Friday, May 22, 2009


"An animal's eyes have the power to speak a great language." - Martin Buber

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Exchange While Examining a Stage 3 Multiple Myeloma

Well Meaning Co-worker: You count your differentials funny. Look how your hand is rounded on the keys whereas I keep my fingers flat.

Me: (as heard by Well Meaning Co-worker) It's the penis in me. I keep my hand curled around it as I did when I was a child or else I would get my wrists slapped.

Well Meaning Co-worker: (Aghast, blushing.) WHAT?!?

Me: Yeah, it sounds a little barbaric right? And I think those semi-abusive tactics only serve to suppress the artist. Probably why I don't play now.

Well Meaning Co-worker: Play what? The penis?!?

Me:(staring blankly after a moment of thought) PIANIST.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

What I Want for My Birthday

My boyfriend astutely reminded me last week that it had been a rediculously long time since I posted on my blog. So here's one for you, baby!! Buy this for me:

Wednesday, January 21, 2009


It's interesting. For some reason, I childishly assumed things would feel immediately different when Obama took office. Things are has a different aura, but today at work I remember forgetting about that aura, and caring more about erythroleukemia than the fact that I may or may not be getting another stimulus check.

This remarkable episode of Frontline aired yesterday and I watched it again today. I found it to be almost obscenely candid about the life and arrogance of our new Commander-In-Chief. Of particular note are the somewhat subversive yet coyly ironic comments of Ben Wallace-Wells. He comes across like an asshole, but then again, so do I, especially when I feel like my cats are hotter than I am.

Thursday, January 08, 2009


I had a sudden downward mood swing this afternoon after leaving work. I called my sweetie to say hi hello, oh hello how was work oh fine we were slow today smooch smooch okay bye and then BANG!! Inexplicably.

Well, maybe not inexplicably. I think it may be vacation withdrawal. Or boyfriend withdrawal. Or sex withdrawal. Or all of the above. I feel so crazy batty, but I haven't quite been driven to the lengths of battiness as when I accidentally watch this show. Or this show. Or this show.

Its a hodgepodge of anxiety, anger, negativity, and bitterness. Rar.

Saturday, December 06, 2008

Spare the Rod

This afternoon I found this great old radio recording of a Ray Bradbury story called The Veldt. Its about a couple that gets really freaked out when they realize the magical modern nursery they've had customized for their children is taking control of them. It's an odd story, but strangely realistic.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

What I Do When I'm Depressed

This afternoon, after I had a truly wacky dream about a pastrami sandwich and my boyfriend dressed up in a blond wig, I spent the day lounging on the couch vegetating on bad television. This excludes the truly bad television I've referred to here before, including Hard Copy, Access Hollywood, Guiding Light, Judge Hatchett, and anything on E! save True Hollywood Story and The Soup!. I refuse to disclose whether or not I choose, in my bad TV selection, to include the following educational programs: The Peoples Court, Dr. Phil, or Scrubs.

In the midst of this highly productive afternoon I had an insane attack of nostalgia, in which I recalled the entire summer of 1991. I spent the summer babysitting for a 2-year old for $1.50 an hour while her mom, who was a friend of my mothers, worked at a local physician's office. The father of this child had an extensive collection of pornography and other movies which I became obsessed with, pornography excluded. Two in particular were Hardbodies (the proverbial allegory of my life, really), and Nothing in Common. They also had a massive collection of vintage records, and at the time had I known the gold that resided underneath that dust-encrusted turntable, I would have considered eloping with the argosy of vinyl and trading in my virginity for a low paying job at some crappy record company in Seattle. I didn't though, and chose instead to familiarize myself with Michael Jackson's Thriller. I see why this album is regarded with such high esteem to this day. It is addictive.

If you were born before the year of 1980, then in all likelihood, you've already seen this. If you haven't, I'd advise you to watch this thing in it's entirety, and I don't care if you are watching it at work because there will be a pop quiz later and anyone scoring a 69 percent or less will be banned from my posse.

Sorry I couldn't embed. But, get over it. It's my blog.