Make the burning stop.....

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

My Little Zoo Animals

Originally uploaded by AB Carney.
Here's a picture from Thanksgiving. I'm on the bottom (and currently have a deflated left breast)then my nephew Devin (the Monkey), my niece Cailly (the Bird), my nephew Hunter(the Bear) and my niece Ciara (the Baby Roo).

This photo was taken just before someone stepped on my pelvis.

Monday, November 28, 2005

platform poo

platform poo
Originally uploaded by AB Carney.

I returned to NYC on Sunday night from suburban Pittsburgh. It took me 8 hours and 45 minutes for a trip that normally takes 6 hours. I managed to really piss off some guy in a white pick up. I had been driving with my signal on for a quarter mile and no one wanted to let me merge. I remember right before I pulled in front of him thinking “You’re a New Yorker, be assertive for fucks sake.” When he exited, he gave me the finger and screamed profanities. I blew him a kiss.

For four days, I ate, worked out in my sisters fully-equipped basement gym, played with my nieces and nephews and drove my car really fast throughout the sharp curves and steep hills that run through my sister’s development (or project as I like to call it. That really pisses her off).

As I made my way to work on a fine, unseasonably warm Monday morning, I was greeted on the subway platform with a pile of shit.

Who are these people? How are they able to take a shit on the platform without anyone seeing them? Stopping them? (And by that I mean MTA. I seriously doubt random metro riders are going to approach someone crapping on the platform and try their best to discourage them from the aforementioned activities.) I mean the platform should be the one place where I don’t have to worry about stepping in a pile of feces. Right?

Ah…NY. People pushing, cars honking and piles of shit on the train platform. It’s good to be home…

Sunday, November 27, 2005

Remember Pus-Face?

Here's an email I got from my friend Rob on Tuesday...

The other day I'm walkin down da street and who should I run into but old Pus-face McReady. Remember Pus-face? He's da guy what done 39 months in Marcy for dat chinchilla breedin thing only dey wasn't chinchillas but was rats instead. So anyway, I'm walkin down da street and here comes old Pus-face and he says to me "Hey! Goomz! Whatever happened to dat chick what used to work down at Desi's? Dat one wit all dem tats and what was a druid or sompin ?" And I says "Pus-face ain't you heard? She's a big star in NYC now!" and he says "How was I gonna hear bein inside an all" an I says "Yeah but shes been gone awhile" an he says "I dint know" and I says "Yeah, shes long gone" and he says "well if you talk to her tell her Pus-face says hi." So to make a long story short Pus-face McReady says hi.

I love it when people miss me 5 years after I'm gone...

Saturday, November 26, 2005

Found Porn

I must admit I am one of the technological throw backs that still owns and uses a VCR. Not only do I watch movies I own on VHS but I record programs on it daily. I regularly tape the following shows: The Simpsons, Family Guy, Arrested Development, All My Children, CSI and Without A Trace.

Do you like how I squished All My Children into a list of otherwise popular, intelligent and witty shows?

I started watching AMC with my Mom when I was a toddler. She’d have it on while she folded laundry, talked to friends on the phone and/or straightened the downstairs.
Digression: My Momma also watched Another World where a character named Rachel was kidnapped. I had nightmares for weeks that I was being held with Rachel in a dark basement and we couldn’t escape.

My sister Betsy and I watched it together all through grammar and high school and she still catches it once in awhile. When one of us would stay home from school sick (she was actually sick – I just never wanted to go to school) the other would take notes on what happened on the show. When Nina and Cliff got married my Mom let Betsy stay home for the wedding (pre-vcr). I apparently hadn’t demonstrated a love for the couple strong enough to merit missing school.

Moving right along.

A couple weeks ago I was looking for a tape for the VCR and I popped in what I thought was a blank one. As I was setting the program to include American Dad, the tape began to play. Most of my blank tapes aren’t actually blank – they’ve had shows taped over and over on them. So my initial reaction was that whatever this commercial was it was poorly made and low budget.

When I looked up, I saw a rather unattractive sort of late 80’s couple (bad facial hair, feathering etc) having sex and doing it as if they were showing someone else how to make a video, badly. Intrigued to see if the whole thing was that bad, I fast forwarded to another snippet. It was.

The only thing I can figure out is that when I moved it was on the shelf of VHS and DVD’s I packed. My other two roommates had moved a few months prior and everything left in the living room was presumed to be mine. I didn’t account for the fact that Jonny would take the “Coed Girls Gone Wild” DVD and leave “Please Rewind Tape” for me.

Now I’m not a prude and have no issues with most porn. My problem is that I approach the pieces as an actor and can’t look at it without dissecting certain elements. (I do realize how silly that sounds but nonetheless…) The un-naturalism of it all makes me giggle. And it isn’t an uncomfortable giggle but one that makes it very hard for someone using porn to attempt to seduce me.

So though I’ve watched porn before, I’ve never owned any of my own. If I did buy one, it would have to have lots of pretty girls with normal sized breasts, the sound of waves crashing on the shore in the background and some blue eyed, dark haired guy who could fuck while reciting Shakespeare, without making me laugh. Now, that’d be impressive (and totally naturalistic). For now, it’s just another lonely Saturday night for me and “Please Rewind Tape”.

Mind you, I still rubbed one out – but I was laughing the whole time.

Friday, November 25, 2005

All Apologies

deep bow
Originally uploaded by AB Carney.
Apologies to the three of you…

I’ve been looking back a little and realizing that I’ve been a really lazy blogger as of late. I’ve been struggling with quantity over quality. As an American, it is my natural inclination to overproduce regardless of whether or not I “get it right’. I’ve resorted to short unimaginative descriptions and uninspired explanations of my feelings. I’ve picked easy topics and been too lazy to tackle the things that I’m really passionate about.

That’s it – I’ve been writing with no passion.

If someone can just come over and spank me I'll take my punishment and try harder next time.

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Thanksgiving missive

Originally uploaded by AB Carney.
This is for those of you whose email addresses I don't have and for all three of my loyal readers...

I wanted to make sure I had the opportunity to say thank you to all of you for being a part of my life. In many ways, at many times, you've all provided me support, laughter, a reality check, money or booze...

Wishing you all a safe, happy, family and friend-filled holiday with an appreciation of how lucky we are to have been born in America. True, we are being represented by a frightening little troll right now, but it still affords us many blessings and freedoms lots of folks don't have.

(Not intended to instigate a political battle. Wait, do I even have any right leaning friends?)

Let us all bow our heads for a moment of silence for the turkeys who have so freely given of their mortal flesh for our full bellies. (And lets hope our turkeys haven't been out fraternizing with any of those notoriously loose avian-flu birds out there... scandalous)

Muchos besos,


Welcome blast from the past

I love a good blast from the past. Especially when it comes with some really kind and complimentary words.

I dated a man about 11 years ago who was lucky enought to be caught up in the middle of my fiercely independent stage where I was overly concerned with semantics. I insisted we have an open arrangement with no exclusivity and I would not let him ever refer to me as his girlfriend. Mind you, this generous, kind hearted man once took me to the Caribbean for 11 days as a birthday gift. Every night I was there, he wrote a poem for me and slipped it under my pillow before bed. I also told him I was convinced he was in love with me because I'd given him his first blowjob.

When I told him romance could be defined in many ways and I hadn't met anyone who had the same definition I did, he staged a one man show espousing what famous people in history have said about romance, complete with picnic and a surprise rose.
So when I moved to NYC and attempted to contact this man just to see how he was. I was surprised and saddened that he didn't remember me.

Fast forward four years. I received an email from said man, happily married and with a new baby. It said that he was trying to get in touch with me.

A few emails later, I called him, at his request, at his office (he became a doctor, of course). He was incredibly open and sweet - more flattery than anyone deserves on a Monday morning.

He told me he'd seen my website and I was just as beautiful a he remembered - not that he was surprised. grin.

We also talked about my Mom, as he knew her before she got sick and said he'd been reading my blog. When he was an RN he worked with a lot of dementia patients and wanted to share some of his stories about that.

note: This could easily segue into a whole entry about my mom but I haven't been awake long enough to want to start crying and crawl back into bed.

It turns out he certainly did remember me but did not want to upset his fiancee - now wife, by overemphatically accepting my phone call.
Which led me to say, "Why am I always on the do not call list for so many ex's"?

I mean no harm, pose no threat, have no evil intentions....

And yet, they're forbidden to speak to me, by their wives, fiances, pets.

According to this gent, I am the one that affected their lives most, the one you don't forget.

wow. ain't that some shit?

A lot of my intimacy issues are tied up in feeling forgotten by my old man and always fearing Alzheimers/loss of memories...

So aside from the ego stroke, this was the kindest and most meaningful thing someone could have said to me.

I guess there's something to be said for a look back every now and again.

Just so long as you don't get stuck there. :)

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Be of Good Cheer? Fuck you!

the source of envy
Originally uploaded by AB Carney.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year. The joyous season where a mack truck could drive over my head and I still won’t wake up/get out of bed. That most festive time when I’d sell my soul for just a little more of any type of carbohydrate.

I am sinking, people.

And so I begin yet another fall into winter with the thought that I really must get a stinkin lightbox this year. I know people who have used them, with success, for years and yet I refrain and suffer. (along with those forced to be around me.)

My only other option, as I see it, sitting in my assigned pen with a cloud of dark, anguish-filled clouds hovering overhead, is to go live with my bear brethren.

It has always made perfect sense to me that when my body says its time to eat a lot of toast and nap 3-5x a day that I should follow that instinct. I could snuggle up with a soft, cozy bear - tucked away in a secret cave until the emptiness passes.

I seem to always think I can just shake off the feeling and don’t do anything about it.

Right when I think I can’t take it anymore – spring arrives.

I found a few websites that sell lightboxes but I haven’t found any bears willing to share their dens without an offer of human flesh.

I know my insurance will cover 80% of the cost for a lightbox but I haven't found anything about hibernation expenses or first aid due to cohabitation with a bear.

Oh well. I bet I’d be gamey anyway.

Monday, November 21, 2005

Carney Clan

Originally uploaded by AB Carney.
Oh yeah, and here are the Carneys and Carney Derivatives assembled for Maxx's christening in Random Town, S. Jersey. (although my cousin still insists she's not in S. Jersey)

Missing are Jennifer, Joel, Cailly, Devin, Betsy, Jay, Hunter, Ciara, Carney,Deirdre, Alaina, Roger, Joey, Durinda (my Momma) and Tommy.


Maxx and I
Originally uploaded by AB Carney.
Maxx Anthony Agnello

Yesterday I took a trip down the shore to see my primitas and all their babies. I was accompanied by my little Bridie, future blockbuster and art film innovator. She's cuurently working on set with Ralph Fiennes and Susan Sarandon in a film about the relationship between Doris Duke and her gay Irish butler.

When I first moved to NYC I lived with Bridgid, her sisters Deirdre and Alaina and my Aunt Sara and Uncle Roger.

The family is getting bigger and smaller at the same time. My sisters each have two babies, my brother will be getting married soon, my cousins have 3, 2 and 1 children respectively...

Yet, Aunt Sara is gone, my Mom is sick, Tommy is in Oregon and Jim will drink until he dies, regardless of what anyone says.

As I used to say when I was 2, "I can't like it Mom."

They really are my happiest times - being with my family and their unrelenting sarcasm about my lack of marriage, sex life, children, morals.

The funniest part is that they like to make conflicting statements. At one table it is implied that I am a raging whore and then at the next table, a shriveling old maid.

See, even they can't get over my dichotomy.

Saturday, November 19, 2005


Originally uploaded by AB Carney.
Here's me, Friday night, channeling Homer after singing several rounds of karaoke and dancing in heels too high for a woman of my age with my chiropractic needs.

Some of my stellar renditions included "Me and Bobby McGee" (Joplin), "Back In Baby's Arms" (Patsy)and "Power of Two" (Indigo Girls). I had my usual problemn singing the IG - I can never decide whose part I want to sing. Add some alcohol and I become more confused and try to do both - I was legendary.

I also sort of remember singing "Dead or Alive" with my friends Tony and Sonia as well as "Girls Just Want To Have Fun" and "Everybody Wants To Rule The World".

I can honestly say I am expecting a talent agent to show up any time now to notify me that he accidentally heard me singing at Tonic on Friday night and simply must share my voice with the world.

Advice for the day:
if you seldom, if never, eat red meat, and then decide to do so, don't combine it with the following factors...

2.bourbon extremely high loft bed in the home of someone you barely know and would prefer not to get sick in front of.

Friday, November 18, 2005

O Happy Day

Originally uploaded by AB Carney.

I am a spoiled little monkey.

The firm where I work caters breakfast and lunch every day. This means I happily stroll in five minutes before my shift to toast half a whole wheat bagel and apply a disturbing amount of veggie cream cheese. I also have a small cup of Hazelnut coffee and some fresh fruit.

Each week there are a few theme meals i.e. Greek day, Indian Day, Thai Day.

However, my favorite day is PIZZA DAY! Sadly, it doesn't happen as frequently as I'd like.
There is a rare occurrence in the universe though that I find particularly enjoyable. This is when pizza day, Friday (my very favorite day of the week) and Pay Day all coincide. I call it The Triumvirate of Happiness.

There's also the variable factor. This means that payday can be substituted with some other perk to form the triumvirate. This particular Friday is a double whammy. I get to leave work an hour and a half early - for yet another firm function.

This time it's just the Facilities department drinking free booze, eating free food and further tormenting their co-workers by ... singing karaoke.

That's right, the firm has rented out the top floor of a bar and hired some poor, hopefully deaf creature to encourage us all to nurture a nonexistant talent - fueled by a confidence that is entirely liquid based.

I was tempted to bring a video camera and take blackmail footage and then I remembered that everyone in my department is broke like me.

Happy Friday y'all.

Thursday, November 17, 2005


Originally uploaded by AB Carney.
Just thought you'd find this amusing.

A few weeks ago I had this horrible pain in my left breast. When I got home that night, I did a breast self exam and while pressing around my nipple, clear fluid shot out of it across the room. It looked like a fountain at the flippin Bellagio.

Now being the paranoid hypochondriac I am, I decided it must be a sign of breast cancer or some sort of tumor.

Fast forward to my gyn appt.10 days later. My doctor is asking me some questions and then gets to the magic one - Are you running? "Yeah, actually I just started training for a half marathon." Then she asked about my bra - is it a bit on the loose side or are my breasts strapped to my chest as if I were bound for a stage play where I'm portraying a boy.

It turns out that without the necessary support, I was unknowingly stimulating my breasts. Apparently it's happened to other runners in the past.

I thought it was pretty funny and have tried to work it into my act without much success. I always end the story in this way:

Amybeth to Dr. Ruth (yes,her name is really Dr. Ruth: "So everytime I squeeze my nipple the fluid shoots out. When will it stop doing that?"

Dr. Ruth: "When you stop milking yourself!"

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Don't get old

As I climbed out of the shower this morning, head still partially inserted up my ass, the phone rang. It was the social worker from my Mom's nursing home calling to inform me that the Episcopal Church Home is closing it's doors on January 16th.

There are three things I've learned from taking care of my mom. 1.floss regularly. Periodontal disease is disgusting, stinky and painful. 2. visit your loved one often. Not only is it really sad to walk into a facility day after day (which was the case when I lived in Buffalo) or every holiday and see the same person sitting alone at a table with no visitors and no sense that they belong to anyone outside, it's the squeaky wheel that gets the grease. IE: your presence on a regular basis insures that your loved one is better taken care of. If you're involved in their care, call often, visit and make recommendations (with courtesy) your family member WILL get special attention. 3. always be kind to people who work at the home - appreciate the fact that they frequently work double shifts, are understaffed and in an environment where they are paid next to nothing to care for your family member. Send a thank you note once in a while. Make cookies. Bring coffee for the staff.

These little gestures won't put more money in their pockets for the work they do but there is a lot to be said for feeling appreciated.

For the time being we're looking into a new place for my mom in the Catholic Health system. It's run by the former administrator of mom's current facility. He's a really nice person who has gone above and beyond for the family in the past. I'm an anxious mess but I know it will all work out. My sister promised when I was hyperventilating.

However, we're currently accepting donations for Plan B. I know if it comes time for me to be caged this is where I'm heading.

Though honestly, I think animals have the right idea - I'm going to crawl off to the woods and die alone - as the Goddess intended.

Monday, November 14, 2005

When in India

If you're ever unfortunate enough to get sick in India and wind up in a state hospital...get a cat. Allergic or not, a cat is your best defense against being eaten alive by a rat, ant, roach or other reincarnated and particularly famished creature.

Saturday, November 12, 2005

Now I lay me down to snooze

Originally uploaded by AB Carney.
I managed to cheat death once again and arrived safely at my brother's apartment Saturday morning around 3:45. As per usual I began to get a bit punchy and start to hallucinate arond Syracuse. Whenever I'd turn to check my blind spot before changing lanes I'd get amazing trails when I turned my head back. I'm always pleased to experience any residual effects of my exprerimentation days but its probably ill timing for it to happen while driving 80mph in the pitch dark. One really enjoyable part of the trip was keeping my iPod on shuffle and hearing songs I'd forgotten were even on it. I have a tendency to play the same few songs over and over until the voices tell me not to play them ever again.

I fell asleep around 4:30 only to be awoken at 5:15 by my brother's fishing buddies on their way to catch salmon and scratch their balls. Thankfully I was able to fall back to sleep 15 minutes later. Around 10:30, Orin, my brother's rottweiler, woke me at 10:30 with his deafening barking at the window. He's an adorable wanne be lap dog - but not when you're sleep deprived and he sits on your chest with his balls in your face. I mean, he's cute and soft but a little too hairy for me.

I found my mom to be in better health than the nurses had told me - or maybe its just wishful thinking. She still recognizes me on some level and that's the scrap I hold on to. She can't really walk anymore which I found out the hard way when I tried to hold her up walking four feet to the bathroom. She didn't get hurt but wound up sitting on the floor in her underwear looking up at me like "You woke me up for this?"

I'm not as depressed as I've been on the last few trips. I think knowing I'll be back for a week at Christmas helps because I'm not pressuring myself to try to catch up with anyone. Most of these visits are spent trying to balance visits with my Mom and seeing old friends.

Tonight, I happily find myself alone at Mattie's with Orin for company, Family Guy in the background and an opportunity to try to process and veg out a little.

I'm hoping my friend Marcie will meet me tomorrow to feed the ducks.

Forest Lawn is the prettiest cemetary in Buffalo and has a small lake with weeping willows, ducks and some incredbly pissed off geese. It's always been one of my two favorite places in the city. The first is the New York Central Railroad Terminal - but that's a story in itself.

There are some really amazing sculptures and monuments but my favorite is the Birge Memorial next to Mirror Lake. The sarcophagus sits in the middle of an open circle of white marble columns. I like to lay on top of the sarcophagus and look up through the circle framing the clouds moving past a picture perfect azure sky. It's even prettier against a stark white blanket of snow.

I used to date a guy who referred to my family as The Addams Family. "You had your family portrait taken in the cemetary, you sleep in the attic and regularly have bats in your house!"

Forest Lawn, for me, is like St John the Devine in New York City. Outside the grounds the city continues to move on at a frenetic pace, yet a few hindred feet inside there are thousands of stories surrounded by all the elements and reminders of life's true value.

I've always wanted to be cremated in the end but I like the idea of my family having some place peaceful to go and let go. Of course in high school I wanted my ashes to be rolled into a joint and smoked by friends and loved ones. Ideally, as long as I'm remembered by someone, I won't even mind if I'm eaten after a horrible plane crash in the Andes.

Friday, November 11, 2005

Shuffle off? More like drag yer ass....

Buffalo-New York
Originally uploaded by AB Carney.
Don't get me wrong. As all three of you know (yes, I'm up to three regular readers - unless I lost them after a week of illness and sedentary ass dragging)I love Buffalo. But it gets harder and harder to take the trip. I missed my regularly scheduled 6 week visit two weeks ago and now it's been 2 months since I saw my mother. The anxiety of what she'll be like coupled with the guilt of staying away longer makes it hard enough. However, what I really want to whine about is being in the car for 6-7 hours by myself with only a radio, after a long and unproductive day at work. After my cd player was stolen I began to look into the wonders of iPod attachments. Sadly, my iPod (which was described to me by some youngin as looking like a remote control) is of the 3rd generation, touch wheel variety that isn't compatible with... well, anything. Bastards.

Thankfully I've been blessed with MacGuyver gene.

I took the cassette adapter that came with my Discman, put it into the ancient JVC boombox I own and taped the cassette door shut. I then took off the detachable speakers and set them up in the car for a quality listening experience, plugged it into my iPod and made a wish. There was a sputter and then some static... until joy of all joys - I could clearly hear the thumpin bass of "The Homeless" off the Boogie Down Productions Edutainment album! I did a dance of joy! I had signifigantly decreased the odds of falling asleep at the wheel again and turning my car into a further collage of Saturns lost.

This evenings Triboro/Deegan opener will begin as follows:

Take Five - Dave Brubeck
Cosy in the Rocket - Psapp
Soul Survivor - A-kon and Young Jeezy
Pigeon Camera - Tragically Hip
Lighters Up - Lil Kim
This Velvet Glove - Chili Peppers
The Homeless - BDP
Gravel - Ani DiFranco
We'll Be Burning - Sean Paul
Give Me Some Kind of Sign - Brenton Woods

Thursday, November 10, 2005


Originally uploaded by AB Carney.
Last night around 12:30 there was a thunderstorm. It wasn’t incredibly loud or bright but I watched it, in bed, head propped up on a pillow against the windowsill. At its loudest point I jumped as I am a twitchy bastard. It was at that moment I flashed to the thunderstorm in the opening of Poltergeist.

Robbie is afraid (annoying little fucker) and comes into his parent’s room interrupting Steven, stoned and molesting his wife Diane. Steven picks Robbie up and takes him back to his room to tuck him in. To soothe him he tells Robbie how to measure the distance of a storm by counting the space between the lightning and the thunder.

Of course being the melodramatic cheese ball that I am I got caught up into it at one moment and found myself mimicking the frightened little Robbie (who incidentally was annoying as all hell).

On the subject of Poltergeist, I saw it on a “date” with a younger man. He was in the fourth grade (Mrs. Cohen) and I was in the fifth (Mrs. Hollins). I think his parents dropped us off and my sister picked us up.

All I know is in the middle of the night I woke up terrified thinking that there were graves popping up through my bed. I laid there paralyzed with fear for what seemed like an hour. Finally, with a deep breath, I willed myself onto the ladder where a new fear confronted me. The closer I got to the bottom rung the more likely a skeletal hand would pop out and pull me under the bottom bunk!

I swung around, narrowly missing my sister’s head with my foot. She woke up to me standing over her and thankfully didn’t scream or hit me. Betsy was good about letting me sleep with her since my momma wasn’t havin it.

My mother always said that after her divorce she realized how much she liked having a bed to herself and she wasn’t about to share it again. Though Betsy (or Percy as I call her) was good enough to give me a half foot against the wall of her bunk she was not forthcoming with the blankets.

After shivering for a half hour in the fetal position I carefully stood on the mattress and poked my head out of the bunk and grabbed my blue winter coat off the ladder. I spent the rest of that night curled in a ball, trying to shrink myself small enough to fit under my coat. I remember that as one of the most uncomfortable, anxious, cold and restless nights of my life. And yet I love the memory because all the little details make me nostalgic for a time when we all slept in the same house.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

cyclical nature of monkeys

I was pretty diligent for awhile, wasn't I?

It fits my pattern.

I'm up, feeling creative, motivated, eating well.

I'm blue, over eating, drinking and sloth like.

Balance, grasshopper.

Thursday, November 03, 2005

I put the ass in class (revised)

The Supper Club
Originally uploaded by AB Carney.
I work for a very generous company that likes to throw parties for no apparent reason.

Tonight is part of the "After Hours" series at the Supper Club - which I've never been to.

We have an annual dinner, a summer outing, four "After Hours" events, a Holiday Party and my Departmental outing. These always involve amazing food, an open bar and an opportunity for me to get fired.

On my own, completely sober, I make loud remarks most people would utter not in mixed company. I don't insult people - I'm just afflicted with an inability to stop the thought in my head from popping out of my mouth. That affliction plus alcohol and I'm liable to make all manner of unsuitable business conversation. A perfect example...I was a touch inebriated on the cruise around Long Island Sound and insisted on a picture with my friends in the Facilities Department (of which I am an official pee on member).

The trouble arose when some random white person tried to jump into the picture and I yelled "I want a picture with The Latin Kings - No white people in the picture!" I then turned to see one of the "brothers" as in one of the three men who pay my salary and whose name is on the firm.

Other places I've made inappropriate comments in are: The Top of The Tower at the Beekman, The Metropolitan Club, The Central Park Zoo, The United Nations Dining Room, The Victorian Gardens at Wollman Rink, Metro 53, Django, Central Park Boathouse, Reebok Sports Club, Metrazur, Opia, Skyrink at Chelea Piers, Sidecar and a cruise ship called the Majestic Star.

I consider myself really lucky because although this is my rent job and certainly not my ideal, I have a lot of perks and am compensated well for trained monkey work.

And so as I don my bonded polyester dress and black boots, I make a solemn vow to myself, to use my inside voice and attempt to channel Marcelle Marceau.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

33 Going on 16

It's amusing and yet retarded, this life I lead...

When I was 16, my room was in the attic and I basically had an entire floor of a big old house all to myself. All that space and I was still stuck hanging out the window trying not to get caught smoking.

I never smoked much - I've always been an abnormal smoker. I smoke more regularly than a social smoker but there are certain patterns I adhere to.

I don't bring my cigarettes to work and I rarely smoke during the day. I usually have my first cigarette around 8. I then smoke anywhere from 3-6 cigarettes before I crash around 12:30. I also don't like to have a cigarette right after I eat.

Oh, and if alcohol is involved, all bets are off.

If I didn't smoke I'd consume the entire contents of my house. I recently self medicated with half a container of port wine cheese and half a box of triscuits. I like triscuits almost as much as toast and toast almost as much as pizza.

I digress... as per usual.

Everytime I smoke now I have to hang out my bedroom window and light scented oil and feel guilty. Go outside you say? I know I should - and I could for all but one... my bedtime smoke. I have one while I lay in bed just before I crash. Fire wardens please ignore previous mention of appallingly bad fire safety practice.

I don't want anyone to feel bad for me. I made an agreement with my sweet little elderly landlady. OK actually I said I didn't smoke which is more of a lie than an agreement. I know. I know. I'm a scumbag. Not only did I lie to my little Italian landlady about being a smoker but I continue to smoke in my apartment.

I will probably lose all my toenails in a horrible stiletto boot incident but I'm willing to take that risk to keep off the 20lbs threatening to adhere to me every night.

Perhaps it's a good thing that I think about my Grandma being upstairs, renting out her house to supposedly honest and upstanding young women. The guilt may just help me make the move from rotten lungs and stinky fingers to clogged arteries and cottage cheese ass.


Originally uploaded by AB Carney.
Now it feels like home...