i hit my sexual peak during harold night...

GoldDustWoman · Dec 27, 2003

Things I need to do before the end of the year - RUN

Connect my cable modem
work out my routine w/new stuff in the set
finish cleaning up the house including my room
mail out cookies that have yet to be baked
make a cheese ball and some chicken skewers and some trout
buy hangers and trash bags
become brilliantly together
send out a retainer letter
lose the anger
collect my thoughts
make my first call with my consultant
chart everyone's itinerary
collect my thoughts
have one more practice
see one more show? perhaps
achieve orgasm five more times
send belated happy holiday messages, or not -
get late gifts
give up

what a crazy year.

collecting thoughts now.

check.

I'm watching New York 1. It's 4:00. New Terror Alert. Big Shocker.

If the world blows up on New Year's Eve, I'll be here with my friends, a big bowl of punch, and a lovely cheese ball. Come and join us.

Happy New Year to all, in case I don't get back over here.

GoldDustWoman · Dec 28, 2003

I love my cable modem SO MUCH. I am downloading massive amounts of stuff from itunes. Just got Margaret Cho AND Sam Kinison. Suck it, dial-up. I may never get up from here. What to do next, what to do. Send me a pizza and get the fuck outta here.

GoldDustWoman · Dec 28, 2003

One more -

Me and the baby d were sharing a moment in the Great Outdoors not long ago...contemplating our literary life...our virtual sexuality...we have laid ourselves virtually bare in the name of the truth and justice and fairness and knowledge and pain...

Vulnerability.

Me and the baby d shared a moment of real live vulnerability in the Great Outdoors not long ago, sharing a tale of real live Truth from one real live lady to another.

And me and the baby d know the Truth, that the truth runs deep, the Passion for the 'prov, for the performance, for the performer, for the performing, is inexplicably intertwined, bound up and twisted, sticky and hot, deep as a volcano, volatile as a flickering wax candle, shocking as an icy snowball, and intense as the sunrise after a long and powerful night.

Truth.

There's no substitute for the real live truth, and the Truth is where the passion is. Live your life Live and in person. In performance. In passion. In play, wherever you choose to do it, however you choose to define it and I will forever admire you.

Scale the fourth wall and come crashing down the other side. Faceplant into the lap of someone you love or just want bad. Slowdance with someone while holding an imaginary gun to their necks. DO NOT DROP THAT GUN WHATEVER YOU DO.

Just don't take your eyes off them.
And don't stop.

Don't fear.
Fear. Do it anyway. DO IT.

Don't let go.
DON'T LET GO.

GoldDustWoman · Jan 7, 2004

Valley of the Dolls.

So the plan was actually to start a fresh new journal for the new year - I detached the last couple of posts using the trusty copy and paste and managed to detach them into the cosmic electronic void of my trusty Mac - Not that it matters - Not that I could come up with anything worth reading or writing - Not that I could come up with another semisexual title worth reading into or worth ragging on - or something witty enough to be a super-great bit - or totally quotable - or something impressively "on" - Everything's a goddamn Bit, even (especially?) the Naughty Bits.

Not that I'm off on another insomniac rant.

Not that the world needs two electronic journals from a carelessly cantankerous unrepentant nerd-woman. Isn't One more than enough?

Crap.

<img src="http://img.villagephotos.com/p/2003-10/444894/Sine_Wave.gif" width=303 height=165>

Even the peaks have to have valleys. Otherwise, how would you know they were friggin' peaks?

In the words of the short-lived but immortal pull-string Barbie, Math is Hard! Let's go Shopping!

GoldDustWoman · Jan 8, 2004

I don't want a Damn Thing in my Vagina

Nothing. nada. Zip. Zeeeeeero. Go away, kid, you bother me.

What can I tell you? The Love, the Lust, the Happy Quivery Giggles in my Gut are Frigging GONE.

What does it all mean?

The flame of Passion in my life has been snuffed. Dumped a flat Diet Coke on the smoldering embers of romance and turned them into a pasty gluey sodden charco-boiled oozepile.

Feh.

I'm sitting in my office curled up with a great book. One of the classics.

Yes, folks, the one and only "Trademark Law: A Practitioner's Guide."

On CD-ROM, no less.

HOT!

GoldDustWoman · Jan 13, 2004

Enter Your Initials Here

Imagine you are a SHINY METAL BALL - in a PINBALL MACHINE* - It's an Addams Family (after the movie) machine, with all the characters up top - stylized Raul Julia, poor old Anjelica Houston (so underutilized by Hollywood!), pre-BigEyesDoll-looking Christina Ricci.

Spooky Scary bumper bonuses and Creepy Kooky rollovers are scattered about on the board, near the flippers - if you play it safe, let the ball cruise gently over the flippers, and you tap them towards the bumpers, you'll play forever, but never rack up the megapoints.

Up top, we see Lurch playing creepy tinny harpsichord sounds, that you can barely hear over the bar-noise, but there he is, up in the upper right corner and if you slam the harpsichord with a forceful flip, it's a multiplier bonus - but if you miss, there's a half-decent chance you'll send your ball down down down the aisle of shame.

Smack-dab in the middle, there's a popping THING-hand - the ultimate, holiest of grails. It requires skill and, more than a little luck. If you land it, if the hand leaps up and grabs your ball, and flings it back to the plunger - BLAM! EXTRA LIVES! EXTRA BALLS IN PLAY!! ON THE ROAD TO PINBALL GLORY! If you miss it, SMACK! Your ball will die an ignomious between-the-flippers death.

QUESTION: Where do YOU want to go, SHINY METAL BALL?

Always, always, there's the temptation to TILT. Or, is there? For those whose hands keep a steady grasp on the flippers, whose fingers never twitch until the SHINY METAL BALL comes cascading down, they are never tempted. For those with an IRON grip, shoulders hunched in anticipation, elbows flexed, rhythmicall flicking the flippers until the SHINY METAL BALL is locked and loaded and coming into view, the TILT is never far from their minds, their wizardly guts. But TILT is DEATH, TILT spells the end. Or, does it?

The sound of stacked quarters falling to the floor is never pretty.
The torrent of flashing lights and cacophonous electronica is amazing.
The pull of the plunger - the moment before - is impossible to describe to the unitiated who reserve their quarters for the jukebox.

Fools. But at least they, the jukebox-perusers, know that, at some point, if they wait long enough, "Night Moves" will actually play. From start, to finish. They will get what they wanted from their quarters. Guaranteed. No effort. No disappointment.

When does the currency of the game run out for good?

**

*Bear with me, Xbox junkies. Once upon a time, we put quarters into these things. Lots of quarters. Okay?

** Bonus Points for anyone who cascaded through the array of mixed metaphors and made it to the bottom of this entry. BOOM. Nobody said it had to make sense.

*** SuperMultiplier for those who realize that my description of the game features are woefully inaccurate. I have determined that the
Broadway City arcade on West 42nd street has this game, much to my delight, and I plan to play it soon. To those who recognized this as the greatest pinball machine ever, I will grant them a FREE GAME at the next possible opportunity.

GoldDustWoman · Jan 18, 2004

Angriest Dog in the World

Source = LynchNet

AN EXPLANATION:

For those who are unfamiliar, every panel drawing in this cartoon is the same every week, including the first panel's "Angry Dog" description. The only thing that ever changes is the "voice bubble." Week after week, the same angry dog.

The dog who is so angry he cannot move. He cannot eat. He cannot sleep. He can just barely growl. Bound so tightly with tension and anger, he approaches the state of rigor mortis.

Yes, that David Lynch.

GoldDustWoman · Jan 21, 2004

There's a problem here. Let's hope we've learned something, shall we?

So I went to the gym tonight, first time in weeks. Nay, it's probably creeping over into at least over a month. Time for me to almost forget my gym locker combination, which I fortunately did not. Forced myself, despite below-freezing temperatures and wicked cramps, to do twenty-five minutes worth of killer laps. Aching and proud, I hoisted myself out of the pool. What else did I do? Oh yeah, composed oodles of self-congratulatory verse in my head. To be inserted here, in my smug little electro-masturbatory slice of the world's bandwith so that I could impress You, Reader 4599, with not only my Fitness, but my Turn of Phrase.

Wait, I'm doing that now. Worse, it's not even Free Verse. I'm correcting the spelling. Changing vocabulary. Typing in the dark so as not to disturb the Mythical Improv Hating Spouse, who, should he be fully aware of the activities at hand, the nature of this particular little web journal and probably the existence of the "improv resource center", would just be re-affirmed in his belief that I am a member of a cultlike organization whose members circle up in dark musty places and "rehearse" massive dick jokes. Nightly.

But I digress.

Getting out of the gym with a half-wet head, a swimmer's high and total hypoglycemia, I hail a cab and race to the theater happy as all get out.

The cab promptly gets to the theater and SLAM!!! gets rear-ended by the skelliest vehicle barreling down 8th Avenue.

Hit and Run.

Total buzz kill.

More later. I'm keeping the man awake. Later.

9 AM. Back again - Rushing out, just pasting this from the clipboard and running out the door. Nothing much more too add at the moment.

There's a point to this, I swear. It's brilliant and I will put it forth. Any day now. Seriously.

GoldDustWoman · Jan 22, 2004

101 (remedial nonsense)

Cool Whip!

cool whip! and bunnies!

Yes, Bunnies!
Bunnies! Bunnies eat ponies!
ponies too!

More Cheese?
Yes, if you hop off that chandelier!

Wazza!

GoldDustWoman · Jan 26, 2004

"Retards" Part 3, or Why Fridays is Tittie Day -

Back in the day when I worked at the basket o' laughs that was the social services agency, we tried vainly to restrain and/or retrain the behavior of one so-called "Frankie" - mentioned way back in this entry - one of my favorite program clients, but quite the pain in the ass if you're not in the mood to have your titties grabbed. We were happy-go-wacky, non-medicative, grass-rootsy, least-restrictive-environment folks to the greatest extent possible. Frankie liked to grab titties. Big ones, small ones, all titties were fair play. No matter what we said, did, threatened, begged, pleaded, ran away.......Your titties would be grabbed. And, I am an impressive target, by the way.

But a basic rule of human behavior was recognized here, disabled or not - no matter what, people are people and aren't going to change to any great extent, State mandates notwithstanding.

So, if you can't beat them - be reasonable. Fine. We laid down some ground rules. Don't grab titties in public. This will get you arrested. (He could comprehend this. This was serious - "Oh Shit, the Police" territory.)
Don't grab titties of other people (ie, not "us" - people in the office, who knew and loved you all out of proportion to your pain-in-the-ass-itude, and failure-to-shower-itude. Again - This will get you Arrested!) And - Don't grab titties all the time. This is annoying, and interfering with our day to day activities. Fridays is a special day - Almost the Weekend! Like a holiday! So, therefore.....

Fridays is Tittie Day.

Believe it or not, this worked.

And being a person of Limited Attention Span (kind of like being a Bear of Little Brain), this seriously caused him to lose a huge amount of interest - it actually cut down on the Tittie grabbing dramatically. Now that it was set aside, now that it was an activity that was part of the weekly activities, kind of like laundry, it wasn't nearly as appealing.

"Oooh, nice titties!"
"No, Frankie, it's Thursday! Wait until tommorow!"
"Oh shit, okay!"
And he'd bounce off, kind of like an unwashed Bronx-born Tigger with a speech impediment.

And, there you have it. Chances are, you wouldn't see him on Friday. Or, he'd just forget. And you would escape, unsqueezed.

GoldDustWoman · Jan 27, 2004

So Very Unmotivated...

MY NIGHT AT THE UCB THEATER
SOOOPERSOOPER "MADDDLIBS"!

Print it out! Do it with your friends before the show!! It's fun fun fun!

Hey Kids! Let me tell you about the (adj)_________ night I had at the UCB!

Well, it was already (month)________, and my (noun)_______ had expired! So I had to pay

(number)_________ dollars to see tonight's (adj)__________ show, "A (noun)__________ in

(animal)__________ Town." But I knew that it was (adv)___________ directed by

(improviser)_______________ and featured (adj)______________ improvisers like

(improviser)_____________ and (improviser)__________________, so I would be a real

(noun)___________ if I missed it! So I finished my (noun)____________, went inside, and

bought a (noun) _____________. I saw (name)_____________ behind the bar. He/she is so

(adj)__________! I said Hello! and asked for a (adj)__________ (beverage)___________.

He gave it to me and only charged me (number)___________ dollars! What a super deal!

And I found a great (noun)______________, with my buddies (name)____________ and

(name)__________ who are also (adj)___________ improvisers from my Level

(number)_________ class with (improviser) _____________. Remember when we did the

funniest scene where we played (adj)_____________ (pl.noun)_________________? It

was (adj) ______________! I turned off my (noun)__________ , so it wouldn't

(verb) __________ during the show. Then, (tech person)_____________ turned off the

the (name of band)_____________ CD, and we knew the show was about to start!. The

(pl. noun)________________ went off, and all of a sudden, (number)___________

people (adv)_____________ (verb)________________ on to the stage! Wow!

They did a (adj)____________ show! After the show, we went to (last name)________’s

and had a few too many (pl. noun)__________ and got (adv)____________ (adj)__________.

What a great night!

For those who don't know/remember, MadLibs were those dumbass pads of paper that had "fill in the blank" stories on them. You'd get a bunch of people together - during class when you had a sub, during recess if it was raining - one would read the parts of speech w/o revealing the "story," and the group would come up w/random words - generally, as many words relating to "poop" as possible, but hopefully you were somewhat more creative than that - to fill in the blanks with. Maybe if you were a little older, you were drunk/high and coming up with words relating to "dicks" and "weed" and "poop." Then you would read the resulting fucked up story. Hi-larious!

Adj=adjective
adv=adverb
pl noun=plural noun

GoldDustWoman · Jan 28, 2004

You blockhead.

So last night, at around midnight, we looked at the snow falling, and it was really pretty - relatively untouched and quiet - and we decided to go out and frolic in the snow. I throw on a flannel shirt, boots, bundle up and head out to the concrete-jungle backyard of our building complex (Six or so buildings form sort of a courtyard with paths, some trees, fenced-in "playgrounds" with a few cement animals, basketball nets, benches and stuff. Nothing really pastoral, but it's off the street at any rate.)

The snowflakes are big, crunchy, kind of wet. Almost perfect for a snowball fight - just takes a little more packing, to melt/freeze a little into a ball-like consistency. So, a Snowball Fight it will be! Hooray!! Right?

Wrong.

I throw, delighted. He backs away. I throw again, landing one on his back. Whoo! He backs away, turns. I whale one at his back, landing one again. He lobs one in my general direction, nervously.

This isn't right. "Are you trying to miss?" "Uh, kind of. I don't want you to get mad." "BUT IT'S A SNOWBALL FIGHT!" He half-heartedly tosses one at my chest - I encourage him to do it again, and whale one back at close range. He backs away again. We are halfway to First Avenue at this point.

"YOU THROW LIKE A GIRL!" My snowballs are dissolving in mid-air. He throws one underhand and I actually catch one, which I pelt back at him. Throw, run away. Throw, run away.

He's laughing. "Isn't this fun?" "No, this is depressing." I can't believe we're incapable of having a real, god's honest snowball fight. It's somehow a reflection of our ineffective lives. I feel like Charlie Brown, eagerly anticipating the first kick of the fall, running towards Lucy, who's holding the football, thinking he's going to land that kick, and NOT thinking she's going to pull it, even though she pulls it every single time. Every single time. And then she does. And he's flat on his back. And I'm thinking, "HOW CAN THIS IDIOT NOT BE CAPABLE OF ENGAGING IN A SIMPLE SNOWBALL FIGHT! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH HIM! HOW IS THIS NOT POSSIBLE!"

And then his face falls. "Hon, I'm not competitive," plaintively.

And then this goes through my mind. "Rats. I ruin everything. Aaarghh."

He's just not competitive. Maybe this is just not possible. Maybe the idea of pelting eachother with snow missiles truly brings him no joy.

Crap. Suddenly I understand something. Or at least realize something.

"Do you need me to be?"

Truth? I don't know.

Sigh.

We walked over to some trees and I showed him how I used to make snow faces on trees when I was a kid, because I was too lazy to make snowmen, which delighted him to no end. He said it made the trees look like crazy Easter Island heads.

Then we threw snowballs at cars in the parking lot.

We had a great game of catch by the parking lot, although I couldn't resist throwing hard fastballs out of the windup a few times.

It turned out to be a pretty good night.

GoldDustWoman · Jan 29, 2004

Dear Diary,

I can't begin to describe the number of ways in which I am wasting my time.

Oh, wait.

This is one of them.

Crap.

Now what?

GoldDustWoman · Feb 2, 2004

winter isn't over-

babyd said:

<img src="http://img.villagephotos.com/p/2003-10/444894/NENVJ-Roll50-10.jpg" width=550 height=412>

my boots are by the door as I wait for the next snows to fall...not knowing what surprises they'll bring...

GoldDustWoman · Feb 2, 2004

1. I learned how to play poker this weekend! And it turns out I am a total poker genius! Well, not really. Anyone want to play?

2. I just ordered some sweet new business cards. Come see me in ten to fourteen days, and I'll give you one! (iPrint had a special.) For some reason, I settled on a retro Courier font that makes it look like they were typed.

3. When I go home, I expect to get a food delivery from Fresh Direct. Whoo!

PS - I am resisting the urge to post a detailed entry on my experiences at last Thursday's Cagematch. But it's hard.

GoldDustWoman · Feb 6, 2004

From Mullaney's improv notes:

mullaney said:

I am clearly out of tune with huma behavior. Including my own. And everybody else's.

***

I've deleted no less than three journal posts in here today. Now that's just pathetic.

I've built up a shell lately, but it's tenuous. It's made of highly reflective melted sugar. It's a little sticky, too.

I'm in huge huge huge amounts of pain but I can't wax literary or cute about it. And I certainly can't channel it into anything meaningful or productive. And it makes for a shitty bit.

Seriously. I can't make it funny or quaint. And I can't make anyone want to listen. And I kind of don't want anyone to, in a weird way. I like it in here.

But if I can't make myself vulnerable, even electronically, I can't perform for shit.

I can't even leave the typos in.

In my life I've made myself vulnerable. I've been in my office, fucking sobbing (not work related) because of things. I can't be like that anymore. I've shut myself off from my family and do an effective impersonation of an extremely literate zombie.

It does suck for the art, though.

Wait, where was I going with this bit?

Oh yeah, I'm doing the vulnerable in all the wrong places, it seems. I fucking hate vulnerable, and vulnerable can be good. But it can be so very very bad.

***

I dreamed not once but twice the other night that I was a prisoner of war in a fairly benign prison-camp, but a prisoner none the less.

I also dreamed that I saw Jack McBrayer guest starring on Everybody Loves Raymond. Bizarre on two counts - he had dyed-black hair (as Raymond's cousin) and I never watch that show.

***

I want a scene partner who is massively strong enough to catch me when I jump and sweep me off my feet. Literally. I know of no one who is ready, willing and able to do that. If there was it would absolutely take my breath away.

***

I'm slightly hyperventilating, still in my office. I've been slightly drunk for two nights in a row. I almost ran off to Atlantic City for the weekend but was hesitant.

I am hesitant.

***

It would be awesomer (?) if I was swept off my feet and carried off to Atlantic City.

***

I am not deleting this post. Just on principle.

GoldDustWoman · Feb 8, 2004

Fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life, son-

iTunes RECENT DOWNLOADS:
Tapestry, Carole King
Greatest Hits, Eurhythmics
a couple of random Cyndi Lauper songs

before that - Margaret Cho, Sam Kinison, Eddie Murphy

Recent assaults on my usual sunny outlook:
- didn't get the 4P (shocked, shocked!)
- didn't get approved for reasonably priced liability insurance
- blown off for a potentially cool evening that I was looking forward to (got invited, than somehow disinvited)
- went to the gym and wrenched the shit out of my back
- maintained excellent discipline and managed not to lose weight
- impossible to maintain a domestic conversation w/o dissolving into ruin; peripherally noticing a large amount of "chatter" (like terrorist monitoring, I'd imagine) w/old girlfriends (someone doesn't close the mail program properly).
- family members rambling on and on and on about ridiculous problems that I just can't deal with, even though that's technically considered "my job" as the goddamn voice of intelligence and sanity around here
- finding it harder and harder to keep up with friends, and near-impossible, I'm realizing, to really make new ones, for various reasons
- figuring out whether or not I really just need to get another job
- wondering where my big "client" is who's not returning my calls
- too much depressants taken orally causing me to waste a day, causing me to be upset, wanting to take more depressants - you get it. (Although they are helping the excruciating pain of my wrenched back).
- Dude, where's my pension plan? Future? Family?

Bleah.

Oh yeah, this being an improv journal, I'd like to report that I believe that I've actually gotten worse as of late. And, I show no signs, for various reasons, of actually putting up a show and/or performing with anyone in the near future.

Fortunately, I'm fairly sure no one gives a rat's ass.

Whew.

Now, go and read one of those Fun journals! Go!

Okay, I'll throw in a prize. If you can idenfity the title quote, I'll buy you a drink. That is, if you happen to be hanging around Loserland anytime soon.

GoldDustWoman · Feb 9, 2004

A few weeks ago Brian Huskey did some great monologues at Asscat, childhood stories about running away from home. (Actually, it was the night of Harold auditions!) They involved Big Wheels and terrible sandwiches and not running really far at all. They were completely charming.

When I was a kid, I'm sure I tried this but realized that you couldn't fit squat inside a tied-up red bandanna (the choice of all storybook/TV runners-away. I always had some sort of bandanna, for some reason.)

For other more dire/ridiculous reasons, when I was a kid, I had lots of escape routes planned from my house. Always slept with socks, underwear and glasses on. Sneakers nearby, hidden snacks galore.

I still sleep with my glasses on, most of the time. (Socks were ditched in the face of an overheated apartment. I'm not discussing underwear in a public forum. Not in the mood.)

Maybe, when I run away from home, I'll tie a red bandana around the shoulder bag. Just to be sentimental.

Or maybe I'll wear it, it's not a bad look, since my hair's longer and all. I'm also considering dyeing it red. Don't think I can really afford the dye job (at the snooty salon, my one girl-y indulgence) and the running away from home (I may actually cut out for Chicago for a little visit), but hey, that's what credit cards are for. I'll wrap them up in the bandana and sling the old Amex over my shoulder and whistle a happy tune.

Oh yeah, on a totally unrelated note, this from the Improv Forum (don't make me quote the link, I haven't the energy) made me laugh all crazy today:

Billy Merritt said:

Thanks, Billy Merritt! I needed the giggles today!

Posting this before I get kicked off again and lose this for reals-

GoldDustWoman · Feb 11, 2004

So as I was eating lunch today, a copy of the Delta Quadrant Pennysaver appeared in my lap. I was eating a magical sandwich at my desk from Corporate Catering, smoked turkey with brie on a half baguette. After I picked off the nasty greenery that sullies an ordinarily delicious sandwich - I think it was frisee or some such nonsense - POOF! It disappeared and was replaced by a slightly smoky, dusty rolled-up DQ Pennysaver. Funny - it was all in English, although they capitalized oddly...And my hands are still tingling, a little bit. Naturally, I headed straight for the Advice Column - after flipping through the Want Ads, they didn't have anything I could use, although George Foreman grills are apparently pan-galaxian as there were tons of them for sale. And I'm sure postage would have been prohibitive. But let's read on -

Dear Dr. Hattie Vidiian*,

I am just your typical three-year old Ocampan* Housewife, Career Gal and Mother of None - although I'm about the right age to actually achieve the elogium, the elders have stalled on performing the necessary rituals. And I'll tell you why, my Mate has been Communicating with his old flames! Leaving his Communications Lying around. Right there where EVERYONE can read them. Including - You Guessed It! Sweet little old me. As I was reconfiguring our desktop, there they were - ten, eleven, twelve open frames, each with a different message. Everyone to or from a former girlfriend! Everyone talking about, well, shall we say, NOT ME! Pining away for someone who is apparently, say, NOT ME! Someone who ditched him when he was two. I don't Know muCh about her, but the bitch better be noncorporeal, that's all I'm saying. (Rumor is she's a Big hard-ass psycho bitch.)

OoooooOOOOooooooO! My serotonin levels are through the roof! I'm in danger of achieving a non-corporeal form. Or running renegade onto that starship the Caretaker's grabbed up for us, to commune with hotties of other species. I'm sick of this world and the six years I have left on it damn Well better be Good ones!

Hattie, you are Wise beyond Your years! What's a sweet Ocampan chick like me to do?

Signed,
Aggravated in the Array

Dear AA,

Bloogity bloo heeeeeeeeeeee- puff of greenish smoke emits from the clipping and the room lights flicker for a second.

Crap! This stuff must be unstable in our world! Hattie! Hattie! What's that- that- poor girl to do? I guess we'll Never Know....I can only hope that something will materialize during lunch tomorrow. A muffin, perhaps, may be the key. Vidiians are so fucking smart - well, resourceful, anyway.

* Fucking nerds.

GoldDustWoman · Feb 13, 2004

Do you think this sounds suspicious?

Lexington @ 42-43 near Grand Central:

Street vendors (so far so good) selling the following - sweaters, jackets on a rack, VD cards, shrink-wrapped cordless phones/CD players.

Man in a chicken suit (half-zipped) furtively handing out six-pack cartons of "organic" eggs.

Eggs.

What the fuck? "Free samples." Okay. No sign, furtive carton-crushing and six-pack cartons being shoved into "I :love: NY" plastic shopping bags by some dissheveled ski-hatted guy and being shoved at passersby by the Chicken Dude.

But I guess it would have bothered me less if the chicken suit was zipped up all the way.

I was convinced it was a bit...but you guys would've paid attention to detail. Seriously.

One woman passed by and nodded knowingly to her friend, "Ahh, huevos." But she didn't take any, either.

i hit my sexual peak during harold night...

difficult but worth it

difficult but worth it

difficult but worth it

difficult but worth it

difficult but worth it

difficult but worth it

difficult but worth it

difficult but worth it

difficult but worth it

difficult but worth it

difficult but worth it

difficult but worth it

difficult but worth it

difficult but worth it

difficult but worth it

difficult but worth it

difficult but worth it

difficult but worth it

difficult but worth it

difficult but worth it