Wednesday, October 29, 2008

The Idiot Vote

Back in 2000, when I heard that a bunch of people’s votes weren’t being counted in the election because they didn’t punch the holes correctly, I thought to myself, “Well, if they’re too stupid to figure it out, frankly, I don’t want them making any major national decisions.” Then I congratulated myself on my superior intellect.

Yesterday I received my absentee ballot in the mail. I'd had to work for it. First I sent in a request form online at the Texas Secretary of State’s website. The ballot never arrived. I sent in another, it never arrived. Finally I made a couple of phone calls and asked for a ballot. They mailed me a request form for the ballot, which I filled it out and mailed back. Two weeks later a package with my ballot arrived.

There were many papers in this package, most of them translations or supplements that I didn’t need. I spread everything on my bed and got to work. I read the voting instructions carefully, filled out my ballot, stuck it in the envelope, sealed the envelope and signed the flap as directed. Then I saw a second envelope, the ballot envelope, sticking out among the papers on my bed.

"Where did you come from?" I thought. “You weren’t mentioned anywhere in the instructions. Nor were you mentioned in the list of Helpful Tips To Voters.” (Helpful tips included a pictorial on how to correctly shade in a square box in case the concept of coloring between the lines eluded you.)

According to the back of the ballot envelope, the ballot first had to be put in the ballot envelope, which was then put in the outside envelope, which was then sealed and signed. If the ballot wasn’t in the ballot envelope, it wouldn’t be counted. Fuck! I was one of those idiots I read about.

Over the next few hours, I tried anything I could to open the outside envelope. I steamed it, I microwaved it, I froze it. I did everything but stuff it with foie gras and serve it on toast points. The envelope wouldn’t budge. It was some sort of industrial strength glue with one million horse power.

There wasn’t enough time to request another and get it back before deadline. So today I got out a serrated knife and cut that bad bitch open, as carefully as I could, along the seal. Then I put the ballot in the first envelope, put that in the second envelope and by now the glue had lost its power so I taped it shut and hoped for the best.

I have no idea if my vote will count, though frankly, it probably shouldn’t.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Dressing On The Side

I’ve taken to not getting dressed during the day. It’s not because I'm depressed. I haven’t forgotten to do my laundry. The truth is, all I really own are office clothes or slutty going out clothes. But it feels overzealous to don a blouse and a pencil skirt to walk three feet from my bed to my armchair, and as a general rule, I don’t wear a camisole without the expectation of getting laid. So usually I just wear whatever I happened to fall asleep in. If I’m feeling ambitious or leaving my building, I’ll put on pants.

I needed to run an errand the other day so I pulled on jeans and threw on a coat, but then it was hotter than I expected so I took off my jacket and had to carry it (don’t you hate that?). I couldn’t figure out why I was getting all these looks from people. “Oh god, is it that bad?” I thought, reaching up to touch my face. “Have I been indoors for so long that I’ve become one of those kids from The Others whose skin explodes in the sunlight? Have I developed some weird affectation from being home alone with two parakeets all day?"

Then I looked down and realized I was wearing my special nightshirt that says I SLEEP AROUND in big letters across the chest. No wonder Emilio from the deli was friendlier than usual.

Random Conversations

Chris: "Who is that on your t-shirt?"

Me: "Audrey Hepburn."

Chris: "Really? I thought she was more angular? Her cheeks were never that fat."

Me: "That's because her face is on top of my breasts."

Hello Again

This is going to be awkward. There’s no way it can’t be. I’ve been away too long. This post has been built up too much. I’ve been gone for 22 days so, surely, I should have something interesting to say by now?…Yeah I got nothing. Instead I’m going to celebrate this awkward moment by posting this video of the most awkward sexual pairing I've ever seen. Disclaimer: Duck rape is a crime. A very hilarious crime.

Please tell me that’s a cockapoo.

(UPDATE: My friend Mark -- who I will no longer be spending time with alone unless there are people close enough to hear my screams -- believes that this was not a case of rape, but a tacit understanding between sweethearts. “The duck is clearly consenting,” he argues. “While the duck ‘tried to get away,’ the dog knew it was just playing hard to get. Look at the video, you can see that in the duck's eyes.”)

Monday, October 06, 2008

'Mars' Attacks East Village

I would tap that, 'burns, 'stache and all.

Stalking Imperioli from afar.

Forgive me Father, for I have stalked.

This is so much better than that orange Lamborghini douchemobile that's usually parked there.

This guy totally hated me.

Then this guy came to chase me away.

The new TV show Life On Mars is shooting in my neighborhood today. All of the cars on the street have been replaced with 1970s rides. Pretty groovy. They’re filming at my place of worship -- Most Holy Redeemer Church -- and coincidentally an actor that I worship -- Michael Imperioli –- is on set today. (I never got into The Sopranos, so to me he will always be Detective Falco of Law & Order and Crackhead Jojo from Bad Boys).

They've been filming one scene where Imperioli beefs it out with some guy in the church then hauls him outside and throws him up against a car, threatens to "kick his ass," then someone hits someone and they fall down on the pavement, which is actually covered with gymnastics mats to cushion the blow.

I’ve been making up excuses to walk by the set all morning (I need eggs! I must go to the corner grocery store! But I forgot to get coffee! I must go to the deli!) hoping one of the crew would be like, “Hey, you! You in the sweatshirt with the unbrushed hair! Mr. Imperioli has personally requested that we give you a walk-on part in today’s episode. Are you interested?”

Anyway, it didn't happen. It was more like, “Uh, ma’am? Could you move to the other side of the street, please? You’re in the shot.” But above are the photos I managed to get before they chased me off the set.

P.S. Later they actually blew up a car and a door flew 40 feet up in the air. It was pretty sweet.

Friday, October 03, 2008

An Open Letter To The Dog Owner Who Left Poo Smears On The Sidewalk

An Open Letter To The Dog Owner Who Left Poo Smears On The Sidewalk:

I know you think you’re doing your civic duty by cleaning up after your dog. But what we have here is a case of a job not well done not being worth doing.

What you did was a half-assed wipe. It’s the equivalent of you going Number 2 and only wiping your butt once and leaving skid marks in your underwear. You wouldn’t do that, now would you? (Or maybe you would? If so, it’s possible we went out on a date once.)

In fact, you actually made the situation worse because a person is more likely to see a sidewalk turd than a sidewalk poo smear. A sidewalk turd has height. It is easily spotted and we give it wide berth. But when you take that altitude away, a person is more likely to – oh, I don’t know – step in the poo smear while wearing sandals, and then slide forward, the poo gushing over the front edge of the shoe and into the toes like it was high poo tide at Poo Beach.

In closing, please treat the sidewalks of New York with the same respect with which you treat your own anus. These are serious times and we need serious wipers. We already have enough people making a mess of things and leaving the rest of us to clean up their shit.


Noelle Hancock

Thursday, October 02, 2008

The Balk Vote

Alex Balk responds to my reality show pitch:

Balk: The sad fact of the matter is that this is probably the only thing my “career” has actually qualified me for. But fuck you, Hancock, I AM SO SO SO PRETTY.

Me: Hee! I almost threw in a line about you being "the token Balk" but I didn't think anyone would get it. But seriously, who wouldn't watch that show? Besides everyone?

Balk: The audience would be the exact same people you find in The Magician on a Tuesday night. In fact, that's where they would host it.

And We’ll Call It...HTM-Hell!

I think I should start a reality show where you have 10 minutes to write a blog post on a random subject and afterwards face a tribunal of judges: maybe Nick Denton, Alex Balk, Arianna Huffington, and Julia Allison who'll be "the sweet one" and the looks of the operation (sorry, Balk). They will say things like, "Noelle. Your headline was expected and cliché. I feel like we've seen it many times before. You are control-alt-deleted. Please pack your laptop and go."