Sunday, March 26, 2006

hey fattie, pass the slim gyms

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for fifteen bucks a month i get towels every day
they're standard issue white, though not overly fluffy
but they get the job done (ie wipe sweat away)
on my road to becoming slightly less puffy.

the gym is my escape, my oasis! my haven!
i dream of alone time with the ellipitcal machine
now i need not resist when gumdrops i am cravin'
on my road to becoming stupendously lean.

nothing's better than that convivial locker room chatter
between half naked college students & old jewish ladies
later i might bathe in deep fried cookie batter
i'm on the road to becoming hotter than hades

working out works out all the work-related junk
reps are my buddies! the bench press my best friend!
so i'll put on my headphones and blare me some Crunk
and happily rock out down a road with no end.

Friday, March 24, 2006

mockba ba black sheep

nostalgic on a friday, i dream of stops gone by
and see a cartoonish country through a cartoonists eyes.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

baby loves feedback

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good afternoon dear readers, how do you do
(yes, that's right - i'm talking to all three of you)
i realized i've never said, "hey, how's this going?"
"am i rock/and/or/rolling or totally blowing?"

it's kind of you to join me for these silly musings
about work quirks & irks & regrettable boozings
you're a trooper! a star! for reading what i admit--
can oft be more "miss" than "hit".

thanks for enduring my brand of poetic rant
i'm happy to see you (though see you i can't)
hey, why not let me learn to serve you better:
throw down comments, concerns, or a simple love letter.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

madventures in hipstersitting

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On a cold windy evening early last week
i rushed home from work & primped! & preened!
and as my cab through city streets careened
i prepared for a night of aging hipster chic.

i was off to see Stereolab, those bastions of cool
(well, at least in 1995, they sure seemed to be)
So why was I there, you ask? what possessed me?
My friend’s band was opening, fool.

Yes, my buddy was in town with his folked up band
A character named Otto –a hippie extraordinaire
(I can almost picture flowers in his long flowing hair)
I heard "free tickets!" & out went my fat little hand.

And so I resigned myself to a fate I’d earlier predicted,
Trapped in a sea of middle-aged ass-shakers & teenage stoners
I avoided awkward conversations with all the other loners
And sighed as endless jazzy tunes upon me were inflicted.

Later - overheated and ready to throttle the crowd,
I let lethargy take over, and without waiting I fled
But as soon as I got home into my warm warm bed,
The phone started ringing, oh-so-horribly-loud.

Of course it was Otto, wondering why I’d disappeared
Blissfully unaware that it was well past midnight,
And though i was blissfully aware of my 9 to 5 plight,
i went - if only to tell him to shave off that beard.

And so I found myself late Tuesday night in a crappy bar
With many pints of Guinness & two musicians whom
Of course ended up crashed out in my living room,
Guess that's my little glimpse of the life of a kind-of rock star.

& though he might not yet be a full rockstar for a little while, props to the fact that he's already rocking the new york times style.

Sunday, March 12, 2006

in the name of the prose

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once upon a time
there was a girl who wrote in rhyme
and though she wanted to be faithful to its ebbs & flows
she knew inside she was one of them verbal hos
she was also hot and heavy for a thing called prose
so she started two-timing - and now everyone knows

that's just the way blog-love goes.


Thursday, March 09, 2006

a hot date with working late

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How do I love working late, let me count the ways
I love it like a sad-ass loves emo, like an addict loves crack
Like girls love ugly but funny and boys love ugly with a rack
I love the lonely click of my keyboard & the caressing ceiling fan
I love the magic of glimpsing the elusive plant watering man
I love the fatty fatty pizza washed down by fatty fatty soda
I love how i start to write like some retarded hopped up yoda
I love that my desklamp casts romantic light into the hall
I love waiting for hours for some designer in new york to call

but best of all?

I love the fact that i'm neglecting all my other big deadlines
to write wannabe sonnets not headlines.

Tuesday, March 07, 2006


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And so the doctor said to me, chock-full of good cheer:

"Well, well, young lady you're in the clear
Now you just have a myriad of other malfunctions to fear
(points) your heart might break and crack right here
and (prods) chances are lumps will later appear
and you'd be smart to book mammograms starting next year.
now just keep up with that exercise and lay off that beer.

Oh - and have a delightful day, my dear."

Never has good news been so mother-effing severe.