Classic NYC Story

This crew as well I’ve seen before… at least, I’ve seen the ringleader with a different set of dancers. This is another one that’s better live, if only because the person who took this video (intelligently) edited out all the bad jokes, which are funny when you hear them in person, but not so much when you watch a video of it later. He did manage to get across though that the ringleader is nothing short of a clown, haha. The time I saw him he was wearing a leapord-print leotard with a tail. Yeah. A clown.

Yesterday I wanted to have parts of my brain surgically removed. Today I’ll settle for just my ovaries.

I celebrate my non-conformity and insubordination. (I heard those two words quite a bit in high school; the former from my peers and the latter from the dean.) I celebrate the fact that I’m not dead yet despite my best efforts. I celebrate the Rite of Spring, and the fact that it gets warmer every year after the winter is over.

Having completely run out of reasons to be prickly, I gave him a hug and addressed him as “superstar” before leaving the club. “Call me next time you want a cupcake,” I said. He won’t, but that’s okay.

There has to be some corner of the city, some cardboard box or other into which I can crawl and hide when I’m done with the world. I already know that it’s up to me to create this box. I just wish I knew where to find some fucking cardboard…

Yes, yes, I know I’m a day late, but better late than never! Here’s a classic NYC story for you: a few years back, a clash between my parents and my now-ex husband caused us to get put out of their house on Christmas eve night. Actually, only my husband got put out. I was [...]

I took my jeans off again when I got home and took a good look at myself in that dress. It might be the shortest dress I own, with a hemline that stops a couple of inches above my knees and shows off my surprisingly-thick-for-a-skinny-girl legs. It has a somewhat clingy material, which accents curves in places where I don’t really have them. It is certainly one of the few articles of clothing I own that fits me as well as it does. Holy shit, I look good in that old dress.

I called and left a message for my sister (Gemini), my friend in Boston (Taurus), and my ex husband (Aquarius) wishing them all “happy birthday.” I went around all day telling people “happy birthday” whose birthday it was not.

This is problematic for me only because I think my professor wants me to imitate his style of singing, and I’m like “no.” Actually, I didn’t explicitly say “no.” I’ve got more sense than to bad-talk Stevie Wonder’s high notes in front of a room full of jazz musicians who are all bigger than I am…

I ended up staying in the bathroom for over an hour. My nose and cheeks had swollen up to twice their normal size. My fingertips were swollen as well, and bright red. My stomach would not allow my legs to keep me perpendicular enough to cool my face down with wet paper towels, and eventually I crumbled into a corner, keeping my face near the cold tile floor and trying not to be conspicuous, even as several ladies came in and out of the bathroom wondering whose pants those were in the corner of the far stall.