What's Going On Above My Tits

An Easter Story

2007-04-04T14:58:00.000-04:00

Matthew 27

Now upon sunrise on the Sabbath, two days hereafter the crucifixion of Jesus of Galilee, did his apostles meet in the temple to discuss all they had seen. And there did Peter tell the apostles of the events on Calvary saying He has been sacrificed. With mine eyes I have seen Him mocked and hanging. This has been done by sinful men. Nails through his hands and feet and atop His divine head, a crown of thorns. And lies he now in a sepulchre, cold and without company. Peter then did wail and beat his chest, and did lament the great pain of His Lord.

And so did the apostles gather unto him, and Andrew, one among them, did depart from the crowd to console Peter, saying Jellybean? And when Peter had taken the colorful bean, and had saw that it was strawberry, he spoke quickly and with great joy, saying Lo! These are delicious. Reveal unto me where you hath discovered them, so that I might go and partake of handfuls many.

And Andrew said unto Peter, Come, for in my great wisdom I have hidden such beans aplenty in eggs of every color, and if ye seek them, you shall be rewarded on earth and in Heaven with untold treats of every size and flavor. Then Peter went away from them, believing he hath seen one such egg atop the temple doorjam.

So sayeth the Lord.

A Day In The Life Of An NPR Junkie

2007-04-02T17:18:00.000-04:00

6:00AM: Woke up in a cold sweat. Dreamt last night I was listening to Diane Rehm interview Madeleine Albright regarding her inaction on Rwanda. It was so vivid I could almost smell the organic whole-leaf white tea they were drinking--but in the cruel light of day, I realize no such interview exists. My soul fills with emptiness.

8:00AM: Only two hours later, and I have already bought two This American Life episodes and a Talk of the Nation from my local online dealer. If I’m lucky, this will get me to lunch. I think back to the days when I could wait an entire week in between doses of TAL, the days before I discovered the downloadable archives on Audible.com... Now I’m nothing but another well-informed addict with a $2.45-a-day habit.

8:02:AM: My whole body’s on fire with the need for compelling stories from ordinary people that have been organized by theme. DOWNLOAD FASTER, YOU PIECES OF SHIT.

8:03AM: Ira Glass’ soothing voice hits my ears. I lie down and go into a deep trance. The $0.67 was totally worth it. This anecdote about the trials of raising an autistic teenager is some good shit.

9:00AM: Arrive at work an hour early. Couldn't wait any longer for that sweet, sweet transit listening.

12:00PM: Tried to talk to my roommate about this totally insane All Things Considered, but she just couldn’t understand. No one can.

1:15PM: I listen to three quick NPR shuffle podcasts before realizing I haven’t showered in four days.

2:30PM: Morning Edition, Fresh Air, News and Notes… I was going to save them for the weekend, but I’ve got a good upper-middle-class, self-congratulatory liberal buzz going on and there’s no stopping now.

11:30PM: The last nine hours are a blur. Woke up covered in piss and emboldened with a new-found passion for under-funded refugee programs in Eastern Europe. I can’t keep going like this. I’ve got to stop altogether, for my own good. And I will... right after this piece on rebuilding New Orleans’ shattered justice system.

Things I Will Never Have To Say To The Dog I Will Soon Buy

2007-04-01T12:59:00.000-04:00

“I know you say you love me, but I’ve been noticing you pulling away recently.”

“I think it’s time we moved in together.”

“Have you fallen out off love with me?”

“You seemed stressed out. Why won’t you talk to me about it?”

“I don’t want you to act happy to see me. I want you to be happy to see me.”

“I feel like we’re not emotionally connecting anymore.”

“Why do you keep hurting me when all I want to do is love you?”

What's The Deal With Therapists? Am I Right?

2007-04-01T02:47:00.000-04:00

I've decided to go to a therapist. I know this must come as a huge shock, being that I live in New York, am in my twenties, and have decided to make a career out of making people laugh at my expense--and yet, it is true.

I sort of feel dirty trying to find one, however. It's like seeking out a prostitute: you need one, but it's not like you can ask your friends for a referral.

Going to a therapist is like seeing a prostitute in many ways, I guess. At least, it's the kind of prostitution that, as a woman, I can get on board with. It’s like paying someone to be your friend, but you get all the best parts of the friendship, and none of the hassle. I am, at this moment, salivating over the idea that I can walk into a room, immediately start bitching about my problems, have someone who not only listens intently without speaking, but gives me good advice and doesn’t judge me for anything I say, and then when I’m done, I can just stand up and walk away. I don’t even have to care if they have any problems they want to tell me about. (I’m not paying you to speak, toots.)

I mentioned this very thought to my roommate, who reminded me that therapists can’t totally replace friends, because you can’t call them up whenever you want or run into them just walking around.

Which is why it is my plan to begin seeing so many therapists in Manhattan that I end up bumping into them on the street, so that—after the appropriate “What a surprise!” pleasanty—I can launch into a full-scale discussion of my Daddy issues.

I think the neuroses in this blog post alone could constitute my first four sessions.

Campbells Boardroom Shakeup: A One Act Play

2007-03-31T21:59:00.001-04:00

INT: BOARDROOM
A fool-hardy young intern bursts into the room during the executive officers' meeting. He is sweating.

Fool-hardy Intern: Sir! Sir! I’ve found a way to save the company!

William H. Campbell, CEO: What are you talking about? We brought in seven billion dollars last quarter alone! We’re consistently one of the top Fortune 500 companies!

Fool-hardy Intern: Nevertheless! I’ve devised a new ad campaign that can’t lose. It’s a whole new way of thinking of the brand. It’s young, it’s hip. It’s the James Dean of competitive advertising spreads.

William H. Cambell, CEO: Well... out with it!

The fool-hardy intern pauses for dramatic effect.

Fool-hardy Intern: “Campbells Soup… It’s mmm mmm great.”

The board members gasp. A chill fills the room. Somewhere in the distance, a young woman screams.

William H. Campbell, CEO: Outrageous! OUTRAGEOUS! It’s heresy! I’ll never let it happen! It was mmm mmm good when my grandfather led this company, it was mmm mmm good when my father led this company, and by God, it will be mmm mmm good long after I’m stone cold dead in my grave!

Fool-hardy Intern: But, Sir…

William H. Campbell, CEO: Out of my boardroom! OUT! You’ll never work in soup again, you hear me? NEVER!

Exeunt intern.
END SCENE

Not A Post For Mom

2007-02-18T22:27:00.000-05:00

I googled myself to see if this blog came up under my name. It doesn't, but what does come up is the following link (abbreviated):

huge anal dildo, big dildo orgasm, free huge dildo, free dildo...

Two quick thoughts on this:

1. The reason it comes up is because my last name means "all" in German, and this page is apparently about a saucier version of yours truly who takes "all" manner of things in "all" manner of places.

2. In this situation, you really want to lead with the "free" bit, and then work up to the other modifiers. That's just good salesmanship.

The Top Five Saddest Things About My Life Currently

2006-11-03T16:07:00.000-05:00

5. I have decided to dye my hair black after I wore a black wig for Halloween this year and decided I liked it. I am now making major style choices based on Halloween costumes.

4. I am, at this very moment, temping as a receptionist for a giant company that owns the advertising accounts for McDonalds and Hersheys, among others, and every time I answer the phone I look at the sign on the wall to remember the name of the company.

3. Today marked the first day I have woken up before 10am in a few weeks, and the most alert I have been in months. My contacts have actually dried out from the stress of being employed.

2. Last night for dinner I ate potatoes and ice cream. Only.

1. Tonight I will eat the leftovers.

Halloween Costume

2006-10-26T00:57:00.000-04:00

I have decided my Halloween costume this year will be "Our Strategy in Iraq." It will be a very cost-effective costume, as it simply entails attending a party, fucking everything up and then never leaving.

It also doubles as a Steven Baldwin costume.

Reach For The Skies

2006-08-25T23:11:00.000-04:00

I am that person in the movie theater that covers her eyes the instant someone pulls out a gun, or even if they just act like they might at some point in the future. For this reason, I saw almost none of Goodfellas and spent the entirety of the famous bible-quoting scene of Pulp Fiction making a high-pitched squeal not unlike that of a frightened bunny. This strange nuerosis has not resulted from any sort of traumatic contact with handguns, since I grew up in a small town in Michigan and have never, in fact, seen an actual handgun much less had one pointed at my head amidst shouts for "all my money." I am afraid of guns the way people in Nebraska fear sharks or large-scale terrorist attacks--the fear is self-perpetuating though completely unfounded.

Unfortunately, I have recently relocated to New York City--a city that my small-town rearing has assured me is teeming with cocaine-fueled maniacs armed to the teeth with semi-automatics they've stolen off the bodies of fallen policemen--so my formerly neurotic, improbable fear has gained some credibility. Now when I go to movie theaters, I am not only afraid that one of the on-screen characters may reach for his holster, but that the 50-year-old Jewish woman in front of me might have an oozie in her jujubees. Everyone is suspect, from the ushers to the pimply-faced consession stand worker who looks like he has a mean-streak and an itching trigger finger. It's only a matter of time before I'm staring down the barrel of a sawed-off shotgun and handing over my purse and king-sized Mike & Ikes.

I am fully prepared, at some point in my term of living in New York, to be robbed by a small child fishing for quarters in his front pocket.

I'll Show You Some Resume Builders

2006-08-14T16:48:00.000-04:00

I have come to the realization that my job search would go a lot faster if I just agreed to work for no money while topless.

Woah, Liza.

2006-08-14T15:33:00.001-04:00

This afternoon a friend of mine, who shall remain gay and nameless, sent me the following e-mail. It was one sentence, following the subject header "How gay I am":

"I had a dream about becoming good friends with Barbara streisand."

Don't bother adjusting your screen. The above statement is really that level of concentrated queer.* But as shocked as I was to discover someone I already knew was gay could come out of the closet all over again--and with newfound intensity--as time passed I was more concerned with how this new development might further stereotypes about gay culture. Namely, that gay culture is a one-trick pony.

Sure, they had us all amused with their obsessive devotion to musical theater, their over-usage of the word "fierce," and their subscribing to Teen Vogue, but what have you done for me lately, homos? I know you're only 10% of the population, but you're 90% of the entertainment industry. Get the dozen or so of you who are writing shows for NBC to pump out some fresh material. You can start ATVing, or preferring brined meats, or even start the rumor that you're all from Iceland.

Just so long as it's not the same old window treatment story.

*Please Note: I was granted permission to use the term "queer" after acquiring my third gay friend.

Why Can't I Be An Anonymous Member Of A Crowd?

2006-07-28T12:11:00.000-04:00

Yesterday morning (well before I had any caffeine and was therefore not alert enough to avoid eye contact with "the outsiders") I was sitting on the subway across from a woman, mid-twenties and white. I say she was "white" not because I mean to abandon a facade of "colorblindness" all white people propose to have, but because it plays into my story in a tragically awkward way later.

She was sitting in the seat with her legs outstretched and crossed when an older woman carrying groceries (she was [whisper] black [end whisper]) tried to get past her to sit. After having a bit of trouble, the older woman said rather sharply, "You shouldn't stretch your legs out like that. People are trying to get past you and you're on a train, not at home." She sat down in a huff and the younger woman looked at me with a confused look. I gave her a bemused grin and the customary "Ain't The World A Crazy Place" shrug.

She then proceeded turned to the old woman and said, "I'll sit any damn way I want to. Who are you to tell me what to do," before looking back at me again. I stupidly made eye contact again, even though at this point (if I would have been in a Hollywood big-budget action film) I should have noticed the ominous ripples in the Awkward Social Situation Glass Of Water.

The two of them started really getting into it, and when the younger woman got off at the next stop, she paused in the doorway to yell, "Yeah? Well you're just a stupid black bitch." Then she looked at me.

It was then that I realized that she had made a critical misinterpretation of my wordless gesture. I was giving her the "Ain't The World A Crazy Place" shrug, which she mistakenly took to be the "Anything You Say From Here On Out I Am Cool With" knowing nod. It's a subtle, but very important distinction. I sympathize with you right up until the point where you take the fork in the road to ScreamingBigotsville.

I spent the next ten minutes spent on the train with the now reasonably infuriated older woman while she glared at who she assumed to be the covergirl for Pointlessly Racist Monthly's accomplice. It was a particularly poignant moment that I was forced to experience at 9:30 in the morning.

Office Work

2006-07-21T15:05:00.000-04:00

I think I will stay in office work for a while, if only for the fact that whenever you gather large amounts of people in one area, one of them is bound to have a birthday that calls for cupcake eating.

Oh Those Colorful And Threatening New Yorkers!

2006-07-19T12:07:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, while riding the subway (I gave my driver the day off) I noticed the man standing next to me had a tattoo of what I believe was a stylized anarchy sign with the following words surrounding it:

Execution. Mass Pollution. My Solution. Kill The Humans.

At first, I was a little put off by this delightful gentleman's mantra. Then I was a little nauseated. But after a while I came around and realized he had chosen the perfect tattoo. A tattoo that answers the question, "Why would you get that idiotic phrase permanently etched into your skin?" with a resounding, "Because I'm bat-shit insane."

You can't get mad at someone for being crazier than a shithouse rat. It's in their nature to be so. And being fucked six ways to the weekend is a pretty good excuse for getting a tattoo of what appears to be either some unreleased Nine Inch Nails lyrics or the last thing the voices told him before he started wearing his tin foil hat.

At least it makes more since than the dolphin and stars I have over my lower back.

The Children Are Our Future; Brainwash Them Early

2006-07-11T15:29:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I was walking to the Italian fair happening in my neighborhood (Italians have these things called Zeppoles which are just fried balls of dough. I feel they lack the pompous complexity of funnel cakes.) and I heard a man speaking to what I am guessing was his four, maybe five-year-old daughter. He said, "No, sweetie. There hasn't been a Democrat president in a long time. The last president was named Clinton, and he wasn't the best president, but he was a lot better than the guy we have now."

I felt some sort of "Halleluiah" type response was in order.

He kept going--talking in a sing-songy voice that parents use when telling their kids about what the moon is or why we don't put glue in our brother's hair--saying, "The president we have now isn't a Democrat, honey. He's just a jackass."

You gotta admire this father's determination to give his kid the straight talk while she's still sleeping with the night light on. Here are what I assume will be the conversations she has with her father at various points in the future.

Six Years-Old: "Honey, your mother and I got married too early in life and then got bogged down by having children, which made it impossible for us to lead happy and fulfilled lives, despite the facade of matrimonial bliss we put on for your benefit. Now my only happiness comes from fantasizing about my secretary and awaiting the day I become impotent."

Seven Years-Old: "Your mother and I will most likely die before you will, and Nana and Papa might as well have a foot in the grave already."

Nine Years-Old: "Capitalism will steal your soul and make you wish ill will upon your fellow man."

Sixteen Years-Old: "God is dead."

And Now For A Brief Interruption

2006-07-11T15:26:00.000-04:00

I ran three miles yesterday afternoon. I don't have a funny joke here, I just thought you should all know and be awe-struck.

Romance or Something Like It

2006-07-10T14:30:00.000-04:00

Two things my boyfriend has said to me (really) that he considers to be truly romantic:

"If I were God, and had to make you over again, I would have made you exactly the same. Except maybe with x-ray vision."

"You are the anti-oxidant to loneliness."

Declarations

2006-07-07T15:03:00.000-04:00

1.

Mentos in diet coke is the new pop rocks and pepsi.

2.

Hippies should not be considered "off-the-grid" if they are covered by wireless internet zones (accidentally or otherwise).

3.

Soy does not taste good no matter what you say.

4.

It's pointsetta.

5.

When I die, I don't care if I'm cremated or buried--just as long as I'm allowed a few weeks to walk the Earth as the undead first.

Love and Other Contagious Diseases

2006-07-06T10:46:00.000-04:00

Things My Boyfriend Hasn't Given Me This Week

Anything shiny and wearable.
A reason to believe his love for Steven Segal isn't unhealthy.
The complete works of Poe (unabridged).
A three-year-and-one-month anniversary present (I think he forgot!).
A moment's peace.

You'll notice "the flu" is not on that list.

People I Have Met This Week

2006-05-10T21:39:00.000-04:00

1.

A pack of girls on a bar crawl who were so drunk they were falling out of their chairs. They could, however, remember all the lyrics to "Jesse's Girl."

2.

A man driving a pick-up truck to ran a 4-way stop and almost slammed into the side of my car. As he was driving around me, he wagged his finger at me like I was a petulant child. As a general rule, I do not experience road rage.

That being said, I would tear this man's heart out through his nostrils.

Random Observations

2006-05-04T01:03:00.000-04:00

1.

The people across the street have just played "I've Got Friends (In Low Places)" three times in a row.

If subjecting your neighbors to a Garth Brooks threepeat isn't grounds for justifiable homicide, the American justice system is for naught.

2.

I recently finished a 67-page thesis entitled "The Last Laugh: Humor and Death in the Essays of David Sedaris" about the manner in which Sedaris writes about death in two of his essays. I chose two essays, because there were only two essays. In the latest New Yorker, Sedaris has an article called "Memento Mori" that is almost exclusively about death.

I'm just glad, as an English Honors graduate, I can appreciate the irony of this.

I Call It "Starsucks" Because I'm Excessively Witty

2006-04-30T02:29:00.000-04:00

I went to Starbucks the other morning and on their board they had written, "Starbucks will save 60,000 trees this year with our recycled cups." They are now claiming credit for "saving" trees that they could have cut down to make their coffee cups--as if Starbucks C.E.O.s are walking through rainforests on a daily basis, spreading seeds and lying in front of bulldozers.

I like this new form of publicity: advertising what you could be doing, but aren't.

Starbucks will not be savagely raping ANY Kodiak bears this quarterly term, as we have christened 2006 "Say No To Sodomizing Bears" Year.

Also, Starbucks has made a solemn vow to our loyal customers that we will no longer hit our girlfriend... even though the bitch fucking deserves it.

Just Say "Maybe Later"

2006-04-30T02:22:00.000-04:00

During the last week of finishing my thesis, I discovered that staying awake for more than 30 hours is surprisingly difficult for the human body, especially when that human body can't drink coffee because of goddamned stomach issues. (Green tea : coffee :: Billy Baldwin : Alec Baldwin.) So the topic of caffeine pills and adderall naturally came up. I decided I couldn't take either, especially adderall, because I am inheretly lazy and therefore likely to become addicted to something that made everything easier to do. Here is a little glipse into my future life if I started taking adderall...

Week One: "Man, I have to read like 100 pages of Marlowe by tomorrow. Better take some adderall."

Week Three: "Wow, this is a really complicated episode of Law and Order. I should take some adderall so I can follow it."

Week Five: "I wonder what why I don't remember my dreams in the morning. Maybe if I take some adderall before I go to sleep..."

Week Ten: "Have I taken an adderall today? I can't remember. Better take some adderall to focus."

Week Fifteen: "Where did I put my heroin? Taking some adderall sure would make me a more conscientious junkie..."

Unnecessary Dream Sequence

2006-04-27T13:53:00.000-04:00

I had one of those dreams this morning when you think you've woken up and started to get ready for the day but you're really just dreaming that you're showering and brushing your teeth and eating breakfast.

The fact that I am not Rosie Perez should have been my first clue.

Amazing Tales From Mediocre Jobs

2006-04-25T00:00:00.001-04:00

I have worked in various customer service jobs since I was 16. This means I receive all the respect and courtesy of your average, thieving crack whore, except I lose a fifth of my income to taxes.

Here are some true things people have said to me in these jobs--complaints, questions, or generally idiotic statements. For your reference, I have indicated my salary per hour for each job, so you can accurately assess how little I cared:

Food Prep and Taking Orders, Godfather's Pizza--$5.25/hr.

"Do onions come standard on every pizza?"

"I brought a can of corn. Will you put it on my pizza?"

"Last time I ordered a pizza you cut it into an odd number of slices. Can we make sure that doesn't happen again?"

"I don't know the address of the house I'm at. I'll just stand outside and wait for the delivery guy."

Sales Associate, Banana Republic--$6.20/hr

Woman in dressing room I have never seen before: "Can you see my breast-feeding pads through this shirt?"

Strange Man in Dressing Room: "These pants are kind of tight in my penis area."
Me: "Would you like me to get you a bigger size?"
Strange Man: "No. I'm pretty sure I'll always have that problem."

"I was just wondering... what is your policy on theft?"

"This shirt should really come in red, too."

Front Desk Staff, YMCA--$8/hr.

"The parking garage underneath the building should be larger. It needs a whole other level in it."

"I paid for my daughter to take swimming classes these last two months, but we forgot and never came. I want my money back."

"Some of the other women in the ladies locker room are too naked for too long."

"The soap in the bathroom doesn't suds enough."

Child Care, YMCA--$8/hr

"My child is only 1 and a half but I'm trying to potty train him early. You'll need to ask him if he needs to use the bathroom about once every five minutes, and sometimes he'll say no when he means yes."

"My daughter is throwing a tantrum? Well that's probably because you put her in a time-out for throwing blocks at the other kids."

Pro Shop Staff, Georgetown Country Club--$9/hr

"The golf course is overly maintained." [This was a complaint.]

"OK, remember my face because I don't want to have to show you my membership card again."

"Can you make sure my child buys only healthy snacks with the money I give him for the pool?"
"Is there something you can do about all the children around here today?"

Blogcabulary

2006-04-17T23:45:00.000-04:00

I am fascinated with this new trend of incorporating "blog" into other words to make new terms. I learned the word "moblog" this morning, which apparently means a blog that you can download on your cell phone. There's also blawg (a blog about the law), blaudience, and blogosphere.

Here's a little bit of what we have to look forward to:

Blired: (adj.) having been let go from your place of employment due to excessive blog-checking.

Blogsessed: (adj.) characterized by an inability to visit your ex's blog less than fifty times a day.
Blego: (n.) the belief that people care about your blog as much as you do.
Blogstracted: (adj.) completely unable to focus on more pertinent matters because of ever-present internet access.
EX: Mary's take-home midterm on Renaissance poetry is due in two hours but, tragically, she is too blogstracted to finish it.
Blaux pas: (n.) a social blunder made via blogging.

Ablortion: (n.) the morning-after deletion of a blog post you mistakenly made when you were young and drunk.

Miracle Shmiracle (Easter Edition)

2006-04-16T21:25:00.000-04:00

In the Bible, the first miracle Jesus ever performed was changing the water into wine at the wedding at Canaan. This is when people started to listen to him and believe that he was the son of God.

Funny how doing the opposite wouldn't have been as impressive. Had Jesus changed wine into water, people wouldn't be calling him "Our Lord and Savior." He'd just be that asshole that ruined the wedding.

Mother, Dearest

2006-04-16T17:53:00.000-04:00

Words My Mother Has Used In The Past Year With Complete Sincerity:

Crib
Digs
Sharp
Nigga, please!

(Ok, I made up that last one.)

I Notice Irony

2006-04-16T17:35:00.000-04:00

Blogger.com's spell checker does not recognize the word "blog."

How self-loathing.

Don't Be Jealous, Myspace

2006-04-16T17:25:00.000-04:00

Well, here is my first post in my shiny new blog. I wish I could say this was my first time blogging, but I did a little experimenting in college. But I swear, baby, those other times meant nothing to me.

I have no idea what this blog will be. Hopefully funny. Probably updated often. Definitely random.

Here goes it.