Thanks to all who reached the end of the last post. You will receive a cookie. I’m not exactly sure how I’m going to send you a cookie, but I will. At first I was going to draw a picture of a cookie and send it to you guys, but then I realized that was a real dick move. Could you imagine? You are all stoked for your cookie and then all you get is a stupid drawing. And like not a good drawing. A bad one. I really can’t draw. No really. Sometimes I sketch things out at work for the animators, “Do you see what I mean? Like this!” and then they say, “What is that? Is that a Volvo?” and I say “No, it’s a slice of pizza.” Real conversation, by the way. Anyway, it’s kind of like ordering a brownie sundae and then the waiter brings you a salad instead. Total dick move. So I’m going to send you guys cookies. Or some kind of treat. I might send you chocolate because it’s a little easier and less messy. And quite frankly, more delicious. My cookies are not something I’d push onto other people. I am one of those people who puts everything in the batter. Also, I am one of those people who likes raisins. Listen, I’m just trying to be upfront, OK? You deserve a cookie. And a hug. You also deserve a million dollars, a new car, central heating and cooling, a pile of sleeping shiba inus. But I’m just one person. I can only give you a cookie. Good luck with the rest.

Hello friends!

Happy belated New Year! As usual, I am late. But I’m OK with that. You might not be OK with that. And I’m OK with that, too. I’m OK with a lot of things, really.

I am back in New York now. I flew out last night at 9 pm and landed this morning at 5 am. OMG death. Then I decided to be “bad” and splurge for a cab ($53 after tip OUCH) despite my New Year’s resolution to SAVE THE CASH MONIES. So already 2009 is full of broken promises and shattered dreams (shattered dreams, feel like I can run away, run away). But there were no yellow cabs at that Ricky Retardo hour, so as I was going outside there were all these gypsy cab hawks asking if I wanted a cab and one of them actually grabbed my luggage from my hands “I will take you! I will take you!” and I was like “Don’t you dare grab my bag, it’s not polite” and shooed him. And suddenly I became like the biggest Courtesy Cop ever. But dude, don’t grab people’s shit! I mean, come on.

I spent New Year’s eve with friends from New York actually. Marco and Lizzie were visiting and staying at The Standard downtown, which they should just rename The Doucheturd. SO MUCH DOUCHE. Normally it’s kind of douchey but on New Year’s eve it becomes Douche Central. Marco pointed out it’s like we were hanging out in the Meatpacking District, something you couldn’t pay me to do. Really, if you said, hey Annie I will give you $53 to hang out in the Meatpacking District tonight, I’d say no. Then I’d stick a shiv in your gut and steal your $53. And let’s be honest, $53 would buy you like 2 drinks. Anyway we were not slutty enough or twenty-one enough to be hanging out there. There was a girl wearing something that only had one side. Like just the front. It was like she was wearing a napkin around her neck, it was grotesque and seeming impossible. I was wearing jeans and I felt like I was wearing too much pants. Too much pants! Oh yes, such a thing is possible!

We ate in Koreatown for “King’s court” style dinner, which is an awesome way of saying food just keeps coming at you until you want to die (of happiness, of overeating, of flavor, of soju that tastes like “kissing your grandmother” as Dan put it) and the went to HMS Bounty for drinks. I love that bar for no particular reason other than it’s old skool, charming L.A. Good times, people, good times.

So normally on New Year’s day I spend it with my entire extended family and we bow for bucks and play New Year’s games. But now we don’t get bucks, which makes hanging out with family much less profitable. I’ve written about this before, in the book, the one over there in the sidebar. I normally show up to my aunt’s incredibly hungover and wanting to die. So I kind of prepped myself for a day of answering why I wasn’t married/with child/a millionaire/a doctor and then my mom said, hey, sorry to do this to you, but I think we’re canceling the new year’s stuff. Your father’s kind of sick and your aunt is too tired to cook for 3000 cousins. And suddenly it was like a major GET OUT OF JAIL FREE AND HERE IS A NEW FRYING PAN AND A SALAD SPINNER. Stoke city! I went back to sleep.

Micah and I were at some vegan restaurant (YES VEGAN. AND DELICIOUS.) and we were sitting next to two dudes on a man-date/broppointment and one guy was all stoked for the waffle special and I was like oh they stop serving breakfast at 11 am. The time is 3! And when he overheard this it looked like I had kicked his dog in the nuts. Like how dare you ruin this moment. Don’t you hate that? Breakfast should be served all day all the time. Like, wtf. It’s even easier to make than dinner, what’s wrong with people?

I already miss my L.A. friends. Didn’t even get to see everyone. I hate when that happens. Also if you managed to reach the end of this post you deserve a cookie. Mail me your address, I will send you a cookie. No joke. Do it.

Happy 09!

Also, I decided that in 2013 I will start high fiving again. I stopped in 2003 and Micah and I decided that a decade without high fiving sounded about right. So there you go.

Hello from (greater) Los Angeles! My time here has gone something like this: driving, driving, driving, park, driving, driving, driving, oh no traffic, beer, beer, taco truck, brrrrr, Lost Boys 2: Shit Sandwich, driving, driving, huevos rancheros, yay, zzzzz. That’s it. I’m helping my brother find an apartment and holy shit it sucks. No no it SUCKS with a capital SUCK. I realize no matter what city you live in, finding a place is exactly like kicking yourself in the neck. But wait, Annie! It’s imposible to kick myself in the neck! That’s where you’re wrong, buddy. And right. Today’s gem included a studio that had a shared bathroom which the landlord didn’t mention in the ad. Like did she think we wouldn’t notice? That was some New York shit right there. Also I’d like to point out that L.A. was COLDER than NY the last few nights. That’s COLDER with a capital SUCK. Tomorrow we shall continue the pain and suffering. And driving. Did I mention the driving? Also I’m helping Mike find a car too. I’m like his PA. That’s personal assistant, to be clear. I am not his Pennsylvania or whatever. But I should get some kind of trophy or something for doing this. Mike: give me my trophy dammit. Where is my trophy!!!

Also Korean food, how I missed you, old friend. You never judge me. You just love me and give give give. Sniff. I love you.

I’m here at lovely John Fitzgerald Kennedy International Airport waiting for a flight to the greater Los Angeles area. On the way here I saw a rainbow over Queens. It was the filthiest, most polluted rainbow ever. Then whilst in line at Jamba Juice, a woman flipped out because she didn’t like the employee’s attitude, and got all “I’m going to sue!” and then an old man collapsed in the terminal and the medics came. And now they are playing Wham! in the terminal. Which came after Kenny G version of Auld Lang Syne. I can’t tell if I’m having a positive or negative experience.

Happy Holidays!

The temperature is 17 degrees F (which is 8.33333 degrees C) outside.

But let us focus our attention on the inside. After all, the inside is what counts, right?

My apartment does not have heat. I’m going to guess that it’s about 30 degrees in here.

I do not know why it does not have heat. But this morning, in the bathroom, I think I saw my breath.

I have called the landlord. He is “on vacation.” I called the emergency number. I left a message. I LEFT A MESSAGE FOR EMERGENCY. That’s great. It’s like calling 911 and them being like “Hey can’t come to the phone right now! Leave a message!”

I am wearing a down jacket. And Pikachu slippers that are like wearing stuffed animals on my feet and make me walk funny because the ears are so big and slam into each other when I walk. I never wear them because they make me walk funny but also because my apartment is so small and has no floor space I really don’t need slippers to walk around in. It’s not like I can say, hmmm I wonder what’s going on in that other room! Let me walk there to find out! Point is, I’m freezing and I’m sitting on this aluminum chair.

So Karina gave me the first Twilight book. Everyone in the office is reading it. And when I mean everyone, I mean all the girls, and when I mean all the girls, I mean all the girls in my department. Which is to say, four of them. So like four people are reading it in my office. That constitutes everyone. Anyway I read the first few pages and I was like holy crap, this is poorly written. Like, it astonished me, possibly offended me. How can something be this bad? I mean it’s grammatically all there, subject, verb, object, etc. But it is all poop. I mean if it said Poop poop poop, poop poop. Poop! it would’ve been better, and possibly make more sense. So after the fourth page I was like, dude, do I really want to finish this? It’s like a thousand pages long and if each page is written like this then this is going to SUCKKKKKKKKK. With extra k’s and everything. Plus these vampires are out during the DAY? Really? They’re not vampires then. They’re just pale people going to high school, big L for LAME and why don’t I just read some VC Andrews at least that has flowers and an attic. And incest. But then I soldiered on.

And then, suddenly, it was 4:30 in the morning.

So what am I saying here? Is it a good book? Not really. Is it totally addictive and outrageously lame and trashy? Yes. Did I love it? Yes. Do I hate myself for it? Oh yes. Do I want to read the rest? Yes? Am I scared about it? Yes. I just realized there are FOUR BOOKS in this goddamn series. FOUR. Each one is like a million pages. Ugh. Now it’s like another relationship I have to maintain in my life. A commitment, if you will. I want to be free. I want to see other books. I want it to be open. But no. Twilight is like your ass is mine, bitch. Don’t you even LOOK At Steven Millhauser or I will beat you and your mother.

Anyway, what I’m trying to say here is that Twilight is like the deep fried appetizer sampler where you get fries, mozzarella sticks, zucchini, and an awesome blossom for like $7.99 with unlimited salad and breadsticks, you know what I mean?

People are grouchy,
Holiday season, thumbs down,
Hey! STFU!

Office doors open,
During Christmas to New Year’s,
Who does that, you ass?

Good times, long ago,
Now holidays are a chore,
Don’t go to Macy’s.

Why the long face, friend?
Streaming bitter, emo tears,
Stop crying, stupid.

Twelve days of Christmas,
But a lifetime of torture,
Death, the only choice.

My friend Natalia has clued me in to the MOST AMAZING Cheap-Ass Shit EVAR.

A new fragrance by….

Burger King.

OH YES. The Home of the Whopper is now the Home of Smelling Good.

It’s called “Flame” and “it captures the essence of that love and gives it to you. Behold the scent of seduction, with a hint of flame-broiled meat.” Whoever that copywriter is, give ‘em a bonus. I don’t even eat meat and I’m totally wanting to buy it. Why yes! I want to be seduced!

No, it’s not a joke. You can buy it at Ricky’s. At $3.99, it’s about the same prize as a Whopper. I think. I don’t know, it’s been while.

Dude. WHOPPER BODY SPRAY. I feel like I can die now and be OK with it.

Seasons greetings, friends! The holiday season is upon us and DON’T FREAK OUT, but there are only twelve days left until Christmas! There are even less days until Hanukkah! It’s a pickle, I know. Believe me, I know. The worst part is that I have no money since I spent EIGHT HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS on a stupid tooth (not to harp on it or anything). But I know it’s not just me feeling the economic meltdown. We are all “tightening our purse strings,” even the guys. They are like, shit, let me buy a purse so I can tighten its strings. Anyway, I did some shopping with friends last night and discovered a few gifts that will fit any budget. So now I present to you Annietown’s Guide to Cheap-Ass, Cheap Shit for Cheap-Ass, Cheap People: Cheap Edition.

This year perfumes and colognes top the list. Why? Because people smell bad. I mean smell yourself, kind of nasty, right? That’s why we have perfume. If people didn’t smell bad, then we wouldn’t have perfume. It’s a fact. So you can’t go wrong if you give the gift of smelling good. People will be like, what smells so good, and that special someone will be all, oh that’s me, my BFF gave me the gift of smelling good. Everyone is happy. OK, wait, I know what you are thinking: But Annie, perfume is really really expensive! NO. You are wrong. You are always wrong. It’s kind of annoying. The trick is to find a perfume or cologne that looks expensive, but is actually quite affordable. How does one this? Two words: Celine Dion.

Nothing says sophistication like Celine Dion. My mother happens to love Celine Dion, which makes “Enchanting” the perfect scent for any mother. Oh yes, your heart WILL go on. Sniff, sniff. Smells like: vanilla, orchids, arm choreography. Fucking amazing. Only $14.69 for 1 oz spray.

The Olsen twins! Zoinks! Mary-Kate and Ashley’s “Coast to Coast: NYC” smells like woody pine with notes of bagels and lox and subway urine. Also available in “Coast to Coast: Los Angeles” (not seen here). At 50% off, this is the deal of the century. Act now while supplies last, they are practically giving this shit away!

For that special man-friend in your life: “Blue Seduction” by Antonio Banderas. Who doesn’t love El Mariachi! El Zorro! El Puss in Boots! Spritz that on and the ladies will come flocking. Antonio Banderas is the original Spanish Fly. “Blue Seduction” retails for $19.99, however, if you are a Duane Reade Club Rewards member, you get an extra 5% off! You can smell like Antonio Banderas for just $15.99 (local taxes apply).

For those who want to smell like a celebrity without paying celebrity prices, there is Celebrity Imposters.

This is a limited edition gift pack which includes the top-selling fragrances Too Rich, Too famous and Exposé and, my personal favorite, Star Power. Only $6.99! Celebrity Imposters! Smells like fake drugs, fake alcohol, and fake-fake boobies. With a hint of rejuvenating peppermint.

I get a lot of emails asking me what to give sexy people. The answer is easier than you think:

“Sexiest Musks”! Smells like sexy musk! But what does sexy musk smell like? “New Music”, of course. And also, “Skin”. Sexy in a bottle. Rowr.

But sometimes you don’t want sexy. Sometimes you just need the Truth:

Can you handle the truth? Smells mostly like ylang ylang with undertones of lemon zest and “I cheated on you last night. With your sister.” As promised, the box offers truths and revelations, including “Have good ideas.” That’s an order, soldier.

I don’t know about you, but my lips are chapped.

Glamour Goddess has released a very special mini lip pallet which features moisturizing lip glosses in ten dazzling colors and a lip brush. Also included is a lipstick in a frosted coppery red that may or may not make you look like a cheap whore. At $2.99 it’s the cheapest shit on the list. The only thing cheaper would be a smile, but you try putting that under the Christmas tree.

Mike is trapped in a box in the conference room, I do not know how to save him. Death is the only way out.