Milk It

I cannot believe that the purpose of life is to be happy. I think the purpose of life is to be USEFUL, to be responsible, to be compassionate. It is, above all, to MATTER, to COUNT, to STAND for something, to have made some difference that you lived at all. -Leo Rosten

I intended to have this blog entry up a hell of a lot sooner this morning, but it's taking me longer and longer to grocery-shop these days.

Over the years, after reading and researching and experimenting, I've been slowly crossing toxic food stuffs off of the list of things I'll buy at the grocery store. I can't always control what I eat when I'm out and about (does this bread have soy lecithin in it?), but I try to make sure I eat at home as much as possible, and I try to control what I actually eat.

The bread debacle was a point of humor for several of my exboyfriends who, at one time or another, went grocery shopping with me. (Clearly not all at once- syntactical muddying there.) I won't buy bread that isn't whole grain, I won't buy anything that has "enriched flour" listed in the ingredients, and I especially will not buy anything with corn syrup in it. The darker and heavier and browner the bread, the better. Twigs and bark sticking out of the crust? Perfect.

And now, since my mom met with an herbal specialist and has since lectured me on the dangers of soy lecithin (something my friend from work, a vegan personal trainer, verified), that pretty much wipes out the entire bread section for me. EVERYTHING in that aisle has soy lecithin and, I'm sorry, but a girl's gotta have her grilled-cheese sandwiches, UMMMKAY. It took me fifteen damn minutes today to find a loaf of bread that wasn't completely toxic, and I'm not even sure I'll like this kind. But, whatever, I've been known to eat some pretty foul-tasting things in the name of nutrition, which includes kefir (which I devloped a taste for, after awhile) and raw chocolate (also an acquired taste.)

So, I wasn't even intending to write a blog entry about all of the weird things I eat. I was GOING to write about watching "Milk" last night with Lee and Whack. I know, I'm a little behind the times, but we finally borrowed it from Jackal and just got around to watching it.

It spawned an hours' worth of deep conversation after the movie that touched upon things like the secularization of marriage, How Long Can a Democracy Last, the horrifying truths behind Disney films and nursery rhymes, and (of course) civil rights.

We all agreed on one major point that was made in the film: the moment you deny one person one civil right, it's a slippery slope towards evil. Our government is not, and should not, be in the business of denying anyone civil rights. And, say whatever you will about marriage having become a "business contract" or just another load of red tape for the government to file away, it doesn't matter. You cannot deny that to anyone, at any time, for any reason. (Barring, naturally, underage individuals, relatives, etc.) To do so is nothing short of making a broad and frightening statement that all persons are NOT created equal, and that the US government has the right to parcel out those "unalienable rights."

The movie reminded me of two jarring things: first, that this was all taking place less than 10 years before I was born thus, for once, thrusting history into more of a realistic realm for me; and, second, that my generation has failed to rally behind anything so passionately. Sure, we've had waves of interest and sparks of involvement, but we are wholly less a generation of flag-wavers and more so a group of individualists who choose to wear their political platforms on their Facebook pages and call it a day.

That's not to say I have friends that don't fight for causes. I have vegan friends, gay friends, lesbian friends, green friends, anti-war friends, pro-choice friends, pro-artistic-grants-from-the-government friends. My friends are opinionated, informed, intellectual people who do feel strongly about things. But the opportunities to show those beliefs seem, today, to be relegated to the Internet, some T-shirts, and maybe a bumper sticker.

Whack pointed out that many of the civil liberties we now enjoy were put in place by groups who fought to pave the way generations before. This is true. Service is no longer denied to persons who aren't white (or, at least, it's now rightfully illegal to do so), and people can't be fired for being gay. But the fight's not over. Racism is real, discrimination is real, and, oh by the way, there are still a shit-ton of people down in New Orleans (and elsewhere) without indoor plumbing.

I've been feeling the pull lately to get involved with something, to take all of my spiritual and social ranting and put that energy to better use. The problem with volunteerism, however, is that it's often a slow path to justice. I worked for the Kerry Campaign when I was living in Florida in 2004 and, let me tell you, it was horrible. First of all, everyone (including those of us voting for him) had serious doubts about Kerry as a candidate. Secondly, going door-to-door in 90% humidity in Florida was beyond miserable. And, third, we failed, and not only did we fail, we failed pretty damn drastically.

I was pretty disillusioned by that experience but, to be fair, I'm not sure how much of my heart was in it. I feel very strongly about certain things and I think it's time to start thinking about directing my life towards actually doing something about it. Stop worrying so damn much about my own problems and "Where is this all going" and whining and all of that crap and start working towards something greater.

At the very least, maybe I can stage a protest against the presence of enriched flour, corn syrup, and soy lecithin in the bread aisle.

**ADDENDUM: Today is also the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin wall, and my mom emailed me this slide show from MSNBC that shows the festivities. Celebrate with some Jeger and Hefeweisen. Prost!

Fantastic Saturday

Much, much better today. I'm not sure if it was my day of rest yesterday, or the late-night phone conversation I had with Stupid, but I woke up feeling loads better.

And today turned out to be one of those fantastic fall days that just makes me happy to be me, and thankful for my awesome friends.

I went to brunch with Whack, and over the course of our sitting there and reading the paper, Josh and then Jackal joined us. The conversation turned into an explanation of the universe and dark matter (Josh and Jackal both having interests in physics and space) and then randomly, I suggested that we make a trip out to Value Village. Jackal has been talking about VV for weeks now, citing it as an excellent place to find antler candle-holders, yarn for crafts, and weird paintings of woodland creatures.

We all ended up piling into Jackal's car for the journey, and all of us made out successfully. Whack found a Dooney & Bourke wallet, Josh found ugly sweaters for Christmas parties, I purchased twenty bucks' worth of frames to put some of Snap's photos in, and Jackal made out like a bandit. He found a Buddhist wall hanging, multiple paintings of owls in their natural habitat (owls being his most favorite animal), and some sort of drift-wood-looking thing.

"I think that's for a pet, like a parrot, to sit on," I pointed out.

"And now it's art," he contested. Touche.

I also got some yarn and some books, as well as a glass jar for my Soba noodles which tend to get all over the place if you don't use the whole package at once, which I don't.

As we were headed home, Lee called me and asked if I wanted to go out on the motorcycle. We've been trying to plan a drive for awhile, but there was a good period of time where he'd taken something out of the engine and didn't know how to put it back in, and I refused to get on a motorcycle in which something is missing. And then, once he fixed it, there were multiple scheduling conflicts. But today, the planets (and the weather) aligned, and I got my ride.

It was gorgeous. A little bit chilly, the last of the bright leaves hanging on, but sunny and not windy. We went on back roads up to Hampden, walked around for a bit, and came back down on 83. I don't know why, but I always feel so centered and calm on the back of a motorcycle. I'm so completely out of control, and so utterly helpless to do anything but hang on, and there's something very centering about that. I've written about this before.

Anyway, it turned out to be such a fun day. I've got to jump in the shower and then I'm headed to work at Metro tonight. So glad to be feeling better. I think I just needed a day of sitting on the couch. Who doesn't?

In my happy little mood, I'll leave you with this pretty haiku that Sir Topaz sent me.

Autumn leaves dance patterns

of forgetful remembrance --

love's mind wraiths!

The Other Reason I'm Crochety

I have finally identified the other reason I have been so pissy the last couple of days.

Apparently I am sick.

Thought it was allergies but, throughout the day today, it's just gotten worse and worse. I took a break from the things I was working on to sit on the couch and have a sandwich and then I realized that I was wearing a sweatshirt, a sweater OVER the sweatshirt, and a quilt, and I was still cold.

This is not good.

The only good part about being sick: now I can lie on the couch and watch the last of season 3 of "How I Met Your Mother" and complain about everything, which is pretty much all I wanted to do anyway.

The bad part: I had to cancel my bowling plans for tonight, which sucks.

Blaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh. This had better just be run-of-the-mill cold and not anything relating to pigs.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes....

(Collage from my high school journal- 1999)

So I think I've maybe put one tiny little millimeter of a fingertip on what's been bothering me (or, in layman's terms, what "crawled up my posterior") and, as usual, it's something completely stupid and self-centered and utterly taken all out of context and perspective.

Story of my life.

Last night, Josh and I went to see "The Men Who Stare At Goats" for a pre-screening (do go and see it, it's fantastic and hilarious and strangely probable), and I happened to be acquainted with one of the guys sitting behind us. Friend-of-a-friend type of deal. Just before the movie started, Josh got up to go to the bathroom and the guy behind leaned forward and whispered in my ear, "Is that that Australian dude you've been dating?"

First- No.

And (b)- he wasn't Australian, he was Irish, and we broke up three or four months ago. So...again....no.

And then, again, after the movie, it was decided that we wanted to watch my copy of Mystery Science Theater's "Manos, Hands of Fate," which I'd just gotten from Netflix, and so we went to Metro to pick up The Owner, who also happens to be a huge MST3K fan. And, there, I ran into some people I knew who politely, and quietly, asked me if Josh and I were dating.

Again.....no.

See, the thing of it is, Josh and I have been spending a lot of time together. Mostly because right around the time the guy from Ireland (not, contrary to some belief, apparently, from Australia) and I broke up, Josh's girlfriend moved to Pittsburgh to do her medical residency. And, he was there for me during a particularly difficult period of time.

And, let me be the first to say that Josh's girlfriend is awesome. She's pretty, she's smart, and entertains us with gory and gruesome stories about medical school.

But as Josh is clearly in a relationship and I am clearly not interested in being in one, and we happen to like a lot of the same things, we started hanging out a lot. Late-night parties after Monday night trivia with other staff members, Thursday nights for "The Office" and "30 Rock," etc. And so, because people simply cannot accept that a platonic relationship CAN exist, they start talking. Lee and I went through the same thing for pretty much the entire time we've been friends.

And I guess the thing I noticed is that I'm spending a whole lot of time with Josh, not that this is a bad thing, mind you, because Josh is pretty kick-ass and hilarious, also because my friends have suddenly scattered to the winds. Lee is dating someone, Whack is dating someone and full-on into grad school, and Snap moved to San Fran. My posse has been infiltrated and, like some crochety old woman who can't handle change, I'm being pissy about it.

I have no reason to be. For the last year or so, I've been the one with the roller coaster personal life, glomming onto my friends for emotional support when shit went south. And they've been there for me in the worst, most awful and horrible of moments. So, being the mature and well-balanced person I am (COUGH), I am only too happy to be there for them in their moments of happiness.

It's just that, well, I don't do well with change. And everything's changing, and my friends are dating other people or getting married and having babies or moving away, and I'm the one stubbornly putting my foot down and claiming that they're all abandoning ship. It's totally my own selfish, small way of thinking and, of course, I don't really mean to say that I begrudge them any happiness at all. It's more just the fact that I'm into feeling sorry for myself these days, and it's pretty easy to do that when you're wondering what the hell it is you're doing with your life when everyone else seems to have some magic formula for success all figured out.

If there's anything I've learned in the past year, though, it's that everyone's just as much of a mess as I am, regardless of how they wear it. Everyone's unsure and uncertain and no one can be positive of how anything will turn out. But when I'm feeling a big 'ole pity party come on, it's only too easy to point to my own insecurity and fear of failure and pretend like I'm alone in it.

I've had conversations like this with Jaunt before who (jokingly) openly and angrily claims to be abandoned by friends when they fall in love and stop hanging out. But there's an element of truth in it and, the worst part I guess, is that I have NO ROOM to be upset about any of it. God knows I've dragged my poor friends down into the trenches with me over the last year or so of dramatic dating instances.

So, I don't know. In my heart, I know I'm right where I need to be. Trying to eke out time in my day for writing and reflection, reading more books than I thought humanly possible, working hard and going to movies and hanging out with Josh and trying to be calm and open to accepting Zen into my life. It's just so easy though, when you're unsure as to whether you're going to actually make it doing the thing you so desperately want to do or whether you're going to die penniless and alone and become famous posthumously (shudder), to doubt yourself and to feel very small and alone about things. The things I want in life are so non-traditional, it's the easiest thing in the world to think that normalcy would soothe something in me.

So, I apologize openly to my friends. I think every one of you is exactly where you need to be, and I'm so thankful that all of you are who you are, and I don't begrudge you a moment of happiness; on the contrary, I wish more for you, and more, and more for your open hearts and kindness.

I'm just being a pissy bitch at the moment. Let's blame it on the weather. It's so much easier.

Annnnggggssssssssttttttt

So I don't know if it's just the natural let-down that occurs after a vacation, or maybe it's because it's November, or maybe it's that the holidays are coming and my past two years' worth of holidays have been....well....not so great, or maybe it's because the planets are aligned in some odd fashion at 32 degrees of whatever but-

-WHATEVER

-the point is that I've been in kind of a sour mood all week. It was nice to come home last night to a houseful of people, all laughing and bustling, so that cheered me up. And the play was fantastic. I absolutely adore Oscar Wilde, though it depresses me more than somewhat that so clever a person could die penniless and ostracized. It was, all in all, a fun night.

But I woke up in a funk this morning, and I woke up in a funk yesterday morning, and I just feel kind of.....blah. Like that's the only way to describe it. Angsty, maybe. Like maybe I need to take up acoustic guitar and sing about it. And wear a lot of black eyeliner.

I think, mostly, the problem is that I'm just sort of overburdened with thinking about a lot of things lately, and taking stock of the past year, and I still feel like I have a lot to sort through. I'm still angry about some things, still saddened by some things, still worried that certain things aren't going to turn out the way I want for them to, and just generally re-prioritizing. The things I thought I wanted turned out to be not at all the case, and the things I didn't know I wanted suddenly became a whole lot clearer and a whole lot more important and therefore somehow harder to reach.

Maybe it's that there's not much time left in 2009, and I'm left wondering if all I have to show for this year is a whole lot of thinking and processing. Not that this is wrong or bad. Just....not the way I thought things would be, you know?

Anyhoodle. Cheerier things on the way. Off to see "The Men Who Stare At Goats" tonight with Josh for some pre-release thing, and bowling tomorrow night. Fun times.

I Love My Friends

Jackal and Nickle came over for movie night. I happened to be at Center Stage seeing "The Importance of Being Earnest," (more on that later) but apparently they were up in my room petting Sushi and, when I came home, eagerly told me that they'd been all up in my room, petting my cat. Only they didn't say "petting your cat." They said something...else. That I shall not repeat here.

Anyway, the party was still in full-swing when I got home, so I poured myself a glass of wine and joined in to watch "The Office" on TiVo.

I pretty much love my home life when I get to come home to Whack and J+N sprawled all over the living room with pizza boxes and wine.

The Long-Awaited Mix-Tape Sessions

So, I have awesome friends. And, much to the chagrin of my bank account, I travel a lot.

What do these have in common?

Music!

My friends make me some pretty kick-ass mixes. Mrs. Spaz introduced me to Holly Brook on the mix she made for me entitled "Friendship is An F-Word," which also included Duffy and Beyonce's "Single Ladies." (Saw a lot of those as Halloween costumes on Saturday which shows that she's outed an entire demographic.) Joel gave me Mayor Hawthorne's album "A Strange Arrangement," which is FANTASTIC. And Jackal, by far, has given me the most mixes and introduced me to the most obscure, far-flung music I've ever fallen head over heels in love with. (Girls, Taken By Trees, New Buffalo, Lykki Li, Jens Leckman, Little Joy, J Tillman, S, to name just a few.)

So, whenever I travel, I make a little play-list of my favorites. And I title them by the destination.

There's your connection.

Here are my most favorite mixes to and from friends, travel, and working in a wine bar with the most ridiculously-stocked iPod I've ever seen. Enjoy!

SAN ANTONIO PLAYLIST, SUMMER 2009
More Time, Needtobreathe
Never Say Never, The Fray
Waking Dream, Natalie Walker
Time To Pretend, MGMT
Shine Through It, Terrence Howard
Open Your Eyes, Snow Patrol
Missed the Boat, Modest Mouse
All We Are, Matt Nathanson
The Fear, Lily Allen
Fix You, Coldplay
Wise Up, Aimee Mann
Where Love Went Wrong, Augustana
Love, Save the Empty, Erin McCarley
Gatekeeper, Feist
Hairy Trees, Goldfrapp
Leap Year, Maria Taylor
Nothing Left to Lose, Mat Kearney
Midnight Coward, Stars
Love Makes You Beautiful, Terrence Howard

KANSAS CITY PLAYLIST, FALL 2009
Superstar, Sonic Youth
One Sweet Love, Sara Bereilles
Slow Dancing, Lucero
Like A Star, Corrinne Bailey Rae
Either Way, Guster
Jesus, Etc., Wilco
The Road Converges Up Ahead, The Televangelist and the Architect
Mr. Blue Sky, Electric Light Orchestra
Heavy Water/I'd Rather Be Sleeping, Grouper
Come Here, Boy, Imogen Heap
Shut Your Eyes, Snow Patrol
You Give Me Something, James Morrison
For Nancy, Pete Yorn
Keep My Distance, Moses Mayfield
Junesong Provision, Coheed and Cambria
Last Request, Paulo Nutini

NEW YORK CITY PLAYLIST, FALL 2009
Not Too Late, Norah Jones
Secret, Maroon 5
I Live For You, George Harrison
One Evening, Feist
Learn to Live With What You Are, Ben Folds
New Soul, Yael Naim
Distractions, Zero 7
Mr. Mister, J*Davey
You Could Be Happy, Snow Patrol
L.E.S. Artistes, Santigold
Tidal, Imogen Heap
Love of the Loveless, Eels
Satellite Heart (New Moon Soundtrack), Anya Marina

JACKAL'S "SERIOUS MIX VOL I," WINTER 2009
Will You Love Me Tomorrow, Dusty Springfield
White Winter Hymnal, Fleet Foxes
What's a Girl to Do?, Bat for Lashes
Walls, Beck feat. Cat Power
Playground Love, Air
Anecdote, Ambulance, ltd.
Haiti, Arcade Fire
River Card, Atlas Sound
I Always Know I'm Right, Bakers at Dawn
To My Mr. Smith, Casiotone for the Painfully Alone
Only the Lonely, Roy Orbison
Maple Leaves, Jens Leckman
New Friend, The Concretes
Daddy's Gone, Glasvegas
Social Competence, Peter Moren
Long-Forgotten Fairy Tale, The Magnetic Fields
I Can Tell, Komiet
Glangour & Flutes, Sin Fang Bovs
Everybody But Me, Lykki Li
Ode to Self-Publishing Fear of Zine Failure, The Hidden Cameras
Heart Stopper, Emiliana Torrini
The Magic Position, Patrick Wolf

JACKAL'S "SERIOUS MIX, VOL II," WINTER 2009
Saro, Sam Amidon
Hospital Beds, Seabear
Knife, Grizzly Bear
Tech Romance, Her Space Holiday
Look After Me, Hot Chip
Maybe You Can Owe Me, Architecture in Helsinki
Get Him Back, Fiona Apple
Orange Juice, Grand Archives
Mis Read, Kings of Convenience
Somebody's Baby, El Perro Del Mar
Valerie, Mark Ronson feat. Amy Winehouse
Say Something, James
Heartbeats, Jose Gonzalez
Fade Into You, Mazzy Star
Just Like Honey, The Jesus and Mary Chain
Other Side of Mt. Heart Attack, Liars

"SONGS TO BREAK/HEAL YOUR HEART" FOR JAUNT, SPRING 2009
Every Ship Must Sail Away, Blue Merle
Let It Go, Etro Anime
I Feel It All, Feist
Heal Over, KT Tunstall
Stronger, Kanye West
So:Lo, Kate Havnevik
Not Your Year, The Weepies
Light Years Away, MoZella
One Step At A Time, Jordin Sparks
Take Me to the Ballroom, Moonbabies
This Year's Love, David Gray
Hurt, Johnny Cash
Living Room, Tegan + Sara
Hold You In My Arms, Ray Lamontagne
City Lights, Husky Rescue
Chocolate, Snow Patrol

"BE THERE" FOR SNAP, WINTER 2009
Stupid, Sarah McLachlan
Damaged, Plumb
The Jeep Song, Dresden Dolls
Let it Go, Fauxliage
Heaven Forbid, The Fray
Like I Do, Minipop
Beautiful Life, Charlotte Martin
Into Dust, Mazzy Star
Chasing Pavements, Adele
Live and Let Die, Paul McCartney

SNAP'S "CALAMITY JANE," SUMMER 2008
Raining In Baltimore, Counting Crows
Transatlanticism, Death Cab for Cutie
No One's Gonna Love You, Band of Horses
Angie, Tori Amos
Casmir Pulaski Day, Sufjan Stevens
You Look So Fine, Garbage
Falling Slowly, Glen Hansard
Last Goodbye, Jeff Buckley
Cathedrals, Jump Little Children
Gentle Moon, Sun Kil Moon
A Night Like This, Smashing Pumpkins
Come Around, Rhett Miller
The Background, 3rd Eye Blind

SNAP'S "MASOCHISM DELIGHTS, VOLS I and II," Winter 2009
Pretty Girl From Annapolis, The Avett Brothers
Lost Cause, Beck
I Want You, Fiona Apple
Science Vs. Romance, Rilo Kiley
Cape Canaveral, Conor Oberst
Don't Lose Yourself, Laura Veirs
Box of Rain, Grateful Dead
House of Cards, Radiohead
Love Remains, Gavin Rossdale
Green Eyes, Coldplay
On the Bound, Fiona Apple
Come Pick Me Up, Ryan Adams
Not the Doctor, Alanis Morissette
I'm Not Sleeping, Counting Crows
The One I Love, David Gray
Band of Gold, Freda Payne
Wounded, 3rd Eye Blind
Suffer Well, Depeche Mode
Honey and the Moon, Joseph Arthur
Guaranteed, Eddie Vedder
Better off Alone, The Black Angels
O'Sailor, Fiona Apple
Tangled Up In Blue, Bob Dylan
Baton Rouge, Lou Reed

Bad Mood.

SOME DAYS YOU JUST WAKE UP IN A FUNK, OK????????????????????????????????

The Sloane Crosley Debate

So, I just finished reading Sloane Crosley's collection of essays, "I Was Told There'd Be Cake," kindly lent to me by my old roommate who now lives with Josh and knows my penchant for humorous such literature.

And I loved it. I devoured the thing, cover-to-cover, very much in the manner as though it had, itself, been made of some delicious cake. Yum.

To begin with, she's hilarious, she flies her freak flag high, and she's an incredible writer. Her twists and turns of phrases are brilliant, sparkling, and hopefully rendered all kinds of synapses firings in my brain that will later be regurgitated in cocktail conversation.

I didn't know anything about Sloane Crosley but, having this intimate window into her life where she bravely admits things like: "Me at two A.M. after a night of drinking, scheming how to politely make an entire box of pancake mix and go to sleep rather than have intercourse with my boyfriend;" I Googled her to see what I could find. I was expecting a twenty-something who'd risen to the ranks of essayist after countless jobs, a life of late-nights, and the constant threat of almost certain financial ruin. In short, I was hoping to find, well, me.

Instead, I found this article, which outed her as a highly successful and popular publicist in a highly successful and popular book publishing house. I mean, this girl has been on Page Six, and not for doing anything stupid. She wasn't a struggling artist, she had a pretty decent career and, oh-how-convenient, it happened to be IN PUBLISHING.

I felt a little differently about her book after that.

And then I felt guilty.

Because, the thing is, the girl is enormously talented. And it's not her fault that she worked for the system instead of going the pedestrian and somewhat humiliating route that the rest of us writers will have to face (queries followed by rejections, repeat process until success which could take, let's face it, DECADES.) She simply is what she is, and what she happens to be is a talented writer who sent out a funny email and was told by her colleagues to get that shizz published.

But, the other thing is, on a personal note, I guess I just prefer my artists with a little more angst and edge. It's all relative, I know, but I guess I glorify the bohemian lifestyle and I want my heroes to do so as well. It's a little hard to swallow bitterness from a girl whose best friends and clients are literary moguls who kindly sprinkled the back of her book with the kindest of sound-bites.

And here's the big debate: do you judge a work with or without the context of the author/artist? Some people say you can't, it's impossible, and it all fits together and it is what it is. I mean, how could you possibly judge a Warhol without Andy? It wouldn't be brilliant unless you knew what, exactly, he was trying to do.

On the other hand, there's the question of someone like Wagner. Do you listen to his symphonies and operas and judge them as beautiful constructions of music, or do you write off the whole thing altogether because of the Nazi connotations?

Not that I'm comparing Sloane Crosley to Andy Warhol or Nazis. I'm not going there.

I guess, mostly, what I felt was disappointment. As a reader, you begin to piece together in your mind a portrait of the artist, and discovering the truth is a let-down. This is one of the reasons why I will forever love Anne Lamott. She's a mess, she came from a mess, she's learned from messes, and she never claims to be anything or anyone but. Her life is consistant with the kind of angst she wrings from hilarious sentence structures.

Anyway, I do highly recommend the book (because it's damn hilarious), but just go into it knowing that you're reading the work of someone who got to skip some rungs on the system. It's not to say she didn't work hard, because I'm sure she did. Maybe this says more about me than it does about her, but I like a good, angsty heroine at the end of her metaphorical rope.

This Week In Pictures: Halloween Weekend in NYC