Waldo is at the mechanic if you look real hard.

Here's how my day went:

1. Planned to leave for lunch.

2. Went to car.

3. Started car.

That's where it ends really. Because:

1. My car wouldn't start.

2. Then I locked the keys in my car.

3. Then I banged my head a few hundred times.

4. I called a tow truck to get the keys out, and to jumpstart the car.

5. And paid a mechanic 300 bucks for a new starter, all the while missing about 3 hours of work.

So, what would you do while sitting in a stinky mechanics? Sure, they had a few Time magazines I've already read. I had to concept a little. And then I saw it. That's right folks, Where's Waldo?

Take a look at the original ones again. It's so damn easy. I found Waldo in a matter of seconds. I felt like a motherfucking genius. Because I remember a time when I'd spend a good deal of time on each page, frustrated, confused, thinking maybe there's a mistake on this page because I can't find this damn dude with a striped shirt and cane. That was when I was like 10ish. Now, at the ripe old age of 27, my eyes filled with contacts and brain filled with the ability to find things, I was like Sherlock Holmes with my search for Waldo.

Mensa, here I come!

Entertainment Weekly actually stands for Ewww

Did anyone else notice the horrible new layout going on with just the first half of Entertainment Weekly? The back half looks just how it has always looked. Same font. Same layout. Same everything. I liked it this way. It felt like home. Not packed with information like a Maxim, but easy to follow like uhhhh Entertainment Weekly.

But when I read the front half, it's a completely different magazine. A new, weird looking font. Things misplaced. Pictures on the what's in, what's 5 minutes, etc. And even A FASHION PAGE!!! This is not the magazine I loved, that only supplied me with entertainment insider information. It looked like an US, Okay! or some other horrible magazine that features stupid shit like, Celebrities Take Dumps Just Like Us.

I was actually so disappointed with the new half part that it was the first time since they replaced Joel Stein with fucking Steven King that I wanted to write something to my good ol' magazine chock full of entertainment value, not gossip. But I won't, because I'm sure others will do that for me.

Walking.

I've discovered the funniest shit happens at the gym. Ya know why? Because the people there are fucking stupid.

1. Old fucker.

I'm on the ellipitical, and across from me is a guy, maybe in his 70's, walking backwards on the treadmill. At first, I thought he was kinda confused. He's old. You never know? But, no, he was really truly trying to walk backwards, for like a good 15 minutes.

So, what the fuck is the point of this? Did his crazy doctor tell him the only way to live a long healthy life, is to walk the wrong way on treadmills. Nevermind the fact that it's kinda hard to walk backwards for a long period of time, especially in your 70s. Who cares if you fall and possibly break a hip. Walking backwards means leaner legs which ultimately means a longer life.

2. The stupid chick in the morning.

I started going in during the am, because it's getting warmer and stuff. And it's definitely an improvement. No long lines. And a lot less hectic all around. My number one reason for liking the mornings, is the no kids factor. Because the one place I think kids should not be near, is at the gym. Especially since there's a big sign that the kids ignore saying, No one under 14 is permitted to use the equipment. Yet time and time again, I would see 10 year old using the fucking treadmill. You're 10! Go outside and fucking play in dirt like other normal kids.

Okay, so my one complaint about the morning is the stupid chick who's only job is to hand me towels. She sits there, and stares off in space. Sometimes she says hi to me. Sometimes she just looks stupid. I've been doing the morning thing for quite some time, where I know she must recognize me. Except every time I see her, she acts as though I'm a newbie. I always have to ask her for a towel. And every single time, she hands me a big towel. And I tell her, "No, you stupid whore. I always ALWAYS get a small towel. REMEMBER???!!" But she never remembers. She just says, oh and I scribble something not even close to resemebling my name on the stupid towel sign out sheet, because the stupid towel sign out sheet is stupid. In fact, the whole towel procedure is fucking stupid. But it's free, so really I shouldn't complain. Because free always equals awesome. Unless, it's crabs. Then, not so awesome.

Sucks.

Today kinda fucking sucked. I will not be going anywhere near Seattle for awhile. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Okay, now that that is out of the way. I should tell you that before today, the weekend was actually quite nice. Really nice. Kinda sunny. Kinda awesome. And that is all I will say about that.

Good fucking day to you all.

Will this day end????

I've been all bipolar today. One minute happy as can be. The next, down in the dumps. Not quite sure what's wrong. A lot of things I guess. A lot on my plate at the moment. Just a lot. I actually went home for lunch, which I haven't done in ages- because I just needed to get away from things. I'm a mess of thoughts and doubts and shit. It's kinda weird- inside my head and all.

Sorry to be all deep today. I'll try to come up with something completely useless for you to read later.

I'm kinda old.

Reasons I'm feeling old:

1. I haven't taken off my coat in 2 days. I'm that motherfucking cold.

2. I drank some wine and then didn't finish the glass. So I did what any typical Jewish grandma would do. Poured the unfinished wine back in the bottle. For those of you who tell things to Steve, don't. I'll finish the bottle by the time he gets back from wherever he is this week.

3. If I have a half cup of milk or orange juice left in my glass (no I don't do what I did to the wine- that is obviously gross), I put it back in the fridge cause I don't want to waste orange juice that's kinda expensive, nor the 4 dollar organic milk I get on a weekly basis.

4. I curse at every single driver for the things I do every day, like not putting on my blinker. Remember, I'm old. I don't have to follow the rules. But you do!

5. I hate what "the kids" are listening to these days. Who the hell are these Ying Yang twins and what is on their teeth?!

6. The old people at the gym are kinda looking hot. (TOTALLY KIDDING!!!)

7. Someone just called me ma'am.

8. I forget. A lot.

9. I had a pudding pop last night and couldn't remember the last time I had one. But man, it was good (although very different from the original version).

10. If there's a deal, I'll be there faster than you can say clearance.

P.S. I can't remember if it's Time or Newsweek (see number 8 for reasons I'm feeling old), but there's a very interesting article about how kids today have too much going on all at once. I remember having this exact thought when my nephew got an ipod, cell phone, portable dvd player and 2 different gaming systems. Read it to see where our kids are headed. Kinda scary.

The hamster wheel goes on and on.

1. I guess it's Spring, but you wouldn't know it here in Michigan since it's still 30 degrees and I'm getting the feeling my hands will stay cold until the end of May. Argh. Why can't I be in the WEST COAST RIGHT NOW!!!!!

2. Anyway, nothing really to report. I'm at the studio today. And you know what that means. Say it with me now, FREE SUSHI!!! I think if I was to get married, I'd marry a sushi chef and he'd have to make me sushi all day long. I'd eat it with my Cheerios. I'd eat it on cake. I'd eat it on shit if I had to.

3. In other news, I've tried my hardest to blend in at the Y. I never wanted anyone to know my name, because then people just start talking to you when you're trying to work out, get sweaty, listen to your ipod and read all at the same time. Suddenly, old people will ask you what you're reading and tell you you're doing exercises wrong. I don't want to bother even being polite to people at 6:30 am. But out of nowhere, one of the Y employees figured out my name. Unbeknownst to me, he just started saying it. Even when I had my ipod on full blast, I'd hear him mouth, "Morning Barrie!" in his fucking cheerful manner. Argh. I know he's being nice, but when I roll out of bed I'm in no mood to talk and make nice, no siree. I want to sweat and stare at people, while imagining who they are and what they'll do after the gym. It's a little fun game I play in my head sometimes. Try it!

4. Have you ever listened to A Clockwork Orange soundtrack? I had my sister burn it for me a few years ago, and I'm just now getting to it. I especially love the song from Wendy Carlos- the theme song to the movie! Although all the songs are pretty, now all I can think about are the horrid scenes involved in one of the creepiest movies I've ever seen.

5. Till tomorrow.

Don't you just love mothers sometimes?

I know I've said before that I'm pretty darn honest. If you ask me something, expect the whole truth and nothing but the truth. But I will not tell you obvious things, like you're boyfriend sucks or you're kinda fat, unless you ask me first. I believe that's what you call tact.

So, yesterday when my mom begged me to send her new pictures of my new and much improved hairdo I did, just stating, here it is- enjoy! I didn't ask, what do you think? I didn't ask anything that warranted a response. So when I got an email back FROM MY MOTHER saying, sure, it looks good straight but the haircut is absolutely awful, it kinda ruined my very relaxing and enjoyable weekend. I guess it's good to know that someone can effect you like that, but at the same time I never asked for an opinion on the cut, the look or anything about my hair. Much like I never asked for her opinion on my butt, when in college she said that "I think it's kinda big" even though I was a size 4. It's a good thing I'm not crazy or bulemnic cause I know plenty of girls who would immediately run to the toilet to shove a finger down their throat if their mother said that to them in college.

Anyway, I actually quite like the cut, and have already had plenty of compliments on it. I got it relaxed and then chopped a bit. Think Joan Jett, rock star kinda. It actually is kinda awesome.

SO TAKE THAT MOM! TAKE THAT!!!

P.S. (Don't respond if you go by mommy, mom or Marcia MAXINE- THAT'S HER MIDDLE NAME IN CASE YOU DIDN'T KNOW)

Help me decide (Maya)!

Yesterday I was telling Nicole and Maya how much I want a sewing machine. I've actually been dreaming about having my own ever since my grandma passed away. She made me lots of things. Hats, sweaters, blankets. You name it, she made it. She had one of those old ones that was inside a table. And when she passed, I remember asking my dad if we could take it because at the time I didn't really want to sew, but I had a feeling I would want to learn some day. And if anything I'd want to keep that piece of history with me. Of course, my crazy ruthless father said no. He didn't want anything really. And didn't want to have to carry such a heavy thing to the car and then to the house. So, off it went with all the other priceless things I'll never see again. It's probably collecting dust at a Goodwill as we speak.

Then, today Nicole tells me she got one for her birthday. Which I thought was such a coincidence because we just talked about it, and I've been looking on ebay for a few days for one. And here's what I came upon.

Door Number 1

Door Number 2

Now, obviously Number 1 is awesome, but it looks real old. Both say they are in working condition. I didn't really know what to ask the sellers, besides does the pump work and how much do they weigh (although number 2 says 30 lbs so I'm assuming number 1 is at least 50). But really I have no clue about sewing machines. Sure, it's probably logical to get a new one. One that costs a few hundred bucks. But I'm not logical, nor do I have a hundred bucks. I go with my gut. And my gut says to go with something old and classic. Something that reminds me of my grandma. So, if anyone out there wants to help me decide, you know what to do....

Oh god no.

I'm not sure which is more upsetting:

Soul singer Isaac Hayes quits 'South Park'

or

Stone ready to bare all in 'Basic Instinct 2'

Happy Purim folks. Eat apples and honey or something like that. I'm not quite sure what this holiday means, but I did play Adon Olam by Andy Statmand & David Grisman on my itunes to get into the Jewy spirit. (Really, I just have it on shuffle and it just so happen to land on that song as I wrote this. It's like God knows! Spooky....)

Plain Plane.

So, I went somewhere this weekend. Somewhere absolutely fantastic. The minute I arrived I loved it. I couldn't get enough of the city, the food, the everything. Of course I was in a different time zone and didn't do anything at night because of the long ass day I had, but when I woke up in the morning to walk along the water I swear I almost got a little misty. Everything was just so much prettier than the Detrois. Even the hotel I stayed at. Wow! Total hipster hostel. Eames chairs. Painted brick walls. Screen printed art on the walls. The bathroom sink was something from an airplane. And on the nightstand- a kama sutra book with condoms inside (condoms were free- kama sutra book was $12). Even the free breakfast was perfect with granola, yogurt, freshly sqeezed orange juice and soy milk. I was literally in heaven. I forgot a camera, so I immediately bought a disposible one and captured everything because I knew I'd forgot all these little things that made this place so memorable.

And then there was the plane situation.

I don't mind planes. I actually kind of like flying. The feeling of taking off (although landing always seems more fun to me for some reason)...

But, this stupid wench next to me basically drove me crazy. I had many things to distract me. Magazines, Shopgirl, my ipod/all podcasts from channel101.com, knitting and the amazing view from the plane.

YET the stupid wench wouldn't stop sniffling. For about an hour all I heard was the deep inhalation (is that a word?) of her nasal congestion. It was nauesating. She was wiping her nose on her clothes. And she just wouldn't stop.

Steve did this once, and it got to the point where I banged the tissue box in front of him and said, "USE THIS NOW OR I WILL RIP OFF THAT DRIPPING NOSE OF YOURS!!!"

So, with these cool new tissues (that I also stole at the hotel) in my bag, I reached in to grab two. One for me pretending to blow my nose, so I could use the other as a friendly offer to the stupid wench. I asked her, "Would you like a tissue?" And you can only guess what she said, "Oh no. I'm fine. Thanks."

WHAT! NO, YOU'RE NOT FINE YOU FUCKING DRIPPING MESS! I HATE YOU AND NOW I'LL BE SICK BECAUSE OF YOU AND YOU CAN'T EVEN TAKE THIS ONE CLEAN TISSUE TO WIPE YOUR FUCKING UGLY NOSE! I HOPE YOU DIE!!!

And then I just looked outside again, with my knitting and my ipod and I just breathed. Hoping I'd have a chance to go back to where I just came from.

P.S. I have the beginnings of a cold.

Yep, I'm crazy. Nice to meet you.

Just some of the crazy things I do on a daily basis, that should make you feel more normal:

1. Listen to a song over and over and over again.

Right now, I'm at work and I'm listening to my ipod with my big bad ass Sony headphones (thanks Mark) because my itunes makes everything on this iMac really fucking slow. So, this is a perfect opportunity to listen to The Yellow Ones by Pinback over and over again. That's right bitches. I could listen to that song all day long, and the people in the surrounding offices won't have any clue I'm completely psycho.

2. I spend way too much time filling out useless surveys.

So, I have to admit- I was once addicted to myspace. My habit isn't as strong as it used to be a few months ago, but whenever I see a bulletin for some random survey, I just have to fill it out. Something in my mind says, "Other people must know what your favorite childhood tv show was. If they don't, their lives won't feel worthy and you will die alone." Or something to that effect.

3. That weird thing I do with Q-tips.

I'm not sure if anyone else does this, but I lick my Q-tip before I jam it in my ear. I can't just have soft cotton in my ear, possibly getting lose and lost inside my canals. When it's wet, it just feels cleaner for some reason. Okay, I give everyone permission to leave this blog and go to the nearest toilet to puke. Go ahead. I'll wait.

4. I peel my lips.

I seriously thought I was the only one who did this. I thought I invented some habit and would have to trademark it, because it's basically awesome. I imagine this is what cutters feel when they gently release the pain with a razor blade digging into their thigh. I pick and pick and pick and my lips are raw. I consciously try not to do it, because I'm sure it's weird for other people to watch and having lip skin all over my steering wheel can't be good for the vinyl. But every now and then, I still find myself doing it. It's like my brain doesn't even realize I just put my hand to my lips and started picking obsessively. I have no idea that I'm doing it until it's too late.

So yeah, I'm sure I'm crazy. I do weird things, that you probably find repulsive. But at least I admit my craziness in all its glory!

Recapping in this Mofo.

Friday: Saw Dave Chappelle's Block Party. Eh... Wait for it on DVD. I like hip hop, and I wasn't too thrilled with this. Sure, some funny moments and good songs, but not enough to really entertain me for 2 hours- even when I was sitting in some fancy theater on some fancy therapeutic seats.

Saturday: Bought SEVENTY FIVE DOLLARS worth of yarn, for a blanket. If my mom doesn't like it, she better not tell me because I don't spend SEVENTY FIVE DOLLARS on yarn. I just don't. Met with the cartoon boys and forgot to eat lunch at the WAB. Hence, I came home at 5 already drunk and super tired. Passed out for a few hours and realized I had to still go out for the Blowout/Devin's birthday. I did that but didn't have it in me to really go out. Left at 1.

Sunday: A successful shopping day (that means I looked at really pretty things and didn't buy anything). And then sorta watched the Oscars. The beginning was funny, and then sometime around Best Nail Polish Remover, I lost interest.

The weekend went too fast for me. And this coming weekend will go by even faster. And when I say fast, I mean flying on a jet plane fast.

Happy Birthday to Carl and Devin. Both people who probably never ever read this.

Shh.

You know when you have all these secrets, you just feel like you're about to burst. I feel like that right at this very moment.

I want to tell you what happened yesterday, but I can't.

I want to tell you about this other thing, but I can't.

I want to tell you about next week, but I can't.

Fucking shit for a fucking Internet. I hate that I can't tell you anything. I have to tip toe around you like you're some super sensitive friend that you can't say anything to without worrying she'll cry about it when you leave.

I have so many good and bad news, that I wouldn't even know where to begin. Luckily, I have a real diary. I write in it maybe once every 6 months, but once I start an entry it usually goes on for 15 pages of me just rambling on and on, saying everything that's in this head of mine. And the beauty of it is no one will read it! It's just for me and me alone. And I don't have to worry about punctuation or other people commenting and giving me their 2 cents on how I should fix my life. And it's not on a computer, which is just so awesome to me! Cause I don't have to deal with anything shutting down or freezing or whatever other annoying fucking things happen when I'm in the middle of writing something I think is funny.

Shit, I hope I didn't hurt my blog's feelings. Don't worry pretty blog. I still think you're cool. If you were one of my children. I'd secretly tell you, you were my favorite. But don't tell the others, okay?

UFO!

UFO = Unfinished Object (those crazy knitters and their wacky slang)

I'm trying to make my greatest and only nephew an Ipod cozy, and I just can't do it. This pattern is too confusing. So, like my sister's purse and the tank top I've been trying to make- I just gave up. I'm waiting for Maya to come home next week (yay!!) so she can help me finish my sister's almost completed purse and I'm gonna just find a much easier cozy pattern for the Ipod. It might not look as cool, but it will give me less headaches, and me with less headaches means a happier world for everyone.

Then, I must buy yarn fast for I will be departing on a little plane trip next week and need something to occupy all those hours of uncomfortable sitting. Maybe I'll download a movie also on my fabulous new love of my life.

Okay, folks. Back to knitting during my lunch hour.

Dancing in the Gym.

Now that I've downloaded all 5,045 songs onto my ipod, I can't let it go. I take it everywhere, even the bathroom. I'm quite literally obsessed with its sweet musical power. I never have to talk to people or hear annoying chatter while waiting at the grocery store. And my favorite place to listen to it is of course the gym.

It's funny, that Before Ipod (B.I.) I kinda laughed at all the people who would dance around the gym, sometimes singing out loud or making weird hand gestures as to almost dance, but also keep it cool. There was this one guy who was just so excited all the time. He would do these Rocky motions in the air and jump up and down when he heard a song he liked. These weird gym people never stop amazing me.

But I never really related to all their crazy antics because I used to just have a radio (so prehistoric!) and would only listen to either npr or talk radio in the morning, as trying to listen to actual music on the fm would drive me bonkers. I mean I write those commercials you hear, and they bother me too!

So, yesterday, I was sporting my new Ipod in its retro/gameboy lookin' case (that I got for free, of course) and Fucker from Fischerspooner came on. I'm on the treadmill and all I wanted to do was dance around singing with my arms open wide. But, I realized I couldn't do that. Because then people would join in and we'd all look like something out of a scene from Grease. And Grease kinda sucks. Okay, I'm lying, but Olivia Newton John really irritates me.