Monday, August 30, 2010


despite the terror and sadness at the news that something as fucking important and sexual as the oxford english dictionary may wholly surrender its material existence, depriving future generations of introverted 8 year olds the pleasure of penciling smug x's next to words they'll never learn to gracefully use, i am no less tickled rotten and pink (gross!) that - with almost 27 full human years under my stylish and casually tossed on belt - i've managed to befriend the types of girls that would care deeply about news such as this, and conflate it with the paean to rock and roll that will forever and always remind me of 6th grade nerd camp, where i first learned that if you cannot in the first five minutes spot the awkward kid, chances are high that the awkward kid at nerd camp may very well be YOU. this is not entirely your fault; you did break your nose two days before leaving and your parents did encourage you to look up words on your own and use them all in a sentence you kept going for the rest of your life. no one wants to make lanyards with the girl whose nose bleeds sporadically and has a troubling fixation with run-on sentences. don't worry. you later went on to graduate school at the university of chicago, where you were able to spot no fewer than 35 dysfunctionally awkward kids in the first 3 minutes of orientation and go on to meet some of the most unreasonably awesome and whipshittinsmart women you never thought you'd cry in front of, and then you did one night under a table in the library and you know what? they never judged.

the print dictionary may be dead or dying, but bfff's are here to stay.

Friday, August 27, 2010

in which tiny barely sentient beings make me feel lazy



smug bastards.

(un?)related post script: we eat our ice creams before our meat sandwich dinners in this household. 

Thursday, August 26, 2010

blogs i would have blogged but didn't; or, abortions

below (the below) are some titles to posts i apparently started in the last few months but never finished, most likely for one of the following reasons:

1. i got listless and lazy, and writing is HARD
2. drunk
3. anti-han. han would never finish writing a web log post and, despite feeling suddenly too vulnerable, hit "publish." we are on a strict be like han diet these days. (not coincidentally, we look and feel terrific.) 
4. terrible
5. upon re-reading, we (i) realized half of everything we (i) say is unmitigated bullshit. in addition to our han diet, we are evangelical bullshit mitigators these days. business is booming. 
6. any combination of the above. almost most certainly some combination of the above. try to match the reasons to the titles!

a. maybe you have a friend
b. if/then
c. poem: ode to an ode on a weekend i wrote one weekend when i was enjoying myself too hard
d. it's not you, it's me
e. L TO THE O TO THE L!!!!!!!!!!!!
f. new business ideas
g. nice things men have said to me recently, the horrible horrible sequel
h. ¡mind your own business, buckshot! 

apropos of nothing/everything:

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

an open letter to my jimmy johns sandwich delivery man

this is embarrassing; a year and countless sandwiches later and i have never once bothered to ask your name. it has now become one of those awkward non-tensions in which i feel that it would bring the non-tension to fruition were i, at this point - so late and so many sandwiches deep in the game - to ask your name, guy.

but this is not about what i should call you when i tell you, jimmy john's sandwich delivery man (you may be jimmy john himself, and that wouldn't stop me from sending this plea out into the ether, still hoping for the occasional free oatmeal raisin surprise in return), that today, you crossed a line.

it started out like any other sandwich delivery; you rapped gently on my open door and breezed in smiling, tall, suspiciously attractive and sane-seeming for a 30-year old sandwich delivery man. no! do not for a moment think i am condescending; you seem - from the two times i've called at the last minute to add sandwiches to my usual order (sometimes i have FRIENDS, okay! a fact i felt very foolish about pointing out when you confirmed the additional sandwich orders) - to be the manager of the franchise.

i'll bet your bicycle is extremely lightweight and sexy looking.

your ruddy complexion and very nice calves suggest you remain active, healthy, maybe going camping or to the beach with a frequency i'd be sure to envy. the point is, jimmy john, i know you do not spend all your time making sandwiches and waiting to deliver them to me.

in the last year, i suspect we have developed a fondness for and comfort with one another. i give you pens, on occasion. i have so many! you give me sandwiches, i tip you well. we occasionally banter about things that aren't even the weather! one time, we talked in hilarious vagaries and assorted euphemisms about my obvious hangover. jimmy john, we've had some times.

i like it when you deliver my sandwiches and i've not a single design on quitting sandwiches any time soon; if my suspicions are correct and you are indeed the frachise manager of your particular jimmy john's location, you probably aren't not going to be delivering my sandwiches any time soon. we need to clear the air before this tension destroys the delicate balance of our sandwich delivery man/sandwich delivery enthusiast relationship.

never, ever, ever again say to me anything remotely resembling what you said to me upon delivering my sandwich at 2pm today:
this is kind of a late lunch for you.

look, james johnathan. i appreciate that you appreciate the regularity of my consumption, but this? this confirms what i must have known for ages now in my brain of hearts to be true, which is that i'm so clearly sinking into a sandwich-lined pit of urban despair and consumer predictability. my sandwich today tasted of the sour sting of ideological defeat. 

is this my american dream, jj? is my slice of the pie to include dijon and arrive promptly to my office by 11:30 two to three times a week? am i fulfilling the dreams of my forefathers with every click on "confirm order," every self-satisfied end-of-transaction sigh toward the promise of satiation? am i sure i know what happiness is, or means? is it simply a word like so many other words and is it a word i ought spend so much time considering? why do i get so peevish about language and what i perceive to be a gross disrespect paid it by countless internet emoticon artists? why don't i spend more time focusing on my own capitalization and less time hating acronyms? isn't my tan amazing this year? should i get a teaching certificate? do i eat enough vitamin d? should i have moved back to california all those years ago? do they even have jimmy john's in california? avocado season, like all things, must come to an end and sooner than i'd think - what then? what will my reliable party dip be then? jim, what happened to us? what happened?

all told, i suppose, if i'm to be mired here in neurotic, twenty-something limbo grappling my way toward self-actualization, i may as well continue to have sandwiches.

forget i said anything, jimmy john. i'll see you next monday. the usual time.

aren't the geraniums pretty?

well, aren't they? 

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

no is a mighty stupid word

Funtivities would include, but are not limited to the following:

1. Golf - it'll still be in the seventies down there and for a fraction of Boston prices we can play some fun courses
2. Fishing - depending on the level of interest we could do a casual day out in the bay, or we can get real weird with it and go about 20 miles offshore in the ocean with my uncle and catch some big motherfuckers
3. Beach - a couple blocks from the crib
4. Bars - Kent and Mongo can speak to the validity of the beach bar scene, but it's good for a spectacular disaster...
5. Oyster Shooters - at chick's oyster bar, best of the best... also a legendary bloody mary bar for our exit
 get real weird with it, k.

Monday, August 16, 2010

funny things i read in bathrooms this weekend

ana is a bitch who f***ed your boyfriend! teach her a lesson - 847-###-###
not cool, ana. not cool.

don't give blow-j's at the bar. they will videotape you! 
let's forget for a moment how fucked up and terrible it is that someone is clandestinely recording you giving your boyfriend (who ana totally skronked!) a blowj (you guys made up) and focus on how our altruistic scribe came to know about The Consequences.

the eastern mediterranean sweeps across time on the wings of empire. 
 vivid imagery is important.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

coping mechanisms

What we need to do is develop a mantra of some sort.  You know, like they have in movies about traveling pants and sisterhoods of things and in and around movies about book clubs having any or perhaps everything to do with misinterpreting Austen novels and reading then pretending to be in books about traveling the world, eating its many frozen treats, then staring coyly and bemusedly at those frozen treats in the expectation that at any minute, you, in your travels through your mind in this book club in this movie at any point in reality, could be photographed while just sitting on a park bench and being adorable.  They have mantras, don't they?  Like Hos before Bros?  I don't want no scrubs?  If you like it then you should have put a ring on it?  Pull and pray? 
spirit animal..

Monday, August 9, 2010

agree to agree, and carry on




  • the national. better than most things. matt berninger stepped on my foot last night whilst promising me, personally, me, that he would not fuck us over, being mr. november and all. it was a high point. 

so meaningful. so bearded.
  • every female character on californiacation, except becca, is a poorly written and one dimensional caricature of a woman designed specifically to a) make david duchovny (i write it whispery because there is no better name to whisper than david duchovny. try it) look like a totally hilarious, rad dude whose aberrant sexual behavior is not only reasonable but wholly empathetic and b) emphasize that karen is the only halfway likable woman in all of west los angeles, so obviously they belong together forever. this is a program that, while wildly entertaining and amusing, illustrates relationships as inevitably futile attempts at momentary reprieve from the emptiness and despair of human existence, which is ultimately mere exercise in loneliness and depravity. but again, entertaining! good show! television! 
  • kyle lamere is a little christmas. i have no time to argue about this. 
  • sufjan.
  • it being august and summer still don't worry, it is maybe time for some light self-evaluation. what have you done with your season? how is your heart? are you riding your bike as much as you should? is your bag game where it ought to be? do you ever wonder if you are suffocating yourself under the pressure of the words "should" and "ought?" have you listened to like pioneers yet? doesn't a part of you - some tiny corner inside of you where your quiet and peaceful resides - long for autumn, for blankets and soups and warmth you want to touch with your hands and your mouth and your face and some such, just a part? are you reading a book? what is your favorite word at the moment? mine is "fresh," as in "mikey IS so fresh!" that or "insouciance," which is very nearly as fun to whisper as david duchovny. evaluate. 
i think you're pretty wonderful. agree to agree with me on this, it's already august. 

Friday, August 6, 2010

future heartbarf

post script

i know what you're thinking.

"but kristin, what is party game number ONE?!"

i'll tell you what party game number one is, but only kind of, because you're a very bright individual with a brain like a battleaxe and i'd be cheating the both of us if i ever made anything too explicit:

it's like 52 card pick up, only the cards are the pieces of the life you've been sucking at, and the party started without you months ago. get cracking.

happy lollapalooza weekend, animals!

PARTY GAME #2: Mad Libs Based on Things Alicia Says!

explore the space of your brilliance! let your flag fly high!


1. Making the most of a(n) [ESOTERIC NOUN] mix-up; or, getting your [NOUN RELATED TO SOCIAL SIGNIFIER] [DOUBLE ENTENDRE'd VERB]ed after an emotional [NOUN; INEVITABILITY]

how droll! GOLD STAR!

2. The point to be taken here is that the [NOUNS THAT ARE NOT YOU, YOU SNOWFLAKE!] who are [ADJECTIVE DESCRIBING THOSE NOUNS THAT ARE NOT YOU, YOU'RE WONDERFUL!] should be that way alone while [SELF DESTRUCTING VERB]ing and not on the [DIGITAL PUBLIC SPACE], or whatever.

have i ever told you you look great in a good sense of humor? ooh la la with that clever on you. 

3. Kristin is a(n) [ADJECTIVE] [NOUN] who [VERB]s [NOUN]s without [NOUN, PROBABLY "COMPUNCTION"] but I cannot help but love her because she understands me. [VERB] you, Kristin. 

oh alicia. love you, too.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

science doesn't need you to understand it.

“Yeah, man, I just like to crank up the Brooks and Dunn and settle down with a Will Shortz Sunday puzzle” 
– No One Ever In The History Of The World.
i feel myself getting older every day.