Life Listed - Chronologically

1) Asking for work generates tons of attention. And tons of work. Ruining plans to slip out early with deadlines given.

2) The young person who recently started working at the most promixate deli/food store to my job is a bitch. While I understand that it is generally annoying to have to change $20, there was no one on line behind me and I generally come in there with sufficient singles or fives to pay for my yogurt, drink, what have you. The bitch gave me back 11 ones, and a $5. Was the $5 a gift?

3) Deciding to rinse the red plumb lines on the blue steel walls with bleach is a pretty good idea. However, a better idea would have been for me to put on a pair of gloves earlier than when I was almost done and the stinging around my cuticles had escalated to extreme discomfort that. The redness of knuckle and cuticle is not too attractive.

4) Ironing my shirt this morning really doesn't seem to have been worth it. However not reading, as I've read all my books, on the train was a good idea because my hair dried in a very attractive manner since it wasn't tucked behind my ears.

5) Moving to England seems like a good idea right now. I could stop smoking cigarettes very easily if I could take a pot break once a day or so. However, the quality would probably turn to shit and the taxes would be increased, snack cake stock would go through the roof and never again could you get discreet cubes or tiny plastic bags off street corners in ghettos nationwide.

6) I guarantee that not recycling will lead to a flithier NY. As people stop bothering to place their bottles in separate containers and get into the easy habit of all-in-one bins, more and more homeless people will be going through unsorted bags of trash to pick out the bottles. At least with recycling, they could just open the one or two bags that contained bottles. Now bits and pieces of trash will be all over. And then we can say "The streets were much cleaner with Guiliani" even though we know that it wasn't Guiliani but recycling.
Please read #1, please realize I am a very bad worker some days.
Wednesday, July 10, 2002

I watched A Beautiful Mind yesterday night and wondering which of my friends are imaginary to only me/ a product of my pyschosis. This movie together with Fight Club resonate too well. Is Edward real, Angel wondered as only Bess & Richie have ever met him. He's twice as real as Angel's girlfriend which only Bess has met. Sometimes, the way the insane genius is treated seems entirely wrong too me, too much insanity stressed not enough genius. But I suppose, in the end, it's which one of these we allow ourselves to be, which of the two we allow to be what people see first, is what we become in their minds. That would be why I'm insane.

Getting paid to keep the seat warm on the off-hand chance someone might need my help is frustrating. There is a crap load of stuff going on in my unpaid life or the life my job pays for me to have that being here makes me batty. I can't even get a good nap since I'm afraid to wake startled, drool on my chin, on that chance someone comes by desparately needing my help. It's also hard listening to officemate talks to family. But I complain about him all the time; it's just that it never gets any better.

Starting tomorrow, they're blocking internet sites. Little do they know that I'm relentless and I'll keep finding new places until we only have the Census left. Trust me, they can't stop me.

Monday, July 8, 2002

Sweating profusely for two days, painting room after room, becoming pissed off at Edward several times, and generally wanting to throw in the towel taxed my nerves. While the heat, per se, does not bother me, painting in the heat does. Having to constantly direct a grown man gets annoying. We have 80 percent of what needs to be done finished, with me gone for two dyas and Edward on his own, it will probably be 84 percent done when I return.

There are few things as great as fireworks. I couldn't imagine a Fourth without them. I insisted we break for the evening and catch them. His friend Dimitri was "helping" by painting zen suns and waxing philosophy when we decided to share a spliff (not Edward) and decided to hit Coney Island. While listening to Edward's cross country adventure which I insisted he writes or allows me to write like Malcolm X and Huxley, we cleaned our lungs of paint fumes with the sting of Coney Island salt air.

First, we saw fireworks in the Rockaways. While the boys lay on their backs and talk about day long train and bus rides, girls on drugs and scary men in rest stops in Idaho, Montana or other states I'm sure I'll never be in, I watched several more far off firework displays along the Jersey Coast. Around 10 we realized Coney Island was not having their own display but we had relaxed, shared stories and I'd seen at least 4 different fireworks far off in the distance. Returning home, Edward walked into his room to take a phone call while I turned on the Discovery Channel to some show about giant squid. At 9 am, all of the lights were still on, both of us were still dressed and had throughly passed out from the heat of several days of painting and the relaxation of sitting on the beach, sharing a blanket, looking at the sky.

In the morning, there was a bright yellow kitchen with avocado green cabinets that we worked our way through. Ice cream, Ben & Jerrys, was purchsed as a surprise for me and then melted when I accidentally left the refrigerator unplugged for too long. The breeze travelling 3 miles from the ocean relaxed us, we sang Beatles songs together and I'm now ready to spend good times with good friends.
Friday, July 5, 2002

To the kids in Wiliamsburg that seem cursed with an unusually hot apartment: Poor people's air conditioning consists of 3 things- 1) large metal bowl 2) box or oscillating fan and the magic incredient 3) bags of ice. Place ice in metal bowl. Place metal bowl in front of fan. Feel cooler. Metal bowls hold onto the cool more, preventing you from having to add ice every minute. I also suggest you freeze your clothes before going to bed, as described below.
Wednesday, July 3, 2002

Yesterday night I was sweating buckets. I am actually panting the upstairs/ future apartment in this heat. It's pretty gross, especially the way my glasss slid edown my sweaty nose. The sweat made the v-neck shirt with sleeves ripped off I was painting in even more plunged down towards my clevage. I caught Edward looking at my boobs. He can't paint very well nor take my suggestions on how to become a better painter, but requires constant supervision and direction as far as me telling him what to do. Men who can paint, use tools, mow the lawn are generally more attractive to me than those who can't. I got into a little tiff with him, mostly because I was hot and borderline PMS, but also because he pissed me off.

Coconut Froz-Fruits are the number one choice of battling the heat. Second place goes to lemonade. This is followed by taking a cool shower while your clothes are chilling in the freezer. This would be ranked higher except it can only be done once a day or so and best used right before bed. By the time the clothes become room temperature, you're in snoozeville. I don't mind the heat too much and actually refused an air conditioner when my parents offered one on the theory that it will occupy an otherwise air circulating window when its not sucking my wallet dry and keeping me cool. The only time that one was helpful last year was when I had a 103 degree fever. And after work one night when the subway's air conditioning wasn't working too hot.

I don't know if I'll be able to see fireworks tomorrow. I have plans for a barbecue on Saturday, which requires that I be in Jersey for a few days but I have to finish getting the apartment ready. I'll probably paint as long as possible, maybe run down to Coney Island at dusk to cool off. In the year of Patriotism when West Virginia or Virginia actually has new license plates that say "Fight Terrorism" or something, I'll be painting and sweating, scrubbing floors. At least my livingroom is blue, how patriotic.
Wednesday, July 3, 2002

A love story. Of the kind that makes you happy that it is your to share. When I finally told the lady in question, just a few weeks ago, her heart had softened and she was charmed.

Tuesday, July 2, 2002

Lately, my life has been a collection of amusing asides. Pain in the ass things that keep happening to me like the stamps I bought last Friday, 20 of them, at the 34 cent postage rate comlpetely oblivious to the fact the rates were going up on today. Now I must return to the post office and get those however many cent make-up stamps. After I bought cool stamps. It will ruin how lovely all of my envelops will look.

This paint store in Boro Park where they sell commerical grade paint at $12 a gallon, rather than nearly $20 elswhere, that I went to on Sunday, specifically since i knew they were Hassidic and would be closed on Saturday: it was closed Sunday as well for whatever reason.

Cigarettes are now $7. I cleverly bought 6 packs the day before, on special of buy 2 get 1 free. We will see if these really will be the last packs. It will just be better that way, although I can't imagine how I'd be able to function when I go back to school without cigarettes, Camel Lights being responsible for 10% of my degree. It's fucked up that I actually assign a percentage of my degree to dirty ashtrays.

Work is not so great and I've been wondering if people can really spontaneously explode due to boredom/ the frustration associated with boredom. Finding this out will probably be painful and miserable. I think I'll go get make-up stamps, some juice, maybe some hair clips from Duane Reade.

If the rumor is true, Happy Birthday Miss Amy.

Monday, July 1, 2002

When I have a destination in mind, I usually just go out to where I think it will be, where I believed to have seen it last. For my "lunch" break I decided to head over to L'occitane since I'm a soap snot and their's the only I'll use. I was pretty certain that the store was located on either 5th Ave or Broadway below Madison/above Union Square Parks. The amount of beautiful boy/men casually walking dogs, picking up dropped baby toys and smiling at the wind in their faces was nearly too much. I walked up and then down, seeing every other body/cosmetic shop from the small exclusive lines to Bath & Body Works/Sephora. The store I had in mind is instead between Union and Washington Square Parks. Damn these Sqaure Parks.

I finally got a hold of my landlord and am starting to paint my house tonight. The colors will be different but just a classy and dignified. I'm kind of excited that I got a fresh canvas, clean slate to work with again. If I was fresh out of high school, recently sat through a 3 hour ceremony is a cheap polyester red gown and ill fitting hat, I'd probably go to FIT or Parson's. But now I have this fancy degree from a fancy women's college and a desk job.

There are now two anything but subtle cameras install in the elevator areas at all floors. You can't even turn your back to scratch you nose or whatever, you are completely being watched. I'll probably get a memo in about a week carefully documenting each minute I go in and out, and then docking my pay accordingly so I end up with $45/week before taxes or something.

Marie and I decided that Richie is like a Michael Musto, straight forward gossipy writer. He cracks me up cotinuously. He is not just poptrash, he's has all the needed qualities to be a pop icon. He's the type of guy that adolescent girls without full control over their hormones will burst out in tears upon seeing like Delta Burke and Michael Jackson.

Friday, June 28, 2002

I�m such a dweeb. I actually overpaid one of my credit cards, so I now have about a $30 credit, while the other has a huge balance called a trip to Haiti and other sundries. It�s not as they send you the extra back, pass it along o the second credit card company. No, it�s just $30 to spend sitting there, going to waste. Maybe I need to buy a few things, peruse ebay this afternoon.

As time goes by, murderous thoughts pass through my mind more and more frequently regarding my officemate. It�s unnatural to spend 8 hours a day in an 8 by 8 room with another person. It�s only slightly better than jail since we have diversions (work), get to leave, and don�t have to worry about who is going to make whom bitch. His big head and late-80s mini-mullet/immigrant cut in itself pisses me off. His tendency to SHOUT on the phone, in either English or Spanish drives me up the wall, especially those conversations that go on for a half hour or so. I�ve already discussed his eating/drinking habits. I told him that clipping his nails in the office will make me scratch out his eyes with mine. He likes to move around the office on his wheelie chair, frequently stopping behind me to look at the books in his bookshelf. Stopped there, he is basically breathing on me and destroying the small personal space I have. I should just adjust my work schedule to 11 to 7 as I get most of my intense work done after he leaves anyhow. I�m sick of staying late to get clear-headed time. I understand how postal workers loose it.

The fucked up news of today: the Supreme Court decides our tax dollars can now go away from public schools into parochial vouchers, you can�t even join the chess team without being randomly drug tested but the circuit courts decided that the pledge of allegiance can be thrown away because of the �under god� part. This was all just from looking at the The Times opening page. Next week: Stock Market Crashes because Supreme Court declares money unconstitutional (in god we trust) and parochial applications are up as children flee public schools to avoid the invasion of their urine at the Board of Educations whim.

Heh.
Thursday, June 27, 2002

What poet are you? quiz gives me multiple answers probably because I have multiple personalities. These include: Carl Sandburg, Dorothy Parker, Sylvia Plath, Alfred Lord Tennyson, and Maya Angelou.
I kid you not. My boss just sent a company-wide email containing this line: "Will the real [welfare study name] please stand up?" Thanks for getting all Eminem on us before noon.
Wednesday, June 26, 2002

Yesterday, aftering buying groceries, cashing on the $4 for 2 1/2 gallons of Tropicana offer and picking out food I might actually cook, I crashed. I unpacked my groceries, balanced my checkbook and decided to take a wee rest. I was just going to read, I wasn't particularly tired. But next thing, it's 9 pm and I hear Edward coming in. I pretend as if I am going to get up, but just move around my bed. It's then 2 am and I decided to make a night of it. I slept for about 10 and 1/2 hours. And was on time to work, which was pretty depressing because the door to my floor wasn't even unlocked yet, the floor was practially empty and I felt as if I was the only one there at 9 am.

I must find my TransitCheks since I've misplaced them and only have 1 day left on the Metrocard and $25 until Friday. They are worth $60. This will require I go through everything I own and, as a result of my frustration in my current belief that I own too much stuff, I will throw things away. This will also make moving upstairs easier, whnever that's happening, whenever my landlord bothers to actually call me rather than my answering machine at 1 pm even though she knows I work 9 to 5 and has my work number.

I think I crashed because I just didn't want to face any of it yesterday. I'm restored, have had coca tea today and can take on these annoying things I must do for my day-to-day life.
Wednesday, June 26, 2002

To announce that there must be no criticism of the president, or that we are to stand by the president right or wrong, is not only unpatriotic and servile, but is morally treasonable to the American public. Theodore Roosevelt

I think I need to watch late night talk shows tonight, to see if even they speaking against the Doofy as they are known to do. Or has the media been immunized, taking Cipro after the anthrax scares of last Fall took away yheir ability to slam the guy when he needs slamming.
Tuesday, June 25, 2002

Bad idea: looking at web pages about how to get rid of "water bugs"/roaches as there was one in the upstairs apartment and Edward killed one yesterday. This has traumatized me all over again, made my skin crawl in the immaculate corporate windowless office, almost as much as last night. He informed me of this murder as I was standing over the bathroom sink brushing my teeth in my pajamas and barefooted. "Don't freak out, but I killed a roach 'water bug' in there earlier." I threw up a little in my mouth, good thing I was done brushing.

Good idea: making disgusted noises whenever officemate slurps or slaps his lips, which is everytime he has a beverage or food. I'm not sure if it effective, but it makes me feel better.

Bad idea: cleaning very little in expectation that new roommate will decide to clean a few things other than the dishes (which he never puts away, just washes). Basically, to see if he'll clean anything up since I'm only sweeping the kitchen and wiping down surfaces. Now I must clean the entire apartment, scrubbing and all.

Good idea: making no social plans for next two weeks as a ton of painting and crafting needs to get done and there's been writing on my mind that I haven't found the time in the past week to sit down and do. After a completely busy week/weeks, I'm going to be selfish. I also hold the right to change this statement at will/when the desire to drink beer arises. Today, it's a good idea.
Tuesday, June 25, 2002

Kinder eggs are so black market in the US. I had no idea these little chocolate eggs with a fun toy inside generated so much scandal. They sell them in my neighborhood, I thought I just lived in the right place not full of hysterical yuppie mothers but working class moms who know they're children have enough sense not to eat a plastic capsule which contains the toy.

A funny line from an article on the knock-off/fake designer item industry in New York: "'I don't want to support [crime],' she said. 'But I don't think that would prevent me from shopping.'" Damn straight, because nothing, no matter what should ever stop one from shopping, ever.

I just found an very long (like 18") think black curly hair on my keyboard. Excuse me while I disinfect.

Monday, June 24, 2002

"Bess thinks you are essentially Harry Poter," I say to Edward as we're walking out to the stores on Church Avenue to do our respective evening shopping. "So should I get a cape, cauldron and wand and show up at McMillan," was his cleverly surprising response. "Um, sure but she doesn't work there so they might arrest you or something." He's not 1/2 bad.

I am wondering how to pack in as much sun-shiney goodness in the next few months before summer is over. It's actually over already, it's ending right now. The lovely things about going to a concert on one of the longest days of the year was how endless it seemed, the sun staying around forever. I saw little girls catching fireflies in their front yard the other day, although there were none that I could see at the cemetery. When they start appearing over there, the amount of little flashes is amazaing, an honest firefly orgy going on. I might have to get a coconut froz-fruit and sit down on the stoop for an hour or so tonight.

Friday, June 21, 2002

How my work makes me too like a huge dork. Or the geeky things I do as an employee of the very large non-profit. I had to go to the Science, Business and Industry Library, I actually have to go there often. I am currently the guru of the 1980s Census information. I have two separate cards to make print-outs, since I keep loosing one or the other. I pulled Individuals instead of Persons in poverty while I was there this morning and had to return.

Instead of packing my bag with essential manila folders, I just took the folders themselves and walked over there. I was walking in Manhattan carrying manila folders, even if it is just across the street. It's not like 3rd and 20th, it's 34th and Madison. I was dying of embarassment inside. I also forgot my card upon leaving after adding $5 to it since I'd forgotten the card with more money on it in my office. I did not turn back to get it. It's the Science, Industry & Business library (see how I change the name?). There are live feeds of CNN and every financial station, streaming stock quotes and geeks galore. I'd already walked through security twice in one day. I was not going to go back. It's not my money anyhow.
Thursday, June 20, 2002

Dumb stuff that I could make but people are selling on the inernet for entirely too much. The one that takes the prize is easily the "Do-it-Yourself Crochet Bikini" for $67. This means that you get yarn, hooks and instructions, which should run about $20 tops, it's only a bikini. And it's cotton, which stretches when wet so you'd be going bare assed in a short while swimming in that.

There is also a crocheted top for $138. It's kind of unattractive. I've been wanting to try something like this for Katie since she's about the size of a 13 year old and if I mess up it wouldn't be impossible to fix. But $138? The materials are no more than $40 depending on the quality of yarn. Time probably is 6 hours, which gives the maker over $15 an hour for labor. My purses should therefore sell for about $150 to $300.

And finally the dumbest of all things that even I as an idiot can figure out how to sew, but they are one of Oprah's favorite things would be a lavender sachet for $20. Seriously, dried lavender and about 1/5 yarn of material, linen and sheer, for $20. Cost to make yourself: no more than $6.

Thursday, June 20, 2002

Maybe it's because I'm fairly busy, running to and fro Jersey and Brooklyn every other night. Sunday was Father's Day in Jersey, Monday was Laundry in Brooklyn, Tuesday was Father's Birthday in Jersey, tonight is cleaning my house in Brooklyn and tomorrow is concert in Jersey with Marie. Maybe it's because I'm secretly truly pissed at my landlord so I'm currently swallowing all emotions. Maybe the lack of quality craft time in the past few days with the exception of making magnets. Who knows, but I haven't much on my mind. Or I have so much on my mind that nothing can come out.

Except, if you've seen "Dude Where's My Car" and know all about the dude, sweet, dude, sweet and And Then "dialogs", you must also know that Edward willing played along at the laundry may with everyone wondering what type of drugs we were on shouting "And then" at each other.

There's something about summer time that just makes everything okay. It makes everything so damn care free that I've cut ties this week since I no longer need to drag dead weight, or what felt like dead weight. I feel as if I need basically no one but would rather just be around fun people. Sunshine takes all of that introspective darkness of winter and zaps it away. I am addicted.

And most importantly, I am officially annoucing the most important event of the season: The Second Annual "Parents Away and the Children Barbecue" barbecue will take place on July 6th, 2002. It shall be a blast and a half (granny's getting shipped down to Georgia too). Save the date.
Wednesday, June 19, 2002