i am job

today i got this email through match.com

Hi. How are you?
I think we can talk about lots things and do the people watch thing.
Would you like to get a cup of coffee?

I am Dennis.

... it kind of reminds me of that scene from "mrs. doubtfire", where robin williams calls sally field and pretends to be crazy people applying to nanny their children.

earworm

i've had this stuck in my head for days now. so in the christmas spirit i'm sharing it with all of you, my faithful readers.

do yourself a favor and go watch the video on youtube, it wouldn't let me embed it.

i went to a holiday party last night

where i spilled my drink on a stranger. i did the right thing and introduced myself with, "hi, i'm matt. i just spilled my drink on you." it didn't go over as well as i thought it would.
wounded from her dirty look, i spent the next 15 minutes making fun of her outfit... it was very 1998.

remember, oh i don't know fifteen years ago, when meeting people on the internet was wierd and creepy and often a subject for the maury povich show?

so after a few good bouts of procrastination and some encouragement from friends i joined match.com.
anywho it led me to tonight's date. he's the second man i've met through the site; and while the date i had last night went swimmingly, this one didn't.

reason #1.
he thought it would be nice to be a muslim woman living in the middle east. that whole freedom from choice thing is apparently enticing to some?

reason #2.
he was a vegetarian. but i'm suspicious that he's really a vegan. also when i asked him if he had any moral reason why he abstained from meat, he told me it was mostly a "control issue". control issue. it sounds so smug.

reason #3.
and i couldn't stop thinking about it the entire time we drank our coffee and ate a small chocolate cake. i met him in the virgin mega-store, where he bought a shania twain cd.

addendum. he also used the word "sexy" as a noun and an adjective.

nude models strip to protest low pay...

doesn't that seem a little backwards. you're protesting by giving them what they want.

location, location, location

last night i dreamed i got a tattoo of a green rose. this morning i thought it was funny and i that i should write it up. i did a google search of "green rose tattoo". surprisingly someone has such a tattoo.

mine was on my forearm, which is not quite as elegant as this young lady's placement.

things i learn from busboys

since i've been working in a restaurant, i've picked up the strange habit of calling everyone "papi" and "mami".
it probably sounds incredibly inauthentic coming from my mouth.
perhaps even a little "bobo".

a long and not very interesting story demonstrating my stupidity

im taking this drafting class, and its involves a lot of materials. a lot more than i initially anticipated, but thats neither here nor there.
one of the tools i needed was this ruler that you attach to your drawing board so its parallel and all your drawings are perfect and beautiful.
i'd never seen one of these contraptions before, so i took me a WHILE to figure out that mine was broken and maybe missing pieces. after waiting in dick blick for an hour and a half (also i had thrown away the receipt) i finally got the manager to give me an even exchange.
but they didn't have another in the size i needed, so they would order it and call me when it arrived.

so i wait a week, hear nothing, and then call the art store to see whats going on.

surprise surprise they know nothing about what happened and i spent a good 45 minutes telling the manager my story and describing who helped me, a big black girl with tattoos, a little white girl who was in charge of inventory.
he replied little white girls weren't incharge of anything here.
anywho long story short he agreed to accept my return without a receipt and all i needed to do was come in.

i walked to dick blick, realizing when i walked in the door i had called utrecht.

has anyone seen

...the new airborne commercial with the woman who invented the stuff? and she's talking about how she sold her company and then didn't like how it was being run so she bought it back. it all comes across as if she is incredibly angry and is barely keeping control of herself.
then she finishes with a thank you to everyone who buys airborne... but it feels more like a warning. like, "if you don't keep buying it, you can't imagine what i will do to your family".

and he's mean

remember when michael jackson called tommy mottola "very, very, very devilish"? i love that he used "very" three times in addition to the word "devilish" and still wanted his claims of racism to to be taken seriously.
i mean he's michael jackson.

a word of advice

today i was told by one of our bar regulars (and this is in all honesty from me, and was in all sincerity from him) that i need to stop raising my eyebrows and making certain facial expressions because he warns i will develop ugly wrinkles prematurely aging my young face.
and i mean i guess this is true; my forehead will eventually wrinkle. but on the otherhand, i do get a lot of strangers telling me to smile more... the homeless in particular, they especially love telling me to smile.

i had a sex dream

...about my roommate gina. in my dream we were dating. it was working out pretty awesomely, we had a lot of fun together and we kept our own bedrooms. but every couple of days we knew we had to meet in the living room to do the deed. it was really uncomfortable and we wouldn't look at each other.
i woke up disoriented.

every day

...i have to walk through times square twice to get to and from work. times square sucks for a number of reasons, but number one has got to be(and this is by a long shot) the tourists. the obnoxious european tourists of the summer have disappeared, but now that its almost thanksgiving they've been usurped by fat american tourists.
fat american tourists who talk loudly in flat screetchy accents while they stop in the middle of the sidewalk holding hands five-abreast so that one of them can buy a fake louis vuitton.

the error of my ways

i was invited to attend the out awards by my friend kristen. i had worked that night (it was a long one... a lot of difficult tables) and she met me at the restaurant for a drink before. when we got to the party there was a super long line just to get your name checked on the list.
ooops are names weren't on the list. we went to the end of another long line to try and talk to the door person...

flash back: early that night i had a man at an incomplete table wave me over and then tell me (in a disagreeable voice) they couldn't find there waiter. my reasons for not helping them? 1. he was right next to the table. 2. i didn't like the look on his face or the sound of his voice. so instead of taking their order i told them the server would help them soon.

back at the door: you probably see this coming, but the door person is that man. we leave after we see him.

i'm thinking about being nicer at work.

a couple of months ago

...i was feeling nostalgic and emailed an old boyfriend of mine. after a nice note back, i responded and invited him out for a drink or coffee.
never heard anything back.
until a couple of weeks later when i received a mass email with some inspirational quotes urging me to see a very serious documentary about some very sad poor people. and they keep coming.
i already hate mass emails (whether containing bad jokes or political commentary), but these are worse.

for the last 15 minutes...

there has been a homeless man standing outside my window. everytime a woman walks by he yells, "hey! hey! you know me! i'm brian gumble!"

overheard on 110th and lenox

while waiting in line at a bodega.

guy on phone: oh baby, oh baby, that don't mean nothin'! i was drunk on nyquil! that don't mean nothing.

he then ordered two nyquil gel tabs from the clerk.

oh happy day

how great that obama will be the president? it's just like morgan freeman in "deep impact".

she liked to kick and stretch

on the subway home from work this evening i was attacked by a crazy woman. she got on the f train at west 4th, and as she ate hot dog buns from a plastic bag and mumbled to god she lightly (but trust me... it was full of menace) grazed her toe with mine. i gave her a dirty look and she walked away and continued stuffing the buns in her mouth. right before we got to broadway-lafayette her gruntings got louder and she started to make her way towards me. she raised her leg to give me a hard kick, but i screamed and she ran away. not a single person on the train batted an eye.
it's shit like this that makes me love and hate new york.

very very agitated.

i've said it before, but it bears repeating... i deal with A LOT of crotchety old jewish ladies. for sometime now i've suspected that as i age i might by some magic turn into one. some of their speech patterns i find amusing in an ironic way, but after months of mocking them some of them have naturally creeped into my vernacular.
so now i say "vary" instead of very. and i say it twice, so things are "vary, vary haaarible."
i was appalled the other day when i was talking to my friend jermaine who is in china and the the connection was bad. i was stuck with a 30 second playback that made it sound like linda richman was playing that annoying game where someone repeats everything you say. except it was me. it was my voice. i have a lot of thinking to do.

something i don't hate

i can't get enough of this shit. seriously.
the other day i was working the door at the restaurant, and couldn't resist doing a little part of the dance. an old man walked in and caught me unawares... i was so embarrassed i gave him a table right away.
it's just soooooo enjoyable. on soooooo many levels.

today was really dreadful at work

so on the way home i listened to the entire soundtrack of "the sound of music". there is something really soothing about nuns, a nanny, and some-sort-of-orphans singing. after listening to it i had almost forgotten being yelled at by a hawaiian-shirted assortment of bridge-and-tunnelers going to see "jersey boys".

known variously as esther, or madge

the other night i got to go see madonna in concert. i totally enjoyed the show... but as always, i do have some complaints... that's how i do.

1. madonna stop playing guitar. nobody wants to see that, get back to dancing. that's what i paid for.
2. stop lying about your plastic surgery. i could see that work from my seat up in the stands. also the jumbo-tron helped.
3. i understand that you're rather proud of those arms. but i think sleeves would work quite nicely for you.

i do have to give you some props, not many performers can dedicate a song from "evita" to their daughter and then only moments later call the entire audience "pussy motherfuckers".

though i rarely give a dollar

there's something about street musicians and buskers that when i walk past them i can't help but feel as if i'm the star of a movie and that they are the soundtrack, or that it's the begining credits of some sit-com based on my stand-up comedy stylings.
except when it's the peruvian pan pipe man, or a dreadlocked lesbian with a guitar.

get crackin'

now that it's october i'm going to have to start thinking about a halloween costume. i can wear one to the restaurant, but i haven't decided if it will be more embarrassing to wear a costume or to have someone think that my regular clothes are a costume.

something to be discovered, not announced

i have to deal with a lot of offensive perfumes. i work in a restaurant where our main clientele are old ladies going to lunch before the matinee. they all wear shalimar or something with elizabeth taylor's name stamped on it. but funny enough the worst smelling cologne of all-time is one not worn my many old ladies.
patchouli.
everytime i pass someone on the street and smell it i want to die.
my friend jeremy recently told me about a bar he used to go to where if someone came in wearing patchouli they would get kicked out and never allowed back in. ever.
i'm still not one hundred percent on how they enforced this... but i'm thinking about setting up a similar rule to govern my life.

shave and a haircut. two bits.

i hate getting my haircut. i hate the intimacy with a stranger, the forced conversation, the feeling of hair sticking to your neck and forehead.
i don't really like to have long drawn out talks with hairdressers. i let them know what i want, we discuss the cut... but after that when they ask me what i do or how my summer was, it takes everything in me not to respond with, "please don't address me until it's time to ask me how i like my hair."
i got a dreadful haircut this morning... long story short i wanted it thinned out. when i asked the stylist to clean up my sideburns he buzzed them down to almost nothing. which upset me to no end. when i got home and looked it the mirror i saw that my hair had been thinned so much that you could see large pieces of my scalp from many angles. combined with my supremely short sideburns it looked like i had down syndrome and was going through a course of chemotherapy. it was definitely "a very special episode" of "life goes on".
i'm back to having a buzz cut. it was my only option.

gay face...

is the worst. ironically there is nothing more off-putting and unsexy to this gay man, than a bad case of gay face. gay face is an effect brought on by numerous causes including overly plucked eyebrows, a tightly pursed mouth, distinctly surprised expressions, and too much bronzer... yeah. that's pretty much all i have today. a pointless and kind of petty complaint.

it's not sexist to think a woman is stupid when they are actually stupid. very, very, very stupid.

when i was in the eighth grade, i was assigned a project on an aspect of the lives of colonial settlers. i chose the salem witch trials. one day when i was doing research on a teacher's computer, the substitute came up behind me and read what i was looking at. she then gravely warned me about the dangers of witches and the very likely possibility that black magic could be cast against me.
i don't know what's more worrisome... the fact that the florida school system has teachers who believe in witchcraft, or that someone who believes in witchcraft could possibly be the vice-president. seriously witchcraft. it's sad and hilarious... but mostly sad.

tacky

...on so many levels.

yet oh so enjoyable.

sunset boulevard

the worst thing about having studied theatre and now not working (or wanting to work at all) in the field, is when people find out what you went to school for.
"but you don't audition? how could you give up your dreams? you must have not really wanted it!"
why don't people say these things to the kids who wanted to be firemen or astronauts... yes i know most people don't get all the way through astronaut school and then decide... but still.

kind of like tyra banks...

a while back we had a conversation about unfortunate wigs worn by hasidic women. i've done some thinking... and here's the thing. if you've seen a good wig, then you haven't really. because good wigs should go unseen. just like facelifts and transexuals.

i understand...

this kid. i understand this kid's need for attention.

in the third grade (which coincidentally is much to old for the following to happen) i decided i should get up as mrs. alexander was teaching the class and sing "yankee doodle dandee" all the while doing a soft shoe or sorts.
and yet she never stopped me. she let me sing all the way through. i finished, sat down, and listened to mrs. alexander finish up assigning us projects to build dioramas.

don't you think it's annoying when...

you're having a political discussion/argument with someone and they keep telling you how much fun they're having.
really?
it's not that much fun.
you don't agree with me.
and your opinion is wrong.

3 reasons i'm happy that summer will be over soon

1. the european tourists will all go home.
2. the fact that showering before going anywhere involving being outside or riding the subway will not be pointless.
3. regular programing will return to television.

open mouth. insert foot.

so the other day my friend jermaine and i went on an adventure. we people watched as we walked through the streets of the upper west side and commented on everyone we saw.
we passed two young women sitting outside a cafe.
i say in a voice definitely loud enough for them to hear, "and where do these girls thinking are going? 1987? and who does she think is? laura bell bundy wanna-be!"
jermaine is silent at first, "matt, that is laura bell bundy."
oops.

in the spirit of shannen doherty

so today (even though it goes against my better nature) i practiced giving underhanded compliments as well as just being passive aggressive in general. some highlights included:
1. "well you certainly dressed for comfort today!"
2. pretending not to remember someone annoying that i had previously met.
3. telling people that they're more fun when drunk.
4. purposefully arriving late and then saying, "oh! i hope i didn't keep you waiting long!"
it sounds obnoxious. but as my grandpa harold used to say, "try it you might like it."

if you look closely you can see her nipple

this evening i volunteered at a fashion show. i was an usher, helping people to their seats, handing out programs, blah blah blah. before it started, i decided i should probably know where the restrooms were so i could direct people to them.
as i walked through the hallway bumped into a familiar looking woman.
i asked in an awkwardly loud voice, "WHERE ARE THE TOILETS?"
it was only then that i realized i had asked shannen doherty. who was inexplicably the host of the event.
she looked at me and said, "read the signs."
then turned to her friend and said, "the pretty ones always look so lost."
YES! all is right with the world. shannen doherty has proven all rumors true; she is a bitch. and i got a compliment. she thinks i'm stupid. but she thinks i'm pretty. pretty trumps stupid.

wouldn't it be loverly

this morning at work i received a call from a woman of the cockney persuasion inquiring about throwing a private party.
after i went over the menu i told her the price.
she was aghast and yelled, "oh no we couldn't possibly, they're all just a bunch of theatricals!"
i was particularly amazed because i have never, try as i might been able to work "theatricals" into everyday conversation.
her next tactic was to offer shine shoes and chimney sweeps in exchange for a better rate.

realness and throwing shade

so "the hills" is back on tv with a new season. i'm not really sure what i feel about the show as a whole. i suspect i like... but i haven't really figured it out yet.
but from what i gather i might be the only person in the world who likes heidi montag more than lauren conrad.
i find something v. earnest about heidi's strangely manufactured image vs. lauren conrad's passive aggressive behavior.

please sir, can i have some more?

among the many groups of people i dislike are the young and optimistic ones who stand on the sidewalk and try to get you to sign petitions/give money/donate time to their charity. the charity always involves either children, the environment, or gay rights... or a combination of all three.
the scenario ultimately begins with some poorly-paid do-gooder standing in your way and desperately trying to make eye contact with you.
they then say, "hi! do you have a minute for children/the environment/gay rights?"
i respond with, "i hate children/the environment/gays."

i never liked 'em, and i never will

thank god the olympics are over! i have always hated sports. always. ever since i was small and my parents forced me to play soccer by bribing me with "my little ponies". and consequently i have always hated the olympics.
forget the whole world coming together for two weeks. it's two weeks of nothing on television but sports.
hell already has a channel, and it's called espn. so really nbc? is it so hard to ask that you don't interrupt my programs to show some damn race. i just want to watch kathie lee and hoda on the fourth hour of the today show.
but on a related note:
while i do find michael phelps attractive, i can't help but notice that there is something disctinctly lurch-like about his countenance.

exceptions to the rule

well yes... i did say i don't enjoy puppets v. much. but i do enjoy "labyrinth".
i know this dialogue by heart.
we all have our talents.
this is mine.

puppets

did anyone read the new york times vows section this weekend? and did anyone notice the wedding between the sesame street puppeteer and writer?
here's the thing... this wedding looks very personal, and these people look very nice (if lacking in good taste), and it's not that i hate puppets, they just make me uncomfortable. even muppets. i find them as uncomfortable making as clowns, child beauty pageant winners, and little old ladies with obvious face-lifts.

suede likes it, but I don't

i've developed one of the most obnoxious speech habits ever. referring to myself in the third person. at first i thought it was ironic... cute even.
it came to my attention that this is just not the case in two ways. first, through the constant ridiculing by friends. second, through watching suede one "project runway". man did i feel like a jackass.
so now most of my sentences go something like this, "matth... damn. I really want to/see/go..."

whats the point?...

of orthodox jewish women shaving their heads and then wearing really cheap wigs? is it to be more pious? closer to god? i don't think it accomplishes those things. in the end they just look like strangely conservative alopecia patients...
what if all the hair for locks of love was really going towards the orthodox jewish community. now that would be something.

smarter and more sensitive

the best thing about going to the met is getting the little entrance tab-button-thingy.  and then wearing it all day long and lording over all who see you how cultured and sophisticated you are.  

knock it off

dear tacky tourists and poorly dressed suburbanites,
you're not fooling anyone. you wear your mile-high mall bangs, your sweatpants, your mom jeans, your cheap looking sneakers with pride. you arrive in the city like you are dressed to clean out the garage. all this leads me to hypothisize that the humungous louis vuitton bag you're carrying was just bought from a west african on the side of the street. i'm not judging you... but you're not fooling anyone.
sincerely,
m

rip

it's a known fact that celebrities die in threes.
i was sad when i heard about bernie mac, and was really surprised this evening when i caught news of isaac hayes' passing.
if i were rich, black and relatively well known i would be shaking in my tims.

the top 3 reasons why i hate sarah jessica parker

1. i dislike her carrie bradshaw character for obvious reasons, ie. flakiness and bad decision making. that dislike has carried over to reality.

2. on interview and chat shows she seems disingenuous with both other guests and hosts. she routinely feigns interest in whatever people are talking about to hawk her latest cheap perfume.

3. for several years now she has fooled people into thinking she is pretty. in actual fact she is not. straight men have always known this, but she has pulled the wool over the eyes of women and gays worldwide by wearing "interesting" outfits that distract.

i got me a cadillac cadillac cadillac

when i was five or six, i LOVED the color pink. loved it. couldn't get enough of it. loved it so much that i was obsessed with the pale pink cadillacs that mary kay ladies got as bonuses for making high sales.
i was convinced that when i turned sixteen my parents would get me one.

it's hot and it's monotonous

someone should think about putting airconditioning in the subway stations. scratch that, i've thought of it and it's a great idea. get on it bloomberg! start the necessery paperwork.

it bugs me when...

people misuse adjectives. like referring to food as sexy, or a dress as delicious. not only do i not like it... but it makes me feel very very uncomfortable.

snow white

so i've given up.
after growing up in florida, and spending a few summers in new york desperately trying to darken the tone of my skin to a malibu acceptable shade i've realized i will always be fair. my english and irish genes have specifically designed me for living in a bog and eating stewed meats. earlier this summer i even tried to use that jergens stuff... it left me smelled medicated and feeling sticky.
so now i tell myself that i'm alabaster white like nicole kidman... even though i know the color of my skin more closely resembles the sickly mottled pink of a pounded chicken breast.

american teen

have you seen this documentary? if you haven't, i recommend it. basically its a documentary that humanizes the different high school stereotypes... and it was good. i found all the characters to be highly likeable and i understood their reasons for doing the shit they did... except for one. the popular girl.
not to be cold or unforgiving; but the fact that your retarded sister killed herself in the basement two years ago isn't a valid reason for being a nasty bitch.
... see the movie.

dirty pussy

about a year ago i moved into an apartment that had a cat living in it. i had two cats when i was really little and i thought i liked them.
i imagine myself an animal lover. i was sure it would only take a few whistles and a coo to have this cat trained to do my bidding. he would be like a dog, fetching the paper, my slippers... an all around quality companion.
in the end i realized he was like a dog. a dog with rabies, constantly trying to bite and scratch the literal hands that fed him. mr. t, an apt name for such a surly tempered animal, was the most fickle of creatures i've ever met. he enjoyed being pet... until he'd had enough, and then to let you know he would bite you. hard. and not let go.
after an unfortunate turn of events there was nothing left to do but to find another home for mr. t. right now he's being taken care of by some lovely cat ladies, but i'm thinking he will find a new owner fast. and whoever this person is they will need two things, a cat door so he can get outside, and a thick skin... literally you will need a thick skin. his teeth are sharp.
here's to mr. t, the original frenemy.

i want a dog

i really want a dog. in the same way that a teenage girl desperately wants a baby for the unconditional love, but is completely incapable of caring for it.

i wish i was a little bit taller, i wish i was a baller...

and a '64 impala wouldn't be too bad.
my whole life i have been in the first row of group photographs. and when i complained about it to my parents they told me not to worry, that one day i would have a growth spurt and be the tallest person in my class.
they lied.
i really do wish i was a bit taller though... not so tall that i had to buy clothing at big and tall stores and sleep in convoluted positions so as to fit on a mattress, just taller than most.
i have a friend who IS taller than most. much taller than most.
and while there are advantages to being a tall drink of water... i.e. being able to see over shop counters at a young age, lots of attentions from the opposite sex/same sex.
there are also disadvantages. and number one on that list of disadvantages (right after ducking after the door, and trouble finding attractive shoes that fit) are the unwelcome snappy remarks from strangers young and old. from what i understand, there are only so many times one can be asked if they play basketball and how the weather is up there.

a little extreme?

this is pretty much how i feel about pickles...
seriously.

sweep it under the rug

everytime i see a man wearing a toupe i have an urge to sneak up behind him and whisper in his ear, "everyone knows your secret..."
really, if you think about it i'd be doing him a favor.... and everyone that looks at him too.

shirley temple

i hate performing children. to me dakota fanning, that kid from jerry maguire, the culkins as a whole all seem like this...

creepy little midgets vying for attention.

its not so much that i don't like children in general... it's more that most child stars have an aura of desperate spookiness that pervades every movie their in and every song they sing. it's like you can tell that they're working their darndest to smile and be cute so that mommy's dreams can come true... i.e. a big new mcmansion and even bigger new titties.

i think this stems from my grandmother not allowing me to watch shirley temple movies when i was little. "there's something sinister about her saccharine sweetness," she told me. and i do have to say that while i didn't understand that when i was smaller, i completely agree with her now.

this kid however is very talented...

and furthermore the fact that this video doesn't give me the heebie-jeebies is a miracle in itself.

give it a rest urban outfitters

dear reader,
i'm sure you know that ithaca is infact gorges. you've most likely been inundated that everybody loves italian, irish, and jewish boys/girls. so when will urban outfitters stop making tshirts that proclaim these rather pointless truths?
mm

really?

i work at a restaurant whose special is an all you can eat pasta dinner...
why is it that more often than not the people who order this are the last people who should?

most sensible purchase ever

remember when you were in fourth grade and all you wanted were hammer pants and black hightop reeboks?
i do.
and i made my dreams come true.
call them what you will zubaz pants, genie-man pants, stupid. i still love them.
and until that fateful day six months from now when i'll happen across a picture of myself and ruefully mumble, "what was i thinking?" i swear to everyone on the internets and webs,
I WILL WEAR THEM EVERY CHANCE I GET.

i think i might be broken

no not emotionally... although that is questionable.
yesterday i got drunk on the roof with friends to watch the sunset, after which i received an impromptu massage by a friend who is a massage therapist. it felt so good at the time.
but i woke up this morning smelling like tiger balm and sore as a (insert your own one-liner involving one of the various types of whores).
is it really worth it for the few minutes of pleasure to feel worse than i did before?
ps. it takes everything in me to hold back from saying massage like austin powers.

dress code

i work as the maitre'd at a restaurant and often get calls regarding our dress code (which we don't have) and whats appropriate (which sadly is most things).

"can i wear jeans?"... "totally, i'm wearing some right now."

"can i wear a tshirt?"... "of course."

"can i wear a swim suit?"..."uh... i mean yeah... i guess. i mean, if you must?"

discrimination

this morning on my subway ride to work i was people watching... it's kind of a problem as my "people watching" is really just staring intensely at strangers. this morning i was leering at a this nebbishy guy who had chosen to wear a rather clunky pair of man sandals when i realized that he was sitting next to a very pretty black girl who was clearly his girlfriend.
it was then that i was hit with a wave of panic. i knew, i just knew that they had seen me silently judging his choice of footwear and had probably mistaken me for hating on their jungle fever.
so to set the record straight. i approve of jungle fever, i can not however approve of man sandals.

acts of charity

yesterday a hobo complemented me on my short shorts. normally i avert my eyes and hum a happy song when i see a bum... but i sure do love a complement. he then went on to give me a highfive... which i weakly accepted.
of course this was all building up to solicitation for spare change. which was duly denied.
but i consider the fact that i touched a homeless person charity enough.

weddings

went to a wedding this weekend. enjoyed the open bar, danced my pants off, people watched. and here's my feeling on weddings. if you can't afford to get 100 people drunk enough to freely dance to "it's raining men", then you can't afford to get married.
ps. congratulations amy and clay!