edith zimmerman

My friend Thyra recently reminded me of a funny story that happened four years ago when Johnny Damon was still on the Red Sox.

Three of us went to a club in Boston because our friend was DJing there. None of us had ever been to a club before, so we just stood in one area, drank slowly, and watched the other people. It was pretty awful—very dark, everyone was wearing shiny clothes, drinks were really expensive, the music sucked, and no one was paying attention to us. And then Carrie noticed that the man standing nearby in the shiny black shirt with a large pointy collar was Johnny Damon. We got really excited but tried to act normal. We started dancing, and we tried to dance especially cool so Johnny would notice. He was standing with another dude and a girl with blasted blonde hair. He didn’t notice us. So when the blonde girl walked away, I went over to him and said “Hi Johnny Damon.” I smiled. It was really dark, but I could tell he wasn’t smiling back. “Do you want to dance with me?” I asked. “No,” he said. “Okay,” I said.

Then I walked back to my friends and told them what happened. I was wearing a white blazer over a black tank top, so I decided that if I walked away and took off my white blazer and balled it up in my hand I would look like a different person because instead of a white top I’d have a black top. And then I could go back and ask Johnny Damon to dance again. My friends were like, Yeah, good idea. So I went into a corner (so Johnny Damon wouldn’t see me do it) and took off my blazer. But then the blonde girl came back and we decided that maybe I still looked like the same person, even though it was pretty dark. Then we decided to leave.

It was an underground club so to leave you had to go up a bunch of red-velvet-covered stairs. On the way up, my friend Thyra tripped and fell forward. When she hit the stairs, she let out a little scream of surprise and pain, and a bunch of people sitting near the foot of the stairs started to laugh. One person mimicked her cry in an extra girly way, and we looked back to see who had done it, and it was Mark Wahlberg.

The end.

Cool highlights, Johnny.

So I think the world is trying to tell me something, but I can’t quite, yet, figure out what it is.

My popularity among children increases. Today, while I was walking home from work, an 8-year-old boy broke away from his friends and ran at me. I figured he was just energetic and would pass me by, but he didn’t and then he was hugging me, and then, staring into my eyes with manic glee, he began to slowly and meaningfully hump my leg (because he was short because he was a child and that’s where he lined up). I grabbed his shoulders and said, “Whoa, WHOA,” and tried to pry him off, but he clung. “You CANNOT do that,” I said, and I pushed him off. As I passed his friends I gave them a complicated look that said, “What the fuck/you all are crazy/haha that was awful,” but it may have been lost on them. The oldest kids were like 12 or 13 and they all leaned on their bikes and smiled like douchebags.

I didn’t actually say anything to them, however, because I remember how when I was a child I always grabbed women on the sidewalk and rubbed myself on them as hard as I could while groaning, it was just what we did. It was mostly a rite of passage. Maybe I’ll do it again tomorrow, just for old times’ sake.

Do you guys get it? Why I used that picture?

It’s because the child was singing ‘50 Ways to Leave Your Lover.’

It’s just a typical Monday for me. I am alone reading LL Bean Home catalog. I’m surprised that so many of the things are so expensive. So far, what I want most is the “Canoe Coffee Table” (pictured below). Can you believe it’s $999? I know! Real canoes are not that much (actually they can be–canoes have a wide range of prices).

Also, check out this desk. It’s useful because you can put it in a corner.

Wow, can you believe I found a cerulean plant stand for only $69?

Hey look at this classic blanket

On a scale of one to ten how many blankets do you think I ordered

I rode a mechanical bull this weekend. The bar made us sign these waivers saying that if I died or was paralyzed that I couldn’t sue them, or something. I didn’t read it very closely. So I signed it and printed my name, and then my brother said, “What? Don’t put your real name!” and I said, “What? Why?” but I scribbled out my name anyway. And then he screamed at me again, “Well NOW IT’S TOO LATE, now that you’ve done that they’ll obviously know!” So I just stared at the paper for a while, but then just rewrote my actual name and signed it. You’re supposed to put down your email address, home address, phone number, and the signature of a witness, but I didn’t do any of those except put a 7 in the “Address” section because I started to write it in before seeing that no one else was doing it. (If you want more cool, crazy information about my experience with the waiver, please email me directly. There is a lot more to tell! It is a story that does not stop giving.)

So then I rode the bull, and it was mostly awful. I didn’t fall off immediately, but only because I was gripping its side like a parasite. Then I did fall off.

Thank you, Catharine, for this photo! Do you think that man is cheering for me, or indicating to his friend across the room that he is over there?

Guys, watch this, it’s really funny. Guys, guys guys guys guys guys gusygdsasdajfdlkalfjflakfaa;kjfd sorry

I went to Massachusetts this past weekend, it was great. Here’s a quiz:

I hope this sounds like I’m showing off that sometimes strangers hit on me, because I am. It happens so much that it is almost never not happening, and all the strangers are so hot.

1.

So there is a guy on the sidewalk, and when I pass him on the way to get lunch he says, “You have something on your face.”

I stop and say, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he says, and he points at his cheek.

“What is it?” I figure it is probably ink.

“It’s right there,” he says, and he points harder at a more specific spot on his cheek.

“What is it?” I decide not to touch my face, because he might be making fun of me, and what if someone saw?

“IT’S BEAUTY,” he yells. “YOU CAN’T WIPE IT OFF!”

ALSO

2.

I am in a bar picking out jukebox songs. A guy comes up to me and says, “I would offer to buy you a drink but I only have a $10 and I am going to buy something for myself.”

I say, “That’s okay, I’m good.”

And he says, “I would get your email though, I guess.”

(Full disclosure: I didn’t come up with the “The Game” reference, it was someone else who said it after I told him about this second encounter and it reminded him of the show that is supposed to be really funny and exciting, you should watch it.)

I wish all my photos could be versions of Barbie or Ken. I wish I were a version of Barbie or Ken.

Here is a hilarious video featuring a super hot and skinny Dick Cheney in 1994. It is hilarious, wait for the punchline at the end, you will be rolling.

Thanks, Ada, for the link to this and for caring about the world.

Oh and here is another fun video about a fat thing. It’s about crossing the pet threshold in a cute and revolting way.

Maybe these people will get stabbed in the heart with the barb on Jessica’s poop-covered tail.

Hey have you guys noticed that the Yankees are only four games back? No? No one cares?

Whatever.

Eric Gagne used to be awesome, so what’s the problem? Do you think someone hurt his feelings? Maybe he has a rash underneath his clothes? Maybe he got in a fight with his friend? He has a 15.75 ERA in his time with the Red Sox. What’s happening!?

Guys? What do you think?

Hello? Is anyone still there?

Who likes tea parties?

It would be easier to pretend I was still invested in baseball if I had cable.

Also, the mangosteen is finally available in America. The delicious “Queen of Fruits” that I’ve been reading about for the past five or six years that has long been banned because of a little bug that lives in its rind is now being imported from Puerto Rico in small amounts. The only problem is that the mangosteens are only being sold in Coney Island, on E. 79th St., and in Southampton–for about $45-$60/lb., which translates to about $10+/mangosteen. I would pay any price (under $30) for a single mangosteen if they were closer to me.

And that’s all I have. That’s all I thought about the past five days.

Sorry.

Here’s a video of a guy giving himself the most epic combover I have ever seen (but until today I have never seen someone giving himself a combover). Don’t foreign people talk so fast? Wow, I wonder if they are even saying anything.

This is one of my favorite songs. It is also one of the most romantic.

Also, I hate it when people tell me that they “haven’t eaten all day.” Is this even possible? Ugh, the only thing I’ve eaten today is two bowls of cereal, a string cheese, a banana, a burrito, a blueberry muffin, a pack of Skittles, a Diet Coke, another banana, a prepacked watermelon salad, and a handful of calcium chews.

PS Drew thanks for having this video on your gchat away message.