Thursday, December 29, 2005

fucking pigeons


Although composed primarily of concrete and other manmade materials, New York City offers its inhabitants myriad opportunities to observe nature's little miracles. Since taking up residence here I've marveled at subway-track-colored mice, noted that foot-long rats won't bite you if you don't know you're sleeping next to one on the couch in your college boyfriend's dorm room because two 6-feet-tallish people in a twin-sized bed is a little cumbersome sometimes, and learned that cockroaches do, indeed, fly. The other flying vermin, pigeons, have also proven good for observation, except for the one that divebombed the back of my head. Never did actually see that little daredevil. Yesterday afternoon I had the pleasure of learning some more about these precocious creatures, in the form of live pigeon porn right on my own terrace.

As I gazed out my window cursing myself for only "quitting" smoking for eight days, I noticed a presumably male pigeon puffing out its feathers and chasing a little hottie along the roof ledge. She wasn't having it, apparently, as she took off and left him alone and confused. He must've been a total player, since he resumed his feather-puffing when another nubile pigeonette arrived just moments later. What happened next was straight out of the Discovery Channel, aptly described by some other blogger:
When pigeons are engaging in mating rituals, we tend to simply disregard their antics as Things Stupid Birds Do. These include bowing (wherein the male nods his head at the female several times), blowing out his neck feathers and circling about her. All of which sounds an awful lot like human males on the make, don’t it? The male further impresses the female by spreading out his tail feathers and dragging them around her. Then he drives the female away from the other males by running close behind her. As things progress, the female may slip her bill into his and the two begin to rhythmically bob their heads up and down in unison. (Am I the only one who thought these were two males fighting over food?)

The next thing you know the male has jumped on the female’s back, and after a few seconds of precarious balancing sows the seeds of the next generation of rats-with-wings. Feeling rightly proud of himself, he then makes a big show of flying about slapping his wings together over his back to make big clapping noises. I guess it beats pecking at cigarette butts.

After the mounting part I dashed off to get my camera in order to practice for the day I finally become a National Geographic photographer. I'd seen plenty of animals going at it on TV and was sure that there had to be more. But, alas, the pigeons are stealthy buggers and don't waste any time. I'm still unsure about how this works anatomically and where the hell they lay all their eggs. And how come you never see any baby pigeons bobbing around? I suppose those are questions only answerable by the inevitable Mating of Urban Pests documentary.

bright sunshiney day

Alright, I won't ask him how he found this, but I will tell the internet.

Monday, December 26, 2005

hometown highlights

If anyone had told me in high school that at age 24 I'd love going home to my parents' house more than anywhere else in the world, I would've died from laughter and/or horror. But, alas, lying around in sweatpants with my sis and my dogs while my mom cooks organic trans-fatty-acid-free food and my dad hands out Leinenkugels is the perfect break from the New York nonsense that I can't get enough of 92% of the time. This year, before I left for home, the shrink told me to observe my family interactions so that I might better understand my [probably pretty average level of] fuckedupness. And observe I did...

*My family does not share the neighborhood's apparent infatuation with gigantic inflatable snow globe lawn ornaments.

*My family is very well bred. Over Christmas Eve dinner my uncle revealed that Great Aunt Barbara was third runner-up in the 1957 Miss Budweiser Pageant and that we are probably very distantly related to Martha Stewart.

*Though my mom does most of the cooking, my dad's not too shabby at it either, as he revealed with his brined turkey. Once you brine, you can't go back.

*My parents love Bob Marley. Sadly, not in a hippie fratboy kind of way.

*I am really fucking competitive when it comes to inconsequential challenges. Not only did I win Scrabble by more than 50 points, I kicked everyone's ass in the newest addition to the family board game collection, Ticket To Ride (Germany's 2004 Spiel des Jahres!) by building a continuous train track from Portland to Little Rock by way of Vancouver, Montreal, New York, and New Orleans.

*Though my dad and his brother have told us the same Catholic school nun stories at least a hundred times, they don't stop being funny. Especially when Sister Dennis Ann, the nun who smacked a girl in the head with her textbook for using it during a closed-book test, threw a kid's books and then his desk out the second story window and made him go pick them up, had a kid sit in the garbage can in the front of the classroom all day since his messy desk meant that he clearly liked being dirty, and made two kids punch each other in front of the classroom all afternoon since they clearly liked fighting so much, has a picture on the internet. [second from bottom]

Now if that doesn't give Mr. Shrink a good glimpse into my psyche, I don't know what will. On a not-really-at-all related note, ol' Marshfield is becoming more and more commercialized and unrecognizable. The last straw in this disheartening change is the arrival of a Starbucks. As we drove past the drive-thru monstrosity on the way home from the airport, I was convinced that Marshfield had lost it's hicktown charm for good. That is, until we passed by the brand new Dollar Bar (a bar in which beverages cost $1.00) on the other side of town.

Thursday, December 22, 2005

flannel pj's 4eva

I made it to my parents' house safe and sound. And, of course, sick as a dog. I will blame my hacking cough and inability to speak not on the eight hours of staff partying that transpired in and around E's place of employment on Monday, but on the transit strike, because no one can question blaming the transit strike. Even though it didn't really affect my trip to the airport all that much, except I had to wait outside in the dark and cold at 5:30 a.m. for a bus that I might've taken to get to the airport anyway, and while yes the lines to get through security were an hour and a half long because the security workers couldn't get to work on time, I found a hidden shorter line and only waited 15 minutes. Suckas. Speaking of dogs, here's Babe again. We got her right around my 12th birthday. She's still going strong, despite the nighttime issues.

Wisconsin - Where Dogs Actually Need To Wear Sweaters


Her Favorite Spot


Shouldn't This Be A Pop Art Painting, Or Something?


Jealousy!


And One Of Daisy Louise, Just To Be Fair

Monday, December 19, 2005

keeping the vampires away

For me, there is no better way to make something happen than to declare, and truly believe, that I absolutely in no way want that thing to happen. While toiling, err, internet browsing away at the Big Ad Agency, I decided that my New Year's resolution would be no more temping, no matter what, never ever again. The idea behind this being that in eliminating that safe and easy option I'd force myself to find something to do that might be at least 2% satisfying. Of course, when my temp agent called last week and asked if I'd be available for a three-month position, the answer was "Yes of course! Tracking wholesale handbag distribution! That sounds awesome!" I interviewed for the gig today and was told that nothing will happen until mid-January due to the holidays and "market week," whatever the hell that is. Surprisingly, this development has lit a little fire under my ass and I vow to do anything in my power to avoid having to resort to this job. I just saw a job posting that looks utterly perfect and sent out my application in the same sitting, as opposed to my usual m.o. of emailing myself the job description, fantasizing about the position and its door-opening possibilities, and never actually applying.

A sub-category of my New Year's resolution involved no mouth-to-mouth interaction with a dick-having human until I'm "in a better place." The idea behind this being that in avoiding interpersonal entanglements and focusing on more pressing concerns like becoming employed and whittling away massive debt, I might become happier and thus more open to Positive Dude Experiences. Of course, when I found myself standing next to a keee-yoooot guy at Dark Room at 3 a.m. on Saturday night, it would've been simply wrong to leave to put FAB to bed without a little making out. While we somehow managed to have a conversation and exchange numbers, I can't say I expect a whole lot to come of this. FAB and I had just stopped for pizza and, due to our impaired hand-eye coordination, were a little liberal with the garlic powder. Nevertheless, tall + scruffy + British + black leather jacket + unemployed = Gina Heaven, and enough excitement to tide me over until I head home to the tundra.

Saturday, December 17, 2005

happy religion-nonspecific holidays!


The Upper Breast Side doesn't discriminate

Oh right, I have a blog. Sorry, I've been quite busy lately lying on the futon sleeping, lying on the futon reading more books to escape from brutal existential pain for fun in the last two months (seven!) than I've read in the last seven years combined, and lying on the futon watching Paula Deen make heaven on earth and Sandra Lee make a disgrace of her superwhite, superstepford self with semi-homemade Christmas, Hanukkah, and Kwanzaa angel food cakes.

Nevertheless, I have managed to leave the house on a few occasions, including the procurement of takeout food, some arduous 30-minutes-on-the-elliptical-machine workouts, and, of course, holiday festivities. The first was last night at my pal's Williamsburg pad. Appropriately, my favorite part of the evening occured when a guest got behind the turntables and made the tragic mistake of mixing the Magic Numbers in with LCD Soundsystem, thus causing several of the host's blood vessels to rupture and the rest of us to pee our pants. Tonight I am attending Decent Content's Blogmukkah party, to which I have no clue how I was invited. I can't decide if it is more cliche to bring a camera or to purposefully not bring a camera because it would be too cliche... Sunday will be all about recovery via Vitamin Water and eggs, and then Monday is E's office party. Crashing someone else's office party is really a win win situation, since one can get tanked for free and make a fool out of oneself and/or makeout with innappropriate people with no lasting repurcussions. Then Tuesday is Drone's bestie's house party, which I might not attend. I learned the hard way several Christmases ago that drinking heavily the night before flying halfway across the country is a bad, severe-flu-causing idea. On the other hand, that flu was so awful that I was given a big ol' bottle of Vicodin in the Emergency Room on Christmas Eve, so perhaps I'll attend afterall.

God bless us, everyone!

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

$12.75 an hour

This morning I was forced to surgically remove the sweatpants that had become fused to my skin due to constant wear and present myself at a not unfamiliar place of employment. For today and today only, I am once again the sole Customer Service Specialist to the Company That Provides Meager Discounts to Other Companies. This means, of course, that I've been provided with a whole new crop of eye-twitch-inducing emails to write fake replies to. Let's begin.

i am a rep for service master ahs branch and i am not getting apassword? I don't have an email that ends w/my company name and that is the only option you are giving me, help me change it to my correct email account!
-Moron


Dear Moron,

Have you ever taken an English class.

Regards,
Your Customer Service Team

Hi there, I am trying to order something through my company's "perks" program, specifically through Overstock.com. But when I go to the offer details and click on the "go shop" link, it comes up with a "page not found" message. Can you tell me why that is? Thanks!
-Moron


Dear Moron,

"No."

Regards,
Your Customer Service Team

This email is insulting. I have used corporate perks several times already. My "guest" is my lawfully wedded spouse who will use it when he is ready. I do not appreciate you pressuring me and him and threatening to take the benefit away. My partiticpation will be continuous, and he, as my spouse, will be continuous as well. I trust that this clarifies the situation.
-Moron


Dear Moron,

We are impressed with not only your rage over an automatically generated corporate promotional email, but with your ability to interpret said email as an affront to gay marriage and the integrity of your relationship. Have you considered writing novels?

Regards,
Your Customer Service Team

Hello, i just read about this think pad notebook, and not being acomputer wizard,this think pad notebook, is this what i see all overthe place called LAP TOP, and/or other is this like a Dell inspiron 6000 Notebook??? thanks much for the stuff you have sent me.
-Moron


Dear Moron,

A notebook and a lap top...same thing...portable computers...ok, you see...gosh, we're...regretfully, we're going to be unable to help you at this juncture.

Regards,
Your Customer Service Team

I still have not received my password for the corporate perks. What doI need to do?
-Moron, Marketing Coordinator


Dear Moron,

Blow us.

Regards,
Your Customer Service Team

I need assistants contacting WBS about my current order
-Moron


Dear Moron,

We need a new liver from that unexpected excursion last night, but we just can't have it all now can we?

Regards,
Your Customer Service Team

Is there a website where I can order a jacket with the Big Accounting Firm logo embrodiered for my son who is an employee of Big Accounting Firm?
-Moron


Dear Moron,

Your son does not want that jacket. Trust us on this one and get him some DVD's instead, or something.

Regards,
Your Customer Service Team


I have seldom been able to take advantage of the Company Perks website, but have found it to be extremely user friendly and full of opportunities that I will take advantage of in the future when I have the money to do so. However, I recently decided that I would utilize the Luggagecompany.com $50 off $250 offer and order a piece of luggage to be delivered before the thanksgiving holiday for use over that weekend, and going forward. Unfortunately, the "redeem offer" link does not work for the above mentioned deal, valid through December 31, 2005. Instead, the link takes me directly to the Luggagecompany site with an "enjoy free shipping" offer, which is the second perk on the website. Could you please correct the address of the appropriate website, so that I may have my perk in time for Thanksgiving. Thanks for your assistance in this matter.
-Moron


Dear Moron,

We've just slit our wrists and are weeping uncontrollably. As a result, we will be unable to assist you with this matter.

Regards,
Your Customer Service Team

I'm a little confused on where the "discounts" are. All of the "potential" discounts I have looked at require me to "upgrade" my account before I can get the discount. Is this "upgrade" the only way to get access to the "discounts" or am I missing something?
-Moron


Dear Moron,

We think you might just be onto something...

Regards,
Your Customer Service Team

Please cancel my premium membership. I am absolutely appalled by this operation, as it is simply a consolidation of coupon sites available for free simply by doing a google search.
-Genius


Dear Genius,

Ding ding ding ding ding! And we have a winner!

Regards,
Your Customer Service Team

Friday, December 09, 2005

adventures in tenuous employment, part 239,487

Today I built a snowwoman. She's a little top heavy.

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The harsh rays of the Mid-Atlantic Region were too much.

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And her life was cut tragically short.

Image hosted by Photobucket.com

Her creator placed her hat and scarf on the radiator and left her Harry and David Lemon Creme chocolate eyes and Morningstar Farms Veggie Breakfast Sausage Link pipe to return to the pigeons, err...earth. The end.

paypal is my...pal

My decision to purchase these shoes had ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with Mary-Kate Olsen, or the fact that I haven't been able to sleep much lately and have become fond of 3 a.m. Ebaying. Absolutely nothing at all.

Thursday, December 08, 2005

fierce!

At long, long last, the one girl who actually somewhat resembles a real model won America's Next Top Model. I called Nicole from episode one and have been pulling for her the whole time, even though she is a total brat and her face is kind of crooked. I guess she reminds me a little of myself (a much skinnier, prettier, and dumber version) when I was like 12. Nik looked good in pictures and was good at poses and stuff, but she was rather fugly and humorless in person. Though others heartily disagree with me, for once I am happy with the ANTM outcome. I can't wait to stalk Nicole at the Midtown TGIFridays where she will no doubt be waitressing in the very near future.

As a side note, how did Eva Pigford ever win? Appropriately, her face is really quite porcine, and she always looks as if she's just dunked her head in a vat of Vaseline. I was watching the Tyra Banks talk show on one of my recent unemployed days, and Jamie Pressly was a guest. Tyra excitedly informed her that she looked "a lot like one of our ANTM winners, Eva!" and you could see Jamie Pressly die a little inside as she pretended to be flattered.

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

jeeminy christmas

The other day in the cubicle from Hell I came across a blog for the song "Our God is an Awesome God" but had to close it immediately as the little ditty started blaring from my temporary computer and Lord knows I'm not quick enough to think to shut the volume off. Not that the majority of my coworkers would mind that particular song, as I've surmised by the illustrated Bible verses surrounding everyone's workstations. Anyway, I went looking for it again tonight and my Google search came up fruitless except....

Apparently, God Himself has gotten on the blog bandwagon. Behold, the Blog of God:
Otherwise known as "the Word of God"... A Life giving revelation that lights the way of truth and love. Delivering the soul from the power of darkenss and transforming our spirit into the Kingdom of the Light.

Awesome.

Speaking of our Lord, apparently He likes our heroic troops to be honored with sexy fem bodypaint models.

Saturday, December 03, 2005

Thursday, December 01, 2005

hot shrink

Two nights ago, I finally did something I've been meaning to do for 12 years. (In case there were any doubts that I am, in fact, the World Champion of Procrastination.) I paid $125 in cash to sit on a couch next to a box of Kleenex for 30 minutes while a stranger asked me invasive personal questions. It was great.

Even though I studied psychology in college, I am very very skeptical of professional therapists, mainly because they're mostly somewhat insane. But after getting quite literally nowhere after 2.5 years, I figured I needed some sort of kick in the pants. (And also there was that pesky crying every day and irrational desire to die part.) Anyway, the process of finding a therapist, especially in New York where there are approximately 2,390,487 from which to choose, is an enormous pain. Given that I'd (okay, my parents'd) be paying this person to rearrange my neurochemicals either by natural or artificial means, I was a little picky. Your Psychology Today profile mentions psychoanalysis hooey? No. You are old? Nuh uh. I don't like the sound of your name? Buh bye. A Google search reveals you currently do research on Electroconvulsive Therapy? Next! Eventually I called the 800 number of the New York hospital that had the prettiest mental health website. The doctor who answered informed me that no one there would take my insurance, so he referred me to his friend, who also couldn't take my insurance. But Friend sounded, well, normal, and he had a last minute cancelation. I found myself in his Upper East Side office several hours later not even knowing if he was an -ologist ("tell me about your mother") or an -iatrist ("here's a prescription, see ya later"). Minor detail.

It turned out we'd be talking about my mother. And my father. And my sister. And my job and my friends and my childhood and my relationships and my hobbies and pretty much every other thing that you learn about people after being friends with them for at least three years. Since it was a consultation, there was no actual therapy involved, just (question + pleasant non-judgmental smile + almost but not quite awkwardly long pause) x 25. After the "what do you do in your free time" question, we shared a nice laugh about the drinking habits of kids these days.

"But it's what everybody does."
"I know! But I don't get it. You guys could, you know, just go to a bar and have, say, two light beers."
"Huh?"

So the plan is to start with just the talking stuff and add medication only if absolutely necessary, which sounds like a swell idea to me. And also maybe to not drink as much and to exercise every day. Mental stability is so not fun. Oh, and I should mention here that Mr. Psychologist was only about 35. And tall. And funny. And not at all unattractive. So it's probably a good thing he's sending me to his colleague in my neighborhood. We all know what happens with me and attractive male service providers.