Sorry, I'm working on a makeover for the blog I actually update and needed to host this up somewhere. Check it out in its current form over at Year of Solitude.
Saturday, November 06, 2010
Nothing to see here...
Sorry, I'm working on a makeover for the blog I actually update and needed to host this up somewhere. Check it out in its current form over at Year of Solitude.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Art Imitates Life. Talentless, talentless life.
This Newsweek article came up on my Twitter feed today, about an artist that's decorated and distributed 60 pianos throughout New York City for the public to play.
FINALLY, someone is addressing the complete lack of street music in New York.
On the up side, now I can flex my year of keyboard lessons in the 4th grade and finally fulfill my dream of rocking out in front of a New York City crowd.
'ELLO NEW YORK!!! I call dif wun "Beau'y an' the Beast."
I can do the full look in my Angela Lansbury Halloween costume. Here's me solving the crime with Draco Malfoy:
In conclusion, have fun listening to chopsticks until July 5.
FINALLY, someone is addressing the complete lack of street music in New York.
***
On the up side, now I can flex my year of keyboard lessons in the 4th grade and finally fulfill my dream of rocking out in front of a New York City crowd.
'ELLO NEW YORK!!! I call dif wun "Beau'y an' the Beast."
I can do the full look in my Angela Lansbury Halloween costume. Here's me solving the crime with Draco Malfoy:
In conclusion, have fun listening to chopsticks until July 5.
Tuesday, June 08, 2010
Blender Vomit
I woke up an hour late, had a shitty day, thought I was detaching the blender unit to pour my drink by turning it but really I was unscrewing the pitcher...
shitfucksuckkkcockfuckshitfaceWHYISITONLYTUUUUESDAY?!
shitfucksuckkkcockfuckshitfaceWHYISITONLYTUUUUESDAY?!Henceforth, this drink shall be known as a Strawberry-Lemonade 'Splosion. Two-for-one with any appetizer at TGIfuckingFridays.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
How to respond to a craigslist post
Good afternoon and I'm moving to DC. In the process of selling all my belongings on Craigslist, I have received dozens of emails from strangers, from which I have distilled the following simple rules to help you successfully reply to your next Craigslist post. Without further ado:
How to respond to a Craigslist post:
1) Read only the first line before hitting reply.
2) Disregard petty details. If the post says "delivery to Jersey City only," for example, you may respond with "Would you consider the UES?" or "Will you deliver it to my office in Yonkers?"
3) Assume the seller is both male and a douchebag. Forgo formal salutations like "Hello," and address your email simply to "Bro,"
4) Explain how broke you are, bro, and how your old version of whatever you'd like to buy is totally shot, so like, they should sell you this one for $100 less than the asking price.
5) Hit send. Congratulations! You have successfully replied to a Craigslist post. You are now ready to move on to step 6.
6) Go fuck yourself.
How to respond to a Craigslist post:
1) Read only the first line before hitting reply.
2) Disregard petty details. If the post says "delivery to Jersey City only," for example, you may respond with "Would you consider the UES?" or "Will you deliver it to my office in Yonkers?"
3) Assume the seller is both male and a douchebag. Forgo formal salutations like "Hello," and address your email simply to "Bro,"
4) Explain how broke you are, bro, and how your old version of whatever you'd like to buy is totally shot, so like, they should sell you this one for $100 less than the asking price.
5) Hit send. Congratulations! You have successfully replied to a Craigslist post. You are now ready to move on to step 6.
6) Go fuck yourself.
Sunday, December 06, 2009
Frosty D. Snowman Feat. Ronald McD
Good afternoon and a cinammon spice tea. Sorry, that's a little homey. And misspelled. How about good ahftehnewn and a man with a British accent.
It's no secret that I don't particularly care for children. Not my thing. But I'm currently in a cafe with two adorable men, who happen to have their toddlers with them, and I must say that there's a few things about these kids that tug at my frosty heart.
1) I love the way kids wave at other kids that they don't know at all. The British dad just pushed his baby girl outside in a stroller. On the way out, British baby waved at American dad's toddler, who promptly toddled to the door after her and attempted to smack it open. As an adult who frequently pretends not to see acquaintances on the street to avoid conversation, this social instinct fascinates me.
2) Lovelorn, having lost his new best friend, American toddler decides to console himself with a pastry. No judgment, we all do it. Except we understand how a capitalist economy works (Let's Review! Supply. Demand. Adam Smith. John Locke.), while this kid knows only that he wants a pastry and that pastries are inside the glass case. So while dad is distracted with his sister, he keeps toddling behind the counter and trying to open the case to retrieve said pastry. Inevitably, he gets caught and carried back to the table, gurgling frustratedly, which breaks my heart because while I don't much enjoy children's company, nothing stirs my sympathy more than the desire for a pastry you can't have. (Especially for a kid who keeps getting so close before being thwarted by dad - just wait til he's a teenager.)
3) This is not so much something I admire about kids as something I am jealous of: On the way out, thwarted toddler breaks into a rousing chorus of twinkle, twinkle little star. Kids can sing any time they want with no understanding that it might be weird, and that's awesome. I definitely recall my infant cousin busting out Frosty the Snowman during my First Communion with a special shout out to Ronald McDonald, who I believe he thought was the priest. Here's a reentactment:
Being only about 8 years old myself, I probably would have much preferred the sacred body of the Hamburgler over the papery host wafer I received, which from a taste standpoint seemed extremely overrated. (Fortunately there was cross-shaped cake afterward and my faith was restored.) But to a child, what time is NOT the time for twinkle twinkle little star? What kind of fascists would live in a world like that?
Oh shit, I just realized I'm going to get kicked out of this café in 40 minutes and i just spent 10 minutes writing this when I was supposed to be working on a script. God damn kids are so distracting.
It's no secret that I don't particularly care for children. Not my thing. But I'm currently in a cafe with two adorable men, who happen to have their toddlers with them, and I must say that there's a few things about these kids that tug at my frosty heart.
1) I love the way kids wave at other kids that they don't know at all. The British dad just pushed his baby girl outside in a stroller. On the way out, British baby waved at American dad's toddler, who promptly toddled to the door after her and attempted to smack it open. As an adult who frequently pretends not to see acquaintances on the street to avoid conversation, this social instinct fascinates me.
2) Lovelorn, having lost his new best friend, American toddler decides to console himself with a pastry. No judgment, we all do it. Except we understand how a capitalist economy works (Let's Review! Supply. Demand. Adam Smith. John Locke.), while this kid knows only that he wants a pastry and that pastries are inside the glass case. So while dad is distracted with his sister, he keeps toddling behind the counter and trying to open the case to retrieve said pastry. Inevitably, he gets caught and carried back to the table, gurgling frustratedly, which breaks my heart because while I don't much enjoy children's company, nothing stirs my sympathy more than the desire for a pastry you can't have. (Especially for a kid who keeps getting so close before being thwarted by dad - just wait til he's a teenager.)
3) This is not so much something I admire about kids as something I am jealous of: On the way out, thwarted toddler breaks into a rousing chorus of twinkle, twinkle little star. Kids can sing any time they want with no understanding that it might be weird, and that's awesome. I definitely recall my infant cousin busting out Frosty the Snowman during my First Communion with a special shout out to Ronald McDonald, who I believe he thought was the priest. Here's a reentactment:
Being only about 8 years old myself, I probably would have much preferred the sacred body of the Hamburgler over the papery host wafer I received, which from a taste standpoint seemed extremely overrated. (Fortunately there was cross-shaped cake afterward and my faith was restored.) But to a child, what time is NOT the time for twinkle twinkle little star? What kind of fascists would live in a world like that?
Oh shit, I just realized I'm going to get kicked out of this café in 40 minutes and i just spent 10 minutes writing this when I was supposed to be working on a script. God damn kids are so distracting.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Aww COME ON!!!
Good evening and I was just applying some Burt's Bees lip balm, which I enjoy very much for its mintastic moisturizing properties. So HOW PSYCHED WAS I when I noticed there was a $2 coupon on the inside of the label good towards any Burt's Bees non-lip product?!
$2? Fo realz? I thought. That's a pretty fucking good coupon. Usually coupons are for 75 cents off baby wipes or buy one get one generic oatmeal. This is a coupon I could really use! I peeled back the label as instructed, taking in the slow striptease as the bar code coyly revealed itself, all the while thinking "COUPON!" Pursing my minty, moisturized lips together, I gently tore along the perforated line and ripped the fucking thing right in half.
Well, really more like 1/4 - 3/4.
I shouted a variety of obscenities so colorful that I'm surprised they didn't come out as a flock of tropical birds. Ask Jesse, he was on the phone at the time. Regardless, I just shredded my coupon and with it, my dreams of slathering my scaly winter arms with a creamy, heaven-scented tub of Burt's Bees Body Butter (uhhhhnnnnmm, it gets better with each B...)
In conclusion, Seriously?! COME ON!!!
$2? Fo realz? I thought. That's a pretty fucking good coupon. Usually coupons are for 75 cents off baby wipes or buy one get one generic oatmeal. This is a coupon I could really use! I peeled back the label as instructed, taking in the slow striptease as the bar code coyly revealed itself, all the while thinking "COUPON!" Pursing my minty, moisturized lips together, I gently tore along the perforated line and ripped the fucking thing right in half.
Well, really more like 1/4 - 3/4.I shouted a variety of obscenities so colorful that I'm surprised they didn't come out as a flock of tropical birds. Ask Jesse, he was on the phone at the time. Regardless, I just shredded my coupon and with it, my dreams of slathering my scaly winter arms with a creamy, heaven-scented tub of Burt's Bees Body Butter (uhhhhnnnnmm, it gets better with each B...)
In conclusion, Seriously?! COME ON!!!
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
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