The Last Word, Gurgled

11:45am- Drive up to Napa to celebrate friend’s birthday. Hit by driver drunk on full-bodied Cab with notes of creosote and raspberry jam.

7:47pm- Engage in annual Halloween-time argument with boyfriend. Stab self in neck and gut to spite him. Take that!

Other than that, pretty good day.

So Long, Dream

7:02pm- Wait for bus that never comes. Walk back to house to get car. Drive through unruly, infuriating traffic. Circle block after block looking for parking. Aneurysm.

8:29pm- Hear that friend’s awesome t-shirt company, Mothership is no more. My dream of lounging on beach in early retirement made possible from millions earned coming up with witty saying for him dies.

Other than that, pretty good day.

Quietly Slipping Away

3:12pm- As penance for being an opinionated woman, contract spasmodic dysphonia, the rare vocal disease recently enjoyed by Dilbert cartoon creator, Scott Adams. My silent shouts for help go unaided.

Other than that, pretty good day.

Grabbin' Some Permanent Shut Eye

12:34pm- Spot dirty pillow abandoned in a gutter on Howard St. Decide there’s no time like present to take much-deserved nap. Cozy up to blackened sack of polyester fill only to be run down by curb-hugging Chevy Corvette.

Other than that, pretty good day.

A Taste Of Heaven

10:11pm- Boyfriend takes me out fancy to Grand Café. Feeling saucy, indulge by ordering dessert. I crack top of Crème Brule and place hardened sugar coating in mouth. It’s as if chomping down on entire packet of Exacto blades. Bleed out.

Other than that, pretty good day.

It Was Up To You, New York

10:14am- Looking to outdo breakfast from previous morning, consume not one, but TWO decadent cupcakes from Magnolia’s, a bakery featured in that awesome SNL film short with Andy Sandberg. Blood sugar levels surge like Great Tsunami of 2004.

10:15am- Sitting on park bench with boyfriend watching small child give mother extremely hard time. He looks over at me and says, “Momma, she’s eating a cupcake,” to which I reply with a sneer, “Yes, unlike you, I can eat cupcakes whenever I want!” Mother shoots me daggers with impressive accuracy.

1:43pm- Walk around and around and around Manhattan until feet pool with bruised blood. Healthy environment for clotting.

4:11pm- Get caught up watching street performers in Washington Square Park. Pickpocketed and then shived when I attempt protest.

5:01pm- Get into elevator at Penn Station on way back to Newark airport. People crowd in so tight that there is hardly room to breathe. Luckily conveyance plummets down from weight killing us all instantly before I have time to suffocate.

7:45pm- While stuck waiting for delayed boarding of flight, panic attack starts to brew. Suddenly, my heart feels warm. Then it is inflamed. I crawl to floor and put head in lap. I took too many Xanax! I didn’t take enough! I don’t know what’s going on except I’m having heart attack. Boyfriend looks on.

7:54pm- Learn how to fly the planes, pilots! Learn how to fly the goddamn planes!

Other than that, pretty good day.

If I Can Die Here, I Can Die Anywhere

9:49am- Wake up in the city that never sleeps. Decide a breakfast of pistachio nut and white chocolate pancakes with a side of BBQ beef brisket from Shopsin’s General Store is the perfect way to start day. Am forced to endure conversation of self-consumed hipsters nearby. When one declares, “I’m not yet comfortable referring to myself as an artist,” chunk of brisket gets lodged fully in windpipe. Unfortunately for me, he is also not yet comfortable referring to himself as Heimlich maneuverer.

11:01am- Walk down to Ground Zero where I intend to feel properly somber and reflective. Am met instead by street hawkers offering faux designer sunglasses and handbags along with small photo books of 9/11 tragedy. Anger begins burbling down at my toes. It then courses up through body with intensifying speed until reaching top of head where it explodes out of me like a fat man from a circus canon.

12:33pm- Wait in line for Statue of Liberty tour. Flash back to days when ancestors perhaps stepped foot upon this very spot to make fresh start in new world. Imagine self as rejected immigrant, forced to return on boat from which I came. During journey am consumed by scurvy. To make matters worse, don’t even go on stupid Statue of Libery tour because of timing issues.

4:13pm- Not yet ready for more food, but feeling pressured to make most of time here, wait in line outside of John’s Pizzeria for what I’m told is best pizza in city. Don’t necessarily die and go to heaven, but maybe because I am agnostic.

5:47pm- Partake of nap from which I never awake.

Drunk o’clock pm- Go to following bars and random food establishments: Manitoba’s, Fish Bar, CBGBs (just outside though since it’s last weekend and sold out), Welcome to the Johnson’s, Bamn! Automat (try the mac-n-cheese kroket), The Library, Dumpling Man, Burp Castle, McSorley’s. At end of evening, barely able to see straight, step off curb to dance with magical yellow braying donkey. Or is that a speeding cab? *hic*

Other than that, pretty good day.

Start Spreading The News...Of My Demise

8:34am- Flight to NYC. Xanax causes me to pass out before even taking off meaning body does not pressurize correctly. At cruising altitude, I awake and explode like giant squid brought to the ocean’s surface.

3:12pm- Land in New Jersey, the nation’s armpit. Confused by fact that both New York and New Jersey have Penn Stations, get on train to wrong one. Jumped by members of Bon Jovi cover band.

4:29pm- Find way to real Penn Station. Step outside into mad rush that is New York City. Eek! Too excited to be here. Step off curb. Run down by cab.

9:02pm- Go out to dinner with boyfriend at Villa Mosconi, a place he claims has the best gnocchi he’s ever eaten. Having resigned self to fact that diet is on vacation-hiatus, stuff face with everything put in front of me, including hand of over-attentive waiter. Appalled, but quick on his feet, waiter impales me with sharp bony arm stump.

Other than that, pretty good day.

I Yam What I Yam

5:26pm- Cram self onto 9BX bus. Barely room to stand and forget about holding onto anything. Am pushed up almost against front window. Express onto highway where sudden stop sends me through window. But only ½ way. Ouch.

7:10pm- Make meal consisting of Shirataki, my new favorite low-carb yam noodles. What could be more delicious than that? How about yammy yam noodles with spaghetti sauce so I can fool self that I’m not letting down the people who bestowed upon me an Italian surname? Maybe so. What’s not delicious is discovering very sever allergic reaction.

Other than that, pretty good day.

The Nail In My Coffin

11:43am- Typically paying little attention to things that grow from me, such as hair and nails, am shocked to discover the middle finger of my right hand growing what can only be described as a snagglenail. A fungal culture reveals I’m afflicted with terminal case of onychomycosis.

5:11pm- Walk past homeless man on Howard St. Hear him grumble, “It’s time,” as he passes me. Then, everything goes black.

6:36pm- Cook up delicious piece of chicken. Halfway through consumption, discover bloody vein. Campylobacteric food poisoning topped with a soupcon of utter disgust.

Other than that, pretty good day.

Check The Date

7:17pm- Purchase what I think is new package of chicken apple sausage. Upon opening freshness pouch, I discover copious amounts of slime. The end of one link forms what looks like the resevoir tip of a used condom. Without other options, I decide to rinse off meat and proceed with intended meal. Mistake.

Other than that, pretty good day.

Culture Clash

1:55pm- Visit recently reopened De Young museum. Try to marvel at all the spectacular and culturally significant art pieces, but after shuffling from room to room to room, slip into museum coma. After about 20 minutes of unconsciousness, boyfriend totally Terry Schiavo's me.

1: 57pm- Contract case of human African trypanosomiasis licking Kenyan tribal mask.

Other than that, pretty good day.

Sit Down, Stand Up, Flight Flight Flight

8:42am- Give up seat on bus to woman and small child only because bus makes sudden stop and they practically fly into my lap at which point even my iPod/sunglasses/scowl combination isn't enough to feign ignorance of their existence. Stand up and bus makes another sudden stop sending me sailing out window.

11:02am- Walk into work bathroom and inevitably choose the poop stall, the one most recently pooped in. It's almost like I have special selection powers for such a thing. You would think over time it would boost my immunity to giardiasis. But it doesn't.

Other than that, pretty good day.