I have to go cool myself off

It's true, I have an obsession with beards. I've had it for a while - at least longer than a few months.

Yea, yea, I know, it's a hipster thing now, just like faux-hawks were about two years ago. Everyone on Bedford Avenue has a beard now. Or at least those who can grow one has it. It varies from the scraggly "I don't feel like shaving today" post-5 o'clock shadow to the fully grown "I am a man's man!" beard.

Despite these recent trends, now documented even by the New York Times, I've taken beards seriously for some time. I have several witnesses who can confirm my disappointment when my friend decided to shave his beard about a year or so ago. Clearly, under pressure from his fiancee, in a state of utter distress, he buckled. Fortunately, my other friends continue growing and grooming their man-beards so I am OK in case you're wondering.

My myspace profile has documented this obsession, too. Under the "General Interests" section, beards have been duly recorded for years.

So let's be honest here, I can't help it if my general interests become a trend in Williamsburg...

Toot toot!

Hee hee.

Mice continued

I am fairly convinced that after hiding all my bagels in the refrigerator, the mouse (or mice?) has decided to seek revenge by moving in my room. And I know this because I hear nibbling noises at 2am which promptly wake me up.

My roommate told me a story about her uncle who killed a mouse in his bed with his bare hands. I don’t know what to do, believe her or convince myself that her uncle was pulling her leg. Then again, perhaps she has some sort of an agreement with the mouse.

I am also a little confused what it is nibbling because I don't keep food in the bedroom. Maybe it's the multi-vitamins and the calcium pills? I would imagine like the rest of my fellow New Yorkers, mice here are image and health conscious, too.

(Mice) killers wanted

Ugh, yeah, there is really nothing to write about. Although actually, I am wrong, there is a ton to write about, it’s just I have to write so many papers that at some point, writing anything is a drag.

This reminds me, as part of my field placement responsibilities, I have to write these ‘Process Recordings’ which essentially is a way for the supervisors to read what the student is learning and what the student is doing. It’s kind of like a diary, too, they always encourage people to write about feelings that emerge after having to counsel a client after a suicide attempt. Basically, it’s cheap therapy for the student. Cheap task-oriented self-reflection. It reeks of social work.

This week was my spring break. I spent five days in Cancun. It was amazing, the copious amounts of alcohol were counter-balanced with all-night table top dancing and all-day napping on the beach. It’s the most balanced lifestyle – you get nutrients from alcohol, exercise from dancing, and much needed r & r on the beach. The tan and sex is the dessert.

OK, well that was a lie.

Actually, all week I sat around in my apartment, looking for jobs, updating my resume, and writing stuff about sex work and drug use. I also met with former colleagues and begged for jobs and references to places to work. It doesn’t sound as glamorous as five days in Cancun and there is definitely no healthy balance in this lifestyle but I managed to pack in some much needed and nutritious calories by drinking several Guinnesses with a friend in green three-quarter capris.

That was a lie, too; my friend wore green quarter pants. Happy St. Patrick’s!

More importantly, my life lately has evolved around trying to kill mice in my apartment. The first mouse appeared sometime in mid-December and at first I thought it was kind of cute. I used to have pet rats so having little fuzzy creatures romping around at night didn’t bother me too much. Until they (it) started eating my bagels. That’s where I drew the line because there is never enough time for breakfast in the morning and a pumpernickel bagel with butter really hits the spot. And helps the digestive system.

Anyways, I am on mouse four now. Since the Pied Piper is unsure of his return back to town, there is mice poop in the most random parts of my kitchen, and I had to throw away about six bagels by now, I decided to consult with several friends who used to have/currently have mice. There is consent about steel wool which I duly stuffed into a hole behind the stove but unfortunately, as recommended by a website, I didn’t have concrete to pour on top the steel wool. Concrete in New York? I don’t even know where the closest Home Depot is located. We also have a bunch of traps, one of which seems to work really well (it killed three so far) but I am too lazy to get my drunken landlord to set them up. So, as I discovered this morning, my bagels keep being nibbled on. Dammit.

Gimme gimme!

My question is, if South Dakota bans all abortions, they are effectively labeling all fetuses as children, all pregnant women as mothers, and all partners of pregnant women as fathers. So keeping this in mind, are they offering comparable pubic assistance support for all mothers (those pregnant and those who have delivered) and all fathers (those who have an actual baby and those whose partners are pregnant) and all children (including those to whom I refer to as fetuses)? In other words, are the fetuses getting child assistance? Because according to the categorization of this ignorant and close-minded ban, the fetuses should be getting some cash, too.

Dress me up, dress me down

I can't decide if I like American Apparel. They make nice and comfy t-shirts and undies. But I am not that crazy about their stores, there is usually too much going on and I leave within 5 minutes, unless I can't decide on color.

Their ads are OK, somewhat predictable circa 1990s Calvin Klein rip-offs. But maybe that's because I don't find croch shots all that seductive, although I like this and that (ok this one is a little hairy...) bum shot. Now, those are cute bums!

Along the same predictable lines, American Apparel started a "gallery" section with amateur photography. And I really love the Hungarian baths photos. This could be because I am completely obsessed with baths in general but these photos are great. And it's really hard to say no to plump ol' ladies.