Writing from a new computer...

So guys--

I try not to be a superficial person on a day-to-day basis. You know, don't judge a book and all that. So I just want to clarify that I know what's really important about my new Macbook is the well-made interior, but all I can think about right now is how NEW AND SHINY AND SILVER AND PERFECT IT IS!!

So take THAT asshole who took my old computer! This thing is 100000 times better than that old piece of shit! Enjoy all my original cast albums SUCKAAAAAA!

P.S. It really is awful to steal, though, and I in no way condone the actions of the douchebag who stole my laptop. I can only hope that somewhere a million pigeons are pooping on him. Babies would work, too.

Get Frisky.

This commercial never gets old to me. Genius. Every. single. time.

It gets even better when you think about how much time and money actually went into creating this tripped-out, CGI, Lisa Frank madhouse world for cats who will most likely never even see the commercial. More time and money than I will ever have. Perhaps oddest of all, in my mind, I blame the cats for this commercial.

P.S. Speaking of cats, two black cats crossed my path simultaneously while I was walking home tonight, each cat heading in a separate direction. Does this mean that I will have REALLY bad luck or, hopefully, the cats will counteract each other and I will have GOOD luck? Or does that leave me with neutral luck?

Math is hard.

Yelling at people and things: a never-ending saga.

Look guys, sometimes you graduate from college and shit gets weird and so you think, well let's make it even weirder by reviving this blog. And so here we are.

Dear casting director of new off-broadway play:

Come on, let me AUDITION at least. I read the breakdown, you and I both know I’m perfect for that part. Well actually, you don’t know that yet, but I would be happy to show you. I think if you’d really like me if you just got to know me. And yes, by “get to know me,” I do in fact mean judge me superficially based solely on my appearance and a 90-second monologue. But I would be thrilled to receive that judgment. …no?! You’re not even going to look at me and my naïve, lovable face?! NOTHING?!

…yes, I would like to leave a headshot and resume thank you have a nice day.

Dear sketchy guy sitting next to me waiting to audition for the aforementioned play:

I’m sorry that I look familiar to you but no, we don’t know each other. And also, no, I don’t want to get to know you right now. Look, I’m sure you’re very nice. I’m sure you and your ponytail and your goatee are all a bundle of fun. But see how I’m reading this book? See how I’m going back to reading my book immediately after you finish sharing one of your many observations with me? See how I am now actually going back to reading my book while you are still talking to me? Take all this information, process it in your mind, see what you come up with.

Dear landlady:

So, I can’t use that washer/dryer set in the garage? Because I can see it every time the garage door is open, you know. And I would REALLY love to be able to just walk down the 20 stairs from our apartment to that garage and do my laundry. So…no? Because only like 6 people live in this “apartment building.” It’s actually just like, a big house. So what I’m beginning to feel like right now is that I’m paying to live with my mom, in her house, only it’s in Queens and she’s refusing to let me use the washing machine. But like she’s being really coy about the whole thing, which is only making it harder.

Dear self:

I think I hate you most of all right now. Because after you finish this BLOG POST (thanks for single-handedly bringing back 1995, by the way), you will go watch the latest episode of The Bachelorette. And you. will. love. it.

Dear shampoo dispenser that came mounted to our shower wall:

Surprisingly, it’s not actually spelled, “champu.” I know I know, I was confused, too.

You know what, on second thought I find you whimsical and delightful. You may stay.

Why I need to live in a place with good public transportation.

Guys, sometimes (read: all the time) when I drive, I put the seat so far forward that even I have trouble getting out of the car.

Yep, I bet my stepfather loves when I'm home.

Thought of the day.

If you have a vanity plate that reads, "COOLMOM," you probably are not one.

Musings on deliciousness.

Friends--

The peanut butter and banana sandwich is a fine art. The main components, both so delicate, require the perfect proportions, otherwise they will fall into a bloody battle rather than a delicate pas de deux.

Well, friends, today I made that perfect peanut butter and banana sandwich. PERFECT. I meant to take a picture but then I just ate it instead.

I have no regrets.

Confusion.

First of all--sun. burn.

I'm confused because I just saw a commercial for a Victoria's Secret push-up bra that instantly adds two cup sizes. But...two cup sizes is a lot. Wouldn't someone notice if you were suddenly two cup sizes bigger? Especially if you were a small cup size to begin with? Wouldn't it be awkward if your flat-chested friend who you call "Flattie" suddenly walked in to your room one day and had HUGE knockers? I feel like that would be awkward. I don't understand.