this is my cousin, in a fantastic gown, all pretty and professional, accepting third place at Cannes/Cinefondation for her first film, Mother. THIS IS SO COOL. this is just a note so that when she's a big phenom star you all remember: My cousin is so much more fabulous than your cousin. ha! i have the best family. Heder is not just Napoleon Dynamite any more, you ridiculous monkey bumps. CANNES! tags:mother the movie

in the grocery store. Not generally the sort of place one goes for political commentary, no, the aisle with the parmesan is not known for that. and there is a girl with a shirt that immediately makes me angry. and it is the sort of shirt that makes one want to say AS SOON AS YOU GET YOUR POLITICS OUT OF MY CUNT, I WILL GET OUT OF YOUR WAY TO THE CHEESE. (you fat self-righteous jesus whore.) one very carefully avoids saying this. For the time being.

look, i'm sorry. if my dog attacked six people and bit a septuagenarian i'd have it put down without thinking. Immediately.

Named must your fear be before banish it you can. <- Perfect german grammer, i'm convinced of it. tags:german

Canoeing this weekend: Plum Park. colorado. Plum Park is a nice place to go in theory because it has a little building with a toilet; the little building is full of spiders and crawly things and dead buggy nastiness as well as quite a bit of live buggy nastiness so it's not really ideal, as far as indoor plumbing is concerned, and also we might need to bring actual real cash because i think we have to pay to camp there. in theory. but i love that i get hit after hit after hit for people googling Don's Fish Camp in Martindale, Texas, which is certainly a very nice place to camp and has, as i recall, a Most Excellent Rope Swing.

i'm trying to remember which rope swing it was. i think it might have been one with the double-tumble-roll down the hill, which was recorded, but never sent in to that awful tv show. i like to think it would have won.
tags:don's fish camp

in an unusual twist, i want to pay money to the theatre for the da vinci code, but i don't actually want to sit through the 2 1/2 hours of movie. i just want it to do well so that people think we can watch big-studio movies that show christianity in a not so glowy light without going into some sort of crisis. also, seriously. it's just a fucking novel. A work of fiction. how can there be controversy over something that says, right there on the first page, that it is a work of fiction? what kind of country is this that people are automatically believing everything they read? fucking Fox News. they're destroying our national skepticism. fucktards!* america should not be a community of sheep. Of all things. tags:the da vinci code

and like that - poof! he's gone. i've finished reading Ulysses. and if i didn't have so many other books to read before the move i could start right in at the front again. some authors you want to go to the bar with and discuss politics and tell dirty jokes and be loud - you get the sense vonnegut would be good for this, in particular, and i'm sure i've said that before. some authors you want to fuck (and i totally bet Isabel Allende would be someone you could bring home to mom. in fact i think i might have already, and if i haven't, i meant to). some authors you want to have coffee and a multi-course breakfast, outdoors, with fruit and fresh bread and apricot jam and melons and read the paper in the morning after and share the opinion pages and watch brightly colored birds in the yard and maybe have a cat that likes to be petted lazy in the sunshine (dead giveaway, there, with the brightly colored birds: marquez). The guy who wrote lord of the flies one almost wants to stand up against the wall and riddle with bullets, and then revive him and do it again. John Kennedy Toole (who actually, surprisingly, wrote two books instead of just the one, but apparently the other one isn't nearly as good) you sort of want to sit down and get him to chill out a little bit and maybe reconsider things. but joyce? joyce would be good at a quaker meeting. to each sit like a rock with your own thoughts. And maybe have cocoa. tags:ulysses

via meetup - searchable by zipcode
wrongplanet.net (which i think i've linked before, but which has forums, and people)
tags:aspergers

german is very consonant-heavy-feeling. density. only it's hard to tell because the people on the german tape are, well, on a german tape: they're not real people, they enunciate too much. but if all the trains in austria run on time, will they also enunciate everything? is it possible to get austrian-german lessons, as opposed to german-german lessons, and if i manage to do so - which is highly doubtful - will i be understood in berlin, in munich, in cologne? leave switzerland out of this entirely. at least i have that comfort.

wie geht's? zwol Biere, bitte. sehr gut. wo ist das v-c? ich mochte mieten eine Wohnung mit Herrdoktor Watson. hier ist mein Pass.

aussi. tout le monde me dit, "dis a la fille folle dans les commentaires de partir. bitte." et je ne vais pas. c'est publique. si le monde veut qu'elle partir il peut aussi indiquer directement a elle. Alors. tout le monde: indiquez ca, si vous voulez. parce que je ne dire rien.

whereas french is so fluid. liquide. douce. pas neccessarilement pretty, per se, and i don't know why it would be the language of love if it doesn't have a proper word for "unagi" in it which i bet it doesn't, i bet it doesn't, but flowery, breezy. sweet, like dessert wine and creme chantilly. Note that i have given away my electric mixer: je ne suis pas Francaise. c'est triste, mais je pense que je suis toujours americaine. j'ai peur.

i picked turquoise for the bedroom long before it was the Hot New Color. obviously with this great and finally discovered talent for trend-setting, the next new thing will be Accidental Pistachio. (it was supposed to be beige - i'm trying to sell this.) Lovely paint, there, lowe's, nice texture, low odor, dries fast, not drippy, cleans up well, not so good on the matching the colors on your own goddamn swatch. Not that i'm even considering doing it over. i can sell accidental pistachio. tags:paint

and you thought i couldn't SELL a pool table for 100% profit.*

HAH!

*note: 100% profit = $50. for $100 total. we got it on the damn cheap.

From a third floor attic in the middle of freaking july, but still.

i am officially, having not read it or done more than flipped through, but mom apparently KNEW THE AUTHOR which is so incomprehensibly cool, reccomending this book. And haiku. As a pathway to understanding. tags:trout fishing in america

we're not getting rid of everything - for instance, the espresso machine and the rice cooker, each of which have american plugs, are both beautiful, lovely things, and we are SO KEEPING THEM. the things we're getting rid of are just clutter - not that important. The books we've already read, the movies we've already seen, the games we've already played. Worms Armageddon - keep. Rainbow Six - lose. Widescreen directors' cut lords of the ringsses - lose. Shaun of the dead - keep. Hardcover, shiny, illustrated Gunsliner septet - lose. Un-useful-sized, warped, or severely tomato-stained Tupperware - lose. Wok - keep. Brand new, unused breadmaker - lose. Maya Angelou's Soul Kitchen - keep. That lousy, badly illustrated, poorly described, and shoddily bound Sinatra cookbook - so, so, so lose, and i never want to see it again.

i think i have to be specific to keeping author's biographical cookbooks, as opposed to any biographical cookbooks. because the gertrude stein and isabel allende and hemingway ones are decent, but then nora ephron is an utter whore, and i think i hate the entire category of celebrity chefs (barring julia child, who is dead and therefore doesn't count). i feel bad for not wanting to keep the alton brown one, because i've heard he's very nice in person: but it's big, and heavy, and not very practical. Mario: i hate you. Skinny italian woman who is turned on by mozzarella: i really, really hate you, you skinny bitch - aren't we not supposed to trust chefs that don't fucking eat? Emeril: shut up. Snobby guy that does Food 911: you supercilious, rotten bastard, i'm sorry, i cannot let you enter my house. Hilde from Trading Spaces can come in my house before you can and if there's anyone that shouldn't be trusted with flour, water, and a feather boa (out in plain sight and probably extremely tempting) it's her. Rachel Ray: look, kid, i'm sorry. if i don't have time to cut up my one thing of broccoly NOW, why would i have time to cut up ALL my vegetables immediately upon arriving home from the store? on what planet does that make sense? tags:moving sale, celebrity chefs

Crazy. garage sale. going: books, kitchenware, electronic household stuff with american plugs, decorative items (most, not all - still have to sell, yet), clothing, shoes, prelit christmas tree, fondue pot, sleeping bags, assorted watched-once DVDs, old computer games, sheer emotional sink of having too much crap. CHEAP!

store in the mall will buy used computer games and, i think, DVDs.

store in the strip mall will buy books. (for peanuts.)

goodwill accepts clothes, shoes, kitchenware.

Donations for other garage sale to benefit low-income family summer school programs.

Brazos Freecycle gets the rest. 500+ members!

"In retrospect, lighting the match was my big mistake. But I was only trying to retrieve the gerbil," Eric Tomaszewski told bemused doctors in the Severe Burns Unit of Salt Lake City Hospital. Tomaszewski, and homosexual partner Andrew "Kiki" Farnum, had been admitted for emergency treatment after a felching session had gone seriously wrong. "I pushed a cardboard tube up his rectum and slipped Raggot, our gerbil, in," he explained. "As usual, Kiki shouted out "Armageddon", my cue that he'd had enough. I tried to retrieve Raggot but he wouldn't come out again, so I peered into the tube and struck a match, thinking the light might attract him." At a hushed press conference, a hospital spokesman described what happened next. "The match ignited a pocket of intestinal gas and a flame shot out the tube, igniting Mr. Tomaszewski's hair and severely burning his face. It also set fire to the gerbil's fur and whiskers which in turn ignited a larger pocket of gas further up the intestine, propelling the rodent out like a cannonball. "Tomaszewski suffered second degree burns and a broken nose from the impact of the gerbil, while Farnum suffered first and second degree burns to his anus and lower intestinal tract.

o.K., here's the top ten things that scared me the most in reading this story..
10. "I pushed a cardboard tube up his rectum...." Ouch!!!
9. "So I peered into the tube..." Aaaaaahhhhh. I'm sorry, but that's like looking through a telescope into hell. I'd rather use binoculars to stare into the sun.
8. "That poor gerbil (who obviously suffers from low self-esteem) being shot out of the guy's anus like Rocky the Flying Squirrel on Rocky and Bulwinkle.
7. Suffering a broken nose from a gerbil being launched out of someone's anus. I'm just guessing, but I seriously doubt said gerbil was springtime fresh after his little journey into Kiki's "tunnel of love."
6. People walking around with these volcanic-like pockets of gas in the rectums.
5. People who do this kind of thing and then admit what they were doing when taken to the emergency room. Sorry, but I think I would have made up a story about a gang of roving, pyromaniac, anal sex fiends breaking into my house and sodomizing me with a charcoal lighter before I admitted the truth. Call me old fashioned, but I just can't imagine looking at a doctor and saying "Well doc, it's like this. See we have this gerbil named Raggot and we took this cardboard tube..."
4. "First and second degree burns to the anus". Wouldn't this make the burning itch and discomfort of hemorrhoids a welcome relief? How does one ever take a healthy poop after something like this? And the smell of burning anus must be in the top five
most horrible scents on the face of God's green earth.
3. People named "Kiki" which is obviously a Polynesian word for "Stupid white men who insert rodents up their asses."
2. What kind of a hospital would hold a press conference on this?
1. This happened in Salt Lake City.

don't panic.

we want to sell our house. this weekend we will paint the kitchen (lemony white, i'm thinking, which IS TOO a color) and plant flowers and touch-up the ceiling in the kitchen/dining/living room with flat white ceiling paint rather than eggshell white ceiling paint. Spackle. Mow. Curb appeal. Garage sale saturday i'm hoping over at G's. few books to read before then.

parents want to come visit in the summer. visitors are almost certainly less than ideal for People Trying To Sell Their House. trust the realtor. Buyers don't like people in the houses they're looking at. this means if someone is sleeping on the futon in the dining room when a realtor arrives, i can claim in keeping with some basis in reality that they owe me a hundred thousand dollars. (it sounds like so much more than it is, eh?) Especially if said person is grumpy, on which i have certain confirmatory information.

hope: we sell fast and locate a tiny studio to let until december. said studio should not fit any of our stuff. Any. But have a yard. Fenced. tags:sell this house

http://www.immigrantsolidarity.org/

The pet store was selling them for five cents a pieace. I thought this was odd since they were normally a couple thousand. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth so I bought 200 of them. I like monkeys.

I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one of drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in the genitals. I laughed. They punched me in the genitals. I stopped laughing.
I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new environment. They would screech and hurl themselves off the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its novelty halfway into it's third hour.

Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive; they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sort of dropped dead. Kinda like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. God damn cheap monkeys.

I didn't know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room; on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I had 200 throw rugs. I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn't work. It got stuck. Then I had one dead, wet monkey and one hundred ninety-nine dead, dry monkeys.
I tried to pretend that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for awhile, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell real bad.

I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in my toilet and I didn't want to call a plumber. I was embarrassed.

I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortuantely there was only enough room for two at a time, so I had to change them every 30seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn't go bad.

I tried to burn them, but little did I know that my bed was flammable. I had to extinguish the fire.

Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in my freezer, and one hundred ninety-seven dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed, The odor wasn't improving.

I became agitated at my inability to dispose of the dead monkeys and I really had to use the bathroom. So I went and severely beat one of the monkeys. I felt better.

I tried throwing them away but the garbage man said the city was not allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him I had a wet one. He couldn't take it either. I didn't bother asking about the frozen ones.

I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My friends didn't quite know what to say. They pretended to like them, but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the genitals.

I like monkeys.

*not very factual on motorcycles either

:anmut: :annika: :chin: :dooce: :ewok mama: :food: :little frog school: :lj: :longform: :low odysseys: :natalya: :rich: :salon: :slate: :this is how: :unique yn:



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