Get out of my dreams and into my blog.

2008-07-29T14:48:00.000-07:00

When you are engulfed in essays.

2008-07-23T14:40:00.000-07:00

Take any former white hat wearing i-banker you seen on the street (like that one over there), spout off an insulting remark about Dave Matthews Band (I hear "Typical Situation" is about litter box odor), and you will most likely get some defensive response about how they were listening to Remember Two Things before anyone else knew how to trip a billy. Or whatever.

That is kind of like my love for David Sedaris... at least I would like to think. Although I only faintly remember his SantaLand Diaries on NPR, my friends and I were plowing through his essays in high school when everyone else was reading the TV Guide description of the next Dawson's Creek episode. And while my adolescent dorkdom resulted in a few too many practices I'd rather not divulge, I am proud of our foresight and good taste.

By the time he came to Omaha my junior year of college, I already felt akin to him, even though he wouldn't know me from adam or any of the 300 college students clamoring to have their copies of Naked signed. (Or cookies. My friend Keith, not having a book with him, instead presented DS with a stale chocolate chip frisbee from Java Jay, which he graciously signed.)

During my last game of Run and Buy a Book from the Borders By the Bus Stop Before the Bus Comes, I bought "When You Are Engulfed in Flames" and finished it this weekend. Maybe my perspective has been skewed by time or jaded by personal experience, but this may very well be my favorite one of his books to date. I think I was getting tired of anecdote after anecdote and needed some larger life lesson to cling to... something grittier, even if it too came in anecdote form. WYAEIF waffles between stories from his childhood, adolescence and adulthood (the bulk of the book) with purpose and intensity. And while I could finish up one of his earlier collections and feel a connection to David Sedaris at 10 or 16 or 21, I now feel like I understand the David Sedaris of today. I'm more of a recommender than a reviewer, so if I keep speaking to the subject, I will end up sounding like a hack. Long story short, the book is worth the time and hardcover price - IMHO. That's technology speak for In My Humble Opinion. In exchange for that nugget, give the book a try. If you don't enjoy it, I'll take your copy for posterity. I think I left mine at the airport.

bat dance.

2008-07-17T12:12:00.001-07:00

Normally I'm a bit put off by a super summer blockbuster media onslaught. But I make exceptions for things that totally kick ass.

Domino's Gotham City Pizza bullshit aside, I think the viral and guerrilla-style advertising for The Dark Knight is really smart and fun. I've seen bumper stickers around town, and know a handful of dudes who not only registered to vote in the Gotham City mayoral race, but also subscribe to the Gotham Times. (For real!)

I'm not even a comic nerd, but I will totally nerd out for impeccably-executed hype. See you at the midnight show!

Paper Snowflakes

2008-07-16T11:38:00.000-07:00

Last night I saw Son Ambulance at Schubas. The only other time I've seen them was probably 2005ish, when they played a free show at the Joslyn for art patrons, local fans and anyone else who wandered in off the street looking for air conditioning and/or macaroni art projects. And at the time, I was too busy painting a rudimentary self portrait with a group of more talented five-year-olds to pay close attention. Anyway, this time the audience was more intimate, slightly older, and with two beers and no dinner, the buzz probably added a little something as well. All in all, the show was good. Not great, mostly because it took them awhile to catch their stride and get into things, and the set ended soon thereafter. The band itself is awesome, and I'm not just saying that as a former Omahan. But... for the sake of full disclosure, the lead singer used to live across the street from me on Dewey Ave., in that big, crumbling mansion full of hipsters, vagrants and hipstervagrants.

In other news...
This morning I left a frozen veggie burger in a plastic bag somewhere in the apartment. I'm not sure where, and I'm already dreading the day I go to throw away a q-tip and find it decaying beneath the bathroom sink.

I'm treating this like my regular blog, so maybe I'll post it in my regular blog as well. (If you're reading my regular blog, it means you're reading the copied and pasted but no less authentic version.)

I have never wanted to be where I currently am less than I do today.

Pitchfork is this weekend. If you're in Chicago, you should go and hang out with my sister. You will have to be comfortable with the fact that I'm living vicariously through you (it's a pretty painless process).

Annie and I, along with a few other rather rad people, are traveling from our respective cities to KC this weekend to celebrate the nuptials of John and Monica. There are also plans to drink, reminisce, make mistakes and reminisce some more about mistakes recently made. Hopefully we'll return with stories and actual blog posts, because I'm feeling like a cock tease for hinting at good things to come.

TGIF.

2008-07-11T10:45:00.001-07:00

I think we sort of have a tentative structure in place, but I'm going to go out on a limb and make Friday a free for all.

Shamille is currently on a plane to Chicago, her first motivation being to see me (at least I'd like to think), and her second to attend Chicago's Irish Fest. She has a friend in the band Bua, one of the featured festival performers. And I'll take any opportunity to drink heavily and break out a rusty slip jig (in that order).

Anyway, if you're in the Chicago area, you should check it out .

To get you in the mood, here's a video of Mundy performing Galway Girl. I ran the Bastille Day 5K in some sort of midwestern hurricane last night, and the only thing that kept me from taking cover under a parked car or hopping on the nearest bus was this song on repeat.

Cleaning house.

2008-07-09T08:33:00.000-07:00

Hey guys,
Guy.
Fan. Singular.
Mom?
Whoever still reads this blog...

In addition to various title iterations, Get Out of My Dreams and Into My Blog has suffered some serious neglect over the past few months. Both parties involved are somewhat responsible, although I have to say I made a pretty valiant effort toward the end. But when you're contending with life and all of its various events, trying to sufficiently entertain the masses just isn't a priority.

However, we're back in action. In need to a creative outlet. Amassing recommendations, anecdotes and humorous tidbits to be passed on for casual enjoyment and intellectual betterment.

Starting sometime in the very near future (Today? Tomorrow? Sunday afternoon? The excitement lies in the uncertainty!), we're going to return triumphantly, blogging the shit out of the internet in a more organized, regularly updated fashion.

Hold on to your hats.

Best,
Catmoe and Annie

a koozie off!

2008-07-07T10:50:00.000-07:00

Happy summer! In celebration, a tribute to the cold keeper of delicious beverages:

If the world ended now, I'd be left only mildly unsatisfied.

2008-05-19T13:17:00.001-07:00

I know SNL is militant about keeping its shorts off YouTube, so this will probably be gone within the next five minutes or so. But still, I couldn't resist. I could lie and say I'm posting it because it's funny (although it is... funny), but in reality, it's because it features Jason Sudeikis playing John Krasinski. And in my celebrity crush world, that's pretty much the equivalent of the rapture. If you're having trouble following, pretend for a moment that your two favorite foods are cottage cheese and buffalo wings. (If you're lactose intolerant or a vegetarian, you're going to have to work with me here - suspend reality for the sake of my bad analogy.) Anyway, imagine the subsequent invention of buffalo wings battered in cottage cheese. That is what this is like.

I'm A-Runnin'

2008-04-14T19:23:00.000-07:00

My friend Scott recently informed me that long before the cigarettes, chocolate milk and sequined suits, Rufus Wainwright was a Canadian child star. Scott found this out while watching Tommy Tricker and the Stamp Traveler, although I have yet to find out why he was watching that movie in the first place. Because I'm too lazy to go the IMDB route, I can only assume that the movie centers around the world of Canadian mall kiosk workers and the mischevious children who exist to foil any successful sales of wind chimes and fresh produce. (Examine the kiosk I'm referring to and let me know if you agree with me - she's either selling produce or baked goods, and either way, that's nothing you'd find at an American mall. We tend to stick to roasted chestnuts and Proactiv Solution).

I blogged.

2008-03-25T08:30:00.000-07:00

In my blog.
http://itsourtimeontheedge.blogspot.com/

We must blend into the choir; sing ecstatic with the whole...

2008-03-21T12:28:00.000-07:00

I went to see Funny Games on Wednesday night, and while I'm really not ready to talk about my experience yet (my heart is nearing its fourth and final trauma-induced attack), I engaged in my usual post-movie IMDB stalking rampage yesterday afternoon. I was familiar with nearly everyone in the movie except for Brady Corbet who, aside from various episodes of "24," appears in the video for the Bright Eyes song, "At the Bottom of Everything." It also features his Thirteen costar Evan Rachel Wood. And in my humble opinion, it's pretty great. I realize I'm a late-adapter in some arenas, so if you saw this a few years ago, good job. I guess I was too busy trolling IMBD... memorizing the middle names of the cast of Norbit.

Ponder.

2008-03-06T11:46:00.000-08:00

Is it just me, or do the kids from Vampire Weekend seem like they'd be enormous pricks? Maybe it's the sweaters . Or maybe I'm just old .

the future is now.

2008-02-29T12:20:00.000-08:00

An exchange via text message:

Feb 29, 11:25 am:
Do u know of anyone eles that will have sex with me.
Who is this?

Feb 29, 12:16 pm:
Sorry wrong number.
Good luck!

Feb 29, 12:21 pm:
Thanks. Are u cute?
No. Im actually horribly disfigured but hey! Life is still good! Happy leap day.

Feb 29, 12:24 pm:
u too.

If you ever miss Omaha, just light some incense and turn on Rilo Kiley. It's like a time machine.

2008-02-24T19:00:00.000-08:00

Most heartwarming text ever. Thanks co-blogger.

Payday.

2008-02-15T12:09:00.001-08:00

On the days I receive a paycheck (however few and far between they may seem), I pay my bills, buy big ticket items (a $300 Second City class, a $12 ticket to see Tilly and the Wall) and wage small mental battles over the purchase of other frivolous things. Case in point: I will now spend the rest of the day debating whether or not I should purchase this .

Jan 28 - you're starting a new job today - w4w (Portland, Chicago, my heart)

2008-01-28T10:21:00.000-08:00

saw you over the weekend when you shared my air mattress. we ate chipotle together (twice!!!!#?!!) i remember you mentioning, as you gracefully picked up dog feces from my floor, that you were starting a new job today. knock 'em dead. they are lucky to have you on board. let me know how it went. and tell me what color parka i was wearing.

Cheetah Gym smells like teen spirit.

2008-01-10T13:21:00.001-08:00

I'm sure this special has been running for weeks now, and that, despite incessant television watching, I've just managed to miss every airing. But last night at the gym, I found myself enraptured by VH1's 100 Greatest Songs of the 90s. I'm just guessing on the premise (I started watching about a quarter of the way in), but I'm pretty sure it involved counting down the 100 greatest songs of the 90s.

While I am a child of the 90s, I'm going to go ahead and admit that a good chunk of the decade is pretty much null and void for me, at least as far as music goes. When you're ten years old and chubby, living on a strict diet of Blueberry Pop-Tarts, Deviled Ham and Family Matters reruns, raised under the concerned gaze of intelligent yet unfailingly Catholic parents who, due to their decision to start a family later in life, have little knowledge of pop culture and a mounting fear of its corruptive powers, there isn't much world outside of the one created for you. If I listened to the radio, it was almost always an oldies station. I was lucky if my mom's grab bag of AM stations produced anything from the 60s or 70s, as most of it consisted of crackly 40s gems about bringing soldiers home and... that's about it.

As a result, virtually every other song featured on VH1's special was lost on me. Everything before '94 was fascinating, but unfamiliar. However, every time a song was discussed that I did know, a flood of nostalgia prompted me to run a little faster and a little longer, ignoring the sharp pains in my left leg, powered by memories of listening to the Spin Doctors in art class while I decoupaged George Bush's face on a fishbowl, playing capture the flag while Lightning Crashes played on repeat, roller skating while older, more experienced skaters who could make it around the rink more than once without having to roll themselves into the nearest wall glided backwards to 2 Legit, sitting at my cheap drafting table, doing homework by Bath & Body Works candlelight and listening to Tuesday Night Music Club...

I remember slow dancing to Breathe and realizing that boys have an oddly distinct smell, even through boutonnières and ill-fitting suits, finding my place in the back of a blue mini-van while Mo Money Mo Problems took us halfway to school, learning to drive and making Can I Get A... the lead on our soundtrack of Freedom Songs (note: soundtrack also featured a great deal of Indigo Girls, who were oddly absent from said survey).

Anyway, there's no point really. Just taking another moment to revel in a pretty decent decade. Although I spent the first third of it hoping Bing Crosby would win the Best New Artist Grammy, the rest of it shaped my coming of age, whatever that amounted to be. And I still enjoy a good beer buzz early in the morning.

ALSO: By way of Gawker, and so completely related to the subject matter above, I would like to take 1992 The Party to the people of Chicago and Omaha. Who's with me? (Scroll down on the MySpace page for the explanatory NYT article)

Here in Chicago, the college button has been pushed.

2008-01-06T14:38:00.000-08:00

It's amazing how a relative heat wave (temps pushed 55 degrees today) really brings out the people. I haven't seen my neighborhood this... populated since I moved, back at the beginning of November. I'm trying to relish the ability to walk from place to place hatless, with my head high and alert and warm, my pace slightly more leisurely. I'm sure this will only last for another day or so...

So. No more false promises. A return to blogging is imminent. I'll probably post the Annie-related thoughts here and the less interesting, personal meanderings here: http://itsourtimeontheedge.blogspot.com (still figuring out how technological geniuses add hyperlinks)

I'm going to go ahead and attribute the extended hiatus due to a lack of interesting happenings. Life post-move has been chaotically lonely. And while I doubt the rate of intriguing stories is going to pick up any time soon, I vow to make things interesting, even if it requires a certain amount of exaggeration. And, in addition to being good at Swiffering and showering, I'm a pretty decent exaggerator.

This is where I live. Well, above the store pictured. If you look closely, you can see me on the back porch, basking in the gently wafting aroma of Chipotle's refuse and throwing rocks at rats.

celebrate the moments of your life!

2007-11-21T13:52:00.000-08:00

Remember when we were little and white ladies on TV sat on wicker porch furniture and got all horny reminiscing about French waiters and shit?

This holiday, I'm thankful for You Tube.

a dialogue. in pictures.

2007-11-06T12:12:00.001-08:00

a new day is dawning.

2007-11-05T14:57:00.000-08:00

[Sometimes the world looks perfect.
Nothing to rearrange.]

You guys! Fabulous news…

[Sometimes you just
Get a feelin' like you need some kind of change!]

Catmo just moved to Chicago!

[No matter what the odds are this time,
Nothing's gonna stand in my way!]

Even better news? She starts her new job tomorrow!

[Standing tall!]

Which means it’s only a matter of time until blogging opportunities pop up in between Diet Coke breaks.

[On the wings of my dreams!]

Perhaps, Catherine, it’s best to focus on actually working right now, it being your first week and all.

But your legions of loyal fans (and by “legions” I mean me, Mike Brzica and the occasional, well-meaning stalker who meanders over here from the hyperlink on your MySpace profile) eagerly anticipate the next time you’ll have a few gobs of salary-based time to squander.

[Rain and thunder, wind and haze
I'm bound for better days!]

We value those nuggets of creative energy in a way Michigan Avenue can’t.

[It's my life!
It's my dream!]

So when it feels right?

[Nothing's gonna stop me now.]

Blog on blogger.

America or burst!

It's only a matter of time... and the pending return of a more regular schedule, actual obligations, etc.

2007-10-28T20:16:00.000-07:00

After a brief hiatus, I see a quietly triumphant return to the blogging world on the horizon - possibly kicked off by a "How I Spent My Summer Vacation" essay titled "How I Spent Three Glorious Weeks of Experimental Unemployment." Said essay will include an ode to Portland, a shout out to trundle beds and a heartfelt CompuServe eulogy.

However, because I'm starting a new job where my reputation and salary are on the line, I might call for a name change. Something like, "Working at work."

discover me discovering you.

2007-09-28T14:52:00.000-07:00

Lady 1: Zombie John Mayer #2 is my bartender.

Lady 2: Did you sleep with Zombie John Mayer? Did his undead penis fall off when you touched it?

Lady 1: Yes and Yes. It's still inside me, decomposing in my dark, moist uterus.

Lady 2: You know it's going to kill you from the inside out.

Lady 1: It's going to turn into a Zombie Kyle Bowling Fetus.

Lady 2: Only with gray skin and musical talent. Your host body is a wonderland.

i've never seen such a gossamer blouse.

2007-09-28T10:01:00.000-07:00

Being that this blog is entitled "Fucking Around at Work", I felt compelled to share with you all that Catherine recently put in her two weeks and will soon graduate (temporarily) from the "working world" onto the glorious stage of life known as "transition". I could not be more proud.

While I hope to continue fucking around at work, Catherine will now be able to fuck around from a variety of cyber spaces. But I'm guessing most frequently from the Saddlecreek Panera wifi spot. Or via her parents' CompuServe dial-up circa 1996.

To celebrate Catherine's last Casual Friday, please enjoy these great moments in office-centric cinema. You'll laugh. You'll cry. You'll download Yaz's "Only You" off iTunes. TGIF!

2007-09-18T06:57:00.000-07:00

whoa.

2007-09-14T11:10:00.000-07:00

If I achieved celebrity status and was subsequently asked to put together an iTunes celebrity playlist from the purchased music on my computer at work

2007-09-12T09:41:00.000-07:00

Us - Regina Spektor
Favorite Regina Spektor song.

Phantom Limb - The Shins
Not entirely sure?

Breathe Me - Sia
It makes me tired, especially when my space heater's on, but I like the way she says "ouch."

Falling Slowly - Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova
Nothing like falling in love with a Czechoslovakian stranger.

Only You - Yaz
Insanely romantic in a grab a Fruit Roll-Up, let's go watch Flight of the Navigator in the den sort of way,

Crushed Bones - Why?
My little brother introduced me to it, thus signifying the end of his Barenaked Ladies phase and the beginning of something much more tolerable.

This Year - The Mountain Goats
Although I rarely, if ever, get beaten by my stepfather, it's my anthem for '07.

If You Need a Reason - Mason Jennings
Something to listen to when God doesn't give me the things I ask for... like inner peace or ponies wearing shoes.

The Ringing in My Ears - Her Space Holiday
Reminds me of late nights in Creighton's journalism lab, talking shit about public safety, comfortably oblivious to the notion that one day, there will be bigger fish to fry than Red Bull stains on computer screens.

Mambo, Italiano - Dean Martin
The DJ played this no fewer than nine times at my cousin's Big Fat Italian Wedding reception. It's appeal is either rooted in nostalgia or masochism.

When U Love Somebody - Fruit Bats
Still debating whether or not love really tastes like a bitten tongue.

Last Night (Remix) - Diddy featuring Lil Kim, Busta Rhymes, Big Boi, Rich Boy, Yung Joc & Keyshia Cole
Makes me want to dance like only a select group of people is watching.

Bleed to Love Her - Fleetwood Mac
Imagining life's soundtrack over Camel Lights in the passenger seat of Annie Reap's mom's Saturn.

Tonight I Have to Leave It - Shout Out Louds
An NPR discovery.

Come Around (feat. Timbaland) - M.I.A.
Thanks, Annie.

Great Ghosts - The Microphones
A staple of seven hour drives to and from St. Louis. Appropriate for daylight, but detrimental once the road gets dark and Mary Clare falls asleep.

If Looks Could Kill - Camera Obscura
The first nine seconds remind me of a Chips Ahoy commercial, and the rest makes me wish I could sing.

Imitosis - Andrew Bird
If I ever choreograph a dance, it will be to this song. Leotards for everyone.

completely inappropriate. and therefore, completely hilarious. at least to us.

2007-08-28T16:25:00.000-07:00

Me: someBODY once told me the WORLD is gonna roll me…

Catherine: I aint the sharpest tool in the she-ed!

Me: What if you had to have sex with the lead singer of Smashmouth RIGHT NOW or someone would kill your dog?

Catherine: He like, got arrested for rape or something. And I'd do it - even if my dog was safe.

me: I’d do it because I have a soft spot for rapists. I’m super attracted to them.

Catherine: Me too - I like it when the guy's in control of the situation.

me: Yes. He takes the initiative, and that really takes the pressure off a girl like me. Rape advocacy.

Catherine: I'm a rapist advocate. I speak for the voiceless. Give me money to fund my safe house for rapists.

me: Ok. I'll have a fundraiser. Called "Take Back The Night…Again."

Catherine: And the picture on your poster could be a big man and a little woman playing tug of war with the moon.

Me: Clip art style. And we'll have a kids’ haunted house where masked men jump out from behind mirrors. Everyone will be invited!

cat scratch fever.

2007-08-27T18:29:00.000-07:00

Someone once told me that 90% of internet content was pornography. I would argue that at least 30% of that supposed 90% [that is, 27% of all internet content] is not porn, but cats. And this would be an awesome argument void of any anger or hostility. Because that would just be silly. Cats on the internet never make people angry!

I realize this is news to no one. Cats on the net have been hot for some time. [Note: I will, from this point in the post on, refer to "the internet" as simply "the net".] In fact, I was starting to worry that cats on the net had peaked. "Jumped the shark" if you will. But today, cats on the net have been re-energized for me, due to my discovery of the low-budge, cat centric, still photo heavy, music video.

I almost died.
Prepare to be awesomed:

It's quite possibly the most gorgeous day in the history of all days ever...

2007-08-25T10:09:00.000-07:00

And I'm at work, slightly hungover, space heater going full force. Every few minutes I'll gaze out the window wistfully and imagine myself swimming or running through a sprinkler in a pair of old Umbros or ... not working.

Sometimes I'll do a random Google image search for "dogs in costumes," an activity that unfailingly brings up a new and exciting array of costumed dogs. However, this past week's search dredged up something less whimsical and more nightmarish. It's not a dog wearing a costume per say, but rather a human wearing a dog costume. Technically, the costume in question is a "dog walker" costume, because it's common knowledge that dog walkers are so rare, so uniquely identifiable that a costume is required to recapture the look achieved when walking ones dog.

According to FamilyFun.com, dog walkers are A) Children, B) Charlie Chaplin, C) Hasidic Jews, D) Mustachioed, E) Disproportionately smaller than their dogs and F) In awe of their disproportionately larger dogs. Oh, and G) Male business executives. And H) Prone to owning men dressed like dogs.

Expect a second, equally meaningless post regarding that man's paws/leash/face.

an overheard exchange.

2007-08-22T11:49:00.000-07:00

Lady 1: Seth Rogen’s t-shirt looks soft.

Lady 2: It would probably feel good against your back if he was spooning you and you were naked. I'm just saying.

Lady 1: Yeah! Like if I was naked, and he was pantless, but not shirtless, and I could feel his boner on my lower back?

Lady 2: Yes! Or sort of on your butt crack.

Lady 1: Yeah! Like right where I’d have a pilonidal cyst if I led a sedentary lifestyle?

Lady 2: Right there.

Aaaaaand SCENE!

A little old. A lot . . . great.

2007-08-17T13:28:00.000-07:00

Let us gaze upon the striped shirt once again.

let me count the ways.

2007-08-16T14:26:00.001-07:00

My girl crush on Katherine Heigl grows stronger each day...

my fear of mustard and pickles is ruining my life.

2007-08-15T10:35:00.000-07:00

There's really nothing more to say...

Two weeks without you.

2007-08-14T09:20:00.001-07:00

In an effort to save money until our lease runs out - money that will inevitably be spent on more worthwhile things like unsweetened iced coffee with TWO sugars, tickets to bad movies and red wine - we've decided to go without cable television. And because my parents have the last remaining set of rabbit ears, gently duck taped to the side of their Zenith, we've been relegated to 72 channels of salt and pepper fuzz. An important side note is that, in addition to this loss, we're also without a functioning DVD player.

And we're going on day 14.

I tried to take the Laura Ingles approach to this dilemma - finish the books I've started over the past year, dog-eared on the 80th page and cast aside underneath a pile of US Weeklies, start some new ones, hold lively conversations by the unlit fireplace and make molasses candy with Pa.

In actuality, I stockpiled every VHS I could find, rummaging through crates left sealed since freshman year of college, raiding my trunk for boxes never unpacked from previous moves, combing the dusty collections at Thrift America in search of films released during my childhood, when I was forced to go Bambi or go home. Cortney managed to come up with "Inventing the Abbotts" and "Center Stage." I brought a well-worn copy of Guffman to the table, a never-watched copy of "Sliding Doors," a "Circle of Friends" covered in my sixteen-year-old kisses and chubby angst, and an "Only You" that I purchased at the afore-mentioned thrift store for $.75. Our arsenal of plastic and tape lasted all of one week before we'd watched them all - twice or more.

The question at hand is this: Are 16 more days of this even remotely feasible? I'd like to think I'll spend the remainder of this emotional obstacle course finishing those books, listening to NPR in my idling Ford Focus and slowly coming to the realization that I never needed TV. When all is said and done, I'll renounce its continued presence in my life and slowly sip the alternatively purchased glass of Yellow Tail Shiraz, proud of the maturity a Cox-free lifestyle has summoned. However, as I listen to muffled commentary of last night's "Hills" episode through thin cubicle walls, I get that tingle in my toes that reminds me of how intrinsically tied I am to every one of those 72 channels. It's only a matter of time before we're reunited. And I have no doubt that it will be beautiful.

i've got some good news and some bad news.

2007-08-06T09:42:00.001-07:00

I got my fortune read over the weekend.

Or rather, I got a really shitty fortune made up for me by my friends Jason and Shawn.

It's bittersweet, my future.

The good news?
I will fulfill my lifelong dream of marrying a caricature artist. It will be a beautiful and special relationship and our wedding invitations will be hand made by said life partner, featuring comical, big-headed renditions of the two of us riding in a hot air balloon together.

The bad?
Within months, my new life partner will die, leaving me nothing but his unpaid student loan debt from years of caricature school. And I don't know if you guys were aware, but caricature school is fucking expensive.

But as Shawn was quick to point out, I'm the one who supported his artistic ventures and encouraged him not just to buy the "How To Draw Caricatures" book, but to go through professional caricature school to ensure his talent was recognized and not squandered.

And that's just the price I have to pay.

It's a nuclear show and the stars are gone.

2007-08-04T07:56:00.000-07:00

Four-years-behind-the-times-me really likes this song.

fucked up item of the week.

2007-08-03T14:41:00.000-07:00

Happy Friday everyone!
Now scream. Scream real loud!

(Revelation of fucked up-ness courtesy of Jezebel and Salon.)

What you say in between bites of parsley, Britney Spears, is beautiful. And I believe.

2007-08-03T11:39:00.000-07:00

I realize that this is the internet equivalent of wearing chandelier earrings or eating bunless Quarter Pounders (what else is very 2005?), but until Annie sent this to me today, I hadn’t seen Britney Spears’ reefer-induced, belch-laden elegy to time travel. And I almost cast it off as just another piece of meaningless drivel I use to pass the time between minutes, when a few of her many words cut to the core of my very being.

Britney, I’m missing out on life too. I’m watching it pass me by from my Seward Street porch, once shaded by that diseased tree that shed day-glo powder all over the driveway. And like you, I wonder if any of those inventors have gotten off their lazy, bespectacled asses and invented time travel yet. Because you know what I’d do, Brit, if I could travel back in time?

I would pause “Inventing the Abbotts” when I went to the bathroom because I think I missed the part where Joaquin Phoenix pushes Billy Crudup off the porch.

I would give my dad a better father’s day present.

I would quell my desire for instant gratification and leave my Lean Cuisine in the microwave for the full 2 minutes, 45 seconds, thus avoiding any unpleasantly surprising frozen diced tomatoes.

I would learn how to do a cartwheel.

girly post.

2007-08-02T14:53:00.001-07:00

Joel McHale is a fox.
I wish I had cable.

try to look away. i dare you.

2007-07-31T16:53:00.000-07:00

Every so often, a phenomenon comes along that changes the way we see the world. Simultaneously attractive and repulsive, the enigma reveals itself subtly and we become seized by obsessive curiosity and affectionate disgust.

Some people pick scabs. Pop zits.

We do research. And then we post pictures of our findings in our “Who I’d like to meet” section on MySpace.

Phantom twins, hairless cats, mummified babies kept as family heirlooms, tonsiloliths mistaken for orally transmitted genital warts (that was a close one), Suri Cruise - the list goes on and on.

And every time we come across a new, hideously glorious wonder, we think it can’t get any better. But we’re proven wrong. Time and time again, we’re proven wrong.

On that note, I really hope I never get a pilonidal cyst. (The Latin root alone stimulates my butt’s gag reflex.) Unless they reinstate the draft - then I’m totally pulling a Limbaugh. And buying a brand new pack of Target brand Q-tips so Catmo can clean it out for me.

You’re welcome Kitten.

An open letter to those who choose to wear other people's pants.

2007-07-26T10:56:00.000-07:00

I rarely find myself wearing other people's clothing. On occasion, I'll borrow a shirt from my sister. Maybe something from one of my roommates when the fear starts to creep in that the outfit I've been donning during mediocre Old Market evenings is slowly becoming a uniform. But mark my words: I always, without fail, make sure I check the pockets, crevices, hems and button holes for cocaine before leaving the house. Why risk ruining an evening at (insert bar bearing name of Irishman or amphibian here), or worse, a day at work, with a completely avoidable arrest and subsequent PR fiasco? It's just something I do. And maybe, Lindsay Lohan, it's something you should do too.

Back in the technological saddle. (My blog horse's name is Midnight Lady.)

2007-07-24T14:16:00.000-07:00

It's been about three years since I last blogged, Livejournal style, surrounded by the cold comfort of Swanson Hall in a neon-lit room that bore the faint aroma of Nag Champa and Easy Mac. Subject matter usually centered on the angst of working in a Sodexho-owned coffee shop, the obligations of CSU Program Board, the trials and tribulations of Dr. Shrage's Atmospheric Science class. Basically, I was in it. And I've been out of it for awhile now. You'll have to bear with me while I channel my inner 20-year-old and learn what it's like to write about everything and nothing again.

Starting with Zach Braff...

Deez Nuts.

2007-07-24T11:44:00.000-07:00

Get ready. We're about to throw down.

(What exactly we'll be throwing down, I'm not too sure yet. But it will be good. And full of Zach Braff jokes that you might not fully appreciate just yet.)