"Crazy" Type Ladies on Youtube Becoming More Hysterical as Global Warming Increases

"Crazy lady" youtube videos feature mentally instable women with disheveled hair, anger management problems, and strange unidentifiable accents. These women shriek hysterically about their pets, disruptive neighbors, ex husbands, and Jesus. Laugher is often heard behind the camera. It is unclear where these crazy ladies come from or why their youtube hysterics are becoming increasingly severe, but some scientists hypothesize that higher earth temperatures are making the ladies' brains heat up and malfunction.

Do you have a "real dog"?

A lot of people in New York have those little dogs you can carry around in a purse or wallet or shoe box. But what those people don't know is that little dogs are not actually real dogs. Real dogs should be able to swim in a lake. If your dog is so small that it drowns when it attempts this, it is actually a cat. Below are two photos of cats:

Notes on McCarren Park #2

The other day I decided to go for a jog in the park. There is a wonderful running track where people of all shapes and sizes can walk, run and roll. Sometimes you see soccer balls on the track and you have to kick them out of the way while running. Sometimes you see people's kids on the track and you have to kick them out of the way too.

After running around the track a few times, I noticed there was a playground next to the track and adults were playing on it. Then I realized it was not a playground at all but rather a "stretchground" for stretching and strengthening ones muscles, like an outdoor gym. Two tough looking guys hung off some of the equipment and they looked like they were going to slit my throat if I used the equipment wrong. Luckily there was an instructional sign that told you how to use the machines, but for some reason all the instructions showed people on wheelchairs. That is fine, but I doubt any wheelchair people would be able to get into the stretchground in the first place because it is entirely covered in mulch. Do wheelchair wheels run on mulch? Maybe they do. Maybe the wheelchair people thought of the mulch problem and designed wheels that fly over mulch at ludicrous speeds. I'd like to see that.

I kept jogging. I looked up at the fancy condos which bordered the park. I saw two people sitting on their balcony. I felt so jealous of them- those rich condo owners eating their spinach omelets outside or brushing their teeth outside before they eat their spinach omelets outside. And then I began to think. If terrorists picked their floor to throw a bomb at, man, would they be fucked.

I kept circling the track. I noticed the ROTC was cheering me on from the sidelines. Wow, I must really be awesome at power walking! But then I realized it was just some sort of neighborhood ROTC recruitment day. I looked at all the flabby people trying to make it into the army. These people would never have the strength to crawl through the jungles of 'nam. There was even one hipster girl wearing lime green pants and a yellow shirt. I knew she was definitely never gonna make it. Because damn, look at her camouflage abilities.

Subway Spying

The other night I was on the subway and I started to look around and wonder how many people in that car had posted youtube. And if so how many views did their video get? Did that girl sitting across from me who is reading the Steinbeck novel post that hugely successful video of the two kittens fighting and then a third kitten walks into the shot and pukes everywhere and the other two kittens stop fighting?

But then as I was looking around I noticed a guy with his mouth open. And I started to wonder. Why does this guy have his mouth open? I thought maybe it was only like that for a second when I happened to be looking at him but then I looked down, counted to three and looked up again and he still had his mouth wide open. My mom always used to say "close your mouth or the flies will get in." Doesn't he know that flies can easily get in there and start making a nest? I look down again, this time for three minutes. I finally look up at him again but then realize I'm not wearing my sunglasses, I'm wearing my regular glasses and people can see me staring at them. Wait, the guy's mouth is still wide open but now he's smiling. He looks a little more normal, but I bet there's tons of flies in his head now.

Family History Revised #2

"Family Circle" was a pointless organization within Grandma Bea's family which would organize events for the Spiegel family. They would have meetings every Wednesday night in the basement of Shloymee's bakery on 43rd Ave in Bensonhurting, Brooklyn. The whole family would sit in a circle on the floor to discuss events like "Breakfast at the Diner Two Doors Down from the Plaza Hotel" and "Herbie's Bar Mitzvah, Take Two." Grandma's father Sam got everyone to attend by bribing them with day old rugulah from the bakery upstairs. Everyone had a job at Family Circle. Grandma was appointed treasurer because she had received a B- in math at Queens Jewish Public High School #467. She was in charge of the $5 budget every month during 1939.

One day Grandma and and her friend Lila went to Coney Island. When Grandma ran out of her allowance money she remembered she had the treasury money from Family Circle in her cleavage. She kept it there because daddy said to put it somewhere dark where nobody would ever look for change. It took about eight minutes to get the money out of there. Eventually she pulled it out but it was sweaty and smelled like tongue. She also found an old Good & Plenty in there and popped it in her mouth.

Before they went on the rides they decided to eat lunch. Grandma ate nine or ten hot dogs, three ice cream sandwiches and a chocolate frozen banana. Lila had a four sticks of cotton candy and eleven packages of Chuckles. Then they rode the Cyclone and got sick. After that they decided to play the carnival game “Knock your Baby off the Brooklyn Bridge.” In this game there would be five plastic babies sitting on a ten foot replica of the Brooklyn Bridge with real brown water underneath. The point of the game was to throw baby bottles at the baby in front of you and knock your baby into the water. There were four babies and four players at a time. Whoever knocked their baby into the water first won the coveted “Coney Cone”--a calorie packed, monster ice cream cone that was topped with five scoops of ice cream and whole Hershey Bar. Herbie had once won the Coney Cone when he was only five but he sold it to another boy for fifteen cents.

Grandma sat in the seat in front of a baby wearing a blue dress. Lila sat in front of a baby wearing what looked like a white confirmation dress. Grandma said that was probably the Catholic baby from little Italy. Grandma and Lila both lost. The Catholic baby fell into the water anyway. Then Grandma heard a familiar voice. "You're in big trouble Beatty!" She turned around. It was her little brother Herbie. "I followed you." said Herbie. "I saw you take the Family Circle money out of your boobies. That was the money for the stuffed cabbage eating contest! Daddy is gonna rip you apart and feed you to the carp!"

That night was a Family Circle meeting. Grandma didn't have a plan for replacing the money. Before the meeting she quickly drew a counterfeit five dollar bill on the back of yesterday's butcher order receipt. When it was time to count the Family Circle funds, Grandma took out the fake five dollar bill and handed it to Sam who began to examine it. "Hmm..something is not right here." He held the bill up to the light. "In pastrami we trust? What the hell is this Beatty?" He turned the bill over and continued reading. "5 lbs pastrami, 43 lbs tongue, One 3 ft Salami. Beatty!!!!! Where's the money?!" "She blew it all at Coney Island" piped Herbie. "That's it Beatty! You are excommunicated from Family Circle forever! You are banned from all Family Circle events and forbidden to partake in all Family Circle delicacies! That includes the rugulah you have in your mouth right now! Spit it out Beatty! Spit it out!"

A Letter to Paul Mercurio

Dear Paul (aka Scott Hastings),

I am just writing to tell you that I love you. I remember that day I first saw you in Strictly Ballroom. I was an awkward ten year old and you were a beautiful Australian movie star. I don't know if the movie plot was your idea, or whether you really fell in love with Fran (just Fran), but that movie really had a huge effect on me. It made me not care that I was ugly and had cystic acne. (Well, maybe I didn't have cystic acne until I was twelve but still) I realized that maybe a guy like you (you) could fall in love with me. And it didn't matter that I wasn't as flexible and acrobatic as Tina Sparkle. I had my own Latin (Jewish) flair.

I had many fantasies about the two of us. Many of them involved plot lines from the movie (Strictly Ballroom). For example, you would be an amazing ballroom dancer and I would be a clumsy beginner. I would ask you if I could be your partner and you would act cocky and say no. Eventually you would give in and start giving me lessons. You would always wear those black slacks with a wife beater. And I would wear ugly, baggy clothes, with a really great body underneath. As dance lessons progressed I would slowly start wearing tighter, sexier clothing. One day I would take off my glasses and take down my hair. Soon after that you would fall in love with me. Well, that can still happen.

Now I am 26 years old. I know you are married and have about 3 or 4 or even 5 children, but I thought this was my last chance. I saw you on a clip of the Australian version of Dancing with the Stars yesterday on youtube and figured what the hell. You did your famous slide across the floor with your knees entrance. It was so cute. You were wearing those same black slacks with the wife beater that you wore in the movie. Even though about fifteen years have gone by and you've put on some weight and lost some hair, you still look as cute as ever. True, I hadn't really thought about you in about 11 years or so, but I really have loved you all this time. I was just wondering if you'd like to go out to dinner sometime. I just thought I'd take a chance. After all, a life lived in fear is a life half lived.

Family History Revised

When my Grandma Bea came over here from Lithuania, she had with her a vision-- Bloomingdales and tongue sandwiches. She kept that vision alive over the years. At 16 she met Riter and Al who were already married by about age 10. Or maybe they were brother and sister, nobody really knows. Riter and Al and Grandma Bea all used to work at Bloomingdales after school. At the end of the evening Riter and Al and Grandma would all ride on a subway home to Bensonhurting, Brooklyn. Then they would eat a large dinner of tongue sandwhiches and chocolate. Uncle Julius would be the one cooking the tongues. Uncle Julius was Grandma's uncle. He was a giant. He was so huge that he was taller than the Metlife building. He was over 5 feet tall.

Grandma had a friend named Lila. One night Lila slept over at Grandma's house. Grandma's parents were sleeping upstairs. Lila brought some cigarettes over and they decided to smoke them. But grandma had never smoked a cigarette before so she didn't know how to do it. Lila lit a cigarette but then before she could start smoking it Grandma said- "Hey I'm hungry,lets raid the tongue drawer." Lila set the cigarette down on top of a lamp in the living room. Grandma and Lila went into the kitchen and picked at the tongue for about five minutes and then Lila smelled smoke. They realized the cigarette had caught the lamp on fire. They pushed the lamp on the floor and stamped the fire out. Grandma's little brother Herbie heard the noise and came out of his room. He was wearing his Coney Island Cyclone pajamas. He saw Lila and Grandma crawling around on their knees looking for something. They were looking for the cigarette butt. Suddenly Lila shouted "I found the butt!" and held it up. Grandma said "shhhh Daddy will hear!" The girls turned around and saw little Herbie sitting there watching everything. "What are you doing Beatty?" he said, "You were smoking, I know. And I smell tongue too. You should be ashamed of yourself-- smoking and stealing tongue on the same night! Daddy's gonna kill you." Grandma grabbed Herbie's little neck, "You aren't going to tell Daddy anything, you little brat! Cause if you do I'm gonna rip up all your toy neckties! Anyway, we have an excuse. We'll just say the lamp caught fire by itself."

The next day there was a knock on the door of Grandma's room. It was Grandma's Dad, Sam. Sam was a mean religious man who banged on the table during every meal shouting "God's watching you and he doesn't think you should be eating all that meat!" Lila and Grandma were still asleep and Sam had woken them up. They sat up in the bed as Sam walked in the room. "I know you girls were eating tongue and smoking last night and I'm not going to tolerate it!" From now on NO TONGUE! If you want tongue you better go to the cow yourself and de-tongue it!" "No Daddy!!" Grandma Bea cried. "You can't do this to me!"

But he could. From then on Grandma ate pastrami instead.

Late night ramen noodle habit out of control

I never really liked ramen noodles when I was young. Mostly because there was always some kid who dumped their leftover noodles in the water fountain after lunch. I very much dislike staring at half eaten noodles while I am drinking water. In college I gave them a second chance. But they seemed slimy and limp to me, as if they had been sitting in that water fountain since third grade and finally fished out ten years later, landing in mouth. Then, a couple of months ago, something strange happened.

As I was walking home after a late night out, that dude who is in charge my cravings, my hypothalamus, (I'm going to call him Bill Clinton) began screaming "RAaaaaaMEN NOOooooDLES! I WAaaaaanT RAaaaaaaaMEN NOODLES!" I tried to ignore him because not only did I dislike ramen noodles, I knew ramen noodles were NOT a nutritious late night meal. Yes, there are more harmful foods (hollandaise sauce, fried ice cream, gushers) but the more I tried to suppress Bill Clinton's cries, the louder he wailed. I had to give him the bag of dehydrated soup he desired.

Over the next few weeks my ramen noodle intake began to increase. The noodles no longer tasted slimy and limp. Now they were satisfyingly salty and delicious. I started thinking about the quantity of noodles I had been consuming. Was Bill Clinton taking over? One night I casually mentioned to a friend that I was going to pick up some ramen noodles on the way home. My friend was horrified. But I knew that something inside me had changed ever since I'd heard Bill Clinton crying.

That night I thought a lot about ramen noodles. On the one hand, they are absolutely repulsive. On the other hand, they are delicious. I woke up the next day in cold, salty, artificial-chicken-flavored sweat. I decided I didn't care if ramen noodles were unhealthy and disgusting. I wanted to keep Bill Clinton happy. If he wanted ramen noodles, he was gonna get ramen noodles.
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Happy half birthday to me!

Today is my half birthday. It makes me think of how much time has gone by since my regular "full" birthday. I believe it has been oh, about six months. Yes, six months. And what has happened in that last six months? A lot. A WHOLE LOT. Lets make a list:

1. Did laundry a bunch of times
2. Bought 3 or 4 pairs of new shoes
3. Did not clean the bathroom
4. Changed from "winter" clothes to "summer" clothes
5. Ate about 90-100 sandwiches
6. Got hair cut twice
7. Took cat to the vet and found out she weighs 13 pounds..gross
8. Started buying smart water
9. Called landlord to fix windows but he still did not fix the windows, that bastard
10.Switched from 15 spf daily moisturizer to 30 spf moisturizer
11.Continued with confused quarterlife portion of life
12.Answered exactly no trivia questions correctly
13.Found one shit free dollar on the street
14.Made a mountain out of a molehill
15.Dropped cell phone in toilet

Why is that turtle pillow still staring at me?

As I am writing this there is a turtle pillow sitting on the couch next to me and it won't stop staring at me. I don't know what it wants. I don't have any food for it. Although, now that I think about it, I saw a fly buzzing around about ten minutes ago. But the turtle pillow made no attempt to catch it. Or maybe turtles don't eat flies. Maybe the turtle pillow is sad because it wanted the fly but has not evolved with features that are conducive to fly catching. Maybe it needs love. It is rather fat and maybe nobody has loved it in a while because of its grotesque, puffy build. Its purple and blue shell is kind of delightful though. Maybe it is mad because it does not want to be on the couch next to me but rather in my roommate's room, where it belongs. It looks like it is trying to get off the couch but I don't think it has moved since I started writing this.

Its black beady eyes are really starting to annoy me now. Look away turtle pillow!! Look away!!!