Category: My Life

My friend Katy is 5’2″, beautiful, and blessed with a tangle of curly black hair. I spent New Year’s Eve with her, and every ten minutes or so a new guy noticed her:

“Awwww, I like ’em petite!”

“Ooo. I’ve had wet dreams about that hair.”

“Hello there, little girl. Wanna sit on my lap?”

Like she was going to saunter up, plop down on his lap, and wrap her legs around him. “Oh, Romeo. Don’t be so coy. (Insert bubbling laughter.)” Glah! By the end of the night I felt like my brain needed a shower, and none of it was even directed at me.

2:32 p.m.

My friend Sam is leaving San Francisco, and he made some good points in his farewell note. Another one bites the dust:

WHEREAS, despite the greatly-exaggerated demise of the New Economy,
housing prices in San Francisco are still the second-highest in the world,
and

WHEREAS the Bay Area is swimming in cultural events which are all
within driving distance, but which lack parking anywhere within the same zip
code, and

WHEREAS we spend over two hours commuting each day, and

WHEREAS we and two cats would like to move in together and have a
front porch for something under $1000 a month, and

WHEREAS it might be nice to purchase a house within the next five
years without a Tokyo-style mortgage, and

WE THE UNDERSIGNED (to wit, my girlfriend and I) do hereby declare:

YEA, VERILY, we are getting the Duck out of fodge.

12:07 a.m.

Oooh Virtual Bubble Wrap. Such satisfying pop-like sounds. Must move hand away from mouse to wipe moronic drool from chin.

10:27 a.m.

A friend and I were driving through the city when I spotted a spray-painted wall. GAP IS KILLING REDWOODS!

Me: Gap is killing redwoods? I suspect Gap is doing worse things to humanity than that.

Him: Yeah. Like popularizing the color orange.

4:31 p.m.

Thomas Lynch is a poet and an undertaker. I’m reading his prose autobiography The Undertaking and he wrote something I liked:

“The meaning of life is connected, inextricably, to the meaning of death; mourning is a romance in reverse, and if you love, you grieve and there are no exceptions-only those who do it well and those who don’t.”

2:42 p.m.

“Alex, I’ll take Needs a New Hobby, for $500.” Someone collected all the phone numbers from movies and TV shows and put them at the 555-xxxx site.
One redeeming point, as The Ultimate Insult noted, they do have The Simpsons’ phone number.

1:25 p.m.

Catscan is a site that posts scans of cats. The instructions on how to scan your cat are almost as good as the JPEGs.

11:42 a.m.

I’ve never asked my roommate about his living room bookshelf. It’s pretty small, so there aren’t too many books on it, but what’s there is pretty interesting. (As my friend Sam would say, “Interesting defined as something I wouldn’t necessarily want to put in my mouth.”)

  • Sex for One: The joy of self loving
  • Hitler’s Willing Executioners
  • A History of Torture
  • Plasirs D’Amour: An erotic guide to the senses
  • The Holy Bible (sandwiched between)
  • The Satanic Bible (and)
  • True Crime Vol. 2: Serial Killers and Mass Murderers
  • Fractals Everywhere

5:10 p.m.

I really like this guy. Not only did we go to the same college (yeah, Aggies), but he’s also named Ernie. Anyone who’s gone through life with a Muppet name deserves some support. He posted a great white-girl description a few days ago, racist pig:

“Okay, I try not to play into the stereotypes, swear to god. But after listening to them on the radio, I look up Dream on the internet, expecting them to look like Destiny’s Child, and I come across the four whitest girls on the face of this earth. Not even like typical white girls – they’re like, Sarah Michelle Gellar, let’s go to the mall, swing by Hot Topic and eat a Hot-Dog-on-a-Stick white girls.”

4:04 p.m.

My sister is a full-time parent. Spending all day with little kids has its effects, and one of them is an inability to recognize sexual double meanings anymore. My nephew opened a Christmas gift that contained a soccer ball, a basketball, and a football. My sister promptly exclaimed, “Look at that! You’ve got some big balls, Trevor! You’ve sure got some balls!” When I burst out laughing, she just blinked at me. “What?”

2:19 p.m.

CalFed ad on BART:

“YOU HAVE THE POWER TO CHANGE BANKS.”

Why do I suddenly feel like I should be wearing a shiny gold leotard and a cape?

11:01 a.m.

A quality rant from that other girl:

“I know this is going to sound really un-PC, but damn
woman, get a life, get laid, get something cuz’ this is just
so stupid to me – ‘Snowmen on Christmas cards reinforce
traditional gender stereotypes by reflecting men in
prominent, public roles and women in private, domestic
situations…’ I always just thought they didn’t look like women because
it is so hard to get the snow-boobies to stay on.”

9:46 a.m.

This magazine ad for Christina Aguilera’s new album reads like a blurb for a porn video:

“Like her other hits from RCA’s Christina Aguilera, “Come On Over (All I Want is You)” finds the perky popster piping her tales of teen appetite.”

2:46 p.m.

11:29 a.m.

A woman and man walking up the subway stairs behind me:

She: …all relationships could use a little more communication. All of them. For me, what I need is to know what’s going on with the other person.

He: Did you sleep with him?

She: What? I’m talking about us, not him.

He: Mmm.

She: I’m not talking about sex, I’m talking about communication.

He: Mmm.

9:40 a.m.

Ack! I love the “12 Galaxies United in Protest” guy! For those of you who didn’t know who I was talking about awhile back, here’s a site devoted to him that Mr.Kottke tracked down.

4:19 p.m.

Found this fantastic email on a bowling newsgroup. It was a search engine thing, don’t ask:

Kathleen,

Hi sorry it took me so long to get back to you. I would love to se some of
your cross stitch patterns. I am always looking for new project for the
house or the kids. I am finishing one for the bathroom right now and do a
lot for the kids rooms and little Christmas project and stuff. Bowling takes
up a lot of time and so do the kids but I try to get everything in. Anyway,
if you have a scanner and want to EMail them to me that would be great if not
we can do it another way.

Thanks Again,

Sharon

12:18 a.m.

When I’m really tired, my contacts grow fur to keep my eyes warm. Ug.

10:18 a.m.

EMAIL MOMENT!

Scenario:

A friend who wants to start crashing more dot-com parties.

Excerpt:

Dot-com parties rule! Ok, so I’ve
only been to one, but it ruled! Ok, it was the most
homogenous party I’ve ever been to but it was oddly
comforting! And they played Pump Up the Jam!

1:55 p.m.

You always know something cool has died when your parents get into it. “Oh, Margaret, I bought that rap album by the blond boy named after the candy? M and M? Anyway, I love it. Just love it. ‘I am Slim Shady, yes I am the REAL shady!’ ” Along those lines, yesterday I saw a Burning Man symbol painted on the side of a … Jeep Grand Cherokee.

12:15 p.m.

Let’s play the “worst way to die” game for a second. Acid bath, wheat thresher, slow consumption by hungry caged lions. (Stolen from Peex. )

9:55 a.m.

The Myrtle Beach Fire Department plans to return a large donation they received at a recent ham rubbing. But this wasn’t just any ham rubbing, this was the Fourth Annual Ham Rubbing (all caps) at which “women danced on stage while having their bare chests rubbed with a ham. ” Now that’s entertainment once you get that pesky gag reflex under control, anyway.

2:30 p.m.

People I wish I knew:

The guy on the train who had a patch sewn onto his jacket sleeve that read, “Missouri is for lovers.” He also had a piece of material pinned to the back of his sweatshirt hood that said, “nomeansno.”

9:54 a.m.

What I think of first, when I think of you:

  • Jake got really annoyed whenever someone told him their dog’s name was Jake.
  • Katy wouldn’t drink rootbeer because she thought it tasted like toothpaste.
  • Geno wouldn’t go into Port-A-Pottys because of an overwheming fear that the booth would blow over–door side down–trapping him inside.

2:54 p.m.

Guy in a pickup passes me with his Mensa bumper sticker affixed upside down. Oh-ho. Such wittiness.

10:09 a.m.

The photo that goes with this article is worth the link. Freekay. Seems that during WWII, a Nazi sympathizer planted a bunch of trees in the shape of a
swastika. It’s only visible from the sky when the leaves change in autumn, but they’re still cutting it down.

2:07 p.m.

I’d be willing to bet that when most people let their minds wander, they think of something more interesting than:

Labor-Intensive Unshelled Legumes: A Short List

  • Brazil Nuts
  • Pumpkin seeds
  • Pine Nuts
  • Sunflower Seeds

My computer has SETI. What I need is a project that harnesses my brain’s unused resources for the good of humanity. Perhaps I could power a very small light bulb or something. How ’bout it, science?

11:54 a.m.