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thought i was a donut, ya tried to glaze me


what bitter fans do

which mascot would you rather have?

but this cheered me up immediately

Father forgive me.


the saddest thing i heard in a while, courtesy of mr. gary cohen:

"It's tradition that the Mets go out and greet their fans on the last game of the season, but they don't seem to be coming out. I don't think are not coming out. I think this team is just too devastated to face these fans, who are just waiting now for nothing. Waiting for something. Maybe waiting for 2008."


a shooter at St. John's? do you think it'll help us make the NCAA this year?

Not the shooter my alma mater was hoping for, I'm guessing.

I stole that joke from Alex Pereira--just wanted to give him some credit.

I've been thinking about a lot of different things since yesterday, when my good friend Slim IMed me with "yo! there's a gunman at school! whole place on lockdown!" I was at 'work', and spent the rest of the day texting people, seeing what was up, and watching NY1 reporters interview my illustrious peers. Madone!--I haven't seen so many gindaloons on my TV since HBO ended The Sopranos!

The biggest thing I can't get over, though, is the fact that the gunman took a livery cab to school. Yes, a cab. I could only imagine how the conversation went:

OMESH HIRAMAN (getting into car): Hey, I'm going to St. John's?


OMESH HIRAMAN: Can you let me off on Utopia? There's a specific gate I need to go through.

CABDRIVER: Which way do you think I should take?

OMESH HIRAMAN: Maybe you should take the Grand Central? I don't think it'll be busy this time of day

CABDRIVER: Gah, I hate the Parkway! I'll get you there faster taking the streets.... Hey wait, is that a gun wrapped in a plastic bag on your lap?


CABDRIVER: Grand Central it is.




quotes i have issues with

"Live each day as if it were your last!"

That's a terrible idea. On my last day I plan on eating from start until finish, taking a big nap, then maybe watching some TV. If I did this everyday I'd be morbidly obese.

let's go, mets go

Let's look back on the not-so-distant past for a moment, while I wallow in some self-inflicted misery.

It was May 2007. I was a soon-to-be college grad still interning at a big deal place; I was going to graduate with honors,; and I was tan, fresh off of a trip to Florida to visit Eric. I was on top of the world, sort of, although I don't think I knew that then (does anybody ever?).

The Mets, too, were on top of the world, or more precisely, the Division. Everything seemed to be working in our favor, for both the Kings of Queens and me.

But then things started to slip. Little by little we both came off our mountain, in a decline so gradual it was hard to notice. The Nationals kicked our ass today, in what mets.com called a "crushing blow." Back in May we wouldn't have thought about a loss like this; it wasn't in our future. Just like I wouldn't dare think that I'd blow opportunities that were given to me, and find myself a little lost and a little hopeless, doubting myself and my choices. You could say I'm overwhelmed, or confused. I like to talk about this in baseball terms, as I watch this parallel unfolding on SNY--CHOKE.


i can't believe people still even HAVE nextels

I took the A home from work today, and was reminded of why I love tunnel-trains so much.

On the E, or the 2, nobody tortures me with their stupid cell phone conversations.

On the B, and the A, the minute that train sees the sky, it's like a massive chorus of "BLOOP-whattup"

"BLOOP--what you doing?"

"BLOOP--yea, word, yo, we're about to get into Howard Bea--what? Whady'a mean you can't hear me?"

Coming home today a guy actually got angry at the obnoxious guy who had his entire conversation ON SPEAKER PHONE the minute we reached 80th-Hudson. This guy had an aspect of crazy-derelicte, but I had to nod my head in agreement when he stormed up out of his seat, ranting.


Oh bro, I was feeling you.

I get it if you need to make a quick call to let someone know when you'll be home, or where they should pick you up. But this whole, "what've you been up to, it's been so long, this is the perfect time to catch up" BS i have to suffer through not only on the A but the B and the Q and on the Q46 and Q35 and every frigin bus I've ever sat on needs to STOP. NOW. That homeless guy was right--nobody wants to hear it. Save it for when you're waiting on line at the DMV or something.

what did i spy on my tv last night?

During Bush's speech...look at the photos closely...is that...is that The Young One from The View?

interspecies love


faith & stuff

My parents always ask me why I don't go to church anymore--except, of course, for the requisite lapsed-Catholic visits on Christmas Eve and Easter. That's a simple enough question with quite a few different answers, some deep and others shallow ("i'd rather sleep in. even if it's 12 o'clock mass.")

But I was just scanning CNN.com and came across this video. Most Sisters and Nuns (I have enough religious education to know there is a difference) take an oath of poverty; most Priests and Brothers do not. And now a group of nuns in Los Angeles are being evicted from their home because of stuff Priests did and now have to pay for.

Well, mom and dad, add that to the list of reasons I'm an Ashes & Palms Catholic. And why I'll only show up when I know there's an "O Holy Night" solo waiting for me.



I don't usually agree with everything Kanye West says, and I recognize that he's a cocky bastard, but damn, he spoke the truth right here.

I tuned into the VMAs for Britney. I laughed at her when she walked on-stage looking like a 10 pound sausage stuffed into a 5 pound stripper outfit, but then I just laughed at myself for tuning in. I'd been had. Bitch looked like she had intended on playing us, looking at the camera like, "see what you all got excited about? see how I made you all get hyped? I'm as messed up as I was when I shaved my head." MTV didn't just exploit her, they exploited us. "Stronger" would have been perfect for opening the VMAs. It would have been even better if Daft Punk was there on stage, too.

this has the potential to offend everybody

A lot of people have taken the time to reflect on that day, the day, six years ago, and I'm no different. We've all told this story a thousand times, when we are asked the question, "where were you on 9/11?" Here's mine.

I was in Mrs. McCrory's first period American Greats English class. The day before, my soccer team had beaten Bishop Kearney, and I felt on top of everything. It was, as you all know, a beautiful day--sunny, warm, too nice to be inside. We were reading a handout about Native Americans. A poem maybe? An essay? I'm not sure; I just remember the sketch of a man dressed in Native American garb. Sometime after the Channel One broadcast Ms. Martinez, our principal, got on the loudspeaker. "I have some very sad news to report," she said, and when she was finished I thought, "A plane? Really? Maybe it was a Cesna, one of those Aaliyah planes. The big planes go over my house, not other people's [see: two months & a day later, AA Flight 587]. I'm sure it was nothing."

Then she got back on the loudspeaker, and the news got worse, and she asked that if anyone needed to come down to make a phone call they could. Soon after she got back on again to ask people to bring down their forbidden cell phones--too many people needed to make calls. There weren't enough phones in the office.

We didn't know what to do for the rest of the class, so Mrs. McCrory lead us in a prayer. The bell rang for second period and we found the giant windows facing the bay at the end of the hallway guarded by teachers. Sr. Buckbee stood, arms crossed, by the window I was closest too, and shooed us all away. She was trying to shield us from the image we'd see for the rest of our lives, that thick black smoke ascending into heaven, where buildings had stood just an hour before.

I had keyboarding class next, with Mrs. Petrarca. At that point we were all scared and shaky and unsure of what was happening, and repeated the rumors and all the misinformation we were getting from people on the outside.

"The terrorists hijacked ten planes and they want to land them on the beach."

"Ten thousand people dead."

"I heard the White House got attacked."

"I'm moving out of this country as soon as I can!"

At that point in the year I sat next to Karen Michaels. This was my original seat, before it got changed 100 times for talking too much. Karen was alright to sit next to--she was a senior, older, and usually made good conversation while we typed up business letters and memos and proposals for our fictional business-world bosses(I went to an all-girls school--we were all trained to be secretaries). Today, though, was different. What kind of conversation do you make on a day like today?

After everybody announced their rumors and their fears, we mostly just got quiet, the sound of keys tapping away. Nobody knew what to say. But Karen did. On Tuesday, September 11th, 2001, at 10:35 in the morning, Karen Michaels looked around the square computer classroom, at all the scared, multi-ethnic faces, and said in a low, deep voice:

"It's a bad day to be Deepa Sharma."

And God-damn't, in spite of myself, I laughed. So thank you, Karen, wherever you are now. On that day you alleviated all my confusion and hurt with just the right amount of racism. Deepa's just Guyanese, but on that day, it didn't matter. It still sucked to be her. And every time somebody asks me where I was, on that day, I think of that.


nobody said it was easy

I received an email today demanding more of my "amusing" blog--not hilarious or hysterical, just "amusing." Hmmph. I'll let that one slide.

I just haven't had a lot to write about, I guess, which is a poor excuse. I've been allowing the summer to close out on it's own, trying to enjoy those last few beach days. I've also been trying to figure out the rest of my life, and with that and all this sleeping I've been doing, I haven't had much time to type up these asinine posts. I don't know why I thought things would be different for me--ah, the post-graduation blues--but it's all hitting me now like it should have back in May. Most days I'm so happy with my life and everything in it, and recognize how lucky and blessed I am. And then there are days where I want to cry alone in the corner and pack up a bag and go very far away. Or, at the very least, wonder and wonder all day why I didn't study something like business or nursing in college.

So now that that's out of my system, I leave you with these. They remind me that with the summer ending & the days getting colder comes a new season of more-than-amusing TV shows I can spend the next months enjoying.

I wonder if my writing has even improved?