When I arrived home around 11PM last night and opened the cupboard to put away some soy milk I had bought I noticed that my peanut butter was nearly gone. That's not how I left it. I immediately went to my room, grabbed a sheet of paper, left my passive-aggressive note on the stove and went to bed. Before I fell asleep I heard one of my roommates come home and when I got up this morning the note was gone. That's too bad, because it was for both of them. I also took my chips out of my room and put them back in the kitchen, you know, as a temptation. We'll see what happens.

I had only been at the pilates studio this morning for about 10 minutes before the cops showed up. Apparently the alarm had gone off. I thought something was weird with the alarm but since I was able to deactivate it and now it says "Ready" I figured everything was fine. Guess not. After telling me that I needed to contact the alarm company one officer said, in a condescending tone, "So what, this place is filled with girls and the other one is for guys?" (There's a gritty boxing studio right across the hallway.) I gave him a mixed skeptical/incredulous look and said, "No, men come here too. What do you think I am?" Which I immediately realized was not the right thing to say. I pretty much expected him to respond, "Not a man." It was definitely in their eyes, particularly the 2nd officer's. I should have said, "And there are plenty of women at the boxing studio too, all of whom could kick your ass."

not my mom

The Earth Day website didn't make me feeling like saving ol' mother earth. Instead it made me mad, because it tried to make me feel guilty. I took the footprint quiz and yes, I could buy more non-processed foods but really, I felt like I was pretty good in the grand sweep of America. But then when I finished it hit me with the guilt: If everyone lived like you, we would need 3 planets. I think that pretty much implies: If everyone lived like you, you fucking uncaring bastard, we would need 3 planets. I understand what they're saying and that it's interesting, it just comes across as acusatory and I don't think that's the best way to get someone on your side. At least not with me; guilt usually has the opposite effect. So in honor of Earth Day I'm going to go chop down a tree, use it to kill a cow, freeze the meat and ship it off as the only cargo of a 757 to California. Now how many planets do we need, huh?

it's probably true

Prompted by a recount of my morning, a quote from HL:

It's safe to say that if you're not at work, at BAM or at DTW then you're home masturbating.

I could say nearly the same for him.

future chips

The chip wars continue at my apartment. My roommates are most definitely eating my chips. I don't think they're eating anything else I buy (at least not consistently) but the chip snacking is driving me crazy. To make doubly sure that I wasn't placing false accusations (even though I heard Horsey open my chip bag and munch away) I carefully and specifically folded the last bag and placed binder clips on the sides. When I came home the bag was haphazardly folded and the clips were not in the same place. I refolded and replaced the clips and the same thing happened the next day. When I arrived home the apartment was empty. Perfect. Since I would be heading out soon this was my chance to employ my normal passive-aggressive tactics and avoid confrontation at the same time. I wrote up a quick note:

Please stop nibbling at my food. It is incredibly inconsiderate. If you would like something please ask me first.

I was all set to put it on the fridge when suddenly both! my roommates walked in the door. Damn damn damn. So instead I sulked in my room. I thought about putting a note directly on the chip bag:

Stop. Are these yours? Then don't eat them.

But that seemed a little too snotty. I should just talk to them. The next morning I screwed my courage to the sticking place and walked into the living room to kill my roommates and become King of Scotland! I mean, Washington Heights! But of course, I chickened out. I keep thinking that to complain about something I should be the model roommate in all other areas and I'm not. Yes yes, if a friend told me that I'd say they were crazy and should stand up for themselves. But instead I just kept my chips in my room that day. Maybe I'll deal with the problem the next time I buy chips. For now, if I ever feel like I'm not the model roommate I just remember the food nibbling and the fact that I have to wash any dish before I use it, because I can't count on the roomies to thoroughly wash anything.

And speaking of gun control and weapons and stuff (see NSP's blog), has anyone seen that show Future Weapons on the Discovery channel? It's fucking creepy. It might be the most unsettling thing on television. I've only watched about 5 minutes of it but it made me extremely uncomfortable. The show is all about new weapons research and how things are becoming faster, smaller and more accurate. Part of the episode I saw featured an interview with a pilot on an aircraft carrier. He was talking about some new plane he flies and proudly pointed out the bombs it carried and talked about how great they were. What kept going through my mind was that everything featured on the show was made specifically to kill people. None of the "toys" shown had any other use. I found their pride and joy unsettling.

art schmart fart fat

It turns out that my inspiration for art comes from unsatisfying sexual experiences. Is that really a surprise? Isn't that the origin of a lot of art?

Last night was one such experience. He was attractive enough (I mean, if someone other than myself were judging him, in my opinion he could've been more attractive) and it felt good but when we were done I realized that I'd much rather be sleeping with someone I'd actually want to talk to afterwards. Anyway, while lying on his chest, experiencing the emptiness of my soul, an idea for a performance piece began to formulate in my mind. Unfortunately I can't remember much of it now but I think I've found a way to tap my creativity. This is the second time that's happened. The first time was with a different man and that experience spurned the creation of my meat cleaver piece. Coincidence or source material? You decide.

My dad and his wife were in town this weekend. Here're two new things that happened:

1. Peeing while Dad was just one urinal over...and talking to me
2. Dad's Wife pointing out men who're checking me out

And two new things I discovered:

1. Dad and Dad's Wife both take off their shoes at the theater.
2. Dad's Wife sucks mints while watching performances.

Though I have nothing against taking off your shoes, I do it too, discreetly, in other respects Dad & Dad's Wife were quickly becoming bad theater goers. Mostly it was the mints. And that she asked my dad, during the play, if he wanted one. I'll at least acknowledge that she did try to take them out of her purse as quietly as possible but still, it was a metal box with a bunch of rattling small orbs inside, those are hard to keep quiet.

We had an art filled week. On Thursday we went to the Met, which was great. After living here for nearly 3 years I'd still never been. Pathetic. I saw a self-portrait of Pablo Picasso that made me fall in love with him. Now if he were my boyfriend I'd really have some inspirational sex. We then went to the Museum of Arts & Design to see an exhibit on subversive knitting. (Thanks for the tip, MNS.) That was also awesome. One piece was a huge knitting project captured on film involving telephone poles and tractors. I could tell my dad liked that one. And then we went to see Journey's End. They liked it well enough. Their main comment, "Wow. That's certainly better than the college productions we usually see at BYU (Brigham Young University)." Good enough for me.

On Friday we went to a small movie house to watch an artsy French film, Private Fears in Public Places. We all found that to be a disappointment, not bad exactly, just not that good. Later we went to MoMA, where I rediscovered the joy of David Smith. Then we had to rush out to BAM for a performance of The Magic Flute, also a disappointment. I was so excited to take them to BAM, it feels like such a New York thing to me but the opera really was bad. The singers, professional opera singers from Belgium's national company I'm pretty sure, couldn't even fill the house with their voices. We could barely hear them. And I'm pretty sure the woman playing the Queen of the Night might have been a bird in disguise. She literally squawked out those notes.

On Saturday I had to work so Dad & Dad's Wife went to the Bodies exhibit, which they said was "good." When pressed for more they added "fine." Then that night we saw The Lion King. No, I didn't ever cry, neither did they as far as I could tell. But here's what I have to say: Julie Taymor is awesome, that grass was fucking brilliant but the basic story and many of the songs of this show are godawful boring. And tourists are weird. And fascinating up close.

And that's how it went down. Next time we're going to more experimental theater. At least they'll be expecting that to be bad.