50% Attractive (originally posted June 12, 2007)

On Friday night, I headed to the East Village to see Bovine Homecoming play at Mo Pitkin's. My good friend David is the bass player in the band, and I figured it would be good to catch up since I hadn't seen him since I got back from Paris.

The show was great, I had a couple of drinks, and headed home. Then it happened. At the corner of Avenue A and East 2nd Street, a 20 something year old man walked past me and said "You're kinda cute." I stopped in the middle of the intersection.

Kinda cute? What the hell does kinda cute mean? Like I'm only 50% attractive? What does kinda mean percentage wise? 25%? 75%? I would think that saying kinda cute accompanied by a shoulder shrug would quantify to 25%, while just a straight forward kinda cute (no shoulder shrug) at least gets me to the half way mark. 75% would be achieved with "you're cute" and a full on 100% would be "daayum girl, you is hot." Granted the vernacular may changed, but overall it's the same.

In my complete disbelief that I was only deemed kinda cute, I spun around and yelled "Kinda cute?! I wouldn't even give you 10% marks!" Thank god the majority of America is perplexed by simple math, because the man looked at me with a confused stare and continued walking up the avenue.

Looks like somebody is having a case of the Mondays... (originally posted June 25, 2007)

On Friday, I took the day off from work and went to the American Museum of Natural History. This is probably my favorite place in all of New York City. Some people might find it odd that I prefer the company of historical artifacts, stuffed animals, and gift shops to the general population of New York, but once you've lived here for three years, you start to prefer things that won't talk back to you. The museum is air conditioned, smells normal, and is generally staffed with helpful people. Take the exact opposite of all that and you have the rest of New York.

My favorite part of the museum is the oceanic exhibit. Let me preface the rest of this with the following disclaimer: I'm by no means a new age music fan. Frankly, the musical careers of Kenny G and Enya terrify me - when did a diggery doo become the musical instrument of choice? So the fact that I can appreciate the ocean sounds they pipe in over the PA system is pretty impressive. However, during this visit, I noticed I was afflicted with the same conclusion after viewing the varying exhibits, which started with the ocean animals. Now, before I tell you what this conclusion was, you'll have to lay down any sharp, weapon like objects because I can guarantee you'll want to either stab me or yourself after I tell you.

"Looks like somebody has a case of the Mondays."

That's it. Everything I looked out I pegged with this description. A walrus lying beached on the ice? "Looks like he's got a case of the Mondays." Whale eating a squid? "Looks like that squid has a case of the Mondays." What about that monkey pondering quantum physics? "Looks like he's got a case of the Mondays." I'm not sure why I saw a look of desperation and despair in those animals, similar to what you see on a Monday morning in every office in America, but it was almost as if all of them were saying,"Where in the hell did my Sunday go?"

"Looks like you have a case of the Mondays" might be the single dumbest phrase in the history of mankind. It's a close second behind anything that includes the word "Fabulous" and right before the discussion you get in middle school about sexual relations. Can anyone honestly say they haven't punched someone in the face for saying "looks like you have a case of the Mondays"? If you can, that only means no one has said this to you. Give me a call. We'll put your restraint to the test.

So here I was, mentally pissing off all these poor stuffed animals from America, Asia, Europe, etc. with my flamboyantly retarded observation. I spent an inordinate amout of time viewing the fox exhibit, perhaps because the fox looked as if he had beat Monday and was already onto Wednesday (Hump Day). He looked, well...foxy. As I stood there staring at the exhibit, I was reminded of a time in elementary school when the back drop for school photos was a woodland scene. Besides looking utterly fake, the background served as a sharp contrast to my bright Land's End clothing selection. I looked completely out of place in that photo, almost as if I had...oh lord...a case of the Mondays.

About five minutes went by where I just stood and stared at the fox exhibit, when I was suddenly surrounded by a small family - a son, daughter, and mother. The mother was obviously trying to cram a day of learning into the summer afternoon as she kept asking her kids to describe what they saw. Apparently, the average four year old is much more aware of its surroundings as the two kids noticed a white bunny hiding under a tree in the same exhibit I was viewing. Well, it made sense. The fox was certainly looking for something. Then, the mother asked "What is the fox going to do to that bunny?" The young boy shouted "He's gonna eat the bunny! For dinner! Eat him for dinner!" The mother clapped and proudly rewarded her son with a rustle of his hair.

"What do you think the fox is going to do to the bunny, honey?" asked the mother of her young daughter.

Have you ever seen a four year old have a complete mental break down? I hadn't either until then. What can best be described as a fine mix of mild seizure and complete drug dependency withdrawl, this young girl collapsed on the floor, head in her hands and proclaimed (between sniffles and stifled sobs),"I don't want the bunny to die! I don't want the fox to eat the bunny! No dinner for the fox! I don't want the bunny to die!"

As I walked away, I mumbled,"And I thought that bunny was having a case of the Mondays..."

I think God got my panties in a bunch (originally posted July 9, 2007)

In the past 24 hours, two very strange things have happened. I'll get right to the point:

1. I dropped off my laundry Sunday morning on my way to work at the museum. Perhaps because it was the Sabbath, but the little Mexican lady that washes and folds my clothes at the laundromat had knotted every single pair of my thong panties. And I mean knotted. As in knotted so hard that it took me 30 minutes to get all the knots out. I can literally say that my panties are in a bunch. And I don't like it.

2. I did not have Internet Explorer pulled up on my desktop today at work, but out of nowhere a web page popped. On this site, you could purchase books about how to become a better Christian. Is God trying to tell me to buy less slutty underwear and follow his path? I don't know, but I'm pretty creeped out.

Vintage Porch

I'm going to copy and paste some of the postings from my previous blog onto this one. I actually like them quite a bit more than the most recent stuff I've written. I'm beginning to think my move overseas has sucked out my cynical creativity. Lordy be, let's hope that hasn't happened. However, I'm confident that a trip back to New York sometime this year will bring back my creative writing skills. Fingers crossed. I hope you enjoy them.

XOXOXO.
Mary Ann

I just learned about the possible origins of werewolves.

I've never been a fan of Cancun, Mexico. The only thing that comes out of that place is misplaced virginities, a massive date rape drug industry and probably some severe cases of the clap. Well, not to talk down to the rest of Mexico, but I've learned you've got another skeleton in your closet: Werewolves. Yeah, you heard me.

Last night I watched a health show that just happened to feature a family in Mexico with the disease known as hypertrichosis, also known as Werewolves Syndrome. To be honest, I thought a show like this was going to focus on a bunch of kids with cancer or something similar, but I can appreciate the producers' off beat approach to what should be featured on a health show.

I can sum up this disease very simply: "Hairy, really hairy" or "hairy ass sonofabitch" if you prefer. I'm sure both are used quite often, depending on what country/region you are in.

For more clarification, here is the Wikipedia entry on the phenomenon:

"Hypertrichosis, congenital generalized Hypertrichosis or werewolf syndrome is a medical term referring to a condition of excessive body hair. Werewolf syndrome comes from the characteristics of a mythological werewolf of which the person is completely covered in hair or fur. It can be generalized, symmetrically affecting most of the torso and limbs, or localized, affecting an area of skin. It may be mild or severe. In most cases, the term is used to refer to an above-average amount of normal body hair that is unwanted and is an aspect of human variability. Although the statistic has been cited that this only occurs for 1 out of 10 billion people,19 people alive today have hypertrichosis, out of ~6.5 billion people in the world, makes for an average of 1 in 340 million."

"Severe hypertrichosis is quite rare, almost certainly due to unknown genetic defects, and can result in excessive or animal-like hair on both face and body. Some of these people have been displayed in carnival sideshows with names such as "dog-boy" or the "bearded lady." Fedor Jeftichew, Stephan Bibrowski and Annie Jones are well known examples."

"Most of the people recently featured in the media with hypertrichosis are from the Aceves clan of Loreto, Zacatecas, Mexico, some of whom have emigrated to the United States. Many of them have worked for circuses. The brothers Victor Ramon "Danny" Ramos and Gabriel "Larry" Ramos have worked as acrobats. Their cousins, Jesus "Chuy" Aceves, and his sister, Lili, have worked in sideshows."

The family mentioned in the last paragraph were the same people profiled on the show I watched. There appearance wasn't really gross...just confusing. I had loads of questions by the end of the program, such as "do they get alot of hair in their mouth? The only concentrated amount of hair I have is on my head, and I'm constantly pulling stray hairs outta there. Do they get hair in their eyes? I'm guessing they do since they have hair on their eyelids. The other questions are probably the most politically incorrect thoughts I've ever had, so I better not post them. Until the U.S. gets proper border control, I'll keep my comments to myself, thank you very much.

I can see how these people would be considered werewolves. I'm sure the image came from some guy, completely fed up with his situation of having a hairy face and back, literally flipping out one day and biting someone. Everybody knows teething makes you feel better...even if you are covered in more hair than a border collie.

Oh New York (and the rest of America). I miss you.

To my friends in New York, Kansas City, San Francisco, Oklahoma City and everywhere else:

I will pay you a million dollars to come visit. Granted, it will be on a post-dated check for somewhere around the year 3040, but still. That check is as good as gold. Good. As. Gold.

I'm homesick. Please help.

XOXOXO.
MAP

You need to sit down for this.

I think if you ask any of my friends the following question, they would laugh in your face and say "Are you insane? Lord no!"

That question is "Would Mary Ann ever go hiking?"

Well folks, you are going to want to sit down for what I'm about to tell you. Are you sitting? Good. Okay, here it goes: I went hiking on Saturday. I'll let the initial shock waves past before I go on.

On Saturday, I did the Spit to Manly walk which took over three hours. And portions of it were uphill. That's right. Uphill. And I didn't complain once. Well, complain out loud. I probably mentally bitched more than I have ever bitched in my entire life, but as long as no one else hears it it doesn't really count.

As a result, I still have shin splints three days later, but I feel "healthy." Will I ever hike again? Probably not. But I'm breaking down barriers people. Granted, I'm rebuilding same barriers three days later, but still. Did I say part of the hike was uphill? Did I mention that already?

I know I keep promising photos, and I swear they are coming. I just need to get Internet access on my laptop at home. Soon.

Alfred Hitchock - You can burn in hell!

I was chased home by a giant bird tonight. When I say giant, I mean slightly bigger than a pigeon but not as big as say, a dinosaur. Folks, I actually ran. That's how scared I was. Luckily no one was around to see this happen. This bird had hell fire in its eyes, and I can't be sure, but for a split second I thought I saw blood-stained fangs. Some of you may say that birds don't have teeth, much less fangs, but this is what I say to you people: I don't like you and you don't know shit. This is all I have to say on the topic.

I like Scotch (not the drink, but the brand of tape and the dudes)

Last night, I was lucky enough to score a free seat at one of the last productions (at least in Sydney) of "Black Watch." The show is part of the Sydney Festival and was showcased at Carriageworks, which is a renovated train warehouse in Redfern, which is a suburb of Sydney. I've been told that Redfern is also the ghetto, so of course you know I was excited to be there.

The production was based on recent interviews of Scottish soldiers returning from the war in Iraq. It features an all-male cast (holla!) who are stationed in "Dogwood". I don't want to say too much about it in case any of you get a chance to see it, but basically, it's amazing. How's that for a review? I have to say my favorite part was when the point was made that it took three hundred years for Scotland to establish a well-respected and admired army, but it only took two years in a war that shouldn't even be going on to destroy it. That's about as political as I get, so if you are more politically-inclined when it comes to the war in Iraq, prepare to walk away from this production with some strong opinions, especially if you're American. I have to say, it was eye opening to see (once again) how the rest of the world perceives us.

For all my friends in NYC, it looks like you just missed your chance to see the show as it's already passed through Brooklyn. However, if you check out this link you can see the rest of the upcoming dates:

http://www.nationaltheatrescotland.com/content/default.asp?page=home_showblackwatch

As mentioned, I like Scotch tape and I like Scotch dudes, which works out perfectly for me. I was invited to the cast part on Saturday night, so get ready for some awesome photos of me surrounded by multiple Scottish guys. Can you hear the swooning noise? It's pretty intense.

One last note...

I've been told for about the past six months how ghetto Redfern is (as mentioned, where the show was taking place). In pure sitcom fashion, my friend Karen and I got lost on our way to the theater, so we asked a passer-by for directions. He was kind enough to walk with us, so the three of us struck up a friendly conversation. And what did I learn? I learned that my newfound friend had just gotten out of prison that day after being hunted down by the police and brought back from the Gold Coast. He didn't say WHAT he was arrested for, but to say the least, I felt honored that during my first trip to the "hood" I met a real criminal. God Bless.

A few observations since I left America...

1. When you travel to Fiji, you actually time travel back to 1975. Everyone there is rocking an afro, and for some reason, orange, navy and brown polyester is HUGE. From what I can tell, when the mid 1970s hit, the people of Fiji collectively said "No more." And they've stayed there ever since.

2. Old people in Sydney are more active than old people in America. Yesterday while walking home from the train station, I saw a man that easily could have been 100 years old riding a bike. UPHILL! It blew my mind. I hope he didn't die after he reached the top.

3. There are no rats in the Sydney train station like in the New York City subways. This isn't really a good or a bad thing, but it's different. I kinda miss the furry bastards.

4. Now this might offend some people, but pizza in Sydney sucks. I'm sorry, but Australia will never conquer the beast that is New York pizza. We know how to make it. You don't. Deal with it.

5. People, in general, smell better on the train in Sydney. Maybe it's an affinity for men's body spray, but the odor I encounter every morning is nice. I feel like I now fully understand those Axe Body Spray commercials in the U.S. I always thought they were stupid before, but I've been tempted to dry hump some ugly dudes on the train lately TOTALLY based off of the way they smell.

6. The rental market in Sydney is the most competitive I've ever seen. However, you get more space for your money (most of the time). So it begs to be asked: Is it better in New York where you find a place quickly but it's about the size of a bread basket, or in Sydney where you can spend literally a bajillion (estimated) years looking for an apartment that can fit a dresser? It's a toughie.

7. It's semi-difficult to find tampons with applicators in Sydney. I went to three different stores before I found any. I'll be honest - if I hadn't found those applicator tampons, I would be on the first plane back to New York. For the past 14 years I've been using applicators, and I'll be DAMNED if I'm about to start sticking my finger up my hoo-haw O.B. style. No thanks. I'm not a religious person, but something about O.B. style tampons seems against Jesus. And my noony agrees - applicators for Christ!

8. People wear lots of pinstripes in Sydney. This is just something I've noticed, and may I say, agree with. Pinstripes for everyone! (Except fat people. Fat people, should not, under any circumstance, where pinstripes)

9. New York is about 90% more awesome than you think while living there. You only realize the full potential of the city until after you've left (see post above about missing the rats). As such, I will be living there again in the future. I love it too much to stay away forever.

10. There aren't a ton of bloggers in Sydney, so technically, I'm somewhat "cutting edge" just by writing this sentence and posting it online. Who knew? Probably a guy named Aaron (hi Aaron!).

11. When you move the farthest away from home that you could possibly get, as I have done, you start to gain clarity about what type of person you are. For instance, I always knew that I was a complainer. But I've learned how MUCH of a complainer I am. I love complaining. I relish complaining. I live for complaining. And I'm damn good at it. Also, I'm beginning to have some insight on to what I want to do with myself, besides complain. It's not so much a confidence issue, but more of a "Why has it taken me this long to actually do something about it?" issue.

12. Sydney is a diverse city, but I think New York still rules when it comes to diversity. It reminds me of when I moved to New York from Scotland, and while riding the subway from the airport to my best friend's apartment in the Lower East Side, I noticed something was different. And I tell you what was different - I hadn't seen anybody but mostly white people for 8 months. Suddnely, I was surrounded by African Americans, Puerto Ricans, Mexicans, Guatemalans, Indians, Dominicans, etc. And thank god for that! I was tired of fish and chips - I prefer more of an international flavor to my cuisine.

13. They have the television program "The Biggest Loser" in Australia. Thank. Fucking. God.

I'm going to start posting more regularly again, now that I'm beginning to get a bit more settled down here. I'm still looking for an apartment, but hopefully that task will be completed soon. In the mean time, send me presents!

XOXO,
Mary Ann (How queer would it have been if I wrote "Gossip Girl" instead of my name? I can hear all of you cringing from 11,000 miles away)