I wish I could rearrange my cochlea, then I wouldn't have to hear you

There is someone within earshot of me who makes me want to gouge my eyes with a spoon. I'm compelled to share the reason why.

Beyond engaging in annoying but harmless activities, such as posting mutually unattractive boob-to-boob portraits of herself and her friends on her Facebook page, and claiming a certain recently rehabbed actress' ex-boyfriend as her "good friend" (I'm pretty sure they only met once, and he doesn't return her calls, from what I can tell), this person's accent is beyond irritating.

Although there's a clear subset of the NYC population who talks like this, the accent in question has no clear geographical ties. One friend did point out that it seems to be "distantly related to Long Island in some way," and I believe this to be true. I also think that if you speak with this brand of affected diction, chances are you are well under 30 and have recently walked through the Meatpacking district with your skirt askew. It turns the word "happy" into something like "haughpy," and natch, is a speech pattern oft-accompanied by heavy eyeliner and aggressive highlights.

If you still can't call it up, my friend hit the nail on the head: "[it's] the voice of self-importance - too much inflection on every word as if you are telling a really fascinating story when just relaying which bodega has the best salad options."

I've heard enough.

3 things on my mind

Filthy Cabs
You know that indentation behind the cab's inside door handle? I saw one this weekend that really did resemble a petri dish. And there was enough garbage on the floor to make one think that the cab was used as a float in the Puerto Rican Day parade. If this happens to you, I implore you: Do not tip the driver. No one should feel like they need to be autoclaved when they get out of the car. And for the love of God, Mr. Cab driver, how about investing in a package of Pledge Wipes? Anything would help.


Your leggings
July is in full swing, the humidity is through the roof. What to wear, you wonder? If the answer is leggings, I'd like to say the following to you:
Lady, it's 90 degrees out. Those leggings? I want to use my stiletto to rip them off your sweaty limbs. Save leggings for winter!




Buttered toast
Do you know how hard it is for a line cook to butter toast? Apparently, it very, very difficult. It backs the whole kitchen up. Or so the latest wave of waiters and waitresses would have you think. It's not like I'm asking you to cut my crusts off (full disclosure: it's crossed my mind) -- I'm asking you to finish the job you started. Toast, in typical American breakfast establishments, is made up of one part bread, one part butter. When you don't butter it in the kitchen, the bread is too cold to melt the butter once its made its way to my table five minutes later. And the rest of my food gets cold as I try to finish the job you started. Can we please work on this?

3 things that bother me right now

1. Shar Jackson and her EPT test

To prove she wasn't housing KFed's spawn, Shar took a pregnancy test. The video (I'm not going to contribute to site traffic by adding the link) shows her purchasing the test, walking into her manager's office to pee on the test, then emerging from the waving the negative test like a flag on the 4th of July. If pee falls on an EPT test, but no one is there to see it, did it really happen? In this spirit of erasing this incident from memory, I'd like to say no. And Shar, do you see *anyone* else of even moderate celebrity status behaving this way? You aren't Katie Couric and this isn't your colon. Some things should be left to the imagination.

2. Remember the time Tony Soprano wore shorts, and it angered the "real" Mob? This is sort of like that.

The leader of the free world should not, under any circumstances, wear short sleeved dress shirts. No one should wear them, really, but especially not our Commander in Chief. Why did he do it? Is it a little warm in D.C. today? Well you know what, I hear it's warm in Fallujah right now, and last I checked the Marines hadn't swapped out their uniforms for something more breathable.


3. Sacre bleu, Tony Parker

Tony makes this list not just for looking particularly assy in this photo, and not just because he's castrated himself for Eva Longoria, but because he raps. In French. And he's got not one but two singles on the air. Tony, you're French, we get it. Just please stop rapping about it.