In no particular order, here are The Top Ten Hurricane Irene Social Media Clichés:

1) Booze as emergency supplies.

Example: Pictured: A gallon of Jack Daniels.  Caption: “Emergency supplies!”

2) Equating things a hurricane does to sexual things a woman might do.

Example: “Blows,” “Gets you wet,” and “Weakens.”

3) Reports of coffee establishment status.

Example: “OMFG! Starbucks is closed!”

4) Saying “Good night, Irene.”

5) Changing the lyrics from Dexys Midnight Runners’ song “Come on Eileen” to “Come on Irene.”

6) Mentioning the person in your life named Irene and personifying the storm accordingly.

Example: “Not to worry, if Hurricane Irene is anything like my cousin Irene, it just means we’ll get an ugly sweater for Christmas.”

7) Picture of fallen tree.

8 ) Being disappointed in the downgrade to tropical storm.

Example: “Is that all ya’ got, Irene?!”

9) Being horrified that other people are disappointed it was downgraded to tropical storm.

Example: “How can you be upset by a downgrade?  Just be glad everyone is safe.”

10) Reports about what peoples’ parents are saying or doing.

Example: “My mother just called and told me to get an umbrella. Uh, thanks, Mom.”

Here are the actual lyrics of the song.  The words I got correct will be in green and the words I screwed up will be in red.  The words I thought they were are below.  I wish I could put these side by side for more visual ease.  Some of my mistakes are quite hilarious.

Yo! Who’s the Black Sheep, what’s the Black Sheep?
Know not who I am, or when I’m coming so you sleep
Wasn’t in my room or wasn’t in this sphere
Knew not who I was, but listen here
Dres, D-R-E-S, yes I guess I can start
If it’s all right with you, I’ll rip this here one apart
Back, Middle, to the front, don’t front
Wanna a good time, wanna give you what you want
Can I hear a hey? [Hey!]
Now get a yo! [Yo!]
You gotta hay? [Huh!]
It’s for the hoes [Oh!]
The styling is creative, Black Sheep of the Native
Can’t be violated, or even decepticated
I got brothers in the Jungle, cousins on the Quest
Dead retarded uncles, in pea porridge may they rest
Guess, which way, what, when, how
Mista Lawnge, Dres, Black Sheep slam NOW
Know you heard the others, phonies to the lovers
Then of course, the choice is yours

You can get with this or you can get with that (X3)
I think you’ll get with this ’cause this is where it’s at
You can get with this or you can get with that (X3)
I think you’ll get with this ’cause this is kinda phat

Where’s the Black Sheep, here’s the Black Sheep
Even if we wanted to the flock could not be weak
Watch me swing like this, why should I swing it like that,
Because in fact, on me it might not attract
Therefore, I ignore, do as I feel inside
I live with me, I’ve got my back tonight
Ya know what I’m saying, yo Black, I’m not playin’
Need to go with this, and go with this with no delayin’
See, in actuality, one be can it be,
I made it look easy, because it is to me
Any time capacity was filled, try to rock it
Any time a honey gave us play, tried to knock it
Never was a fool, so we finished school
Never see us sweat, and you’ll never see us drool
Out to rock the globe while it’s still here to rock
Don’t punch girls, and we don’t punch a clock
Gotta go, gotta go, see you later by the cat
And you can’t beat that with a bat

You can get with this or you can get with that (X3)
I think you’ll get with this ’cause this is where it’s at
You can get with this or you can get with that (X3)
I think you’ll get with this ’cause this is kinda phat

Engine, engine number nine
On the New York transit line
If my train goes off the track
Pick it up, pick it up, PICK IT UP!

Back on the scene
Crispy and clean
You can try, but then why?
Cause you can’t intervene
We be the outcast
Down for the settle
Won’t play rock
Won’t play the pebble
Open the door
You best believe
We’re slidin’
Through it swiffft-ly

Niftily
We can make it
Hip to be
What we are
‘Cause
What we be
Be the epitome
Do Dah Dippity

So now I dwell
Just to say your plainer
Pull your coat
Cause I got the container
Pass the plate-ah
Cross the fader
Black Sheep get played
Like the Sony Innovator
Never the traitor
Party of later
And you can get a scoop
Later

I did a lot better than I thought I would.  I can’t believe what I thought was “do as I philaside” was actually “do as I feel inside” and that “deppa dawn and uncles” was actually “dead retarded uncles.”  And what the hell is “decepticated”?  Also, “Know you heard the others, phonies to the lovers” was not what I had been singing all along: “Know ya hurba hubbas, call yourself a lover” — that’s surprising.

Here are the words I transcribed first, as I thought they were, nonsense words and all:

Yo, who’s the black sheep, what’s the black sheep
Know not who I am or when I come inside your sleep
Wasn’t in your realm or in your sphere
Know not who I was b’nest then here
Pres, P-R-E-S
Yes, I get second start
If it’s alright with you, I’ll rip this here gun apart
Back, middle to the front, don’t front
Want a good time, gonna give you what you want
Can I hear a hey? Hey!
A giddio? Yo!
Ya got a have? It’s for the house
Cause darling it’s creative
Black sheep of the native
Can’t be violated or even decepticated
I got brothers in the jungle
Cousins on a quest
Deppa dawn and uncles, in the car is where they rest
Yes, which way, what way, how?
Mr. Long dress, black sheep slam now
Know ya hurba hubbas
Call yourself a lover
Then of course, the choice is yours

You can get with this or you can get with that (X3)
I think you’ll get with this ’cause this is where it’s at
You can get with this or you can get with that (X3)
I think you’ll get with this ’cause this is kinda phat

Where’s the black sheep?
Here’s the black sheep
Even if we wanted to, the clock cannot be beat
Cause we swing it like this, why should we swing it like that?
Because in fact, on me it might not attract
Therefor I ignore, do as a I philaside
I live with me, I’ve got my back tonight
Y’know what I’m sayin’?
Yo, black, I’m not playin’
Neither go with this and go with this with no delay
And see in actuality
One the canopy I make it look easy because it is to me
Anytime capacity, what’s up, try to rock it
Anytime a honey gave us play, try to mock it
Never was a fool, so we finished school
Never see us sweat and you’ll never see us drool
Out to rock the globe while it’s still here to rock
Don’t punch girls and we don’t punch a clock
Gotta go, gotta go, see you later by the cat
And you can’t beat that with a bat

You can get with this or you can get with that (X3)
I think you’ll get with this ’cause this is where it’s at
You can get with this or you can get with that (X3)
I think you’ll get with this ’cause this is kinda phat

Engine engine number nine
On the New York transit line
If my train falls off the track
Pick it up, pick it up, pick it up!

Back on the scene, crispy and clean
You could try but don’t work cause you can’t intervene
We be the outcasts, down for the setter
Won’t play rock, won’t play the pebble
Open the door, you best believe we’re sliding through it swiftly
Niftily, we could make it hip to be
What we are ’cause what we be
Be the epitome
Doo dah dippity
So now I dwell just to say it plainer
Hold your cup ’cause I got the container
Pass the plate up, cross the fader
Black sheep could play like the Sony innovator
Never a traitor, party of later
And you can get a scoop later

You can get with this or you can get with that (X3)
I think you’ll get with this ’cause this is where it’s at
You can get with this or you can get with that (X3)
I think you’ll get with this ’cause this is kinda phat

This experiment was quite insightful (and took fucking forever).  I think I will continue to sing my lyrics.  After all, I’m an awesome rapper.

I got roughly 212 messages of happy wishes on my birthday.  Roughly 17% of my total friendship roster.  Is that good?  Is that a lot?  Of course, there’s no way to know because I’m the only winner cool enough to tally up birthday love.  Did it work?  Do I feel loved yet?

My mother took me to a fancy-ass lunch at the exclusive members only dining room at The Metropolitan Museum of Art.  Those who know me well know that I pretty much live at The Met.  It is my favorite place in the world.  And yet, I refuse to shell out the $60 it would take to be a member to eat in the fancy-ass special dining room.  That’s why I keep my fancy-ass mother around.  She’s good like that.

On my way home from lunch with my mother, my father called.  I’m omitting the boring details but here was pretty much the conversation:

Me: Hi, Dad!
Dad: Hi, Care!  How are you?
Me: Good.
Dad: Just wanted to let you know that [family news].
Me: Okay, have a safe flight.
Dad: And something else… oh, I wanted to let you know that [family health news].
Me: Okay, good to know.  Keep me posted.
Dad: Something else… something else…
Me: … [keeps from laughing]
Dad: Well, I guess that’s it.
Me: Okay, bye.
Dad: Bye.

Did you see that?  He totally forgot to wish me a happy birthday!  How cool is that?!  I don’t think my father has ever seen the classic Molly Ringwald movie Sixteen Candles wherein the main character’s entire family forgets her sixteenth birthday but I was thrilled to be a part of this inadvertent tribute.

The best part about my conversation with Dad is that I could tell he knew he forgot something — he just couldn’t remember what.  He had a lot he wanted to tell me and got sidetracked and just forgot the main purpose of the call.  And I was no help.  It was too glorious and funny.  Later, I went out to allow my friends to get me completely drunk and feed me cupcakes (see photo) — as that’s what “adults” do for birthdays.  I was happily recounting the story of Dad forgetting when he called to officially wish me a happy birthday.  So all was set right again.

And now I’m slightly hungover and year older and there are 364 days until the madness begins again.  My birthday goal is to write more because, y’know, I’m a special sacred gift to the world and this is one way for me to share my awesomeness.

First, a look behind the scenes:

A producer creates a show and gets comics/musicians/actors to agree to perform in it. The show is to begin at 8:00pm. At 7:50pm on the night of the show, the producer will say, “Ten minutes until show time” and everyone backstage swoons with anticipation. Then 8:00 will come and someone will say, “Okay, time to start the show,” and the producer will say, “Well, people are still filing in, let’s give them a few minutes to sit down.” And everyone agrees that starting the show when people are still walking in the door, finding their seats and getting settled would be distracting and annoying. So they wait. After all, shows never start on time. Everyone knows that.

Now, what’s happening outside:

Being supportive awesome friends, a group of people decide they want to see their friend perform on a stage. They all agree to meet at the venue at 7:45pm. That will give them enough time to grab a drink at the bar and get seated. Then one of them is a few minutes late. He arrives at 7:55pm and is apologetic and spends a few minutes explaining his delay to his friends. Before the show, everyone realizes that they should go to the bathroom. But since everyone had this idea simultaneously and this is a tiny New York venue, there is a big long line. Everyone waits. No one is anxious. After all, shows never start on time. Everyone knows that.

Do you see what’s happening here? The show is late because the audience is late and the audience is late because the show is late . It’s a vicious cycle. Better yet, here’s a graphic:

I’m not offering any solutions.  I’m just getting it out there for the good people, both performers and audience, who have said, “Aw poo, nothing starts on time in this city!”

I used four colons to make my point. Is that too many?

The No-Legs Diet is this: I will not eat the flesh of an animal that had legs at the time of its death. Meaning, I can eat fish and eggs but not beef, pork, chicken or any sea creature that crawls.

When I first came up with this diet, I explained it to a few friends. People love to try to find loopholes in my awesome diet plan. I think the Frequently Asked Questions about this diet are far more entertaining than the diet itself. In that vein, I present to you:

Frequently Asked Questions about the No-Legs Diet. (Actual questions I’ve gotten over the years.)

Reminder: The No-Legs Diet involves not eating the flesh of an animal that had legs at the time of its death.

1. Can you eat an egg?
Yes, an egg is an embryo and thus has no legs and is thereby edible under the terms of this diet.

2. Can you eat a mutant cow that was born with no legs?
Yes, a mutant cow born with no legs would be edible under this diet. However, I would need proof that it was such a cow.

3. Similarly, can you eat a mutant salmon that was born with legs?
No, under the rules of this diet, I would not be able to eat a mutant salmon born with legs.

4. Do tentacles count as legs?
I get this question a lot. Tentacles do not count as legs. I define a leg as an appendage which includes one or multiple joints. Therefore, I can eat squid but not shrimp.

5. If there was a freak cow born with legs that didn’t have any joints, thus not a leg by your definition, could you eat that?
Yes, but again, I would need proof of said cow.

6. What about clams, oysters and mussels?
Those are all fine. While they have an appendage that resembles a foot, I don’t consider it to be a leg and therefore, those are acceptable.

7. What about spiders?
No, I wouldn’t be able to eat spiders under the terms of this diet.

8. What about worms?
Yes, I would be able to eat worms while adhering to this diet.

9. How long can you possibly keep this up?
Luckily, I already failed and had some turkey by mistake like an idiot.  But I’m back on track and will continue my super fantastic diet until I don’t feel like it any more.  Won’t you join me?   I’m hoping it catches on and I can sell the book rights.

10. Is this the same diet that Jane Gavin wrote about on the famous Jane’s Plastic Brain Train blog on April 10th, 2007?
Yes – with slight changes. You win a prize for knowing that.

This is the first time in my life I’ve lived in a building with a reliable super.  When he shows up, he gets shit done.  And with a smile.  This is new for me.  Most of my experiences in NYC housing have been pulling teeth with a cheap and mean/rude/abusive landlord.  (One time, I called my former landlord when the electricity went out.  His reply?  “It’s night time, what do you need electricity for?  Go to sleep.”)  But now, I have a great super.  He’s good with elevator chit-chat and he’s fast with a drill.  And thus, he deserves to be thanked at end-of-year-holiday-thanking time.

But alas, there’s one thing about him that sucks.  I have no idea what his name is.  Well, I can say it, sort of, I just can’t spell it.  And without knowing that, it’s hard to drop $100 into a personalized card — it just feels awkward.  It’s either Dimitri, Demitri, Demetri, Demetrius, or Demitre.  Or something like that.  And there’s no way to find out.  This year I thought we’d found our answer when we got a holiday card from him.  Finally!  It was signed, I swear, “Super and family” — no names.  He’s like a spy or something.

How bad is it to get a greeting card with your name completely misspelled?  Does the $100 soften the blow?  I think I’ll just fill out the card, “Roger, happy holidays to you and yours.”  That way, I’m so far off that it’s funny and he’ll think I’m being a kooky kook.  Good plan, right?  Who doesn’t love a kooky kook card with cash in it?

Pros: Each day is my own.  I am my own boss.  I control the dress code, the sexual harassment policy, the vacation schedule, the company holiday card and the coffee break timetable.  It’s all mine and there’s a sense of satisfaction that comes with knowing that the money I earn is earned doing what I love doing and what I am meant to be doing.  Each day my hands move toward the goal of making myself completely aligned and in flow with my ultimate purpose.  It’s enormously satisfying and fulfilling.

Cons: I don’t drink as much water as I used to.

That’s how I see it.  Now, back to work.

Carrie: A friend of mine got a minor procedure done and I never thought I would say it, but the results are amazing and I might want it done, too.  She just looks so good.
Friend #1: What is it?  Botox for the lines on your forehead?
Friend #2: Teeth whitening for your discolored and yellow teeth?
Friend #3: Or Invisalign to correct the crookedness?
Carrie: No.
F1: An arm tuck for the flapping sagging skin on your upper arms?
Carrie: No.  What the fuck, you guys.
F2: Liposuction for the jiggle around your tummy, ass and thighs?
F3: Skin bleaching for your disgusting freckles?
Carrie: No.  Alright, I get it guys. Come on.
F1: Nose slimming for the chunky end of your nose?
F2: Crescent breast lift for your sagging boobs?
Carrie: What? Really? No.
F3: Filler for the lines around your mouth?
F2: Eyelid fat reduction for those drooping eyelids?
Carrie: Is that even a thing?  No.

And so on.

Oh, how they laughed and laughed at my plummeting self-esteem.  Good stuff.