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I'm an asshole

In New York there is a special kind of asshole who takes a cab when it rains and tonight that asshole is me. This blog post? Written from the back of a cab. But I’m not just a cab-in-the-rain taking asshole because as I write this my jeans are stuffed into my uggs (and the fact that I even am wearing uggs is a whole other topic) but anyway they are stuffed in there and kind of poofing over the top in a way that suggests I might beg for porridge and then break into song. Also, it’s as if each leg has its own wee muffin top.

You should know that I took the train to the place I had to be today, so I’m only half an asshole, and the walk there was miserable times a million. I nearly lost my hand from frost and then when I got to the place I tried to take my coat off but I had no feeling in my hand and I was too impatient for my body to remind itself that I’m alive so I accidentally pulled the coat open and ripped the button off, Superman style. Apparently without feeling in my fingers I possess Herculean strength. Then I flipped over a couple of cars and got to work.

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I feel mentally out of breath

I feel mentally out of breath which is a strange sensation since I’m not new to thinking, thoughts or stress, but the thing about taking the online Jeopardy quiz, which you have to take to be considered to be a contestant on the show, and let me just throw out there that I’m not even entirely sure I’d be eligible since I’m on TV however I don’t think I appear in any way that excludes me, aaaanyway, the thing about the quiz is there’s a second hand counting down each answer and there’s a giant Alex Trebeck sitting motionless on your computer and then there’s also theme music at the beginning and the end.

And how did I do? I have no idea and I’ll never find out, the web site makes that pretty clear, but I know I got a few of the more obvious questions wrong and a few of the more obscure ones right.

Goddamn you Simon Legree and Tospy, which book are you from?

And why oh why did I not write which president was in office in 1812 when it turns out my guess was correct?

And let’s not begin to talk about the House of Representatives shall we?

Or that thing about Mozart and the planet or the smallest great lake or the peak in the Alps or, um, the midwest state whose postal code is a preposition.

Am I ruining my chances by blogging this? Am I not supposed to repeat it? No one told me anything. I need direction, Alex!

Yeah. So clearly I probably won’t be appearing on Jeopardy. Although there were 50 questions so maybe I did better than this blog post would suggest. Might I say that I kick ass at rhyme time? Totally got that one right.

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Let's just say

for the sake of argument that I was going to do a regular column or something on this blog. Something that always happened at a certain time each week…. What would you guys want it to be? All ideas will be considered, even ones that don’t directly involve ducks. But to get things started, some ideas:

recipes
tips on how to speak in pig latin
conversations between me and my magic 8 ball
terrible advice
three truths and a lie
discussions about earrings
something where I upload a piece of my own hair
more talk about meringues!
um
yeah
this is awkward!
balloon animals!
some sort of rundown of something. perhaps a TV show?
dating advice from someone who’s bad at dating
ice skating advice from someone who’s bad at ice skating
lists!
charts!
graphs!
listicles!
icicles! (but that would get all over the computer)
vlogs maybe

What do you guys think?

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Let

me just say that I didn’t realize I wrote the word “Let” and then hit publish. But now that I realize this I’m hesitant to erase this post because I’m just saying “let” to the universe. Also: lettuce.

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Photo booth photos from the NY Times party

Justin Rocket Silverman who totally spilled a drink on my purse, Anna, me and some guy named Josh who jumped into the booth with us.

The themes of the photos, and I’m not making this up as there was a lengthy discussion in line beforehand about how this was to go down: from top to bottom, serious, smiling, snarling and “just be yourself.” Or maybe the bottom one was “absurdity”? Regardless I just smiled. As a gift to the world.

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