Brian Regan said it best when he said (approximately),
How would I describe my pain?
It feels like everything on my *inside* wants to be on my *outside*.
Get better at knife-throwing and cleaving things
(Whose been drinking?
Wait I mean who’s.
I mean ho’s. This ho’s been drinking.)
It takes practice to be accurate and authentic, and I’m so grateful to those who take the time to hone and and tone their blood before they pour it out. A writer might be accurate but lack authenticity, or might flamboyantly and boat-missingly neglect the delicate, spider-webbed details that earn a reader’s trust, but the right combination will bring anyone to their knees. Or tears. Or their feet. Or orgasm. Or someone’s deathbed, or the birth of the whole wide world.
Please stop believing the pain and stress that people push on you. It’s made up. Doesn’t that count for anything? It’s totally made up.
I often want to show my face and share my name and come out of the anonymity closet, but it’s not smart, so I won’t. I did, however, throw a crappy pic of me into the Radom effects machine into the fab iPhone photo editing app and emerge with a new avatar. It’s cheesy, but it shows that I have a neck, which is important, I think. Here’s hoping you can’t take the phot and undo all the effects bc I look damn shitty in it. Thank you, cheesy effects.
Trent Mays and Ma’lik Richardson are not the “stars” of the Steubenville rape trial. They aren’t the only characters in a drama playing out in eastern Ohio. And yet a CNN viewer learning about the Steubenville rape verdict is presented with dynamic, sympathetic, complicated male figures, and a nonentity of an anonymous victim, the ‘lasting effects’ of whose graphic, public sexual assault are ignored. Small wonder, then, that anyone would find themselves on the side of these men—these poor young men, who were very good at taking tests and playing sports when they were not raping their classmates.” —
Mallory Ortberg of Gawker, critiquing CNN’s disgusting response to the Stuebenville rape trial verdicts.
Her commentary is spot on.
Holy Cheeze Whiz, Batman, Hooked on Phonics let me down. Have you ever tried to spell bureaucracy unassisted? Well I did, and it weren’t pretty. Autocorrect was running around like Charlie Chaplin with a butterfly net trying to catch an elephant:
Fuck, get a dictionary, lady
Using my scarf as a tea cozy
- ice bucket
- lunch bucket
- sand bucket
- basketball bucket
- suds in the bucket
- kfc chicken bucket
- carry a tune in a bucket
- beer bucket
- bucket hat
- there’s a hole in the bucket (dear liza, dear liza)
- the chum bucket
- johnny bucket
- kick the bucket
A hickey? Really? Come on. I’m a professional!
A professional with a side pony.
My face took Mustache Monday pretty seriously this week, without authorization.