Satanophobia, Chelonaphobia

My mom just called me from the car. She and her buddies are stuck on 95 s, road tripping to Durham to see the MD-Duke game. Yes, she has tickets.


I am totally caught off guard at the fact that my late-50s mother? Actually a 19 year old boy.

guilty as charged: proud screensifter

Seriously, I was completely unaware that the entire world reads the NYT the Internet in a similar fashion.




(I briefly thought about posting the several other versions of the "BBFC!" button that were created during yesterdays online powow, including a turquoise-and-purple version that somehow came about after I sent Kriston a file I forgot to convert to RGB. Look for it in the directors cut of the blogworld, or the liner notes, or whatever. Proud to be part of yr campaign, dude.)

hello, good morning, nice day, pleasure to see you

- Defenders of Stan #5 up now. Special cameos, yo.

- HIMYM is officially unfunny this season. Anyone I heartily recommended this sitcom to: I'm sorry. You can borrow my Season I DVDs, and then I'll go ahead and succumb to the public stoning. Or caning. Dealers choice.

- Forget Cheney/bomb news: Yay!

- It's almost the time of year when I start reallly pretending to care about basketball. It's a glorious few shorts months to hang around me. You can usually find me a a terrifically dumpy down-the-street bar where only 65 year old men and there wives hang out. My mom called me Sunday from the CP stands during the UNC game to report "I'm sitting behind a bunch of cursers! And everyone's gonna rush the floor! I think they get fined for that!" The giddyness in her voice was not unlike a toddler on a Jumbo Pixie Stick bender.

- Also re: sporting life, I have joined another vball team this season. Which means pretty much 3 of 5 weekday nights, I will be playing volleyball. I'm not sure how I feel about this. Magic 8ball says ask again later.

- PFork says Vol. 5/Seattle Burn to Shine soon to come. Gibbard, Vedder, Minus the Bear, the Long Winters, Harvey Danger, Kinski?

- Fun fact: The N thinks almonds are poisonous. Ask him about his almond evolution theory sometime soon. ALSO. We have a new member of the family. He lives in the laundry room. The N. is gonna teach me how to streetfight. Think Lloyd Dobler.

- Stores I referenced in an IM this morning: Bradlees, Jamesway, Walmart. I think only one of those three still even exist.

Okay, bye.

I even have the halting walk down.

If you were to ask me the presupposed question, "Are you still beating your wife?" I would, of course, reply that I have never laid a finger on her and then challenge you to a duel with swords or flintlock. Even with her black eye and burst blood vessel as damning evidence, I would accurately plead innocence and blame the dog who kneed her in the face.

However, if you were to ask, "Are you still drawing eyeballs on you palms and chasing your wife around the house like Pan's Labyrinth?" then I'd have to answer yes. Yes, I still am and she dislikes it very much.

henry rollins on care bears/ state of the monday

can't talk now. eye hurts. i think the (minor) injury has caused some (minor) brian damage, b/c i've been listening to weepy indie folk waltz-dirges all morning, specifically with lyrics about girls named Heather*. And mandolins. MANDOLINS(!)

* not that I don't love the several Heathers in my life. **

** but seriously, brain damage. paste-magazine-counting-crows-style-brain-damage. i keep just staring into space, all movements are exceptionally slow. maybe i'm just sleepy??? or bored??? maybe i have a concussion???? i can't even capitalize anything in this post???

.
.
.
.

brightside: my back feels better.

off to swallow some pills.

research

i've reached the end of the internet, and i've come to one conclusion: i am the only person who doesn't care about arcade fire tickets.





it's lonely over here.

dogfight

BD and I need to have a grownup sit-down discussion about misplaced anger and teenage aggression. Three times, at least, he has caused some decent facial injury to me (ref: here and, I don't know, anywhere else in this blog). This afternoon, I was laying on the floor, reading the paper, and he actually punched me in the eyeball. So I have a wicked broken blood vessel in my left eyeball. Call me Kano.

Okay, nevermind. I'll shut up until I have to get stitches.

* * *

I spent the weekend hibernating, my new thing is to refuse to leave the house/change out of sweatpants. I love my new thing.

I watched most of "Firefly" again for the 5th time, went on a few walks in the snow, watched The Departed, ate chinese food. This morning I came out of hibernation long enough to eat brunch with crazy southern women at the Grand Hyatt downtown (long story) and go to the Native American Museum with my dad "Hey. Wow. Look at the stuff us whiteys stole, now in glass cases." Thanks for the commentary, old man.

* * *

Oscars, quickly:

- The N is astounded at Djimon Hounsou's range. Paula Abdul & Ms. Jackson If Yr Nasty videos, annnnnnnd Amistead? Damn.

- KELLY LEAK. If Kelly Leak doesn't win something, I'll be so sad. And I never even saw Little Children.

- Also, Sandals commercials and the cover of "I Had the Time of my Life" by AFI or Sum 49 or something? Make me want to chop my own head off.

folkstyle, combat

I spent a lot of time at wrestling meets in high school, because volleyball and wrestling always practiced at the same time and therefore you had some sort of sweaty connection/sympathy for the dudes on the team, and I had a good friend who wrestled. Wrestling is an ugly kind of fascinating, if you can get past the insane eating disorders and unhealthy lifestyles competitive team culture cultivates. (Running for 4 hours wrapped in Glad bags and three levels of sweatsuits/ringworm/dehydrating yrself/bulimia just so you can drop a weight class by the next day? Nice.) That's a different post altogether, I guess.

Anyways: video. I kind of love this coach.

Missed Connections

Me – driving north on 395 in heavy morning traffic

You – riding shotgun in maroon pickup in front of me.

When that panel truck cut you off and your friend had to slam on the brakes and the 4x4 piece of lumber in the bed went through the back window and comically hit you in the head, I think we had a moment. I guess you were okay since we shared a smile.

Question: Do you think I could get the number of your trailer-hitch bull testicle dealer? I have a question about the new legislation.


---------------------


Me – Walking the downtown streets in a blue cap

You – middle aged crone

Listen, lady, it was obviously windy out today. Do you think I took my hat off and threw it directly into your face on purpose? Plus, I apologized after chasing it into the street.

Question: I know a good trailer-hitch bull testicle dealer. You could put one on your fat ass.

Hmmm. I guess that’s not really in the form of a question.

also, the anna nicole judge? crying. on tv.

On Television:

S: so bai ling is a caricature of a real person right?

The G: is the worst actress ever?

S: she was awful

The G: and that episode last night made me want to slit my throat? NOTHING was REVEALED I HATE THEM

S: I think lost needs to stop going to commercial with that BOOM and blackness routine because they are no longer applicable. I used to yell when they would do that. noooo don't go to commercial now

The G: as the N said last night: "oh, great, now they have to fake suspense."

S: and now I"m like hahahahahahah you can't pretend suspense when there is none to begin with

The G: i found myself like, cutting my toenails. in the bathroom. not during commercial. just whenever assy Bai Ling and her Magikal tattoos were on

S: B and I worked on a crossword puzzle

The G: booooooooo

S: I have a gift

The G: a gift of STDs

S: I'm a tattoo artist who also does horoscopes. GIFT. THAT IS YOUR DRAMA? SERIOUSLY

The G: My gift is: I used to work at Miami Ink on TLC. Also: the best they could get was bai ling? seriously? what, no sandra oh? no lucy lu? no members of the joy luck club? nice going, lindelof or whoever.

S: my gift to you, Lost? you better be glad I don't have cable or tivo in my room because I'd be all over the food network while you were on

The G: it was Fruit Carving Challenge last night, and the Asian girl who was on it was a chef, and WAS STILL A BETTER CHOICE THAN BAI LING w/r/t acting.

S: hahahaha

The G: she cried. real tears, my friend. her fruit sculpture fell down. i saw no tears from BL . only tears from me as i cried AT her.

S: and I cried because of jack's 1980's sunglasses and bai ling's leopard print crimped hair extension?

The G: i cried at that one dress she was wearing. my eyes caught STDs through the screen. i was like "don't fall down. please lord. for all that is good an holy. manipulate gravity. dont let that tiny tiny dress fall" the N said- "Eww. She is shaped like.... a bag of antlers."

S: are we talking about the red dress?

The G: YEEESSSSS. ARRRGGGHHH

S: because that made me cringe

The G: i know
it hurt
the stds from her
radiating from that dress

S: were you willing her to stand perfectly still so nothing would flash or pop out

The G: yes
yes yes yes yes
dont walk down that alley
not cause its scary
but because i dont want you to walk
or move
at all

sometimes, always

Confession time:

I've now received two emails re: the Jesus and Mary Chain reunion @ Coachella, and my first reaction to both MJ and Drew was "wicked!" (You can even ask Drew, that is a straight quote. "Wicked." Who says "wicked?" I do, apparently.) After reviewing the playback tape (mp3, whatever) I have decided to officially not give a crap.

I have "Just Like Honey" downloaded and a busted-ass scratchy copy of Stoned and Dethroned in the trunk of my car somewhere, and honestly? I think that's all I'll ever need of the Reids. Apologies, boys. Carry on.

Once I saw three Hummer's parked outside, each more promotionally decorated than the last. Go Captian Morgans!

If my math is correct, yesterday was the District’s first Mardi Gras celebration in many a year without a spiritual and lubricated center. The last fake Hurricane was mixed, the last tit was flashed, the last drink was watered down and the last set of beads were tossed over the head of a bleary-eyed, dance floor moistened coed on April 31st of last year when Lulu’s shut its doors for good. And I mean really good because if you drive by now all you’ll see is stilts and dirt and those itty-bitty bulldozers.



If you somehow escaped Lulu’s vortex, you were either never a young 20-something year-old living in DC or you were way cooler than my raggedy-assed friends. I went once for someone’s birthday but got so blown beforehand that I made the limo pull over so I could boot on the shoulder of 66. By the time I got there, my heart rate was somewhere around 900 bpm and the only parts I remember are the bathroom and, I think, a Robbie Williams song.

But other people loved it, as evident by the lines on Mardi Gras/St Paddy’s and the crowds during the rest of the year. And it was the only bar in the city, as far as I know, named after an actual Mardi Gras queen – Lulu Auger was the wife of Ulysses “Blackie” Auger, the guy who owned Blackie’s steak mecca, and was the Queen in 1962. She even wrote a book about it.

There was something about that detail that made the bar almost endearing. Almost. It wasn’t a name concocted by some marketing firm to appeal to the Joe Francis-types. It drew those people and tons of Marines, for some reason, naturally. I didn’t actively scorn it, like I do with some other clubs, it was just there and we happily ignored each other.

And now it’s gone and soon to be forgotten* and a Walgreen’s is being built in its place. But I felt things couldn’t go out like that. Late yesterday afternoon, I hiked over and hung some beads and a sign. Sure, it’s a cheap tribute. But it’s still the only tribute the old girl is getting.



* While I was hanging the sign, which took longer then it should have, several people stopped and asked what I was doing and if I had any connection to the bar. One couple didn’t know the place had been knocked down and had taken the Metro into town so they could party. They asked me if I knew if it had reopened somewhere else or if there was another good place to catch some beads around there. I said I didn’t know and hustled off. Clearly, this city still has an appetite for a New Orleans-styled party central.

hoop dreams

Dear Dude Named Chris,

I am sorry I sent you the text message "Baby D: Arenas played better tonight then your boy Biggie will tomorrow. Meow Meow." I know that made absolutely no sense, seeing as you are a total stranger who I sent a text message to. From here on, I'll make sure to double-check my address book. But thanks for writing back! Twice!

* * *

We went to a Wizards game last night. Our seat location: sick. In between vague comments re: Washington's nonexistent defense, I ate cajun fries, sat next to a pleseantly drunk Jamaican man who loved himself some Etan Thomas and hated Ricky Davis, and texted my brother all about 2 dudes from my high school class sitting 20 feet away. Anyhoos. Yay, basketball.

Things in the newspaper that have gotten my goat: the third week of February 2007

Yesterday’s New York Times – Billy Bob Thorton Movies: Total Box Office in Millions.

1. Armageddon - $249.3
2. Chrystal – $83.5
3. Bad Santa – $65.9

Chrystal? How could I have never heard of a movie that made $83.5 million? That would place it between Flightplan and Saw II, two films I also didn’t see, but at least I was aware of their release. Could my Entertainment Weekly subscription have failed me? Again?

Nope. NYT goofed by 3 zeros. And no correction in today’s issue.

Current City Paper - Dirtfarm? That looks awfully familiar*.

Today’s USA Today – Snapshot: Percentage of US adults who read a single book in the last year: 35%.

35%? That can’t be right. But the Census Bureau says yep.

You know what, America? Fuck you. I don’t want to hear any more complaints about anything. There are only 83 million American adults who read a book last year. The rest of you? Fuck you. Seriously, fuck you and every complaint you have ever made about how anyone else lives there life.

*You know, cuz I invented crappy tributes and all.

I came across a cache of old photos/invitations to teenage parties

Questions to ponder:

1. Was there ever a time between 1990 and 1992 that I did not wear my hair in the world's stupidest looking French braid?

2. Was there ever a time between 1998 and 2003 that I wasn't drunk?


* * *

My weekend was pretty kick ass save for the fact that my neck and back are still so extremely broken I have taken to putting the front seat all the way back during my morning car commute. Lying down and watching the sky zoom by through the passenger side window is kind of fun. Makes you feel like a 7 year old again, because you don't exactly know where you are. Are we on the Memorial Bridge? Are we on 18th street? Do I have time for a catnap before my shoulder twinges me awake/we pull into the parking garage?

I spent my Saturday at a baby shower ("Guess the number of candies in the giant baby bottle!" D: "Let's see, I need to do some math. 23 candies down times...uh.... baby bottle? equals? uh. Equals me eating all of them. I love this game.") and my Saturday night drinking one too many beers, mostly because I was dehydrated. Never a good plan, it just leads to me repeating the same thing over and over again and being generally obnoxious. I'm sorry, Townhouse patrons.

Sunday we went walking in the snow and tried to get the dog to pull us across ice like some sort of hillbilly dog mush. It did not work. And then my mom called and wanted to know why every time she tried to buy Gnarls Barkley for her IPod she ended up with duplicate mp3s of Patsy Cline. OH. Also I watched Firefly and ate barbeque.

Also, my little bro just got into grad school. I'm glad one of us has some sort of future aspirations beyond consuming a 5-lb bag of gummy bears from Costco.

Did I mention my mom called asking about Cee-Lo and Dangermouse? Just thought that little tidbit was worth repeating.

ashy no more

okay hipsters. what do we think of charlotte hatherly? because I (WEIRDLY*) rather like the beginning of the song "behave", but then at about 1:50 i have to turn it off because that's when the hate begins to well and I start to cry.

this reminds me of a friend of mine who made mix tapes of only the parts of the songs she liked, leading to the most insane jumble of crap and repeated choruses and jarring sounds you'd ever heard. terrible, in kind of a great way.




* CH: kind of sixpencenonethericher-natalieimbruglia-letters to cleo-spicegirls-terrifying-eloans cartoon pink haired commercial girl-mashup in this video, and the video reminds me of "Cool World" (ugh?), all of which would usually lead to intense nausea on my part, and yet the song remains on my ITunes? Since I hadn't seen the video since now, I can't blame the captivation on eyeliner. Everyone knows eyeliner can be quite mesmorizing.

xfrench, t-shirt

- Jim Flora blog.

- $10 says at some point soon it's re-christened "Freezing Man".

* * *

I thought I had to spend my day writing a work article. I've been let off the hook on that, so it's on to more important research: HS STT reminiscin' and subsequent music lissnin'. And Girls Against Boys. Oh man. Whatever happened to them.

Also, what do I want for lunch?

They call it salmonella. Quite rightly!

So you think you’re a tough guy, huh.? Well, I just found that we have some of that poisonous peanut butter. At our house. In our cupboard. Potentially infecting our vanilla extract or our baking soda or our Craisins. I’m sure it’s possible with science. Apparently, any nonsense is.

Don’t believe me?

Lids of jars with a product code beginning "2111" can be returned to ConAgra for a refund, the company said.

Whammo! Right there – 2111-something-something. IN MY HOUSE! Where my wife sleeps and my dog plays with his squeaky octopus toy! Poison!

But I’m not going to take it back to ConAgra. First, I don’t know how. And second, I’m going to keep it and then feed it to my enemies when the come over for finger sandwiches and Lady Baltimore cake. Sure, they probably won’t die but they will think twice about pushing me into the pool at Christy’s birthday party back in 1989.

I will also not stop brushing my teeth with the juice from the bottom of Perdue chicken containers.

J'ACCUSE OR SOMETHING OR WHATEVER

My entire life is beginning to feel like one giant retarded cartoon version of The Fugitive. It was a one-armed man who sent you your mystery mail, blogoverse. OR AT LEAST THAT'S MY BEST GUESS.

Your "science" may wrongly point the finger, Mr. Veronica Mars, but true science will set me free. I demand fingerprinting. Or DNA testing.

(Also, from reviewing his extensive research, I've gathered the G.p. desparately needs some freelance work. Something, anything, to get his mind off the fair princesses. If you can be so kind as to send assignments his way.)

via kottke

rad

a day late on nostalgia

Valentines Day also marks my 8th anniversary of receiving my worst-ever speeding ticket (reckless, whoooo -hooooo!) about 200 feet south of Hill High Orchard. I was driving ridiculously fast in my poo-brown 1982 Volvo 240 (RIP, little man), and had a carload full of laundry blocking the rear window. The cop was not very nice. It's pretty kind of great that Valentines Day does not result in a whole lot more for moi than conjured of memories of traffic violations.

But anyways.

Also, tonight I am going home and maybe scan a photo of the N and I's first V-Day together. He spent a lot of money he didn't really have on a dinner out at the fanciest place in town, and we dressed up AND HOW. I am wearing the shortest crushed-velvet dress you have ever seen in your lifetime, along with some giant platform heels. He is wearing a tie.

He looks as if he is about to marry a hooker child bride, but oh sweet internet, you better believe I had some serious legs in my day. Christ almighty.

No Love

Just like after Halloween, the Pyggy house is filled with tubs of undesired candy – ther red, white and pinkish variety. We’ve replaced the walls with a thin candy shell.

And also just like Halloween, I attempted to make this junk not just for 3:30pm sugar-level crashes anymore. Since the Milk Duds in cold cereal quickly turned into chilled, chocolate jawbreakers, I opted for the warm/hot oatmeal.



Honestly, this was an incontestable failure. It’s currently 4 hours after I ate breakfast and I still feel sick in the stomach and a little bit in the head. Not a headache, so much, but that woozy head sickness you get when you ride the Rebel Yell backwards. I can not recommend doing this in any form and strongly suggest against it. I could not swallow more than 3 bites and of the 19 hearts applied to the oats, 15 of them were removed from the bowl and quickly thrown down the garbage disposal. One was similarly removed from my mouth.

It’s incredible how fast these nasty things went from appealing to nauseating. Past Valentine’s Days have meant grabbing a handful of candy hearts and tossing them down the hatch in one gulp. Not no mo’. I also made the mistake of looking at the ingredients/nutrition facts. I knew these things we basically just made of sugar, blackboard chalk and food coloring but how can one serving contain more grams of sugar than a large Coke from McDowell’s? It’s true: 38 versus 31.

It might be because that Necco considers a single serving size as the entire contents of one of Tom's little baggies. Unacceptably sexy, or not.

Barf. I will never eat one of these again.

this is called a blog entry

Hello. Happy day after valentines day. I got flowers earlier in the week because they are too expensive on the real day. Last night, the N gave me a Gap box with two shirts inside. I am wearing one today. Both are large and long. They will look delightful covering my rather prodigious ass when I attempt to go out in public in skinny jeans (any day now! maybe!) I got the N. dog shampoo and a bucket of peanut butter cups. I am awesome. For dinner, we ate the steaks we got for Christmas (long story, the N's grandfather likes giving frozen meat as gifts? they were delicious though) and drank wine and watched television. The N made me a valentines (here*) and I made him one (imagine a hand-turkey, only red. Construction paper. Yes.) We watched Lost. The N also used some handweights. The end.


* (sasquatch walking my dog and bringing me flowers.)

clarification

Listen, I've told Catherine we are willing to submit handwriting samples to prove our innocence in the DIsney Valentine Blogger Bombing '07, but you people still don't believe it wasn't us.

By the way, Mystery Internet Valentines Mailer: What? No Love for the Pygs? HARSH. You love the Amanda M. blog, but no PIAB? You love GRAMMARPOLICE? You love Charles, even though he's too busy with his burgeoning music career to update his blog? And Techy Tom? The cruelest of Sommers? WHATEVER. Catherine is perversely proud of getting more princesses than everyone else, and Capps is grumpy cause Snow White is a whore, and me? I don't need you, MIVM. I make my own fucking valentines, thank you very much.



Count how many princesses I GOT. Suck it, Andrews!

At least she got to go in two hours late.

I used to like the fake, two-columned porch that protected our front door. It meant we didn't have to shovel our stoop after a snow. But last night, that POS, metal-plated worthless decorative crap resulted in zero hours of sleep. Every ice pellet ricocheted of that thing onto our bedroom window and that noise fragmented some very important pre-Valentine’s Day sleep. It sounded like a thousand grandmothers opening a thousand cellophane wrapped hard candies* in a thousand church pews. It was teh awful.

The G and I fought over that third pillow all night – the one that’s perfect for covering the other ear. Even the dog tried to steal it.

*Most likely offender: Brach’s Ice Blue Mint.

If they walked across the ice, then where were they before that? Georgetown? Rosslyn? Your'e wrong.

I was all set to share the dynamic video I shot on Sunday on Roosevelt Island with the world today. It was great. See, while the G was doing her homework in her pajamas on Sunday, the dog and I went for a hike. At the southern most tip of the island, he started running around like a crazier dog than usual and howling and pulling on his lead. He dragged me about 75 yards before I realized he was trailing 4 deer. I got out my new video camera and rolled about 3 minutes of them grazing and bounding and acting en-deer-ing.

And.

Zero of it came out because I’m an MO-RON. There is about two minutes of it recording in my pocket, then it stops, and then there is five more minutes of it recording in my pocket. So, yeah, I turned it off when I meant to turn it on.

Use your imagination. There are deer on Roosevelt Island and they have white tails and they eat shoots or something in the ground and their souls are free because they only fear Brown Dogs and jet noise.

Here is a picture of the frozen river from my other camera that did work.

last scene

There's lots of films that fall into the Worst Thing Ever Produced in the Universe category. Last Action Hero? Sure. Waterworld? You could make the case, I guess.

Stop or My Mom Will Shoot? White Chicks? Anything involving Rob Schneider?

But really, the winner in my book, every time, is The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen . It is on TV right now, and the N is watching it for some reason, and my brain is leaking out of my ears. I am considering going upstairs to turn on the "Emergency Nanny 911 Raise My Brats They Are Everywhere" ABC show, or whatever that thing is called, just as a sweet, sweet escape.

I actually know the perfect guy

Look what a friend sent me. To bad I'm 6'8" and the G is 4'11" or we'd be all over that.

The Washington Nationals baseball club announces that the club is seeking part-time, seasonal staff to perform at 2007 Nationals' home games as the famous Racing Presidents. Each runner will wear a costume depicting the four Mt. Rushmore presidents (Theodore Roosevelt, Thomas Jefferson, George Washington and Abraham Lincoln) and race around the RFK diamond, while fans cheer. Applicants must be between 5'7" and 6'6" in height; have the ability to run from right field to home plate (about 100 yds.); have the ability to wear a costume weighing 45 lbs; and be available for at least half of the Nationals home games. Contact: 202-541-1636

The N. on the Grammys

"when did Natalie Cole trade voice boxes with Chyna?"

arithmetic

It's 3:45 pm. I'm supposed to be making things for Writing Club, which meets at 6:00, but instead I'm looking for pancake recipes (?) online and watching Apollonia and Prince feel each other out, Wendy n Lisa get talked down to, and Morris Day henchman throw "bitches" in alley dumpsters. I have probably seen this movie 700 times.

I'm sorry, group, but I am powerless against Purple Rain. What I bring to the table today will be nothing short of terrible and lazy, but I look forward to listening what you have to offer.



Also, I am still wearing pajamas.

Is it ironic that my doctor looks like Hans Moleman? Or just a coincidence? I'm so bad at irony.

Between the ages of year one and college freshman, I spent every summer moment at the beach. WITH MY SHIRT OFF! Oh yeah ladies!

Sorry. Anyway, combine this with my Viking complexion and I am the nation’s most likely candidate to need a complete skin transplant. With this in mind, when the G noticed a mole that had changed shape on my back, I did the responsible thing and waited four and half years to have it looked at.

The good doctor commended my epidermal assiduousness, took a quick look at my 6mm beauty mark and declared that there was nothing to worry about. He said that while my beautiful golden tan had served me well with the senoritas on the Jersey Shore, my skin was not in full revolt due to overexposure. However, let’s get that mammajamma off you anywhose, just to be safe.

I assumed this would require another visit but the procedure takes less time than it does to clip your nails. I felt a little Novocain prick and twenty seconds later it’s “Robin, get this specimen to the Batcomputer, STAT!” The divot, however, is substantial and itches like hell. And I’m starting to get separation anxiety.

The punch card results came back yesterday and I’m happy to report that the only malignant thing about me is my soul. But the doctor wanted a baseline reading for any future mutations so he asked for a full body visual scan. First he checked the scalp using a blowdryer (which messed up my fancy ‘do) followed by an oral exam for moles that are somehow in my mouth. Next it was the chest, back, arms, legs and literally the space between my toes. Finally, he asked that I drop my “underpants” and checked places where, um, traditionally the sun doesn’t shine.

Diagnosis: I’m free of offensive moles and am a proper dermatological shade of pale. It almost makes the 4 years of spousal nagging worth it.

so we jumped up on the table and shouted anarchy

1. I think I only ever saw one show at the WC, which has always made me feel irresponsible as a quasi-native : WaPo gallery of Horgan's "Punk Love" photos.

2. Also!!!!!!! Girls Rock!, coming out in 2007, I think. I've watched several times already the new trailer and "Little Miss Rock n Roll Sunshine", both of which are great (carrie brownstein!), but nothing is nearly as great as POPCORN.

You owe it to yourself to turn the volume to 11, and watch Popcorn!

I like the end cameo by the future lady punk neurosurgeon, too.

Music is great! Music is fun! POPCORN POPCORN! MUSIC MUSIC! The End!

like i forgot. right.

Go Snakes!

I mean, Grandpa. Go Grandpa.

* * *

In other animalish related news, thanks to Patton Oswalt's MySpace page (i know, I'm am the world's biggest loser, buy me a trophy) I have been obsessing over the Schmidt Sting Pain Index all morning. Imagine WC Fields extinguishing a cigar on your tongue! Um, no thanks?

rock and roll motel

Spring is the new Fall, apparently.

Thunderbirds are Now at RR Hotel - 2/12
Five Maserati at DC9 - 2/25
The Thermals at BC - 3/2
William Elliot Whitmore at RR Hotel - 3/3
Nethers at BC - 3/9
Taj Mahal/Los Lobos at the State - 3/9
Gomez and Ben Kweller at Sonar - 3/10
Ponys at BC - 3/24
Bob Schneider at the State - 4/13
TV on the Radio at 9:30 - 4/18

Also coming: The Books, Ted Leo, and Adem. And CatAn reports on attempted purchase of Thievery Corp. tickets.

Thus far, we have only managed to get our act together to buy TV on the Radio tickets.

Rermember how I was going to save money this year and not purchase a lot of things? You don't? Oh. The plan was going to be: fiscal responsibility so we can blow it all across teh pond in August!

About that.

I'm really getting tired of you Zabka bashing

(Granted they lost by 25 and all starters were pulled with 10 minutes left and even Robert Horry saw some playing time but) Here’s the list of people who left last night's Wizards game before the final buzzer:

• Rep. Tom Davis
• Gheorghe Dumitru Muresan
• Rep. Jim Moran
• The guy wearing a shirt, tie and giant basketball head.

Other highlights: one of the pregame drill team members did a backflip into the scoring table, I caught and dropped a t-shirt from the cannon, we all won free pizza and I’m really starting to dislike the Billy Zabka hair-dos that a lot of them recent male college graduate/low-level Accenture consultants are sportin’.

what it says about a girl

I seriously have no less than 8 separate IM's going right this minute, all concerning the state of the Anna.



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(Oh, I know. Crucify me if you wish, but the Lifetime thing is already being cast in my circle. We're being totally awful, I admit it.

So far, we have three votes for Kirstie Alley, one for a young Cybil Shep, and one for Spears. I've seen Crossroads, she can probably pull it off.)

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Okay, I'm done. This was really the saddest life ever. Back to gossiping about The Madison instead.

leslie and the ly's lies

Bloggin' ladies of a certain age and childhood reading interest level have been talking about this for months. More today via stretch via PopCandy: Terabithia: SUPER FANTASY LAND!!!!

I just can't help but think this movie is going to be positively dreadful.

I also can't help but think I just thought of the second best subject line for a blog post ever. clap clap clap, me.

keep it on the lodo

SPEW:

-- Unconfirmed, I may have a layover in Denver for work. What are fun things to do for a few hours/evening in Denver, people? Justin has informed me that the Real World people are not, in fact, living in the Real World. They live in fake Denver. And besides, that was months ago. So stalking the Junior Douchebag Brigade and filling their hot tub with Tabasco is not an option (anymore). I was also going to send out bat signals from MTV House (I assume there are giant lights w. that capability built into 1920 Market St [oh yes i just said it, adrress bitches]), but more like: lighted signals in the shape of a moose, or a cowboy hat, or a hemp necklace (Boulder shout out) or something else Westerny, or maybe giant beers, lighting up the night sky with a giant beer mug, or a giant outline of an a herpes virus, signaling to anyone in the Rockies who wanted ot come find me and hang out, I AM IN TOWN. Oh wait. Not because I have an STD. Because I was infiltrating a Real World House. Jesus. Shut up, me. Where was I? Anyways, Denver. Oh yeah, and we're going to London. But that's not til summer.

-- OR Info from PFork

-- One line Pan's Labyrinth review by Jane Dark: 1) Spanish Winona Ryder; Harold & the Purple Crayon riff; title better in English. Upon more thought, the original was better. *

-- I'm too old and not really the demog they're going for either I'm just curious - has anyone trid to get a vaccine in DC recently and been told the pharmacy is sold out?

-- OMGZ SCIENCE

-- More on Peter Bjorn n John from The N: I watched the scene several times until i was able to make out enough lyrics to do a search. The first time it was from a rap group called Pitbull out of Miami. but I narrowed it down and found it.

-- Sickness everywhere! Even every electronic I have touched this week has been infected by my poisonous fingertips. Seriously. Routers blowin-up, passwords corrupted, Outlooks reinstallin', printers spewing out page after page of one-line Wingdings code, funky DSL, and I think a VIS (v. imp. server) has the flu. Kind of related, the PF Chengs dinner I had Tuesday night made me wake up at 2 am to barf. Fun, right?






* all completely unclever snarking aside, when is someone going to do a remake of this already? I've been waiting for new Hollywood to ruin this since only since forever. Also, I could have made a movie joke about Lisa Nowak and the soon-to-be-released The Astronaut Farmer but I haven't figured out how to tie that together yet. You'd think BB Thornton and diapers would be easy. More on this as it develops.

Moo

As a courtesy to the freshman Congress, we waited an entire month before approaching Heath Shuler to ask if he’d be interested in playing on our flag football team. I’m sad to report that he has turned us down.

As much as the team needs a quarterback, we all agreed that no matter how strong your arm may be, having a paralyzed left foot (or so he claims) would be a problem when faced with a quick and blitzing defense. Especially since our blocking is pretty suspect. We are now focusing our passing needs in other directions.

And on a related note, two of the teams players have appeared in the Politico since its launch. Yea?

And on a note related to that, today’s issue features two stories about the 5-day congressional workweek. The accompanying illustration shows various congresspeoples apparently abandoning their families to report to the Capitol building outfitted with comically large factory whistle. Everyone except for a single Midwestern delegate who it seems has no family outside of a very angry cow. Boy, does that Holstein looks pissed.

Based on the cow’s rough geographic location and the lawmaker’s glasses, I’ve determined that the deserting Congressman is Lee Terry of Nebraska. He is the only bespectacled Rep from that part of the country. While his bio mentions wife and three sons, there is no mention of an angry cow anywhere in the family. So I’m not sure what the Politico is trying to say there.

the N expresses his opinion on ABC programming

the G: i found the mp3 of "young folks" on hype machine. download it.
the N: i did yesterday. been listening to it all day. i sent you the video
the G: oh nevermind. um. btw, it wasn't just on HIMYM. it was on greys anatomy too.
The N: ...
the G: i know.
The N: damnit. greys antaomy.
the G: sorry dude
The N: its ruined

phantom zone/the family circus

The latest Defenders of Stan is up, and its pretty much the funniest thing I've ever watched. This might be a nice time to tell you I once had a cameo in one of the earlier DOS episodes, and I was wearing a cape. Until the audio was fucked up and I ended up on the cutting room floor.

DAMMIT WHEN WILL I BE FAMOUS ALREADY. Balls! Titties! Shitfuckcockwhore! Boner! Bitch! Did i say bitch?

----------------

The Nabob's version of the same post:

After Adult Swim announced last month that they had asked the creators of Channel 102’s Gemberling to produce a pilot, I went and watched the entire run of the series. There are some funny bits. There are some clever quips. I can be entertaining. But I think Cartoon Network went after the wrong show.

We have trumpeted Defenders of Stan in the past because we know a guy who knows a guy who’s involved in its production. But even if that wasn’t the case, I’d still to say that this month’s Episode 4 is better than any of the 8 Gemberlings.

bag of hammers

if i told you i wore shorts to work today, would we still be friends, Internet?

They need more coverage of Jeff "Skunk" Baxter. That will surely help.

Last week’s re-emergence of John Bolton led me to realize I hadn’t updated the “mustachioed” counter. If you will recall, my fondness of the word led to a desire to track its popularity in Washington over the last 25 years. Happily, the results of last July indicated that the nation also shared in my affection. While the mustache itself has lost its widespread appeal over the last two decades, its use as an adjective showed a steadily climb. It seems that as the Magnum PI-look moved from required to novelty, the word gained a sort of tongue-in-cheek novelty.



The updated research for the remainder of 2006 yields some mixed results. “Mustachioed” appeared in the Post 22 times, a significant drop from 2005’s near-record high of 32. However, the overall trend continues to rise. The mean average is somewhere around 19 and anything above 20 should be considered an improvement.

However, it is still the second lowest score in this decade so I’m a little disappointed. Going into the second half of 2006, I fully expected the popularity of the motion picture Borat to propel the occurrences off the chart. For some reason, this never materialized and there was just one single connection. (I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a “No Mustachioed” edict issued by the Post editors to spite me.) It was only the combined mega-anti-American dynamo of Daniel Ortega/Saddam Hussein that pushed the results to a barely respectable 22. In fact, the only reason there wasn’t a complete washout was due to a flurry of the word’s use in November - 8 isolated, unrelated and unexplainable times. Not a single use after Thanksgiving. Not even for Saddam’s hanging. Though I guess he was sporting a beard at the time.

So far things do not look good for 2007 either. As of today, there hasn’t been a singled printed instance in the Washington Post. I’m afraid the heady days of multiply mustachioed months are behind us.

clubbed over the head

Soon, my darlings, soon, those sweet precious kittens will also accept old married hags into the mix. And then finally, at long sweet last, my MySpace profile will be truthful.

a choconilla frappechino to cut the chill

- I need weekends for my weekends, the house is a mess and the dog is neglected. He gave us beaten-down baby eyes as we left the house this morning for work.

- The only thing good (besides the copious amount of food+bev I injested?) about last night was the little man from MN.

- Our friend E. spilled a Resurrection (beer) on Horatio Sanz at a bar this weekend. Or at least I think it was Horatio Sanz. It was awesome. Drama.

- for those of you not in DC right now, it is cold, bone-chilly cold. Someone on Morning Edition or maybe it was WTOP this morning called this "invigorating." She was wrong but it's nice to hear someone putting a positive spin on losing their fingers. Feels like -5 or something, youngs. Face it, we're a southernish city. Natives are not used to this bullshit.

- I am "on deadline". Wenesday, the Boundary St. peeps meet once again. Whiskey. Ask me if I have anything to share. The answer is no. I have been preoccupied and fuzzy and snooshy and uncreative.

- Things I have learned recently: Paul Zindel is still alive and has his own website!

- Wikipedia sentence of the day: He currently performs as the drumming ape “Chop Chop” in a Providence marching band.

It used to be the People's drug

In an effort to reverse the public’s perceived and accurate perception that my local CVS is little more than a needlessly inconvenient urban cavity, they have recently laminated large portraits of happy, inoffensive generics on their windows. While I find that the huge amounts of red to remind me of block long Time magazine I do like them better than the fake Ultimate Frisbee scenes they used to employ. I found it hard to believe that any self respecting college student would really use a 110-gram K9 frisbee.

I also have to applaud CVS for opening their wallets to get some big names to support their claims that their pharmacy pill bottles normally contain more than broken bits of sidewalk chalk or old Lemonhead candies. I challenge you to prove that this one picture is not Matt Lauer attempting to sell your grandmother her heart medicine.



Now, you may have noticed the Drugstore Matt is missing few teeth. It seems that these humungous faces are too delicious a target for our local juvenile graffiti artist who has a Borf-like need (minus the creativity or weak-sauce political motivation) to deface them. A few "classics":



I personally find the overall effort to be laughably unsophisticated and the focus on teeth is particularly disturbing. The various bridges and jersey barriers around this city led me to believe that there was some real talent among the young street artists. This causes me to believe that what we have here is nothing more than an older or bored or befuddled miscreant – I’m thinking some GW fratter coming back from the Sign of the Whale late one night.

Up until Wednesday I had no problem with anyone defacing any CVS anywhere. But that’s only because one picture had remained unblemished. Behold, the only reason why I come into the city anymore:



The G is aware of my crush on this woman, whoever she is. With her luxuriant red hair, crystal blue eyes and perfect, unmarred smile, she causes me to blush every time I walk by. Even the homeless Australian guy smells better when he stands near her. She makes me want to consider getting an Extra Care card so I can save $5 on a $30 purchase of exclusively CVS goods or foodstuffs.

But that all ended on Wednesday morning when I was aghast to see this:



Listen, I’m trying to defend or stand up for or do anything nice for CVS. In fact, if the rumor that they are building a Walgreens on the site where Lulu’s once stood is true then it will be the greatest thing to happen to the Golden Triangle since, well, they tore down Lulu’s. I will never have to step foot in any shithole CVS ever again. But if I catch the degenerate who drew raccoon eyes on my focused cupidity, I will peel back his lids, blacken his eyeballs with his own Sharpie and then laugh manically after I ignite the flammable material inside and it crackles with a barbed and agonizing pain.

I know I wasn't made to play on a team

1. It has been an exceptionally long week. It is Friday. I am preoccupied. I need a nap.

2. Go VA Pilot!

3. Have any of you techies out there ever made a television product purchase based on reviews you read on websites like Engadget, or something similar, etc? If so, please email me.

4. Your naive optimism re: our pets boths confuses and delights me.

5. I am going out to dinner tonight, and then we head to Baltimore for a night of debauchery. And then football or something.

Next week, I will have my act together.

This will be the last Ignignokt related post, seriously.

Alternative title - Boston's new Green Monster

Just discovered on the Turner job postings site:

Together with programming team, conceptualize ratings-driving stunts and creative framework to best display CN programs. Work with marketing, on-air and public relations groups to ensure success of programming initiatives.

Ratings driving stunts? Was this posted before of after the Great Beantown Guerilla Panic?

union of the snake

what the holy hell is in the water this week? I have never had a more concentrated stream of bizarre workplace/careerish tales via IM ever than in the past 3 days. Everyone's hopped up on the cubicle juice.

Related kind of:

Two men who authorities say placed electronic advertising devices around the city were released from jail
Thursday, apparently amused with the publicity stunt that stirred fears of terrorism and shut down parts of the city.

Peter Berdovsky, 27, and Sean Stevens, 28, were released on $2,500 cash bond after each pleaded not guilty to placing a hoax device and disorderly conduct for a device found Wednesday at a subway station. They waved and smiled as they greeted people in court.
Outside, they met reporters and television cameras and launched into a nonsensical discussion of hair styles of the 1970s. "What we really want to talk about today - it's kind of important to some people - it's haircuts of the 1970s," Berdovsky said.

Related totally:

My ex-employer, who you may have remembered me quitting about a year ago in total frustration? Well, they're all in jail now due to tax fraud. Under "exec profiles" on the co. webpage: "Under Construction."

Awesome.

I AM PSYCHIC/WELL PLAYED, ME!

"I wish I had some sort of outlet on the internet where I could express my opinions"

The Ponys "Double Vision" is the best song they've had since "Today."

the ice of boston

Like Tom's already mentioned, I had great plans to stay up and watch the bumps last night on AS. It didn't happen, because I am sleepy.

Amusing: N had to spend half his day explaining to coworkers who the hell Ignignokt is.