so. remember the saga of the two guys looking for wedding dates on craigslist? well, my friends andrea and alexa posted a response to craigslist: two women need two men needing wedding dates - w4m - 236 (nyc - saratoga). i thought that was pretty cute. but if you clicked on the link you'll see that craigslist removed it.

if they can figure out why, they'll repost. any ideas? is it the pot leaves? the mentions of being craigslist killers? or the cussing? take a look:

these are the photos:

seriously, let them know what you think it is: [email protected]

you never know, your suggestion could get them some chicken cordon bleu and watered-down open bar drinks!

:{ schnoogins.

before you go to your polling place, be informed. i almost didn't get to vote today. but i'd come MORE than prepared. it's a sixth sense really, i know when some fucktard is going to give me beef.

plus, a bird shit on my coat while i stood in line. so i had luck on my side.

here's the story: i arrived at the line snaking around the corner of my polling venue , the gay and lesbian center at 208 w 13th st, at about 5 after 9am. i didn't have a meeting until 11:15, so i figured i was safe. i'd bail if it got to be 11 and i hadn't voted yet — or just call-in to the meeting from the line so i wouldn't have to make a second trip to the polling center.

we were a jovial bunch, making friends and talking anything but politics. (although, one guy DID tell me who he was voting for. i told him that votes are like birthday wishes and you shouldn't share them lest they don't come true. sadly, he was betting on my horse. so i was glad when the bird poop landed on him too.) because, really, this thing is almost over. to quote facebook: "today is the day we can stop listening to THEM and they have to listen to US." it's time to stop talking about it, stop fighting over it, stop alienating each other. it's time to shut the fuck up and vote already.

so, we got up near the doors and they started separating us by "e.d." numbers. i giggled until i realized they meant "election district" and not "erectile dysfunction." once your e.d. number is called, you walk to a rickety table and are separated by the first letter of your last name — A-D here, L-N there and so on. it's such a confusing room.

i handed the guy my ... this thing:

not really sure what you call this thing, but on the other side it says, "this package contains voter information and your new voter card. please read it carefully and call your local board of elections if you find an error or have any questions."

and it all seemed in order.

obviously, my address and political affiliation aren't blurred out on the original. i did that because that shit's my business and not yours.

but, i've voted in north carolina. i've voted in texas. i've never voted in the state of new york.

so i figured i'd look to see if i needed any sort of id other than my whatever-that-thing-is.

according to many websites, like this one and this one, it couldn't hurt to bring a photo id and current utility bill.

just so you don't have to go to the sites, here's what one said: "acceptable forms of identification include: a driver's license or department of motor vehicles non-driver photo ID card or other current and valid photo identification; a copy of a current utility bill, bank statement, government check, paycheck, or other government document that shows the name and address of the voter."

so, i tendered my current north carolina state driver's license when i got to the A-D guy at the e.d. 083 table. he'd asked me for identification. and he told me i couldn't vote. not even with my whatever-that-thing-is.

so i showed him my current utility bill listing my name at my address. still no vote. i showed him my lease. still no vote. i showed him my passport. still no vote. i showed him my paystub. still no vote.

i was about to get snippy. i explained to him that i'd looked online and these were all acceptable forms of identification.

just then a fight broke out behind me as what seemed to be a head volunteer lost her cool with another volunteer who just seemed to be helping someone. she spat out, "that's what cuomo gets for such dumbassed decisions."

i think she was upset about his decision to allow sandy-displaced new yorkers to vote at any polling venue. perhaps the gay and lesbian center wouldn't be so mobbed without that move. nor the building for the blind on 23rd st that boasted over an hour long wait. i don't really know. but i think it's better than jersey's decision to take email and fax votes.

but the people in line behind me got upset with my holdup and got impatient. they spouted loudly about my right to vote and all i needed was my whatever-that-thing-is to vote in the state of new york. i think they just wanted to get away from the uncomfortable scene that was taking place in the middle of the room over cuomo's decision.

(luckily) they were loud enough to alert another volunteer who came over and informed him that all i needed to vote was that whatever-that-thing-is and my signature. so he looked up my name, took my signature and handed me my ballot. and i voted.

but can you imagine if i'd come unprepared? and how many people had he turned away before i'd gotten there? when i first arrived, he was manning the e.d. 083 table alone. it was only when the line got too unmanageable that they split it up alphabetically. so he was flying solo without anyone to hear who he was turning away. and i wonder if he was selective. my political leanings are clearly printed on that whatever-that-thing-is.

plus, i'm kinda disturbed that all i needed was my whatever-that-thing-is and my signature. the signature is to check against the one they have on file for me. but i signed in a box right next to it, so anyone could have done a reasonable approximation of my scribble. i could have been anyone, really. and i almost didn't get to vote despite my myriad forms of identification.

also? THIS is the "i voted" sticker i got:

the guy in front of me (who remained bird poopless) turned around and said, "what am i supposed to do with this?"

i agree. my vote is not a joke. so why is my voting experience capitalized on by comedy central?

don't get me wrong, i like to laugh as much as the next guy/gal. and i enjoy the irony and wit that the channel bring to their "news" coverage. even their election coverage. but Rock The Vote they are not. and i don't' even get the "insane" reference. i feel jipped.

i feel jipped because this is the "i voted" sticker i'm used to. the one i'm proud to wear on my sweater or stick on my notebook. the one i want to post a photo of to facebook like all the rest of you.

it says "i exercised my right to vote. the one people died for and die for and will continue to die for for a long time. i had my say in my government and my future. and i did the most patriotic thing i could do today. i fucking voted."

that little sticker takes this seriously and keeps it classy. like i have in every single election since i was 18 in the clinton/dole showdown of 1996.

i've voted in primaries. i've voted in "off years." i've voted when there's no one to vote for but every thing to vote for ('embarrassment one', anyone?) i've stood in line as sick as a dog, vomiting into a trashcan to vote. and i stood in that line (in the rain) for hours. i know what a 'dangling chad' is, and waited on baited breath for that controversy to be resolved. i've gladly done my jury duty as payback for my vote. i even dressed up with my ex-boyfriend one halloween as the possible vice presidents. (see? i can be lighthearted about it.)

what i'm saying is, this means something to me.

and i feel jipped. jipped by a sticker. and miffed. miffed at that one guy who impeded my right to vote for the briefest of moments today.

so, do me a favor? if you haven't yet, get out there and vote. please.

you can't complain about the victor if you don't. :{| mustachioed man is very stern on this point.

i think i might have overused the #fuckyousandy hashtag. but it was warranted, i think.

because in one week, i went from this:

:to living less than a block from this ...

 ... to day after day of this:

and finally? this:

i promise i'm going to tell you all about it. but right now i'm trying to find a grocery store that has everything i need to finally make that black steak chimichurri that's been requested on "shit i'm making TONIGHT." i already pinned the recipes. and i already know how i'm going to alter them. i just have to find the ingredients. fresh direct can get them to me by wednesday and d'agastino's shelves are pretty bare. ballalalalalas.

thanks to all of you who emailed, facebooked, called, texted and checked in. also, special thanks to jwt for letting me charge up there.

:{D happy movember, btw. i TOLD you you'd thank me for the mustachioed man!

this is where rachelwriteson "started." as an idea:

and i actually started using an acne face wash. i took one photo, the "before." then i never really followed through. that should have signaled doom for my one-off blog idea. i have no follow through. but here i am writing a one-off blog entry, and here you are reading a one-off blog entry.

you'll never see the "i ordered an acne wash that takes 3 weeks and here's my 'before' photo" photo-a-day blog. mainly because i have no idea what i did with that photo, but also because the entry would just be a pic of me with acne. 

you've seen plenty of "my boyfriend is a caveman and i cooked paleo once" food blogs. and i owe you some "shit i'm making TONIGHT" entries, because i've been cooking up a storm. but, i thought i'd address the "i had crazy sex adventures that one time" sex blog.

hence the mom-shutting-her-eyes part. except that, really, i'm gonna be pretty pg about this. 

so this one night, i was out with friends. one was a fellow copywriter. a DUDE writer. and we got to talking about "50 shades of gray," which neither of us has actually read, and decided we could do better. you know, a danielle-steele-esque sexcapade novel that both girls AND guys would want to read.

then we drank more and it turned into something else all together. see, both of us are in successful adult relationships. but there are still times when i'm like, "what in the hell does THAT mean?" or he's like, "what's the right answer in 'does this make me look fat?' situations?". 

so, we decided to write something else entirely. kind of a handbook for the opposite sex. or, at least that's how i remember it. there was wine. and a lot of it. 

the next day, he sent me some topics: foreplay, hooking up on first date, meeting the fam, what you look for in the opposite sex, signals, marriage, and cheating. i sent back more topics: porn, the morning after, pregnancy scare, sharing 'numbers', "we were on a break," one night stand, "i kissed a girl," work wives, the second kiss is actually the important kiss, the proper answer to "does this make me look fat?" is always sex, girls share everything with their friends (including that picture of your penis you sent to her phone), who has to sleep in the wet spot, and to snuggle or not to snuggle. (don't worry mom, i'm not an expert on all those topics. but i know enough people who are to do the research.)

and that's where it ended. except that i soft-lobbed the idea to a couple friends — a "would you read this?" sort of thing. and they got excited at the idea. i never told the dude. so, question for you: would you read it? 

what if it were one of those books that on one side is for "her" called "Walking on Mars" written by a dude and on the other is for "him" called "Vacationing on Venus" written by a girl like me? and they cover off on the same topics chapter-by-chapter. 

all under pseudonyms, of course. for honesty and privacy's sake. and now that the idea is out there on the interwebbings, really, it could be ANYONE writing it. even the mustachioed man :{0 

we've all heard it: women aren't funny. apparently, we don't laugh. nor do we write funny ads that make other women laugh – much less make guys laugh. in fact, it seems we're a walking punchline to a joke we don't get. case in point:

i know it's labeled "funny boob commercial," but i didn't laugh. "double-breasted sandwich?" get it? eh, eh? i can just see the elbow nudging going on during the creative presentation.

but, i still assert that some of the funniest people i've ever met are women. i, for one, like to laugh. hell, i even think i'm funny. (in a dark, self-deprecating way, but still funny.)

but i think women might be clever funny, or classy funny. like this:

(yes, i know this was done by male creatives. i'll make a point about that later.)

(yes, i know i'm friends with the smart, witty, creative folks who did this ad. that doesn't mean i can't like it.)

so, yeah, as a lady i can appreciate a good boob joke with the breast of 'em. (yes, that was a BAD boob joke.)

but there's also this other misconception: that guys don't get girls. that just because you have a vagina only you can write/art direct the kind of tear-jerking poignant ad that women cream over.

but i assert this: men have been appealing to women since they got their first erection. they understand the nuances of "selling" something to women. they do it in bars, on dating sites and every single day. and even if they're taking the shotgun approach, they score sometimes. some of them most of the times.

the inverse is also true: women can sell to guys. for all the same reasons. whether or not the ad is "funny," even.

yes, i know i made up the word "manalytics," but i think even that is kinda funny. :{D mustachioed man does too. and even though he's an emoticon, he's a man. man.

... how would you kill yourself?

hahahaha. what a great way to start a discussion about kitchen islands. :[| fu manchu mustachioed man does not approve of my joke. he really likes celine. and "titanic" is his favorite movie.

but no, i need your opinion. you know my kitchen? well, if you don't — this is it:

clearly, i've unpacked some stuff. so it looks like someone lives there now.

what i need is a kitchen island. because i have no counter space. 

but i'm trying to pick one. that's where YOU come in.

that cabinet/sink area is 32.5" long. i'm thinking my island should match about that size. 

why? so it doesn't sit in front of the fridge as to where i can't open it. or in front of the bathroom (the door is just barely out of the left side of the picture.) as to where i can't go into it.

i also think it should be on wheels. so if it gets in the way i can move it. 

i also think it should have a collapsable flap for dining at while seated on barstools.

i have a front-runner in mind, but i'm not going to tell you which one it is. 

which one would you choose?

this one's from overstock.com. no delivery service, so i'd have to schlep it up the stairs myself. but it's on sale today. so i could always pull that $40 ups trick i did with the air conditioner. (where for just $40 a guy carried all 68 pounds of it from my nearest ups and up my stairs FOR me.)

43"w by 19"/28"d by 36.5"h

$215

so, what say you? which one do YOU want to see in the background of all my cooking posts?

and, yes, you can find more on pinterest. 

i've been spending a lot of time on social media lately. because i've had a lot of free time at my desk. i'm sure you've seen me on facebook, twitter and pinterest. :{/ mustachioed man is totally judging me.

so let me give you a few presents:

beware the bacon shortage and stock up on these

this is obviously not reality blogging, but it passes the time

this might be a spank bank. so if you're into that ...

i know this guy and that makes me feel old

i'm totally going to say i'm uninterested in the new myspace and sign up for it anyway

this just in: i'm really bad at tweeting #socialmediafail

you too can meme the boo boo

this is so much better than a birchbox

i'm less opinionated than these people. but i appreciate the effort

snooki is just a bill sitting on capitol hill

now you, too, can while your day away not shopping at these sites.

(ps — there are multiple links in some sentences/words. have fun with that)

i know. you thought i created a whole one-off blog category only to abandon it after the one. i'm not off the mattism. far from it.

it's just that with him stationed overseas and me stationed in the nyc, we talk about more important shit than made-up words when we get a chance at an international call.

but this morning i had some time (it was of course 1am for him), and we chatted it up.

ready for the new mattism? the first is "DAA."

no, it's not pronounced "daaaaaaaa." that would be a shitty mattism. it's an acronym. "D.A.A."

of COURSE it's an acronym. matt's in the army. there are acronyms he slings around that he doesn't even know what they mean. like, he only recently realized that his alice bag was an A.L.I.C.E. bag: All-Purpose Lightweight Individual Carrying Equipment.

(because Alice Bag, the nonacronym, is a musician, author and punk feminist.)

so what's a D.A.A.? "Direct Acronym Association." meaning that you just call it "alice" without even knowing what it is.

the next one? it describes us. "geographically single."

it's not the same as "single." because that means you want to do things like join e-harmony, pick up people in bars, go on dates.

well. i still want to go on dates. just dates with matt.

but while i can't, we're both geographically single. meaning that we can't hold hands, hang out or lay on the sofa all day together. we have a partner, we're just telecommuting. or skypacommuting.

look at that, two mattisms and a rachelexicon all in one post. mustachioed man approves :{D

this movember? the 'stache emoticons.

:{ = mustachioed man
:{| = mustachioed man who is unamused by your quips
:{) = happy mustachioed man
:{D = jolly mustachioed man
:{0 = surprised mustachioed man (or, mustachioed man performing fellatio)
:{\ = mildly disgruntled mustachioed man
:{ > = mustachioed man with a goatee
:{x = mustachioed kiss
;{ = mustachioed wink
8{ = mustachioed man with glasses
:{( = sad mustachioed man
:`{ = crying into your mustache
:{P = raspberry mustache
(/:=( = hitler 'stache

you'll thank me in a few months.