Delta can suck it. Hard.

Hi everyone. Still in OK! I'm so excited to STILL be here, really, I can't tell you how pleased I am. Hopefully, tomorrow I get to take yet another trip to the airport to have my hopes and dreams dashed by a woman in an ill-fitting navy suit. So, now it is New Years Eve. And I got nothing. By nothing I mean a toothbrush, clothes other than a sweatshirt and holey jeans and dirty Pumas, friends, alcohol, plans, etc. If you read this before midnight, call me! Stat!

In a related story, my appreciation/tolerance of Oklahoma has officially come to an end. I no longer consider chicken fried steak a culinary innovation. The thought of Pickle-O's makes me want to puke. My "southern" accent makes me sound ignorant. 55 degrees gets old. Making fun of Republicans to their faces can only be entertaining for so long. The only thing that can save the remainder of this trip is the super cheap alcohol. And some ass. That would be nice. L-Ma, if it comes down to it, we're smooching at 12. I mean it.

Happy New Year (Y'all)!

Delta, you are an ass.

You have now canceled a second flight on me. I leave for the airport this morning at 5.45a (5.45 am!!) to find out that you just don't feel like flying from OKC to Atlanta today. Is it really that hard? So, now I'm back at the parent's and must leave for the airport tomorrow at 5.45a in what I'm convinced will be another futile attempt to return and will almost certainly ruin my New Years plans. (This might or might not be a lie. I might or might not have rockin' New Years Plans. You'll just have to wait till Monday and see.) Oh, but thanks for the $400 voucher. Although, I will never fly with you again. I'm putting that piece of crap up on ebay.

An Oklahoma Christmas in Numbers:

9 hours spent aimlessly wandering the Atlanta airport where I decided southern people are way better looking than Yankees (they're also not assholes). No offense.
6 of The Most Delicious Chicken Nuggets Ever consumed at said airport.
2 movies - (Casino Royale and The Good Shepherd).
1 trip to the drive-in for sweet, sweet Pickle-O's.
1, 284 times I've been called "sweetie," "honey," "darlin,'" "sweetheart," etc.
1 totally awesome celebrity sighting, hell, I met him! I love you Kayne (and Kanye too).
1 realization that I will always be smitten with my gay non-boyfriend from high school.
60 - the average temp of an Oklahoma winter - yay global warming!
1 free haircut (finally). Thanks mom!
42 trucks or SUV's I counted on the way to the mall, which I went to 4 times because there is nothing else to do in this Godforsakentown. Except drink, which I did for a solid week. And for only about $5 a trip! Reason enough to move home...)
1 fantastically awesome night with 10 of the coolest (read biggest nerds) kids in high school.
3 gin (Hendrick's - that's right, liquor is cheaper than water in OK) and tonics and 2 vodka tonics swilled before embarking on a 6 hour make-out session with 1 old boyfriend(ish).
1 friend named Alex who is the funniest kid I've ever met and needs to start a blog ASAP.
4 new pairs of heels.
1 new eyeliner and a $25 "free" gift from Clinique (Watch out boys! I done learned how to put on make up).
3 hours across the prairie to the g-rents for the most unfulfilling gift exchange ever - 3 hours back too, but we did score this!
2 hours total I've seen my brother - he's way cooler than I am and has been out all night almost every night. Whatev.
3 walks with my totally neurotic yet endearing dog, Claire.
5 conversations about abortion rights and gay weddings that almost ended in bar fights.
4 enchiladas I happily shoved into my pudgy little face - I gotta stock up. Mexican food in MA is more ridiculous than Miss Nevada getting a second chance.
11am - I got to sleep in!
3 times I was asked why I wasn't married. I am 25 after all. What else do I have to do besides get hitched and pop out babies?
80,000 text messages sent and received. I refuse to speak to you on the phone anymore. Send it in writing, please.
14 naps per day for the parents - are they that old?
600 channels!!!!!!!!!!
1 trip to Tulsa completing my Oklahoma '06 tour. I've seen it all. And there's not much.
1 delicious dinner of chicken fried steak. There is nothing better even though you've never heard of it. Don't even try.
12 mixed cds made out of desperation because the radio stations here only play Beyonce and Nickleback. Seriously.
4 days I've gone without reading Gawker. Gasp!
3 friends I dearly miss in MA. And one pug. And one cat.

Post Christmas Wrap Up (get it? wrap up? ha!)

Lame. Kind of like Christmas. I know I shouldn't complain. However... of the cousins/grandchildren, my brother and I are the only kids who haven't been arrested for possession or have DUI's - in fact, we're both literate and I even graduated from college (the little bro's still in high school), but somehow this seems to have no impact on the gift situation. So, we each get two TWO presents while the degenerates loudly rustle through a substantial pile of love gifts. I drive the family three hours to far western Oklahoma (I almost hit a tumbleweed! I'm not kidding!) to end the day with two gift cards to Wal-Mart. At least now I can buy that NASCAR DVD I've been wanting. We're a classy bunch.

This is how much no one loves me.

This is my brother, dad and I having our own gift card exchange. I eventually traded in the Wal-Marts for Dillard's (mid-west department store) and Macy's. I now own a lovely pair of gold high heels. Why not?

This is the most hideous thing I've seen since pictures of Suri. The fam likes to have a "dirty Santa" (aka "Yankee swap" or some shit) and this gift was a stunner (proudly displayed by brother and uncle bee-spot). You might need to click on the picture for a close up. It's truly a work of art. I can get it for you real cheap. Just let me know.

Gerald Ford, We Hardly Knew Ye.

Well, actually, just me. Because you were president before I was born. This is (in poor taste and) for you:

Nerd Party 06!!!

So, my high school has an English program called AEGIS, which is a highly selective, two year (11th and 12th grade), intensive program in which students are required to do all kinds of things - enter writing competitions, write plays for performance by the competitive acting class, prepare for the AP English test, etc (not that you can tell from my writing...) [ We're nerds, but I don't want to give you the wrong impression - most of us were actually just trying to get laid, convince someone to buy us alcohol, find ways not to go to school, buy Cliffs Notes for Wuthering Heights, and think of excuses for why we were out all night - studying, naturally. Lies. All lies. We were big geeks.] There were only 16 of us, so we got pretty cozy (read everyone's made out with everyone. Literally.) with each other over the years. Also, since we were (are) dorks, we were in the same AP and other dork classes together. Then we all scattered far and wide for college. This year, I decided to round us up in one place and nerd it up.

Things went pretty well. We all met up at a surprisingly swanky bar in Norman. Shots were taken. Stories were told. A good time was had by all. Of course, my phone dies and I miss the after party because I couldn't get directions (yes, I got everyone's text messages today - sorry!) and I have no idea where I'm going in this town anymore. So, instead, I did it up high school style, sucking face in the back seat of a car to Justin Timberlake all night like my life depended on it until my lips hurt (still hurt). Of course, I lost an earring. Some things never change.

Whose are these? Not mine, for once. Morgan has always been my toughest competition.

Mike and C-tina. Mike and I often fought to the point of jumping over our desks and beating each other with our copies of The Great Gatsby. Good times, good times.

L-Ma and Matt.

Alison. We wrote a play together about a provolone salesman. What?

Jared, Alison, Alex and Brian. Jared and Alex speak Chinese too!

Morgan being Morgan.

Brian and Alison. These are the worst captions ever. I am very tired and slightly hungover, you see.

Brandon and Jared. Neither of this kids were actually in AEGIS, but we decided they could stay.

It sounds gross,

but fried pickles (Pickle-O's) are one of the best things ever (and a bargain at $1.69). There's a darling drive-in called Classic 50's here in Norman that serves them. I've attempted to recreate them at home, but they always suck.

Feast your eyes:

Golden goodness.

It's really too bad there's nothing like this in NE.

Ecstasty. C-tina enjoys her first Pickle-O in years.

It's Friday, I'm in love.

Hi there! This is a special Oklahoma version! I know you can't wait! No one still reads this, do they. It's ok. My mom does.

1. Red dirt! It's everywhere. Unless you've seen it in person, it's hard to understand red dirt.
2. Mexican food. I have consumed about 10 pounds of enchiladas since my arrival Tuesday. Don't worry, I'm running three miles a day to make up for it, except I'm not.
3. Old friends. Oh Shain, gay boyfriend of yesteryear. You will never change.
4. The original best dog ever (my other has been stolen), Claire. She's gettin' old, but she's still one good lookin' lady dog.
5. Cheap gas. $2.07/gallon! Ok!
6. The 'rents are footing the bill for everything (should I feel guilty?).
7. Cheap beer that's not terribly sucky.
8. It's 55 outside right now. And it's December 22nd. Ah yes.
9. No cross walks.

Happy Holidays Ya'll.

I met Kayne! For real!

Last night, L-Ma and I were meeting up with an old high school friend at a local bar. Our friend meets us and leads us to a booth where L-Ma suddenly turns to the people seated beside us and says something along the lines of, "I think you should've won." I'm trying to figure out what's happening, then I see the spiky blonde hair and overly ornate shirt and sure as shit it's Kayne having dinner! He was so gracious and polite to our gawking and told us his new shoe line is coming out soon. Yay! We returned to our booth where I began plotting as to how I was going to get him to take a picture with us. Kayne (and his BF?) get their bill and are readying to leave when our waitress (who has been shamelessly flirting with our friend - gross, really) makes a comment about wearing her gay pride bracelet and our friend responds somewhat un p.c.ly. Not good. L-Ma then puts the kibosh on asking for a photo. Fucking Oklahoma. L-Ma now wants me to leave Kayne a comment through MySpace (yeah, he's my "friend" - so what) explaining the situation. We'll see.

So, I have nothing to show for my most recent brush with fame except this:



Yup. That's right. His check.

Goulet Wednesday News Roundup

Judith Regan fired.

Tara, Miss USA, rehired.

Britney Spears, slut.

Blah, blah, blah. Maybe more next week if Lindsay Lohan falls off the wagon, sets it on fire and drives the wrong way down the 405 in Britney's long lost underwear.

Christmastime in the OKC

Ok, actually, Norman, which is a little south of OKC (that's Oklahoma Ciy for those of you not in the know - home of the Cowboy Hall of Fame and Color Me Badd). I began my long journey yesterday morning at 4.30 am. I finally made it home at 9.30pm. Uh huh. Yup. Delta is dead to me. They canceled my connection and left me stranded in the Atlanta airport from 9.30am until 7pm. I hate them. I am computerless and ipodless. It was torture. I consoled myself with the best fast food ever! (On Delta, of course - what's another $7 when you're in bankruptcy proceedings, right?)

Behold the wonder of Chick-fil-A. I don't consider myself a fast food connsoisseur, but I am. The quality of their waffle fries and chicken nuggets is far superior to any other crap out there. I'm not gonna lie, I've looked up locations in the New England. There's one in Nashua. If you're in the area, get the number 3. You'll thank me later.



I also talked to a lot of southerners and am 45.3% on my way to reacquiring my accent, y'all. I've decided it's charming.

Stay tuned for more from the Heartland.

Music is my boyfriend

Dear Reader(s),

As the end of the year is drawing near, I thought I would provide you with a list of what I think are the 10 (ok, 11) best songs of this year. You might disagree. I don't care. I am always right.

11. Multiply (in a minor key) - Jamie Lidell
10. Long Distance Call - Phoenix
9. Secret Heart - Feist
8. Rise Up With Fists - Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins
7. The Greatest - Cat Power
6. Throw It All Away - Zero 7
5. Chinese Translation - M. Ward
4. Smile - Lily Allen
3. My Love - Justin Timberlake*
2. Together - The Raconteurs
1. Fidelity - Regina Spektor

*DO NOT argue with me about this one. Don't deny it, you love it too. Because it's actually good. Also, if you haven't seen this, I encourage immediate viewing. It's really a delightful Christmas ditty. Humming to myself right now...

Cat Party/Knitting/Burritos/Karaoke Dream/Ray Lamontagne

This weekend was another rather uneventful string of social interactions. Hmm. Is it me?

Friday night I met Alabracadabra and JS here. I think I like it better than The Dirty Truth. But of course, it's really far, so there's that. Ended the night back at the apartment (after several detours) with a strange gathering upstairs with the roommate, neighbors and several cats. You know.

Saturday night I found myself at Siobhlogger's watching her knitting needles fly along with Pregnantigoni's. They are truly amazing knitters. I am an amazing sitter. I read Martha Stewart Living and learned how to clean things I will never actually own or clean. I also tracked down a song S-bhan had heard on the radio, but could only remember a few lyrics. I am truly gifted at this. Seriously. I have proven it time and time again. Try me. I will win. Then we ate burritos! Delicious burritos.

Sunday morning, I had one of the strangest dreams that I can remember. If I already told you about it, skip to sunday night. If not, well, then... So, I'm on a tour bus packed with old high school friends and an assortment of Japanese people. We are touring the country performing in karaoke competitions. (As you might know, I am obsessed with karaoke, but rarely perform and when I do I am simultaneously awful and magnificent.) We arrive at a place somewhere near Chicago, I believe. I don't know why I believe this, but I do. We pile into the place and people start selecting songs. I have to go the restroom - where I manage to lock myself into a stall. Finally, after what seems like hours, I realized I can just slide underneath the door (why hadn't I thought of this before since I've actually had to do this? I dunno. It's a dream.). When I make my way to the stage area, I'm told there are only five minutes left and the only song that has not yet been sung is, you guessed it! "All I Want for Christmas" by Mariah Carey. So, I grab the mic and sing the crap out of the song. And win the competition! Yay! I'm holding the trophy thinking to myself, "you've never actually won anything like this! Things are looking up!" My eyes are closed, victory washing over me. Then, I open my eyes to the familiarity of my livingroom back in OK. A Fisher-Price microphone/tape recorder thingy is clutched in my hand. My parents are sitting on the couch. They say, "we think you're great." Yup. I woke up laughing.

Sunday night I happily found myself at the Calvin for Ray Lamontagne's show (thanks for organizing S!). Sadly, as much as I enjoy music, I have been to very few shows. (Here's the sad, sad list. Please don't laugh: Destiny's Child and Three Doors Down (drug there by college friends - at Rhodes), Counting Crows, Busta Rhymes, Pink, Andrew Bird, many assorted local bands, I have probably forgotten a few.) Most of the time, I find that the live performance is severely underwhelming. Andrew Bird completely surprised me, but Mr. Lamontagne definitely knocked my socks off. [Oh, there was the opening act, too. Tristan Prettyman. She was good as well. I think I've heard "Love, Love, Love" on the radio. She's kinda like a female Jack Johnson - I'm sure that's an original comparison. Whatever. I'm no music writer.] This guy is truly amazing. And by this guy, I mean his band too (not coincidentally, I now must learn how to play the steel guitar). I listen to his stuff on the radio (because I am the only ipodless person on the planet) and am sometimes tempted to download songs I don't recognize and I've always liked him, but after watching him perform, I am in love. First of all, he's got this rugged Maine/New Hampshire bearded recluse quality about him that I'm into right now.

see, ruggedly handsome. tortured. pensive. unavailable. my type.

Secondly, he's an incredible vocalist. He sings the shit out of every song. Being the product of two musicians, I do not say this lightly. Finally, his lyrics are simultaneously heart wrenching and joyous (I actually teared up a few times. He effortlessly captures complex emotions without forcing the sentiment into needless rhymes or conventions). I wish I could say that his performance was my favorite thing about the evening, but that would actually have to go to the couple sitting behind me (second runner up: drunk lady next to me who kept telling me her son looked like the drummer).

Skeevy guy: "Hey, I live right around the corner. Let's get out of here, go back to my place, drink wine and I'll play you some Nick Drake."

Girl: "Yeah."

Me: Bangs head against back of seat in hopes of making them shut up.

The end. Except then I went to a birthday party (late) and everyone left as soon as I arrived. Awesome! Eh. What're you gonna do? Eat french fries with garlic aioli. That's what you do.

It's Friday, I'm in Love

I know you've been waiting for this one! Here's the list for this week:

1. This purse. So cute. So wintry. So empty. (But, I still love it.)


2. Snoop Dogg does Christmas. Scroll down this page to download "Christmas Time in the LBC."

3. Burritos! Any kind, really. But, if anyone wants to take a trip to Anna's Taqueria or Benny's, lemme know. Whoa, there's a burrito blog. Of course there is.

4. Nick Le-Che. If you haven't bought my Christmas gift yet (don't worry, I haven't bought yours), here's one idea...

5. My friends. Thanks a million, kids as I have been a bit whiny and needy as of late, but you have all taken it in stride. I want to give a special long distance dedication to C-tina and Laceybug. C-tina - I'm wearing the Northwestern sweatshirt (fits perfectly, as does everything, amazingly. Remember when we gave L-Ma the Ayatollah Assaholah tee-shirt? I don't think she liked that as much as us.) and socks as I write. On post-its. Your package definitely made my day. And L-Ma, your cat card is up on the fridge in a very prominent position. It means a lot. Thanks.

Hoboken isn't as bad as I thought it would be.

This post is a bit delayed (and not even remotely humorous), but such is the life of a computerless (unfunny) blogger. I use term blogger, loosely, don't worry.

Siobhlogger let me tag along with her this weekend to her old stompin' grounds in Queens, Manhatten and Hoboken.

S's parents graciously hosted me Friday night. They have cable. It was heaven. Pure heaven. I had no idea just how much I miss Clinton and Stacy. Also, someone please nominate me for "What Not To Wear." Clearly, I qualify and could certainly benefit from a $5k shopping spree and a fashion ass lashing.

Saturday, S and I struck out via the LIRR to the city to meet up with Allison, a college friend of Siobhan's. We gorged on pizza and the view from Allison's apartment as we readied ourselves for the weekend's main event, a birthday party in Hoboken. We stopped in the village to pick up another friend and stuff our faces with cheese and hummus. We then headed over to NJ on the PATH. My first time! The party was hosted at this bar and featured an open bar as well as mini sliders! Delicious and just what you need after a face full of pizza. Whatever. I was on vacation.

This is the view from Allison's 34th floor apartment. Not too shabby.

This is S and I at Nine. I (on the right in case you don't know me) have never claimed to be photogenic. Nor attractive. Don't all email me at once asking me out.

We headed back to the city after our fill of free alcohol and finger foods, and after a small door debacle and a guy named Tyrone, made our way to The Other Room for a nightcap (where I tried to get high school friend Erik to meet us, but to no avail).

S, Allison and I ate our weight in diner food Sunday morning before heading back to Queens, where I got to help pick out my first real Christmas tree! My family has always had a fake one, dunno why, we just have. S and I decided to help her 'rents out by setting up then putting the lights on the tree. Easier said than done. The sucker fell over once and I'm very disappointed in my lighting skills. After determining the tree would remain upright long enough for us to escape, we took off for our happy valley. Big T called on the way and offered us a dinner at Green Street. Can't say no to that!

O Tannenbaum.

All in all, a good (if uneventful) weekend.

Merry Chrismakwanzahannukah!*

Consider this my gift to you. Because I'm on a tight budget this year.

I present to you:

The Best Holiday Mix Ever
(or stuff I like to listen to this time of year)!

I advise you to illegally download these little gems stat! It's the most wonderful time of the year!!

Christmas Time Is Here (vocal)- Vince Guaraldi Trio

All I want For Christmas - Mariah Carey

Baby It's Cold Outside - Dean Martin

Last Christmas - Wham

Sleigh Ride - Ella Fitzgerald

Happy Christmas (War is Over) - John Lennon

Linus and Lucy - Vince Guaraldi Trio

River - Joni Mitchell

Wonderful Christmastime - Paul McCartney

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas - Judy Garland

You're a Mean One Mr. Grinch - Thurl Ravenscroft**

The Christmas Song - Diana Krall

'Zat You, Santa Clause? - Louis Armstrong

Christmas Wrapping - The Waitresses

Greensleaves - John Coltrane

Christmas Time is Here (instrumental) - Vince Guaraldi Trio

* I am aware of both the overuse and lameness of this statement.

**Incidentally, I plan to name my first child Thurl Ravenscroft.

Goulet Wednesday News Roundup

Mama's got a brand new bag totally deadbeat, sketchy looking, potential moocher dude. [TMZ]

Linds has seen the light. She, like, hasn't had a drink in seven (7) days! [PerezHilton] Which means she might have been sober when she wrote this. Scary.

I guess I'll have to get that subscription to Maxim now. [Jossip]

Maybe Brit's new BF needs a DUI before they'll let him into Hyde. Seems to be a prerequisite. [MollyGood]

Watch out Suri. [Gawker] In a related story, yeah right. [MSNBC]

This is in case you have forgotten the source of Goulet Wednesday News Roundup.

Abercrombie's got my number.

Whilst Christmas shopping, I happened to pass in front of A&F at my local shopping center. One whiff of whatever cologne they've got going on in there, and I pretty much needed to sit down. Whoever does their market research, they're doing a damn fine job. I suppose I'm not Abercrombie's targeted demographic as I don't drive an SUV, use my parent's credit card, watch the O.C., am not a size 0, etc... but they still got me. For a long time, I was tricked into thinking that my last boyfriend's shiteous b.o. was somehow rugged and charming. Seriously, he refused to wear deodorant for a few years (something about the aluminum, wha? Gay.). Well, friends, I'm over that. I want a man that doesn't smell like a gyro wrapped in gym socks left on a radiator. I'm not pleased to admit that I repeatedly swoon at the contrived scent of such a socially (and culturally) irresponsible commercial giant, but there you go. Maybe it's the smell of capitalism that I'm enjoying.

It's Friday, I'm in Love

Hello there. I'm starting a new weekly post (in addition to the ever popular Goulet Wednesday News Roundup that I know you all can't wait for!). On Friday, I will expound (briefly) upon things with with I am currently in love (and by love I mean temporarily amused and or/smitten).

1. "Superstition" by Stevie Wonder. This is just an awesome song and makes me want to learn guitar. At the very least, I sing and dance around whenever I hear it.

2. "The Office." I've been slacking off on this season, but discovered I can catch up online! Yay! I would say this is the finest season yet. Team Pam or Team Karen? I just don't know. Definitely not Team Dwight. I know that.

3. More TV. "Ugly Betty" is surprisingly entertaining. I'm not sure how long this premise can hold out, but in the meantime, I'm enjoying myself. And Selma Hayek. Jesus, she's hot.

4. This. Watch only if you're familiar with R. Kelley's "Trapped in the Closet" saga. This is "Trapped in the Clauset" and fucking hilarious.

And now I'm off to New York, suckas. Don't miss me too much. Right. Of course you won't.

My name is Blythe and I'm a blogoholic

I've been obsessively compelled to read blogs and create my own since August of this year (I've always been a late bloomer. Except for my boobs. I got those when I was about 11). I cannot go for more than 24 hours without reading something about someone else's life or telling others about mine (or lack thereof). This is a problem as it is now interfering with my social life (or lack thereof) and sleep patterns (or lack thereof).

- I do not live in New York City (although, to be fair to myself, I did spend a blissful summer near Columbia right after high school and have pretty much been smitten ever since and the city would be the better for having me in residence), but I still need to know everything going on, not that I understand it, and everything about everyone who lives there, not that I'd ever meet them. It's a sickness. An evil sickness. It's Monday afternoon and I take a look at Slack Lalane, click a link here, a link there and suddenly it's Tuesday night. This is becoming worse than my diet coke addiction. And I have a diet coke IV.

News: Gawker, Jossip, Apiary, Gothamist, NY Magazine...

A sampling of people: Everything Is Wrong With Me, Monkey In My Pants, High Class Jackass, Logged Hours, fauxy dot net, Slack Lalane, Copyranter, Cole Slaw, Pissed and Pretty, Things That Make You Go Hmm, This Girl Called Automatic Win, Worker #3116...

- Although I see and speak with Siobhlogger, Alabracadabra, Pregnantigoni, Acorn to Tree, Laceybug and Pulp on a regular basis, I still find myself checking their blogs as if something could happen about which I don't already know. It's silly, really.

- I'm convinced no one likes me because I receive so few comments. I think I should talk to a therapist about this, or find a blog that talks about this.

- I am obsessed with celebrity gossip. I check in with Perez more than the New York Times. Why do I need to read an interview with Paris' waxer? I just fucking do. A high school friend was friends with MollyGood in college. When I found this out, I literally squealed. Not a good sign.

Other sources of celebrity goodness: TMZ, PerezHilton, Defamer, Best Week Ever, Page Six

- Being single and blogging seem to go hand in hand or something (Charming But Single, Downtown Chic, Desperate Guy, Girlfriend 07 etc.). So I duly complied. Note: it has not helped me become unsingle, which is not a word.

HELP ME!!! Is there some group I can join? Via the Internet?

or, better yet, start a blog, link me to yours, send a comment, let's talk about Gawker...

All I want for Christmas

is my fucking dog.

Ok, I usually try to keep this blog a happy space, full of witty, optimistic irreverence and shit, but holy balls, am I pissed. I think I've mentioned it before, but Break-Up06 has not been the easiest thing of my life. A good thing, yes (probably the best), easiest, no. Case in point: shared ownership of the best dog in the world. His name is Zealand, and he's from Oklahoma like me. I spent a solid six months with this dog, loving, training, playing, all of that wonderful stuff, then the break up. Sucky. It was decided that we would share the dog since we still live near each other. Then, after a shaky start, the dog was never returned and I've since been told I won't be seeing him again. Wait, I take that back, I might possibly be able to "spend time" with him. What the fuck? Presently, there's documentation supporting both of our claims to ownership. I don't want this to get messy, but I feel I'm being forced. Moreover, it's deeply disturbing that two people who spent the last fucking seven years of their life with each other can't get their shit together enough to deal with this like (quasi) adults. But I digress. I've gotten some good advice (on both sides of the issue), but I'm really torn about what I should do. This has brought me to tears the first time since August (when the aforementioned ruined my birthday). I simply love my dog and want him back. People do this all the time, why not us? I didn't think it was so much to ask considering how much money and effort has been put into said dog. But I also thought Kid and Pam's marriage would last, so there you go.

To make myself feel better, I have now listened to the following about 20 times. Seriously, when you're down, there's nothing like vintage Mariah (none of this Mimi bullshit) to cheer you up. I will also be drinking later (read right now). Feel free to join me.

Goulet Wednesday News Roundup

Someone in the L.A. Kid Squad has been watching TV! Or has a computer! Or a radio! Or a friend. Or a pet. Or an inanimate object since everyone and everything has seen Brit's baby factory these days. I suppose all is well as long as "Hit Me Baby One More Time" hasn't become literal.

Vaughniston broke up. Blah blah who cares. Team Jolie! I think some kids from the O.C. broke up too, but again, who cares.

Cheney's got a bun. In the oven. (That's quite possibly the worst pun/joke I've ever made.)

Speaking of babies, is sterilization really that bad of an idea? [The Scoop]

You can't make this up. Seriously.

The deforestation of Bush's lady garden. [NY Times]

Not my Augusten! [Gawker]

Banning trans fats? And another reason I don't live in NY.

this has been making sarah and i laugh a lot (you've probably already seen it or think it's dumb. whatev.)

Also, some people hate this one, but I happen to love it (I used to dork out to They Might Be Giant in my younger years, I won't lie). Well, not the product. That's disgusting.

You may ask yourself; Well...How did I get here?

Because I know at least one of you (out of all three of you) reads this several times a day, I am inspired to provide you with more content. I present to you a mid-afternoon smorgasbord of my head.
1. Have you seen the Greg Behrendt Show? I remember when his book, He's Just Not That Into You was a big deal a few years ago. I even seem to recall an Oprah appearance. Recently (i.e. this week), I've had a few opportunities to watch a little daytime television and happened upon this show after almost gouging my eyes out with blunt objects during a viewing of Rachel Ray's new show. What's up with his hair? It's like Mark McGrath and Vanilla Ice mated. And what's with all the vests? And tight pants? Wikipedia tells me that he used to room with David Cross. Wha? David, tell your old roomie the truth about this terrible show. (Also, just got a Bag Hutch!!) I'm just not that into this show and you shouldn't be either.

2. Amy Poehler prefectly summarizes the recent behavior of Brit on last week's SNL. Also, I just love her.



I will be including baby factory, beave, and lady garden in my active vocabulary from now on.

3. I am so over the Dreamgirls hype. Yeah, Beyonce's hot (and also a bitch, apparently), but she can't act for crap. Remember that movie she was in with Cuba Gooding Jr? I didn't think so.

4. It snowed! Just a tiny bit. Nice, fluffy, fat flakes. I like this time of year when it's novel as opposed to rage inducing.

5. "Elf" is officially my favorite holiday movie.

6. I really like being a holiday party date, so let me know if you need my services. I will +1 the crap out of any event.

7. Remember this? I think you do. I think the fact that I remember making sure I was listening to KJ103's Hot Eight at 8 for the sweet sounds of Snow makes me officially old. This jam's from 1993.



8. To continue my recent penchant toward whiney/sad bastard/emoish music, check out this one:



9. Same as it ever was...

The one where I went to a holiday party

Thanks Northampton Brewery! I had a great time at your holiday party last night. I even got my date to bust a move to "Bust a Move." And, there is almost nothing that makes me happier than a room full of drunk people screaming "Don't Stop Believing" at the top of their lungs. Clichéd, yes, but also fantastic. I don't know whether it was the free booze and food, karaoke dance party or all the cigarettes I smoked, but somehow, my faith in Northampton boys has been somewhat restored. There are some non weirdo/jerk/fuck ups out there after all. I will prevail.

An aside: Operation High Heels is in full swing, but my feet fucking hurt. Will it get easier?

122 King Street Art Center

EXHIBITION PRESS RELEASE
Really Ugly Cat House Thing
December 4 - when I can't stand it anymore

(Northampton, MA December 4, 2006) - 122 King Street Art Center is pleased to present Really Ugly Cat House Thing, an exhibition that brings together an artist exploring and transforming ordinary objects (namely trash) and social practices through a deliberate methodology.

With her uncompromising endeavor to probe the visceral and enigmatic world of cat toys, the artist, Recs, illuminates themes such as alchemy and religion, symbols of power and wealth, and the ostentatious and the sublime.

"Recs is an artist's artist," notes her roommate Blythe, curator of this blog and the exhibition. "Her significance places her between Dave's Soda and Pet Food City and Petsmart as a force whose ideas and influence have helped to shape late twentieth century cat art."

Really Ugly Cat House Thing is constructed of a really ugly cat house enveloped in the underside cover of a dilapidated box spring entwined by a decimated cassette and imbued with a sense of unrelenting authenticity and power. This complex architectural structure encourages direct participation, and also evokes references to fragile childhood scale models and places of the imagination.

The artist pictured with her inspiration, Party Cat.

Blythe's Beauty Corner

I'm not really big into makeup, but I've been toying with a few items as of late and cannot rave enough about the Tarte Rise and Shine Plumping Lip Stain and Cheek Stain. This stuff is amazing! Yeah, the lip plumper tingles a little bit, but no worries! I'm sure those chemicals are harmless! Get yourself to Sephora stat!

Thanksgiving Part II

Because I am impoverished, I could not afford to travel to the homeland for Thanksgiving this year. Instead, Margreat's clan happily welcomed myself, her roommate and Lil' T into their home. Thanks NC^2 and Mr. C!

Margreat and Gramps Jeff. BFF!

Lil' T stayed with me over the holiday while Siobhlogger and Big T were in DC.

That's one very large wine glass.

I was a member of the Clean Plate Club!

WARNING

DO NOT attempt to clean your apartment while listening to a mix of Portishead and Massive Attack. You will just end up making out with your mop.

Get out of jail free

or for $100. My life as a criminal is over. Case dismissed, car inspection violation paid. It was fun while it lasted. The D.A. was older and married this time. Damn.

In other news, I'm going to the Andrew Bird concert, suckas! It's gonna rock! In that slow Andrew Bird way...

Also, it's 64 degrees in Northampton, MA while it's 37 and snowy in Norman, OK. What? It's December.

Goulet Wednesday News Roundup

-Geez Louise lady! I haven't seen this much muff since I was at a women's college. How many times now, five? Good lord.

-Old news, I know, but if my thing with FedEx doesn't work out, there's always Kid Rock, I mean Bob. In a related story, Borat is one step closer to moving from "hand party" to "sexytime" with Pam.

-One down, I don't know how many more to go, but hopefully all of them.

-Wes and Coral from the Real World are speaking at Smith tomorrow night. I'm half tempted to go. I can't clearly remember Wes and know that I'm still scared of Coral. Remember when the Real World wasn't populated by drunken-anorexic-sorority-turbo-sluts and manwhores? Yeah, me too. Remember that first season? I'm still half in love with Julie and Eric Nies is still hot (remember The Grind? If you haven't seen me already, it's where I learned to dance, back in 1993). Shit sucks now, man. Still, I smell a Netflix fueled marathon!

-First NBC, now Colin Powell? They're catching on...

-And I thought my name was trouble... Check out this winner.

-"I'm Brian Fellows!" With a DUI.

So, I was listening

to "Yellow" by Coldplay (I know, so 2000) and realized that they're simply a poor man's Travis ("Why Does It Always Rain On Me?"). In any case, they both sound like early Radiohead.

That is all.

Hibernation/Reviews/Declaration/Request/Apologies/Congratulations/Cats

Hibernation: I haven't checked my email since Friday night! Sadly, I only had 36 messages. I was hoping that an onslaught of emails imploring my immediate return to the blogosphere would await me, but it was mostly my mom. Thanks guys.

Reviews: I saw two movies this weekend while on brief breaks from my self imposed hibernation; Casino Royale and For Your Consideration. Casino Royale, albeit a mite campy, delivered in all the ways a Bond movie should. I'm considering switching teams as Eva Green is pretty much the hottest lady I've ever seen and made me feel something funny in my naughty bits. However, For Your Consideration was somewhat of a disappointment. I think it was the pace of the narrative or something. Something was just off. Sure, there were moments of hilarity, including a dead-on depiction of entertainment daily tv shows, but other than that, kinda flat. Save your $8 and rent Waiting for Guffman.

Declaration: This is the winter of heels. I will wear them out rain, snow, sleet, ice, etc. Fortunately, global warming is preventing me from putting this declaration to the test. 62? Late November? Awesome! I loathe socks, coats and closed toed shoes.

Request: Andrew Bird (!) is playing at Middlebury on December 1. Who's coming with me? Seriously. I really really wanna go and need a partner. It's not too bad of a drive (I'm a good driver, I promise), the tickets are only $8 and he's freaking fantastic! Take a listen. He doesn't come round these parts very often. It's in your best interest. I'm just looking out for you.

Apologies: I have not had time to review TMZ, Gawker, Perez, Molly or Pink yet today. I will bring you any breaking news as soon as I can. Sit tight. I can guess for you, though: Lindsay has shown her crotch somewhere, Britney and Paris lost their pants, blah blah blah.

Congratulations: The Sooners triumphed over the lame-ass Cowboys with a 27-21 victory! Boomer! Sooner! Not gonna help us much, though. Stupid USC and the other OSU.

Cats: I still don't understand them. There were two creeping around the apartment over the holiday (cat sitting for the neighbor). I thought they would play together like dogs, or at least fall asleep in a cute little pile like an inspirational poster, but no. One hid under the bed and the other escaped. Roommate found Party Cat under the porch, fortunately. Good thing cats don't have distinct personalities, that way we could've replaced her real easy.

Thanksgiving Part I:

Because I'm a tard and left my camera at Margreat's house, pictures of the Turkey Day festivities will have to wait. What I can tell you now, though, is that I am going to eat the fuck out of some leftover mashed potatoes, stuffing and greenbean casserole a mere 6 hours after the initial round of consumption. It's going to be fucking awesome. Then I'm going to unbutton my pants and watch Grey's Anatomy. I strongly suggest you do the same.

Also, I am now obessessed with "Hello Operator" by the White Stripes. Can't get enough. Listen to it so we can sing along together next time we're drunk. Which will hopefully be soon.

It's 5pm on a Wednesday afternoon and I am still reading the Sunday Times.

I weighed it on Sunday. Two pounds according to my scale (which, in all honesty, I hope is a little off most of the time, but I suspect is accurate in this case). This behemoth costs $5. $5! That's a value meal at McDonald's, about 6 tacos at Taco Bell, or three nips of Jim Beam. Seriously, that's a lot of cash for a pile of newsprint, most of which I'm not interested in. So, I'm making an offer.

Here are all sections of the paper (Blah blah blah business and real estate. Who cares? I have no money and am therefore disinterested.):

Here's what I read (I am willing to share the sports section. Since OU is sucking, I'm not too attached to it at the moment.):

Perhaps we can timeshare? Let me know.

b "fucking hates douchebags like this"

Gawker's all over this, but in case you don't read it religiously like me, I thought I would bring this to your attention. Warning: you might vomit while watching.

I'm just a small town girl...

living in a lonely world really REALLY small (and awesome) town, which has its benefits. I can walk everywhere important: bars, liquor store, mom and pop grocery and the pharmacy. Ok, there are also fabulous restaurants and darling boutiques. I'm quite spoiled living here. There are even street performers, protesters and hipsters on every corner! Who needs New York when you have Northampton, jewel of Western Mass? However, there is a downside to the small town.

Say you suffer a (what you initially consider a rather traumatic) breakup. Say post breakup, you embark on, well, a bit of a (moderate) booty binge. Say you do this in a town of 30,000. One is bound to run into ghosts of drunken nights past. Like today. I'm sitting in a coffee shop and I'm fairly certain I saw a potentially familiar face up at the counter. I pretended like I was in a coma - very believable (especially to those of you acquainted with my tremendous acting abilities). I'm pretty inexperienced at this whole thing and have no idea how a normal adult (heh - adult) conducts oneself in this situation. I'm fine with mutual complete feigned ignorance, but it seems like in such a small town, that's going to eventually become kind of ridiculous. On the other hand, it's not like I'm going to walk up and say, hey, remember that night that time? Yeah, hazy for me too. Nice to see you.

So yeah, I don't know how to act. Any advice out there?

Distraction

Hello there. I've been listening to the following songs pretty much non-stop and thought I would share them with all (3) of you. They are a little sad bastard, but, that's how I'm feeling at the moment, so there. In any case, perhaps you will enjoy them as much as I do. I'm not savvy enough for figure out how to link you directly to them, so take a listen on their MySpace sites. Sorry for the ghettoness.

Fidelity - Regina Spektor: I know she's been on the scene for a while, but I'm slow. I'm just glad someone else hears voices...



Sundress - Ben Kweller: I like all of the Bens I can get my hears on (Folds, Lee, Harper, Gibbard) and he's no exception.



O Valencia - The Decemberists: The most upbeat song about death ever!

Tulips - Fancy Trash: This one just gets stuck in my head ALL the time.

Satellite - Guster: I've always claimed to hate Guster along with Dispatch and other frat friendly bands (reminds me of punch and pong, blech), but I actually like this one.

Again and Again - The Bird and the Bee: Weird, but catchy.

Golden Days - The Damnwells: Poppy, but infectious.

Together - The Raconteurs: This is probably my favorite at the moment, but of course, I can't find it. Steady as She Goes is good stuff too.

bad video of Together:



Back Together - Citizen Cope: He's the guy from that Pontiac commercial I was obsessed with a year ago (Son's Gonna Rise), but I like this one too. He was just in Noho last week and I missed him. So pissed!

I'm pretty sure I still have bird flu

but, guess what you get to have when you're afflicted? A hot toddy! Delicious and better than a robotrip anyday. I sucked it up and watched the Big Game with a couple of kids from Ohio and a disinterested Michigan fan among others. It was actually a pretty good time in spite of me hating that both teams are better than the Sooners. I was also just ecstatic because I could actually breathe out of my nose. And, of course, the victory beer didn't hurt either. I would like to point out that OU went on to a 36-10 win over Baylor since so many (by so many, I mean all three of you that read this thing) of you care.

And now, back to bed, I think. Not because I'm sick so much as the hipster/emo (there's also the uniquely Northampton "smithster" in abundance this evening - so young!) kids here at Haymarket are way too cool for school and are giving me the evil, but tolerant, eye. I feel I should either put a skirt over my not skinny enough jeans, break out my tortoise shell glasses (ok, yes I have some in spite of my self proclaimed "fighter pilot vision"), pull up my leg warmers, listen to Devendra Banhart while rocking a pair of leggings and Uggs, drink a soy chai latte out of an ogranic coconut shell that I will compost shortly after consumption or head home.

I think I have bird flu.

Feel free to feel sorry for me. I think I'm going to chug a bottle of Robitussin now and it's not even Friday night yet!

But, before I crawl off to bed, check this out. I'm 98.4% sure my brother was lined up outside of an Oklahoma Best Buy last night. I love that kid.

Oh, and one more thing. I've been reading a lot about this supposedly big game happening tomorrow. OSU vs. Michigan. I think everyone must be confused. The OU/OSU game is happening on the 25th. That is real bedlam.

Ok. Last thing. I ate this last night (thanks Siobhlogger!), but it's ok because the New York Times says it is.

The Kings of the Cocktail Hour Once Again
By FLORENCE FABRICANT
Published: August 30, 2006
PIGS in blankets? “They’re back with a vengeance!” said Sean Driscoll, an owner of the silver-tray catering company Glorious Food in Manhattan. Though they never disappeared from the bar mitzvah circuit (where they are often called franks in jackets, the way Katz’s Delicatessen, being kosher, labels them), they had been disparaged as a cliché for too many years. The classiest caterers kept their distance.

But now you can forget caviar and sushi. Without pigs in blankets, it seems, no black tie cocktail hour is complete. They are more than acceptable; they are again being seen for what they are: perfect finger food, delicious and surrounded by the same aura of affection enjoyed by all comfort foods.

Mr. Driscoll’s company served them in June for a formal garden party at the Museum of Modern Art and for 4,000 people at the Robin Hood Foundation benefit. Waiters passed them in July at a party for the Parrish Art Museum in Southampton, N.Y.

“They’re acceptable guilt food,” he said. “They’re not like buying a hot dog from a street vendor, and besides, the pastry is a good blotter for alcohol.”

Helene Cisek, the catering director for Eli’s Vinegar Factory, said that pigs in blankets are always the first things to be “gobbled up” and that for catered parties they always plan to have extras on hand.

Sometimes the blanket itself is more like a fine quilt. The franks might be tucked into flaky puff pastry by establishments like Daniel Boulud’s Restaurant Daniel, and his catering company, Feast & Fêtes. At Daniel, guests can pluck pigs in blankets from an elaborate puff pastry dome that is fitted with holes to hold the tidbits.

Marcy Blum, a wedding and party planner, said they had become essential at parties again, like at the black tie wedding last week at Cipriani Wall Street.

And Serena Bass, the English caterer, said: “We might be talking about hors d’oeuvres made of quail and moulard duck breast something or other, and the client will clutch her neck and ask, almost sotto voce, whether they could possibly have pigs in blankets. It’s almost embarrassing because it’s all anybody wants. We literally serve them all the time.”

Ms. Bass makes hers with kosher cocktail franks, dusts the puff pastry with poppy seeds and varies the standard pot of Gulden’s mustard with dips like quince paste and homemade barbecue sauce. They were on the menu for a house party she catered for Microsoft last week in the Hamptons.

A few weeks ago they were even served at a reception after a memorial service for a member of the board at Lincoln Center. “The family requested them because the deceased loved them,” said José Fong, the director of catering for Restaurant Associates, which handled the event.

Because some still see them as trite, variations can make the difference. Nisa Lee, a caterer in Pelham, N.Y., who specializes in Thai, Moroccan and other international cuisines, said she liked to put a modern spin on them by using duck sausage, chorizo and andouille and by wrapping them in phyllo or wonton skins. “They’re a big hit, no matter what,” she said.

The concept of pigs in blankets, that is, sausage meat in pastry, is familiar, in one form or another, in many cuisines. Saucisson en croûte in France, toad in the hole in England and even pot stickers in China and empanadas in Argentina are examples. They are close cousins to American pretzel dogs and corn dogs. Some say the American version originated in the South, where they are usually wrapped in biscuit dough.

One more sign of their popularity is that Dufour Pastry Kitchens, which has been in business for 21 years making and selling frozen hors d’oeuvres in all-butter puff pastry, will add pigs in blankets to the line. The company never used meat products before.

“Our customers have been pleading for them,” said Judi Arnold, a partner in the company. “We experimented with a salmon dog in puff pastry but it didn’t take off. We finally found an all-natural beef frank that we’re happy with, so we’re ready to do them.” (They will be introduced at the end of September and sold at Zabar’s, among other stores; information about ordering them will be at dufourpastrykitchens.com.)

And you can be sure, as this fall’s party season gets under way, that pigs in blankets will be on all the right trays and platters. “They used to be like a joke,” said Ms. Blum, the party planner. “But everyone takes them seriously now.”

I am in love

with my bed. It's pretty much the best bed ever. It's good sized, there's some sort of pillow top action, a simple, but tasteful headboard. I'm not gonna lie, I spend a lot of time in it - mostly reading Harry Potter or passed out. I'm not sure why I require so many pillows, but I must have all six of them. I love you, bed.

blah blah blah knitting

So, I belong to an informal knitting group. We try to meet up once a week to do some eating, some gossipping and eventually, some knitting. Well, the others do.

Look at Alabracadabra hard at work!

Pregnantigoni knitting while wearing her own handiwork. Quite amazing.

Look at me pretending to knit. Yes, I devoured that bread bowl AND the bag of chips. That's how I roll.

What I end up doing is examining the contents of my purse when I realize that I cannot actually knit worth a damn.

1. cell phone - essentially useless, no one calls me and i use it exclusively for drunk dialing
2. lip gloss - you know, in case anyone's ever looking
3. moisturizer - it's winter!
4. wallet - chock full of receipts
5. sunglasses
6. keys - to my sweetass ride and posh apartment
7. post-it - probably something important that i've already forgotten
8. USB cord. you know.

Holy Crap!

Saw these guys last night. Peelander Z is really quite something. At one point, Margrawesome was on stage hitting people over the head with a giant mallet. Pretty sweet. Or something.

A few things:

So, after my adventure Friday afternoon, pretty much anything was going to be anticlimatic, but I will regale you with my weekend anyway.
Friday night: Acorn to Tree and Kelsey Frost made dinner for Siobhlogger and I. Very nice. Then we headed out to have a drink with Big T. Also very nice. Then, Acorn to Tree and I headed to the seediest, smelliest bar in town to hear some music, which for once ended up not being too bad. These kids were awesome. My new musical heroes, if you're into nerdy white boy rapping - or something. I actually enjoyed myself for once, but there was no dancing as my legs are pretty much useless as a result of my return to Bikram Yoga. The events following are unspeakable, but I will provide highlights: a lost coat (again!), the radio, a Chinese dictionary, 5am.
Saturday: After waking at noon (only four hours of daylight left, blah), Siobhlogger took me for a nice jaunt in the woods, then we went suburban and bought dog food, stuff like that, you know. JS called and invited me to dinner with himself and Alabracadabra. He graciously picked me up (you know, since I can't drive) and we had a lovely dinner of gourmet roast beef sandwiches and homemade mac and cheese. I have not eaten at home since Monday night. I'm not sure if I should be proud of this or not. Then we headed into town for a lovely drink at a lovely bar and I think I forgot to say thanks. Thanks JS. I was a good girl and went home at 1.
Sunday: Now, this is where things get weird. I'm pretty much broke, can't drive, am boyfriendless, all the friends are busy doing productive things, so this means I must entertain myself. I watched some Meet the Press and yelled at the TV, made a weird soup, cleaned my room, and took a two hour bath. I'm very clean now. I went to The Neighbor's house to check my email and we ended up going to dinner, which continues my no food at home streak, which I've decided, I'm publically ashamed of, but secretly proud. We watched some Mr. Show, which is never a bad idea on a rainy Sunday. Back at home, I did the following to stave off absolute boredom: made myself a gin and tonic, organized my photos, did some dishes, tried to teach myself Maybe I'm Amazed on the guitar, sang an entire Ella Fitzgerald album as if I were giving a concert, finished a biography on Queen Elizabeth (I) and started The Master and Margarita. Finally, Roommate came home and we watched some Sex and the City. Is this normal? Is this what I'm supposed to be doing? I'm skeptical.

Post election wrap-up or why I wore handcuffs on a Friday afternoon (but not in a good way).

So, today is my last day off before starting Job 2.0 and I decided to use it responsibly (although I really just wanted to read more Harry Potter in bed) by taking care of some domestic chores including, you know, laundry, cleaning the bathroom, painting my toenails, etc. I'm clad in my usual laundry day desperation attire: sports bra from 1999, bikini bottoms, GAP kids fleece pullover, purple cordoroy pants - yes purple, unkempt hair, unmade-up face (ok, that's pretty normal). I'm coming home from the laundrymat when I see my favorite thing in the whole world: flashing lights in my rearview mirror. I pull over (I'm only about 20 feet from my apartment). The cop comes up, blah blah blah, how fast, blah blah blah, license and registration, please. I oblige, of course. I sit in the car thinking things like, what am I going to have for my afternoon snack and what about dinner - maybe pesto?, you know, because I only think about food. It dons on me that he's taking a while. Hmm, I think. Perhaps a nice caprese salad with the pesto. He sidles back up to the car with no ticket. Hmm, I think again. White wine?

"Um, ma'am?" he says. I am appalled. Ma'am? "Did you know you're driving with a suspended license?"

"No," I say. "Why would I be driving if I knew my license were suspended?"

"Well, you're going to have to go down to the station with me."

WHAT? STATION? He proceeds to tell me that a ticket that I (and by I I mean the exboyfriend, fine it was my car that was uninspected, but he coulda told me) almost a YEAR ago and was paid in JULY had mysteriously resulted in my license being suspended as of September. None of this makes any sense to me and I try to rationally protest, but I see I am not going to win. He then tells me he needs to cuff me. Cuff me? No, I think not. My eyes well up and he senses that he's not going to win and says, "Ok, but it's against policy." Yeah, it's against my policy to get fucking arrested for having paid a traffic citation. Holy balls am I pissed. So, he takes me down to the station (about 100 feet fro my apartment, hopefully all the neighbors saw my shame) and then says he does in fact have to cuff me when he takes me in because other officers are present. I say ok, but what I really want to say is, there's a camera in my purse, can you take a picture of this? I resist. While nice, the cop doesn't have the sense of humor I was hoping he'd have.



So, I go inside and am booked. BOOKED! I have to say my weight out loud. I have to take a picture in laundry day desperation attire! Fortunately, I can have a court appearance today, whatever that means. So, I scoot across the street to the courthouse and a nice lady tells me I can see the judge and meet with the DA to go over my charges. Charges? So far I only know of one infraction: dating a one [redacted]. While I wait, the two officers search my purse, find my old school ID and proceed to make fun of me. "For a girl that went to a good school, this is kinda a dumb thing to do, etc." Yeah, real funny and original. Whatev. I laugh in hopes that they will take pity on me and make this thing go away faster. Which they do.

I'm led into a courtroom and am surprised by the informality. People are kinda just milling around. I suppose it's a Friday afternoon and all, but I was expecting some Law & Order action.



The judge mentions that I can clear all of this up today, but the DA jumps up and says, no way, it's a holiday, will have to wait. I almost piss myself thinking that I'm going to be in jail this weekend (then I think, would that be so bad? I mean, I'd have plans for the entire weekend! Pressure's off!), but then he says, you can go, we just need to reschedule. He comes out from behind his sad little desk and sits on the bench with me to tell me that I just need to go get a new license and bring it back, then the whole matter will be dismissed. He doesn't know why it even happened, but I shouldn't have an Oklahoma license anyway (which I concede) now that I permanently live in Mass. (OK. YES. I know this and have known this. You wanna know why I still have it? Brad Henry (D - OK). That's fucking why. I wanted to vote for the Dems in this past election in Oklahoma as opposed to MA where they were sure to win. This is what I get for being a concerned, politically active citizen. Well, fuck you Oklahoma, my absentee ballot didn't even show up in time (ok, I think mail forwarding might have something to do with it, but still, fuck you Oklahoma Elections Board).

But I'm not listening all that well, because I have fallen in love with the DA. However, unless he's into criminals wearing the worst outfit ever, I think it's hopeless.