Text messages saved in my phone, vol. 6

Shhh, Shiloh’s sleeping.

Does boxed wine expire?

I am at a party and this dude named Tom is really into me. 2 yrs ago he added an H so now he is Thom. Is this what I deserve? Are you there god it’s me.

I guess it’s got something to do with luck, cuz I look at your pants and I wanna

Damn, you’re like Carmen Sandiego

Was Jay Z there? Are you pregnant?

Surefire threesome killer: playing Ani Difranco on your acoustic guitar.

Nachos are almost always better in theory. Like spontaneous road trips.

Me and dave are getting drunk kentucky style, listening to mellencamp and wishing it was springsteen

Also, if you’re in the game, the Stroke’s the word. Oh yeah, why in God’s name are you in Indiana?

Stay on the grass! Keep loving me!

Lou Barlow is sitting in my office right now. He looks swollen. And he’s wearing those LA Gear tennis shoes w/the little red lights.

Oh fuck a party! It’s sweats and pizza nite.

SAY GOODNIGHT TO THE LAST PSYCHEDLIC BAND FROM SACTO NORTHERN CAL FROM SACTO NORTHERN CAL

Man, Mr. Peanut is so dapper.

Your friend is here! I haven’t cussed her out. Yet. (note: this was from me, to my mom)

Hugs. I hate hugs.

Yesterday I looked up “shaboy” online to see what it meant. Very different from “sheboy,” I learned.

BOR-ING! Dudes are for jerks.

Things on my bed: two swimsuits, five twenties, one Achewood hoodie. Things in me: two pills, much bourbon. Things on my cat: I do not have a cat.

If you get tired of getting awesome, Cheers is on in five minutes. Just a heads up from the retirement home.

Nice! Tell your cheap ass hubby to buy a better fucking axe.

Let’s wear our capes.

Usher just called me sweetheart

Anything with the Top Gun soundtrack in it is funny, right?

It’s a plum floating in a hat full of perfume.

Like, they really give The News’s sax player way too much time to explore the studio space. I guess that’s more of a fundamental flaw of The News, though.

1. Fuck. 2. Yeah.

Um i drunk in park and sent this to everyone in my phone… boy do i wish i had depends

Well, he was like a Rubik’s Cube in a hat anyway, I’m glad you quit when you did.

Mary thinks the cabbie was maybe god?

Making babies, holding up liquor stores

Oh, I screamed “Big hands I know you’re the one” like I was 18 and at the Lambda Chi house

Boys or no boys?

It was good, but I wish Pauly Shore played the Clive Owen role.

Tell him, “Maybe you could fuck me again.”

Define ‘human being.’

Careful, lady. We’re west of the Hudson, we must keep our best wits about us.

Ted Nugent Talks That Way Even When Buying Socks

On Sunday night, Roy and I saw Ted Nugent for free at the Nokia Theater in Times Square, thus fulfilling my lifelong wish to hear “Strangehold” live. If only I had been driving a car while I heard it! Ted Nugent is crazy, as expected, but also a pretty amazing guitarist. Before the encore, Roy said, “What does he have left to play? Maybe he’ll come out and grill or shoot something instead,” but Ted came out in a full Native American headdress and played “Great White Buffalo.” Right, of course.

I spent all day today sick in bed. Who gets sick in the summer? Maybe I have cat scratch fever.

My city, your mountains

Hello! I am back from my trip. I took 579 pictures, which I will upload one day at a time so as not to break Flickr. If you are my parents or one of the people I hung out with while in London or Paris, I’m sure you will be really excited about this.

On Saturday, Ryan and I had our traditional shared birthday party, this time at Prospect Park, because we thought there was less of a chance of the cops showing up at the park. The cops stayed away, but the rain came, but everyone stayed, and even continued to barbecue under umbrellas. This was really nice, and now I know who my real friends are, should I ever become insanely wealthy and decide to start writing checks.

So, I’m thirty now. I guess I need to buy eye cream or something? But not freak out about not being on the baby train, because hooooo boy. No. Yesterday I was at Target and the woman in line behind me was trying to reason with a screaming toddler, who, big surprise, wasn’t having any of it, and I couldn’t help sighing contentedly to myself as I walked away. It’s okay; I’m sure all kinds of smug karma will be revisited upon me tenfold when I do eventually have children, probably in the form of puke, which Satan knows is the only thing I can’t handle (not counting people talking like the Elephant Man).

I was in the cab back from the airport the other night, and we were listening to some radio station with late-night requests and dedications, and I was like, “Man! I wish that still happened!” and then this guy came on and requested “Leather & Lace” by Stevie Nicks and Don Henley, and I was like, “MAN! I have got to get a boyfriend!” Preferably Todd from Jersey, but I hear he’s pretty dedicated to his #1 lady Tina.

Cab/airport sidenote: Whenever I’m in a cab headed to the airport, and we pass under that sign that says “ARRIVING FLIGHTS / DEPARTING FLIGHTS,” I always have this fleeting moment of Waaait, which am I?, because they both make sense to my brain. It’s a good thing I don’t arrive at the airport stoned, because I’d never make it out of the cab.

I am aged; London Cringe

Hello! I’m back from Paris. Yesterday was my 30th birthday, and I spent the first part of it drinking champagne on top of the Eiffel Tower, which we reached via the stairs, NOT the lift, because we are hale and hearty New York girls, but also very stupid because now I will have to have my feet amputated upon arriving home. Oh well. It was worth it.

If you are in London and would like to attend Cringe on Wednesday, June 13, it will be in the basement at:

The Foundry
86 Great Eastern Street
Shoreditch, London EC2
Old Street Tube
7:30 pm

The ice age is coming, the sun's zooming in

Hi! I’m in London. I’m sitting in the back garden of Tiffany and Amanda’s flat, where I logged into gmail, looked at all of the waiting messages, and then immediately logged back out.

I’ve done a lot of things over the past few days, like visited the Tower of London and Westminster Abbey, and taken a nap at the Tate Modern, and been a guest on a radio show with a woman called the Worm Lady while a man named Armando painted our picture. What? Yes. I would not lie to you. We’ve also been to Bath, which was beautiful, and Stonehenge, some very old rocks you may have heard of, at risk of being trampled by dwarves. We stopped by Windsor Castle, and the flag flying told us the Queen was in residence, so Tony asked a very nice lady selling something called luxury ice cream if she’d seen the Queen, and she said, “Well yes, when she gives us our Christmas presents.”

The weather has been fantastic, very sunny and warm, which seems pretty un-English, and naturally, we suspect the druids have something to do with it. Tony and Emily flew home today, and Anne gets in tomorrow, and then we take the train to Paris, where I hear they have a lot of gold and mirrors and bread. I’m down.

Oh! I meant to tell you my favorite story so far. At Westminster Abbey, I asked one of the vergers, a very nice older lady, what her favorite story or part of the Abbey was. She said, “Well, I fell in love with Westminster when I was a very little girl. The day after Queen Elizabeth’s coronation in 1953, my mother brought me in to the Abbey to visit her friend, who was the Don at the time. Now during the war, most of the peers and peeresses put their finery in storage, and got them out to wear to the coronation without much upkeep, so every time they were to bow their heads during the service, a rain of loose diamond shards fell from all the ladies’ crowns. The next day, we came in to see all of these ladies and duchesses crawling around Westminster Abbey on their hands and knees, searching for their lost diamonds.”

Okay, I’m off to meet Jed at a pub! Josh and Mia and Roy, Jed says hi!

(I’ll update again soon about Cringe on the 13th. I’m sure you are all waiting with bated breath.)