The one where OMG I REMEMBERED IT.

Out of nowhere, there it was. In my brain. At my fingertips.

I shouted in the newsroom, and everyone cheered, as though something really tremendous had happened. Which it had. I finally remembered my stupid PIN. Finally.

I IMd Emily who is in the middle of a meeting, and she shouted it out as though it were breaking news.

In other breaking news, I just changed it to be a birthday that I could remember. Because then even if I forget the numbers in the future, which I just might, then at least I can be like “Oh, it’s so and so’s birthday.” And then I can ask that person what the birthday is, and then this will never happen again.

Don't worry, Noodle! I'll rescue you in 2 days when I finally remember my PIN!

Don’t worry, Noodle! I’ll rescue you in 2 days when I finally remember my PIN!

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The one where the numbers make me crazy.

So it’s day 2 of not remembering my PIN, and everyone is like “stop thinking about it, it’ll come to you!” and all I can think about is all the things I could be missing on Instagram. And wondering if my Letterpress games are OK without me.

Isn’t that sick? And not that surprising?

And now the not remembering is exasperated because not only can I not remember the numbers, but I’m also afraid of locking myself out of my phone for the rest of my life. It’s performance anxiety!

The weird thing is that I can remember phone numbers from when I was in middle school, but I can’t remember a 4-digit code I’ve used every day for the last 6 years.

Last night I couldn’t even handle going to the gym — “How can I possibly run on the treadmill without Netflix!” — so I took myself to see a movie, and then had a date to meet The Hairdresser afterwards. And we were so old school about it! Like, we had to set up a meeting time because I wouldn’t be able to text her when the movie was over. And when I couldn’t remember an actor’s name, I just had to wait for the credits rather than IMDb it from my phone.

Anyway. That’s it. I’ll buy a movie on iTunes and watch it on my iPad at the gym. I’ll turn my phone off so as not to be taunted by all the lock-screen messages. And who knows. Maybe by the time my PIN comes, I won’t even care about it and people will just have to get in touch with me the old-fashioned way. Through Morse code or Pony Express. Or e-mail. Or call my landline.

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The one where I might have early-onset Alzheimer’s.

I’ve decided to start writing with proper capitalization. Which is probably the first sign that I have early-onset Alzheimer’s. But whatever. Maybe it won’t be a permanent thing.

Today I used my phone several times — I always check Instagram and my e-mail and the games I’m currently playing (Letterpress, Words With Friends) first thing in the morning. I got ready for work per usual. I made myself a little lunch. Throughout the morning, I checked my phone. Got some texts from my mom. Wrote some texts. Checked Twitter. All usual.

As I was walking up the stairs at BART, I went to check my phone because I got a text. And I put in the wrong PIN. I put in the one that I use for my iPad (it happens to be the last 4 digits of a fax machine that I know of). I put it in three or four times in a row, insisting in my brain that it was correct.

It’s not correct. And then panic set in. And it turns out that as I was typing in my PIN, I completely forgot it. This also happens to be the PIN I use for my ATM card. For two ATM cards, actually. And it also just happens to be the random numbers that the bank assigned to me.

This has happened once before; as I was entering my PIN at a grocery store, I was like “that’s not right,” and it wasn’t right. At that time, just as suddenly as I forgot it, I remembered it again. A couple hours later, maybe a couple days. I can’t remember (ha!).

It’s been about 8 hours. I still can’t remember the PIN. I don’t want to completely lock myself out of my phone. I don’t want this to happen.


In the meantime, I’ve tried my ATM card and several PINs. Finally, after locking myself out of THAT as well, my bank said that it will send me a “PIN reminder” in 5-7 days.

If I don’t remember my PIN before that, it means I will be locked out of my phone in 5-7 days. That feels like a lifetime.

Hopefully I wake up tomorrow and remember it. Hopefully this isn’t a sign that I’m actually finally literally going nuts.

In the meantime, I’m looking at this as like a kind of vacation. I mean, no phone for 5-7 days. I actually turned my phone off today. Instead of watching Netflix at the gym, I’m going to read.

OMG look. I really am going crazy. This is not a vacation, it’s horrible horrible first-world-problem torture.

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the one where ‘liz & dick’ ruined my appetite.

liz and dick, starring in ‘twilight.’

ok “liz & dick.” i’m ready to be amazed.

two seconds in and it looks like “lolita.” sunglasses and humbert humbert and all.

ok what in the hell is this. what is this music. it’s like, “we’re going shopping for the holidays” music. i’m confused.

it’s going to be one of those movies where a lot of the feelings and moods and perhaps explication is brought to us by liz and dick sitting in director chairs wearing black. like, from the future or whatever, giving an interview. but there was that one scene in the beginning where dick is an older man, so i don’t get what the point of this part is. guess i’ll find out. or maybe i won’t. this could go anywhere!

anyway, they meet on the set of “cleopatra” and hate each other at first, but not really, and then they have a sordid affair. it’s so dumb.

so far, here’s what i’m getting from this movie: dick is a dick who totally seduced her and then in front of everyone asked liz whether she loves him or her husband — spoiler alert: she loves him; lindsay lohan is reading a script; this movie will probably get some award for costumes or makeup or both; and movies like this make me want to smoke cigarettes and drink. and perhaps be welsh. definitely be welsh.

i can’t get over by how distracting the music is. it’s like a lot of jingle jangles and a piccolo and like, violins going all fast and is this seriously what they came up with? music brought to you by the demo button on my electric keyboard? it’s like a sears commercial. what in the hell. i just cannot.

so lindsay lohan is kind of atrocious. and you KNOW how hard that is for me to say, because i love me some lindsay lohan. but even her smoking looks fake. i don’t know how i’m going to get through another 1.5 hours of this nonsense. it makes me long for the days of “smash.” which makes my feet sad.

also. this script. it’s like a script i wrote in middle school. so here’s some math: lohan acting = just reading a script with no other emotion + a bad script = oh god the humanity.

example: the paparazzi guy tells him that his wife attempted suicide or some shit. so he runs off. then he comes back and tells liz “i can’t do this with you.” and she just turns around runs down the hall, kind of rasping “i won’t live without you” and into the bedroom where she gets pills and booze (of course) and he’s just welsh accenting his way down the hall calling her name.

then he literally carries her to the hospital. in his arms. shouting “help me please.” like, really? that’s what happens? you just calmly take “all of the pills” and wash it down with a slug of vodka and then are just like, “it won’t be long now” and your boyfriend just carries you off? who wrote this?

spoiler alert: the pills didn’t kill her.

so dick decides to go back to the wife. for the children. and now elizabeth taylor is a mess. just drinking and smoking and shouting “i’m bored, i’m so bored” into the air. even her kids are like “dude, chill out. read a book.”

at least she’s pretty.

he writes her a letter and then they meet at the starbucks or whatever, and they’re both in hell and you can tell because now the jingle jangle music is like, soft cello and a piano. and then they meet and meet and hang out and i guess they’re still having an affair?

he just said “perfect role for me, though, i get to sit around looking gloomy and drink like a proverbial fish.” proverbial. because i actually thought you were a fish. now even the script is sad at itself.

it’s the kind of script where the guy goes “i’m not hiring elizabeth taylor!” and then the next scene, he’s showing her to her suite being like “here’s your suite, miss taylor” because ha ha, she showed him.


so now dick wants a divorce from his wife finally, and liz wants “more,” and i’m going to barf.

cut to them on the director chair again, staring at me, which so far has been pointless. but here, liz is explaining why she’s so mad at him, and although the script still doesn’t make any sense, it’s the only time where lohan is actually doing ok. like, a couple tears, and i’m actually buying this. maybe she’s hypnotizing me with her eyes. that could also be what’s happening. probably.

he just called her bossy boots. she also just said “but elizabeth wants to playyyyy,” like sexy time play. and now there’s a saxophone. this movie. god.

she just asked the bellhop to get into dick’s room and he’s like, no, and then she said “you do know i’m shagging him senseless, don’t you?” and an angel somewhere lost its wings. and i think the bellhop rolled his eyes.

his mousey wife is finally giving him the divorce he asked for 20 minutes ago, and before she even shuts the door, there’s liz with a bottle of champagne, toasting to how he’s free. keep it classy. (like i should talk: for dinner i’m eating turkey little smokies and a glass of white wine with an ice cube in it. except now i can’t even eat because this movie made me nauseated.)

and to maintain the classy, she decides they should invite all their friends out to celebrate with them, but of course the friends have excuses for why they can’t go out (sick kid, in-laws in town, whatever). so they go to the restaurant themselves and not one but TWO OF THE COUPLES who they called are there at the same restaurant. like there are no other restaurants in london? they’re like “whew, just got off the phone with liz. anyway, want to go to THE RESTAURANT?” i hate this movie.

and dang, if you’re elizabeth taylor and people still don’t want to hang out with you, then you must be pretty terrible. (call me, lindz! i’ll hang out with you.)

a whole lot of possibly cute things happened? they’re living together, he called his wiener “hamlet,” and they’re heading to new york. there’s still an hour left of this shit.

he’s auditioning or something for some shakespeare blah blah, and asks for her opinion, and she says “well, i can’t tell you a thing about acting” and they both kind of secretly smirk and it’s like, the barfiest thing i’ve ever seen. ha ha, we get it, you don’t know a thing about acting. it’s like a secret wink to the audience that’s not a secret and all self-knowing and i just want to smack her and be like “don’t you know that this is your career on the line?”

then he opines about how he learned how to act from her, and she blinks and tells him that she thinks he’s great and smoochy smoochy when is this going to be over?

everyone is protesting how gross they are, even the pope, and she’s finally putting an end to her marriage with eddie fisher from an hour ago. i guess her husband was dragging it on and on? also he had an act in his show called “cleo: the nympho of the nile,” so that’s a song that happened.

and now they’re married, so the pope can finally get off their backs.

god, he takes a bow after “hamlet” and then runs off the stage to bring her up there and the rest of the cast is like, wtf.

augh! steve! what are you doing in this movie?! get out of here!

apparently steve is a writer and liz is like “oh won’t you write something for me?” and he’s like, i did and dick is like “great, i’ll be in it, too” and it’s all tense for a second now this is going to be one of THOSE movies.

and for one second they tricked me into thinking it wasn’t going to be one of THOSE movies, and now here it is, being one of those movies. he’s jealous of her success. quelle surprise! but then they make up in 2 seconds, so i don’t even know what to think anymore.

so cut to them both being nominated for awards, and all 20 of their kids who up until now have only been alluded to, really, are jumping on their bed in excitement. and it’s so fucking von trappy and out of the blue. like, what? the kids all live with them now? why are there so many?

anyway, both liz and dick are nominated. huzzah. I WONDER WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN.

then it happens — she wins, he doesn’t. and all the kids are like “there’s a sad sort of clanging from the clock in the hall” and run along in their little outfits made from drapes and why oh why didn’t anne hathaway get cast in this movie? also, i never thought i’d say that ever.

and now it’s THIS kind of movie: the bookkeeper or manager or whoever came all the way to their vacation home in mexico (what. the fuck) to tell them, guess what, they’re broke! and she says “how can we be broke? how is that possible?” and you’d think. of all the lines in the world that they could’ve written for her, that she would’ve nailed that one.

spoiler alert: she didn’t.

of course all their money troubles will be over if he just takes the role that he was offered, which he doesn’t want to do because sofia loren is the woman in it. then liz says “oh i’ll do it” and they’re like “but you’re too popular and nobody can afford you!” and some other things happen and now they live on a boat with all 234 kids, so that the paparazzi can’t find them and they have peace.

so now this is a movie about how he calls her fat all the time. just like the tabloids did. and then she asks if he wants to make her fat ass hands more beautiful and he’s like “deurp” and she says “i need a ring. a big ring.”

this movie had every opportunity to be normal and interesting and good and well-written and threw it all away for stupid fucking cut scenes and one-liners and it’s just so disappointing.

he bought her a ring the size of their boat. oh richard, don’t you know you have money troubles?

the kids complained that it’s not christmasy enough in monte carlo on their enormous boat, so they’re going to fly their money plane to switzerland to spend the holidays there. dick’s brother goes to set up the house, but apparently there’s no electricity in switzerland, and he falls down the stairs and will never walk again. great, now who’s going to get their swiss house ready? it’s almost christmas!

now they’re fighting fighting on their yacht. he has to boohoo be in a movie with raquel welch and then liz locks him in the closet. great. then in order to make up for it, she buys him 1,000 volumes of books.

is this movie about their extravagant lifestyle? about their love? their drinking? christmas? the plot is so thin and out there, i don’t even know what the point is.

another example of fine writing: some bitch at liz’s birthday party said that she’s not a star anymore, so liz cries and cries in dick’s arms, and then in the morning he’s woken up because his manager comes into the room to tell him that his brother died.

because that happens in real life. so he drinks a bottle of vodka. obviously. and she can’t help him, and he can’t help her, and not a single one of them can help me. so now the rest of the story is headlines (he’s cheating, she’s cheating) in the tabloids, and now they’re getting a divorce.

spoiler alert: nobody cares.

god will this movie ever end? so dick is getting remarried, and she goes to the hospital. then she sees that he dumped the girl and she automatically feels better because this movie has NO SHAME. then the doctor says “your blood tests. look, i’m not saying it is… colon cancer, but it’s serious enough that i need to run more tests.”

um, hi. you saying “i’m not saying it’s colon cancer” is you saying it’s colon cancer.

spoiler alert: false positive.

spoiler alert: they get remarried. in botswana. then divorced.

then he dies. she faints. she’s not going to the funeral. i can’t believe this movie went here. to the ’80s. why didn’t it end 10 minutes ago?

so then she gives a little spiel to the camera. and you know, it’s sad, because those moments are actually quite good. she’s not bad. she’s grown into those moments and i trust her and i believe it. and it’s fine.

and then the movie ends with a note: “elizabeth taylor kept richard burton’s letters for the remainder of her life,” and like, why. why did it tell me that? OBVIOUSLY SHE KEPT THEM. what else would she do with them?

i guess this movie was supposed to be about their love. and it’s just so unfortunate that because of her shitty acting throughout, and the terrible script, the love story was diluted into a cliched puddle. missed opportunities and so so many holes. and obvious declarations of obviousness.

spoiler alert: i’m not surprised.

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the one where lindsay lohan said something dumb and nobody was surprised.

this happened.

really? “sally.” no problem, lindz. my positive energy usually prevents the power from going out to millions of homes. and praying for peace is a good start when it comes to disaster preparedness. everyone throw out your extra batteries and water! you don’t need ’em! i’m about to start thinking positive!

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the one where the world disappoints.

so i have an online tv show at the work, and it’s about tech and it’s silly, about rumors, and it’s with a co-host and it’s kind of a big deal to me. because i work hard on it and it’s scrappy and i’m proud.

on the work’s site itself we get a really good response — i mean, for the most part. people click on the polls and leave little comments and they engage and it’s nice. even if people don’t like that particular rumor or episode or whatever, at least they’re talking. people are watching and caring and it’s cool.

then there’s youtube. [insert knowing groan here.] the video also gets uploaded to the work’s youtube channel and it’s a fucking shit show. people are rude and mean and heartless and anonymous. and ask about my gender and whether i like girls and whether my co-host and i are dating. and they call us stupid and insult us because we’re women or maybe because we’re women in tech? or both. and it’s just heartbreaking.

i come to work and i’m online bullied. i’m 34 and over it and strong and in a relationship and don’t care and it breaks my heart.

and google is making strides to stop stuff like this — it’s encouraging people to use their real names on youtube when leaving comments on posts, which will hopefully discourage people from writing mean shit in the first place. it’s easier to be an anonymous bully than to be a bully with a name next to your rude comment.

i follow a couple gay youtubers who don’t seem to have this problem — they have thousands of followers and likers and commenters and that makes me happy. at least there’s a place for that.

and i know that there are people out there who have my back — not just family or friends, but strangers who, i don’t know, are maybe inspired by the fact that i’m gay and out and obvious and doing something cool and being out there. maybe i’m inspiring one person. i know that’s cheesy.

and on the other hand, i fucking hate it. and it’s just gross. and disappointing. and depressing. and i can’t stop looking at it.

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the one where i don’t even know who i am anymore.

god, today i ate a sandwich and it was fine (i only ate half, anyway, because i’m on A DIET. SURPRISE) and i was like “ooh, what a perfect opportunity to get back into blogging! sandwiches! remember how i love sandwiches? and take pictures!” and then i ate the half, wrapped the other half up, put it in the fridge, and now 3 hours later, remembered that i was going to do this thing.

what has happened to my life?

so ugh, oh well. the sandwich was turkey and pastrami. on dutch crunch. there. i blogged about it.

in other news, the other day rupaul retweeted me. so that’s cool. and i’m famous.

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