Holla at a playa.

Today, Chris and I were sitting in the kitchen having some killer leftover Italian (God, I will miss NY food.). Somehow, it was brought to my attention that had Chris not met her girlfriend Colleen, she would have just dated promisuously for the rest of her life.

I think this might have been the highlight of my workday:


Chris: Yeah, I was the playa that cheated on everyone.
Me: Hm. Really?
Chris: Yeah. Once, I had four girlfriends at one time.
Me: Seriously, HOW did you do that?
Chris: Uh... I was BUSY.


Maybe you just had to be there. That, or my work life is boring.

Tax for the stupid.

If there's one thing I will definitely not miss about New York City, it's the lottery. You all in Missouri are probably tempted to remind me that Missouri is a fairly big lottery state... and I know. But not like NYC. My friend Erik once called the lottery "tax for the stupid." And in regards to my personal annoyance with the lottery, I would mostly agree.

Consider this scenario:

It is 8:12, and your train boards in three minutes. You DESPERATELY need coffee (light and sweet, like Strong likes her women!). You go into the bodega, prepare a perfect cup, and suddenly, a group of non-English speaking people rush into line ahead of you. And guess what? They are ALL playing the lotto. And by that, I mean they are all buying $60 - yes $60 - worth of lottery tickets. For which they (of course) have not picked 'lucky' numbers. And of course, the Pakistani behind the counter doesn't speak English, and cannot handle you leaving your dollar for your coffee on the counter so that you may be on time to work. No no... that would be too easy.


Yes, this scenario is a regular occurrence. And it DRIVES. ME. BATTY. I just want my coffee. I just don't think it's too much to ask. That said, I am excited that my cup of sanity will be consumed in my own kitchen with the daily newspaper and a home-cooked breakfast.

I should follow up by saying that the same people that play the lottery in NYC are the same people that refuse to pay $4.99 for a shirt on sale at the Gap in Herald Square because they thought it was $3.99, not $4.99. Really? Are you serious?


I don't have a problem with the lottery itself. If you can afford to play the lottery, more power to ya. But just thinking about how many thousands of dollars these families of five with incomes less than $20K a year IN THE FIVE BOROUGHS have spent on nothing... it just kills me. Go to Hawaii, for crying out loud!! You'll enjoy it SO much more.



This has been a public service announcement from your friendly disgruntled coffee drinker. We now return to our regularly scheduled programming.

Missouri is not a state. Who knew?

Because I tried to play web guru, it's been a while since my last post. Quick update: I am moving back to Nevada, MO, home of Cottey College, where I graduated. So yesterday, I called U-Haul to find out if I could afford to rent a trailer for my small bit of furniture, or whether it would be more fiscally responsible to just ship a few things. Behold, the following:

Me: "Hi, I need to get a price quote for renting a trailer."

Voice-on-the-Other-End: "Ahhh, I needa to geta you infomation so I can bettah herp you with your reservation. Whata is you name?"

Me: "I actually don't need to make a reservation at this time, I just need to get a price quote. I've already-"

VOE: "Ahhh, I needa to geta you infomation so I can bettah herp you with your reservation. Whata is you name?!!"

Me: "I know exactly what I need, I just need to find out how much it will be. I do not need a reservation at this time."

VOE: VOE: "Ahhh, I needa to geta you infomation so I can bettah herp you with your reservation. Whata is you name?!!"


Fine. I will play along.


Me: "Kate. K-A-"

VOE: "Srow down prease!!!!"

Me: "K.......... A.......... T.......... E.......... Northern. N. O. R.-"

VOE: "Srow down prease!!!! Srow down!!!!!"

Me: "N............... O...............R................T................H................E.................R................N."

VOE: "Thanka you. Phone numbah?"


Similar conversation ensues for a good ten more minutes, when we finally get to the part about the actual move.


VOE: "Where are you-a moving?"

Me: "From Brooklyn, NY, to Joplin, MO."


Silence


VOE: "Ahhh.... miss? Missouri is nota a state."

Me: Silence.
Me: "Uhm... yes, I'm pretty certain that it is."

VOE: Silence. Computer clicks.
VOE: "No, miss. I do not havea Missouri."

Me: "Yes, Missouri is a state. I have lived there."

VOE: "Cana youa sperr dat?"

Me: "M...I...S...-"

VOE: "Srow down prease!!!!"

Me: "M. I. S. S. O. U. R. I."

VOE: "Ohhhhh!!!!!! You mean Missseeessseeeepeeee!!!!"

Me: "No, I mean Missouri."

VOE: Silence. Computer clicks.
VOE: "Oh.... you ah right. I see it now."



Needless to say, I am not renting a trailer from U-Haul.

Dear New Jersey Transit,

I hate you. Okay, maybe hate is a little strong. While I realize that you were on mildly good behavior for this morning's schlep out to New Brunswick, I think it goes without saying that I could have run across that bridge faster. And I'm SLOW.

Until next time, Kate

Magical powers!

I just fast-forwarded and rewound TV. WHOA.

I am bewildered.

This week, I've encountered a lot of hatred for my man, Stevie Ray Vaughan. And frankly, I'm bewildered. I just don't understand how anyone could hate this? Think about things, people.

Welcome back, Mitch!!

I got a hotel room at New York New York in Las Vegas and I was very happy. They've got that rollercoaster encircling the entire premises, just like Manhattan.

Quote of the week:

While in Wisconsin the past weekend, my friend's little sister was talking about getting her nose pierced in college. She had gotten her nose pierced, and her friend had gone skydiving. She decided to call her parents and say that one of them went skydiving and one of them had gotten their nose pierced. In response, her mother said that she sure hoped she was the one that went skydiving, which was not what the girl had expected, so she says: "Skydiving is permanent if you die, Mom." You know, I never really thought of it that way. :)

"Hooker couture."

Walking down 5th Avenue in Brooklyn, about 10 p.m.

Kate: What's this Mandee place?
Amanda: Does it LOOK like I shop there?
Kate: It looks trashy.
Amanda: It's hooker couture.

Single. Whew.

"I'm just glad he's alive, sounds good and is NOT MARRIED."

- my mother, about my brother

About Fire Island.

Kenyon: "Fire Island is disgusting and gross. It's like Chelsea vomited up an island."

Excuse me?

Kate: What's a dyke?
Zoey, impersonating minister's daughter: SATAN'S SPAWN.

A new holiday at my job:

PEON RECOGNITION DAY! Celebrate those who do the most, get paid the least, and drink themselves happy after 6:00!

- Auston, on working for the Center.

You know it's bad when...

...you're standing at Duane Reade on a Friday night waiting for your friend to pick out a highlighting kit for you hair. You are approached by a perfect stranger, and the following takes place:

Me: Standing behind friend, eyes glazed over.

Perfect stranger taps my shoulder, and says, "You KNOW it's bad when you're humming the music that's playing over the speakers in Duane Reade. [Puts hand up] I'm JUST sayin'."

Me: Stares blankly at perfect stranger, realizes that I was, in fact, humming the music playing over the speakers in Duane Reade, and continues to stare blankly at perfect stranger.


Perfect stranger kindly smiles, wishes me a good night, and walks off.

Only in New York.

Would you hear sirens, turn around to look, and realize that you need to dive out of the way because there is a police car driving 30 miles an hour down the SIDEWALK, complete with cop yelling, "Get the fuck out of the way!!!" over the loudspeaker.


Really- only in New York.

Love, Mitch.

This shirt is dry clean only. Which means it's dirty.

Love, Mitch.

I went to the airport, I put my bag in the x-ray machine, I found out my bag has cancer. It only has six more months to hold stuff.

Dear MTA,

Trains are more useful when they move.

Love, Kate

Overheard at the Center:

Center Kids Family Play Day, where a group of gay/lesbian families all get together with their kids. Little boy, four, waiting with Mom #1 to leave. Mom #2 approaches the door with coat and bag.

Little Boy: "Come on Moms, let's go!!!"


[Sidenote: this may not seem like a biggie to those of you from this area, but for someone from Oklahoma, it's pretty much adorable. And fantastic.]

Mingling with the stars: Part II.

So this morning (and by that, I mean 1:30 p.m.), I was standing on the train when this absolutely adorable girl caught my eye. It's not unusual for me to see cute girls- I live in Park Slope, after all. So as I'm discreetly checking out this girl, I realize that she looks very familiar. After several check-outs disguised as scanning the train from left to right, I realized who it was: Maggie Gyllenhaal. And if for some reason I am mistaken, then Maggie Gyllenhaal has a doppleganger. So, folks, the only conclusion I can reach is that yes, Maggie Gyllenhaal and I are meant to be together.

Love, Mitch.

If you can't sleep, count sheep. Don't count endangered animals. You will run out.

I'm going to hell.

How bad is it that when I overheard someone say, "...found unresponsive in his office this morning..." I yell, "Who?! George W. Bush?!"

Love, Mitch.

An escalator can never break: it can only become stairs. You would never see an "Escalator Temporarily Out Of Order" sign, just "Escalator Temporarily Stairs. Sorry for the convenience."

What happens when it's my turn?

I received the news of the devastating Greensburg, KS tornado via the stray New York Times which I found on the subway this morning. Having grown up in 'Tornado Alley,' it wasn't terribly shocking news. I've lived through dozens of tornado warnings, at least. People often ask, "Aren't you afraid of tornados? I could never live there; I'd be afraid all the time." The answer has always been, "No, I'm not afraid, and usually, my Dad and I stand in the front yard and watch for them." Now that I've been away for a while, something really struck me as I read these words:

"Basements in many cases were smothered in rubble. Survivors told tales of clawing their way into the darkness after the tornado had passed, only to find nothing: no house, and no town."

Growing up, my Dad always told me that that would never happen to our town. I believed him. And now, sitting on the subway in New York City during my regular morning commute to work, I thought... what happens when it does? What happens when the photograph on the front page of the paper is the house that used to be mine or my neighbors?

Things like this serve as a reminder to me that any moment could be our last. One of my favorite Mom Quotes™ is "We're only guaranteed this moment." It's true. My heart goes out to those who lost everything in the tornado, and this news was quick to remind me how lucky I am. Hopefully, I'll never have to see the remains of my hometown in the New York Times during my morning commute. Although it's entirely possible, I know that it's not something that my family and other people back home fear each day. Were I ever to move back home, (which is NOT entirely possible), I know it's not something that I'd fear each day, either.


So what happens when it's my turn? I don't know, and for that I am truly lucky.

Yeah, that's me.

My mother just called me 'diabolical.' And just when I thought I wouldn't have anything to blog about today. Pshaw.

Love, Mitch.

People teach their dogs to sit- it's a trick. I've been sitting my whole life, and a dog has never looked at me as though he thought I was tricky.

Boy in a dress.

Bringin' back the Mitch Love.

It's hard to fight when you're in a gazebo.

Quoi?

1. Not really sure how I got home last night with my iPod but not the headphones which were wrapped around said iPod.

2. The movie '28 Days Later' wasn't so bad, but are you kidding me- a sequel called '28 Weeks Later: When days turn into weeks?!' Not so much.

3. Less quoi, more huzzah!: Has Beans has added an extra large cup to their iced coffee line. I highly suspect that this has occurred because I tell them every single morning how I sure do wish they had an extra large cup... wink wink. Iced coffee goodness until Canal Street- YESSSSS.

A familiar sight at Kate's new crib:

Pop Quiz!

Q: When is the most ROCKIN' time to lock yourself out of your apartment?

a) When your roommate is on the West Coast
b) When your roommate is on the West Coast
c) When your roommate is on the West Coast
d) When your roommate is on the West Coast


If you answered "When your roommate is on the West Coast," you are a winner! Remember kids, give a friend a spare set of keys!

This has been a public service announcement from your friendly ex-locked-out neighbor. We shall now return to our regularly scheduled programming.

[Sidenote: If you're locked out, you should always ask your neighbors if they have a spare set BEFORE you go to every hardware store in a 12-block radius. Just sayin'.]

Coffee dilemma.

A large only gets me to Canal Street. Has Beans needs an extra large cup, or I need to sip more slowly. I can't even express the disappointment of taking that last sip as we pulled away from Canal Street- I really didn't want that coffee goodness to end. :: sigh ::

Browsers of the world unite!

Oh. My. God.

Wtf?!

My mother just called herself a "bleeding-heart liberal." Are you kidding me?!

A lesson in honesty.

People are only as honest with others as they are with themselves.

Be your own Pollock!

Check THIS out. Move your mouse around, and try clicking, too. How cool is THAT?

Superstar!

My dad is on the front page of my hometown newspaper! Here is the article online.

I know I'm biased, but he's adorable!

Overheard in Oklahoma.

At Johnnie's, my Dad's favorite burger joint in Edmond, OK. A lady sitting at a nearby table, clad in denim shirt with colorful embroidery, much like a grade school teacher would wear:

"Ah rilly, rilly wish wee kud go intuh Amish kuntry- I riiilllly due."

(Translation: I really, really wish we could go into Amish country, I really do.)

WTF?! Oklahoma- you are one fucked up place. Nothing personal.

If I see one more bronze belt buckle...

...that says, "Champion Bull Rider," I might DIE. And if I hear one more redneck say that they wont (and by that they mean want, but we're spelling phonetically, here) a chazebargerr (that's right, accent on the rr), I might DIE.

Marion Fern.

I remember very well the many days I spent at her house. She was my best friend, like a grandmother to me. I probably spent every day at her house next door in the summers when I was young. We'd make beautiful decorative Christmas trees out of styrofoam cones, pins and beads, we'd have tea parties, we'd cook- everything that buddies do. I remember vividly asking her one day if she'd be my grandmother, even though we weren't really related. Of course, she said yes.

She always let me feed the cats Tender Vittles, which is basically a treat cereal for cats. She'd have old fashioned bottles of ginger ale waiting for me when I'd come in the door, and it was our secret, since my mom didn't like for me to drink soda. Every so often, she'd mark my height and age on the wall by the back door, right alongside her own grandchildren. She had the best driveway EVER, and I spent many an afternoon shooting hoops or rollerblading, pretending to be a champion ice skater.

When I was in high school, they moved her to the nursing home. I'd visit, and bring chocolates- she had the biggest sweet tooth I've ever encountered. Towards the end of my high school career, she slowly began to forget me. The last time I went to visit her, it took a great deal of reminding and the presentation of one of our beaded trees for her to remember who I was. It was then that I went to college and stopped visiting.

The last time I saw her, I was home from college, and Mom and I were at WalMart. The Assisted Living Center in which she was living had brought a group to do some shopping. I had either forgotten that she wouldn't know me, or I chose to believe otherwise, and ran up to give her a hug, but she had no idea who I was. I looked at my mother, and she could see the tears welling up in my eyes.

She left this world this weekend, but really, she was gone long ago. I was a lucky kid, and have many wonderful childhood memories because of her.

Hiatus.

I will be on a blogging hiatus from now until I return from vacation. I'm off to hide from the world for a bit! See ya after March 22! Toodles, Kate

It's a venti day.

A venti day with an extra shot. I'm afeared for anyone who asks me to do something before 6 p.m. tomorrow, which officially begins my weekend.

Hopefully, my venti latte with an extra shot (and M&M cookie, to boot) will give me superhuman strength and

• Corporate Sponsorship Presentation, due today
• Garden Party Invitations, due today
• Center Happenings (which hasn't been started and editorial has not been written), due tomorrow
• 10 Advertisements, due today
• President's Circle Dinner Invitations, due today
• Transgender stock photography research, due today


will miraculously be completed, today. Or, it would be acceptable for me to acquire time-freezing skills, thus creating an extra 21.8 hours in the day as needed.

Hallelujah for vacations!!!!!

Park Slope... final answer...

Yes! You got it! Park Slope is correct!

That's right, guys and dolls, I've FINALLY made a decision on the apartment. I'll be moving into my friend Erik's apartment, as he's moving to Texas at the end of the month. I really couldn't be more thrilled with this decision. The neighborhood is GREAT. I will be living in a real neighborhood with real stores and real restaurants. I can have real dinner parties and real guests. I'm real excited, can ya tell? :)

Soooo.... March 31 is the move-in date. Housewarming party is tentatively scheduled for Saturday, April 21. Mark 'em up! :)

Neverending procrastination...

A couple of shots by Yours Truly. :)

What does love mean?

"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget."

"When you tell someone something bad about yourself and you're scared they won't love you anymore. But then you get surprised because not only do they still love you, they love you even more."

And my favorite two:

"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired."

"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth."

Mingling with the stars... sort of.

I walk out of my office just now to pick up the disk of photos from our event last night, and it's snowing, so I'm wearing my hood. I tend to walk with my head down (dangerous, yes) so as to avoid getting snow in my eyes. Suddenly, I see feet right in front of me and realize that I'm about 1.7 seconds from crashing right into another pedestrian. I quickly look up and come to a screeching halt, and who happens to be looking me in the eye? Yep, Maggie Gyllenhaal.

Whoops, sorry!

Dear Mitch, I still love you- I promise!!

I wrote a script, and I gave it to a guy who reads scripts, and he really likes it, but he thinks I need to rewrite it. I said, "Screw that, I'll just make a copy!"

Drawing the line.

Really, I have to draw the line somewhere. My mom is "cooly-wooly", as we are all aware. Today, as I was having our usual phone chat, she reminded me again that I REALLY need to see Little Miss Sunshine, and that, "Oooh, I have a rented copy! I bet I could... pirate it!!! Yes, I will pirate the rented copy and bring it on the ski trip!!"

Okay Mom, first of all, you rented it from Netflix. Which means that you could just bring the rented copy on the ski trip, since you can keep Netflix movies as long as you'd like. Secondly, I know that you are now able to autonomously turn on your computer and even send me text messages, too, but Mom, ripping and compressing an encoded DVD is probably not on your skill level. Nothing personal, I just think maybe we should get the hang of email attachments before we move on to the bigger stuff.

All that aside... who are you? And what have you done with my mother??!! How on Earth, in three months, did we go from phone calls with inquiries of how to turn on your computer to phone calls with suggestions for pirating rented DVDs?


The world as I knew it, friends, is fading quickly. A new chapter (one with quasi-technologically-capable mothers) has begun.

Listen here, kids.

Let's just have a little chat. When I make a posting on Craigslist for an apartment, and I list six specific neighborhoods of which I am interested in living, and when I say that it's non-negotiable, I really shouldn't be asked questions such as the following:

"hi i have apartment available it's everything your looking for in an apartment but is flushing okay?"

[Note: what is contained in the above quotations was the entirety of a reply to my well-written post, complete with punctuation, capitalization AND HTML editing.]

Answer:

Basically... NO. Flushing is not okay.

First of all, if you do not know the difference between your and you're, then your apartment is, in fact, NOT everything for which I'm looking. I had incorrectly assumed that writing an extremely articulate and well-punctuated ad that that would have been obvious. Again, that assumption was incorrect. (And yes, I know- assumptions are dangerous in general).

Secondly, if I had written in my ad that I'm seeking to live in six very specific neighborhoods, and I've stated that this is non-negotiable, then what exactly was it that caused you to think that sometime in the last eight hours I will have decided that maybe I DO want to spend three hours a day commuting into and out of Manhattan? I understand that you are desperate to rent your apartment in Flushing, Staten Island, or Bumblefuck, NJ. Allow me to let you in on a little secret- the reason that you are desperate to rent your apartment in Bumblefuck, NJ is because IT'S IN BUMBLEFUCK, NJ!

Lastly, writing is much more interesting with the use of punctuation. Seriously- give it a try. You never know, you might like it. Oh yeah- and while you're at it, throw in some capitalization, too.



Toodles! Kate

Song Poll!

I will be auditioning to perform at the GLBT Expo at the end of the month. I need to send in a demo CD next week, which means I need to record on Sunday. Eek! Here are some songs I'm considering:

• KT Tunstall's FABULOUS cover of The Jackson Five's "I Want You Back"
• Sting & The Police, "Roxanne"
• Marvin Gaye, "Sexual Healing"
• Lisa Loeb, "Stay (I Missed You)"


Ideas, please!


Also, if you would like free tickets to the GLBT Expo, get in touch. :)

Love, Mitch.

This one is inspired by my friend's fianceé. This is totally something he'd say and be promptly smacked upside the head. "I don't have a girlfriend. But I do know a woman who'd be mad at me for saying that."

Love, Mitch.

That would be cool if the earth's crust was made out of graham cracker. It would disappear just like the ozone layer, but for completely different reasons. I think I need to make peanut butter with graham crackers. YUM.

Love, Mitch.

Kittens play with yarn, they bat it around. What they're really doing is saying, "I can't knit, get this away from me!"

My mother is ADORABLE.

Seriously. I LOVE it when she writes emails or sends text messages- she thinks she is COOLY-WOOLY. And seeing as how my mother called me from Oklahoma on the first day of her new job (she's a nurse, but moved to a nursing administration position) to ask me how to turn on her computer, the fact that she emails AND texts now IS cooly-wooly.

Sometimes, when I need a good laugh, I'll call my mother's cell phone and listen to her voicemail, which goes as follows:

"Please leave a message after the tone. [Whispers:] What button do I push now?!" BEEEEEP!


Heh, it gets me every time. :)

Neverending apartment search!

I have two more prospects! This is really exciting. :) Hopefully, I will have a new home next week! Things are good. :)

Even when you're crazy...

...there are those wonderful people who'll stick around anyway. Thanks, ya'll- I am a-okay now. For serious. :) Here's a little Mitch for today: 'Has anyone seen me on Letterman? Two million people watch that show and I don't know where they are. You might have seen this next comedian on the Late Show, but I think more people have seen me at the store. That should be my introduction. "You might have seen this next comedian at the store," and people would say "Hell yes I have!"'

Dear Prospective Roommates,

I'm not sure what else I need to say in order for you to pick me! I mean, I'm handy around the house, I'm a pretty good cook, and I even like to cook for everyone! I'm respectful, neat, tidy, and actually, I like cleaning. I'm pretty fun to be around, and I'm easy to get along with. All that- and I have flair, too!

So please, let's assume that I've said whatever wonderfully charming and dazzling things I'll need to say in order for you to accept me into your totally cool household, and just pick me, for goodness sake!!


Love,
Kate

Love, Mitch.

I had an ant farm. Them fellas didn't grow SHIT.

Love, Mitch.

In an effort to distract myself from the reality of this war, here is some love from the great Mitch. This one commercial said, "Forget everything you know about slipcovers." So I did, and it was a load off of my mind. Then the commercial tried to sell slipcovers, but I didn't know what they were! If only it were that easy with everything.

Breaking news update!

I have just seen the most amazing apartment on Ditmars Boulevard. It's a two story home, like, RIGHT out of Southern Living. My room would be small, but it's GORGEOUS, and has a sunroom and a private deck, which will soon contain a BBQ grill and totally cool patio furniture, perfect for summer parties! The prospective roommate is totally cool, too! I don't want to get my hopes up here, but just can't help it!!! It's a REAL neighborhood, with shopping and restaurants! Holy neighborhood nightlife, Batman! Fingers crossed, everyone!!

Breaking News!

I may very well have a lead on an AMAZING apartment near Astoria Park (I was completely unaware of a park in Astoria!), for only fifty more bucks than I'm currently paying! This news is MOST exciting, and nearly makes up for the horribly rotten day which was had yesterday. I've seen pictures of the place (it is GOH-JUHS!!!), and am eagerly awaiting a response. Please keep your fingers crossed. My room would even have a view of the Triborough Bridge. And the kitchen?! Please. I need to stop getting my hopes up about this one, but I can't help it. Again- fingers crossed, please! Toodles!

Dear Mitch,

I haven't forgotten about you, I swear. It's just been one of those weeks, ya know? In fact, I had several moments in which you would have been proud. I can't remember the exact thoughts per se, but when I think of them, I will let you know.

Love,
Kate


"I rented a car. I didn't really need one, I just wanted to make one less available. I wanted one businessman on the bus with no car."

War.

Let me preface this post by saying that I'm a horrible mess right now.

I just talked to my brother in Iraq. Since he's been there, he hasn't told us much. The Bush Administration, which is telling us that things are getting better, is LYING. They're not getting better. And I know this because I just had to listen to my little brother tell me what he's been doing for the past week. Hearing my little brother tell me that he's been under fire, ambushed, bombed, hasn't slept or eaten, and has been shitting in a hole in the ground for an entire week does NOT tell me that things are getting better in Iraq, and I don't care who the fuck says they are. They're a damn liar, too.

I suppose it's been some sort of denial that has allowed me to believe that my brother is fine, and hasn't been in danger. They told him when he left that he'd be driving a commander around a base, and well, I call bullshit on that one.

The thing that worries me most right now is that I think he's been hurt. I kept asking him if he's hurt, and he wouldn't answer me. The fact that he's been shot at, ambushed, bombed and hasn't eaten or slept in a week was enough for my first breakdown, but not knowing whether or not he's been hurt is just too much. I can't call my mother, because I don't want her to worry.

I just need a hug. Or to be held. Or something. This blows.

Overheard in New York:

"I just wanna make sweet love to Joss Whedon." -From one of two girls, who are quietly humming Buffy songs while using the bathroom after the Buffy Sing-a-Long

Torrid haircutting affairs.

I don't know about you, but my hair is precious to me. I'm obsessed. Really. I find a stylist that I like, and I go to them every single time, without fail. Maybe this is an Oklahoma thing, but getting a haircut is a social event- it's not just a haircut. Smalltalk is made, advice is given, stories are told. You get the point. I had a great stylist when I lived in the East 30's. When I moved uptown, it took me a good few months to find someone I really liked- a little Dominican lady, totally sweet, and does my hair for ten bucks. I always tip her well, and getting my hair cut there has become the social event that it once was back home. Today, I was desperate for a haircut. I could just FEEL a mullet coming on. (Sidenote: anything longer than a quarter-inch on the back of my neck is considered a mullet by moi). Okay, so it wasn't the SHAGGIEST it's ever been, but was bothering me extra badly for some reason, so I did something scandalous: I went to a new stylist. I feel like I've cheated on my Dominican lady... I let someone else cut my hair. I've committed haircutting adultery. I would feel guilty about this, except my head feels too fantastic.

Skiing in New Jersey:

It's much like I'd imagine skiing in Oklahoma would be. You're driving to the mountain, through Jersey, and then BOOM! There is a ski mountain right in front of you! Once you're on the mountain, it's reminiscent of a real mountain, and you're thinking, "Okay, this is alright!" And then you take the gondola up the mountain.

You look down, and you realize that there are no other mountains, and there is no other snow. You look down, and you see farms- green ones. And random houses in the country. And gently rolling hills. Trees, cows and horses- but no snow, and no other moutains. And you're DEFINITELY not at an elevation of 10,000 feet. Like, not even close. You know this because you can breathe. You keep thinking, "something is off here... no- something is vaguely familiar..." And then you realize, OH. MY. GOD. This is what skiing in Oklahoma would be like. New Jersey is just an East-Coast Oklahoma. It all makes sense now.


People, it is just not the same. I've been spoiled by the wonder of Colorado and New Mexico.

Snowy auto woes.

There is a car outside in the parking lot, desperately trying to get un-stuck from the snow. It's not going to happen for ya- sorry, buddy.

Mitch would have likely suggested a battery-operated hairdryer, or something along those lines. Then again, Mitch was a stoner.

The best text EVER.

I have learned a great new term for soft butches! "Chapstick Lesbian!" I think that's you. :) -From Liz, on my obsession with chapstick.

Fifth & Seneca Ski Team:

It's in the house, y'all. That's right. Red River, NM, you are MINE!!!

Eat my powder, Jack Sheets.



Note to self: buy some ski pants that match new Burton coat!

Parachutes.

In a haze, a stormy haze, I’ll be round, I’ll be loving you always, always, Here I am and I'll take my time, Here I am and I’ll wait in line always, always listen

Love, Mitch.

I went to a heavy metal concert. The singer yelled out, "How many of you people feel like human beings tonight?" And then he said, "How many of you feel like animals?" The thing is, everyone cheered after the animals part, but I cheered after the human beings part because I did not know there was a second part to the question.

Freelance web design:

Freelance web job: $250.



Keeping one's sanity: Priceless.


*Note to self: Stick to photography and print design.

**Follow-up note to self: GO BUY THAT COFFEE MAKER!!!!

You think you've seen it all...

...and then you see an old, scruffy man on the late-night train, devouring an entire tin of Altoids like a starving West African child.


Maybe not the strangest thing EVER, but still pretty odd. I think it was the sense of urgency with which said mints were eaten that threw me.

Love, Mitch.

This product that was on TV was available for four easy payments of $19.95. I would like a product that was available for three easy payments and one complicated payment. We can't tell you which payment it is, but one of these payments is going to be hard. The mailman will get shot, the envelope will not seal, the stamp will be in the wrong denomination. The final payment must be made in wampum.

Literacy, or lack thereof.

I've seen some pretty stupid things happen recently, but this may very well trump them all. Yesterday, I was taking NJ Transit from Penn Station to New Brunswick. A few stops before mine, I gather my bags and go to stand in the foyer in the middle of the car. The sliding doors have a large sticker covering them, which reads, "DOOR OUT OF SERVICE, PLEASE USE ANOTHER DOOR," or something to that effect. I stand there, however, because I don't want to wait between cars in the cold, and I still have a few stops before mine. So we arrive at the next stop, and a crowd of people are waiting in the foyer with me. I assume that they are waiting there for the same reason that I am- because it's friggin' cold between the cars. However, as the train comes to a stop, this entire crowd of people stands there, facing the doors, waiting for them to open- sticker and all. I'm thinking that they'll start walking to the non-broken doors any minute, but no. They just stand there, like bumps on a log. Finally, the conductor walks by and says, "That door is broken." I could just see the light flip on in their heads. They PANIC, thinking that they'll miss their stop, and run to the door between the cars. Seriously, people, learn to read. I mean, if some of those people didn't understand English, they STILL didn't have an excuse, because there was a large sticker COVERING THE DOORS!!!! Come on, now. Let's be serious. People need to pay attention. Or learn to read. Or both. For shizzle.

Love, Mitch.

I wish I could play little league now. I'd be way better than before.

Dear random New Yorkers,

I think you must be in need of some clarification regarding iPods and the way in which sound travels from them into my ears. You see, here's the thing- just because you can't hear any sound coming from the earbuds doesn't mean that I can't, either. That's how they were meant to work. Sound travels directly into my ears, creating my blissful world of music, and you hear nothing. It's fabulous.

Now that we've cleared this up, I'm hoping that you will understand and respect my state of nirvana as I listen to iTunes and stare into space, most certainly before I've had my morning coffee. In other words, don't stand there for 7.34 minutes and ask me over and over whether this is the downtown or uptown A train, hoping that I will notice you and discombobulate my intricate threading of iPod earbuds through my coat and bag, only to point to the sign under which you are standing that says "A Express: Downtown and Brooklyn."


Thanks!

Love, Mitch.

I think Bigfoot is blurry, that's the problem. It's not the photographer's fault. Bigfoot is blurry. And that's extra scary to me, because there's a large, out-of-focus monster roaming the countryside. Run. He's fuzzy. Get outta here!

I just don't get it.

What is with people in NYC putting drinks in bags??? (And yes, three years ago I would have called it a sack). This concept makes absolutely no sense to me. Bags aren't solid. When you put a drink in a bag, there is no flat surface on which the bottom of the cup can rest. As a result, the drink can tip over easily inside the bag. I know this because my spiced chai latte spilled inside my paper bag, causing the bottom of the paper bag to disentigrate. Are you following me, here? Normally, I'm not a huge advocate of the South, but I gotta say, I think they hit the nail on the head with the concept of drinkholders.

Note to self:

Four cups of coffee before 1 p.m. is a bad idea.

Love, Mitch.

I like the Fed-Ex driver, 'cause he's a drug dealer and he doesn't even know it.

Please, please shoot me.

I've just been informed of about 473 projects that need to be completed by Friday. If you need me, I'll be in my tiny little cave (and by that I mean cubicle) working until 11 p.m. tonight and tomorrow. Throw me a friggin' bone, here!!! Coffee would also be okay. Oy.

Love, Mitch.

I ate one anchovy, and that is why I did not eat two anchovies.

Yep...

...I totally just outed myself to my mother. I told her in an email which was fairly difficult to write that I respect her too much to hide who I am, and that I'm terrified to be a disappointment to her. I'm very close with my family and I don't want to lose that, especially with my extended family. Come to think of it, the email was easy to write. Hitting send was the hang-up.

Open Mic Night:

Okay, next time I'm REALLY not going to drink wine before I perform. For serious.

Love, Mitch.

I was walking down the street with a friend, and he said, "I hear music." As if there was any other way you can take it in. That's how I receive it too. You're not special.

Love, Mitch.

I saw a billboard for the lottery. It said, "Estimated lottery jackpot 55 million dollars." I did not know that was estimated. That would suck if you won and they said, "Oh, we were off by two zeroes. We estimate that you are angry." One of my friends once called the lottery "tax for the stupid."

Love, Mitch.

Alright, kids. Today's Mitch is duefully inspired by the fact that we have no heat this weekend. "I'm an ice sculptor. Last night I made a cube." I'll say that this isn't entirely true, but thought it was fitting.

Wedding photog guru.

My cousin just called to tell me that he proposed to his girlfriend last night. I'll now be shooting three weddings this summer, all three weeks apart. July 7, August 4, and September 1. Whew! I should get brownie points for this one. Okay, okay... I'll take the free travel. I'm really okay with that.

Oooh!

My mom is sending my trumpet, and my dad may have found me a mandolin. Now I can get back into jazz AND start playing some Nickel Creek! This is most exciting.

Not quite what I had in mind.

I've never gotten along with my brother. It's hard, because I really, really wanted a brother, and I got one. It's not that I don't love him... it's just that this is not what I had in mind. It would be easier if I could just quit caring, but I can't.

I really need a hug. And my room is cold.

Aaaaand... back to work I go!

Toodles. :)

Friday's words of wisdom. Love, Mitch.

People associate long hair with drug use. I wish people associated long hair with something other than drug use, like an extreme longing for cake. And then strangers would see a long haired guy and say, "That guy eats cake!" "He is on bundt cake!" Mothers saying to their daughters, "Don't bring the cake eater over here anymore. He smells like flour. Did you see how excited he got when he found out your birthday was fast approaching?"

Nerd Nite.

It warmed my soul. 'The Discovery Channel with beer' was quite an accurate description.

Long early morning swim tomorrow morning.


Tata!

Going on my wish list:

Acoustic-electric mandolin. I could so rock that.

Bonus round. Love, Mitch.

Due to today's extra-heavy workload, extra insight is necessary: I want to rob a bank with a BB gun. "Give me all your money or I will give you a dimple! I will be rich, you will be cute. We both win."

A heavier note:

I'd give anything for my best friend, Jill, to be here. I really hate that she had to go back to Texas. But even still, I'm thankful; I'm lucky to have such an amazing best friend.

Thursday's words of wisdom. Love, Mitch.

I was at this casino minding my own business, and this guy came up to me and said, "You're gonna have to move, you're blocking a fire exit." As though if there was a fire, I wasn't gonna run. If you're flammable and have legs, you are never blocking a fire exit.

Jeans.

I need some new ones. Smaller ones, more specifically.

Can I get some Brownie points for that?

Two things:

1. Okay, Starbucks, when I say, "Hi, I'd like a grande skinny latte," that negates the purpose of your inquiry as to whether or not I'd like whipped cream. That's what skinny is- skim milk, no whip. Capice?

[Note to self: Buy coffee maker!]

2. It is MOST exciting that I need a smaller belt, however, I REALLY love the one I have. Can I get extra holes punched in my belt, and have the end shortened?

Toodles!

It'll never get old.

Wednesday's words of wisdom. Love, Mitch.

"They say the recipe for Sprite is lemon and lime. I tried to make it at home. There's more to it than that."

Regarding Zone Bars:

The chocolate mint ones don't suck.

Dear Mr. Prez,

You know, I've been thinking about this whole war thing, and I have some things to say.

It's one thing to believe in a cause, and to truly believe that it's the right thing to do. But seriously, W, we all know that you're just an asshole. I mean, come on. You practically said, on the record, that you really don't care what the American people think, and you don't care what Congress thinks- you're going to do this, and there's no stopping you. What kind of a president tells the people of his country that he doesn't care what they think? Okay, okay... I know that you don't know the definition of sovereignty. I can't expect too much, you know? But there is a difference between being mean and stupid. And you, sir, are both.

I have so many things to say to you regarding this 'war,' some of which I will likely address at another time, but this is the only thing you need to remember: I don't hate people. I strongly dislike- I do my best not to hate. Hear me out, GW, if anything happens to my little brother, whose tour has already been extended by one year (after he's only been there for three months), I will hate you. That is a promise.


Cheerio!

Kate

Tuesday's words of wisdom. Love, Mitch.

I opened-up a yogurt, underneath the lid it said, "Please try again." because they were having a contest that I was unaware of. I thought maybe I opened the yogurt wrong. Or maybe Yoplait was trying to inspire me. "Come on Mitchell, don't give up!" An inspirational message from your friends at Yoplait. Fruit on the bottom, hope on top.

Monday's words of wisdom. Love, Mitch.

No day is complete without some words of wisdom from Mitch. Here are today's, slightly inspired by Book Stud's public service announcement today regarding contractions: "I saw a lady on TV, she was born without arms. That's sad, but then they said, "Lola does not know the meaning of the word 'can't'." That, to me, is even worse in a way. Not only is she missing arms, but she doesn't understand simple contractions. It's easy, Lola - you just take two words, put them together, take out the middle letters, put in a comma, and you raise it up!"

Mace.

Okay, so it's actually "self-defense spray." Maximum strength 3-in-1 formula. Which, as Mitch Hedberg would say, is bullshit because 3 is not big enough to fit into 1. That's why 3 was created. At any rate, this particular spray has red pepper, CS military tear gas, and UV marking dye. I don't know what any of those things do, but they sound painful. I didn't have the heart to tell my mother, who sent this spray, that I will never carry it. Ever. I'll never carry it because I'm the hugest nerd, EVER, and I'm terrified that I'll accidentally shoot myself in the eye with it. Or that the safety lock will come undone in my pocket, and that I'll get a little on my hands and inadvertently rub it into my eye. On a brighter note, I get to do my taxes next week. Yay! I suppose the fact that I'm excited about this doesn't really change my nerd status, now does it?

On Tap

Last night, I had Dos Equis Amber (with extra lime, muy importante) on tap, right here in New York City. It was the happiest draught beer drinking of the year, that's certain.

Word of the Day: Huzzah!

Similar to hooray, but way better.

Danger!

I've discovered spice chai lattes at Express Cafe on 7th Ave. Rut roh...