ardent bullshit comes down every faultline gushing heavily into jest kindly luscious melons nodding openly post quakes resting still to undermind various wonderous xylophones yawning zealously

Friday, August 25, 2006


...that there were 36 hours in a day

...tulips bloomed throughout the year

...descent health care was readily available to everyone

...everybody had food to eat & a home to stay in

...that the symphony would last just a little longer hamstrings were more flexible wasn't so difficult

...dairy wasn't so fattening

...Henry would stop biting my fingers & feet at night

...we could all just get along

**idea stolen from sunfollower**

Thursday, August 24, 2006

The Secret's Out

Guess what.

Aw shit. Not this stupid game again.

No really. I'm ready to divulge my big secret.

Okay, we all know that you did NOT have a one nighter with Johnny Depp. The only one nighters that you MIGHT be able to get would be with the bum who stands in front of the Magic Mart.

Sheesh. Aren't you gonna guess?


Okay then I'll make it a bit easier.....guess who just accepted a new job?

No no no, Paris Hilton isn't REALLY a hooker, she just acts like one. So her claiming one year of celibacy does NOT mean early retirement.

No, silly, ME! You're lookin' at the new Grant Wench for some big huge multi-million dollar department. You know what that means?

Another department gets nauseous when you have gas?

Nope. Well, okay, yeah maybe a little bit. But really, that means that I'll now be working ALL the time! Goodbye social life.

In order to lose something, you have to have one to begin with. And secondly, you made me wait 2 days to find this out? This secret sucked.

Yeah, maybe a little. Sorry about that.

Monday, August 21, 2006


Hey guess what? I have a secret. And know what else? I'm REALLY bad at keeping secrets. But I can't quite tell you because, well, um, I can't. Well, I COULD but yeah, well, you know. I just SHOULDN'T.

Anyway.....I didn't win the lottery so don't even get your hopes up & think that I'll be all like 'hey everybody i just bought an island, let's pretend we're on Lost!' or anything as awesomely fantastic as that. Shit, now it seems like my secret sucks. Well, I guess it probably does but whatever.

Tomorrow=>30+ mile hilly bike ride day=>tron in the bathtub soaking & on the couch eating ice cream in the evening.

Oh! I know. There is ONE secret I can divulge.......I got the effing coolest backpack yesterday for my trip. Yeah, it's superrad.

Friday, August 18, 2006

No Sleep Til Scotland

T-2 weeks & a day until I leave for Scotland.

Woah. You mean that you have to travel to another hemisphere to get laid now?

No. I'm taking a vacation. Last one was 3 years ago to Vancouver.

That's not true. You went to Vegas last year.

Vegas doesn't count. It's not a vacation.

Oh right. I forgot. In order for something to be a vacation there can be no threatening to 'show these girls how to really dance' at the Saphire.

Shut up. I was drunk.

Wasn't that also the place where you walked up to the dj booth & told him that he was playing really shitty music?


They are so not letting you in there again.

Good riddance.

So on the 2nd I'm leaving. Holiday. Celebrate.

What I won't be doing for 2 weeks:
*Checking emails
*Checking voice messages
*Anything to do with work

What I will be doing for 2 weeks:
*Hiking through The Highlands
*Drinking Whiskey
*Actually putting my knowledge of Highlands dancing to use by showing the locals just how 'in tune' I am with their culture (after the whiskey)
*Soaking up as much Jaimers as possible before she leaves for Japan
*Visiting museums during the day in London
*Partying it up with Max during the night in London
*Meeting Neill's new baby
*Finishing Confederacy of Dunces (effing finally)

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Excuse me, I'd like to take a nap now.

What is your problem?
I needed a Biosketch
This is a CV

I don't understand
Why did you reformat this?
You fucking dumbass

-Nick & Emily, exerpts from "$1 Milkshake Day"

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

I'm Livin' in the Future!

I got a new cell phone last night. Yaaaaaay! I can now pitch the one that's like 3 million years outdated (but only one point five years old because it's the 'free' one that I got back one point five years ago). And by pitch I mean give to an organization that gives cell phones to abused women or the elderly. But first it will sit on my desk for a month and then in a drawer for 3 months or until I clean out that drawer.

Because I'm a genius, I wrote down zero of the telephone numbers stored safely in my old telephone & the Smart Chip I have is decidedly very unsmart & didn't transfer telephone numbers. So I sent out this mass(ive) email to like everybody that I know, except for the ones that I don't like or don't have their email addresses, explaining the situation & asking that they please please please call me or send me or text message me their numbers. Well, turns out that the text message function on the telephone doesn't work! My dad, the old kook, didn't hook it up for that. What a silly dad! What year does he think this is, 1995?!?! But I didn't know this until this morning!

So last night I sat around waiting desperately for telephone numbers, figuring that the calls & emails & text messages would come pouring in because I sent this mass(ive) email to like 33587673213658 people. While I waited I started experimenting with this new technological fun machine. Like putting up a new 'wallpaper'. It's of goldfishes!!! And figuring out which ringtone I would choose. Hhhhhmmmmmm....which sound says 'emertron'? Am I a 'Carribean' kinda gal? Stick with the tried & true Nokia Tune? What exactly does 'Espianoge' sound like? As sat, making pertinent decisions I realized, wow, my telephone hasn't made a peep other than for the purpose of choosing a ringtone.





What? I don't get it! Why wouldn't people call? If I got a mass(ive) email about a friend getting a new telephone & being a dumbass & not writing down all of the numbers before changing out the unSmart Card I know I'd call immediately in the hopes of being the 1st person inputted. I'd say 'am i first am i first!?!'. Confused, I drank a Micronutrient Juice & watched The Golden Girls (that Betty White just cracks me up!!!). Once 12:30 struck I knew it was hopeless.

Depressed & feeling unloved, I drug my feet down the hall & flopped on my bed, shiny new telephone in hand, & quietly whimpered, warm tears rolling down my face, crying myself to sleep to the lull of 'Coconut.mid'.

Friday, August 04, 2006

Rules of the Road

Phew! Hey! Guess what.


I road my bike to work from the northside today.

You mean you finally got off your lazy ass & did some exercise? Didn't you make a promise to yourself never to get up early again in the name of working out after high school swimming?

Yep. And I broke that promise. What do you think of me now? I'm going back on my word. In the name of better health.

You're still a loser.

So this weekend I'm totally booked with parties! I feel so popular. So loved. So saught after.

And what you mean by that is that people invited you to bars to buy them drinks?

Shut up.

No, really, tonight there are like 35778683 million parties going on & tomorrow night there are like 2 but you know what? I don't really feel like going. Wanna know why? Because between last night & this morning I logged in over 30 miles on my bicycle bee boppin' to Caribou & my terribly out of shape legs decided to turn into Jell-O. Oh yeah. And last night I hit a kid. Okay, an adolescent. Yep. Minor collision. Nobody's anywhere close to being hurt. It was an 'on your left' incident. Fucker stopped in the middle of the path perpendicular to the trail. Dumbass. But anyhow, on to the title of this here post..........

1.) 'On your left' means that I am passing you...on your left. If you're not familiar with this phrase, please, learn it. As lately I've noticed that 'on your left' is apparently translated in the brain to commands such as 'turn left immediately' or 'stop your bicyle perpendicular to the trail & stare at me when i give you the finger'.....note to parents: please teach your children this also. I do not want to hit them & will do absolutely everything in my power not to but sometimes there remain no other options. Physics people. Physics.

2.) Confidential to those 4-person peddling thingies that can be rented: please don't take up the whole path. Also, staring at my boobs & peddling straight at me does NOT, in fact, validate reason for a collision.

3.) I realize that biking is fun & can be a social activity. That's one of the reasons that I do it. Please please please, don't take up the entire width of the bike path, though, when traveling in a group unless a. There is NO ONE on the path or b. You don't mind 'um, excuse me....Excuse Me.....EXCUSE ME....GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY!!!!'. Same goes for walkers, roller bladers, etc.

4.) If you drive a car, please check before you fling your door open.

5.) If you are a police officer, the previous rule DOES, if fact, apply to you as well. Also, just because you have a badge does NOT mean that stop signs don't pertain to you.

6.) Bikers.....if you do not plan to follow the normal regulations of traffic (i.e. stop signs & stoplights) expect to get hit. Don't be a dick.

7.) Parents.....busy paths are not the place to teach your children how to ride a bike. Sidewalks, driveways, parking lots & the like provide the safety for your adorable little kids to learn & practice. I do not want to be a danger to them & them to me. Also, when they are experienced enough to ride on paths, keep them close & DO NOT have them ride behind you.

Phew! Thanks for letting me get that off of my chest. Time to go back to waiting on people to get shit to me so that I can do my work & attempting to discover how to sleep with my eyes open.

Album of the Day: The The 'Dusk'

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

this lame post brought to you by a melted* brain

*and by 'melted' i don't mean 'effed up' or anything i mean it was so fucking hot this weekend at Pitchfork that my brain melted

Hey, did you hear? Chicago's on fire. And not like in that 'jazz hands' sort of hot-with-two-t's type of thing. I mean for real. It's fucking hot as balls out here. But actually it's not really because balls are not, in fact, this hot. If balls are this hot then they don't produce sperm so it's HOTTER THAN BALLS!

In other everybody that I know is getting married (and let me tell you that some of them are SHOCKING!). You know what that means? One step & like 3182390473 men closer to being The Cat Lady and dancing alone at more weddings. Sigh. Great. But on the other hand, this means great excuse to blow my paycheck on more pretty dresses. Oooooooo!

Yeah, hey, anybody wanna call in a bomb threat so that I can go home & take a nap after lunch?

(no, really don't)