Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Return of the Sinister Guy

Anemone flower, 8/27/05 It's Wednesday! StupidfuckingTuesday is behind us and we begin to look forward to the end of the week, which is silly, really, since there is always a Tuesday in our future. I pledge that if my rack wins the presidential race of 2008 (as previously discussed), there will be three-day weekends for all and the word "Tuesday" will go *poof* and disappear forever. Now then. Remember the guy on the bus who I had an ill-advised crush on and who came to be known as "The Sinister Guy?" Well, my work schedule changed a little bit a couple of months ago and I've been taking a slightly later bus so I haven't seen him in a while. I *may* have *vaguely* wondered if he noticed that I had vamoosed from his morning commute. Or I may not have wondered at all. You decide. ANYWAY, I woke up early this morning, threw on some track pants and my Pumas and mosied to the bus. Now, keep in mind, I usually wear a suit to work. I wear high heels every day. I wear pencil skirts, flared skirts, white pants, flared capris. I wear low-cut t-shirts, cross-seamed tank tops, little one-button jackets that can barely contain my-rack-for-president-2008. What I DO NOT WEAR is TRACK PANTS AND A TANK TOP (although, for the record, the tank top is collared and unzips waaaaaaaay down, thank Baby Jesus). So of course this would be the day, after not seeing him for months, that the sinister guy would wind up on my bus. I saw him, looking scary and sexy and trim as ever, died of shame, and dragged my cadaver to the back of the bus where I could look out the window and mourn my odd definition of "fashion" today. As it turned out, it didn't even matter, because..................eeep! He got off the bus, walked over to the window I was sitting next to and mouthed the words, "I always look for you." I smiled and waggled my claws at him as the bus pulled away. It was a perfect moment and a wonderful way to start my day. Happy Not-Tuesday everyone!!


Tuesday, August 30, 2005

What's the Crappiest Day of the Week?

Cactus with blossom, 8/27/05 The correct answer is TUESDAY. Especially if it's raining. If you answered otherwise you are disqualified. Disqualified from what, you ask? Well, I've decided that if I can't ban Tuesday from the calendar, I can at least try to make it bearable by suggesting a little project for all of us to enjoy. This week's project involves embarrassing family moments, preferably involving a significant other. Here's mine: Last Saturday my boyfriend (He-who-cannot-be-nicknamed) and I were having dinner with my parents. Grilled salmon steaks, one of which was dropped on the ground during flipping (and which I had to clean up because I laughed the hardest), salad and corn on the cob. After we had all piled up our plates, my boyfriend confessed (with the opening, "Please don't laugh at me, but...") that he slices the kernels off of the cob and eats them with a fork. As my boyfriend was chopping away at his corn, I noticed my stepfather watching his every movement and sort of fidgeting a little bit. Finally, he blurted out, "Do you suck on the cob afterward?" We were all laughing too hard to breathe when my stepdad finally gasped out, "I just couldn't think of a good way to say it!!" Whatchoo got?


Monday, August 29, 2005

Monday, Shmonday.

The concert kicked my furbutt. First of all, we had AWESOME SEATS. I am only like a foot and a half tall, and I could see everything. Second of all, Shawn Colvin, who I have never been a huge fan of, opened with a cover of "Heart of Saturday Night" by Tom Waits which caused me to instantly forgive her for that horrible "Sunney Came Home with a Wrench and a Stray Cat" song. Then she talked about how she had watched "Napoleon Dynamite" every night on the tour to which a rowdy audience member responded, "Vote for Pedro!!" and for some reason Shawn said, "He's got a fever." The same audience member, who has now been elevated to shamefully-cooler-than-me-because-I-never-would-have-thought-of-it status shouted, "And the only cure is MORE COW BELL!!!" Thankfully I did not have to pee, because I laughed so hard that there definitely would have been a problem. John Hiatt rocked with such ferocity that he left a giant crater where the Merrill Auditorium had been. Here is the set list as best as I can remember it - I forgot pen and paper and he played for like an hour and a half so I kind of lost track of the order after the fourth song or so.

Master of Disaster

Lift Up Every Stone

Crossing Muddy Waters

Your Dad Did

When My Love Crosses Over

Take It Down

Buffalo River Home

Ain't Ever Goin' Back

Slow Turning

Love's Not Where We Thought We Left It

Memphis In The Meantime

Cry Love

Thank You Girl

Drive South

Is Anybody There?

Native Son

Tennessee Plates

Lincoln Town

Real Fine Love

Have A Little Faith In Me

Lipstick Sunset

I really wanted Hiatt to play "The Tiki Bar is Open" but he more than made up for it by making fun of Pat Robertson for being a crazy douchebag. Then, last night, New Guy and I watched "The Ring II" (or as we call it, "The Bling II") which is about as scary as a basket of kittens. NOT recommended. Got a lot of garden pics which will go up this week. Happy Monday!


Friday, August 26, 2005


My friend Steve took this picture of me about 20 minutes ago while we were in Harvard Square listening to an Asian choir in pink shirts singing about Jesus. Yay Jesus!! Just kidding. No matter what they tell you, Jesus is not your friend. He hates you and he thinks your hair could use a trim and he wishes you would stop dropping crumbs between the couch cushions. He fuckin' loves my sunglasses, though. NO, JESUS, YOU CANNOT HAVE MY SUNGLASSES SO STOP ASKING. This is promising to be a good weekend - I'm going to see John Hiatt in concert tomorrow night and since he is my most favoritest musician of all time, I am a buzzing, twitching, hopping-up-and-down sloth!! I'm so excited I can't stand it!! If sloths wore pants, I would be peeing my sloth-pants!! John Hiatt, like the Asian choir people, loves Jesus. But that's cool, I can dig it. I mean, look at him. Even Jesus likes John Hiatt - shit, he's only the coolest motherfucker on the earthly plane!! Suh!! Have a great weekend everyone, I'll try to come back with pics.


Thursday, August 25, 2005

Complain Much??

First of all, it's Thursday. The worst day of the week (Tuesday, ack!, shudder) is far behind us. One more day and we are FREEEEEEEEEE................for two whole days. I would like to thank the residents of Slothville for what the Retropolitan referred to as the "monster thread" on the last post. Not only was it the first time we have broken 100 comments since my post-election meltdown/hiatus (btw, the comments are still there even though Haloscan says "zero" and I had forgotten how interesting all that discourse was), it was only the second time in the history of Slothville that we got to 200 comments. Everyone give themselves a clap on the back! If you can reach. I'd do it for you but, you know, the claws. Instead of pat-pat it would be more like stab-stab. Today I have a little bitch-slap for Heath Ledger. From "The Scoop" by Jeanette Walls (celebrity gossip pimpette): Heath Ledger says he didn't enjoy smooching Jake Gyllenhaal in the man-on-man romantic cowboy flick, "Brokeback Mountain." IGN FilmForce interviewed Matt Damon and Ledger, stars of "The Brothers Grimm," and Ledger confessed that making "Brokeback Mountain" was "tough. It was a lonely experience, but it was definitely a real sense of accomplishment once I finished. It scared me [bleep]less." What scared him? "You know, the idea I had to make out with Jake Gyllenhaal for one, which just wasn't the easiest thing to do," Ledger replied. "You found making out with me pretty easy though," Damon quipped. "It was dark and I was drunk," Ledger joked. "This was daytime and there was a lot of lights." Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, poor Heath Ledger. He was forced, due to contractual obligations, to make out with the dreaded Jake Gyllenhaal. Oh, the horror!!! We know, we know. Your job is so hard, Heath. Smooching nubile, puffy-lipped, slightly-feminine-in-just-the-right-way men is so NAUSEATING. Never mind that you made SIXTY BILLION DOLLARS for doing it or that 99% of the known world would collectively fall to their knees to suck that guy's dick FOR FREE. Besides - LOOK AT YOURSELF. Nice tank top, Heath. What's that you've got behind your back there? It's an ass dildo, isn't it? Oh, yes it is. Dude, the only person in Hollywood gayer than you is Gavin Rossdale and if you think that pregnant girlfriend of yours is going to give you a beard, think again. Heath Ledger, you are a whiny little twat. Fuck you and the brokeback horse you rode in on. I am SO not returning any more of your calls.


Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Secret Sloth

Daz took this picture when we were on photo safari last year. Well, I am a very busy sloth today and don't have much time to compose a post, so we are going to try an experiment in Slothville. Most of you have visited PostSecret (linked to the right) and if you are like me then you click on it every Monday to be soothed, disconcerted, and tapped into the quiet undercurrents of peoples' lives. Even though they are not my secrets, they make me feel connected, somehow, to everyone else in the world. Because I have secrets too. Today I am going to tell you two secrets. One funny, one not-funny. I hope that you will leave a secret or two of your own in comments. Please feel free to do so anonymously. Tuesday is the worst day of the week. Maybe we can make it a little better by getting some stuff off of our chests. Not-funny: a long time ago, when I was pathologically depressed and angry didn't know how to live with it, I used to cut myself almost every day. I can't believe I used to be that person. I would't recognize her today. Funny: A few years ago I was spending the night with my boyfriend at the time. We had had a huge dinner of sausage with onions and peppers. When I farted in the middle of the night, it wasn't the sound that woke him up from a dead sleep, it was the eau de sausage. Whatchoo got?


Monday, August 22, 2005

Monday Minis

Although, they all seem to be minis these days, don't they? As fall approaches and I gear up for school my attention span shrinks to the size of a small acorn. 1. Last night I dreamt that I bought a dog exactly like the one above and he had a little round belly and we played around on the floor and I gave him treats and then we went out in the rain and then he smelled all doggy from being in the rain so I gave him a bath and he looked so cute with the suds all over his head. Considering that I usually dream about situations involving varying amounts of blood and which resemble a "CSI" episode without the "I" and that I am currently reading "Blindness" by Jose Saramago in which I just yesterday read about a woman being raped to death, I think my brain just decided to take a little time-out from the nightly gore already. Thank you, brain. 2. I decided to spend the weekend in Boothbay, zipping around on the boat and poking into the tidal pools. It was the one place on earth other than the arctic circle that was cold and gray and rainy all weekend long. One hour south, in Portland, it was 80 degrees and sunny. I was so bitter yesterday I was crying quinine. 3. I watched "Constantine" last night. YES, I KNEW IT WAS GOING TO BE A TURD-FEST AND YES I RENTED IT ANYWAY. You know, if Keanu Reeves would just be a little less fuckable I wouldn't have to see every goddamn movie he's in. (Except for the Matrix 3 - you couldn't get me to watch that garbage at gunpoint. I still have PTSD from the Wachowski sphincter-explosion that was the second one.) I wish someone would just give Keanu's face an acid bath so I could be spared any future "acting" on his part. And then a meteor crashed into the earth and killed everybody. The end. Have a lovely Monday, everyone.


Friday, August 19, 2005

Breaking News!!!!!!!!!!

Ok, this is big. BIG. A very big deal and I hope you are sitting down when you read it. P. Diddy HAS CHANGED HIS NAME. He dropped the P. Now he's just "Diddy." He said he thought the P was coming between him and his fans. No, I'm not kidding. That is exactly what he said to Katie Couric. ...........Is it just me or does "Diddy" sound remarkably like "diddle?"* (*Diddle is the word for what pedophile priests do to altar boys, fyi.)


Thursday, August 18, 2005

That's All, Folks!

To everyone who participated in Short-Attention-Span Thursday, a hearty thank-you. Tomorrow we return to our regularly scheduled programming. In the meantime, does anyone care to postulate on the connection between Trekkies and pedophiles??? I have to go break up with a few friends now... Bye-bye!!


Vaporized Sloth

I saw "Batman Begins" the other day. I liked it until Bunsen pointed out that if the weapon could vaporize all the water then why would it not just vaporize all the humans too, since we are pretty much sacs of water with personalities. Then I got really mad and sort of belatedly hated the movie. But Christian Bale is still on my "to-do" list and unless he turns out to be as much of a twat as Sean Penn (beatdown with a script of "I Am Sam," motherfucker!), he's staying there. From McSweeney's:

Lesser-Known Movie Prequels.

By Sarah Garb Ocean's Three Borderline-Inappropriate Dancing There Are Plenty of Mohicans Charlie and the Limited-Production Chocolate Startup Thursday the 12th Four Bachelorette Parties and a Friend in the Hospital Babette's Snack Joseph and the Nondescript Monochrome Sportcoat My Brunch With Andre Triassic Park The Upwardly Mobile Tenenbaums


A toast........ lunch breaks that do a body good.


Intelligent Stupidity....

.......sung to the tune of that old favorite, "Silent Lucidity" by Queensryche or however the fuck you spell it. God, that song sucked so much ass. In case you have not heard, there is a Google Bomb campaign against "Intelligent Design." See the link in the sidebar and please link it yourself. You don't have to do it in a side-bar, it could just be in a post. If you are not aware of what a Google Bomb is, please click here for a definition. And with a huge thank-you to the hugely funny people at The (hugely-popular) Onion, here is the latest breaking news on "Intelligent" science. This mini-post inspired by the Retropolitan. *Next post will be at 3 o'clock because I'll be, um, busy until then. On my shag break. I mean, my lunch break.


Hollywood Shuffle

Drew Carey: Republican Sean Penn: Democrat Ricky Schroder: Republican Ben Affleck: Democrat Kelsey Grammer: Republican Robert Downey Jr.: Democrat Britney Spears: Republican Howard Stern: Democrat What do all of these people have in common? They are all TOTAL ASSHOLES. (This mini-post inspired by Seth and StationeryQueen.)


Satisfied Idiot

For some reason it took me almost THREE MONTHS to figure out that: If your boyfriend lives down the street from where you work........... You can have SEX on your LUNCH BREAK!!! Jessssssssssss!!!!!!!!!!!!! It's been a good week.


Short Attention Span Thursday!!!

For those of you who have been living here for awhile and probably bought those really nice town houses on the west end of Slothville with all the pretty bougainvillea and the big back yards, you may remember when we used to occasionally have Short Attention Span days a la Dan Tobin who has, incidentally, changed the format of Surgical Strikes somewhat to reflect a more thought-out and, frankly, more satisfying form of comedic creativity. In my opinion. Just so you know. It is now 10 o'clock my time. I will attempt to update every hour on the hour today. A plague of mini-posts is headed for our town! Everybody get inside! And whatever you do - don't look them in the eyes!!!


Wednesday, August 17, 2005


From Snopes: Claim: The average person swallows eight spiders per year. Status: False. Origins: Oh, yuk! It's hard enough to avoid those horrible wriggly things while we're awake, and now we have to worry that they're crawling into our mouths while we sleep? Little Miss Muffett was a piker. Fear not. This "statistic" was not only made up out of whole cloth, it was invented as an example of the absurd things people will believe simply because they come across them on the Internet. In a 1993 PC Professional article, columnist Lisa Holst wrote about the ubiquitous lists of "facts" that were circulating via e-mail and how readily they were accepted as truthful by gullible recipients. To demonstrate her point, Holst offered her own made-up list of equally ridiculous "facts," among which was the statistic cited above about the average person's swallowing eight spiders per year, which she took from a collection of common misbeliefs printed in a 1954 book on insect folklore. In a delicious irony, Holst's propagation of this false "fact" has spurred it into becoming one of the most widely-circulated bits of misinformation to be found on the Internet. WELL, I, BARONESS VON SLOTHENSTEIN, HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT THAT. The other night I'm in bed reading with the New Guy (who, by the way, is not exactly shining with the same luster he had when I drove him off the lot. Don't get me wrong! I love him, but we're coming up on 3 months now. "New" is a bit of a stretch. One more month and he has GOT to get a new nickname...). He's into the Potter book and I'm reading "The Lost World" by Arthur Conan Doyle. Well, New Guy generally gets sucker punched (wham! pow!) by his literary material after about 2 pages and then he's down for the night. I, on the other hand, can read for hours and hours and hours - as long as I am SUPPOSED to be sleeping. If I'm supposed to be reading, I instantly fall asleep. I'm just naturally contrary. So, New Guy is down for the count and I'm following the exploits of the intrepid Professor Challenger and Mr. Malone as they ignore all Star Trek protocol and slaughter a bunch of ape-people with rifles which I can't say is exactly a fair fight (I mean, come on, dude. They're monkeys.), when I look down to see an enormous green spider CRAWLING ON MY LAP. I freeze and the fucking thing looks right at me and goes, "In case you were wondering, yes, I'm headed for your mouth." Needless to say, much havoc ensued. I can't say that it was as bad as the time that a huge brown spider dove down my sleeve and into my shirt when I accidentally disturbed its writhing nest of eggs that was HANGING OVER MY BED, moments away from ejecting millions of baby spiders into my pajamas, but it was still bad. There was the leaping and the book-throwing and the yelping and the running from the room and the heart exploding out of my chest like a baby alien and whatnot. To my credit, I did come back and kill it. Oh, pipe down, people! A spider on the wall is one thing. A spider IN BED WITH YOU is something else entirely. New guy slept through the whole thing. After I calmed down I read a little more, back against the wall, pillow behind me. Finally, I put the book away and scooched down, pulling the pillow under my head. It was only then that I realized that MY FACE WAS NOW IN THE EXACT SPOT WHERE THE SPIDER HAD BEEN CRAWLING. Fuck you, Snopes.


Friday, August 12, 2005

Fuh-riday. Jessss!!!

Here I am looking a bit young for my age, as many of you so nicely pointed out on Monday. A while back I promised E-Lo a BAD ROOMMATE post and I never delivered. So to start your weekend off right I am offering up this horrid tale of my BAD EX-ROOMMATE, Emily. Well, I guess it actually started off with my BAD EX-ROOMMATE, Mustaffa, who was a sleazy, gold-chain-wearin', Newport-smokin' Moroccan dude. (Incidentally, Mustaffa's best friend was also named Mustaffa and they were completely interchangeable.) This was at a time in my life, just after I dropped out of college, when I was working for THE BIGGEST ASSHOLE ON EARTH and making about $10,000 a year. Yes, you read that correctly. So my housing options were limited to the point of being virtually nonexistent. I was living with Mustaffa and this other crazy bitch who was barely kept in check by the giant bowl full of pills she took every day because it was cheap and close to my job and it was a step up from the YWCA. Once in while Mustaffa would "clean my room." I would come home and he would be in my room and all my clothes would be put away and everything picked up and because I was 20 years old and had not yet come into my own in regards to the raining-down-of-the-death powers I would attain later, I would just kind of put up with it. So one night, predictably, Mustaffa decided to grab me and rub his sleazy, Newport-smellin' lips all over my innocent young face and I was packed up and gone within 24 hours. SO. I had to find a place to stay right quick because even though I had friends to put me up, I felt ashamed to be sleeping on peoples' couches. And that is how I ended up living with Emily. Emily seemed nice enough when I first met her……..and her bulldog and her Irish wolf hound and her iguana in their tiny, freezing cold apartment in the middle of winter. Well, compared to living with Mustaffa, her place seemed like a little piece of paradise so I took all my stuff over there and moved in. It took me less than a day to regret it. Emily was a wiry, rugby-playing lesbian who always seemed just shy of putting her fist through a wall. In fact, it was in contemplating her fist my first night there that I noticed that she only had half a pinky finger on her left hand. What’s up with that, I thought. Birth defect? Dog bite? Thresher accident? Well, I asked and no. None of the above. It turns out Emily had CUT OFF HER OWN PINKY WITH A MEAT CLEAVER. And then, for some reason, I really can't imagine why, she had GONE TO LIVE IN A MENTAL HOSPITAL FOR A WHILE. Hmm!! Oh, and had she mentioned to me that she was an alcoholic? Why no, she hadn't! How fascinating! Well, she wasn’t supposed to drink when she was on her Lithium, but you know how it is, hehehe…..


Eventually I got used to the idea of the meat cleaver and the mental hospital. I just had to accept it, I mean, where was I going to go? It was really more the walking-around-naked that kind of started to get to me. She would just stomp around from room to room, her shriveled little pancake breasts a-flapping, her Amazon jungle of pubic hair blowing in the breeze. But hey, she was there first. There wasn't much I could do except try to ignore it. Every time Emily climbed back on the wagon she had to start taking lots and lots of laxatives because when she wasn't drinking she couldn't take a shit to save her life. She could leave her bloody tampons lying around, no problemo, but take a shit? No way, Jose!! It was suppository city!! So that was fun to be aware of. And I didn't even complain when she broke EVERY ONE of my wine glasses. We were getting along famously! But then......I don't know........things changed between us. Our relationship became a bit strained, if you will. I was chilled by the fact that she put the bulldog down simply because she was tired of owning him. She didn't tell me until after it was done, but it was disturbing to me that not only had she killed the dog for no particular reason, but that she thought that was perfectly normal. Then I started finding mean notes written to me about how she was not my mother and I was driving her the trash. She would write them and then throw them away.........where I could see them sitting on top of one of her bloody tampons or a bottle of Southern Comfort or half a finger or whatever. I started to wonder if maybe she wanted to have ME put down too. Then we got a new roommate - yes, another person added into the mix because that was exactly what our little apartment needed - who was, I'm sorry, but she seriously was the size of a small car. You know, like an economy car. A little Toyota or something. I mean, I would look at her sometimes and just not even be able to believe my own eyes. So there was stomping, naked, constipated, pancake-breasted, half-a-pinky-havin' Emily, the Irish wolf hound (which happens to be the largest dog breed on earth if I'm not mistaken), an iguana in a cage the size of a walk-in closet, and this woman who could single-handedly cause a tsunami if she fell into the ocean. And me. And then a meteor crashed into the earth and killed everybody. Sorry, I just didn't know where to go from there. I spoke to Davy Rothbart over the phone last weekend and we discussed stock story endings when you are just totally stuck. The meteor one is his and I am totally stealing it. (He'll be too busy putting the new FOUND book together to notice.)

And that's the BAD ROOMMATE story! Have a good weekend, peeps!


Thursday, August 11, 2005


WELL. Clearly, I was feeling VERY MELODRAMATIC this morning. Everywhere I went, all day long, I brought my own personal THUNDERCLOUD with me and shot MENACING looks at innocent bystanders. But now I am feeling MUCH BETTER! So much better, in fact, that I have taken to abusing the CAPS LOCK KEY. Mmmmm.........this beer I am drinking is SO GOOD!! .................but that dream was still totally fucked up. !!!!


Dangerously Introspective Sloth

Last night I dreamt that I was walking home at night in a swirling snowstorm, the snowbanks as high as my chest. As I crossed an intersection, a group of police cruisers came to a skidding halt all around me. The policemen all scrambled out of their cars, guns drawn, not even noticing me, and when the first cop's head exploded I ducked behind the cruiser next to his. There was a sniper somewhere in the storm. He killed them one by one, their faces and chests collapsing, blood spraying on the cars, on the ground, the glaring contrast of red on white. There was a metal taste in my mouth. I crawled behind the cars, hands and knees wet with blood and snow, and then ran in a tight crouch behind a snowbank as far as the road had been cleared, which wasn't far. I had nowhere to go. Before me was an open expanse of snow-filled street. Behind me was carnage. If I stood and ran I knew I would die, so I scooched into a tiny corner of the snowbank and tried to make myself as small as possible. My heart felt like it was clambering to get out of my chest. I willed my body to be tiny. To be invisible. To be unlit by the whirling blue lights. Other than the wind, everything was completely silent, and then I heard the crunch of the sniper's boot in the snow next to my head. I stayed curled up, tight as a fiddlehead, waiting. After a moment the sniper knelt down next to me, took my chin in his hand, and forced me to look up at his face. He was white, thin, in his thirties, wearing combat gear and carrying a rifle. He looked at me with utter impassivity which I returned with an angry glare. It was the glare that pleased him. He turned my head a little, examining my face and said, "Hardly anyone is fierce enough. You are fierce enough. You get to live." And he walked away. **** I am fierce. It was Daz who first pointed it out. I have had to be strong and sometimes vicious just to survive my life so far. Last night I went to bed sad and confused. My dream reminded me that sad-and-confused is a waste of energy. I haven't made it this far by being sad-and-confused. My life and my independence rely on a certain level of ferocity. I have to be fierce enough to live. Most people in this world (in my opinion) enjoy feeling needed. This is why they have plants and pets and children. I have none of the above because I do not ever want to feel needed. Wanted, maybe. Needed, never. I don't have room for need. The only fool-proof way to drive me out of your life is to desperately need me to be in it. I have myself to look out for. No baggage and no strings allowed. Cling too hard to me, and I'm sorry, but I'll have to leave you bleeding in the snow.


Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Squiggly Family

This is my family. They all have radiation poisoning, as you can see by the strange squiggly mutations on their faces. The cool thing about radiation poisoning is that it gives you super powers. My mom's super power (all the way to the left there) is that she can kill people with one glance. It's called The Look and I have emulated it for years because it sets people on fire and their skin shrivels up and falls off and then they melt. Remember "Raiders of the Lost Ark?" It's like that. I have somehow survived many powerful blows from The Look, but I may have some kind of innate genetic immunity. She also has telepathy. Like the time I moseyed home from my boyfriend's house after losing my virginity and she took one look at me and went, "Oh my god! You're only fourteen!" and stomped off to book a consultation for me at Planned Parenthood. Next to her is my stepfather. His super power is that if you try to thwart him in any way, he just doesn't notice. It goes like this: Villain: "I am going to thwart you and eat your children for breakfast!" Stepdad: "Check out these golden raspberries I grew in the garden!" Villain: "Uhhhhhh......ok. Oooh! Yummy!" Stepdad: "Aren't they great? Help yourself! I'm going to go play the accordion." In the middle there is my sister. She has many super powers. One of them is being able to convince me to spend $400 on a polyester quilt disguised as a dress (see photo). Another very effective and scary super power that she possesses is CRYING. If you confront my sister with any kind of crappy thing that she has done, she will simply cry until you feel bad and stop bothering her. The fact that she is very pretty is an integral part of this talent. Who can resist a sobbing girl who is very pretty? Well, me. I can. But everyone else falls before her like that army scene in "Lord of the Rings" where the soldiers all flop to the ground. Anyone other than me: "You know, it was kind of crappy the way you didn't want your dad to walk you down the aisle even though he raised you as a single parent for most of your life and you've never thanked him for being so good to you." Sister: "Waaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!" Anyone other than me: *flops to the ground* Next to her is her new husband. I call him the Fraggle. His super power is his crazy, thick Fraggle hair which pushes all balding men to the verge of suicide no matter how hot they are. He also has googly eyes that can really freak a brutha out. Oh, and his parents are uber wealthy. Actually, if we're being honest here, I guess that would probably be his most important super power. Rich parents. And then there's me. My superpower is that I'm a foot shorter than everyone so that when it's time for me to rain down the muthafuckin' death, no one sees it coming. It's like getting your ass kicked by a sloth. Literally. Happy Hump Day! Any thoughts on Biden running for prez are welcome.


Monday, August 08, 2005

Monday Mini

Red hair (currently 2 shades redder than in photo) and ugly bridesmaid's dress. See how it creates a boob SHELF for my hair to actually fall into? Tonight my boyfriend is going to cook me dinner and give me a back rub. All this to make up for the fact that he is going to wake me up in the middle of the night to watch the space shuttle land. Theoretically. Limbs may be lost. My sister's birthday is this month. I greatly desire to shun her in a way that is effective but not obvious. Perhaps in a way that will leave her wondering whether she has been shunned or not. Subtlety is the key. Suggestions are welcome.


Monday, August 01, 2005

Stumping Sloth

These guys are coming to your town! Or....probably at least a town very near to the town that you are currently in!! Peter and Davy Rothbart So, as many of you know, I have a long nurtured little crush on Davy Rothbart, the founder of FOUND Magazine. I am going miss his tour this year, but YOU should not. I am not at all exaggerating when I tell you that attending the FOUND event in Boston last year was one of the top 5 mostwickedawesome things I have ever experienced. I laughed so hard that I got really really hot and had to take some of my clothes off. That may happen to women at other FOUND events too, so you should definitely go! I have also been reading Davy's new book, "The Lone Surfer of Montana, Kansas" and I will bet you $63 that he doesn't even know how amazing it is. It's a series of short stories, all of which contain a whiff of autobiography and personal experience, even if it is sometimes vicarious (as it is in one hysterical, heartbreaking story that is written in all caps from the perspective of a prison inmate in a writing class). You can buy the book here, but I suggest you check your local, independent bookstore first. If they don't have it, ask them why because that's just crazy talk talkin'! Check out the tour schedule and if you can make it to one of these shows, GO. You will be so glad you did. Trust me - I am so totally trustworthy!! Schedule: sept 19, 2005 -- portland, me » space gallery, 8 pm, 538 congress street, 207.541.3842 sept 20, 2005 -- boston, ma (brookline) » coolidge corner theatre, 6 pm, 290 harvard st., 617.566.6660 sept 21, 2005 -- montague, ma » lady killigrew, two shows! 7pm & 9 pm, greenfield rd., 413.367.9666 sept 22, 2005 -- brooklyn, ny » galapagos, 8 pm sharp!, 70 n. 6th street, 718.782.5188 sept 23, 2005 -- manhattan, ny » housing works, 7 pm sharp! 126 crosby street, 212.334.3324 sept 24, 2005 -- philadelphia, pa » fergie's pub, 8 pm, 1214 sansom street, 215.928.8118 sept 26, 2005 -- durham, nc » man bites dog theater, 8:15 pm, 703 foster st, 919.682.3343 sept 27, 2005 -- chapel hill, nc » the nightlight, 8 pm, 405 w. rosemary, 919.933.5550 sept 28, 2005 -- richmond, va » firehouse theater, 7:30pm, 1609 w. broad st, 804.355.2001 sept 29, 2005 -- charlottesville, va » gravity lounge, 8 pm, 103 s. 1st street, 434.977.5590 sept 30, 2005 -- washington, dc » politics & prose, 7 pm, 5015 connecticut ave nw, 202.364.1919 oct 1, 2005 -- washington, dc » wonderland ballroom, 9 pm, 1101 kenyon st. nw, 202.232.5263 oct 2, 2005 -- baltimore, md » atomic books, 7 pm, 1100 west 36th st., 410.662.4444 oct 3, 2005 -- pittsburgh, pa » future tenant, 7:30 pm, 801 liberty ave., 412.325.7037 oct 4, 2005 -- buffalo, ny » at medaille college, details tba oct 5, 2005 -- toronto, on » the drake hotel (undrgrnd), 7 pm, 1150 queen street west, 416.531.5042 oct 7, 2005 -- detroit, mi » 555 gallery, 8 pm, 4884 grand river ave., 313.894.4202 oct 8, 2005 -- grand rapids, mi » division ave. arts coop, 8 pm, 115 s. division street, 616.774.4842 oct 9, 2005 -- kalamazoo, mi » kraftbrau brewery, 7 pm, 402 e. kalamazoo avenue, 269.384.0288 oct 12, 2005 -- chicago, il » neo-futurarium, 8 pm, 5153 n. ashland, 773.275.5255 oct 13, 2005 -- lagrange, il » borders, 7:30 pm, 1 s. la grange road, 708.579.9660 oct 15, 2005 -- madison, wi » orpheum theater, 10 pm, 216 state street, 608.255.6005 oct 16, 2005 -- minneapolis, mn » pulaski auditorium, 7 pm, 2114 5th street ne, 612.706.7879 oct 17, 2005 -- west lafayette, in » hicks library bookstall, 7 pm, purdue u., 765.494.4740 oct 18, 2005 -- indianapolis, in » big car gallery, 8 pm,1043 virginia ave., 317.408.1366 oct 19, 2005 -- bloomington, in » playwrites project theater, 7 pm, 314 s. washington st., 812.339.8710 oct 20, 2005 -- st. louis, mo » mad art gallery, 8 pm, 2727 south 12th st. (soulard), 314.771.8230 oct 22, 2005 -- montana, ks » details tba oct 23, 2005 -- denver, co » hi-dive/sputnik, 9 pm, 7 south broadway, 720.570.4500 oct 24, 2005 -- salt lake city, ut » slc public library, 7 pm, 210 east 400 south, 801.322.8133 oct 26, 2005 -- seattle, wa » university books, 7:30 pm, 4326 university way ne, 206.634.3400 oct 27, 2005 -- portland, or » the wonder ballroom, 8pm, 128 NE russell, 503.284.8686 oct 28, 2005 -- eugene, or » sam bond's garage, 9:30 pm, 407 blair blvd., 541.343.2635 oct 29, 2005 -- sacramento, ca » true love in exile @ mother india, details tba oct 30, 2005 -- santa cruz, ca » bookshop santa cruz, 7:30 pm, 1520 pacific avenue, 831.423.0900 nov 1, 2005 -- berkeley, ca » cody’s bookstore, 7:30 pm, 2454 telegraph, 510.845.7852 nov 2, 2005 -- san fran, ca » intersection 4 the arts, two shows! 7pm & 9pm, 446 valencia, 415.626.2787 nov 3, 2005 -- san fran, ca » clean, well-lighted place for books, 7 pm, 601 van ness, 415.441.6670 nov 4, 2005 -- l.a. (los feliz) » skylight books, 7:30 pm, 1818 n vermont ave, 323.660.1175 nov 5, 2005 -- long beach, ca » koo’s art center, 8 pm, 530 e. broadway blvd., 562.499.6736 nov 6, 2005 -- l.a. (hollywood) » bang studio, 7 pm, 457 n. fairfax ave., 323.653.6886 nov 7, 2005 -- phoenix, az » modified arts, 8pm, 407 e. roosevelt, 602.462.5516 nov 8, 2005 -- albuquerque, nm » guild cinema, 8pm, 3405 central ave. NE, 505.255.1848 nov 9, 2005 -- taos, nm » caffe tazza, 7 pm, 122 kit carson rd., 505.758.8706 nov 11, 2005 -- dallas, tx » lakewood theater, details tba nov 12, 2005 -- austin, tx » alamo drafthouse, 9:30pm, 409 colorado street, 512.476.1320 nov 13, 2005 -- houston, tx » aurora picture show, 8pm, 800 aurora street, 713.868.2101 nov 15, 2005 -- new orleans, la » details tba nov 16, 2005 -- jackson, ms » lemuria books, 7:30pm, 202 banner hall, 4465 i-55 n, 601.366.7619 nov 17, 2005 -- birmingham, al » rojo, 9 pm, 2921 highland ave. s, 205.328.4733 nov 19, 2005 -- ann arbor, mi » michigan theater, 8 pm, 603 e. liberty street, 734.668.8463