Halloween, Alright

So I'm spraying the shit out of my sofa with this toxic bed bug crap because even though the exterminators can find no proof (and one exterminator lost my sole bug that I gave him for the lab), I'm convinced I have them, and the door bell rings. I'm convinced it's 9C. Two quick bells. Ding! Ding! I don't answer. I could go down the hall and look through the peep hole, but then the person on the other end would know that I was home. You know? Normally, this is my favorite holiday of bitterness. I celebrate by listening to all the kids parade through the building while I do not sign the building Trick or Treat Sign-In Sheet as an Halloween-friendly apartment doling out candy. Instead I sit on my sofa, drinking. Listening. Not this year.

Doodle's Got Ring Around the Collar

Doodle, 10/31/06

Don't tell her though; she's a clean freak. Obsessed with hygiene.

Anyway, approximately 30 years ago on this very date, my mom was pregnant, and I was a robot. A sophisticated combination of silver spray-painted boxes with high-tech knobs and stuff glued on. It was a cold Halloween that year. I think my best friend was a cat, my other friend was the Incredible Hulk, and I remember thinking she was going to freeze in those raggedy cut- off shorts. I was excited for a lot of candy, not to get harrassed by idiot boys, and praying for two things:

1. a little sister
2. a little sister to be born on Halloween

I thought having a little sister born on Halloween would be the absolute COOLEST! Turns out I got my wish of a little sister, but she missed the 31st by a couple of days. So, she was no Halloween Baby, but she was and is the absolute coolest. Doodle agrees.

Doodle Takes Halloween Safety Seriously

Be careful tonight, kids! Remember, this is NYC and as the saying goes, you don't know if that man you bump into with the monkey mask on the subway is en route to the parade or about to steal your wallet at gunpoint. We'll be here fighting the real scary shit, the prospect of bed bugs.

Fire Bushes Need Not Apply

Sure, you've got yourself a rainbow wig for Halloween. But what if you get lucky? What if someone's gonna see your Junk Show? You're going to need a rainbow wig for downstairs, too, ain't ya? Betty Beauty to the rescue! Covers naturally, covers gray.

Eeeeew. Gray.

Elephants are Wicked Amazing

Doodle may be smart as a whip, but she doesn't recognize her reflection in the mirror. If she runs by one, and it catches her by surprise, sometimes she'll do that "Sideways Puffed Out Halloween Cat" thing, but she never believes it is her. She looks beyond it. I'd say unphased is a good description of how she reacts.

But elephants, elephants are amazing. Not only do they recognize their own reflections, but they can paint SELF PORTRAITS! All these years being butchered for their ivory and abused in the circus, well, to be intelligent and aware is a terrifying burden. Just ask me. Or, a pig, a future bacon strip. They know that single-file line to the slaughter house is a one-way trip. That's why they run in the other direction. Ahhh, to be as dim as a sheep. Ignorance is bliss indeed...

Things My Mother Hates III

And You Thought Mannequin II Was Good

Looks like we got ourselves a new Andrew McCarthy for Mannequin III. Why did the guy not go out and buy himself his own mannequin so he's not charged for breaking and entering in search of the perfect plastic woman? Casual Corner was selling at least 50 of 'em in March during their Going Out of Business Sale. The guy could have had an entire harem of resin beauties for his enjoyment, whatever that may consist of (quite sure I don't need to know the details, though I I'm not saying I'm not a wee bit curious)...

The Lion, The Witch, in the Bathtub

HAPPY

HALLOWEEN!

fROM dOODLE and aNNE

Introducing Doodle's Alter Ego: Ol' Crazy Eyes!

Doodle, 10/28/06

Too Bad, So Sad, Shove it Up Your Ass

Yeah, Reese and Ryan are kaput. Whatevs. I wish them no ill will. But it's sad only because the world wanted to believe that two shiny young beautiful blonde actors married with children in their twenties were gonna make it. They're gonna make it alright, just not together, and not for their 50th Golden Wedding Anniversary. Frankly, I think they looked too much alike for their marriage to survive. Perhaps they've realized they're brother and sister.

Cheap: It's Here, It's Queer, I Can't Get Used to It

I went on a date last week with an actor. Not a regular out-of-work actor, but a working actor who clears up to 100k doing commercials and crap when he's not doing t.v. There is he is on the right. That he is an actor should have been a red flag right there, but I figured we had some stuff in common. Turns out we did. But all was negated after he paid the check and said, "Now you're buying me a Scotch." I thought it may have been a flirty way to suggest we go somewhere for another drink, but he didn't stop me; he let me buy it. Tsk tsk. He's lucky I had the 20 beans in my pocket as it was an after thought. Turns out you can't wash the taste of disappointment out of your mouth with whiskey. Another one bites-o el dust-o.

Sometimes Things Are Too Ironic To Be Funny

There are hundreds of strollers parked here which you can't see. The odd thing about it is that "Stroller Parking" for some ankle-biter event on Saturday afternoon was designated right under Ten's World-Class Cabaret's canopy and entrance.

Ten's World-Class Cabaret (for those unlucky ones not to be in the know) is a place where scantily clad broads take off their scanty clothes and dance around all sexy-like for money from gross guys.

"There are some uglies too, but most girls are good" says club reviewer Knuckles21.

Phew! Now that's good to know! Thanks, Knuckles!

Happy Daylight Savings

Moonlight in the Adirondacks, Rockwell Kent, c. 1960

Did you all enjoy your extra hour of sleep on Sunday? Anyone misjudge the time because you forgot to change that microwave clock? I'm not a huge fan of the procedure, though I do like the extra hour. (and Spring Forward really bites). I prefer it to be dark in the morning rather than dark in the evening. When the sun goes down before 5 p.m., it seems like ten p.m. and I don't feel like doing a damn thing.

Dear John Mellencamp

Dear John Mellencamp (formerly John Cougar Mellencamp, formerly formerly John Cougar),

I took your name change thing in stride. I've respected your music and your new names and have referred to you properly each time you've changed them. So, please do me a favor, and don't penalize me for watching football.

Your Ford "This is Our Country" ad is as annoying and tenacious as a bed bug, working it's itchy way into my brain with every repetition. It is quite cruel and unusual punishment for someone who loves sports. It's bad enough that it's played at every commercial break during the NFL, that you played it live during the World Series, but the 9/11 Red Neck imagery is weird. I thought you were against Bush's War, so what are you trying to say? Your ad is quite contradictory. Did Ford dupe you? I think they did. I think you need to send the money back. And get this fuckin' ad off the air to save my sanity. It's not saving our country. Can we just stick to Jack and Diane? Great.

Thanks,

Bye.

Love,

Anne

Doodle, Just Because

Doodle, 10/29/06

Doodle is so friggin' cute, I couldn't help but post another picture tonight from the Hotel Series. She's like a fake kitty, right? I know. Honestly, sometimes even I can't handle the cute. She's a real P.O.W., I tell you. Would you look at that face?

*piece of work

Ever See Two Queens and One Brown Bull Dog in a Black Mini Cooper?

Bull Doggin', NYC, 10/28/06

Well, you have now.

Escape From New York

Doodle 10/28/06

Well, not really. But sort of. Escape from my apartment for the weekend, anyway. My mother came to town to visit my aunt and we stayed in an amazing Affinia hotel suite around the corner from my place which is not only people friendly but pet friendly too. Guess who had a little vacation too? Miss Doodle, of course, and she loved it. You should have seen the concierge's face when he learned that we only needed a food bowl, not a litter pan. (proud smile) See her above, lounging in the glass-topped wardrobe? The striated wood veneer matches the her coat quite nicely. She didn't have to see the inside of the gross hospital, but she missed out on some fine dining uptown. Namely Iztoteca (Mexican with French accents) and the Spanish-influenced Don Pedro's.

Of course, coming and going from my place, I indirectly ran into a few neighbors. Not the Shamed Family of 9C, whom I was really concerned about running into. And "indirectly" meaning: I saw them and either they didn't see me so I blew them off, or we both saw each other and I ignored/pretended not to see them. It occured to me that there are several neighbors I have to avoid. Here is the list:

9C: Bed Buggers

8AB: The Family of Heavy-Footed Ignorant A-Hole Yetis With Hyperactive Children

10C: The Guy Who was/in The Landmark Forum, A Cult. Yes, I befriended 10C, a nice gay man with a dog whom rooked me into a "reception" at his apartment which turned out to be a cult initiation session. Here I thought the Landmark Forum was something to do with Historic Preservation Society. Boy, was I wrong. It turned out to be an organization dedicated to taking your money in the name of "helping you change your life" by getting you to sign up for workshops with no windows, withholding breaks, water, and food in order to take more of your money. Creepy. I declined. Needless to say, our encounters now are awkward.

4G: The depressed Korean War Vet who is perfectly nice but smells and talks too much.

7G: The gnarled broad with Alzheimer's who never recognized me. She died a few weeks ago, so that problem is solved.

10A: The Jesus Hater. Things with this neighbor are awkward because she was on the Co-op Board for awhile. At the time, my new neighbor, 7A, was unpleased with the tiny word magnets from Word Poetry which graced my and 7C's door (a dear friend whom unfortunately moved out this year) "He's got a very high-powered job at Bergdorf Goodman. Please take them down," she said. What? Fine. We did. But I replaced mine with a 4"x5" Jesus magnet. The Sacred Heart, Jesus, to be exact. You know, the bloody one with His heart beating and bleeding on the outside of his chest? That's the one.

Do I believe in Jesus? No, I don't. But I put it up on principle. (And also because I believed that if 7A had a problem with me, he could have talked to me directly, not the Super and the co-op board. Oh, and because I knew that if 7A hated the Word Poetry, he was really going to hate the Jesus magnet. He did.)

Other people have shit on their doors, whether it be a crappy painting their kids' drew, an American Flag, or some tacky wreath of flowers with a duck. You can't legislate what is art, or what is religiously appropriate, especially since many folks have mezzuzahs on their door jams. Very dangerous territory. Shit hit the fan. Take it down. I would not. "You want me to go to the Daily News with this?" I asked. Then someone stole my Jesus magnet. I wrote a song marking the occasion:

Someone stole my Jesus

And I'm gonna find out who

Someone stole my Jesus

Who was it?

Was it You?

So I replaced Jesus I with Jesus II. 10A called me again, "We've decided that if anyone on anyone's floor objects to the thing placed on their door, then that person must take it down. I asked 7A if he enjoyed the Jesus, and the answer was no, he does not enjoy the Jesus." I replied, "You asked the one person on my floor who has a problem with me if he liked it? What did you think he would say? Did you ask Mrs. Colon, who celebrates all Twelve Days of Christmas and keeps her wreath up until the Epiphany? No, you did not. Anyway, long story short, Jesus Lives.

On my door, anyway.

Needless to say, I'm avoiding quite a crowd. You'd think I love conflict, considering the shitstorms I've thrown myself into over the years. Sure, fighting for my rights, fighting on principle for principle's sake renders one exhausted and a pain in the ass. But I won't back down, because I hate stupid people. And I'd give anyone who is interested my Jesus III, but I need Him just in case. In the meantime, I need to get a wig to go with that fake nose and glasses combo. Or a thicker skin.

That's What Friends Are For

WOULD YOU LOOK AT THIS? ? ?

I came home tonight to find this wonderful gift from my fine, fine friends at my old job, the back supporters who miss me, not the back stabbers who dissed me. I am so lucky to have such wonderful friends.

Thank you, friends!

xxoxoooxoxooxooxo

Love,

Anne and Doodle

Today is the 300th Day of 2006

That means you have 65 days to get your shit together.



Good luck.

She is Doodle, Hear Her Yawn

Right after this yawn, she said, "Frankly, Anne, you bore the shit out of me."

Doodle Likes to Lick the Macaroni & Cheese Powder Packet

And has no problem jumping up on the counter to do so. She also likes white chocolate. She's not a fan of real cheese or milk. I guess she's lactose intolerant or perhaps has been reading Marilu Henner's crap on the No Dairy Diet. I haven't seen the book around here, perhaps she's reading it online.

Come On!

I refuse to believe this. I saw a rat in Brooklyn last week, and they're enormous. Can they fit in a container the size of a salad?

Doodle's Suit is Back From the Drycleaners and Ready For Monday's Job Hunt

Doodle, 10/06

W'r Gonna Build Us a Fence N' Git'r Done!

A 700 mile fence? IDIOT! HAVE A LOOK AT HISTORY, JACKASS: How well did the Great Wall of China do? Second, where are we going to get it, Home Depot? Ikea?

Third, who the hell are we going to get to take it out of the box and assemble it? Americans? Laughable! Everyone knows that to build something of quality, something good, we need slave labor! That's why everything is a piece of shit nowadays. Go have a look at Grand Central Terminal. Have we built something of that kind of quality in awhile? The Great Wall was as good as it gets, and still proved a bust. They didn't even finish it before the enemy was shooting stuff over it. If you build it, they will come.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...

You Know What's Good With Kraft Macaroni & Cheese?

Doodle, 9/06

A nice 2004 Bordeaux. Doodle agrees that it also compliments her Chicken n' Giblets Feast.

Oh, To Be With My 6 Best Gals at Olive Garden

Olive Garden has spent some big bucks to advertise during the World Series. The ads make me long to be hanging with my 6 best girlfriends having the best time at Chez Garden while we laugh it up and animatedly enjoy various dishes with only one rule: That everyone orders something different! Yes! So we can all sample everyone else's E-coli /salmonella sauce and have a hard time tracing the source. 86 the Chicken Parm! Or is it the All-You-Can-Eat Pasta Bowl?

Thank You, Producer of Special Victims Unit!

That very same friend who sent me the article on bed bugs also sent me another informative and more uplifting piece of news. Yay! Screw you, Elisabeth Hasselbeck! I don't know how Rosie can restrain herself from strangling her.

Cat You Believe It?

Doodle, 10/06

Britney's New Spawn Ain't Sutton Pierce Afterall

It's worse: it's Jayden James.

Yes, Jayden is in the top 30 Annoying Boy Names designated by Two Can Anne.

Let's add more:

40) Brock
41) Chase
42) Caden
43) Jaron
44) Brayden
45) Sutton
46) Pierce

To Have Bed Bugs or To No Not Have Bed Bugs: That is the Question

So, the Terminix guy just came here. Now he's recanting what he said about the spots on my wall, saying that he can't confirm that they the bugs are here, queer, and whether or not I can get used to it remains to be seen. He suggested that I put down some glue traps to see if I can "catch" some. He also told me that the lawyer who represents the building said that 9C was in their right to keep their bug matter private. Really. Oh well. If that's the case, then: Too bad, so sad, you're gross, and I'm not. Heh heh. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Meanwhile, I'm keeping on my throwing everything away project. It's cleansing. Perhaps I'd like to live in a world where I believe that I have bed bugs. Is that so wrong?

I Found the Man Who Will Swim Naked in a Sea of Razor Wire For Me

Meet my new boyfriend.

I Hate Patricia Heaton on Everybody Loves Raymond

It's always a shame when you learn that the actor on a show you love is not that character at all, but a real live idiot person with their own ignorant beliefs. In response to Michael J. Fox's ad supporting Claire McCaskill's run for Senate and supporting stem cell research, Jim Tenant (the incumbent who opposes it) has put out an ad with St. Louis Cardinal baseball pitcher Jeff Suppan and Patricia Heaton, from Everybody Loves Raymond fame.

She sounds like a jerk. "Impoverished women will be seduced by big checks..."What? What??? What????? These are the same people who would have no problem with sperm donation, or in-vitro fertilization, or would not turn down a drug invented by science that could save one of their precious children should one of them get sick. They use science on a daily basis. How about all those tests and state-of-the-art Hollywood pre-natal care that Patricia had while she was pregnant with her 25 kids? You think she would have had any of those things without a little thing called science? Is she going to tell me that she's not on any kind of medication ever, and that Jeff Suppan doesn't know anything about performance enhancing drugs being in a sport like baseball?

To be clear: It's about hypocrisy. I don't have a problem with people who have a problem with science provided they don't take advantage of the benefits of science themselves. You can't cherry pick on issues like this or it blows your argument right out of the water. You don't pay taxes because you hate the U.S.? Then move back to your own shit ass country if this place bites so bad. If you're PETA activist, then don't wear leather. I had a friend in college who lambasted me for eating breakfast before I went to Catholic Mass with her one Sunday. "You're not supposed to eat before you see the Lord and eat the body of Christ" or some shit like that. I was like, "Does the Lord know you're not married and that you banged your boyfriend last night?" Get the fuck out of my face. She turned out to be a lesbian, so you can see why she was drinking so much Haterade at the time.

Look. I don't like Lladro collectibles and Hummel figurines and all that bullshit. They give me hives. But I don't go burning down the places that sell them. If people want to have that crap in their houses, let them have that crap in their houses. I don't understand why people don't have tolerance for other people and their quest for learning as in science or cluttering as in Hummels.

I hope now that Everybody Hates Debra. If not, then love her. Who am I to force my beliefs on you?

Nobody Nose the Trouble I've Seen

Doodle, 10/25/06

Remember when I told you that things were crappy but were about to get worse? Well, they got worse. Here is the short story.

Last week, a friend of mine sent me this New York Times article on bed bugs and what an epidemic in NYC this is beginning to be. The outlaw of DDT and the increase in cheap overseas travel has made this bug of lore quite comfortable shacking up here apparently, and since they're the size of a tick, live in the tiniest of cracks and can travel through plumbing and walls, all it takes is a neighbor to have them and you could be their next host. Unlike roaches they don't like dirty apartments and they don't spread disease. They don't care for income bracket, which is why a stay in a 5-star hotel could make you sorry unless you check behind the bed and headboard for signs that they may be staying in your room too.

Well, I happened to wake up the day of the article with bites on my shoulders. Thinking and praying they were mosquito bites --but fearing the worst having not seen or heard a mosquito in some time-- I pulled away the bed and and sofa from the walls to find tiny brownish specks on the walls. These apparently are signs that a bug has sucked your blood. I panicked. I was sure I had bed bugs. According to the articles I researched, it is one's obligation to tell your landlord / co-op board your suspicions.

First, I tell the super. He tells me that 9C had bed bugs last year, and spent 15K to eradicate them. He told the super to keep it quiet, and he had to foot the bill for this personally, as we live in a coop apartment building, not a rental. I heard this and double freaked. I spent 3 or 4 days awake doing research on websites and the twenty or so blogs dedicated to the subject (and because I was too afraid to go to bed) on how just because you think your apartment is rid of the critters, they can travel to other apartments, and then come back because other apartments weren't treated. In some cases, the building can be held responsible. I'm eating Campbell's soup for breakfast lunch and dinner--15K is not in my purse. An exterminator took one look at the specks and said, "Yes. Bed bugs." I wasn't going to shill out that kind of money just to have them return.

Next, I sent a detailed letter with informative links to websites and blogs from my research to every shareholder by putting them under their doors telling them that I thought I had bed bugs and that 9C previously had bed bugs and that the bugs can travel even if one unit is treated and that the building should do an extermination/prevention of sorts and that everyone should look out for them.

Then the shit hit the fan. El Shitto Hitto el Fanno.

9C calls me in a panic. "YOU HAVE SHAMED OUR FAMILY!" he shouts. "My wife is in hysterics! We spent thousands and thousands of dollars to get rid of this problem and keep it quiet!" Then, the president of the coop board calls me to say "YOU HAVE SHAMED HIS FAMILY!" Now I'm quite unpopular. But the problem here is that with people "ashamed" to tell others (especially those in the same apartment building) that they may have them, then nobody knows about them until they do, and sometimes then it can be really difficult (a 15K kind of difficult) to treat the problem. I'm thinking, does 9C really feel like spending another 15K?

So, in short: I am a certified, bonified Family Shamer. I will now add this to my list of occupations on my resume. You know what? Fuck him. "My wife has been crying for two days because you 'outed' us!" Well, guess what? Your wife is an idiot. I would have liked to have known that you had this problem you were trying to "sweep under the rug," you stupid Brit. Perhaps it was this guy (who is from the UK and constantly traveling there) brought them back, or maybe there was an infestation inside the walls somewhere that can't be traced to any source, but he's only confirmed my suspicions with his horseshit. He asked me to call him back, so I did. Turns out he asked me to call him back so he could shout obscenities at me and hang up. Class.

This morning, I bought the super and the staff a Dunkin' Donuts 10-cup Keg o' Joe and 24 Munchkins for all the trouble I've caused. On my way out to the hospital this afternoon the super said to me, "You know you're still my friend, don't you?" Which was nice, considering that now I'm a pariah in the building and not because I might have bed bugs but because I told everyone that 9C did. The fact remains however, is that the exterminators have yet to find real proof as in a real bug in my place, and that I think is because they come out at 4 a.m. Now that I've sent out the memo, a small part of me wishes that I truly do have them in a terrible way so I'm not the "Girl Who Cried Bed Bug" but also that the entire apartment building becomes infested with them so that I can say, "I told you so, you forking ice holes!" Doodle wants to find a live one so she can stick it under 9C's door. I told her that's not nice. But I'm not going to stop her.

The bottom line is that this preparation for a possible bug extermination has done my Feng Shui 9 Things a Day Project good. How about 90 Things a Day? I've done that and then some. You have no idea, people. Even my hair dryer and alarm clock are in a Staten Island land fill right now. Change is good, people are assholes, and Doodle is great. Sleep tight. And don't let the bed bugs bite.

Hospitals are Gross

I just got back from visiting my poor aunt in the hospital. Hospitals are gross. I've written a little poem to describe how I feel about hospitals and how gross they are.

Hospitals are gross.

Hospitals are gross.

Hospitals are gross, yes they are.

Hospitals near, and hospitals far.

Hospitals are gross, yes they are.

Hospitals are gross.

Hospitals are gross.

a poem by anne altman. all rights reserved, so don't steal my trick

The Eye of the Liger

Doodle, 10/25/06

Grrrrr, Matey!

I have nothing to add.

Put Away Your Hairy Pointer, Harry Potter

EEEEEEeeeeeeeeeew. We should not be exposed to former child actors exposing themselves. I don't give a shit how good of an actor he is or that it's "tasteful" because it's onstage. It's pedophilia-ish-y. Pedophiliac? How about gross? Gross works.

Whisker Lickin' Good

Doodle 10/25/06

I Wish Dick Cheney Would Read Me a Bed Time Story

Can you imagine? I just heard him on the radio telling me about the "success in Iraq" and how he never said there were weapons of mass destruction "per se," and his creepy voice is the the flattest, most chilling, least animated around. I'll go out on a limb and say it's the voice of a sociopath.

"Once upon a time, you're going to die. If you're not a wealthy white American male you'll die even sooner. So, sleep tight."

Wow, What a Dick

Rush Limbaugh truly is an idiot. An obese recreational pill abuser is ragging on a dude with Parkinsons's disease? Are you friggin' kidding me?? Of course Fox is shilling for another party. Why the hell would he support Republicans when they don't support a cure for his disease? That'd be like being a Republican if you're gay. Completely counter-productive.

"I will 'bigly and hugely' admit I was wrong" ???

You can say that again, you big huge moron.

I Read the News Because I am a Glutton For Punishment

Where my extra Earth at? How I'm gonna air-condition my 8,000 square foot home or gas up my 8,000 square foot Hummer without my extra Earth?

Why you didn't call me?

Guess It's Time to Okay That Cloning/Stem Cell Thingie

Now the administration says we need more troops in Iraq. Big surprise. Weird, right? 'Cause a few years ago, I thought I heard some jackass say "Mission accomplished."

Question: Without re-instating the draft, where are we going to get these poor kids?

Unless the administration plans on shooting brand new soldiers out of their bungers, or they create a cloning lab dedicated to this mess, I really don't know where they're going to get more soldiers. It's like feeding an insatiable monster of death. I know I'm not interested in enlisting in Bush's War. I was never for it. I don't like guns, and I have flat feet. Plus, I'm not good at climbing ropes and stuff. Bush is such a douchebag.

You Know What's Wicked Fuckin' Mmm Mmm Good?

Campbell's Tomato Soup with Pepperidge Farm Goldfish Preztels Garnish. I tell you what, kids, since unemployment has bestowed it's grace on me, I'm just dreaming up all kinds of exotic new ideas in the Two Can Anne Kitchen, and I'm so happy to share them with you.


To Make:

1) Empty one can of Campbell's Tomato Soup into microwave-safe bowl. Add one can of water. Stir. Microwave covered 2.5-3.0 minutes. Let sit for a minute. Stir. Pour into soup bowl or coffee cup. Garnish with Pepperidge Farm Pretzel Goldfish. Makes two small servings for a regular old person, or one drop in the bucket for a fatty bumbalatty.

2) Eat.

3) Enjoy.

4) Watch Doodle sit by her food bowl thinking you're feeding her because the cabinet up top makes the same sound as the cabinet below where you usually keep her canned food, and what she doesn't know is that you're out of canned food so the dry is going to have to do. Throw a couple of goldfish pretzels in her bowl. No interest. Eventually she'll walk away. It just takes a little time. Be patient.

Cat You Feel It, Doodle in the Air Tonight...

Doodle 8/06

George Clooney: So Hot Even Guys Want to Bang Him

The men voted, and Askmen.com revealed the results: Men and women alike want to bang George. I'm not saying that you're gay for reading Askmen.com, fellas. I'm just saying that you might be. And what's wrong with that? It's only wrong if I want to bang you. Then it's a problem.

BatDoodle Continues

Doodle, 9/06

New Vacuum Cleaners With Low Suction Suck

Someone at Home Depot needs their ass beat.

How Now, Brown Meow?

Doodle, 10/06

Say Goodbye to My Retainer and My Price is Right Button

I think it's time that I don't have these items in my life anymore. How often do I wear that Price is Right button? How's never? I think my sister got it when she went to a taping. It's a thing I don't need. And how often do I wear my retainer from Junior High? I think 20 years is long enough to save that thing. I tried it on just now to see how terribly my teeth have moved since I got my braces off in 1984 and quite honestly, it almost fit. Not bad. Time for le garbage. Basta!

The Prestige

I saw a movie last night called The Prestige, starring Christian Bale, Michael Kane, and Hugh Jackman. Scarlett Johanssen has a bit part which isn't much worth mentioning even though I just did. She filled the sexy factor quota, I guess. I kept asking my date if he noticed the wart between Christian Bale's nose and his right eye. He didn't notice. But he did notice Scarlett's lips, so I suppose all is right in the world.

Apparently there are three parts to every trick. The Pledge, where the magician shows the audience something ordinary (but no doubt really isn't). Then, the Turn, where he makes his ordinary thing do something extraordinary. And finally, the Prestige, where he uses twists and turns to show you something you've never seen before. And I say "he" because let's face it, most magicians are nerdy dudes. A look at the audience last night was confirmation enough for me.

A peek inside of the early days of on stage magic was interesting and the period costume was depicted well, but the story was a little difficult to follow (especially near the end), and the movie was at least a half an hour too long. My rating? Half a Can (out of a possible Two Cans). At any rate, the characters kept referring to "the trick" and "stealing tricks" and "secret of the trick" and it all reminded me of a little story. Wanna hear it? Of course you do. So settle down, and listen up. It'll be more interesting than The Prestige and take a lot less time to tell.

Years ago when I was bartending and looking for work, I stopped into a place now formerly known as The Village Idiot. Really classy joint. Ok, no, not at all. Not even close. On West 14th Street, the Idiot was a crassier Coyote Ugly. A haven for construction workers by day and by night just the place for anyone who wanted to get loaded didn't mind dirty glasses or their feet sticking to the floor. I went in after reading in their ad in Craig's List about an open call for a bartending position. Females Only, the ad read. Did I actually think I could envision myself working at a place like that? I didn't know. I really didn't think about it too much. I needed a job, so I checked it out.

I walked in on the designated afternoon which happened to be a sticky and humid day. The place smelled of stale beer. My friend Brandy would say it smelled like "an asshole fucked an arm pit."Country music blared from the juke box, the air conditioner did not exist, and the place was packed with waiting applicants andIrish construction guys getting their fill of beer and attention from the bartender. I sat down next next to one such fellow who bought me a beer while I waited to interview.

So you're here for an audition, he said. An audition? I think to myself. Seconds later the guys start tapping on their beer glasses and the bartender, or bar wench, if you will--a petite broad with big cans and a rough face--poured a pint glass of water over her head, drenching her wife beater and those big cans of hers for all to see. Tips abound.

Now I'm freaking out.

"Do you know any tricks?" the construction guy asks me.
"Tricks?" I ask.
"Yeah, you know, tricks."
"Well, if you mean tricks like pouring a pint glass of water over my head when people clink their glasses for a self-induced wet t-shirt contest, not really. I'm not that kind of gal."
"No?"
"Not really, no."
"Lisa! Come here!" he tells the soaking wet bartender. "Show her your trick!"
I shrug. She walks over.
"You're not going to steal my trick, are you?" she asks.
"No. Of course not," I reply. Terrified.
"Ok, then," she said. With that, she took from around her neck a shoelace with a large flat stainless steel bottle opener attached at the end. She grabbed the non-opener end of the laniard in one hand like a whip, slightly squatted in her tight jeans, and swung the string between her legs from the frontal cooch area to the back, so that the bottle opener gained some speed on it's way through and up just enough to smack her on her own ass. Again. And again. And again.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth went the bottle opener between her legs and landing with a smack on the ass. Everyone cheered and waved dollar bills. I smiled weakly.

Awkward...

After her last swing with the rope she put it back around her neck, looked at me sternly, leaned in and said, "DON'T STEAL MY TRICK."

I didn't. After all, it was her Prestige.

Campbell's Chicken Noodle Doodle

Doodle, 9/06

Fragile-ay! It's a Major Award!

Sure, it's no leg lamp in red pumps and fishnet stockings. Or a bowling alley like we had hoped. Nonetheless, people, it's a major award. Ralphie was psyched. He stroked it.

A MAJOR AWARD, I say!

Two Can Anne has been voted "Bestest Blog of the Day" by The Bestest Blog of All Time! Just ask Morgen from It's a Blog Eat Blog World!

What the hell does this mean? How the hell should I know. But can it be bad? It's a friggin' major award! I'm having a friggin' bitch ass week. This can't be bad.

Unless it can. This is entirely plausible. And then what. Well, we'll deal with that situation when come to it. Right now we're dealing with other crap. Let's enjoy this lovely surprise, thanks to everyone who reads my caca doody everyday. Or whomever is responsible for bestowing this major award on me. Morgen even gives props to the real superstar at Two Can Anne, and that is of course, Doodle. take a look at that sweet little thing with the red flowers in her hair*.




*She's pissed, by the way. A tom boy (or tom cat, I suppose) to the 10th degree, and I pimped her out in some pussy barettes with red flowers. Completely. Humiliated. Like I care.

Shit is Lame

Tough week here at Two Can Anne, folks. Who'd have thought Monday would be a day to look forward to, but 'tis true. My aunt is still in the hospital, I've had essentially 6 hours of sleep in three days, the refrigerator may join the toaster in the The Thing is Done Bitch Ass Broke Department, I've got no job, extremely irritating upstairs neighbors who drive a person to drink (more than usual) bills up the bing bang, and now you only have half of the story. Shit is lame, and there's more. But, c'est la vie. Who said it would be easy? Your momma? No, no she didn't. She told you there'd be days like this, so, deal. Friggin' deal.

Finger in the Subway Sammich? Finger This One Out

Here we go again. Not sure why another person would claim the old "Hey, there's a finger in m' fast food!" trick, considering the last broad who did it with the Wendy's chili was sentenced to prison for twelve years, but what else do you expect from someone from a place called Chowchilla? Puhhhlease.

Meet the Mets. In Spring Training.

Oh, man. What an exciting and painful, painful way to lose to the Cardinals last night. To quote Doodle, "This will go down as one of the worst losses in Mets history." And here I thought the ugliest thing about Beltran was that bulbous brown wart mole thing between his right ear and his face. Bases are loaded, and you need two runs to tie, three to win in game 7 of the NLCS? You gotta swing the bat, Carlos! Poor guy freaked out. It happens. Hey. That's baseball. Someone's gotta win, someone's gotta lose. I was feeling for those Met fans last night, I tell you what. We Sox fans had a moment like that back in '86. Ahem. I'm just bummed I have to look at Spiezio's friggin' stupid facial hair strip for awhile longer.

Go, Tigers!!!

There's a Party Over Here So You Might as Well Be Here

No, there's no party. Just a lot of crap. A lot overwhelming crap to deal with over here at Two Can Anne, so I apologize for the lack of posts today. I know you were constantly refreshing that browser of yours to find out whom Anne thinks is annoying, a jerk, sucks. But instead, you got creative and thought of those people all on your own. See? That's what I do around here, I inspire others. Don't thank me. Thank you.

xo

Anne and Doodle

Can We Talk About How Gross It Is When People Eat on the Subway?

Then again, why bother? It's gross! Nothing to talk about. Nothing at all. Except for the vinegar fries and cheeseburger in the lap of the broad next to me. All the way to Corona, Queens. Almost killed myself.

Horatio's Drive

Bud, 1903

I'm a PBS nerd because of stories like this. In 1903, on a $50 bet, Dr. Horatio Nelson Jackson, a Vermont doctor, set off in his Winton Touring Car (affectionately called The Vermonter) on the very first automobile trip across the United States. Along with him were his mechanic Sewell Crocker and his dog, Bud. It took him 63 days and cost him $8,000. Ken Burns' documentary, Horatio's Drive, does a great job in showing exactly how daunting this task was. Here's another great link with more information. Bud rules. So does Vermont. Oh, and cars are cool, I guess.

Sure, Tax Fraud is Appealing, Wesley

But it's got loads of embarrassing risk associated with it. Wesley, Wesley, Wesley. Yes, work bites. And "free" money is easier. But couldn't you have done some embarrassing overseas commercials instead?

P.S. Nice armpit

Some Broads Can't Do Rainy Days

But I can. And my hair? My hair looks amazing today. Long, bright and shiny and straight. Lookin' good, Anne. Lookin' good.

Alberto V05 Kiwi and Lime Squeeze? Forget about it. It's liquid green magic.

Happy 300 Millionth American!

That's too many Americans. Where the hell are we going to fit all these slobs? Where is Nietzsche when you need him?

Did Someone Say Ridiculous?

Doodle, 10/16/06

It's Already Been Done Decided

Yep. It's been decided, by me, that I make the best damned grilled cheese with store-bought wheat, Mexican Shredded Cheese Medley, tomato and Smart Balance in all the land. I challenge any doubters to a Teflon-y duel to the death. Look, I've had two. I'm telling you, you're going to lose.

Vote For Anne's Next Match

If I had a penny for every time I read "I work hard and I play hard" on an online dating profile...well, let's just say that I'd be able to afford name brand yogurt, shall we? How about handles like "debonair_iam?" You don't find those everyday, do you? Oh, that's right, yes you do. Here are the latest crop of dudes cruising me on the internet dating super highway. Vote for your favorite!

1)

This guy says: "Laughter is my biggest character."

Um, actually? I think your 'stache is your biggest "character." And possibly your orange yellow rugby which in addition, I don't think you're sporting ironically.

2)
This guy hails from Buffalo.

Hey, guy, I ordered "hot guy" not "hot wings," ok? Great.

3)

Don't forget about this creepy fella! 'Cause hasn't forgotten about me, no siree!

4)

No words for this. Not even the 12 I expended just now.

5)
Loves the ballet.

Bed Bugs Movin' on Up in Manhattan

I just read this gross article. Now my skin is crawling and I'm convinced I have them. GgggggRrrrrroSssssss! Preshistoric bugs in your bed? Positive spin for single folks: You're not sleeping alone!

A Coffee Mug is a Great Gift Idea

No, it isn't.

Have I Told You Lately How Much I Love Eleanor Roosevelt?

Eleanor Roosevelt, 1884-1962

Well, I do. I saw a PBS documentary on her life last night, and indeed, Eleanor Roosevelt was remarkable. She was born into bucks but had a crappy childhood because her father was a drunk and both her parents died when she was young. She was smart, tall, toothy, awkward and anything but a complacent society woman which was what was expected of her. Instead, Eleanor threw herself into social work and making the world a better place. It goes without saying, even though I'll say it: Without her eyes, ears, and legs, FDR wouldn't have had a chance at the presidency.

One of my favorite quotes happens to be by Eleanor Roosevelt:

"Do one thing every day that scares you."

And today that thing is: Clean the fridge.

Anne's Crazy

-Crazy-

~

I'm crazy

crazy for feeling so lonely

I'm crazy

crazy for feeling so blue

I knew you'd love me as long as you wanted

then someday

leave me for somebody new

(bridge)

worry

why do I let myself worry

wond'ring

what in the world did I do

crazy

for thinking that my love could hold you

I'm crazy for crying

I'm crazy for trying

and I'm crazy for loving you

- by Willie Nelson

Reciprocity

I'd compare my upstairs neighbors to barn animals, but that would be insulting to all barn animals. They're louder, messier, dirtier, and ruder than barn animals, and it's all for shame because they're human (allegedly) and should know better about respect for neighbors, indoor/outdoor voices, indoor/outdoor behavior. The kid was off the wall today. Too much Red Bull, not enough restraints applied, who knows why, but it's bedtime for Bonzo, a-holes. Be parents and tell the kids it's time to turn in. And vacuuming after nine p.m.? Seriously friggin' uncool. It's bullshit.

So, to summarize: They're ugly*, rude, selfish, and completely friggin' dirty, because they're constantly vacuuming. I swear they must have a steady stream of sawdust shooting out of their butt holes or something. Like a family of mobile wood chippers with huge honkin' feet and motor skill dysfunction. Compassion? Nope, you're not going to find it here, people. Not here. Not today.

I've decided a wake up call is in order. What would be more annoying to you, being awoken at 3:30 a.m. or 4:30 a.m.? Or both? Just curious. I have an alarm to set.

*Not relevant to this argument, but true all the same

Easy Like Sunday Mornings...Not

After a night of carousing with some funny people, I had an appointment this morning with a representative from the "boutique" matchmaking firm (I've been referring to as Prude Dude) which has been stalking me of late. We met at a Starbucks near my house at 10:30 this morning. Why so early? I was asking myself that very question when I was still in bed at 9:30. Most likely the incentive was to get it out of the way. Ever have the vivid dream that you're going about your morning routine like showering, putting on a pot of coffee, laying out your clothes...but you're not, you're still lying in bed? Did that! Hate that! Groan.

Anyway, I did my nails last night so I'd look polished. Get it?And did I ever! Long story short: the meeting was pleasant and not annoying. The woman was nice, and I actually don't have a bad thing to say about her. Rare, rare, rare indeed. Clearly I must have looked smokin' hot--even for that early in the morning-- because a guy came in with his paper and checked the shit out of me every time he took a sip of his coffee. I see you, guy. Take it ease'. Keep staring like that and I'm gonna have to charge you. Prude Dude apparently has a fellow in mind for me, some guy who is (on paper, anyway) very successful and wealthy enough to afford the thousands of dollars that this place charges. I'm picturing a balding midget in his late thirties with a private plane. That's fine, I guess. The midget part, anyway. I'm not getting in any planes. No thanks, John Denver, JFK Jr., Cory Lidle, et al. I'm good. You go fly your paper airplanes by yourself. Just make sure to put me in your will before you take off from Teterborough. Thanks. Bye. At any rate, the date should make for good copy. Stay tuned.

The least awesome part of the day has been the Tard Parade upstairs. The kid has been bouncing off of the walls and floors and ceiling since 2:30. It's now 6:45, and I not only hear him but also his bitch ass Yeti mother--someone easily 6' 7" in flats-- who uses every inch of the size 15 surf boards that are her feet when she clod hops around up there. I feel as if I've been babysitting them all day for free and I can't go home because they live with me. It's the stuff of friggin' nightmares. I already rang their doorbell once. The old Ring and Run Technique which is passive aggressive for : Shut the f*ck up already a-holes or take it outside. If that isn't passive aggressive enough, I may have to resort to boogers on the door knob or something.

It's Futile to Fight the Cute So Don't Even Try

Just like quick sand, the more you struggle, the more you sink.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again:

You simply cannot fight the cute.

Let Go and Let Doodle.














Doodle, 10/14/06