ikea should come with mandatory counseling sessions...

...before and after...

i mean, you get there and say, 'i need a dresser. my measurements show two feet wide, who cares how high, and one-and-a-half feet deep.' after you walk in, you realize there are thousands upon thousands of dressers. then you see the things in the office, home, and kitchen sections that *could* be dressers (while you think about how cool you are for thinking outside the box when you bring home a mondo spice rack for your socks and unmentionables. about when you wonder how the t-shirts and pants will be stored...) and then you say, 'well, two feet would be ideal, but would three feet REALLY be a problem?'

and the people. they're everywhere. you cannot escape them. you cannot escape them because they bump/sneeze/yell-at/step-on you. or their spawn do.

and what, exactly, is up with the little arrows on the floor? see, i've never taken authority all that well. (surprise, surprise.) yes, the furniture is damn near free, but don't DARE tell me how to navigate the store. if i want to go from kitchen to bedding, i will. if i want to go from living room to office, don't make eye contact. and if i want to do the tour backwards, on a european-cola high, plucking swedish fish out of my teeth with the handy-dandy complementary golf pencil, just step down, ingemar.

when in hicksville, do as the hicks do...

when i picked-up mancat's what-the-hell-IS-that-thing-exactly thing at the pick-up, alphamaleguy was all, 'hey, have a good night' (which was probably backhanded, as the thing came out in three big, heavy, separate boxes.) i looked at him point-blank and said, 'get me the hell out of here, sven, just get me the hell out of here.' 'i hear you, bro, i really do.'

tgi...

all's well that ends well. great, great interview today. not corporate america. not even kinda-sorta-a-little-bit. not even if-you-squint-really-tightly-after-a-glass-of-cabernet-(don't mind if i do)-maybe. this, THIS, my dears, is a job i could gladly take a break from emails to all of you (sorry-- 'rent due mothafucker...' points if you get that reference) to do. jeans. indirect lighting. that's not fluorescent. NO CUBE. NO BEIGENESS. and. and. AND. they all look like they enjoy themselves. i'm touching myself at the prospect.

and yes, d.c., i'd gladly sell each and everyone of you to the devil if it meant staving off cockroaches in room 101: i couldn't agree more.

is there a patron saint for job interviewees?

so, winston, what's in YOUR room 101?

interesting conversation came up tonight: what's in your room 101? the answers were typical, but the question was not. i love to be surprised by my friends, and when this question came up, i really thought that old adage is sincerely true: if you allow yourself to be surprised by your friends, you will be. i can thank d.c. for introducing that adage a few years back: never heard it before him, but a million times since, and it is just so true.

i've had QUITE ENOUGH

maybe it's the heat, i'm not usually so ornery, but two things:

1. i'm glad the gaggle of mid-western tourists wants to pour money into the city, and i applaud their recklessness. but. BUT. you should NOT be getting a picture on the OTHER SIDE OF FIFTH AVENUE with all of your friends strategically placed under the nice abercrombie two-story tall crotch ad during rush hour. yes, it's true that one MAY find a like-minded picture of me doing just that-- maybe drunk, maybe not-- but surely not during rush hour. and yes, muffie, i DID purposely walk in front of your camera. (oh be quiet, i'm not that mean: it was digital and when she had some crack to make in her little native tongue, something like, 'oh yamber, we havta e-rase e-nother,' i knew that they read the manual of their newly-purchased-from-times-square camera.) i looked back with the authority of a parent who is scolding his child: 'don't talk back to me, yamber, if you want to be in my city, it has to be under my rules.'

2. to the doorman of the frou-frou store on that well known shopping street who's been eye-fucking me for about a year: please stop. you're gross. i've tried looking away, looking at you point-blank with my mean-guy stare, and even grabbed a stranger's hand when i knew you were looking (not recommended.) if you continue this, i'm going to put a personal ad up with a picture i will take of you on my cel. i'm just that fucked up, and i'm not kidding.

big brother has gone too far this time

ok, it's like 430, and i've been done with my day for, well, those of you who know me can fill in THAT blank.

so i go to the gay city news website... banned! the error message: 'gay and lesbian and bisexual interest is filtered.' [sic, fucking morons.] i go to four other completely innocuous gay-themed websites. banned, banned, banned, and banned. so, i dust off my rainbow flag and go marching in my cube-farm director's office. explain the situation to her as calmly as a crazyperson could, and after i explained that the websites i was trying to get were not to, well, get a date for tonight (despite my new title above, hahahaha) i told her that i sincerely hoped this is not where our company was headed. and that i hope that someone looking up something on a latino heritage website or an asian language website wouldn't encounter such. fine, you don't want me reading the paper at work, but don't tell me my lifestyle is filtered. what's next: 'black and latino and asian interest is filtered.'? i sincerely, sincerely hope not. to her credit, she was fantastic: 'just tell me the websites you want and i'm happy to ask the question.' good answer.

i'm lazy, don't judge me

ok, i'm not lazy, but i'm being lazy now. see, actually sold three photos (go me) and have to drop off the printed/matted/framed orgasm of my efforts more sooner than later. so, went to my favorite place in chelsea yesterday (and why did he need the disc after he saved my photos to a file? and what does he do with the files after he prints them? so help me, if i find them anywhere, s., i will not be a happy camper) and he promised them for me tonight. but, it's raining, and one of them is twenty long, hard inches (that's hot) so it's not like it will be easy to get them home dry from there. and as tonight is the only night of the week, per usual, where i don't have somewhere to be or something or someone to do, i think i'm going to shop ebay and drink cheap wine and head to bed by nine. why? well, it's what lazy wine-o's on a budget do: don't judge me.

things that pissed me off today: so far

1. interboro community college ads on the subways. i applaud their push to get the masses educated, but they shouldn't let those who didn't get accepted write the ads as a consolation prize. sister mary mary, back in the day, wouldn't have taken any sentence that began with 'because.' i do think it's great that they manage to convey their sentiment via a string of monosyllabic words. usually, this herculean task is left to big-boy-and-girl words, but they seem to have gotten it down, so i guess i should applaud them for at least that. the thing i absolutely cannot, cannot get past, however, is the final tagline: 'if i can. you can.' now, we all know i'm a bit of a grammar queen, and while i may not always be right (i can admit that after almost a year of doctor freud, lol), i can usually pick it out when something is wrong. i may drop them a line. i mean, I'M not exactly about to put in an application for a college that cannot punctuate correctly. geesh.

hey- while we're on the subject, punctuate this sentence: woman without her man is nothing

2. my lovely food allergy. maybe my feet and liver got my throat on their side. 'hey, he keeps running me ragged, and the red wine has GOT to stop, but if you, oh, i don't know, close at inopportune times, maybe we can get him to chill out for just a bit.' and while a closed throat can be convenient in getting out of plans ('shit, at the hospital getting shot up with benadryl. can we grab drinks another time?'), usually it's just annoying. like at the wine tasting last year (haven't had white since... rather unfortunate on so many different levels), when i went out for beers last sunday (michelob ultra would seemingly NOT be the perfect beer: who'd have seen that one coming), and even tonight, while munching just a few cashews after dinner. cashews. he and i used to go way, way back. yeah, sure i've had my problems with his extended legume family (lentils can just bite me), but et tu brutae? apparantly so. you bastard. get black beans on your side and you're going down. and not in the good way.

3. my bladder. you don't do anything all fucking day long (great party, by the way, w.h.), and you pick NOW to make it up to me. really, too little, too late. you need to stop. just. stop.

grr.