an open letter to fat people

dear fat people,

you're fat. i totally respect that. i fully support the whole "refusing-to-conform-to-society's-demands" thing, and i think most of what doctors tell us is hogwash. working out sucks, dieting sucks more, big is beautiful, and cheese is delicious. for the most part, i'm on your side.

for the most part.

because, you see, dear fatties, i do have one very serious bone to pick with you (get it? because they love to eat). if and when you find yourself needing to walk down the sidewalk in manhattan - although i understand that you must necessarily move slowly, and i also understand that such an undertaking is eased by the presence of one of your similarly tubby friends - it is NOT necessary that the two (or three! or more!) of you walk side by side. it's just not. these sidewalks are narrow, and there are 8 million more new yorkers (many of us faster-moving) who would like to get by. and, while i suspect you would not be ok with me grabbing the rolls around your midsection and hollering, "outta the way, tons o'fun!", i am not above doing so if that's what it takes to get me home and to my knitting-and-a-glass-of-wine raucous evening plans a little faster.

so, please, for your sakes and mine, let's try single file.

love and jiggles,
julie

missed tuesday makeup

my deepest (but not humble in the least) apologies for my nonblogginess yesterday. you see, i spent most of the day under my desk in the fetal position, rocking back and forth and trembling. today is much better -- i've had more caffeine.

aaaaaaaaaanyhoo, today, i thought you'd enjoy an inside peek into midtown mayhem. you see, i know this is the sort of thing that bloggy geeks aren't supposed to talk about, but i hate being told what to do and enjoy being destructive, so i'm going to let you in on a little secret: i have a fancy schmancy tracker that tells me how many people load my blog and where. don't worry, it doesn't give me enough specifics to know who you are or where specifically, but it's enough to get a feel for where in the world my faithful readers live. it also has a nifty feature that tells me which search words lead people here.

which brings me to my question: why in the world are so many of you looking for mean bitches? perhaps you remember a post i did a while back, wherein i re-posted an old ym quiz that claimed to ascertain whether or not you are, in fact, a mean girl. naively, i titled my post mean bitches. apparently, this is also the name of a rather popular bondage porn site. so popular, in fact, that, out of the last 100 visitors to midtown mayhem, 19 were led here by searching for "mean bitches". that's a pretty solid percentage (almost 20%!).

not only that, but this is the most cosmopolitan group of readers i've ever had! it includes perverts from new york, austria, LA, italy, mexico, arkansas, canada, romania, china, UK, arizona, germany, and some magical sounding place called "rochester". (oooooooooooohhh).

improv where?

so, on saturday, Cousin Leah and i participated in an improv everywhere mission. these kids are the absolute coolest and i totally want to be BFF with them now. they haven't added this most recent mission to the web page yet, but i imagine they will eventually, so sit tight.

in the meantime, you can entertain yourselves with this video of a previous IE mission, performed in las vegas, and you should understand pretty quickly how awesome these peeps are:


(note: you don't need sound to appreciate the awesomeness, so don't let that stop you.)

cast your votes now!

should i, or should i not, get my hair cut like our gal zooey?

this is a wee bit effed up

apparently, al sharpton's ancestors were owned by strom thurmond's. but the really upsetting thing about this is that all i can think about is that episode of family guy - you know, the one where peter finds out he has a black ancestor who was owned by lois's ancestors. you know the one i'm talking about.

to be fair, this was a fantastic episode - in which stewie also convinces O.J. to do something about his cheating wife, and dennis miller goes on a rant, and peter turns the house into peewee's playhouse, and quagmire, upon finding a bound and gagged high school cheerleader in the bathroom, blurts out, "dear diary... JACKPOT."

I don't wanna go on a rant here, but America's foreign policy makes about as much sense as Beowolf having sex with Robert Fulton at the first Battle of Antietam. I mean, when a neo-conservative defenstrates, it's like Raskolnikov filibuster deoxymonohydroxinate.

come on, you loved it.

midtown mayhem q&a

in the comments section on my dream interpretation post, Cousin Leah alluded to a rather disturbing dream she recently had. or, you know, someone had. not necessarily anyone i know. anyway.

i was going to paste this as a response to her comment, but it ended up being too long and too excellent to leave there, so for those of you who can't be bothered to click on those little links, here you go:

leah

said...
where do i find that dream interpreter? i wonder what it says about violently squeezing a coworker's nipple....
12:43 AM

well, leah, i'm so glad you asked:

Coworker

To see your coworkers in your dream, highlights aspects of your waking relationship with them, including difficulties/support. It signifies your ambition, struggles and competitive nature. If the coworkers in your dream are not your actual coworkers, then they may pertain to some psychological business that you need to work on.

To dream that you are training someone to take your place, suggests that you are moving on with respect to some task or inner development. You are leaving behind old attitudes and are looking toward the future.

Nipples

To see nipples in your dream, relate to infantile needs and a regression into dependency.

To dream that you are squeezing pus out of your nipples, refers to your negative feelings about relationships. You are feeling sexually inadequate.

Blood

To see blood in your dream, represents life, love, and passion as well as disappointments. If you see the word "blood" written in your dream, then it may refer to some situation in your life that is permanent and cannot be changed.

To dream that you are bleeding or losing blood, signifies that you are suffering from exhaustion or that you are feeling emotionally drained. It may also denote bitter confrontations between you and your friends. Your past actions has come back to haunt you. Women often dream of blood or of someone bleeding shortly before or during their periods and when they are pregnant.

To dream that something is written in blood, represents the energy you have put into a project. You have invested so much effort into something that you are not willing to give it up.

To dream that you are drinking blood, indicates that you have a fresh burst of vitality and power.

**See The Meaning In Action: "Menstruation"

unfortunately, this one doesn't seem to appear on the list of "common dreams". i guess more relevant is this listing:

Torture

To dream that you are being tortured, indicates that you are feeling victimized or helpless in some relationship or situation. Alternatively, you may be exhibiting some sadomasochistic desires.

To dream that you are torturing others or see others being tortured, suggests that you are punishing yourself for your own negative or bad habits. You are projecting yourself onto the person or animal being tortured. Consider the symbolism of who is being tortured. Alternatively, the dream may indicate repressed feelings of revenge which you are not able to act on in your waking life.

perhaps this is where i put my disclaimer that "dream interpretation" is utter bullshit.

last night's sleep

in case you were wondering, it turned out to be: not well.

poofy-neck kept me up and tossing and turning for most of the night.

perhaps tellingly, an online dream interpretation guide tells me, under the entry for "neck", that

To see your neck in your dream, signifies the relationship between the mind/mental and the body/physical. It represents willpower, self-restriction and your need to control your feelings and keep them in check. Consider the familiar phrase, "don't stick your neck out" which serves as a warning against a situation.

To dream that your neck is injured, indicates a separation between your heart and mind.

To dream of a thick neck, signifies that you are becoming very quarrelsome and quick-tempered.

fortunately for me, i'm far too tired to quarrel with anyone. Anyway, the aforepictured neck qualifies, in my opinion, not as "thick" per se, but more as "flaboobly", which doesn't appear anywhere in my dream guide.

alas.

from the depths of my nightmares...

...or page six. does it really matter? the real question is, WHAT THE EFF IS HAPPENING WITH THIS GUY'S NECK?! is it just me? it can't be me. i've been staring at this image for ten minutes trying to figure out what's wrong with him. gout? what is gout? it certainly sounds like something that would make your neck puff up.

the article doesn't say which one of the characters in the story he is, but i assume from the text that he's the owner of kobe club, who is pissed at frank bruni for giving him a bad review.

not that that matters either. my main concern now is how i'm going to sleep tonight, knowing this guy's neck is out there, lurking in its own shadows.

february

speaking of song lyrics, and the nields, it seems only appropriate to mention february, one of my favorite songs in the world, by dar williams, who happens to be, like, BFF with katryna and nerissa.

I threw your keys in the water, I looked back,
They'd frozen halfway down in the ice.
They froze up so quickly, the keys and their owners,
Even after the anger, it all turned silent, and
The everyday turned solitary,
So we came to february.

First we forgot where we'd planted those bulbs last year,
Then we forgot that we'd planted at all,
Then we forgot what plants are altogether,
And I blamed you for my freezing and forgetting and
The nights were long and cold and scary,
Can we live through february?

You know I think christmas was a long red glare,
Shot up like a warning, we gave presents without cards,
And then the snow,
And then the snow came, we were always out shoveling,
And we'd drop to sleep exhausted,
Then we'd wake up, and it's snowing.

And february was so long that it lasted into march
And found us walking a path alone together.
You stopped and pointed and you said, that's a crocus,
And I said, what's a crocus? and you said, it's a flower,
I tried to remember, but I said, what's a flower?
You said, i still love you.

The leaves were turning as we drove to the hardware store,
My new lover made me keys to the house,
And when we got home, well we just started chopping wood,
Because you never know how next year will be,
And we'll gather all our arms can carry,
I have lost to february.

really, if you ever enjoy folk music even a little, you should check this one out.

a sooty face = the new yellow star?

what a lovely day to out some catholics.

so, i guess today is ash wednesday, a fact i discovered after trying to clean the forehead of bernie, our maintenance guy, with my own spit-covered thumb (shut up, it's instinct). to me, this means that it's the day of the year when i get to find out who among my colleagues is one of "them". in a community where, in some circles, catholicism is at least as widely reviled as judaism (ok, maybe not quite, but you know what i mean) , it feels a little dirty to me (pun completely intended) to require that particular 26% subgroup to mark themselves in such a conspicuous way. on the upside, i guess, now i know enough to cross bernie off my "people to talk to about how cool abortion is" list.

and, finally, this is a great excuse to post a sample from one of my all-time favorite nields songs about teen pregnancy, ash wednesday:

Daddy's on the back porch playing with a blowtorch
Standing by the front door, Avon Ladies for the Poor
Meanwhile Mama smiles, "Get your lover down the aisle
Before he's gone"

Lisa says, "Don't cry, I'll bring you flowers when you die
I'll go to school in only black or maybe in a gunny sack
I'll get your friends to stand around and dance upon buried ground
On our front lawn

But don't you worry, I'm sure she's sorry
And doesn't mean that stuff about the aisle"

Ring around the rosy, a pocket full of posy
Ashes ashes, we all fall down

The test came back on Tuesday last just before our pseudo-fast
Lisa says, "It's heaven-sent, you can't give ice cream up for Lent"
Mama said I wouldn't last forty days
But maybe two

So I spent the day avoiding Mother, reading Dr. Joyce Brothers
Reading Where The Wild Things Are and some of Plath's Bell Jar
Reading Daddy's tax forms to see if it would be born
On Christmas Day

And I am not weeping, I think I'm keeping
A baby who will soon be half my age

Ring around the rosy, a pocket full of posy
Ashes ashes, we all fall down

Quitting smoking is a must, ashes ashes dust to dust
Try to turn a new leaf, giving up pork and beef
Lisa says she'll buy me bras and maybe I should join a spa
Or take Lamaze

It's funny how you never know exactly when you're asked to grow
Exactly when you take the load or head up on your own road
Exactly which the day will be, maybe Ash Wednesday
Or Mardi Gras

So I will change 'cause I have changed
It's time to put these combat boots away

Ring around the rosy, a pocket full of posy
Ashes ashes, we all fall down

shut up, myspace. you're not the boss of me.

seriously? come *on*.

a plea to the public, or whoever is in charge of stuff:







give me the kids. for real. i mean, ok, yeah, maybe i would get them a little drunk from time to time, or slip em a xanax when they just. won't. go. to sleep, but i'm pretty sure - no, i am positive - that i would make a better parent than either of these two assclowns. a couple of tequila shots at naptime is nothing compared to what they're used to by now.

maybe one of you can start an online petition or something.

tyra banks is the howard dean of daytime tv

i feel really conflicted about posting this, because i hate tyra banks and i really hate to contribute to her slow but certain world takeover. on the other hand: wow.

so here it is, courtesy of bethesda (whom i callously omitted from my cast of characters but who, you should know, is doing quite well):
stick with it. it starts to get good around 1:38.

where are they now?

i'd like to take a moment to catch you all up on the lives of my cast of characters: how they've evolved over the last few months, who's done what/whom, and so on.

• maggie turned out to be a superstar at her new job


• i caught my wife screwing around on me and beat the hell out of her


• patsy stopped blogging, started again, stopped again, quit facebook, re-joined facebook, and bought some flip-flops (HA!)


• poshua found true love, and i was totally happy for him and not jealous, i don't care what you heard, shut up


• Cousin Leah started her own blog


• i want to say more, but i seriously cannot stop thinking about macaroni and cheese. god, i'm such a fat kid

recipe: fabulous weekend

1 former roommate
1 roundtrip houston-nyc plane ticket
delicious tapas
3-day weekend
2 c tequila
splash of debauchery
new york city, to taste

mix all ingredients until ridiculous. serve spicy hot.

a brief recap of the last few months

to make up for my non-blogginess over the last few months, i guess i should try to itemize the significant events that happened while i was off the air:

• facebook added the controversial news feed feature



• israel imploded



• india exploded



• i turned 23



• millions of travelers were dehydrated



• a missing austrian chick escaped crazy man's dungeon, turned out to be crazyish herself



• the sox blew it



• the pats blew it



• bob barker announced that he's going to stop groping his Beauties
  
  
• pastor ted, huge fag



• gerald ford died, no one really seemed to care that much



• we learned how kramer feels about black people



• saddam poked with sticks, executed



• r.i.p. ken lay, steve irwin, cory lidle, rosa parks, robert altman, pinochet, james brown, and anna nicole (even in death, you're so outrageous)



• that awesome astronaut thing

while you were cheezing it

they put a vending machine in our pantry at work. this is terrible news. not just because i enjoy being mad about everything, but because i also have zero self-discipline. (i'm really the kind of gal you want to take home to mom)

until today, the only thing stopping me from ballooning up to 800 pounds was sheer laziness. i love food - and i loooooooooooove high-calorie junk food - but getting it from the position of sitting at my desk was just too much work for me. so i stuck to coffee, diet coke (from the preexisting soda vending machine, of which i approve, for the record), and the lunches and snacks i brought from home (where junk food is relatively scarce, as i am also a fabulous cook - in case you wanted to know) - or often purchased in the relatively health-conscious corporate cafeteria.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanyway, all my good intentions went to hell in a handbasket today when i strutted into the pantry for my daily fix of artificial sweeteners and was sucked toward a black hole that wasn't there yesterday. there is

a SNACK MACHINE.

it has

CHEEZ-ITS.

and not just any cheez-its; no, this is a super-sized 3-ounce package. the nutrition label says it has 2.5 servings.

are they implying that i should be buying this bag, eating 40% of it, and tucking the rest away in my paper clip drawer until i should next feel the twinge of snacktime approaching? in the immortal words of cher in clueless (a.k.a. one of the best films ever made, for the record), "um, i don't think so!"

so what's for dinner?

pretty slick

maybe you're wondering what could have drawn me out of my "i love new york"-and-miso coma and compelled me to blog again. i've got one word for you: bitching.

i'm not just going to bitch about the 100% ridic coldness going on today. that's pretty friggin' unoriginal. no, i'm going to bitch about other aspects of the weather. that's right. the flippin' freezing rain that assaulted me on my way to work today.

normally, i love that i live within easy walking distance of my office. but "easy" is relative, and when you feel like your body is being used for target practice by an army of angry Littles with tiny (but precious!) BB guns for fifteen minutes, that walk starts to seem awfully long.

but i'm tough, and i'm from colder climes, and it wouldn't have been so bad, if i hadn't been SALTED. TWICE. while just trotting down the sidewalk and minding my own unsalty business. have you seen those guys? they push what look like itty bitty wheelbarrows down the sidewalk and you don't realize until it's too late that they fire rocket-propelled balls of salt at the ankles of passerby. i guess they're trying to do a public service and melt the little icicles that were forming inside my shoes, but that really did nothing for the shellacking of ice i wore as a hat when i showed up at my office. late.

alas.

i'm a huge liar

but you knew that already.

ok, it took some time, but i realized i made a huge mistake, baby, and i hope you'll take me back. if not for me, then for the kids.

you know, the kids. all those confused twentysomethings just wandering aimlessly in the world, looking for another way to procrastinate. won't they be happy to know we're back together?

admit it. you want this too.

that's right, all you crazy young 'uns. i'm back on the air. ain't nothin' gonna stop us now.

(unless i happen to pass by a shiny object or have a lot of work to do.)