Saturday, July 30, 2005

I've been West

FRIDAY: I ended up watching "Mad Max" at BP w/ GIRLZ, slouching at the bar to avoid bunches of the elbow-throwing-pleated-skirt clad faction and a guy who couldn't speak English, but wanted me to get him a Corona? I think? Dunno. Topic of Conv (besides Mel Gibson): Coastal Carolina University. Chanticleers; I know LOTS of you who started as freshmen, I know no one with an actual degree from your fine institution. What gives? There's at least 6 of you from my HS days that are in their 30s, and still bartender-ing/cosmetology-ing in the greater Wilmington area. Fess up, it's not what you planned when you declared your majors as "marine biology."

SATURDAY: So, every year, someone holds a day long food fest out in the Maryland farmland. It usually involves floatation devices, a tractor, homemade brew, and a trampoline. And crabs.

HIGHLIGHT REEL 05: - Misc. extra involvement of above, + an oversized golf set, a go-cart made from lawnmower parts, and a viking helmet. So that's what I did on Saturday. Although I did not ride the go-kart before there was a POLICE CITATION issued.

- I partook in some sweet ass cheerleading moves on the trampoline without pulling any groin muscles (a first)

- And I wore an airbrushed teeshirt the likes of which no one in the blogosphere has ever really witnessed. It's pretty fucking sweet, and involves a unicorn. A unicorn with arose in it's mouth. Prancing on the beach. At sunset. Next to a palm tree. Just take my word for it, it's awesome, and goes especially well with a sombrero.

- Oh yeah - I also had a conversation with Jess about how duct tape can remove warts. Seriously, try it! The Nabob prefers to shank them out with fingernail clippers.

- Also, we had Kline's, brought to us over many hours of road travel via cooler, nestled between 7-11 ice and beer.

SUNDAY: You may have gathered that I am obsessed with dogs. So, we went out and visited a really handsome man-dog with floppy ears, and now we have to make a decision whether to get a new roommate, in dog form.

Cons: We're not home as much as is responsible for a dog owner, so this might require a change in lifestyle. Also, he isn't perfect with the peeing yet.

Pros: He specifically requested to watch a lot of E! television with me, and play with tennis balls, and beating the everliving crap out of those small, pussy dogs.

WHAT??? STEP. He's bred to fight BEARS.

* * *

Okay, that's it. Oh yeah, and I saw "Wedding Crashers." Really.

Since I am uninteresting, go look at this instead.

Friday, July 29, 2005

Just a little bit warmer now...

So the Legwarmers* are at the State Theatre again on Saturday night. I think they've sold out the place once month for over a year now. They deserve the acclaim (somewhere near the end of yesterday's Post Express) because the put on an incredible performance.

Indeed. Just like Dokken.

We here at the Pygmalion have the utmost respect for these guys for their devotion to what they do. The costumes nail the correct percentages of thrift store dedication/irony and the music itself is spot on. They play two full sets well into the next morning with over 150 songs to draw from.

Across the board, they're great.

But their fans...

The G. doesn’t want this site to turn into a place where we bitch about the way people act at shows. But it's too late for that. At the Legwarmers last show we witnesses several small women being pushed aside as the popped collar crowd came surging to the front. Beers were spilled and elbows thrown. It was crowd etiquette failure at it's highest level. It's a tough situation for the band when their biggest fans are the rudest.

And here's the kicker. Several of the Legwarmers are in another great band called the Five Maseratis. They don't play much around here because they all have real jobs, but they're damn tight. Check out Everything is Falling Apart. The brutes at the Legwarmers' show wouldn't go anywhere near the Velvet Lounge or wherever the Maseratis are playing. And they'd be even more disrespectful if the saw the LW's at a party, out of costume.

If you get the chance, go see either of these bands live. Hell, go see the Pietasters, because some of them are in that too. But if you go to the State, stand in the back. You'll get all the Laura Brannigan goodness without the bruises.

*In an effort at full disclosure, most of Pygmalion went to some form of schooling with the band. There first few shows were pure panic. The Governess even got a song dedication when she got engaged. And for you early 90’s DC ska scenesters, if you look closely those are the Decepticonz up there.

The City

Travis Morrison, Pagoda, Federal City Five: Highly enjoyable. Not too buggy, not too hot, sound was pretty decent, lots of friendly people, and a swarm of teens from Bel Air, MD the likes I've never seen before. Pagoda was a nice surprise; mellow and something I could see myself liking, I think. We missed most of Fed City 5, unfort. Travis had just broken his thumb (again), so that was a low point. The Hellfighters played almost all new stuff, which (to me, anyways) sound sway more like the Plan than his solo stuff did. I think they also covered a Survivor song, but I'm not sure about that, because it smells like pizza in my office right now, so it's hard to concentrate.

And, cupcakes.

AND, the world's most kickass dog, named Gunter, who I threatened to dognap if only he wasn't bigger than me. Everyone was like: music, there's music? OH MY GOD LOOK AT THAT DOG. Total thunder-stealer.




I hate shopping. I hate it with great and ferocious zeal. I have crowd anxiety issues, shopping malls smell funny, and they dry my contacts out. Also, during the holidays, people tend to wear Santa hats, and that infuriates me. I actually had a panic attack inside a Container Store in 1998. Internet shopping was made for people just like me, who would rather wear Penn State 1984 sweatshirts to work than set foot inside a mall. I love computers.

That aside, I'm kind of sad today. I was listening to NPR on my way home from work last night. Hecht's is renaming all stores "Macy's." Goodbye once again, DC-specific anything. Federated Department Stores, you are a distinctly EVIL sounding company, and Macy's? Granted, I have not actually purchased anything from Hecht's since a high school homecoming dress, or maybe some makeup. But. There is not a single store I hate more than the Tyson's Corner Macy's. It makes me want to stab my eyes out. It is messy, laid out by a preschooler, and the employees facial expressions resemble 16 year olds who are pissed at their moms for embarrassing them, even thought these women and men are obviously in their 30s. They hate helping people, which is ironic, considering they are in the business of helping people. No, please, don't bother to get up from your slouch across the counter to ring up my sweater. You're fine, I'll just do it myself. WTF, Macy's.

It's So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterdaaaaay-eeeeeee:

- I distinctly remember buying a Christmas dress at Garfinckels with my grandmother. It was plaid. I also remember she sewed (SEWED! Like, HAND MADE!) hair ribbons to match said dress. It was in this swanky outfit that I performed in the elfin bell choir for my 1st grade class. Also, itchy wool tights. Hot.

- Said grandmother also used to take the bus to the downtown Woodies to buy underwear. My mother cried the day Woodies closed, and still talks about the whole sordid affair wistfully, as if referring to an ex-boyfriend that dumped her. On Prom night. ("10 YEARS! 10 years. TEEEENNNNNNN YYYEEEAAARRRSSSSSSSS.")

- I had lemon meringue pie with a great aunt once a year, on my birthday, at the Hot Shoppe Cafeteria - a place where food (and probably some people) went to die.

- $5.00 bet with the Internet: My dad still has both Dart Drug and People's Drug phone numbers in his wallet.

- There was a Crown Books in my hometown, located inside of an old farmhouse (seriously) that sat next to the community center. They never had the new Sweet Valley High books in, ever. But they did have discounts on books like "The Scarlet Letter" and "A Tale of Two Cities." It was the best of stores, it was the worst of stores.

- I purchased approxmiately 43 gascaps for my first car, (a poo-colored 1982 Volvo 240 w/ electrical problems), at Trak Auto. I was/am challenged, and have a tendency to drive away with the gasflap open and the cap on my trunk. This still happens, though not as often. (Maybe, just maybe, I've only killed off the DUMB part of my brain with acohol. A girl can dream!) The amount of bank I have spent on gascaps is not as horrifying as other incidences: such as the time where I was at a gas station, and turned on the car to listen to the radio WHILE FILLING THE TANK. Nor as bad as the afternoon I saw a woman drive away from the station with the gas line still in her car, and she ripped it away from the island in an unholy spray of sweet smelling fuel. Actually, that was kind of awesome.

Where was I? Oh, right, Hechts. Godspeed, little doodle. Godspeed.

Thursday, July 28, 2005

I like the sun.

it's old in web-years, but I still think about this a lot.

Oh god, The Nanny story. So funny.

we're looking for people like yourselves

Before I get started on this increasingly stupid entry, everyone's been reading this, right? It's making my Fridays go much faster.

Okay, hi. I had it all planned out – I was going to tackle the Top 100 albums thing. Eventually. Okay, hi again, it’s impossible to think of my Top 100 albums. Mostly because I have very few full albums I love ("kick" is one of the few.) To work out the mind-numbing madness/boredom in my noggin- (WHY. Why, pray tell, has this week seemed to drag on ad infinitum? Why am I suddenly 79 years old?) -here’s what I did during lunch, uh, and some all of the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

MY TOP 100 SONGS THIS AFTERNOON, in no particular order at all.

4 ME & JULIAN… – !!!
5 CARROT ROPE - Pavement
9 RABBIT SONG - Goldcard
10 DEBASER- The Pixies
11 JUST CAN'T GET ENOUGH - New Radicals
12 ANTHEM FOR A 17 YEAR OLD GIRL – Broken Social Scene
13 DISMEMBERMENT PLAN GETS RICH! – The Dismemberment Plan
14 FACE OF THE EARTH – The Dismemberment Plan
15 DAMN I WISH I WAS YOUR LOVER - Sophie B. Hawkins
16 BIRTHDAY - Sugarcubes
19 SPRING RELEASED – Grant Lee Phillips
20 CLOSE TO ME - The Cure
22 GLORY - Liz Phair
23 GIRLFRIEND – Jesus & Mary Chain
27 SEND FOR HENNY – Trash Can Sinatras
28 MARQUEE MOON - Television
29 NEED YOU AROUND – Smoking Popes
30 $300 – Soul Coughing
31 BLUE MONDAY - New Order
33 24 HOUR PARTY PEOPLE – Happy Mondays
34 I WILL DARE - The Replacements
35 WHO DO YOU LOVE – George Thorogood and the Destroyers
37 CHEMICALS - Notwist
39 WORLD EXPLODED– Bob Schneider
40 FAST CAR – Tracy Chapman
41 I’M GONNA MAKE YOU LOVE ME - The Jayhawks
42 DISPLACED – Azure Ray
43 WICKED GAME - Chris Isaak
45 SO REAL – Okkervil River
48 MAGIC NUMBER – De La Soul
49 HESITATING BEAUTY – Billy Bragg & Wilco
52 FAME - David Bowie
53 ANGELES – Elliott Smith
54 GYROSCOPE – Dismemberment Plan
55 KRAZY WORLD – King Geedorah
56 DON'T LET'S START - They Might Be Giants
58 SKELETON KEY – The Coral
60 RIGHTEOUSLY – Lucinda Williams
61 CRY, LITTLE SISTER – Gerard McMann
63 ANOTHER PEARL - Badly Drawn Boy
64 SWEET THING – Van Morrison
66 ME & MIA – Ted Leo & Pharmacists
67 LA BREEZE - Simian
68 PURE ROCK FURY - Clutch
69 AIN’T THAT ENOUGH - Teenage Fanclub
70 FAIRLEE – Matt Pond PA
71 I’M A PRETENDER – Exploding Hearts
72 LAY LADY LAY - Bob Dylan
73 THE WEIGHT - The Band
74 ROUNDS – Four Tet
75 I DON’T KNOW WHAT I CAN SAVE YOUR FROM – Kings of Convenience
76 VICTORIA – Old 97s
79 TOO FAR DOWN – Husker Du
81 LITTLE ATOMS – Elvis Costello
82 LOSER - Beck
83 I LOVE THE UNKNOWN - Clem Snide
84 YOUNG LIONS – The Constantines
85 KIMBERLY AUSTIN – Porno for Pyros
86 BREAK IT DOWN AGAIN – Tears for Fears
87 WILDFLOWERS - Tom Petty
88 MERCY STREET – Peter Gabriel
90 1CE AGAIN – A Tribe Called Quest
91 ALL NITE DINER – Modest Mouse
92 SIDEWALK- Built to Spill
93 JEZABEL – 10000 Maniacs
94 COOL IT NOW – New Edition
95 TRAIN IN VAIN- The Clash
97 HEY LADIES - Beastie Boys
98 NITE AND FOG- Mercury Rev
99 BRYANT LAKE BOWLER – This Perfect Day
100 MIAMI BEACH - Swervedriver

* * *

(In other music news, cause I'm always so late to the party usually attendees are already drunk and hooking up: I finally saw the video for "16 Military Wives" last night and I fell in love a little.)

Now you try. Or something. I DON’T KNOW HOW MEMES WORK, PEOPLE.

Starring Vicky Vale as Laura Bush

If you hustle up and get to the corner of M and Connecticut you can be in the new Michael Douglas-Kim Bassinger-Mayor Tony Willimas* movie. Or so says the threatening sign...

They need these in Georgetown. Please be aware, that by entering this area, you will be hit on by a thick-necked Sigma Chi...

Play it smooth and you can sit in the chair that has Mike's name drawn on with puffy paint and glitter. I assume by his kids. Or maybe Kiefer Sutherland cuz he's in it too. And if you see Kiefer tell him that he'll never be one-tenth the actor his father is.

Or you can just stand around like this cat...

That's some world-class gawking. You're hired.

* From the AP - The mayor was in front of the Mayflower Hotel on Connecticut Avenue, to film a cameo in the new movie "The Sentinel." Williams -- playing himself -- walks into the hotel and shakes hands with a Secret Service agent played by Michael Douglas. Williams plans to donate his fee to charity.

As I Lay Sweating

The Nabob and I got into a discussion about Faulkner while watching "Family Guy" the other night. (Obviously.) Most of the discussion concerned whether "As I Lay Dying" or "The Sound and the Fury" was written from the POV of Benjy, the retarded brother. This went on for several minutes. Regardless of the fact that it was 11:30 at night and 450 degrees in our attic, I was seconds away from climbing up to find my box of high school papers and mementos to prove I was right. (Is it sad that this is, what, the second time I've mentioned on this blog that I once wrote a really long paper on Faulkner in HS? Because, listen: I was an art major. We didn't have to "write" "papers." And then, I got a "job." HS was my last chance to shine in the glory of my own perceived award-winning Wordsmithing.)

(Sidenote: Yes, I have a box of high school shit. I'm bringing letter jackets back one day - just you wait.)

The Nabob mentioned that Hemispheres magazine holds an annual "Faux Faulkner" contest. Since I am in a new-ish job, and am no longer required to travel 2 weeks out of every month, (later, Orlando, Florida! If I see your convention center again in my life, it's still too soon) I'm lacking knowledge of airplane publications. (Secret Shame #6: I actually think most airline mags are pretty solid, all things considered. If you forget a book or neglect to purchase a $6.50 People magazine from a newsstand, you're toast. One can only read SkyMall so many times. (Lord Of The Rings Jewelry! Authentic, registered, and 24k gold! Or, you can order those foreign language tapes from the black-blazer wearing blonde, who's hair is in a bun. B B B, what begins with B?) So, I'll hand it to the airlines - and if you're looking to hire, let me know.)

So, this contest has been held since 2000 or so. Rumor has it, this is the first year that the winner won't actually be published in the hard-copy of the magazine: it will only be available on the web.

Read here.

Social Calendar, updated

- Ft. Reno tonight. At this rate it might be the only one I actually make. I'll be in black, laying on a violently colored blanket, drinking lemonade, or something.
- Friday: Grilled cheese and a movie, maybe a bar or two
- Saturday: Annual Party USA #7456: The Thrilla in Holy Shit We're Getting Old.
- Sunday: Gatorade, dogs

Wednesday, July 27, 2005


Do we think this blasted heat wave is ever going to end? I've put on deodorant four times in the past six hours. FOUR. TIMES. My pits are caked white and I'm sporting a tank top in the office, which is vaguely inappropriate... again. And I'm SWEATY. And not SEXY sweaty.

So, if the heat lets up before August 31:

Warehouse Next Door
Nedelle w/ Yellow Swans and Xiu Xiu
September 2005

Look at me, a veritable font of info today.


continuing in today's completely juvenile theme:

Thousands of bouncy balls released into the wild.


My skates have pink poms poms

I don't mean to brag, but I was Shoot the Duck Champion in 5th grade.

For anyone interested:

Washington DC, July 30, 7pm warmup, 8pm start
Skate-N-Fun Zone
7878 Sudley Rd.
Manassas, VA

Also: BOW WOW!!!!

yr so vain

Carly Simon is all over the freaking place.

New album, sure. Is there something I'm not getting? Is my mom suddenly a news producer?

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Cordell Hull got it

While the Governess was off buying her "if you can read this, that bitch the Nabob fell off" T-shirt this past weekend, the rest of us Pyggies decided we'd try for some fun inda sun as well. The Duchess headed south for the beach, a black dog and walking barefoot in the Food Lion. Lord knows who's Hamptons hot tub the LJG ended up in. I figured I was going to waste the day reading HP anyway so why not revive the old practice of sneaking into the local pool. So with a "borrowed" ID number and a fake mustache, I trotted by the front desk and settled into the grey area involved in being a single, 20-some-thang male at the pool.

It would be too creepy for this old man to sit near the teenagers and their gleaming, athletic bodies. It would also be too creepy this young man to sit with the parents and 3-years-olds, while childless and reading a children's book. This left me the leathery pool-flies who reside pool-side from May to September. I saddled up next to someone's grandmom and enjoyed the day.

While not as hip as the Duchess grandmother's (who told her she couldn't buy Sudafed at Wal-mart because the kids were using to make their "crank") they were surprisingly knowledgeable of kids-stuffs. So of course they complained. And while at times they had valid points (that one girl's bikini was rather inappropriate) it seemed the current reason everything is wrong with anything is video games.

Could they be right? Is the only reason I turned out well was because there were no codes available for Super Tecmo Bowl that would allow Christian Okoye have sex with Ronnie Lott? Have I actually turned out well? If technology and her work ethic had allowed it, would my grandmother have blogged instead of, I don't know, growing a Victory Garden ?

My elderly next-door-neighbor used to blame a red-zippered-jacket-Michael Jackson for most of the nation's ills. I was once cornered by my grandfather's friend who told me hip-hop (though he used a much more offensive term) would lead me to stop tying my shoes thus increasing my chances of getting hurt. Presumably, he has warned subsequent youngsters about the dangers of wearing ones' pants backwards or how Master P's dental work can be distracting to oncoming traffic.


Listen, I don't know where this post is going or how to end it. I doubt everyone gets this way as they age. But there's a point in life where some people find more things 1000% wrong with the world than they find 1000% right. I just hope mine is a long ways off.

pitchfork to the heart

Holy moly. Congrats, M.Bragg. I suppose this means you've hit it big time? Like an asteroid, hurtling to Earth?

"Gibbardesque." "Decemberistical." ha.

Monday, July 25, 2005

1000% Wrestling Onion Love


So I’ve been looking for a hobby. Anyone who suggests "knitting is relaxing!" is first to walk the plank. I think I’ve found it though, thanks to the fey and annoying British dude on the Travel Channel last night: LUCHA LIBRE.

Now, I’ve made plenty of Lucha Libre, and more specifically Rey Mysterioso, comments/bad jokes in my lifetime. But listen: I’ve found someone really worth following. The name is Shocker, and he has a tiny yellow-and-blue monkey as a sidekick. Not only that, but his slogan is "1000% Guapo!" ("1000% Handsome!") Needless to say, everything in our house was 1000% last night. It was 1000% hot in the master bedroom, the bathroom was 1000% dirty and I should consider cleaning it this week, the red onions we grilled for dinner* were 1000% delish. You catch my drift.

All of this is me, working up to say: fuck the dog, (screw the pooch?) I want a tiny blue monkey sidekick. If someone could get working on that, much appreciated. My hobby would be: taking care of my tiny blue monkey sidekick.

* Good news! We went to the grocery store last night. Raise ye banners of celebration to the heavens, peoples. We then pulled a Food Network and grilled up some red onions, instead of usual dinners of granola bars. Oh man, were they good. Red onions on the grill, and then soak em’ with a mixture of balsamic vinegar, Dijon mustard, tarragon, salt, and pepper; and a very small squeeze of a ¼ lemon. Put that mess on a turkey burger on a whole wheat bun and holy gastrointestinal delight.


"Friends" did it twice. "Love, Actually" did it several times in one film. There was something in "Almost Famous," maybe not an ACOL but something misty. "Garden State." Apparently, "Felicity" and "Dawsons Creek" are guilty. Any other examples you can think of? This is why my friend TR and I are so obsessed with airports: television has made our romantic ideals all wanky, just like our body images and stuff!

This is also why TR got his masters in Airport Management: for love.


I mentioned in passing last night that maybe I shouldn’t eat so many carbs. was gonna stop eating carbs. This was said shortly before the Nabob decided that this summer, he would assist in me achieving a single goal: that goal is to do one pullup. I’ve never done a single goddamn pullup in my life, since my arms consist mostly of a jello-like substance. Anyways, so I’m heading home after work, hang off a metal bar in our laundry room for a few minutes, (the Flex Hang! The dread of all middle school girls everywhere who weren’t gymnasts!) and then head out to Tot Night at BP. Starring: me, with handfuls of tots and a Raven. I know – tots are pretty much fried carbs. Whatevs, it's tots, people. Get excited.


Read The Morning News today? Bega's mentioned.


How badly do you think I piss off coworkers by eating tuna salad every day? It's not like it smells that bad, I just know some people are sensitive to it.

A River Runs Through Them

I was trying to weave this into something else, but it really deserves it's own post.

Make sure you explore it all. It's full of goodies.

after-action report

Hi Internet:

Okay, so remember that time we went to Santa Monica, Internet, and it took 1,500 hours because I am INCAPABLE of driving (especially a RENTAL HYUNDAI ACCENT!) and talking at the same time, and so we passed very specific exits over and over again (and saw the Sherman Oaks mall approx. 750 batshitzillion times, all: "Hey! There’s the Sherman Oaks mall! Again!") and when we finally got to 3rd St. we went into Anthropologie and I bought a white shirt with embroidery and little buttons, in hope that it would make me look TAN vs. SUN POISONED, and fresh and new and virginal, and then I wore it when we got drunk a few days later in San Diego and you randomly approached the teeny bleach-blonde boys from West Point to talk about Quiet Riot?

Okay, so remember that shirt? I’m wearing it today at work.

I sure wish you would have told me when I bought it four years ago that it was a fucking CROP TOP.

Thanks a lot, Internet. Thanks a lot.

Boring blog posts to continue until further notice, or until I figure out a way to snooze at work and magically gather a second/third/fifth wind to carry me through the rest o’ the hot hot summer; to get me psyched again; to paint DC reddish… etc.

I guess I’ll just see you at Ft. Reno on Thursday, I plan on napping full-time until then.

About My Weekend

Outgoing text messages, Saturday 7/23:

- "You know what's in this season? Black leather playboy bra tops and black eyes."

- "my legs are covered in a thin film of exhaust and disgrace

- "i just bought a patch that says 'don't burn MY flag, asshole!'"

- "oh, and big dog teeshirts. Lots of em.


- "also, I met Brad Whitford of Aerosmith. He's short." **



I did not meet Joe Perry, however.

(Some people do Gold Cup. I spent my Saturday here, for those curious. Not kidding.)

Friday, July 22, 2005

In a van, down by the Mertin-Flemmer building

There's a truck outside selling rugs for some reason. Go look, he may still be there. Should I go tiger or leopard? I'm thinking for over the mantle.


Found this wandering through some sort of festival in South Arlington before the cops shut it down.

el pollo olía muy bueno!

the magic was gone

1. Re: the entry below - I most definitely did not marry the wrong guy. More on this later.

2. The New Yorker's M. Talbot on Roald Dahl.

3. I had macaroni for lunch!

4. Words cannot describe how sad I am at missing out on this.

5. Does anyone know where to buy belts without the buckle? Like, a stip of leather with holes, basically? I have a very cool skull belt buckle that also is a bottle opener, I have yet to wear it because I can't find a belt to put it on. Thx.

Ready to Meat

With the Governess on a dinner date (and testing her theory that she married the wrong guy) I thought I could honor Gerald Thomas' memory and treat myself to a delicious Swanson’s* food styled dinner. I haven't delighted in a Salisbury steak/mash potato/peas with l'il onion/red cobblerish meal since way before boy teenage-hood.

Also, Ron and Fez were delving into the more subtle aspects of the dinners on my way to a soccer game. (Victory!) Did you know that you shouldn't buy the package in the front of the freezer? The constant opening and closing causes the food to melt and run together. Outrageous! And! You can eat the chocolate brownie before you cook it and it tastes just like fudge! And salmonella!

Having just finished an entire 90 minutes on the pitch, the Hungry Man Sports Grill seemed the right choice.

It's an American Classic!

Until I read the Nutritional information…

1040 calories? Unwise but doable.

106% of my recommended intake of saturated fat? Most unwise, and less doable. But it was the total sodium that tripped me up.

111% Hmmm. Not too good for my goofy ticker. I checked the deer hunting section at Safeway and it turns out the salt-licks have less sodium.

Look, I know X-E covered this same story with disastrous results, but damn. Pretty much everything in the frozen food section off my doc's suggested diet. The South Beach Diet meals had more salt than the South Beach ocean. Zing.

And you don't make friends with salad.

*I was under the impression that when a name ends in –son, that it’s the remnant of the Scandinavian style of saying “son of.” Was there really a Viking named Swan?


Unrelated: Anyone seen this video with the walking boomboxes that terrorize Rio? Three of them attack a breakdancing Brazilian.


Thursday, July 21, 2005

Say Goodnight, Gracie

On the passing of Scotty:

Huffington Report Guy.

Other ideas:

Tootie Shoots the Duck Straight into Heaven

They Won't Be There For You: "Friends" Cast Succumbs to Injuries Received in Fiery Bus Crash.

Kerri Russell's Throat Slit in Haircut Mishap

George Wendt Greets the Gang with a Hearty "Afternoon, Everybody!" at the Pearly Gates

Judith Light/Joanna Kerns/Valerie Bertinelli Dead From Domestic Abuse Incident on Lifetime Network Set.

"Cut, It, Out!" - Dave Coulier Begs Passerby to Remove Stake from Heart

"Ha, I Kill Me!" - Alf's Last Words Before his Tragic Suicide.

Kids in the Hall Star Dead in Untimely Head Crushing Accident.

And, from MJ via this crazy new computer thing called "electronic mail":

Everybody Loves Raymond...Except the Drunk Driver Who Killed Him

Jennie Garth, Kelly of "90210," Dies of Lethal Combination of Cocaine Overdose, Stabbing, Diet Pills, Shooting, Date Rape, Indecisiveness

Cast of Melrose Place Crushed to Death by Melodrama

Parker Lewis Finally Loses
(MJ notes he can’t claim credit for this, as he saw it on a website around the time of "Mansquito," but it still fits.)

More to come, I'm sure.

Unrelated: This? HI-larious.

Mother Tongue

Have you ever played around on Babelfish?


Dear Internet:

Last night, I went to a Nats game with my family. Because everyone realted to me is directionally-challenged, it took seven trips around Capital Hill to find our parking lot. When we got to the game, I had a red-flavored sno cone. The game was fun, but the Nats lost, sadly. Highlights included trying to explain Patton Oswalt's stand-up routine to my mother, who did not get it, and my father and his son-in-law bonding over sports. We had a good time, that is all.*

The Governess

* "We had a good time, that is all" is how I ended EVERY ENTRY of my elementary school diary. Whether I had a good time or not is irrelevant, THAT IS ALL."


Internet Querido:

Ayer por la noche, fui a un juego de Nats con mi familia. Porque direccional-se desafi'a cada uno realted a mí, él tomó siete viajes alrededor de la colina capital para encontrar nuestra porción del estacionamiento. Cuando conseguimos al juego, tenía un cono rojo-condimentado del sno. El juego era diversión, pero el Nats perdidos, tristemente. El intentar incluido los toques de luz explicar Patton Oswalt esta' parado-para arriba rutinario a mi madre, que no lo consiguió, y mi padre y sus deportes excesivos de la vinculación del yerno. Teníamos un buen rato, de que somos todos.

Amor, El Governess

* "teníamos un buen rato, de que somos todos" somos cómo terminé CADA ENTRADA de mi diario de la escuela primaria. Si tenía un buen rato o no soy inaplicable, ÉSE ES TODO.


Internet Cher:

Le soir, je suis allé hier à un jeu de Nats avec ma famille. Parce que directionnel- se il défie chacun realted à à moi, il a pris sept voyages autour de la colline importante pour trouver notre portion du parking. Quand nous obtiendrons au jeu, il avait un cône rouge- assaisonné du sno. Le jeu était divertissement, mais le Nats perdus, tristement. Essayer y compris les contacts de lumière d'expliquer Patton Oswalt il est ilarrêter- arrête en haut courant à ma mère, qui ne l'a pas obtenu, et mon père et ses sports excessifs du lien du gendre. Nous avions un bon instant, dont nous sommes tous.

Amour, le Governess

* "nous avions un bon instant, dont nous sommes tous" nous sommes comment ai terminé CHAQUE ENTRÉE de mon journal de l'école primaire. S'il avait un bon instant ou ne suis pas inapplicable, CELUI-LÀ EST TOUT.


Internet costoso:

La sera, sono andato ieri ad un gioco di Nats con la mia famiglia. Perché direzionale - si sfida ciascuno realted a a me, ha preso sette viaggi attorno alla collina importante per trovare la nostra parte del parcheggio. Quando otterremo al gioco, aveva un cono rosso - condito del sno. Il gioco era intrattenimento, ma Nats persi, tristemente. Provare compresi i contatti di luce a spiegare Patton Oswalt è ilarrêter - ferma in cima corrente alla mia madre, che non la ha ottenuta, e mio padre ed i suoi sport eccessivi del legame del genero. Avevamo un buono momento, di cui siamo tutti.

Amore, Governess

* "avevamo un buono momento, di cui siamo tutti" noi siamo come hanno terminato OGNI ENTRATA del mio giornale della scuola primaria. Se avesse un buono momento o non è inapplicabile, QUELLO È TUTTO.


Annnnnnnnnndddddd, end scene:

Expensive Internet:

The evening, has gone yesterday to a game of Nats with my family. Because directional - challenge everyone realted to to me, has taken seven travels around the hill important in order to find our part of the parking. When we obtain to the game, it had a red cone - flavored of the sno. The game was lost entertainment, but Nats, sadly. To try comprised the light contacts to explain Patton Oswalt is ilarrêter - firm in top current to my mother, than it has not obtained it, and my father and its excessive sports of the tie of I generate. We had a good moment, of which we are all.

Love, Governess

* "we had a good moment, of which we are all" we are like we have finished EVERY ENTRANCE of my newspaper of the primary school. If it had a good moment or he is not inapplicable, THAT ONE Is ALL.

This would have been funnier had I not misspelled "related."


Check out Page 30 of the Express. And then, consider going.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005


I magically came into possession into Sno-Cone today.

It tasted cold and delectable especially since it was already 310 degrees Kelvin at
8am. What was not delectable was that I still don't have the hand/eye/mouth coordination required to eat Sno-cones.

If my calculations are correct, nearly half of all attempts to eat frozen food stuffs by a child ends with the treat disastrously on the ground. Here are the three most common causes:

  1. An unbalanced and/or overly aggressive lick causes ice cream to spill off cone onto sidewalk.
  2. An uneven attack pattern causes an unbalanced popsicle to spill off stick onto sidewalk.
  3. An uneven and/or overly aggressive squeeze causes Sno-cone to spill out of paper wrapper onto sidewalk.

I’m no Mr. Wizard, but it seems that as a grown up with passing marks in physics and a minor in Oceanography, I would have a grasp on these by now. Unfortunately, with no sidewalk nearby, my Sno-cone spilled mostly on my pants.

What remains of the day, remains on my pants.

A good bit also fell into my shoes which, out of solidarity with that girls Lacrosse team, were flip-flops. Actually, it was just out of solidarity with young Fallon.

1986? Christ.

Anyblay, it was good while it lasted. Tomorrow, I'm going to tackle one of them Frogger popsicles with bubblegum for eyeballs.

i'm a winner!


Can you believe it? I can't.

Bet you wish YOU won a 1-liter Coke product!

Later, LOSERS! Non-Coke winning schmucks! Yeah, that's right, I said it: NON-COKE WINNING SCHMUCKS.

This afternoon can not pass fast enough.

Dear Diary: Wherein my past comes back to haunt a smidge

1. Last night I missed Conan: both the Hold Steady and Patton Oswalt were on. It was like NBC was saying: HEY! Governess! We've put together a delightful little show just for you, and you should watch!

Instead, I spent the evening drankin' some beers, lassinin' some music, having very weird dreams, and coming up with several genius ideas involving candy cigarettes.

- - -

2. Okay, I'm a moron. You know how I've been like some sort of swoony pimp for this Jessica Hopper thing for a month or so? (Thursday, Infoshop, 9th St)And I'm all excited about it?

So, I have a friend in town tomorrow night.* For one night only! Headlining at a Holiday Inn near Dulles! He brings along with him his soon-to-be-wife-then-ex-wife, because he's a notorious slug of a man, and a new stepson. (?) Like, I HAVE to go to dinner with them, right? I NEVER see him, he lives in CA and is officially bankrupt, and I am officially lazy, so we don't travel from coast-to-coast very often. And, most of his insane stories (J-U-S-T-I-N-A-N-A-S!) are best if told mano e mano instead of via misspelled text messages and emails and late night phone calls.

Man, I'm kind of bummed. No, not kind of, RILLY. Really bummed.

- - -

3. via ILB and TMFTML: read carefully. Pulp? Four Tet? Black is white, up is down? Holy footnotes, Batman.

- - -

4. I had a 17-page term paper on why the world should fear John Roberts, and then I decided this was no place for POLITICS! Or Toyotas! And then I got excited because I remembered I brought Gatorade to work today, so that kind of ended (in a fiery wreck) the John Roberts train of thought.

- - -

5. *Speaking of old friends:

still in brazil.
IN two weeks, you get to see me.
reserve august 14th.
its my drunk uncles birthday.
at my parents house.

I have double-bold-starred-underlined-asterisked the holy hell out of the above email message, because this means something awesome this way comes the second week in August: SEWA is back home in NoVa.

There's a time and a place for a large head-bow and an XXXXL man's hawaiian print lounging-pajama set; and the time is now, my friends. I'm assuming someone had just swiped her crack, and she's gunnin up the stairs for it.

Sewa (sidenote: The "Sewa" moniker, a nickname standing the test of time, goes something like this: a coworker once threw a flaming book of matches at her head and yelled "SHUT YER SEWERHOLE OF A MOUTH!," and it stuck like KFC to Kirstie Alley's thighs, ba dum dum. I am already cracking up just thinking about that, the details i am not providing you, dear readers, are excellent. You just have to trust me) is one of my old homie-homie's from long ago and far away. She and I have known each other in some form since kindergarten nose-pickin' days. We didn't actually become friends until one summer when I was 17 and she was 16 and we ended up lifeguarding at a public pool - a place full of inner-city camp kids brought out to "experience nature", forty year old men who couldn't swim, and teenagers who snuck in because their coked-up girlfriends worked as desk attendants. Basically, the most radiculous place ever for a teenager to waste away hot summer days for $$$. Most swampy afternoons were spent being incredibly sexy and not knowing it, praying for rain, playing spades, conning pies from the dumb phone workers at Papa John's, and duct-taping the newest staff members to the hot dog cart & pushing it down the handicapped ramp into the pool; our nights drinking wine cooler-n-Beast Lite cocktails and getting our ears pierced for the 6th time at Claires or the Piercing Hut. Pagoda. Whatever.

Sewa has been living in NYC in recent years, earning various Women's Studies degrees, hanging with Amy Sedaris and a roving posse of flamboyantly gay NYU theatre majors/club kids, and waiting tables at Greek dirty spoons. In between all that Big Appleness, she travels the world to teach English to adults in (thus far): Prague, Mexico, Brazil, Barcelona, and I think, for a brief week or two, Cyprus.

Basically, the lass is hard to track down, and the last time she came home for a celebration of Christ's birth, we found ourselves drinking cheap beers in a strip mall Chili's somewhere in Vienna, acting vaguely raucous and scaring the bartenders and suburban kids in trucker hats. Usually, it's only over the holidays when she returns - her parents throw the most bizarro Christmas eve party known to man. Her mom, who looks like Bette Midler, usually hits someone and leads everyone in Beatles singalongs, also in attendance most years is her little brother's punk band, all dirty and hungry and angry. (I mean, he's just a baby!!!! At some point, I may or may not have changed his diapers- now he's on "perm vacation, dude" in Redondo Beach, earning money screaming about Satan and capitalism and giving his 16 year old groupies mohawks in the back of his van, or a life something like that.)

I can't wait to see her, and them.

- - -

6. The Nabob's most recent post had me in gales of laughter this morning. A giggle tornado! A guffaw hurricane!

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Damn John Whorfin and the horse he rode in on

Before I start, is there a greater movie villain trio in acting history than these three? No. There is not.

The Governess was kind enough to sit through the tail-end of the Terminator over the weekend, though it was clear she wanted to watch whatever was on whatever channel Trading Spaces is on. She's a doll like that. However, when I started spouting off how the film contained one of the greatest movie powers ever yielded by any movie maker, well, then she wished she had the remote. But anyone who's seen any Sci-Fi movie in the 80's knows this thing, this force of almost indefinable power. So in an attempt more to prove to the Governess than to anyone else, I present my thesis on Blue Lightning.

Starting with the original Terminator...

This harbinger of Arnold's arrival is a pretty tame example, at most possibly blinding a hobo. But at the end, when Sarah flattens the Arnold-bot in the crushinator it appears that he's powered by the mysterious blue lightning. Shootin' all over the place, zapping the homeless.

This is perhaps Blue Lightning’s most famous performance ...

Poor Luke. I never saw Star Wars but my understanding from the graphic novel is that this is the Empire's mandatory sentence for snogging your sister. It should be the standard practice in every film because finger lightning would have made Flowers in the Attic way more interesting. Me, I would use that power to recharge my iPod. Unfortunately, that battery's not dead, it’s dead dead.

But ROTJ isn't Neckfat Lucas’s first use of Blue Lightning. Apparently it not only fries sister-kissers but paralyzes robots in the first one...

Here are some other uses:

A non-kryptonite deterrent against Jor-El's boy...

I submit that Superman III is the most ill-conceived movie of all time. Besides the jive-ass handshake after the Richard Pryor rescue, there's the world economy manipulating, weather changing, Superman re-programming computer. And its first order of business? Changing the traffic signals in Metropolis. C'mon.

It can punch holes in the space-time continuum...

That's 1.21 gigawatts to you and me.

It's crucial in summoning Gozer the Gozerian, Gozer the Destructor and/or Volguus Zildrohar...

That's a class 5 full roaming vapor to you and Tobin’s Spirit Guide. But it's not just these high society art-house flicks that get the blue lightning treatment. There are some serious blockbusters that rely on this stuff. Without it, young Daniel Aykroyd would never have found his true love...

Jon Lovitz won best supporting actress for this one.

Then there was the variation of the Blue Lightning, the plasma globe effect. (I'll take this one, please.)

I believe this one was employed right before River Phoenix made out with the big-lipped alien. Or maybe it was Ethan Hawke. Or maybe the other kid. Either way there was some nice Muppet-on-boy action.

Finally there's the Blue Lightning Zap Gun

This last one is a personal favorite as Killer Klowns from Outer Space was on in the background during my first make-out session. I'm not talking kissing here, guys, but I mean full MAKE-OUT! Our tongue actually touched! But then someone pulled the fire alarm and we all ran out of the hotel and the chaperones got all suspicious and everyone had to go back to their own rooms and I had some weird bruise on my neck the next morning. From what the Governess reports, JK stole that story and put it in the new Harry Potter book. I believe it's in the chapter called the Ensorcelled Middle School Ski Trip.

So there you have it. Any movie idea that any hack can dream up can be solved by Blue Lightning. It's the duct tape of the movie world. I'm surprised some drama kid hasn't used it to make a prom tuxedo out of it and then be featured on the local news. They love that crap.

frozen through and through

1. and

2. For the past week or two I've walked into my place of employment every morning carrying a sweater, all brown and wooly and very, very square. Yes, a sweater, even though it is approximately 973 degrees outside. It's such an old lady-looking garment. (If I had cats, there would be cat hair all over it.) The hotter it gets outside, the colder it gets inside here, like it's some sort of air-conditioning vs. heat stroke rap battle. The air conditioning is winning. If I had socks, I'd wear them too, even with my sandals- I would care not about fashion sensibilities. It's cold, people. I am spending my hours in frigid temperatures, when I should be on a hammock somewhere, getting tan and drinking beers and reading V.C. Andrews; or watching the "Lost Boys" under a ceiling fan, eating lime popsicles. Something, anything, not this.

I complain, but soon enough, the office will start to warm up, a mirror-opposite of what's happening outside, and all us employees will snuggle in for an excruciatingly hot winter.

3. Apparently, according to every favorite DC website I read, tonight is Bluestate! You guys should really advertise; or get people to blog about it, or something. A ha, ha. Can I request Happy Mondays, and obnoxiously refer to St. Ex as "the Hacienda" all night?

4. Does anyone know why the Post website is so jacked up today? I haven't been able to get on all morning.

Monday, July 18, 2005

dude of the dead


Who are you, you funny zombie people?


HP & the Half-Awake Employee

I stayed up to finish the blasted Potter book. I feel relieved.

Friday, July 15, 2005

"all we got on this team"

okay, check. i just got learned: andy milonakis also was the kid on the Jimmy Kimmel show.

I'm convinced: random bloggers know everything.

OH! More IMDB fun: and this kid? Not only is he going to portray the original mouthy BNB Tanner; he also played Ted Bundy as a child. That's what I call a career.


I know I'm totally jinxing myself, but this weekend we might meet our new dog.

I'm trying not to get my hopes up.

More About July 21st...

... and then I'll shut up.

So, Jeff Ott is opening for Jessica Hopper and Al Burian (formerly of Milemarker

And then I read this.

Somehow, it makes the whole event slightly less appealing.

To wrap up:

Apparently, the Mac Attack thing last night was aces, and I might miss Bluestate (again) because I have Nats tickets, ANNNNNNDDDDD the 21st? See above? My ol' friend J-U-S-T-I-N-A-N-A-S and his common-law wife and her thirteen year old baby from a different daddy might be knocking on my door, all orphaned in the Nation's capital for the night. Really, they probably would find aging punks reading zines a "good time."

I never get to do anything fun anymore. In cheerier news, I'm going to a lesbian baby shower tonight.

More later. It will be a day of posting! Because I am boring myself!

Thursday, July 14, 2005

It's Never Too Early #2

Idea #2 for Halloween Party costume that will lead to less drinking and more explaining.

File under: Couples/Music

Grammys; vintage 1998

Pros: Governess can do her Dylan impersonation all night. Nabob hates wearing shirts.
Cons: The whole "less drinking and more explaining" thing. And there's another event from that Grammys that's just as good. Perhaps an idea for later...

Running Up That Hill

Want to write? Want to write about music?

Yeah, you should probably reconsider.

That's Good Cob

I misheard someone's chinese order of Carrot Juice Chicken as Church's Chicken at the ob-jay and had a huge craving for all things fried. But because I have the heart of a 280-year-old and my diet is set to extra bland, that idea was quickly nixed. Fortunately, my lunch of low sodium crackers and Scope filled the hole. It was DE-LISH!. Stupid Apple Fritters! So filled with heart clogging goo.

But just in case this ol' heart thing works its way out, I looked up the closest Church's. Unfortunately I don’t have the security clearance required to enjoy their Jalapeño Cheese Bombers:®, which I'm sure are wonderful for my ticker. It seems the only ones in the area are on military bases. Alas, maybe there's a Bojangles nearby.

After further Church's mulling I realized two things. First, I don't think I've ever eaten Church's Chicken and can't explain my craving. (Preggars? Panda-Cam time?) Secondly, the Mount Pleasant Riots.

There isn't much evidence about them on the web, but the riots led to one of my favorite local television stories. I believe it was Channel 7 who kept showing footage of people looting the Church's Chicken on Mount Pleasant Street. (A coworker who lived nearby in the 80's, thinks it was near where the 42 bus turns around, but he's not positive. He also said you could smell the grease from Church's blocks away) In the video, people smashed the windows and started stealing individual pieces of chicken. Except for one guy who kept trying to grab a corn-on-the-cob. He'd dip his hand into the burning, buttery water but had to pull it out before he could grasp anything. It's too hot, man! Go for the Tender Crunchers ™! The box has a hole for the dipping sauce. It's so convenient! (Of course, the only thing more convenient is the Roy Rogers’ French fry holster. It's about time someone invent a way to wear your dinner on your belt.)

The riots themselves only lasted a few a nights, with most of Mount Pleasant and parts of Adams Morgan being subject to a curfew. It wasn't the most positive chapter in the city's history of race relations, but it did lead to some dialogue between the District government and Hispanic leaders. And at least there are now more Spanish-speaking cops on the street.

Sharon Pratt Dixon was the mayor then. She’s the one between the two Barry administrations but my only memory of her is that her daughter designed her inauguration dress. It was a major press event.

That's why she lost to Barry. He didn't stand for that kind of nonsense

the youth will win


You know, as my mom said several [8,000] times regarding some of my boojy high school friends with ADD, "someone just needs to channel that boys energy!"

Boojy, sure, whatevs. They've got a kickass house salad.


I have decided I need to live in a museum in order to be completely fulfilled. I'm gonna quit my job*, sell the house; I'm packing my bags. You can find me in the hands-on science center or something, we'll live on vending machine Skittles and cuddle with mastadons at night for warmth. Who's with me?


Somewhat related to #1: I watched "Brat Camp" last night. I know, I know, I know. Here was me: "can't. break. away. from. this. junk TV. tractor. beam." But the show was kind of touching. (I actually had real, lifelike human emotions for this one girl, Lexi, who wears goth makeup and cusses a lot and just needs serious therapy and will be a kickass kid, probably; she reminded me of one particular member of my screwy family, and I kind of wanted to hug her.) The show also reinforced how BIZONKERS TERRIFIED I am of having children.

Another girl's parents were particularly clueless. Dude, I'd pride myself on at least knowing my 15-year old was doing lines of cocaine thrice weekly, even if I'm not able to stop it. Major Dad reacted surprisingly with "whoa, she doesn't come home at night?" when his wife prettied up to the camera with that info. (Are kids much smarter these days, to be able to pull this off? It's a far cry from youth of sneaking Beast cans out behind the Price Club. I mean, damn.) The dad's biggest issue was her using his hard-earned money to by her drugs. Uh. I'd don't think that would be my biggest issue. I'd like to think instead, I'd be all: pray tell, again, why you're 15 and doing coke? Cause it probably stunts yr growth, I'm guessing.

I got away with some minor shit at 15 & 16, but my mom used to SEND MY FATHER OUT ON RECONN MISSIONS, way past his early bedtime if I was breaking the big C. I'd come out of Nick's house or whatever hoodrat I was hanging out with at the time, and just find the dude casually cutting his nails with a paring knife while sitting on the hood of my car, incidentally parked miles, nay, towns, from where I was supposed to be. You think I'm kidding, but I'm not. The man might be shrinking in his old age, but daddy? Still terrifying. I'm pretty sure the parental crazies didn't have a tracer on my 1984 Dodge, but who needs that technology when you have MOM-DAR?

Man, it's so easy to be high and mighty about other people's tv children. whooo hooo.

*"The retail train slowed down for a bend in the tracks and that's when I jumped off. I ran into Dave Lewis this morning at just the right time for him to tell me that I should quit my job. So I did, sending my resignation via hand-markered note packed in a box of straw, delivered to my former place of employment by a bike messenger in Hell's Angels drag. "Take this job and, I don't know; 'Shove it' sounds kind of harsh. Whatevs," the note said. "Give whatever's in my locker to Lieutenant Leprechaun. Holla." I can only imagine them looking speechless into the messenger's WWII pilot goggles before he turned and wheelied out of there. Must have been priceless. Badracula!" -- Miles Raymer

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

Best email this week


You in?"

call me anytime

I love spam.

In the past two hours, I've received a job offer from Hector Cunningham to MAKE MILLIONS LIKE THESE MORONS, and a completely different email offer to look at PICTURES OF MY SLAG MUM EARNING A FEW DOLLARS.

suddenly, my day's looking brighter.

Hey, How's Washington?

Speaking of childhood & arranged marriages and thingz: Man, how much do I miss the late 80s/early 90s? How much do I miss my teens, rampant with Mormons in plaid shirts? How much do I miss the OMD song, "Tesla Girls?"

A little bit, I have to admit.

On a similar note- can an internet photo scientist somewhere out there please help me carbon date above photo? Because it's definitely late 80s, but i am unsure of exactness. It appears to be some sort of odd 2-person birthday white elephant gift exchange. I found this picture in my closet, behind the DVD player and a dusty VHS tape of "The Jerk," spazzily looking for family photos (more on that later). It features a young, wrinkle-free Governess, and my ol' pal KS (who is back in the DC area getting her life ORGANIZED, yo!, all tatted-up-and-no-longer-following-Helmet-around-Germany-or-living-in-a-Berkley-slum-or-whatever adorable.) Anyways- please note the lack of claw-bangedness, which may or may not have assisted you in determining a specific date associated with said picture (height of bang - use of Rave Hairspray + heart bedspread/Ikea plastic furnishings - Fiorza sweatshirt/turtlenck combo should, in theory = Year) I think this is pre-claw era. Does that help?

Dear District of Columbia:

Why don't you do yr ole pal a favor and stop scheduling extremely cool things on Thursday nights? Eh? Because, like, when I hear that there will be some sort of Carlsonics/WSC Fleetwood Mac cover thing going on at DC9, and I'm going to miss it, it make my eyes weep blood. Thanks.

Also, I drove around last night, and I've decided the intersection of p and 12th is adorable. I don't know why, it just is. It might have had something to do with the well-dressed lady in gold lame heels and a spangly dress, watering her cement walkway. She was great, and also, wearing a bathing cap.

Dear Bar Pilar:

Thanks for not smoking. This way, I can down a few Magic Hats on a Tuesday night and not come home smelling like the Deputy of Rot-stank City. Also, your bartender kind of looks like a cartoon chracter. I don't know which one, but it makes me happy. The biker meeting taking place at BP was three Sundays to radical. If the Duchess had any sense to her, she'd figure out a way to computer-send me all the potentially awesome photos she snuck with her high-tech phone-camera.

Dear Fame:

Oh, hi. I may or may not have finagled myself onto TV. Obviously, I am bound to be a star. Developments to come.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

A Curious Arrangement

I can't remember exactly where or when I learned of the idea of arranged marriage. It may have been regular school or it may have been church Sunday School, but as a child, the idea of it fascinated me.

(I say it may have been Sunday school because although I attended a relatively tame Presbyterian Church, my teacher was constantly criticizing other religions. We should be thankful that as Christian's we had the choice to marry whomever we chose, not like those "submit any other non-Christian religions." This was the same teacher who kicked me out of class for not playing Bible Pictionary correctly. Twice. The first time for drawing an airline pilot for Pontius Pilate and the second for not evening knowing what the upper room was. Still not sure.)

Back to the arranged marriages. I don’t exactly know what it was that captivated me about the idea of this thing. It seemed like a way to get all the girl with none of the expensive dating. Back then, of course, dating meant handing over your Ecto-Cooler Hi-C or chocolate Teddy Grahams.

As a child I would make up histories of how my parents and the parent of the girls I like could have met and set up our wedding. And these stories always seemed to have some sort of medieval theme. They would not take place in medieval times, mind you, but have medieval themes. My father, the modern NoVa blacksmith would shoe horses for Janna Flower's dad the Atilliator of Rockville. Or my seamstress mother would make dresses for Rosie Anderson's mother, the wife of the Falls Church Gong Farmer. You know, normal school boy make believe.

I mentioned this to the Governess and she thought it was the weirdest thing she had ever heard. She's right.

water cannon/river city

Because I don't have much to say today, here's a photo from the Museum of Science and Industry (yes, yes: more Chicago. one of these days, I will get back to DCish things, one of these days.) I was very excited to see they had a robot exhibit going on. And you can kind of see me in Garloo's reflection.

Also, Flashy Jim.

And now, for no reason, an eagle attacking a fish.

You totally thought I was going to return and post pictures of Cloud Gate, didn't you?

Hold tight wait till the party’s over/Hold tight we're in for nasty weather

the funniest 1st person-ish account of Burn to Shine ever, probably.

Monday, July 11, 2005


Freda Sorce, wife of the "Don and Mike Show's" Don Geronimo (real name: Mike Sorce) killed yesterday in a car accident.

Say what you will about DC radio, but it's still a bummer.

poste, scripte

4 other things, the Not As Grumpy Edition:

- Did anyone besides Nabob catch the "Herculoids" reference on Family Guy last night?

- We saw Gunter Von Thurston Howell Scribblescrabble's "Bodyworlds." More on that later.

- Every time i spend significant time in an art museum (in this specific case: the Art Institute), it makes my pack-rat instincts go into super-ultra-mega-overdrive. I'm pretty sure the rest of the week will be spent hording my friends sketches on bar napkins and putting them away for safekeeping, just in case we're all famous someday. Yes, yes, we're the modern Factory.

- When I downloaded all my photos last night, I realized eleventeenhundred of them were shots of the Marina towers from our hotel window, attempting to recreate the Yankee Hotel Foxtrot cover. Because I'm sure no one's tried to do that before.

And yes, I'm planning on drinking my week away. Updates at 11.

feel it with the hot mind on

I’m wenchy this morning, don’t cross me. The rest of the summer and fall stretches ahead, long and dull and eventless. It’s Monday, I’m back at work, and I kind of feel like I’m wearing a hoop skirt. WTF with fashion trends, people, WTF.

Good things from Chicago:

When you get married at a nature center, you get to have a polar bear watching over you, a guardian of your nuptials. I’m Lutheran. There was no polar bear at MY nuptials. I’m jealous.

Other thing(s) from Chicago:

Scenes from the El:

At Logan Square, a white-mesh-n-gold-foil tank-topped meth chick (let’s call her "Shaky") and her equally haggard balding-yet-curiously-spiky-haired lover ("Joe?") got on to regale the car with volleys of "fuck, dudes" and too-loud tales of woesome drug addiction. The couple counseled a third guy who seemed to know them casually, telling him he had a good job and to keep clean; Joe telling him "I just got out man, you don’t want to go in. I can’t get any job NOWHERE." The friend got off the train a few stops later, telling Joe and Shaky to hang tough.

The couple sitting in front of us, blondes carrying a set of matching red luggage, started to whisper.*

Joe was skeletal and over-tanned. Dusty black tear-away track pants and a beaded bracelet; a bicep tattoo of a jackrabbit holding the Mexican flag, underneath in fancy script: "Donna." Shaky, an over-dyed redhead with olive skin stretched tight over bone, started to freshen her makeup, putting on layers and layers of black eyeliner as the El rumbled along. She opened up a magnum-variety-case of lip glosses and squinted, Joe took the case from her and wiped off the gummy color-streaked mirror on his pant leg, and then held it out for her as she slathered some orangey-pink goop across her lips.

It was the most weirdly tender act I’ve seen in a long time.

The two got off at Cumberland, briefly touching hands, and as the train pulled away I saw Joe pause on the platform, and pull out an enormous bottle of pills from his pants pocket,

The couple sitting in front of us started to laugh quietly. The blonde wife pulled out an eyeliner stick and waved it at her husbands face. She made a comment about how "these are the people having children that shouldn’t be" and then turned and asked us where we were from. When I said DC, she said "You must be used to seeing things like that all the time."

A few minutes later, she talked about how unfriendly people were on the DC Metro, with their books and their newspapers and their IPods.

She bothered me more than I cared to admit it, and on the way to work this morning I figured it out- This was a woman relatively my age and income bracket. In less then ten minutes, we learned that she was a Democrat, had a good job, two children, and lived in an upwardly-mobile part of the country.*

It’s scary to see a part of yourself in such a holier-than-thou, unrepentant bitch.

For all she knew, I’m a former drug addict who’s barely keeping my life together.

Actually, maybe that's her past, too - her secret past; her contempt used as a disguise, hiding her former self from her golf-shirted husband, her towheaded spawn. Maybe. Looks are deceiving.

It was hard to think of a reaction - is it worth it to tell a complete a total stranger to fuck off, when you'll only be in their presence for five minutes?

Whatever. I kind of regret not saying anything, and maybe more than anything, that's why I'm in a bad mood this morning. Walk a mile/moccasins, babydoll. You know the drill.

* not chicago natives

Friday, July 08, 2005

Ode to Street Art

We'd only been in Chi-town for 10 minutes before we stumbled across this...





Plastic bag sprites? Is that last one some sort of recycling Pied Piper? My guess is they received a $5,000 grant from the Illinois Sanitation Department to regale the children of Chicago in the joys of refuse reuse. They blew in to Millennium Park on the wind and floated out minutes later. Except for one who got caught on a tree branch.

If these are art or drama students, it would be the second run in I've had in the last week. Recent happenstance found me at Carnegie Mellon University where I was fortunate enough to meet Valerie, as in Val the computer sciences robotic receptionist. "She" was programmed and built by the robotics nerds but given a "personality" by the drama geeks.

Val's got herself a keyboard so you can axe her questions and she responds with the dry cool wit of an action hero. Unless she's at lunch. Then she won't answer. Also, if you ask her too many inane questions she gets an incoming call and begs off to talk to her mother.

And she loves Barbara Streisand. So if you get up to Pittsburgh axe her about Prince of Tides. She loves that shit.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

strange days

I have the day off. Thus far, it's been spent drinking coffee, being berated by my new Robot Dentist for grinding my teeth (thanks, Chief, no one's ever told me that before at EVERY dentist appointment I've had since I was twelve), listening to the Hold Steady on repeat, and eating bon bons. I could get used to this life.

Tomorrow, Chicago, barring any insanity in the skies or whathaveyou. Relieved to hear the few people I know in the London area are okay, except that they have no idea how they're going to get home to the suburbs after work. If the choices are being stuck at work and being in a bus/subway disaster, we'll take you stuck at work, thanks.

Okay, now because I'm a spoiled American, I'm going to get a pedicure. I have a 3:00 haircut in Dupont, too. I assume I'll be driving rather then metroing.

Cheers, mates. Have a bomb-less weekend here in the nation's capital.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

La Bella Cell Block E

The official Pygmalion In A Blanket Softball Uniform

You all knew that L'il Kim was doing a l'il jail time, but did you know that Syracuse offers a course called Hip-Hip Eshu: Queen B@#$H 101? Betcha didn't. While it's worth three credits toward your English major, lyrics like these may keep Anatomy students guessing too.

I got my eye on the guy in the Woolrich coat
Don't he know Queen Bee got the ill deep throat?
Uh! Let me show you what I'm all about
How I make a Sprite can disappear in my mouth....HO!!!!

Steal-y Dan

Michael Showalter interviews on his new movie, "The Baxter."

(thanks to lindsayism for the link.)

I haven't seen "Stella" yet, but I loved "Wet Hot American Summer" in an intense way. The Nabob and I have been known to walk around quoting Chris Meloni's Gene for days on end. Rumor has it Austinist had a WHAS-themed party at some point, and I'm jealous. I could have pulled off the Amy Poehler character really, really well, I imagine; especially after a few drinks.

DCist, get on that thang already.

Kind of like Jodeci at a poetry slam. A really bad poetry slam.

I was prepared to write this little piece about Sufjan Steven's new album and the problems with cover art, how "For the Windows in Paradise..." still gets me teary-eyed, etc. etc. (PS. Sufjan at Iota tomorrow night? Don't tell.)

All that changed as I was getting ready for work this morning and the Nabob called me into another room to watch R. Kelly's "Trapped In The Closet: Chapter 1 of 5" video, which may have changed my life.

Needless to say, I'll probably be going out during my lunch break to buy me some R. Kelly. HE RHYMES "WINDOW" WITH "FLOOR," people.

Somewhat related: Current Ipod slice-of-life alphabetizing: Sufjan Stevens--> Sugarcubes--> Suicidal Tendencies--> Sunny Day Real Estate--> 7 bands who's names all start with the word "super."

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

PSA for punk love; Animal Planet, etc.


Jessica Hopper, who I have an unabashed womancrush on, is coming to town July 21st. Anyone who wants to join me for an evening of reading and guaranteed radness (the Nabob: probably little-no interest, so I am looking for people to join me), please email. It's at Infoshop, Shaw-ish. Hit It or Quit It zines and comic books on sale onsite. If you miss it, you can always see the Baltimore show.

Tour dates & location:


(all readings except 7/14 are ALL AGES EVENTS, and all events are sliding scale admission)

July 14th: Chicago, IL- BANANA KING ZINE presents Rock N' Read fundraiser @ The Empty Bottle $10/21 w/ Functional Black outs. Reading at 11:15, free banana w/ paid admission.
July 16th: Pittsburgh, PA @ ModernFormations Gallery (4919 Penn Ave) 7:30 pm $3-5
July 17th: Philly, PA @ Mollys Books
July 18th: NYC, NY - Bluestockings Radical Books , 172 Allen , 7 pm.
July 19th: Providence, RI @ Dirt Palace Feminist Art Space w/ Julianne Shepherd - 7:30 pm
July 20th: Easthampton, MA - Flywheel Community Arts - 8 pm (2 Holyoke St)
w/ Julianne Shepherd and Sara Jaffe
July 21st: DC @ Infoshop (1426 9th st NW) - 7pm - Jeff Ott headlines
July 22nd: Baltimore, MD @ Charm City Arts Space - 8 pm
July 24th: Chapel Hill, NC @ Co-Op House
July 25th: Louisville, KY @ BRICK Community Center - 7pm

For your added viewing pleasure, this is what I'd look like with Jessica Hopper's brunette haircut and biggol earrings. Also, if I had an evil goatee-handlebar combination. And an eyepatch.


For your reading pleasure, he are some stories - one about a hermaphroditic crab, and the other 2 about a 600+ lb. catfish.

Dear Alcohol: You Suck

The July 4th weekend was fun but I now owe some people apologies. While at the time of my transgressions I did say I was sorry, they will be more permanent in blog form.

1. To the Mayor of Port Republic: I apologize for losing your good yellow fishing lure. Come August, when the water is low, you will find it snagged under the large log about thirty feet upstream of that old sofa. I am not sorry for punching you in the rhomboideus minor, though, just as you are probably not sorry for punching me in the face.

2. To friend and wife-friend: I'm sorry for splitting one of your new croquet balls. But with all due respect, that ball was, in theory, designed to be struck by a mallet. Upon said striking, it should have maintained its wholeness. On the plus side, I think the yellow spray painted softball blends in seamlessly to the rest of the set.

3. To the family of National's catcher Brian Schneider sitting in our section: Although paying fans have a right to voice their disgust with a botched pop fly, your son is not the "piece of garbage" I may have labeled him. Thank you for setting me straight.

4. To the guy and two girls in front of me at the Meredith Bragg show. I wish I could say that in the excitement of the performance people were jumping up and down and I spilled some beer on you. In reality, it was before the show started, it went down the wrong pipe and you were unlucky enough to be the subject of a Miller Light aerosol spray. It was one of the grossest things I've ever done and I'm terribly sorry.

Fun weekend, wasn't it? And next week I'm attending an open bar, out-of-town wedding of a never-before-met god-brother-in-law. It should afford me plenty of opportunity for future apologies.

In Governess I Trust

That's REVEREND Governess to you.

Now, where were we? Who wants to get married? Or, die? I can administer last rites. I can also bless your new home, which is going to come in handy at barbeques this summer. Call it a hunch.

happy independence day, tom "will smith" cruise.

what's IN:

1. Asking a guy who has no idea what you're talking about to elaborate on the plot of "Sophie's Choice." Because what he thinks "Sophie's choice" might have been is pretty damn amusing.

2. Watching a kitchen full of skinny girls eat an entire thing of baked brie in under 37 seconds.

3. Book fairs

what's OUT:

1. Roughhousing. Roughhousing leads to bloody lips. Forget it, roughhousing is always in.

2. "War of the Worlds."

3. Laundry

In other weekend news, I have a photo I should show you. It's what happens when you climb into the back of your friends truck after rescuing a chihuahua on the highway (true story) who almost got it's brains smashed by a Dodge Dakota. And when you climb into the truck, you sit in battery acid.

H&M denim: not used to battery acid.

UPDATE: Seriously, though.

Friday, July 01, 2005

Sandy Baby, Loosen Up!

O'Connor's retirement reminds us of our nation's long reliance on leaders with frilly neckwear.

What an odd resemblance.

Just like newspapers that write obits for famous people before they die, I've had that picture on hold, waiting for a reason to post it. I've got a Rehnquist too, but it seems he's going to let Sandy keep the spotlight for a bit.

Chuckle, though, you may, it does not compare to one of the greatest DC stories of all time...

From the LA Times, January 31, 1985...

Redskins fullback John Riggins put on a raucous display at a formal Washington banquet Wednesday night, at one point urging Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Connor to " loosen up, Sandy baby, " then passing out on the ballroom floor and snoring through a speech by Vice President George Bush.

Riggins, most valuable player when the Redskins won the Super Bowl two years ago, was a guest of People magazine at the Washington Press Club's annual black-tie "Salute to Congress" dinner.

Also at Riggins' table were O'Connor and her husband, John. A guest said Riggins repeatedly spoke loudly to the justice, several times saying: "Come on, Sandy baby, loosen up. You're too tight."

The O'Connors left immediately after dinner, skipping the show, which included a humorous speech by Vice President Bush. O'Connor's secretary denied the justice was fleeing Riggins, citing a commitment to read the Bible at this morning's National Prayer Breakfast.

God, Riggins was so fucking awesome. This city needs another famous, non-harmful, boorish drunk.

i was seeing double for 3 straight days/after i got born again it felt really strange


Tonight, we see Patton Oswalt. Then, Pygs Incorporated are travelling southwards, to spend some QT with Old Pals for the weekend. Old Pals have a scruffy dog, two cats that make me sneeze, and habitate near both a river capable of floating my sweet ass on a tube AND a field of goats, one of whom has a bladder condition. Also, one half of this magical couple is making tomato salad, and I'm planning on getting housed Saturday night with any random, 19-year-old summer session students I can find on the streets. Also, I might jump in a quarry. Also also, I might duct-tape sparklers to my hands on Monday. Edward Sparkler Hands.


Wherein the Governess turns her head on luddite ways, and embraces her inner Kottke. Instead of working, here's what I've been doing. In summary, shouldn't you be paying me for this already?
Long ago and far away I wrangled a degree in graphic design, and promptly proceeded to mistreat the document and what it represented to unimaginable heights. Therefore, I am not in the business of design any longer. I did, however, retain a few things from that educational experience, one being an A in Typography, (AN A. no shitting) which led to an overwhelmingly dull obsession with fonts and font history. I can't tell you anything else about design or art, and I suck at making your start-up company a logo so please, don't ask, it will be really bad. But I will tell every bored human within ten feet of me about the kerning problems on the signs of the restaurant where we just ate lunch. Also, I am still kind of upset over having to switch to I am the Governess' smirking revenge. On comic sans.
There's got to be something even someone as ADD as myself can complete here.
Ha. For a short while, Kodomo No Kuni was my everything. My Friendster and Myspace icons, my reason for breathing, whatever. I finally admitted I will not be able to own any copies of these, because I'm sure the only prints that exist are tucked away in Japan's national archives or something.
Don't yawn.
Do you like ethereal music? Because i feel like that's the only thing I find up here, most of the time. Although I am very, very compelled to pick up Bear vs. Shark
Because "Two Front Teeth" was about 9/11. Uh. Okay. Well, at least now you all know.
You only get what you give, you know.


Okay, have a nice weekend. Sorry I missed Unbuckled last night, everyone who has a blog in DC, but I have volleyball on Thursdays and my team is lost without me. I simply own the game. Right. Anyways, regarding (again) this weekend. My mother has already called twice to remind me not to drink and drive, or do any hard drugs like heroin. I might be 176 years old, but she still has this inner need to be Boss. So if you kittens out there in internets land don't have moms who consider themselves walking, talking, 1980's PSAs, please just email me your phone number. I can guarantee you my mom will give you a call, too, if you so wish. She loves you, you know.