I have GOT to switch to a lower-fiber cereal. I have been farting all damn day!
Fortunately, the gas has been oderless which is a very good thing. The people around me have no idea there's a gas leak occurring right next to them.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Friday, February 02, 2007
A Confession
I have a confession to make.
So I moved to Noo Yuck. It was surprisingly easy. I had braced myself for a perilous uphill battle. I worried myself into indigestion. I prayed that God would open the doors and, if this move was part of His divine will for my life, that He'd glide me into a warm little nook, easy as pie.
And whaddya know?
Getting the apartment was a relative snap. Work (and "work") popped up out of absolutely nowhere just when I needed it the most. Heck, I even got cast in an off-off Broadway show after only about seven auditions.
Yessir, things really seem to be going my way.
But the thing is...
...ever since coming here, I've been wrestling with something. And that something is a real, clear, definite sense of direction and purpose.
I know, I know. This isn't anything new for anybody reading this. In fact, I'm probably just really dense. After all, weren't we supposed to struggle with this--this massive question of "Who am I? What am I doing here?" back in Philosophy 101 while reading Pieper and Kierkeegaaaard?
Maybe it's that I'm second-guessing my decisions. Maybe it's that I'm almost out of money. Maybe it's that nagging voice of my mother in my head telling me, "If you don't make money you'll never be happy (and, for the record, you'll never make enough)!" Maybe it's that new Broadway reality show, which prompted my Grandmother to ask me the other night, "Honey, I never realized how difficult it all was. I don't know how you can do it."
I mean, don't you feel like you would/could/should be doing something...I dunno...MORE with your day than just waiting for something to happen? Waiting for someone to say, "Hey! You're swell, kid! Sign this contract! We're gonna make you a star!"?
Going to the gym helps. Signing up for swordfighting workshops help. Auditioning for Shakespeare Festivals helps. But still...all that feels so...small. Wasn't I supposed to do something BIG?
I thought, "Okay. The doors to Noo Yuck swung wiiiiide open. I'm pretty dang sure I'm supposed to be here. Alright God. I did it. I made the move. Any minute now, you're going to tell me exactly what to do next. Any minute now. Any minute. I'm ready. Whoo boy, am I ready. Yes. Ready. Ready to go. Any minute now. Any minute...
any minute...
any minute now..."
Honestly, folks, I got it in my head that someone in this City knows EXACTLY what I'm supposed to do next. I don't know where that came from, but it's there...That hunch that if I just ask everybody I meet, "WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO NOW?!" I'll finally stumble upon the person who KNOWS. He's out there. I just have to find him. And once I find him, he'll tell me JUST what I'm supposed to do.
Am I rambling?
Holy carp. I just yacked for 40 minutes. Better wrap this up. At Café Netto, time is money.
Enjoy the picture of my niece below. Doesn't she look just like a cookie? Or a starfish?
So I moved to Noo Yuck. It was surprisingly easy. I had braced myself for a perilous uphill battle. I worried myself into indigestion. I prayed that God would open the doors and, if this move was part of His divine will for my life, that He'd glide me into a warm little nook, easy as pie.
And whaddya know?
Getting the apartment was a relative snap. Work (and "work") popped up out of absolutely nowhere just when I needed it the most. Heck, I even got cast in an off-off Broadway show after only about seven auditions.
Yessir, things really seem to be going my way.
But the thing is...
...ever since coming here, I've been wrestling with something. And that something is a real, clear, definite sense of direction and purpose.
I know, I know. This isn't anything new for anybody reading this. In fact, I'm probably just really dense. After all, weren't we supposed to struggle with this--this massive question of "Who am I? What am I doing here?" back in Philosophy 101 while reading Pieper and Kierkeegaaaard?
Maybe it's that I'm second-guessing my decisions. Maybe it's that I'm almost out of money. Maybe it's that nagging voice of my mother in my head telling me, "If you don't make money you'll never be happy (and, for the record, you'll never make enough)!" Maybe it's that new Broadway reality show, which prompted my Grandmother to ask me the other night, "Honey, I never realized how difficult it all was. I don't know how you can do it."
I mean, don't you feel like you would/could/should be doing something...I dunno...MORE with your day than just waiting for something to happen? Waiting for someone to say, "Hey! You're swell, kid! Sign this contract! We're gonna make you a star!"?
Going to the gym helps. Signing up for swordfighting workshops help. Auditioning for Shakespeare Festivals helps. But still...all that feels so...small. Wasn't I supposed to do something BIG?
I thought, "Okay. The doors to Noo Yuck swung wiiiiide open. I'm pretty dang sure I'm supposed to be here. Alright God. I did it. I made the move. Any minute now, you're going to tell me exactly what to do next. Any minute now. Any minute. I'm ready. Whoo boy, am I ready. Yes. Ready. Ready to go. Any minute now. Any minute...
any minute...
any minute now..."
Honestly, folks, I got it in my head that someone in this City knows EXACTLY what I'm supposed to do next. I don't know where that came from, but it's there...That hunch that if I just ask everybody I meet, "WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO NOW?!" I'll finally stumble upon the person who KNOWS. He's out there. I just have to find him. And once I find him, he'll tell me JUST what I'm supposed to do.
Am I rambling?
Holy carp. I just yacked for 40 minutes. Better wrap this up. At Café Netto, time is money.
Enjoy the picture of my niece below. Doesn't she look just like a cookie? Or a starfish?
Monday, January 29, 2007
Merry Kristenmas
Merry Kristenmas!
For those of you who don't know, today is Queen III's birthday. We all know how she loves men. So this year I went all out and looked up available guys in and around Everycity for her to choose from--one from each major race (except Jewish, naturally). It's up to Queen III to decide which dude will be the one that she gets into a frenzied, chaotic, neurotic, psychotic relationship with. Which one will it be? We're taking bets in the comments section of this post. The gang's all here, Queen III! Happy birthday to you!
Queen III's Birthday Surprise!
An Official 42nd Floor Poll
Which Race Will It Be?
Which Race Will It Be?
Italian
Native American
Black
White
Don't forget to wish Queen III a happy birthday!
(as always, we at the 42nd Floor believe in anonymity and have taken steps to protect the identities of the people in these pictures)
Sunday, January 28, 2007
The Polite Disclaimer
If there's one thing Noo Yuck lacks, it's good breeding.
Yes, while manners are all the rage down south in and around Everycity, Wackytown, and Mexibury, up here, Yankees have no problem speaking their minds loudly and profanely.
To all those blue-streak spewing vendors and cabbies, I'm here today to teach you some good manners.
You know those people who are real jerks but pretend not to be? You know the ones. They often preface extremely rude comments with this simple phrase:
"I don't mean to be rude, but..."
Well, it may come as a surprise, but this statement really does work! The next time you have something bitingly honest to tell some poor slob, just tack this onto your comment/suggestion. You can get away with anything!
Let's use this phrase. It's fun and easy!
"I don't mean to be rude, but you are way too fat to be eating that."
"I don't mean to be rude, but I haven't been listening to you for the past five minutes because I'm so sick of your droning."
"I don't mean to be rude, but when was the last time you shut up long enough to breathe?"
"I don't mean to be rude, but you really suck at basketball. Hard core."
Now you try! And remember, be polite!
Yes, while manners are all the rage down south in and around Everycity, Wackytown, and Mexibury, up here, Yankees have no problem speaking their minds loudly and profanely.
To all those blue-streak spewing vendors and cabbies, I'm here today to teach you some good manners.
The 42nd Floor Presents
"Forky is Mr. Manners!"
First Edition: The Polite Disclaimer
"Forky is Mr. Manners!"
First Edition: The Polite Disclaimer
You know those people who are real jerks but pretend not to be? You know the ones. They often preface extremely rude comments with this simple phrase:
"I don't mean to be rude, but..."
Well, it may come as a surprise, but this statement really does work! The next time you have something bitingly honest to tell some poor slob, just tack this onto your comment/suggestion. You can get away with anything!
Let's use this phrase. It's fun and easy!
"I don't mean to be rude, but you are way too fat to be eating that."
"I don't mean to be rude, but I haven't been listening to you for the past five minutes because I'm so sick of your droning."
"I don't mean to be rude, but when was the last time you shut up long enough to breathe?"
"I don't mean to be rude, but you really suck at basketball. Hard core."
Now you try! And remember, be polite!
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Confessions
I'm about to re title this blog "Confessions from the 42nd Floor" seeing as how I begin about 65% of my 90%-more-Fork posts with my famous catchphrase "I have a confession to make."
Catchphrases are important to have. As are catch phrases, hyphenated catch-phrases, and the occasional cachinnated phrases.
More confessions will be posted in the next few days as unemployment in Noo Yuck consumes me like an icky paint-like goop (it's moving!). But in the meantime, read the post below this one. Go on. Use the scroll buttons or your mouse wheel.
Catchphrases are important to have. As are catch phrases, hyphenated catch-phrases, and the occasional cachinnated phrases.
More confessions will be posted in the next few days as unemployment in Noo Yuck consumes me like an icky paint-like goop (it's moving!). But in the meantime, read the post below this one. Go on. Use the scroll buttons or your mouse wheel.
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