...Not the kind of wheel you fall asleep at...

Subconscious, We are Finally on the Same Page!


N/A got me a subscription to Paper Magazine for my b-day, and after checking out the cover and accompanying photos of Danny Masterson, I finally get what my subconscious sees in him and why he's the celebrity that I've had the most sex dreams about.



*Rowr*



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I think if I could be anything other than myself, I'd want to be a really damn good, heartbreaking song.

Indeed.



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So yesterday was my birthday. Yesterday I also found out that a lady I have worked with for a long time unexpectedly passed away. And not from a freak accident or car crash or anything like that. She just... passed.

It was a weird day.

I guess maybe it's fitting to be reminded of death on the day of your birth, the whole cyclical thing. But I hate thinking about it. And it's been a while since I've really HAD to.

I conversed for a while with one of my coworkers about her death, and we just kept coming back to the statement: "It's just so sad. She was such a nice woman." But IT DOESN'T MATTER. Nice or not, when you're plucked from this fabric, you're plucked. Without regard to who you are, what you do, how you're affecting the world at that moment in time. There's no discrimination there.

Death's so insistent that it makes me ANGRY sometimes.

Coincidentally, one of my other friends sent me an email yesterday noting his surprise at the fact that one of my big phobias is "death."

It's not that I fear death because of the possibility of pain or suffering or anything. I'm just afraid of not being around to be afraid of death any longer. I'm not afraid of dying. I'm just afraid of no longer existing.

I'm a nihilist. Strangely, I realized this only recently through conversations with N/A. But I guess I'm an annoying, optimistic nihilist (it's possible, apparently) 'cause even though I think that there is absolutely NO point to all this *waving my arms around*, to the "bigger picture," and to the fact that I will exist only fleetingly, for this very reason, the world and existence fucking FLOORs me, takes my breath away, leaves me in awe of how strange and wonderful it is that it all exists when really, there is no point to ANY of it. It makes every little thing I bear witness to DRIP with beauty and amazingness. And it makes me feel SICK some days about what it all means.

And I try to wrap my brain around the fact that at some point I won't be here to bear witness. And I just can't do it. I mean, I guess we actually DO live forever, since we won't be around to know we're no longer existing. So essentially, we ARE immortal--our timeline of experience will end, but we won't be there to note retrospectively that it's been ended.

But somehow this isn't reassuring.

Because at some unexpected (or perhaps even more difficult to bear: expected) moment, I will be no longer.

And that freaks me out.

Yesterday, as N/A and I drove to get dinner for my birthday, we listened to a mixed tape he had made me for my birthday. Elton John's "Your Song" came on, and I grinned big, and he sang along, and yet, I just kept thinking of the woman who passed. And then thinking about how I shouldn't be thinking about it, because it was my birthday. Because I was there, enjoying that song, N/A warm beside me, our lungs full of song.

But I just couldn't help it.



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If it's wrong to be hooked on Poladroid, I don't want to be right. (Ok, I still do. But while being hooked on Poladroid.)



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I won $100-worth of shoes!

I pretty much just wanted to shout that as it seemed worth shouting about!

Carry on!



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A Brief Synopsis of the Climactic Moments of the First 9 Episodes of Lie to Me; Or, Why the Premise is Going to Get Tiresome in Less Than Five Minutes


(Click HERE for official Lie to Me website)




Episode 1

Tim Roth's character (shouting): He's lying!



Episode 2

Tim Roth's character (looking smug): You're lying!



Episode 3

Tim Roth's character (looking arrogant): Can't you tell that HE'S LYING!



(Toss in some character-development that's accrued over the past three episodes)



Episode 4

Tim Roth's character (looking dismayed but then smug): I actually think he may be telling the truth. Oh wait. No! HE'S LYING!!!!



Episode 5

Tim Roth's character (super-smug): You're lying! And I know, 'cause if anyone can read faces, I can!



Episode 6

Tim Roth's character (super-arrogant smug): Lies lies lies! It's what you're full of!



Episode 7

Tim Roth's character (smug to the 100th power): If lies were a cement-truck with a blown-out tire speeding down the highway at 90 miles an hour, then your face would be THE WHITE TOYOTA THAT IT SLAMS INTO!!!!



Episode 8

Tim Roth's character (questioning self and purpose): But not everyone can be a liar, can they? Oh wait, yes. They CAN!



Episode 9


Tim Roth's character (smugerella in heels): You are a liar! Liar liar pants on fire!



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Vanity Plate of the Month


GOD OWND


Because apparently the big G-Dawg's dream-ride is a white Pontiac with a loose-bumper that looks like it hasn't been washed since the crucifixion.



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Information for Updating Your Tax Returns


I was just informed that my name anagrams to the following:


spurlike, sane alien



Use this information as you see fit.



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Calvin Klein & Pork Rinds


I am wearing Calvin Klein jeans today. And for some reason wearing them makes me feel like I've sold out. To whom, I'm unsure. But I'm not typically a label-touter, so it just feels weird wearing them. They're goddamned comfortable though, despite the fact that they make me feel as though I should be black and white, looking like I've not eaten, slept, or bathed for at least 27 days and like I'm drowning with disinterest regarding everything around me. I DO feel a TAD bit better about wearing them though knowing that N/A (allegedly) stole them from the thrift shop in plain view of the cashier when she pissed him off. If I could tell this to each person who stared at their Calvin Klein label, judging me, I think I'd feel much more at ease.

Unrelatedly: The Good n' Plenties were all finally removed from our vending machine the other day, without (it appears) a single one of them actually being sold. New vending machine items: Lemonheads and Barbecue Porkies Pork Rinds.



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February


-Frank O'Hara

The scene is the same,
and though I try to imagine
plinking starry guitars,

and while I spend my
time listening to a foreign
contralto sing the truth,

the earth is everywhere,
brown and aching. At first
it seemed that this life

would be different: born
again in someone else's
arms, after seasons of childhood

and error and defense,
I thought freshly and tried
to change the color of my

habit. New metrics would be
mine in this excess of
love! but I was a braggart

to hope so. My old hurts
kept attacking me at odd
moments, after too many

songs, on public conveyances,
in the blue light of bars. Ah!
I cried, do not blame me,

save your temper for the
others! and at the same instant
in the same breath cried,

break me! I dare you, for
which of us am I? you will
break yourself! And this

became only too true, the
worst of all possible vistas,
my lone dark land.



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Love Stories from the Land of Sleeping Disorders


Friday morning, I quietly slip on my coat and scarf, readying myself to head home after having spent a late night at N/A's with a bunch of his friends to celebrate his birthday.

N/A is snoring in the bedroom.

I knock over a bunch of books with my purse.

N/A groggily opens his eyes.

I peek in the bedroom door at him.

His tender parting words:

"Vaginal cleanser is... inherently dominant."




Clearly this is love.



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More Fun Google Searches That Brought People to This Blog


  • Here is me naked


  • Toots Farting desires video


  • Pepper vagina smell


  • Suburban pediatrics complaint


  • Where to buy kielbasa

Labels:



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Circumstances Under Which the Superbowl is Actually Lots of Fun to Watch


  • When you have a bet riding on it--8 vitamin waters for your fella if he wins, dinner at Now That's Class for you if you win.


  • If you don't actually watch it together but instead text smack-talk back and forth the whole time.


  • If the smack-talk is the lamest smack-talk EVER. Example:

    "btw: the cardinals called. They said to tell you they suck. I told them I think you already figured that out. But I pass the message along anyway."

    or

    "Go team that looks like bumblebees!"


  • If the team you're betting on scores a 100-yard touchdown in the first half.


  • If the team you're betting on is down by three about 2 minutes before the end of the game, your fella dishes out a ton of smack-talk, and then they score a glorious touchdown and demolish the other team super fricking hard.


  • If you are undeniably awesome.



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