Done & gone!

So after a few hours of training my frighteningly dense and inept replacement on Wednesday, I was informed that my services were no longer needed. Shock and amazement ensued when I realized that my "boss" no longer wanted me around. (Okay, not shocking, really, considering that we despise each other.) I'm officially a Woman of Leisure, at least through the end of today, when I'm being paid to not be at Google. It don't get no better than this.

During my year plus at the biggest little internet company on the planet, I had much fun, ate wonderful food in startling quantities, spent countless hours exchanging poop jokes on IM with Big Dan, and met some incredibly cool people with whom I'll inevitably maintain business and personal relationships. It gave me a chance to figure out what I wanted to be when I grow up without wasting too much gray matter in the process. A good time was had by all.

That said...I'm so happy to be out of there that I've been bouncing around like a junior high cheerleader for the last 48 hours. I've already got plenty of work lined up, and am pounding away at the doors of publishing houses and literary agencies all over the city. And, in other news, I've been asked to become a contributor to a well-known celebrity gossip blog that shall remain nameless for now...insert evil little laugh...publicity whore that I am, rest assured that I'll let you know when my brand of snark starts showing up someplace other than here.

I'm off to Philadelphia for a bit of low-brow hobnobbing with Princess Scully and her entourage of sexy men-folk. I'll leave you with this...one more reason to Just Say No, people...Just Say No.

Scene from a Gay Sports Bar

DGO, Coco, and Helen stand clustered together next to a railing that runs along the wall opposite the bar, swilling cheap beer, chatting idly, and casting casually judgmental glances in all directions.

Helen, to DGO (dramatically, smirking with feigned indignance):
I can't believe you offered me drugs!

DGO (one eyebrow cocked, lips pursed wryly):
I can't believe you didn't take them.

Hysterics ensue, audible even over the din of the crowd.

Cut, fade to black.

I Wonder Monday, Fourth Edition

To acquaint yourself with this utterly retarded yet wildly popular Ninth Circle tradition, click here. If you're already familiar and haven't already rolled your eyes and clicked away, here goes:

• I wonder how long it'll take me to get a job. (Did I mention that I quit mine? Oh yeah. I quit my job, as of this Friday. Consider yourself updated.) NOTE: If you wish to pay me shitloads of money to work for/with you, click here. And yes, the work must be non-sexual in nature, thanks.)
• I wonder how much weight I'll lose once the cavalcade of free Googlefood stops. Yet another potential upside to my departure.
• I wonder if Shari Kurzrok will find a liver donor in time. I inquired and was informed that a complete liver from a non-living donor is required, rather than a partial organ. My mom's life was saved by organ donation, so I know what this is like for Shari and her family. Fingers crossed.
• I wonder how long it's gonna take me to wade through the Lord of the Rings books. Sheezus. Not even halfway through Fellowship of the Ring, and I'm nearly suicidal with boredom. I don't think I've ever said this about any book ever before...but goddamn, the movies were soooo much better. (Of course, the eye candy factor may admittedly have a role in that...)
• I wonder how I'll react if the NYPD asks to search my bag before I'm allowed on the subway. While I understand the purpose of the searches, I understand my Constitutional rights just as well. I hope for everyone's sake that they catch me in a good mood.
• I wonder if Nate's gonna live! Holy crap! (Dear god, do I ever watch too much television.)
• I wonder if a lifelong Yankee fan such as myself can actually date a Red Sox fan with any measure of success. I mean, my parents are an example of such a mixed marriage (Dad Yanks, Mom Sox), but I'd hardly call their union successful, despite its duration of 40-plus years. This guy, though...hmmm. One fine Red Sox fan, I tell you whut. Hopefully, I'll have updates to post on this topic.

Okay, off to the drycleaner...and, of course, the shrink...

The Denver Grab

Going back to Colorado is always weird. This time was weirder than ever. I finally felt a kind of pull...thing is, as much as I've missed my insane and wonderful non-genetic family since I moved to NYC three years ago, I've never been remotely wistful about having left. When I've visited in the past, I've been pretty well ready to come home after a couple of days. But this time was different. I'm gonna gloss over the more serious and plausible reasons why that might have been in favor of the idea that driving a car for the first time in two years was just that exciting.

Aside from endangering unsuspecting citizens with my rusty (at best) driving, the highlight was DFC's wedding, at which I encountered good friends and former mortal enemies alike and managed, somehow, to stay sober. The bride and the weather were both gorgeous, DFC was charmingly nervous, the crowd dressed waaaaaaaaay down. (I've lived in NY for long enough that "casual," to me, means "sans pantyhose." In Colorado, it still means "jeans acceptable." Whoops. But hey, I looked good in that little black David Meister dress, dammit. Fuck it.) Overall, though, a huge success. I'm not even that upset about selling off my Elvis ticket to go. (Okay, that's pretty much a total lie.)

My second favorite bit was hearing Gogolbordello on the radio. In Denver! I almost crashed the goddamn car.

My CO friends, with whom I had an absolutely fucking swell time, are pretty much all "in relationships" now, i.e. getting married and/or shacked up. I'm happy for them. Really I am. I was the ninth or eleventh wheel for much of the time, though, which tends to be both tedious and a tad disheartening. I think part of the draw to Denver comes from the growing awareness that love is much harder for a chubby shrimp such as myself to come by in New York City, Land of Supermodels. But hey...whatever. That's what my shower massager's for.

The trip, then, was fairly great. Until, of course, The Parents became involved. I won't comment on that, except to say that my therapist was thrilled to find out that I'll definitely be funding her Central and South American vacations for at least the next twenty years or so. Birth control, people: use it.

Between the Parental Incident, the three hours worth of flight delays (thanks United!) that got me home at 2:30 AM yesterday, and the fact that I stayed up all night watching episodes of Oz on DVD again, I'm effin' whupped. Too whupped for the Giraffes/Fresh Kills/Twenty-Twos show at Ace of Clubs tonight, even. Sad, I know. I'll console myself with...well, still more Oz on DVD. Can't...stop...myself...

Please leave a message after the beep

Aiiight campers...I'm taking a brief vacation from the Ninth Circle. No worries, I'm not pulling a Chapelle on y'all...just heading to Denvah so as to attend DFC's big event.

I'll leave you with a few recommendations for weekend activities...

Tonight, check out a scintillating Gotham Girls Roller Derby match in da Bronx. Dunno about you, but I like my bitchez fast and rough...send me pictures.

Speaking of fast bitchez...Lisa Jackson & Girl Friday have two shows this weekend...Friday at 10:30 they hit the Trocadero in Philly (Johnny: this means you!), returning to NYC Saturday night to work it at the Bowery Poetry Club. If you haven't seen Lisa...well, it's time. I only wish I looked that good in a vinyl skirt.

I'd recommend the Siren Festival, but the very idea of being squished into a massive crowd of drunken, smelly hipster trash out in the hot sun all day makes me wanna stab myself in the neck with something rusty. But by all means, if that's your thing, be sure to check out Morningwood and (of course) Spoon.

And hey, because I'm looking out for you...don't let flatulence ruin your weekend! Pick up a few bottles of this on your way out. Your friends and fellow drunk people will thank you.

Be sure to wish David O a happy-ass 29th birthday today, too. Especially if you don't know him...that'll totally freak him out. Heh. (Love you Princess!)

Seeya when I seeya, monkeys.

Tick tick tick...

That's the sound of my 15 minutes, ebbing away...

If you wanna jump on my fame train, pick up the July issue of Playgirl (yes, Playgirl...shut up) and turn to the last page. You have Miss Alexis T. to thank for my appearance.

I figured that since I never really discuss sex here in the Ninth Circle, I'd share my thoughts on this most intimate of topics with an ambiguously gay national nudie mag.

Yet again, makin' Moms proud. That would be me.

Famous friends/fuckers

Well, today's the day. The Giraffes are officially nationwide...their self-titled album hit record stores & websites all across the US of A.

Someday, like in two weeks or something, I'll be able to say I knew them back in the day, back when they were living in a trailer on Eight Mile Road with their mom and working in a factory and choking at freestyle competitions and...oh, shit. Wait...nevermind.

Anyway, check out the listening party for the CD tomorrow night at 9 PM at Hi-Fi (Brownie's, East Village.)


Bitches better hook me up with the backstage action when they play the Garden.

Whew

What a week, huh?

London says goodbye to its sense of security.
We all say goodbye to Luther.

Kinda makes you wanna bid farewell to your sobriety for a little while, don't it?

Well, maybe laughing at me will make you feel better. Seems to work pretty well for my mom. (At least until she remembers that we have common genetics, that is.)

Drink the pain away...

Or use the analgesic method Peaches advocates, if you prefer. But be ready to self-medicate one way or the other, kiddies, coz we are in some deep shit now. My post from yesterday has now taken on an uncomfortably prophetic quality.

Me? I'll be rocking the pain away at Opaline on Saturday night with the Gee-raffs.
Highly recommended.

Happy long weekend, chitlins.