Monday, March 13, 2006

Pack 'em Up & Move 'em Out

Well, everyone, our tenure here at Blogger is at an end. I've put together a little shanty town with some corrugated tin, rags and rusty pipes in a very up-and-coming area. If you'd like to visit with me while I work on my links and enable my comments and generally clean house and set up our new home, I'd love to have you. It looks a little dingy right now, but all it needs is a little TLC. If you're not too sassed about being uprooted and would like to check out the new digs, please email me at findslothville@gmail.com for directions and password instructions. Tell me who you are, how I know you, and direct me to your homepage if you have one. You may not receive a reply for a day or two, but that's only because I'm still trying to put everything together and I don't necessarily want people poking around while there's still broken glass on the floor and the doors are falling off the hinges. And, oh, the paint job. Horrendous. A couple days, tops, eh? Thank you all for coming with me!

|

Rage of the Sloth

You know what? All this cutesy Wordpress shit about how their server has a personality and yay it's a public forum and look how easy we make everything is really really annoying when you can't get any of their crap to work. Slothville IS moving for privacy/security purposes. It's just a little glitchy at the mo. As soon as possible I will update with instructions on how to receive your password and we'll put all this behind us. Onward and upward with the Sloth!

|

Sunday, March 12, 2006

Grrrr....

All attempts to switch to Wordpress have been thwarted. Soooooo irritated. More efforts to follow.

|

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Morning Quickie

I wish. Overheard in Cambridge: Harvard Professor - "You know the ironclad rule of chatrooms, right? Does everyone know this? The ironclad rule of chatrooms is that if they are unmoderated people always end up talking about Adolph Hitler." Douchebag - "I think I'm a pariah because I'm good-looking and I say emotionally charged things and because I'm interesting looking that makes me a target when I say things that are, like, controversial. People feel they need to argue with me all the time." (At which point I mention that I say emotionally charged things on a regular basis and I don't feel like a target to which he replies, "Yeah, but you're a pretty girl. You can say anything you want because nobody really takes you seriously.") Warrior Steve - "Whenever I'm walking toward someone on the sidewalk and they don't move, I just assume they're a scientologist."

|

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Oh, The Drama

I hate to say this, but it looks like I'm going to have to put a password protection on Slothville. I have no idea how to do this. If you would like to help me please leave your email in comments.

|

Monday, March 06, 2006

One-Shoe Monday

I am so busy at work today and I apologize, but I only have time for one shoe today. This one. This shoe (let's call her Shoe) wants to talk to you about Celexa - which is an antidepressant, apparently. Shoe tells me (and everyone within earshot) that Celexa saved her life because she was sooooooooooo depressed and ohmygod, it was like totally a chemical thing and even though she caught her boyfriend giving her brother a blowjob while he was visiting and looking at colleges and sleeping on the couch and eating all the cereal, like no matter how much she bought he would just eat it all because he's such a pig and now it turns out he's a gay pig who has no respect for her relationship and ohmygod, how could he even DO that - he's her BROTHER - it's practically incest!! And even though she's been having to sleep on the couch while her boyfriend and her brother "get it out of their systems" or whatever (god! there's probably cereal crumbs in the bed!) and she's pretty sure they're using her vibrator for something that uh! she doesn't even want to know about, it turns out that this whole depression thing and all that cutting she was doing with the bread knife while those two were whirrrrrrrr-ing away in the bedroom - perverts! - it was all CHEMICAL. So she got these pills called Celexa from her doctor (and also a crapload of Ritalin from one of her 8th grade science students who trades it for passing lab grades) and now she feels SO MUCH HAPPIER AND BETTER AND AWESOME ALL THE TIME!!!!!!!!! Yay for MEDICINE!!!!!!!!

|

Thursday, March 02, 2006

Hybrid Holla

Sorry I haven't updated in a couple of days. I've been....busy. And muy distracted. So here is (belatedly) the story of my trip home from Dantobindantobin's 30th birthday party. First of all, the thought of going to Dorchester (Dot) made me giddy inside. I'd never been there, although I've lived in Boston for about eight years. Eight years ago, if Dan Tobin was having a 30th birthday party in Dorchester I still would have gone, but I would have worn sexy kevlar and packed some heat. Yay for gentrification! The Trifecta was on the scene: Ninja Sloth, Fashion Explosion Emily, and Warrior Steve. On the way there, as we drove through every single neighborhood in Boston in vain attempts to find the mythical land of Dot, Warrior Steve expressed a great deal of interest in Emily's hybrid car, from which emerged this fascinating bit of foreshadowing: "Yeah, I love only filling the gas tank once a week but the problem with it is that if you leave anything on even for a short time - headlights, wipers, whatever - the car dies really fast." After a somber, "Hmmm, really..." we promptly forgot this vital, potentially life-saving piece of information. Toonces: our designated driver. After driving (unnecessarily) through the Back Bay, Jamaica Plain, Beacon Hill, Ontario, and Nevada, we finally found Dot. Thepartywasgreat, icecreamcake, drunkDanTobin, etc. Oh, and there was this cool music remote control gadget thing that I wish I could explain better but it confused and intimidated me and also Warrior Steve hogged it the whole time. So then it was time to go home. In the horizontally blowing snow. And off we went, the Trifecta, pleased with successful party attendance and fortified with sushi and cashews. Did I mention the horizontal snow? The magical realm of Dot where feeling sad will cause you to sink into the mud with your horse and die. Driving down a busy road, Toonces was momentarily distracted and the stupidfuckinghybrid hit a stupidfuckingcurb and got a stupidfucking flat. It was scary and we were nearly hit by a bus. Toonces pulled over and faster than Emily and I could say "Where's the AAA card?" Warrior Steve was leaping out the door into a) traffic and b) horizontal snow with a casual, "I'll change the tire, it'll just take a minute." After a brief discussion about the so-not-obsoleteness of men and how feminism can go fuck itself when there's a flat tire involved, Emily went to join Warrior Steve and help him by hollering girlish words of encouragement into the driving wind, leaving me in the car. With the radio on. And the headlights on. And the wipers on. Warrior Steve changed that tire, alright. Oh, he sure did. And fast too! Maybe 10 minutes? Juuuuuuuuuust enough time for the stupidfuckinghybrid to turn into a worthless pile of dark, silent metal, mocking us. No, really, there was mocking. (Gutteral voice) "Looks like the triiiiiiifecta is triiiiiiiiifuckeda...." So. Driving snow, dead car. Emily, nearly hit by another bus, was attempting to flag down passing drivers with the power of her sexy fuzzy hat, which wasn't working because said hat was covered in 10 inches of snow. No one stopped. No one. Until, FINALLY, thank the baby Jesus, three gigantic black men smoking blunts in a stolen car decided to help us out. This was right about the time I went from being Ninja Sloth to Holy Shit We're Going To Get Jacked And Taken To A Disreputable Part Of D.C. And Forced To Smoke PCP And Maybe I'll Just Pee My Little Pants Now Sloth. Warrior Steve was unfazed. He happily chatted them up while unfurling the jumper cables from the stolen car and after a brief interlude the Trifecta was on its way home. Men, worry not about turkey basters and cloning. Lots of women know how to change tires and wrangle jumper cables. But those of us who are too lazy to learn things like that; we will always need you.

|

Sunday, February 26, 2006

Shameful Shoe Monday!

Ok, so tomorrow I'll tell you all about how my friends and I almost died in several different ways on the way home from Dan Tobin's 30th birthday party. Good times. But we have business to attend to and attend to it we shall. Here are the shameful shoes you've been waiting a whole long week for. You know what these brave soldiers need... Ok, well, they need to not die. But other than that they need FASHION! That's right - nothing disarms the Viet Cong like a snazzy pair of cammy pumps. Wait, which war are we losing again? WHEN KOOSHES ATTACK! Man, this is a CARAZY epidemic. Just ask these people: Oh, I'm sorry, you can't. They have all been transformed into a slick of viscera coating the pavement. Ohhhh well. Well, it's not like I didn't WARN YOU GUYS!!! Where have I seen these? Where, where, where???? If I could just get into the groove of my memory, if I wasn't so hung up on this brain lock, if I could just remember it would beeee a holidaaaay!! Got it! They were on THIS bitch. (This bitch I totally idolized and wanted to be for exactly 71% of my pre-teen years, natch.) Whaaaaaaaa??????? GodDAMN!! I could have SWORN that dude was a dude!! Must have been all that simpering that threw me off. And finally: You know what would have made this experience a lot more luxuriant? The proper toilet seat. Even inebriated frat-boy assholes deserve a little comfort in times of need. Happy Monday, peeps. Hope your weekend was divine.

|