Ya, I believe you Dan.

If there’s one thing I know in the city it’s this: Dan Smith will teach me how to play guitar. If I don't know that by now I'd have to be fucking retarded. Thanks Dan, I "get it" but unfortunately I'm not down to jam. In fact Dan Smith has been available to teach me guitar as long as I can remember and, according to the photo on his flyer, he doesn’t age. I was walking to work the other day and I saw his little flyer up in Chinatown. I am legitimately curious how he has managed to put these signs up everywhere. Granted he’s had at least 22 years to cover all of this space (could be even more) but it also led me to another question: why won’t anyone just play with him? I mean, if he still has these signs plastered everywhere (like what happened when the Springstreeters released their new CD which was like so fucking professional they got really intense signs to prove it and put them everywhere. But it was still a capella) there must be a very serious problem. What if his mother just put up all these signs like, “Please just play with Dan.” Can you imagine if your mother did that to you? “Please just hang out with Antonia. She has no discernable talent but see her posed here with a guitar.” Or what if you made a sign that said: “Don’t play with Dan Smith. Play with ME!” I bet Dan would be so fucking pissed but, at the same time, he can still fit into his skinny jeans and his hair has great body so he really shouldn’t be complaining.

Now with added fiber!

I only have random thoughts to offer this morning. Since I've been a math wiz recently I'm going to hit up some fractions and then some integers. (<---"integer" is a math word).

(1/2. someone super hot is now living in my apartment building. I saw him in the elevator. the space was like a little too cramped; it was AWESOME).

(3/4. the guy on the train is probs super jealous now.)

OK and because fractions aren't fun...

1. I was walking back from work the other day and I passed a massive woman wearing capri sweat pants—I don’t mean “OMG she is so fat” like when girls say it, I mean when you pass someone and they are fucking fat. So after thinking “Oooohoo look at her pants,” I realized she had slits above the knee as if only her knees had gotten fat all by themselves (which obviously wasn’t the case because clearly the rest caught up) and needed to be liberated from the pants. They looked like the faces of two fat children with napkins on their heads. I felt better about my own outfit.

2. Oh my god. I was going to blog about clothing because obviously I am so fucking stylish and a total authority on that kind of stuff and then Ray Romano came on the tv screen. Did you ever realize that whenever you want to watch tv fucking Everybody Loves Raymond comes on? WHAT IS HE DOING IN ANOTHER SHOW? Why won’t he stop? Does this mean when I turn on TNT Ray will ruin this too?

3. This is a really important point. Why do my favorite cereals keep adding fiber to them? I got back late one night and was eating a nice big bowl of cereal when all of the sudden....."Now with fiber!" That was probably the worst suprise in the whole world. Granted I was eating cereal that wasn't super fun but the best cereals are also being ruined. For example, during my lengthy commitment to the TV yesterday an ad come up for Fruit loops “Hurray!” I thought, “Fruit loops! What fun!” Wrong. Fruit loops now comes with added fiber. These kids are jumping up and down having the best time ever but little do they know things are going to be miserable in a couple of hours. Sure you "can’t taste the fiber" but I promise you you will fucking feel the fiber in the near future. Another point: are people lacking in fiber? Are little Cathy and Danny about to require some UN rescue food packets and habitat for humanity so they can sit in a hut and shit like crazy? Oooh if ONLY they’d had enough fiber.

Some lists

I feel like this list needs an introduction. One of my special tasks at work the other day was to call crime bookstores. Note: people who work at these places are really weird. (Though I just realized I usually open my posts with some really sketchy comments like uuuh this is not what I mean, what I mean is legit.) Anyway, all of these bookstores have really “clever” names: Murder by the Book, Booked by Murder; things like that. One of the bookstores was called Pandora’s Books and I thought, being me, holy shit wouldn’t it be hysterical if it was Pandora’s Box and it was a sex shop? These are the kinds of things I think about at work.

Names for Sex Shops

Pandora’s Box

Think: Inside the Box

There’s Waldo!

This Shop Is Invisible to Everyone But You. Do Not Be Embarrassed to Enter Because No one Can See You!

Names for Sex Shops that Already Belong to other sorts of Shops

BJs

D’Agastino’s

Banana Republic

Jack in the Box

Dick’s Sporting Goods

Ask your mom if we can have a playdate on Saturday

Remember playdates? If you don’t this it probably sounds like that moment in SVU when the little kid confesses something but pretends like its totally normal. Show me on the doll. Show me on the doll. Well, playdates are not like this. Playdates are when you would go hang out at your friends house after school or go to the park. Sometimes you’d have a playdate on a weekend. SOMETIMES you’d get to have a sleepover on a school night. Then there were always the playdates that your mom set up with the mom who was her mom friend but this doesn’t not mean the girl was your friend. This was the worst. You’d find yourself at the weird girls house like “doing your homework” which really just meant trying to hang out with your letter workbook the weirdo. And I know everyone supposedly grows up and oh, poor sue because no one wanted to have playdates with her but guess what? Sue wasn’t even cool in upper school so fuck that.

I always had a problem with playdates until about 7^th grade. I just wanted to play Barbies. All day, everyday. Fucking skipper and ken too—no one was left out. I was so ashamed and embarrassed and I really should have been because, lets have a moment of honesty here, everyone else stopped playing with them in maybe third grade. I, on the other hand, had a younger sister and a thriving imagination and one trillion Barbie clothes. The picture up there is a of my friend and me when we dressed up as Barbie and Ken for halloween. We were like totally "joking" OMG we're barbie and ken, but I look super into it. I also went through a phase where I pretended that I just “collected” the collectors’ edition one (obviously, I was really clever at coming up with schemes) That was absolutely a lie. And it was probably clear to everyone else too because I didn’t keep them in the collector’s box because I had to change their clothes and shit.

A couple years ago, (like probably when I was in fucking college) my old babysitter left and a new house keeper came along. Before the new one got settled my old babysitter said, “Now listen, you may walk in on her playing Barbies. Just pretend you didn’t see and walk out.” OK. I WAS LITERALLY IN COLLEGE at this point; I think I know how to hide Barbies.

Girls kick BUTT at soccer!!!!

Since all of my present day complaining is probably getting a bit old I thought I’d shake things up and complain about the past a little bit. It’ll be fun.

I fucking suck at soccer. I was always the worst person practicing on the field at any given point. That’s right, I have been on a number of soccer teams despite an entire lack of skill. When I say “lack” I don’t mean like “OMG I cannot beeeelieve I missed that pass in the second half I have like got to work on my left foot.” I mean: don’t pass me the fucking ball, I will not pass it back. I promise. In fact, I will also not “trap” it or stop it with my foot so you could save us a lot of time. I will especially not do a chest trap because that really hurts even thought no one talks about it and acts like nipple to ball action is legit because GIRLS KICK BUTT AT SOCCER! Have you ever seen those shirts? I have; on my soccer team right next to the girls who were wearing “Girls RULE Boys DROOL” and “Miss. Happy.”

My problem with soccer really only become evident—granted my mother was probably aware much earlier than I was, as were every single person who had ever watched me—when I went to boarding school. It was a really devastating miscommunication. While at my day school you had to go to preseason no matter what, at boarding school you only went if you were really fucking good and wanted to be on varsity and had played at soccer camp all summer. So when I got there I was recognizably the worst person present and also the new kid who clearly should not be there because she was totally never on a travel team. We would do foot touches across the field and then I would be so slow that everyone would cheer for me as I made it to the mid point and would continue ten minutes later as I got to the side line, and I say “midpoint” and not “center line” because we weren’t even going down the whole field, we were going from left to right. Here’s the thing about cheering: when you are doing really well, when you are “excelling”, cheering is the best because you think “everyone is witnessing my awesomeness and I will succeed” when people are cheering and you suck you think “all of the people know I suck and are watching me and just want me to make it to the other side so we can stop.”

Finally, my senior year I quit soccer when I was about to serve a second year on varsity. My coach was like “Come on! Just keep trying a little bit!” and I was like “playing soccer literally makes my day worse.” So I went and did theater instead.All of this soccer shit came up out of my packed away memories where other kids keep more important things like the fact that their parents hate them—or whatever—when I was reading an essay by Chuck Klosterman. Here is a really great TRUE thing he said:

Soccer is the “one aerobic activity where nothingness is expected...Soccer feels “fun because it’s not terrifying—it’s the one sport where you can’t fuck up” Okay well fuck Klosterman on the fuck up part because I clearly did but I find the “nothingness” bit really enjoyable. It's probably because I like real sports like running and exercising on a daily basis just for fun because I just love working out.

Ice cold when the label turns blue

So, the other day I passed a boy whose shirt read: “I go out on school nights.” I mean what a serious baller. I’m not in school and I don’t even go out. One summer I was such a introvert that, when I went out one night, I came back to find a sign on my door that said “Congratulations Sissy! It’s 12 and you’re not home yet!” Serious high point.

Here is the truly awful thing about coming home moderately tipsy (or noticeably not sober, you might call it) I have to walk past a series of doorman AFTER I go through a spinny door. So I go round and round (maybe twice if I’m feeling up for it) then it just shoots out and releases my body in to this zone of judgment; obviously I have no say at this point how the entrance is made because that door is not fucking around.

Can we just have a quick talk about beer. Ok, you know how there is beer that tells you its cold by the color? What the fuck? Why has no one stopped and said that yet? I am literally feeling pretty good about pointing that out because, when I pick up a beer, I can usually feel if it's cold or not. I will go, because my brain tells me so, : " oh, wow this beer is cold" I am not like "oh shit let me check what color the can is." Here's a picture of one of those beers:

Can you read the label? It says " Ice cold when the label turns blue." First, lets talk about that copy. Umm WATER is BLUE not ice the label is counter intuitive. When the icy mountains are melting its cold. false. How 'bout this for a new line: Ice cold when there is literally ice coming off your bottle. Do you feel it? Do you want gloves? It's fucking freezing, right? YA! Look at the label next time, man. You're going to want to SEE if its cold because if you touch it you will get fucking frost bite.

PS

Nothing legit is going up until tomorrow. Sorry. Here's a fun picture of my dogs! They are fucking safe safe safe in their lifejackets.

Because I haven't posted in awhile

Here is post which should never be shown but, as a punishment to myself, this is literally what I wrote on Saturday night. It's ok to be embarrassed or to even think why the fuck did you "publish" that? But I'm just going to share anyway...I'm sure my millions of readers will be disappointed.

My dogs are the cutest dogs in the whole world. The problem is, everyone thinks their dogs are just the fucking cutest everyone else’s are okay but not nearly as cute. I think my family has more photos of the dogs than of anyone else. Right now my dachsund is sitting by an empty of food thinking, “Feed me. Right now. I hate you, but if you feed immediately I will love you forever.” If someone else in my family were in the room right now I would probably go, or they would who knows, “OMG loooook at Charlotte she is so cute. Come here, no come here now you have to see this.” It’s pretty much a win-win situation for my dogs (I have a corgi, too) aside from the fact that they aren’t going to be fed. That’s right we starve our dogs HAHAAH

Here’s a list of things that might necessitate a “Come here and look at the dogs!” moment.

Look at the dogs! They are sitting next to each other!

They’re all lined up.

They’re all lined up the other way.

They are like almost lined up

She’s eating!

I am making a list about my dogs on a Saturday night