The best headlines from the April edition of Martha Stewart Living:
- The Finest Seasalt
- Painting a Window
- Ruffles: They are much more than a dressmaker’s detail.
- Ironing Ruffles and Pleats
Bonus points for an article on how to spend several hours hand fashioning and sugaring the marshmallow Peeps that you can purchase at your local grocery store for 40 cents per package. I didn’t even know it was possible to make marshmallows at home. Can you see, dear reader, how I’m becoming just a little more enlightened with each passing month?
10:37 a.m.
Tag: excerpts
“By the way, if anyone here is in advertising
or marketing, kill yourself. No, this is not a
joke: kill yourself… I know what the
marketing people are thinking now too: ‘Oh.
He’s going for that anti-marketing dollar.
That’s a good market.’ Oh man, I am not
doing that, you fucking evil scumbags.”–Bill Hicks
(I blatantly ripped off the link and the quote from Metascene. Thanks, Fred.)
10:48 a.m.
EMAIL MOMENT!
Subject: More about the bad things that happen when you include the word “girl” in your blog title.
Excerpt:
Have you looked at your search engine keywords thingy lately?!
- Father fucking girl
- Erotic stories of little girl pajama parties
- Naked girl fighting
- Thick free black girl
Man, you have all the cool parties.
3:58 p.m.
To the person who found my site by searching for “this girl i’ve been following:” I found your sleeping bag and toothbrush in the crawl space under my house. They’re on the porch. I’m keeping the photos. (Call me.)
10:45 a.m.
EMAIL MOMENT!
Subject: Modern dance.
From: A college friend.
Excerpt:
“Dance is the bomb, and I don’t need to tell you that! I wonder what Jenny Smith [college choreographer, whose name has been changed to protect my ass] is up to these days. I still think it’s the funniest thing that she would always be Miss Purity, but all her dances would totally be about sex. She’d be like, ‘It’s not sexual. It’s SENsual. Now rub your chest and roll on the ground.'”
4:45 p.m.
My friend Sean posted an almost comically offensive Black History Month lunch flyer that he found in his office. Can you believe that this was produced last year?
9:57 a.m.
EMAIL MOMENT!
Subject: A fellow editor finds reason to celebrate.
Excerpt:
“after this deadline is over we should have a ‘we have jobs’ party.”
4:25 p.m.
So we had an earthquake drill at work today. I was across the street (coincidence) getting tea (sheer coincidence) when a piercing siren indicated that my coworkers should crawl under their desks and shield their necks and heads with their arms.
Now I’m concerned. Having missed the corporate drill, I fear that I will have no idea how to get under my desk and cover my head when the inevitable earthquake occurs. I will surely stand in the middle of my cube shrieking, “What shall I do? What shall I do?” as the ground opens to swallow me.
1:36 p.m.
I have now been humming Janet Jackson’s “Rhythm Nation” for 24 (waking) hours. I am near the breaking point. If my self-destruct feature kicks in and I stop posting suddenly, blame Janet (Miss Jackson, if you’re nasty).
1:37 p.m.
Annie articulates the new feminist battle cry:
“Somehow, just somehow, I must stop Jennifer Love Hewitt.”
10:40 a.m.
I got this from Salon–which means most of you have already read it–but it’s about a local girl, so I feel some responsibility to spread the word. A San Francisco artist is working on what she calls the bush project. She’s asking women to shave their pubic hair and send it to her in little baggies for use in an art installment protesting George Bush’s election. Her roommates are displeased.
11:27 a.m.
My friends and I were watching a profile of Buford Furrow (the guy who shot five people in a Jewish community center) on “60 Minutes II” last night. The anchor had such an Einsteinian moment that all of us burst into simultaneous laughter:
“When Judge Cody released Furrow, she ordered that he continue on his medication, stay away from alcohol and never touch a firearm again for the rest of his life. These were big changes for a heavy drinker, a mental patient with a passion for guns.”
3:47 p.m.
Three unrelated things that, when combined, represent my current mood:
- When my nextdoor neighbor is frustrated, her preferred relaxation method is screaming and raining blows on her 12-year-old daughter. She was particularly frustrated this morning. I emerged from the shower to call 911.
- Left for work and ran into a sweet boy I met a few months ago. He introduced me to his very new girlfriend and absently shared the story of how he’d asked me out and I’d said no. Was forced to exchange awkward small talk with them for my entire commute.
- Parted ways with the new girlfriend and waited on the curb next to an Asian woman. A homeless man passed us and leaned across me to face her, “We’re just playin’ with the Chinese. See-ya-later!”9:16 a.m.
A cutting from Mark’s site.
“Ingested today:
– 2 cups of coffee (with cream and sugar)
– 1 Snickers bar
– 9 Wintergeen Altoids
– 2 Spearmint AltoidsIt is now almost four in the afternoon and the walls are starting to look furry. ”
2:03 p.m.
“Georgia O’Keefe was not a flower painter.” (From the introduction to a book of her paintings titled One Hundred Flowers.)
3:06 p.m.
When the sky is blue and clear in San Francisco, it’s cause for comment. “Such a beautiful day,” I said. Then I felt something flutter over my feet. I looked down at the swirling newspaper and napkins littering the sidewalk. I stepped delicately over a discarded condom. “Yeah,” he said. “It sure is.”
10:45 a.m.
Mighty Girl 