Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Tears Not Just Blinding Socially Inappropriate

I have frequently been asked, "Why are you so angr?" I now know the answer. If I wasn't angry I'd be crying all the time. Who wants that? You can't have a conversation with someone who is blubberig, blowing their nose, and gasping for breath. People in that condition can't form words. They can't converse. But an angry person can, and they use those words to lash out and start arguments. An argument is a type of conversation -- crying is not.

The real reason being angry is a better social choice than being a crier is that anger doesn't seem so self-involved. If I yell at you, you feel like you're being attacked which makes you feel like part of the conversation. You then can yell back at me if you want or react anyway you want to because my feelings don't matter because I haven't taken your feelings into consideration. However, if I were to sit at the pizza place and cry into my slice,well, you wouldn't know exactly what to do. Should you console me? What if I don't want to be consoled? Should you ignore me? Perhaps, ignoring is insensitive. You feel awkward and put out because all of your thoughts are turned toward the cry baby. That's pretty inconsiderate and egocentric if you ask me.

So, if you're feeling blue and want to cry but you're out in public just morph the impulse to cry into an impulse to lash out, insult, and start irrational political debates your friends will thank you for it.

Friday, July 27, 2007

Penorious isn't a Napolean Complex

I was telling this guy at a party that I just bought kid's sized sandals because they were 60% cheaper than the adult version of the same sandal. I also expressed how I was scared the size 5 kids might be too big, but the online store was out of 4 kids. I had my fingers crossed that the 5 would fit. The dude said, "How small are you?" I'm said, "Um, I'm right infront of you. This is how small I am."

Thursday, July 26, 2007

I Really Don't Know. But I Wrote It Down Anyway

Many years ago I walked through the streets of Boston with some friends. A pick up truck filled with 20-something men pulled up along side of us and honked. I thought, they were honking for us to get out of their way. So I said, "Hey, I'm walking here, fuck you!" To which my friend said, "I think he was honking because he thought you girls were cute." Oops. The young men in the truck got mad at me for yelling at them and said, "Fuck you! You Whore!" To which I retorted, "I might be a whore but I'd still never sleep with you." Now of course since I hadn't had sex yet, I wasn't a whore, but there wasn't time to debate the finer points of their argument.

It was this incident that has inspired me to date men who would be judged by most other people to be undateable. I date these undatable men, take a picture of us together, print the picture out and attach the man's biography to the back. Then when some date-rapist frat boy says something asshole-ish I pull out the picture and say, "These are the men I date and I wouldn't date you, because you are so much more awful." If he says, "That guy doesn't look so bad." I flip the picture over and say, "Read this."

The frat boy is then horrified, "Wait, I at least have a college degree. This dude didn't finish college and now works in a pharmacy in New Hampshire." And I tell him, "Yes you are such an asshole that you need to get a doctorate to even compare to this emotional cripple with no prospects. Good day, sir"

Then he says, "Bitch."

And then I jump on his back and wrestle him to the ground and I say, "Don't fucking call me that I'll kill you." After the frat boy has been subdued I get up from the floor, finish my drink and find a guy who doesn't find the behavior I just exhibited worrisome.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Even Though My Mom Reads this Blog I'm Posting This Thought Anyway

In the world of sex I think there is some truth in the stereo-type that women don't exert as much physical effort as men do (this of course is from the stand point of heterosexual sex). However, as a woman I find that after sex I feel like I've gotten a work out. I wondered how could that be. After some meditation on the subject I figured it out.

Have you ever been in a fist fight where you didn't throw any punches or kicks? If not can you imagine it? You're standing there and someone is punching you again and again. Even though you didn't exert any physical force you're still going to be worn out from the fight. Taking punch of after punch is exhausting. Yeah, so that's what I'm saying. Sex for a woman is like being punched in the vagina again and again. Except it sex feels alot better than a punch in the stomach but the physics is the same.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

"Love on the Rocks"

My best friend Anna was very upset the other day. She called me on the phone in near hysterics.
"Rachael, Graham started drinking again. Can you believe it?"
Graham is a recovering alcoholic--well, not so recovering now-- Anna used to date. Before I could tell Anna whether or not I believed that an alcoholic would start drinking again she was already onto her next point, "And the worst part is I'm not the one who drove him to drink. It was some other girl. And they had only been on like four dates. Is that not some shit?"
"Anna, I don't--"
"I mean, he obviously didn't care that much about our relationship if after it ended it didn't drive him to the bottle. And it's not like he couldn't be driven to the bottle as he is drinking again, now!"
"Anna, maybe it was the compounding of failed relationships. You know, maybe you guys didn't work out and then he tried to move on and that didn't work out and the combination of the failings led him to drink."
"That's not any better. He needs to ruin himself because he can't live without me not because he's disappointed with his interpersonal skills. God damn it! I'm haunted by this relationship every day and it doesn't cross his mind ever! He's just like 'la di da, my life is so great, and I love my alcohol. It's so great to be me, I don't ever remember dating an Anna. And one day I'm going to make a ton of money and have a wife and kids and things will be even better. I'll be able to afford top shelf liquor. It's so awesome to be me.' You know what? Next time I date someone I'm going to date someone who cares about me. This way when we break up he'll be as miserable as I am which will make me feel better."

I said, "OK." And then Anna hung up on me.

Monday, July 23, 2007

"A Short Loop Running Around My Mind" and Caffiene

I started getting some sleep only to be derailed once again. However, this time my efforts for rest were not thwarted by paranoia, rather I believe the culprit last night was the Turkey Hill iced-tea I had been drinking all day. The 32 oz jug was on sale for $1.67. How could I refuse? I couldn't and so I was wide awake at 5:00am and fast asleep at 8:00am when my third alarm clock went off.

I really didn't want to come into work today. I wanted to sleep as god intended-- during the day. I couldn't call in sick because I already called in sick two weeks ago on a Friday to tell jokes to West Virginians--which let's face it is sick. So I can't just now call in on a Monday sick again. Intead my mind on two hours sleep thought of these execuses to get out of coming to work today.


  1. I've been stung by a bee and I'm allergic. I'm going to have to buy some adrenaline before I die. This could take all day.
  2. I'm allergic to rain. And there is alot of it coming down right now. I just don't feel safe. No, I'm not allergic to water, only water that falls from high above, for some reason my skin isn't water proof from pelting liquid. Well, if you must know, I take baths.
  3. (A) The cops requested to randomly search my bag before I entered the subway. They found...my diary. I'm horribly embarassed I can't look the world in the face right now. Also the cops want to bring me in for an interview. They're interested in hiring me for surveillance work.

    (B) The cops requested to randomly search my bag before I entered the subway. There's no way I'm letting them search my bag, my diary is in there. Where's there warrant. I tried telling them I'm a temp and therefore lack the motivation or will to blow anything up. My apathy runs very deep. Anyway, they won't let me on the subway.
  4. I brought a dude home last night, since he didn't flee I was hoping to have sex with him again when he wakes up. I'm estimating that'll be around 2pm. I'd come into work but I don't know when I'll have the opportunity for sex again.
  5. I forgot to pick up my clothes from the Zoroastrian laundry-mat yesterday. I have nothing to wear to work. You see when Zoroastrian's own a laundry-mat they don't do business on Mondays. It's a very obscure law in an obscure religion.
  6. I'll be right in after I finish David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest I need to know how it ends. I'm already on page 27 so I should be in soon.
  7. I drank several glasses of Turkey Hil iced-tea ysterday and due to it's caffiene content, in conjunction with my reliving several life mistakes over and over and over again in my head, I was unable to sleep. I was hoping I could sleep now in a more comfortable place than my desk.

I'm thinking I could fake illness at noon go home and call in sick tomorrow.


Below is today's inspiration for the blog title.


Below is the song I was learning to play during my insomnia last night. It's live from the Doug Fir Lounge in Portland, OR. The Dough Fir has one of the best Happy Hours ever: $3 wells and steeply dicounted food.

Friday, July 20, 2007

Brain Function Begining to Restore


I haven't had the mental energy to post some longer pieces due to the fact I haven't been sleeping because I'm a 30 year old who is scared of the dark. I haven't had more than 4 hours of sleep in the last two weeks, that was until last night. Completely and utterly exhausted I didn't have the energy to be frieghtened or worry about my mortality, and so I finally got almost 7 hours of sleep.

Also, I think that instead of adopting the mayor's pointless environmental plan, I think we New Yorkers should pick a day and burn effigacies of Robert Moses.

Thursday, July 19, 2007

"The Myth Of Fingerprints"

If ever there comes to be a debilitating plague affecting human fingerprints we will all surely die because you can't mass market a drug that has to be different for everyone.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Bloomberg Sounds Very Congested

I've finally figured it out. I now know why Mayor Bloomberg is so determined to reduce traffic congestion in Manhattan. He is tired of sitting in traffic. If the mayor really cared about a "greener" New York City don't you think he'd be driven around in a solar powered car like the one Ed Begley Jr. drives? Or at least take the subway. Bloomberg only takes the subway when there is a terrorist threat to prove to people, who might otherwise take to their cars and therefore clog up his driving lanes, that the subway is safe to ride. Once Bloomberg is finished with his second term he'll have no need to ever travel above 86th street, or to travel to an outer borough, or have a reason to ever take a subway again. The billionaire needs the roads cleared for his gas guzzling limosine to drive him 20 blocks.

"How will I know?"

A new birthcontrol pill, Lybrel, will be on the market soon. The big selling point to this pill is that it surpresses a woman's period for as long as she takes the pill. There is one small problem with this: How will women know when the pill has failed them and they are actually pregnant? Women on the pill get pregnant all the time (that's according to my friend Edie, a former public defender and current stay at home mom/Auggie Smith's part time assistant). According to my friend Edie (who disclosed this information while giving me a ride from the Portland Airport) women don't take their birthcontrol pill at the same time everyday like they are supposed to and wind up getting pregnant. I don't see why women would be better at responsibly taking Lybrel then all the other pills so how would they know if the pill was surpessing their periods or it was a fertilized egg. Which means, you're going to have a punch of Lybrel addicted babies being born. Who knows what the consquences of that will be. Women's daughters will never gettheir own periods and women's sons will never grow facial hair, but these boys will be constantly menstruating. (That'd kind of be fun to watch a whole generation of boys who are unable to play sports or hold political office.) Or will these kids just come out of the womb jonesing for estrogen and progestron? Crime rates will soar!

Monday, July 16, 2007

Soaking up the Rays

Here are different types of tans.

A farmer's tan: The shoulders down to the fingertips are tan or burnt while the torso is stark white.

A driver's tan: The left forearm is tan the rest of the body moderately white.

The single person's tan: the middle of the back is burnt to the crisp because he/she is alone and has no one to put the suntan lotion on unreachable spots of the body--such as the middle back.

The Irrational Thoughts of an Insomniac

I have great difficulty falling asleep each night. I believe that someone is going to kill me in my sleep. Not a specific someone just a someone. It could be someone I know or could be someone I don't know, but it's a person or even persons and they will kill me in my bed while I sleep.

My first line of defense is to stay awake. I lie in bed and stare at my closed bedroom door. Murderers do not kill awake people. No one wants to tussle with an awake person. Sleeping people rarely tussle unless of course they are night tusslers (it's similar to night walkers or eaters but they tussle instead of eating to walking). When my will begins to weaken and my eyes begin to droop I have to go to my second line of defense--my nightstand lamp. I turn the lamp on. It's common knowledge that murderers have vision similar to raccoons and only can see in the dark. Keeping the light on blinds the-would-be assailants. Then I sleep restlessly. I wake up every hour from 2am-6am when the sun comes up. Then I turn off my light and sleep soundly until my alarm goes off at 7:40am. Yes, once the sun comes up I know I'm safe because murderers don't murderer people during the day even if their-would-be victim is sleeping and not tussling.

Since I began this temp job in May I've been exhausted, so I've been taking naps in Central Park during my lunch break. I feel it's good for me to get back to my European roots and incorporate the siesta into my daily routine. What I find interesting is that I seem to have no problem falling asleep in the park. In my bedroom behind my bedroom door located in my apartment which has a steel door with a dead-bolt lock, which is located in a building made of brick and wood which is fortified with a heavy gated door I can not sleep do to fear. But out in the open surrounded by strangers I sleep like I'm on a valium vodka martini.

Throw the Tea into The Hudson

Mayor Bloomberg's "Congestion Pricing" plan is basically taxation without representation for those living and commuting in NJ and CT. It will cost these states millions of dollars to accommodate the extra load of commuters who don't want to pay the congestion toll (tax) if they drive into Manhattan. These people don't have a voice in the debate just because the closest, major, urban center happens to be in another state. Nor would these states be getting a cut of the $541 million dollars NYC would get from the federal government. Further all the revenue garnered from the "Congestion Tax" would go back to NYC and not back to the states and regions who could use the money to improve the infustructure for their own public transit systems. And let it be stated New York City can not house every worker who works in NYC but lives outside it's borders.

There are a sea of cabs out there cutting drivers off and running down old ladies. Maybe we should halve the fleet. Or perhaps force every able bodied New Yorker to ride a bike. More bikes and less cars makes it safer to ride a bike, cuts down on emissions, and gets the cube dwellers some exercise.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Bill Cosby and Me: 100 Years of Comedy

Today is the 30th anniversary of my birth. It is also the 70th anniversay of the birth of another comedic genius, Bill Cosby. I don't think we'll be doing much for our birthdays this year. When you get to be our ages all you want for your birthday is some rest and relaxation, and some time away from the kids and the hussle and bussle of Hollywood.

Plus, for me, I celebrated my birthday two weeks ago. My parents with the aid of a couple of college friends helped me accomplish a life long dream of having a surprise party, thrown in my honor. This of course is one of the hardest dreams to accomplish because you can't throw one for yourself unless of course you're like that guy in "Momento." I'm really proud of myself that I was able to realize this nearly impossible life goal and all before I'm 5o.

Also ,I'm glad they threw the party when they did--back when I was 29 years and 50 weeks old. In those days I could party all night, and I did. Ahh, those were the days way back when on June 30th 2007. I drank and danced and ate a plate full of carbs. But, now that I'm 30 years old I just can't party like I used that. These body parts of mine just ain't what they used to be. It boggles my mind to think about what I was able to get away with 12 days ago. Maybe one day I'll get used to how fast time flies as we get older.

Anyway, I'd just like to wish me and Bill Cosby a very happy birthday.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

"Kicked it in the Sun"

It's been hot out there these last couple of days. People are saying that we should get used to it because once global warming hits, everyday will be over 90 degrees Fahrenheit. I find that way of thinking offensive. I say, “We're Americans and since when do Americans take threats to our way of life lying down?” It's a fact that the sun is threatening our freedoms: our freedoms to live above sea-level, to drive a car instead of doggy paddling to work, and to watch TV in the winter without noise interference from the air-conditioner. Well, America I think you know what we have to do. We have to attack the sun. We need to form a cohesive and intelligent military campaign to crush the sun into a dense black hole where it will not be able to escape itself. The Sun has threatened global warming for the last time! The sun has been very clever with its PR campaign steering the global warming blame away from itself and onto the innocent automobile and human energy consumption. I say pshaw. I see through your game, Sun. Answer me this: What consumes more energy than the sun? And unlike cars the Sun never gets turned off. Even when it's dark outside the sun is still cooking some part of our globe and that of 7 other planets--plus Pluto. You see, people, it's not just our freedom we're defending but the freedoms of all planets in our solar system. Maybe even everywhere. I've started fighting the sun on my own. I put a silver reflective visor in the windshield of my parked car. Not only does the visor reduce the global warming of my car, but it reflects the sun's rays right back at the sun. "Take that you ball of gas! How do you like a taste of your own medicine?" But America, I'm only one person with one car that isn't even mine. I can't defeat the Sun alone. I need a lot more Americans to buy a lot more cars to put a lot more reflective windshield visors up. Please, contact your congressperson and President Bush and demand our way of life be preserved. We must, as Americans, invade and conquer the sun.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

My Soul Looks Great for It's Age

My 69 year old Aunt told me I was an old soul. That's when I realized my soul isn't dead; it's retired.

More Civil History

I played a show in West Virginia this past weekend, though, if anyone asks from work I was sick at home with a stomach virus. The set started out well but at some point careened of course and I wound up discussing the mid1990's epidemic in NJ of Prom babies.

Basically, girls would give birth to babies in bathroom stalls where they were attending their Prom and then go back out on the dance floor as if nothing had happened. I felt really bad for those girls because the Prom is all about having sex, and you know how hard it is to get a guy to sleep with while your menustrating nevermind right after you've given birth. If only those girls could have kept their water from breaking a few days longer they wouldn't have been so disappointed.

I concluded my little PSA about NJ to the West Virginians with, "that's Jersey for you." Someone in the audience retorted, "Pff. Hell, this is West Virginia." I took it to mean that he thought West Virginia was worse than NJ. I felt bad. I wanted these people to feel good about their home state so I told them, "Yeah man, I have to tell you. I don't know why people rag on West Virginia. You guys are awesome. You basically said, 'Fuck you Virginia we're going to be a free state. We don't want slaves so we're suceding your suceding asses!' And for that people say you sleep with your siblings and that's bullshit." Now, my statement may or may not have been funny, but I thought maybe it would get some kind of vocal support or an applaud. However, the West Virginians just stared blankly as if they were a little dead inside. I think the problem was they didn't know why they were West Virginia.

In a great irony by knowing less the West Virginians squashed my thesis and won the debate, proving once and for all West Virginia is worse than NJ.

Monday, July 09, 2007

George Michael Once Sang...

I stopped in Gettysburg, PA this weekend. As I strolled the grounds of their military cemetary I overheard a park ranger giving a tour. He said, "Let there be no mistake, both sides (the North and the South) were fighting for freedom." Which of course is true because Americans only fight wars for freedom and since both sides were American then they both had to fight for freedom. The south fought to be free of the U.S. government and for the freedom to enslave people. The North fought for the freedom to compell the South to sell their goods cheapily to the North and the buy Northern manufactured goods at an exuberant price. All I have to say is thank God freedom won the the U.S. Civil War.

(for some reason I'm unable to title this post. Blogger won't allow my cursor in the 'title' field)

Thursday, July 05, 2007

4th July Hiatus

Hey Peeps. They're making me work at work so no original post here at smallhands for the rest of week. However, my best friend Anna is interning at this new blog, "The Morning After"
It's a blog dedicated to answering sex questions from readers like you. There is one post on it now, but it's still a little under construction. I think you'll enjoy it because those posts are edited by an editor.

Monday, July 02, 2007

From My Lining You Should Fall

So I was sitting around with my aunts and uncles Sunday afternoon. I told them that I had another great song idea. They, eager and supportive, asked me to share it with them. I explained it would be called, "I want your miscarriage." They, less and eager yet still supportive said, "Yeah, you have a twisted sense of humor. Why do you want a miscarriage." I explained that I didn't actually want a baby, and an abortion is painful and pricey, but a miscarriage, like a pregnancy still gives you an execuse to call the boy.

And then they laughed and thanked the heavens that they were only my aunts and uncles and not my actual parents.