Wherein I am a whiny brat.
You know what I’d like to do? I’d like to go back in time to whenever it was that whoever it was invented McDonalds or TV dinners or corn subsidies or whatever and make them stop. Because at Chick-fil-A today, I was trying to order my moderately-less-deadly Caesar wrap combo, and she asked me what I wanted to drink, and I had this momentary panic attack about whether it was worse to...
Vuvuzela? I hardly know ‘er! (Okay, fine, it only works if you say it like you’re Norm. But still.)
Oh, damn it.
I’m…. finding Tom Cruise attractive in these previews for Knight and Day. I… I really don’t know how to process that information.
I should be enjoying things, I shout, in my head. I’m never going to get this day back! Or the one before that! There are things to enjoy and I am not enjoying them and it’s all your fault! As long as it’s not my fault.
What is it, girl?
Okay, so… you know, this whole Alvin Greene thing. Here’s the thing. And it pains me to admit that it’s “A Thing” but the news cycle hasn’t dropped it yet, so apparently it is. Anyway, here’s the thing: It doesn’t matter. Whether the state GOP paid his registration fee or not, whether he won 60% of the primary votes because his name was first on...
College Love Stories of the Damned
So, later last night, I ran across the prequel to the journal entries I started transcribing last night; I think I can date these things better now. Last night’s entry was actually from sometime around the middle of my sophomore year of college, so probably late 1996 or early 1997. The one that follows chronologically appears to be from the spring of 1998. I was not a very dedicated...
I which I bare my adolescent soul: Part The First.
Okay, I made a butt-cringingly embarrassing discovery tonight and I’m starting a new series of entries, because it’s too rich not to share. I was rooting around in the basement looking for a box I never did find, because I ran across some old journals and papers from college and before I knew it, I was sitting on the floor, reading and laughing at my poor, 19- or 20-year-old,...
So, today, once I pick up my pants from the alterations lady, I’m placing myself on emergency spending lock-down. In going over my bank statement, I realized that, instead of my account information having been compromised and all my money spent by unscrupulous hackers on hookers and blow as I first thought, it’s actually that *I* have spent it all. Me. On stuff. And things. The way I...
Plagued by vague yet stultifying hangover. There may, perhaps, have been a leeeetle too much wine at dinner last night, after several weeks of near teetotalism. General enthusiasm for life: desultory, at best. Whinge-o-meter: 11.
Fun New Game I Have Just Invented
Guess the theme of Lady Gaga’s next video. My guess: She will have actual sex with a pony wearing a priest’s cassock, while Richard Nixon’s ghost, attired in S&M gear, holds a pelican and watches impassively. Sofas are on fire in the background. Your turn!
My Year Of Everything: YES →
So here’s the deal: one single audition fundamentally changed just about every aspect of my life for the better, allowed me to do what I love for 12 years and counting, still gets mentioned to me every single day, and I almost skipped it. I’d moved to New York right out of college, with an entry… Not that it matters, but I voted for Dave. From three phones.
Re: Sites that won’t let you go “back” to the site that took you there in the first place. Please stop.
Hey, Tom's makes wedge heels. →
THAT’s what I’ve been looking for.
Don't ever change, Asheville.
So, I drove up the mountain to Asheville tonight to go to Joshilyn Jackson’s book reading and signing for her new novel, Backseat Saints. It was a little bit of an adventure actually getting to the bookstore. First, there was an accident on 26 — on the southbound side, as it turns out, but the scene was epic enough to slow the northbound side to a crawl. It turned out to be a U-Haul...
Re: Ads with audio that automatically start playing. Please stop.
Adventures in Extreme Gardening
So, did you know tomato plants can regenerate themselves? Are tomatoes actually annuals? (Or is it perennials? I can’t ever remember which is which. Like how to spell weird — is that an exception to the “i before e” rule or not? Weird? Wierd? They both look right to me.) Anyway, speaking of weird, I was weeding a few weeks ago and had these “weeds” that looked...
Mike stocks your liquor cabinet... →
With tha CRAZY KNOWLEDGE. Highly recommend this series by Mike of Choosy Beggars (go there for some wicked good non-booze-related recipes as well from Tina) that explains everything you ever wanted to know about why some hooch sucks and why sometimes it’s worth it to spring for that dusty bottle by itself in the “premium” section of the liquor store. Start here for vodka, and...
Because it's all oily.
When you don’t have a cold, you forget how soul-crushingly awful the feeling is. And which feels worse on your tender, abused nose: regular Kleenex, which may as well still have the bark on it, or Puffs with lotion, which sounds better in theory but feels like you’re rubbing the Gulf of Mexico across your notstrils. (Current-event-tragedy worked into self-indulgent moping, huzzah!) ...
Where I've been.
Cue obligatory “Empire State of Mind” snippet here. Because, holy mother of pearl, is that song everywhere. It’s like the “Do You Believe” of 2010. That’s right, I just compared Jay-Z to Cher.