Monday, December 28, 2009

what we have here is a failure to communicate

some best-ofs from the 2k9 google voice transcripts:
  • Hi Tara, I forgot to tell you that. Yeah, Hello, I forgot to tell you that Uncle Steve called last nightand he said he said that. Or, since there white Colby free town I. I think you're planning goingover there and this is to pick up before you get a chance. Yes, you can get there tonight. Call me oryou can't get there on the way. Call me and I'll get it and you can take it from there alright. Bye.
  • Hi Carol, This is your Mom. I just wanna let you know, we're going to visit import sacked on and she's getting. Clumpy specials for lunch if you wanted to come with us. You're welcome to, but I don't know where you are. When you coming home or whatever. Okay, so have fun today on pulling. Yep, Turkey and that kind of stuff we're doing that the taco thing tonight and you can least having friends from 6 o'clock but I don't think think city you're going to be a m storms won't matter. Okay, have fun bye.
  • Hey Lynn, it's hello hello.
  • Hey Scott were at the cellphone like give us a buzz when you get down the baggage claim. Love you. See you soon. Bye.
  • Hi Karen, Just bring my own phone. Talk to you later. Bye for now on.
  • Carrie this still in. I have other questions about the experience. Gimme a call.
  • Ohh call, just a matter and mining voicemail like that.
*note that all voicemails were left for me even though only one of the transcripts correctly identifies my name.

Friday, December 25, 2009

wins and losses from yesteryear.

"god told me I have to wear a dress today," a three-year-old carrie petulantly informs her mother.

"god told me I have to keep your legs warm. go change."

merry christmas you guys!

also, turns out i roast a pretty good beef tenderloin.

i'd make it for you anytime you asked.

Monday, December 21, 2009

chaos theory

while we're decorating the tree tonight, my grandmother says nonchalantly, "I'm not even going to fuss with it this year. it looks fine how it is."

my grandmother, who spend a lot of time hunched over the carpet picking off lint and debris instead of just walking through a room, who took two hours arranging the easter basket for her months-old granddaughter because she didn't want two jelly beans with the same colors touching, who could shuffle ornaments for hours in her younger years to make sure that the best ones were in front and toward the top and the colors and the lights and the overall effect were just perfect.

my mother bursts out laughing: "eighty years old," she says, "and she finally figured out Random."

Sunday, December 20, 2009


FACT: I have dry eyes. very, very dry eyes.

FACT: Regular eyedrops have failed to adequately moisturize them.

FACT: Personal lubricants are known for their moisturizing capabilities.


mathematically stated, does



for the sake of my eyes, please weigh in.

Saturday, December 19, 2009

Thursday, December 17, 2009


me:  dude, v.
to engage in excessive acts of bro-hood, righteousness, or otherwise frivolous friendship shaped activities

Kyle:  or: to live.

Cornrow Joe from Edsel Denk on Vimeo.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

inquire within

Adam:  so after looking at all those pictures i got to thinking that we should start a club. one where all the guys look like they've come from a long night at a gin-soaked formal affair, and all the women are inexplicably gorgeous with whatever they wear, and we'll live our lives like fashion photographers are hiding behind every corner. We can be like the Society of Frivolity and Dandyism or some such thing.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

love actually, actually

oh hai! my husband's creepy friend mark who has been secretly and obsessively in love with me for god knows how long! at my home!

and you want me to lie to my husband who is right inside!

(i don't know what you're capable of...)

after making her lie to her husband, mark then shows juliet photographs of naked women...

but no ulterior motives here. he was just in the neighborhood with some notecards, a boombox, his naked lady collection, and this face. 

this has literally never been said before by anyone ever.

it's a trap!

your scent. your hair. the way you look bathed in moonlight through your bedroom window at 4am.

i want to make a suit out of your skin and wear it. forever.

then he just, like, shows her some naked dead lady.

here's the creepy part: she's into it. in loveactuallyhughgrantisprimeministerworld, these are tactics that get a man frenched by his best friend's wife in the street.

to summarize:

coercion (lies)
naked ladies
made up aphorisms
skin suits
+   dead naked ladies
street frenching

very good holiday film. A++ will watch twice a year for the next every year of my life.

"if you loved me, you would say it on my facebook wall."

Prelude to a Kiss, originally uploaded by tompalumbo.

Monday, December 14, 2009

old sayings, new men on the don't date list

I was on the bus today, and a man sat down perpendicular to me. while I pretended to look out the window and gazed at him with my peripherals, he chatted away on an iPhone. then, he pulled out a Blackberry. then, he was just sitting there using two phones at once. it's like they always say: "never trust a guy with spiky hair."

Sunday, December 13, 2009

a fact is a thing

did you know that the flying lemur pictured above can't actually fly? he's been gliding all along.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

and with data!

colonial math, yo

John Adams, For Real

time to get awesome with Part V and beyond:

poems i'll never write but would, vol. 2

our shared brain is a beautiful if lumpy thing

benediction: his baby teeth t-shirt


krampus, or the birching of young girls

on monthlies

haiku: the reckoning came and went while i stepped out for smokes

the way the room remains*

*haha! no serious. read my poetry you guys.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

gratification, and how

Although it had gratified him enormously to leave her, he had missed hurting her for years, and had been half consciously looking for another woman with a similarly fatal combination of pride, weakness, and a foolish lust for something resembling passion.

Mary Gaitskill. “Romantic Weekend.” 1988

via natashavc

many happy returns

I know I haven't posted in a while. I've been busy.

Saturday, December 5, 2009

bears: the new bacon


jk! jay cutler: not as good as bacon. 

there was an extended period of time, see, where i would receive several emails a day - many redundantly linking to the same novelty, delicious, and occasionally baffling products. sure, it was in no uncertain terms that i unabashedly hollered my love for the stuff from every corner of the www, but i had to wonder at a certain point, what on earth did my peers think of me? a fat kid at heart til the day i die, i'll sing it loud and proud but really, had i reduced myself to self-parody on wheels, glistening with the glorious rendered grease from a thousand gluttonous mornings?

never - don't you ever! - get me wrong, kids. i. love. the. bacon. because it's fucking delicious. and it tends to make almost anything it touches delicious. ever sauteed onions in bacon fat and threw some potatoes in it? no? fuck everything you're doing and try it immediately. fuck your laundry, fuck your brunch, fuck your nap. grab the closest goddamn skillet and your jar of bacon grease (what? you don't have one? grow some effing balls and start rendering and saving that shit. christ, do i have to tell you everything?), and get your education on. throw some fucking bell peppers in there. scramble some eggs and roll that mothefucker up in a tortilla and call it salvation. i digress.

i am more than the sum of my breakfasts. i am also a girl who loves bears. i love the way they scratch their backs on trees. i love the way they panic. the way the anthropomorphized ones sing and the way the real ones remind psychotic, feeble human beings that they are fucking bears. also, guh, ADORABLEZ. man oh man. bears, more so than lions, tigers, or bloodlusting terrorfish, exist in the popular imagination as both cuddlebuddies and deathmachines. fire marshalls and flesheaters. bears, much like a david lynchian hamburger, manage to embody both the mystery and fearsomeness of the dark-sided other and kitschy harmlessness. bears simultaneously signify good and evil; hunger for hugs and hunger for human meat. bears growl and roar and dress themselves up as little black rain clouds:

bears. good lord. awesome!

and somehow, some way, my peers have caught wind of the sea change in my heart. the committee dares not complain. no no, loves. together with bearhat, bacon, and some buddies, i think this is gonna be a perfectly fine season in the life of just another stupid silly girl. so keep it coming, friends. you see a bear on these nets you send it my way. you know how i appreciate you, don't you? you ought to. you should.

p.s. someone buy me this sleeping bag immediately.

gorgeous bit by chicago's most impressively bearded poet dave snyder, regarding panda bears, bamboo, lacking: bamboo poem

Friday, December 4, 2009

yeah right, december

i see what you're doing. what you're trying to do.

and i suppose you think you're real clever, don't you, you frigid saucebox. well.

when i said i wasn't going to complain this winter i meant it, every word. there are plenty of other mouths and minds and mediums that will erupt with bitterness, contempt, and despair and over what?! a lack of degrees?

of the many things so many lack, degrees ought to be the least of our worries, eh? we have coats and scarves and mitts and each other. we've the nearest watering hole to run to when the living room caves in. we've heating systems and favorite blankets and some of us even have extremely silly slippers and inside hats. we are armed, every one, to deal with this and we will like we do every year but this year i see no point in pointing out the struggle. no. i plan to revel instead in the pleasures of neighbordays spent curled up among friends. the pleasures of a big spoon wrapped round a lil 'un. those of a dog doing his damndest to bury his head in my arm, those of a favorite blanket unraveling to its last and hot toddies and soups and the occasional cup of mexican hot chocolate. these will not signify respite but only another shape of joy.

december, you're only december, i know. and there are months and miles ahead but even still. even still. if it's me versus you, me versus january, me versus april that venomous bitch, i will always win. you, december - you come and you go. january comes and it goes. april comes and it fucking goes. and there i am, victorious and crowned in summer once more, barrel of skippy at one side, and the sun on the other.

so bring it, bitch. i came to play.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

the way the room remains

with every manner and shape of gratitude.
a small accomplishment