i want a dog

i really want a dog. in the same way that a teenage girl desperately wants a baby for the unconditional love, but is completely incapable of caring for it.

i wish i was a little bit taller, i wish i was a baller...

and a '64 impala wouldn't be too bad.
my whole life i have been in the first row of group photographs. and when i complained about it to my parents they told me not to worry, that one day i would have a growth spurt and be the tallest person in my class.
they lied.
i really do wish i was a bit taller though... not so tall that i had to buy clothing at big and tall stores and sleep in convoluted positions so as to fit on a mattress, just taller than most.
i have a friend who IS taller than most. much taller than most.
and while there are advantages to being a tall drink of water... i.e. being able to see over shop counters at a young age, lots of attentions from the opposite sex/same sex.
there are also disadvantages. and number one on that list of disadvantages (right after ducking after the door, and trouble finding attractive shoes that fit) are the unwelcome snappy remarks from strangers young and old. from what i understand, there are only so many times one can be asked if they play basketball and how the weather is up there.

a little extreme?

this is pretty much how i feel about pickles...
seriously.

sweep it under the rug

everytime i see a man wearing a toupe i have an urge to sneak up behind him and whisper in his ear, "everyone knows your secret..."
really, if you think about it i'd be doing him a favor.... and everyone that looks at him too.

shirley temple

i hate performing children. to me dakota fanning, that kid from jerry maguire, the culkins as a whole all seem like this...

creepy little midgets vying for attention.

its not so much that i don't like children in general... it's more that most child stars have an aura of desperate spookiness that pervades every movie their in and every song they sing. it's like you can tell that they're working their darndest to smile and be cute so that mommy's dreams can come true... i.e. a big new mcmansion and even bigger new titties.

i think this stems from my grandmother not allowing me to watch shirley temple movies when i was little. "there's something sinister about her saccharine sweetness," she told me. and i do have to say that while i didn't understand that when i was smaller, i completely agree with her now.

this kid however is very talented...

and furthermore the fact that this video doesn't give me the heebie-jeebies is a miracle in itself.

give it a rest urban outfitters

dear reader,
i'm sure you know that ithaca is infact gorges. you've most likely been inundated that everybody loves italian, irish, and jewish boys/girls. so when will urban outfitters stop making tshirts that proclaim these rather pointless truths?
mm

really?

i work at a restaurant whose special is an all you can eat pasta dinner...
why is it that more often than not the people who order this are the last people who should?

most sensible purchase ever

remember when you were in fourth grade and all you wanted were hammer pants and black hightop reeboks?
i do.
and i made my dreams come true.
call them what you will zubaz pants, genie-man pants, stupid. i still love them.
and until that fateful day six months from now when i'll happen across a picture of myself and ruefully mumble, "what was i thinking?" i swear to everyone on the internets and webs,
I WILL WEAR THEM EVERY CHANCE I GET.

i think i might be broken

no not emotionally... although that is questionable.
yesterday i got drunk on the roof with friends to watch the sunset, after which i received an impromptu massage by a friend who is a massage therapist. it felt so good at the time.
but i woke up this morning smelling like tiger balm and sore as a (insert your own one-liner involving one of the various types of whores).
is it really worth it for the few minutes of pleasure to feel worse than i did before?
ps. it takes everything in me to hold back from saying massage like austin powers.

dress code

i work as the maitre'd at a restaurant and often get calls regarding our dress code (which we don't have) and whats appropriate (which sadly is most things).

"can i wear jeans?"... "totally, i'm wearing some right now."

"can i wear a tshirt?"... "of course."

"can i wear a swim suit?"..."uh... i mean yeah... i guess. i mean, if you must?"

discrimination

this morning on my subway ride to work i was people watching... it's kind of a problem as my "people watching" is really just staring intensely at strangers. this morning i was leering at a this nebbishy guy who had chosen to wear a rather clunky pair of man sandals when i realized that he was sitting next to a very pretty black girl who was clearly his girlfriend.
it was then that i was hit with a wave of panic. i knew, i just knew that they had seen me silently judging his choice of footwear and had probably mistaken me for hating on their jungle fever.
so to set the record straight. i approve of jungle fever, i can not however approve of man sandals.

acts of charity

yesterday a hobo complemented me on my short shorts. normally i avert my eyes and hum a happy song when i see a bum... but i sure do love a complement. he then went on to give me a highfive... which i weakly accepted.
of course this was all building up to solicitation for spare change. which was duly denied.
but i consider the fact that i touched a homeless person charity enough.

weddings

went to a wedding this weekend. enjoyed the open bar, danced my pants off, people watched. and here's my feeling on weddings. if you can't afford to get 100 people drunk enough to freely dance to "it's raining men", then you can't afford to get married.
ps. congratulations amy and clay!