Thanks Hong Kong :D ! Part 2

Okay, I have notes from our trip because I'm lame and always take notes wherever I am in case it can make good writing later (I told you I'm lame) but some of the days kind of blur into one another. I'm gonna do my best to remember each day as accurately as possible but I may mix up certain meals and events because we did a lot in ten days and well, I was out of my mind tired with jet-lag and diseased more than half the time.

Where did I leave off? Oh yes, breakfast. After breakfast I went to lay down a but because I was still kind of sickly and early enough in the day that I didn't feel the need to start conquering China like my Energizer bunny boyfriend. Apparently on his lone exploration he stumbled on a music video shoot for a pretty big star. The back-up dancers were wearing shiny big pants and there was a pink Chinese dragon.

We met up for lunch and ventured around the hotel. The Luxe Manor is right off of Nathan Road, a sort of Newbury St./Istiklal Caddesi for the Kowloon side, so right out the door we were smacked with food stalls, stores, massage places, and Indian men hell-bent on selling us, "Copy watches sir? Copy purses madam?" They didn't even bother pretending their articles were genuine! Throughout the next ten days, Elliot would get approached more often than I did, weirdly enough, because along with fake watches and bags, they were hawking tailor services. "Tailor suit sir?" This question was often delivered in a low, machine-gun fire rhythm that had us staring uncomprehendingly at them for a second before realizing that no, we did not want a suit. After a while we started snickering to ourselves because the thought of toying with them was kind of irresistible. Like, seriously what would they have done had we stopped dead in our tracks, opened our mouths wide and just went, "REALLY?! YOU HAVE COPY WATCHES?! WHY, SHOW ME, MY GOOD MAN, SHOW ME!," What would they do? And on a related note, have they really attracted anyone with that sales pitch? Hong Kong is so cheap, you can get the original at probably a very reasonable price. And people do judging by the mansion-like Louis Vuitton, Prada, Coach, and various other stores on every block. I'm not exaggerating. Hong Kong is the city of labels. Every woman, and I mean every, single woman and most men had the LV monogrammed bag and each store was at least two stories tall or more. Not to mention, the giant malls everywhere. I kind of regret not going into to one to compare prices actually because again, Hong Kong is cheap. I will refer back to this several times.

Anyway, we found a nice little restaurant not far from our hotel, though not on our street. I don't know why but I guess the street we stayed on was wedding dress central. Every other store was a bridal shop. And some of the dresses, whoooo-eeeee. I wouldn't be caught dead in them as a joke on Halloween. The first place we chose to eat at in Hong Kong, the center of quality Asian cuisine, was a Japanese place. Another thing that will get reiterated a lot; the comparison between China/Hong Kong and Japan and the fact that we ended up at Japanese places more often than you'd think in a world food capital. I guess we couldn't quite shake off our first big vacation together. Elliot had some udon in black sesame broth and I had my trusty katsu with curry and rice. We decided to head back to the hotel for a quick nap (Elliot still hadn't slept unless you count the couple hours on the plane and I was still sickly feeling and hadn't gotten any more rest that morning. I accidentally spent it watching The Powerpuff Girls on Cartoon Network Asia. I don't know what it is about travel but it always makes me watch cartoons. My sister too, every time we've been in India we've ended up falling asleep to Dexter's Laboratory and various other kids shows). It was around 2 pm by this time so we set the alarm for 5 and curled up like cats.

We didn't wake up until 4 am the next morning.

Sure, we set an alarm but after hitting snooze several times, and after convincing a zombie Elliot that no, we would not be missing out on anything by sleeping because if we wandered around like sleepwalkers that'd hardly be "experiencing" Hong Kong either. So we turned off the alarm and slept for 14 hours. I woke up a few times drenched in sweat which I took to be a good sign that my fever had broken (yep, had been chilled/hot this entire time) so by the time we were up, I felt much better. Elliot decided to go take pictures of the city waking up and I stayed in the room and finished The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. It was a bit long-winded and I didn't get completely sucked in until well over 200 pages but the ending was infuriating which is why I am now reading the second book, The Girl Who Played With Fire. I like the main character and she reminds me of me sometimes. You know, besides the psychotic passive-aggressive sociopathic tendencies.

It's was a short walk from the hotel to the bay and ferries that cross back and forth between Hong Kong and Kowloon. Though we were in Hong Kong technically, we were staying on the Kowloon side, just to clarify to avoid confusion. It's like Boston and Cambridge or Istanbul with it's Asian and European sides. Along the way was the Walk of Fame with various Hong Kong stars' names and handprints on the ground as well as a huge statue of Bruce Lee. Elliot had explored there in the morning but I didn't go until later on in the trip, just caught glances as we walked by it. The ferry across to Hong Kong from Kowloon was about 30 cents and we used it often. My first time we did it early in the morning and the view was kind of awe-inspiring. Hong Kong looks like a very modern, very alien settlement with a very geometric and tall skyline. It towered over us in the daylight but it was beautiful at night when we were crossing back and all the lights were on. Except for the tacky season's greetings signs plastered and lit up all over the buildings. Seriously, I don't think I've heard, "Santa Claus is Coming to Town," as often as I did it there. Christmas music was blaring everywhere. From the underground subway stations to the malls to the random crappy little restaurants on the streets. You have not lived until you've listened to, "Feliz Navidad," surrounded by screaming Chinese women. That's another thing. People never had normal conversations there. Because of the language, everyone just sounded like they were yelling at each other all the time. It was not a place for quiet reflection.

We made our way up to the Peak, one of the highest points in Hong Kong by way of a tram. We headed up the hill on the steepest incline. We were sitting down but it felt like we were about to flip over and go sliding back down to the bottom. There was also a Madame Tussaud's at the Peak and we took a couple pictures of the Bruce Lee figure for Elliot who is a huge a fan. At the top we had a beautiful view of the city and Kowloon too and we had delicious drinks of milk tea with coffee before heading back down where we wandered, quite by chance, into the Botanical Gardens and Zoo. There were all these gorgeous orchids and I saw a Venus Fly-Trap in real life! As well as a, um, raccoon. You see, I love raccoons (thank you childhood viewings of Pocahontas) and I've never seen them except in movies and they had one in a cage at the zoo. It was so fat it looked like it was wearing pants. I loved it. There were also several swinging monkeys, chimps, a bunch of turtles and giant tortoises, and many, many birds. I saw a crane for the first time too. I've never really cared for cranes and barely paid attention to them in artwork such as Japanese, but they were so big, and so elegant I couldn't take my eyes off them.

As we wandered back down the hill (the gardens and zoo were at the base of the Peak but still uphill) we followed our ears to some music. We came across a marching band celebrating... something. I'll have to ask Elliot what it was for but they were amazing. At one point we both realized we knew what they were playing. The band was dancing and waving their trumpets and trombones in unison while they played Lady Gaga. Yep, 'Bad Romance."

After that little show we headed to Queen's Road which is the Newbury St. counterpart in Hong Kong and wandered among the vendors. I got myself one of those bags used for carting rice with a picture of an elephant. I love these bags and have wanted one forever but they went for upwards of 100$ in the States. I got it for 100$ Hong Kong dollars. Which is about 14 dollars. Hong Kong is so cheap! We had lunch at a mall called The One right by our hotel. It's a place that's 10 stories high with various, hilarious, store names (such as Rapee Living) and we had the best pork buns I have ever tasted in my entire life. Oh dear Lord they were heavenly. Soft and juicy and flavoured with scallions. I almost wept. I also had noodles with chili and peanut sauce that burned my mouth to high heaven but were so worth it. Elliot had a few other steamed dumplings and a noodle dish and our meal, in a really nice place, came out to probably like 20$. Hong Kong is so cheap!

I bought a shirt with a bunny that says sex on it from there. The mall, not the pork bun place.

Hong Kong is 13 hours ahead of Boston and I got tired pretty fast in the day. I can walk a lot but am no match for Elliot (and my mother in some cases. Man, traveling with those to two together would really be a special kind of hell. I love you guys, just kidding. But while you two would hike up a mountain, the rest of us would probably die on the trail). There's a restaurant in Boston called the New Jumbo and it has a huge panoramic painting of Hong Kong so one of our goals was to go to the original and have a drink there. But seeing as how we were so tired, we kind of called it an early night again, though we did send an email off to our college friend and my first RA Nikki who lives in Hong Kong. We had many night activities planned, including a trip to the metal bar a reader at MetalSucks had told me about. Thanks Hong Kong :D !

I know Elliot wants to save and show off the pictures himself but here's a sneak. He took all the photos as he's our excellent photographer.

The dancers.


Sun coming up over Hong Kong and the bay we crossed with ferries everyday.



The street right outside our hotel.


At the top of the Peak.


Bruce Lee at Madame Tussaud.


Orchids at the Botanical Gardens.


Marching band.


Stores at The One.

Thanks Hong Kong :D ! Part 1

My darling boyfriend and I decided to take a vacation. Now normal people enjoy warm weather and beaches and the Caribbean, we prefer the cold, weird places, and try to stay far, far away from sand. So naturally we decided to go to China. But not just China, ten days in Hong Kong.

Interrupting myself for a second though, I just got the new Hardcore Superstar record, Split Your Lip. It is absolutely fantastic and totally deserves it's place on the year's top fifteen list I wrote for MetalSucks. Coming soon, stay tuned. My copy came signed by the whole band! I shrieked and ran to show Elliot who just nodded encouragingly but really didn't know what the hell I was dithering about (he was playing Fallout). I'm such a fangirl, how am I a "music journalist?" It's ridiculous.

The trip started out innocently enough. We'd packed the night before so we kissed our little Egg good-bye and left for the airport at around 9:30 in the morning on Dec. 1st. Security was harmless enough even though we had to take our shoes off. I can't begin to explain why this pisses me off so much. NO OTHER COUNTRY DOES THIS. Why in the good God's name do I have to take my damn shoes off? One time, just one time, someone smuggled something through that way. And now we have to suffer this. TSA, you are worthless, a waste of money, and no you do not make us safer. You make traveling a fucking ordeal for everyone involved. Jump off a cliff because your presence is what inspires homicidal thoughts in me and probably most others too. Believe me, when someone finally snaps and tries to take you out, any weapon they have on their person will not be in their DAMN SHOES. But I digress. I digress a lot when I write. Anyway, we got through and sat. And sat. And waited. Then waited some more. Our connecting flight was through Newark and apparently Newark in it's infinite generosity, decided to have the storm of the century and restrict all flights coming in and going out.

A lot of people were connecting through Newark and going on to Hong Kong along with us, along with a Chinese lady and her baby. I seemed to be the only one who could understand her garbled English so I had to translate what she said to everyone else without making it too obvious. I think everyone's blank expressions might've tipped her off though. Finally, after letting us twiddle our thumbs for two hours without really giving us any answers (thanks Continental!) they booked us on an alternate flight. Instead of a straight shot to Hong Kong from Newark, we'd be going to London then on from there, adding about a day's worth of travel.

Which would've been awful had we not been booked on Cathay Pacific.

Oh. My. God.

I don't know if it was because everyone made such a fuss that the Continental people booked us on a rival airline (American to London then Cathay Pacific) but I'm sure as shit happy they did. Let me put it this way, you know how the Japanese are the best at everything including their airlines? Cathay Pacific puts even them to shame.

After making sure the Chinese lady and her baby were also taken care of, Elliot and I trooped back home much to the kitty's delight. We hung out for a couple hours before heading back to go through security and re-check our bags all over again. Taking our shoes off again (grrrr...). Our flight to London was pretty uneventful. We were on the same flight as some hardcore band I think. They were dumb. One had a head of bleached hair and Elliot and I called him Billy Idol (under our breaths) all the way there. When we were getting off, one stewardess went, "Ohhh I didn't know Billy Idol was on this flight!' I lost it and almost fell over laughing.

London was freezing. Everywhere was snow and ice and I think I got my first cold symptoms there. Oh yeah, I got sick and I'll get to that in due time. My throat was sore and I could feel the stuffiness coming so I got a few preventative medicinal things there and napped the four hours we had in between flights. Poor Elliot sat awake the entire time. At that time it was 11 am in London, 5 am in Boston, and he hadn't slept yet. But then we got on our Cathay Pacific flight.

The plane was huge and so spacious, even in Economy. It was nowhere near full so Elliot and I took over the four seats in the middle and took turns sprawling out and sleeping. Each seat had a video monitor and selection of TV shows and movies, as well as games. You had your choice of about 15 episodes per show too. I'm not kidding. Elliot watched a season of The Cleveland Show. The stewardesses were pleasant Chinese ladies with perfect English and the food was actually edible. It was the most comfortable I've ever been on a ten hour flight. We were so spoiled. Kind of dreaded the flight back where we'd be stuck on crappy Continental. But in the meantime, bliss.

I definitely got sick though. Nose got stuffed up about halfway through and then I got a fever. I couldn't know for sure because I didn't have a thermometer but I know when my body has a fever. My hands get unbearably hot as well as the rest of me but I'm cold to the touch and the slightest movement sends chills down my spine that wrack my body with shivers. Not good. I drugged myself with Tylenol PM and hoped sleep would make me feel better. I was out.

We arrived at 7 am Hong Kong time, on Dec. 3rd. Yeah, we traveled all the way through the 2nd. It wasn't too bad though, originally we would've arrived at night on the 2nd so we didn't really miss anything. The Chinese lady and her baby made it all right too and we waved bye-bye to them after the passport control. Our suitcases showed up no problem (mine was red, in honor of China bahaha) and we took money out and got our Octopus cards at the airport. Hong Kong has a system for travel called the Octopus card. It's basically a metro card you can keep putting money on and use it on every source of transportation and in most convenience stores. It was great. Best system. We hopped on the airport express and rode it all the way to Kowloon. Cue my ten days of quoting Cassandra from Wayne's World, "Oh my GOD, I WAS BORN IN KOWLOON BAY." The first half of the trip we were on the Kowloon side before moving to the Hong Kong side on the 6th.

Then we got lost. We got yelled at for trying to take our suitcases up the escalator (though we were dumb and missed the huge sign that clearly told us to take all, "hefty baggage," up the lift) then we couldn't find the bus even though a patient lady tried to help us. At this point, I begged Elliot to just let us take a cab and we did to our hotel The Luxe Manor. It had huge Chinese fortress doors and a snazzy, modern lobby with a giant plush red armchair. Breakfast was complimentary so we dumped our stuff in our room and went down to eat. It was 9 am at this time. After breakfast, feeling more or less ok and non-feverish on my part, we headed into the town.

Five steps outside and I walked smack into a Turkish kebab place called Istanbul Kebap. It's like there's an invisible cord connecting me to the motherland at all times. Thanks Hong Kong :D !

My airport express ticket.

Can I Play With Madness?

Scrapped the old book idea for now. Using an idea I had for a script as an idea for a novel. I really wish I had a machine I could hook up to my brain that would record all the sentences and paragraphs I have running in it rather than type it all out. It would make my life and my procrastination a lot easier.

Read my review of the Devin Townsend show! Here's the link. As usual, pay no mind to the commenters. The internet spawns some real dodo heads. Yep, just said dodo heads. They infuriated my sister to the point where she created an account just so she could comment back and yell at someone. I love her.

I made lasagna last night and my hands still smell like garlic. I washed them like nineteen times! I also got a haircut today. This is unrelated to the lasagna and garlic. I don't know if I like it yet. This entry is all over the place. I'm going to go check on the laundry, hug my cat, make tea, and write for the rest of the night. I'll wash my hands again too.

The Devil in the White City

I love Chicago. It's filled with coffee shops, kids my age, and an easy to navigate public transportation system. Look at this:


It's a DeLorean in a coffee shop! The place was called The Wormhole and was decorated in all '80s stuff. There were cartoon lunch boxes and posters Goonies, Top Gun, Ghostbusters, Raiders of the Lost Ark and more! They had a video game corner and an old Trivial Pursuit board game! THE BATHROOMS HAD CALVIN AND HOBBES FRAMED PRINTS.


Yes, I took my phone to the bathroom to take a picture. It's a perfectly valid reason to.

Why does Boston suck when it comes to coffee shops? This is THE college town. Yes, I realize there are places in Cambridge and 1369 is an all right place but where are all the ones that are supposed to be right next door to me where I can go and be a pretentious writer with my laptop and a latte? No, instead I have 3 Starbucks' on my street. That blows. That is an unimaginative coffee establishment. Chicago had a place called New Wave Cafe with couches and old Duran Duran records. Chicago had Cafe Moustache which was separated into sections, all to support someone wanting to work on a laptop in private. Hell, maybe I'd do more work if I wasn't stuck home all day but I don't want to go to Starbucks! I need panache, pizzazz, and other p-words (providence? Pulmonary embolism? I guess that doesn't count) for my coffee shops because, well, I don't really like coffee I just like the production (production!) of getting it and settling down to work with it by your side.

Anyway, Chicago was amazing. I got to see two of my best friends (unfortunately the last member of our group wasn't there and I still feel a twinge about that but hey, Des you have a life! Deniz and I don't. This is how we make ourselves feel better. Besides, San Francisco is on my list. I'm going to descend upon you at some point next year) and had a glorious time. We went to the zoo (oh my God the big cats. I loved them so), and had burgers at a heavy metal burger joint (which you can read about here), and watched Firefly and smoked nargile/hookah every night. My lungs probably hate me (delicious jasmine and mint and orange tobacco every night) but it was exactly what I wanted. Plus, I got to reintroduce myself to Firefly, a show I always forget I love, and I still get chills watching some episodes. My favorite, "Out of Gas," still brings me to the verge of crying. It is fantastic, I recommend it. My friend also recommended me a book with the same title as this entry, and I've started reading it, as visiting Chicago has made me all curious about it. It's a fascinating city with a cool and sometimes twisted history and the book is all about the famous World's Fair and how that came to be along with the murders that took place there. It's exactly the kind of book I like; historic but with grisly little touches. We went to see the site of the fair even though it's just a museum now, the rest of it burned down decades ago.

That was the day we spent downtown seeing the city and the famous "bean," sculpture.

My Denny Bunny, Deniz, in front of the bean. I have stupid nicknames for my friends. Kit has become Kitten and Destine is Desi.


All three of us reflected in the bean. What a well-planned photo.


We also went up 96 floors on the John Hancock tower and had drinks up above Chicago. It had a beautiful view of the lake and the city and we got to watch the sun set.



I really liked it. But it did live up to the moniker of "The Windy City." We didn't so much as fight the wind as get attacked, abused, and beaten down by it. It was pretty funny trying to walk downtown with my dress around my ears. At least I was wearing leggings so nobody really got to see a show. In my underpants. It's still a city I'd be happy to live in though. I always need bodies of water where I live and the giant lake makes it seem like it's right on the shore of a great sea.

Oh I almost forgot! I met a woman who toured with My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult. The really cool/terrible band in The Crow. At a tapas restaurant I complimented the waitress on the music and she said that iTunes had a good Halloween mix and named that band and I made an offhand comment about liking them and she was like, "Uh yeah I know them."

!!!

Okay this is exciting to me. I even did some stalking and found out who she is. She's not blonde anymore but I recognized her face. I am so creepy. Hahaha.


After cooking us many delicious meals, Kit sent me back home last Friday right as Elliot got back from his business trip to Seattle. The cat was happy to see us. But that goes without saying.

Pinkness! At the top of a tall building downtown at night.


We both came back on Friday because we had a concert to go to. It was his birthday gift; I got him tickets to The Devin Townsend Project along with special access to meet him. He is the funniest, most personable, silly man. Meet and greets are usually so stiff and boring but he just hung out with a group of us fans, answered some questions, played some songs, and basically talked like we were all old friends. That's how meeting someone you admire should go and I'm so happy I got to give my boyfriend a gift he really loved.


The concert itself was so good. It was so fun, and he had so much energy, the entire place was vibrating. I just a wrote a piece for it for MetalSucks so when that gets posted, I'll add a link.


Yesterday was Halloween but I was a feeling a bit under the weather so I half-assed my costume. I was Lydia Deetz from the cartoon Beetlejuice.


I put my hair in a high pony-tail, lots of purple eyeshadow and just wore a black poncho I had with red tights. How sad is it that I basically have this weirdo outfit in my regular wardrobe? But I love Lydia, she's another great female heroine I admired when I was younger. I think I identified with her, surprise, surprise. Don't fit in anywhere? Call up your wacky, possibly deranged ghoul of a friend and go to an entirely different, bizarre place. It'll be like coming home. I thought it was so funny and so weird and so pleasingly gross. But, we just went to a friend's house and watched a terrible movie, hung out, and came home before too late.

It was a lovely end to a wonderful week and now I'm back in Boston and back to writing. I have a challenge this month. 50,000 words by the end of November. It's National Novel Writing Month and I'm sort of taking part but also just trying to get this story out of me and done, at least in a first draft. When an idea sits in me too long, I start doubting it and it turns stale. Like the script idea I had a couple weeks ago. It kind of dried up before I managed to spit it out but hopefully I can revisit it at the end of the month. I have till the end of January to get all this shit together. Can't let stupid worries of wasting my time prevent me from actually doing anything with my time...

If only I had a quirky coffee shop right next door. Or a giant dinosaur sculpture.

We're Men, (Manly Men!). Or, How Television Shaped My Perception of Boys, Part II

I most definitely had pho again last night after that post. And yes, it was just as delicious.

Weird stuff though. The restaurant played Duran Duran's, "Come Undone," and then I got a text from my mom saying she just met Simon Le Bon (the lead singer) and his wife in India. Yes, my parents are in India. I am jealous and envious and we won't discuss it further because they MET SIMON LE BON AND LAST TIME WE WERE THERE THEY SAT NEXT TO STING AND I COULD'VE MET STING BUT I DON'T CARE ABOUT HIM SO I TOOK MY TIME GETTING DOWN TO BREAKFAST AT WHICH POINT HE HAD LEFT BUT I WOULD RATHER BE THERE NOW AND MEET SIMON LE BON AND WE COULD HAVE BREAKFAST TOGETHER BECAUSE IT WOULD BE BREAKFAST TIME AND WE'D BOTH BE HUNGRY LIKE THE WOLF. Doot, doot doo-doo, doot doo doo doo-doo.

The universe is amazing. My fortune cookie also told me that, "Writing is a craft, not an art," which was pretty profound and freaked me out because I had just been complaining about not being a writer and how saying I was a writer felt like a total pretentious asshole lie to tell but then today I finally received editing work from my job and also wrote another piece for MetalSucks. I looked for messages in my coffee from Starbucks today but I just saw my name on the cup. It said it was for Alena.

Stop fucking with me universe.

I digress.

I recently discovered a new blog, Apocalypstick and in a funny coincidence, it turned out I'd met the author a few years ago in a chance encounter at college. She writes at great length about Disney characters and her ultimate man is Gaston from Beauty and the Beast. Don't raise your eyebrows, I totally get her. After all, all my ideal males come from "children's" classics as well. Here is part two of my man show. I've talked about my action stars but let's take a step back. Back to when I first started thinking about the uglier sex.

Kermit the Frog.


Now, most of my ideal men are fictional or two dimensional or puppets. Don't judge me, this is what little girls watch and learn. Kermit was amazing. If I didn't love Miss Piggy I'd be jealous of her. He was smart, and together, and everyone came to him for advice and he just tried so hard to put on a good show. I wanted someone like Kermit because we'd live in a wonderful vaudeville fairy tale together. His one fault was that sometimes he ignored Miss Piggy too much and that was hurtful since she was clearly under the impression that they were an item. Kermie, if you didn't want her, you should've let her know. But I forgive you because she was quite the over-bearing sow and I would never be as clingy as her.

The Muppet Show also gave me other "men" with characteristics I wanted. Gonzo with his weirdness and good nature, Rowlf and his music, Fozzie and his funniness. There was a period in college where my friend and I couldn't help but be attracted to the comedy troupe guys and I have a sneaking suspicion The Muppet Show cast started that fire.

Bart Simpson


I made a really embarrassing confession while in college. I told my friend that I when I was younger, I had a Bart Simpson doll that I'd make out with. And now I've told the internet so that will haunt me forever. I don't care, Our love was pure and good. Bart was probably the only bad boy I ever liked. He was just so, "cool." When people try to explain the meaning or essence of cool they just go off on that something special, the je ne sais quoi, the ineffable. I just say, "Bart Simpson." But beyond being just a rebellious cool dude, he had that appealing side. No matter how cool we thought he was, he still got bullied and tormented and managed to survive it with his usual smart-assery and tricks. He was no emo weakling, he had balls. Metaphorical, yellow balls.

Charlie Brown


Charlie Brown was the ultimate sad sack and yet I loved him dearly because I just wanted to be there for him. I would NEVER move the football right before he kicked it, I'd treat him right. Everyone always joked that Peppermint Patty was a lesbian but I understood her. She just loved her Chuck but he was too caught up in his bullshit that he didn't notice her. He just liked the red-headed girl he couldn't have. Isn't that always the story? The best friend girl always gets passed up for the elusive, pretty one. Stupid, unappreciative ginger.

The Ninja Turtles


They're so amazing, they're worth mentioning again. It's almost Halloween and so various sexy versions of costumes are out. I saw a sexy Ninja Turtles costume and almost threw a fit in the middle of the store. That is SO THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A TURTLE. The Turtles were easy-going, fun, and good. They liked April who hung around in an unflattering jumpsuit and didn't do anything with her hair. They liked the fun, girl-next-door who was happy to eat pizza with them and help them as they fought evil. There was a smart one, a leader, a fun one, and a sarcastic one. Altogether, they made the ultimate best friend/boy I wanted. It's weird that the stoner dude was my favorite though. I can't stand the real-life version of that. If I had to pick now, I'd probably be a Raphael girl but I'm loyal so I'll stick with Michelangelo. He's pretty tubular.

I never liked these characters as humans. The good guy next door. Why? Because he, like every other guy, wanted the hot girl and settled for the best friend after going through a bunch of useless trials he could've avoided had he just opened his eyes. I don't know, I might take that a bit personally but as a cartoon, it's forgivable because hey, you're not real.

I really wish Kermit was real.

There were a bunch of characters I absolutely despised too. Peter Pan, what a jackass. Okay yeah the mermaids and Princess Tiger Lily were a lot hotter than Wendy and I secretly always wanted my name to be Tiger Lilly and when Michael Hutchence from INXS named his daughter that, I was more than a little jealous, but you're technically with Wendy. Hell, you're on a date with her. Don't ignore her to go play footsie with the mermaids. Especially since they don't have any feet.

Pinoccio was an immature dolt as well. Simba, with his slicked mane was a spineless whiner which is why Scar captured my heart and don't even get me started on Mowgli. Of course Ashlee Simpson named her son after him, the lame are attracted to the lame! Bagheera, now he got shit done. He was also tall, dark, and handsome. Bet he was a panther in bed. Oh I amuse me. No but seriously, don't try to have sex with a real panther.

Aladdin was okay. But I was never really that into him. I think he'd make a fun older brother though, Prince Ali, fabulous he.

Quit looking at me like that, at least I'm not a furry.

Of Bathrooms, Good Ass Jeans, and Top Ten Lists

I was in New York about a month ago and I was staying with my mom in her hotel when I clicked on the TV and came across Vh1's, Greatest Artists of All Time list. Man, I remember when I would watch these countdowns religiously. I thought they were fun and interesting and I loved to argue with the screen when they would pick something that was absolutely wrong. I don't know why I placed so much importance in these lists as it just boils down to what some people believe to be true. Just because they got Ted Nugent to grudgingly admit Bon Jovi is one of the greatest metal bands (on the Greatest Metal Bands countdown) doesn't mean they actually are. Plus, why pick only the bands people have heard of? Yeah, you're obviously going to pick Black Sabbath as number one but guess what? I will get yelled at metal elitists but I find them boring. What about bands like Angel Witch? Your average person has probably never heard of them but I'd argue they should get a space on that list. Just because no one's ever heard of them doesn't negate their influence and "best status." Note: I didn't know Black Sabbath won out as the number one, I guessed it and then I just looked it up. Ding, ding, ding I was right. I think I always wished they'd put more of an effort in picking their choice but when it comes down to it, no one wants to watch some show about how a dinky little black metal band is actually very good, they'd like to feature big names like Rob Halford and jackass Lars Ulrich and VH1 teacher's pet Scott Ian blow even more smoke up Black Sabbath's ass.

But then, that's the draw I think. I really loved to watch whom they interviewed more than the list. Watching Bruce Dickinson explain why certain people chose metal was priceless: "Some people turn to like, bunnies and stuff like that. Others turned to metal." No matter what the list though, they always picked people who absolutely looooved whatever number they were talking about. Peter Gabriel was on Greatest Artists list and they had like 4 people talk about how "In Your Eyes," is the best song ever. No. It is not. Say Anything is an overrated movie, I hate John Cusack's character and the fact that he still represents "the sensitive boy" that everyone wants. I don't fucking want him. And if you're going with an epic Peter Gabriel song, pick, "Solsbury Hill." It's used in every trailer for every dramedy about coming to terms with what life hands you (I'm thinking of that Topher Grace/Dennis Quaid movie that nobody saw) and if I didn't secretly like it a lot, I would be sick to death of it.

I also sometimes questioned the people they picked. They had some dude once with corpse paint and his title was, "Metal Expert." WHAT. What makes him an expert? Because he has dumb make-up on he knows what he's talking about? What about the other, "expert," the guy wearing a Saxon shirt? No one listens to Saxon, you tool, so if you really like them you're giving the field of, "Metal Expertise," a bad name and if you're wearing it ironically well you should just kill yourself now because you spent money to wear something you don't like but think is kitschy and then went on a national show to broadcast this. Can I have this job? I feel like I could do really well in this market. Could I earn money being an official, "metal expert," and make business cards? Now would I have to take a whole class or just one test? And if you're the expert, how come you just agree with all the choices give to you? Can you not think of any bands that best befit this list on your own? Well that's not very expert-like.

I would like to see people sitting there going, "Nuh-uh, I don't agree. Here's why." Like when Beyonce got on the list too. Are you freakin' kidding me? She has been around for ten years, maybe less. What the hell makes her so great that she surpasses someone like Muddy Waters who isn't even on the list? I'm not the hugest blues fan but I know the importance of someone's influence and skill and ability to, I don't know, WRITE THEIR OWN SONGS. Beyonce has some catchy songs, yes, but with simple lyrics that appeal to either brain dead girls or brain dead gay men, she doesn't play an instrument, doesn't compose anything (oh bullshit on the writing credits for songs. That means she was in the room where the people who actually wrote the songs were working), and beyond having a good voice, doesn't do anything else. To be the greatest at something, I think you should work at it. Having a good voice is luck, it's something the universe gave you. What you do with that voice is what makes you great. But wait Leyla, Beyonce did do great things with her voice. She rose up and worked hard and had to wear the same outfits as two other girls before she could be an artist in her own right! Blah, blah, blah whatever. "If you like it then you should have put a ring on it," is hardly ground-breaking material.

But, as I said. It's someone else's opinion. Just because I disagree with it doesn't make me right. But it doesn't make me wrong either. Here are a few of MY top lists. I spent days of research, mulling over the choices, arguing with myself the pros and cons of each candidate, and even going as far as interviewing independent third parties to get objective opinions. Nah, I'm just kidding. Thought of them right now off the top of my head.

The Top Ten Weirdest Cats
10) The orange cat in our backyard that likes to surprise sex the females.
09) The other cat in our backyard that licks the spicy curry off the chicken we give it.
08) Maru
07) Egg
06) The cats in Jakarta Kate's dad told her about (with the hook tails)
05) Cheetahs
04) Yet another cat in our backyard that retched at chocolate milk
03) Persian cats
02) Cornish Rex cats
01) Sphynx cats


The Top 5 Best Colors
5) Turquoise
4) Hot Pink
3) Grey
2) Electric Purple
1) Royal Blue


The Top Ten Most Flattering Pieces of Clothing I Own
10) H&M lace dress
09) Mavi skinny jeans (good ass jeans)
08) Rob Halford t-shirt
07) Urban Outfitters leopard dress with front pockets
06) Evil Dead leather jacket
05) Denim studded vests (both)
04) Victoria's Secret Pink push-up bra
03) Zara white lace skirt
02) Red beaded Ranna Gill dress handed down from my mom
01) BDG fitted black pants (not me in the picture)


Top Ten Best Hardcore Superstar Songs
10) It's My Life
09) Shades of Grey
08) Nervous Breakdown
07) My Good Reputation
06) Spit It Out
05) We Don't Celebrate Sundays
04) Shame
03) Sensitive to the Light
02) Silence For the Peacefully
01) Not Dancing, Wanna Know Why?


Top Fifteen BEST Cats
15) Siamese
14) Russian Blue
13) Norwegian Forest Cat
12) Scottish Fold
11) Kittens
10) Bengal
09) Snow Leopard
08) Tiger
07) Abyssinian
06) Van Cat
05) Egyptian Mau
04) Ocelot
03) Bombay Cat
02) Any stray that needs a home
01) Egg


Top Ten Best Elephant-Themed Pieces I Own
10) White inlaid elephant bracelet from India
08) Silver bangle with engraved elephants
07) Elephant ring from Kit's mom's store
06) White elephant Aldo pendant
05) Gold Aldo ring
04) Ganeshji tapestry
03) Camel bone elephant figurines
02) Marble elephant figure
01) Mina's vintage elephant necklace she gave me


Top Five Bathrooms I've Ever Used
05) Harrods
04) Beyti
03) Park Hotel in Japan
02) Every single one in any Taj/Oberoi Hotel In India
01) My own in Istanbul


Worst Five Bathrooms I've Ever Used
05) Chinatown
04) Any bar in Istanbul
03) Behind the train outside while shooting friend's film Ivan
02) Any stop in eastern Turkey
01) Delhi airport

I Go Crazy, Oh So Crazy

I think the universe is trying to communicate with me through my iPod. It's always set on shuffle and the songs that come up really are trying to tell me something, Let's examine the evidence. Yesterday, after my foul mood had somewhat subsided I decided to go to the gym around 8:30 at night. On the way, I listened to my music and the first song to come up was, "Jump" by Madonna, the live version. I love that song and it always cheers me up and gets my adrenaline flowing. Next up was, "She's Got Balls," by AC/DC. Okay, I do have metaphorical balls and I am strong and I will get through the stupid days. Hooray me! And then I stepped off the curb and almost got hit by a bus and the song that started playing right afterwards was, "Blackout." Touche, universe, touche. Then I skipped ahead and it was, "The Lonely Shepherd." Well, yes I do feel lonely most of the time and melancholy music is not going to help that so we skip ahead and get Freddie Mercury's, "Living On My Own." I don't have no time for no monkey business indeed. See? No point in living in sad city when awesome town is right around the corner with, "Bang Your Head," by Quiet Riot. When all else fails, turn to metal. But what does, "Paradise City," right after it mean? I should go where the grass is green and the girls are pretty? LOS ANGELES? OH COME ON. Or... universe are you telling me I should be a lesbian? Oh. Apparently not. The next song was Motley Crue, "Chicks = Trouble." "What in the World," indeed, you said it Bowie. And then Van Halen's, "Poundcake," which also rang true because yes I would much rather be cooking up a long-lost recipe (and eating it) than be at the gym.

Is it bad that I always compare myself to the bigger ladies there and feel a tiny bit better? I did work out pretty hard though, my shirt was soaked through with sweat and I almost fell off the elliptical when I tried to jump down.

On the way home, I always walk by the same bar and hotel in Copley Square. I have this paranoia that the same people are always in there and they always see me trudging home, almost limping, sweaty, tired, and with my bangs scraped back in a weird, flat half-pompadour on my head. I kind of want to go in there, all put together, just to be like, "I don't ALWAYS look like that person, come on you just catch me at the wrong hour of evening."

This are the things I think about on the way home. They have nice doormen though. It was really windy and humid last night and as I walked by the one duty just said, "One more hour, hold out one more hour!' I laughed along with him but unfortunately it started raining maybe 2 seconds after he said that. He wished me a good rest of my night and I did the same for him. See? We're not all mean bastards in Boston.

I always fall for beauty and bath advertisements. I don't think there's a mascara out there I haven't tried. I have decent lashes except they're really light at the ends which pisses me off because of course, every other hair on my Middle Eastern body is darker than Rasputin's asshole but the hair that should be isn't. I still haven't found the perfect mascara and I'm not sure it exists. It's all a scam. I do use a Sephora's blue mascara though and it looks quite good on me and I'll thank you for not calling me a clown. It's a dark indigo blue. Anyway, I also fall for all shampoo and hair and body schemes too. I got a cherry blossom and ginseng shampoo that's supposed to be, "rejuvenating." I don't know what it rejuvenated but my hair smells like candy. I also got Dove's body wash in pomegranate and lemon verbena scent. It felt like I had washed with regular soap after I sued it, rather than the moisturizing extravaganza it was supposed to be. I was all stiff and squeaky. And my hair was stiff too. I mean, I guess stiffness is all right if you're a boy about to score but not on my hair and body. Ew, not like that on my hair and body either. My hair was especially troublesome as I've stopped brushing it when it's wet as that apparently breaks the hair and you're not supposed to brush curly hair anyway, just use fingers.

Ow, ow, OW SON OF A BITCH WHERE'S MY BRUSH? Screw what "they" say. I'll brush my goddamn hair. It looks weird when I don't and my part looks all crooked. Besides, I use enough products for curly hair they should do their job. We're apparently not supposed to shampoo our hair either but gee, having a knot of greasy dreadlocks just never appealed to me for some reason.

I have probably tried every product for curly hair too. I never really see a difference but I have mousses, creams, sprays, no gels because they're gross, spritzy stuff and even weird gummy wax stuff. I don't use it all at once, good God no. At max three. And a diffuser.

Sometimes I wish I had Jane Birkin hair.





But then I'd look like every other scene hipster girl and I think my hair kind of makes me stand out, as dumb as that sounds. I'm sorry but if I'm going to make the effort to look nice and tame my hair into good curls, and pass muster even by the disapproving standards I set myself, dammit I want to stand out. Lady friends, where are you? Validate me as I don't think any guys read this or any of my guy friends though I do bully them over Facebook to. Besides, I really doubt they'd get all mushy about how their non-single friend girl looks good. Though when I first got my bangs I did keep straightening my hair for a while and a couple guy friends did notice and make delightful comments. One has since become an L.A. zombie though and probably would never notice anything different about me now even if I got huge implants and smacked him in the face with them. Well maybe he'd notice that. They are one of the more noticeable assets his current girlfriend has. I'm such a bitch, man.

But. But, but, but he's the one who has forgotten all about us, his friends. I don't get when guys act like that after they get girlfriends. Okay, girls have their faults too, we usually ditch all our friends just to spend time with the boy and I'm guilty of this too back when I first started dating my boy and I do regret stuff like missing out on some things my roommates and then best friends did or had going on. But they probably don't hold it against me and if they do I'm so sorry, I was young and dumb and please tell me what I can do to make it up to you. Boys on the other hand, just seem to lose their souls. I will keep mum on names and I will always be pleasant to their lady companions but this is more to cover my ass than to be tactful. Hey, I'm nice and polite to everyone, even if I don't approve. I'm like my cat, Egg. Lovable and furry and I don't bite unless you don't quit poking me. But I don't think I'm like that. You know what I mean by that. That kind of girlfriend. The kind that throws a shit fit at the drop of a hat? I think i'm pretty mellow. Mellow like my sleepy time tea. It supposedly relaxes you and helps you sleep. Personally, I like the blackout effect of Tylenol PM when I can't sleep. Nyquil is good too but only when I'm sick or else we get in to raised eyebrow territory and no I don't chug cold medicine. Aleve PM is all right too but gives me jerky, fitful sleeping and weird nightmares. Last time, I dreamt I had a Tasmanian Devil tattoo, the Looney Tunes character, and I went to a tattoo shop and asked them to please cover it up and gave suggestions. They flat out said no, it couldn't be done which is when I realized in the dream that it was a dream because what the hell? You're an artist, rise up to the challenge!

Let's look at Megan Fox for a while. I just bought Elle Magazine because she's on the cover. She's so pretty. I enjoy looking at her.




Sometimes she says really dumb things though and I remember the days I really loathed her. Now, she just seems like such a pretty decoration. But like decorations she really shouldn't speak. Only annoying decorations speak. Like that Big-Mouth Billy Bass. Ugh. I will take him to the goddamn river and drown him. Except he's a fish so he wouldn't drown. Fine, I'll take him to the river, tease him by not dropping him in the water, and drown him ashore.

I really don't know how I got from mystical iPods to Billy Bass. I'm gonna eat some Cheez-Its and get back to writing. Don't worry mom they're reduced fat. And it's cheese crackers, how bad can they be? Cheese is protein. right? Oh no that's peanuts. Bang yooooour heeeeaaad.

Bugger

I'm stealing the title of the post from my cat's blog. How sad is that? How much sadder is it that my cat has a blog? And that her posts are infinitely more fun to read? Go read them, she is very bright and computer-savvy. Like A Mews. Even my cat makes fun of my blog name.

I'm having a bad day. This is not your cue to sing that song. You know that song. The one that goes, "You had a bad day something, something, something, something you had a bad day." You know what I'm talking about. I hate that song. I hate it so much. It's whiny and self-indulgent and just a terrible, terrible song. It's so bad! I hate it! It's stuck in my goddamn head now.

The cherry on the icing of my shit sundae today came when I checked the mail and my Cat Fancy Magazine was not in it. How sad is it that not getting Cat Fancy is what's tipping the scales? And no, I didn't subscribe myself to it. I'm not that pathetic. It was a gift from my thoughtful boyfriend. He bought me a year's subscription. It would be truly pathetic if I got myself a subscription to Cat Fancy. I'll probably renew it at the end of the year. They're featuring a Bombay cat on the cover this next month and I want it as my kitty is a Bombay cat. I saw it when I was at Petco. I went to Petco two days in a row. To get cat food for my cat and to take my cat to get her claws trimmed. Because I don't like getting a blood transfusion every time I try to do it myself. I like Petco. I like all the animals they have. This is why I shouldn't be allowed to go to Petco. I waste precious "writing time" there, trying to get amphibians to love me. Except nowhere else carries my spoiled fat kitty's food. Science Diet Light for ages 1-6, "for optimum weight control," if you were curious. Let's take a moment to look at the pictures I took as I stood there wishing I could own every animal there. Especially the bug-eyed, long-tongued variety of animal.




I took a picture of a goddamn tarantula and thought it was cute. What is wrong with me?

I would like a skink one day though. The one they usually have was not there anymore. I hope he got a good home. Skink spam!





They're so very cute with their blue tongues. I wish to own many. There were other lizards there too. I got to watch them eat lunch. They chomped on live crickets and made the best faces.


Awww, they're kissing. Oh skinks. You inspire sonnets you muses of the reptile world.

So I'm having a bad day. I've gotten rejected so many times from so many jobs that when I got today's rejection email, I didn't even remember applying to the place. Just as well. It was in New York.

I really wish I had my Cat Fancy. Looking at cute kitties calms me down. Oh screw you, I like animals. Leave me alone.

I'm working on a novel and a screenplay. How pretentious does that sound? How sad is it that I can't get moving on either one even though I have piles of notes on my phone, on my iPod, on the sticky notes on my computer, and various other places. Isn't it sad that the reason is okay, what if I do write them. And manage to edit them well. Then submit them to Gersh who said I could. Then what? They're just going to read and give me coverage? Piss on that, I can do that myself thank you very much, it's my goddamn job. Or worse, send it back and say meh.

I'm having a bad day. My cat keeps peeing in secret corners. She also gets scared after pooping and runs out of the bathroom with her litterbox and wipes her paws like a madwoman on my rug. I really don't know what to do. She obviously has some bathroom trauma that I can't fix. Maybe I need a pet psychic. Maybe I need my damn Cat Fancy, it could have helpful advice. Maybe it's a Bombay cat thing but I won't know until the damn issue arrives.

Oh, but I got a letter from my best friend. She included a full-page ad for SPAM (with an exclusive offer for sterling silver spoon rings on the back) and a picture of us in fifth grade.


I'm the ugly dork in glasses. She's the one in the middle. The other girl is someone who went to elementary and middle school with us. I'm friends with her on Facebook but beyond that I don't think I've talked to her in about ten years.

I hate that, "You had a bad day," song so goddamn much.

She also sent this picture of a fire extinguisher dressed up in a bandanna and straw hat with a card calling me an, "awesome and bestest friend."


I guess it's not that bad a day. As long as I have a picture of a fire extinguisher dressed up in a bandanna and straw hat.