Wednesday, February 09, 2005

Happy Chinese New Year!

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Thanks to Google's adorable graphic, I was reminded that today is the Chinese New Year, Year of the Rooster. And as someone who emerged as a fresh-faced babe in 1981, the year of the Rooster is MY year! And what a year it's turning out to be!

Roosters are defined as boastful, cocky, hard-working and flashy (ding! ding! slide-whistle! ding!). Check out these other "celebs" basking under the rooster comb:

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As you can see, I'm in amazing company: From Osama to Yoko, I'm clearly shit-smearingly insane. And let's not overlook Britney and Rod! Taking into consideration that I share a birthday with O.J. Simpson and Courtney love, this looks like it's gonna be the most mass-murdering, Beatle-breaking-upping, barefoot-Cheetoh-eating, wife-killing, heroin-injecting, midget-hair-sprayed year yet!

Now, a prediction for the year ahead from my source of all high-brow, junky teen news, the BBC:

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Drum rolls... more like blubber ones! How ever did they get word about my fat plans! Alas, it is true. Here I sit, eating my breakfast of 7-cheese quesedilla (who knew chocolate syrup was a cheese?) stuffed inside a fried duckling, thinking about 6 months from now when Daniel Baldwin and I will lovingly feed each other human baby parts, like in 9 1/2 Weeks, only a lot schweatier. Alas, I won't let my newfound body ruin my inner rooster "confidence".

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Me in a nutshell. It's like looking into a mirror.

So let's review how this very special Rooster New Year has been treating me so far. My day began with a dickless subway conductor closing the doors on my arm, with my bag and wallet inside of the train (my worst fears realized.) I held on with all my might, and managed to pull my body inside in between the door slamming intervals that managed to damage my coat, mark up my pants, and leave a dark red burnt-rubber gash on my wrist. (Gash Wednesday indeed. Seriously.) I spent the rest of the train ride noticing how people refused to look me in the eyes, and pressed up next to some asshole who, on a packed train, was reading The Post, all the while trying to block the articles from me. What a dick. (Also, I'm not normally a train-shover-onner, but I was mighty late this morning as I got lost in a Today show trance for 35 minutes this morning.)

Once at work, I cracked open a delicious Nantucket Nectars Orange Mango, a drink that will no doubt lend itself to my "Fat Plans 2005". If you haven't tried this, then don't. You will shortly become addicted. Also, where can I get the keys to this ride?

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Finally, this post is somewhat of a bastardized Frankenstein of ideas, as I had already written it and it got deleted. The first one was better, but alas, this free program can only do so much (re: my brain.) All bitching and moaning aside, Happy New Year, or a Good Lent, depending. (Can you say "Good Lent"?)

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