It's a blanket, with SLEEVES

Here is what I want:

A Snuggie.

Here is what it is:

A blanket with sleeves.

Here is why I believe I deserve it:

The convent is really really cold, because the nuns follow the Farmer's Almanac instead of like, checking the weather forecast, and the Farmer's Almanac says it's supposed to be like 60 degrees right now even though it is actually like 40 degrees, so the nuns have turned the heat off. I tried complaining about the temperature to one of the nuns, who advised "a brisk walk to warm my muscles". I think a Snuggie would be better.

As the ad says: "Blankets are ok....but they can slip and slide." Well truthfully I've never been too bothered by blankets before, but with the invention of the snuggie, I see the limitations and restrictions of blankets. After some serious thought, I've realized that a snuggie could solve all (some) of my problems. Hate getting out of bed in the morning? Well, imagine being able to wear your blanket ALL DAY! Hate your morning commute? Not with a comfy SNUGGIE you won't! Intimidated at the office? Your SNUGGIE will make you feel right at home. Don't know what to wear at Comic Con this year? Go as an ambassador from planet SNUGGIE!

Really, when you think about it, snuggies render normal blankets obsolete. 

Snuggies are only $27.00, which unfortunately is more disposable income than I have right now. But as soon as I start making the big bucks, you bet SNUGGIE will be the first thing on my list.

Course, it will be summer by then.

Not as snug and comfortably as I would be if I were blogging with a snuggie,

Earlene

Are you getting tired of my subway stories?

Today I had a seat on a really crowded train. Then a lady came on, who looked like she needed the seat more than I did.

ME (Earlene): Here, ma'am, have my seat. 

LADY: Oh, no, that's ok! You go ahead.

ME: But you shouldn't be on your feet too long if you're pregnant!

Then, much to my surprise, she made a very rude gesture and walked to the other end of the train.

People are friendlier in California.

Some Advice

When you're in the subway station, and the train pulls up, and it's really packed, and then, all the sudden, in between two completely packed train cars, there is an empty one, you might be prone to thinking the following things, before proceeding to hop into the empty car:

• "Is everyone STUPID? Why are they getting onto the packed cars when there is an empty one RIGHT THERE?!"
• "Is everyone BLIND? Why are they getting onto the packed cars when there is an empty one RIGHT THERE?!"
• "This is my lucky day! Who said the Metro Transit Authority was so terrible, anyway?!"

All of those thoughts are WRONG.

There is a reason people prefer to smash themselves into completely overcrowded subway cars and breath into the armpits of other passengers rather than comfortably sit in the seemingly empty one.

Just, trust me on this.

Running Out of Money

I wish I got paid for writing this blog. Unfortunately, I don't.

Here are some things I could get paid for:

• Cat sitting.
• Assembling Ikea furniture.
• Selling my hair.
• Asking people on the street if they like comedy.
• Having a stoop sale at the Convent, where I could sell my sheets, some of my lamer video games, my towel, and assorted Clinique products from my Grandmother
• Write people's online dating/facebook profiles.
• Play the recorder on the subway for money.
• Teach a class on making music videos at the Learning Annex.
• Teach a class on stealthily finding out everything there possibly is to find out about your crush at the Learning Annex.

So, while I"m busy trying to figure out how to successfully do one or more of those things, I'm just not sure I will have the appropriate amount of time to dedicate to this, my beloved internet.

You understand, right?

Unless you guys have job suggestions?

Otherwise, I think I may have to take a cue from the nuns, and give up blogging for Lent.

Piously, and penuriously, 

Earlene Watts

To Blog, or Not to Blog?

To Blog or Not to Blog?

That is the question.

It's harder here than it was back home.

Maybe because I actually leave my room now.

Maybe it's cause New York is so draining, when I come back  to my little convent home, I rarely have the energy to write.

Maybe it's because my camera broke, and therefore I can't update with lots of pictures of my daily New York life.

or maybe it's because this blog started as a way to obsess over Bradney, but that chapter of my life is over now.

Decisions, decisions....

Posters

Sorry guys, I've been bad at updating lately. The truth is tomorrow I have my final interview for a job I have been hesitant to talk about for fear of jinxing it (but trust me...it is PERFECT for me.)

If I don't get this job, or A job soon, I don't know how I'm going to be able to afford staying in New York.

Please please please wish me luck and send good thoughts my way! I'll give you guys a full update tomorrow.

In the meantime, here are some posters I ordered to decorate my convent room wall.

Poster Number 1:

Poster #2:

Poster #3:

And the Peace de Resistence:

I think they'll really add some color to an otherwise drab room, and make it homier, no?

Nesting,

Earlene

Beans Town Wrap Up

I liked Boston, I suppose, but in general it's a city with too many ghosts for my taste.

Oh, you didn't know I have a sixth sense?

Yep. I do.

I wouldn't go so far as to say that I see dead people. I just sort of have a sense about where dead people might like to congregate if they were dead and bored. And I think there are a lot of bored dead guys in Boston.

For example:

The Graveyard on Tremont Street--I am a homebody. That means that I like to stay home as much as possible and just be lazy. Going out takes a lot of effort. So I don't. I am alive. If I were dead, I would probably be just as lazy, and hang out at the cemetary. Hence: The Graveyard on Tremont Street being a hotbed for paranormal activity. I know people talk about Puritan work ethic....but I figure there had to have been SOME lazy colonists.

The Boston Commons--A lot of people were hanged here. That is a violent way to die. Still, if I had to be hanged, it would be nice to be hanged in a place that 300 years later became a pretty sweet park. There are a lot of musicians and balloon-animal makers in Boston Commons. Why wouldn't a dead guy want to hang out?

The Old South Meeting House--It was a big meeting house during the 18th century. You think dead people keep up with the times? You think just because it's 2009, all those dead revolutionaries just decided to start hanging out in the food court at the Prudential Center all the sudden? No. They are still chilling in the Old South Meeting House.

The Dunkin Donuts on State Street--I don't know. I just have a feeling about that place.

When I was doing the Freedom Trail, the pamphlet said that parts of the trail were supposedly haunted, and that visitor's experienced "unexplained gusts of cold air."

Uhm.

It's BOSTON.

Of COURSE there are gusts of cold air.

It just goes to show you, you can't believe ALL the paranormal claptrap you hear. 

Clairvoyantly,

Earlene

Boston: A city after my own heart

I came to Boston with every intention of doing the Freedom Trail. But....that was before I went to Quincy Market. And then I decided to follow the Food Trail instead....





And after sampling Boston Chowder, Chicken Pot Pies, Boston Cream Pie, Indian Pudding, Whoppie Pie, and Corn on the cob, I arrived at the Fountain of Youth....





The Mecca of Boston....





The Delicious, Golden Pot at the End of a Culinary Rainbow......




Made to order Macaroni and Cheese.

Maybe I made a mistake moving to New York, cause let me tell you, Boston is where it's AT.

Full, but with a long night ahead of me,

E. Watts

Evil Nuns, Pt.2

You know, you TRY to do something NICE for someone!

You know how sometimes in High School you would come out of the bathroom with your skirt tucked into your Hanes and and walk all the way through the cafeteria before you noticed, and then think "DANG! It happened AGAIN! Why didn't anyone tell me?!"

I mean, if something really embarrassing like that was happening, like toilet paper stuck on your shoe or spinach in your teeth, you'd want to know, right??

Well. NOT Sister Glorietta! I was trying, in the most SUBTLE, unobtrusive way POSSIBLE, of letting her know she had DIRT on her forehead, and she didn't even appreciate it. Go figure.

It's only been a week, but New York is getting to me. Besides Chafik, Paul is my only friend in New York, and I think even he is getting sick of me.

The convent is pretty boring. I spent about twenty minutes this evening trying to balance a plastic lizard on my face to make it look like it was crawling on me.

 

I've decided that one of the major perks of living on the East Coast is being close to a lot of different cities. So, tomorrow, in order to get out of New York, I am headed to Beans Town, aka Boston.

I have never been before. Should be good.

Wickedly,

Earlene

One week

If I've lived in New York City for one entire week, does that make me a New Yorker?

If I haven't eaten anything that I haven't purchased from a cart in the past 7 days, does THAT make me a New Yorker?

If I've started to answer "No." to the guys on the street who ask me "Do you like comedy?", even though I actually do like comedy, does that make me a New Yorker?

If I now know to take a book on the subway to avoid making accidental eye contact with people, does that mean I'm a real New Yorker?

If I pretend to miss the Good Old Days, before gentrification when a gal could "go see a REAL show in Times Square", (whatever that means!)  does that make me a New Yorker?

If I insist that the cabbie avoid the JFK Turnpike, even though I'm pretty sure it would be faster than sitting in gridlock, does that make me a real New Yorker?

If, instead of waiting on the curb for the pedestrian signal, I step into the street and slowly inch my way across, tempting fate and angry cars, does that mean I'm a real New Yorker?

If I purposefully mispronounce street names, to highlight the fact that I am a New Yorker, (for instance: Houston is actually pronounced "house-ton". Also, Broadway is pronounced B-rode-way.) does THAT mean I'm a real New Yorker?

It's not important--just wondering when I'll actually feel like I fit in here.

New York-a-liscious,

Earlene

P.S. Here is something that New Yorkers do, that I do not do: When they are waiting for the subway, they lean as far as they can over the track and peer into the tunnel to try and see if a train is coming. It usually isn't. Also, what is the point? This is annoying.

Uptown, Only

I want to the METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART.

By mySELF! (SOMEONE couldn't be bothered to leave the Halal cart.)

Back when I was dating Carl, we had talked about how we would go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art when I moved to the city. Carl told me that The Metropolitan Museum of Art is "Pay What You Can", which means that if you are very rich, like Alex Trebek, you can pay $1,000,000 to get in to the museum, and if you are very poor, like Carl, you can pay a penny. They have to let you in, just the same.

I am not as rich as Alex Trebek and not quite as poor as Carl, so I paid $5. But really it was more like $5.37, because when I got to the fountain where everyone throws in pennies, I realized I had a lot of wishes and a LOT of change.

I thought the museum was sort of fun, but it would have been a lot more fun with Carl. I looked at the armor, and the Egyptian art. The Egyptian art was pretty good, except there weren't any speech bubbles, or discernable superheros, so I definitely think it could be improved upon.

Overall, fun, but I won't go back until I have someone to share it with. 

On the walk down Park Avenue, back to the subway stop, I thought about Gossip Girl, and how I would be a good extra on Gossip Girl, and how maybe I could be "discovered" when they need a random girl to make out with Chace Crawford in order to make Vanessa jealous on Gossip Girl, and I could volunteer, and then they would give me a recurring role on Gossip Girl, and my character would probably live in a beautiful apartment building on Park Avenue, and how it would be really fun to be rich in New York, and how it would be really fun to actually have any sort of income at all in New York, and where the heck is Whitney Port, and what exactly is a bialy anyway and is it halal, and was this crazy, moving all the way out here to New York to spend my days wandering the streets alone?

Anyway. Today's goal of taking the subway? Check.

Tomorrow's goal: Hailing a taxi.

In some kind of state of mind, anyway,

Earlene

Deep. Breath.

I suppose I had unrealistic expectations. You know that scene in Annie where Daddy Warbucks takes her into the city and the cab drivers start singing and everyone is happy? Yeah, New York is not actually like that. It's a whole different city once you venture away from Times Square and Rockerfellow center. And I don't know WHERE Whitney Port is, but I have been here four days without seeing her!

I suppose there are some things that I am just going to have to get used to. Namely, Evil nuns.

Being Jewish, I had never actually met a nun before. But I expected that they would all more or less be like this:

Or like this:

Well, it turns out that the nuns who run the convent in which I am staying are actually more like this:

But with less kind eyes.

Let's just say, singing "What If God Was One Of Us" in the shower (my morning ritual), is *Not* appreciated. 

My cat, Paul? Also not appreciated it. I know they said no pets. But. Paul isn't a pet. He's more like Salem from Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Except he doesn't talk. Or have magical powers. And he didn't used to be a person. And I have to change his litter box twice a day. But not a pet.

It's a nice, clean place to live. And the nuns are scary, but the outside, i.e. New York City is REALLY scary. Tomorrow I am forcing myself to take the subway. But tonight, I'm staying in again. I only go out so far as the corner. The corner is where I have met my first New York Friend, Chafik. He has a Halal food cart, and is very nice, and talks a lot, which is good because it is so cold outside that I cover my mouth with my scarf, rendering me uncharacteristically silent.

Chafik used to work at the russian tea room, but when he got tired of boiling tea he started his own cart. I am a hotdog de-vo-tee, as you know, but the Halal food is also very tasty, and I have had it twice a day since I've arrived. He gives me extra hot sauce and napkins, and is a good friend.

So. I suppose things aren't so bad. Like I said...things are just gonna take some getting used to.

Although, when I run into Sister Mercedes first thing in the morning, when I go to the shared bathrooms to brush my teeth....

...I just don't know how I'll ever get used to that.

Shakily,

Earlene Watts

VALENTINES DAY VIDEO

MANY MANY MANY MANY MANY THANKS TO COUSIN ISH FOR BEING ONHAND TO FILM AND EDIT THE WHOLE THING!

Crap.

Coming to New York was a huge mistake.

Huge huge huge terrible terrible mistake.

Why Reading This Blog is Better than Watching The Hills

Reader Paul pointed out the similarities between my current situation, and that of famed Intern and Reality tv star Whitney Port.

Well, I was aware of this Paul. In fact, Whitney Port and I are more similar than you might think.....

• Whitney Port grew up in Southern California. So did I.

• Whitney Port was the youngest of 5 brothers and sisters. Growing up, I liked to imagine that I was the youngest von Trapp Child, born just 15 months after Gretl.

• In an episode of The Hills, Whitney has her wisdom teeth removed. I too have had my wisdom teeth removed.

• In late 2008, Whitney got her own reality show chronicling her big move fromSouthern California to pursue a high-end fashion job in New York City. I too, am moving to New York City.

• Whitney has nice hair. Me too.

If Whitney can have such a successful life in NYC, then I see no reason why I shouldn't have an equally easy time of it.

Maybe one day we will meet up and swap stories about going on picnics and singing with our siblings.

More excitedly than nervously,

Earlene

Wish they all could be Califoria Giiirrrls....

Tomorrow is my LAST OFFICIAL DAY AS A CALIFORNIA GIRL.

This is a big deal, as I have been a California girl my entire life. I decided to go out with a bang, so I DYED MY HAIR BLONDE!

Just kidding, you guys, no I didn't. I want to fit in when I get to New York, not stand out!

But I DID do as many california girl activities I could possibly think of, including:

• Listening to "No Doubt Tragic Kingdom" on repeat.
• Prematurely complain to Hiroko and Sven about the lack of good Mexican food in New York, even though I don't even eat Mexican food because it triggers my Irritable Bowel Syndrome.
• Wear flip flops all morning.
• Change into Uggs, A mini-skirt, A tank top, and mittens during the evening.
• Flat ironed my hair, and then curled it, and then flat ironed it again to give it"natural beach waves". (This did not work so well on my hair.)
• "Lay Out"....on the roof of my garage, until the birds started to get too comfortable with me.
• Go to "Jamba". Down a wheatgrass shot. (It was disgusting. I immediately had to get a slurpee from 7-11 to get the taste out of my mouth.)

And then, finally

Driving down the freeway, past all the palm trees, blasting any music you want and singing at the top of your lungs without the fear of your mother deciding to try to harmonize with you.... 

That's the California I'm really gonna miss. All that endless room to drive. 

One more day, you guys!!!!!!!!!

Excitedly/Nervously,

Earlene

P.S. Bradney video coming by WEDNESDAY AT THE LATEST! Definitely before I get to New York!

Happy Va-len-TIIIIIIINES Day

You guys came through on your end of the bargain, and I came through on mine. Except the gondola, because those are more expensive than I thought. Also I thought it might be best to keep Bradney away from populated areas. But trust me, the date was really good, and Ish was on hand to video tape the whole thing, even if he did complain to me later that I had "tricked him" and that he felt "creepy". Whatever, I paid him.

Anyway, I have to edit that, but it will hopefully be up by Tuesday.

And on WEDNESDAY................

I AM LEAVING FOR NEW YORK CITY. Can you even believe it? I feel like this has been my dream for so long. Well, for like, two months at LEAST. This is going to be a whole new and exciting chapter in my modern life!

Unfortunately, with the start of a new chapter comes the closing of another one. I am going to greatly miss all the people who mean so much to be here in California, mainly my mom, my Grandma, and yes, even Ish.

I worry about how my mom will handle the separation. Some of the conversations we've had over the last couple days have been disturbing. On Saturday, I woke up when my mom had climbed ONTO my bed to measure the space above my headboard.

ME: Mom.......what?!

MOM: Oh, morning poodle. Did I wake you?

ME: You're standing on my hand.

MOM: Do you think I can fit a King size bed in here?

ME: Why?

MOM: I'm gonna move into this room when you leave. I've always wanted a King Size bed.

She's moving into my room?! The poor dear is so heartsick over my looming departure that she wants to move into the very room where I've spent most of my life. She wants to cocoon herself, if you will, into the walls that hold the very essence of me.

And, later, coming out of my bedroom with a box full of stuff:

MOM: Early, sweetie, do you want these?

ME: My high school yearbooks?

MOM: Yeah. Should I toss 'em?

ME: No! Geez, Mom!

MOM: Well, I don't know, it's not like high school was that great for you. 

ME: But it's still a part of my history...

MOM: (flipping through it) There's only one signature...

ME: MOM put that down--

MOM: "Shirley Mirley"?  I don't remember that name. Is that your handwriting?

ME: MOM, NO!  STOP READING THAT, OK? JUST PUT IT BACK ON THE SHELF.

MOM: Fine. I'm just trying to eliminate some clutter, but fine.

*exits. comes back a few minutes later*

MOM: What about this? You don't really need this, do you?

ME: Mr. Fluffers?

She's giving away my THINGS! Typical behaviour of a bereaved mother. Because the PHYSICAL MEMORIES of my presence will be too much for her to bear!

And, finally, tonight:

MOM: So! What do you want for dinner tonight? Your laaast dinner home!

ME: I'm not leaving til Wednesday.

MOM: What.

ME: But I'll want Kraft Mac N'Cheese.

MOM: I thought you were leaving Monday?

ME: No.

MOM: Oh.

ME: So we actually have THREE more nights together! We can have Mac'N'Cheese tonight, too!

MOM: Right, well, actually honey, I'm feeling a little tired, I think I'm gonna go upstairs and read. Can you make yourself a sandwich or something?

She SO dreads my eventual leaving that she wants the day to come SOONER, just to begin the healing process.

Poor mom.

Oh well. All chickadees have to flee the nest sometime.

Like a bird,

Early

t-1 day!

I am THREE FOLLOWERS AWAY from kidnapping Bradney for Valentines Day and having Cousin Ish video tape it. JUST THREE!!!!!!!!!!

Come on guys. Spare me from spending tomorrow night seeing "He's Just Not That Into You" with my mother, who will probably sneak some butterscotch schnapps into the theater and proceed to yell encouraging things to the characters on-screen, such as "Forget about him, sister!" and "Don't LISTEN to his lies!"

Shudder.

And now, a haiku:

A Haiku

"Earlene's Modern Life"

Would make an awesome movie

In Claymation.

But then whose voice would they use for Earlene?

Meta-lly,

E. Watts

Oh, for pete's sake.

You Guys. I have made it easy for you.

See the new gadget on the right, with a list of followers? Now all you have to do is click the "FOLLOW THIS BLOG" button. 

Now you no longer have an excuse.

It is seriously not that difficult.

Sheesh.

(Theresa....can you explain to me how to follow a blog that is not my blog? i would like to follow yours, but there isn't a button like on mine, and i only really was able to put that button on accident when I was trying to figure out how to follow other people's blogs, so now my blog has a button, but I still do not know how to follow your blog. Or any other blog, for that matter.)

Anyway.

So FACEBOOK came up with some new and stressful application for me to have social anxiety over, today. Everytime you click on a random person's facebook profile, THIS appears:

As soon as I saw that, I started having trauma flashbacks to the second grade, when made "Mail Boxes" out of old cereal boxes, and I decorated mine with construction paper hearts and wrote "EARLENE'S VALENTINES", but then on Valentine's day the only person who gave me a valentine was the teacher. And it said "YOU ARE SPECIAL". And then I showed it to my Grandma and she got all indignant and later I heard her telling my mom: "The girl may have her quirks but she is NOT retarded!"

The next year, in third grade, they implemented a new rule saying that you had to make valentines for EVERYONE.

Except, facebook can't make a rule like that, where if you send one valentine you have to send it to everyone on facebook. And that's probably a good thing, because there are people who would definitely be weirded out if they randomly got a facebook valentine from me, like the head cheerleader from high school who I only friended when after three months of working up the courage i decided that the ability to see all her pictures trumped the possible humiliation of rejection.

So now, just like every year, I probably won't be getting any valentines. Except this year, the WHOLE WORLD WILL KNOW IT.

So after mulling over it for a few hours, I decided to send Bradney a facebook valentine, when, to my horror, I saw THIS:

WHO is that bitch, and WHY is she giving MY bradney a valentine?

It ALMOST made me not want to send him one. Almost.

In the end, I decided to just send him a really casual, breezy note, to let him know I'm thinking of him.

I hope he likes it.

Cupidly,

Earlene

Why do I still only have six followers.

Liveblogging=fail, as JFK doesn't have wireless internet.

I did snap this picture of myself at the gate. 

I was not chosen for exit row duty this time, so I got to spend the plane ride sleeping and watching "Into the Wild with Bear Grylles".

Have any of you guys seen that show? It's a documentary series all about this attractive British man who for some reason keeps getting stranded in a bunch of deserted places, but he was a Boy's Cout so he knows what to do in dangerous situations. I watched a show today where he as stranded in the Sahara desert, but luckily he came across a camel carcas that he could crawl into. Also he found plenty of water within the camel's belly, once he removed all the excrement.

If this whole office job thing doesn't work out, I think I should try getting my own show. "Into the Wild with Earlene Watts". ESPECIALLY with my exit row training, I would be really good at it, I think. I think I am a naturally intuitive girl when it comes to emergency situations. Like, if I were stranded at sea in a life boat, I would make a fishing hook out of my underwire bra, and then bait it with, like, kelp or something, and then I would catch lots of fish and eat them. And then if there was a whale I could get WHALE BLUBBER and use it to make candles. I have lots of good ideas.

Anyway, I am pretty tired right now, because being a jetsetter is pretty tiring. 

THREE DAYS til Valentines Day.

ONE WEEK til I move to NEW YORK CITY officially. 

Exhausted, and probably soon to be homeless, 

Earlene