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thought i was a donut, ya tried to glaze me


oh, wait.

It's been a very long time since I've updated-- but hey, it's a holiday week.

Christmas Eve was good-- party at the Galvins (well, Michael & Maureen's house across the street) which had plenty of people abusing my families intense love of Stella, played shuffle board and sucked, hardcore. Later on more people came and we played flip cup, and there was a fight, I think, or, an almost fight. There was also a garbage can filled with sawdust that got thrown on somebody but the saw dust never seemed to get smaller. Weird. Went to the circle, stayed until they turned the lights on which, ouch, isn't good for church the next day.

Christmas is pretty boring when you're old and no longer believe in Santa; I knew almost everything I was getting, and while I was still really appreciative there's a big part of Christmas missing when you know Santa isn't flying over your house in a giant sleigh. When I Was younger I believed in Santa so much it hurt-- I insited I saw him once, flying in a shadow over the moon, even though it was definetely something I had just seen on TV. When I came to the conclusion that Santa wasnt' real it was scary and hard for me--I was a very emotional 15 year old. Ha, ha. I'm just playing-- I was 13.

So yea. Got some nice stuff. The rest of hte week is pretty much a blur, since I got a slight cold on Christmas and have been dealign with it since.

Monday-- drove Aunt Maria home and drove by Rockefeller Center, which, while still really beautiful and Christmasy, is still also just a giant tree. With giant lights on it. There's no point in parking and walking by it, unless there's enough time to mock the bad ice skaters below. But yo--I'll always love those giant gold angels.

Tuesday-- I don't remember what I did. Mall maybe? Yikes.

Wednesday-- it was supposed to be the LAST WACKY WEDNESDAY OF 2005!, but check it. Mary Cait had her amazing Roaring 20's party at her house, happy belated birthday, and we all dressed (Well, not all) in semi-flapper outfits and ate lots of appetizers and taco pie. And cake. Jesus, that was delicious cake. And JESS CAME!! YAY.

So yea. We were all really, really excited for the winter edition of Wacky Wednesday-- I brought out my $15 that I'd bring out in the summer, all in singles, and everyone went to the Circle but, surprise surprise, they wouldn't let Casey or Marybeth in. Apparently they were too old/wearing too much clothes/not right out of a cab from Marine Park, so, yea, of course,why woudl they let them in? I mean, they've already taken the Chem Regents, so apparently they aren't qualified for the Circle...sorry. I'm complaining about things I did when I was 16, too, but I like to point out that a) I wore clothes(I mean, out of decency I don't wear mini-skirts in the summer, so I wouldn't do it in the winter. And yea, I recognizethis isn't Cancun) and b) I didn't KNOCK INTO EVERYONE. These girls KNOCK INTO EVERYONE. And THEN THEY GRILL YOU. And I get so angry I want to yell "BROOKLYN IS THAT WAY" and point to the Bridge. And I want to tell them YOUR TUBE TOP DOESN'T CARRY OVER INTO THE WINTER and STOP WEARING UGGS THEY ARE HIDEOUS but I have some self-restraint.

Uh, where was I? Oh, yea. Casey and MArybeth did get in, but only after there was some threatening from Marybeth and Kenny Green getting involved. IT was an alright time, I guess; I was really pissed about the lack of a true WAcky Wednesday so therefore, it was just a Wack Wednesday, and I went home after getting a headache from red bull and vodkas.

Thursday-- Here we go.
Indaculture was playing Thursday night at Tin Lizzies, and, in possibly the greatest idea ever, Bobby arranged for a bus to pick people up at Jamos, take us to the bar, and then drive us all back. IT was any rockaway kids dream-- a booze bus bracketed by boozing-- and there was a nice random mix of people. But hey, guess what? The bus allegedly "broke down", and since the bus company has no professionalism, they didn't send one in it's place. So what now? Everyone got their money back, and, since I had work at 9 the next day, I briefly considered staying home. Briefly.
I had it in my head that I was going, so Marybeth, Casey and I got a lift from Mrs. Galvin to the junction and traded an amazing booze bus for the 2 to nevins, the 4 to the brooklyn bridge, and the 6 to 86th street, drinking bud light cans from a plastic bag hidden in a scarf (me) and jacket sleeves (casey and marybeth) on the journey there.

Indaculture did a really awesome job. MAybe it was watchign them in a different place, or maybe it was the stage, but they played the best I had ever heard them. And Tin Lizzies was overrun with Rockaway people (who all traded the bus for some sort of train), and it was crazy and fun.

But oh, wait. I was in the bathroom, which is down a decently steep and long amount of stairs, when I heard some thuds, but didnt' think much of it. A few minutes later someone came in and was like, Kristen Brady just fell down the stairs, and I was like, wtf?!?!

When I got out of the bathroom I saw KBrady and KMag standing with the bouncers, but it turns out Kristen didn't FALL down the stairs, some BITCH PUSHED HER. W. T. F.
We found out who the girl was, and while she said it was an accident, there were witnesses! And she must have been bugging,throwing a girl down the stairs whose like, entire town was there and cousin happened to be bartending. Not smart.

It's funny how drama, and being sort of out of the usual element, will bring people together-- people who barely talk in Rockaway, not in a bad way, just in a way that they know who the person is but aren't necessarily friendly with them--it'sfunny how when there's the chance to fuck some bitch up, some bitch who almost fucked up one of our own, we all become boys.
Monica Savage came up to me and was like, yo, we need to fuck this bitch up; and I was there with Marybeth and Casey, for Christ's sake; who better than them to really, really frighten someone.

All it took was a long talking to by Marybeth to get the girl out; I believe the words "you're lucky you caught me on a good day" and "I would have dragged you out of here by your hair, you fucking trashy bitch" were used. And just like that, some girl from some far-off state was kicked out by the bouncers and in tears, because shit; we may sometimes grill each other when we're in connolly's but if you're about to fuck with anyone from this penninsula, in the far off upper east side of manhattan, we're all best friends.

We went to a diner after, and took a cab home, and we drove over the 59th street bridge and when casey and i saw the giant silvercup studios sign (my favorite part of taking the queens-way home) she muttered "sopranos" and I muttered "sex and the city" and I was in and out of sleep the entire ride-- waking up only to yell "GET ON THE VAN WYCK" and "EXIT 11S ON THE BELT" to the cab driver, who didn't seem to know where he was going. I do remeber that Casey was being very very inspirational and I remember just feeling better about life and the world after hearing her talk but...I can't for the life of me remember what she was saying. Oh, man.

Friday-- work at 9 am...boo. I actually got there at 9:20, but it was dead so it wasnt' a big deal. Went by really fast;came and finished The Way We Were (awesome movie) and took a nap, and then Beth and Eric came over and we watched some useless TV, and then Clare came over and we all watched The Way We Were again and we all agreed (yes, even Eric), that Robert Redford is very, very, very, very handsome. Oh, if only I could find a Hubbel for myself; but, you know, one that won't cheat on me with some butt slut named Carol Ann and won't make me move to Malibu and will stay with me forever. And come to think of it, I'm not that fond of the name Hubbel. So yea, maybe I don't want my very own Hubbel, just someone who looks like him.

Tomorrow is New Years Eve and I have NO PLANS. I'm working until 8, but since I think New Years Eve is overhyped and not as fun as other Eve holidays, I don't care if everyone leaves me for the city to pay $80 for a 2 hour open bar and a champagne toast. Shit, I'll toast myself at midnight with Regis Philbin and be in bed by 12:15, plenty of rest for the 119th New Years Dip in the ocean. Yes, I am finally going to do it this year, which means I have to find my bathing suits again, which are probably in the bottom of my drawer, relegated to the corner since August; I'll also have to shave my legs, which I haven't done in a couple of days.

Too much information? I figured.

Maybe I'll update before 2006 with my recap of 2005.
No, wait, I'll just give it now. 2005 was : ehhhhhhhh.

Here's hoping for a not-so-ehhh 2006.



(i apologize for that really bad joke. i needed a decently clever title, alright?)

Last night, The Forms played a show at a house party. It was amazing. There was food, for starters--like, 6 ft heroes and dip. And the house, which had just been renovated (and looked great, btw), had like no furniture on the 1st floor, making it absolutley awesome for the party.

The Forms kicked ass. Alex kinda looked like the Unabomber, which was scary, but they premiered a new song and I can't wait to hear even more of their new songs. There was plenty of dancing, and it was so hardcore awesome, being in an empty house with a really great band playing inches away from me. After their set was over the Kenny Brothers turned it into a cover-song extravaganza, letting me sing Walking in Mempis (bad idea) and then letting me play the drums on some songs (worse idea.) Although, for someone who's never had a real drum lesson and has never spent more than 10 minutes on a drum set, I thought I didn't do that bad.

I couldn't remember the last verse to Walking in Memphis...something....I know there was something about him being a Christian child, ma'am I am tonight, but I couldn't remember what led up to it. You know, it happens sometimes.

Indaculture came later and they played with the Kenny Brothers and it was like, this amazing jam session with people who have never played before. I can't really hear out of my left ear that well but it was worth it.

Thanks to Dave for throwing such a kickass party--it's giving me ideas for the summer. I want to throw a huge backyard party and have bands play.

Christmas Eve tonight---party at the Galvins, as well as some other party hopping.

My head still feels funny from last night, so I keep messing up my tenses and the wording on these sentences so I'm going to head out--

Merry Christmas !!!


stand clear of the closing doors please

pure comedy during chaos:

ANGRY PEDESTRIAN: Get back to work, you idiots!

TWU WORKER: I may be an idiot, but you're the one who's walking!

Mayor Bloomberg is mad gully--he never backed down and he stood up to Touissaint, even after he pulled out the race card (I read about it in the Times). First off, you were being thugs, and don't EVEN compare your strike to the actions of Rosa Parks. It's disrespectful to everything she went through and everything she did; and striking hurt every person in this city, no matter what their race.

So yea, good for you Mike. How could he be racist, anyways-- he used to date Diana Ross!!!

(I don't know why I write with this idea that the TWU people read it or something--like it's a personal letter to them. What gives.)


no, we don't usually have a tree on the roof of Marillac Hall.  Posted by Picasa


santa, can I borrow your sleigh???

Damn you, TWU.

Tonight, I was supposed to see Nightmare of You at the Bowery with CG...but there is no running bus or train. And I would drive in...but I'm not crazy or smoking crack. So yea--you guys ruined it.

Listen, Transit Workers, I am pro-union and I am trying to support you. But check this out-- you are taking the city hostage. And before Christmas, no less. I'm all about you sticking it to the man but it's the lives of your fellow New Yorker's--people who work hard like you-- that you are messing up. You are ruining people's work week, having those even less fortunate than you have no place to get to work. These hardworking people are loosing out on money, money that they need as much as you need to "retire" at 55 and get an 8% raise over 3 years. Shit-- that is ridiculous. And what about the homeless people who sleep in the stations and on the trains? You kicked them out of their travelling home, the only home they know. Way to go.

I understand it's hard--your jobs are hard, living in New York is hard, and it's hard just trying to make ends meet and raise a family on your salaries. But you're not in this alone. My mom is a teacher, and taught for 2 YEARS without a contract. The city screwed her and those like her over, too, and there were pickets and chants and threatening signs, but THEY NEVER HAD A STRIKE. I used to ask my mom why she didn't strike (I'm all about sticking it to the man) and she said it would only hurt her and her co-workers. She reminded me of those Taylor Law rules, the 2 docked pay days for every day she striked, and she made me do the math and reminded me that we have, you know, bills to pay. She did strike in the 70's, but back when she was single, before she had a mortgage, a husband, and three (yes, Stella is included) little darlings to feed, clothe, and make an effort to educate. I stopped calling my mom a wimp for not striking after that, and saw that sometimes, in a radical effort to stick it to someone else, you end up sticking it to yourself.

But even if teachers did strike, it wouldn't be as crippling as your strike is. The City doesn't value teachers or education anyway, so I doubt they'd mind. I think as long as Bloomberg doesn't have to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge, he wouldnt' even notice teachers striking.

(I'm joking, but it's half true.)

What I'm trying to say is--you guys are being a bunch of babies. I'll say it again; I'm pro-union, and my mom taught me years ago that they are good for workers, and warned me to never, ever, even if there is a million dollars waiting at the other side, cross a picket line. But you're not doing any good for the people of the city that respect and appreciate you; the regular people who strain to listen to your inaudible messages on the train, ignore the ever-present smells in the stations, and thank you when getting off your bus (at least, I do). You're hurting us-- so get back on your G-Damned trains and bus!


The Gauntlet

Are all the challenged going to involve them running things across a grassy field? These things are boring. Give me some high-wire challenges or something. And Cameron--"yes mother I have a vibrator"--you didn't deserve to be in Trini in the first place. Aneesa--yikes. Leave your sassy attittude at home, will you? I didn't even know who you were yelling at, and while I appreciate you calling Cammy a quitter, it was all too much. And the actual Gauntlet isn't scary enough-- it needs to be in a firey pit again.

Miss Seventeen

Whoa. Roseanne predicted Jessica would be in the final episode, but I never thought I'd see Cryfest Jen there. And could Atoosa get any more amazing at her job? Forget Martha, Puff Daddy, The Donald-- if anyone on TV knows just waht to do to make a reality show compelling, it's Atoosa. I mean, she brought back PsychoStalker Brianne, who left out of frustration after Jen and Jess answered her questions with such heart, honesty, and the right amount of venom, I wanted to give them both the cover. Bringing Brianne back was just an added twist, a cheap shot, even; but it brought in drama, which is the main ingredient in any reality show. On a vain note, I think Jess would have made a better cover model; but Jen did have a better speech. It seems the Immigrant daughter of un-educated parents had nothing over a girl whose parents were locked up for giving dirty heroine to a girl who eventually died from it. Congratulations! A role model needs some sort of shady past, and Jen certaintly has hers.


"I party like a rockstar, maaaannn..."

No, you don't.

You are not a rock star.

I read too many Facebook profiles that say things to the effect of "I party like a rock star!" There is plenty of stupid stuff in people's Facebooks, and since I'm sure there is plenty of stupid stuff in my Facebook profile,I'm not about to judge others...although I do judge the people who seriously write "reading's stupid" under the Favorite Books section, and I secretly judge those who list themselves as Very Conservative, and recently, those who say there's nothing good on TV under the Favorite TV Shows section. These things should always be judged.

But come on. I know you're not a rock star, and you don't party like one. You think Tommy Lee used to pregame before the bar? HELLS NO. Tommy Lee didn't need to pregame because he was never sober to begin with. And instead of spending $10 to drink all he could for 3 hours, he was spending thousands of dollars so he could sniff mad coke and drink all the top-shelf liquor he could for 24 hours. Then he'd bang some chicks and bang some drums and we all fucking loved it.

Another example--Billy Joel. Billy Joel would drink entire cases of beer for breakfast, pop some prescription pills for lunch, and write fabulous, heart-wrenching music after dinner...a dinner made primarily of gallons of Johnnie Walker Black. And later that night he'd tickle Christie Brinkley, tickle the ivories, and we obviously all fucking love it and sing "Captain Jack" alone in our cars and don't mind that he actually looks like more of a regular person than most of us.

That's a rock star.

I'm not a rock star, so I don't party like one. Rockstars are (usually) talented musicians and tormented artists who use the crutches of drugs, alcohol, and permiscuous sex to help heal the broken child in side. I'm serious--I saw it on VH1. Rock stars make hit records and sell out the Garden (shit, man, Billy Joel had to add an 8th show!) and perform on Conan and Leno and sleep in giant tour buses; I could say "but at the end of the day, they're just like you and me" but that would be a lie. Rock stars aren't like regular people--they are rock stars, therefore their partying is appropriate. Rock stars were, at one time, regular people, too; but then they did something magical to become rock stars. And if I knew what that was, I certaintly wouldn't put it in this blog...the three people who read this would steal it; so if I knew what that magical something was I'd keep it to myself.

I am just a regular person, so I try to party like...a regular person. I don't front like I'm a rock star because it is insulting to the rock stars, as well as dangerous to myself. Rock stars crash and burn and go to rehab or, worse, die. And I'm not about to suffer an untimely death by emulating the lifestyle of a rock star when I know there's not even a Behind the Music in store for me.

We all need to realize that until you can pick up a guitar and play some tantalizing power chords; until you can dance and kick on stage all the while singing your little heart out to a crowd of screaming devoted fans; and until you can create a masterpiece even half as good as "Miami 2017 (Seen The Lights Go Out On Broadway)"; you cannot spread lies about your partying ways in your Facebook profile.

I know facebook is all about showing people how fun you are (something that's been made even better/worse by facebook photos) so as an alternative to the rock star comparison, I think people should spit the truth, and write: "I party like most college students do, you know; too much. I enjoy my fair share of beer pong, Jager Bombs, Georgi Vodka, roll the occasional blunt, buy the occasional Vicodin from the kid down the hall. There's nothing really out of the ordinary for me; I'm fun, though, take my word for it....

...And if I had one wish it would be to party like a rock star."


man oh man

do you know what word makes me want to rip my hair out?


oh, God. I can't even type it.

yummy, yummies, yum...any way, it kills me. It's just...say something tastes good, is it that difficult? I think I even prefer the "mmm" sound to the Y word.

just a random rant because sad things were at the top of my page.

lately I've:

-said goodbye to classes...my 5th semester, over. very scary
-went to the b-ball game wed, pregamed with trish and erica in my car right on union, the height of sophistication. we smoked black & milds, too, so dont' worry about us not beign ghetto enough. we still got the hood in us, ya hear?
-afterwords went to traditions and played flip cup; tried last call at around 2 but were not allowed in. filled to capacity?
-thursday went to bridgid's to help with the sequouya...stayed over there in the world's most beautiful apartment in the guest room (yes, she's in college and she has a guest room) because my mom was afraid of the snow and I had to edit my film. there was so much snow friday! oh, wait.
-spent my whole day in the editing lab friday...came home, stopped by work, hung out at the maguire's. sleeeept
-saturday I bonded all day long with stella, and even walked her. yes, you read right. I walked stella on teh beach and it was great--but don't get any ideas. it was a very rare thing. later that night went out to nora's restaurant in marine park with marybeth and casey...it was good. chilled at marybeth's where we looked at pics from the old days and saw my mom wearing lots of really ugly sweaters. oh, the 80's. drove them to the blarney and was there for 5 minutes; went home and slept.
-sunday we took stella to petsmart in levittown to get a picture with santa...no, seriously. it was kind of wack but stella enjoyed the pet store. came home, at food, went to KP.

2 more finals...showed my final movie today, went well. everyone in my class had awesome movies--i'm proud of us.

manhattan college this thursday? say peace the fuck out to fall '05 semester by boozing it with cbear? perhaps. I hope so. I need to get into this whole "having fun mode"

need to go shopping very badly. I bought one christmas present so far....very bad.

CHRISTMAS PARTY THIS SATURDAY. Oh, snap. deli workers will be representing to the fullest. many surprises in store.

final in like 9 hours. peace.


Shane Michael Galvin was an innocent baby, put in the earth before he even had the chance to make his mark on it. All he had was a name and the whole world ahead of him; and there's not a day that has gone by since I first got that IM from Megan, where I haven't thought about his little head poking through his mom's stomach such a short time ago. How can it go down like that? How can he be robbed of all his chances? How can things change so fast? Didn't we just have his baby shower, were he got peek-a-boo Eeyore and a baby bouncer and a sink to take a bath in and that baby blue oxford shirt?

Why do some people get so many chances, and some people get none?

His mom Marybeth and I have known each other since we were both just babies in our mom's bellies; back when all we had was a name and the world ahead of us. Yesterday she had to sit and look at her son's little white coffin and there's not much I can say here without sounding really, really stupid, so I'll try and keep it brief.

It's hard to not be mad when you get to thinking about everything and it's hard to pray when you know the reason you're praying; and it's hard to think of what she's going through as I sit here at my computer. I don't know what she's feeling, both physically and emotionally, but I do know this--she is the most courageous person I know.

When I read the book The Lovely Bones, I remember what struck me most was the author's description of heaven as the place a person wanted to be more than anything; for the main character Suzie, it was high school, and she spent her time with people like her in Drivers Ed class and in the cafeteria and hanging out in this heaven-sized high school. And there's been a lot of talk about a better place, about heaven, for this little guy, so what is Shane's heaven like?

I'd like to think it's everything it can possibly be; it's the world only better, sunnier, not so cold in December. Maybe up there he's happy and smiling and safe and protected. Maybe he's learning the guitar like me and Casey used to talk about; playing sports and running around and growing up, all things he deserved to do.

And I'd like to think he's up there getting all the missed-chances he couldn't get down here; all the chances he should have gotten from the start.


an angel who never got to spread his wings...

"Now cracks a noble heart. Good-night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest..."

I wonder if my writing has even improved?