After These Messages...

I am just too tired to even post today. I have to get up at 3:30am for my flight to San Fran (way to plan, TNT!) and I just tried to put together a 1/2-assed post... just because. But that ain't how I roll, you guys.

SO. Let me leave you with these parting thoughts:

...

No. Ok seriously. I'm too tired even for that.

Have a great weekend.

Yawn,

Glennis

Hello, Glennis

Hey, I wrote a little piece on seeing Jenny Lewis in concert for hellohilarious.com which is run by my pal Eliza. It's a good website and you should check it out.

I love you.

Glennis

Rumble

In this corner! Weighing in at 2 1/2 adorable pounds:

Puppy!



Cough

And in this corner! Weighing at [mic feedback]:

Glennis!


It's no contest you guys. The puppy wins.

Love,
Glennis

Watch & Learn

People, this is how NOT to get a show on TV.



Will Eliza and I ever learn? Stay tuned!

(Also, can someone please talk to the casting directors over at The Office about why I didn't get the part of Jim's new love interest on the show. My, "mugging to the camera in disbelief" faces are AMAZING!)

Have a great day!

Love,

Glennis

Murder Was The Name That They Gave Me

You guys! I'm totally leaving for San Fran on Friday to walk 13.1 miles! Isn't that bananaramas!?!

I'm really actually pretty excited for the marathon. My good friends Spo, Hammy and Amber (yet to be crazy nicknamed) are going as well and I know we'll have a gay old time. Cuz all of San Francisco is gaygaygay. Did you guys know that? (Wow, I really do say, "you guys" too much, Will & Eliza.)

Here's the thing though. So basically I got up to running 10 miles and I was on course for the full marathon training. I was so happy because honestly I'm no athlete so this was huge for me. But then one day: disaster.

It all happened when I was in Providence with I Eat Pandas. I wanted to run but didn't want to get lost on my journey so I decided to run on the treadmill instead. Mistake #1. I started to get some pain in my hip but did I stop? Oh no. I just powered through that pain! Mistake #2. Then, instead of taking a little breather on my running, I ran some more! Mistake #3. So finally I was like dude I can't run more than a mile because my hip feels like it's going to pop out of the socket thingy (it's just called a socket, right?) so I decided to take a rest and go see a sports doc.

Who would have thought Oxford would only have one sports doc on its entire plan. Oh well, I'm sure he's great right?? Right. No I mean WRONG!

First he tells me it could be a stress fracture. Oh god! That's bad! So I stop running all together. I go get an x-ray, exposing my precious lady-parts to radiation, and bring it back to him. He says, "Why did you get this? I thought you were going to try running like a chicken first?" What? Ok so fine, we've got the x-ray so let's look at it. No stress fracture! Hooray!

"Glennis," he says to me, "lay down on the table here."

(bowchika bow bow)

I lay down and he goes, "Oh god! No no no. My dear, you should not be running! One of your legs is almost an inch longer than the other."

Yeah I know tardo, you told me that last time I was here.

But still... I'm a FREAK!

"Calm down," people tell me. "A lot of people have that problem."

Ok good. Now I can calm down and the doctor tells me we can get some inserts for my shoes to help even me out, yo. I still think I'm a freak but I say, "well I don't want to NOT do the marathon so let's do it." He tells me the inserts are $350 and that it's not covered by insurance.

Shit.

At this point I'm like, "listen, G-dawg. You have two choices. Quit the marathon you quitter who quits everything. Or do the marathon and be a winner and find a puppy at the finish line."

I decide to do the marathon. I'd already raised over $2000 and honestly, there was still time to train.

So I got my feet fitted for the inserts. They come in, the doc calls me, and I go to pick them up. Let me first say that every time I'd been in to see him (like at least 4 times) he said to me, "What are you here for?? Why are we doing this?!? One leg is longer than the other! WHAT's MY NAME!!!??!?!?" so I was already a lot annoyed with him.

So I go to pick up the inserts. He tells me, "it took you long enough." LIIIISTINBITCH. If I had time to run around town picking up inserts I wouldn't need to be running! (It made no sense but it was spur of the moment retort.) So I try the inserts on and he goes, "oh no no no these are not good. We're going to have to bring the arches up more."

!!!!

Then he says, "what are these for again?"

I'm like SONOFABITCH DUDE! A MARATHON!!

And then (here's the part where I lose it) and then he says, "Oh you can't wear these in a marathon!"

I...

I...

Oh god please stop me...

THEN WHY THE HELL DID I PAY $350 FOR THEM!?!?!

"Oh they will help you out in the long run (no pun intended) but you could hurt yourself more if you wear these. AND AS A DOCTOR (HA!!) I have the duty to 'first do no harm'."

Oh you can shove that first do no harm up your first do no ASS!

I think he could tell I was pissed cuz he tried to sell me on the, "Oh just walking in the marathon shows your solidarity and support for Leukemia and..."

BULL CRAP. SHUT YOUR DUMB MOUTH YOU DIRTY SPORTS DOCTOR WHORE.

I mean, basically I just smiled and said thanks for the inserts and walked out. But really deep down inside my heart I was stabbing him with a tongue deperessor. Why do sports doctors need tongue depressors, you guys!?!

So anyway...that's my story of how I got the name "Murder."

Also, I really am very excited to walk the 13.1 miles in support of a cure. I'm going to bring my pod and a camera so I can photo blog my journey.

Have a great day alls. I will never try to stab YOU GUYS.

Love,

Glennis

Let's Bowl

You guys know how when you're outside when it's cold you can see your breath? Do you ever think maybe when you toot the same thing happens? I do.

Toot toot toot!

Love,

Glennis

A Quickie?

I don't have a lot of time to write today, nor do I have a specific reason for writing, so I'll just recount a fun thing that happened last night.

I'm walking up 3rd Avenue coming from a meal at Blockhead's where I stuffed the biggest burrito into my face (I mean, I ate more than my male dining companions. When I say I can eat you under the table goddammit I MEAN IT) and we're enjoying the lovely evening. I'm walking a little ahead of the pack, just a few steps, and sort of notice this dude coming at us. He looks "normal" (what is "normal," after all. Am I right people?) and he walks past me but then stumbles a little and turns around to walk next to me. With his eyes creepily tilted toward the ground (think Rainman) he says, "Can I ask you a question?" I continue to walk and say, "depends on what the question is."

"Do you have a boyfriend."

I mean. I'm flattered. No, really. I am.

So I went home with him for a quickie and let him throw me around a little bit.

YOU GUYS. I'm kidding.

I told him that I indeed have a boyfriend and he was right there and then latched on to one of the boys with us. Upon hearing this news, Rainman said, "Oh uh huh" and walked off.

We stopped to watch him to see if he was just walking down the street mumbling, "Do you have a boyfriend" to every passing girl before telling them that he could take them home in his car cuz he's definitely, definitely a good driver.

And that, dear friends, is how Glennis' love life goes sometimes.

Jealous?

I then went and watched the most adorable and wonderful concert at Town Hall; Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins. I'm absolutely head over heels in love in a non-lesbo (but totes Glesbo) fashion with JL. Watch this video of her as a teen being interviewed by the crappy show "Teen Set" in 1991. She tries on hats and jumps on a trampoline.



Have a great weekend!!

Love,

Glennis

Never Mind

Hey guys. Remember when I said I really, really, REALLY wanted a baby?

Never mind

And The Nominees Are...

The term “douchebag” is not yet listed in the dictionary as an adjective, but when that day comes there is no doubt in my mind it will be a tough decision on whose picture will accompany the entry. Gawker.com loves to point out the myriad of characters earning the esteemed title of "douchebag" who would fit in nicely in a hall of fame, and I’d like to submit my own. I’m pretty sure I haven’t told this story on here before but if I have please just read it again. Bringing that up might be considered a little douchey.

I’m not a fan of the Dave Matthew’s Band (a nomination into the douchey music category?) but two years ago when my boyfriend at the time offered me and some friends VIP passes to the concert in the park I thought, "only VIP makes Dave Matthews worth seeing" and accepted. (Note: I realize there are a lot of DM fans out there and a lot of them are my friends. I’m not saying this to hurt your feelings but I really, really hate Dave Matthews. I can’t even explain where my hate for the band comes from so please, take no offence. I still love you. Just please, if you’re trying to make out with me and want to “set the mood,” you might be better off playing the theme to Hee Haw.)

I rallied up some friends who I knew liked the band which included a few people from work. I told said work friends to meet me downstairs in the lobby at 5:30 and we’d go up to Central Park together. One of these people, we’ll call her Norah, worked for an attorney in my firm who we found out was also going up to the concert. In fact, earlier in the day he had been bragging to Norah about how one of his clients had gotten him tickets. I’m sure he was just casually mentioning it to her, but seeing as Norah was a huge DM fan, it’s probably safe to say there was some face rubbing going on in there. When I told Norah of my passes she, of course, was so excited she had to tell her boss that she too would be attending the concert! VIP style!

The work day was over. Hooray! Time for some Dave Matthews. Hooray? Yes, hooray because I love making my friends happy. Emphasis on friends.

I head downstairs to the lobby of my building and see 4 of my friends waiting. Oh look, there’s Norah’s boss. What’s he doing here? Oh, he’s saying hi to me. And giving me a hug? Wow, we’re best friends now! Cool! And a little weird since we’ve never spoken before. Not once. But there’s no time to suspect foul play... we’ve got a crappy outdoor concert to attend! Norah’s boss says he’s going to ride up to the concert with us so we all get on the train and head up.

We arrive at CP and there’s a mob of people, as you can imagine. Just because I hate DM, doesn’t mean everyone in NY does. I’m trying to take the lead, telling my friends to stick near me as I talk to the woman with the clipboard to get us passes for the VIP tent (which is said to have unlimited drinks and food. Another thing making DM worth seeing).

“Strange,” I think. “Norah’s boss is still here.”

The woman with the clipboard asks me how many people are in my party and I say, “Fi…” and Norah’s attorney shouts, “Six!” I stop talking (because I was interrupted) and whip my head around in his direction. This douchebag lawyer just stands there staring at me with this, “Go ahead. Say I’m not with your party, SECRETARY” look on his face. Had there not been a mob of pissed-off New Yorkers surrounding me, my friends eagerly awaiting a free concert and Dave Matthews in my future, I might have been calm about this whole thing. But no, this is where the anger began. I dug my nails into my palms and said, “Six.”

This alone is not enough to make me categorize someone as a douchebag for the rest of their days, you guys. Oh no.

We get into the park, walk on the red carpet, past the VIP tent and on to the lawn so we can get our spot in the taped off section. And the douchebag attorney is still with us. I say to my friends, “Hey, let’s go to the VIP tent and get food and drinks in two groups so we don’t lose our spot.” 3 of my friends go and oh look! The attorney is going with them!

40 minutes later I’m still standing there in my spot on the lawn. I’ve sent my other friends to look for everyone because it’s taking way longer than it should and I’m in desperate need of a beer.

An hour has passed and 2 friends come back and say, “We can’t take anything out of the VIP tent (meaning they can’t bring this poor desperate lady a beer) and everyone is looking for Norah’s boss because his wife is calling Norah from outside because she can’t get in touch with her husband and she needs him to come get her in the concert.”

You know, since he was supposed to meet her out there with the tickets from his client.

Can I also just add this information… his wife is 7 months pregnant.

So here’s the part where he went from “annoying guy I work with” to “complete and total douchebag asshole.”

I didn’t get food or drinks in the VIP tent because he was off gallivanting around. He left his pregnant wife outside (with the angry mob) so he could stay inside eating and drinking and VIPing. He pissed me off so much that when he finally did arrive, with his very angry, very pregnant wife, I told my friends I was too annoyed to stay and I went home.

Had he asked me from the start if I could get him and his pregnant wife (I mean… you guys she was PREGNANT FOR GOD’S SAKE!) into the VIP section I would have of course said yes, had I been able to!

No. No no no. This is not the way to go about getting stuff, you douchey douchebag with douchey sauce on top of your DOUCHEY HEAD.

I also hear he cheats on his wife.

I’m just saying.

Please, someone tell me you can top that story. I’m forever going to think this guy is a complete and total douchebag and I’d like to nominate him for the Douchebag Hall of Fame.

Love,

Glennis

PS – I think the fact that I said, “VIP” 20 times in this post also nominates me for the HOF. This I know.

Diarrhea

Here is my horoscope for today:

You might be tempted to say something that you would normally keep to yourself, yet you still choose to withhold a secret or two. The problem is that your words could inadvertently slip out faster than you realize and before you know it, you've blurted out something inappropriate. Think about the consequences before you speak.

Oh really, myspace.com horoscopes?? Really? I, Glennis McMurray, might blurt out something inapprops!?

Well DUH. I mean, really. That's like saying Dolly Parton might be top heavy.


Come on.

I just can't stop myself. It's as if my mind has OCD... but not when it comes to keeping the fringe on my area rug neat and tidy, only when it comes to blurting out something I know I should not say. All I can do is repeat it over and over in my head.

And it's not like I don't try to reason with my brain. I tell it, "come on, you know asking to drive this man's taxi is a bad idea! Why even ask, Glennis?" and yet some other part of my brain continues to obsess over it to the point where I feel like if I don't get this diarrhea out (of my mouth) I'll explode!

And say I hold it together long enough not to say what I want to say to someone's face I either a) call them, b) email them or c) text them.

It's a disease. I ate some bad ecoli thought-spinach and now my word-diarrhea is at its worst.

Please, someone help me!!

[Insert picture here of me with a piece of poop stuck in my mouth]

Love,

Glennis

PS - I realize my blog seems rather candid and yet I'm leaving out 50% of the stuff I want to write. It's almost impossible. Like plugging a damn with a dick. I just coined that phrase. Seriously, help me. I can't stop.

The Dating Game

Wow, I can't believe I posted that essay. My mom's totes gonna read that you guys. Oh well, can't live in the past. Let's move on.

Since, as I said in the essay, I'm either a serial monogamist or a dirty, dirty man whore, I realized that there's no in between for me. I don't really know how to just "date." So I'm making a set of rules for myself to follow so that when the time does indeed arrive (oh god, please let the time arrive, I'm so lonely! I pretended to trip and fall the other day just so I could lay next to a homeless man for a few minutes. Did I just say that out loud...) for me to "date" someone, I'll be ready.

Step 1:
Stop using quotation marks around the word date. Dating is a real thing, not a "" thing like "disease-free" and "single."

Step 2:
Don't make up cute celebrity-style nicknames for me and my date after 2 hours together. Examples might be: "Glalexander," "Glorman," "Glob," and "Glussell."

Step 3:
Don't tell my date the size of my ring finger. Additionally, don't make a mold of my ring finger out of the leftovers my date intends to take home.

Step 4:
Stop breaking out in tears of joy every time I see a baby and cry, "Oh god! I can't wait!! I can't WAIT!!!!!"

Step 5:
Don't hum the wedding march.

Step 6:
Stop finishing my date's sentences to prove what a strong connection we have. I'm almost never right in my assumption that their sentences will end with, "I want babies."

Step 7:
Stop incessantly talking about babies. (This might be the hardest.)

Step 8:
Don't pay a movie patron to sit near us and comment on what cute babies we'd have.

Step 9:
Don't call his mom to tell her about my day.

Step 10:
Stop winking and saying, "I do!" after every question.

There... I think that's a pretty good start. Of course I have yet to apply these in the real world but it's always nice to have a game plan should you need to play a game. Not that I think dating is a game. I hate games! Know what I love? Babies. I love babies.

Wedding Bedding

I'm not sure how I feel about posting this. I go back and forth and back and forth and then I think, "I read it in front of an audience, why not my blog?" So here you go you lucky, lucky people!

I know a lot of you missed my performance at The Breakup Show (along with the amazingly talented Kimmy Gatewood, Jordan Carlos, Party Central USA! and Nick Stevens) the other night. (And I can only hope you had a good big excuse. You really hurt my feelings, people! Ok not really... I, like Dolly Parton, will always love you. Yes even you, weird creepy dude in the back.)

AnywhoshotJR...

Here's my steamy, scandalous essay fresh off the presses. I hope it fills you single ladies with vigor and gets you off those couches and out there in the game.

Love,

Glennis

(My thanks to Liz Black who helped me write the funny parts.)

"The Wedding"

It's the stuff legends are made of. It's a cliché and an anomaly all wrapped up in one tidy evening. It's the kind of story I'll tell at parties and in salons for ages to come. Not beauty salons, but you know... those old-timey sitting rooms that Dorothy Parker would drink and fuck in. Ladies will tell other ladies about this story! About how a woman, for one evening, behaved just like a man and liked it.

Because I went from one 4 year relationship to another, I'd classify myself as a very monogamous person. What do I know about one night stands? I was like a sex comet that has only orbited around two dicks (and not at the same time), and I started feeling like a black hole.

My last 4 year relationship ended as so many do. I wanted kids, he did not. Things could have lasted a month, seeing as I had that information from the beginning, but I like long, drawn out stories with obvious conclusions.

And hopefully you do too.

It started on a rainy Friday in September as my pals Tara, Andrew and I set off for the land of love; Washington, DC. Glennis being single is a pretty hot topic on the public agenda these days which is why that’s all we discussed on the car ride there. Because I had a captive audience I professed my need to just have sex without, "all the yucky strings" and at that point we knew in our hearts that there would be a man without a plus one at this wedding. And I would make him my plus one. In bed.

I had my mission. Have one night stand. Could I, Miss Monogamy, do this? I’m cute. I’m single. I’ve got all the working parts. Fuck it, I thought. Let’s do this. And so I switched gears in my brain from, “sweet, caring, girlfriend-type” to “dirty, dirty, man whore.”

My friend Kate said two things to me when I told her of my plan. She said that it would be very easy to spot the single men, as everyone's there as a couple, and that I should not begrudge the presence of a swing band as that sort of music would be conducive to being close and touching. I thought, “What better way to get close to someone than having him dip, twirl and swing me thru his legs. (Before I swing him thru mine.)” She added, "You are so getting laid tonight."

Now, it must be said that the lovely Kimmy Gatewood was also at this wedding. And because she too is recently single I eventually realized she would be my competition which meant I had to be bold! Because quite honestly if you were to line the two of us up I'm pretty sure the Gatewood would have Got-wood that night. So, my apologies, Kimmy because in the immortal words of Brandy and Monica, The Boy is Mine.

The boy, was Dan. The only single man at the wedding. He was really tan. And a man! He was Tan Man Dan. He was so tan he was almost magenta, and he was so manly that he was Mangenta. Yes, he was manly, but also easily manipulated.

I introduced myself to Tan Man Dan and within minutes we were out on the dance floor. Just as Kate had predicted, we were indeed touching. Touching is good when you want someone to know you'd like to have sex. But if that doesn’t work, you can always say, “I’d like to have sex.” But that comes later.

Dan spun me ‘round that dance floor like an old pro. And when I tired of dancing I leaned in close and said, “I’d like to kiss you now.” Dan made a face made up of shock and excitement and I grabbed him by the hand and took him behind the building. I pulled out all the stops and gave him an amazing kiss to which he said, “Wait, you’re a really good kisser... let me put down my beer.” That’s right ladies and gents, one kiss from me is like a year of AA meetings.

Our kissing was shortly interrupted by 3 wedding guests walking past us on the way to their car. Had I not been filled to the brim with free Chardonnay, I might have felt self conscious having my hand down his pants. Dan, however, turned a deeper shade of magenta and whispered to me, “Do you think they saw?" to which I replied, "shhhh shh shh, no talking" and continued to suck his face off.

Eventually our make out session came to an end when his sisters called saying they were leaving. I gave him one last kiss and smacked him on the ass as he walked away. (I wish I was kidding.) We made plans to meet up at the "after party" which was the bar downstairs from my hotel. Bingo.

Phil Collins has a song called, “Against All Odds.” I’m pretty sure it was written about my night because in the span of an hour, against all odds, this drunk, 27-year-old man had sex with me twice. To completion. (Think about it.)

He said he wanted to leave before my roommates got back from the bar, but I looked at him and said, “shh shh shh, lay down and go to sleep.” Which he did, his skin chafing to a deep purple hue against the white, 62-thread count hotel sheets. And this is where I could not lie awake just to hear him breathing. I did want to close my eyes. And I did go to sleep.

When I awoke, he was gone... only his Tag body spray lingered letting me know it had not been a dream.

As all good sex stories go, here’s my roommate’s account!

"We came back to the room at 3 in the morning to find you, very obviously naked, under the covers of your bed with Dan fully clothed, laying on top of the covers. I immediately thought something had gone very, very right… or very, very wrong. We tried to be quiet but at one point I knocked something over and it made a loud noise. Dan shot straight up out of bed and said, "Oh shit. I can't believe I fell asleep. This is so embarrassing." He then said it was nice to meet us and ran out of the room."

I haven't spoken to Tan Man Dan since I last "Shh shh shh"'d him and that's just the way I like it. My mission was complete. I did what I had set out to do.

They say some people will meet their soul mate at a wedding and I think I met mine. Dan has never made me cry or made me turn off Project Runway and I’m pretty sure he wants kids.

The End

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

This is Jennifer Aniston and her life changing haircut "The Rachel." Hear me talking about this and other very important hair-related issues tonight!

WE Network (Channel 59 in our neck of the woods.)
10:00 pm
Narrator: Me!

Let me know if you guys see it. I'm so excited! I hope I made talking about Tate Donovan sound important. Rally, I do.

Love,

Glennis

It All Comes Together

I don't know if it was the glass of wine I had, my sister's birthday or Neko Case in my headphones; but tonight on the train home from Queens it all just felt lovely. The movement of the train. The couple across from me who were so very much in love. The amazing voice filling my head with heartache and joy. It was just one of those nights where I felt just right and knew NY was my home. I just wanted to share that.

Love,

Glennis

It's a Fuckin' Shame

You know, a few things in life can truly be categorized as a, "Fuckin' Shame." The time I made eyes with a man on the train, a hot man, who came over to talk to me and yet I didn't take off my headphones because I froze. That was an FS. President Bush being elected into office. FS. People using the term, "LOL." Definitely considered an FS.

But I think the thing I can most say about my life that's a Fuckin' Shame is that I decided, at the age of 14, to stop trying.

When I was little I was gifted. I'm talking reading "The Good Earth" at age 10. I'm talking Independent Studies and reports on Marie Curie at age 11. I was fucking smart. I wanted to be a teacher. Did you know that? Well I did. All up to the point when, at the age of 12, I auditioned for a local production of Annie (I know, what a cliche), got a part and consequently got "the bug." The acting bug. From that point on all I could think about was being in shows, acting, dancing even. And oh god yes singing. Singing every chance I got.

Which is all well and good.

Except that at the age of 14 I just decided to stop trying. I was going to be an actress so really, why bother studying? Why bother reading? Why... bother?

And that, my friends, is a real big Fuckin' Shame.

Because I'm not sure that I'd have picked another career path (I sincerely love acting, singing, dancing even) but it would have been nice to have actually read, "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings" and "Catcher in the Rye" before the age of 22. And it would be especially nice to know where, oh I don't know, the Middle East was. Or how to spell necessary without looking it up every time. Or what an intransitive verb is. But I didn't know that shit because I didn't fucking pay attention. And it's just a real damn fuckin' asshole bitch of a shame.

So here I am at 27 and I've finally realized, once again, that I am smart. And that I like to learn. And that just because I didn't go to college doesn't mean I can't hold my own in a conversation. Besides, don't they always say funny people are smart? So if nothing else then I'm definitely one of those, "If every A is B and every B is C then every A is C." Right? Whatever.

What I do know is I get pretty fuckin angry at myself when I think about how much time I wasted not learning stuff. Not questioning things. Floating through life as some vapid actress. Disgusting. And that's the trouble with our youth! No one questions anything! We're too fucking involved in Lindsay Lohan's shitty life to care about the war! So kids, if you're reading this listen to me: read something.

Here. I just learned this today. Read this:

Did you know that there are a lot of statues in NY with the face and body of the same woman? Her name was Audrey Munson and she was a model, actress and the first woman to appear completely nude in a film. She died in 1996 at the age of 104 but her career ended, sadly, when she was associated with the death of her landlord's wife after he murdered her trying to win Audrey over. Psycho. She was committed to a mental institution at 39 and isn't that all just beautiful and tragic?



No one lives a life like that anymore!

It's just a real Fuckin' Shame, isn't it?

A Work of Fiction. Kinda.

Listen, I cheated on my diet already. It has been a real struggle! I have forces of evil working against me.

Here's what happened:

I went to Dunkin Donuts this morning to get my regular coffee-in-a-bucket to help kick start my day. I never have a problem in there because I absolutely despise donuts but this morning... there she was. A single, perfect, lovely Pumpkin muffin. Sugar sprinkles adorned her bulbous, crusty head. I tried. I really tried not to buy her but she called to me!

"Gleeeeeenis! Gleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeennis! Please don't let that creepy dude behind you buy me! I see him eyeing me. He'll mistreat me! Look at his dirty hands! He doesn't deserve my sugary goodness! HE... HE WON'T FINISH ME!"

"Oh for the love of GOD! Give me a freakin pumpkin muffin already!" I screamed at the Dunkin D cashier.

I heard the man behind me hold his breath. I could feel his body tense up. He knew there was nothing he could do. I was first in line! He wanted that muffin for himself and now here she was, in my bag, safe in my hands.

I briefly felt a wave of satisfaction sweep over me. I'd won.

But it wasn't enough. He had to know this was right. He had to know she was never intended to be his!

I turned around and looked him square in the eyes as I reached, slowly, into the crisp bag containing PunkyMuffster (I'd already named her. I'd only known her for 20 seconds and I'd already named her! Wasn't THAT ENOUGH FOR HIM!!?!?). I slowly, gently pulled her out of the bag... my eyes never leaving his face. Then, without even peeling back the protective muffin cup, I STUFFED Punky into my mouth.

The man looked aghast, almost as if I'd just stuffed an entire muffin into my mouth.

I nodded wildly as if to say, "yes! Yes!! I've WON! She's going to her rightful home! MY BABY IS GOING HOME!!!" and started to laugh uncontrollably. Tiny pieces of Punky flew everywhere. Mothers held their children close to their bosoms and looked away in horror.

My mouth still full of her spicy caked goodness, I wiped a small stream of spittle from my chin and smiled. I swallowed PunkyMuffster and I choked a little bit because let's face it that's a lot of muffin. But I did indeed swallow her and I watched his face turn to defeat. Or disgust. It could have been either. It was really hard to tell because that was a lot of muffin and my eyes were really watery.

Regardless!

As I walked out of that Dunkin D I heard the tiny cheers of Punky's friends. Banana Nut! Coffee Cake! Blueberry! The ones I could not save but who knew I'd done my best.

Perhaps I'll risk another visit to save the others. I doubt I'll see the creepy man with the dirty hands again but if I do, and if you are reading this Sir... hear me now! You will never win! I will eat every last muffin on Earth, my fat expanding to the size of a Buick, before I let you win! DO YOU HEAR ME!!?!??!

That was seriously a lot of muffin. I'm kind of still choking a little bit.

THE IMPORTANT THING IS... PUNKY IS HOME.

Love,

Glennis

PS - I don't have mono.

Recent Developments

According to just about everyone I've talked to lately, I might have mono. I made a doc's appointment for today (how lucky am I to get a same-dayer?) so we'll see. It's very exciting even if I don't actually think I'll ever have a "real" sickness/disease because I'm so twisted inside I actually want it. Although, not in that crazy Munchousins (sp?) way.

I am kind of annoyed because I've just recently decided I could stand to lose 15 lbs. Don't freak out, now... I know it sounds like a lot, but most of that weight's in my ankles so really, its all for the best. The annoyance comes from not being able to go to the gym. I can't even walk up two flights of stairs without getting tired lately. Anyway, I was telling Liz today that all my talk about losing weight ("I'll buy these pants in a smaller size... for when I lose weight." "Let's go dancing!...when I lose weight." "Sorry I didn't call you back...I'm still fat.") is like talking about The Rapture. It takes a lot of faith to think something this fantastical and absurd will Actually happen. (Sorry, God.)

Ug, this typing is even wearing me out. Of course this didn't stop me from going out almost every night this weekend. And I wonder why I'm sick?!

Things to look forward to:
1. My prognosis
2. Weight loss (a.k.a. The Second Coming of My Size 2s)

Have a great day. yawn.

Love,

Glennis

And I'm Feelin...

Once again I think I'm on the wrong track. Ignoring myself, paying too much attention to getting attention. I realized the other day when I auditioned for a short film that it was the first time i'd been on a non-commercial audition in AGES. Not good. I've let myself go too. Gained back the 5 lbs I lost when I was running.

So at least I'm recognizing this and I know I can get back on track.

Also, I really do want to grow my hair out. I'm taking Silica... anyone tried it? A friend recommended it to me and said it made her hair grow super fast. She's got Gorg hair, btw. So we'll see! I think its the same stuff Jen Aniston was reported to have used when she had that super-long hair.

Oh and if you're in NY or near an H&M they have some super cute dresses right now. Very 60s. I didn't buy any but i'm thinkin I might go back and get one. This is all very exciting, I realize.

Of to Dance Dance and Party Party. Let's hope people show up today!!

Have a great Sunday, lovelies.

Love,

Glennis

PS - Friday night I'm doing "The Breakup Show" at 10 at The PIT (Thanks, E). I'll be telling a very naughty story about a wedding I recently attended. See you there.

Revamp

In other self-obsessed news...

I get very easily bored with things. Clothes, food, men... ok maybe not men. But definitely hair. I change my hair a lot (at least that's what people say) but it's always within the same parameters of my basic hairstyle. But now, I want a CHANGE and I need your help. I've created a bunch of mock-ups of what I might look like with different haircuts and I need you guys to help me choose the best one. Whichever style gets the most votes wins.

I'll keep my comments on each one minimal so as not to sway your votes.

Let's begin.


The "SJP when she still smoked and talked to the camera on S&TC" hairstyle.


The "I'm a REALLY REALLY big Oprah fan" hairstyle (in red).


The "How the hell did Kim Catrall ever pull off this hairstyle" hairstyle. (I think it was because we were all looking at her OTHER hairstyle most of the time. You know what I mean. Wink Wink.)


The "I've got a stick up my bum."


The "Cocker Spaniel" (a.k.a. Sheryl Crow)


The "So cool I can ironically wear my hair silver" hairstyle.


The "I'm wild in the bedroom" hairstyle.


The "I'm wild in the bedroom at 90" hairstyle.


The "Maybe this sassy Latino hairstyle will detract from my non-Latino, flat ass" hairstyle.


The "I have Halle Berry's hairstyle from when she was in that movie where she showed her boobs. Not that movie. The OTHER one." hairstyle.


The "Halle Berry has awesome boobies, right?" hairstyle (in blonde).


The "Jennifer Aniston should have stayed with Brad Pitt. Dating Vince Vaughn was such a downgrade." hairstyle.

That's it. Now get to votin.

Oh... and have a great day, will you please?

Love,

Glennis

Tiffa-Nos

As a lady, I'd like just about anything from Tiffany's. Who doesn't want their very own turquoise box? I even, at the recommendation of Kate T, sent my friend two Tiffany beer mugs as a congratulatory gift for opening her dental office. Update: She is 27 and has her own dental office. I am 27 and have my own ceramic hair straightener. Maybe I should have gone to college?

But can we please all agree that these necklaces will never, ever be around my neck?



They're by a designer named Frank Gehry. Frank's jewelry looks like he was all, "Look at dees reeng. Eet ees so peculeyar! Unt Squuuare. Eet weel go on yur fingur. You beetch!"


(I actually kind of love this ring but it would literally consume my teeny, baby fingers. Did I mention I have child hands? I do. They are freakish.)

PLEEEEASE, Frank. You're trying to hard. Your stuff looks like it was designed while reading Dr. Suess.

Then again... it's Tiffany so it's going on my wishlist!

Update: I've recently learned (as you'll see from the comments) that Frank is an architect. Does that make those necklaces ANY BETTER? I didn't think so.