When you care enough

These are brilliant.

See more here.

MySpace Rejection!

I had to create a MySpace page for a VH1 reality show back in my old job and as a result, set up a MySpace page for myself that I rarely use. I checked it today and noticed that this guy I was friends with in NY has de-friended me.

What the hell?

Granted, we weren't BFF or anything, but I can't imagine he would be feeling such animosity toward me that he would have to go to the trouble of de-friending me. It's not like there's a lot of active responsibility in maintaining a MySpace friendship. Last time I checked, the MySpace databases pretty much took care of it all.

While I'm not upset about being de-friended by this specific person, I'm a little hurt by the idea of it. What did I do? I haven't talked to the dude since the spring. I checked his page and he has 99 friends, so maybe he has a 100 friend quota and I was expendable?

It's strange, because I could have never had another thought about this person (he wasn't a close friend or anything), but now that I've been de-friended I really want to ask him why he felt it necessary to take this step. I'm just curious.

Will I contact him? No. Will I ever know why I was MySpace de-friended? Probably not. Will the pain ever subside? I can only hope. Just so long as Tom doesn't reject me, I'll be ok.

Holy Fucking Shit

I saw The Departed tonight and all I can say is Holy Fucking Shit.

I love Matt Damon and Marky Mark. Leo Di Caprio has never really done it for me . . . until now. Boy done grown up. He blew everyone else in the cast away. And the rest of the cast was good. Really good. He was better.


He's always just struck me as a boy. Last thing I saw him in was Gangs of NY. He always had this nervous, giggly thing going that just made his bad-assedness seem really contrived. Like he was trying to make us believe it as opposed to just being it. He is now it.

See this movie. Now. See it.

Confession

Probably not too surprising, but I love crappy gossip magazines. Specifically In Touch Weekly. I'm honestly not sure anything could be more mindlessly entertaining. Watching VH1's Awesomely Bad series requires more focus and attention than settling in with In Touch Weekly.

This week, I encounted the greatest freakin' quote I've ever read, courtesy of former Backstreet Boy Nick Carter.

Nick tells In Touch that the Backstreet Boys plan to have a new album out by the end of the year. "And I also want to work with the United Nations to help the great apes and the coral reefs," he adds.


I can't decided if this is the most brilliant or most retarded statement ever made.

Always Clean: for when clean isn't clean enough

I'm sick of the media telling me how dirty my vagina is. This product is totally unnecessary:


At least it's uplifting.

OMG I'm Boring

My life is all about the TV lately.

GIlmore Girls
I love this show, but I honestly cannot deal with the demise of Luke and Lorelai. Was this how people felt about Luke and Laura from Y&R in the 80s?

Veronica Mars
Pretty good, but a little too much. It's like the writers got together and thought, "Hey! People like it when Veronica is sassy. If she's sassy sometime, that's good. If she's sassy ALL THE TIME, that will be freakin' awesome." Guys - it's not. Tone it down.

Lost
I'm totally into this new season. I love that the others were leading normal, book-club lives before the plane crashed on their little utopia, if that's what it is. What is going on? And why is Sawyer in a bear cage? And are those fish biscuits any good?

ANTM
There is not a single girl in this season who looks like a model. Melrose looks borderline retarded. Megg is annoying as fuck. The twins are cool and skinny and all, but are not pretty. The only one I like, surprisingly, is Brooke. Bitch has personality and mad rhyming skills. As TH said, though: Hot cheerleader, not top model.

Weeds
Good, but I'm not loving it as much as the first season. Can't really explain why. Kind of the same as the VM syndrome. I like her flakiness, but as an aspect of her personality. Not as the dominant component.

Dexter
Lots o'potential. Not sure it's the best show ever made, as it's being reviewed. But we've got Michael C. Hall and Julie Benz engaged in uncomfortable, unemotional sex, so that's cool.

Nip/Tuck
I'm not feeling lobster baby. Christian's sexuality is interesting. As is the idea of Kimber, Matt and the Scientologists. Sean is such a pussy - Julia has got to leave his ass. I hope she hooks up with the little person nurse. That'd be sextacular.

Grey's Anatomy
I wish Meredith would die. Can we introduce a Buffyesque moment and trade Meredith's soul for Denny Duquette's? I loved him. Sexiest inpatient in memory. I really like this cast, but Meredith is pathetic and uninteresting and I don't buy all these dudes wanting to get into her scrubs.

The Nine
I'm watching it right now, but obviously not too intently seeing as I'm writing all this shit. Looks pretty good, though. I like how after they're released the vegetarian chick wants bacon. I love when veggies convert back to their carnivorous nature.

This is all the TV I'm watching and it's a lot and the burden is heavy, but I'm standing tall under the weight and I will continue to watch as much TV as humanly possible and every day, say a little prayer of thanks to whatever diety I'm worshipping that day, for providing the world, and me specifically, with the beauty and magic of DVR.

Showering as Accomplishment

I don't know if it's our descent into Fall, the fact that it's still dark when I leave for work in the morning, or some other factor conspiring against me, but I am lazy as fuck lately. I went to bed at 7:30 one night this week. I'm proud of my achievement of actually showering yesterday.

Not that this level of laziness is completely foreign to me, but it's usually not so concentrated.

I blame TV. I am ADDICTED! There is so much. And I never have to make a choice. Nothing loses out. I can watch it all. Whenever I want. It's overwhelming. The choices. All the choices.

That all the shows are premiering this week doesn't help.

I love TV.

Who You Gonna Call?

I'm reading this book called Will Storr v. The Supernatural and it's freaking the shit out of me. This British journalist follows all these paranormal investigators in their investigations, writes about the situation and activity he encounters, and vacillates between belief and skepticism. It's good. And scary.

I was reading it last night before I went to sleep and I had the SCARIEST dream ever! I didn't know if I was asleep or awake and at one point I felt like I had woken up and was remembering the dream and was so scared that I was essentially paralyzed and I felt like I was in than semi-paralyzed state for HOURS, but eventually I really woke up and looked at my clock and had only been asleep for like an hour and a half. I dreamt about ghosts. And a dollhouse. And Winona Ryder was there. It was really scary.

I grew up loving horror movies. When I was 5 I made my dad take me to see The Fox and The Hound, and his retribution was to make me watch The Shining on HBO. I'd like to say that he waited 10 years or so to exact his revenge, but it was, if not that night, at least that week. I'm pretty sure I used up all the horror movie fear I could ever have experienced at that moment. So, for the remainder of my childhood and adolesence I searched for the movie that would scare me. I didn't find it.

The movies that interested me most, though, were not the scary killer movies like Nightmare on Elm Street and Halloween, but the ghost stories, like Poltergeist and Amityville Horror. I'm not suggesting these were GOOD movies (although, Polergeist was), just that they interested me most.

I think I need to be a paranormal investigator. When I think about something that interests me more than work or frivolous entertainment, it's ghost and paranormal activity. I don't know if I believe in ghosts. I don't NOT believe in them, but I am skeptical. I think it would be fun to find out.

I'm totally going to ghostbuster school. It'll be superfly.

PS - I ate solid food today and a little bit yesterday. More importantly, it stayed put!

PPS - Bill C. is a sexy bitch. Clinton for king!

#4

I learned tonight that when you are sick and you don't know what end it's going to come out of and it comes out of both, that's a #3. When you are crying while this is happening, that's a #4. And that pretty much sums up my week.

I eat a lot of salad and my base of choice is spinach. I probably have 3-4 spinach salads per week. Last week was no different. I'm not saying for sure that I was infected by the e. coli, but I eat a lot of bagged spinach and I spent a lot of this week in the bathroom, sicker than I've ever been, and alls I'm saying is there might be a connection.

Betrayed by spinach. Who would have thunk it.

Ungh

There are things inside of me that are desperate to get out and at the very least, it's time consuming.

Sweet!

My work had an employee appreciation event tonight and I won this!


I will happily suckle at the corporate teat if I will continue to be rewarded thusly!

This is cool for lots of reasons, but primarily because I wanted one of these and probably would have bought one in the next month or so, and secondarily because my name has never been pulled out of a hat, bucket, shoebox, spinning raffle cage thingy, or anything. Never once. Ain't never done happened.

I could have 999 tickets out of a thousand in a drawing and the not-my-ticket would inevitably be drawn. I'm just not lucky.

I think it goes back to when I was 19 and decided to get a tattoo. There wasn't a specific tattoo I wanted, I just knew I wanted one and chose a clover at the tattoo parlor. But I wanted a three-leafed clover because I'm not superstitious and I didn't want the clover to reflect any desire for luck on my part. And so I got none.

Until now. What changed? I should check my tattoo and see if it perhaps sprouted a fourth leaf. Regardless, I have a Bose ipod dock and I'm fucking happy about it!

Holy Cats!

"'cause in some countries, personal vehicles are not allowed."

Brilliance

Update: for some reason, the video is not loading in firefox. It loads on Safari and it loaded on Explorer on my PC at work. I have no explanation, but I urge you to find a way to see this!

"but she's so decisive, nothing is able to scare her at all."

Identity Crisis

My hair is kind of a darkish strawberry blond with light blond highlights and sometimes it looks just orange overall. It's long and curly and pretty. I know it's pretty because people stop my on the street and tell me. I'm not saying I'm pretty (which I am, of course), alls I'm saying is that I have it on authority that my hair is pretty.

What my hair also is, is controversial. I had two separate conversations, just this past weekend, where people argued with me about the color of my hair and were angry, nearly offended by how I chose to define it.

I consider myself a redhead. Red is the dominant hue, I have a readhead's complexion, including a quantity of freckles, and my personality is most closely aligned with the stereotypical redhead's personality. I am a redhead.

People disagree. The problem is they also disagree with my being a blond, brunet, dirty blond, light brown, dark blond, and just about any other modestly resemblant haircolor I can come up with. There is no hair camp with whom I can rightfully identify.I'm shunned by all.


Whatever. I don't feel a strong need to "belong" per se, but people get angry with me. "You're not a redhead." "You're not a blond." I have to be something. So tell, me people, what the hell am I?

Ow, Part II

As evidenced by my previous post, the wasp sting did not kill me.

I still have a giant pink splotch on my back, though, where the little fucker got me and it itches like a motherfucker. Is this normal? I think not.

When I went to work the day after I was stung and told a coworker about it, I was reminded of a situation that arose the day before (and day of the sting) where I was actually tormenting wasps, which I conveniently forgot.

I work on the 13th floor of an office building in a suburb of Minneapolis (spooky, eh? 13th) and right outside the window by my coworkers office there were a bunch of big, healthy wasps hanging around. I'm not terribly squeamish, I'm usually the one called on to do the bug killing, and I can totally handle any insect on it's own, but swarms freak me out. And not just because they're more menacing in large numbers, but the site of the swarm almost grosses me out. I can't explain it exactly.

So, when I saw this swarm of wasps outside the window, I started pounding on the window to make them go away, which of course they did not. While my pounding posed to serious or immediate threat to them, I bet it was a little annoying. After all, they were just hanging out, in their natural environment, doing their wasp thing, not bothering anyone. What right did I have to disturb them?

I'm starting to think one followed me that evening to drive the point home.

So, to all you bees, wasps, hornets, and various stinging insects out there, you win. I'm calling off the jihad. Go in peace. Do your wasp thing. Live your wasp lives. I will leave you be. (leave you be, get it? be(e)!).

It's almost winter in Minnesota anyway. You guys are going to be dead as fuck in no time. So, ha!

A Strange Coincidence, or, Whatever Happened to Kathleen Roberson?

I'm digging on the coincidences (coincidi?) lately.

I was watching an old ep of 90210 this morning and thought to myself, "self - whatever happened to Kathleen Robertson?" Kathleen played Claire in the later, collegiate years of Hills and she was pretty and seemed to be a decent actress (everything's relative, though, right?).

Well, I grabbed my computer and before I could even get to IMDb.com to check up on her, I came across some pictures of the premiere of Hollywoodland and there she was! She's still pretty and has a role in this movie, which seems to have a chance at some commercial success. Good for her!

Ow

Until about 2 months ago I had been stung by a bee/wasp/hornet a grand total of once. I remember it clearly. I was about 5 and at my babysitters house. This family was weird. There were about 5 of us girls who went there everyday after kindergarten and the babysitter would order stuff for us off the TV all the time, to be delivered COD, and when stuff would come she wouldn't have any money. It was always so disappointing. You'd think you'd be rocking out to Disco Mickey Mouse by noon, but the UPS dude would come and go with nary an LP left in his wake.

We were playing in the sprinkler one day, and my delicate little girl foot landed squarely on a pissed off insect of the stinging variety. I don't remember pain - just being startled. When people realizd what had happened and the worry and sympathy began rolling my way, I immediately proceeded to cry, as was expected, but I don't remember it actually hurting.


In the past two months I've been stung twice. Once at my friends pool this summer, and once this very night, while I was innocently changing into my pajamas in my bedroom. There was a buzzing disturbance by my head and suddenly, Zap! I felt a sharp pain on my back. That was over an hour ago and it still hurts like a bitch. I found the little fucker and I'm pretty sure it was Africanized, so this may very well be my last post because tomorrow I will likely wake up dead, in which case, it's been fun and see ya on the flip side (what the hell does that mean?).

Once found, I murdered said little fucker violently and thoroughly and flushed him into oblivion (see YOU on the flip side, little fucker!). I was living amicably amongst the bees. I allowed a few indiscretions on their part (they have their basic nature to contend with after all), but I've had enough. This is war. Death to bees!

Something to blog about

I worry about my capacity for creativity when I have absolutely nothing to write about.

Granted, I spent the past week with my family, which is a relatively shell-shocking experience, but I've been back two days and I've done things and thought things and read things and seen things. None of these thing have left enough of an impression on me to provide me with fodder for blogging. And the name of this blog is inanity! Perhaps my life has just provided me with experiences of such immense magnitude and importance that to relegate them to the realm of the inane would do them an injustice.

Yeah, that's what happened.

A Strange Coincidence, or, What's a Dikfore?

I've seen the Dikfore t-shirts, but I fully admit I didn't get the joke. I remember noticing them around the time people started wearing Darfur t-shirts. I assumed there was a connection, as they were both plain and simple, with the single word written in reasonable height across the chest. I thought perhaps the Dikfore people were pro-genocide, or were just trying to get a rise out of the Darfur people.

I googled Dikfore just the other night and got the joke.

The very next day, I was flipping through the channels (of my amazing new cable television service!) and landed on a shot of Chevy Chase and Dan Aykroyd in military/hunting attire, standing in the woods having this conversation (as remembered):

Dan: Do you hear the Dikfores?
Chevy: What's a Dikfore?
Dan: It's what you pee with.

What are the chances that the day following finally being let in on the joke, I would discover the apparent origins of it?!?! I can't figure out the movie, but per IMDb.com Dan and Chevy have been in surprisingly few movies together. One of which was Caddyshack II, which I choose to believe was the movie that, decades later, spawned 1000 t-shirts (it spawned little else, so it may as well get credit for this).

If you know whether or not this is correct, please let me know.

I love life's little coincidences!

HORROR-SCOPE

My horoscope for the day reads:

You find yourself on the fence about a few of today's decisions - probably saying "maybe"a lot. Jack Johnson was right when he famously sang, "It seems to me that maybe pretty much always means no."

Are you fucking kidding me? Jack Johnson? He "famously" sang anything? Whose "famous" lyrics are going to provide context for my life tomorrow? Lifeboat? Michelle Branch?

This is one of the most ridiculous things I have ever encountered in a horoscope. I'm tempted never to read one again (not strongly tempted, I generally get off on my horoscope - Leo horoscopes are usually pretty cool. It's a good sign!).

I Need Love, Part II

If anyone's reading this shit, let me know. I need comments, validation, acceptance, etc.

State Fair Motherfucker

Last time I was at the Minnesota State Fair, or, The Great Minnesota Get-Together if you will, was in 2004 when I was unemployed, in desperate need of quick cash and agreed to man the sno-cone stand in the Grandstand. This was, quite possibly, the worst 10 days of my life for reasons I don't feel like reliving at the moment, let's just say my feet have NEVER hurt so much and I worked as a cocktail waitress in high heels for some years.



This year, I'm doing it up right. Crop Art! Giant Sow! Shit on sticks! Talent show finals! Fireworks! Sadly, no Har Mar Superstar this year.

Burnout

Cable is awesome, but I'm getting a little burned out. Today I watched the third season (to date) of Entourage and E!'s 100 Hottest Celebrity Slimdowns. This was not an inspirational list. #2 was the clearly ana Nicole Richie and #1 was the queen of yo-yo dieting, Oprah Winfrey. Not that all TV needs to be inspirational, but this was especially fucked up. Weight's a sensitive issue. These people do not approach weight loss in a healthy manner. I don't mean to get all preachy here, but this hottest list show did not need to be made.

E's True Hollywood Story: Punky Brewster, on the other hand, is a testament to entertainment necessity.

I'm preparing to leave my TV for a period of time and leaving my entertainment needs in the hands of DVR for the first time. Entourage and The 4400. DVR! Don't fail me!

It's Gettin Hot In Here

My cats are incestuous lesbians again. They were laying off each other for awhile. I think it was the heat - they didn't have the energy. Now that it's cooled they're all over each other.











All this sexual energy pervading my home is very uncomfortable. Especially now that I have on demand access to soft core porn through my new cable situation. I live in a den on iniquity.

It's Always Sunny

Remember in your teens, when you would get a crush on someone and it was so consuming that the mere mention of his/her name would flip your stomach around and make your skin hot and your mind spin? I had that reastion today when I realized the extent of new entertainment possibilities available to me since I made the most brizziliant decision ever to get cable.

It appears that I have an adolescent crush on cable.

It's so cold in this . . . house

Motherfuckin' cable bitch! I'm all hooked up and I don't know what to do with myself. First thing I found is a Bloc Party concert on Showtime NE (no idea what that means).

And now I have to go to work. This sucks. I can't wait for the weekend.

More iPod Fun

The soundtrack of my life, a la iTunes. I chose to use iTunes shuffle for this, as it's a more robust representation of my musical inclinations (for better or for worse. Can you say, "Xanadu"?), containing nearly every song I've ever known/loved. I don't know if my iTunes knows me as well as my iPod, though.

Opening credits:
Eleanor Rigby, Aretha Franklin

Waking up:
Josephine, The Wallsflowers

Average day:
In the Walls, Stellastar*

First date:
Pele Merengue, Luscious Jackson

Falling in love:
Happiness is a Warm Gun, The Beatles

Love scene:
Puke and Cry, Dinosaur, Jr.

Fight scene:
Flower, Liz Phair

Breaking up:
Rocky Raccoon, The Beatles

Getting back together:
Level, The Raconteurs

Secret love:
Brilliant Mistake, Elvis Costello and the Attractions

Life's okay:
Intermission-lude, TLC

Mental breakdown:
Hypnotize, The White Stripes

Driving:
Little House of Savages, The Walkmen

Learning a lesson:
Fuck and Run, Liz Phair

Deep thought:
Lonely in Love, Lyle Lovett

Flashback:
Coming Out, The Killers

Partying:
Bathroom Girl, Air

Happy dance:
Someday Soon, Wilco

Regretting:
Even the Losers, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Long night alone:
Out of Touch, Lucinda Williams

Closing credits:
Vision of Division, The Strokes

I would definitely see this movie. (Thanks Tim!)

Nobody Knows Me, Like My iPod

Yes, I've done this already. But I have a ton of new music on my ipod (I have a lowly nano, which holds less than 1k songs, so I have to constantly update and switch things up), so I wanted to try again. There are consistencies between this and the last attempt, which I will address below.

How does the world see me?
trampoline, The Grates
Last time it was sukkafish by The Grates. The Grates do not think highly of me. Too bad, because I had a total girl crush on the singer when I saw them open for the Go! Team at Webster Hall.

Will I have a happy life?
I've Got The Blues, Lyle Lovett
Apparently, I will not have a happy life. The Lyle Lovett blues aren't so bad, though. More of a consistent melancholia than an I need to slit my wrists now and again later mind-numbing depression. I can dig it.

What do my friends really think of me?
She's Hearing Voices, Bloc Party
My friends think I'm a paranoid schizophrenic. This is not entirely surprising.

How can I be happy?
Whatever's Left, Snow Patrol
I cannot interpret this. Left of what? Of me? Like the Nick Lachey song? I can be happy if I hook up with Nick Lachey? Is that my only option? Because we don't really run in the same circles so it's pretty limiting. I had a dream about Nick Lachey right after he and Jessica Simpson divorced and he had to stay with me because clearly he couldn't stay with Jessica and I had a big crush on him and we flirted a lot, but it wasn't good timing, so we never did anything about it. Sometimes I wonder how different my life would be now if we had.

Will I ever have children?
Cry Me A River, Justin Timberlake
Am I to cry Justin a river because he has no sympathy for my childless plight? Or will all of my children be crying rivers? Again, not interpreting this one very well.

What is some good advice for me?
Shallow, Ryan Adams
More or less? Need more info Ryan.

How will I be remembered?
Someday, The Strokes
Last time I did this I got 15 Minutes by The Strokes. What does it mean that I've gotten time-related songs by the Strokes twice now. Really. What does it mean? Tell me!

What is my signature dancing song?
Punks in the Beerlight, The Silver Jews
This makes me uber-happy because I fucking love this song!

What do I think my current theme song is?
Used to Love Him, Fiona Apple
Sure, I used to love him. Not sure what relevancence is now.

What does everyone else think my current theme song is?
Ramblin' Man, The Allman Brothers Band
This makes sense. I unexpectedly move a lot.

What song will play at my funeral?
Blue Orchid, The White Stripes
I like that a song about Satan will play at my funeral. "You got a reaction. You got a reaction, didn't you?" If I can't get a reaction at my funeral, where can I get one?

What is my day going to be like?
Nobody Move, Nobody Get Hurt, We Are Scientists
I like this song. A lot. Too bad my day's almost over. I'm using this song for tomorrow.

Cable T.V.

I imagine that title sung to the tune of the Nextel commercial when the customers tell the store worker guy that they should make a bigger deal about the super awesome nighttime minutes starting at 7 dealio, and some other dude steps up and sings, "7 P M!" all operatic and shit, because that's how I feel about my super awesome back to school idea of getting myself hooked up with the magic of cable television.

Cable TV, baby!

I hasn't happened yet. Dude comes tomorrow morning between 8 and 10 AM. I can see suddenly not feeling so well (cough cough) and needing to take it easy (sniff sniff) and not wanting to go into the office and get everybody else sick (because I'm such a considerate person). If that happens, I don't know if that will make me officially lamer than lame or the coolest effin chica on el planeto earto. I'm going with the latter.

My coworkers took me out to Big Bowl, which is a decent chinese/thai-like restaurant at the mall, best known for its stir fry bar. You order your meat, sauce, and base from the server and pick your veggie concoction out for yourself at the bar. People dig this concept and find it completely yummy, but I was too lazy and couldn't be bothered so ordered pad thai off the menu. Eight hours later, I'm still regretting this decision. Ugh. Since when does pad thai have a heavy brown sauce? This was pretty universal in NYC, but the TC consistently offers up some pretty authentic thai. I guess chinese/thai-like restaurants at the mall do not subscribe to the same authentication process as the little dive restaurants in St. P. Alas.

100!

This is my 100th post! Woo hoo! I feel like I should do something exciting here. I just read that the masturbation episode of Seinfeld, where Kramer bursts in to Jerry's and yells, "I'm out of the contest!" was the 100th time that Kramer burst into Jerry's apartment. This is an exciting 100th!

I'm not exciting. I'm boring.

Much Like LL Cool J

I need love

This Is My Life, Rated
Life:	6.6
Mind:	6.2
Body:	7.3
Spirit:	7
Friends/Family:	5.1
Love:	4.3
Finance:	6.5
Take the Rate My Life Quiz

s'hot y'all

Holy hell. It's hotter than a crotch in here.

LiLo's Boobies

I am not an entertainment blog, but Lindsay's boobs do not look real.

Fucktard

Upon rediscovering the seemingly delightful, "fucktard" on the bathroom wall at the Hex last Thursday I decided to immediately incorprate it into my daily vernacular. I thought it would come in very handy.

But no! The first potentially "fucktard" situation I drove into, literally, I was merging onto 394 during rush hour, was singularly disappointing. It just doesn't roll. it felt contrived. Uncomfortable. Unsatisfying.

So, I take it back. Fucktard is not my new favorite word.

Why?

What my ipod knows

I got this from KA. My ipod will tell me my future. I ask it questions, a la the Magic 8 Ball, and it responds via shuffle with the song that holds the answer.


How does the world see me?
sukkafish, The Grates

Will I have a happy life?
Love Song, Tesla

What do my friends really think of me?
The Hong Kong Triad, Thievery Corporation

How can I be happy?
Dreamer in My Dreams, Wilco

Will I ever have children?
I Won’t Be Left, Tegan and Sara

What is some good advice for me?
The North Pole, The Walkmen

How will I be remembered?
15 Minutes, The Strokes

What is my signature dancing song?
Monkey Gone To Heaven, The Pixies

What do I think my current theme song is?
Coming Out, The Killers

What does everyone else think my current theme song is?
Hello Grandma, Lyle Lovett

What song will play at my funeral?
Acid 8000, Fatboy Slim

What is my day going to be like?
XXX, Mason Jennings

Mostly nonsensical, but there are a few gems. I like that my day will by triple X and my life's happiness is exemplified by Tesla's Love Song. And I'm honestly not too surprised the the world sees me as a Sukkafish.

I (heart) Gary Wright

I'm in the process of getting approval to have Dreamweaver installed on my computer at work and when T. the tech guy stopped by my desk this morning, I sang, soulfully, Dreamweaver., by Gary Wright; "I believe you can get me through the ni-hight."

Appalled at my introduction of this hauntingly beautiful song into his morning musical rotation, T. the tech guy drew upon his cure-all to the common stuck song: Hold on Loosely, by .38 Special. I have nothing against .38 Special, and I actually like this particular song, but it has nothing on Tina Turner's Private Dancer in terms of song unstickiness efficacy.

When I introduced this (BETTER) alternative to T. the tech guy, he went all autistic on me, clutching his head and repeating, "Think of .38 Special, think of .38 Special."

It was both alarming and entertaining, which kind of sums up my reintroduction to corporate america.

Miss Herd

There is little in the world I enjoy more than mis-heard song lyrics. I saw my friend's boyfriend's band tonight and I swear the chorus to one of their songs was: "Weekend! Suck it! You should see it now." Which, quite honestly, was brilliant.

I have no idea what the actual lyric was, but it couldn't possibly compare.

Saw another band, too: Tom Cruise Control. Good. If the ironically southern lead singer/guitar finds his way here, he should definitely consider posting a comment. He appeared to inhabit all that dirty southern sexiness without the dirty southern stupidity that usually accompanies. Yum.

PS - I lived in the south so I am allowed to make these sweeping generalizations.

PPS - my new (again) favorite word is fucktard.

PPSS - Baby Girl + Baby Face 4 ever (to infinity and beyond!)

God Loves Me

Tuesday night lineup on the new CW:
7:00 PM Gilmore Girls
8:00 PM Veronica Mars

B.O.R.E.D.E.R

To compound the boredom and really challenge my ability to not do what I should be doing (namely, pack), I am locked in my apartment today.

My front door lock is broken, in that it will not lock from the exterior, so I really can't go anywhere without leaving the door wide open. The door doesn't latch when not locked, so just leaving it and hoping no one breaks in is not an option. Is this a sign from god to stop procrastinating and start packing? If so, am I really going to start listening to god now, especially about something as inconsequential as packing? Probably not.

B.O.R.E.D.

I'm so friggin bored and boring lately. All I do is avoid, avoid, avoid. Need to pack. OR, I could take a bath, take a nap, watch this movie so I can return it to Netflix, re-read In Touch Weekly, take another bath, read a trashy novel, shave my legs, take a nap, and on and on ad infinitum.

With all the things I COULD do, where's the time to do the things I SHOULD do?

If nothing else, I'm clean, well-rested, and caught up on pop culture. But then, when isn't this the case?

Ok, so I'm not always clean.

I'm only in NY for about another week and than it's back to the TC. I'm mostly excited, but also a little sad. I'm starting to be unnecessary at work, people have already stopped asking me to do things, I'm realizing all the things I should have done when I lived here and had the chance, but never did and now don't have time. Like go to the top of the Empire State Building, or visit the Frick, or take the train all the way to Coney Island.

The things I'm excited about moving back to the TC for, though, make up for what I'm missing here, namely - my friends! But also, in no particular order: driving, and being able to haul multiple bags of purchases home without having to carry them many, many blocks. The greatest consignment store ever in St. P. My sweet new pad two blocks from Lake Nokomis and three blocks from BK. Directionless North Shore camping with K-Wa. Weekly movies with TDog. Brunch at the Highland Grill. Quarterly drinks with Mueller at the Groveland Tap. Quick and easy access to nature both within and without the city. Midnight disco bowling at Park Tavern Lanes. Rama dish at Taste of Thailand.

I'm sad and excited. I guess this is what they call Bittersweet. Both sweet and bitter. Bitter and sweet. (Please note completely ironic, deadpan delivery of lyrics.)

I think I just got MJ'd

There comes a time. When we heed a certain call. When the world must come together as one.

This lyric has been in my head all day and I just now realized it's We Are the (fucking) World. I don't know if the lyrics are right, so don't correct me. I don't care.

I was told once that the only way to successfully remove a song from you head is to attempt to replace it with Tina Turner's Private Dancer. Your problem isn't solved simply by replacing the song you can't stop repeating over and over in your head, but Private Dancer has some magical, anti-stick in you head quality that prevents it from, uh, getting stuck in your head. At the same time, it erases the memory of the original song, leaving you with pure, clean silence.

If you believe, it will be true.

In the meantime, There's a choice we're making. We're saving our own lives. It's true we'll make a better day, just you and me. Woo woo woo woo.

I love you cupcake

There is a bakery in my neighborhood that makes insanely good cakes and assorted baked goods. As I'm trying to maintain my girlish figure, and I have no willpower, I avoid this place at all costs.

Now that I'm leaving my neighborhood is Astoria, though, I'm inclined to partake of all the local delicacies I will no longer have access to in a month. Which brings me to the red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting. This thing is sick. It's moist and delicious, and when I bring it to parties it's gone in seconds.

I definitely wanted to revisit this delightful treat one last time, but I could hardly justify buying myself a cake, even a small one. As I passed by this afternoon, lamenting that I had no one to share a cake with, what appeared in the window? Not a cake, but a cupcake! A red velvet with cream cheese frosting cupcake.


It was so delicious it's making me rethink my decision to move out of state.

New Neighbors

I looked outside my window this afternoon and saw these guys who have taken up residence on the fire escape.


The kitties LOVE to sit on the windowsill and watch them.

Jack White's a Dick

So, I was hanging out with Jack White at a bar in the lower east side and learned a couple things. What I learned about Jack White is that he is not a monkey, but he may be Albert Einstein.

I asked him to wish my friend a happy birthday (it was her birthday, we were celebrating) to which he replied, "What do you think I am? A monkey in a cage?" I had no response as this seemed a little illogical, so I just asked him again, and he asked me, "If I were Albert Einstein, would you ask me to reconfigure the atom?" Huh?

It got me thinking, though. If Jack White were Albert Einstein, would I ask him to reconfigure the atom (whatever that means)? And if not, what would I ask him? And if Jack White were another dead physicist, what would I ask him? And I realized the potential here is limitless.

So what I'm thinking is, this is the beginning of a great concept album. If Jack White were a dead physicist, what would I ask him? The problem is that I know dick about physics, so I'm going to need some suggestions. So let me know who your favorite physicist is and what you would ask him/her if he/she were Jack White and I'll write a song about it. Or maybe write a poem.

See this belt? Snake belt.

I love me some white boy rappers. Specially when they be rapping bout some Snakes on a Plane.

When BK posted this on her blog, I thought to myself, "self, this shizz cannot be for real." Oh, but it is. And how.

There are motherfuckin snakes on this motherfuckin plane. God, I can't wait for summer.

what the hell?

The cats are trying to kill me, or run me out of town, or make me questions my sanity and purpose, or something. They are pure evil (not from concentrate!).

Tonight's evil presented itself in the form of electrocution!

I'm on the phone with my mom, watching the Gilmore Girls (the height of innocence I dare say), when all of a sudden fireworks start going off to my left and down.

"Whatever could this be?" I ever so innocently inquired?

Well, the baby retrieved a ball of picture wire from a box in the pantry, unraveled it, dragged it to a surge protector, wrapped the wire around the prongs of my battery charger, and proceeded to nearly electrocute herself and myself.

How, you ask, could a twee little kitty have accomplished such a feat? I have no reasonable explanation to that very reasonable question. Evil comes to mind.

I will sleep with one eye open tonight.

Shitstorm

Somehow, while I was out of town, the kitties were unable to access their litterbox and a shitstorm ensued.

As a result of this, I would like to kill myself, but apparently, were I to do that, god would be displeased with me.

I am currently living in an outhouse. I got home last night at 11:00 and was up until around 4:00 am tracking down and cleaning up the poo. Today I disinfected the apartment and disembowled the kitties as punishment.

I did not disembowel the kitties. They would be completely right in punishing me, as it's ultimately my responsibility to make the litterbox fully accessible to them. I guess the poo bombs I encountered in nearly every nook and cranny of my apartment are punishment enough. God, I hope so.

I want this cat.

When google image searching "cat poop," one comes across unexpectedly magical things, like this and this. Anyone who eats this deserves to be killed. Painfully.

Please, think of the kittens.

This is old, but I will never get over how genuinely funny it is.



I first came across this like 5 years ago and thanks to the power of google image search it is now readily and easily retrievable just by entering "god kills kittens" into my google search bar. I love technology.

Can't Buy Me Love

To anyone who says money can't buy happiness, I offer you this:


First off, let me tell you, Sex and the City is a lie. You cannot maneuver around Manhattan in 5" Manolo Blahniks and a) survive the day, or b) have a decent pair of shoes at the end of said day if you do successfully maneuver.

Unless your primary mode or transport is a cab, which is just not reasonable for the average person, you wear comfortable shoes. You live and die by your comfortable shoes. You spend ludicrous amounts on unattractive shoes that offer even the slightest edge in the comfort department.

These shoes are comfortable. They make my feet happy. And happy feet = happy LA. Yay comfy shoes!

Boo on the Left

I'm unhappy with Olive. Not the cat, but the name. It's not sticking.

So, I'm changing her name to Boo. She's my boo. And there are many layers to this name, because she's freakishly skittish, and petting her is basically the equivilent of saying Boo. So, there you have it.



Boo on the left. Respect.

Big Buckin' Chicken

The new BK commercial is hilarious. I have the Big Buckin' Chicken song in my head at all times and it doesn't bother me.

I'm trying to find a link to the commercial, or even just a screenshot, but having no luck.

When did BK start making cool, funny commercials. I guess it all started with the Subservient Chicken, which I still find hilarious.

Now they've got the Whopperettes, the Whopper house with Jr getting into trouble and telling Whopper, Sr. to get his head out of his buns.

Good job BK. I still prefer McDonald's overall, but you're slowly winning me over. Start making delicious french fries and I'll be all yours.

Callin' All My Homies

I can't believe I didn't get a single response to my request for naming of a friend's cute as hell puppy dog.


Bring it, bitches.

Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner

Baby's got a name. She will henceforth be known as Olive, aka Monster, aka Baby Kitten.


These kids are so friggin cute, but totally destructive. There's nothing I can put on a surface that won't end up on the floor by morning. Things are broken. Things are everywhere. Things are a mess.

This shizz is b-a-n-a-n-a-s.

Pink in the Sink

The pink in the sink commercial freaks me out. I don't know exactly what it sounds like it could mean, but it sounds dirty, and not fun dirty, but like fecal fetish dirty. Everytime it comes on, I cringe and shudder and I long for the day it's out of rotation.

Kittenwar!

This is a fun site. Claude and the baby are in there somewhere. If you happen upon them, VOTE RIGHT!

Sick

I am sick. Hence, the recent lack of posts. Don't give up on me, though, I'll be back on the horse again.

And by horse, I mean heroin.

Am I Cute, or What?

My friend Andrew has the cutest, sweetest puppy and he doesn't have a name! Andrew is having the same problem I am in that he cannot find the perfect name for his new friend.


So, here is your second pet naming assignment of the month. Leave your suggestions in the comments and don't hold back.

Kitty Porn

I'm faced with the uncomfortable fact that my kitties are incestuous lesbian lovers. I love and accept them, but their public fornication is getting a little out of hand. Here they are enjoying post-coital exhaustion in the middle of the living room.




I wish they'd get a room.

Four out of Five Ain't Bad

George Clooney was a surprise, but a good one. I like him.

I hate to say it, but I'm voting Jennifer Lopez best dressed - that green was amazing.

I used my minimal photoshopping skills to block out that cadaverous husband guy of hers. He's icky and I don't want him on my blog. Truth be told, I don't really want her on my blog either, but that dress is just so lovely.

Yay for the always lovely and poised Reese. And Yay for Crash! And Yay for Busy Philipps, former Dawson's Creek castmate and BFF of Michelle and Godmother to Matilda who apparently got to go to the Oscars as Michelle's date (Heath was nominated, too, so he had his own ticket).

Oscar Projections

I'm always wrong about these things because I pick who I want to win instead of who I think will actually win. As long as I haven't got money riding on it, I guess I'm in ok shape.

Shout out to TM in MPLS who ALWAYS wins this game (and knows too much about me of late).

Here goes:

Best Picture - Crash
Best Director - Ang Lee
Best Actor - Phillip Seymour Hoffman
Best Actress - Reese Witherspoon (yay!)
Best Supporting Actor - Paul Giamatti
Best Suppporting Actress - Rachel Weisz

I didn't just pick who I wanted to win because if I had done that I would have picked Michelle Williams for best supporting actress because I love the idea of Jen turning into the respectable actress when it looked like Joey Potter had it in the bag but is now a big joke. Team Linley!

Honestly, these are the only categories I care about. The others are a crapshoot and not very interesting. I hope Wallace and Grommit wins best animated, but I don't actually know or care who it's up against. And yes, it would be easy to find out, but like I said, I don't care.

I love the Oscars. This is the one day of the year when I kick myself for not having cable. I just learned that E! will be simulcasting their pre-show online starting at 5:30 pm. My inet connection isn't the best but beggars can't be choosers.

Here's to Reese not wearing a Kiki reject again. She's too good for that!

Not a Cat Blog

I've never had cats who liked each other. These guys LOVE each other and it's so friggin cute I can't hardly stand it.


Baby still ain't got no name, so keep em coming. Monster's growing on me, but I'm not married to it and there's $5 in it for he or she who names the kitty, so keep em coming!

Name Me

This is ridiculous. This poor little kitty is still sans name and I am out of ideas. Please leave your suggestions in the comments. The person who submits that name I select will be rewarded with the satisfaction of a job well done. And $5.

Elly Belly

I miss my kitty. These new cats are great, and I'm sure I'll grow to love them as much as I loved Eliot, but I miss her. She was a good kitty.

SugarBush

This is old news, but Sugar Bush Squirrel is probably the most amazing thing I have ever seen. This squirrel has been posed in just about every conceivable manner, has vast military apparel, deals a mean hand of blackjack, and worships W (the pres, not the hotel).


I'm pretty sure this squirrel has had its day in the sun, but I can't stop revisiting again and again and again. If anyone could convince me of George W. Bush's worth, it would definitely be Sugar Bush!

Fuckin Cats

I give up. This is a cat blog.

These guys are driving me crazy. God knows what they do all day, but the second I walk in the door they sack out. As soon as I go to bed, they revive and proceed to race through the place, wreaking havoc and destroying everything in their paths.

I'm tired.

De-Raged

Ok, I'm not really full of inexplicable rage. It's completely explicable.

I feel like I'm always on the verge of pissed off since I moved to NYC. There's a lot to piss you off here. People walk slow and they're all on cell phones and not watching where they're going and they cut you off and don't even notice and when you're walking behind them it's like they anticipate your every move and you are completely unable to get past them regardless of how you bob and weave. Sidewalk Rage!

I was so happy not to drive anymore since I have a tendency toward road rage. Now I have sidewalk rage. I think I should live in a cabin in Montana.

Rage is so extreme. I'm not full of rage. I'm just full of piss(ed off).

Strangeness

The cats are starting to get comfortable and I almost wish we could get back to the formality of their first days.

Claude (I've settled on Claude for mom - baby is still nameless so keep the suggestions coming) is sucking one of the pads of her feet. Enthusiastically. It's noisy and kind of freaking me out. I'm wondering what other strange habits are going to present themselves as they get more and more comfortable in my presence. I have fear.

Rage

I am full of inexplicable rage.

Not a Cat Blog

P.S. This is not turning into a cat blog. My life is just all about kitties these days.

Cat Update

I think I adopted two kitties yesterday, but I haven't actually seen them yet today. Hmmm. Timid little things.

I'm pretty well settled on Claude for mom. I like it.

Still no idea about baby. She's way hyperactive and skittish, kind of like a meth freak. Can I call her Meth?

I'm going to take some pictures if they ever come out.

It's a Girl! And a Girl!

I'm happy to report new additions to the household. This morning I adopted two as yet unnamed kitties from a local rescue shelter.

Mom is only about 15 months old and baby is 5 months. They are both completely sweet and adorable. Mom is a little more standoffish, but affectionate nonetheless. Baby is a little ham who purrs like nobody's business.

These are pictures from their rescue website: SaveKitty. They're a little outdated. As soon as they settle in a bit I'll post some current pics and their names.

By the way, if anyone has ideas for names, please share! Their shelter names are for Mom: Clodagh, and for baby: Hayley. I can deal with Clodagh, which I'd probably shorten to Claude (I like giving girl cats boy names), but I cannot deal with Hayley. I'm leaning toward Monkey, cause she jumps around like one. I'm going to hold off on finalizing their names until their personalities present a little more thoroughly, though.

More Kitty

Today has been a very hard day. I had to put my nearly 20 year old cat to sleep last night. eliot has been with me since I was 12 and I really don't remember life without her.

My apartment feels very quiet and still without her and I keep catching glimpses of her out of the corner of my eye.

I didn't how much her presence informed my routine until she wasn't there. When I walk in the apartment, I automatically look to the two places she usually is. When I sit down to eat I brace myself for the onslaught of plaintive mews and unabashed begging I always eventually give in to. When I sit down to type, I never cross my legs because she loves to sit on my lap and an uncrossed lap is more to her liking. When I get out of bed in the morning, I do so carefully, so not to disturb her.

The little sounds I hear around the apartment I could always attribute to her. Like the specific sound her little paws would make when she would jump down from a high surface. Or the click of her claws when she walked on the hardwood floors.

And the conversations we had. I never realized how much I talked to her. It was an ongoing, probably tiresome monologue about the events of my day and how cute she is. She's really freakin cute and I couldn't go long without cooing about it to her.

Now it's just quiet.

eliot was such a good cat. She had attitude and personality and she only accepted affection on her terms. She always greeted me at the door and slept next to or on me and sat with me and gave me head massages. There couldn't be a better cat.

I'm happy I had so long with her, but I miss the fuck out of her already.

Cuteness