gotta have my pop!

witchy woman.

So there's this girl who lives in my building -- she's about my age, and (I would say) about as attractive as I am, same style, etc. etc. I don't know what floor she lives on or what her name is. In fact, I don't think we've ever spoken.

But I hate her. And she hates me.

I have no idea why this is the case. But whenever I run into her in the laundry room or some such place, we give each other the stink-eye and get all huffy. I wish I didn't do it, but it's a total knee-jerk reaction to seeing her. And I'm sure she feels the same way. I was telling this story to my neighbor the other day, and she insisted that there must have been some sort of altercation between us that I'm forgetting. But how could I forget? I'm hoping that she was a bitch to me right off the hop and I simply responded in kind, because I'm not the type of gal who hates other women. Although I do seem to enjoy hating this particular one. She sucks.

Maybe hate is a chemical reaction in the same way that love is. Seems logical, doesn't it?

Read in the paper today that Paris Hilton got a new dog. What kind of a world are we living in when that makes the paper? Not that I didn't read the article, mind you.

desperate guys.

So, yesterday, our email server went down for like, eight hours. And, man, you should have seen the widespread panic in my office. I think our poor IT guy was terrified that someone was going to pull a weapon on him. It's amazing how dependent we all are on technology -- to the point where its absence makes us forget our common sense. At one point yesterday, one of our art directors called his illustrator, freaking out because he wanted to get her a bunch of specs, but he wasn't able to email them. She replied: "Why don't you just give them to me over the phone?"

Oh. Right.

I don't know what people did at work before we had the Internet. How could I possibly get through the day without being able to piss away half of it reading celebrity gossip on E!Online? I'd have to sneak in magazines or something. My Adult ADD (self-diagnosed) refuses to allow me to be productive for an entire day.

Had a sad moment in the shower this morning, as I looked down at the hair pants that have grown on my legs and realized that I had absolutely no reason to shave them off. *sigh*

in my place.

I have come to the conclusion that my life is boring. The light came on after I realized that the highlight of my weekend was getting the curry stain out of my white hoodie. My God. I could have gone out this weekend -- both nights -- but my crazy week caught up with me and all I wanted to do was sleep. I need to suck it up and force myself to go out more. Otherwise I'll have to get used to waking up next to the cat, I guess.

You must read this story about a judge in Oklahoma charged with using a penis pump while on the stand. I am speechless.

she's so cold.

Visited a blog today whose title I couldn't resist: Faggoty-Ass Faggot. Wasn't sure what to expect from the name, but I was relieved to see that it's written by a gay man who's clearly into reclaiming. Dear Lord, is it funny. Bitchy, caustic, and insightful. Plus, he loves Alias. Read it, please.

On my way into the office for the umpteenth Sunday in a row. I think I'll take a taxi to avoid having to be outside for more than two seconds. I've had about enough of this weather. Getting up for work in the morning is hard enough without having to worry about your snot freezing on the way to the subway. And then there's the daily dilemma: frostbitten ears or all-day hathead? Can't stand it. Plus, I can't wear my cute little trainers when there's so much snow on the ground. Boo to that.

I'm expecting to see most of the creative department in today. January's been a crazy month for everyone. This is the time when most of the spring campaigns get developed, and we're running really short on staff, as per usual. Not to mention the fact that some stuff approved before Christmas had to be re-worked, thanks to some ill-timed creative on our part. Here's a partial transcript of a mid-December client presentation:

CLIENT: This tsunami ad is great, but don't those things kill lots of people?

AGENCY: Oh, come on! When was the last time there was a tsunami?

CLIENT: I guess...

Oops. Our bad.

we are family.

A day off! Joy. Just went down to the convenience store in my building and picked up a massive bottle of Lysol and some scrubbers. My place is a total shitbox. I've already used a third of the Lysol on the bathroom alone. I don't understand how my apartment gets so dirty when I'm never here.

As I'm cleaning this 500-square-foot palace, I keep thinking about a little request my aunt made at Christmas. There's a big Alcoholics Anonymous convention in Toronto this summer -- I believe it's the 70th anniversary -- and she wants to go. So she asked yours truly if she could stay with her. For five days. Over a long weekend. If that's not enough, she wants me to go to the convention with her.

I'm sure that there are lots of alcoholics who prefer to keep their past struggles a secret. Not my aunt. She's a big ol' flag-waving addict. So, naturally, she's going to drag whatever victim happens to be in the vicinity to this thing. Don't get me wrong -- I think AA is great, and it was great for her, but, you know, people are going to be crying. And hugging. I can feel my awkwardness and discomfort already. And, oh, yeah, I'M NOT AN ALCOHOLIC. I might as well be going to an NASA convention.

I'm not too excited about her staying with me, either. This apartment's so small, I sometimes feel resentful of the cat for taking up space. She gave me the old "the couch is fine" speech, but for God's sake, her scoliosis is so bad that she hasn't worked in 20 years. So to ask her to cram her twisted spine into a loveseat that wouldn't fit a Hobbit for comfort isn't exactly considerate. Then again, neither is inviting yourself to your niece's tiny apartment for five nights straight. The woman knows full well that she's going to get the bed. And it's up to me whether or not I want to share it with her.

I am dreading it like you woudn't believe. Which probably makes me a selfish bitch. But did I mention that it's a long weekend? Jesus.

in a little while...

Ever get a phone message that you didn't respond to right away? You wait a few days and it makes you feel bad. Then you wait a few more days and it makes you feel embarrassed. Eventually, you cannot even imagine the thought of returning the call, because there's no imaginable excuse for waiting as long as you've waited to do it. The old "I-was-in-traction" bit only works once, as you might have learned yourself. So you never call the person back. EVER AGAIN. I'm certain that countless thousands of casual friendships have ended this way.

Anyway, that's how I feel about this blog. I got busy and didn't post for a few days, then a few more...eventually, I completely blocked it out of my mind in order to escape the guilt. I tend to do that sometimes. On occasion, I've gone weeks without checking my account balance, par example. If something's getting you down, why not deny its very existence? That's what I say.

God. Psychologists should study me.

So...what have I been up to all this time? I'd love to say that I've been travelling the world or that I'm the real reason behind the breakup of Brad and Jen, but mostly I've just been working. A lot. As usual. I'd love to get into the minutae of my job today, but perhaps I'll save that treat for an upcoming post. I am recommitting to regular contributions to this sucker.

Oh, and PS -- for the (literally) thousands of you that keep flocking to my blog to find pics of Tori Spelling's wedding, there's some TV show called the InStyle Wedding Spectacular (no, I'm not kidding) on this weekend, and it's featuring a nice big story on her nuptuals. And Star Jones' too, for that matter. Goody. Not sure exactly when this thrill ride is on, so check your local listings.