WHAT I HOPE 2005 MEANS FOR ME

-A healthy kitty and family and friends

-A number of photography projects including portraits of my close women friends

-More fuck yous when someone pisses me off

-A fun, memorable and affordable wedding

-A biopsy to confirm this whole Celiac disease

-Better socks and more of them

-More time alone and not care what other people think

-More Poekoelan classes

-Finish writing one chapter (only one) of catering book idea

-Finish writing five chapters (only five) of other book idea

-A trip to Lucea, Jamaica and bring my camera this time

-A trip to Minneapolis to hold my best friend’s baby twins

-A trip to London to hold my other best friend’s newborn

-Write more about food

-Become more aggressive and adventurous in the kitchen including better on the grill and more fish dishes

-Continue to work hard making less men intimidate me

-Incorporate writing into my work

-Discuss career goals with my boss

-Continue to help others on a regular basis-volunteer with New York Cares more

-Write more letters

And finally less perfectionism. To date I have spent 31 years on this planet striving to be perfect in just about everything and I am soooooooo, soooooooo tired
and ready for a break!

See you in 2005.
HAPPY NEW YEARS!

PLEASE DONATE. WE DID.

HERE

SAY THAT AGAIN?

I grew up on Long Island and people always ask me, "What happened to your Long Island accent?" While I like to pretend I never had one, the scary truth is I most certainly did. A few rewinds through the family videos will reveal one scary Long Island chick with a mouth that was meant only for the confines of...I dunno-a Long Island deli.

Since I have returned from Long Island where I was home for the holidays-the following words have resurfaced in my old accent:

Wonderful= Won-da-fel
Surviving= Su-vive-van
Talk= Tawk
Mother= Motha
Whatever= What-eva

Ack. Time for speech therapy.

PILLOW TALK

Listen up pillow loving people...you have gone too far.

I don’t sleep with a pillow. Some of you may find this strange. But for years now I have crawled into beds across America (and I don’t mean that in a slutty kind of way) -fancy hotels, friend’s houses, etc. and no matter what the conditions are I immediately throw the pillow straight to the floor.

I often wondered why this was-why I was not in the norm until I came home for the holidays and noticed my bed was a minefield of pillow madness. There were enough pillows on my bed to host a sleepover for Snow White and the seven dwarfs.

When I lay down to go to sleep, I don't want to stuff a bunch of crap under my head to prop me up so my sleeping experience mirrors that of a stiff neck producing, upright snooze on an airplance.

People are crazy about their pillows. Take my parents for example. Last night I overheard a disturbing conversation:

Mom: "Wow. My neck hurts."
Dad: "Time for your cherry pit pillow."
Me: "Her what?"
Mom: "My cherry pit pillow."
Me: ?????
Dad: "A pillow full of cherry pits."
Me: "Like...used cherry pits? What are we talking about here."
Mom: "No! Clean cherry pits."
Dad: "You put it in the microwave and it heats up."
Me: "Ok. Now you guys are just lying to me..."
Mom: "No! We swear! It's great! Try it!"
Me: "I'm sorry. I'm not trying a microwavable used cherry pit pillow. Not happening."

What next people-

Scented pillows?
Translucent pillows?
Glow in the dark pillows?
Pillows with Ipod outlets?
Pillows made of ice for those hot summer nights?

WHAT IT'S LIKE TO DATE ME-STARVING WING BITCH

Bonnie's Grill-Park Slope, Brooklyn

Last night E and I craved burgers and wings. Our neighborhood has a number of fantastic restaurants but is not really a burgers kinda place. E searched Chowhound and found the most delicious place Bonnie’s Grill in Park Slope, Brooklyn. There was only one problem-THE SEASON FINALE OF THE APPRENTICE and the fact that it was freezing cold out and it was a 15-minute walk and my clogs were hurting me. So E yells at me (in a nice way) to change my frickin' shoes and put on extra layers because we are going for some frickin' burgers and proceeds to bend over to plug in the dusty VCR we never use to tape the 6 hr finale of The Apprentice all the while exposing plumber’s butt and saying, ‘Crack kills honey. Crack kills.’

FYI-I am not addicted to The Apprentice. I love bad reality shows but I work in television and feel as if I am committing a corporate crime if I don't commit myself to at least one horrible mind-numbing TV show.

On the way there I challenged E to a game-who can sing the lamest song (Example: Ballerina Girl-Lionel Richie). I started the game because when you date for so long you have nothing more to talk about (just kidding) but mostly to keep my mind off the cold and the fact that I was SO STARVING that I might eat a dog on the way to the restaurant.

Fast forward- Bonnie’s Grill:
K: (to waiter) ‘I’d like a large hot wings please.’
E: ‘Large…as in 20 wings???’
Waiter looking nervous.
K: (pissed) ‘Ok. Fine. Small.’
Waiter scurries away.

I pout in silence until my food comes and when I am done with my small wings (3 still left over) and am STUFFED I am able to finally have the clarity to tell E he was right. He is often right. And thank goodness he is because today as I write this I could have been 20 wings heavier.

STALKY MCSTALKSTER

DJ AK-47

Last night I stalked E. Yes, I will admit it. He called and left a message on my phone telling me where he was but didn't say, 'Meet me!' but yet shamefully I tracked him down. (Yes I am a sixteen-year-old trapped in a grown woman's body) Stalking is really not my style. I don't like to stalk. I have too much pride. But in his message he left the cross streets of where he was and he never leaves the cross streets unless he wants to meet so I took it a A SIGN. A GREEN LIGHT for STALKING. (everything seems much more important in caps)

70% of my stalking I blame on still being drunk from my office Christmas party. At the party I was required to stand on stage-drunk-assisting my co-worker the MC on three rounds of BINGO. That would be me-yes me-drunk and on stage in front of 150 co-workers turning a cage full of wooden balls. G24? G24? Anyone?

Fast forward-after me-Stalky McStalkster arrived and was in fact accepted by her loving future husband I enjoyed the party which was DJ'd by none other than DJ AK-47 the hottest DJ in town. If you haven't heard of him-YOU WILL. I also enjoyed as usual talking to my pal Lock however we forgot to discuss Pedro going to Shea. Two words-David Wells? What the fuck.

The end of the night was a blur. A man holding up a giant sausage to give away. A long talk with Simon about Turgenev. Me taking a photo of a man with two rolls of TP in one hand and Cheese Whiz in the other. And finally tall promises that I would send Manhattan Transfer a postcard drawing of Farrah Fawcett.

I’d say it was time to call it a night.

I HATE TO TELL YOU THIS BUT...

I had to fire someone yesterday. And it really sucked. I know. Boo-Hoo. Poor me.
How about the person that was fired! But still. I feel badly. In fact today I woke
up feeling totally depressed. Case of the sads.

Since I am trying not to blog about work (instead I will write a book one day on my experiences-saving all the juicy bits on napkins and scraps of paper) I will instead use this opp to talk about how excited I am about my postcard project! So far I have gotten a gazillion requests for an original KDunk postcard-everywhere from Australia, Japan, Spain, Canada, etc. I appreciate all your nice notes and check your boxes in
the next few weeks. Yours is coming.

LEAVE IT TO LONG ISLAND

Around this time each year I am reminded by my younger sister of a strange Christmas tune taught to us by our Long Island choral director. The tune went a little something like this:

Pablo the reindeer from Mex-i-co
He makes the children laugh ho-ho
All the muchachos love him so
Pable the reindeer from Mex-i-co

Without him-la la la la
Santa would not know where he's going
Without him-la la la la
Santa would not know if it's snow-ing
South of the border...

So basically to sum it up -it's a sad and demeaning tale about a Mexican reindeer named Pablo who when in the comforts of his homeland of Mexico makes all the kids and Mexican guys really bust a gut with laughter but then when Christmas rolls around Pablo is forced to work for Santa as a slave because apparently without a Mexican reindeer Santa wouldn't know where the fuck he was going nor what the weather is like anywhere other than shiny rich beautiful America.

BUH-BYE

Can Scarlett Johansson just go away now? Thanks. We all know she has great lips and the world's most perfect fun bags so let's move it along already.

POSTCARD FOR YOU-YES YOU

Hello!

Thank you all for your postcard requests. Due to the TRILLIONS of responses from around the world for an original KDunk postcard, I need to put the postcard project on hold until I catch up with the requests I currently have. For those of you that did submit your address via email to me-stay tuned! A postcard is on it's way to you in the New Year.

xoxo The Donut

SAG BAGS

Hi. Yes. I am naive. So what if I am in my thirties and didn't know that 'fun bags' referred to boobs nor did I believe you until you did a search online to prove to me just how very many FUN BAGS links exist in this universe. A lot.

RECENT POLLS

Hi. Ok.

So recent polls on MTD say that the majority of you want me to blog about the following:

-Wedding plans
-Bridal shower gifts such as edible underwear
-How to prevent my relatives from ruining my wedding
-How to LAY DOWN THE LAW during my bridal shower games
-How to avoid wedding nonsense
-How to say two words without people asking me about my wedding

And my personal favorite “Marriage #1” because “it’s GOT to be a good story”.
Wow. Where to begin.

How about first…HAVE ANY OF YOU EVER READ MY BLOG? Perhaps you are confusing my blog with ivillage.com or starjones.com or oprah.com or imighttotallybarf.net.

The good news is you infuriated me back into blogging and for that I am truly, truly grateful.

Regarding the blog suggestion about “Marriage #1” and how it’s 'got to be a good story'. Before I blog about that I’d like you to first share with me in great detail:

-How three good friends of yours lost babies in a month
-How someone you love suffered from an eating disorder
-How a fellow co-worker at your old job committed suicide
-How your cat was taken away from you
-How you were laid off
-How you were evicted from your home with 24hrs notice
-How you went through a painfully sad divorce leaving two families ripped apart to mere shreds

Then…after you’ve combined all of the above bullets into one story…all happening in one month…then I will post my story. Oh wait. That is my story. And trust me when I tell you-it is not a good one.

Instead I’d like to tell you about more important things such as how much I love blood oranges and also how totally bummed I am that the underwear I am currently wearing is riding so far up my ass that it's quite possible I can floss my teeth.

THAT TIME AGAIN

What would YOU like me to blog about?
Please and thanks.

The Donut

BABY BOOZE & CIGS

For all you future parents out there afraid that your kid won't turn out ok unless you
smother your child with the finest in baby toys or food...take a lil gander here at this baby photo of me sucking on a jug of wine with a full pack of Marlboros at my side and say to yourself, 'Hey, everything is going to be ok.'