Antique-ing

Really should be called craptique-ing.

And I'm back

Yes, this blog has been resurrected.

Partly because I discovered saggy folds of skin in my armpits. In an attempt to to provide a visual illustration of the saggy armpit skin folds, I googled armpit. It turned up bizarro images.

Anywho, yup, new color. New font. It's a new me.

Yey for us!

I know, I’ve been extremely lazy and have not done anything about this blog thingee. And it’s not like I’ve been that busy. Well, I have been busy enough because if I say I have not been busy, that means I was lying to all those people who call me to hang out.

Really, I’ve been busy!

Fortunately, all this spring busy-ness is coming to an end. Work is slowing down and I have only one more wedding to attend (nobody else better get married this year! – I know I will not). Of course, now that I finally got my friend to give my board a ride, I will be AWOL for the rest of the summer. This should be nice because all this drinking is beginning to show.

And for something completely different, I have been really excited to learn that drug companies have developed yet another pill that will stop menstrual periods completely. Yey! I can’t wait to pump my body full of chemicals and hormones so that I don’t have any periods. This makes me wonder – who is this really benefiting? Let’s examine:

For women
Pros: no periods, no babies
Cons: no periods, daily ingestion of hormones and chemicals, weight gain, loss of sexual drive, headaches, moodiness, blood clots

For men
Pros: no periods, no babies
Cons: sore dick from all that sexin’ (this actually may be a pro). Oh, I guess also fat partner who is never in the mood.

Hmm, maybe it’s time for some semen halting pills.

Here is the story: Birth control pill halts women's periods

God damn it, babies

Kurt Vonnegut has died.

It's a little creepy when you learn that he died from brain injuries as a result of a recent fall. And his birthday is a day after mine! OMG!!!!

Ok, that was rude.

Better than Bloomberg news

In the interest of efficiency, here are the latest news highlights from Greenpoint, Brooklyn:

March Madness is on. Unfortunately, the George Washington University’s basketball team lost the first round. I believe the final score was something along the lines of 34 vs. 100 gazillion. I don’t know the opponent, considering the pathetic loss, it doesn’t really matter. When I first saw the score, I thought it was half-time report. I was wrong. Oh well, GWU is not known for its basketball, it’s know for… um… uh… something, I am sure. Oh yea, rumor has it that the campus quad is ground zero in Washington, D.C. And I think the law school is decent.

I think Britney Spears is still in rehab.

And in case you were wondering, Naomi Campbell wore some sort of fancy clothing to her alternative-to-jail community service sentence. If you are truly interested, every news agency reported on her fashion choices last week, I am sure it’s easy to find.

In order to pull the troops out of Iraq, you have to pay $74 million for peanut storage first.

And lastly (you always save the best for last), I fell on my head. It’s true. I even have bruises, head concussion, and a dislocated shoulder to prove it. And no, I wasn’t drunk. But I felt woozy the first three days after the concussion so that’s kind of like feeling drunk. Unfortunately, I also don’t have health insurance since my job is dragging their feet to give me benefits and buying health insurance on my own is really expensive. Maybe if I bought more peanuts, someone will start paying attention and do something about decreasing the cost of health insurance premiums. Several people told me to sue but since I fell on the street, it means I would have to deal with the city and considering that they can’t get the G train to work properly, I probably would never see the end of the lawsuit. So, yes, I’ve been popping ibuprofen like Skittles and watching Judge Judy on my non-cable TV.

I am feeling better though, thanks for wondering. My shoulder is gaining more movement every day, my bruises are a beautiful greenish-blue color, and I can finally sleep on the side of my head where I hit it. I am not much of a phone talker though, that still hurts my head.

Probably not the smartest thing I've said

But I just realized that "dude" contains "dud" as in "that dude is a dud!" Ha.

OK, the truth be told, I am the person who checks my own blog six times a week.

Oh, this reminds me, this summer, when I was working at the court where I had a lot of free time, my friend recommended Evan Connell's "Mrs. Bridge" to kill all that free time. I thought it was hilarious, full of tongue-in-cheek commentary on a forgotten housewife. Then I read "Mr. Bridge," sort of a sequel, it wasn't as funny. Then I bought a sequence of Connell's books, including "Double Honeymoon." Anyways, the point to this post is that his "Son of the Morning Star," a non-fiction historical account of the battle at the Little Bighorn is probably one of the best and most hilarious narratives about the Indian Wars. Although I would assume they pronounced them "injians." I would even go as far as say that it's a close (yes, close) second to McCarthy's "Blood Meridian" which is loosely based on true facts. Anyone who knows me in real life, knows that "Blood Meridian" is my bible, or some sort of an equivalent, so having both compared is a great accomplishment for Connell in my eyes.

And apparently, ABC made into miniseries. And there are rumors that Oliver Stone will make a movie out of it.

I just read in Wikipedia that Tommy Lee Jones has film-making rights to "Blood Meridian." Strange.

On another note, Augusten Burrough's "Running with Scissors" is probably the most boring book I've read in a while. Formulaic David Sedaris-type jokes - lame!

I don't really care for David Sedaris either. The only two short stories that I liked were about him trying to flush down a huge piece of shit at someone else's house and the ups and downs of learning French. The funniest passage in that story was the class explaining Christmas to a Muslim woman in rudimentary French.

On a more positive note, thanks to the early time change in the U.S., it's still bright outside when I leave work. Can't wait til summer. Which is really code for can't wait to surf!!!

Listen up kids

I will start this post by thanking the six regular readers who check this site weekly. Although I suspect it’s actually less than 6 readers, perhaps just one person who checks the site daily. If that’s the case, dude, there are tons of better things go do.

Anyway, here are some of the most recent things that have happened in my life:

1. My Hispanic cowboy fetish dropped the fetish part for reasons I will not divulge on this blog thingee. It’s no one’s business anyway.

2. I have snapping hip syndrome.

3. At age 29, I finally learned why it is not such a good idea to make out/hook up with someone I just met. Let me elaborate. A few weeks ago, I met this kid. Since the fetish part came to a grinding halt, I decided a distraction would be therapeutic for me. The kid seemed nice, cute, somewhat funny. Since our first meeting ended abruptly, there was no opportunity for making out. Not that I was really hoping for it, but it did cross my mind. During our second “date,” I started to realize that we had nothing in common, not to mention that he told me that he had an “ex” who kept calling him. To minimize any sort of moments of awkwardness on my part, I decided to drink more beer. It worked. I also slurred every word that came out of my mouth. When we stumbled home, I mumbled something about him getting home safe and fled hastily. On our third “date,” the dude started asking me about my history of dating and told me how his friend suggested to him that next time we go out, he should invite me for a nightcap. He also told me something about making me a dinner of spaghetti with Prego from a jar. I rolled my eyes and steadily grew more repulsed by him.

Anyways, the moral of this story is that making out/hooking up is fun, but if you don’t know the dude, he may turn out to be a dud. Based on my non-scientific research, about 99% of them are either jerks or the dullest people on Earth, so holding off for a bit, say for a week, is a bright idea. Now the biggest question is, why didn’t my mother tell me this when I was 15?

afternoon fun II

Afternoon fun

NYC winters

You know it's winter in New York when

-everyone takes up a seat and a half on the subway thanks to puffy knee-length jackets that resemble sleeping bags

-delightful crunch of large granules of salt mixed in with frozen chicken bones and dog shit

-hobos stinking up subway cars

Robotic man-children

Last week I’ve had three vivid dreams. I usually don’t remember dreams.

I dreamt about a black horse on Manhattan Avenue. I saw behind the railing of the subway entrance which was located right across Dunkin Donuts, next to the 99 cent store. There is no subway stop there in real life. I thought the horse was totally harmless, but as I passed it, it started loosening itself from the reigns by kicking everything and everyone around it. I got hit. But since it was a dream, I lived on.

Then I had exactly the same dream the following night. This time, I peered behind the railings to see what the horse was up to. It did not have reigns this time, but it was still kicking and standing on its hind legs the way that horses do. I got a little scared and ran into the 99 cent store; I figured a horse won’t be shopping in the 99 cent store.

Then on my third night, I had a dream I gave birth to a child. Normal, right? I mean, I am pushing 30. Except it wasn’t an infant, I managed to give birth to a toddler. A blond little boy. He seemed pretty cool, independent, good lookin’ little feller. But then one day I noticed that he had a deep crack in his forehead. It was about 5 inches deep and 3 inches across. I peered (I guess I’ve been doing a lot of peering) inside the crack and surprisingly he wasn’t bleeding although I could see the fibers of the flesh. Since I didn’t health insurance, I took him to the nearby neighborhood clinic where the doctor peered inside the crack, stuck her fingers in and pulled down the entire face of the child like the way you would open the front cover of a book. Turns out I gave birth to a robot. The doctor cleaned the inside with computer screen cleaning solution and glued it back onto the head with superglue. I thought to myself, “Crap, I could have done that on my own and saved myself $100 in medical bills.”

I can guess what the dreams mean. I’ve been spending a lot of time with the object of my Hispanic cowboy fetish. Turns out this object has been kicking hind legs and there is a strong possibility that I will be hit. I guess I should keep a mental map of 99 cent stores. And yes, I don’t have health insurance. No clue where the birth to a robot man-child came. Hmm, I guess I do know a lot of man-children.

Companions and fetishists

Yep, I know, it's been a while since I've written anything worth your time. But nothing is going on. Well, things are going on but I don't want the five people who read this blog reading about them.

In case you were wondering, I have no idea what happened to my companionship. I had a long talk about my lack of identification to any of the things that matter to my companion. Since then the companion dropped from the face of the earth. Well, not exactly, but I have not seen the kid since "the talk." So technically speaking, I still may have a companion, but who knows?

I've also started a Mexican cowboy fetish. But the rest is, you know, private.

Since I have absolutely nothing to write about, I will instead post a link to the Chicago Manual of Style Q&A. It's hours of fun reading.

Happy Holidays

This entry is going to be fairly boring (of course, this is based on the assumption that previous postings are fascinating). My previous posting generated a fair amount of reaction from people here and there. It’s cool since it clearly evoked feelings from readers, something I did not plan to do. And I like that piece a lot.

Anyways, but to address a variety of emails, yes, I am OK. And yes, I was fucked, or fucked over, however you want to look at it. Maybe I put my guard down, maybe I really fell head over heels, maybe it just looks that way because it ended, who knows. I can’t tell you whether I’ve moved on, it felt that way a few days ago, it did not feel that way today.

To make everything even worse, the “not being able to move on” is augmenting the sickening aspect of the current situation. I am literally trapped and I am trapped in something that to any outsider, or any normal person, looks good and wonderful. I am pretty sure I am in a companionship for the sake of companionship.

If you don’t believe me, look at it this way - I wrote “companionship.”

So I am waiting for that moment where I become intolerable and the companionship will end. It is sickening. Or masochistic, however you want to look at it.

On that note, no, I am not depressed. No worries, I don't sit around the house, staring at a wall.

This was on my mind since last night

It started off as an experiment. No one makes eye contact any more. And if there is eye contact, it’s short, lasting three seconds the most. If you stare into someone’s eyes long enough, that person is bound to feel something. So I stared intensely, curious on what will happen. Did I objectify? Maybe. Yes.

I feigned interest in stories meant to impress. I found them clichéd. I spoke about shit that, according to every dating rule out there, people really should not bring up their first dates. I didn’t care; I was on my high-horse. And I am not much of a rules person.

When we first fucked, it was just as clichéd. Boy pushing and tugging, girl squirming and giving reasons not to do it. Then giving in since it was easier. It wasn’t impressive. I felt lonely after.

I am not sure when I let my guard down. Maybe when I was freaking out in front of my friend, complaining of feeling overwhelmed by all the attention and the friend told me to take it easy. That struck a cord since I never take it easy. Maybe I gazed too long and got lost in what I saw before me.

The fucking got better. I still felt lonely though; I felt lonely standing in the same room with him. Not lonely, that’s not the right word. Objectified.

It was the eye contact that gave it away when things were changing. When we fucked, instead of staring back, he started to turn his eyes to the left. It’s the classic body language when someone is lying or feeling guilty. Once a woman asked me for money, explaining that she need to buy a calling card for an emergency. I shifted my gaze left and said that I didn’t have any change. I lied.

These are all generalities. It’s not about you, don’t be so pompous. None of this is true and there is no meaning. And it’s all so clichéd.

For Montauk, It’s Lighthouse vs. Surf’s Up!

What surfer has a tan at this point? Mine faded months ago!

Doug Kuntz for The New York Times

The Montauk Lighthouse, which Army engineers want to save from erosion with a $14 million sea wall of boulders.

By COREY KILGANNON

Published: November 14, 2006

Doug Kuntz for The New York Times

A passing storm meant that the surf was up Thursday just west of Montauk Point. The surfers fear that the sea wall will end exciting waves.

MONTAUK, N.Y., Nov. 10 — The Montauk Point Lighthouse was commissioned by President George Washington and completed in 1796 and may be the most recognized landmark on Long Island. If left unprotected, it could also be a few good storms away from falling down its steadily eroding bluff into the ocean.

So the Army Corps of Engineers is embarking on a $14 million plan to save the lighthouse by building a sea wall of boulders to protect the bluff. But a group of surfers say the boulders that would save the lighthouse would ruin Alamo, the world-renowned surf break just beyond its shadow, and they have a counterproposal.

Dude, just move the lighthouse back.

“I know the lighthouse people feel the current location is hallowed ground, the spot George Washington built the lighthouse on, but we as surfers feel the same way about Alamo,” said Tom Naro, the chairman of the eastern Long Island chapter of the Surfrider Foundation. “All of our research and science has grown out of protecting the wave, and it all indicates that moving the lighthouse is a much better and cheaper option in the long run.”

The Corps of Engineers has assured the surfers that its sea wall would not ruin the waves. It considered moving the lighthouse but decided it would cost too much to transport the delicate structure over severely sloping terrain.

Though the officials in charge say it is too late to change gears, the surfers — whose organization and efficiency around this issue run contrary to their mellow stereotype — have in recent weeks met with politicians, distributed fliers and commissioned studies to block the Corps of Engineers’ plan to drop a wall of 12-ton boulders on their surf break. The corps says the surfers’ proposal to move the lighthouse back 800 feet instead would cost $27 million.

In a 35-page position paper, the surfers argue that the sea wall — 840 feet long, 40 feet thick and known as a revetment — would imperil not just the Alamo but also another favorite break just down the beach, at Turtle Cove.

At a restaurant here in Montauk on Friday night, Thomas Muse, the environmental director of the Surfrider chapter, gave a slide-show presentation to a roomful of 50 tanned, long-haired surfers, many of them taking notes as he indicated with a red laser pointer how the revetment would interfere with the waves.

“We’re building a groundswell and we’ll get some attention,” Mr. Muse promised. He pointed out that other historic lighthouses — including Southeast on Block Island, Cape Hatteras in North Carolina and Highland on Cape Cod — have been moved successfully. “It’s not like we’re barking up some radical tree here — there are precedents all over,” he said.

But Greg Donohue, erosion control manager for the Montauk Historical Society, which owns and maintains the lighthouse, said that it was simply too fragile — “it would have to be taken apart brick by brick” — and that the location atop Turtle Hill was integral to its history. He criticized the surfers for raising their concerns after the Corps of Engineers’ $1 million study was completed and for threatening the largest anti-erosion project in the lighthouse’s 210-year life.

“Suddenly, they come along and think they know better, and they’re trying to stop this,” he complained. “They have no scientific dialogue, they just say, ‘We’re for saving the beach.’ To me the lighthouse is more important than Alamo, but to them Alamo is more important than the lighthouse.”

Montauk Light, on the eastern tip of Long Island, was the first lighthouse built in New York State and is the fourth-oldest active lighthouse in the country, according to Mr. Donohue. When it was completed on Nov. 5, 1796, on the Turtle Hill plateau, the edge of the bluff was about 300 feet away. Erosion has been eating away at a rate of more than a foot a year, and now, at its closest point, the bluff is about 75 feet from the lighthouse.

In 1946, the Corps of Engineers installed a 700-foot stone revetment, which was overrun by storms a few years later. The bluff seemed to be hopelessly deteriorating until Giorgina Reid of Manhattan began a one-woman crusade to shore it up with her own methods of terracing and planting. Local residents have conducted vigils and concerts starring the likes of Paul Simon to raise money to help prevent erosion. In the mid-’90s, Mr. Donohue helped build a ring of boulders as a sea wall, but erosion continues.

Montauk, meanwhile, has become increasingly popular as a surfing spot; the champion longboarder Joel Tudor surfed here regularly last summer, and local surfers see more and more visiting top pros. Though surfing is officially prohibited at the point, the ban is enforced only sporadically.

There are three main breaks: Alamo is best in big surf, but some surfers favor the clean waves of Turtle Cove, and when winds howl out of the southeast, the area northwest of the point is one of the few good surf spots on Long Island.

The Surfrider Foundation, with 50,000 members nationally, has grown into a lobbying force. Earlier this year, it helped defeat a large dredging project in Long Beach, in Nassau County.

The group’s leaders say it is easier to organize opposition against a project that involves typical preservationists’ issues, like historic buildings or open space. It is more difficult, they said, to persuade public officials to save a wave.

The surfers argue that in the long run, moving the lighthouse would be the most cost-efficient option, even if it costs $27 million as the corps estimates. “It’s a better deal for the taxpayer to move the lighthouse,” Mr. Muse said. “You’re done for 300 years.”

Joe Jakubik, a project manager for International Chimney, a Buffalo company that has moved several historic lighthouses elsewhere and has repaired this one in the past, said moving it would be complicated by the softened mortar between its stones.

He estimated that the lighthouse weighs 3,000 tons, and said it could be lifted off its 13-foot-deep foundation by dozens of hydraulic jacks so a platform could be slipped underneath. The hydraulics would keep the tower level while rolling along uneven ground, he said, and the chief danger would be uneven pressure creating stress cracks.

“That lighthouse is extremely fragile, but there are methods that would put limited stress on it,” Mr. Jakubik said. “There’d be some problems moving it, a greater degree of difficulty, but nothing that couldn’t be overcome. It’s just a matter of expense and work.”

Mr. Donohue, who lives in Montauk year-round, has been working on the erosion problem here for 25 years. He criticized the surfers’ group for stirring up controversy that could endanger a project that is based on decades of careful study, including wave-tank analysis at the University of Delaware that showed Alamo would not be seriously affected by the revetment.

“A wave is something very difficult to pin down, the dynamics of it,” he said. “If they had hard scientific information on how our work is going to destroy their wave, we would look at it. Instead, they’re just beating a drum and playing the politics of beach erosion. They are spreading propaganda and innuendo and false information to politicians.”

“We’re not destroying a wave,” Mr. Donohue added. “We’re preserving a lighthouse.”

QUICK QUICK

Awww, those South Africans!

I'm a pirate!

Not that long ago, I was talking to this guy. I am not going to write much about this guy because I found him really boring. I found him boring not because he was quiet or that he lacked energy. I found him boring because he had completely nothing interesting to say. The worst part of our conversation was the fact that he didn’t even bother to engage me in the conversation. He would just blabber and blabber and I would stare at him, stare at the clock, stare at the people around us; apparently, a girl sitting across the table staring at everything around her is not a clue enough that she is completely bored.

The reason why I started this posting is not to bore you with the boring conversation. It’s more to make fun of what a boring moron he was. At some point toward the end of the conversation, he mentioned that NPR broadcasted a piece about a test that gives a good glimpse into a person’s character.

The test is:

If you were given a choice between the power of flight or the power of invisibility, which one would you choose? In other words, would you rather be able to fly or be invisible?

I’ll give you a couple of seconds to think about this one.

Ready? State your answer.

OK, so apparently, people who choose the power of flight are free and have nothing to hide. People who choose invisibility have something to hide and have low self-esteem since being invisible means “having a desire to know what people have to say about you.” According to this boring moron.

Some say that choosing the power of flight is a sign of a hero, while a villain would choose invisibility. This is based on a quick Google search.

I chose invisibility. Just for the practical reasons of being able to get onto a plane and still fly wherever I want to. I can also get into a show that’s sold out or is way too expensive. Oh, I can even sit on the stage!

Why would you want to fly places? Yea, I am sure it’s cool to spontaneously fly in general, but why bother if a variety different transportation options can take you places practically anywhere you want to go. And if you’re invisible, it’s not like the cost is going to matter.

Now, last time I checked, it is very hard to be invisible. Yea, you can be ignored (and I have first hand experience in this one), but you are still not invisible.

I just don’t see how invisibility will doom a person to doing things that are so awful that they would be viewed as crimes against humanity. C’mon, I would just play a few pranks here and there and then jet off to South East Asia. And then Africa. And New Zealand (I hear surfing there is great!).

So the boring moron dude said that I failed the test because I didn’t take it seriously. Clearly the moron doesn't have an ounce of imagination! Not to mention the fact that he actually believes in these stupid tests. The funny part is that I actually did take it seriously and took about a minute (a minute!) to decide which choice is the better one. At least, for me.

I think a better test is: are you a farmer, a cowboy, or a pirate? Quick, pick one!

For my mom and dad

and maybe Elsa.

(Press the arrow on the cartoon)

Oh man

Oh man oh man oh man. I am getting such a bad feeling about this one. Mark my words.

Whatcha doing?

So I know, I haven’t written much. And I really don’t have any excuse for it. Or at least a reason worthy an excuse. Suppose I’ve been working a lot. And dealing with people exhausts me so whenever I get home, the last thing I want to do is sit by the computer and write. The other exhausting thing about my job is that I don’t have my own space – an office, a desk, a chair – anything. And since I don’t have a place to retreat, I am “on” the entire time I am there, and that makes me feel spent. Suppose this job proves that I really am not a people person.

The slightly amazing thing about the job is that I now work in Red Hook which is an up-and-coming area in Brooklyn. It’s a bit cut off from the rest of civilization since the only way to get there by public transportation is taking a bus that takes forever. Or, as in my case, take the little choo-choo train that goes from nowhere to nowhere and then walk 20 minutes through the projects while dodging piles of dog shit on the sidewalks. The amazing part of this story (well, at least to me amazing) is that my highschool English teacher used to live on Van Brunt street which is where my work is located. I went to visit him when I was in college and I distinctly remember taking the bus and getting off at the location he specified on Van Brunt Street. I went with my friend and he fed us blueberry waffles and we climbed onto his roof to take in the stunning view of the Statue of Liberty and lower Manhattan.

Of course, like many areas of New York City, Red Hook is slowly being populated by hipsters, artists, restaurants, and art-bars. There is even a Fairway organic food store in the area where my teacher used to live. And there is an IKEA on the way.

Anywho, not to change the topic but another funny thing is that friends/relatives/random people I barely know don’t believe that I’ve been surfing. Yes, I know, this web thingee doesn’t have pictures of me riding a board but I swear, I have an eight foot T&C sitting in my living room right now. Of course, that’s no proof of me surfing. Unfortunately, lately I haven’t had a chance to surf, mainly because the board is in my living room instead of being stored in Rockaways and since I don’t have a car, it’s really difficult to lug it on the subway. I’ve had offers to go out surfing but sadly I’ve come to a realization that these offers are a bunch of hot air, so no surfing. Besides, since I have all those cracks in my board and the water is leaking in, I should wait for the board to dry out so that I can fix it sometime in the spring.

It’s a little weird not to be surfing. And since I’ve managed to completely fall from the face of the earth this summer due to surfing, no one ever calls me to go out any more. And I just can’t figure what to do with myself during weekends. Yea, so if you’re reading this and I haven’t talked to you in a while, call me! Because clearly I am a loser and cannot pick up the phone.