Friday, August 31, 2007

The Other OC

So I've already bitched and moaned to those of you with the patience to listen about my horrible vacation to Maryland, so I won't get into more of that...but you asked if there were pictures and, lo and behold, aren't there always?

By the way, after 6 long years of resistance, I finally have Internet at home...yippity do! Also, tomorrow is my 6 month anniversary...the day I can stop marking the calendar for every day i did not cheat and light up. And every day is marked off -- I did not cheat, not once! Though I did have some emergency Nicorettes to see me through my Memorable Vacation to the Other OC. God. Okay...

This is how you survive a bad trip. Lots of water and mixed drinks.

After a few drinks, this guy looks like my eighth grade math teacher. Who also served us watered down shots of rum and coke. Shudder.

I spent a shameful amount of time on the balcony of our motel room. Nice view, though.

Look at all the people, having all the fun. This is what I got to do on my last day, which was nice. And boozy.

This was the Night of the Living Dead Crabs with their serious faces and shiny black eyes, staring. I had the crabcakes...and some drinks.

Some idea of the aftermath...and it was so much worse than this. Love the "House Recipe" ketchup. That means: "A mix of ketchups in varying stages of ferment, lovingly added from multiple bottles of questionable vintage." Mmm, tummyache!

This says it all, doesn't it? A litter of little dead exoskeletons glow grim and sorrowful in the waning light of hope. G'bye, OC!

Sugary Things

Here’s the actual bit about Kathy Griffin’s eating habits. Girl, testify.

The Yellow One in the Middle is the SUN!

More comedy, this time my beloved Brain Regan, who made me about die with this bit back in the olden days of ’88 or ’89. I can’t find video of it anywhere, but some clever kitten thought to do it up like this, all Japanimation style. Boxen!

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Dead Pocket!

So, I suffered a laughing injury the other night, as much as you might struggle to believe that. I've seen the Jim Gaffigan bit before, but I think I was really desperate for a laugh and so now I've totally pulled a muscle and my back hurts. Just like after eating a HOT POCKET. Either that, or I've blown a lung vessel. Whatever the case, I haven't laughed that hard in a long time. I heart you, Jim Gaffigan.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

I Have a Song Stuck in My Head

People enjoy discussing the merits of cowbell in music, and I do agree that it adds a certain dignity to a song (Loverboy’s “Workin’ for the Weekend” springs to mind), but I must put forth another, even less traditional instrument in the competition for Most Rockinest Weird Sound That, Once Added, Becomes an Integral Part of the Rockinest Rock Song. I will always have a special place in my heart for Blue Oyster Cult’s “Don’t Fear the Reaper” (hello, manic depressive teenager singing while staring into a candle, can you say amen?), but I must say the Strong Feelings shall never subside when I hear the lusty roar of motorcycle engines in “Lady” by Styx, arguably the best band in the Holy Trinity of Rock.

Rum! Rumrumrum! You know that you are hearing it right now…

Lady, when you're with me I'm smiling
Give me all your love
Your hands build me up when I'm sinking
Touch me and my troubles all fade
Lady, from the moment I saw you
Standing all alone
You gave all the love that I needed
So shy, like a child who has grown

‘Cause you're my lady of the morning
Love shines in your eyes
Sparkling, clear, and lovely
You're my lady…

It goes on with further awesomeness, resplendent with lots of rumrumrums to really supercharge it with masculine muscleyness. If you tried to imagine the song without the rumrums, you’d find it decidedly it is on the super-jip of a “Best of” album. Denis DeYoung does a softer, gentler version that sounds suspiciously like Air Supply. But we all know that the rest of the band is the only thing that kept Denis DeYoung from being the next Leo Sayer. You know it, and I know it.

You can also hear motorcycle rums on other tracks, such as the delicate rhythms of “Girls, Girls, Girls” by the Crue. The non-traditional instrument should not be abused (I’m talking to you, Jethro Tull), but it is fun to realize that some songs would be near-total crap without it.

Monday, August 20, 2007

I Just Have to Say

...that my bodacious body is too large and in charge for the button-up oxford I'm wearing today. The buttons are looking worried. Fear not, buttons. Only five hours to go.

My tan is fake, my nails are shredded, and I need a pedicure. Looks like that trip to the beach was totally worth it. As a side note, can I just say: It is not that I do not like children, precisely. It is that I do not like to be around them. I also do not like it when certain people expect me to act maternally toward certain 2-year-olds who may or may not be cute in theory but may or may not be a royal pain in the ass for four days straight, allegedly.

Don't worry, though. I'm sure I like your children.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Mood: Querulous

This is a still from an old Disney film. Something wildly weird and maybe a little creepy. The days when Disney was pretty adult. There are even boobies in some shorts. It's true.

I am unable to express myself in any real way today. Too much going on. Too, too much. So, I thought this image would do it better. Maybe not. It felt right, though. So.

Monday, August 06, 2007

The Road

In all seriousness, it is now my turn to recommend The Road by Cormac McCarthy. I am the last person in the world to read it, I think, but it would feel wrong to say nothing of it at all. It has taken me about a week, but I think I'm mostly recovered from reading it. Although I still have my spells where everything gets all shivery and the world turns gray. I'm not having vapors; it's just a problem with perspective. Once you read a book like that, most things seem very trivial and even stupid. What a shameful waste of a world. You know, that sort of perspective.

In brief, it is about a father and son heading south through a devastated landscape. The devastation has been caused by--most likely, as it is not explained in much detail--a nuclear holocaust that has taken place years earlier. Their present is far beyond the immediate aftermath of destruction and slip-sliding well into the horror of a grim, post-apocalyptic future. Lingering notions of humanity--what makes us rational, compassionate beings--are a dim memory. The landscape is scarred and dead, with not even the vaguest hope for recovery.

There are many vivid moments in this book, and far too many that are truly haunting and hard to shake. It is not recommended for just anyone: be ready for sickening jolts of a possible reality. The truth about humanity--what we are capable of, what we truly are underneath--is shocking and more upsetting that you might think.

Would it be worth reading if it were nothing but a blasted landscape of misery and despair? Probably not. I will leave that for you to discover. It is worth it. The writing is masterful, the story is clearly compelling, and the ultimate impact is a rare and blackly wonderful thing. No one wants to be haunted (except YOU, freakshow, I know who you are) but it quite a thing to come across a piece of fiction that has that kind of grip. Amazing. Read it.

Pete the Horse

Indeed I did create that silly picture. As evidenced, with great shame, here.

It's sort of the wide view of the close-up. Pete was my college roommate's horse and he was very, very friendly. Yes, that is me in college. Yes, I am wearing double-denim. Yes, that is a perm. Yes, that is a cowboy hat. Yes, I am quite proud of myself, actually. Yes, I am the funniest person from Kansas. Thank you, I know I'm pretty, but really, it is all too much. You're too kind. Okay, back off now. I'm calling the cops. See if I don't. What? What? Lookit that chin. Really. Look at it. It's like a natural wonder.