Thursday, August 31, 2006
It is just about the most beautiful day EVER in Chicago. It is sunny and clear with perfect cotton-candy looking clouds. It feels like a beautiful late September day. Luckily I am stuck in an office for this.
Oh, and I had to renew my license yesterday, and they made me take a written exam! Even though the letter told me this, I really didn't believe it and wasn't at all prepared. Luckily I had about 15 minutes to look over the little book they give you -- because even though I brushed up on a lot of stuff, I still got one of the 20 multiple choice questions wrong, and I mis-labeled one of the 15 signs. Which was ridiculous, because it was the "railroad crossing" sign, and I cross a railroad every day on the way to work! I felt like an idiot. How embarrassing. Luckily, they appear to give licenses to just about anyone.
Monday, August 28, 2006
I think that my favorite part of one of the spots is the chocolate marks left everywhere, including on a mother/daughter team who HUG THE BROWNIE, making them look like they are COVERED IN SHIT!!!!! WHAT?????
Kudos to you, Domino's, for juxtaposing your cardboard pizza facsimile with a walking piece of shit. YUM!
OMG- just when I thought it couldn't get any better, I just saw this phrase on the website..."Visit fudgems en espagnol to see Brownito!"
Please click here for the spot, and then here for the dancing fudgems. Dear Lord, it just doesn't get any better.
Enjoy poo lovers!
Ok, enough of that...
I will now write something of more substance, I just wanted that to be known. You may all rejoice, and by "all" I mean my wife, basically the only reader of this lovely blog.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Usually I’m knocked up, or once a few weeks ago, I had to kill snakes in order to determine what my dead grandmother had left us as our inheritances, and often people are needlessly slaughtered. The dreams are usually quite unnecessarily graphic.
A few nights ago, I dreamt about whistling. I was leading this group of people around a house, and I was whistling a song perfectly. I even tried whistling when I woke up, because I was sure I could do it.
I can’t whistle at all, much less whistle an entire song in tune. Assuming that, in my dream world, I can acquire any ability I really, really want– um, whistling? Way to dream big.
But she is so short, I never really notice what she is wearing.
Yes, I am an evil giant who hates dwarfs.
Friday, August 18, 2006
Friday, August 11, 2006
Here are songs you must listen to NOW if at all possible:
The Professor and La Fille Danse, Damien Rice: We saw Damien Rice (with Fiona Apple) about a month ago, and his performance of this song was amazing. It’s on his B-sides album. It is wonderful.
Walnut Tree, Keane: In general, I was not a fan of their first album, and when we went to their concert, Tania and I were horrified by the crowd of VH1-watching couples who were way too into it and really earnest in a way that disturbed us, probably due to our own self-esteem issues. We spent the majority of the concert laughing at people. Ironically, one person who was really, really into it was totally a guy who I spotted that night at the concert for the first time in about a year. The next time I was at his place, he played "Somewhere only we know" way, way too loud at 6 am about 5 times and sang along and despite this, was still so sexy. This song, which is much more melancholy than "somewhere only we know" (and is not on any Keane albums – on an OC mix album) reminds me of him.
Retour A Vega, The Stills (probably my favorite song for about the past 6 months): It’s all in French, so I had to translate the lyrics and I can confirm that they are as brooding as the music itself. It’s gorgeous. Again, not on either of their albums (and so far I really don’t like their second one) – on the Wicker Park soundtrack. Lame movie, excellent soundtrack. “We Have a Map of the Piano” by the Mums is also an amazing song.
I Want You to Stay, Maximo Park: “Missing” is good as well, but this song is pretty much stripped of the bravado that characterizes the rest of the album, and sounds kind of desperate, and it thus makes me extra sad (which I enjoy). However, this dude’s accent makes me happy.
Cheers Darlin’, Damien Rice again: So, so excellently bitter, just like me (j/k!!). If someone just walked out on you or loved you and left you or whatever, Damien will commiserate via this song, which sounds like the band showed up at a bar as they were closing up and proceeded to drunkenly record while knocking over empty pint glasses. He didn’t play this at the concert and I was very sad.
A Case of You, Joni Mitchell: Well most people probably already know this song. When I heard the title, before I'd heard the song itself, I thought it was going to be a “case” like a case of the measles. Drinking a case of someone is so much cooler, and sadly sweeter. Oh, bittersweet Canadian love. Oh, Canada.
Arrow, Cheryl Wheeler: Such a pretty song. It kind of makes me feel like I want to buy a farm and tend it alone and live in the middle of nowhere, leading a melancholy life wherein I occasionally long for a man. Then the song ends and I feel like a fool.
Leif Erikson, Interpol: This song literally brought a tear to my eye in the car the other day. No other song can make me so sad, with such a sense of foreboding. Right about now, I’m wondering if I’m premenstrual constantly.
Putting the Damage On, Tori Amos: One of the best songs about a relationship gone wrong.
Storms, Fleetwood Mac: #2 best song about love gone wrong. We used to listen to this almost every night my freshman year of college while smoking cigarettes. Nothing beats bonding over a heart-wrenching Stevie Nicks song.
I would link to these songs if I had the energy and the knowledge, but I am both lazy and stupid. So I will reimburse you if you buy them on iTunes or something, and hate them. (Plus probably only Boulos is reading this – most of these songs can be found on your laptop).
Also, I have officially decided upon my personal guilty pleasure album: Coming Around Again by Carly Simon. I think that most people, if listening to this album for the first time today, would rate it 0 to 1 stars (out of any number possible, really – 5, 10, 100, whatever). But my mom played this album a lot when I was young, and nothing makes me happier than listening to it.
So I am just finished “Everything is Illuminated,” which has made me cry (well, made my eyes water) several times. I’ll admit that I cry during movies (especially when I’m drunk and watching Raising Helen, embarrassingly enough), but books rarely accomplish this. Which isn’t to say I love it – I like the present-day parts. The stories about the grandfather and his ancestors are just a little too precious and postmodern, although they do raise the interesting question of how far removed we have to be from something before it can become a funny, twee little story. I’m not sure I really needed that question answered, though. But Alex and his grandfather are such great characters (does JSF deliberately make his namesake something of a douchebag?) Ok, and now I am done discussing a book 4 years or so too late. In fact, this reminds me of Jim Gaffigan’s stand-up, when he just saw the movie Heat and attempts to discuss it with unwilling people, as everyone saw it years ago.
Um, truthfully I actually wrote this last week and saved it as a draft, hoping to finish it when I was at home. But my sis's computer has gone bonkers and I had some time at work today. So here you go.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
So one night, Boulos and I were hanging out at Rudy’s on 9th ave. If you’ve never been there, it’s a really fun dive full of old people, hipsters, sleazy men, and self-proclaimed Westies . I once felt very obligated to at least seriously consider dating the bouncer because his friend, while attempting to persuade me, managed to mention that he was an ex-con Westie several times. Anyway, it’s basically a great place for two single young women to go if they enjoy being hit on by all manner of sleazy men.
We were, surprisingly, drunk, and this guy came over and started to hit on Boulos. Hard. Not just paying her a fair amount of attention – paying attention only to her, ignoring me, crowding her, etc. I think Boulos had somewhat recently gotten serious with Andy (if you’ll allow me to phrase that like someone’s grandma, thanks), and it was really funny to watch her get hit on in this situation. Then he REALLY pulled out all the stops – he said that he was a member of Slipknot, and invited us (or maybe just her, I don’t remember) to a hotel party with some of his bandmates!
Unsurprisingly, we later used a cell phone picture of this guy to prove to ourselves that he was not, in fact, a member of Slipknot. I don’t even remember how – where do you find pictures of them sans masks? – but I think Boulos’s brother confirmed our suspicions.
The best part of this lie, though, was how insanely into it this guy was. First of all, he knew waaaaaaaaay too much about Slipknot. Like, I think he claimed to be the guy in the Pig mask, and he totally knew that guy’s name. He was talking about a show they had just played in Philadelphia or somewhere like that, which we did confirm they had played, and basically going on and on with just enough details concerning his identity, but not so many that it became obvious lying. Sure, we were drunk, but I think he really believed he was in the band.
So what do you think he would have done if we had gone to the alleged “hotel party” with him? A party that obviously didn't exist. My guess is, our mutilated bodies might have been found in one of those sleazy motels on the West Side Highway, but that’s just me. Nothing like a brush with certain death to remind you you're alive.
So, I’m really fucking pissed because Dirty Pretty Things is playing their Chicago show tomorrow night, which I only found out about today because I prefer to keep my head in the sand, thank you. I’m looking for tickets on CL, but, um, I have like $40 and people are already offering $100 for one ticket. So the outlook is not good.
Anyway, to cheer me up, here is a story I should probably not post on a blog, and may have to take down:
So I have a friend – we will call her X simply because no one’s name begins with X, so good luck figuring that one out – who began talking to a certain Best Week Ever talking head on Myspace awhile ago. Best Week Ever Dude will henceforth be known as BWED, btw. Eventually, they realized that he would be doing a show in a town near her home, and they decided to meet up afterwards for drinks and general merriment. To make a not-very-long story short, they had sex (I mean, I just realized that this story is so much better if you a) know the girl, b) anticipated the meeting, and saw her anticipating the meeting – after googling the guy to figure out who the hell she was talking about, of course, and c) were there to see her say, “yeah, I had sex with BWED”).
Afterwards, he gave her an autograph that read: “Dear X, Thanks for giving me the Best Week Ever! Love, BWED.” (It wasn’t on like a paper napkin or some toilet paper, it was on a free piece of comedy-related merchandise). The message is kind of… eh. I mean, who didn’t see that coming? So, here are a few superior things I have come up with that he could have written instead:
- X: Hotter than the Sizzler!!!
- Dear X: We are totally going to make the Sizzler this week!
- Dear X: Unfortunately, the producers will not allow me to include personal conquests on the Sizzler anymore. But you will always be in the Sizzler of my heart!
- X: Total UPGRADE for BWED!
- Dear X, How can I begin to explain my loneliness? I can’t, really. I tour the country, seeking a bit of warmth and human kindness where I can find it. Did you know that I tape my segments for Best Week Ever all alone, in a tiny room? There is no empathy, no tenderness, no human connection of any kind in my life. Then again, can we ever really understand one another and forge that connection? Thank you for trying with me. Thank you for easing my loneliness, if only for 35 minutes.
- Dear X, Let’s go to Sizzler. My treat.
Btw, he it should be pointed out that he is still maintaining contact, and wants to see her again. Hence, the title of this post.
P.s. There were going to be some pictures, but that feature doesn't seem to be working on Blogger... so, um, here you go. Maybe I'll add later.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
So, above is this word cloud, which shows us what words we use most frequently on this blog. I believe the size of the word indicates how often it is used. Found the link here.
Our names, Andy, and formes of the word "drunk" seem to take the cake. Why am I not shocked? Please see upper right side, too. Yum, ass-beer.
-Shaving my boyfriend's back in the backyard of the house we rented. There's nothing like giant tufts of hair blowing in the sea air to say "Yes, vacation has started." Immediately after I finished his back, Andy grabbed the clippers, and decided he has the desire to look like a 13 year old boy, resulting in him shaving his entire chest as well (with a beer in hand, oh what a sight!).
-Learning how to crab. Did you know, all you need is some raw chicken, and BAM! You can catch a million delicious crabs for dinner? Of course you need to have someone around who is willing to rip their claws off while they are still alive, otherwise OW! I'm sure they didn't like it, but damn, they were good.
-We took a trip out to the historical Barnegat Light House:
Aren't we cute?
The craziest thing about that place was that the ONLY 2 places out by the lighthouse are Andy's Bait Shop, and Kelly's Restaurant. Isn't that crazy? Of course I forgot my camera, but I SWEAR I'm NOT MAKING IT UP!!!!
-We were attacked by flies at Island Beach State Park. Since we stayed on the bay, and the water there was piss warm, we thought we'd take a lil ride out to the ocean, where we could chill on a bigger beach, and enjoy the cool water. Um, yeah... apparently someone poured invisible syrup all over the damn place, and us, b/c we were ATTACKED BY FLIES!!! To the point where we tried getting out of the water for 2 minutes, and were immediately bitten up by the vicious bastards.
-Drunken Cranium- this happened during the week several times, many matches, and despite discovering that Andy is a complete board game Nazi, it was good times, and my team won nearly every time.
-Andy's shower fall. After one particularly drunken night, Andy got in the shower at 4:30am and while in there, the rod and curtain fell down. He apparently thought that someone was trying to break into the bathroom to take his picture, and so he fell out of the tub. He's fine, but he is crazy.
-Hanging out with our middle-aged, divocrced, drunken Irish neighbor and her crazy local co-horts. They drank almost more than we did! Everyone down there was so nice, they just invited us to hang w/them. Good times.
-Texting the wife about a movie I was watching, the great "Life with Mikey", and accidentally typing... "I'M WATCHING LIFE WITH MONKEY!!!!!!!!" (Plans are already in effect to film this soon to be epic"
-On our last day, during a drunken swim, I was kind of hanging onto Andy's back, b/c we were so far past the pier, and I suddenly felt a sharp, stinging pain in my arm. After ruling out an alcohol induced heart attack, we both realized we'd been stung by a jellyfish! It got Andy's shoulder and back, and my arm in two places. Luckily, no one had to pee on anyone, as sand and vinegar seemed to take the sting away. Although Alice said she would've peed on me if she had to, now that's a friend!
So that's the vacay wrap up... enjoy, and watch out for those Jelly Bastards!
Monday, August 07, 2006
Subject: Condom Lodger.
Er, is this a new word for penis or something? All I know is, I have reworked it, and my vagina shall henceforth be known as "the lodge."
Here is a neat glimpse into the future of my sex life:
Thursday, August 03, 2006
I am currently watching King Arthur, and I'm wondering... are they for real? Is this seriously a movie, like honestly, entertainment? It's ridiculous. First off, these knights are supposedly taken from some place (I can't currently be bothered with things like names) that looks to be in the area of eastern europe, and they all have English accents. Sure, they've lived there for years... but Lancelot seems to have already aquired an english accent when taken from his people. Good thing the Italians have horridly overdone, sleazy Italian accents! So then, just when the knights are supposed to be sent home after 15 years of service... j/k dudes! As your last LAST mission on behalf of the Roman empire, go rescue some Italian dude. His son is important. They show up, these guys who have been traveling the land, slaying people left and right, and Arthur is OUTRAGED!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh, the conditions in which the peasants live! This is medieval times, and the Italian guy, he is treating his subjects in a manner that is simply... Medieval! So Arthur is going to get medieval on his ass and randomly save serfs and peasants (the likes of which he's never seen before, I mean in all his time, never has he encountered a feudal system....), despite the fact that it will surely get them killed by the approaching Saxons. The leader of which pretty much has an American accent (which is funny, as it's Swede Stellan Skarsgård. I suppose it's a slightly swedish-tinged american thing he has going on). Of course, he saves Guinivere, and here comes Keira Knightley's pouty lips! About half an hour after they rescue her from the brink of death, she is lounging in furs, alternately giving Arthur her come-hither look, and sassily berating him for being so Roman.
And here I am, back in the day, writing my medieval blog
And is anyone else amazed at the way in which knives and swords seem to make metal-on-metal sounds every time they enter and leave flesh? At least, they do in Hollywood. I like to imagine that all the dudes are robots. Like medieval battlebots.
Why do I continue to watch this? Renaissance fairs are more realistic. But there's Gallahad, who is very sexy. And Clive Owen, you are ridiculously overdoing this, and Arthur is a major pussy, but you too are so sexy.... god, I wish I was a tortured English peasant in need of saving.
By the way, the title is in reference to my stalkers. Never have I rated the song "Nights in White Satin," or any Moody Blues song for that matter, yet launchcast insists upon playing it every time I listen. So I have an imaginary scenario in which Knights dressed in, yes, white satin chase me around a city. I have a very vivid imagination, you see.
p.s. I got a job! More about that later.
double-p.s. Man, I'm really starting to care about these guys, just when they're starting to die off. Dammit, why must I be such a woman?
Wait a minute, wait a minute... found him.
hold on... sorry old man squire-y dude, my heart has been stolen by the minstrel man.
Um, this image search is not getting old.
And this is the caption to the above picture, for reals: "Princess Valaria & Sir Andy had their dream wedding.So why don't you..? "
Seriously guys, for real. Why don't I? Any takers?