My apartment looks like ... whatever Dee's equivalent of "shit" would be. I have to be all packed by Thursday night, at which point I'm jetting off to MI again (!!!), this time with the esquire-in-training (EIT. Get it? It's the unhappy-face version of EIC) in tow. I'm officially moving next Tuesday.

Two walls of the new place are dark, pretty exposed brick. I want to paint the rest of it dark rosey orange, light plant green, or turquoise erring on the green side. (Would that mean LESS green or MORE? Because I meant MORE.) Which should it be? Input is welcome (Rebs? Bridget?)

I took the liberty of whipping up an omelette-like composition of everything left in my refrigerator, as if this was an appropriate "farewell" testament to the apartment as a whole. It sort of makes sense. As much as I like to think the world revolves around me, all the energy in this apartment has revolved around the fridge. I don't even pretend to compete anymore.

You know. Basil, garlic salt, roasted corn, cottage cheese, maraschino cherries. Just the basics.

JK people! It's the same salsa-cheese-scallion "Mexican Delight" I raved about in my starring role in Naree's short feature film Annie, Nobody Cares.

The RCN Man is coming in a few hours (between 8 and 11. Yeah right.) to pick up "the equipment," which I thought was an unnecessarily vague way to put it. It's a cable box and modem, right? When he gets here, I'll tell him that that's what those things are called.

This means I will be without Internet from 11 a.m. Tuesday to Friday evening. I know, I know, I am such a loser. But when this sunk in this afternoon, I experienced somewhat of a mental crisis. It's not my fault. This computer is just so friggin' nice. It would be insulting to NOT conduct my entire life from its pristine titanium portals. The "freakout" wasn't verbal, or bratty, or anything. It was more like a silent, proufound realization that I ... um, conduct my entire life through a computer.

And yet, I can't wait to run on the beach. Hmmm. Maybe I could just find a virtual running-on-a-beach live feed on the Internet and use that instead. I could turn on my powerful wave machine and spritz myself with tap water and have my sneakers on and everything. But I'd still be lying on this couch.

I'll try to take more pics of the Midwest while I'm there, since apparently the fruit market ones were a hit.

L8R SK8RS.

Another eventful time at Rose's Turn.

Zach and I display our $2 street-bought gay gear. Yay Pride!

Michael Dionne gave us free shots! We love Michael Dionne!

This is Guillaume, from France. He thought we wouldn't get it, but we do. It's William in French. Go Guillaume!

Alex belts it out. Summertime. You go, grrrrrl.

Michael Dionne is under the sea. We love him and his funky props.

Zach just got hit on by two 50-year-olds. Hooray for Rose's Turn!

An excerpt from Dee-mail:

"You do NOT look chunky!
You need to get a few more skirts to wear !
You would make the Mawmee happier to reduce the f-word usage !
Thank you very much for this opportunity to let you know the above info -- knowing #3 is a stretch.
: ) "

Okay. Thanks. Actually, I will try to tone down the f-bomb. I think it's trashy when I read it in other people's stuff so I don't know why I do it sometimes. A good writer shouldn't have to use expletives to create emphasis. Oh yeah? What the fuck are you implying?

Note my mom's not-so-subtle hints that I should dress more like a lady. I knew she'd salivate over photographic evidence of me in a skirt. Yeah, well, she's the only one. Worthless... fucker. Also note her entirely cute way of "spacing out" her smileys. Awww.

Today I met Online Kelly for happy hour at Duke's because she was in midtown for company training and I felt like going to work at 7:30 tipsy. Seeing her was amazing. Oh wait. That was the nachos. Seeing her was pretty fun.

Will somebody (Kelly, ironically this could be you) please tell me how to get rid of red-eye? Why am I the only one it happens to? Life sucks.

Look who popped in after a hard day's stare session! It's the editor in chief!

Today I lunched at the Civil Service Commissioner's local branch of KFC, which you already know if you're a Platinum-level stalker and checked my away message from today. This sadly threatened to be the most exciting thing I would do all week, so I took some photos.

Josh and Larry in their suits.

Larry works hard for the no money.

Josh's expression hints at what the fatter version of him would be ... as soon as he finishes that bucket.

Cause and effect? Either way, the one on the left is hilarious. Sorry about the flash.

Omigod, a fountain in the middle of the city! We have to take a picture! Looking chunky already.

If I DO experience anything more exciting by the end of the week, I'll promptly delete this post and swear it never happened.

 
Debating among paint colors:

a) Golden Cricket
b) Sea Fantasy
c) Rustic Pottery
d) Cajun Shrimp

About to go with (d) because it's food.

Five points if you can name the film referenced in the Subject.

Happy Father's Day, Barnacle Bill.

 
I thought I should share something about my disappointing experience at the Phish concert last night. Here goes.

There was a lot of marijuana there. I looked around and could not believe my eyes. People were smoking right next to me! Now, I’ve never seen “pot” up close, but I noticed someone rolling something that looked like a cigarette and let me tell you, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t tobacco. I was so confused, because they were doing it right in the middle of the concourse. As if they didn’t think they would get caught! At a concert, with cops right there! Whatever!

Occasionally throughout the show, I looked down at the floor crowd and could see puffs of "weed" smoke rising up from various places. Like, three per second sometimes! I stopped doing this after a while because I grew kind of upset. When I pointed it out to a neighbor, he stared at me for 10 seconds and then started laughing very slowly with his eyes closed. Then he continued rocking back and forth. Oh, I’m sorry. Is that funny? Do I amuse you? Hey, man, open your eyes!

I don’t know. Maybe it’s just me, but I think that Phish might want to consider some heightened security at their concerts. I have a feeling that if they knew that people were getting stoned during their playing, they would be as offended as I was – and probably even more so! These fans seem to have no respect for the long arm of our great nation’s law. I even saw a law student smoking a thin, poorly-rolled “joint” right nearby! (I had to ask another neighborly giggler what the term for that was. Thanks, Moonshine!)

Today I signed the lease on a studio apartment in the West Village for July 1. I am PUMPED. Granted, the apartment has roughly the same square footage of all of the mice I have caught and killed in my current apartment (if you laid their glue traps side by side on the floor). Oh wait. That's actually pretty big.

Just to stick it to my current apartment's management company, I'm laying down even more traps so that if they really want to show my apartment, potential tenants will be too freaked out to consider it. I am actually including this tidbit in the letter I am currently drafting, which states my imminent need to evacuate and includes a hotel bill for a two-week stay at the Waldorf.

Here I am, larger than life in my new neighborhood:

Is there anyone as self-obsessed as me? I dare you to provide me with a link proving so. (Hint: visit any other blog.)

The Wendy's homestyle chicken strips are hit or miss. Tonight's taste amazing, but maybe that's because I paired them with a "spring mix" salad. With fries and a small Frosty they sort of lose their glamour.

Four days in Michigan and the only thing I take pictures of is the fruit market. Oh well. Here we go:

Joe Jackson's "Famous" New Buffalo fruit stand.

Mmmmm. There are always bigger portions in the Midwest!

This is Paul, our new camera-friendly friend. He said he's a manager.

WTF are these? You go, Joe.

Looking plump and jolly behind a large watermelon display. This is also the first visible documentation that I really am a student at NYU. I swear! I am!

Meggers is excited to be in the fruit market.

How sad. The CRV still has two volleyball stickers on it (one of which says "Just Spike It!") as well as an LTHS West Field 1999 parking pass. It's always good to be prepared.

I make a confused gesture to Meghan's Italian peace (gay pride?) flag.

Homemade bruschetta (prounounced with a k)! Bill seems to be more impressed with the vino.

Two words. Obsessed.

 I'm pretty sure you know you're cool when some guy from Japan makes the effort to translate your website. That is AWESOME.

Speaking of awesome, every time I successfully commit to eating healthful foods for a few days, I suddenly realize (as if in horror) that it's starting to work and promptly go to Taco Bell.

Yes, everyone who keeps asking, my hair is darker at the moment. It should look all freshly/artificially/expensively sun-kissed again after my jaunt to the Midwest next weekend.

Good thing Naree made a movie of this, because I think I was too drunk to remember even what I ordered at this restaurant (which, thankfully, was sushi and not Mexican).

Click here: http://homepage.mac.com/buncombe79/iMovieTheater21.html

Sound is required. Perhaps not safe for work (NSFW). <-- This is an actual acronym used on alldumb.com. Actually, it's totally safe, but it might be too stupid for work (TSFW). I'd go so far as to say you might even be fired if you play this movie in your workplace, just because you associate yourself in some small way with the likes of me.

P.S. You can tell we're grad students because James says "In my subjective experience..." while putting in his two cents about eggs.

P.P.S. My favorite part is when I suddenly inspect my shoulder mid-sentence.

Four glittery hologram pencils and a JUNK FOOD Lisa Frank folder! I feel like I'm in fifth grade again. I can't believe they're still selling stuff that looks like this. What are they thinking? What were they ever thinking? I love it!

I've always been obsessed with school supplies. I loved organizing my desk and then opening it at inopportune times to admire my perfectly-aligned, color-coordinated materials. I always thought mine were the best in the class. I actually remember my fourth grade teacher having to repeat "Annie, desk down!" over and over. In fifth grade, Kara and I carried around these plastic boxes full of purple and turquoise "Wavelength" pens, mechanical pencils, white-out, and chapstick. We decorated them with stickers and personal messages which could be whited-out at any time. We used to say "I keep my things in a box" in a weird, old-person's voice which, looking back, was really strange. Those boxes were great, though. We definitely started the trend. The nerdier girls started getting them too, at which point we got pissed. We should have been flattered.

During high school I was all about the solid color notebooks, because Lisa Frank was childish and I was "cool." I still looked at the neon folders longingly in Office Max, but knew I couldn't pull it off. I probably begged my sister to get them just so I could look at them at home. But now, I've decided that crap like this is suddenly acceptable again (and can't believe I ever censored my free will). I literally stood there grinning for like 30 seconds after I saw this folder. I just couldn't believe it.

One of the pencils says "WHATEVER!" in block letters, and there is a can of "POP" on the folder. Both of these features perfectly reflect my personal lifestyle. Finally, I am motivated.

I just read that over and realized that when I see the name "Lisa Frank," for some reason I imagine Lisa from Six Feet Under sitting there designing these folders and notebooks. Which would never happen, because she's vegan. And now deceased. But still. I cannot wait for the new season to begin. I just finished the last episode on On Demand last night. That means I've now seen each of the episodes four times. Oh, and if anyone wants to get up to speed, I'm willing to watch them all again.