I’ve mentioned a few times that I have trouble sleeping, right?
It’s not that I go days without sleeping and become a shell of a human being.
I go days without sleeping well and become a shell of a human being.
There’s a difference.
Posts under ‘Snark’
Braced for the barrage of chain emails
I see this ad every time I log in to my Yahoo! email account.
I know the face that boy’s making.
These hos be all up in my Twitter
Technological innovation is led by porn. Anyone who knows anything about the Internet will tell you this.
Those barely legal schoolgirls who ride the guy who drives the short bus are early adopters.
The skanks were the first to get an iPhone back when it was really expensive, and no one could get over the touchscreen. Trust.
So of course random porn followers are on Twitter. Sometimes they have regular names and then you look at their accounts and dude, the avatar is a vulva.
Kicking the habit
With Thanksgiving a few grocery store fisticuffs away, I’ve been daydreaming of cranberry sauce. The real stuff. Not that gelatinous, cylindrical mass with the can indentations.
I try to convert the unenlightened. This year, I’ve started with my friend Nate. He likes canned fruit. Really likes it.
But hey, admitting it is the first step to recovery.
Breast friends forever with Kush Support
My friend Jeremy is obsessed with terrible As Seen on TV merchandise, like the long-handled toilet paper holder designed for big people. It’s basically one of those claw devices for grabbing things off high shelves, except for your anus.
Last night, he emailed me a new product. The subject line was “I want to meet the women that need this.” Check it out:
When you care too much to send a Hallmark card
Last year, TBID and I had birthdays (in the same week, mind you) mere months after we’d met. When his rolled around, I was in the process of moving from one side of Central Park to another. TBID had dinner with his family to celebrate the big day and then came over to my cardboard box-infested studio. There were no presents, just presence. He held me and said he had everything he needed.
Romantic, yes. But that doesn’t fly when you’ve been dating over a year and aren’t busy packing all your worldly possessions or fighting a devastating case of rickets or finishing a dissertation. This year I needed to have presents the day of.
Bank notes
I stopped by a Bank of America ATM center in Chelsea a few weeks ago and was delighted to see an inky bramble of graffiti above the little table with deposit slips, envelopes, and the obligatory crappy pen on a metal leash.
After withdrawing some money from my account, I paused to admire what a few average vandals had decided to share.
Grab the world by the tampon string
There’s this YouTube video of Britney Spears dancing during a concert with her tampon string sticking out of her skimpy lycra bottoms, waving at the audience, like, “Hey, ya’ll! It’s Britney, bitch.”
Two kids and a few bad decisions/meltdowns later, she and her menstrual cycle are making a comeback.
One more reason I’m going to hell
My sister Megan works at a nursing home. Yesterday, I noticed she has this badge with symbols on it, a key to decode the symbols residents have inside their closet doors and on their charts.
Adventures in Signage, Pt. 13
I’m trying to imagine what brick juice would taste like, and all I can think of are certain types of liquor that aren’t available in grocery stores.
