Axe Body Spray Doesn't Even Smell That Great

I was struck today by what I feel is an illustration of a core difference between men and women.

For many years I have been searching for the perfect perfume.  Now, for a woman, this is an incredibly serious undertaking.  A scent cannot simply smell "good".  It must, in the most subtle and feminine way, say something intrinsically true and honest about a woman's spirit.  It has to be a signature in a way, so that when a woman walks through the door of a theater or restaurant or bar (or pub if you will), a man (the perfect man) will be inspired to stand up out of his seat and in the most gallant and romantic fashion introduce himself, declare his intention to get to know said woman and learn all of her mysteries and uniqueness. 

That's what goes into a woman looking for a scent.

A man can just get some Axe body spray and he's good to go.

I'm not trying to be disparaging against members (hehehe) of male-ness.  In many ways, I envy that ability, to not agonize over every little detail.  Don't get me wrong, men have their own obsessions.  Be it sports or video games or penis size, our barbaric counterparts have their own preoccupations.  At times they are even more similar to ours.  My best friend (a straight male) will spend hours on his hair.  My James' attention to detail while cleaning rivals that of any cleaning service.  My friend Jared's obsessive love of music has sent him all around the globe.  But there is always something about these preoccupations that is so completely male.  The hair and attention to detail and music - while these are all things that can be attributed to qualities women also prize - have something about them that is so masculine that I cannot call it "girl-y".  Ok, maybe the hair one is a little girl-y.

There is nothing wrong with being different.  I thank my lucky stars that James and I are so different.  If we weren't, he'd let me get away with my shit and I would be in a terrible position.  I wouldn't be able to learn more about myself, change would be difficult and painful.  Now change is just incredibly irritating.  See?  It could be worse.

They Also Eat Frogs In France. Nasty.

Let's face it.  From time to time, whether from accepted social morays or mother nature herself, we are forced to do things that make us incredibly unattractive.  I'm not talking about the already known, acceptable things like vomiting or picking your nose (in some cultures, this is completely accepted.  Don't ask me which ones, cause I kinda made that up.  But I am sure it's accepted somewhere.  Fuck, in France people eat snails.  That's fucked up.  I mean, snails?  Who looked at a snail and was all, "I'm gonna eat the shit outta that!"  Not me, that's who. . . . . Back to the blog.) or orgasm-ing (yeah, come on, we all look dumb when this happens, don't think you're special.  You probably look all kinds of weird when you reach that special moment.  Yeah, cause you know what, you are not a unique snowflake.  You are just like the rest of us, and the face you pull when you orgasm is silly and odd and, taken out of context, probably insulting to some tribe in the Amazon rain forest.  Just try and prove me wrong on that one.  You won't, cause then you'd have to go to the Amazon and its not the season right now.).  The forced unattractiveness that I speak of happens every day.

Come, take a journey with me . . . .  

Drinking from straws (men only) - Have you ever watched a man try to drink anything from a straw?  Whether it's straight, bendy or twisty, and no matter what said man has been talking about previously, he will always look like a girl-y man.  He could be threatening that he's coming and hell's coming with him, he could be showing off scars he got from hunting sharks or telling a large audience how we will not go quietly into the night, we will not vanish without a fight, how we're going to live, we're going to survive, that today we celebrate our Independence Day.  If as soon as  he was done doing these manly things he purses up his lips and take a sip of soda pop, all the manliness that previously occurred would be erased.

Yawning (ladies and gents) - Let's face it, no matter who you are, when you yawn, everyone looks like a freak.  Yawning takes your features, and for some reasons any negative features you might have, and highlights them.  Lets say you have large nostrils.  A yawn will make you tip your head back slightly, giving all around a a clear view up your nose, all the way to your brain, not to mention stretching your already large schnozz (sp?) out to epic proportions.  If you have cystic acne the pressure you create in your own face by yawning will make every pimple will turn bright/dark red.  And if you are just plain ugly to begin with, you run the risk of turning even Medusa to stone.  On a side not, every time I've typed the word "yawn", I have had to do so.

Chewing gum (both genders) - Ok, if you have read my previous post I Could Easy Be A Serial Killer you will think that this is personal.  Well, it is.  But when have you ever looked at a person chewing gum and thought, "Wow, that is one attractive bitch/bastard"?  Never, that's when!

Spitting (lad or lassie, but I have never seen a woman spit) - I was debating putting this lovely habit on here, because I know for many people it is acceptable.  And I do understand the impetus behind the action, especially if the subject is sick.  But there is nothing worse than admiring a handsome man out of the corner of your eye only to then have him hack out a yellow-green ball of ooze.  Even just seeing the aftermath of this awful yet innocent act is harrowing enough, but actually seeing it occur could drive you to therapy.  I mean, not literally drive.  Like, in a car.  Or a bus.  Cause loogies can't drive.  They momentarily experience the miracle of flight before crashing to the ground with a short yet pronounced "splat".  And its gross, so don't do it.

What did we learn from this blog today, guys and ghouls?  That I need to get a refill on my Adderall perscription, cause my ADD is back in full force!

O, look at the kitty!

The Moths Are Named Gerald and Steve

I hate it when I give movies and TV shows a chance and they bitterly disappoint me.

I have been sick for the last few days, so I have been mining Hulu for some decent TV shows to make the sick time pass faster.  Needless to say, my brain has been melting with the shitty TV out there. 

I started this TV show (I won't mention the name, as you know those network execs are on the lookout for any chance to sue me and the moths that populate my bank account) for two reasons.  1) Because I thought it might be an interesting take on an already established story and B) because all the seasons were on Hulu.  By the middle of the first episode I found that I had developed a tiny but throbbing ache behind my left eye.  I thought, that's you being sick, sinuses could totally be behind your eye.  By the end of the first episode, my right leg had begun alternating between involuntarily twitching and losing all feeling entirely.  I calmed down by convincing myself that I was merely having a stroke and wasn't forcing mindless crap into my brain.  In the credit sequence of the second episode I was ready to admit myself to Beth Israel.  

Its as if the shows don't even try anymore.  They seem to think that sub par acting and a shit-fest of atrocious special effects are enough to hold an audience, and unfortunately I couldn't see how this wasn't true, as the show in question was in the 3rd or 4th season. 

Ok, who remembers the old TV shows, Hercules: The Legendary Journeys and Xena: Warrior Princess?  Now, these shows were fantastic.  The stories in the episodes by themselves were solid, well formed and easy for the lay-person to grasp, and for the more advanced audience member the over-arching story line was complicated enough to keep you engaged.  The special effects were rarely over the top, even in a time period where such a practice was accepted.  And they never threw in shit effects just to throw it in.  And hey, at times there would be a cheesy line of dialogue or a bit of schm-acting, but the characters had so endeared themselves to you that it was easy forgiven.

So many shows today don't even give you the opportunity to get to know your main characters before they start throwing shit at you.  How am I supposed to be invested in a story if I don't give a crap about who's going through the pain?  

And, I am sorry, but in this day in age, shitty special effects are inexcusable.  A huge problem I see is that if a problem can't be solved in 2.5 seconds the director says, "Ah, we'll just put it in in post."  BULLSHIT!  Figure out a way to make it work, especially if you are getting your four year old with an iPad to design your stuff.  And if you can't go big, THEN DON'T.  Find a way to make the STORY engaging.  Bells and whistles are lovely, when the bells actually ring and the whistles don't make farting sounds.

 . . . . 

Ok, ok, if I got cast in a part in the shit show, I would eat it up and bask in my pay check.  Then at least my moths would have some company.

I Am Positive About My Negativity

Today was a shitty day.

It really was.  I got some unpleasant news concerning a project I have been working on for quite some time that really got to me, laundry took forever and made it so that I couldn't go to yoga which I desperately need, a stand up gig I was told I was on the docket for hasn't gotten me any info so I have had to make other arrangements and I've been stuck in the house all day with nothing better to do that chores.

By anyone's standards, that's a shitty day.

But you know what, I will get over it.  I am not writing this as a self up, buck myself up kinda way.  No, I feel useless and overlooked at the moment and its perfectly fine that I feel this way.  Sometimes you just have to let yourself feel like someone has used you for the express purpose of beating the shit out of you.

I think we place too much emphasis in our society on being positive.  Yes, being positive is good and all, but if you don't allow yourself to feel those negative emotions that will inevitably come your way (because, come on, it's life) then all you will do is bury them until there is no where else to put them and they've gotten all rotted and festering and poisonous and the only way you can deal with them now is mass genocide.

I don't know about you, but I have enough trouble not committing murderous acts now with my feelings in halfway check.  I don't need more reason to have justifiable rage towards the world at large.

And you know what, if I feel bad, don't fucking tell me about people who have it worse.  That doesn't make me feel better.  Normally it might make me laugh, but right now it just pisses me off because you are in essence telling me that the way I am feeling is not worth your time.  If I have decided to open up to you, usually it means that I hold you in some high regard.  I won't be telling every other Tom, Dick and Harry about how I am feeling (she pontificates as she writes a public blog), and if you say, Ah well, you could have it worse, I'm going to say, No, YOU could have it worse!  Then stab you in the eye with an uncomfortable object.  Like a cat.

I have to go prepare for the odyssey that is folding laundry, so yeah.

  . . . . . .

Did you hear that witches and fortune tellers are going to be taxed in Romania?  Yeah, I didn't care either.

Western Medicine's Not Making A Good Case For Itself

Ladies and gentlemen, my mind is BLOWN.

We've been hearing claims for years that there is a link between autism and vaccines.  Thousands of parents opted out of getting their children vaccinated.  In 2008 there were more measles cases reported than in any year since 1997, and a study of these indicated that 90% of those who contracted measles had not been vaccinated.

Well, according to CNN.com, the British study the began the anti-vaccination movement is a deliberate FRAUD.

Check it out here.

How are earth would this Dr Andrew Wakefield even consider that falsifying that kind of information wouldn't have long last negative effects?  And he didn't even do it for that much money, only $674,000!  Just so a bunch of lawyers could sue some vaccine companies.

I mean, I am just flabbergasted.  You are messing with people's health here!  It if wasn't for vaccines we would still be dealing with small pox and plague and who knows what else!

And what is even worse is that now, even by disproving this study added to the fact that no one has been able to duplicate his findings, many people are still going to have their children go without vaccines.  It even sounds like an old wives' tale - don't get vaccinated and your children won't have learning and functional disabilities.  Ranks right up there with putting a knife under the bed of a woman in labor to cut the pain in two.

That don't work.

Its good to know now that all of my problems are strictly from developmental and emotional scarring.  One less this to blame my troubles on.

How Long Before I Actually Kill Someone?

I'm pretty sure I had a thought today that solidifies my status as a horrible person.

I was walking down 41st street between 7th and 8th avenue in New York City, heading to the subway to get home to Astoria.  In front of me, a man walking briskly - the proper way to walk when in NYC.  Behind him, a rather large woman, struggling to keep up with him.  I noticed this, feeling a twinge of annoyance as she was between me and the subway and New Yorkers will tell you - do not get in our way when we have somewhere to go, it makes us angry.  However, like a good citizen of the world, I held my tongue. 

A space opened up to the side of the large woman, and I took the opportunity and passed the couple.  As I did, I heard the woman complain to the man, "Dan, you're walking really fast!"

In my head, I answered back, "Well, you're walking really fat."

I have a tendency of having smart alec-y / nasty thoughts about people as I walk down the street.  Mostly if I am on my way somewhere - an audition, a booking, a survival job - I am moving around the city ALL the time.  Invariably, there is often a slow moving humanoid in front of me.  The creature has a tendency to drift around the sidewalk at the exact same time that I am attempting to pass them.  A strange dance ensues that is accompanied by a string of profanity and nasty comments being screamed inside my head.

Hey, this is New York, I am not going to say these things out loud.  You never know when the person you are trying to pass is actually crazier than you.


The only phrase I have been saying out loud has been in direct response to people being stupid.  When I get a group of tourists walking toward me, looking up at the tall buildings (wow, they're so tall!) I will say, loudly, "Look where you're going!"  I think this is a completely sane response to people being idiots.  At least I'm not hacking at them with a machete to clear a path the subway they are blocking.  Although I have been tempted . . .

I have noticed that when I am most exhausted, my mind tirades actually become less curse-filled and more strange and personally insulting.


It was very late one night / early one morning and I was coming home after work (catering, people, I only strip on the lunch shift) and a person in front of me was blocking my way down the subway stairs.  I screamed in my head, "Out of my way, person of dubious gender!"


My next thought was how strange I hadn't included any curses.


I need to go to yoga more.

Time To Look Into Acupuncture

So modern Western medicine has done some good.  It has.  Really.

Ok, now that's out of the way, there are some things I need to discuss.  I was watching the great god television the other day (remember, I am an ordained priestess of all religions) and a commercial came on for some kind of medication.

The idea that pharmaceutical companies are advertising their wares on TV like tinkers in the street is rather baffling to me.  I remember being a child and the only ads I totally didn't understand were perfume commercials, and lets be frank, they still don't make any sense.  

This commercial was quite cryptic.  A mid to late thirties handsome man, dressed as a firefighter stepped out from behind a fire truck (there was smoke and he was all soot-y, implying that this fine, upstanding man had just successfully fought a fire).  He proceeded to speak lines to this effect:

(I've omitted the name of the medicine, just in case someone decides to sue me and my empty bank account.)

Handsome Firefighter - "I never thought I had any problems.  Then I heard about ******.  At first I thought it was too good to be true, but then I talked to my doctor.  Now I take ****** and have never been happier.  Ask your doctor if ****** is right for you."

 . . . 

Does anyone else know what the hell ****** treats?  Is it something only for men?  Only for firefighters?  Would it apply to male and female fighters?  If I become a firefighter, do I need to ask my doctor about ******?  Do I have to be in a fire?  What if I work in a fire station, but I'm the secretary.  Does the simple proximity to firefighters put me in danger?  I pass fire stations a lot, is this a concern for me?

That's not even the worst of it.  The side affects of drugs always seems worse to me.

I have below listed the side effects for an anti-depression pill.  Tell me if one or multiple of these affects would worsen your depression, regardless of what the pill might do.

• Depression worsens or you have unusual changes in mood, behavior or thoughts of suicide 
• Increased risk of death or stroke 
• Tell your doctor if you have have high fever, stiff muscles and confusion as these may be symptions of a life threatening reaction
• Tell your doctor if you have uncontrollable muscle movements as they could become permanent 
• Has been known to case high blood sugar - in some cases extreme high blood pressure that can lead to coma or death 
• Other risks include dizzyness upon standing, impaired judgement or motor skills and trouble swallowing 

The best you could say to say to yourself after this is at least you don't have sudden, uncontrollable diarrhea.  

I saw a commercial recently that listed one of the side effects as unusual dreams.  How the crap can you tell if a dream is unusual or not?  My dream last night was my dad and I floating above a rooftop as we recited "O Captain My Captain" for Paul Bettany.  That's pretty unusual to me.

I tell you, the kind of dream that would freak me out would be me running errands at Duane Reade, coming home to look over my finances and feeding the cats.