My neck, my blog.

Eat Poorly

2009-06-29T10:26:00.003-04:00

Takahachi [85 Avenue A]

What is in a name as sweet as the stank of raw fish? The most delectable sushi in the East Village. Takahachi draws in hipsters, Tompkins Square Park crusties and authentic slanty-eyed people with its wide array of oriental offerings.

You can get a full meal for about $14, which you can earn from two hours of going to work.

Eat Poorly Math:

1 Hour of Ringing Up Vegetables In Vegetative State =
1/2 Takahachi dinner or
1 salad from Kasimir or
1 cheap pasta dish from Max or
1 drink at The Els or
1 mojito from 7A or
3 PBRs

Perso, I try to work in a little Takahachi once a month. I recommend Maki Avenue A, which is an assortment of California Rolls, Tuna and Yellowtail, all safe options for the sensible sushi eater. Maki Avenue B is more exotic, like eel and fish eggs or some shit. Maki Avenue C is other peoples' leftover Maki Avenue As and Bs. Maki Avenue D is just a plate with a photograph of an AZN prostitute and a gun. On the whole, it's no Momofuku, but perfect for those who panic when leaving the Alphabets. 8.5/10

SOS from the LES

2009-06-28T21:40:00.004-04:00

Real (Talk) Estate

Yes, I am still alive...a tragic admission. Weeks of walking to work in the rain with an open umbrella really doesn't have an interesting outcome.

I don't like giving life advice, other than, "shut the fuck up," but YALL should see the James Ensor show at the MoMA, if u want 2 like 'get' me via art (TM).

That's not Ensor; it's an etching I made of Pride earlier today.

Living La Vida Organica

2009-05-31T04:25:00.000-04:00

Sorry I've been all M.I.A. pendant mai, mais je travaille beaucoup en ce moment. I've been spending a horrific--really horrific is the perfect adjective--amount of time working organic speed therapy. Today a customer named Marshall read me his poem called "Metamorphosis" that referenced Kafka and Kandinsky and was ultimately some smutty recount of a couple walking through Central Park and contained the phrase "bushy black toe hair." A woman came in all wide-eyed and twitching, telling me she was high on wheat grass. Trying to make conversation, I asked her where she got it and she said, "Second Avenue!!!! You know RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE AVENUE!" I had images of her grazing outside chez Actual God + Tom. Another lady who is generally an incoherent mess and who without fail buys exactly 1 bottle of water, 1 tomato, 3 brazil nuts and 7 almonds, managed to have a well-informed discussion with me about health care and politics before telling me that her healing asteroid was in retrograde.

But, seriously, I don't mean to give the impression that all of the customers are crazy. Some are just hookers. I found a set of keys and a phone by a register tonight and good samaritanism dictates the finder calls the last number called in an attempt to return the items to the rightful owner. So I called "Mom." A man answered.

Mr. Mom: Hello?
Me: Hi! I found this phone and a set of keys, presumably belonging to your daughter...could you tell her that her stuff is at an organic supermarket at one sixty--
Mr. Mom: I don't have a daughter.
Me: Well, I just called the number for "Mom" and...I don't know...maybe...uh...
Mr. Mom: Well...uhh...this is weird...I don't know what to tell you. I'll ask my wife when she gets home.

So, naturally I went through the phone book: Dorky Jim, Scot the love of my life, Tony. All disconnected. I then went through the texts and oh me, oh my. The inbox was filled with names, dates, hourly rates, sordid details, emoticons, comments about rock-hard abs and changing someone's life last night. I called "Kiovanna" who nearly flipped her weave, screaming they definitely needed the keys tonight and someone would be by to get them. The end result wasn't exciting (ho got her phone) (and she was NOT CUTE), but I'm telling you this story to let you know that organic food is for everyone.

Then, as I walked home to Puerto Rico, I passed by a window belonging to the First Ave Houses (projects) like always where I usually witness a domestic dispute but tonight it was a group of guys just hanging out smoking a blunt. At this point my stride always turns into a paranoid jog to whatever music is pumping; sometimes it's Da Stanky Legg but esta noche los niños got a hold of the Best TV Theme Songs. The Price is Right and Entertainment Tonight are my jams. I rounded the corner to my building and noticed the same sorry shopping cart chained to a bike rack; you definitely need to lock that shit up. Every part of el barrio forms an extended metaphor for my life of unending organic slavery.

Let them eat Carrie Prejean cake

2009-05-28T17:19:00.003-04:00

This is an example of a dessert you eat when you work for the Meme Machine.

Happy holiday...

2009-05-22T18:58:00.001-04:00

...for those of you not too poor to vacay! Hope you packed the essentials!

Booooooooooooobama

2009-05-21T00:52:00.002-04:00

Krusty Kremes (remarks on today's job #2)

2009-05-19T22:55:00.001-04:00

The store sells organic donuts and at the end of the night if I'm closing, I take the unsold ones with me to give to the homeless. Organic Krispy Kremes for the Krusties, YALL. Tonight I shoved five or six into a paper bag...dilly-dallied for fifteen minutes...took a bite of one of the donuts...decided I didn't want it...then on my way home gave the 5.8 donuts to the street people. Is it rude that I included the one I bit into? We're all friends here, aren't we?

It's Tuesday!

2009-05-19T08:58:00.003-04:00

I don't have to freelance specifically on Tuesdays; I think it's a case of e-masochism because I want to e-ndure the written abuse via e-mail from my Tuesday e-ditor.

Unrelated:

The freaks be freakier

2009-05-17T14:01:00.006-04:00

First shift of the season yesterday at ye olde supermarché. For those of you playing along at home, yes I will be working multiple jobs for a lil' bit, lil' bit bit. I was so relieved/nauseated to see that the same freaks shop at the store two years later.

Psycho customer: Oh my god, it's been two years since I've seen you. I'm so happy you're back.
Me: Great, thanks.
Psycho customer: Can I get your number? I've been waiting two years to go on a date with you.
Me: No. You can probably find me here, with the counter as a permanent barrier between us.
PsYcHo: Can I touch your pretty hand?
Me: Absolutely not. Let's contain ourselves. Also, the exit is right there. NEXT.

Adding to the horrifying hormone level, I work exclusively with 16 year old girls, so when one of them rang up Rachel McAdams yesterday it was, like, SQUEAL FEST 2k9. I was oblivious to her even stopping by and couldn't even remember her name afterward when trying to retell the story. It's becoming increasingly easier to be so apathetic! She's the star of The Notebook, BTW! Tell every1 we were, like in the SAME ROOM for at least 10 mins! She kinda smiled @ me! It was totes the craziest thing ever!!1! Srsly. (Okay, that's all from a text I sent to J.)

When I returned home from my employment, I had a extensive discussion with the Fraynch I live with about how Americans are just too willing to talk about personal affairs with...well...anyone. Each time I ring someone up, I hear an abbreviated version of his/her/hir (most likely hir) LYFE story. Organic speed therapy. But I'm getting good at it. My go-to advice is weave a vine out of your two pounds of fiddlehead greens (like $14) and hang yourself. Viens voir le docteur! I'll distribute my work schedule via e-mail.

Another Reason i H8 Lyfe

2009-05-16T14:25:00.002-04:00

Wake up. Open bedroom door. Pigeon s(h)itting on a statue in the living room.

I'm not a bum...not yet an employed.

2009-05-15T18:30:00.006-04:00

Yesterday I again showed up looking homeless at l'IAC for lunch with my eds. At first I was only supposed to eat with the scariest one of them but then the second scariest one showed up, too. I was so uncomfortable in my seat, like 78% of people. Here's some photographs:

Free fruit at The Internets. Notice the Pier in the background.

Kind of wanted to CTRL + ALT + DELETE the CoLoR sChEmE in the bathroom at The Internets.
Cubicle content TK. (I'm always supervised!)

In the afternoon The Actual God, Tom and I had a 2 Bikes, 1 Electric Skateboard situation through NYShitty. Everyone who was not present should be envious. Freelancing is a LYFE of fun and irresponsibility. Too bad that come Monday I'll be employed.

In which we were told not to return to 7A.

2009-05-14T23:54:00.002-04:00

Really, one of the worst things that I do on a semi-regular basis is take the rest of my bar drink "to go" in a plastic water bottle. Usually, the things I drink are clear (e.g. mojito sans leaves, vod tonnies) so in the morning when I wake up with my head spinning 'round, I reach over to chug water and it's a hair of the dog near-death experience. Woof.

Life in the Big $hitty

2009-05-12T20:10:00.003-04:00

There was a police situation outside my building the other day, or so I heard, because a bum fell out of his wheelchair with his pants down. I didn't see a thing, but based on my geo-graphic location I thought it may be time for my Biannual Pepper Spray Purchase. Thanks to the economy, pepper spray prices have increased to $20/package! And thanks to my economy I've decided to fight with my hands. What else, vut else? Yesterday, I had a meeting with my eds at l'IAC and I was greeted by a hologram and whisked off all George Jetson-like to a land of tech nerds, complimentary coffee and stacks of snacks.

$tealth foto from teh future taken w/my iBall.

Could I write about la finance for the foreseeable future? Probably not, since I was detained all to-day after arriving home to an overflowing toilet (me sobbing "water worrrrld" = priceless) and now I'm past deadline. Really wish I had more to $ay, but I think YALL should pay me per word. Word.

Making new friends

2009-05-10T05:05:00.006-04:00

(Leaving the bar alongside a seemingly-normal, early-twenties boy I had been mindlessly chatting with.)

Him: So what are you going to do about your friend?
Me: I don't know...leave her in the bar with that forty-year-old guy.
Him: Do you think she'll be okay?
Me: I don't know...he'll probably just take her home to meet his kids.
A beat.
Him: I have a kid.
A beat.
Me: Really...a boy or a girl?
Him: A girl.
Me: How old?
Him: Three.
Me: What's her name?
Him: Solstice.
Me: That's a pretty name. Where does she live?
Him: Far away.
Me: Really...
Him: Okay, I'm going to turn here. This is my street.
Me: Okay, well it was nice meeting you. Maybe I'll see you again.
Him: Probably not!
Me: Yeah, probably never! But good luck with everything. Really, great meeting you.

The New Yorker is only FIVE MONTHS LATE TO THE PARTY

2009-05-03T15:38:00.002-04:00

I know we discussed this last night, but let me put it in writing: The New Yorker's witty little piece on coked-up bees was brought to you first on MNMB, in January 2k9.

Party idea:

2009-05-01T10:15:00.003-04:00

Masquerade Ball

Get excited: there will be a piñata.

Never Write Freelance on a Tuesday, and other tales

2009-04-28T18:18:00.005-04:00

I've been in this freelance contract for about three weeks now and although I'm nearing the end of my commitment, I've just learned my most valuable lesson: the editor who works on Tuesdays is definitely the most critical of my work. In fact, she thinks I'm a total moron. This, compounded with her name, S*sie, has provided me with a clear set of mental images of her.

My Tuesday editor after receiving my article.

Reading the lede.

Scanning the rest.

E-mailing me.

Pickle Surprise, now with French Commentary

2009-04-26T10:08:00.004-04:00

j: omfg
mais putain ça me fait peur
c ki
c des transexuel en plus
c pour les fou
qui regarde ça
put it on mnmb
c'est sa place
parental advis ché pa koi

What your search box says about you

2009-04-26T04:31:00.001-04:00

Girl crush

2009-04-25T23:03:00.003-04:00

Lately I've become obsessed with Rashida Jones. She graduated from Harvard, so she's obviously much smarter than YALL. But did you know that her sister was engaged to Tupac at the time of his death? I can't take Parks and Recreation seriously anymore. Cross that shizz off my TV on the Television list.

Sending out an SOS from the Garden of Freelance

2009-04-25T22:43:00.001-04:00

I've been spending too much time on the online

2009-04-22T03:31:00.004-04:00

I am truly so sick and tired of the Internet! Here are some Internetty things that have happened to me recently:

I committed to a future job working at the Internet of The Future
I helped J set up his new MacBook lappy
I bought a hawwt fuchsia case for my iPhone kindle mini

o yes i did paint my nailz 2match

I wrote three freelance finance articles in the last 36 hours
I made some sick shares on the enemy that is Reader
I downloaded many, many Lady Gaga remixes
I msged many ppl on the craigslist who hopefully won't (but definitely will) cut me
I got a tattoo of a Phoenix on my chest, oh shit, it was all a même

I'll BRB.

Prime time

2009-04-21T22:44:00.001-04:00

Names of TV shows currently showing on my TV:

The Unusuals
Life After People
Out of the Wild
Chopped
Like Mother, Like Daughter
Tough Love
The Phone
I Shouldn't Be Alive
Whose Wedding Is It
I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant

Roommates will = blog fodder

2009-04-19T16:11:00.005-04:00

I sort of got a job--to be addressed fully in a later post/spectacular--which means I'll be moving to Brooklyn. (Not.) (But, probably.) I've been on The Craigslist sending out e-mails chock full of my frantic writing style to potential roommates asking them to agree to rent to me before I arrive in Manhattan and thus without having ever met me/been BLESSED WITH MY PRESENCE. Here's a response:

I've come to question two things, in order of importance, based on this e-mail exchange: (1) living with someone named Crinkles I've found on the Internets, (2) my own sanity.

C U never

2009-04-11T04:32:00.002-04:00

J is coming to America so say goodbye to my frequent updates and hello to staring at the above image that accurately represents my lyfe.

Risen and supporting the magnetic car ribbon industry

2009-04-09T16:31:00.001-04:00

Department of Complaints

2009-04-08T02:24:00.000-04:00

I'm so busy! I don't have time to update this piece of shizzle ma nizzle, but I wanted to give you something to read. It's a very important letter my dad recently found when going through my dead uncle's files. He was approx. 90 years old at the time of writing.

Click to enlarge this significant correspondence.

I'm dreaming of a white Le Pesach

2009-04-05T10:42:00.003-04:00

The Free Press is all sassy now that it doesn't come around everyday. (Wish I could work there.) (R.I.P.)

Oh no u did NOT just drop 9 inches from the sky. tell me u did not. tell me u did not. hold me back. Anywayss, should I live blog the "blizzard?"

Still working on Championship Game tix for Monday. (Not gonna happen.)
U know u love me.
Xoxo,
Terri

My road to the Final 4

2009-04-03T14:51:00.006-04:00

So I got one sketchy offer to take me to the Final 4 from someone named Wendell, which isn't a real person's name.

Around 10:30 a.m. I reposted using more Engrish and less Us, and look at my word verification!
I think that might be the kiss of death since the W word has gotten me no where so far in lyfe. Anyway, how am I supposed to compete with offers like these:
I WILL REPOST UNTIL FLAGGED, and then after I am flagged I will post under another gmail account until I am again flagged. Repeat.

w4YALL

2009-04-03T08:33:00.002-04:00

I just posted this on craigslist.

I'd like to advertise the same offer here. If u take me 2 the Final 4, I will make u an awesome dance mix CD and u will effing <3 it! Pls pick me.

How to turn Passover into an 8.5/10

2009-04-02T05:25:00.000-04:00

I will be in attendance for next week's Seders, marking my first family Passover in five years. I'm trying to come up with ways to make it Le Pesach fun, other than Xanax + Manischewitz + book slipped into Haggadah.

1. Matzoh ball toss, pin the tail on the caravan mule, trivia: what part of the fish is the Gefilte?, going around in a circle naming other people who are oppressed (learned this one at the only seder I attended at my Liberal Arts School), and other holiday-themed games.

2. Actual execution of the firstborns.

3. Matching t-shirts.

4. Google the answers to the four questions.

(Regular.)(Smarter.)

(Smartest.)(Accurate.)

5. Dance mix interludes. DJ H.Bomb in the Bayit - "Just want 2 find the Afikoman Remix."

I'll be taking additional suggestions but not from any of you goyim.

Guess what!!!!

2009-04-01T13:36:00.000-04:00

I got a job!!!!!!!!! After months of applying to positions all day long, my hard work has finally paid off. Tomorrow, I will embark upon my life-changing career, as a full-time reporter/blogger with mad benniezzz at this enterprise:

Just kidding!!!!!!! April fools!!!!!!!! Do I need to use a surge protector with my electric chair?

Where's Waldo NOW?

2009-04-01T11:23:00.001-04:00

Now, that's what I call a headline!

2009-03-30T23:17:00.001-04:00

Thank god I get to spend more time with the NYT online since all the newspapers went away.

There's def an app for that

2009-03-30T04:27:00.005-04:00

Sigh. It's true, readership: I have applied for over 100 jobs this year and yet I endure, unemployed. Let's look at the statistical evidence.

January: 32

February: 41
March: 34
That's 107 total! Holy shit, right?! But what types of jobs have I been trying to score?

How long do you think I'll be unemployed for? I'm taking bets. I get to keep half, as a money-making venture.

Travel Blog

2009-03-28T03:12:00.003-04:00

Heyy-eyyy! Most of you have seen me in the last week, stumbling around in all my articulate glory, so I figure that should absolve me from some of my guilt re: not My Neck, My Blogging.

Specifically, I was in New York for my cousin's bar mitzvah, the centerpiece of this year's series of Family Events I Cannot Get Out Of. Some observations on the current bar mitz scene:

Sweatshirts are the new t-shirts
I don't get carded when I don't wear my glasses
Teenage girls dress like strippers (but do not take singles/understand that joke)
Bar mitzvies are like dance clubs for forty-year-old jappy womyn
Long Island may be the worst place on Earth

I was really throwing 'em back at the party to avoid/have a great time. I took relief in my relative ability to hold my liquor in comparison with my cousin, who vom-volcanoed around midnight, and my brother who was trailing the shot girl (yes, shot girl) telling her she looked hot, girl.

Throughout the dinners, services and dairy brunches with the mishpacha, I found myself consistently railed on by extraneous family members for not having a job. I was called stupid, lazy and spoiled. All of these things are arguably true. Oh, also sometime last week, I sent my 100th job application of the year!

All of my traveling left me with one conclusion: I H8 WYFESWAP! Honestly. One week away from the talking lamp helped me free myself from the tales of two WYVES who swap LYVES. (FYI - www.wifeswap.com is NOT the show's website.) (This is probably confusing for children who spend time online and attempt to sign up for the show.)

Blowing my brains out emoticon

2009-03-17T23:38:00.002-04:00

#:o =i

c YALL soon, gonna blog from ur couches (won't communicate via face) (even if I'm sitting next 2u).

Gun-in-mouth emoticon

2009-03-13T17:57:00.000-04:00

:o =i

@YALL

2009-03-08T07:57:00.001-04:00

Kids, in LYFE, you're going to have to make a lot of tough decisions. What section of The Financial Times should u read 1st on your Kindle mini? How can u best articulate ur conflicting thoughts on sketch comedy? What sushi special will most-appropriately satisfy ur <3 of azns? YALL, there are leaders and there are Followers (TM).

Just say NO to Twitter and other microblogging services.

I understand peer pressure. Your friends told you every1 was joining Twitter. They said it was sooooooo fun. Your best friend said he'd never forgive you if you didn't join and Follow him and make him look more e-popular. Some people even told you it helped them make new friends/learn new things/talk to Shaq.

Why do ppl use Twitter?

to fit in
to escape or relax
to relieve boredom
to seem grown up
to rebel
to experiment

Twitter users think that Twitter is going to help them solve all of their problems. But eventually, Twitter becomes the problem. It starts off innocently enough: one or two posts, just a couple of BFFs having a good time. Soon, you'll find yourself walking down the street, writing things in your head that you think would be great Twitter updates. You'll rush home and type in the Twitter post and wait for the responses of all those who you convinced to Follow u. U'll wait anxiously to conceive another brilliant update. You'll become obsessed with combining memes with minutia.

You'll start talking to yourself. You'll have bags under your eyes, fevers, chills, paranoia; your family and friends will ask you to seek help, but you won't be able to stop microblogging! Soon, you'll lose everything (except 4 your job b/c u were never an employed). You'll find yourself living on the street, writing your updates on scraps of cardboard boxes.

updated via homeless box!

Twitter users need help NOW. They also need to realize that no one reads nor cares about their Twitters. Twitter, like methamphetamine, is really only done correctly if used at least 14 times/hr and most of the people who use it suck at it. You can't just do it once a week or once a month and feel the same high/self-congratulation.

Users will argue that Twitter is now an indispensable part of social media. It's actually just an online forum for people's oral diarrhea. Don't b f00led. I think the @ sign is making people abrasive and encouraging them to just say wh@ever they want, whenever they feel like it, except in real LYFE. What is that contributing to society? Or 2 the media? Furthermore, how can you take something srsly that's called "Twitter"? What's the verb on that? Today I twit. Tomorrow I will twit. Yesterday I twatted. (???)

It's become clear that fervent Twitter users operate outside the realm of reason and can't stand to have explained to them why Twitter is undoubtedly the most idiotic thing ever invented. But u kno what? Anyone on Twitter is probably someone I can only tolerate for 140 characters at a time, so indulge urselves with MNMB blessings. I won't be Following u. Snap. o yes i did.

My great depression 2k9

2009-03-05T08:11:00.002-05:00

Whoa. I think I blew my e-load with my big MP3 post. The first two months of 2k9 were epic for MNMB. Post after post, I astounded you with my wit and my .pngs. Conversely, the first two months of 2k9 were not epic for my LYFE a.k.a. I'm still unemployed. I've been reading The Monster dot com, sending out applications and lowering my hourly rate to $25 ($35 with a happy ending). But nada, YALL. (I'm now practicing my Espanish because I'm destined to be a poor.)

As a "writer," specifically, searching for something to do during the newspaper industry's terminal illness/Schiavotization, I've learned to broaden my expectations for my upcoming job, I MEAN, internship. I've noticed that just about anything is called an internship these days! There are editorial internships, administrative assistant internships, executive assistant internships, vice president internships, iBanking internships, maid internships, slave internships, and most recently: communications internships for McDonalds.

Please communicate your order to me.

My career coaches at The Monster have also helped me realize that I can use my skill set in a position I might not have otherwise considered "meaningful."

Don't get me wrong - I am all in favor of government programs. YALL, when I was watching the Obama show just last week on my TV set, he sed sumpthin' 'bout building wind turbines in Ohio er je ne sais pas quoi and I'm just waitin' for the ohpperrtunity to sign up. I think I'd look great in overalls with a shovel in hand. Poor is the New Deal.

Furthermore, an understated complexity of The Job Search (aside from their tricky hiding!) is deciding where I would like to become employed. Sometimes I consider working locally, if I think the position will be a worthwhile endeavor that will open doors to a long-term position.

But, as previously alluded to, there's not much going on around these parts. Not even My Neck, My Blog fodder (as illustrated by my recent and probably ongoing break/sabbatical/hiatus/time off). What do YALL think I should do with my LYFE? Anyone who gets me a f/t job with benniez will have .pngs and MP3s dedicated to him/her/hir in the great MNMB tradition. Here - I've attached a cover letter describing my background, relevant experience and career goals. Forward it widely:

Some thoughts I've been meaning to share

2009-03-04T15:48:00.002-05:00

My Neck, My MP3 Blog, YALL

2009-02-20T15:40:00.008-05:00

It's almost the weekend! And not just any weekend, but the weekend of YALL's Blogger Convention 2k9. I'd just like to say a lukewarm thank you for including me on the final, re-re-re-re-revised party list, but unfortunately I can't make it since I'll be in Detroit for the foreseeable future/ever.

I know it's not a party without me, so that's why I shall send thee my spirit, in MP3 form. I want everyone to download this onto your iPod Kindles and GIT DOWN.

MNMBjustwant2dance - H.Bomb

Download it here.

Readership, this MP3 that I made with love from my cold heart is NOT JUST FOR THE BLOGGER CONVENTION. Anyone can listen to this anytime u just want 2 dance. This is representative of MNMB v3.0/MNMB Gold Platinum/MNMB Beta/MNMB Select/MNMB Touch/MNMB Zero Lite.

I want MNMB to be a part of ur lyfe.

25 Random Things About MNMB

2009-02-19T11:18:00.006-05:00

1. My Neck, My Blog was conceived on December 11 in the 2006th year of our Good Lord Jesus Christ.
2. MNMB was named after "My Neck, My Back (Lick It)," an important cultural work by Thug Misses rap artist Khia.
3. In its first month, MNMB boasted 34 posts.
4. As of this posting, MNMB has 328 posts.
5. And seven loyal readers.
6. MNMB's first-ever Commenter of the Year was Justy, as named in Dec. 2k8.
7. MNMB has its own theme song and ringtone.
8. MNMB bullies all three-letter-long news organizations like NYT, CNN and AOL (v9.0).
9. MNMB is fluent in three languages: English, Spanish and French, but knows that you can just put any word in italics and look intelligent.
10. MNMB is rly into jpegs and pngs as a form of expressing inner turmoil on the Internets.

11. MNMB still believes that the best romantic relationships begin as friendships.
12. MNMB kissed a girl and liked it (the taste of her cherry chapstick).
13. MNMB honestly doesn't like football, but really isn't ghey! I swear!
14. MNMB thinks Wall-E should def. win for Best Movie.
15. MNMB has 13 brothers and sisters.

16. MNMB thinks Barack Obama is the coolest President ever since 2Pac.
17. MNMB doesn't understand being called a hipster. It's like, what am I doing that's so "hipstery" ??
18. MNMB sometimez feelz trapped by society and every1 else's expectations.
19. MNMB is into fashion and unofficially styling all the time.
20. MNMB luvs clubbing and listening to Santogold remixes.
21. MNMB can't stop watching Grey's Anatomy even though the last few episodes have been considerably worse and Sandra Oh is a human onomatopoeia (can't look at her face anymoh).
22. MNMB isn't employed but is currently looking for a job, if you know of any.

23. MNMB h8s YALL (YALL stands for Yale ALumni).
24. MNMB loves to be the life of the party.
25. But sometimes MNMB just rly likes to chill out and take a break from the world with a Chai Latte and a good book on a fourth-grade reading level.

Saving all my love for MNMB

2009-02-14T10:10:00.009-05:00

I really hate Valentine's Day, but just because I hate nearly everything. The only remotely-tolerable Valentine's Day I had was in 2k6 when I was rolling. I think it's especially foreboding that this year's "VDay," as the lesbians like to call it, falls after Friday the 13th. So, what did you get for your loved ones this year? Nothing says Hallmark Holiday like "recession."

My most loved one, J, is in Paris so we're all les miserables. Fortunately, my mom gave me a Valentine's card signed by my dog, so I won't feel entirely left out of the day's festivities.

Oh, readership, even though I'm mad at some of YALL for not inviting me to your Star Wars Convention, I've made everyone a gift so u kno that if u read this blog u r <3ed.

The My Neck, My Blog theme song, downloadable here
and
The My Neck, My Blog ringtone, downloadable here.

but,

Newspapers still relevant in certain social circles

2009-02-10T07:54:00.008-05:00

52-Across

2009-02-08T21:24:00.000-05:00

Update: Must-see TV.

This American LYFE

2009-02-05T20:57:00.008-05:00

I don't really have many personal developments. I'm reading Atlas Shrugged because it's 1043 pages long and typed in 6 pt font, so it should keep me busy for a little bit. My copy is from the 1980s and contains an extremely terrifying postcard in the middle that you can send away to join the Ayn Rand Church of Objectivism and Scientology.

Mail order to Russia, land of the Wingdings.

Although I apply for 17 different jobs on a daily basis, I'm still unemployed. I decided I can't work retail because all of the interactions in that field occur on some sort of plane of mental retardation that I can't access even if I try to Schiavotize myself. Today, while in a store...

Customer: (Singing along to The Beatles while paying.)
Salesgirl: Who is this singing?
Customer: Paul McCartney. (Implied: "Duh.")
Salesgirl: Like, from...The Beatles.
Customer: Yeah. (Implied: "You must be a real fucking idiot.")
A beat.
Salesgirl: So, did you, like, like The Beatles when you were young?

People who sing along to music in public settings are some of the worst humans, Objectively speaking.

I like reading it upside-down!

2009-02-05T18:27:00.004-05:00

A trip down memory lane and into the trashbag

2009-02-04T05:24:00.011-05:00

As part of my new LYFE in America, yesterday I cleaned out the catch-all drawer in my desk, which accumulated my random shit from ages 11 to 18. I present to you photos of my childhood junk.

Feelings, a significant work that taught me it's okay to be sad, anxious or hate YALL like I do now:

Old technologies I held onto in case the new ones failed:

Me, age 13?, in the most poignant photograph ever taken.

The requisite license plate:

From L to R: A pin from the JCC Maccabi games that someone gave to me because I wasn't Jewish enough to participate, two dollars, puppy post-it notes from before I hated dogs, Hide-A-Key, a wrench.

From L to R: A vocabulary card reading "phobia," Elmer's glue, old photobooth photos, dance team ribbons.
High school reading list (it's distressing that I thought Cliff would have a better interpretation of Night than I could manage).
Ethnic Foods assignment. I learned a lot from public high school, like how to make pasta (my country was Italy). This was obviously an important assignment as INDICATED BY THE CAPS LOCK AND !!!!!!!!!!

From L to R: Zig Zags, my food stamps card from when I was 18 and broke and living in Philly, the lyrics to Simon and Garfunkel's Concert in Central Park, "What Every Driver Must Know," an ashtray stolen from Comfort Inn.

Captain Morgans and Tanqueray (2pac songs were pivotal in determining what liquors my adolescent self wanted to vomit in someone else's car).

America the Ugly

2009-02-03T10:27:00.002-05:00

This country smells like Cool Ranch Doritos and I hate that I'm going to be living here for several months.

Me vs. YALL

2009-01-30T14:10:00.004-05:00

Well, well, well. I was just forwarded an e-mail about the bloggers' convention 2k9. Apparently I've been kicked off the party list, which I'm extremely distraught about since the last party in August 2007 was a blast! We played Diplomacy and I was team Germany, which meant I got stoned and drew swastikas all over my notepad until one of you asked me if I was okay. (I was gut.)

You know, my first reaction to my exclusion was to buy a dot com and write a lot of thesaurus-loaded, distractedly-hyperlinked posts (referring to previous times when I've been right!)...maybe film a few YouTube videos without my pants on next to commemorative china with our President's face on it.

But then I thought it would be good to post my thoughts on My Neck, My Blog and hope that perhaps we, as a community, can have a dialogue about why I'm not invited. And that hopefully that dialogue can devolve into a discussion about Best Movie of the Year criteria.

My Neck, My Blog will not stand for this treatment. I was going to write a whole mean and articulate diatribe, but with the time change, it's already Friday night here and I don't feel like it. Here are my thoughts as expressed in gchat. Read them over and over, and enjoy your little Diplomacy Fiesta Part 2 SANS MOI.

In job board news...

2009-01-27T13:26:00.001-05:00

Did yall secede again? Because I missed that memo.

While you were sleeping

2009-01-27T07:10:00.008-05:00

My new hypothesis is that during the wee hours of the morning Eastern Standard Time, the NYT Narcotics Section is featured on the homepage. You have to hand it to them...probably the only Americans tuning in at that time are the ones on benders. But guess what, homies: 5 a.m. New York time is 11 a.m. Paris time, and that's the time I'm soberly checking the Internets for what's new and improved in the world.

Previously the buzz was about bees; however, around noon Fraynch time aujourd'hui:

The New York Times: Crack aint as whack as yall thought it was yall!

“Society’s expectations of the children,” she said, “and reaction to the mothers are completely guided not by the toxicity, but by the social meaning” of the drug.

The social meaning?

The NYT is mortgaging its building, people. It's only a matter of time before the street pharmacists move in.

Blue states lose

2009-01-26T16:06:00.000-05:00

I am pleased to announced that My Neck, My Blog has been named as one of the best conservative websites to come out of Washington State! Scroll down...it's several after littlebrowngirl 2.0. I'd like to congratulate myself for all of my hard work.

Spoiler alert

2009-01-25T05:44:00.015-05:00

I don't sleep, which frees up a lot of time. While I was in college, I used my extra time to talk about how much homework I had and to improve my dead-end career path skills at the newspaper. Now that academia's out of my way, I've been using my extra time to watch TV on the Computer. Sometimes I'll watch up to thirty hours a week, which sounds like a lot, but I'm more productive than any of you are; you should constantly be reminding yourselves of that.

I suppose I could just watch TV on the TV, which I do sometimes when I want to have a "cultural experience." But most of the choices are American sitcoms dubbed over in French and they're four seasons behind (Must. Keep. French. People. Thinking. Friends. Is. Still. On. The. Air.). However, one of the more interesting, version-française options is La Roue de la Fortune, or Wheel of Fortune, on TF1.

La Roue de la Fortune embodies the perturbing spirit of French TV programming. Par exemple, Vanna White is played by former Playboy centerfold Victoria Silvstedt.

This is the only SFW image of her on the Internets and I think someone Photoshopped it together.

Victoria developed her interest in TV as a teenager:

"Early life and career
Silvstedt claimed that at the age of 16 she competed in a "Best Fake Orgasm" contest at a local bar. The contestants were Silvstedt and 10 men. She won a brand-new TV. When she came home, she told her mother she won it at a game of bingo." - Wikipedia, 2k9

On La Roue de la Fortune, Victoria is regularly one-letter-turn-away from a wardrobe malfunction. She carries a chihuahua and le Pat Sajak gets in approximately 88 misogynistic jokes per episode. Although I love a rousing competition, I prefer my TV with a bit more mental and not erectile stimulation.

Thus, TV on the Computer is a phenomenon amongst those of us living abroad. NBC and ABC dot coms don't work outside of the U.S. (heard Obama's going to change that) and sometimes your precious American Entertainment isn't even viewable on YouTube from the great Third World country of France.

This all started because I just had to watch Grey's Anatomy. But as distressing as it is to admit, I think that Grey's has jumped the shark, attempted to re-jump it, has been swallowed alive and that the current plotline is taking place in the shark's intestines where the globs of shark shit are taking form and are waiting to be excreted on either Ellen Pompeo's, Sandra Oh's and/or Katherine Heigl's equally stupid looking face(s).

I've been a patient, even generous, viewer, tuning in to watch developments that even with my exhaustive lexicon can only be referred to as utterly retarded (i.e. falling icicles, serial killers, sex with ghosts). Also, apparently the series is only being filmed at night now...did you notice that? Probably not because no one watches it anymore/I definitely need to pull the plug.

Lately, grâce à Emma, I've been hanging out with Nancy Botwin and Conrad (who played MC Hammer in Too Legit: The MC Hammer Story, how did they find him!). Weeds makes me feel that as a white woman, I can accomplish anything, including 100k on a drug deal and walking to Tijuana through a tunnel that starts in the floor of my SoCal Maternity World franchise. Weeds is empowering, yall! And Kevin Nealon's performance, uproarious.

Stanley Kubrick and Mary-Louise Parker Posey

Srsly tho,

I'll watch some Desperate Housewives or The Office here and there, the occasional SATC as I reminisce about my youth/when my parents would pay for HBO/u kno; but sadly, my TV on the Computer time is coming to an end. Yes, that's right. I'm moving back to your side of the sitcom curve where I probably won't even watch TV on the TV, anyway, as I try to feign some sort of responsible existence. America, America! Coming in February. To be continued...

Sorry my blog has kinda been "just chillin"

2009-01-18T06:51:00.014-05:00

Everyone knows how much I love dance clubs. The cheaper and trashier the venue, the better time I have; however, like I always say (when I'm begging one of you to go out with me) you can't put a monetary or cultural price on fun even if you're "25"/"just want to do something low key tonight"/wear a suit or polo shirt throughout most of the week/don't want to "have a repeat" of "the last time" at "Plan B."

My preferred club in Paris is the Social Club. As one of the 5.3 million American adults crippled by social anxiety disorder (social phobia) each year, I've had a lot of memorable nights at Social Club that I typically don't remember or am trying to forget the following morning when my head is in the toilet/toilettes.

Srsly tho, some of my best soirées in this country have occurred within the walls of the Club of Things Social. Reasons why I love Social Club:

1. The name sounds elitist.

2. Awesome music, exempli gratia...

Me, on my birthday: This music is awesome. Srsly tho, soooo great. It sounds like a bunch of angry Germans remixed with John Travolta.
Friend: It's Mein Disco night!

3. I can drop my drinks on the floor and someone else cleans that shit up (general plus of going out in public/hate cleaning up after I lose control).

4. No cell phone service so no one can find me.

5. Social Club participated in The Great Attempt to See Justice Live in Paris 2k8.

6. The clientele/clientèle (total linguistic/italics crisis when I use cognates). One time, when I went to a different club, the woman in front of me in the bathroom line was playing solitaire on her Blackberry/iPood-French-equivalent-device-that-was-outdated-in-the-U.S.-in-1k993. Club Bathroom Line Demeanor mandates you face front at all times, paying close attention to the people in front of you, as the people behind you are ready to urinate in their stirrup tights. My insincerest apologies for diverting you from the seven of spades but this is neither the temps nor the lieu. Anyway, you will not find those types at The Social Club.

As a matter of fact, I, personally, made several friends at Social Club last night. But I think I shattered one gars's dream when he showed me his SF (San Francisco) tattoo (srsly tho, huge commitment to have that drilled onto your shoulder), explaining his dream was to one day live there and I told him it was the most expensive city in the U.S. and he could never afford it if he couldn't afford to buy me a drink right now. I thought for sure he would buy me a drink then, but he didn't. Sometimes the truth hurts my drinking problem.

7. Succulent post-club food options. At 4 a.m. this morning we ordered a steak haché avec frites from a wily, unibrowed Greek. It smelled like Taco Bell, and it was so delicious/regrettable several hours later.

In conclusion,
Anyway, let me know if you all want to haaa-ang next weekend.

My feelings on my job search as expressed through extremely relevant jpg art made from red Impact font and a screenshot of the NYT's homepage

2009-01-09T15:06:00.004-05:00

Extra! Extra!

2009-01-06T04:47:00.005-05:00

Extra extra extra extra extra extra exxxxxxxtra! Ohmigod did she just say extra? In my head, I was TOTALLY thinking extra, that's soooo weird. Ohmigod, don't you think that's, like, so weird that we were thinking extra at the same exact milinanosplitsecond? Maybe we're soulmates! Does your throat feel weird? Duuuuude my throat feels soOoOoo weird. Yo, my wings feel really crazy. I feel all crazy! ican'tstoptalking! Do you want me to stop talking? Do you think I should stop talking now? Are you sure? because i can stop talking if it's annoying you. I really love you. No, seriously. like LOVE love. Ohmigod ohhhmiiiigod, extra. Extra! Extra! Exxxxxtra!

Read all about it:

In 2k9, the New York Times will only cover breaking news stories.

Buzz has a whole new meaning now that scientists are giving bees cocaine. ["Puns only, in the ledes now, people!"]

The scientists found that bees react much like humans do: cocaine alters their judgment, stimulates their behavior and makes them exaggeratedly enthusiastic about things that might not otherwise excite them. [Should be great for the honey business.]

What’s more, bees exhibit withdrawal symptoms. When a coked-up bee has to stop cold turkey, its score on a standard test of bee performance (learning to associate an odor with sugary syrup) plummets. ["Use the word 'coked-up.' I read in an AOL parenting forum that it's the word the kids are using these days."]

And now, for the poetry:

On cocaine the bees “danced more frequently and more vigorously for the same quality food,” Dr. Barron said. “They were about twice as likely to dance” as undrugged bees, and they circled “about 25 percent faster.”
The bees did not dance at the wrong time or place. Cocaine only made them more excited about the food they found. That’s like “when a human takes cocaine at a low dose,” Dr. Barron said. “They find many stimuli, but particularly, rewarding stimuli, to be more rewarding than they actually are.”

Math for the new year

2009-01-03T04:28:00.010-05:00

"New year, old you, covered in vomit." - My slogan for 2k9

As a responsible adult, I didn't get sick on New Years, but I know plenty of people who did, namely: J, Mollie, and I'm sure if I were a member of thefacebook dot com, I would see numerous updated statuses reading, "omg SOOOO hungover & took 2 many roofiez!! w00t 2009!!"; when I attempted to hail a taxi, a driver pulled over, the back door opened, a young woman's head spewed puke inches away from my suede boots, the driver smirked and zoomed off into the night.

Why does New Years inspire young alcoholics to revisit everything they ate the previous year? What is it that makes normal, PBR-loving citizens turn into vom-volcanos on the same day they're supposed to be reinventing their precious selves? Is there a mathematical relationship between number of resolutions made to number of grams spewed?

where:
S = # of grams spewed
D = # of drinks
R = # of resolutions
JK = # of times a person says, "Guuuuyyyys, realllly...I'm not thaahht drunk."
P = # of times I say, "Please, stop drinking."

Here's the numerical breakdown of my New Years Eve evening:

Our friends invite us to a party = +5 points
We find the party without getting lost = +2 points
Our friends are nowhere to be found = -3 points
In fact, there are only 3 other people at the party = -4 points
There is enough food for 30 people = +3 points
There is enough wine for 15 people = +/- 10 points
One girl plays us raps she made on Garageband = +4 points
My phone dies, making me unreachable = +5 points
J's phone dies, making me unreachable x 2 = +10 points
French TV has cabaret dancers doing the can-can at midnight = +1 point
Our friends arrive at 12:30 a.m. = +5 points
The Garageband rapper loves Lil Wayne = +3 points
Serious discussion of No Homo = +7 points
At 1:37 a.m. J decides we need to leave = +/- 6 points
Because he drank too much = -7 points
We find a cab pretty painlessly = +10 points
Due to behavioral issues, the cabbie kicks us out by Jaurès = -38 points
Due to ghettorial issues, there are no cabs by Jaurès = -20 points
Due to unpreparedness issues, neither of us has a working phone = -18 points
I pee in the street = +/- 14 points
We walk to Pré St-Gervais and go into a questionable bar = -9 points
The ?able bartender points us in the direction of cabs, and we find one = +99 points
We make it home before dawn = +102 points
I send out four million nonsensical gmails that begin with the phrase, "UMMMMMM SORRY" = +/- 42 points

In summation, the night was a 7.5/10.

Happy new year, my deflating life raft of readers!

2008-12-31T10:35:00.006-05:00

I can already tell 2k9 will be a mixed bag. For instance, yesterday I found out that I got a decent-paying freelance gig, but we also discovered that after January 1, we will no longer receive MTV on our French television. To maximize the final hours of our only source of entertainment, J and I decided to have a Bon Voyage MTV Marathon, probably until midnight. Steven just picked Heather over Danielle and Sarah (his girlfriend!) on Parental Control. Bad choice, Stevie; Heather's a buttaface.

I'm not big into new year's resolutions because I don't keep them. Next year I hope to take less prescription medications, make some more money, spend less time on the Internets and write better blog posts for all seven of my readers.

A scientific study shows that My neck, my blizzle is truly a variety blog, addressing a wide range of topics:

What do you want me to blog about in 2k9? Should I stop blogging altogether? Should I try to recruit more readership, although my antisocial-ness extends far into the virtual realm and other people's presence, even e-presence on my sitemeter, gives me anxiety?

My neck, MY COMMENTER OF THE YEAR

2008-12-25T06:00:00.007-05:00

What would My neck, my blog be without reader comments? Just my lamentable prattle, which on most days, it is. But to reward those who persevere through a small percentage of my posts, I would like to announce the great honor of My neck, my blog commenter of the year!

From the beginning, Justy has offered insightful commentary on the words I so eloquently type. He's supportive of my quotidian activities and has helped me devise wondrous schemes that serve as bloggable fodder.

Justy is punny, articulate, considerate, and makes me feel the Blogospheric love in my cold, cold heart.

Justy, my friend, YOU have earned My neck, my blog Notoriety (TM) !

I'm right here, yall!

2008-12-24T11:19:00.002-05:00

Throw salt into my uninsured, un401ked wounds

2008-12-23T19:09:00.003-05:00

Please directly-deposit any freelance assignments in my gmail every Thursday and they will be available every Friday for printing.

NYT is my new CNN

2008-12-22T17:01:00.005-05:00

AOL might be onto something! The fair and balanced NYT accidentally printed a fake e-mail from Paris's mayor today, according to the IHT, which is part of the NYT, n e way. LOL.

But, really, WTF? Who thought that this e-mail was genuine? The French definitely do not care about this shit. And neither do I. I just want to explicate my festering hatred for The Times.

JIC you missed this all last week:

Way to ruin Christmas, you SOBs.

detroit dot com

2008-12-21T10:05:00.005-05:00

Many of you have asked me what's going on in Detroit. The Internets are a great way to find out! Let's see:

CAPS LOCK AND PRAYER

Lost my jello shots in July, guys. Totally *not* cool.

What's with so many people generally sucking at life.

I heard they aren't making cars anymore, so you should have kept it in a safe place.

You've Got No Future

2008-12-20T21:47:00.004-05:00

AOL just published a list of Companies That Will Disappear in 2009. As the inventor of the a/s/l/ check, AOL demonstrably has a firm grasp on reality so we should all seriously consider the world without the following ten businesses:

1. Chrysler - heard something about this on the news
2. Sirius XM - no Chryslers in which to listen to your seeerious radios
3. AIG - that's rich for "IOU"
4. Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac - they're Southern right y'all?
5. Rite Aid - part of Duane Reade's conspiracy to own our souls
6. The New York Times - it's official, if AOLv2k8 says so
7. Nortel - makers of the minitel
8. Pier 1 imports - but where will I buy my tiki torches?
9. Charter Communications - bus company
10. Hovnanian - anyone who knows what this is, press 11

La famille française

2008-12-13T12:23:00.001-05:00

J's parents were in Paris and staying with us all this week. They arrived last Saturday afternoon, which meant an early-morning trip to Franprix to purchase some foodstuffs in order to make us look less pathetic prior to their coming (see: washing your hair before you go to the salon or cleaning before the bonne arrives). We came home with milk, toilet paper, sugar, coffee and maybe some camembert. This is called The Illusion of Responsibility, something I learned in college and that I'm pleased to continue in real life.

Most of our temps familiale was spent 'round the table and O.M.F.G. I ate O.M.FOIE.GRAS and it was super slimy and stomach-churning and probably secured my place in hell. After the generous meals, I usually attempted to make perspicacious French conversation, resulting in many sheepish corrections when I said baise ("fuck") instead of baisse ("lower"). The Monsieur et Mme. have more thrilling social lives than J and I do, so we went early to bed and early to rise while they went to bars and films. I continued The Illusion of Responsibility by feigning to go to school at 10h and instead going on five-hour-long walks.

My favorite moment of the week was when J's dad stumbled into the kitchen wearing a University of Michigan t-shirt that we got him from America in September. My second favorite moment was when the four of us took a Dr. Phil personality test on the computer. I am: "The Lively Center of Attention: Others see you as fresh, lively, charming, amusing, practical, and always interesting; someone who's constantly in the center of attention, but sufficiently well-balanced not to let it go to their head. They also see you as kind, considerate, and understanding; someone who'll always cheer them up and help them out." Who are these dupable Others? I should tell you, the test was en version française and I kept choosing C.

Deconstructing the language barrier

2008-12-12T14:24:00.003-05:00

Taken from an e-mail sent to me by my Catalan friend:

Here's what I'd like for Hannukah:

2008-12-11T13:35:00.006-05:00

Glasses with built-in eyes (not bad teeth or a double chin; hate children). This will allow me to continue the illusion of being productive while actually being vegetative in 2k9/5k769.
Anyone who buys me a pair of "FuN GLaSSeS" and has them mailed to my place of residence will receive My Neck, My Blog Notoriety. Anyone who proposes something as vacuous and ineffectual as these

will be forever shunned from My Neck, My Blog.

Choose your own e-mail response, part 2

2008-12-10T17:33:00.003-05:00

Someecards I made to address your particular concerns.

Choose your own e-mail response, part 1

2008-12-10T04:02:00.006-05:00

[Hey/Yo yo mah nizzle/Dear Grandma],

Thanks for writing to me and my apologies for not responding since [June/July/August/September/October/November/last week]. I'm [glad/sorry] to hear that things are going [well/totally shitty]. You really shouldn't worry about [the economy/your ex-boyfriend/your arthritis]. These things usually have a way of working themselves out.

Everything is going okay here. I'm [pretty happy/horrendously poor]. Thanks for the job tip. I [have been/haven't been] writing a lot of freelance and I'm really [broadening my reporting skills/scraping the bottom of the barrel]. No, I haven't been eating too many French fries! Yes, I did hear Obama won the presidential election. [He's going to change the world!/Luv teh blackz and wish i wuz one!]

I am, in fact, coming home for [Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanzaa in the D/the holiday season], so I will [see you soon/continue to avoid you, but in person/try to make time to catch up with you].

I miss you, too.
[Sincerely/bleehhehahfhh/Love],
H.Bomb

Pour some out for the economy

2008-12-05T11:33:00.007-05:00

Hey, y'all, that's me. Actually, that's not me because I fled your country, therefore I'm not sure I contribute to the number of unemployeds; but on a recent survey in my new payless pays, I did write I was au chômage.

I've got some new articles up for my boss, but my best offer recently has been 2 American cents/word and I'm so desperate that a deal is in the works. Got rejected from a legitimate job that I clearly wasn't qualified for, so it goes, but I have enough American sense not to go to j-school(TM), so I'll just haunt j-jobs dot com until I find something suitable.

Perhaps more plausible/white than AlJeezy, I heard CNN is starting an improved wire service.

“The current CNN wire, if you look at it truly is still, and remarkably, abysmally written,” [some AP yuppie] said.

Those be fightin' words. That quote should have been the headline/100% cotton t-shirt. Also, when did CNN attempt to become so self-aware? The next step in this meme would be printing on 50/50 American Apparel Deep Vs.

Le Tgives

2008-11-27T16:22:00.012-05:00

The Fraynch don't believe in Thanksgiving because they don't believe in being thankful, so instead of turducken, I ate eggs benedict and bloody maries at an American-themed restaurant with my boss and his wife. Then, I worked the entire afternoon, since I dropped out of school. Then, I came home and soul-searchingly reflected on my meaningless life.

Some things I am thankful for 2k8:

1. My family, except for my dog
2. My friends
3. The Fraynch, including the one I live with
4. My health

5. My unpaid jobs

6. Online video services

7. That I am no longer vegetarian; also, Special K and Quaker Oatmeal
8. The fortunate scene of seeing a midget use a urinal at a club last weekend (couldn't reach).
9. The voice of reason

10. My weblog, my readership and the Internets in general

Enjoy your American holiday, you Americans, you!

Docta, docta

2008-11-20T12:29:00.004-05:00

I love free gifts. These are my lungs, courtesy of the French government, my parting gift after seven hours at the Bobigny prefecture. Now, I'm a legal resident of the banlieue after the kind doctor decided not only was I healthy enough to immigrate, but I have a corps sportif. Speaking of haphazard medical practices, my new French rapper pray-fay-ray is Doc Gynéco. What a name! What is in a name, as sweet as a French rapper's, anyway? Alibi Montana, any relation to Hannah?

In fake-work news, methinks my bosses at the unnamed film festival didn't like my shitty review of their even shittier script.

Appel le 15!

The Talkies

2008-11-15T13:34:00.008-05:00

I expanded my list of freelance services to reading screenplays for a well-known film fest in Europe. I think that due in part to my lack of qualifications and my hatred for movies, I've had some shitty scripts flung in my direction.

I heaved a sigh after reading the character description, expecting Brokeback Redux, but within a page, the tone changed and a conflict was introduced:

I guess so. The cues were written with poetic precision, really allowing me to picture the mise-en-scène.

Ultimately, the characters continue their search for the fartless heifer in the promise land.

I'll keep you wondering about the ending! No spoilers!

L'Obama '08

2008-11-04T11:40:00.003-05:00

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to respond, "Do you support Kim Jong-il?" when the annoying Korean kid in my class asked me which candidate I am supporting in today's American election. I feel kind of half-assed, being in Paris and all, although it has been my longstanding goal to be living out of the country by November 2008. I decided to help the Obam-a-thon by calling citizens in swing states to remind them to vote/fucking make up their minds already.

Penny was a raspy-voiced Ohioan who already went to the polls at 6:30 a.m. Her life story cost me about eighty cents/minute. Unlike Penny, who clearly went to the bar after casting her ballot, I don't really have anything planned for today. With the time change, I think a nap is in order before I wake up in the middle of the night and tune into SKYNEWS - a television channel that I thought was only for airports, but it's in my living room. Whatever. Waiting for the results is as nauseating as waiting for a plane. I think I'm going to take two xanax and call Penny in the morning.

So Fraynch

2008-11-01T11:05:00.004-04:00

Misadventures in gchat

2008-10-28T14:50:00.004-04:00

Part deux -

I don't expect to sleep through the night

2008-10-28T10:08:00.003-04:00

Ah, l'automne, the season of death and dying. Yesterday in the Bastille métro I saw puddles of blood, safely marked off by yellow caution tape and several amused RATP officers. I could only presume what had precipitated this massive mess, but broadly speaking, the freaks are out in full-force here. Whenever I walk in the street, I can only hope that the fine citizen behind me is screaming into his cell phone and not to himself. I never turn around, but I'm more alert now that my iPod refuses to play any song other than The Obvious Child by Paul Simon (ah, l'ironie!). Because why wouldn't my iPod stop working one week after my MacBook gets a virus called Thus Family?

In civilization news, my literature professor thinks I'm the dumbest student in the course, that's become apparent. She's compelled to frequently check in with me and confirm that I indeed understand what's going on. Madame, the confused look on my face stems from my boredom and that I'm thinking about other things, like what to buy at the grocery store or how to cure AIDS. Last night I wrote a scathing review of Chateaubriand equating him to the emo Panic at the Disco of the early 19th century, but then I deleted all of it and discouragingly wrote a two paragraph endorsement of his emotive metaphors, just to appease this pute. (She wears pearls to class.)

I don't really have any other witty anecdotes to share. I, once again, self-administered a haircut while imbibing and did irreparable damage. I caved and paid for my first proper haircut since 2005, and now, I have no hair, which is probably for the better.

My cup ranneth over

2008-10-23T13:40:00.004-04:00

I deleted my Good Book, Facebook account.

Yes, I am okay; if anyone wants to join my social network, it's called real LYFE; there are no tagged photos and most people won't poke you unprovoked, unpropoked.

Rime of the American't

2008-10-17T16:06:00.004-04:00

Prelude
One week of civilization courses at Paris 4 and I feel, in fact, less civilized than usual. The first lesson I learned was that in every institution, there can be found at least one classturbator. In this case, it's Lydia, a sixty-year-old mother of two who likes to hear her own voice describe the academy's usages of the subjonctif passé in eighteenth century literature. Classturbation will forever be the essence of my education, the bridegroom to my knowledge.

Part I
I received my ballot several days ago and I've been carrying it around with me like an Albatross about My neck, my blog was hung.

Is it still 1996? Don't they know Kevorkian lives in the 'hood?

Part II
Contributing to my savageness, J recently added the word "slave" to his swelling English lexicon, id est, in asking me to do the laundry via gchat:
j: mais fais aussi pendant le week end un lavage de serviette
6:01 PM
me: okay je vais le faire
maintenant
j: thanks slave
me: parce que je ne vais pas me doucher
right, exactly
6:02 PM
j: not really
douche toi
me: gbhlghwbgtljhb
bleehhh
6:04 PM
j: come on slave time is running
(Ignore the part about how I don't shower on a regular basis.)

Part III
Severe dissatisfaction plagues my every waking hour. The new season of Grey's relies on unbelievable plot-lines, vodka burns my esophageal soul and my iPod freezes every time it hits Wham.

I'm sorry for 5768

2008-10-09T12:56:00.008-04:00

Joyeuse Yom Kippur! Mon médecin m'a dit que I am underweight and anemic, so I just ate a sandwich, but it wasn't very tasty, if that's any consolation. Additionally, today my iPod-on-shuffle decided to play an unfair amount of Akon so I have been sufficiently punished in the eyes of God and Tupac (also, God).

Also, also, today, also, I attended my first day of school at the Sorbonne where the French are trying to "civilize" me. After having a few too many (bottles) to drink last night, I was running late, so I exited the métro at Chatelet and attempted to find a taxi. The first cabbie kicked me out because his meter was broken. I offered to slip him dix euro but things didn't work out between us. My second, minivan cab took me to class with class. God, I hope nobody saw me. Then I went to synagogue with the Sephardim and repented for all of this, and more!

Call me Ishmael

2008-10-02T16:36:00.009-04:00

Oh, my shriveling, shivering, shipwrecked ship of readers; I know I haven't blooged in a fortnight, leaving ye captain-less amidst the surf of the world wide web - but alas - the spirit to spear this whale of a blog moved me toward The Good MacBook with my fingers in home-key position. I heard your S.O.S. (Rescue Me), and it's not healthy...for me to feel this way, S.O. I thusly present thee with a synopsis of the time-passed since we last e-spoke.

September 14 to present:

I have eliminated sleep and replaced it with hour-long sessions of Grey's Anatomy. My mood swings closely match those of Meredith, or Miranda Bailey when I'm feeling sassy.

September 18 to 25:
I went to America. My voyage was rewarded with a French visa, and I'd like to extend an invitation to kiss my ass to all those who said it would be impossible.

September 27:
I discovered a game on my pay-as-you-go cellular telephone called Nature Park. It can be described as Tetris with color blocks and scary animé creatures, and unlike the games preloaded on other, nicer cellphones, it's not a trial version. You can play Nature Park until you lose or want to participate in life. I played for three hours, then I watched Grey's Anatomy.

September 28:

I bought 20 euro nail polish to celebrate the recession in style.

September 29:
The new signs in the Trocadero métro misspell Eiffel Tower as "Effiel." And it's amazing how autistic I am.

September 30:
A disappointing web discovery - Weezy has a blog. Rich calls it, "strangely straightforward and boring, right?" I want to know who's ghostwriting his oeuvre.

October 1:
I saw Mamma Mia. Movie reviews come out here slower than the movies do. I, for one, disagree with Anthony Lane. Under no conditions whatsoever would this film be tolerable, unless you were in vegetative state, which I was after suffering through several piercing Pierce Brosnan musical numbers.

October 2:
The doctor told my boss he cannot drink (alcohol) anymore. His sobriety led to an incredible/coherent reference to the Minitel and a manifestation of his true feelings. ("Don't ask [H.Bomb], she doesn't know shit about Photoshop.") (Only because there's no Minitel version!)

My Motherboard, My Self

2008-09-13T08:07:00.009-04:00

For weeks we've been warned The New Facebook Is Coming, and although we had the option to preview the changes, I stuck with la version originale, living in fear of what was to come. Facebook and I have had a hate/hate relationship for the past four years, and each awesome new feature (tagged photos, mini-feed, graffiti application, chat) has shoved me closer and closer to complete and total deactivation.

So fathom my delirium when logging in last night to find out that The New Facebook has become The Only Facebook. The site is unbearable! Where's my profile? Why has my mini-feed been absorbed into my wall? What are Zodiac Signs Hatching Eggs? How do I delete all of my friends? Who the fuck keeps poking me like that? WHERE ARE THE FREE GIFTS?! J begged me to deactivate his account, which took me about a half-an-hour to do, but I'm still on the fence re: my Facebook future. Mollie is, too, for anyone wondering.

She didn't want me to tell you, but she was so proud of herself for that one.

Update: Mollie has found a way to keep her Facebook account and receive her dream job at Al Jazeera.

Sorry I'm en retard

2008-09-05T13:02:00.009-04:00

with my RNC content. Here was the cover of the free métro newspaper earlier this week:

Embarrassante? Not my Palin. She's going to unite us women like a double-sided dildo (that I may or may not be editing ad copy about), or at least that's what my e-mail from Cindy McCain said.

The use of the word "handicap"...interesting linguistic choice several days ago set against the discussion of her last child, Trig. A+, Direct Matin. A++, John McCain.

Laborious day

2008-09-01T12:13:00.010-04:00

Today marked the beginning of La Rentrée a.k.a. the special time of year that Parisians emerge from hibernation, remove their "fermeture annuelle tous le mois d’août (peace août les poors!)" signs and open up shop.

That's how I felt walking down the street this morning. Boulangeries busy with people, pharmacies ouvertes with glowing green crosses, free newspapers in the métro, homeless friends using the free newspapers as blankets in the métro, barrels of socks at Tati for only 50 centimes! This is the lifestyle that I've been missing for the last four weeks. La Rentrée, La Rentrée! I wanted to rentrer my apartment. All of the folks fed into my social anxiety. That, and I've been watching a slew of violent films lately, like Gomorra, a new and fairly brilliant film about the Italian mafia in which everyone dies bloody, bloody deaths, and American Gangster, a film from 2007 in which some people die bloody, bloody deaths.

To compensate, I have cut down on my SVU viewing in favor of lighter television programs like "Tila célib et bi," or Tila Tequila, as it's referred to on The Actual God's MTV channel in America. I admire the French's straightforwardness - abandon the alliteration - she's single and she's bisexual, that Tila. But she, too, adds to the long list of mental images that prevent me from sleeping at night. Lately, I've been using les toilettes at 2h or 3h and I've come across little, silver, slimy bugs that look like tadpoles slithering along the bathroom tile. I am generally contact-less so I can never tell how many I see...somewhere between three and one million. I told J about the critters but he explained they are good luck. I said nothing that disgusting can lead to good luck, but he said bien sûr, that's why they're called poissons d'argent. So we (happily) live with silverfish

and one goldfish, which is actually called a poisson rouge; however neither gold, nor red.

Quelle menagerie! Thus far, neither fishy species has brought us much good luck...being broke means taking pleasure in life's simple things like making poached eggs, our Sunday morning activity. J searched for instructions on an online forum...it was then that I realized his understanding of the Internet stopped in 1998. Any time he seeks information (how to poach eggs, how to prevent headaches, how to unlock a cable box), he turns to the magical land of Internet forums. This technique, combined with his spam-filled hotmail account, confusion over the "acceptable" way to form an emoticon, and affinity for some prehistoric version of Napster set off alarms in my head. But maybe it's for the better, because he'll certainly never come across My neck, my blog.

Reflections on the Olympics

2008-08-24T10:57:00.002-04:00

Last night by Notre Dame an intoxicated homeless gentleman wandered into the rollerblading show held in the street. His companions tried to stop him or at least pry his halfway-filled bottle from his flailing arms, but he screamed en français, these are the Olympic Games!, while narrowly avoiding a collision with three performers jumping over a group of tourists. But now, the Olympics are over! With the time change/limitations on reporting, they probably ended last week! Back to my normal, shitty French programing. Next is broadcast on three different channels here. You should always choose the money, never the second date.

I had a dream

2008-08-22T10:41:00.001-04:00

that I added labels to all of my posts and it made a whole new layout that attracted more web traffic and My neck, my blog became the most popular blog on the Internet.

Les miserables

2008-08-20T11:07:00.002-04:00

Haven't been able to sleep since I watched New Jack City the other night on the sixth floor of the cité; was delighted to find out the film's based on the true story of The D circus circa 1980; Chris Rock's portrayal of Pookie was heart-wrenching. Walking home, I kept peering over my shoulder, hearing the echos of "Rock-a-bye baby," while (m)uttering "Up with hope" in a Franny-Glass brainwash. Paris is still void of Parisians. I've been meeting an uncomfortable amount of Australians, actually - uncomfortable because I never know what they're saying or wearing. At lunch last week, my boss and I met an elderly Australian couple who thrilled us with the story of how Pappy broke his arm in Hungary and was attached to a hospital's outdated lever-pulley system and given nothing but bread for a week. He was so hung-a-ry...get it? I think that when you're 70+ years old, you should automatically get a pity laugh, but I held out. Then he asked me was I French due to my non-response and I responded no. I felt 5% bad and 95% disgusted. My boss just smirked. It was ferié on Friday, which meant a three-day weekend full of the freakshow that is the Olympics. The French beat the US in fencing. Congrats on the big win! I walked through someone else's vomit in the métro yesterday and J said he's had it with the train...he's buying a bike. My neighbors got a dog that yip-yaps all day long and my Internet connection is gone with the wind which makes freelancing and Law and Order-watching nearly impossible. At least the weather has cooled off. In my estimation it's about 59 degrees Farenheit and rainy each day, but for about 20 minutes in the afternoon, it's sunny and 80. One can never accurately predict

especially when the widget is missing Tuesday. It's a dispensable part of the week, really.

Listen up

2008-08-17T06:05:00.000-04:00

As an incessant list-maker (to-do, last will and testament, shit), I feel a sort of dull pleasure and/or nausea when I scan the List Page of Wikipedia, my new, listily way to pass the time when I am listless. I present to thee a list of my top ten favorite lists.

1. List of Dick Tracy villain debuts
2. List of furry conventions
3. List of defunct amusement parks
4. List of appearances of amnesia in fiction
5. List of reported lake monsters
6. List of LGBT figures in mythology
7. List of Scientology Security Checks
8. List of erroneous newspaper headlines
9. List of premature obituaries
10. List of animal sounds

List of runner-ups:
List of diversity organizations in Utah
List of woods

Press Alt + F4 for a cool picture!

2008-08-11T10:53:00.002-04:00

I just want to apologize to those Detroit Internet users who are being directed to my drivel thanks to Google. Please close this window immediately. I don't even live in America.

5 Things More Shameful in The D than Kwame

2008-08-09T08:56:00.006-04:00

Everyone just can't believe Kwame, and by "everyone," I mean citizens of Oakland county or other folk too scared to step foot in The D. Let's not be blindsighted by a linebacker-sized, peace-sign-flashing, Irish lad who has only been in office since 2002. Detroit has a rich history of missteps starting with the War of 1812 when it became part of the United States. Here are five things I find more shameful about my hometown (I, unlike you, was born in Henry Ford Hospital) than Mayor Kilpatrick.

1. Use of bulletproof glass - Have you ever tried to purchase an item at Popeye's or a liquor store in the city? You may have noticed that you and your vendor were separated by a pane of bulletproof glass. You probably had to shout your order seven-to-twelve times until it was hesitantly placed on the turntable and delivered to you. Personally, I prefer this sort of non-interaction with the locals and pretend I'm Bubble Boy, but some might find it troubling.

2. Highland Park - Not to be confused with its upscale sister neighborhood in Chicago, Highland Park is nestled in the middle of Detroit, but technically considered a separate entity. It is for this reason that due to fiscal crises, the city decided to cut its police force, leaving one cop car. That's why it's pretty much burned to the ground. Ashes to ashes.

3. Eminem - For those of you who may have left the metropolitan area and been asked of your origin, to which you answered "Detroit" because it's the closest big city, the follow-up question was most certainly, "Oh, like 8 mile?" No, not like 8 Mile. Like, Cranbrook and Quarton. Will the real Slim Shady please sit down, stop the spread of misinformation and bad film and go on Weight Watchers?

4. Plan B - Most of you know the affinity I have for this debacle of a nightclub. Although I only had the privilege of passing one evening there, I had two drinks thrown in my general direction, witnessed three fights, saw several dancers on top of risers dressed like Mrs. Claus on crack, and probably caught 14 STDS in the bathroom. Classy, ya'll.

5. The Detroit Lions - one of my first sentences uttered as an infant: "Lions stink." I'd like to thank my father and Wayne Fontes.

P.S. How many Free Press reporters does it take to spell the mayor's name correctly?

Mugshot heard 'round the world

2008-08-07T18:35:00.005-04:00

Somewhere between this and this there's this. This is his booking shot (He was jailed around 1 p.m.):

From the article:

One of Patterson's appointees showed him a Japanese newspaper that her mother had passed along recently, “I couldn't read what it said, but what was on the front page, a picture of Kwame.”

In Japan? I highly doubt it. Leave it to the white man to think all minorities look alike.

Ray of light

2008-08-03T12:07:00.006-04:00

I recently started tuning into Vivastreet, which suits my interests much better than Craigslist, as there are more than three posts a day. Today I browsed the "Recontre Amicale - Activité" section, just for merdes et rigoles and not because I'm interested in any amicable activities, as My neck, my blog is the most amicable of all of my activities and my readership has been peaking lately with six hits a day (Thanks, mom and Michelle!) (Peep the new slogan.). And yet I forge on...

DIRK DIGGLER SERIOUSLY WANTS YOU TO ACCOMPANY HIM TO DISNEYLAND

28 Y/O SATANIST IS POTENTIALLY LOOKING FOR TODDLERS INTO THE OCCULT

I'M REASONABLY SURE THAT IN NO FORUM IS "HOE" AN APPROPRIATE ABBREVIATION FOR HOMME

MEC, THERE'S A REASON WHY YOU AND YOUR PASSIONS LIVE IN SOLITUDE

But if you find someone 99 years old with an appreciation for Madonna's cone-bra-phase, appel-moi and we can tisser some liens, frère.

My neck, my emo blog

2008-08-01T05:18:00.005-04:00

I began yesterday in Good Housekeeping mode, as I promised J I would take his clothes to the laverie because he can't use the water in his apartment due to a leak. The previous night he tried to use his washing machine and the clothes made it through half of the cycle before Madamoiselle Huegette Hynneman, his downstairs neighbor, began shrieking. Mlle. Hynneman is the crotchety, gray-haired woman who sits in front of you in shul and turns around and says, "SHHH!" when you whisper one thing during the sermon, and both you and your mom laugh and cross yourselves.

So picture me this, ménagerall: dragging one (1) duffel bag and wearing one (1) backpack full of sopping wet clothes that must have weighed a cumulative twenty pounds down Rue de Paris in Lilas in search of a laverie. First point: I have not worn a backpack since eighth grade. Second point: the clothes were soaked so I left a trail of water behind me for the 15 minute walk. I adore the laveries here, in a sentimental, Pine Street facility, arts-and-crafts-hour-with-signs sort of way. Also, the only people who utilize this service are the immigrants, like me. While I waited for the spin cycle and sechoir, I read Le Monde cover-to-cover, the first time I've read an entire newspaper (except for the free ones in the métro) since I've been here. Le Monde isn't difficult to get through. The paper is only 24 pages and I was amused to see they forgot to print a photograph on the back page, leaving a glaring white space reminiscent of my Blahrgus-days-past.

I remember an article in The New Yorker, the tale of a man who read every single word of each issue of The New York Times. He was two years and seven months behind, and hadn't made it to 9/11 yet. "I cannot wait to see what happens!" he said. I just made up that bad joke of a quotation, but the point remains: why all the news that's fit to print when no one reads all of it and you can save on your printing bill in a dying industry? Le Monde taught me about all of the mounting injustices in China before the Jeux Olympiques. Seriously, I hate Chinese food and I hate the Olympics, so I'm all for holding the games there. In fact, I think they should be permanently relegated to Beijing. Is MSG considered a form of doping?

Later last night, I went to see Wall-E. Although it was in French, I understood all of it, and gosh, I loved it! We took the métro home and I noticed the misspelling of "waterproof" ("watefproof") on a huge poster for a camera. I couldn't sleep because I had the sneaking suspicion that someone was going to murder me, the kind of paranoia after an intense CSI session. J said c'est normale because it was hot and people are irritable. Anyway, if you don't hear from me for a few days...I'm probably reading this. I'll be back later to do some more oversharing.

Selections from "Anglais: Vocabulaire Thematique"

2008-07-28T07:55:00.007-04:00

copyright 1972

Chapitre III - The Family - La Famille
The Servants - Les domestiques
a maid (servant) ... une domestique, une bonne
a char(woman) ... une femme de journée
a porter ... un portier
a coachman ... un cocher
a footman ... un valet de pied
a governess ... une gouvernante

Chapitre V. Leisure - Les loisirs
The Lighter Side
Daytime TV is wonderful. It keeps a lot of women at home who might otherwise be out driving at night.

Chapitre VII. Money - La monnaie
The Lighter Side
Teacher : What tense would you be using if you said, "I have money ? ".
Student : "Pretense ".

Chapitre X. Health - La Santé
- 1. A man who has a sound constitution is said to be healthy, to enjoy good health. Mr. Jones has never has a day's illness, he is never ill (Am. sick), even out of sorts or poorly.
- 2. Mrs. Jones on the contrary has a sickly constitution. She was an invalid for many years and even now is often unwell.
After eating too much, a boy may feel sick and be sick (or vomit). If you catch a chill, you will shiver and blow your nose repeatedly. If you have a bad cold you sneeze and cough. You have a sore throat. You had better send for the doctor.

Chapitre XIV. Clothing, Dress - L'habillement
- 2. On Sundays people want to look elegant (or smart). They put on their best clothes (or their Sunday best). You can either have a suit made to measure (or to order) by a tailor (the Americans call it a custom suit) or buy one ready-made at an outfitter's. In either case you will try it on to see that it fits you well, i.e. is neither loose nor tight. If several fit you, you will choose the one that suits you best.

Chapitre XVI. The Weather and the Seasons - La température et les saisons
Hostile Nature - La nature hostile
a storm, a tempest ... une tempête
a hurricane ... un ouragan
a typhoon ... un typhon

In which we have summer

2008-07-28T04:46:00.004-04:00

After a slew of chilly weeks, it's been hot here. Only about 90 degrees Fahrenheit, but that's hot enough in an unairconditioned city. I don't really move if I don't have to. Yesterday, the entire métro system smelled like someone took an actual shit in the middle of Chatelet and I saw one person faint, but I continued walking. J says I transpire comme un escargot, which is a heartwarming image. We went to sushi last night, which I'm never sure is the correct decision after sweating all day/week. Our waitress was so Hello-Kitty sassy, all eye-rolling, like, what do you want now? But it was 21h30 on a dimanche, so fine...pétasse. I got California rolls, as my vegetarianism is slowly unraveling. The French word for chopsticks is baguettes. Such cultural appropriation.

Now, the only people left in Paris are tourists and the poor, who can't afford to take off. The combination of mass vacation exodus and Tour-de-France street closures made last night one of the quietest I've experienced in Paris. We sat on the steps at Opéra for a while and there were only two huge un-loadings of tourist buses. I smiled in the background of all of the photographs, put up a few gang symbols. Even the homeless were throwing out their beer cans, as the entire city has adopted the attitude of We Will Sweat and Get Through This Together and maybe try to better manage our personal hygiene levels.

I'm still freelancing, and it turns out that the advertising agency for which I had to complete several writing tests on hydrogen production wants a piece of the H.Bomb since they're offering me 60 euros/300 words. My internship has also become slightly more legitimate (i.e. I do have an e-mail address @myworkdomain.com), so I'm closing my accounts on various job searching sites.

I've been watching important television like L'ile de la Tentation and Ma Sorcière Bien-Aimée to improve my French and J's been watching Full Metal Jacket to improve his English. I'll let you reflect on the learning gap; it's too damn hot to type anymore.

Loi et désordre

2008-07-19T04:40:00.007-04:00

After two summers, I adjusted to laypersons stopping me in the streets of New York and asking me if I am a semi-famous actress who I hate to be associated with. One time while I was working in the East Village natural foods market I used to call J.O.B.:

Customer: Are you [redacted]?
Me: No.
Customer: Are you sure?
Me: Yes.
Customer: Really, you're not her?
Me: No. I get asked this a lot, but no.
Customer: Really.
Me: If I were a semi-famous actress why would I be working in a grocery store?
Customer: I don't know, you could be studying for a role. Trying to see what it's like to be broke in the city.
Me: No, I'm just broke in the city.
Customer: Oh, ok. (Walks two steps, turns around.) You swear you're not her?

So last night while walking near Chatelet, when a visibly inebriated non-française started screaming, "You, you!" in my direction, I was prepared to be subjected to my first French pseudo-celebrity-sighting. Instead:

Her: You, you!
Me: Who?
Her: You!!! (Grabs me.)
Me: ...
Her: You! You are a stripper! Streeeperrr. From the Jolly Jumper!
Me: Nope.

But I couldn't have been happier. I think the confusion was due in part to my footwear - tall, vintage pumps I slink around in because I can't walk normally in them. Anyway, that wasn't the highlight of my night. 12:40 a.m. on the 11 en route to Lilas, there's a guy who looks remarkably like Detective Munch from SVU (la seule chose que me manque), slurring to himself, standing up in between the seats and then falling over, putting on his jacket, taking off his jacket, putting on his jacket, drooling a little, et cetera. I also noticed he had a Trapper Keeper circa 1992. I couldn't wait to see what kind of gel pens were inside! As we approached the end of the line, when the remaining passengers consisted of Munch, moi, et mes deux amis français, he unzipped his office supply only to reveal a substantial supply of heroin and needles. That, I think, was the highlight of my night.

Also, mom, I know this was you on my last post:

because you can't type any words that necessitate the letter "i" since the dog ate that key. You're a regular Georges Perec.

J.ust O.ver B.roke

2008-07-18T08:59:00.005-04:00

Nearly everyone, except interestingly enough my own parents, seems to express concern over my employment situation. Currently, I'm freelancing for several different companies and making an impressive amount of money for something I do in a foreign country without sitting upright (I like to write at about a 140 degree angle). I'm also someone's "intern," and I just completed a "project" "researching" how his Misfortune 500 can develop an "online presence," meaning I joined five social networking sites last week and realized that no matter what website you use, your profile makes you look like a douchebag and that "Anything but country!!!" still flies as a musical preference. I also secretly made two posts on a fashion blog before disappearing into the Internet unknowns...my editor pissed me off when she changed my text from AP Style to Idiot Style, which resulted in an e-mail debate over using apostrophes when a singular noun ends with s. (I don't really want to talk about it.) I also have several applications pending, one for an advertising agency for which I had to complete several writing tests on hydrogen production. I'm reasonably immature, so I don't think I'll be hired due to my "MicroTechpark in Thalheim, Germany is feeling gassier than usual (LOL!)" line. Bummer.

Still, despite my busy schedule, relatives and friends want to know what I plan to do in terms of career. My aunt knows one of my father's patients who might be working for a prime time television news program like Dateline and she can put in a good word for me. Mollie says the sinking ship Village Voice is hiring. My French friends understand I'm vegetarian but highly recommend I start flipping burgers at Quick. My fan club perpetually returns to the same question: how do I intend to support myself financially without wearing donning some business-cahhjsh and sitting in a cubicle while refraining from sticking my fingers in the automatic stapler? So, whatever, today I sat up to a 70 degree position (horrible posture, I have) and began my search for employment. I don't take myself seriously, so I started on craigslist. The site isn't popular here in France, so the best I could do was offer to complete someone's literature homework for 200 euros (pleasse! A.S.AP!!!). S/he hasn't responded. I moved on to Google. When you type in the term "jobs in Paris," the search results go a little something like this:

After browsing numerous job sites, the categories with the most activity are typically:
which is appealing to me more and more as a viable path. In conclusion, I think I'm okay for the moment with my impending-dead-end freelance career and expect me to be teaching Engrish in a bloc country come fall. Like the rest of my graduating class that could have bought a mini-mansion instead of a liberal arts education.

Flashing lights, lights

2008-07-16T05:47:00.002-04:00