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Spun?

I recently found out that Claude (aka Big-C aka C-dizzle aka Dad) used to do martial arts.  I was fascinated but not entirely surprised.  For all his cool swagger he was kind of a weirdo-nerd.  He rode the Sci-fi wave in the 70's and tie-dye tank-topped his way through the 80's.  Plus, he's always been one of those guys who carried a book in the back-pocket of his jeans and developed the art of reading while walking.  And watching my dad bend and stretch his body into rusty but graceful Asian movements, I started thinking. When you're a kid you know you're going to grow out of things.  Dolls, for example, were always a ticking time bomb.  Most people know the feeling of realizing that some thing they love or some game they play or some hobby they have has transformed into a dirty little secret.  While you weren't looking it has become an example of you're developmental immaturity and is therefore fodder for public ridicule by your peers.  But what about &#

Wherefore Art Thou...In The Holiday Inn...

This has nothing to do with Nelly.  RIP Nelly!...No as far as I know he's not dead.  But he has been admitted to the land of the dead in my consciousness with  DMX and JaRule which is the Gangsta's paradise of my middle school experience.  Enter Kanye... So I've been lazy for a while.  And its not because I didn't have anything to do and it's not because I was terribly busy.  I'm not sure what the real balance is between living life and reflecting on it, but I honestly miss blogging when I don't do it.  Some days, some things just inspire you.  And today it was a chubby man jogging (laboriously) in a t-shirt that said "Tiny Tim's Donut Shop". I'd like to warn you here:  This is not about that man.  But more the idea of that man.  The moments in life when you are so enraptured by something so hilariously minute that you feel the need to share that with others.  The ironic, the ridiculous, the annoying.  Those moments that everyone has wh

What Seems Like A Good Idea At 5AM May Not Actually Be A Good Idea

What happens when you mix missed concerts, Pour House rejections, and AN's birthday? This was taken in Port Authority at 5:30 AM Saturday morning.  Here is us eating breakfast. We'd been out all night but decided that the only thing that could make the night better was Atlantic City. To make a long story less long and way more amusing.  We had open containers, in public.  Which I totally thought was not that big of a deal because its port authority and port authority is like a third world country whose dictator has just been shanked.  Plus, one would think that the NY equivalent of a mall cop would worry more about the pimps picking up runaways than the harmless 20 something, minding there own business, eating breakfast, who just so happen to be supremely drunk and have an open beer under their chair.  Anyway, I may have mistakenly left one underneath the bench we were sitting on when we got up to check what time the bus was coming. We thought there was one at 630.  FYI

20/4,500,200

My left eyes is tearing. And I'm wearing glasses outside for the first time in years.  I've worn contacts since 5th grade and for some reason I've always chosen the nerdiest glasses I could find.  As if to say to myself, "you can fool everyone else with your fancy-schmansy contact lenses, but I know the real you, the 9-year-old-nerdy-nearsighed-you-who-wore-neon-yellow-plastic-frames.  Remember?  The ones that were taped in the middle.  Bwahahaha...."  The current pair are thick tortoise shell frame with a small square lens in the hipster nerd chic style.  Thank god for the square lens because these pair are one rounded corner from making me look like Steve Urkel. (exhibit A (not my actual glasses)) The surgery wasn't actually that bad.  EXCEPT my day is gone and I have to miss spinning AND pilates all because of this stupid laser eye surgery I just had. It's wasn't even the cool modern marvel kind that gives your near-sighted genetics the finger

4 Awesome Things

So AW introduced me to this new blog called, 1,000 Awesome Things  which I'm really enjoying.  And I like a lot of her/his posts and loooove a bunch of 'em.  But some of them are N/A for me.  I appreciate the dedication and in no way is my post a 'this-is-what-you-forgot-even-though-you're-only-at-442-awesome-things post.  It's more of a Claudia's-5-awesome-things-that-you-should-add post.  I'll be honest I haven't read all of the posts so I'm not entirely sure that one or all of these suggestions aren't already on the list.  But, if there's any overlap I promise it is a matter of awesomeness oneness and universal agreement, not a matter of intellectual property theft. 1.  Rediscovering, playing, and singing old school Disney movie songs with (or without) your friends. In 6th Grade I had a part filapino friend who would watch Mulan with me on a weekly basis.  she would bend over tie her hair in a bun really tight.  She'd cross her ar

The Big 2.3.

So, my birthday is next week (on the 23rd).  And I've been known to do some strange things on that day: 20th.  Beat a Spongebob Pinata in Washington Square Park. 16th.  Walk the questionably safe Costa Rican beaches with AB and a drunk frat reject who kept dropping the N-bomb to the house of a complete stranger just because her name was Claudia too. 21st a.  Find and a mannequin on the street outside of bar in Tribeca. 21st b.  Play with the said mannequin. 21st c. Put money in a GoGo dancers g-string or corset.  Does it make it less weird if I say that I knew her?  What about the fact that I had never actually seen a Pastie before? I've also been know to do absolutely nothing.  I guess it depends on the year.  As you can see 21 was a good year.  But I didn't get shit-faced because I've had a fake ID and heels (the typical requirement for clubs in ny) since I was 15. This year I think I'll have a party.  I'm still working out the details.  Bu

Just Another Manic Monday

So I didn't really 'party like a rock-star, but this weekend was a full one.  It was jam packed with self-realizations and fun/interesting/awkward events.  I apologize in advance for the less than coherent progression of this blog.  But....you know.  I'll start with yesterday. Sunday Everyone knows that I'm a hardcore Brooklyn proponent.  I push flea markets and park events.  Yesterday I went to a free concert in the park which was part of Celebrate Brooklyn Summer series.  The lead acts were Talib Kweli (native Brooklyner) and The Roots. I went with AB and while on the F train we ran into another friend MR.   We met up with a bunch of friends and found even more there when we arrived.   The concert, by my new Bonnaroo standards, was sub par.  But you don't always go to concerts like that for the act and I was still glad that I went. Celebrate brooklyn is an accurate sample of Brooklyn culture.  There's a community feel that rivals Bon Bonnaroo.  Th

What To Do When Your New Love Interest(s) Is (are) unavailable...

That plural choice is for all the BIG PIMPIN' ladies out there (and I mean that in the Master P sense) 1.   Go out with the Girls. 2.  Make it a Blockbuster night. 3.  Party like a rock star. The original title was "Chapter Three Summary of 'Oprah a Biography, by Kitty Kelley" the next was "Sometimes Nice Girls Gotta Do Naughty Things"  Guess which one of the three choices I'm picking.    This post is TBC....but pray for me.

Working Girl

So this post was supposed to be about the fact that I have a job.  But I'm kind of tweaking right now.  By that I mean I've been tracking my blackberry delivery on UPS.com.  This is ridiculous to do.  This is ridiculous to do because:  I know it was sent out at 7:00AM yesterday.  I know It stopped in Kentucky (7:01PM) then Jamaica, Queens (12:04AM), then Brooklyn (3:25AM).  I also know that it was put on the truck at 8:01 AM for delivery. Meaning the next step is delivery. Meaning UPS.com has nothing more to tell me.  Meaning , checking UPS.com is ridiculous.  *Sigh* So next there's the door check .  I can't remember whether I said it needed to be signed for.  (insert door check) I don't want the doorbell to stick and not ring. (insert door check) And I can't miss him because then I'll have to wait EVEN LONGER. (insert door check) 'til the truck route is done and then I'll have to go to some random UPS store that's not even close to where I

Bye Bye Blackberry

January 1 2009:  Coke heads at a club in soho steal my blackberry. March 2009:  I break a glass of water i put on my bedstand because im drunk after a night at Bob & Barbara's Thursday drag show.  My Blackberry sits in a small pool of water.. all night. July 2010:  Phone?  Phone on white screen.  Phone off....push power.  black screen. push power.  vibrate, sputter, die.  black screen....WTF. So I have no phone. Well I mean I have one.  But it doesn't work.  And I'm on day two.  So the Crackberry withdrawal is lessening and I think I can handle other electronic media without tearing up.  But I want to say for the record that before my phone sung its swan song...I was BLOWIN' UP.  I was deep into my BB addiction and getting major male texting attention. Alas, the universe works in mysterious ways.  And I think that after the 23rd time I explained things to myself with the phrase, "cause I'm a G" the universe got fed up. The Good News: I ha

Commitment Issues

My Dad likes to say that most people have no idea what they are doing most of the time.  That they may seem like they do and that it may be intimidating but really everyone is in the same shit. Coming from a guy who by any barometer is a modern marvel and a successful human being in general this kind of gives me a twisted sense of hope. We are at that pivotal age when you have to make decisions.  You have to because you're 22 and you're an adult now and you can't go on living at your parent's house forever.  And now I'm going to ask the same hackneyed question that twenty-somethings have been asking for centuries. How do you know when your all growed up ? Graduating from college has been like going through puberty again.  Some people do it gracefully pas de bourree-ing around acne and weight-gain and beautiful older sisters while avoiding bad hair and braces with ninja skills.  One major difference, however, is that during puberty everyone wears their awkward

Saturday

Saturday night was a mess .  And I wasn't drunk or angry or embarrassing or slutty.  I didn't vom in my hair or wake up naked with a burrito on my chest.  Those stories happen often and never get old but Saturday night was definitely unique and not really in a good way. wait. Here's the thing.  My beautifully gay older man companion SP consistently fills me with enlightened wisdom that I don't want to listen to because its easier to be childish and impulsive.  One thing he said was that "You should go into every argument assuming that at least 30% is you."   And I've thought about this after the fight (I use that term loosely because I was kind of just yelled at) I was in that night. A friend (or former friend) or mine FLIPPED out.  And I understand that he was hurt and that he was angry and that he or we had some unresolved issues.  Literally all I did was start talking to him.  For most of the night I could tell that something was amiss but when he

Bonnaroo Part II: Back By Popular Demand

Day One Continued A and I arrive at an open field with staff members in neon T-shirts and hundreds of cars.  We pass a white tent where some of the staff...kids in neon sunglasses and polka-dot nail polish sit smoking cigarettes and talking to each other.  We've taken a back way, avoided the main highway and cut off hours of waiting in line.   No scalpers, although we ask a staff member about tickets and they say haven't seen any but that they'd 'totally scalp that shit if they needed to'.  The ticket trailer is on the right. We trudge down the field watching cars get checked for drugs, glass bottles and weapons.  Some local sheriffs pull cars over at random for inspection and we hope our drug carrying friends aren't chosen but are secretly glad we aren't in the car. Once we get to the ticket tent they tell us that the credit card machine is down and A is worried that I haven't taken out enough money for the festival if I have to pay the full price

On Friendship...A Bonnaroo Digression

So...I know I promised more on Bonnaroo but I find myself gravitating toward another topic all together.  So, last night was an interesting night.  It ended with AN lecturing me about wasted talent and self-delusional bullshitting.  And while she has a point I find myself unwilling or unable to accept the accuracy of what she's said enough to do anything about it. AN isn't the first to ask, to say, to judge.  To criticize me for a lack of anxiety or for taking advantage of the fact that I have supportive parents.  But for some unknown reason her tirade meant a lot coming from someone who has no major stock in my success and no familial connection.  Her criticism was true, it was rough, and it tied into another theme this weekend on the topic of friendship. I've recently been asked by two good friends about their relationships with other good friends. Case 1:  A One of her good friends has a gf who he sucks around.  While I spent a lot of time with the gf and genuinely

The Road to Bonnaroo

So I was the dirtiest I've ever been in my life last night.  And I don't mean 'down and dirty'  or 'dirty dog' or 'ODB'  but like the kind of dirty you get when away from your parents for the first time and don't have someone to remind you (or force you) to bath. To really explain this experience I have to break it into installments.  I don't have enough of an attention span to do this all in one and there were a lot of fun oddities this weekend and a lot of fodder for analysis and interpretation.  So bear with me...I'll get there. I was camping for 4 days.  That's three nights in a tent on a queen size aero-mattress with two other girls sleeping horizontally because that was the only way we kind of fit.  We were in Manchester TN, 45 minutes from Nashville,  for  Bonnaroo .  The concerts were A.M.A.Z.I.N.G. I'll get to those later.  To visualize Bonnaroo one only has to think of iconic woodstock images.  The atmosphere was all con

I Can Smell the Waffle House

So I'm in Charlotte.  Well really I'm in the airport.  I have an hour layover en route to Nashville.  After 4 years and the threat that I would never again be invited,  I've ventured south of the Mason-Dixon to visit AN.  I haven't blogged in a while cause I'm busy and important or lazy and hungover...comme tu veux.   But today in a burst of blogging energy and because Charlotte's airport has free wireless (what what!?!) I've recommitted. I'm already noticing the normal cultural shocks and curiosities I experience when traveling down south.  This is not a case of ny elitism because its just different.  For example, the rate at which people smile is negatively proportional to the rate a which they walk and Starbucks isn't legally bound to show calorie content. Anyway I'm gonna be in Tennessee for a week. Because its cheaper to travel on tuesday.  But four of the days will be spent camping.  A fact AN conveniently forgot to mention.  We're

The Miraculous Life And Adventures Of Lion The Dog Next Door

So I haven't blogged in a while.  Don't worry.  I'm alive.  I've been busy.  And I wont try to recap on what happened in one post...because it doesn't work. I've tried.  But future posts will include inappropriate texting, Sleeping on club bed-couches in hurricane like rains, two-day birthday parties and my first bachelorette party.    Anyway, I'll start with this morning. I had my day planned out.  I woke up naturally at around 730  and by 735 the phone starts ringing off the hook.  My thought:  How does she KNOW.   And I get in the shower only to get out again and answer my mom's question of 'whether Dad' has found his keys.  He has. Back to the shower. Five minutes later. Phone Ring. Phone Ring. Phone Ring. RIIIIINNNNGGG....DOOR. BELL. RIIINNNG.  Apparently the handy men are here. 30 mins later. One of the men are out in front on the phone with my mom....who is whispering instructions on her cell phone from her work desk.   I

Cherry Blossom Brooklyn

So yesterday I went to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens.  For all of you who don't know because I haven't told you yet.  I know a lot about the area from a project I did on the architecture of the Brooklyn Museum. Summation: Until 1894 Brooklyn or (Breukelen, as it was originally name by the dutch) was its own city.  The third largest.  Before it joined with the other boroughs BK was in a race against Manhattan to prove its elitism.  This lead to the adoption of certain projects to beautify Brooklyn and a large area was reserved for public works.  For a while it was basically a crude park.  But now that area consist of The Brooklyn Museum, The Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, The Brooklyn Public Library, and Prospect Park. (just cause I love it...here's the museum) Anyway, back to the gardens.  The cherry blossoms are out early this year which is heavenly.  Although it kind of sucks when they don't come out just in time for the festival.  The Brooklyn cherry blossom festiv

Chance-Alize (that's her stripper name) Goes to the Vet

Yesterday morning I dropped Chance off at the veterinarian to get spayed.  My mom sent me an email in the afternoon and like usual she put the entire message in the subject. What would you think?...Of course I freaked and called the vet 5 times until someone picked up.  She's fine.  But apparently there's some new non-invasive procedure that allows dogs to be neutered or whatever without slicing.  Having no medical history on Chance and because she appeared to have been in heat, Dr. Pruden cut into her and couldn't find her lady parts.  Yeah, you read that correctly.  She did however find spleen damage (not serious)...another indicator that Chance had had this procedure preformed.   Anyway, she tells me all of this...gives me antibiotics for Chance (2x a day) and brings her out.   All I can say is: This poor dog. Not only did she go through an unnecessary surgery, the bottom half of her is entirely shaved off.  But worst of all she has one of those plastic cones surrou

My Television is a Fucking Republican

I recently accused my ex-boyfriend of being a republican.  I suppose it's easy to demonize ex bfs but that wasn't the case. Wait.  Some background. Big C calls me John McCain as an insult. I protested child labor in front of the Disney store...when I was 9. But don't get me wrong.  I'm no dirty-hippy-organicly-grown-on-my-roof-top-brooklynette (shout out to Jersey Shore for inspiring that last word).  Whining-useless-activist-intellectuals annoy me as well.  Don't just bitch.  Do something. It's almost amazing to me how close-minded both extremes can be.  With no idea and no interest in maybe...I dunno....seeing a ray of legitimacy or exhibiting a ray of understanding to another point of view. That being said.  I'd take a wack-job chaining himself to a tree over the Manson-mailers sending death threats to democratic politicians...over healthcare...really?!? health care?!?  There are so many things inherently wrong with that situation I'm not g

Hot as Balls

So yesterday I sent Claude off to his golf trip like a parent sends their child to camp.  I packed his bag, called a cab and made sure he was home for his pick-up.  I also looked up the weather in Pinehurst, South Carolina.  And it's hot as balls there.  High of 91. Increasingly there have been hints of seasonal change.  And it looks like spring isn't pump faking this time.  Actually it looks like summer is kind of fist pumping the crap out of spring.  NYC is almost hot as balls.  When I checked weather.com yesterday it was 88 (even though it's high says 84).  And today it says high of 79. But weather.com isn't the only barometer of meteorological change.  People are out.  Brooklyn-stoop-sitting-season has begun.  And with that begins the dark side of this bright time.  Cat-calling skyrockets and rims spin to the sound of car basses bumping.  And while today (and yesterday) could be environmental flukes and while we could very well slide nicely back into the spring-

Fix Yo'self Guurrl

I know its cliche but I'd have to say my biggest fear is dying an old lady alone with cats (I hate cats).  One that curses at children playing, whose hostile womb has long since sputtered its swan song to its abandoned ovaries. A close second is camel toe.  I have an irrational fear of camel toe.  Actually, it's not entirely irrational.  I wear spandex more than most and I don't particularly like underwear.  But I'm also afraid that I don't actually know what qualifies as 'camel toe'.  I can get into the graphic details involving more than one crotchal crease and vaginal fold BUT I wont. Instead I just Urban Dictionaried that mess.  This is what I got: " When her pants are so tight you can read her lips!" "A vaginal wedgie("vedgie"), most commonly caused by tight pants that work their way into the crevices of the vaginia making a shape that clearly resembles a camel's toe" "When a woman's clothing clings so tigh