that’s because I have serious competition.


look at dat face, look at dat face, look at dat face!

Okay, okay you’ve looked at it, now back to me.

When I rock the s**t out of my neck brace, I want to be unique, not lame like this look.


She’s clearly not committing.

This is commitment,


at least according to the men of new york. Those delightful little scamps.

I’m more a fan of the classic look such as the game changing and sexually ground breaking movies Sixteen Candles which featured the inspiring Joan Cusuak. Joan totally stole the show from Molly Ringwald with her unforgettable and astounding water fountain moment.

Incredible. Even now, I’m slightly aroused.

Sadly there are those who don’t know when to stop.


Poser much?

But why a neck brace you ask?

I’m sorry you just did that, that you asked.

If you have to ask you clearly don’t get it.

Darling you wear neck braces because they are the THING. You wear them because they’re the bomb. You wear them because they’re the shnizzle, they’re fierce, they kick ass, they’re sick, they’re ill. You wear them because  they’re reDUCNculicious. You wear them because you have a sense of style, class, finesse and as the french say ‘a certain something but I do not know what it is, and if I did I wouldn’t tell you so there’

You wear them because you are in the know.


or because you got hit by a car, but whatever.




January 18, 2012

but my friend is.

I haven’t really taken in the full implications of everything yet. Certain things are clearly different. I hate the mornings now even more than I previously did. If morning sickness equals ‘sick of the morning’ ”Really, really sick of the morning like hating it’ we definitely know who’s friend is pregnant.


Of course it’s early days still but I  have to say that I can’t believe how impolite and rude people have been. A couple of times I’ve actually HAD TO ASK people to get up in the subway so I could have a seat.

‘Sorry lady’ I’ll say to the old woman ‘but my friend is pregnant, so I think we both know what the right, and the American thing is to do. ‘

Then I’ll stand patiently yet firmly until she finally gets to her feet.

She has a cane after all.

I do find myself strangely emotional at times. Like recently when my mother called to find out how my book was going. I really surprised with my level of rage.

‘I’ll finish it when I finish it!’ I scream. ‘It’s only been a year after all!’

I calm down and call her back, the computer’s now cracked screen barely noticeable

‘Sorry’ I say, ‘but you know you’re going to have to be more sensitive to the fact that my friend is pregnant.’ ‘In a couple of months she’ll be a mother too. You have to respect that.’

I’m also emotional whenever I have to pay bills, the rent or dealing with Sallie Mae. Or going to gym.

The cravings have started early. I  find the need to eat all sorts of things; things like fried chicken, dark chocolate, french fries, brie cheese, sushi and steak tatare  even more than I used to. The good thing is that clearly my body is telling me that I need these things so I no longer have to feel guilty.

This helps when eating pad thai throughout the day.

Around 5:00-12:00 p.m I also begin craving red wine, whiskey and any cocktail that has egg whites in it. I drink these too.

Before you judge me realize that
a) America tends to be over zealous on this type of thing-‘it’s all a communist plot’
b)my pregnant friend’s body clearly needs me to drink them
c) look at the French, apart from having the bone structure of small birds and the tendency to overuse scarves, they usually turn out okay.

I have yet to be complimented on my glow but I know it’s only a matter of time.

Man am I hungry.

it’s because I’m extremely sensitive. Extremely, extremely sensitive. I know that I’m sensitive because my mother, my sister or father will not hesitate to inform me so every half an hour or on hour if I have forgotten for even a moment. I admit it, I am overly sensitive. I’m sensitive when my my sister turns off the light in the room while staring right at me, I’m sensitive while my mother yells at me to CALM DOWN or my father and I battle over bathroom towels. I’m so sensitive that I might just take a massive butcher knife before this holiday is over and show them what real sensitivity looks like.

pretty, so pretty and so red.

And it’s not just me, the weather is also sensitive.

(Don’t tell her I told you but actually the weather is being a number one (#1)bi-polar hobag)

It’s raining so we decide not to go to the beach and lurk at home, then it stops raining so fling on our swim suits, get creamed up (shut up not like that) leap into the car and then drive to the beach where it immediately begins to rain again then we drive home and my head begins to ache and my stomach hurts because I know what lies ahead.

Trapped by the rain and wild for something to do, my family makes me undergo the ultimate cruelty and unmitigated agony.

I scream that I’ll talk, tell them everything they need to know but it’s no use. I can hear the mesmerizing goose flesh crawling chinkety chink chink chink  noises coming closer as the foul little green bag is brought out , the thick dull pound of the board as it hits the table, the agonized squeak as plastic counters are forced whiningly across wood and suddenly  I am pushed into a chair the world begins to spin

‘No!’ I call out hoarsely ‘I beg you I’ll tell you anything!’ ‘NO FOR GOD’S SAKE HAVE MERCY, HAVE PITY ON MY SOUL PLEASE PLEASE I’LL DO ANYTHING YOU SAY!’

but it’s too late


Or as Mahatmah Gandhi liked to say ‘the shittiest game on the face of the planet’

I truly and utterly (ten points)deteste (eight points) scrabble (fourteen points) with every fibre (nine points) of my qi (nine hundred and thirty two points when placed on a triple word)

Although my scrabble playing sentiment would be best summed up by the following seven letters

so no lik

I try to put words down ‘screw’ and ‘evil’ and ‘frog’

I was told to save my ‘s’s-actually I’m told to save that quite often through life.

The saddest part is the the  glowing and supportive praise I receive from my otherwise nonsensitive critical family which makes me realize how truly challenged I am by this game.

Oh look Sophie put down ‘frog’

‘Well done Sophie!’ beams my mother  a player  of ‘exile’ ‘luxury’ and ‘azure’

‘Frog is a good word!’

‘You play great!’  Says my sister inflictor of ‘genuflect’ ‘longue’ and ‘xenophobia’

Frog! Well done!’ adds my father who’s gentle use of obituary, arbitrary and zeal (on the triple word) can kick our s’s any day of the week.

Family at their finest.

Added to this I still basically have tuberculosis (self diagnosed and me with only a MFA) which is a blast to bring to a summer holiday at the the beach. Let me tell you nothing like a hot tan, sexy bikini and a wracking and endless cough for a light hearted and fun filled conversational starter. For best results cough heavily into the inquirer’s face. They’ll just eat that up.

But as Nietchze that famous party animal once said

‘Life’s a beach and then you DIE hahahahahaha!’

The point is for you to stop looking at me like that you judgemental jerk, or the next person I visit with the butcher knife is you, unfeeling schmuck.

After all, I’m sensitive.

a raging alcoholic

December 7, 2011

but I could kill for a glass of wine right now.

(Shakes fist) If only it weren’t for these pesky antibiotics that is, dogarn it!

okay everyone, okay

You know what else would be good? You know what would feel just about perfect, what with winter on its snowy way and the holidays jingling around the corner?

Why, a  job!
(Shakes fist) If only it weren’t for this pesky downward spiraling economy that’s gone to  pure sheer unadulterated heck, that is!

And since we’re on this chipper trail, you know what else? You know what else would taste mighty good around now?

Why, chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream!

If only that shit didn’t make you fat.


And now down to business.

I know that many of you were concerned by Jeff Eugenides’s seemingly cold and distant treatment of me. Even in the face of my lovely and non stalkery emails, his only answer came back loudly and clearly ..silence.

Concern poured in from as far as wherever people were sitting when writing to me via facebook and twitter. I’m guessing pretty far.

Some friends asked me warm natured questions such as ‘how’s Jeff?’ Some showed their support by ‘thumbs upping’ my link or sharing a powerful capslock statements of admiration such as YEAH JEFF EUGENIDES! AWESOME!

Another  friend took it to the next level by asking me if Jeff Eugenides was perhaps a metaphor for something else I was missing in my life.

Deep, Kevin. Deep.

Well, Jeff is fine, and not in a metaphorical way. I know this because  he texted me today. 

Yes my little friends, while yours truly (me)was humbly sitting in her ophthalmological  appointment patiently waiting while for her pupils to dilate (and if that doesn’t sound sexy then I don’t know what does) she received his heavenly communication.

I would tell you what it said…..

but that’s between Jeff and myself.

Go and get your own Pulitzer Prize winning writer to text you.

I was much relieved. Jeff still cares….about my mind.

Frankly I needed the lift. I’ve been ill (hence the antibiotics) coughing in a way that guarantees me a seat on the subway and feeling bleak in general. Even my post was sick which is why I had to take it down before it infected other posts with its lameness. Though two friends were kind enough to say that they dug it. Thank you guys, I would hug you but you would be sorry if I did.

I don’t have much more to say other than this update and the fact that I’m missing all my friends, booze, ice cream, a job, even people….

Being sick sucks balls.

butter balls, geez guys, whaddaya  think I meant?!

and it’s all because Charlaine Harris.

‘Who?’ you may ask, but if you do I beg you to ask extremely quietly as the woman sitting next to you will immediately brain you to death with her purse.

And rightly so.

Who is Charlaine Harris, hello?!!!
Charlaine Harris is only the bestest, most amazingnest totally incredible writer in the world!
The Southern Vampire Mysteries?…..Featuring Sookie Stackhouse?? inspiring this series?

I knew you would get that, you troglodyte

troglodyte; not a winner, like a troll

Now I have had the incredible good fortune to hear Charlaine Harris speak at a book fair (yes, yes you may kiss my supple fairly sun screened hands at the end of this post, if you don’t have cold sores)

Charlaine Harris is funny and successful. She’s is also the same size and height of a fire hydrant and sports a light puff of  fuzzy afro hair. But hey, it’s not like I would be jealous or anything and delight in this.

instead I’ll drink to her health

After all it’s thanks to the gift of Charlaine Harris that I no longer feel so alone in my analytical genius as I did before.

That and my Kindle

My beautiful Kindle (which is far cooler than any lame leather bound book) has the delightful skill of showing me what other readers have read and then highlighted, such as a particular quote, line or paragraph. It does this by underlining the sentence, or paragraph or statement that they ‘highlight’.

Gosh, how I love that function and have no desire to turn it off or get rid of it or hide it. Ever.

I mean otherwise I might have forever and misguidedly felt alone when I recognized the universal and lovely truth of this statement that Sookie makes in Dead in the Family when her boyfriend Eric isn’t calling her.

Though I didn’t mind being by myself from time to time-in fact, I enjoyed it,-I’d had a little too much of it lately. And being alone is a lot more fun if it’s optional.

Meaningful right? Life changing? I’m glad you agree.

So did 63 people.

I couldn’t believe it. Sixty-Three (63) intellectual soul mates out there.

Hard to believe it could get better
But it did.

A few pages later I was riveted by this lightening exchange of witty and comedic dialogue between Sookie and Pam (another vampire) when Sookie annouces that some unwelcome vistors have just paid her (Sookie) a visit.

“Pam. Listen.”
“The phone is pressed to my ear. Speak.”
“Appius Livius Ocella just dropped in.”
“Fuck a zombie!”

To find out that another eighty two people (82) had been as captivated as I. That’s right 82 people highlighting that hilarious gem. I almost wept with relief (when I wasn’t rolling around laughing fit to puke)

Could my brilliant literary solitude be over?

“I love you,” Eric said in a drained voice “And you are my wife, in the only way that matters to me”

When I discovered that Ninety Seven (97) other diamond-like minds had highlighted that dramatic, moving and meaningful sentence which Eric (another vampire) utters to Sookie, I could indeed answer the question I had just asked (concerning if my brillant literary solitude was over.)

The answer was Yes.

And they say the art of reading is dying.

my new book club…my heart thuds with gladness.

even though it’s turned shocking, heinously and unthinkably freezing. I will not mention it in this blog. I’m not going to talk about how the icy wind hits my chest or slaps my face like  Old Man Winter is an abusive s@*thead and is trying to beat me into submission. Nor will I talk about how dressing in  ten million layers and trying to brace oneself mentally does no good against walking into the arctic freezer we used to know as our city. The fact that it is suddenly and evilly colder than a chilly thermometer up frozen penguin’s ass is simply not up for discussion.

Instead I will talk about the fact that although I’m not in North Korea I saw Kim Jong-il trying to hail a cab downtown. I don’t know what he was doing there. He looked a little furtive

so when I shouted out

‘Kim! Hey Kim!’

it probably didn’t help.

my mom used to look at me like that when I didn’t practice the piano

No judgement though Kim, after all everyone comes to New York during this festive season of lights and trees. Admittedly to see any of those sights you have to wade past the masses of tourists who waddle firmly just in front of you going about one mile per per ten hours so no wonder Kim feels a little aggressive.

Time Square; A place of unmitigated horror and despair

Would wouldn’t occasionally want to bring out a rocket when you have to navigate past a swaying crowd of post Christmas party’ers who are intent are sharing their joy with the world

Or sometimes the street

Or gutter

did I hear you call me a Grinch? Dude why not come out and say it?
I’m a Jew? (Well, I am)
No, no, that’s not what you meant?

Oh right. Someone who doesn’t celebrate Christmas, takes little pleasure in the endless chirpy songs and feels somewhat neurotic and obsessive about getting back to reality?

You’re right, I can’t see any correlation there-my bad.
Look, let’s be honest about this.

If it’s Christmas vs Hanukkah then Christmas wins, hands down.
Let’s take a further look at this in

(I hope my extended family talks to me after this)

Hanukkah Christmas

  1. Food






Eight small presents  (or not small depending on the bank balance)




Don’t get me started on ‘I had a little dradle. Just don’t.


Christmas TV Specials




Irritating cut outs of menorahs placed in shop windows as if to say

Sorry I guess I was more annoyed about this than I thought


Actually I think we might win on message-sorry Christians but we get to kick ass and  then have a miracle happen which is kind of pretty looking and not so in your face. And we’re not so commercialized nah, nah, nah

  1. Food

Turkey/roast goose, roast potatoes, gravy, brussel sprouts, baked parsnips, baked hame, Christmas pudding with brandy butter, eggnog (I’m not going to be cruel and continue but you get the general idea.
Plus an awesome table and Christmas crackers
Some giant whopping as big if not bigger than your birthday presents. Come to think of it, nobody gives you presents any more (not when you’re my age Sonny Jim they just buy you a drink) so Christmas is a time to make out like a bandit. Seriously.


Actually I loathe much of Christmas music but I SING ALONG TO IT ANYWAY. It’s like bad, bad, bad crack.

Christmas TV Specials

enough said


The coolest cheesiest crap ever created by man.









Okay, okay I guess you got your miracle too, but yours comes with a LOT of baggage. You can’t deny it. And you shouldn’t because bad things happen if you do.

okay so extra Christmas bonuses are

  • Santa
  • Santacon
  • Christmas parties
  • Stories about the crap that went on at Christmas parties
  • Comically bad sweaters
  • A societal accepted excuse for outright depression, malaise and overeating ‘it’s the holidays’
  • Christmas markets (I LOVE Christmas markets!!!! They’re so Harry Potter but for mug-shoppers
  • Christmas trees (I want one so badly but there are some lines I dare not cross)

Bonuses with Hanukkah

  • no shopping guilt…except we still get presents for all our Christian friends anyway!

Now before everyone starts screaming OY VEY at me and yelling that I’m a traitor please note that not once did I say that Christians themselves were cooler than Jews. Jews, my peeps are  definitely cooler (except for the mitzvah tank-that’s not cool) but is Christmas somewhat cooler than Hanukkah? You bet your ham glazed patooty it is.

(this is not a ham baked patooty but I’m trying to make amends with my people)

However -when Passover rolls around we’ll talk again.
Passover is pretty cool

Okay, okay, okay! Sheesh! I was joking ….about Dr Seuss-that man is a god to me, so I don’t take his name lightly-the Grinch thing was in good fun.

He was sent down to earth to bring a message of peace, light and very silly rhyme schemes

I’d  adore to write more (really adore to) but my apartment is not maintaining enough heat. I could tell you how  my hands are shaking, my teeth are chattering and my skin is going blue due to frostbite. I could talk about that, but I’m not going to.

I’ve pissed the Hanukkah fairy off enough as it is.

I’ll get you! As Judah Mccabee is my witness!


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