Monday, July 30, 2007
The Perfect Storm
In terms of high-stress events, moving and having one's parents visit are probably both towards the top of the list. So I knew that having the two combined into a weekend-long orgy of trying to prevent my mother from lifting ninety-pound boxes of my sister's educational research books and thereby breaking a hip was not going to be a vacation. I figured that my sister would randomly challenge my every decorating choice, my father would endlessly search for the perfect parking spot, and my mother would seize the opportunity to cry about how her children, now both in their late twenties, are "growing up." I did not expect, however, that my mother would indulge her packrat instincts to the point of packing both a six-month-old copy of People magazine and a disposable McDonald's cup featuring images from the 2002 Olympics for the big move. Nor could I anticipate that my father would turn the actual moving of stuff into a series of physical challenges like stationary bike tossing and lamp rolling. There truly were some sights to behold.
Also, I learned that I can become incredibly testy when expected to entertain for an entire weekend, as evidenced by my uttering of the following phrases:
"What do you mean, 'a simple question?' There's no such thing as a simple question in this family. We have leading questions, questions freighted with guilt, and questions that are actually accusations, but no 'simple' questions."
"Move the lamp over there? Sure, we could. Or maybe we could not change every single thing about the way I live my life right now."
"Of course you can stay until dinner. I can't imagine how we'll possibly fill the time until then, but I'd love to have you."
I firmly believe that the family that inflicts deep emotional wounds together stays together.
In terms of high-stress events, moving and having one's parents visit are probably both towards the top of the list. So I knew that having the two combined into a weekend-long orgy of trying to prevent my mother from lifting ninety-pound boxes of my sister's educational research books and thereby breaking a hip was not going to be a vacation. I figured that my sister would randomly challenge my every decorating choice, my father would endlessly search for the perfect parking spot, and my mother would seize the opportunity to cry about how her children, now both in their late twenties, are "growing up." I did not expect, however, that my mother would indulge her packrat instincts to the point of packing both a six-month-old copy of People magazine and a disposable McDonald's cup featuring images from the 2002 Olympics for the big move. Nor could I anticipate that my father would turn the actual moving of stuff into a series of physical challenges like stationary bike tossing and lamp rolling. There truly were some sights to behold.
Also, I learned that I can become incredibly testy when expected to entertain for an entire weekend, as evidenced by my uttering of the following phrases:
"What do you mean, 'a simple question?' There's no such thing as a simple question in this family. We have leading questions, questions freighted with guilt, and questions that are actually accusations, but no 'simple' questions."
"Move the lamp over there? Sure, we could. Or maybe we could not change every single thing about the way I live my life right now."
"Of course you can stay until dinner. I can't imagine how we'll possibly fill the time until then, but I'd love to have you."
I firmly believe that the family that inflicts deep emotional wounds together stays together.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Reading is Magic
So I'm about 200 pages into the latest Harry Potter book. Before you go thinking my lips move when I read or something, I should clarify that I didn't get the book until Monday, since I'm borrowing it from Guest Blogger Kathy. Plus I work, and it turns out they don't like it if you read under the desk while you're meeting with clients. And I'm still putting aside a certain amount of time to bathe, eat, and sleep, so my progress is somewhat hindered. But so far it's pretty good with (SPOILER ALERT!) lots of magical stuff happening to whimsical British people. I hear the surprise ending is J.K. Rowling sitting on a huge pile of money.
I have never really felt so much pressure to read a book quickly, I have to say. Everywhere I go, it seems like people are talking about it, loudly, with no sense of the potential ruination they may cause for others. I have had three separate people tell me that they don't read the books but read only the ending so they could lord it over other, more interested parties. Even my own family members have been racing to the finish. This is not a pressure one gets with say, the latest from John Updike. A sense of contemporary urban isolation is hardly a twist ending.
So I'm about 200 pages into the latest Harry Potter book. Before you go thinking my lips move when I read or something, I should clarify that I didn't get the book until Monday, since I'm borrowing it from Guest Blogger Kathy. Plus I work, and it turns out they don't like it if you read under the desk while you're meeting with clients. And I'm still putting aside a certain amount of time to bathe, eat, and sleep, so my progress is somewhat hindered. But so far it's pretty good with (SPOILER ALERT!) lots of magical stuff happening to whimsical British people. I hear the surprise ending is J.K. Rowling sitting on a huge pile of money.
I have never really felt so much pressure to read a book quickly, I have to say. Everywhere I go, it seems like people are talking about it, loudly, with no sense of the potential ruination they may cause for others. I have had three separate people tell me that they don't read the books but read only the ending so they could lord it over other, more interested parties. Even my own family members have been racing to the finish. This is not a pressure one gets with say, the latest from John Updike. A sense of contemporary urban isolation is hardly a twist ending.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
The Pleasures of Solitude
It turns out there are a lot of things I like about living alone, even if it's only for a week. I can walk out to the kitchen in the morning and get my Fruity Pebbles without having to worry about my state of undress, and there's no one around to give me crap about watching The Hills. I can use the washing machine whenever I feel like it, even if I just decide to wash, like, a single pair of socks or something. Oh, and I can play my music loud without the slightest sense of guilt. Chet Baker is really meant to be blasted, let me tell you.
The best thing, though, is that I can indulge myself in not being a morning person. Generally I spend the first half hour or so of the day hating the world for forcing me to be awake and wanting to gnaw the fingers off of anyone who so much as says hello to me. Once in grade school I threw a Pop Tart at my mother for attempting early morning small talk. But without a roommate, I can allow my sociopathic impulses to go unchecked, at least until I reach the train station. (And even then, I sometimes find myself harboring perhaps just a bit too much resentment against the Red Eye distributor.) Sometimes it's fun to be cranky.
At this rate, I'll be boiling squirrel skulls and firing a bb gun off the front porch by the time my sister moves in.
It turns out there are a lot of things I like about living alone, even if it's only for a week. I can walk out to the kitchen in the morning and get my Fruity Pebbles without having to worry about my state of undress, and there's no one around to give me crap about watching The Hills. I can use the washing machine whenever I feel like it, even if I just decide to wash, like, a single pair of socks or something. Oh, and I can play my music loud without the slightest sense of guilt. Chet Baker is really meant to be blasted, let me tell you.
The best thing, though, is that I can indulge myself in not being a morning person. Generally I spend the first half hour or so of the day hating the world for forcing me to be awake and wanting to gnaw the fingers off of anyone who so much as says hello to me. Once in grade school I threw a Pop Tart at my mother for attempting early morning small talk. But without a roommate, I can allow my sociopathic impulses to go unchecked, at least until I reach the train station. (And even then, I sometimes find myself harboring perhaps just a bit too much resentment against the Red Eye distributor.) Sometimes it's fun to be cranky.
At this rate, I'll be boiling squirrel skulls and firing a bb gun off the front porch by the time my sister moves in.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Now Ex-Roommate Liz: A Tribute in Photos
She may have packed up her two copies of Jagged Little Pill and amazing collection of spices and moved west of Ashland, but Roommate Liz will forever be in our hearts.
We would frequently dress up like this just for a quiet evening at home. I believe an According to Jim marathon closely followed this photo.
She may have packed up her two copies of Jagged Little Pill and amazing collection of spices and moved west of Ashland, but Roommate Liz will forever be in our hearts.
We would frequently dress up like this just for a quiet evening at home. I believe an According to Jim marathon closely followed this photo.
She certainly knew her way around a turkey baster.
Why do so many of my photos of us involve costumes? The purple housedress is very Mama's Family, don't you think?
Ah, the First Slutty Thanksgiving. We were all so young and innocent then.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
The End of an Era
Roommate Liz is moving out tomorrow. My sister's moving up here at the beginning of August and she's going to live with me, so Roommate Liz got her own place in Roscoe Village. I'm excited that my sister's moving in (we can finally settle our Dr. Mario grudge match), but it will be weird to not have Roommate Liz around to make fun of Fantasia videos or make delightful crafts with me any more. I mean, who's going to laugh at my various witty remarks? My sister's a much tougher audience.
In honor of Roommate Liz's departure, I'd like to recall some of her all-time best moments:
-- Getting fleas.
-- Thinking that Melanie Griffith was on Melrose Place.
-- Being mistaken for a homeless person after a Cubs game.
-- Distracting me by pointing out that Backstreet Boys' "I Want It That Way" is on before making out with some random in a bar.
-- Getting drunk and changing into a skirt and a tube top before going to bed.
-- Playing Martha Stewart in the law school talent show.
-- Giving life to that classic Christmas character, The Slutty Reindeer.
-- Creating a collage in honor of Michelle Kwan for the 2006 Winter Olympics.
-- Pretending to get engaged to me in the middle of a lesbian bar.
-- Locking herself out at four in the morning.
-- Taking off her pants with our cleaning lady.
Don't be a stranger, Roommate Liz!
Roommate Liz is moving out tomorrow. My sister's moving up here at the beginning of August and she's going to live with me, so Roommate Liz got her own place in Roscoe Village. I'm excited that my sister's moving in (we can finally settle our Dr. Mario grudge match), but it will be weird to not have Roommate Liz around to make fun of Fantasia videos or make delightful crafts with me any more. I mean, who's going to laugh at my various witty remarks? My sister's a much tougher audience.
In honor of Roommate Liz's departure, I'd like to recall some of her all-time best moments:
-- Getting fleas.
-- Thinking that Melanie Griffith was on Melrose Place.
-- Being mistaken for a homeless person after a Cubs game.
-- Distracting me by pointing out that Backstreet Boys' "I Want It That Way" is on before making out with some random in a bar.
-- Getting drunk and changing into a skirt and a tube top before going to bed.
-- Playing Martha Stewart in the law school talent show.
-- Giving life to that classic Christmas character, The Slutty Reindeer.
-- Creating a collage in honor of Michelle Kwan for the 2006 Winter Olympics.
-- Pretending to get engaged to me in the middle of a lesbian bar.
-- Locking herself out at four in the morning.
-- Taking off her pants with our cleaning lady.
Don't be a stranger, Roommate Liz!
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Shades of Goldilocks
I am buying a new bed. It's kind of a daunting process because I can't help but feel that, if I get it wrong, my new bed might smother me in my sleep or something. Reading Consumer Reports hasn't helped. It turns out things fall apart or randomly catch on fire or transmit tuberculosis all the time. And it seems that everyone I know has some kind of advice about this transaction, from "don't let them fold the mattress" to "have you ever had sex on a waterbed?" All very helpful, I am sure.
The good news is that I am finally graduating to a Big Boy Bed this time around. That's right, I'm giving up the racecar bed for a queen sized. I plan on rolling all over the place just because I can. I may even invite a family of gypsies to camp with me. The possibilities are endless.
I am buying a new bed. It's kind of a daunting process because I can't help but feel that, if I get it wrong, my new bed might smother me in my sleep or something. Reading Consumer Reports hasn't helped. It turns out things fall apart or randomly catch on fire or transmit tuberculosis all the time. And it seems that everyone I know has some kind of advice about this transaction, from "don't let them fold the mattress" to "have you ever had sex on a waterbed?" All very helpful, I am sure.
The good news is that I am finally graduating to a Big Boy Bed this time around. That's right, I'm giving up the racecar bed for a queen sized. I plan on rolling all over the place just because I can. I may even invite a family of gypsies to camp with me. The possibilities are endless.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Michigander
I spent much of this weekend at a beach house in Michigan, and I'm afraid I've developed a taste for it. It turns out there are places where Lake Michigan isn't so filled with the fecal matter of people from Milwaukee that you can't swim in it, and that beaches don't necessarily have to be packed with troglodytic former ATOs hepped up on Natty Light. On the other side of that great lake, as a matter of fact, houses are only five million dollars as opposed to ten, and people demonstrate a Canadian-like enthusiasm for not locking their doors. I thought about popping into a few and setting myself up with a new stereo, but ultimately I deemed that to be unsporting.
But anyway, I had a delightful weekend. The weather was beautiful, but no one seemed to feel the need to comment on it incessantly. We went for a long walk down the beach and frolicked in the surf like people from a fragrance ad. I tried without success to build a sand castle in the style of Frank Gehry. We played beach volleyball, which looked a lot more like people having spasms in the sand. I even had a guest house all to myself, which made me feel like I was on The OC back when Marissa was still alive and The OC was still cool. Michigan (at least the beachfront, non auto- and crime-producing part) gets a huge thumbs up from me.
I spent much of this weekend at a beach house in Michigan, and I'm afraid I've developed a taste for it. It turns out there are places where Lake Michigan isn't so filled with the fecal matter of people from Milwaukee that you can't swim in it, and that beaches don't necessarily have to be packed with troglodytic former ATOs hepped up on Natty Light. On the other side of that great lake, as a matter of fact, houses are only five million dollars as opposed to ten, and people demonstrate a Canadian-like enthusiasm for not locking their doors. I thought about popping into a few and setting myself up with a new stereo, but ultimately I deemed that to be unsporting.
But anyway, I had a delightful weekend. The weather was beautiful, but no one seemed to feel the need to comment on it incessantly. We went for a long walk down the beach and frolicked in the surf like people from a fragrance ad. I tried without success to build a sand castle in the style of Frank Gehry. We played beach volleyball, which looked a lot more like people having spasms in the sand. I even had a guest house all to myself, which made me feel like I was on The OC back when Marissa was still alive and The OC was still cool. Michigan (at least the beachfront, non auto- and crime-producing part) gets a huge thumbs up from me.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Tidbits
-- Etiquette. What's the appropriate response when one's superior follows one into the bathroom to discuss business? I'm guessing from the reaction that screaming and administering a swift kick to the groin aren't it.
-- On Demand Television. Last night I watched the eight minutes of Cheaters where the host gets stabbed on a boat. It reminded me of my high school production of Anything Goes.
-- Amazingness. The finale of Flavor of Love: Charm School was without a doubt the finest hour in the history of television. A woman collapsed to her knees sobbing over receiving $50,000 and a pair of used Ugg boots. And there were makeovers!
-- Fine Art. A few weeks ago my mother almost accidentally shoplifted a bookmark from the Art Institute gift shop. You can do hard time for that kind of thing, folks.
-- Urgency. When I get six emails a day with the "urgent" flag on them, I can't help but feel they aren't all matters of life or death. Save it until you've actually been shot, people.
-- Etiquette. What's the appropriate response when one's superior follows one into the bathroom to discuss business? I'm guessing from the reaction that screaming and administering a swift kick to the groin aren't it.
-- On Demand Television. Last night I watched the eight minutes of Cheaters where the host gets stabbed on a boat. It reminded me of my high school production of Anything Goes.
-- Amazingness. The finale of Flavor of Love: Charm School was without a doubt the finest hour in the history of television. A woman collapsed to her knees sobbing over receiving $50,000 and a pair of used Ugg boots. And there were makeovers!
-- Fine Art. A few weeks ago my mother almost accidentally shoplifted a bookmark from the Art Institute gift shop. You can do hard time for that kind of thing, folks.
-- Urgency. When I get six emails a day with the "urgent" flag on them, I can't help but feel they aren't all matters of life or death. Save it until you've actually been shot, people.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Web MD
This morning while I was enjoying some Fruity Pebbles in my kitchen I stepped on something small and sharp, and it somehow became embedded in my foot. Having been raised by a crazy woman, I immediately remembered what my mother told me about the person who stepped on a stick pin and had it sucked up into his bloodstream where it fatally punctured his heart. Since I am neither a dressmaker nor a sadist, I was pretty sure I didn't have any stick pins around to step on, but I still thought I should do some research on my condition. This is where the fun began. Apparently, Yahoo! has a function where people can ask questions about their medical maladies and get advice from utterly unqualified morons on the Internet. For my situation, the top advice included "put bacon on the wound," "hang upside down with an extra pair of socks on," and "give yourself a tetanus objection [sic]." Needless to say, I was hooked.
Given my innate and unnatural desire to help people, I've decided to compile some of my own homespun wisdom for dealing with medical conditions:
Blood Blister -- Anoint yourself with oil and pray to the Lord for forgiveness.
Cancer -- Some fresh air should do the trick!
Acne -- Move to a fundamentalist Muslim state where seven veils can hide your shame.
Rabies -- Apply ice to your testicles. It can't hurt, and it might help.
Elephantitis -- Stop being so god damned big!
AIDS -- Switch to an all bran diet. Then rub kerosene on your elbows.
Tuberculosis -- Try drinking upside down from a glass of water.
Pleurisy -- Find the witch who put the hex on you and have her burned at the stake.
Rickets -- Move out of Alabama.
Scurvy -- Masturbate to images of the Pillsbury Dough Boy.
Corns -- Saw off your feet with a table knife.
I think it's safe to say we've changed a lot of lives today.
This morning while I was enjoying some Fruity Pebbles in my kitchen I stepped on something small and sharp, and it somehow became embedded in my foot. Having been raised by a crazy woman, I immediately remembered what my mother told me about the person who stepped on a stick pin and had it sucked up into his bloodstream where it fatally punctured his heart. Since I am neither a dressmaker nor a sadist, I was pretty sure I didn't have any stick pins around to step on, but I still thought I should do some research on my condition. This is where the fun began. Apparently, Yahoo! has a function where people can ask questions about their medical maladies and get advice from utterly unqualified morons on the Internet. For my situation, the top advice included "put bacon on the wound," "hang upside down with an extra pair of socks on," and "give yourself a tetanus objection [sic]." Needless to say, I was hooked.
Given my innate and unnatural desire to help people, I've decided to compile some of my own homespun wisdom for dealing with medical conditions:
Blood Blister -- Anoint yourself with oil and pray to the Lord for forgiveness.
Cancer -- Some fresh air should do the trick!
Acne -- Move to a fundamentalist Muslim state where seven veils can hide your shame.
Rabies -- Apply ice to your testicles. It can't hurt, and it might help.
Elephantitis -- Stop being so god damned big!
AIDS -- Switch to an all bran diet. Then rub kerosene on your elbows.
Tuberculosis -- Try drinking upside down from a glass of water.
Pleurisy -- Find the witch who put the hex on you and have her burned at the stake.
Rickets -- Move out of Alabama.
Scurvy -- Masturbate to images of the Pillsbury Dough Boy.
Corns -- Saw off your feet with a table knife.
I think it's safe to say we've changed a lot of lives today.
Monday, July 09, 2007
A Life on the Stage
It's only now occurring to me that I don't think I mentioned this, but I have been in weekly sketch comedy shows for about the past four months. I'm finally on a little sabbatical from "acting" now, but I thought I might share some images from his horrific chapter in our nation's history:
In one sketch I played a penguin. Not sure why, really, but it happened. We'd all like to deny it, but we can't.
It's only now occurring to me that I don't think I mentioned this, but I have been in weekly sketch comedy shows for about the past four months. I'm finally on a little sabbatical from "acting" now, but I thought I might share some images from his horrific chapter in our nation's history:
In one sketch I played a penguin. Not sure why, really, but it happened. We'd all like to deny it, but we can't.
Here I'm making love to a chair, Cabaret style. Actually I think this kind of looks like I'm the "cool" youth pastor from the Lutheran church trying to rap with the kids about premarital sex.
In this shot I am blurry. And wearing a bolo tie. And reading a fantasy novel about dragons. That wasn't part of the sketch; it was just such a good book I couldn't put it down!
I was supposed to be a cop, but I think I look more like an old-timey bus driver. Also like I'm doing some sort of Irish jig. See, I am multitalented.
Saturday, July 07, 2007
They're Not Actually in Law Enforcement
So The Police played at Wrigley Field the past two nights, and since I live less than a block from there, I was able to steal some free music from my rooftop. I'm not going to pretend to be their most knowledgeable fan; I probably couldn't even pick the guys who aren't Sting out of a lineup, much less actually know their names. I did think they had some pretty good jams, when Puff Daddy wasn't screaming over them, however, and I always thought they had great hair, so I decided to check them out. I even had an impromptu party for the occasion, with "impromptu" meaning A) I mainly just invited people from the cab on my way home for the party, and B) I didn't bother to get more than a case of beer. It turns out a lot of other people on my block had the same idea, though; I haven't seen so many 40-year-olds having parties since the season finale of Everybody Loves Raymond.
But anyway, it turned out to be a pretty good concert. Since they all pretty much hate each other, there wasn't any danger of them popping up with any unfortunate "new material." They basically just played the hits and got out of there. The vocals sounded pretty much the way I remembered them, although I was admittedly probably much more focused on the latest album from the Muppets at the time these songs all came out. The set was only about an hour and a half long, likely because Sting needs to devote ten hours each day to tantric orgasms, but rather enjoyable. Now if we could only get Wham to reunite.
So The Police played at Wrigley Field the past two nights, and since I live less than a block from there, I was able to steal some free music from my rooftop. I'm not going to pretend to be their most knowledgeable fan; I probably couldn't even pick the guys who aren't Sting out of a lineup, much less actually know their names. I did think they had some pretty good jams, when Puff Daddy wasn't screaming over them, however, and I always thought they had great hair, so I decided to check them out. I even had an impromptu party for the occasion, with "impromptu" meaning A) I mainly just invited people from the cab on my way home for the party, and B) I didn't bother to get more than a case of beer. It turns out a lot of other people on my block had the same idea, though; I haven't seen so many 40-year-olds having parties since the season finale of Everybody Loves Raymond.
But anyway, it turned out to be a pretty good concert. Since they all pretty much hate each other, there wasn't any danger of them popping up with any unfortunate "new material." They basically just played the hits and got out of there. The vocals sounded pretty much the way I remembered them, although I was admittedly probably much more focused on the latest album from the Muppets at the time these songs all came out. The set was only about an hour and a half long, likely because Sting needs to devote ten hours each day to tantric orgasms, but rather enjoyable. Now if we could only get Wham to reunite.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Looptrappeda
On Tuesday, I participated in one of my favorite annual traditions by getting drunk on my friend Meghan's boat and watching the fireworks. It's always a delight to enjoy the beautiful weather, spot absurd boat names like "Controlled Chaos II" and "Shenanigans," and stand in ridiculous lines for filthy portapotties. If there's a way to celebrate America's Birthday that doesn't involve Natty Lite and impressively easy Pringle's trivia questions, frankly I don't want to know about it. That's why this is the Land of the Free.
Unfortunately, though, a train lost power in the Loop immediately after the fireworks, resulting in a huge traffic mess and, for me, a several mile slog through the pouring rain in utterly unsuitable footwear. As it turns out, flip flops do not provide the greatest mobility or stability in a downpour, nor do they shield a person from the enormous hooves of passersby. We ended up taking refuge in my office, of all places, alternating between trying desperately to find some kind of news of what the hell was going in downtown and checking out the hotties on my myspace profile. Again, an excellent way to celebrate our nation's birth.
On Tuesday, I participated in one of my favorite annual traditions by getting drunk on my friend Meghan's boat and watching the fireworks. It's always a delight to enjoy the beautiful weather, spot absurd boat names like "Controlled Chaos II" and "Shenanigans," and stand in ridiculous lines for filthy portapotties. If there's a way to celebrate America's Birthday that doesn't involve Natty Lite and impressively easy Pringle's trivia questions, frankly I don't want to know about it. That's why this is the Land of the Free.
Unfortunately, though, a train lost power in the Loop immediately after the fireworks, resulting in a huge traffic mess and, for me, a several mile slog through the pouring rain in utterly unsuitable footwear. As it turns out, flip flops do not provide the greatest mobility or stability in a downpour, nor do they shield a person from the enormous hooves of passersby. We ended up taking refuge in my office, of all places, alternating between trying desperately to find some kind of news of what the hell was going in downtown and checking out the hotties on my myspace profile. Again, an excellent way to celebrate our nation's birth.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Memo Evaluation Comments I Have Thought About, But then Thought Better of, Giving
-- This memo really reminded me of the Batman movies. It was dark, a lot of stuff was going on that didn't really make sense, and some rich dude was running around in a body suit.
-- You should use more adjectives, like "fuzzy" and "scrumtrulescent."
-- I like hats.
-- You did a really nice job on this memo, but you're not very attractive, so I'm going to have to recommend that you look for work elsewhere.
-- There should be more illustrations. For instance, why not add a photograph of the doctrine of forum non conveniens?
-- Boring!
-- I would like to see you make more of a comparison between the facts of this case and your mom.
-- Take your top off!
-- But WHY shouldn't one mess with Texas? You haven't explained.
-- What are you wearing right now?
-- I wish your memo were more like The Golden Girls. As it stands, it's sorely lacking in sass.
-- Your use of language reminds me of a young T.S. Eliot, if he were retarded.
-- This memo really reminded me of the Batman movies. It was dark, a lot of stuff was going on that didn't really make sense, and some rich dude was running around in a body suit.
-- You should use more adjectives, like "fuzzy" and "scrumtrulescent."
-- I like hats.
-- You did a really nice job on this memo, but you're not very attractive, so I'm going to have to recommend that you look for work elsewhere.
-- There should be more illustrations. For instance, why not add a photograph of the doctrine of forum non conveniens?
-- Boring!
-- I would like to see you make more of a comparison between the facts of this case and your mom.
-- Take your top off!
-- But WHY shouldn't one mess with Texas? You haven't explained.
-- What are you wearing right now?
-- I wish your memo were more like The Golden Girls. As it stands, it's sorely lacking in sass.
-- Your use of language reminds me of a young T.S. Eliot, if he were retarded.
Sunday, July 01, 2007
Let's Get Visual!
A few weeks I stole a disposable camera from a charity benefit I attended (well, not really "stole," because they put them there for you to take, but I like to sound dangerous). The following are the best photos that a Walgreen's brand throwaway can provide.
Here some of my friends from my improv class and I recreate a pose from Family Feud. This is exactly the kind of hilarious thing we were doing all the time in improv class, which is why people hated us.
I included this mainly because it's the only example known to man of a picture taken by holding your arm out in front of you actually coming out okay. Historians should take note.
A few weeks I stole a disposable camera from a charity benefit I attended (well, not really "stole," because they put them there for you to take, but I like to sound dangerous). The following are the best photos that a Walgreen's brand throwaway can provide.
Here some of my friends from my improv class and I recreate a pose from Family Feud. This is exactly the kind of hilarious thing we were doing all the time in improv class, which is why people hated us.
Kelly is such a gracious hostess she even allows me to grab her boobs.
Ah, the classic bunny ears gag. How original. This picture is notable mainly for the absurd, vulgar dancing that followed it. As you can see, I've already begun to unbutton my shirt.
I included this mainly because it's the only example known to man of a picture taken by holding your arm out in front of you actually coming out okay. Historians should take note.