Thursday, February 28, 2008

Did you know...

there's an International Sword Swallower's Day? No shame if you didn't—this is the first year it's taken place!

Says the official press release:

Sword Swallowers around the world will celebrate "International Sword Swallower's Awareness Day" by doing what they do best - Swallowing swords!

Sword swallowers around the world swallowing swords?! Try saying that real fast! Then try saying it with a knife in your mouth!

Then go to the emergency room.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Life in The Fast Lame

We have been visited by a "shadow" today. A bright-eyed young professional burning to experience the glitz and glamour of the results-driven, done-yesterday world of PR.

And she's definitely asleep on Dee's desk right now.

Friday, February 22, 2008

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Thursday, February 14, 2008

(Heart) Breaking News...



"Happy Valentine's Day! I miss the days when you could set up a mailbox on your desk and get instant candy"

This text from an old friend just took me for a ride in the way back machine. Truth is, I wish I'd let this person give me candy when I had the chance. It's amazing he even talks to me. So I'd like to dedicate this day of love to him, and apologize, however indirectly, to my dear friend. So hey, I'm sorry for ignoring you when we saw each other on the street for an entire year. And about the sublettor. It wasn't your fault he robbed us. You know what else? I think about that night a lot. I was out of my mind.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Pavlov's Blawg

The guy one cubicle over just zipped his bag and my whole body perked up like "Sixth period's over! Time to go home!!"

Then I remembered I'm not in middle school.

Dear The Media...

Tuesday, February 12, 2008


Monday, February 11, 2008

A Twist of Sib-lime

My brother Josh and I have amassed an exhaustive and delightfully esoteric catalogue of inside jokes, references, and allusions over the years. Ours is a hodge-podge of semi-obscure 80’s and 90’s pop culture call-backs, wrapped in a thick pastiche-mina of wildly meta family wool.

I delight in the intimacy and insanity of our language and the steady transfer of “Do you REMEMBER that shit?!” voice mail messages and subjectless e-missives. Words like ‘skee ball’ tell me instantly my days been made by an outstanding Putt-Putt Super Saturdays reference.

Shared hilarity is a puzzling phenomenon. I wonder why certain movies and songs and situations stayed with us. I wonder why my thirty year-old brother and I are quoting a Weird Al Yankovic movie to this (very literal) day. But most of all, I wonder if you remember that shit.


Werd up, Aus.

These are hilarious.

Thursday, February 7, 2008

Captial Sill(ary)!

Sprinkles on the horizon with the arrival of Someone Great from the past. Thank goodies, because the cable drama-rama in my apartment is not letting up and this person is handy. Blarrggg. TV and internet are now gone with the wind....

Diagnosis: The server is down. Prognosis: Annoying.

Speaking of annoying, work is ridiculous. And my drinking problem is worse than ever. Dehydrats! Not a single drip or drop of non-carbonated, non-artifically sweetened water yesterday. This could be Rocky Bottoms.

Good news is Allison The Intern is back, and Dee The New Girl is a twinkly super star.

The new-old (nold?) friend has one of those nebulous Washington "Hill"* jobs I’ll never understand. Last night his boss blackberries at eleven about a metaphor -- the perfect metaphor for talking about harming a continent. Let me explain. Boss needs some alternative opening lines for a speech or op-ed, some new ways to say “So look, I’m gonna do this terrible thing to you, AFRICANS, but I’m gonna tell you it’s awesome.”

I'm given this example: “(The Bad Thing Being Done To Africans is kind of like) Elbowing them in the ribs and calling it a massage.” Hmm. So I come up with a few awesomely unhelpful suggestions of my own including...

(The Bad Thing Being Done To Africans is kind of like)

“Throwing acid in their face and calling it a makeover!”
“Shitting on their muffin and calling it a cupcake!”
“Sawing their dick off and calling it a hand job!"

Super fun game.

*When I was nine, I overheard mom tell someone she “works on The Hill,” which I took to mean everyday she literally climbed an unimpressive grassy hill, not unlike the one behind Juan Nunez’s house,** and sat there all day with the other working mothers. Over the years this image has morphed into a caricature-istic purple and red shoulder-padded army of moms, meticulously clad in the standard issue tan pantyhose/nurse-white sneaker/pathetic thermal lunch sac uniform of the day. Working girrrrrl power!!

**The perfect hill for snow-day sledding