Croptember, Birthday Edition

I met her at a shady afterhours. I put her number into my phone as Jen BFF Messer within a few minutes of having met her.
I was right.
This bitch is dynamite.


Happy Birthday to the sharpest little knife I know.

And so it begins...

99 Depressed Balloons

Two things:
1. The most boring thing in the world: when people complain about
their illnesses. Being sick and having birthdays are two things that
everyone experiences but no one but your mama really cares about.
Spare us all and let's talk about something interesting, like Gossip
Girl or the difference between men and women or just read me your
grocery list or something.

2. I am sick and I hate it. My chest hurts and I am coughing up
Nickelodeon slime and nobody is making me soup or rubbing my body down
with Vick's. On top of the physical discomfort, there's the imagery. I
am less than comforted by the knowledge that right now, the Mucinex
snot family is having a rager in my lungs and that they've invited the
whole gang. Those fucking digging fungus cat monsters are scratching
shit up, rubbing their feet on the couch. The weak-bladdered pipe
robots are pissing in the sink and using their own limbs for beer
bongs. I'm pretty sure that that goddamn allergy bee with the nasal
spray is probably there, doing key bumps in the bathroom, talking like
Antonio Banderas about the 80's when it snowed every night on Sunset
Blvd.

Fuck you, Big Pharma. My laziness grants me a certain amount of
blissful ignorance when it comes to all your evil, but I draw the line
at the amorphization of my illnesses. I'm already scared of dying. I
do not need a mascot.

That is all.

P.S. Here's some ideas for your next buzz-disease/disgusting-yet-endearing-companion-animal combo:

*Excema Ants- Why shouldn't your brain itch, too?
*Teddy the Bipolar Polar Bear- Basically the Coca Cola bear but like
crying and lauging and not being able to get out of bed.
*Arthritis Vultures- Dry bones and beady eyes, etc.
*Boner Snakes- I don't really know what that means but it would make a
good band name.

P.P.S. Hey there, recent Art Institute grad. Is this what you thought
you'd do with that degree in graphic design?

I can do without a lot of things,
But I can't live without grilled cheese.

(Repeat)

(This is the password. For the treehouse. You have to say it like you mean it or it won't work.)

If you got it, better crop it

In honor of pioneers in the field who have gone before us, I present to you:


CROPTEMBER

*December 2009.
*Me.
*A crop top every calendar day.
*Pictures to prove it.



Stay tuned. I think this could be huge.


P.S. I know, I know. Croptober sounds better but I just thought of it today.
P.P.S. Who's coming with me???

Mo money mo problems, or so the proverb goes. I'll take Biggie's word for it, but why isn't no money no problem?

Crpytwalking

The other day, I was driving down Grand in Chinatown with my window down, not really listening to music and in the pause between the songs I heard live music. Horns. I looked and half a block down the street was a band,  meandering toward me. Not a marching band but a dozen old men in black suits walking slowly.  The song sounded like some old ragtime number and at first I tried to remember if it was a holiday. Then I saw the police car leading the men and I knew. Saville asked me what was happening. I told him it was a funeral procession and that that meant someone died. His face expressionless, he asked "Who died?"  Just then the hearse passed. On the roof was a large floral arrangement with a photo in the center. I pointed and said "Some old Asian man." He turned his head to watch as much as his seatbelt would allow and then said, "I wanna hear the pokerface song." 


I suppose indifference is hereditary.