Make the burning stop.....

Tuesday, January 31, 2006

She learns a little html and her head gets all swollen.

I've been helping my good friend Tony with his website. He's an arteest - primarily a painter. The link doesn't work now...but it will. And then you'll all be sorry...really, really sorry.

Oh wait. Sorry. My A.D.D. again.

I'll keep you updated on it's progress.

I've already managed to sign him up for a 400 page web hosting account, unintentionally.

Ah, web design and alcohol, a combination for lost time and wasted money.

Monday, January 30, 2006

No, vestibular does not mean you have a tail...

Something is very off in my brain. Many of my friends have been suggesting it for years. It was over a year ago that I experienced my first bout of vertigo and I'd rather do without a repeat performance. Alas, we often don't have a choice in these matters so I'm spinning around my apartment trying to focus on one thing.

When I woke up this morning I was on a rollercoaster of my own making. I tried to steady myself so I could get to the toilet. The spinning makes me really nauseous in a way that ordinary dizziness does not. Once I got to the toilet I was afraid to go back to bed.

After an uncomfortable hour on the bathroom floor, I got to my phone and called work and my doctor.

I first asked if this could be related to my cranial nerve or perhaps an inner ear infection. I wasconcerned that if this is related to the cranial nerve it's a sign of the onset of Bell's Palsy.

I have to say another month of playing Superhero stroke victim is not high on my list of priorities.

(The super hero part comes with the eye patch)

If it isn't the cranial nerve, maybe it's an inner ear infection. He explained that while the cranial nerve and vestibular nerve are close, they aren't close enough for it to be both.

Great, maybe it's related to my Parisian, beaujolais-related head injury and subsequent concussion. I had vertigo really bad then too. So much so, that while standing in the Louvre looking up at the ceiling I hit a painting behind me with my head and made it sway from side to side. I did my best to get out of that room quick, all the while pointing at some poor Asian tourist with a look that said "Did you see what she just did?"

Anyhow, my BGH sent me this picture from work today - such a flattering photo of me, artfully lifted from my employee ID.

I'm off to wedge my head in between two pillows and take some drugs - if any of my nerves are swollen I'll eat enough ibuprofen to deflate the Hindenberg.

The doc will check out my melon tomorrow and maybe I'll have more answers. I'm sure it's just a tumor!

Saturday, January 28, 2006

Now, don't be shy...

The Singles Show is coming up and I'd like to have a lot of material to take with me to open mics this week.

This is where you kids come in...

I want to know what you enjoy most about being single, living alone, or for the cohabitating breeders, what you remember about those things. In the spirit of honoring both sides of every coin, you can tell me what you hate(d) about being single and living alone, as well.

It occurred to me the other day that my favorite sound of late is a bad omen for the possibility of a future relationship.

I like to hear my apartment door close behind people and know that I am all alone.

I'd be the best bear ever. really. and I wouldn't even maul anyone. Well unless they came into my cave unannounced while I was sleeping.

Not quite sure my light therapy is working :)

Friday, January 27, 2006

This will only hurt a lot...

Yesterday I went to the chiropractor and had my first session of the Graston Technique.
A little background for two of the three of you who know nothing of my chiropractic issues...
I am lopsided. My pelvis has an irregular tilt such that the left side is down and back and the right side is positioned forward and up. This is the cause of the ITB syndrome affecting my left knee as well as the lower back and hip pain I experience on my left flank. (hehe. how often does one get to use the word flank?)

Anyhow, after walking around like this for 30 some odd years I've built up a lot of scar tissue and have a lot of tightness and shortening in all the muscles on my left side.

So my chiropractor (who I love, love, love) decided that massage and adjustments were not going to cut it. In order to create a new "muscle memory" we would need to break down the tissue in these areas and start over.

The hardest part of creating new muscle memories is letting go of the old ones. I'm not so good when it comes to banishing old memories from my brain so I'm not so sure how much success I'll have with the muscular ones.

I am now sleeping on my back rather than my stomach - which I hate. I am not supposed to cross my legs while sitting and Dr S. has also emphasized my need for a new couch position. I like to lay on the couch on my left side with my torso propped up on a pillow. I recently began shoving a pillow between my knees to alleviate pressure on my back but, I'm told, this isn't good enough. The only way to sit or lounge, apparently, is to imagine there is a large board up my ass and through my back.

Back to the Graston technique. Dr. S first gave me electrostim and heat and then he and Song Ki stretched out my left hip - one rotated my leg while the other dug into the tightened muscles in my hip and ass. Good times. Then the tool came out...

The tool is a metal rod that looks like a smallish set of bicycle handlebars. The doctor put some cream on my skin for easy mobility and then began "rolling out' my hip and ass as if he were using a rolling pin on dough.

Amybeth, the human piecrust was not amused or amazed.

I was trying really hard not to yelp. She, of the many tattoos and few piercings would not come off soft to the fabulous Dr. S.

I made it through the 2 or 3 minutes of kneeding and have diligetnly continued stretching so as not to undo good works. Well, that and hopefully make it easier on myself next time.

Today I have a silver dollar sized, blue and purple bruise on my left buttcheek. It makes me feel diesel.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

You might learn something

I'm angry with my html inadequacies... and now I'm tired. I got this questionaire from my friend Bridge. I wrote some other stuff about that but it got lost in an abyss. Suffice it to say, Bridge is in Portland, OR and this was actually a fun way to catch up _ she answered far more thoughtfully than I did :)

If I had a mac I could hit "undo" but alas...

1. What time did you get up this morning? Alarm went off at 7:30. I overslept after hitting snooze twice.  NPR invaded my dreams and I jumped out of bed at 8:45.
2. Diamonds or pearls? I’ve gotta say diamonds – but recycled is cool – I like things with history.

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? Wow.  I think it was Harry Potter but I’ve been holed up with NetFlix for a few weekends. Palindromes was the last movie I watched.

4. What is your favorite TV show? You know I can’t just say one.  Gray’s Anatomy, Simpsons and CSI.  American Choppers when I visit people with cable.

5. What did you have for breakfast? Half whole wheat bagel with veg cream cheese, hazelnut coffee, plain oatmeal with raisins

6. What is your middle name? Don’t have one.  Amybeth is my first name. Though the B is capitalized on my birth certificate, I don’t write it that way.  

7. What is your favorite cuisine? Italian

8. What foods do you dislike? Lima beans, fat or the gristle of any animal

9. Your favorite Potato Chip? Terra Taro chips
10. What is your favorite CD at the moment? Orchestra Baobab - Specialist In All Styles and the soundtrack for the film “Addicted To Love”

11. What kind of car do you drive? ‘94 Saturn SL1.  Currently silver, gold blue and Bondo.  

12. Favorite sandwich? Veggie sandwich from Lenny’s with cheese and ranch dressing on whole grain.  Ditto for the Upper Crust Bakehouse in Fredonia, NY

13. What characteristics do you despise? Entitlement is way up there.  Disloyalty, Lack of compassion.

14. Favorite item of clothing? Camo footie pajamas. My Brutal Truth T shirt
15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation,
where would you go? Italy, France, Singapore, South Africa, Prague, India...Hawaii...Buffalo...
16. What color is your bathroom? White with a seriously old school linoleum floor in maroon and gold and a multicolored pastel ceramic tiled shower stall. (

17. What is your favorite brand of clothing?

18. Where would you want to retire? A house by the water in a sleepy Italian town – Amalfi Coast.
19. Favorite time of day? The all too brief period between work and bed.
20. Favorite sport to watch? Yankee Baseball

21. Where were you born? Buffalo, NY

22. What laundry detergent do you use? Usually Tide cold water and Woolite.
23. Are you a morning person or night owl? both...built in tendencies
toward night owlness, but when I DO get up early
and do stuff I feel fantastic!

24. What size shoe do you wear? 8 Wide

25 Do you have pets? A boa constrictor named Rhiannon who will be coming to live with me finally in NYC sometime in March (

26. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share - umm. not yet...

27. Favorite candy bar? Good dark chocolate covered coconut
28. What is your best childhood memory? My sister Betsy teaching me how to ride a bike.  We went inside and toasted with lemonade in Brandy snifters. I also remember my Dad busting me standing on my bed and singing and talking into the mirror. I was 5.
29. What are the different jobs you have had in your
life? CVS, Dietary in a hospital, Asst. Manager of a record store, bartender, hostess, waitress, club dancer on pedestal, “Glinda the Good Witch” at a Home show, clerk at a head shop, barmaid at independent coffee shop, Assistant Production Manager of a Theatre Company, Actress, Comic, Voice over artist, Receptionist at Hedge Fund, legal and financial proofreader, Diversity Workshop Educator, Acting teacher to wee ones…  

30. Piercing? Ears, belly, right nipple
31. Eye color? Blue sometimes green, occasionally gray.

32. Ever been to Africa? nope

33. Ever been toilet papering? nope

34. Favorite day of the week? Friday

35. Favorite Restaurant? L'ecole NYC/Hutch’s Buffalo, NY

36. Favorite Flower? Sterling roses, Gerbera daisies

37. Favorite ice cream? Coffee or Blueberry Cheesecake ice cream at the Hatch in Ruff Buff.  Also Chunky Monkey

38. Favorite fast food restaurant? Mighty Taco (can you tell I miss the food from home?)
39. What color is your bedroom carpet? Sadly, a rosey pink.

40. How many times did you fail your driver's test? 0
41. Which store would you choose to max out your
credit card?

42. What do you do most often when you are bored? Read, crochet, watch a movie I’ve already seen but love so much it won’t matter if I fall asleep before the end.

43. Bedtime? Between 12 and 1

44. Last person you went out to dinner with? Genevieve
45. Ford or Chevy? Ford – due to former employment and union affiliation

46. What is your favorite color? Silver, blue

47. Lake, ocean or river? ocean

48. How many tattoos do you have? 8, very soon to be 9.  One more for Momma.

Tried to play with fonts, and THEN adjust html - you see how that went.

Monday, January 23, 2006

I never realized that was a bad idea...

Saturday morning as I was blow drying my hair – more for functionality than style, mind you, my hair dryer bit it. First it began to smoke and run slower. Then the coil burned a bright orange and smoke began coming off it. Finally, it just shut off.

I let it hang from the socket in the lightswitch overhead and didn’t bother shutting it off. It started up again about 30 seconds later, scaring the shite out of me, then smoked a little more before I switched it off.

mmm. burning hair...

This evening after work I picked up a cheap travel size hair dryer at CVS. I unwrapped it and set it next to the sink when the directions/styling instructions fell out of the box. As I sat on l’etoilet I carefully studied "Getting To Know Your Hair Dryer, committing the labeled diagram to memory.

In the course of a rather satisfying urination* I also read the following:

7. Never use while sleeping.

I giggled out loud for a few minutes and found myself momentarily sad that there wasn’t anyone to read it to. Then I realized that me giggling on the can reading the instructions for my hair dryer is a moment I’ll appreciate most when I wind up with four kids, a husband, dog, snake, ferret, llama. I’ll long for moments just like that…

(Well, that and eating stale Christmas cookies in my underwear on the kitchen floor at midnight.)

Incidently I had a roommate in college who used to keep her hair dryer plugged in by her bed. When she got in, if it was cold she'd warm her sheets using the dryer. Perhaps the auteurs of my informative manual had Miss Kim in mind.

For now I'm off to bed to try to think of other ways to keep warm.

*I realize this constitutes "too much information" but that is a subject I'll save for another day soon. Mostly I didn't want you to think I was taking a shit... I wouldn't want you to think me less dainty.

Sunday, January 22, 2006

The excitement never ends...

Last night, after 2 bourbon on the rocks, I found myself sitting in my underwear and a T shirt on the kitchen floor dusting. The T shirt was on the small side and my belly was peeking out. My hair was in a messy ponytail, my feet were bare and my eyes bloodshot. I ate some buttermilk biscuits, heavy on the butter and then began cleaning.

I nostalgically looked at all the framed photos on my corner shelf as I wiped them of a thin layer of dust. I then, repotted my spider plant and with dirt firmly embedded under my fingernails, swaggered off to bed.

This is what I did instead of going to a party filled with funny people, good conversation and effervescent cocktails.

It has been suggested to me by my dear friend Rob (now referring to himself as BGH - big gay husband)that this may be the reason why I'm not getting laid.

Had to share ...

This was sent to me my by Aunt Mary Catherine (teacher, activist, Mom, all around awesome lady) - another of the not actually related category but for all intents and purposes - definitely FAMILY.

A young blonde woman in Niagara Falls was so depressed that she decided to end her life, by throwing herself into the Niagara River. She went to the Rainbow Bridge, and was about to leap into the frigid water, when a handsome young sailor saw her teetering on the edge of the bridge crying.

He took pity on her and said, "Look, you have so much to live for. I'm off to Europe in the morning, and if you like, I can stow you away on my ship. I'll take good care of you, and bring you food every day."

Moving closer, he slipped his arm around her shoulder and added, "I'll keep you happy, and you'll keep me happy."

The girl nodded, yes.

After all, what did she have to lose? Perhaps a fresh start in Europe
would give her life new meaning.

That night, the sailor brought her aboard and hid her in a lifeboat. From then on, every night, he brought here three sandwiches and a piece of fruit, and they made passionate love in the boat until dawn.

Three weeks later, during a routine inspection, she was discovered by
the captain. "What are you doing here?" the captain asked.

"I have an arrangement with one of the sailors," she explained. "I get food and a trip to Europe, and he's screwing me."

"He certainly is," the captain said.

"This is the Maid Of The Mist."

Saturday, January 21, 2006

Saturday night in the big city

good to the last wince
Originally uploaded by AB Carney.
I'm supposed to be at a party with some very fun, very funny people. I had some family drama early in the evening and found myself feeling rather unsociable and unable to shake the funk.

A big shit kickin shout out to Lianne Stokes who's celebrating her 30th birthday as we speak. I'm sorry Lianne, I am a danger to people enjoying themselves but I wish you a great year ahead.

I offer a toast to the thirtie's because I'm more comfortable now than I've ever been in this old skin.

This evening's cinematic selection was highly recommended to me once upon a time.
I think it will go well with bourbon.

Friday, January 20, 2006

Vaulted Ceilings and Inappropriate Chatter

Last night was the "Annual Dinner" for the firm where I work. This event is employees only and includes assigned seating for the sit down dinner. The idea is to force you to get to know other employees in the firm - outside of your department. I like it this way because I enjoy meeting new folks. I also like watching people with social anxiety disorder sweat profusely and look painfully uncomfortable. Sadist.

Even though the restaurant is only 6 blocks and 2 Avenues away, there was a large shuttle bus waiting outside to take us all over to Guastavino's. The bus made me feel like we were all heading on a trip to Spring Break.

The food was ok. I particularly enjoyed the first course - Grilled Vegetable Terrine with Chevre & Basil Puree. However, the vegetarian entree option was nothing special. I ate the mushroom risotto with vegetable medley, without complaint, because I'm a saltaholic. The other veggies I know were distressed at the sodium level.

Dessert was wonderful - a fallen chocolate souffle. I ate half and then nibbled on the fresh berries.

But the star of the evening, by far, was the architecture of the venue itself.

"...the main section underneath the bridge consisted of a buff-colored canopy of tile vaults designed by Rafael Guastavino, an architect from Barcelona. Rafael Guastavino and his son worked together and adapted a centuries- old vernacular technology called the boveda Catalan or Catalan vault."

It's very reminiscent of Grand Central Station and made me feel like I was in the heart of a transport hub about 5 decades ago. I frequently long for the New York City of the 30's and 40's due to my overly romantic nature. Oh, and my desire for men in fedoras and suits.

Anyhow, the place was beautiful and felt just right for my inevitable wedding to my fabulously gay friend Rob, the playwright(see photo below). Of course, in the time it takes us to save enough to rent the space, some of you may expire... but if you don't, y'all are really gonna love it.

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

Viva Italia

mmmm. bacon
Originally uploaded by AB Carney.
I bought an incredibly disgusting meat product yesterday! I immediately called my friend Marcie (my favoritest of all Strega Luna)but alas, she was not home. I knew no one would be as excited and shocked at my meat purchase than Marcie.

As a vegetarian for the past 15 years, Marcie is my polar opposite. A good meal for her involves something limping and bleeding toward the grill for a quick minute searing. Her favorite sub (The Hit Man) has salami, ham, cappicola and prosciutto on it. She used to chuckle to herself and roll her eyes as I'd sit eating my cheese, lettuce and tomato sub.

As a child I first tried a cutlet at her families table. To this day, I have no idea what kinds of meat I may have eaten at her house because they breaded and fried everything within Grandma's reach.

Nothing delights Marcie more than seeing or hearing about me eating meat. In 15 years I ate no meat except for the bite of a meatball I had at her father's funeral brunch. Oddly, she seemed to take comfort in that gesture.

I haven't been cooking much lately and that's disappointing. I think that a house becomes a home when you gather friends and family and you share a meal. I've also been a bit blue so I thought company and comfort food would help. This is what prompted my trip to the grocery store looking for a piece of Pancetta that had more meat than fat.

The accompanying photo has far more color than my swine did.

Having made Pasta Fagioli meatless, in the past, I can honestly say the greasy, salty Pancetta made a great base for the soup and gave it even more texture.

Two bottles of wine, two bowls of soup, some crusty bread, one cup of coffee and 3 hours of Golden Globes later, I rolled into my bed for an evening of restless sleep.

The best part - I have left over pasta fagioli for tonight :)

Saturday, January 14, 2006

I want a son ...Though preferably not a figure skater

I want to have a baby. And I know it sounds terrible to say...but I want a little boy. Many have heard me say aloud " I want to have a son because then I can be sure there will be a man who loves me forever."

I feel forced to admit that after washing the kitchen floor and cleaning the shower, I sat down to veg for a few minutes and found myself entranced by the US National Men's Figure Skating Championships.

There was a skater, obviously gay, really muscular with a great ghetto booty who was really talented. He had so much more spirit than most of the robotic, soul-less, white boys. His name was Roheen Ward and he grew up in a shitty part of Minneapolis. His moms couldn't afford to come to Nationals and State Farm heard about it and flew her there to see him skate. (hey, a few grand for some psudo-humanitarian "help the kid from the ghetto and make us look good" publicity is a pretty good deal.) He fell a few times and wasn't in great form but the kid really had heart.

Afterwards, when they spoke to him, the cheesy broadcaster said he probably could use a hug from his mother and brought her out. They had this amazing embrace and he cried in her arms. The energy was palpable and I couldn't help but yearn for a son of my own.

Then his mother spoke and rambled on about all praise being due to God and then he spoke and sounded like Prince and the Ken doll broadcaster mugged and asked forced questions and the moment was over.

Man, I hate it when they fall.

And yet I find it funnier than shit when average people fall in regular situations...

Iron Man

Originally uploaded by AB Carney.
My good friends Michael and Melaina are currently in training for the 2006 Iron Man. I'm really proud and honestly, rather frightened of them.

I seem to recall a time when I had at least a few ounces of motivation, drive for accomplshment and competitve spirit. But even on my best day I don't think I could do an Iron Man.

I am however going to start swimming again and continue building up my running... so you know what's left.

I need to start biking. And I'm not talking about the 10 or 20 miles I do every other day on the Recumbant Wuss Bike. I'm talking strapped in, switchin gears, tackling big ass hills, kind of bike riding. However, I'm the kind of girl that needs a little inspiration.

... and I think I've found it.

I mean, how could you not make it up a hill chasing after a bona fide sex god like Mr. April?

I'm sweaty just thinkin about it.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Sixty eight over Forty eight

As I mentioned, I had an appointment to donate platelets on Wednesday morning. I got there around 7:45 which isn't bad considering. I was movin really slow and felt like I was fighting my way through some sort of viscous substance.

When I got to the NY Blood Center they began the usual routine of poking and prodding as well as checking my vitals. While taking my blood pressure, the nurse looked puzzled and pumped more air into the pressure cuff. She made another face and called another phlebotomist in to double check her findings. They both got the same result. My blood pressure was 68/48.

"I'm sorry but you can't donate today. Your pressure is much too low."

Being that I had rearranged my schedule for the NY Blood Center and had nowhere I had to be,I was insistent.

"I'll go sit at one of the tables and have some juice - I haven't eaten. Maybe you can try again in 10 minutes."

She relented and I slugged back some juice and a bag of Cheez-Its while paging through the December issue of Harper's Bazaar (which I've never read,if you can call it reading material). Kate Winslet was on the cover and I became preoccupied with the ways in which I'd like my life to intersect with Clementine's in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

I had just begun contemplation of a new hair color - Blue Ruin, which I thought would capture my inner life perfectly, when the nurse brought me back to reality.

This time around my pressure was a 60 over 90 so they stuck me with their needle and I felt relieved, having done something today for someone else.

I'm one of the weirdos that likes to watch the blood move from my body through the tube into the machine and then back. The staff always looks at me strangely when I tell them they don't have to cover the needle. However the color of the platelets reminded me of throwing up in college after an evening of binge drinking.

The point of this post - none really.

But let me take this opportunity to encourage you three to donate whole blood or more importantly, platelets. When you donate platelets you can also be typed and added to the National Bone Marrow Registry.

Can you imagine that one small act - one small chunk of your time can save the life of another person. It's really simple and so worthwhile.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Where in The World?

Originally uploaded by AB Carney.

From there to here, From here to there...

Like many others I know, I have become obsessed with my site meter.

It has nothing to do with numbers. For me, it's location. I find it fascinating that there might be someone in Jabuti who finds my narcissistic ramblings amusing.

There are obvious patterns. My friends Rob and Nicole in Buffalo, Amy Sue in Minneapolis, Miranda in Connecticut and I think my one or more of my cousins in New Jersey is reading. But it's the idea that some word I used (and google) brought someone else to this record of triumph and boredom... and that something I might say may resonate with that person. or make them laugh. or tear up. or get pissed off.

I love to look at the maps and see the concentration of dots along the East coast with a hand full of specks on the left. As of now, my small smattering of international readers are from Canada, Mexico, Singapore, Malaysia, Venezuela and the UK. Isn't it funny how I refer to them as readers? That would imply that I have been leaving missives worth reading.

At least, I give you photos of sloths and platform shit!

I'm off to dream of my Venezuelan paramor who became entranced with my irreverent wit and saucy disposition while reading this blog. The poor creature works daily digging irrigation ditches to raise the money to embrace his true love in Nueva York.

All right. Early morning.

I need an alarm clock that wakes me with a message that guilts me out of blowing off the NY Blood Center. I'll try to picture little kids with Leukemia and bad haircuts when my alarm goes off at 5:45.


Mean Reds

Will Dawson
Originally uploaded by AB Carney.
" know those days when you get the mean reds?"

"The mean reds? You mean like the blues?"

"No... the blues are because you're getting fat or because it's been raining too long. You're just sad, that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?"


Sunday, January 08, 2006

Get Right with the Reverend

Rev Billy Rocks Times Square
Originally uploaded by AB Carney.
When my Mom was pregnant with me, her father died of a malignant brain tumor (We're pretty sure it was caused by a leaky gas mask at Allied Chemical where he was a chemist testing mustard gas.) At the same time her mother was institutionalized for senile dementia at the age of 47. It wasn't diagnosed as Alzheimer's until the autopsy.

It is because of this that I was Momma's littlest baby (at 6.5oz)and that Tommy became a blurrily titled family member.

Technically, Tommy is my uncle but he's always felt like an older brother to me. He always defended us and never turned me in when he busted my cousin Shannon and I smoking cigarettes at the age of 13, walking down Hertel Avenue.

When Brian Hogle ran over my sister's legs as she sat on the curb drawing with a stick in the dirt, he hung him by his collar from the lamp post across from the street. "You dangle there for awhile and think about what you did"* he told Brian, walking away.

I also remember my sisters and I leaving a note announcing we'd "run away because Uncle Tom was mean". The missive informed my mother if she wanted to talk with us, we were all hiding out behind Jennifer's bed.

That introduction now in place, I get to the point of the story.

Uncle Tommy or just plain Tommy, depending on my mood and level of sentimentality, is an avid reader, obsessive watcher of C-Span and a West Coast Progressive activist.

We have hour long chats usually once a month wherein I'm informed of depressing current event topics I've missed. (I go through periods of activism followed by apathetic depression due to a feeling of overwhelming powerlessness.)

Throughout the conversation I make notes of articles I should read, books he recommends and random websites or cd's to look out for. I tell him about my illustrious comedic career and this Christmas, my disturbing inability to muster up anything that could remotely pass for "holiday spirit".

It was my intention not to buy any presents this year except for my nieces and nephews - both real and extended. However, I always spend Christmas at my brother's house and he and Nicole were not about to let me have a presentless Christmas. And of course, I couldn't leave Kelson out of the loop, as I enjoy our annual Christmas celebration more than most of the seasonal hoo hah.

The list kept going and soon my AMEX balance was $2200. So much for not spending too much and excercising some degree of self control.

I usually make gifts each year and the time spent making them is usually the part that makes me feel "Christmasy". So it could be that my lack of creativity this year submerged my holiday feelings even further. It could be that I was anxious as hell about the debt I'd racked up in two months time. It may even be that I spent most of the holiday season thinking that this could be my last Christmas with my mother. Whatever it was, I just couldn't wait for the whole thing to be over.

One of the points of interest in my last conversation with Tommy was about the Reverend Billy and the Church of Stop Shopping.

Perhaps my lack of seasonal creativity coupled with the ever changing environment of my hometown (now dotted with Kmart, Walmart, Target and Walgreen's)was part of what depressed me this year. I also found myself only putting forth one third of my usual gift giving creativity as I resorted to thoughtless generic sweaters and fuzzy outerwear.

The Reverend Billy has me thinking about my failed attempts to embrace Buddhism and my inability to stop feeling like if I only had this or that... I could do... or I would feel ...
None of these objects - no matter how coveted, expensive or seemingly necessary is going to give me the answers to my questions or fill me up in the way I need most.

I'd like to dedicate this year to the spirit of Reverend Billy and his mission to help us reclaim the things that are most important. Self sustained communities with individual character, fair wages for workers and a return to gift giving with meaning.

Wow, convoluted Sunday morning rambling...

* paraphrased due to lack of memory.

Friday, January 06, 2006

Cough syrup laden etymologies

Still feeling pretty gross and happily at home in my pj's. I got footie pajamas for Christmas from Nicole. I mentioned some time last winter how nice it would be to have some soft comfy footie pajamas and she remembered. They're camouflage fleece - she didn't want to get me a girlie pink one :) I actually look like an endearing, big, retarded kid.

I know using the word retard isn't very politically correct but I can't help myself. It's a frequent occurrence in my repertoire of random babble. Some of the other jewels include...

terrible(pronounced turrible)

Those links took away all my effort and my Robitussin buzz is kickin in. Happy Friday to the faithful three...

Thursday, January 05, 2006

I'm Intuitive... or is that Inuit?

Artwork by David Camp
Originally uploaded by AB Carney.
After reading my last post, my dear friend Roberto sent me a link to this test. These are my results, oh blessed three readers. I'm pretty sure y'all already knew the stuff below about me anyhow...

Idealists, as a temperament, are passionately concerned with personal growth and development. Idealists strive to discover who they are and how they can become their best possible self -- always this quest for self-knowledge and self-improvement drives their imagination. And they want to help others make the journey. Idealists are naturally drawn to working with people, and whether in education or counseling, in social services or personnel work, in journalism or the ministry, they are gifted at helping others find their way in life, often inspiring them to grow as individuals and to fulfill their potentials.

Idealists are sure that friendly cooperation is the best way for people to achieve their goals. Conflict and confrontation upset them because they seem to put up angry barriers between people. Idealists dream of creating harmonious, even caring personal relations, and they have a unique talent for helping people get along with each other and work together for the good of all. Such interpersonal harmony might be a romantic ideal, but then Idealists are incurable romantics who prefer to focus on what might be, rather than what is. The real, practical world is only a starting place for Idealists; they believe that life is filled with possibilities waiting to be realized, rich with meanings calling out to be understood. This idea of a mystical or spiritual dimension to life, the "not visible" or the "not yet" that can only be known through intuition or by a leap of faith, is far more important to Idealists than the world of material things.

Highly ethical in their actions, Idealists hold themselves to a strict standard of personal integrity. They must be true to themselves and to others, and they can be quite hard on themselves when they are dishonest, or when they are false or insincere. More often, however, Idealists are the very soul of kindness. Particularly in their personal relationships, Idealists are without question filled with love and good will. They believe in giving of themselves to help others; they cherish a few warm, sensitive friendships; they strive for a special rapport with their children; and in marriage they wish to find a "soulmate," someone with whom they can bond emotionally and spiritually, sharing their deepest feelings and their complex inner worlds.

Idealists are rare, making up between 20 and 25 percent of the population. But their ability to inspire people with their enthusiasm and their idealism has given them influence far beyond their numbers.

Wednesday, January 04, 2006


MCC Still Standing
Originally uploaded by AB Carney.

MC² presents Still Standing at Mo Pitkin's
Wednesday, January 4 @ 9:30 PM
34 Ave A b/t E. 2nd & 3rd Sts

This fun and unique stand up show features a different topic each month. Join us for hilarity in January as six of New York City's funniest comics discuss: "Skin Deep – America's Obsession with the Visual" – from sexuality to superficiality, body image to bunions. Featured comics include: Elon James, Laura Mannino, Carolyn Castiglia, Shawn Hollenbach, Emily Epstein and Sven Wechsler. Hosted by AB Carney.

Monday, January 02, 2006

A little to the right...

I couldn't resist when I came across this right brain/left brain quiz.
Your Brain Usage Profile:

Auditory : 62%
Visual : 37%
Left : 42%
Right : 57%

Amybeth, you show a slight right-hemisphere dominance with a moderate preference for auditory processing, an unusual and somewhat paradoxical combination of characteristics.

You are drawn to a random and sometimes nonchalant synthesis of material. You learn as it seems important to a specific situation, and might even develop a resentment of others who attempt to direct your learning down a specific channel.

Your right-hemispheric dominance provides a structure that is only loosely organized and one which processes entire swatches of reality, overlooking details. You are emotional in your reactions and perceptual more than logical in your approach, although you can impose structure and a language base when necessary.

Your auditory preference, on the other hand, implies that you process information sequentially and unidimensionally. This combination of right-brain and auditory modes creates conflict, as you want to process data more rapidly than your natural processes allow.

Your tendency to be creative and free-flowing is accompanied by sufficient ability to organize and be logical, allowing you a reasonable degree of success in a number of different endeavors. You take in information methodically and systematically which can then be synthesized rapidly. In this manner, you manage to function consistently well, although certainly less efficiently than you desire.

You prefer the abstract and are a theoretician at heart while retaining the ability to be practical. You find the symbolism in a great deal of what you encounter and are something of a "mystic."

With regards to your lifestyle, you have the mentality which would be good as a philosopher, writer, journalist, or instructor, or possibly as a systems designer or social worker. Perhaps most important is your ability to "listen to your inner voice" as a mode of skipping over unnecessary steps to achieve your goals.

Am I my brother's keeper?

Yes, I am.
Originally uploaded by AB Carney.
These are my results from The Motley Fool quiz

"What will it take to become a millionaire?"

If you invest $24,000 now and $300 monthly at 6.00%, you'll be a millionaire in 56 years at age 89.

To be a millionaire at age 65, you'll need to:

Increase the amount you invest now to $206,401 , or
Increase your monthly investment to $1,153 , or
Achieve a rate of return of 12.72%.

When adjusted for inflation, $1 million in 56 years would be equivalent to $195,333 today.

Does anyone have a spare $206,401 for me to invest?

Sunday, January 01, 2006

What New Year's Day is For...

sloths can be cute
Originally uploaded by AB Carney.
Today was a lazy, Triscuit eatin, mostly indie film watchin day of sloth. I have been firmly planted on the couch in mostly two hour increments all afternoon.

In between, I've puttered on the computer doing a last bit of promotion for this week's show.

I've always felt that New Year's Day should be celebrated with sloth like behavior. However, I recently learned that sloths are not really lazy, just slow moving.

They also eat, sleep, mate and give birth - all upside down! I think that's pretty effin' impressive.

Anyhow, I'm looking for suggestions for new truly lazy animals to emulate next year.

Just for the day though - there's bad satire to be written and immigrant hearts to break...