I, Lenni, do hereby resolve...

HAPPY NEW YEARS and shit!!!

I plan to drive way out to the wilds of upstate New York and chill with some college buddies. I hope that the quantity and quality of alcohol will validate such a long trip....oh and seeing my friends again.

As it is resolution time, I'd like to present some gems from the general advertising world:

"Make a resolution you can keep. Watch more CBS Daytime."
Translation: You fat slob. Don't even waste time bothering the people who work out at the gym all year long. They'd much rather you get your stomach stapled shut and keep up with Luke and Laura instead.

"This year we're changing the way resolutions are done. Instead of writing a list of our own personal faults that we intend to improve, we have decided to give everyone we know a list of their faults and things we wish they would resolve to improve. This can be quite helpful for the wayward souls who make resolutions about all the wrong things and don't even realize the true flaws they need to fix." -- Powells Books
Translation: This is a fantastic idea! You are a whiny ass who nobody likes. Fix that before you vow to fit into that bikini.

I'm sorry. I'm in a bad mood. I was in a bad mood yesterday. So I came home hoping to enjoy some of Grandma's cookies but someone had eaten them. It's my fault I guess. I left them in plain view. Also, someone used the last of my mouthwash, leaving the empty bottle in my shower caddy. STOP EATING, DRINKING, GARGLING, STEALINGANDTHENRETURNING MY THINGS!!! THEY'RE MINE!!! MINE!!! *breathe* and no I'm not an only child. (but the housemates in question are)

No comment.

Canada Oks group sex The haven for dissatisfied politicos (sometimes known as hippies and draft dodgers) has just offered a new incentive to cross the border. "However deviant they may be or however disgusting they may seem" swinger clubs have been reopened by the courts. Well, those dirty dirty Canucks have to keep warm somehow.

As my friend Andrew pointed out, "I don't trust them. 80% of Canadians live near the border. WHAT ARE THEY GATHERING FOR!?!" The answer, apparently, is not global domination but group sex.

Philosophy anyone?

Siiigh. Witty repartee exhausts me.

Hoo-ray!

I got new doorknobs! I got new doorknobs! I got new doorknobs hey hey hey hey! Is it sad that the highlight of my weekend was that the doorknob fairy visited? I mean, I did have fairly eventful weekend: I got a cheese pot and some used sunglasses at my office Christmas party. Went to see Seasonal Disorder. Woke up bright and shiny Saturday morning with the largest zit I ever seen in my entire life. And it was near my mouth! (It has since been eradicated) I went on a 7-mile long hike with two 60 year old men who are both in better shape than I am. (Depressing. And I'm still sore.) Went on a date with my MC who turned not to be my MC but a nice guy nonetheless. (And Jewish. Is anyone surprised? I think it's God's way of telling me to hit on people at Church.) Sat around recovering from my hike, observed my housemates Christmas shop, and sat around some more.

BUT THE DOORKNOBS!

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far, away, a young woman once had to use the restroom. This poor woman (we'll call her Lenni) closed the bathroom door without realizing that there wasn't a doorknob on the inside...or outside for that matter. When it was time to leave, she realized that her only hope was to alert her housemate and his friends to her plight. However, they were in the basement writing a new song and generally being raucous and could not hear her pleas for help, banging on the radiator, frequent flushing, or other noisemaking attempts. The cat did and started scratching on the door but lets face it -- cats are usless. An hour, two bent nail files, and a few tears later, another of Lenni's housemates returned to discover and rescue her. Since then, poor Lenni had been slightly post-traumatic about using the restroom. Despite the reattachment of said doorknob (only the inside one) it still took at least five minutes of subsequent visits to escape the confines of the porcelain throne-room....until the new knobs were installed. And there was much rejoicing.

And she's back...

...on the market!

Here's a bit of color for your otherwise dreary day.

'A white one.'

In this Christmas (Channukah, Kwanzaa, Diwali, Ramadan, Festivus, snowy) Season, I reflect on all the unsolicited advice I've been given by family members over the years:

"Brush your teeth!"
"Make your bed!"
"You should have a boyfriend."

I mean really. Did I ask you?

However, my sweet dearest baby brother (22 years old and 6ft) has, in fact, offered some gems:

"Don't ever say sorry unless you hit someone in the balls."
"If someone asks you what kind of car you drive don't ever answer 'a red one.'"
"Fish for compliments. Guys love that."

That last one was in response to a conversation we were having. My friend Katie had asked if my new boy-toy had told me I was beautiful. I'm pretty sure he hasn't. However, I've decided to compliment myself:

"I have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen!"
"Damn, my ass looks great in these pants!"

Joey said I could.

Oh nuts!

Ah the sweet sweet joy of a hangover. Feel the throbbing in your head, the points of light as you turn your head, squinting into the brightness. Revel in your gastrointestinal turmoil threatening explosive orifices. Relax as you spin around the room....or as your room spins around you. Wonder how you removed your shoes but not your coat before falling asleep and celebrate the fact that you apparently had the forethought to delicately place a garbage can near your bed.

I dedicate this thought to Meg on the aftermath of her birthday. I curse the stupid bartender who thought whiskey was a good idea. And I thank that Chris guy for his salty nuts.
-----------

So besides my Missed Connection experiment (not going very well by the way), I am questioning yet another mystery of the metro. I, like many poor unfortunate souls, am subject to motion sickness. However, it seems to be sporadic. What is the determining factor of my alimentery happiness? Sitting position, number of cars, which car, food intake or output, reading material, temperature, presence/lack of hot young men to gaze longingly at, driver, time of day, previous alcohol consumption? Any ideas?

I have to figure this out because I am convinced that I will meet a fiery end in the traffic circle of death and dismemberment.

Cubical Po-em

Neither/nor
Is/or
While I was driving
with all the lights on
With justification, the coach suspended the players.
The planted seed that she bought yesterday in her garden
And
the one worked
which day have
when
Please come talk to me for a minute.
Pink Lady. 4130. Product of USA. Washington.
mini-pinces reliuses
OTHER.
to re-check.

the hair of expanding proportions

Lately I've had oodles of wonderful blog ideas. In fact, this morning I was planning on telling you about a highly editorialized piece that I heard on NPR about AIDS. They used an odd phrase to describe the disease that made me giggle. I opted to repeat it three times rather than write it down but I still forgot it. (Happy World AIDS Day by the way. Hey! I AM wearing red!) I also had similar plans to write a highly insightful review of RENT and to inform you all about gleeful sentence structure, with particular attention paid to dependent clauses and the correct use of the comma.

I suppose I could, instead, highlight some recent examples of my stupidity.
Me: I'm going to have to stay in DC this New Years because I don't have any vacation days. I had 24 hours but I took Friday off.
Meg: Um, Len...
Me: I get like 1.5 hour for every third day I work or something like that.
Meg: Um, Len...
Me: I know! It's crazy!
Meg: Um, Len....most work days are only 8 hours. You could take 3 days off.
Note to readers: I need plans for New Years.

I noticed that I often address my blog to my loyal reader(s). I similarly address my journal to my future grandchildren. However, I'm pretty sure my future grandchildren would respond with, "Ewww grandma! We didn't want to know that! lalala!" Speaking of family, my father has expressed interest in reading my blog. I suppose I'll have to find another venue for my Playboy-letter worthy exploits. Just kidding Dad...you can read them in Penthouse.

I have had an idea! (Not just now...it's been brewing for a while...but I thought you might want to hear about it.) Are you familiar with Missed Connections on Craig's List? I know you are, but I'll describe it anyway. Let's say you are wandering down the street and you pass a thoroughly charming young man (or woman, or old, whatever strikes your fancy). You feel a connection, a pang of longing perhaps, as you meet each other's eyes. (If you're me, you'll probably trip over something and fall into a garbage can at this point.) You turn back for a second glance, smile...but are too CHICKEN SHIT to say anything! Craig comes to the rescue. You can post a description of your encounter, hope against hope that your new love sees it, responds, meets you, and impregnates you numerous times (after marriage of course and obviously after a proper gestation period). An ideal system, it has since been bastardized into a way for men and women to lower the beauty of a fleeting electricity into a casual encounter. In essence, if I post a vague enough description flocks of women (or men, whatever) will respond, meet me, and buy me lots and lots of ponies.

So the idea? I will pick someone to choose for a missed connection every week. I don't even have to have any sort of connection with them. Eye contact, a verbal exchange isn't needed. I will simply pick someone I see and describe them on Craig's List to see what the responses are like. I plan to provide both for my loyal reader(s) on another blog. I have decided, that as a control, I will describe myself first.

If nothing else, this may be amusing and it will sharpen my use of description and adjectives in general for the time when I write my debut novel about a starving artist struck down by leprosy...and rabies.

Ok, if there are those who read this to see what I'm up to lately...um I went home for Turkey Day. yum. I'm back. yay.