my feet look disgusting

my feet are hereby dubbed "puff daddies," because they are bleedy and raw and full of water!!!!!!!!!! the blisters look like little mouths--smiley, half-curved, open mouthed and foul, cruel slashes that the shoe-monsters ate.

poor guys.

at least they stopped spontaneously leaking and bleeding. kind of like a cat's ass when you pop a firework in it.

Chihuahua-Carrying Old Lady

saw OLCCOL today. of course the Chihuahua was with her. she was on my street, maybe 5 doors away from my house. i was across the street, about to cross over, when I thought twice about it. i just didn't want to say hi!

i'm going to ask her what her dog's name is the next time i see her.

Fine Dining: Dad-Style

Today's "Dad"ly Email:

------------------------------

I went out to eat with jonny to red lobster. We both had all the crab legs you can eat. We had seven refills each. I could have eaten more but didn't want to look like a pig.

Dad

Question: Why do you want THIS Job?

Answers:

1. Because the scary old lesbian neighbor with the chihuahua started recognizing me!
2. Because I don't do happy endings!
3. Because I'm tired of temp, ready to perm!!
4. Because Friendster isn't just for "friends" any more!

My Life is Like Friendster

So last night, I saw my old RA @ NYU c. 1999/2000. Then, I saw the person who is roommate's with my friend, Steff, with whom I made out c. 2002. All in the same night. Two randoms in a row!

And of course, we are all on Friendster!

Maybe I am Friendster-obsessed. I guess this will change once they start charging.

Blogging Makes the Crying Go Away

So.

In my annoying job search, I've interviewed with approximately 25 companies--and I was given one job offer, that was then rescinded about an hour later (although at the time, I was told I'd receive the offer at a later date--three months later, it appears to be a total back-out).

Today, I received my first, "we think we've filled the position, so don't bother coming in today," voicemail.

What pisses me off is that for every interview I go on, there's a little light of hope that goes off in my heart--like at the encore portion of a beautiful shoow--that maybe something will actually work out for me. And for the 12 hours that I thought I had an interview, I thought I had a chance.

I just want a job where I can have an hour for lunch and talk to co-workers.

But I guess not right now.

My Life is a Walking Cliche (and it's not even wearing Prada)

So I just finished The Devil Wears Prada, by some seemingly illiterate-yet-published writer who got to whine about her employer. And we're supposed to feel bad? Everyone hates his/her employer. At least she got to wear Prada (and then she sold it at the end of the book!) Me, on the other hand, in working for some of the craziest bitches around, got zero perks and all the agita. I guess this woman could craft an extremely long (and to echo an review I read, "who are these editors??") fictio-biopic of sophomoric, myopic proportions.

And just like The Nanny Diaries, why are all of these women coming from Brown University? Is Brown the breeding pool of obedient, label-obsessed catfish?

Anyway, yes, I could relate to these fluff-books that are more than a little realistic.

I am freaking out! I can't even write a book on this (doing to do what I know), because the postmodern condition strikes again: it's already been done.

Underpants Part II

I did my laundry today. I felt a huge wave of relief as I really needed to get this done. I really hate to do my laundry in public places though, and that's because people stare at my underpants when I am in the "folding" stage. At first, I thought it was because of some perverted, male fantasy involving me folding laundry, swishing my hips to the sound of the salsa music playing in time with the whirling of the dryers, the stacatto thumping of the spin cycle, and as i bend over and wipe my sweaty brow as . . . I do their laundry or something like that, so that they can go home and pop a beer, or a wheely, whichever comes first.

As I learned from _to_kill_a_mocking_bird_, you have to step into someone else's shoes to gain a better perspective, so today, I did just that, and I looked at myself in someone else's shoes (or underpants, as the case may be) and I realized that the reason why they are staring is because I have very ridiculous underpants. A laundry list of phrases/words silk-screened on my underpants that make people stare at the laundromat:

-Hottie
-Party Pantz!
-Calvin Klein
-Cupcake
-Conserve Energy, Love and Respect All Life!
-I Love Boys!
-Swinging Thursdays
-Merry Time

Underpants

It seems as though my underpants maintain the longevity of my wardrobe. As long as I have enough to go around, I will put off laundry duties until I am reduced to zero.

Right now I'm at the thong stage.

That's right, the thin, red, line going up my butt!

I have underpants for every occasion: nice ones that match my bra exactly, sports bras for running, underpants for when I have my period and everyday underwear (not for your viewing pleasure), and of course, the thong.

I bought one once, at a Conway or something, because I had these vinyl pants that made thongs a necessity.

For some reason, now I have 3! In no particular order: plain, blue stripes; camoflauge; and a pink one that states, "Boys Love ME!" Guess which one is left standing?

Thank God it will be Saturday and I can do my laundry, cuz if not, I be in big trouble, or the underpants industry will be!

What Being an Adult Means!

1. eating cookies at any given part of the day
2. sleeping late
3. throwing up more b/c you can drink to excess (and do!)
4. emotional strife (family, finances, hopes & dreams)
5. realizing that you're not going to be famous, ever
6. knowing more brands of cookies
7. sometimes substituting the top part of the food-group pyramid with the bottom part of the pyramid
8. feeling guilty, constantly, that you're not fulfilling your potential
9. knowing that your 17-year-old self would be extremely disappointed in you
10. eating cookies while drunk

I Had Too Much Coffee Today

And now I'm going to throw up!!!

It's official: everyone of her clients has yelled at me re: her practices. And everyone lays it down on me and then they say, "I know, I'm sorry, I am just really frustrated." Another client told me today that I was wise for leaving.

I told him to tell my dad that!

I just want to eat brioche al day, with a cappuccino. Is that too much to ask for?

I am lonely without Megh or Rob here! I have to run more. I am getting flabby.

This post sucks!