I know you buffalo bitches don't want to ever visit rochester, but i'm telling you, SPRINGTIME IS MAGIC TIME. the whole world turns pink and dreamy, like a fluffy, fragrant vagina. Highland Park is a wonderland of petals and grinning people and me. It is impossible to capture in photo the sensation of walking on flowers and smelling flowers and being under flowers and eating flowers and talking about flowers and giving birth to flowers.

The world is on the cusp of bursting with fragrant pink blossoms. Highland Park is right by my house and is this lovely little gem of an Olmstead park and i love it so very much. In spring, the paths are paved with petals and wondering visitors trip along the paths and grin at each other and find blowjobs in the bushes and lay on blankets and look at the sky. Magical gift to be anle to plan a space that you will never get to see, that's why i love freeivk law olmstead.
It was the perfect way to end my sweaty work day that was interrupted by a quick fisting at the gyno office and blood work vampires

I feel that the harbinger of spring for Miss Masumi is not, in fact, pussy willows and robin's songs. It is the frightening arrival of the Squash Beetle. My entire childhood after we moved to our house (i grew up in a trailer, yo!), every spring a strange and horrible bug would appear without fail and without warning in my room. Generally I would be sitting on the floor making art or masturbating or something and I would hear the telltale flutter/buzz of it's wings and dread would well up in me as the slow moving, creeper bug would make it's way toward me. Large, plodding and aimless, I don't know why I felt menace from it. I also had this sensation that the bug was a spirit creature and it had some mystical significance. (I was a crystal gypsy type kid even when I was really young, sorry Science) I awaited the arrival with a sort of terror and ecstasy. On one occasion, we were driving in our creepy raper van and my sister was sitting way in the back and the windows were open. Suddenly something flew in a max speed and smashed on the back window, splattering onto her cheek. It was one of Visitor Bugs and it was full of EGGSSSSSSS!!! ugh. Another time, when I was older, I had a friend over to the apartment and it was spring and lo! The Visitor arrived again and this time landed upon my friend as she huddled under a blanket. Solomon and I were horrified yet unable to kill or capture it. Finally, in my old age, I figured out that it's a squash beetle and it probably doesn't even have a mouth and is really dumb. But I still find it creepy.


My co-workers groom me every day because I can barely brush my hair or put on pants in the morning. The other day, one of them made my hair look like some kind of sea mollusk.



Took a walk with my friend to Cobb's Hill, which is a very charming spot with a view of Rochester and a lovely resevoir. The sun was setting and it made everything glow magically.



Saturday night Liz and I went to see Norm Talley at 45 Euclid. My friend Jim opened for him and he did a really great job. It was definitely a show for househeads, so it was like a family reunion and basically all friends dancing around with each other, which i LOVE and everyone was grinning from ear to ear and hugging each other and it wasn't just from the drugs, either. Buffalo people came down for it too! Norm was great and it was packed and sweaty, the way I like it. Until my friend Alicia started tripping out and got grabby and rapey with everyone, which I found amusing, but apparently other people did not. Even the security guards were in a good mood and were dancing around because there was nothing to be crabby about. Because when the music is good, you can't be too authoritative and douchey.

I'm sorry little E Strip, you have been neglected for a while. Allow me to fill you with my inane drivel.

A couple of weeks ago I went home to visit my family, which was nice. We pretty much sit in the living room and my parents stare at their iPads while i do crafts and we listen to music. so, pretty much like hanging out with anyone these days. Unfortunately, I have to cap off these weekends by going to goddamn church with them on Sunday. It's the WORST. I learned my Instant Daydreaming skills from years of going to church. In any conference, conversation, or listening situation, I can instantly slip into a mind coma without even trying. so while they talk about jesus and behaving yourself at all times, I can be imagining that i'm getting fucked by a unicorn or whatever.
my sister and i do not look alike


I also attended the birthday party of my friend Lindsay, who is shorter than me, so I always like hugging her. Rare occasion for me to feel like the taller one. Arden also had his birthday on the same day.


After the churchy afternoon, I landed in Buffalo and went to a backyard time with Mike and Dave and played a glorious game of night bocce. i am a big fan of everyone throwing balls all at once. when i was in high school i remember making everyone throw dodgeballs and handballs and any kind of balls at the same time because i like the chaos of it and the aesthetic wildness of that one second in time when the air is filled with balls. i guess i just love balls.


you know, instead of beating licorice or bathing licorice, we have EATING licorice. only for special occasions


the farm supply store had little chicks in tubs that you could buy like they were potting soil or something. they were so cute i wanted to make a coat of them. hot chicks.

My boss' husband grows misty eyed at the thought of the italian ricotta chceesecakes of his Brooklyn youth. After many failed attempts at making it himself, he abandoned the project. So, for his birthday i thought i'd surprise him by having one made by my dear chef Dayna, who formerly worked at Rocco (my favorite italiannplace in rochester)
I was going to film the whole process for him but clearly i have the attention span of a toddler and this is all i got. At least you can learn to make some ricotta!




And you can use our abundant snow drifts for cooking! Harold adored his cheesecake and it was gone in a day.

Another frigid and glittery winter weekend with the severe turns of emotional weather that the season has primed me for. Bravo, February, you big JERK. Thursday I went to yoga like a good girl and did some nice Warrior II shit and backbends that kill me because I am super flexible for forward bends and brittle old man when it comes to backbending. Always nice when it all ends in some cozy constructive rest in a sea of drug rugs. In any restorative pose situation, I like to steal peeks at my fellow resters and everyone always looks so cute to me, swaddled in their blankets. So I decided to get up and take a picture.


Then, I continued on to Butapub, which is a basement pub that was having a packed trivia night crowd. They focus on pork dishes with a slight Asian influence. Casey was not as impressed with the fries, but I have a total boner for any wine based glaze or sauce or gravy and this shit is a savory pool in the bottom of deliciously crisp fries. I have no pictures, only the ghost of it on my tongue. My friend Rahul and I played pool and Don cheered us on.

Friday the sun finally broke free and allowed Arden and I to go cross country skiing at Durand park up by Lake Ontario for a few hours. I haven't been x-country skiing in 15 years and I'm fat as hell now, so I wondered if I would twist my ankle and end up in a giant pool of hair, tears, and shame. After an initial boot difficulty and some helpful silver hair people, I redeemed myself and skiied like it was my job. The sun/sweat combo allowed me to go jacket-free and feel like some kind of pro ski badass until we found any little hill to go down, wherin i cooed like a delighted toddler. ((e:joe)) would like this park because there are many hills you can slide around on if you don't mind the plodding awkwardness of scooching your way up first.





i have a crush on this horse. it's 19 hands high and should basically stomp everyone around it to death, but has mercifully decided to let people give it blue ribbons instead. I totally get the whole Equus thing, horses are sexy as hell. look at that glistening coat and all of those muscles. Little girls know what's up and it's horses.


Casey came up Saturday for Sad Talk Night, which was alternatingly agonizing and humorous and bittersweet. We commenced the evening with a UFC fight, which in itself was kind of hilarious if you think about the entire situation. I love him dearly and I hope he knows it. Pouffy eyed and sniffly, we stumbled out to the kitchen for snacks and I made Michael Caine's potatoes, which i will make again and give you the recipe for because it is crispy deliciousness. Restorative starch for quivering souls.

Sunday we repotted some of my wayward succulents and the lone Tough Guy Garlic. I received this garlic on my birthday two years ago from a drunk friend and it was a tender little seedling in a vintage milk glass jar. It has grown into a teenager in that tiny jar, sitting on a freezing windowsill and suffering general neglect from a drunken mother and STILL it persists in magnificent living! While there's still no god, there's garlic plants to make me feel like I might survive another year.

found an owl planter in my fave color at Walgreens

the NerdMonk holds court amongst the plants


Last night i literally burrowed a cave in this giant comforter and hid inside of it all evening and passed out in there on the loveseat, thus cranking my neck into a stiff and painful position. Fortunately, it's dental assistant's appreciation (aka. "bullshit holiday"}week and the chiropractor next to my office was offering consultations for us servants. if i knew there was a massage table so near to me, i'd be getting therapeutically rubbed down every chance i got

The chiropractor was nice and nerdy like me so we were babbling about muscles and joints and the fact that I don't sleep in a bed or wear shoes if i can help it. i'm probably a chiropractor's nightmare with the things i do to myself, but yoga balances it out a little bit. Maybe i'm on some kind of hormonal high here, but i was getting all examined and palpated and i was thinking if i was a dude, i would have a total boner because it's mildly erotic to have a stranger patting you down on a table. i'm into it. i'm also into his massage gun machine thing and was hoping he would walk out of the room so i could play with it. i'm sure he knew this, for he never let me touch any of the machines, dammit. Anyway, I was thinking of how people get NoNo Touched in medical situations and everyone thinks "how could they let that happen?" but it's pretty easy, actually. The boundaries are blurred, it's hard to tell what you're supposed to do, what's part of the procedure, you don't want to be the weirdo who freaks out over something that is a routine part of the examination, etc. So I sympathize. In this case, the doctor was not attractive to me, and was the utmost professional, so that wasn't an issue. STILL, i found the equipment and situation to be most delightful and if the right chiropractor wanted to make some adjustments, well...
this poor guy has no idea i said all that. he was nice. he was a normal person and people should do business with him. If i start palpating someone below the trapezius in MY line of work, however, they should probably ask some questions.


My parents live in a shitty little town in PA that had a water main break last week which left them without water. All the resevoirs and tanks were empty and it was an emergency. I was horrified, but they took it in stride. Growing up, water conservation was an obsession, so my parents were probably a little pleased that it paid off. I felt guilty calling them from the tub, but I have been doing everything from the comfort of my bath, including studying, phone calls, editing, writing, and sleeping. I'm obsessed with taking baths. Epsom Salts and baking soda with lavendar. I bought a bathtub holder thingy and now I can take up residence in water. My patient and I were talking about how new houses are being built without bathtubs and he was outraged. My boss exclaimed, "I wouldn't even be FRIENDS with someone who doesn't want a bathtub!!" and we all shook our heads whilst drilling away. Because the only way to get through this savage season is under warm water.

Well, I'm finally 10 years old. Last week was my birthday and given my bizarro cult childhood, I never had birthdays until I was an adult, so this is only my 10th birthday. This also explains why I love saying 'Happy birthday" and find it to be such a special event. It is, in my opinion, the new year for each person and a rare time where we can focus and celebrate the life of the individual.

In the past, I've had big parties that were all nighters, but in my old age that has dissipated. In a way I feel sad and lame because the older people get, the less they want to leave their houses and do anything. When I moved to Rochester, I made friends with a lot of people who were 36. Now they're all 50 and less party inclined. It makes me wonder because I am not particularly friendly to any 22 year olds, but maybe I should, to keep the cycle alive. Anyway, ((e:paul), (e:terry), (e:joe), and (e:yesthatcasey)) came to visit and that was really nice because Rochester people have been wondering who the Buffalo people were and so there was a mingling of populations. It was a sort of bittersweet evening with a sad ending for me, but it was nice to have a cozy evening with friends. Many balls were presented and fondled and many asses were exposed. One pair of leather pee pants found a new home with the wrong man.

Ian and his dad played some songs.


I went nuts making ice cubes on the porch. I have two molds that make little dentures out of ice.


HOlly fell in love with Paul and wanted to kidnap him forever.


but Paul just wanted to fuck the camera. This is the best face for a photo


We went to TRATA for brunch the next day, it is a nice space for eating and a great way to repurpose an old armory.


I swear to you that there is a way to sit on each others' laps and hold each other up in the same way that people do that four person laying down on each other table thing. I tried to get Joe and Terry to do it, but i'm not really sure how you do it.


Tuesday night, my boss was giving a lecture to the Weston Price Buffalo chapter. She is not particularly inclined to prepare, so I wrote the thing for her in two hours and she pulled it off. We were in Williamsville, so we stopped at Black and Blue afterward for some booze and a steak. When I want to eat meat, I like to go to the Rochester Black and Blue and pretend to be a businessman having a business lunch with my friend Herman and we sit there and say "business. sell. money. stock. suit. bottom line" and so on, pretending to be working, since we have no fucking idea how to act like adults.



img]0215/black_and_blue.jpg[/img]

I enjoyed my birthday presents! Thank you!




Having always planned to die before 30, I'm starting to finally get used to the notion that, despite my best efforts, I seem to be clinging to life. In my work, I interact with many older people (women particularly) who are active and interesting and intellectually stimulating. They are always the most insightful and encouraging people, asking what I'm working on and motivating me to do things. I admire them and hope to be as positive and pleasant to be around. I also plan to start doing all the drugs I can get my hands on the minute I turn 80.

I have been hiding like a little louse in a thinning head of hair, scurrying between wilting strands, seeking warmth (remind me to tell you my lice story). I love old houses, but this place is cold. My heating bill is $200 and we don't even turn on the goddamn heat! Nonetheless, heart warming adventures have occurred.

- The Boys (Attention Boys of Buffalo: I'm sorry if you didn't know, but it's pretty much impossible not to call you guys The Boys. Tell me if you find that annoying, but I notice that everyone does it and no one is ever confused and pondering "WHAT BOYS?" so it seems like an apt monniker) and Casey came to visit a few weeks ago and we went to a party at Tilt. It was full of young children. I increasingly feel like an outdated old hag, but i sort of enjoy it. The music in the courtyard was much better than inside and since I am (until three days from now) an EVIL smoker, I bore the smoke filled patio with ease.


Then, the previous post about shitstorm occurred.

- Last weekend ((e:yesthatcasey)) and I went to play pool with Tanya and Dianne at some dudebro bar. It was nice to play a bunch of games without some heavy breathing pool shark frowning down at me, waiting to play. I suck because I haven't been playing lately and Casey kept kicking the shit out of drinky girls and declaring that no drink could contain enough vodka. If Casey was a product, I would call him Bartender's Choice. The next night we went to Dianne's birthday/housewarming party. The apartment is on Symphony Circle, which conjures up images of english ladies being scandalized by something and drinking whiskey in their tea.



I thought everyone was friendly and I've noticed that people from Buffalo are very nice. Even at parties, which are sometimes difficult to stray from one's own social group, people are always very welcoming and chatty and I appreciate that. In Rochester, there does seem to be a bit of the Smugtown clannishness and it can be difficult to penetrate. Or maybe in both cases I'm drunk and have no idea what i'm talking about.

Mike and David were there and I like them and want to put blankets on them and fetch them things. I get these instant pictures of people and it manifests as sometimes renaming someone, needing to move an item in their home, needing to get the hell away from them, or in this case, the desire to blanket. Do they need psychic nursing? maybe.

The next day we all went to The Lodge for breakfast and it was very lovely inside. I love any hint of woodsiness, so it was very sweet. There was a very Twin Peaks like place in Portland and I was hoping this would be similar, it's more fancy pants style though. The food was tasty and I would recommend brunch.




I like to spy on bathrooms at restaurants.

- Casey and I went to see the basilica in South Buffalo. Our Lady of Constant Weeping? Our Lady of Perpetual Growling? The Virgin of Insufferable Pap Smear? You can add "infant" "our lady" "virgin" and "holy" to anything and make a catholic church out of it, which is great. good job, catholics. The basilica was closed but I WILL get inside of there.
'
Casey should get this jacket, but they want more for it than if it was made of leather. If he was into birthdays or presents, i'd buy it for his birthday.

I DID order a balaclava for Casey because I feel bad that his tender porcelain skin is being attacked by the elements (and that he doesn't know how to moisturize). My face feels like leather. I am going to wrinkle up horrid fashion in a few years and when i do, i am going to go completely Senior Citizen and just do whatever the fuck I want because i'm old. Anyway, I bought a balaclava too and it is quite warm, i recommend it. also: hides chin fat!


- in a rare moment of leisure at work, I decided to cast my lips. i do it every now and again for amusement. I like the way a random mouth appears on a counter, it looks surreal. It also doesn't look like MY mouth.

TRIGGER WARNING: poop talk, gross imagery in your brain

We can all thank my father that Monday did not result in a more disastrous and fragrant flash flood of horror. Growing up in a somewhat health obsessed household, I dutifully doled out the vitamins as my pre-dinner job after setting the table. Everyone got their little pile of golden football shaped garlic gels, green chlorophyll, chalky multi vitamins and deliciously tart chewable vitamin c. Additionally, I remember my dad saying "milk is for baby COWS" and "your poop tells the story of your health". So, for years now, I have always taken that one lingering look at my bowel movements, reveling in whatever texture or quantity i've made or worrying over what toxins i'm surely steeping in at any given moment. It may not be a full coprophillia situation, but it's a healthy interest. Clearly it's a medical interest. http://www.continence.org.au/data/images/bristol_stool_chart.gif

Monday was a real shit show.

Everyone's favorite nightmare is being at someone else's house when this happens, I just happened to LIVE IT. The occasion seemed safe after everyone at Casey's house was clear of the bathroom, I darted in. After one of my signature healthy release situations, i did my lingering glance, only to find that the toilet water was rising curiously higher than normal. Sensing the impending brown flood on Casey's bathroom, I shut off the water valve in time to prevent overflow (which is really great because then you have to pretty much put your face next to it to reach the valve). Still, I remained calm, I've dealt with plumbing disasters before. Plunging with what appeared to be a plunger made of wet felt, i saw no change. No sudden bubble and everything safely swirling away. After a bunch of tries, I finally made the ever-humbling decision to go ahead and throw dignity to the reckless wind and do what every woman dreams of doing: asking her partner to come over and check out her shit, NAY STARE AT IT AND STAND OVER A BOWL OF IT AND PLUNGE!

Casey, who remained surprisingly unfreaked out (considering how he won't touch raw FOOD) in his attempt to plunge. A new plunger was in order, so we had to go on a trip to find one all while poor Steve was trapped in a house where he could not use the bathroom (although, there is a real pleasure in peeing in a sink, i'm not gonna lie). Upon our return, Casey finally freed whatever was clogging the toilet and i bleached the living hell out of the bathroom floor from whatever flowed over.

Nothing is more bonding than a standing together over a toilet together. If you can get through that shit, you might be ok.

In the cold of January I find myself unable to think of anything other than delicious ramen thanks to our little outing two weeks ago to Sato on Elmwood. I wasn't even sure if I was in the mood for Japanese, but now I am craving it ever since. Thanks a lot, Plaid Forest!





I will on a later post try to post my favorite food scenes from movies (without breaking this website ;)) because there are several, one of the best being anything from Tampopo, which is a movie i've watched a million times. It's from the 80's and about a woman who wants to open her own quick ramen shop but has to learn about the passionate art of soup making from some homeless gourmands and a cowboy truck driver. It's so sweet and adorable and you want all the ramens after you watch it. The Sato ramen would be the perfect thing to have after watching that movie. I think I was most pleased with that goddamn perfect egg in it. it could have used a piece of narutomaki, but the pork was so delicious. I almost didn't care that much about the sushi, even if it did look like orange jewels. almost. That sent me on an obsession with cooking the perfect soft boiled egg (martha stewart says 5 minutes, other people say 6), which i must experiment with. I would like to try to make my own ramen.

Last weekend Casey came up to visit Rochester, where there was barely any snow compared to Buffalo. Friday my friends Arden and Rahul came over and we just sat around the kitchen table and drank a bunch and talked. When I drink, I go into this weird Chef Mode, where I just keep cooking things uncontrollably and feeding people.

I then dragged the ever-patient and mildly ill Casey to...the Contemporary Dentistry office party!! Bear in mind that any new person who joins our office thinks i'm an incredibly scary lesbian who hates them for the entire first two months they work there. Everyone has admitted this. Maybe this is because I won't look at or talk to them, i'm like a cat, ok? I figure, if they're going to get fired i don't want to bother getting attached. I also hate training people very much. After the two months are up, they realize i'm an adult baby and they start grooming me. seriously. i've been there 12 years and this is the pattern. every person has fixed my bra, brushed my hair, straightened my pants, pulled the earring out of my mask, observed me laying on the floor or doing headstands, napping, etc. the one thing they're never sure of is my admittedly questionable sexuality (how to explain my love machines and cephalopods?). Sooo Casey is of course this magical weird creature that no one believes exists and cannot WAIT to stare at. Just the way he loves it! Everyone loved him and said how cute he is and how great he is and how he seems so caring and nice. He was most patiently babysitting my drunk ass as I toddled around in impractical hooker shoes. He also had the delight of going to the most rugged strip club in Rochester where the girls are.... rough around the edges. They're always really nice and chatty when I go there anyway. My boss' husband was druuuunk and he always wants to go when the girls go there so we took he got a nice faceful of droopy titties. Highlight: being told to deposit my dollar UNDER the tit of someone who was failing the pencil test greatly. My workwife received a Stripper Hickey for her troubles. Another highlight was our Italian doctor partner wearing bright yellow pants, a brocaded velvet jacket, and sporting the male equivalent of cameltoe. Balls on parade. it was great. i hope that four of us weren't simultaneously staring, but i do so only with greatest admiration and support. Flaunt those balls!

Casey chaffeured me around and for some reason developed his allergy in my house again. it is an inexplicable mystery. maybe he's allergic to hungover bitches? eek. It was a nice weekend nonetheless.