Friday, September 30, 2005

How Could A Good Love Go So Bad?

Coursewide CC lecture, delivered by Martha Nussbaum, regarding the arbitrariness of canons: The Musical!!

Martha: You guys
you guyyyyyysssssss
the schools of thought are important to meeee
gonna tell you about 'em, yeah about all threeeee

Me: hey wait!
Look at this apple
I'm eating it here
in the middle of Lerneeerrrrrrrr

Martha: Schools of thought
Me: Apple, eating an apple



And now I'm off to my foot doctor appointment, valiantly obtained EVEN THROUGH the quagmires of belligerent Health Services, slightly cold waiting rooms, and elusive referral slips.

And- hey,
when you find out where you're going, let me know.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Guys, I Think I'm Goin' For It

and also, I think we're LOST!

Foot doctor be scheduled tomorrow

Fruit Paunch be completed an hour and a half ago

First shopping venture since school be embarked upon on Friday

Considering changing above "venture" to "adventure" be contemplated further

Contemporary be awake for in six and a half hours

Let's say something new, guys. I'm on a blog-checking cycle that's so frequent it's killing me. tick tick tick two minutes: are there any new comments on Katherine's blog?! Next, and even more urgently, has Holly written a new anecdote about her zany Furman life?! And what about my blog?! Has anyone commented on it since I wrote it (two minutes and forty seconds ago)?

I need a hobby/boyfriend/drive to leave my room/autumn jacket/developing taste for celery/jet-pack/paying commercial gig/sign language club meeting.

That's all I need, just that and this chair and this remote control AND THAT'S ALL I NEED. Just those things, and also this ashtray and that's all.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Dear Prudence, My Foot Hurts

old leftie. I walked into class with the greatest of ease at 9 am, but walking out at 10:50 was another story entirely. Somewhere in the span of Contemporary Civilizations, the inner arch of my left foot started pmsing like a megabitch.

I just took a break from writing to slap the sole of my foot a few times and yell "stop hurting!" It didn't work, OF COURSE. NOTHING IN MY LIFE WORKS OUT.

That's something I said last night, as well, as I threw myself on my ottoman. I had just read for two straight hours and I still had at least three more ahead of me. So I fell onto my ottoman, groaned, rolled over so my ottoman was on top of me and I was on the ground, groaned, and then lay still for a while as I continued to groan.

And now all I ever do is give people newspaper clippings that I think might interest them.
1) the Che Guevara article implicit in my newest one-act, "Seriously, I Know You're Smart," given to Vlad (the teacher explicit in my newest one-act, "Seriously, I Know You're Smart")
2) the Lolita article from yesterday's Columbia Spectator, yet to be given to Alison, who loves Lolita
3) the Roving Reporter minterview with some girl who had a weird dream, yet to be given to the check-in period of Fruit Paunch rehearsals.

Foot? Do you still hurt?
Let me check.
Yes, and now I can feel where a bump has risen under the skin.
A bugbite, mayhap?
No, probably some sort of grotesque fungus that I've never heard of and only slightly deserve.

gang way, ottoman

Friday, September 23, 2005

You're My Girl! or Waltz

Museum day!

Homework time!

There's a very good chance that I won't be funny at the show next week!

And I feel unnaturally confident and excited for the two papers I have to write (mostly because they're for Film and Art Hum, which are really fake classes, mostly) (mostly).

If you don't have a song to sing, you're ok-
you know how to get along humming!
If you don't have a date, celebrate!
Go off and sit on the lawn and do nothing-
'cause it's just what you must do and nobody does it anymore.


"You poop into my butt hole and I poop into your butt hole...back and forth. Forever."

That's right, I saw You and Me and Everyone We Know. And what's more, I liked it.

Little tip: if you're making a movie and you specifically want ME to like it, just make sure there's some little kid talking about poop in there somewhere. But make sure the poop is actually somehow a crazy symbolic thing that, even if it has no meaning, makes me feel like there might be some somewhere.

If you don't cry, it isn't love.

I might've accidentally insulted my Italian teacher this afternoon. He was wearing a Che Guevara shirt and after class, I stayed behind to tell him that there's an article about Che Guevara in the newspaper today:

Seriously, I Know You're Smart

Me: I have something important to tell you. There's an article about Che Guevara in the newspaper today.

Vlad: in italian accent What did the article say?

Me: It was just saying that there are always Che Guevara things around college campuses but nobody really knows anything about him-

Vlad: Oh I know what he did

Me: I'm sure you do! (completely not sarcastically) Me starts walking out as the big, heavy door starts closing

Vlad: He was a revolutionary leader-

Me: already awkwardly out the door...bon weekend?

Vlad: still talking about Che Guevara, probably even now at 2:20 am

Me: slaps forehead once out of the classroom

yet still pretty pleased with herself


You know what you should listen to right now?
"Back on the Chain Gang" by the Pretenders.
And it would probably be a good idea to sing the "whooooaaaaoaoa" part really loudly, and at the end of every line (even though they only do it at the end of every fourth line (or so)).

You might thank me for it later.

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

You Really Ought To Give Iowa A Try

Bad news: still loud.

Good news: am drinking cream soda.

Angering news: my box is still lost in the package center.

Even more angering news: the box holds an autographed David Sedaris book. Why didn't it even occur to me to pack it in my carry-on?! Fuck.

Slightly less angering news: I worked out the paycheck situation.

Heartening news: two different people offered to go to Barnes and Noble on my account (bitchface and callie, what stand-up ladies!).

Happy news: this cream soda is really working out for me. It's cold and everything.

Sailor news: I use a lot of profanities now.

Not really news: yeah, the profanities really aren't that new.

Rejuvenating news: I can sleep in tomorrow!

Making plans news: maybe I'll watch a movie tonight or do something equally wasteful of my sweet, sweet, abundant time.

A Day in the Life news: I read the news today, oh boy.

Still big news to me: we saw Isaac Mizrahi when Grandma Bobbie took me out for my birthday dinner!

Newsies news: Once I watched Newsies with Jennifer Kirby. I've forgotten all of it. While I understand that many people love Newsies more than life itself, I request that you do not tell me if that's your deal. It might make me start to hate you with a hatred over which I have no control. Why do you hate it when people love Newsies, Becky? Are you a monster?

Obvious answer news: YES.

Now just let my love open the door!

Monday, September 19, 2005

The Newest Kinoki

I talk way too loudly for some of the things I say. It's really, really uncalled for.

I wore a cardigan today...wishful thinking. What am I wishing for by wearing a cardigan?
A hundred dollars,

Seriously I need to start being quieter. I'm awful.

And Barnes and Noble still hasn't sent me my last paycheck. Thanks a lot, new asshole boss that started working two weeks before I left.

Here's the Barry Manilow song with the sweetest beginning EVER:
"Can't Smile Without You"
because the whistle part at the beginning sounds like a little boy dreaming about how Grover is his best friend and it's way too sweet for me to handle.
I might have even already written about this.

I guess I really should have been doing more of the work I need to do for tomorrow during this time. Time poorly spent. OR IS IT? Yes? Ok.

Saturday, September 17, 2005

Were You There The Night Wallach 7A Collapsed?


What follows occurred on Friday, September 16th:

(Part I)
Alison, Vishal, Mike, and I (Viper, Indiana, Caveman, and McFly that is) attended a taping of Late Night with Conan O'Brien. We played twenty questions while we waited for the show to start. Alison displayed surprising talent, Vishal displayed surprising incompetence at not wasting questions, and I displayed my bare bottom for the world to see.

The guests?
Lara Flynn Boyle (awkwardest interview EVER)
Some guy from the Sopranos (saved the interview portion)
THE NEW PORNOGRAPHERS (obviously amazing)

Then after Conan said goodbye to the audience, he crossed the set looking really mad and exhausted BUT THEN his face lit up because his wife and daughter were at the stage door! It was beautiful. He let everybody in the audience wave to the baby, and you know what that means - I, Becky, have waved to Neve O'Brien and received a cocktail napkin written on by Paul Rudd in a period of about 15 hours.

(Part II)
The most successful wet party thrown in the LLC.

I made the unfortunate decision to follow a tequila sunrise with two screwdrivers within the first forty-five minutes of the party, so I don't remember a lot of what happened. I do remember having a suite full of amazing partyguests, though. And I remember popping jiffy pop with Carly Hoogendyk. And I think I told Ashby and some other guy to blow their cigar smoke out the window. And also I might have gotten some guy pregnant.

The RA broke everything up at about midnight, and after I threw away all the cups, I went to the Abbey on 105th (how I walked ten blocks I'll never know). Then I immediately walked back with Addison and Philippa. Over the course of the rest of the night, some other things happened that resulted in me walking laps around the Van Am quad for a few hours, until I was good enough to go back to my room, throw up, and fall asleep.

What a birthday extravaganza week!

Extravagant Recap:
Saturday - (birthday week kick-off) went to MoMA with Alison to see the Pissarro/Cezanne exhibit
Sunday - auditioned for Fruit Paunch
Monday - Ali came up from Lincoln Center to celebrate my birthday-eve. We ate Amir's and my breath smelled like eight jars of minced garlic for the rest of my life. Then Alison and I drank a lot at the stroke of midnight.
Tuesday - (actual birthday) Don and Chris and Vishal and Mike made me dinner, which we ate with Alison in Schapiro 5 lounge
Wednesday - Callbacks for Fruit Paunch, initiation into Fruit Paunch
Thursday - crazy pregaming at Philippa's, crazy 1020ing at 1020
Friday - Conan O'Brien, then the party to end all parties

Oddly enough, I didn't have any cake...oh wait yes I did. Alison bought me a mini pound cake from the vending machine downstairs when we were celebrating the first minute of my twenties. And ALSO I bought myself a cupcake from 212 on Tuesday. I bought myself a 212 cupcake on my birthday last year, too - so I guess it's a tradition now. WhatEVER tradition.

When the hell am I supposed to do homework this weekend?

Friday, September 16, 2005



Happy fuckin' birthday!
Paul Rudd"

Mark, Taylor, Everything Is Illuminated premiere, drunk celebrities, Paul Rudd among them, Mark going up to him, Mark saying "Excuse me, Mr Rudd, my friend Becky is totally in love with you and it's her birthday and I was wondering if I could get your autograph for her," PAUL RUDD saying "Is this Becky?" to Taylor (NO THAT'S NOT BECKY), Paul Rudd writing on a cocktail napkin EXPRESSLY FOR ME (BECKY ABRAMS)!! Paul Rudd handing the napkin to Mark, feeling proud for adding the "fuckin'" part to it with his own dreamy brain!

Paul Rudd now

The Paul Rudd we all fell in love with

Paul Rudd guest starring on the series finale of Strangers with Candy

Paul Rudd thinking, I guess

Paul Rudd at some party, which I'm likening to the premiere that Taylark attended

Paul Rudd touching an old woman

Attitude Andy

Paul Rudd is the reason I like the name "Paul"

Born in 1969, Paul? Why that only puts us at a very reasonable 16 years apart! Huh? Go out on the town with you? I long as you're buying the tanqueray. What's that? It'll be butterscotch schnapps? THAT'S BETTER THAN OK, PAUL.

What's that, imdb? You wanted to ruin my dreams by showing me that he's married from 2003-present? Nice try, asshole website. Everyone knows Paul Rudd signed a cocktail napkin for me. It's not like it's news or anything by now. So next time you try to take a dump all over my good time, why don't you take said dump, move it over a little bit, and let it fall in the TOILET, WHERE IT BELONGS!


I'm going to frame this. I'm framing this now. It's the single most valuable item I possess. I will never be able to thank Taylark enough. Maybe it's a form or something...and that's why I can't deal with it. It's Form Paul Rudd Letter To Becky. And only Paul Rudd and I are adjusted to the light of day well enough to understand its essence.


Just you and me, Paul Rudd napkin!
I'll get you the most beautiful frame of them all!

Thursday, September 15, 2005



So all you guys who are like, "Becky's not funny," here's what I have to say to you: Maybe you have a point...but thank God the Fruit Paunch kids can't see it. So shut the fuck up and suck a lemon.

Fruit Paunch!

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

An Account Of My Winnings

Here's what I've gotten so far (in the way of fantastic birthday presents):

-a card from grandpa Gene
-a card from his lady friend, Edith
-some candy from Tess
-an amazing Belle & Sebastian book and a 100 Greatest Beatles Songs book from Viper
-the White Album and Home Movies: season 2 AND a gourmet dinner from Vishal, Don, Chris, and Mike
-the mother of all birthday boxes from Bitch-Face Turnbladt, herself
oh so much candy
Foul Play
a cd called "Best of Katherine's Computer"
a copy of the Magnolia soundtrack
Best of Gilda Radner on dvd
an article about Billy Elliot
a check for $10 (for the alcohol I bought her before I came back to school)
brightly colored tissue paper
a note written on a piece of paper shaped like a dress, on whose chest she wrote "quit looking at my boobs"

Fantastic birthday, fantastic. Each present a jewel, a treasure.

Fruit Paunch callbacks, here I come! Right after I throw up from the ol' nervous stomach!

your 20something friend

Tuesday, September 13, 2005




Monday, September 12, 2005

Teenage Spaceship

1 1/3 days left of being a teenager.

I'm listening to all my music in reverse alphabetical song-order.
("Ya Got Trouble" as sung by Robert Preston for The Music Man)

It was a mistake to get Pee Wee's Playhouse from netflix because -let's face it- no work is getting done in my room as long as Pee Wee's free to play.

Slightly less than 1 1/3 days left of being a teenager!

Sunday, September 11, 2005

Pink Tic Tacs

Last night, around 12:30

Mark: uh-oh it's september 11th...AWKward!!

So I'm throwing a party on friday and it's going to be pretty much the most amazing party you've ever heard of.
People in togas? Sure!
A live tiger? Okay!
Alcohol? Shhhhh
twenty-somethings and teenagers intermingling? UNHEARD OF!!

I have two more days of being 19...what should I do? Read Plato's Republic??
Probably not.
Listen to "Nineteen" by smog nonstop until the big day comes?
I mean, maybe.
Go outside and figure that something will happen once I get out there?

Friday, September 09, 2005

So I'm A Racist

Tonight my friends and I walked over to Caffe Swish (pan-asian cuisine) to get a bento box, but we were worried they were closed:

we all walk in

Me: to asian host-looking guy When do you guys close?

Asian Guy: I don't work here.

Me: pause


we all leave Caffe Swish immediately


And ALSO (not racistly), earlier this week I was taking a walk with Tess, Mark, and the lovely Hannah Goldfield when Mark said (GROSS WARNING) that he knows waaaaay too much about Tess, like the fact that she drank her own menstrual blood, which made everybody laugh with disgust and disbelief. A few minutes later, I fell back a few steps with hannah and said, "Can you believe that Tess drinks her own menstrual blood?" and she fell over on the sidewalk laughing. Because it was a joke. ONE THAT I COMPLETELY DID NOT EVEN CATCH AS A JOKE.

Guys, I'd had a really rough day. The effing Barnes and Noble guy on 82nd street refused to give me my employee discount, so that must have really thrown off my entire sense of humor. DAMN YOU, GERARD THAT WORKS ON THE 82ND STREET BARNES AND NOBLE! I called the store later to tell them they had an asshole for a cashwrap manager, but they didn't care at all. FUCK THE 82ND STREET BARNES AND NOBLE.


Tuesday, September 06, 2005

I Want To Lock It All Up In My Pocket - It's My Bar Of Chocolate. Give It To Me Now!!

As promised-

Becky's Amazing List of Things She Wants For Her Birthday (September 13th)!

-Five Leaves Left, Nick Drake
-Look Who's Talking Too
-Not So Much To Be Loved As To Love, Jonathan Richman
-the soundtrack to Manhattan
-a yoga mat
-Pillow Talk
-the Beatles' White Album
-Home Movies, season 2
-Seems Like Old Times
-Foul Play
-Dear Catastrophe Waitress, Belle & Sebastian
-Meatballs (I don't think the dvd is out yet, BUT I NEED IT)
-your acceptance
-a camcorder tripod (looking at you, mom)
-new ipod earphones (ones that don't hurt my beautiful, beautiful ears)
-some photos of my friends
-whatever you have just lying around
-something to make a sit-upon with (so I don't have to touch this stained dorm chair with my actual body)
-a fresh episode of Gilmore Girls (thanks in advance, warner brothers)
-an entire week of amazing birthday celebration


Sunday, September 04, 2005

Two Days Of Surprises, Both Very Good And Very Disgusting

-seeing all my friends at once (pretty much)
-having Matt help me change the bed on its frame so my refrigerator can fit underneath

-Surprise Orientation free concert...

-This morning when I reached over my 3' high bed to pull the blinds up, a cockroach fell out of the blinds and into my hair. INTO MY HAIR. I stood on my chair on the other side of the room for ten minutes, screaming and beating my head with a shoe. When I called my mom, she very calmly said that I should comb out my hair. COMB OUT MY HAIR. Because there might be cockroaches still in it!! So then I spent another ten minutes on the chair, screaming and hitting my head with the shoe. I've decided to dull my horror at this cockroach-thing by draining my flask (into my mouth). 1:50's gotta be cocktail hour SOMEWHERES.

So I'm still setting up my room, which looks to be a long-term process, since my shit is only guaranteed to get to my room in fourteen days (a fortnight).

days until my junk is guaranteed to get here: 14
days until CONAN!: 12
days until I'm no longer a teenager and never will be again: 9
say WHAT??
days until my much-appreciated television premieres: 2 and 4 (Rory Gilmore and Seth Cohen, respectively)
days until I can legally drink: 374
days until I can legally drive: -1451
days until I scratch my ear: 0
days until Christmas: 111

days until Mark's birthday: 0

Friday, September 02, 2005

At Grandma Bobbie's

I checked in today, BUT I HAVEN'T MOVED IN.

Columbia is one of the schools that's accepting New Orleans student-refugees, SO COME TO THE BIG APPLE, MARY AND TRIBBS.

I love the subway system, SO I RODE IT TWICE TODAY (two transfers each way, impressed yet?)

Is "Tribbs" spelled with one "b" OR TWO?

Since this post sucks so much, I'm adding some intonation that makes it funny TO ME, BECKY.

Off to HANG OUT ON GRANDMA'S ROOF WITH COUSIN ALI. You can see the creepy lit-up mansion on Roosevelt Island from there. CREEPY CRAZY PEOPLE CRAWLING ALL OVER IT GET THEM OFF ME GET IT OFF!!!

Roosevelt Island? Don't mind if I live there someday.