I know you guys haven't heard as much as a peep from my corner of the world for what seems like the same amount of time that it takes for "Game of Thrones" to start season three. For that I am truly not sorry at all - I have a job and a life and you can't make unpaid demands of me because you aren't my parents or a sassy talking cat. Besides, about four people total read this blog and one of those four is me so it's really three but WHO'S COUNTING?
All of the other actors have headshots on the Facebook page for Scissr. I should submit this right?
Anyway, since our last time shooting the shit, I've gotten a new job marketing for a startup wine e-commerce website (lotta words there, I know), became an iPhone user, gained about ten pounds in cookies and Jewish guilt, and signed up to act in a lesbian web-series called Scissr. I know you only really care about the latter, so let me inform you that it will be a homosexual, racially-inclusive version of "Girls" mixed with a financially-obtainable "The L-Word." I will play the co-creator/writer/actor's best friend, Taylor, because that outrageous bitch wrote the part FOR ME. She's one my dearest friends and for some twisted reason thought I was cool enough to disregard the fact that I have absolutely no acting experience or mass-appeal and asked me to play the role of, well, me. I'm excited and terrified and I only hope that I can muster enough confidence to just be myself and not become hyper-aware of the way I act and fuck it up (like how if you pay attention too much to your own breathing you're all "I. CAN'T. BREATHE." See, it's happening now). Who knows, maybe I'll hit it out of the proverbial park and become the next famous non-actress actress like Jemima Kirke.
Sassy twat.
I also purchased a new water bottle (LIVING LARGE) and am semi-successfully trying to toilet train Shadow the cat. I say "semi-successfully" because we're only at step two and so far she hasn't fucked it up with her stupid little cat brain. They say to give them positive reinforcement when they complete the next step without any issues so that they know they're doing something right. This meant that as Shadow came out of the bathroom after the first time that I rigged up her CitiKitty (I had to carry that home without a bag just FYI), I (very gently) applauded her and gave her a thumbs up while saying in my high-voice-reserved-for-animals, "You did it! Yay! So proud!" In retrospect, the thumbs up was probably unnecessary given that Shadow doesn't have thumbs and maybe thought I was flaunting them at her, but she seemed to like my enthusiasm well enough because about two minutes later she was galloping around the apartment as if to say, "I pooped and you loved it!" I wish I received as much praise every time I successfully defecated.
At this point you're probably thinking "This post has absolutely nothing to do with Lunchables! I was seduced with false hopes of round miniature ham slices!" I respond by using the previous sentence as a terrible segue to talk about Lunchables (so there!). This topic stems from an earlier conversation with my co-workers when we all realized that we had two things in common: our strong desire to put any and all Lunchables in our mouths and having parents who refused to let us do so. I don't know about you guys, but my dad preferred to make weird artisanal sandwiches that involved bananas and curried chicken (not at the same time...well...maybe) that I had to simultaneously consume and explain while I watched my (usually rich) classmates spread tomato sauce on their ice-cold, Lunchables pizzas and feel my heart shrivel up and die of envy. I'm sure it wasn't the $7 price tag or suspect ingredients that deterred my dad, but his utter loathing of my happiness. And that's why we still aren't on speaking terms (JK I talked to my dad the other day). Was anyone else deprived of Lunchables and do you want to carthart (this is now the verb form of catharsis so deal with it) about it?
There's no way to really end this post since it's pretty much a clusterfuck of awful, so consider this sentence me slowly bowing out while tipping some sort of hat with Mariachi music playing in the background.
About two years ago, I decided on a whim that I would get a bunny. They're extremely cute and I had whimsical premonitions of walking him in Central Park, on a leash, wearing a floral dress (me, not the bunny). I did a teensy bit of research, at least enough to know how to properly care for one, and then I scoured Craigslist for a couple months looking for an all-white bun with black eyeliner (the breed is called a Hotot). Finally, an extremely enthusiastic bunny lady with at least 20 or so buns in her New York City apartment, posted a picture of a six month old, neutered, white-with-black-eyeliner, blue-eyed boy bunny. He had to be mine.
Don't get me wrong, I would never give House up now that I have him. He's going to be with me until he decides to part this realm for the great beyond. In the beginning, the cold, unfeeling, robotic, unblinking, fish-like eyes and complete lack of a affection were a bit jarring. But now, especially since I've found out which treats he goes apeshit for (any flavor of these Smaks cookies and Lacinato "dinosaur" kale), we've sort of gotten used to being around each other. He never bites me, he's pretty quiet, and he keeps to himself. Also, he's pretty fucking cute. I mean, he is a bunny rabbit afterall. However, when he does finally reach the end of the line, I will never EVER get another rabbit again. Here's why:
Poop...Everywhere
Ok ok, all animals poop a lot (except my man, the sloth!), but rabbits are OUT OF CONTROL. They poop about ten BB gun pellet-esque poops every minute. Most bunnies can be litter-trained (House is), which definitely makes cleaning up these little things a lot easier. It does not, however, change the fact that the sheer volume of pewps is absolutely overwhelming. Within about five minutes of cleaning House's cage, there is already a one-inch layer of doodie in his litter box. As if that wasn't enough, most rabbits like to leave little surprise gift poops wherever they go. I let House out of his cage and around my room to hop about freely and no, he is not an exception to the surprise gift poops rule.
Midnight Flubber
Did you guys see the movie Flubber with Robin Williams when you were a kid? If not, the movie Flubber is about an amorphous, mischievous, transparent, green glob of goo (wassup, alliteration?) that scientist, Robin Williams, creates in order to win back a girl...or something? Anyway, the most important fact to retain is that Flubber is a portmanteau of "flying" and "rubber." If let go in a room, Flubber will bounce from wall to wall, ricocheting off of everything and smashing all of your earthly possessions. Another vocabulary word to remember in this section is "binky." Binkying is what happens to a rabbit when they are ecstatic. Here is what binkying looks like:
It's a pretty spastic phenomenon (om nom nom) and almost looks like their back legs are trying to run away from the rest of their body. Why House would be OVER-THE-MOON happy in the dead of night in his cage sleeping in his own feces is unknown to me, but if your bunny is anything like mine, he will binky at midnight while trapped in his cage. What's wrong with this you ask? When in a confined space and very happy, bunnies ARE Flubber. House ricochets off of the cage bars and floor making loud banging and thumping noises until his unstoppable glee subsides.
Butt Juice
Like most animals, bunnies have anal scent glands that need cleaning. Once a month, I have to go in with a damp Q-Tip, spread what I GUESS are his butt cheeks, and swab some nasty shit out of his anal glands. This graphic cartoon from binkybunny.com describes where I have to perform this graceful routine. The little slits marked "anal scent glands" are my Q-Tips' target. If I didn't grow a set and take care of this, his butt would get all backed up and possibly explode. That, or I'd have to take him into an exotic veterinarian (not exotic as in exotic dancer but exotic as in not cats and dogs) every month and have him or her clean them and pay for it with an internal organ. It definitely makes the process more enjoyable to have your bunny kick you with his back feet as hard as he can while you poke his butt with your fingers. I assure you.
Pica 4Eva
If you don't know what Pica is, you can get yourself educated here. Pica usually refers to people who eat inedible things/inanimate objects, but for the purpose of this post, I'm using it to describe bunnies. The first day I got House, I made the mistake of turning my back for .2 seconds. When i turned back around, he was just finishing eating an ear bud. In those .2 seconds, House had eaten my roommate's pair of headphones WHOLE. Since then, he has managed to eat plants, closet doors, rugs, his own poop, backpack zippers, and probably a nibble or two out of Shadow the cat's feet. When I'm not using my removable window screens, I have to put them up as barriers all over my room just to keep him from eating anything on the floor when he's out of his cage. The days of wires and clothes on the floor are no longer. I once watched him take a quick, test chomp of a wire right in front of my eyes and go flying 14 feet in the air from the electric shock. He almost turned from my pet to my meal that day.
It might be hard to tell from this post, but I really do love House. He's my babby bunny and as far as I'm concerned, he can eat all the headphones he wants. But when he's gone, the only rabbit I'll be having in my house is a chocolate one.
So since there was only one response to my last post, I'm assuming most of you must've made mental lists with your answers or even jotted them in a notebook at home. There is just no way a game THIS GOOD would go unplayed. So, without further bullshit ado, here are the answers:
1. I shoved a crayon so far up my nose that I had to go to the hospital to get it removed.
TRUE
To my mom's horror, she could not get the crayon out of my nose herself and had to bring me to the emergency room. Accordingly to her, I looked her square in the eyes as I slowly inserted the crayon deep into my nasal cavity. In the E.R., they had to strap me down with harnesses like something out of Girl Interrupted in order for me to stay still. They did manage to extract it though. No word on what color it was.
2. My father sneaked (I always thought the past tense of "sneak" was "snuck" but spell check is telling me NOPE) backstage at Woodstock.
TRUE
My father has always been quite the slippery eel when it comes to outmaneuvering people in order to do something awesome. This time, it was making it backstage at the greatest concert of all time. He noticed someone unloading equipment near the stage, picked up something that wasn't his, and wandered backstage saying he was with the crew. That never works right? Well, it did. It also worked for the friends he was with and all of them watched the entire show from the best seats in the house. That is, until one of his friends cut open his hand and had to get air-lifted by helicopter out of Woodstock.
3. I was born in Brooklyn, New York.
FALSE
My dad was born in Brooklyn, New York. I was born in Montreal, Quebec, Canada. I have dual citizenship yay!
4. I have never had the chicken pox or the chicken pox vaccine.
FALSE
I did have the chicken pox vaccine and fell into the .0000001% that develops pneumonia from the vaccine. I also fell into the percentage that develops chicken pox from the vaccine. As the cherry on the itchy sundae, I was also allergic to the pneumonia medication, Biaxin, and broke out in hives everywhere (including my fucking EYELIDS). I don't know how I survived my 12th year on Earth, to be honest. I have a strong memory of thinking I was healthy enough to eat, snarfing down a container of my father's roasted peanuts, and then vomiting extremely fresh, organic peanut butter into the bathtub less than 30 minutes later. Parents are saints.
5. My aunt and uncle used to own an ostrich farm.
TRUE
Yep! They had two breeding couples and would sell the eggs to a nearby restaurant and the shells to jewelry makers. I still have a hollowed-out shell that they gave me on top of my kitchen cabinets. They almost feel like porcelain. I wish I laid eggs. What am I talking about? Anyway, after a particularly harsh winter, one or two or all of the ostriches died and that was the end of that endeavor. I can say I learned three things from my visits with them during that time: ostriches do not stick their head in the ground/sand, if you put your ear up to their necks while they drink you can hear the water going down, and you never want to see ostriches breed up close and in real life. Trust me.
6. I can speak four languages, including English, French, Spanish, and Russian.
FALSE
Yea, right. Like I'm that wordly. I speak English, a bit of French (enough to get me a bathroom, a snack, a drink, and a friend if I were lost in France), and Pig Latin.
7. I used to weigh about 200 pounds.
TRUE
All those cheeseburgers and spoonfuls of Nutella eventually do catch up with you. At 5'7", I topped the scale at 196 pounds my senior year at NYU and my Wii Fit categorized me as right smack on the line between "Overweight" and "Obese," if I remember correctly. Due to my intense fear of the line tipping over into "Obese" and me hitting the 200 pound mark, I decided it was time to lose weight and start being healthier. I started counting my calories every day using one of the many websites available, eating lots of fruits, vegetables, lean meats, and whole wheat carbohydrates, and eliminating snack foods such as french fries, candy, chips, chocolate and basically everything that I loved (don't get me wrong, I did let myself have these things sometimes, but I didn't make it a habit). I also used my Wii Fit for exercise in the beginning until I was in need of more of a challenge. At that point, I switched to running 2-3 miles daily and then when that got that old and it got cold, I switched to Jillian Michaels' 30-day shred. As of right now I weigh 135 pounds. I still eat the same way as I did when I started my "diet" but I don't need to input my calories into a website anymore (it's all tallied up in the ol' noodle). It was a lifestyle change for me, but not everyone would benefit from this. If you're 5'7" and 200 pounds and you feel happy and healthy, then more power to you! I didn't and so I had to make some changes. I still eat like a monster every now and then though.
8. My dad drummed for a Billboard Top 100, Number 2 song.
TRUE
My dad is a recording engineer and when he was sitting in on a session and ~learning the ropes~ from a more experienced engineer, the band's drummer didn't show up. Having played drums for most of his youth and dropped out of college to play drums in a band, my father was able to sit in and play for them on the recording. He's not credited for the track anywhere and we certainly do not get any royalties for it (IF ONLY), but you may know it:
9. I hate all bugs and immediately kill them when I find them in my apartment/personal space.
FALSE
I heart bugs and I never kill them when I find them in my apartment. Usually, I will place a cup or glass on the wall or floor that they're crawling on, slide a piece of paper over the top to trap them in the cup/glass, and release them safely outside.
10. I am half Chinese, a quarter Native American, and a quarter English.
FALSE
I am not one of those nationalities. My heritage can be summed up by the following drink:
White Russian
11. I have a scar on my upper thigh from riding my bike too slowly.
TRUE
Unfortunately for Sam, this is why I'm so unwilling to go on whimsical bearded hipster Brooklyn bike rides with him. That, and when my bangs blow back I look exactly like Joe Dirt. How does one get so severely injured from riding too slowly, you ask? Well, first of all, if anyone would, it would be me. Second of all, I just let the bike slowly tip over onto the ground and didn't dismount. I don't know if I was distracted by a Backstreet Boys song or something (I was 10) when it started to tip over, but when I hit the ground, some sharp, evil part of the bike went right into my leg and cut a hole (BONE DEEP) that required ten stitches. Yum.
12. My mom is a blonde republican.
FALSE
My dad is a salt and pepper republican. My mom is a blonde democrat (naturally a brunette democrat). Thank God one of my parents has some political sense.
So, who should win the prize of nothing? I hope everyone had fun learning a bit more about me and the nonsense that is my life. Maybe you already knew me but didn't know any of these things. Now you'll mention it in conversation next time I see you and I'll get all freaked out because you obviously creep me on the internet. Just kidding, I'll play it cool.
Everyone knows this game. It's on the list of silly icebreakers that you're forced to participate in when it's your first team meeting at a brand new job or you've just moved into your dorm and the whole floor decides to get together and go ice skating in Central Park where you clutch the hand rail for dear life the entire time and look like Bambi when he walks onto that frozen lake (oddly specific). I've decided to amp it up a bit so that my followers/readers/subscribers/whatever the fuck you guys are called can get to know me on a more intimate level. And what better way to do that than by lying to all of you? So, without further ado, can you guess which of the following facts about me, my family, and my life are true and which are false? The winner gets nothing!
1. I shoved a crayon so far up my nose that I had to go to the hospital to get it removed.
2. My father sneaked (I always thought the past tense of "sneak" was "snuck" but spell check is telling me NOPE) backstage at Woodstock.
3. I was born in Brooklyn,
New York.
4. I have never had the chicken pox or the chicken pox vaccine.
5. My aunt and uncle used to own an ostrich farm.
6. I can speak four languages, including English, French, Spanish, and Russian.
7. I used to weigh about 200 pounds.
8. My dad drummed for a Billboard Top 100, Number 2 song.
9. I hate all bugs and immediately kill them when I find them in my apartment/personal space.
10. I am half Chinese, a quarter Native American, and a quarter English.
11. I have a scar on my upper thigh from riding my bike too slowly.
12. My mom is a blonde republican.
So those are the fact (or are they?). Make your guesses now because tomorrow I will be revealing which of these are truths and which are lies. If you know me personally and I have told you one of these things (Sam, Aparna) or you are one of the people I'm talking about (hi, mom!), then keep your trap shut and don't ruin my life.
