Zero Dark Thirty

I'll bet you've all spent the last month sitting at your laptops, anxiously hitting the reload button until I put up my next post, wondering where I've been. I didn't die; I didn't become a world traveler or get offered a new employment opportunity anywhere remotely in the six figures. No, I'm just really fucking lazy and lack motivation. Sorry, kids.

At any rate, the last month has had some recent developments which, as my duty (haha. "Duty.") as a blogger, I feel I should share with you all. Let's run it down in list form, because I'm pretty sure you're all too busy and/or impatient to sit through an hour's worth of my shit:

1) Let's get the biggest deal out of the way first: as much as I tried to avoid this like Taylor Swift avoids actual talent, I finally turned thirty. Despite a minor freakout, it actually doesn't feel that different from 29, mostly because I'm still giggling at words like "feel."

Despite being knocked down by a heavy case of the "Mutant Cold," I had a relatively nice, low-key birthday in New York City, with a guest appearance from one of my favorite Bloggi, Tabs, who flew in from Canada for the funeral procession. Since I was sick, I couldn't do everything I had anticipated, and I'll be having a do-over this summer. I expect way more of you to be there, so get on that right now.

Hitting thirty also won me the coveted "Last Chance Blogger" Bootleg award over at 20sb, which is interesting because didn't I also win this shit last year? How old do you people think I am? I was also up for "Most Opinionated," but seeing as how Tits and I were both nominated, we probably split the vote and that's why neither of us won.  Oh, well- thank you anyway! It's awesome to know that you guys love me so much that you thought I was ancient even when I wasn't.

(Also, shout-out to Ginny, who was voted "Best 20sb Contributor." I would make an "In My Pants" joke here but I honestly can't think of one right now.)

B) I'm still on the job hunt. At this point I'm basically trying for anything; however, I did apply for a social media job with the New York Rangers that I am absolutely 100% under-qualified for. I managed not to make a complete ass of myself and not send a cover letter that basically stated OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU PICK ME I LOVE THE RANGERS PICK ME PICK ME LKJKFJKHJGSDFJHFJKLKVNFJNCHSZVCJNFKLNDFJFHDVHVBGJFGBGHBF
PS- I want your goalie to impregnate me. Thank you, and have a nice day.

Yeah, so that didn't happen. Probably a genius idea on their part.

THUNDERCAT) The best part of being back in New York is definitely having the chance to reconnect with my friends and family. My brothers housed me for my first two weeks, and despite having the sound effects to NHL 13 permanently lodged in my brain, it was great to hang with them after being physically separated for seven months.

After that, it was time to hit up everyone I hung with in school. I'm still in touch with 90% of them, and within two days I was back with my old crowd. One of them in particular, who has made a brief appearance on this blog as Bri-Winning, was the first one to invite me out, and in doing so introduced me to the guy I'm currently dating.

You did read that right, FYI- the Mayan calendar was probably another year off because I managed to trick some poor dude into keeping me around after conversing with me for more than five minutes. Heretofore dubbed "Iron Man," we've been together a little over a month, and he seems relatively normal. I've already met or know most of his friends and they're all cool as shit, too. Iron Man has yet to see my robot collection or any of my Star Trek memorabilia, so I haven't fucked this up. Yet. There won't be much written about him here, but the relationship will be drawn out over on Snark & Sex, because he doesn't know that one exists.

I'm fucking amazing.

In case you're all wondering, my Iron Man doesn't look at all like RDJ's Iron Man, or I already would have roofied him into marriage.

Please. I'm taken, not dead.

So there it is- my last month, laid out for you (haha. "Laid"). I still need to get to my last Dead Space recap in time for the second half of the season, and I also need to get off my ass and come up with new ideas for my next few posts. So I am still alive, and functional (?), and I will be around more. I promise.

I love you.

PS- we're looking for guest bloggers over at S&S. If you want to share how your met your significant others or what your first date was like, drop me an email at thataintkosher83@gmail.com. We need you from now until Valentine's Day.

SKILLZ, YO

I just realized I haven't put up a post in over two weeks. Instead of beating myself up for being inadequate, I actually feel pretty accomplished because I've been getting a ton of shit done.

April 2011 was like the month of Ninja Skills for me. I picked up a bunch of freelance projects and I've been working 14-hour days while I impress everybody with my over-achievement and glorious ability to multi-task. Not only that, but I may have- MAY HAVE- joined the ranks of the employed. I only say "may have" because even though the job would enable me to live in New York (excitement plus!!!), my boss is based in LA, and so far everything I've been promised out there has turned out to be a complete fucking lie. So we'll see. This job starts Monday, and I'll keep you guys updated on that (you know it).

I've also joined forces with some of my best and most favorite bloggy friends and am now co-authoring two more monumental pieces of literature:

Risha and I started the anti-fashion movement Whut Is Fashun?, where anyone can go to bitch about why all of a sudden there's a fucking law against wearing sweats to the grocery store. I've never done a so-called "fashion" blog before, but "anti-anything" is OK with me. I mean, please. My entire uniform is three pairs of jeans on rotation and t-shirts with band logos or 80's cartoons.

If that's not enough dry aspersion for you, I also started a group blog with a bunch of my accomplices from The Nip Clique. It's called Childhood Trauma, and we use it as an outlet to destroy a bunch of books that we loved as kids but now realize were totally fucked up and caused major personal issues in our development as functioning adults. I'll be covering the Babysitters Club series along with Nicole, Lorraine is handling Sweet Valley High, Nips is taking over the Goosebumps books and Lily is reviewing The Boxcar Children. Of course, we'll be stealing each others' book series sometimes, too, because that's just how we roll. We started this blog like three days ago and it already has a third of the followers that I do. I'm so proud. <3

The first posts are already up, and you can check them out here.

Speaking of my blogoverse compatriots, I recently got the chance to hang with a bunch of them when they visited New York. You WILL be hearing about that soon, I promise, as soon as I get off my ass and get motivated.

I'm also super excited for this month's Movie Reviews. We've finally chosen a name for the ring, and not only that, but this month's swap list is pretty much the greatest Round Table of Win ever created. We have a whole new list of recruits this month, as well some of the usual epic participants, and seriously, just wait until you guys see this shit- it will blow your fucking mind.

I've also finally gotten around to what I promised you all last month, which is an Aural Sex column written entirely by guest posters. To those of you that volunteered to chip in and haven't yet done so, get me your shit, already. I won't point fingers, because my mom taught me that pointing is rude, and my fingers are too tiny (but double-jointed, FYI).

For those of you that are interested, I'm looking for your three favorite bands and/or your most anticipated albums of the summer. The post will go up on Tuesday, May 10th; drop me an email at thataintkosher83@gmail.com by the 5th or feel my ninja wrath.

So that's what's been going down in Nugslandria. I didn't forget about you guys; I've just been seriously occupied with my own crap for once. I swear I'll post more, since now I've actually been hit with some deadlines I actually care about.

And seriously guys, get me your shit.

I love you.

CHECK OUT MY BIRTHDAY SUIT!

Today’s post is super-exciting because  this week, That Ain’t Kosher is celebrating its first birthday!

My music column will be up next week so I can concentrate on giving myself the celebratory love bites that I so richly deserve. I can’t believe I’ve spent a full year of my life writing this blog, but since I lack the brainpower to develop a new medical cure or discover a planet or anything significant like that, this is what I’ve settled for instead. Aren’t you guys proud?

So let’s take a look back at what’s been going on for me since the inception of That Ain’t Kosher:

In December of 2009, I was living just outside New York City. The company I worked for had taken a full-on nose dive and left me without a job, I had just ended a semi-relationship with a guy who turned out to be even more dysfunctional than a broken slot machine in Vegas and I had found out that the girl who was posing as my best friend was actually a flaming sociopath.

Flash-forward to late 2010 (today, for the two of you who didn’t get it), and things are still pretty much the exact same as they were a year ago. I'm trapped in the seventh circle known as Hell-A, crashing in the guest room of my father's apartment like a surly teenager. I still don't talk to that psychotic loser; however, I do have an incredible group of solid compatriots (most of them are back East, though, which sucks for me). I'm still mainly focused on the arduous headache of finding a company that's willing to hire someone whose most marketable skillsets are currently "champion napping" and "able to wrap legs behind her head" (references furnished upon request).

As for my pitiful dating life, I won't even go into that since I've wasted enough of your time already. I will say, however, that dousing myself with invisible man-repellent has given me more than enough time to figure out how to storm the Zombie Nipocalypse and blast those fuckers to Hell. Besides, I'm a lot funnier when I'm miserable.

I originally started this blog because my life at that point had basically become a shitstorm, with one epic fail piling onto the other one. I needed to get my frustrations out and since there were no clock towers around, the Internet was the next best option. I decided to go completely anonymous so I could say whatever I wanted about whoever I wanted. I figured I might get my mom to read it, occasionally.

One year later, I have a shit-ton of followers and an entire new community in 20sb. Enough of you love me enough to vote me Featured Blogger of the Month, and I'm absolutely serious when I tell you that that was one of the most awesome things to happen to me all year. I've even met up with a few of my fellow Bloggers, and I can say with complete, unrestricted, flat-out certainty that they are some of the most bang-up people I've met so far. (One of the highlights: M2'ing it with Mandy Moore at a house party. I'm a little bit frightened for Vegas... but also slightly turned on.)

To all of you who friended me on Facebook, too: Your sextings do not disappoint.

Anyway, I'm back in California as of yesterday. I miss New York and all of you already. It's cloudy here and I'm in bed with a cold, feeling like shit, but at least I have an Internet connection, so expect more blogging and dry witticism from my end.

I was trying to think of an exponentially massive way to celebrate my Blog Birthday with everyone, and then I figured I would let you all decide because A) I'm lazy and B) what better way to share the love without actually giving away any of my cake?

I will cut you.

So there's a poll somewhere up in this bitch. Find it and vote, or feel free to comment and add your own ideas. The winner gets... something. I don't know yet.

Happy Birthday to me! Here's to a better 2011... I hope.

PS- the new header is courtesy of Lor from Late to the Party. I promised her I would do this like, two months ago and I finally got around to it.

PROCESS THIS

I know you guys think I'm totally slacking off because I'm having too much fun passed out drunk on my friends' couches and sleeping until noon. Well, yes. But, also, no. I'm also busy being a good daughter/granddaughter/sister and helping my mom out around the house, and jetting off to different boroughs trying to find an Internet connection so I can get some work done and write some blog posts because I love you all. Wow, that was a mouthful (that's what she said).

Anyway, I've also been dropping off resumes and lining up interviews like a mofucker. It's been so long since I've been in the jobhunting game that I've forgotten what it's like to be out of it. I feel like I should be on Fast Animals, Slow Children.



The worst part of the process is that retarded questionnaire the places make you fill out with the Strongly Agree-Disagree-I Don't Give A Shit crap. Take a glimpse at some of the bullshit I had to pretend to care about in order to not make four dollars an hour:

I generally like everyone.
Strongly Disagree. Basically I just tolerate them until 5 o'clock.

Stealing is wrong.
Define "steal." Do you mean "steal" as in "take without asking if you intended to put it back later but forgot?" Or "I believe that everything was meant to be mine in the first place?"

All people are inherently good.
No. All people are looking to screw me and take credit for my ideas.

I do well under pressure.
HAHAHAHAHAHA!

I respect  mock authority.


I make friends easily.
Excuse me, does this rag smell like chloroform?

Describe an experience where you were faced with a stressful situation and explain how you dealt with the pressure. Would you have changed your behavior? Why or why not?
I remember this one time I was just starting college and I was piss-broke, so I took a shitty retail job. At the same time I was also working as an Assistant GM at a bar where we had mandatory staff meetings every Sunday, which I made sure to tell the idiots at this other place. Of course, these NASA scientists forgot and scheduled me for a Sunday. I reminded my manager in advance about my staff meeting and she was totally cool, letting me come in at three the next day.

So I show up at three on Monday, drop my stuff in the back room, and there are four "higher-ups" in there with power-trip expressions on their faces. One of them "clued me in" to the fact that I'm three hours late. "No, I'm not," I tell him. "I'm on at three today." Another primate points to my name on the schedule at noon, even though I insist that I was told three by my manager, who just stands there like a fucking traitor with downcast eyes. Then everyone gets pissy because I "didn't show up yesterday" and didn't call. I was then informed that I was being let go.

"Are you fucking kidding me with this?" (That was my actual response) "I told you guys I couldn't work on Sundays when you hired me. Take this fake schedule and shove it up your ass." Then I looked at my bitch manager and told her to go fuck herself, and, by the way, "good luck finding anything more fulfilling than the fucking mall, you pussy."

Yeah, I don't work there anymore.

Would I have changed my behavior that day? Yes- I would have ordered them all killed.

Note: I don't really look like this.

Maybe I should work on my issues.

Anyway, a few of my interviews did go pretty well, and I'm hoping to hear back in a few weeks. In the meantime, I'm running out of funds, but I have a few fun weekends coming up, including a trip to Philly, (possibly) a Boston jaunt and some more family outings. I guess I'll have to rely on my dazzling good looks and striking personality when I inevitably contract Dry Wallet Syndrome (among other stuff- hey-o!).

BTW, if any of you are hanging around NYC, drop me an email- thataintkosher83@gmail.com.

THE RELOCATION CHRONICLES, CHAPTER SEVEN: SPANK YOU VERY MUCH, CALIFORNIA

Now that Labor Day weekend has come, raided the liquor cabinet and gone, the state of California is really driving it in that summer is over. Today I woke up to disgusting clouds and an absent sun, and the prediction for the next ten days doesn't look much more promising.

And here's the forecast for New York City for the next week and a half, according to weather.com.

What the fuck, Southern California??? My friends back home are supposed to be jealous of me, not the other way around. Do you think that just because little kids are forced to ride the school bus again you can just take away shorts and beaches and shit? NO. It's bad enough I spent the entire summer here; why don't you just bend me over and hit me with a paddle some more? You fail at life.

However, I do need to take into account that this may be because the entire state of California is just really fucking weird. The reason I always carry my camera with me is not because I may cross paths with a minor, F-list celebrity. It's because I'm a blogger, and the crap that I see around here is so ridiculous that I couldn't make this shit up and I need documentation. For example:

The other day I was on a supermarket run, and within five minutes I had photographic evidence of some glorious gems that I knew I would wind up posting on this site sooner or later. Observe:

I'm an eight-year-old.

This needs zero explanation.

And, the one that made me go, "Eh?"

In Original and Vanilla!

I swear to God that's real. Hemp Milk. That you can drink. I can't even imagine finding that anywhere else. I really want to buy this just so I can save the packaging forever.

Hemp milk kind of makes sense here. When I was filling out all those job applications and it had that "have you ever been convicted of a felony" question, all of them actually said, "California applicants: do not include marijuana charges." I'm serious! I wanted to put down something like, "Really? Sweet!" I remember before my dad moved, he used to live a few blocks away from a medical marijuana "clinic." Right. "Clinic."

Anyway, at least I'm finding humor in my less-than-ideal situation. I knew that being a partial LA resident would at least provide some fodder for the blog, and really, I couldn't lie about this shit if I wanted to.

AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT

Despite the Monty Python reference, I'm actually not going to be that funny today. I know, you're all in shock. But lately I've been inspired by the fact that I really haven't been that inspired by much at all.

Don't give me that bullshit. I'm allowed to be serious sometimes. If you don't want to hear a depressing rant, come back in a few days.

Don't think I'm lame, but I really miss my family back East. I talk to my mom every day like a fucking pussy, and my brothers and I text a lot (usually about baseball, but still). We have one of those typical sibling relationships where we kicked each others' asses when we were kids, but we all get along really well now (my brothers even live together, which is pretty cool). It probably helps that I like all this guy-related stuff- sports, action movies, graphic novels, etc. God, I'm a loser.

I'm naked without this.

This job hunt is really knocking me out, too. California is one of the states with the worst unemployment rates in the US, and NO ONE is hiring. I even considered going back to cocktailing, which I did like eight years ago and was really fucking degrading, but not even the bars here need any more employees, so I'm stuck doing absolutely nothing. It's really frustrating, and at this point I'd consider whoring myself out to Burger King. That, or an actual whoring out. At least it's money.

Besides that, it really isn't helping that I keep seeing all this New York City-related stuff all over the place. A lot of food places in LA have the audacity to call themselves "New York Style (fill in the blank here)." That's a pretty steep fucking claim that usually turns out to be unbelievably false. The pizza here, for the most part, is laughable, and I can't find a decent black-and-white cookie or bagel anywhere. You're also not supposed to drink the tap water. I can't even believe that! They have to make special "drinking water" containers. Well, excuse the fuck out of me.

They've been showing a lot of "New York City" specials on TV, too. Way to drive the stake through my head, cable. Fuck you, too.



At least I've been getting life updates from home. Two of my friends from the Blogoverse have actually started dating in real life, and while I won't disclose who they are, I will congratulate them here. L'chaim, guys! If your birth control ever fails, that is going to be one hilarious, creative as hell kid who will probably be hot because I at least know what the mom looks like. Their whole story is kind of like a Meg Ryan movie, only a lot less retarded.

While I am really happy for the two of them, though, this does remind me that all my friends and my mom are always trying to set me up or make me join one of those ridiculous dating websites. I don't really care about finding someone to mooch child support payments from, but it does kind of suck feeling like you're the last single person left on the planet. Yes, I know this is an exaggeration, but considering my outstanding track record with those that have called themselves "men," it's getting kind of hard to keep holding my breath.

BTW, the blogging community really is a community. Some of the writers on my blogroll have left incredibly supportive comments reminding me that while LA does bite dick, I have to keep trying to get back East, and when I do, we're definitely going to party. I seriously <3 you all. I won't single you out, but you know who you are, and while this might sound really gay, it has helped to keep me upbeat. Note: you can read some of the comments on my posts.

 

The rest of my inner circle keeps posting these amazing Facebook updates about what's going on with them: vacations, dinners out, promotions, engagements, general hangouts. While I know it's totally unfair to expect the people in my life to just sit around in a dark room waiting for me to return (there can be a light switch in there if they so choose, I guess), it really is sobering to remember that life does go on with or without me.

I did try to tie up as much as I could before I went away, but there were some things that were left unfinished. There was stuff I could have handled differently, and some people I wish I could have fit in the time to visit, but couldn't. I even left some of them on a bad note, and I found out the hard way that putting their Facebook status on hide, or deleting them altogether, doesn't make you think about them any less. When you're forced to leave your hometown, the place you grew up in, there are people that stay on your mind even though you know they shouldn't, even though you're 99% positive they're not even remotely thinking about you, and it sucks.

Anyway, sorry to shit on you guys, but I figure one of these serious Prozac-inducers every six months is enough. The me that you're used to will be back shortly, after I take a nap, get a massage and stop being such a whiny little bitch.

Love You... Seriously.

I'M BORED AS SHIT TODAY

I'm super bored right now and the weather sucks, so it's blogging time. There's no topic today, just some of my incoherent ramblings which you've all come to know and love, or dread. Either/or.

I've been strangely hyper over the last week, like a crackwhore who's also on copious amounts of speed. I feel like every time I move around one of those montage music themes should be playing. Wouldn't it be sweet if I had my own theme song? I wonder what it would it be (quiet, you!).

Here's what I've been up to lately while you've all been waiting for me to post. Sorry! I'll be more frequent in the future. You can also check out my guest post on Lynnorra's blog, Thoughts of a Randomista.



ANYWAY:

-I dyed my hair black. Not because I'm going through some weird emo/goth phase, but because my hair is naturally really close to that anyway, and my Jew-fro was getting so out of control that it was in full ejaculatory mode. So I FINALLY got a trim, and decided to go full Dark Side while I was there (wow, that was my first sci-fi reference in almost two days. I should have stretched first). I'm also thinking of maybe adding some cool-looking highlights. Any color ideas?

BTW, I go to SuperCuts, because I'm a cheap-ass.

-My phone drama is, seemingly, finally over. I got my new Blackberry Curve from FedEx a few days ago and I love it. I loogied on my Droid and shipped it back. Suck it, Verizon. I hate you with the fire of a thousand suns. You fail at life.



-I did two entire loads of laundry. Let me preface this by saying I'm fucking OBSESSED with doing laundry. I'll even go so far as to say that it sometimes puts me "in the mood," if you get what I'm saying. Sometimes I'll put a load in (haha... "put a load in") when I don't even need to. My dad is laundry retarded so I usually stick his clothes in with mine, which I don't mind at all because hey, more for me. The best part about laundry is taking it out of the dryer when it's all warm, and you get to put the clothes in your lap when you fold them. Everyone always gives me weird looks when I tell them this stuff, and I've often caught people giving me strange looks and backing away from me.

I love doing housework in general. I was never into it until I moved away from my parents and was forced to clean up after myself, and then I discovered that doing dishes and vacuuming and sweeping and all that stuff was the shit. Sometimes I get asked by my guy friends why I'm still single. It's probably because I'm such a freak.

-I've been going to the gym a lot, which is great for me because I've also been stuffing my face. I went with T to The Cheesecake Factory the other day and OH MY GOD. Have you ever had their shit? Their tuxedo cheesecake is UNBELIEVABLE. Here's how they make it, and also an enticing photo:

I heard that if you share it, all the calories go away.

Speaking of T, it took us an hour and a half to find her car after dinner last week. Of course we checked every floor of the parking garage except for the one we were actually on. It's pretty hilarious now, and at least we walked off the calories (lie), but by the time we actually found her car we had to stand there for a full minute and stare at it to make sure it wasn't a mirage. She's definitely going to hate me for posting this.

-San Diego ComicCon is going on right now and I'm broke and vehicle-less, so I have to resort to obsessively checking Internet updates and finding my future ex-husband somewhere else. There's always something that prevents me from going to ComicCon- once I actually bought my ticket to the one in New York and then my grandma called an hour later to remind me that Passover was that weekend. Dammit, obligatory family love.

This year there are new panels for It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia, Glee, Archer and Sons of Anarchy. I have no idea what they have to do with comics, but I would go to all of those. Next year I swear to God I will walk there.

Also: Futurama! Is anyone else happier than Roman Polanski at an unsupervised daycare that this show is back? Because it is even funnier than it was last time.

-Other stuff I've been nerdily juiced up for in the coming week: the baseball trade deadline, NFL training camp, Project Runway (just like a real girl!), and SHARK WEEK! If you don't know what Shark Week is, start planning what you want on your tombstone now, because you should no longer be on this Earth. Then tune into the Discovery Channel on August 1st, or come back and read my blog, because I'll be posting all about it since I am a gigantic loser. Bonus: this year it's hosted by Craig Ferguson.

God, I'm sad.

-While Internet surfing I found out that The Hold Steady has a recent tune entitled "Hurricane J." Not only is it really good, but like, 2/3 of the guys I've been with have names that start with J, and most of these experiences can, in fact, be compared to something that will knock the wind out of you and metaphorically punch you in the crotch. Was this written about my dating life? This is unofficially my new favorite song.

-The activity I've been filling up the most of my time with is, of course, job hunting. I've filled out applications at what feels like everywhere in this entire fucking city. This is new territory for me because I've never worked retail- I went from the hospitality business to an office job to the marketing world. I'm still going for full-time work, but I'm also looking for something to tide me over until I get there. More on this ordeal later.

So anyway, there's all the crap you really didn't need (or care) to know about how I've been filling up my time. I'll be back in full blogging mode after this weekend, and if you really can't hold out, check out some of the stuff on my blogroll. These a-holes are much more reliable than I am.

AND YOU GUYS THOUGHT I WAS BITTER...

I've spent the last few days on the dreaded job hunt, which you guys will hear about sooner or later. So in order to avoid a million years between blog posts, I forced Lynn at Thoughts of a Randomista to write a post for you while I take a nice, long nap because now I'm fucking exhausted (PS- she's actually returning the favor- I wrote one for her a few weeks ago which she swears will be up by tomorrow).

We gave each other free rein on the topic, so now all I can say is, WOW.

HOLY SHIT. If you guys thought I was angry, this chick has a shitload more grievances than I do. I'm Little Miss Fucking Sunshine compared to her. But what she sent me is hilarious, raunchy and REALLY controversial (and totally justified, BTW), so read it, love it, get pissed off, whatever, and feel free to post your comments, because I am definitely bringing her back.

And I'll see you all again ASAP, as soon as my hand feels like it's not going to fall off.

From filling out applications, people! God, you guys are sick.



BEHOLD: THOUGHTS OF A RANDOMISTA

Ignorance at its FINEST!

Muahahaha- Randomista TAKEOVER. I’m TOAR and you have to endure my random rants because That Ain’t Kosher went to be a regular Jew today. You know, a “kosher” one. So now you have to read my raunchy, scandalous writings. I love my new Jew friend. She frickin rocks for letting me steal her followers today!

Please Note: My post contains racist slurs – and I don’t care. My white side is from Ansley, Nebraska (STRAIGHT EUROPEAN) and the black side is from Atlanta Georgia (HAHA THE N WORD GOES HERE).

Have you ever had an itch that was so bad that you scratched and scratched and you broke skin? You know, to the white meat? That’s how bad this particular thing is getting to me…

HOOD RATS & 5 STAR CHICKS

How come if I am looking at you, I gotta be staring? Then I get some hoe ass comment like “What the fuck you looking at?” My next reaction is: “BITCH I'M LOOKIN AT YOU!” Which in turn, starts some shit; the kicker part is, that might not have been what I was doing but since TOAR is IGNORANT, that is how she will address it! Why can’t I just admire something you have on like a pair of shoes, or I notice how your hair – weave and all – looks better than my real long pretty hair. Get over yourself. You should take it as a compliment if someone is “staring” at you. No need to be nasty.



By the way, 5 – Star chicks are just uppity ass hood rats.

NON-DISCRIMINATE RACISM

Black people are more racist than white people. Ok, ok – let me rephrase that. They are equally racist but there are some subtle differences.

Black People

Are openly racist – don’t care who you are, what color, or anything – they will talk about you.

First to pull the RACE card when things don’t go their way (ie. jobs, school, the responsibility for their future)

White People

Northern White People will be your friends in your face then stab you in the back

Southern White People will tell you to your face to stay away and no one will get hurt.

GENERALLY SPEAKING

TOAR is ignorant. I know everything above is not true but that is some of the things that I deal with living the mixed life. On the white side of my family, I am the black girl. On the black side of my family, I am the white girl – Identity Crisis, definitely. To me, people are mean in general. You cannot meet a stranger that will be nice to you, start a regular conversation with – someone that will be genuine and open. NO MATTER THE RACE.

Have you ever been the victim of the “Hoodrat Attack?” or were you the one who jumped down their throat? Also, what kind of cultural differences do you face in your home or everyday life?

The World Sucks and so do you!

Sincerely,



Follow TOAR’s raunchy ass at Thoughts of a Randomista!

So anyway, WOW. I've never experienced anything like what Lynnorra's been through, probably because my Jewiness on both sides is something like 10,000%. But it's good to know that there's someone else that's as pissed off as I am.

Anyway, I'll be back soon, and if you can't wait that long, here's something almost as adorable as me to tide you over:



Don't forget to check out my post on her blog, whenever it goes up (cough).

UPDATE: My post is up! Go check it out- you know it's gonna be a pants-shitter: Is It Just Me?

THE RELOCATION CHRONICLES, CHAPTER ONE: PACKING HEAT

So here's the short version of what's been going on with me for the past six months and why I've been more of a turbo-bitch than usual:

For about a year I worked for this company that recently went totally under, and my job search proved to be an epic disaster. Because the lease for my apartment is up at the end of this month, my dad is making me stay with him in Los Angeles because the freelance stuff I've been doing, while I love it with a passion, isn't getting my bills paid.

There are so many reasons why this is a gargantuan level of suck. First of all, besides my dad, everyone I love is back East. This includes 95% of my family, all my friends, and every single shred of sanity that I can still stake a claim to. Not to mention I'll be living with my dad, which in my twenties is an astronomical cockblock. Of course, he also chooses the Summer to force me to do this. Thanks, Dad.

Second- I'm a New Yorker. I was born there, raised there, have the accent, root for the sports teams (except the Yankees- can't stand 'em), downloaded all the songs, own all the movies, know all the subway lines by heart, etc. The food is amazing, the public transportation can't be beat and the culture puts every other city in the world to shame. Where else can you travel to six countries in two blocks- on foot? Yeah, the cost of living will bleed you dry and leave you in a dumpster in a dirty alley in Brownsville, but ask anyone that rents there and they'll still tell you that it's the best city on the planet.

Third- LA sucks. Everyone there is only concerned with how famous they're going to become, and it never pans out and they just wind up doing porn. Yeah, the dry heat is definitely conducive to my Jew-fro, but I own a flatiron so I don't care. The pizza is awful, the only public transportation they have are buses that come every nine hours and cabs that fuck you up the ass, and the lack of culture is appalling. Plus I don't get any of my Jets games. Everybody in LA is full of shit- it's probably the reason their roots are all brown.



For some reason my dad loves it there and is totally convinced that if I "gave it a chance," I would, too. I've given it tons of chances- I even lived there for a few months- and every time I go there I hate it even more. Moving is stressful enough when you're actually relocating to a place you want to go to- now I have to deal with this shit on top of it. I'd rather be getting on a spaceship to Jupiter. I'll pretty much be on a different planet, anyway.



Luckily this move is only supposed to be temporary- I'm planning on just going for a few months, working a few part-time gigs and saving up enough to get my ass back home sometime in the Fall. This is probably good for you guys, because I can only imagine that my blog posts will get exponentially more bitter, and thus more hilarious.

The actual "moving" part is pretty aggravating in itself. There's all the little shit I have to remember to do such as forwarding my mail, canceling utilities, dealing with my cheap-ass landlord who was of no help the entire year that I lived here, and then there's the bigger, annoying stuff like packing.

I HATE packing. Besides the actual "going to LA" part, packing is probably what I detest the most about this whole moving deal. The only good thing about it is that I finally have rug burn on my knees that I actually don't have to lie to my mom about. Also, I'm probably burning some calories by rummaging through my shit and making and lifting the boxes. I guess.

My family has been coming and going, helping me get my shit together and store it in my brothers' basement, and also making sure that I don't go completely crazy and purposely break a bunch of crap. They're taking most of my furniture, which is great because that means I'll get it back later. I've also been going through my clothes, shoes and bags, giving away what I don't want anymore to homeless shelters and Goodwill. After the shitty attitude I've been hauling around since I got the news, it felt good to do something nice.

Anyway, I'm cataloging my entire moving experience as a way to get my head in perspective and my ass in gear. Hopefully it'll only be until sometime in October, and then I'll be back, ready to find a new place to live, a better East Coast job and to reconnect with everybody I left behind. I've got New York on my iPod, in my DVR and in my heart, and no matter what Los Angeles tries to do to me, that will never change.



Here's something to leave you (and me) with.

BIRDS! BEES! BOOZE!

So I have this friend; we'll call her "V," because I looked for a random letter on my keyboard and that's what I typed. V and I met because we both have media-related jobs that are mostly male-dominated, so we bonded pretty quickly. V is definitely my rock in this shitty economical turn of events- she's snarky and cynical and we mock all the same pop culture abhorrences. Whenever I'm having a crappy day I text her and command that she "say something funny-" and she does.

Recently V and I had dinner right before one of her events. We exchanged stories about all the usual life crap- family, work, the latest episode of Chuck- and then the conversation turned to various coworkers on both our parts. V confessed to me that she worked with one guy who she had a mad crush on- it was now to the point where every time she saw him she did a Conan-style "If They Mated" in her head. FYI, she did inform me that their kids would be stunningly beautiful.

It started out small- she just used to think he was kind of hot. Then it escalated- apparently, this guy is kind of a slut, and every time he brought around a girl (or six), V would get insanely jealous. Now it's to the point where she's actually imagined herself living in his apartment with a ring on her finger. I know her, and this is not normal.

V is really level-headed, and she usually stays away from guys that scream "player!" However, she swears that sometimes it seems like he really is hitting on her, and other times it's like they're engaged in a normal conversation. She has no idea what to think, and it's killing her.

At my old job, there was a girl who hooked up with both members of a firm that we represented. The team actually broke up because of it, we lost the client, and the girl got fired. My boss immediately implemented a pants-down policy: get caught, get canned. I also have a friend who's employed by a major corporation and has no problem fucking everyone with a penis that walks past her cubicle- clients, coworkers, whoever- and posts all her exploits on Facebook, pictures and all. Obviously her bosses don't mind; as she's still working there. I myself have never gone the distance with anyone I've worked with- yeah, I like dudes, but I like having an income more. Everyone probably does it, but I'm not very stealth and I would definitely get busted.



That's not to say I haven't come close, though. I've worked with a bunch of really attractive guys, and in a co-ed environment, the temptation is always there, unless said environment is the nursery section of a hospital. A lot of companies have anti-fraternization policies, and even if they don't, business-place hook-ups generally don't conclude with weddings and kids. From what I've seen, most of them end in awkward water-cooler avoidances and evil stares over the copy machine.

Sexual tension? Probably not.

It's not just us, either. I watch all those nature specials- I really don't want to quote that heinous Bloodhound Gang song, but they do have a point.

Those sluts.

So what do you guys think? Should my friend go for it? Is it really that awful to get with someone at work? She'd really appreciate some advice, probably so she can blame someone else if anything gets really fucked up.

I told her to adopt a couple of bunnies and live vicariously through them.

LOBOTOMIZE THIS

First of all, I need to apologize for my ridiculously long absence. I've been in Los Angeles for the past couple of weeks, visiting friends and helping my dad switch apartments. I'll return to the real world shortly.

Being in Los Angeles has been a real trip. My dad lives here, so at least I have a free place to stay with HD and I'm not paying for food or anything. But other than that, LA is a fucking nightmare. I'm a huge Lost fan, so I kept praying for the ending to the pilot episode, but I still touched down at LAX. Six hours after I landed, I already wanted to go home.

I actually lived here for work for a few months a while ago, and it was during that time that I realized that the difference between New York City and LA is monumental. It's not just the weather, or the time change- it's the way people dress, think, speak, act. I walk everywhere, and people here think that's weird. Sixty degrees for me is t-shirt weather, and people in LA think that requires a parka and boots. At least three times a week I've gotten a comment on my Brooklyn accent, which I know is present, but actually isn't as pronounced as people here think.

THIS is how it's done.

Actually, all of that is pretty amusing. It's the people I've met that make me want to puke. Aside from the few friends that I have here, the name-dropping and celebrity-whoring is so rampant that I constantly have the urge to throw up. Guys are always coming up to me in their stupid sunglasses and telling me they can make me famous. I'm sick of hearing who these clowns know and what they do. Take note, Asshole: just because you filmed your little brother riding his tricycle through your backyard twenty years ago does not make you a producer. The fact that I've managed not to laugh in any of these idiots' faces makes me much more of an actor than any of them.

The girls are pretty horrible, too. I've managed to befriend the three of them with real jobs- probably because they're not from LA- but most of them are total morons that moved here to win an Oscar, and when that failed, they just wound up doing Oscar for ten dollars an hour.

The entire time that I lived here, I was completely miserable. My job was a dead-end that I knew would lead nowhere, and I have absolutely no interest in the bullshit parties and club scenes that I was being thrown into. My family and friends were 3,000 miles away, my jet lag was always up my ass, and the people I met only talked about themselves, celebrities, or themselves and celebrities. I was over it in about three days, but miraculously, I lasted another few months without totally losing my shit. My boss, who luckily knew that he couldn't provide me with any suitable work, told me I could do freelance projects back East and let me go home. I was packed in two hours.

The first thing my friends did to welcome me back to this planet was take me out for New York City pizza. Being a native New Yorker, I have incredibly high standards for pizza. All pies must meet a certain criteria:

A) Thin crust (none of this deep-dish bullshit- what the hell is that? Eat me, Chicago.)

B) A little heavy on the cheese, but not so much so that it constitutes the title of "extra cheese"

c) Extra drippy with the oil- you must look like The Joker after you eat it

No toppings, either. Pizza must always be eaten plain. Pepperoni is OK, because that's a classic, and so is extra sauce or cheese, because those are used as ingredients. But that's it.

Also, none of this pussy-ass dabbing the oil off the pizza, especially if you're a guy. You may hold the slice at an angle, so the oil drips off, but any guy that wipes the oil off must immediately be beaten, or forced to wear a dress.

Also, the sign of a real pizza place is one that only has pizza and heroes- no pasta. I love pasta, but if you want ziti, go to an Italian restaurant. If you want pizza, go to a pizza place. Don't do both in one setting. It's not kosher.

The greatest pizza (possibly the greatest food) you will ever experience in your life is the original Ray's Pizza on West 11th and 6th in Greenwich Village. Anyone who eats it will denounce all other pizzas. Trust me. (The other Rays, while also magically delicious, are just cheap imitations.)

What Los Angeles is sorely lacking is a good pizza joint. All of their pizza is treated as a fucking gourmet meal. There's always like, nine toppings on it, and they're always fucking weird and scary, like goat cheese or mangos or some shit. This is wrong, and should not be tolerated.

Who came up with this bullshit? They should be shawshanked.

So, now I've got an intense craving for New York City, and I've still got a couple of weeks left here. Honestly, I'd rather be on Shutter Island, so if anyone wants to send a ferry to bring me back home, please do so. Email me and I'll send you the address here.

YAY! I'M BITTER AGAIN!

This summer was very 80's Teen Movie for me, which is sad considering I'm close to 30 (!). I'd just moved back to my old college town and spent three months partying with my best friends, basically pissing around at a job where I didn't actually do anything but still made close to 40k to listen to CDs and go to free concerts. It was frustrating, because I wanted to actually do something, but in this economy, I could still say I had a job, albeit a half-assed one. My dating life also kind of sucked, but at least I was kind of, sort of casually seeing two guys.

Of course, like in any movie, you have to put the soundtrack on mute and focus on how pathetic the big picture really was. I lived with my best friend while I looked for an apartment of my own, and things started to get pretty strained. I soon figured out that was she was a manipulative, controlling, man-stealing bitch, and after I moved out, that was pretty much the end of any friendship we ever had. She blocked me on Facebook but still refuses to return the spare keys to my apartment (WTF?). More on that later.

Around the same time, I'd also reconnected with a couple of my old girlfriends, but I soon realized why I stopped hanging out with them in the first place, so that ended, too. I'd also started hanging out with my friend Brien, again. He's pretty awesome, but he recently got married, so understandably, I'm not exactly his first choice. I totally get it, and we still hang out, but I did realize that I really need to make some friends that actually live in my town. I'm still working on that.

My "dating" life was deplorably sad. I'd barely had any sexual contact in almost a year. The two guys that I was kind of/sort of/not really seeing were younger than me, and both total frat boys. I was already tired of them.

Then my so-called "career" went bust in my face. The "company" I worked for went bankrupt, because the CEO was an incompetent idiot. I had to pay my rent somehow, and that money had to suddenly come from my dad, who kept threatening to make me move in with him in Los Angeles. I fucking hate Los Angeles, home of plastic and porn.

To avoid a total mental breakdown, I called my friend for an emergency dinner. Starting this blog was her idea. She told me that maybe it's good that I'm bitter again- when I'm relatively sane I lose my "comedy mojo"- and therefore I'm not as funny.

I ignored the fact that my friends are telling me that they essentially like when I'm miserable because I make them laugh, and realized that she's right. I'm bitchy, sarcastic and pessimistic (I call it "realistic"), and that's why my friends like me. No one calls me to be cheered up, they call me to hear why their ex is an asshole and no, they shouldn't sleep with him. I blog to embrace my anger, and by reading it, maybe you'll realize that your life doesn't suck so much.