New Year's Eve and the New Year.

New Year's Eve is to me one of the most overrated holidays. When I was younger it was cool. My family and I would eat Chinese food (pretty much the only time all year) and then either go to a movie or rent one. I definitely remember watching Apollo 13 on a December 31st back in the day. In college, there were a few not terrible parties that I attended as well as going to TC's Lounge, my favorite bar, a dive in Boston. There were no people there at 7pm on NYE, just the way I like it. In general, I feel like New Year's has some kind of ridiculous pressure associated with it, and is often accompanied by terrible, drunken idiots and the spending of way too much money. I worked three out of my four New Year's in New York.

My first New Year's in New York coincided with me going back and forth if I should even live there. My job was a joke and my sublet was over, the next day. I'd be homeless on the first day of the new year. My few months in the city thus far had proven to have quite a few stressful and wtf moments. I was literally going to throw the bag in until I worked a GNR cover band show and had a most amazing time. Something about hearing "Patience" on the dawn of a new year really jazzed up my spirits and I felt alive again, decided to give the Rotten Apple another chance. The next day, after no sleep, I packed all of my stuff and moved myself to Queens where I would crash at my friend's apartment for a little while until I was able to find my own. Fun, not so much, but I am glad I had stayed.

The next year, I worked at the same venue, did the same thing, rockin' the coat check, but did not have nearly as much fun. The band Crystle Castles was playing two shows that night and their crowds were out of control. Everyone was TERRIBLE. People were rushing the coat check and actin' a fool. I had to get behind the curtain and body check people while simultaneously yelling "back the fuck off me!" Ah, at least I started the year off on an assertive level. The crowd was so cray cray that a lady punched my manager in the face breaking his glasses. I vowed to not work the next New Year's.

I was happy that my best friend was in town as the ball dropped down in 2010. We ended up going to a super lame party however, with her then boyfriend. Bird and I rolled our eyes a lot but at least made the most of the lameness and did find the time to get low. Not super exciting, but no body checking.

Last year I worked again, this time reppin' the beer cart aka dumb cart. Butthole Surfers played and while the crowd was not as cool as Mr. Brownstone's, they were ten million times better than Crystal Castles'. One guy came up to me and said that he was glad that his wife had a C Section and was in the hospital with his newborn son still. He said that if his son had been born naturally, they would have been out of the hospital and he wouldn't have gotten to go to the show. Ah, good for you! What?! Anyway, I got through the night unscathed and refused to go out afterwards. I wanted it over with. The year that followed ended up being the worst year ever. I am glad that is going to be over in just a few hours.

I am feeling thankful this New Year's. Stoked that 2011 is coming to a close, and thankful that I survived. I distinctly remember working New Years night (not eve) last year and my co-workers and I felt blah already. Not a good omen. This year coming, I KNOW will be way better than this year present. It can only go up from here folks! And it's starting off pretty well too. I am having a very lowkey night. My cousin is coming over and we are going to have a Trapped in the Closet marathon and just straight up kick it. If that doesn't lead to a great 2012, I don't know what will.

Mos Def!

I'm a huge fan of music and used to frequent the live (not dead, ha/ugh) scene but have only gotten to see two shows since my sabbatical has begun. The first show I went to went down at 2pm in my Gma's assisted living home. Some middle aged folkish singer who had to keep turning down his amp so he wouldn't kill those present with hearing aids. Wild stuff.

The second show I went to was Mos Def in Providence which was held on his birthday. My friends and I were honored that he would spend his day of birth with us common folk.  Dude did not disappoint. He rhymed! He sang! He swiveled his hips in a most enjoyable way! Plus, he carried around a most badass old school mic. Mos Def is pretty adorable. All the ladies wanted to give him hugs. It was a grand ol' time! What! What!

The only downfall was that my hands were turning colors and were freezing from my drink (damn Raynaud's disease!). Thankfully, I had a glove and could pull an MJ:

Christmas, Merry! Jolly!

I know you're all dying to hear of how my Christmas went so here it goes:

The annual Christmas Eve party was held at our house this year. Back in the day, it was held at my Gma and Gpa's but then they moved to into assisted living. It was then held at my Aunt Emily and Uncle Lenny's but somehow my mom swooped in and took over this year. I did have a dream that my Aunt Kathy had a baby just so she could get the party at her house, citing that it would make it easier, her real motive being that she  just didn't want to drive for once . Thankfully, that was just a dream. ANYWAY. The food was delightful consisting of linguica, meatballs, lasagna, chili, scrod, as well as random sides and a sweet array of desserts. My brother of course made fun of me for being a "hipster" for a good half an hour. Always fun, not. Ha.

Conversation Example:

Steve: You're such a hipster.

Me: Eyeroll. Ugh.

Steve: That is like the baggiest pair of pants that you own.

Me: Grandma bought me these pants. I don't even like pants.

Steve: Oooh you don't even like pants. So ironic. 

Me: UGH.

Steve: You have bangs.

Me: Your wife cut my hair.

Steve: Come on, come on. You lived in Brooklyn and worked at a music venue.

Me: I'm not even in a band. The only instrument I know how to play is the flute.

Steve: The flute is a very ironic instrument.

Me: UGH. I can't even ride a bike. I'm not a hipster.

Steve: You're a hipster. I admit, the bike thing gets me a little, but you're still a hipster. You lived in Brooklyn and moved home to get in touch with your roots. Ah, I'm going to move back to Dighton to start a marshmallow farm. I'm a hipster.

Me: UGH.

This lasted way too long.

Sometime before this, my Aunt Kathy went on a rant about how she wants a tattoo. This also lasted very long. My mom had bought fake tattoos for my brother's wedding so her and I put them on to mess with people. It kind of grossed me out. Call me weird, but I hate stickers, face painting, pen drawings on the body. Makes my stomach queasy.

My favorite part of the night was the announcement of Uncle Bob's gift for his family which includes two teenagers. Evidently he was in Tennessee on business and went to a party where there was a hookah. He thought it was the coolest thing in the world so bought one for his family to share. Ah, what?! Haha. This made me chuckle.

Yeah.

Christmas Day was quite nice but rather tiring for we had to rise and shine early to wish my bro, his wifey and their darling daughter adieu before they ventured off. Gifts were opened and hugs were given. My Aunt Bernie came over and we had a most delish meal. We then sat and watched Lifetime movies and basketball.
It was pretty great. As usual, I felt super sad as the sun went down, knowing that Christmas Day was nearing a close. Aloud, I repeated over and over "Christmas is not over. It's not. Gotta keep the spirit up." to which my parents would nod their heads and say something reaffirming. They are very aware of how sad I get when it ends, hence why we always keep the decorations up well into February, if not later. I had to work the day after Christmas which proved to be hell on earth. No one was in the mood, let me tell you. I praised a customer who was still rocking Christmas attire and she said it is still the season! Twelve days of Christmas! I was very appreciative that she felt that way.

Sesame Street encourages it and so do I: Keep Christmas with you all through the year!

Mannequin in the Back Seat.

Multiple people referred to me as a "real elf" yesterday and one person asked me if I'm still in high school (I'm 27).. More people asked me how I'm always in a good mood to which I speedily replied that I've actually been having a bad year and have been feeling subpar, but ya know, ya gotta do what you gotta do, and that I feel very positive about the next year. They seem shocked; how can I be a singing, dancing real elf and yet have been so down. Well, it's a true story people. And I'm proud to say that I have not cried in public in quite some time. In fact, I am actually literally feeling very fine as of late. Things are looking up! In other news, I kept thinking a mannequin in the store was an actual person and repeatedly would freak out Seriously, I'd look over and do a semi-scream "AAH!"  I told a customer this and she replied, "If you think that one's bad, you should see the mannequin in the back seat of my car." Dead serious.

Also, been contemplating Christmas songs. I don't like how in "Rudolph" the singer always asks "but do you recall the most famous reindeer of all?" If he is the most famous reindeer, recalling him should be pretty easy, duh. And "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" is straight up terrible. If you believe in Santa, that means your mom is cheating on your dad with him. TRAUMATIZING. Alternatively, if you think it's your dad in the suit that means there is no Santa and that is also very sad and traumatizing. And who really wants to see their mom make out with anyone?!




Aaand for your viewing pleasure may I please suggest "The Year Without A Santa Claus" and "Sesame Street Christmas". "The Year Without A Santa Claus" is pretty much 51 minutes of pure crack. The Heat Miser and the Snow Miser are simply amazing. And Cookie Monster steals the show in "Sesame Street". He keeps trying to contact Santa but will eat the phone and the type writer, etc, thinking they are cookies. Hilarious!!!!

Trapped in the Closet Fund!

OH MY GOD. I'm not an avid OMGer but this totally warrants it: R. Kelly has written 32 new chapters to "Trapped in the Closet". CAN YOU STAND IT?! I CANNOT! I CANNOT, I TELL YOU! SIMPLY CANNOT!!! This hands down is the most excited I've felt for life in a long time. Oh, and I definitely bought Chapters 1-22  for a dear friend's Christmas gift.

Here's the juice from TMZ:

http://www.tmz.com/2011/12/21/r-kelly-trapped-in-the-closet-32-new-chapters/http://www.tmz.com/2011/12/21/r-kelly-trapped-in-the-closet-32-new-chapters/

R. Kelly needs funding -- AND QUICK -- because the singer tells TMZ he's ready to film THIRTY TWO new chapters of his legendary hip-hopera "Trapped in the Closet" ... but he needs financial backing first. 

When we last saw "Trapped" ... the year was 2007 and Kelly had released 22 chapters, involving a little person who crapped his pants ... a neighbor with the spatula ... and a pimp with the stuttering problem. 

Now, Kelly -- who was leaving an L.A. gym yesterday -- tells us he wants to continue the saga -- "but it costs a lot of money to do ... so we're actually looking for investors."

_________________________________________________________________________________

We need to all pull together and start an R. Kelly fund IMMEDIATELY. He may be a total sleaze, but he is also a total genius.

Exhibit A:

=Love.

I'm Not Your Honey.

A few entries back I touched  upon the fact that I am not aging at all. In fact, I basically look the same as I did when I was six but taller...and I am not tall. It's that everyone I encounter thinks that I am 17 (I'm 27) and then think it's okay to refer to me as "honey". You're three years older than me, you CANNOT call me honey. "You're so cute, honey, with your little Christmas socks and cute little boots, honey. You're like a little elf, honey." YOU ARE THREE YEARS OLDER THAN ME. GET IT TOGETHER!  I AM like a little elf but I am not a little elf, honey. "Are you on break from college?" NO! I graduated from college almost five years ago! "Are you old enough to ride the train alone?! You have your license, already?!" Really, people?! I'm not too upset about looking so youthful however. I know that I will be super young looking when I'm in my 90s and I'll make it work for me. I'll date the younger guys in the retirement home. When I'm in my 90s is pretty much the only time I'd consider a younger fellow. Plus, it's okay if I bloom late. I can still be a flower girl in a wedding (way less work than a bridesmaid). I can still be a child tv star. I have a lot of options really. But please, do not call me honey. I'm not your honey, honey.

Zooey Deschanel.

More and more people are telling me that I remind them of Zooey Deschanel. They say: "You're always singing like Zooey Deschanel." "You're awkward like Zooey Deschanel." "You're funny like Zooey Deschanel." "You kind of look like Zooey Deschanel." Here's the scary thing-as much as I'm aware that Zooey Deschanel is the IT girl, she annoys the hell out of me. Granted, she can sing and was in "Elf" and she wears cute skirts, this I will give her. But to me, she tries too hard, isn't naturally funny and makes her eyes way too large for no apparent reason. Honestly, I almost wish some of the stuff that came out of my mouth so naturally would stop somewhere before rolling out. Today I told a guy that the inside of his sweatshirt looks like a sheep that he could name Ralph. Um, who says that?! Anyway. Back to Zooey...Her zaniness often comes across to me as a chick who doesn't have much of a clue. I'll tell you what, I've got a clue. .Sometimes I even think she could use a slap in the face. Not a whack mind you, just a civilized slap. Well, though I remind people of Zooey, and I actually have a clue, I'm not the blowing up the national scene like she is. I will BLOW YOUR MIND, this much is true. But it seems awfully unfair that this girl, who is a more annoying version of me, seems to be getting all of the limelight. I wonder if I have to become more annoying in order to be successful? This would be annoying, becoming more annoying. Oh well. Well, in conclusion: I am not Zooey Deschanel. I give her props on her limelight action and I feel positive that my time will come. Or not. Or yes. The end. Bad blog.