Wednesday, January 27, 2010

The Art of the Morose Moose

sometimes things don't workout like you want them too.

sometimes things don't workout period.

sometimes i forget to workout.

and by forget i mean leave my gym bag at home in favor of a sexy take-out bag from last night’s late night mexican binge.

have i said too much?

when does too much become not enough?

when does not enough become a reason to leave?

when does leaving become impossible due to the fact that there is simply too much stuff?

does the fact that there is too much to do play into stuff not working out?

every one's got stuff.

sometimes you can see the stuff and sometimes you know it’s there, just by the way the person moves their mouth.

you can’t fight off what you can’t see.

leave your stuff on the counter, someone will be along to take it away.

fill your brain with useless stuff.

isn't that what college was for?

i've lived too long in vagueness.

let's talk about something more concrete.

it's not rocket science, it's just collating.

today i’m existing on a whisper.

it is amazing how many things a person can actually fall off of. i should know. i’ve tried most of them.

being klutzy is an art form.

this week in jenna theatre – jenna is in a changing room at macy's in new york city. next to her is a dad and daughter trying on dresses. the following occurred while jenna was inside her changing stall.
dad – are you sure you don’t want me to come in there with you?
daughter – yes dad, sheesh, there is not enough room for two people.
dad – ok. let me see the first dress.
daughter – i look fat.
dad – let me see.
(door opening)
dad – oh honey, you don’t look fat. you look sexy. you have sexy curves. your mother used to have sexy curves like that when i first fell in love with her. men love curves.
daughter – i don’t know. i’m not sure this type of dress works for me.
dad – you’re just saying that because i picked it out. here try this one.
daughter – but dad my chest is too big to not wear a bra!
dad – guys hate bras. just let me see you in it.
daughter – fine.
(a little later)
dad – are you coming out?
daughter – i think i look like a hooker.
dad – let me see.
(door opens)
dad – you don’t look trashy at all. you look so sexy. really, really sexy.
daughter – you think?
dad – oh yes, yes i do….

and this is why i hate to go shopping.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

The Art of Eating Eel off Easy Street

i feel like i was hit by a bus.

or at the very least, one of those taxi vans.

what should you do if you think your friend bought a one-way ticket on the STD train?

after watching, romeo and juliet the ballet, i had several questions rolling around in my head.

the question that bugged me the most, however, was what the fuck is the friar doing with fucking poison that makes you look like you're dead?

seriously. why would a friar ever have the need for such a specific poison, much less just have it lying around his crib?

seems mighty sketchy to me. i think i smell a prequel...

sometimes going to the gym makes me realize 6-packs have been given to unworthy people.

days like today, i'd like nothing more than to go home and curl up with a good vodka.

i've been trying to cut back on the socially drinking thing, but now i have nothing to blame the social awkwardness on.

i'm way witty when whiskey is involved.

is anything ever that easy?

i've often found that if it's easy come, it's never easy go.

when someone tells you to take it easy in an argument or confrontation, why does it provoke the opposite reaction?

ask a dyslexic if it really is as easy as a, b, c.

that’s easy for you to say. well, technically, with very few exceptions, it’s easy for everyone to say. it’s just not easy for everyone to mean it.

easy does usually do it, unless you're trying to break down a door. then easy is completely useless.

while i have met plenty of people who are easy on the eyes, i've also met some people who were hard on the eyes. seems counter-intuitive.

that’s not an easy word to spell.

you don't have to let me off easy, i know i'm hard to handle.

it’s so easy it’s like a cake walk.

seems to me, a cake walk would be a rather difficult thing.

like what shoes does one wear to walk on a cake?

does one have to have a specific cake in mind, or can you just troll the neighborhood looking for a 6 year old's birthday party.

do you eat the cake afterwards?

seems like a waste of perfectly good cake to me.

mmm cake.

this week in jenna theatre, while jenna is on her way to a run in central park. due to construction, the subways are all running on different schedules. double checking what she thinks to be the correct path, she asks the toll both attendant for assistance.
jenna – just checking are all trains stopping at 72nd street?
attendant – train is making express stops
jenna – does that include 72nd street?
attendant – what?
jenna – 72nd street!
attendant – come through the turnstile, i can’t hear you.
(jenna goes through)
attendant – you know you have to pay to get back through.
jenna – then why did you call me over here?
attendant – i couldn’t hear you over the train.
jenna – train?
attendant – train….(points)
jenna – (train comes…and leaves while jenna tries to get her card to magically swipe, an annoying feature in unlimited metro cards)
attendant – that’s the train you needed.

i guess that’s what i get for taking the easy way out.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

The Art of Swearing Off Swear Words

can someone be a beer connoisseur if they are only passionate about coors light?

there are some people who inspire me to learn boxing.

sometimes i just don't know.

i mean, do you know?

how do you know you know? i certainly don't know.

if knowing is half the battle, what the fuck is the other half?

is that other half harder than the knowing part?

if you don't know can you really go to battle?

and if knowledge is power, than why am i not winning this fucking battle?

if it really becomes a battle to the death, wouldn't it be easier to simply say you don't know?

the more you know.

nothing happened. i just feel this way.

which, is sometimes easier to swallow than my cooking.

not to say i'm a bad cook, but i don't believe in following recipes.

i also might be allergic to fish.

even saying the word fish makes me itchy.

i wonder how many people actually have allergies.

i'm probably not allergic to fish, i just don't really like it and people keep trying to make me eat it and the only way to get out of eating things you don't like is to say you're allergic.

you can't argue a swollen face.

or vomiting for that matter.

sometimes i feel really chatty.

this has been one of those times.

it just passed. i'll probably not feel like talking for another couple of hours.

sometimes at work i try to see how long i can go without having an actual conversation. so far, so good.

but it gets tricky when your boss gets thrown into the mix.

sometimes things don’t need to be explained.

when it comes to me, i find that rule to be particularly relevant.

this week in jenna theatre, jenna is trying to get her bag back from the bouncer at a bar she had just left about 20 minutes before. halfway downtown, she realized her entire life was sitting under the bar stool and she ran 5 blocks in the freezing cold to claim her stuff.
bouncer - ID
jenna - i was just here, i need to get my bag.
bouncer - ID to get into the bar.
jenna - ok. got that but my it's in my bag. that's right there. under the table. i see it.
bouncer - that's your bag?
jenna - yeah.
bouncer - are you drinking?
jenna - i don't want to drink, i want to go home. preferably with my bag that's under that table.
bouncer - i found that bag. so i put it on a chair so i could watch it.
jenna - ok. thank you so much.
bouncer - people will take things you know.
jenna - yeah. i'm so lucky. thank you so so so much.
bouncer - it's pretty irresponsible for you to leave your bag.
jenna - umm yeah, it was an accident.
bouncer - be happy i'm a nice guy. this is new york city. people would just steal your bag.
jenna - ok. i'm gonna get my bag.
bouncer - just be more responsible, if you were my daughter…..
jenna - ok, well, thanks, bye.

everyone is a critic.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

The Art of Selling the Cart Before the Horse

sometimes i think i missed out on my college dorm experience.

then i use the bathrooms at work and i feel ok.

i enjoy a version of little drummer boy that does not include a single drum.

that’s what you get for going to a unitarian church.

i don't know how to feel about new years.

i feel like it’s weird that it should mean so much to so many, like it should mark a change in something. that suddenly due to the clock turning midnight, something dramatic should change.

i suppose that there is a change.

but is there enough change to go around?

what should i do with the spare change?

i've been putting it in a jar by my bed.

i figure i can pay a bill or something with it.

a change we can all believe in.

this year for a change, i'll make a resolution.

this year i resolve to be more resolute.

it's not a revolutionary concept.

but at least, on the surface, it is conceptually sound. at least that's what they tell me.

don't even get me started on the proverbial them.

they are often as dull as mud.

you're a real stick in the mud.

you also look like a pig, too, but that's neither here nor there.

that expression baffles me. “stick in the mud.”

is this really a bad thing?

who out there has a real preference to whether or not their mud contains a stick?

does the discovery of said stick ruin any one's day?

is the mud then null and void?

must we call mud containing a stick another name?

and what of the children?

the children!

this week in jenna theatre – jenna is on the subway heading home from an annoying day at work. needless to say she is not in a chipper mood, so when a random guy is staring at her, then moves to sit next to her, she is not amused.
mark – what stop is next?
jenna – roosevelt ave.
mark – oh, ok, that’s what i thought.
mark – what time is it?
jenna – i don’t know.
mark – oh. they should put clocks in here.
mark – i’m mark, by the way.
jenna – hey
mark – and you are?
jenna – busy
mark – haha, like that actress?
jenna – yeah….sorry, i’m just trying to finish my book…
mark – i’m sorry.
mark - i just feel like i know you from somewhere.
jenna – is that so? probably not. i don’t really do anything.
mark – what do you do?
jenna – read
mark – maybe it’s fate…i’ve been into astrology lately….my horoscope said i’d meet someone in a new way…what’s your sign?
jenna – the middle finger…

just sayin.

but then again, i’m always, just sayin’…

you can call it what you’d like, but i still call it bullshit.

and bullshit, is always on sale.