{bazima.com}

So, I don't really know what to write about first.

Here are a few options.

The awesome sold out show last night at Collective Unconscious, meeting Michael Showalter, my laptop dying suddenly and out of nowhere (after it slid off of my lap and onto the hardwood floor as I was reaching for my cup of coffee), the drag queen in Red Hook who wants to electrocute me with a wet microphone, my cocktail waitressing gig, the weird cosmic vibes (is that redundant?), or how this morning I was mugged for my iPod--on the street where I live--by two knife-wielding punk-ass bitches (I'm fine) and then subtly hit on by the cop down at the precinct who was not-so-subtly a lesbian, or watching Oprah take down James Frey on live TV this afternoon.

These topics are all equally intriguing, I know. I, personally, am exhausted just having written that paragraph. And I've been so busy trying to make sure I stay busy I'm suddenly too exhausted to keep busy. I need to go make some mac and cheese.

Oh, but in the meantime here's something for you--and for two wonderful friends of mine who share the same name that rhymes with Farrah--to jot down in your Bazima.com Lessons in Love Workbook. The best reason to not call your old boyfriend is because hearing in his voice the absence of the love he once had for you (and by "once" I mean pretty fucking recently) will not really make you feel better, even though it was nice to laugh a little bit with him over the phone about things that are funny (because even then you'll probably just get that sinking feeling in your stomach that after he's hung up he's no longer laughing with you). Also, just because you find $5 on the floor in the back of a cab on your way to "just sex" with someone doesn't necessarily mean that it's a sign that the "just sex" with someone is actually a good idea. Of course, it's not necessarily a sign that it's a bad idea either. The cosmos is a bitch to interpret.

Stick around for photos of the scene of the crime--as the arrests unfold--from my morning mugging. I'm not even kidding.