Kris Brite went straight home from work tonight to get her stuff done. Stopped at the shop to buy some food so she wasn’t hungry while trying to get her stuff done. Then watched a bit of TV so she wasn’t so focussed on work things while trying to get her stuff done. Then she showered so she could feel fresh while trying to get her stuff done. Looked at the time then it realised it was too late to try and get any stuff done so set her alarm for a good night’s sleep so she isn’t so tired tomorrow while trying to get her stuff done. Procrastination is like masturbation. It feels good until you realise you’ve just fucked yourself.
There are good days, and there are bad days. And some days are good and bad. Today was average I guess. I thought it was a bad day, but then I went to “heaven” and decided that today was neither good nor bad, but definitely the good outweighed the bad, thus making it only an average day. But did it get me out of the airlock?
In the midst of my afternoon despair, I turned to Paul, as I so often do, but today, the words of this particular song really resonated with me. It would be criminal for me not to share it with you.
Thrown out of a moving limousine
Tied up in corners with no hope of escape
Followed at high speed
Roughed up and handcuffed and led away
Dangled up side down from a great height
Tied to the rails as the train rounds the bend
Hijacked and hot wired
Snarled at by dogs against the chain link fence
Then she tells you
Then she tells you
Then she tells you you’re not home
Sucked out of the airlock
Cornered like a rat in a crowded city square
Lowered into volcanos
Bound up back to back in smart matching chairs
Then she tells you
Then she tells you
Then she tells you you’re not home
My sweetheart dreams
My sweetheart dreams in an empty bed
My sweetheart dreams of revenge
Left for dead in Mexico
Forged in counterfeit invisible ink
Cut-out words on a ransom note
oh, I beg you honey, it’s not what you think
Then she tells you
Then she tells you
Then she tells you you’re not home
Then she tells you you’re not home
Then she tells you you’re not home
Then she tells you you’re not home
* “heaven” by the way, is Casa Mezcal in the Lower East Side. It’s only a B-grade, which I would typically avoid, but I can’t help but feel so at home here. Mexican food, $4 happy hour wines, awesome tunes, amazing energy, and sexy barmen. Did I capture everything??!
- Venue: complete meat market.
- Other chicks up for auction: either dirty stop-outs or friends of the organizer.
- I sold for $200. Not the best, but not the worst.
- My date is a Korean tennis dude who could be between 35-75 years of age. He was smash-drunk.
- No one here knows who Lykke Li is, despite her concert being sold out.
- Gave my number to a guy BEFORE the auction, so he naturally didn’t feel he needed to bid.
- Went for dinner afterwards and for some reason thought it would be a good idea to sit on the piano in the bar and sing songs I don’t actually know the words to!
- My head hurt really bad the next day. And the day after…
- White slavery is not cool.
Now for the actual date…
- Auction winner bailed on the date in favour of tennis in New Jersey.
- His (sleazy) friend happily went in his place, until we got there and he couldn’t stand the music.
- We waited nearly 2 hours for Lykke Li to come on, much to the dismay of my date.
- During that time his date-talk consisted of the following:
“I just bought plush toy Smurfs for my children after seeing the movie on the weekend” (and he brought them with him!)
“I live in Long Island with my family, but my wife lives in one wing and I live in the other”
“We’ve been separated for nearly 1 year, and I want full custody of my children because I don’t think she’s fit to look after them”
“It’s hard to sell my house at the moment, as it’s only worth $7 million.”
“So what’s your drug of choice?”
“What is the most popular drug in Australia?”
- We left before the concert ended… 4 songs in I believe.
And there you have it! I can now officially cross trying something new off of my to-do list. Or perhaps, trying something new that you would never ordinarily do and you know you would never do again. Done. Next?
Step 1: Go out and buy more groceries than necessary for one person.
Step 2: Open the wine.
Step 3: Pour.
Step 4: Drink.
Step 5: Repeat as necessary.
Step 6: Order in Chinese take-away.
No really… I cooked! Really, I did. But while doing so, I wondered… how does one entertain one’s self whilst cooking for one? It’s not like I haven’t done it hundreds of times before, but tonight I wanted to record my first cook-up in my new New York kitchen. Aside from heating some soup on the stove, this has been the longest I’ve spent in my kitchen, or any kitchen since moving to the Big Apple. So, to answer my own question: Photo Journal this shit!!! Here is the result…
Where are all the pots and pans?
Can I pinch any of my housemate's food?
Stiiiir it up!
Time to wait now
Needs salt
Gluten-free spaghetti goes in
Al dente
Yummy yummy yummy
*Serving suggestion
And that, my friends, is how you entertain yourself when cooking for yourself. Next time I’ll photo journal a gluten-free brownie baking effort. Sure to be messy indeed!
