So, you may have noticed, our poll designed to pick a new title for the blog ended up in a dead heat! This was mainly because I voted for at least 3, and maybe 4, of the names myself, I can't remember which. But as time was ticking down on the poll, 4 out of the 5 choices had one vote, and it only seemed right to have it end up in a tie!
So, I decided to pick one and change it anyway. Don't worry, this will not affect the quality of the postings here in any way!!! Not even a positive way!!!
3.30.2008
3.27.2008
Tula-gy
OK, so here's the last post about Tula...there have been a lot of ways that I've been thinking about going with this, but what I'm left with is that this little slideshow thing that I put together is kind of like a funeral for her, since we didn't really get to have one...but it's the funeral that we all fantasize about having for ourselves, where everyone remembers all the cool things about us and conveniently forgets everything else.
Photographs are actually perfect for that, because by their very nature, I think, they help us shape the entire way we remember something. We all have that one photo of ourselves that we just love, because it looks way better than we do in "real life", or we have that photo of a friend where they just look so happy, and that photo helps us feel like they were happy like that all the time.
This whole thing about photographs and real life isn't something that I'm the first person to think up, of course, but doing this slideshow made me think about how I'm distorting Tula's reality by putting it together, and I've decided that I just don't give a shit. Tula was a sweet dog who had something wrong with her brain, and she deserves to be remembered as the good dog that would spend hours just snuggled up next to your stomach or behind you on the couch, even if her brain didn't let her be that dog anymore.
So, as much as I like to talk, I can't say anything nicer about her than her photos do, and so if you don't want to feel as sad as I do about this whole thing, you probably don't want to watch this, but it's Tula's eulogy, the fondest of farewells, and my memory of her.
Photographs are actually perfect for that, because by their very nature, I think, they help us shape the entire way we remember something. We all have that one photo of ourselves that we just love, because it looks way better than we do in "real life", or we have that photo of a friend where they just look so happy, and that photo helps us feel like they were happy like that all the time.
This whole thing about photographs and real life isn't something that I'm the first person to think up, of course, but doing this slideshow made me think about how I'm distorting Tula's reality by putting it together, and I've decided that I just don't give a shit. Tula was a sweet dog who had something wrong with her brain, and she deserves to be remembered as the good dog that would spend hours just snuggled up next to your stomach or behind you on the couch, even if her brain didn't let her be that dog anymore.
So, as much as I like to talk, I can't say anything nicer about her than her photos do, and so if you don't want to feel as sad as I do about this whole thing, you probably don't want to watch this, but it's Tula's eulogy, the fondest of farewells, and my memory of her.
3.26.2008
The feel good hit of the summer
So, after all the angst about Tula (one more piece of which is still to come, just as a warning so you can skip that post when you see it if you want), there's the fantastic side of fostering, which is finding great homes for cute little dogs, or puppies in this case. We've had these 4 pups for a little while now, and already it looks like we've lined up a great home for one of them, but we'll know more after this weekend.
Anyway, enough of the talking, let's see some new pictures of some fuzzy little dogs, shall we?
This is Myrtle:
This is Hannah Montana:
This is Kermit:
And this is Gonzo:
Anyway, enough of the talking, let's see some new pictures of some fuzzy little dogs, shall we?
This is Myrtle:
This is Hannah Montana:
This is Kermit:
And this is Gonzo:
new story, part 2
Part one of this story...
She had left her earring on the bar. I don’t know if she had taken it out to talk on her cell phone or if it was just a nervous habit but it was there, next to a stack of paper coasters on the bar touting a local defense lawyer specializing in DUI cases. I took it over to her and just sort of stood there with it cupped in my hand like an insect or a loose contact lens, making one of those general sorry-to-bother-you gestures and saying, “Hey, I think you left your earring on the bar over there…”
It was enough to start a conversation, her earring, even with the weak body language of the gesture and the banality of the introduction generally. Her name was Caitlin, and she was conflicted about wanting to play some Shania Twain song when Patsy Cline and Johnny Cash were on the jukebox as well. I told her that she should just go with whatever she thought best, because it’s not like they hand you an instruction book when you turn 18 that you can consult throughout the day…you’ve pretty much got to wing it, and try to figure out what works well for you, and what doesn’t. I actually believe that, sort of, but not strongly enough to make me stick around for a Shania Twain song, that’s for sure.
She didn’t end up choosing any songs; as we stood there talking I guess people started queueing up around and past us until she would have had to wait at least an hour and a half to hear her choices, and we had decided to go try to find some Ethiopian food anyway. A taste for Ethiopian food was one of the things we had discovered we had in common, although neither of us knew of a place here in town that actually served it. It was one of those pretexts for leaving together that wouldn’t withstand much logical scrutiny, but it didn’t need to.
read the final part of the story here...
She had left her earring on the bar. I don’t know if she had taken it out to talk on her cell phone or if it was just a nervous habit but it was there, next to a stack of paper coasters on the bar touting a local defense lawyer specializing in DUI cases. I took it over to her and just sort of stood there with it cupped in my hand like an insect or a loose contact lens, making one of those general sorry-to-bother-you gestures and saying, “Hey, I think you left your earring on the bar over there…”
It was enough to start a conversation, her earring, even with the weak body language of the gesture and the banality of the introduction generally. Her name was Caitlin, and she was conflicted about wanting to play some Shania Twain song when Patsy Cline and Johnny Cash were on the jukebox as well. I told her that she should just go with whatever she thought best, because it’s not like they hand you an instruction book when you turn 18 that you can consult throughout the day…you’ve pretty much got to wing it, and try to figure out what works well for you, and what doesn’t. I actually believe that, sort of, but not strongly enough to make me stick around for a Shania Twain song, that’s for sure.
She didn’t end up choosing any songs; as we stood there talking I guess people started queueing up around and past us until she would have had to wait at least an hour and a half to hear her choices, and we had decided to go try to find some Ethiopian food anyway. A taste for Ethiopian food was one of the things we had discovered we had in common, although neither of us knew of a place here in town that actually served it. It was one of those pretexts for leaving together that wouldn’t withstand much logical scrutiny, but it didn’t need to.
read the final part of the story here...
3.22.2008
poetry corner
So this is not a good post for you to read if you're fragile right now, because this is a post about the cold, hard fact that Heidi and I had to euthanize our foster dog Tula today. Tula had always been fearful and anxious and a little unstable, and we were working to help her deal with that and instead be happy and joyful and calm, and for a time we felt like she was there.
But just in the past couple of weeks her anxiety turned outward into fearful aggression, ultimately turned toward new people or unfamiliar people, and that was not something that, as a pit bull especially, she could or should live with. Her fear was again dominating her life, and that is no life for a dog. So even though it was the shittiest fucking unbelievably insides-wrenching thing that Heidi and I could never even believe we could imagine doing, the right thing was to end her life, so that is what we did. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, but it was what happened, and it was all we could do, for her.
I could go on for pages and pages, but it won't help me get over it and it won't be a positive reading experience, so I won't. I did, however, write more about it, and that's posted below.
if we could be your gods
your for all time would be an endless afternoon
a blur of grass and paws and teeth
and always running, and always sleeping
extending the few pure moments of your joy
(and our joy in the watching)
to unendurable forever
I thought I knew what goodbye was
but each one has a different taste
with always salty undertones
and bitterness, bitter regret
it isn't often living hits you, in the mouth
don't look for fair, don't ask for time
those are your words, they are not mine
life says, but in a gentle voice
like granite wrapped in velvet cord
and like a final moment, gone
so if we are to be your gods
and give you what is ours to give
then we will give you nothingness
and hope that at long last
and to your troubled mind
we can at least give
peace
But just in the past couple of weeks her anxiety turned outward into fearful aggression, ultimately turned toward new people or unfamiliar people, and that was not something that, as a pit bull especially, she could or should live with. Her fear was again dominating her life, and that is no life for a dog. So even though it was the shittiest fucking unbelievably insides-wrenching thing that Heidi and I could never even believe we could imagine doing, the right thing was to end her life, so that is what we did. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, but it was what happened, and it was all we could do, for her.
I could go on for pages and pages, but it won't help me get over it and it won't be a positive reading experience, so I won't. I did, however, write more about it, and that's posted below.
if we could be your gods
your for all time would be an endless afternoon
a blur of grass and paws and teeth
and always running, and always sleeping
extending the few pure moments of your joy
(and our joy in the watching)
to unendurable forever
I thought I knew what goodbye was
but each one has a different taste
with always salty undertones
and bitterness, bitter regret
it isn't often living hits you, in the mouth
don't look for fair, don't ask for time
those are your words, they are not mine
life says, but in a gentle voice
like granite wrapped in velvet cord
and like a final moment, gone
so if we are to be your gods
and give you what is ours to give
then we will give you nothingness
and hope that at long last
and to your troubled mind
we can at least give
peace
3.21.2008
poetry corner
Une Poeme in three parts (but not in French)
I.
Attraction is a woman in a dress of maroon velvet
lined with blue silk and stars
The fabric falls open to the top of her taut, white thighs
She beckons me with sugar-sticky fingers
Her touch is electric.
And this is the seduction:
red silk beneath denim
the heady scent of cinnamon
and though you call it lust
I trust
you'll fall if given the chance.
II.
She always seems to find herself here
on the edge of something
the waves carve her another border
daring her forward
break through they say, in gentle wave-speak
but she knows they can become dangerous.
There is a photograph of a tiny girl
wide eyed in her mother's arms
heading into the water.
She has always known how to swim.
Solid land is the difficulty.
Sometimes she feels the ache,
the unbearable weight
of her ancestor's bones as they crawled from the sea.
She has always known how to swim
(but probably not well enough)
A hand takes hers
and she turns, returns
leaving fragile footprints
already being washed away.
III.
Autumn stills the house like nothing else
and in the silence the bones of last year's ghosts
clack like the lid on some forgotten pot
left too long on the fire
as water seeks its release in steam.
The ghosts, unlike the pot, not easily forgotten.
She sits in the sudden silence
remembering what she no longer has
holding hard to what she does.
She is often alone now
wrapped in a fading robe
cradling in aging hands a coffee
(touched with the heady scent of cinnamon)
for an artificial warmth.
She is haunting empty rooms,
sharing the silence
with Autumn
and the bones of last year's ghosts.
She is often alone now
(but she would call it free).
I.
Attraction is a woman in a dress of maroon velvet
lined with blue silk and stars
The fabric falls open to the top of her taut, white thighs
She beckons me with sugar-sticky fingers
Her touch is electric.
And this is the seduction:
red silk beneath denim
the heady scent of cinnamon
and though you call it lust
I trust
you'll fall if given the chance.
II.
She always seems to find herself here
on the edge of something
the waves carve her another border
daring her forward
break through they say, in gentle wave-speak
but she knows they can become dangerous.
There is a photograph of a tiny girl
wide eyed in her mother's arms
heading into the water.
She has always known how to swim.
Solid land is the difficulty.
Sometimes she feels the ache,
the unbearable weight
of her ancestor's bones as they crawled from the sea.
She has always known how to swim
(but probably not well enough)
A hand takes hers
and she turns, returns
leaving fragile footprints
already being washed away.
III.
Autumn stills the house like nothing else
and in the silence the bones of last year's ghosts
clack like the lid on some forgotten pot
left too long on the fire
as water seeks its release in steam.
The ghosts, unlike the pot, not easily forgotten.
She sits in the sudden silence
remembering what she no longer has
holding hard to what she does.
She is often alone now
wrapped in a fading robe
cradling in aging hands a coffee
(touched with the heady scent of cinnamon)
for an artificial warmth.
She is haunting empty rooms,
sharing the silence
with Autumn
and the bones of last year's ghosts.
She is often alone now
(but she would call it free).
3.20.2008
Happy Spring!!!*#$&!!*##&!!!
Some sort of metaphor is happening in my yard...something about how you can't control Mother Nature, Man has no power against Earth... something like that. I just can't look beyond the FRIKKIN' WEEDS long 
enough to learn my lesson.
The picture on the left is of the gravely walkway bit by the porch. Just LAST YEAR I raked up all the little rocks and put down landscape fabric. Yeah, that helped.
The picture on the right is where we plowed a big circle and put in grass seed in the fall. Hmmmm....
not lookin' so grassy.
So every year I get all silly about Spring, think about all the pretty flowers I'm going to plant, and, FOOLISHLY, what a Zen Gardener I'm going to be. I fall for that every year!! And then, the VERY FIRST thing that shows up, is this weird grassy weed in my walkway! I can't take it! And I'm not a Zen Gardener, I'm a Guerilla Gardener, hacking stuff left and right while I curse it soundly. Someday I'll learn. I know this is a control issue of some sort and I need to "find my centre" or something horrible like that.
But in homage to the weed, I made it into an inspirational poster. That somehow does not make me feel better.
enough to learn my lesson.
The picture on the left is of the gravely walkway bit by the porch. Just LAST YEAR I raked up all the little rocks and put down landscape fabric. Yeah, that helped.
The picture on the right is where we plowed a big circle and put in grass seed in the fall. Hmmmm....
not lookin' so grassy.
So every year I get all silly about Spring, think about all the pretty flowers I'm going to plant, and, FOOLISHLY, what a Zen Gardener I'm going to be. I fall for that every year!! And then, the VERY FIRST thing that shows up, is this weird grassy weed in my walkway! I can't take it! And I'm not a Zen Gardener, I'm a Guerilla Gardener, hacking stuff left and right while I curse it soundly. Someday I'll learn. I know this is a control issue of some sort and I need to "find my centre" or something horrible like that.
But in homage to the weed, I made it into an inspirational poster. That somehow does not make me feel better.
Resortin' to Extortin'!!!!!11!
So, you probably don't know this, actually there's no way you COULD know this, but there is content for this blog THAT HAS ALREADY BEEN WRITTEN that you don't have any access to! What are the owners of this blog up to, anyway? Trying to get your hard earned money in some sort of subscription scheme? [note to self: investigate subscription selling schemes for blog]
NO!!!! Actually, what it's doing out there is just waiting for Stacey to apply a final spit and polish to it, even though it's already quality material. So, in my little form of protest, I'm going to start writing limericks about Stacey and her "work ethic" until she gets some of this stuff through to her adoring public!
So, without further ado:
There once was a writer in Boulder
Whose heart could not be any colder
For she withheld her work
Like some kind of big jerk
And would never do what her friends told her.
There once was a girl with some goats
Whose poetry went for the throat
At least, when she would write
And not simply delight
In examining poor, helpless stoats.
And this will continue!!!!! Consider this a warning, I am also capable of doing long form epic poetry...
NO!!!! Actually, what it's doing out there is just waiting for Stacey to apply a final spit and polish to it, even though it's already quality material. So, in my little form of protest, I'm going to start writing limericks about Stacey and her "work ethic" until she gets some of this stuff through to her adoring public!
So, without further ado:
There once was a writer in Boulder
Whose heart could not be any colder
For she withheld her work
Like some kind of big jerk
And would never do what her friends told her.
There once was a girl with some goats
Whose poetry went for the throat
At least, when she would write
And not simply delight
In examining poor, helpless stoats.
And this will continue!!!!! Consider this a warning, I am also capable of doing long form epic poetry...
3.18.2008
CONTEST!!! AWESOME PRIZE(S?)!!!!
Well, it seems as though Spence has finally come to his senses and realized that the name of this wonderous blog is all wrong. See, while it is true that I have been known to walk up to people and go into a ten-minute long tirade about whatever has most recently pissed me off, Spence (unlike my dad) does not actually talk to people by means of sermons, parables and stories. So it's NOT "just like talking to you", at all! In fact, talking to Spence is pretty much like talking to any intelligent, slightly jaded guy w/a good sense of humour, who says "fuck" alot. Especially if you happen to be talking to him during a Cowboys game.
So that's why we're having this CONTEST!!!!! YOU could have the historical honor of NAMING THIS BLOG!!! This will NOT be an easy task. This blog is weird, like a horrible patchwork of everything that comes out of our heads, regardless of content. I'm thinking the only things that tie it together are Spence-o-Bean and myself being siblings and the fact that it is sorta writing oriented (if you generously decide to call my Peevitudes "writing"). I already thought of "Sibling Ribaldry" but we're not at all ribald, and "Little-Read Writing 'Hood" but we're not really retarded.
So help us out! (PLEASE!!!) The author of the chosen Blog name will win... well, something we haven't really decided on yet.* Unless I win, it's written in my contract that I ALWAYS win a bag of mini Reese's PB cups. But y'all would win a plaque, or the plague, or something similar.** We'll let you know.
So pony up the ideates, and let's get this thing a hip, happenin' name!!!
*odds of winning are 1 in 3
**management not responsible for any maiming or loss of life that may result from awarding of prizes. Winner accepts at their own risk.
So that's why we're having this CONTEST!!!!! YOU could have the historical honor of NAMING THIS BLOG!!! This will NOT be an easy task. This blog is weird, like a horrible patchwork of everything that comes out of our heads, regardless of content. I'm thinking the only things that tie it together are Spence-o-Bean and myself being siblings and the fact that it is sorta writing oriented (if you generously decide to call my Peevitudes "writing"). I already thought of "Sibling Ribaldry" but we're not at all ribald, and "Little-Read Writing 'Hood" but we're not really retarded.
So help us out! (PLEASE!!!) The author of the chosen Blog name will win... well, something we haven't really decided on yet.* Unless I win, it's written in my contract that I ALWAYS win a bag of mini Reese's PB cups. But y'all would win a plaque, or the plague, or something similar.** We'll let you know.
So pony up the ideates, and let's get this thing a hip, happenin' name!!!
*odds of winning are 1 in 3
**management not responsible for any maiming or loss of life that may result from awarding of prizes. Winner accepts at their own risk.
Book Club, Do-Over
Did you know that when the Romans initially built the Coliseum, they found out half-way through the project that most of the "rocks" that their slaves had carried to the site were nothing more than ultra-light adobe style bricks that they had learned to make on the sly, as a way to avoid dying by the thousands dragging around huge chunks of solid marble?
Well, if you DO know that, you should probably hurry to a PhD program in anthropology, write it up, and get it published, because it didn't happen, at least as far as we know to this point. But if it HAD happened, it would have been a very powerful story in support of second chances, generally, and specifically ones related to the book club on here!
Whether it was a lack of excitement over Metamorphosis, or everyone's busy lives, or the fact that the commentzorz button used to ask you for SS# and mother's maiden name in order to post a comment, that's all water under the bridge. For now we have an exciting new book, written by an actual alive person! In this century, no less! And with the anonymous comments feature turned on, you can now snipe away at everyone else who has the temerity to challenge your opinions with the level of haughty condescension that only the Internets can provide!
So order up that book, start reading, and let's all get together and chat about it on May 1, or "May Day" as they call it in all those pagan godless countries like France, or Canada.
Well, if you DO know that, you should probably hurry to a PhD program in anthropology, write it up, and get it published, because it didn't happen, at least as far as we know to this point. But if it HAD happened, it would have been a very powerful story in support of second chances, generally, and specifically ones related to the book club on here!
Whether it was a lack of excitement over Metamorphosis, or everyone's busy lives, or the fact that the commentzorz button used to ask you for SS# and mother's maiden name in order to post a comment, that's all water under the bridge. For now we have an exciting new book, written by an actual alive person! In this century, no less! And with the anonymous comments feature turned on, you can now snipe away at everyone else who has the temerity to challenge your opinions with the level of haughty condescension that only the Internets can provide!
So order up that book, start reading, and let's all get together and chat about it on May 1, or "May Day" as they call it in all those pagan godless countries like France, or Canada.
YOU ASKED FOR IT, YOU GOT IT !!!!!
As requested!!! Here's another one of those embarrassing follies of youth!!! Craig Miller, skinny-dippin' in the woods!
Good Times!!!
3.17.2008
Stacey's PEEVE O'THE WEEK!!!
Teh FLU!!! I HAZ it!!! Or, at least, am getting over it!!! So today I mentioned this to my psychiatrist (just one of many people that a SupaStah must have in their entourage) and he somewhat chidingly informed me that I should really have gotten a flu shot, because this year the flu was manifesting quite nastily. I replied with ever so slight a smirk (ever so slight, I promise!) that I believe that the reason it's so bad is because everyone is getting flu shots. He TOTALLY misunderstood what I was saying and replied, (somewhat condescendingly, I must say), that oh, that wasn't true, flu shots do not weaken the immune system, they actually boost it, and what's causing it to be so much worse every year is that it's MUTATING!!! Well DUH! That's what I'm saying! That's right, I'm not here to gripe about the flu, I'm here to gripe about FLU SHOTS!!!! Why the HELL do you think the flu virus is suddenly mutating into more horrible forms?? Because we're screwing with it!! That's what I say. For many years now, since we've managed fairly modern medicinal practices, the flu has been an obnoxious inconvenience for everybody between the ages of like, 3 and 87. Now all of a sudden, it's imperative to get a damn flu shot every year. I wonder who's idea that is (pharmaceutical company)? In fact a year or so ago we had people panicking and all but rioting because there was a FLU SHOT SHORTAGE!!! They probably would have rioted if they could have gotten their flu-ey asses out of bed!!!! Well, I may be a grumpy old man, but I'm not yet an 87 year old grumpy old man, so the chance that I'm going to waltz my perfectly healthy ass into some infection-seethy clinic and purposefully PAY MONEY to get a SHOT when I don't absolutely have to... well, the Texans have a better chance of making it to the Superbowl, my friends. (Or, as Spellcheck suggests, the "Superb owl." That too.) .
Now, I know some of you might think I'm a little sketchy on the old science front, or that maybe I should pay more
attention to what my Psychiatrist tells me, "no REALLY, listen to your Psychiatrist, Stacey! Not those OTHER voices!!" Well, I happen to have visual evidence, so call me a crazed conspiracy theorist all you want, but the evidence speaks for itself.
So stop getting flu shots!! Unless you're under 3, in which case- This Blog Is VERY BA
D Thing To Read! Mommy Will Be Angry! You No Like Mommy When She Angry! STOP READING!!! Or, if you're over 87, in which case- my God! You probably have VERY FEW years left!! Why are you wasting them on this Blog!!!! Everyone else- the fate of the planet depends on YOU!!! And on the grey aliens (they're the most advanced type) choosing not to release flu strain OEX-32 on us, of course. Then were all done for.
Now, I know some of you might think I'm a little sketchy on the old science front, or that maybe I should pay more
attention to what my Psychiatrist tells me, "no REALLY, listen to your Psychiatrist, Stacey! Not those OTHER voices!!" Well, I happen to have visual evidence, so call me a crazed conspiracy theorist all you want, but the evidence speaks for itself.So stop getting flu shots!! Unless you're under 3, in which case- This Blog Is VERY BA
D Thing To Read! Mommy Will Be Angry! You No Like Mommy When She Angry! STOP READING!!! Or, if you're over 87, in which case- my God! You probably have VERY FEW years left!! Why are you wasting them on this Blog!!!! Everyone else- the fate of the planet depends on YOU!!! And on the grey aliens (they're the most advanced type) choosing not to release flu strain OEX-32 on us, of course. Then were all done for.
3.16.2008
Back to reality
Well, all the running around late at night was a blast, but it's good to be home again, especially since that home is now inhabited by FOUR NEW PUPPIES! Yes, you heard that right...Heidi and I went on a home visit for our foster dog Sahara (as pictured to the right) yesterday, and (as we thought after having met them and talked with them a great deal previously) her new adoptive family is going to be great for her, we think.
So, of course, we headed down to Town Lake to look at potential new fosters. We were actually pretty heartened by the experience, because almost every dog or puppy that we looked at that seemed at all adoptable was already either under interest from someone, or slated to go over to the adoption side, which would mean they were safe as well.
We were kind of thinking that our new foster might have to wait for a day or two, but then we found out that someone had brought in four puppies and put them in the night drop area at about 10:30 that morning. They were too young to stay at the shelter, so they likely would have been euthanised if no rescue group was available to take them. We were there, and it seemed like a good idea to help them out, so we did.
Now we just need a quartet of names...anyone? Buehler? Buehler?
3.15.2008
11:30 - Janeane Garofolo
* Saturday morning revision, blah blah blah...see posts below. *
So...there were two comics before Janeane came on. First was Reggie Watts, who did this incredible comedy out of songs that he built on one of those electronic sample looping machines, and also "stories" that he told. He had this very intelligent, dry, somewhat random and bizarre sense of humor, which Heidi and I both completely loved. He was really, really good, and everyone should immediately go watch whatever they can find of him, even if it's just on YouTube, because he's fantastic.
Next was Paul F. Tompkins ("Tompkins, point your rear end in the direction of the principal's office." "Awwwwww...peas!"), who was pretty funny, but had a very hard act to follow (see above), and was pretty distracted by music bleeding through the wall behind him from the place next door to Esther's Follies. His best bits were about the little snatches of conversation that you get living in a city and walking everywhere, he had some pretty good ones.
So, at long last, Garofolo! However, she was really struggling. She seemed to be actually depressed, because she spent the bulk of her time talking about how depressed she was, not in a funny, written comedy sort of way, but in a very scattered way that left everyone kind of uncomfortable. I was trying to figure out if she was doing sort of Andy Kaufmanesque anti-comedy, but it didn't really seem like that either, because she'd dig through her ever present notebook for material and do little bits of it, but that didn't really go over very well either.
So we're both glad we went to see her, but she wasn't on her game. Just as an aside, she is about 4'10" tall, which is visually just kind of a shock when she first comes out.
So...there were two comics before Janeane came on. First was Reggie Watts, who did this incredible comedy out of songs that he built on one of those electronic sample looping machines, and also "stories" that he told. He had this very intelligent, dry, somewhat random and bizarre sense of humor, which Heidi and I both completely loved. He was really, really good, and everyone should immediately go watch whatever they can find of him, even if it's just on YouTube, because he's fantastic.
Next was Paul F. Tompkins ("Tompkins, point your rear end in the direction of the principal's office." "Awwwwww...peas!"), who was pretty funny, but had a very hard act to follow (see above), and was pretty distracted by music bleeding through the wall behind him from the place next door to Esther's Follies. His best bits were about the little snatches of conversation that you get living in a city and walking everywhere, he had some pretty good ones.
So, at long last, Garofolo! However, she was really struggling. She seemed to be actually depressed, because she spent the bulk of her time talking about how depressed she was, not in a funny, written comedy sort of way, but in a very scattered way that left everyone kind of uncomfortable. I was trying to figure out if she was doing sort of Andy Kaufmanesque anti-comedy, but it didn't really seem like that either, because she'd dig through her ever present notebook for material and do little bits of it, but that didn't really go over very well either.
So we're both glad we went to see her, but she wasn't on her game. Just as an aside, she is about 4'10" tall, which is visually just kind of a shock when she first comes out.
10:30 band - Paddy Casey
* Saturday morning revision - this entire post was written on Saturday morning, so, in a sense, it is, in itself, a Saturday morning revision. Just to keep things honest and above-board.
Also, in an addendum to the revision to the 9:30 pm post below, I think my suggestion for the new blog name might just be "Typewriter Monkeys", but I'm not at all sure that it's not actually too self-referential and navel-gazey for its own good. *
So, I stayed for Paddy Casey at 10:30, and Heidi met me there at Soho Lounge. Paddy was doing a singer-songwriter with a band kind of thing, and it wasn't immediately gripping, so after about 2 songs we headed over to try to catch Janeane Garofolo's set at Esther's Follies at 11:30.
We got in, no problem, and saw a very uneven mix of comics. The "hosts" (I'm not sure why comedy clubs feel like the people that INTRODUCE the comedians need to do comedy as they do so, I guess that's the only way you could ever get someone to work in a comedy club introducing other people, to throw them a bone and let them do 5 minutes of material themselves) were uniformly terrible, and in one case, actually offensively misogynistic. If you're going to violate social norms for behavior in an aggressive manner for shock value, please have some sort of point you're making, or at least BE FUNNY WHEN YOU DO SO, or else you're just a jackass.
So the first funny routine we saw was from Brian Posehn, whom it would take way too long to explain who he is, so I'll just put his picture up here. He had some funny bits about cats, which is a pretty good way to get started because it's an easy laugh, and he had some good relationship type stuff about him and his wife as well. He was solid, and since he mentioned Halo not ONCE, but TWICE in his 13 minute set, I now have a small altar to him set up in our bedroom.
Also, in an addendum to the revision to the 9:30 pm post below, I think my suggestion for the new blog name might just be "Typewriter Monkeys", but I'm not at all sure that it's not actually too self-referential and navel-gazey for its own good. *
So, I stayed for Paddy Casey at 10:30, and Heidi met me there at Soho Lounge. Paddy was doing a singer-songwriter with a band kind of thing, and it wasn't immediately gripping, so after about 2 songs we headed over to try to catch Janeane Garofolo's set at Esther's Follies at 11:30.
We got in, no problem, and saw a very uneven mix of comics. The "hosts" (I'm not sure why comedy clubs feel like the people that INTRODUCE the comedians need to do comedy as they do so, I guess that's the only way you could ever get someone to work in a comedy club introducing other people, to throw them a bone and let them do 5 minutes of material themselves) were uniformly terrible, and in one case, actually offensively misogynistic. If you're going to violate social norms for behavior in an aggressive manner for shock value, please have some sort of point you're making, or at least BE FUNNY WHEN YOU DO SO, or else you're just a jackass.
So the first funny routine we saw was from Brian Posehn, whom it would take way too long to explain who he is, so I'll just put his picture up here. He had some funny bits about cats, which is a pretty good way to get started because it's an easy laugh, and he had some good relationship type stuff about him and his wife as well. He was solid, and since he mentioned Halo not ONCE, but TWICE in his 13 minute set, I now have a small altar to him set up in our bedroom.
3.14.2008
9:30 band - Channel One
Channel One - electronica with a retro 80s New Wave feel, maybe? Like A Flock of Seagulls covering Radiohead badly.
* Saturday morning revision - I have no revision to this entry, it is as perfect and succinct a description of this band as I could ever write, even if I were an infinite number of monkeys on typewriters, or if I were the Internet. I've never quite gotten, as an aside, why people usually say "an infinite number of monkeys on an infinite number of typewriters", as if it would totally throw off the dynamic if some of the monkeys had to share typewriters...I mean, we're trying to cut down on OPEX here, people, don't you think we could get by with a NEARLY infinite number of typewriters?
In a related aside, I think the first aside may have spoiled the aforementioned succinctness and, dare I say, perfection of this review. *
* Saturday morning revision - I have no revision to this entry, it is as perfect and succinct a description of this band as I could ever write, even if I were an infinite number of monkeys on typewriters, or if I were the Internet. I've never quite gotten, as an aside, why people usually say "an infinite number of monkeys on an infinite number of typewriters", as if it would totally throw off the dynamic if some of the monkeys had to share typewriters...I mean, we're trying to cut down on OPEX here, people, don't you think we could get by with a NEARLY infinite number of typewriters?
In a related aside, I think the first aside may have spoiled the aforementioned succinctness and, dare I say, perfection of this review. *
8:30 band - Driving by Night
Driving by Night - post U2 Irish midtempo earnest vocals power ballad rock. kinda painful actually.
*Saturday morning revision - It was kind of funny, the lead singer said his, "Good night, Cleveland, we love you!!" thing and left the stage while the band kind of rocked out to the end of their last song, and he just made his way through the audience and ended up standing a foot and a half from me where I had been perched in the back corner of the room through the whole set. He seemed like a really nice guy, not nearly as pretentious in person as he had seemed on stage. I think he should take up the guitar, because it may just have been he was struggling with the "what things to do when you're the lead singer but don't play guitar" deal... *
*Saturday morning revision - It was kind of funny, the lead singer said his, "Good night, Cleveland, we love you!!" thing and left the stage while the band kind of rocked out to the end of their last song, and he just made his way through the audience and ended up standing a foot and a half from me where I had been perched in the back corner of the room through the whole set. He seemed like a really nice guy, not nearly as pretentious in person as he had seemed on stage. I think he should take up the guitar, because it may just have been he was struggling with the "what things to do when you're the lead singer but don't play guitar" deal... *
SxSW liveblogging - Friday night
So, tonight is for Irish music for me @ Soho Lounge. Heidi will probably be down later for Janeane Garofolo.
And in other Football news...
...Just in case you were going to try and ride Brett Favre to another fantasy football victory.
www.theonion.com/content/news/packers_tell_fans_they_gave_favre
www.theonion.com/content/news/packers_tell_fans_they_gave_favre
Midnight - The Cliks
So...The Cliks, all girl band from Ontario, Canada...great show! They brought the rock'n'roll, and had interesting songs, lyrically and musically, I thought. Heidi has a girl crush, she's not sure on which member yet, although the early money is on the drummer. We picked up their CD, and Heidi got a t-shirt.
May I just say, as an aside, that 6th street is pretty fucking dingy, even at night. I know it's SxSW and there is tons of foot traffic and all that, but it looks rough down there...seedy, but not in a good way.
May I just say, as an aside, that 6th street is pretty fucking dingy, even at night. I know it's SxSW and there is tons of foot traffic and all that, but it looks rough down there...seedy, but not in a good way.
3.13.2008
SxSW liveblog
So REM ruled last night, I guess we've established that. My fave song o' the nite was either Fall on Me or Electrolite, both rocked.
Tonite, H and I started out by checking out the Texas Burlesque show at Esther's Follies. The part we saw featured Kitty Kitty Bang Bang performing with the No Salvation Army Band backing them with live versions of Tom Waits tunes. Exotic dancing and Tom Waits...does it get any better than that? I think Heidi would have favored a different soundtrack, but she quite liked the show, it was obvious all the womyn were enjoying themselves.
Now we're watching Patti Hurst Shifter, whom I would characterize as an average bar band from NC. We came to see The Cliks, a Canadian chick band....I'll keep you posted.
3.12.2008
11 pm Dead Confederates
11 pm Dead Confederates loud hard str8 ahead post Nirvana rock. they fucking brought the goods.
10 pm Paper Cranes
Paper Cranes at 10, they were cool. Lead singer equal parts Crispin Glover & Elaine from Seinfeld, but she can sing.
DAVID CARR IS NO LONGER AVAILABLE!!!
Well, damn it. There's one prize idea gone. Any other ideas?
sports.yahoo.com/nfl/news;_ylt=AvuyNEHmgbH8F6zqlGhSbEtDubYF?slug=ap-giants-carr&prov=ap&type=lgns
sports.yahoo.com/nfl/news;_ylt=AvuyNEHmgbH8F6zqlGhSbEtDubYF?slug=ap-giants-carr&prov=ap&type=lgns
Spencer's Obnoxious SXSW blog, day 3
OK, so let's get a little business out of the way, Heidi and I went on Tuesday night to see Bi the Way, a documentary made by two women who traversed this great nation of ours (without any onion-tear resistant goggles, nonetheless!) asking folks their thoughts about bi-sexuality, and sexuality in general, and the kids these days and their wild ways, and stuff like that. It was pretty interesting, and definitely food for lots of conversation afterward, which is always positive in a movie.
But, now to the BIG news...R.E.M. is playing at this year's SxSW!!!!! At Stubbs BBQ joint on 7th street! And I'm going to try to go!!!!!!!
Seriously, it's one of those cosmic coincidence moments...my favorite band, who will probably never play a smaller venue than this again in the state of Texas in my lifetime, does so in the ONE YEAR that H just happens to get free badges to the event.
So, wish me luck getting in to the show, and hopefully I'll be posting about 7,000 words tomorrow about how cool the show was and all that, and maybe some pics from my cell phone of me at the backstage VIP party! or not.
But, now to the BIG news...R.E.M. is playing at this year's SxSW!!!!! At Stubbs BBQ joint on 7th street! And I'm going to try to go!!!!!!!
Seriously, it's one of those cosmic coincidence moments...my favorite band, who will probably never play a smaller venue than this again in the state of Texas in my lifetime, does so in the ONE YEAR that H just happens to get free badges to the event.
So, wish me luck getting in to the show, and hopefully I'll be posting about 7,000 words tomorrow about how cool the show was and all that, and maybe some pics from my cell phone of me at the backstage VIP party! or not.
3.11.2008
Stacey's PEEVE O'THE WEEK!!!
Well, peeps, it just so happens to be an AMAZING 71degrees and sunny here in the CO, first day over 70 for the year, and I'll be darned if even I am not having some trouble feeling grumpy! But I know you wouldn't want me faking it, so I'll go bang my toe into the wall AAAAHHHH and watch a little CNN aaagghhh maybe ponder for a few minutes how STUPID the final episode of Enterprise was ackackack... O.K. that oughta do it. I'm gonna go with THE OVER GADGET-IZING OF AMERICA!!! today. See, I have this little stove-top alleged cappuccino maker that really doesn't do as great a job as it is hyped to do. So the last time I was in Starbutts (not it's real name) I looked at the machines they had and found a really nice one, all stainless and sexy, and looking pretty well made. So I wandered over to where they kept the stacks of boxes and saw that it cost $$$1,595.oo$$!!!! Yiiiyee! Who the HELL spends that much money on a cappuccino maker??? If I bought one of those things I'd have to set up the ol' card table in the front yard and start selling coffee to the neighbor kids. Or I could barter for lemonade, I guess. Screw you Uncle Sam!!! Needless to say, I chose NOT to empty my bank account on said item, and continued my search.
Well, a few days later I found myself @ Lowe's, so I took a look at their small appliance section. First I was thinking I'd keep the questionable stove-top guy, and just get a small coffee maker (because my French Press broke in the damn dishwasher! Cheap piece o'crap!) but I couldn't find a coffee maker that made less than 10 cups. What the heck. That seems like a lot of coffee for a 2 adult household. Are people giving their kids a cup or two before they head off to school? Hmm, maybe. I finally decided on a combo model that makes a bizarre 10 cuppas, but the espresso side looked pretty decent. Just for fun I looked around at what else they had, and they had a HOME MEAT SLICER!!!!! Who ARE these people that slice their own meat?!?! Does the deli REALLY do THAT bad a job!!!! It's like hundreds of bucks for this thing! And home soft-serve-ice-cream machines!?!?? Just go to frikkin' Dairy Queen like everybody else, or eat your ice cream (gasp) HARD!!! How hard IS ice cream, anyway?
In closing, I think you can justify the coffee machine because you'd probably save $200 bucks in 2 weeks by not going to that certain aforementioned coffee joint (that will hopefully not sue me into the ground), but what about the rest of this stuff? Ain't much cheaper than a soft serve cone @ Mickey D's, except maybe yo Mama at the end of a slow night (burn!). I can see a sausage stuffing machine maybe, you decide what goes in the sausage, but the meat slicer? Do we need to micro-manage our food to this extent? Do we need a separate gadget to: de-seed a mango, pit and slice an avocado, poach an egg, and wedge a melon? Did you know you can buy anti-cry goggles for peeling onions?!?!?
[sappy patriotic music in background and gently waving flag]
I'm putting on MY anti-cry goggles...for America!
Spencer's Obnoxious SXSW blog, day 2
So, last night, 2 more movies (with a short film before each of them) for me, Heidi took the night off to get some sleep as well as some time with the kids.
I went to the Dobie and saw, first, The Apology Line, a short documentary about a phone line set up for people to call in and apologize to someone on. Responses ranged from the obvious ("Fuck off! This apology line is stupid!") to the disturbing, like a woman apologizing to an authority figure in her life for being stupid, making it clear that he told her so constantly and harshly. It was very interesting and well done, I thought. There seems to be a longer version in development, so that will probably be very interesting to see.
That preceded Don't Get Me Wrong, a documentary set in a Romanian psychiatric hospital which largely featured two gentlemen who each believed they could influence the weather. Again, really interesting movie, I thought the director did a really good job of staying out of the way throughout the movie, but putting in just a couple of narrative touches that really tied the whole thing together.
The second half of my double feature included the short documentary Ubuntu, which was not in fact about a Linux operating system, but was instead about a guy working with kids in an impoverished area of Johannesburg, South Africa. A very short film, but interesting and enlightening, to some degree.
The last movie I saw was The Ostrich Testimonies, a documentary about D.C. "Rooster" Cogburn, a guy who was instrumental in getting ostrich farming established in the U.S., only to have his growing flock pretty much decimated in 2004 when some balloonists launched from about a half a mile away from his ranch, which (he [and some ballooning experts] claimed) caused his birds to stampede and ended up with him putting down over half his flock (some 800 odd birds) as a result of the injuries they suffered. He sued the balloonists' insurance company for the cost of the birds, his physical infrastructure, and the $3 million contract that he lost out on when he couldn't fulfill it because his birds were mostly dead, but he lost his civil suit and all subsequent appeals.
This one was a little less well made, I thought, because inevitably when you present something like this, people want to judge for themselves by the end of the movie whether the guy got screwed or not, and there wasn't a lot of the hard evidence from the trial presented, it was more just sort of implied, or even stated, that he HAD been screwed over. So even though I left thinking that he probably was, I also sort of felt that the director was definitely trying to make me leave with that thought, so it kind of undermined it.
Anyway, I think Heidi and I are catching one movie tonight, and then tomorrow...well, I'll blog more about that then! ; )
I went to the Dobie and saw, first, The Apology Line, a short documentary about a phone line set up for people to call in and apologize to someone on. Responses ranged from the obvious ("Fuck off! This apology line is stupid!") to the disturbing, like a woman apologizing to an authority figure in her life for being stupid, making it clear that he told her so constantly and harshly. It was very interesting and well done, I thought. There seems to be a longer version in development, so that will probably be very interesting to see.
That preceded Don't Get Me Wrong, a documentary set in a Romanian psychiatric hospital which largely featured two gentlemen who each believed they could influence the weather. Again, really interesting movie, I thought the director did a really good job of staying out of the way throughout the movie, but putting in just a couple of narrative touches that really tied the whole thing together.
The second half of my double feature included the short documentary Ubuntu, which was not in fact about a Linux operating system, but was instead about a guy working with kids in an impoverished area of Johannesburg, South Africa. A very short film, but interesting and enlightening, to some degree.
The last movie I saw was The Ostrich Testimonies, a documentary about D.C. "Rooster" Cogburn, a guy who was instrumental in getting ostrich farming established in the U.S., only to have his growing flock pretty much decimated in 2004 when some balloonists launched from about a half a mile away from his ranch, which (he [and some ballooning experts] claimed) caused his birds to stampede and ended up with him putting down over half his flock (some 800 odd birds) as a result of the injuries they suffered. He sued the balloonists' insurance company for the cost of the birds, his physical infrastructure, and the $3 million contract that he lost out on when he couldn't fulfill it because his birds were mostly dead, but he lost his civil suit and all subsequent appeals.
This one was a little less well made, I thought, because inevitably when you present something like this, people want to judge for themselves by the end of the movie whether the guy got screwed or not, and there wasn't a lot of the hard evidence from the trial presented, it was more just sort of implied, or even stated, that he HAD been screwed over. So even though I left thinking that he probably was, I also sort of felt that the director was definitely trying to make me leave with that thought, so it kind of undermined it.
Anyway, I think Heidi and I are catching one movie tonight, and then tomorrow...well, I'll blog more about that then! ; )
3.10.2008
Spencer's Obnoxious SXSW Daily Blog!
Hey kids, Spencer here from rainy, dreary Austin TX, temporarily the center of the entertainment world's attention as we host our annual South by Southwest music, film, video game, and interactive media festival! This festival is otherwise known as "SXSW", or "South by" if you want to feel like an industry insider/dipshit face.
So, why do I mention this fact? Well, someone near and dear to me, VERY near and VERY dear (with the initial "H") managed to score us a couple of badges to this year's event! That means that I am smack dab in the middle of attending my VERY FIRST SXSW events! Yes, I know that I've lived in Austin since the damn thing started, but I've never had quite the right combination of free time, disposable income, and committed interest to take the plunge and buy a wristband. But since these were free, H and I are making the time this year to try to take in as much of the festival as we can.
We got started on Sunday morning, as we went to The Wild Horse Redemption, a cool documentary about prisoners in Colorado doing "horse whispering" to train wild mustangs from Montana that are brought in from the wild to combat over-population. Then I stuck around for a program of animated short films, my favorites were Madame Tulti-Putli and I hate you don't touch me (or, Bat and Hat).
Then, last night at midnight, H and I went together to see Dance of the Dead, which was way better than it needed to be for what it was, a zombie movie set on prom night. It's got that smart, funny kind of writing that it's always a pleasure to find in a movie, because it's pretty unexpected these days, at least for me.
For tonight, I'm planning on checking out a couple of documentaries while Heidi does a little recovering and hangs out with the dogs...I'll put up some more mini-reviews after I get to peep those.
So, wish me luck, hopefully I won't catch some kind of weird show business disease from one of our Hollywood visitors!
So, why do I mention this fact? Well, someone near and dear to me, VERY near and VERY dear (with the initial "H") managed to score us a couple of badges to this year's event! That means that I am smack dab in the middle of attending my VERY FIRST SXSW events! Yes, I know that I've lived in Austin since the damn thing started, but I've never had quite the right combination of free time, disposable income, and committed interest to take the plunge and buy a wristband. But since these were free, H and I are making the time this year to try to take in as much of the festival as we can.
We got started on Sunday morning, as we went to The Wild Horse Redemption, a cool documentary about prisoners in Colorado doing "horse whispering" to train wild mustangs from Montana that are brought in from the wild to combat over-population. Then I stuck around for a program of animated short films, my favorites were Madame Tulti-Putli and I hate you don't touch me (or, Bat and Hat).
Then, last night at midnight, H and I went together to see Dance of the Dead, which was way better than it needed to be for what it was, a zombie movie set on prom night. It's got that smart, funny kind of writing that it's always a pleasure to find in a movie, because it's pretty unexpected these days, at least for me.
For tonight, I'm planning on checking out a couple of documentaries while Heidi does a little recovering and hangs out with the dogs...I'll put up some more mini-reviews after I get to peep those.
So, wish me luck, hopefully I won't catch some kind of weird show business disease from one of our Hollywood visitors!
3.07.2008
News you can...uhh...use
I don't know about you, but this makes me feel a lot better. A LOT better. Props to the Onion for getting this story right, the first time.
New Auto Security System Will Not Allow Car To Start If Driver Is Nick Nolte
New Auto Security System Will Not Allow Car To Start If Driver Is Nick Nolte
3.06.2008
so...
Gary Gygax's passing made me think again about that little short story thing that I posted on here a while back, you remember, the one about the gaming shop? And then the second and final installments of it?
Well, I was interested when I wrote it whether anyone would notice and/or comment on the fact that there aren't any gender-specific pronouns (except for one relating to the narrator's cousin) in the whole thing, which was sort of something I did because I thought it was kind of interesting. Since I didn't get any comments about it at the time, I'll solicit: did anyone think at the time that the story WASN'T about a guy? anyone have the narrator and their sig other pegged for a gay couple? a lesbian couple?
I know that, if you are play the odds about gamers' genders (at least as it's traditionally been understood), you'd start out thinking that the narrator was a guy, and perhaps end thinking they were a girl, or something like that.
So, if you re-read it and have interesting thoughts about how it seemed different, or the same, or if you just want to read it for the first time, feel free, and feel free to post a comment by clicking on "# Commentzorz" below. It's your internets, after all! You are the master of your domain.
Well, I was interested when I wrote it whether anyone would notice and/or comment on the fact that there aren't any gender-specific pronouns (except for one relating to the narrator's cousin) in the whole thing, which was sort of something I did because I thought it was kind of interesting. Since I didn't get any comments about it at the time, I'll solicit: did anyone think at the time that the story WASN'T about a guy? anyone have the narrator and their sig other pegged for a gay couple? a lesbian couple?
I know that, if you are play the odds about gamers' genders (at least as it's traditionally been understood), you'd start out thinking that the narrator was a guy, and perhaps end thinking they were a girl, or something like that.
So, if you re-read it and have interesting thoughts about how it seemed different, or the same, or if you just want to read it for the first time, feel free, and feel free to post a comment by clicking on "# Commentzorz" below. It's your internets, after all! You are the master of your domain.
3.04.2008
a sad, sad day
Well, here it is, the blog's first entry on a current event. Gary Gygax died today, creator of the Greatest. Gaming. System. Ever.
Leave it to woot.com to bring the comedy, but in a respectful way...like when your 4th level mage got killed off while playing with your friends, not like when your 13th level barbarian got killed off by some jackass DM at a party you went to with a bunch of people that you didn't know.
Let's all pour out a little honey mead on the ground for our boy, Gary. Oh, and if you have any first edition DM's guides with the original cover in mint condition, let me know. You know, mail them to me and I'll, um, see if I can get $5 or so for them at the local bookstore.
Leave it to woot.com to bring the comedy, but in a respectful way...like when your 4th level mage got killed off while playing with your friends, not like when your 13th level barbarian got killed off by some jackass DM at a party you went to with a bunch of people that you didn't know.
Let's all pour out a little honey mead on the ground for our boy, Gary. Oh, and if you have any first edition DM's guides with the original cover in mint condition, let me know. You know, mail them to me and I'll, um, see if I can get $5 or so for them at the local bookstore.
3.03.2008
Stacey's PEEVE O'THE WEEK!!!
So, I'm about to single out a certain segment of society and give 'em Hell! But will my post be as potentially controversial as last weeks? NO!! Because this is not a segment considered off-limits to mock, and that is probably because most people agree with me!!! So, without further ado, I give you: GIRLS WHO WEAR A SIZE ZERO OR SIMILAR!!! First of all, what kind of dumb size is a size ZERO!?!? It's like you're non-existent. What if you're SUPER teeny tiny, do you go into negative numbers? (Maybe imaginary numbers. I always hated those. If you want a peeve w/in a peeve, this is it. I mean, if you can make up some number in order to make your equation work, does that really prove your equation? I think it's cheating. But, then again I know EVEN LESS about math then politics, so don't listen to me. Cheaters.).
O.K., maybe you're thinking right about now that I'm being a little hard on these gals. You could argue that some people are just born with little birdy bones and couldn't eat themselves up to a size six if they tried. Or, maybe they just work really hard at staying that small and I shouldn't criticize them just because I'd rather sit here eating popcorn and working on this goofy blog then going out and Taebo-ing myself to death, or something. Well, that's all probably true. HOWEVER!!! I can't tell you how many times I've been in a dressing room and heard somebody yell, "Oh [insert name of overly friendly salesperson here], do you have this in a smaller size? This FOUR is toooo big!" Or "This TWO is just huge on me, do you carry ZEROS??" Well, again you're being unfair, you say, these poor chickadees can't help it if they're difficult to clothe!! AH-HA!!! But here's what you aren't taking into account, especially if you're a guy and you don't know about this odd phenomenon of hollering out requests for your shopping buddies to bring you clothing. NOBODY OVER A SIZE 8 DOES HOLLER THIS CRAP OUT LOUD!!! I can't say I've ever heard anybody yell "this size TEN really smooshes all my fat out in bizarre ways, do you have a TWELVE?!?! Or "This TWELVE is waaayy too small, do you carry PLUS SIZES!!!
So perhaps I should amend my title to include "...AND ARE UNNECESSARILY LOUD ABOUT IT!!! or "...LIVE IN OUR DUMB SOCIETY THAT PRAISES THEM FOR SUCH AN 'ACCOMPLISHMENT'!!!
Well, regardless, I hope I haven't offended my entire audience, 90% of which I KNOW to actually BE size zeros (as in "non-existent", anyway!) and have entertained the rest of my audience, which is Spencer.
O.K., maybe you're thinking right about now that I'm being a little hard on these gals. You could argue that some people are just born with little birdy bones and couldn't eat themselves up to a size six if they tried. Or, maybe they just work really hard at staying that small and I shouldn't criticize them just because I'd rather sit here eating popcorn and working on this goofy blog then going out and Taebo-ing myself to death, or something. Well, that's all probably true. HOWEVER!!! I can't tell you how many times I've been in a dressing room and heard somebody yell, "Oh [insert name of overly friendly salesperson here], do you have this in a smaller size? This FOUR is toooo big!" Or "This TWO is just huge on me, do you carry ZEROS??" Well, again you're being unfair, you say, these poor chickadees can't help it if they're difficult to clothe!! AH-HA!!! But here's what you aren't taking into account, especially if you're a guy and you don't know about this odd phenomenon of hollering out requests for your shopping buddies to bring you clothing. NOBODY OVER A SIZE 8 DOES HOLLER THIS CRAP OUT LOUD!!! I can't say I've ever heard anybody yell "this size TEN really smooshes all my fat out in bizarre ways, do you have a TWELVE?!?! Or "This TWELVE is waaayy too small, do you carry PLUS SIZES!!!
So perhaps I should amend my title to include "...AND ARE UNNECESSARILY LOUD ABOUT IT!!! or "...LIVE IN OUR DUMB SOCIETY THAT PRAISES THEM FOR SUCH AN 'ACCOMPLISHMENT'!!!
Well, regardless, I hope I haven't offended my entire audience, 90% of which I KNOW to actually BE size zeros (as in "non-existent", anyway!) and have entertained the rest of my audience, which is Spencer.
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