Snacks and Shit’s disembodied rap lyrics are making me laugh harder than it’s prudent to do while at work, especially since I can’t explain it to anyone who might ask. (via andre)
Monthly Archive for February, 2009
1. Last week I bought one of those digital-tv converter boxes so I can still watch Lost* after my television has become obsolete. This week I checked my mail and found the $40-off coupon for said box, which coupon I requested a month ago. If I were 45 years older and a lot crankier I’d take that coupon to Target and ask the returns desk to give me forty dollars. Then after they refused to give me forty dollars, I’d write a stern letter to the digital-tv converter box people and ask THEM to give me forty dollars.
But I’m 30 and not very cranky, so I’m not going to do any of that stuff. Instead I’m just going to pretend that coupon doesn’t exist, as is my custom with all such things I’m too lazy to do.
2. Freebirds, what is the point of selling me this chocolate-chip cookie if I can’t open it. If I were 45 years older and a lot crankier I’d drive back over to your store and demand a different cookie, or my money back.**
3. I do not like spending the Friday before Valentine’s Day in an office setting. My coworkers get flowers, and I say, ooh, sweet, you got flowers, and they say thanks! And I feel like they’re thinking,*** I bet she wishes SHE’d gotten flowers.
What they don’t know is that I do not, in fact, wish I’d gotten flowers. I’m not into Valentine’s Day at all, and in fact I told my potential flower-giver that while I’m glad we’ll be hanging out on the 14th doing whatever it is we usually do, I am not interested in gifts or cards or plants or edibles of any kind, thank you.****
But there’s no polite way to dispel their hypothetical thoughts without sounding weird or going off on an unnecessary and impolite tirade about how lame V-Day is. So instead I just say ooh, sweet, you got flowers, and then walk back to my desk and put my headphones on.
4. The other day I was heard to remark, “Is it possible that I love my dog too much?” For those of you who think that it’s possible, I invite you to look upon her and tell me you don’t love her a bit too much, too:
She’ll be approximately nine in April, which will also mark her five-year anniversary of being my dog. I think she looks much happier now than she did five years ago, don’t you?
*Also Dollhouse! Dollhouse comes on tonight!
**I got it open, though, aren’t you glad?
***I am not what I think other people might think of me, etc.
****I said it nicer than this.
Good lord, this handmade tufted headboard is just awesome. I’ve been looking for good headboard ideas lately, and I think this might be the one I want to make.
My recent dreams come with vivid background music. A few weeks back I dreamt that my friend Kari and I were on our way to meet B at the movies, and Ani DiFranco’s “32 Flavors” was playing on the car stereo. We both sang along for the whole song, in real-time. The other night Mike Doughty’s “Rising Sign”* was playing in the background while something or other dreamlike happened, I can’t remember what. But the song was very real.
Two days ago someone wrote me an e-mail that contained the following sentence: “Nostalgia, for me, is as deadly as heroin.” When I read this, I knew exactly what it meant. Too often I become so mired in my own past that nothing happening presently is as good/bad as what happened before. It’s dangerous in the sense that it prevents me from enjoying what’s happening presently, and renders me unable to view what happened before in an accurate light.
When I am thus mired (or mired in any swamp of negative thought as I’ve been lately), it becomes important to remember the following things:
I am not what my friends think of me.
I am not what I think my friends might think of me.
I am not my friends.
I am not my ex-boyfriends.
I am not my boyfriend.
I am not what anyone I used to know used to think of me or thinks of me now.
I am not anyone I used to know.
I am not the way I look.
I am not how much I weigh.
I am not what anyone says about me.
*Which I’m now playing on repeat, and I don’t know why.
I used to be the kind of writer who would take a sight like this and try to connect it to some experience in my own life. But what would it be with this photo? That I went to Target to buy a digital TV and decided to save some money by getting the converter box instead, and now I’m $300 further from being homeless like this guy ha ha? That if that kid’s holding a Bible and talking about what I think he’s talking about, then that’s the kind of thing I’d have wanted to do in high school? It all sounds kind of dumb, doesn’t it?
Or maybe I could say blah blah the juxtaposition of this and consumerism, or blah blah I’m lucky to have a support system that would help keep me from this fate if I ran out of other options, or blah blah nuts to Christianity but if it helps either one of these people then good for them?
Nah, it’s all dumb.
