Thursday

In the Triplets of Belleville, you will see what the French think of "north" Americans. They call us North Americans. I of course mulled that over, and it IS rather pompous of us Americans to assume that we get the title "American". We are only half of the Americas. We should let South Americans be "Americans" for a while.
You know all of those movies where someone gets really stoned, and then part of the movie is devoted to watching how they function in normal society?? Well keep those parameters, and apply that to a father calling you at 8pm, wondering why you haven't picked up his daughter. You, (knowing nothing about this) are then asked to go pick up a daughter, put her to bed, and pack her school lunch.
Apply that to what happened to me two hours ago.

Wednesday

Pretty Face.
Yesterday blonde duo Robin and Kristin met me in the park located in the center of Manhattan. We sat together and watched a few innings of my company softball game. Turned out to be a nice afternoon activity.

Harry and the Game.

A City Lesson. Or, how I learned that I have been in the city too long.

Robin: Can I take off my shoes and my socks!!!!!
Anise: NO WAY. That is disgusting! I don't want you walking around on this. (pointing toward a feild of green grass)
Kristin: (enter sarcasm) Yeah Robin, we don't want you walking barefoot on grass...
Anise: No really, I am being serious. You don't know what is in this grass. Its nasty.
Kristin: oh my gosh - look over there.

And then all three of us turn and see a cigarette in the grass, still lit, smoking escaping into thin air.

Anise: See what I mean? Keep your shoes on.
Elevator conversation:
Me: well I am actually looking for a good umbrella. Its on the “list of things to buy”.
Them: yeah, I had a good one. It took me though storms.
Me: crucial
Them: 8 years.
Me: Wow. What an umbrella.
Them: The worst storms!!
Me: I am very sorry.
Them: well.
Me: You can always get a new one...
Them: (sigh)

Thursday

Wednesday

Beats Per Minute update:

Fifth floor walkup stairs (FWHR): 140
Watching Movie Heart Rate (MHR): 52
Riding Subway Heart Rate (SHR): 68
Running in CP Heart Rate (RcpHR): 165
Babysitting Heart Rate (bHR): 64
To my friends that have recently written about Starbucks: (That is like about 6 of you altogether.) Can we please collectively start calling Starbucks; "Fourbucks"?

Tuesday

Today is a great day to listen to Mellowship Slinky in b minor by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I hope this gets your heart rate up to 92, just like mine. Here are the lyrics. The bold parts are my favorite. Bob your head. Dance funky in your chair.

I've got a mellowship, I've got a fellowship
I've got a nonstop "Yo swan" hello chip
Born to adore the big bad bison
Thunderstorm and a man like Tyson
Popcorn peanuts lookin' at big butts
No I cannot keep my mouth shut

Rockin' to the beat of the fabulous forum
My Lakers I adore 'em
Blush my lady when I tell her
That I do indeed love to smell her
Sopping wet your pink umbrella
Do the dog with Isabella

I'm so in love yes with an artist
Imagination, he's the smartest
Robert Williams, stroke and splatter
I attest to your gray matter
Living kings how true it rings
These are just a few of my favorite things

Good God, where's my sleigh now
Good God, playing for days now
Good God, any day now
Good God, take me away now
Good God, purple haze now
Good God, the baddest of brains now
Good God, any day now
Good God, ridin' my sleigh now

Being that I'm the duke of my domain
My hat goes off to Mark Twain
Singing a song about what true men don't do
Killing another creature that's kind of blue
Writing about the world of the wild coyote
Goodman Truman Copote
Talking about my thoughts 'cause they must grow
Cock my brain to shoot my load
I'm on my porch 'cause I lost my house key
Pick up my book I read Bukowski
Can I get another kiss from you
Kiss me right here on my tattoo


Good God, where's my sleigh now
Good God, playing for days now
Good God, any day now
Good God, take me away now
Good God, De Niro's insane now
Good God, rackin' my brain now
Good God, any day now
Good God, take me away now... take me away

Me my friends and the sex machine
Do unto others like my brothers bean
I know you've got a mother
So give her a hug
I know you've got a mother
With a whole lot of love
Billy sings and Basie swings
These are just a few of my favorite things
These are just a few of my favorite things
These are just a few of my favorite things
These are just a few...
The moon has entered Taurus (sign of yours truly) today, and the date is 4/20. Ah, lets lay in the grass and hold hands sweet boy.
I am going to post 3 days from my journal dating from ten years ago. I was 16, had never smoked weed, and only two days before, tried my first taste of alcohol (purple passion at Deverie’s party). The prom was happening at the end of the month.

Dear Diary, 4-20-94
I am such an idiot! I totally forgot to go in and make up a math test that I got a 0 on. Now I have to totally study like a freak. Today I didn’t go to track. I went swimming. Jeff C. called and said he can go with me and Denali M. to “Jazz Izz”. Lance and I talked a lot today. He’s such a GOOB. I read about Sascha today. He’s a math genius. I’m so embarrassed at what Rachel J. did. I’m so exhausted! I still don’t have a prom date. Cory S. doesn’t have one either. What a BLOB. Stacey P. is an awesome swimmer. Her and Ben H. keep up with me in swimming.
Joshua needs help.
GOOD NIGHT! (heart) Anise.

Dear Diary,
Today I went to Jazz Izz w/ Denali M., Bess F., and Jeff C. The concert was great, but people I went with were stupid. Denali M. kept on coming in and out and Bess F. kept on screaming. And Jeff C. just sat there – duh! But I went to Fred Meyers today. I also went to track. It was cool. I stayed up with everybody. I improved my times also. But I feel really strong. At school there was major testing. I was kinda & still am stressing. I am thinking about Lance N. and prom. But I am not sure. Cypress Hill is cool. Monique is sick today. Todd left for Toronto. Danny U. is having dad problems. I don’t see why I have to have parents.
(smiley face) Anise.

Dear Diary, 4-22-94
Happy Earth Day!! Whew!! Today I went to the new Fred Meyers w/ my family. We all did not go hiking because it snowed. At Fred Meyers (which I really like the shoe section.) We stayed ½ the day and I saw Tobias White. He swims for Homer. He’s so GOOD LOOKING!! Oh my! I couldn’t stop staring. BABEY BABEY!! Then we went to Grandma’s. Then I came home and went to “Jazz Izz” with Monique. It was way better than last night. I found out that Shanna A. Told Celina C. that she doesn’t want to go to prom with Aaron M. After “Jazz Izz” we all went out and I got in trouble because I was home late. Matt M., Audre G., Mitch L., Luke T., Monique & I were all in my car and we just went around town following people. It was so fun.
Parents are DUMB! (heart) Anise.
Magical Mona got me this really awesome heart monitor for my birthday. (Thank you Mona!!!) Strange to want a heart monitor for a birthday present, but I have been wanting one for a while now. It will help with training and overrall fitness. So far I have discovered little things like:

(all numbers are beats per minute.)
laughing heart rate (LHR): i don't know yet because i haven't really busted up laughing yet. someone make me laugh.
email laughing heart rate: (eLHR): 71
talking heart rate (THR): 60
blogging heart rate (BHR): 57

Friday

It's official. I entered the ING New York City Marathon. Everybody cross your fingers for me, because I entered the "1-out-of-3-chances-of-getting-picked" lottery.

The other really super special part about this entry is that my childhood bestest friend in the whole wide world has entered the race too! Monique is training over in Alaska, and I am training here in NYC. So cross those fingers on your other hand for Monique.

Fun Facts about Monique & Anise:
1. In track, people used to call us Monise and Anique!!
2. Once we picked up this cannery rat (a cannery rat is a hippie who works in the canneries) at the grocery store (that is where we hung out), and took him hiking. He was afraid of bears. We thought that was annoying. So we hid from him.
3. We were obsessed with this homeless hippie in our town that we named "Greenman". Whenever we were out, and we saw him on the streets, we would go over to him and start yelling "GREENMAN!!!!" and then talk to him for like 1/2 hour. He believed in the color green.
4. We would occasionally sleep in a tent in my front yard. One night Chris Something and David Span came over and started peeing on my tent. I think Monique threw up (she had a weak stomach, but would never claim it) and I started crying. I liked that tent.
5. We both have a sibling graduating from high school this year. Go Amanda and Geoffrey!! Yippee!!
6. Monique married her high school sweetheart. His name is Todd. They have one girl. Her name is Mazzy. I am not married. But I am getting a really fat cat on Saturday named Ava.
My feet will be carrying my camera and my brain to the newly refurbished Brooklyn museum this weekend. The last time I went to the Brooklyn museum it was with Graham, back in the 90's. He and I decided to cut class to catch that "controversial" exhibit that Giuliani was pissing all over because someone smeared shit on the crucifix? Remember that one? So Graham and I set off for the museum. We got lost. 2 hours worth of lost in Brooklyn. When we finally found a place to park, the museum had just closed. So basically the last time I was at the Brooklyn museum was the last time I was not at the Brooklyn Museum.

I was thinking of calling Graham and getting him to go with me again... but the last I heard is that he was addicted to heroin, and living in New Rochelle (called 'roachmotel' to the locals). We had a photo class together like 2 years ago - he invited me out. I wanted to try his candy, just to see what heroin was like, but all he wanted to talk about was Alaska. He wanted to move there, to get away from everyone. I remember telling him "well that's definately the place for a person that wants to get away from everyone." But I never really pushed the Alaska thing, because G was the skinny/emo-ish/nirvana/messy dark haired boy with blushy cheeks who squinted at the sun. I never associated him with nature - so I didn't want him going there. So he never went & I never tried heroin. Hopefully he went to rehab, and is living with his parents or something. I could only hope that much at this point.

Wednesday

New $9.99-at-Best Buy obsession! Lost Prophets! Yeah!! Dave Grohl drums on this number called Last Train Home. Oh. Don't think this is cutting edge. I am sure they were playing on TRL last week or something like that...

One! Two! Three!
To every broken heart in here
Love was once a part, but now it's disappeared
She told me that it's all part of the choices that you make
Even when you think you're right
You have to give to take
But there's still tomorrow
Forget the sorrow
And I can be on the last train home
Watch it pass the day
As it fades away
No more time to care
No more time, today
But we sing
If we're going nowhere
Yeah we sing!!
If it's not enough
AND WE SING!!
Sing without a reason
To ever fall in love

What's funny about this picture of the band is that I was just talking about the way the middle dude is wearing his shirt; and how much I LIKE IT when ripped guys do it at the gym. So its cool that I found this pic. I was actually looking for a picture with a dude wearing his shirt in such a manner.
My co-worker IM's during work*. A conversation that just happened:
cw: yo. whats LMAO?
anise: dude. i have no clue. i thought BTW was 'Between', like "between you and me - i think you suck" type deal.
tamara: Laughing My Ass Off.
cw: thats funny. you thought BTW was between?
anise: yeah, and I thought LOL was Lots of Love.
cw, & t: LTAOAM. (laughing their asses off at me.)
*word to my co-workers: whatever happens on the blog, stays on the blog.

Tuesday

Yesterday in spin class, we had this hippie granola crunching earth mother for an instructor. My hippie heart loved every mantra minute.
I realized that I had to write about her when she yelled:
“WHEN YOUR PEE IS YELLOW, THAT MEANS YOU ARE DEHYDRATED. DRINK YOUR WATER KIDS!!!”

I couldn’t help myself from laughing VERY loudly – practically throwing my knees out because I had to stop and gain composure.
Basically, yelling to this group of sweaty, mildly-accomplished go-getting 9-5ers living on Manhattan’s upper east side didn’t quite get the response I fear she was used to getting at Bikram Yoga class held down in the west village on ‘chakra Mondays’.

Other things she likes to say while we are oozing sweat, TLC pumping in the background:
"You are a circle. We are circles!! Feel the energy circle about the room. Feed off of each other's energy."
I tried. All I came up with was a dirty look as I reached out to touch the perfect circle of male ass next to me.

“close your eyes and pretend that you are in a secret, loving place.”
I closed my eyes. For some reason all my brain could conjure was the toasty laundry mat across the street where the two Hungarians make my towels smell like ash.

“This next hill is like all of our hills in life. Up and down. Up and down.” (imagine this being said while heavily breathing...)
There was only one male in class. I noticed him blushing. Or maybe he was still out of breath from me grabbing his ass.

In closing, when we were done with our “journey” we were told to stretch and “give ourselves hugs”.
It was the first time I walked away from the gym feeling physically “worked out” while on the phone to my therapist.

Monday

Now introducing Miles Hirson III. Piano player extraordinare playing 'Pop! Goes the Weasle' by WP1!!!

During lunch, I was walking back to my designated skyscraper, holding my 7 dollar salad, when I looked around and thought: "Gosh, its like we are all playing pretend."
Burger King. Playland. Easter 2004.
Saturday morning the light was perfect, temperature a little chilly - but nothing a light jacket couldn't zap. This is the end of the green line; number 4 train. Woodlawn. What did I find? A cemetery!


The thing that interested me about this crypt was that there are two small graves (see those small rectangles in front?) outside of this very large Crypt for the Ziegler family. The two graves did not bear the Ziegler family name. What the hell are they doing there? I mean really. If the Ziegler family wanted those people in their crypt - don't you think they should have invited them inside? Maybe those two dudes were like friendly neighbors, and they set up this pact "hey, when we die - you guys can be buried with us. cool?" but little did the Schwartz family know that they would not be allowed 'inside' the crypt. They would have to remain measley neighbors, and have an eternal seat outside.

How sad the Schwartz family funeral must have been.

Especially if it was raining.

Moving on.

I got to thinking about plot ideas for a coming of age story about a boy from Ohio. On his 18th birthday he discovers that he is mentioned in the Reuter family trust. He flies to New York to talk with the Reuter family lawyer about his part in the Reuter family trust. To his dismay, he discovers that the family trust has since been spent by his swindling Aunt May. All the lawyer can offer him are the keys to the Reuter family crypt.
Having nowhere really to go, he visits the crypt and falls asleep, consequently missing his flight back to Dayton. When the boy wakes up, he remembers a dream he had that night about his Broadway debut. He decides to spend the rest of the summer living out of the Reuter family crypt, and attempts a small career on Broadway.

Friday

All black worn during springtime should be referred to as "Parisienne Black".
(from a RS article - April 19. 1992)
"Cobain and Love were married on Feb. 24 in a secluded location in Waikiki, Hawaii, after Nirvana's tour of Japan and Australia, with only a female nondenominational minister and a roadie as a witness."

I want to meet this roadie. I might make it a new life goal. Why not.

Thursday

NY International Auto Show 2004.

Just Kiddin'.
When I saw this ride, my heart pimped a beat. I thought:
"Daddy PUULLLLEEEEEEEEEEEZZZZZZZZEEEE!!!!!!!!! Please Daddy!"

Wednesday

I was walking to this Auto Show that I am now sitting at. Representing my company. The place that pays me to pay it. So I am sitting here at this Auto Show, watching all these media people get dirty with their computers. Some guys wink at me. Not because I am wink-able, but because they are winkers. The nerd that I watch across the room doesn't notice my watch. Not because I am not noticeable; but because he is a real nerd, and is oblivious to watchers while he is getting dirty with his computer.
So back to line one. I was walking to this Auto Show down at JJ center on three four street. I was listening to Smells Like Teen Spirit. A song that I just can't seem to get tired of. Until just now.
So I passed this Fed Ex - wait a second - just a disclaimer - if this ends abruptly, its because I see my boss,and I push "post and publish" without time to edit. I will edit tonight. suck it up.
Okay. So I pass this Fed Ex bus. No - it was a mail van, what am I thinking. I am drumming along with Grohl. I imagine the bus/van slides out of the driveway, and kills me.
Another wink in my direction.
Hey buddy. You have no idea how fun I am. You have no idea that I hate you and your computer. And that I hate your color gray. Awe hell. Maybe you are fun too. Maybe you like lakes. You are all from Motor City. Maybe you got a boat this past summer. Either way. The girl next to you has some great stems. Look at those for a while.
So I imagine this van kills me.
weird. I keep typing van as vain. But I keep correcting it.
And I am laying there in the street. Well, it was actually the wide sidewalk. A special kind of NYC sidewalk that only exists in the outer avenues - the wide sidewalk with no gum, connected to noisy transportation garage doors.
I see my body laying there. I see a headline. I see comments that my friends say when they see my dead body laying there. They forget that I am dead, and say that they like the way I paired a jean jacket with a short wool jacket today. They sup my coordination. Then they cry.
I see my mom on a plane. Worrying about where she will stay. But most importantly looking at my body in a filthy crime lab. By the time my mother verifies my identification, I am half rotten. Part of me hopes that she would just say "cremate her" and then go back to Alaska.
But knowing my mom - she will throw a fit. She will scream. She will cry. Her face will turn red. And even tho I am dead. I will be embarrassed by her reaction.
So then my mom vision goes away.
Wait -s omeone is bracing to talk to me. I had better look up.
Nope. He just needed a place to rest his bag.
So I am now in front of this strip club called the Cabana. I see the JJCenter. I dread the cars.
I shuffle and hear a siren.
Am I dead? Are we just left to walk around NYC unseen? Is that where dead people go?
All of a sudden Smells Like Teen Spirit is making me sick to my stomach. I wait for the song to finish, and then turn off my walkman. I look around and realize that I am so happy right now. It would seem right, but incredibly wrong for me to get hit by a Fed Ex Van at this point. I vocalize "not yet" and keep walking.

I just realized that I am getting psycho at the International Auto Show. Yes. Look over here. I am getting all sick and dirty on my computer too. While you type about bumpers I type about vains killing me. Running me over. Not in a gruesome way - just in a blow to the head way.
I lay there in black - with no bruises - aside from the pool of blood by my head. Hair strands caking together, drying with blood. More Brown than Red.
I really hope my boss gets back in time for me to see the JEEP exhibit. It looks really dirty. They brought in piles of DIRT. They actually have cars COVERED (with cloth, not dirt). I would like to see something UNVEILED today. I brought my camera. I will upload a pic. Tomorrow. Why?
Because I got a picture of some yuppie picking his ass. That's why.
And I think its funny.
I also though this lego car by VOLVO kicked ass. Not the yuppies ass. It kicked Toy'sR'Us' ass.

Monday

On Sunday morning, I went to the hospital because I stepped on a nail.
I've never been to an NYC hospital, (that’s 8 years people) and was naturally nervous.
I called Doug, to ask him if going to the hospital for a nail puncture was the right thing – because, you know people are dying in NYC emergency rooms. He told me to go, and suggested I check out this quiet hospital that “no one ever thinks to go to when they are dying.” It was the hospital across from Gracie Mansion.
So I went. Doug was totally right about the hospital. My nail puncture was the top item of business, from the minute I walked in. They checked my vitals, asked me questions, and joked around. It was the emergency room experience that I hope all future ER experiences emulate. So – mad props to New York Presbyterian Hospital.

Two thoughts before I go.
1. On my way there - I was standing on the street – waiting for the bus – in pain. After about 5 minutes of waiting – I looked at all the taxis passing me and said “oh, I guess people don’t take the city buses to the emergency room?” Thinking that was most likely a negative – I splurged on a taxi.

2. When it was all over, I asked the nurse –
“So what would have happened if I didn’t get the tetanus shot?”
“Well you might have gotten tetanus and died.”
“Oh.”
That got me thinking about someone else who has suffered a little bit of nail trauma. Jesus.
It got me thinking that maybe this whole crucifixion business has been blown out of proportion. Maybe, just maybe, (since there were no shots or anything like that back then) Jesus died immediately of tetanus?