I need to meet some Hungarians.

So, this came out awhile ago, but it was just pointed out to me that I really can't let the cover of the Hungarian translation of Julie & Julia come and go without comment:



There's a fish in the sky! A mouse in a tree! The sun is actually two fried eggs. A chicken is being held upright by a pair of pliers, and a sexy lady in a short nightie is digging around a refrigerator for a midnight snack. In a sheep pasture. Eric described it possibly best: "Chagall and Alice Waters having LCD-fueled sex on the Great Hungarian Plain."

I will just add, I need this guy's drug connection.

Mama never told me there'd be days like this...

... but to be fair, I wouldn't have believed her if she had.

You know you're in a strange place when you start off your morning with a hug from and conversation about the current politics of high heels with Meryl Streep dressed as Julia Child and end it with a thorough, slightly drunken rewatching of the Battlestar Galactica miniseries, with a heaping helping of R train riding to get from the 34th street DMV to the Marshal's office in Bay Ridge, back up to the impoundment lot in East Williamsburg in the middle.

The glamour to drudgery ratio is perplexing.

I am 35 years old for chrissakes...

... And I still cannot even remotely get my shit together.

My car got towed today. Second time in less than a year. For parking tickets, which arose because I have not renewed the registration on my car. Since it ran out... in January. Part of the reason I've not done this is that first I have to change my driver's license, which still has our old address on it. Instead of the address of the apartment I've been living in for TWO YEARS NOW.

I know there are pregnant homeless crack whores out there who have their shit less together than I do. Surely. But Fucking A.

And I need to lose 30 pounds. Stupid, but true.

Grrr. Argh.