re·cluse

A person who withdraws from the world to live in seclusion and often in solitude.

It's like, yeah, I like going out and seeing people and doing things, but the comforts of home are becoming increasingly more desirable to me.

Air conditioning, DTV, internet, food, books, clean water - the luxuries of the indoors.

Why people keep pushing for the outdoors, camping, wilderness and all that nonsense is beyond me. Currently I am nursing the 5 mosquito bites on my shins I got this past weekend. Jerks got me right on the bone. And I really do think I am allergic to mosquito bites. These things get REAL huge - like Mentos under the skin.

And this constant withdrawal has led me to become very uncomfortable with people. All the few social skills I once had have left me for good. And I now solemnly believe conversations are better when typed.

I am somewhat kidding. But I'm thinking about starting up an "Inside Outdoors U.S.A." campaign. The goal of the organization would be to wall up and roof the United States of America. We'll have skylights for photosynthesis and SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) prevention's sake, and screened windows to let the air flow when there's a tornado, but for the majority of the year, we'd be happily locked up in our free and welcoming "outdoors."

There are, of course, other benefits to "Inside Outdoors U.S.A."

First of all, we would put a giant UV-protectant skylight up to ease our melanoma numbers and wrinkle numbers.

Second of all, no bugs! The West Nile would be a thing of the past. And you know how there always seems to be some exotic killer bug making its way up from Mexico and into the Northeast? Never more. Screened windows would take care of that.

Last but not least, "housing" the entirety of the American people would lead to a greater sense of community and nationalism, which would gradually increase each American's feeling of responsibility. How? Example. Generally, we in the Northeast do not feel that we have to go help out with the forest fires in California. But since nobody wants a hole in their house, we would feel more compelled to give a hand.

That is why we should wall up and roof our great country. Thank you.

ap·pre·ci·a·tion

Recognition of the quality, value, significance, or magnitude of people and things.

Things being cows.

Let's step back for a moment and just ruminate.

Things we should thank cows for:

1. Steak and other beef products. Like beef bologna.
2. Milk and other dairy products. Like cheese.
3. Fine leather handbags. Like the Chloé Edith.

These humble, grass-loving creatures ask for nothing and give me everything. And if they weren't so goddamn delicious, I would just sit back and eat my Brie... but since they didn't do their part, well, I can't be expected to keep up with my end of the deal.

(I understand that it's lambskin leather. Tomato, tomahto. Potato, potahto.)

P.S. Margaret Cho on Thursday? Tufts on Friday?

in·cred·i·ble

So implausible as to elicit disbelief.

About a week ago, my mom's best friend shook my world, telling me that her sister was in with Usher, Nelly and Britney Spears. Nelly and her sister were on the same private plane and both commented on each other's "bling bling."

I'm dreaming about this for days. I'm shocked to be 3 degrees from Nelly, 4 from K. Fed, and 5 from Left Eye. I'm piecing myself into the music world and wondering how long it'll be before I'm rolling with Diddy, or more importantly, Lindsay Lohan.

OK. Now, here is the super mega-important part.

We're sitting in my kitchen today. I'm on Launch.com and playing music videos for my mom, her friend and my brother. We've gone down the list: Michael Jackson, Janet Jackson, Ciara, Pussycat Dolls and then finally, Britney Spears.

"Stronger", "Oops! I Did it Again", and then "(You Drive Me) Crazy (Stop Remix)".

Adrien Grenier is on the screen... you know, as the loser from the movie. My mom's friend goes, "Oh! Doesn't he have the most beautiful eyes?"

How was I supposed to know from that comment that she had actually seen those eyes in real life? That she had sat across from those eyes? That she had had dinner with those eyes and the rest of the Entourage cast?!

"My sister knows them! I was out in LA and I got to meet them all. Jeremy Piven is so talented, but he's so short."

"Yeah, well, he's Jewish, you know. How does your sister know them?"

(Be prepared to die.)

"They shot the show in her house - did I never tell you that?"

Hellooo, surrogate family!

• A schoolhouse-turned-home available in Medford, MA. How cool. Pictures here.
  

in·ter·rupt

To break the uniformity or continuity of.

When I made this blog, I promised myself that I would keep all of my celebrity-gossip love out of it. Unfortunately, I am forced to break this promise today.

1. Lance Bass is gay. Which is not all too shocking, but let's pretend that we're still living in 1999 and *NSync and BSB still have that friendly rivalry going on. And when you read the article, look for huge implications in the term "close buddy" used to describe the equally-ambiguous bandmember Joey Fatone. - People magazine

2. Disney invited Lindsay Lohan to Disneyland for her 20th birthday. I love this because it sounds like the best birthday in the world. After stumbing around the park in an intoxicated state all day, Lindsay and her guests went on the Sailing Ship Columbia with Mickey Mouse at 1:30 a.m., where they were catered to by pirates. And, allegedly,

"the party took its most alarming turn as some party guests used the darkened ship to engage in very inappropriate behavior for the happiest place on earth."

Can I beat that for my 20th birthday? - JordanIsYourHomeboy

I just got an e-mail from Katie about Lance Bass. I'm sure neither of us have checked the national news on CNN or NYT this morning.

Here's the Asian version of "Breaking Free" from High School Musical. No joke, it's completely legit. The "Asian version." Disney said so. And I'm sure this interests no one but Charlene, but High School Musical 2 will be coming out in early 2007!

geek

An enthusiast or expert especially in a technological field or activity.



Just one of the Mac Ad spoofs that have come out. My favorite line is the black guy's last.

be·lat·ed

Having been delayed; done or sent too late.

As of last Thursday, I became one of the quarter million Invisalign patients, a group otherwise known as "adults who thought too late about orthodontia."

Invisalign requires me to have a set of aligners in my mouth for 22 hours a day for two weeks at a time. The doctor told me that it would also help me with my teeth grinding (which I had checked off on the sheet) and that it would perhaps cause me to shed a few pounds, since each Cheeto would require me to brush my teeth and floss.

I nodded. Three good things! And weight loss being one of them! How young and naive I was back then.

Now I save my appetite for my meals, which last considerably longer than those from pre-treatment. I tell myself that I need to compensate for all the snacks I missed and then, in the morning, I wonder whose tummy that is in the mirror.

Well, anyways - for those of you who want to know about the actual treatment, the aligners are quite comfortable and discreet. Not as much as they like to advertise - for my teeth have never been as shiny as plastic - but enough so that my half-blind parents can't really tell. If you can get over the lisp, it's really no biggie.

Still self-conscious. Still feeling a bit sore... in my mouth. But that's the price you pay for a radiant smile.

(Just another plus about "invisible braces": you can eat anything you want when they are out. I like that.)

con·spir·a·cy

A combination of men for an evil purpose.

No joke, all the cars on 80 East were against me tonight.

Driving home from Charlene's farewell barbecue party, I was constantly stuck behind a car. Usually a New York car that couldn't deal with going above 70. And the same huge lumber truck was always in the second lane, racing along at the same speed as the tortoise in the first, so my chances of passing were diminished.

So I went all the way to the third and last lane and made the return trip back to the first lane, finally passing the truck and the slowpoke. I turned up the radio a little louder and relaxed a bit into my leather chair, enjoying the empty road ahead of me.

All I had to worry about was the beat-up, ninety-something Toyota Camry that was chuggin' along in the second lane. But not really. It was going... maybe 65, and I was doing at least 80... no way would it ever cut me... especially with NO cars by its front, back or side. It had no logical reason to switch into my lane - and yet, of course, the asshole did.

Which led me to believe that the world was against me. Or that I was, unknowlingly, the star of the world's biggest reality show named after me and that I was too close to the exit for the show producer's comfort and he had to stop me no matter what.

The drive took me 15 minutes longer than expected, but that's partially due to the traffic I chose to be stuck in, by the George Washington Bridge. I read "Lower Level Closed, Delays Expected", but I just decided to go with 95 express. What's life without the risks, eh?

If there are conspirators and they are out to do me in, perhaps they started tonight in Charlene's basement, by making Vendola my Pictionary partner.

P.S. What maddens me most is that it's never the flashy red Corvette or the speedy little Boxster. The culprit is always some punk in his duct-taped wonder of a vehicle who has absolutely nothing on you, besides the 5 yards and the decorative license plate frame.

• Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Trailer
• Miss Universe 2006 - I recommend that you take a look at Miss USA's "national costume"
  

in·com·plete

Not yet finished.

It was just like when you get in the car and turn on the radio and you hear a few beats of the latest Sean Paul hit. And you don't know if you're lucky enough (if you see it that way) to be catching it from the beginning of the song, or if you are as so unfortunate (again, depending on how you see it) to have missed it almost in its entirety. It's quite the musical palindrome.

And while palindromes are usually a treat to our eyes and ears, they can be quite upsetting for a person who is lost inside one. When an event occurs, how can you tell whether it is a beginning or an end?

So I felt as confused as ever today when I got the phone call from my mother. It's not over? Are we back to where we were in Decemeber?

The doctor assures me that it's not so. And so, I place my faith in the French man once again.

I must believe that there will be an end to all this.

par·a·mount

Of chief concern or importance.

I know my pain medication quite well now: Morphine, Codeine, Percocet and Actiq. Most likely you have heard of the first three. Until today, my knowledge was limited to those as well. Who knew Actiq was the most fun out of all?

Actiq comes in the convenient form of a lollipop. I had to double-check the paper handed to me by the doctor. He actually wrote "lollipop" on the official-looking prescription paper. But the directions read, "Dissolve slowly in cheek," rather than, "Suck vigorously with tongue."

But don't think for a second that candy-medicine comes at a Jolly Rancher price. Try $800 for 30 of these suckers... or suckees. And they're not "once a day" - they're "every 3 hours."

Honestly, T.G.F.I. Thank God for Insurance.

For those of you who have ever considered doing away with your health insurance and for those of you who do not currently have health insurance, do yourself and your family a favor and make the investment.

con·ve·nience

Something that increases comfort or saves work.

I knew that Lindsay Lohan had signed on with ProActiv, adding her name to the already-impressive list of the skin care company's VIP "clientele."

I was looking forward to catching the informercial, but thanks to YouTube, I do not have to go on a wild-goose channel chase at 3 in the morning - flipping through Ronco, the Magic Bullet system and the rest of the gang.


Her voice is like the gravy to my mashed potatoes.

de·li·cate

Marked by keen sensitivity or fine discrimination.

(Also pronounced as "delicant.")

My brother and I were in the car today driving home from Hackensack when we went over a huge bump, the kind that gives you that funny feeling in your tummy.

Me: Wow! Did you feel that in your stomach?
Brother: Yeah, and I felt it in one more place, too.
Me: Where?
Brother: In my privates.
Me: Are you serious?
Brother: Yeah. Men's privates are really delicant. You didn't know that?
Me: No, I didn't. You can really feel that?
Brother: Yeah, they're really delicant and alivish. I discovered that when I was 6.

And I was planning on getting him Clue for his 9th birthday this year.

ab·surd

Ridiculously unreasonable, unsound or incongruous.

My house is infested with flying ants, a few steps above the house centipedes I had to share my sophomore residence with. They fly around in my kitchen all afternoon, testing their limits - flying all the way up to the hot lightbulbs, plummeting down, and repeating the cycle over and over again.

And you would think that they would do something else with their time... considering the fact that they all die on our kitchen floor by midnight. And it is not a pretty sight.

One of their favorite hangouts is the light right above the seat I am sitting in. Put two and two together, you can see why I discovered a smushed flying ant on my jeans last night. In fact, my late-night internet session was perturbed by this discovery and I had to pull out the vacuum tube and suck them up, ignoring the fact that it was past midnight and the entire family was sleeping.

But what I have discovered is that these flying ants don't go without a fight. A ridiculous one. They lay on the floor, writhing in what seems to be pain, for hours. And they make little circle designs. And sometimes they spazz out and jump 5-30 inches.

In fact, I was going to post this entry yesterday, but one leaped up from the floor and hit my hand as I was typing so I had to stop and vacuum.

There is a video that I want to post alongside this entry. You'll get it when I work this video embedding thing out.

i·ron·y

Incongruity between the actual result of a sequence of events and the normal or expected result.

United States President George Bush's photo opp was ruined when the German baby he was handed started shrieking loudly.

The baby, unable to be appeased by the Commander-in-Chief, was handed back to its mother.

The Daily Mail