strangest part of that was the fact that El Fano knew the song she was doing, which I had presumed (or was it hoped?) she was making up as she went along. Oh, El Fano.

The music that these mens made that night was nice though. Not quite nice enough that it overshadowed the bizarro wait (wherein Sean Lennon ran off and did something while Vincent Gallo sat there and waited -- and everyone took 12,000 photos) once we got inside, or the even worse wait while they soundchecked. Part of this included El Fano's note that Tonic smelled like a mix of pee and peat moss. (PS, what up with the Porta-Potties inside?) and this great moment, right smack in the middle of us making fun of the art wankiness of our fellow patrons, where a woman rudely demanded a light, and when no one snapped to she said, "None of you smoke? I find that hard to believe!" but what I heard was "None of you are smart? I find that hard to believe!" Dollie then decided the art wave of the future is to just randomly yell out insults that make no sense (much like that misheard gem). It was pure genius. It was. Maybe you had to be there.

The next night, I met with friends at a bar that was on the Westside Highway. Despite this placement, beer was $6. What? I realized why when I walked out of the little front room we were in to go to the ladies' room. I have never seen so many suburban white people in one place ever. It scared me. I can't explain why, as a white person, I am afraid of white people. I just am. When one girl peeing was telling her friend outside the door (after she said that she even put toilet paper over the seat in her own bathroom. [???!?!?!?!!??!]) that she hoped that "Brady and Thomas were getting along better now" I started quaking in fear. Brady and Thomas? Oh no.

Also there were famous reality stars, including Robert from the PrO-ject (long-O, bitches) and the host from "The Bachelor." Recognize ... them, I did. You can't really say "Recognize" in that place. It was nice until I got the White Fright, though. Next time I will not drink beer and then I won't have to visit the bathrooms twice like that.

The Oscars were kind of weird, but when aren't they? I don't have much to say about that, really. Also, I started my new old job today, and the computer I was assigned was not only a brand new PC (this after years of being forced to work on a Mac there, and then getting my own Mac at home which I am totally all used to now), it was not configured to work on the network. So basically, I had the Windows log-in/"Uh, no" message up all day and was unable to do anything at all. Is that a sign? Let's hope not.

I know I can never wash away my sorrow

I have to go out tonight, in a snowstorm, to Manhattan, to a benefit show for Tonic. It's Sean Lennon and Vincent Gallo. I enjoy many things that Vincent Gallo offers the public, things I probably shouldn't even enjoy, but his music isn't particularly one of them. Also, have you ever been in a room of Vincent Gallo fans? Dollie has already warned me this could be a fiasco. But you know who loves "Buffalo 66" like I love "Buffalo 66"? Jay from "Project Runway," thankyouverymuch. Which is not why I am going, but it's fun to pretend. I can't even imagine what Sean Lennon hangers-on are like. Scared.

Tomorrow is my last day working from home, so I really better do my laundry this weekend. I would tell you what I am wearing right now (and how many days I've worn these items since I last did the laundry), but I am too ashamed. The UPS man looked very sorry for me, I will tell you that. I did find a secret stash of clean underwear, though, so I am good for a few more days. And I always have clean street clothes, so maybe I can put off the laundry until Sunday. Good times.

supreme fashion

So are you having a "Project Runway" party? Because you know I am. Don't feel sad that you weren't invited. It's residents only.

Speaking of residents, El Fano is flying the coop on me. He's found his own hot bachelor pad (with cherry wood floors, the punk) in hot Queens. Yes, Queens is hot. I'm from there, aren't I?

I am hoping we can get the landlord to give us cherry wood floors too. We have the same landlord, you see. He brought me the lease on Monday, and next thing you know , El Fano and I are in his car and soon we were looking at this other place. They have a lot of good stores, too. Not Austin St. good, more like Fashion Cag good. But that's good.

Speaking of Queens and stores, I went to the Queens Center Mall (new and improved) on Sunday, and whoo, that was hot. Thumbs up. Although, if you have to use the ladies room, don't. Pee in your pants. You can put in nice bathrooms, but you can't make bitches stop peeing on the seats and throwing paper towels in the toilets. Pigs.

Root with me for Jay, people. He's even my buddy icon today.

welcome to my nightmare

Also, I just had to look up if Brian Regan died. You know, the comedian. Because I was sure I'd heard that he just died, but it clearly only happened in a dream. What kind of a freak dreams about dead comedians? This kind.

out of the ruins, out from the wreckage

ARGH! Here's a question: Why does Safari bother having an "Undo" feature if it doesn't let you use it when you accidentally paste over with some old copied text when you meant to copy what was in this Blogger box so you don't lose it when you go trolling buggy lyrics sites for a title. HMM?! Hate.

So what was lost was a 9,000 word essay on Saturday's karaoke and the "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" and hearing really odd opinions about the Civil War -- that Lauren didn't ask some loser (who later butchered "You're In My Heart") to share -- which do not belong in New York and "It's My Life" in the style of No Doubt (grr) except not (yay!) and how people should really clap super loud when foxy ladies sing "Talk Dirty to Me" and how no one will get in a fight with me, no matter how many times I yell at them for being haters or tell them that they are on the wrong side of the Mason/Dixon line and PS the night they drove old Dixie down was the greatest night of my life that I never even lived! And you know I am loud.

I did not sing "We Don't Need Another Hero," which makes perfect sense because I cannot, should not ever sing into a microphone ever, except that I had downed a few by then and so I totally would have done it (due to Christine's amazing powers of persuasion), if not for the general hating. This is why I recommend karaoke in Minneapolis, where everyone is really into it. We call it enthusiasm, people. Catch the fever. It's really sexy, and you know I never use that word ever.

you can do it if you start thinking "yes"

I should be getting ready to go out instead of writing this, but that would kill the whole, "Ack! I have to be out the door in 20 minutes, and I haven't even dried my hair yet!" rushing game. And you know how cute that is. Sure you do.

So I was just in the shower and listening to songs (like I do) and I was realizing just how much Danko Jones has grown. I can't get into the whole story of Danko Jones music, and how in the early tracks he was totally obsessed with showing up your boyfriend, like even more than getting with you even.

OK, maybe I'll get into it a little. Like "When we're making out/ I keep your boy in the trunk" from "Cadillac" and that weird moment in "Dr. Evening" where he tries to figure out a strategic doing-it pose, "because the only thing I want to see right now is your boyfriend looking surprised." -- whoa, Danko. Sure, I made a video where Oliver Reed was dancing to this song, but that line is a bit of a mood killer. Good thing he follows it with, "Dr. Evening's got that elixir for your insatiable state. Try it on. You like it? I knew you'd like it, baby." Awesome.

And oh, Oliver Reed. Heavens. I watched "Take a Girl Like You" for the first time last night finally. The end was too weird, but he was so hot. (Click on that. I dare you.) "Get your coat." Oh my God.

Anyway, back to Danko. Now he's got his mind right, and is offering advice for other troubled young men through his lyrics. Fantastic.

Also fantastic are my plans for this evening, which include a revisit to that funny place with funny karaoke. Good times.

I'm not like them, I'm not ready to tell you why

TV Marathon News: MTV2 is playing four episodes of "Sifl & Olly" tonight/tomorrow morning/whatever, from 1A-3A my time. Also, there's that "Project Runway" marathon on Sunday starting at 11A. I can't recommend this enough.

Speaking of "Project Runway," am I the only one madly in love with Tim Gunn? He is delightful. And you can read all of his comments on their site. There is a "Tim's Take" for every single episode. Magic.

In Other News: I stayed out too late last night, arguing negative vs. positive identification. Like Red Sox fans identifying themselves as not Yankee fans, or Canadians identifying themselves as not American. I just think talking about what you are not rather than what you are is odd and sad. Good thing I'm not like them. Ahahahha!

he's her religion, riding on his motorbike

I've had five episodes of "Long Way Round" on the DVR (along with every single episode of "Lost" -- I will watch it eventually) and the DVR is full, so I have to DVD some stuff off of it, and figured I'd go with that.

Oh. Heavens. Ewan McGregor is hurting my feelings, even though it is only on in the background while I work, even though he has a gross beard. He is paining me, killing me, destroying me. Why is so great and fantastic? Dollie said today, before she left for work, "Why can't they clone him so that everyone can have one?" And I don't know why, because I really need one. It's an emergency.

I can no longer shop happily

I don't mean for this to become a food log, but I went to Trader Joe's today. Oh my God.

First of all, I thought for a very long time that they only had them in California. Then I learned that they are all over the country, and we have a few in New York (state). Specifically, one in Hewlett, which is crazily close to Rockaway. So I've been whining about wanting to go since Sarah's Christmas cocktail soiree, where she served an array of Trader Joe delicacies. Today, when he got home from school, my wonderful brother took me to Trader Joe's, although I had only vague directions and promised I'd be in there an inordinately long time. We got there super fast, and I did spend way too long looking around, especially since the store was much smaller than I expected it to be (four aisles?). But it was great. I bought 12,000 things (including, accidentally, three tubs of hummus), and it cost $75. I honestly have enough food for three people to eat for weeks. I don't understand how this happened, but I am so so happy.

Then my brother drove me home, and in true driving-Jane-home fashion, traffic stopped dead and it started pouring. Awesome.

Also, Oscar is home, and is being good, for now. We'll see how that goes.

My three-year stint of working part-time from home ends abruptly on February 28. Today is actually my very last weekday off. Probably ever. Bananas.

gang of friends and gifts to give

My cable went out yesterday at 10AM, and the wonderful man who fixed it just left a little bit ago, after over an hour of hunting down the problem. I hate when the cable is out, for not only is the cable out, the internet is down as well. Ugh. The funnest part is that I was working yesterday, and since I'm still doing that from home for the time being, I had to do it via dial-up. It was a total fiasco.

For Valentine's Day, my gleesome threesome went to Rocking Horse and El Fano spent hundreds of dollars on dinner and drinks. Red lemonades (Stoli Razberri, lemonade and rasperries -- in a pint glass) and filet mignon with mashed butternut squash (I think?). And chocolate tamales (like lightly sweetened and lightly cinnamonned soft brownies inside the corn husk. Yum) and some ridiculously delicious key lime thingy. Oh, and chipotle-pineapple pork ribs for our appetizer. It was bananas. There were also presents all around. See, it's fun! Presents and food and drinks. Who doesn't like that?

I picked up cards in Chelsea, and the man in Rainbows & Triangles wished me a "happy holiday." Love it.

Now it is just February 15, and that is boring. I'm going to Rockaway soon, just for the day. It is so sunny! Hooray.

does the fact that I'm trying to do it do it for you?

Dear Jane,

Happy Valentine's Day!

love*jane

never knew love like this before

Here's the thing about Valentine's Day: Unless you only have goofy loser friends who are all creepily attached to some stranger or who are self-pitying wallowers or something, it is awesome. If you are single. This is because it is a magical excuse to buy presents and celebrate and, if you're into it, wear pink or red. And I love presents and celebrations. And pink and red.

I also love coming up with a good card, which is damn near impossible. First off, I have a very odd lifestyle situation. I sort of have a husband and a wife, and neither union is recognized by the church or state. And we're all allowed to have boys of our own. We are family. We live together and we love each other very much, though not in that way, and so it is tough to buy a card that makes sense. The "friend" cards are all too vague and express no emotion. The "husband" cards all mention weddings and kids and sexing. And the wife cards always have pictures of romantic couples on them or say "husband." Ugh. Bitches, you don't know my life.

So I end up making cards very often. The tragedy of this is that I totally blew it two years back by making the best card ever, a card for Dollo with R. Kelly on the cover and a message that stated something to the effect of "Though competition is heating up, you're still my favorite molester." Please do not even try to understand what she has to do with R. Kelly and molesting. It is a great inside joke, with the stress on great. Now how the hell do I top that, hmm? Can't do it. Foiled again by my own greatness.

wish you were here

El Fano: [Billie Joe]'s head is so big, and his body is so small!
Jane O: ACK! He looks like that kid from "The Ring" or whatever!
El Fano: Oh! Yeah, "The Grudge."
Dollo: He looks like a cross between that kid and Peter Dinklage.

change clothes and go

If El Fano calls Kayne West "Keanu Keane" one more time, I'm liable to pee my pants.

smack that bitch up

Grammy Update #1!

Not only is Gwen Stefani dragging Asian women around with her and treating them like pets, she's naming them now, as well. "This is Love, Angel, Music and Baby." Sound familar? SuChin Pak didn't punch her in the mouth, but I would have. That's why I don't get invited to the Grammys.

I went to bed early, I'm still running late

I went to bed at 1AM (after "Saturday Night Live" - yes, I do that) and now I am up again. Because I was thirsty. Isn't that weird? I find it weird, and kind of unsettling. I did drink hardly anything all day. A coffee and a soda or two.

Still, you'd think I'd be sleeping straight through to the Grammys (not a Grammy nerd, I'm working) after the day I had today. First, I got up sickly early for a Saturday to get ready to go to brunch with Park Slope ladies. We don't see the Park Slope ladies nearly enough (this was going to be our Christmas outing) and so we agreed to go to Park Slope in an effort to just get to see them.

This was not to be, as Oscar, our extremely old-ass truck, decided he wasn't really feeling like a trip to Park Slope, and he'd rather stop working altogether right there on the BQE. Genius Dollie managed to coast him off the nearest exit. And we sat 10 feet off an off-ramp in Cobble Hill waiting for AAA.

How long? You're not going to believe this part. Three and a half hours. Magical. Right at the end, I had to give up (we weren't just sitting there patiently waiting, but all of the back and forth on the phone is too painful to go into. Also, while I was certain my idea of ripping the tags and plates off the car and leaving him there was foolproof, others were skeptical. Oscar, I don't want to leave you this way, but you've hurt me too many times now.) as it was getting dangerously close to the time I had to leave to get to a wake (see, heck of a day), so I abandoned Dollo y El Fano and hopped on the B61-oh for the longest recorded 6-mile trip ever. Then I got home, the kids got home, Oscar got to the mechanic (who was so totally closed by that point) and I got ready to go back out again.

So I get on the L Train, which I am meaning to be taking to the end (of Brooklyn. We're not talking 8th Ave, loves), but that was not to be, as it was only running halfway. Thus proving my point that the MTA has it in for any train that has any form of "Rockaway" as a destination. Haters. So out I went and into a shuttle bus (fantastic -- Dear MTA, I love you.), which took 55 minutes to go what takes about 10 on the train.

When it was time to leave the wake, someone offered me a ride home, but given my transport track record for the day, I couldn't feel reponsible for any more horror I brought with me.

Instead, one of the lovely daughters of the deceased (a lovely daughter who, it should be noted, is too tough for even I to mess with; I thought the fates of transportation wouldn't dare) drove me to Broadway Junction, where I hopped a (local, thanks) A to the G and got home at a decent time.

See why I hate leaving the house?

Ugh, now I've had three pint glasses of water, and I feel awful. And yet still thirsty. In a horrible, "you would salt fish from the Dead Sea" way. I blame MSG. Seductive in small doses, but there must have been way too much in something.

I missed my bed and I soon came home

Me and Safari are in a fight. I typed a whole entry about songs that were stuck in my head -- "If I Were You, I'd be Through With Me" from The Divine Comedy (what?) and "A Rush and a Push and the Land Is Ours" from the Smiths (what WHAT?) and then Safari was like "Uh, no." and shut down. Bastard.

Then I was telling this other story, and I don't remember that now either.

Last night, in an effort to cut down on the evenings out drinking (What the hell happened there? Three drunk nights out in eight days? And two nights at home with cocktails? Bad ideas.) we watched the "Happy Days" reunion off the DVR. I highly recommend this as the most bizarre and entertaining reunion special ever. And it's on tonight at 9, so if you missed it, you really didn't.

I was in bed by 11 last night. First time in maybe years.

Oh man, there is a gay porn out called "Love, Canadian Style."

The Fan bought me socks with frogs on them with backwards caps on, and it says "Hip Hop." I love these.

will you serve me my meals when I'm buried alive?

I am hungry for breakfast or lunch or some kind of something to make me feel better and less hungover, but there isn't anything appetizing here. And I don't want to call in for lunch because I kind of want to go out and get fish and chips for dinner tonight (which is just terrible, I know) and I can't go out and buy something to make for lunch because I have to sit here all day. Oh, what a world.

Last night for dinner I made this genius meal. They had those superlean boneless pork chops on sale, so I marinated them in fancy sesame ginger teriyaki stuff and made them on the GFG, then I cut them up into bite bits, and threw them in a pan with more teriyaki stuff and broccoli, red bell peppers and snow peas and then I mixed in brown rice. It was so good, you can't even understand.

Oh, you know what is amazing? That I just typed all that because P. Phone likes if I say what I make for dinner, PS P. Phone is not eating pork chops. BUT I bet it is delicious with any meat or non meat protein source. Hooray! Although, Stonewall Kitchen is not Kosher. Boo! Ugh. I cannot win. Anyway, maybe someone else will like this story of food. El Fano and Dollie can relive the magic by reading it.

I don't know if you've read this amazing piece of unbelievable genius, but if you haven't, you must. Right now.

streetlights, people, ohhhh ho!

Dear Mr. Jesus,

Please don't let them cancel "Arrested Development." It is my only hope.

PS Remember how when Kevin Spacey was on Saturday Night Live, and they did that joke of "you're my only hope" and that was the first time i understood it, and it was only from context? Because I hate "Star Wars"? That was awesome.

Remember when I used to go see SNL live because I was an awesome person who knew awesome people? Yeah, that was hot.

Remember when I used to say "that was hot" like before Paris Hilton was even born? No, I'm not bitter. Shut up.

Remember?

Remember how I went out tonight to the R Bar, and they had 70 comedians, and I had 45 drinks and so I don't remember most of anything? Also amazing. I know I played "Don't Stop Believing" and met some lady with a fantastic name who was there the night of the riot and gave me riot tips, and I also talked to some lovely famous people of comedy, and that bitch Brendan, who irritatingly took my table.

PPS did you notice that they kept saying "PS" on "Committed"? When do I get paid for that nonsense? First "Friends" and now this. Try an original idea, and call me in the morning.

But please don't call me tomorrow morning, because I will be feeling bad.

love*jane

PPPS There could be some hot links in this post, but I am so not up for links right now.

we made as good as readily could

I know it is 2.10, the Worst Day Ever, and I have been incredibly work busy, and have gotten horrible terrible friend bad news, and I have no idea how I am going to make the 300 things I need to do this weekend work out, but I have to look on the bright side.

I also got "Adam & Lorraine" and tons of other great Ben & Jason songs of beauty from Lovely Lady. And I didn't hardly sneeze today. And I turned on iTunes and it decided to start off with "Twisterella," which I love. And I have enough money that I can go out and have me a drink or three this evening down the road apiece. You see, it's not so bad.

Now if you don't hear from me sometime tomorrow, maybe my luck caught up with me. Send out a search party. Look near the BQE.

sweet and awful, the place where we first met

"Ugh! I haaate Wendy." - Jay

Me too, love. Me too.

Before that, the evening was a total and complete delight, having spent it enjoying the magical work of Dear Leader, my favorite anything ever right now. It's like every time I see them, they are 20 times better. Stop it! No, it is true. Oh! Oh oh oh.

And two of their songs, "My Life as a Wrestler" and "Nation" are totally different live (importantly-placed screaming changes/enhances the whole meaning, and oh, it makes me cry) and it has been paining me not to be able to hear them all the time, and I wanted to video the show tonight, but the Mercury Lounge is a little weird like that, and I do not like doing things on the downlow (I am a professional, people!) BUT! I found recordings of the recent TT the Bear shows online, and now I immensely enjoy hearing these versions, Constantly. Although, what is up with the people talking? Ugh. Hey, remember the time I almost got in a brawl at The Sheila Divine with some girls over that same thing? Oh! Remember when they said they could talk through the show because they knew the band? Nice. ( I was going to just link to the story on Janest, but it seems that I didn't tell it. Damn shame.)

Rambling. Must work and then sleep.

uninspired by your smoke and lights

I had something important to say, and now I don't remember.

Probably because I am so incredibly excited about this new outfit I just found in -- where else? -- the National Enquirer.

Stretchie chic? Who knew? I'm so thrilled, and it is so me that I have to wear it every night this week. So not only will you be sure to spot me at the Dear Leader show tomorrow night at the Mercury Lounge (8PM, the A&R special, I'd presume), you'll see me coming straight through the weekend. Hey, I got Febreze. Don't judge.

Also, speaking of Febreze, the other night at this Super Bowl thing, everyone was smoking inside because the bar was closed for the private party, I guess. Man, I stunk when I got home. And my throat was closed up and I felt like ugh. You'd think I wouldn't have gotten so sensitive to it quite so fast, having grown up with two smokers and spending at least one night a week in a smoky bar for nearly 10 years, but man, I can't tolerate it in large doses like that anymore.

Lame. Ass.

the red light's turning on again

I got roses last Tuesday from my darling friend El Fano and they are just starting to droop now. Isn't that a long time? I always feel like they last three days.

In other news, they have brought audible crosswalks to Manhattan, I hear (ho!), which is a very good idea to hook up the visually impaired, but I must warn you that the shrieking cue is really annoying. I know this from Toronto, where, when drunk or exhausted or both, I tend to scream "AAAH! Alright! I get it. Shut the F UP!!" when they go off. It sounds like an evil bloodthirsty bird (the signal, not me screaming -- although...). You might wonder why I've so often been running through the streets of Toronto while drunk and/or exhausted, and that is because it is really difficult to get a cab there, especially when the bars let out and the rock shows end, and they don't even have any real hotels near the good bars or rock shows. Idiots. I miss Toronto. Ah, Toronto.

What am I going to give up for Lent? Maybe Toronto. But I was probably going to do that anyway. So what else, hmm? The possibilities are endless.

chalking up the wins

Grr.

By popular demand of the many wonderfully supportive well-wishers who wondered just what this job story was, I'd written the entire scene up here, then I geniusly closed the browser window. Duh.

I will try to redo quickly.

On Wednesday, I got a call from an editor at a music and lifestyle network's newsroom, the place where I currently work a tiny bit every week, and a little bit more when they need a fill-in. "We know you don't want full-time work, but would you consider this job?" she asked. You see, I'd started doing freelance there when I still had full-time work. Clearly, I should have contacted them to say, "Keep me in mind if you have more work because I am totally poor!" but I don't really think of things like that.

Minutes later, handily convinced to let go of my perceived "no full-time" policy, I had a meeting set for the next day with the head of such things. I should note that I was in the middle of my second 18-hour day working on a blindingly frustrating project for another company. As such, I wasn't entirely convinced that they weren't calling me in for a meeting to tell me in person how much they don't want me for this job. Sane.

The next afternoon, I went in, and 15 minutes later, I was crossing Broadway with no coat on (forgot to re-robe) calling my nearest and dearest to tell them I accepted the offer. Then I put on my coat, stepped into Sephora, plunked down my debit card and congratulated myself with a couple of new toys from here.

The job starts in March, though I am racking up lots of fill-in freelance there in the meantime. I will be working in dreaded Times Square -- which is where the beauty of my shift comes in: I'm working 6AM-2PM, which not only leaves so much wonderful afternoon time to do errands and keep my life on course, but it means I get to totally miss rush hour both ways. I couldn't be more thankful. I'll be doing a job I mostly know, working with people I've worked with all along, earning a fair and tidy sum.

I think it might be just what I needed.

bet you'd live here if you could and be one of us

Yeah, what he said!

Speaking of New England and hate, I somehow got talked into going to a Super Bowl party, though I can't stand football. How do these things work? My plan was to arrive at halftime (it's at a bar, not a house) and vaguely rep the Eagles, for at least we have mid-Atlanticness in common. Probably I just shouldn't go at all, but I'm always eager to scratch an "I never..." off my list. And sneer at displaced Bostonians. Honestly, if it's so great, why the f- are you here, hmm?

she's got some catching up to do

Guess what happened?

Did you guess that I spent a bunch of money at Sephora, then drunkenly left the bag in a bar, only to get it promptly returned due to my amazing talent of knowing bartenders all over the neighborhood?

Because you'd be right.

Did you guess that at Sephora I had my first "Sit in the chair and I will do your makeup" experience? And it was not horrible?

Correct, sir!

Did you guess that I went to a free screening of "Moulin Rouge!" where I sat in like the third row and thought I was in the movie? PS, Who wants to hear my good old meeting Ewan story?

Bingo!

Did you guess that I found a new fun boyfriend who loves good songs and hates fakers and wants to hang out with me and say cute things while I watch TV and cook?

No, you're wrong.

Wait. Wait one minute there, cowboy. Did you dare to guess again that I got a full-time job finally, after three years of sparse part-time freelancing and selling off my possessions to survive? Would you be so callous?

You did? You would? You win! And so do I.

sending volleys through the lines

I realized I never talked about superhot Marat's superhot win over that disgusto I will not name (OK, Lleyton Hewitt). Things that made this win even greater were Marat's superhotness, even with questionable facial hair; Hewitt's deja vu argument with a black line judge (just to remind me why I hate him again); and that Marat now has a very pretty serious girlfriend, and not the group of blonde sluts he used to have around (I can say that, as I am a blonde slut myself).

I learned afterwards what I didn't love, and that was Marat's "Lord of the Rings" necklace. Oh boy. No thanks. So we broke up. Which is only right, since he has that nice girlfriend and all.

Man, he is hot though. And right handed.

I am very busy with the working today. I will get back to it.

Oh, yes, and I put some new news at DDYWNYC.