Sunday, April 29, 2007

Morphine Dream

Now that I'm feeling better, and all diagnosed
I can share some fun stories of illness.

Like this one:

Morphine Dream

I was sitting in the smurf village having tea outside
with two midgets
one was blue
and one was green

They were telling me jokes
I laughed and said, "you midgets are so hilarious!"
and then caught my faux pas -
"Oh, I'm so sorry, you prefer little people now don't you?"

"It's cool," the green one said.

"As long as you don't call us Smufs," said the blue one.

I nodded my head
and took another sip of the purple tea.


Friday, April 27, 2007

My Online Dating Venture

How does one get over a bad seed?
Plant a new one.

For over a year now I've been off and on
with a bad seed.

My friends say he's no good,
but I listen to too much Aretha Franklin
which somehow makes it more appealing.

Last week I arrived at the understanding that I do need a new guy.

So where do you go in NYC, a city of millions, to find someone new?
The Internet.

This is not some hot club, but ye old Internet sites.
There are tons out there, but I ended up trying out:
Match.com, Nerve.com

Match.com "It's okay (and Free) to Look!"
ads are everywhere.
But ya know how much they charge per month?
like 40 bucks!
Am I 40 bucks desperate to date?
Oh, wait, I have 40 bucks to my name this week.
That's a NO.

I fill out my profile, quickly:

"I want a guy who will understand my crazy schedule
and hanging out at random times
to chill out with a beer, watch tv and eat nachos."

And I put up three photos-
Me on St. Patty's day in Chicago with a Sam Adams
Me in Atlantic City taking a shot
Me in my rainbowbrite shirt drinking a Grolsch

...there's a theme there...

I get matches back in two days from match.com
9 giant thugs with glowing crosses on big chains
and 1 normal looking dude (who never wrote back).

I get four emails from guys on Match.com
they are all much older, from Jersey or Long Island
and love my smile.

$40? No thanks.

Well, there's still Nerve.com
and I filled out a profile there too, quickly

I get back my compatible suitors from Nerve -
they're all chicks.

I double checked that I'm there for men.
Yep.
Apparently, the Nerve thinks I'm a lesbian.

Online dating was quite possibly one of the most depressing things I've ever done.
All profiles have been taken down.

I guess I just wasn't made for these times.

Thursday, April 26, 2007

You Want To Go Where Everybody Knows Your Name

Couldn't enjoy a sunny day because you were stuck in florescent lighting?
It's like eternal twilight there.

Sick of people but not enough to build a shack in the woods?
You can get a beer and someone will probably make you realize humanity ain't so bad.

I'm not gonna go on like I'm re-writing Downtown.


I will however subject you to Starbucks customer "third place theory"
The working person has two places in their life
their office, which holds stress
and
their home, which can also hold certain stresses
Make your store your customers third place,
a stress free environment to go to get away

Now that I'm no longer hopped up on caffeine
I go to the Four Faced Liar.

My third place happens to be a place on West 4th street
which is about 45 minutes away from my apartment
and 15 minutes from my office

Where there are a lot of people who know my name,
and my drink.

The bartender is a poet.
And my roommate's old roommate.
Other people they lived with, or grew up with,
hang out there too, making it this odd conglomorate state
of housemates.

It's surrounded by sex and tabacco shops,
and the now abandoned KFC/Taco Bell where I went since I was a teenager
and the fake ID place where I got my first fake ID
(name withheld in the chance that it's still there to help underage drinkers)

It's not exactly Rockwellian nostalgic, but it's true
that the smell that reminds me of the Liar the most is
puke, poo, spilled beer gone bad, and moist wood

It's not glamorous
but it is my home away from home.

Some might think that means I need a meeting,
but those that get it understand it probably means
I should probably have one more.

Monday, April 16, 2007

More Like Anor-SEXY-a!

I have a wicked evil sense of humor.

I'm a stand-up comic,
on stage I don't necessarily push the envelope,
but I start some shit,
well kinda like little turdlets compared to what others stay on stage.

With my friends though,
I'm a F*&#ing sailor of the high seas of foul language,
and I make fun of everyone
-
but none do I mock more than the anorexic and bulemic.

I always thought:
Anorexic Girls = Lame

I would tell you some of my jokes, but honestly,
they aren't for mixed company.

Seriously, it's easy to joke as a beautiful buxom girl,
about how skinny bitches be stupid.

But now that I can't eat
due to my hital hernia
I'm pretty much anorexic.

I barely eat;
I lived off of 6 saltines with peatnut butter,
and 1/4 of a bagel today.

I didn't really think it was possible to live off of that little.
Or how miserable a lifestyle it is -
because everyone says how great you look,
and you're in total pain inside.

So, um, my bad Paris Hilton and those types.

And for laughing my ass off at this:
Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

I can't help it, it's still funny.

But I feel for your plight, and I laugh from a place of knowing now, and...
Well I certainly got my come-uppin's

Sunday, April 15, 2007

Hiatal Hernia, ain't that sexy?

There it is, the diagnoses I had been eagerly seeking out.

I have a hiatal hernia,
for some reason I keep pronouncing it "hianal"
like that makes it even hotter.
Sounds like my ass is in my stomach.

I have to keep a super model diet

This can be a very hard thing to do for a girl who loves food.

I had three breadsticks from Papa Johns today,
I couldn't resist - they looked so good!

I threw up,
I can still feel the food backed up,
and I'll probably not be able to sleep tonight.

Back to fearing food for my own good again tomorrow.

I'm getting by with my imagination and my memory.
I remember food tastes and seasonings well.
Probably because my father loved food more than people -
(moment of psychoanalysis) that's where I get it from.

Now, it's just living vicariously through those memories
all those days of over indulgence that got me here.

...and watching the Food Network, alone ..with the lights out...

My digestive system is messed up.

People say, "but you're so young!"

There are 12 year olds getting diabetes.

I was at one time 280 pounds,
you think I got that from eating all my vegetables?

So for now, I've really got to watch, and feel, everything I eat
-and watch you eat,
because it smells sooo good...

Monday, April 09, 2007

Tomorrow May Tell

I'm still mysteriously ill.

I had some energy this weekend though, and I got to go out and do fun things.

I'm back in bed now though, still not able to eat and still uncomfortably sick.

Tomorrow I am going for an endoscopy.

This means a camera about the width of your pinky will go down my throat, down my stomach, and into part of my small intestine.
Hopefully while inside they'll be able to see why I'm in so much pain, pull it out and give me a magical pill that will make me - me again.

Fingers crossed.

Sunday, April 01, 2007

I Wanna be a Supermodel

Cause I'm young, and I'm hip, and so beautiful,
I'm gonna be a supermodel
~Jill Sobule

April Fools!

I'm not trying to be a supermodel,

but with this illness

I eat like a supermodel about to do an SI cover.

I'm saying shit I'd never thought I would ever utter seriously like:

"I'm full, I couldn't eat another string bean."

"I had half a sandwich. I feel like I'm gonna barf I'm so full."

"For dinner I'm having a couple of saltines and some apple sauce for dessert."

"That is WAY too much food."

"I made four chicken nuggets. You can have the other three."

"No coffee for me!"

"I can't stomach a beer right now."

"It's almost 9pm, I gotta go home and get to bed."

LAME.

According to Web MD though, with my symptoms it's either a tummy ache,
or my intestines are about to explode.

I wouldn't be surprised if an alien popped out and did the Charleston at this point.