Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
Please order me a "Nobody cares about your blog" t-shirt, size XL (to accommodate boobage). I can be IRONIC because it's not true! EVERYONE CARES ABOUT OUR BLOG. Look at 'em all. We need a hook and I don't know what it is yet, but it could be:
GIRLS KISSING XXX! LICKY LICKY GIRLY GIRLY! YUM KISSY GIRL LICK! etc.
Seriously. I need attention.
love you and your eel roll,
Saturday, February 24, 2007
I somehow feel like we missed the boat--er-- plane. Seriously, if these could be our outfits, wouldn't you just sign up? And then.. Tahiti. And then...Bora Bora. And then...Morocco. And then...the south of France. And then...THE MOON!
Dreaming of sherbet dresses and serving little cans of coca cola,
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
No, this won't be a SEXY post, filled with NAUGHTY things. i'm simply writing to introduce you to some new friends of mine.
First, meet Magnum, Steve's new best friend:
Magnum is a Weimeraner. He is head of the class at housebreaking. He likes to snuggle.
Next, meet Calypso! He/she belongs to a friend from work, and he and his partner spend hours and hours in front of the tank, waiting for Calypso to come out of hiding and say hello. HELLO CALYPSO! He/she is very shy.
Miss you, wee pea. I have news about all sorts of things, but am slightly too sleepy for full disclosure now.
Also, did you hear about Britney Spears? I guess she shaved her head or something? Dunno, I haven't really been following it.
A source said: "She thought lice were eating her hair extensions, so decided to get rid of them as soon as possible."
Seriously. I’m going to stop. Not a joke. I’m over it. SO completely over it. Also, don’t even accuse me of worrying about Britters as a way of avoiding my own issues. I’m just compassionate is all.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
I’m not going to talk about it. WILL NOT talk about it. must. not. talk. about. it. I’ve put myself on a news blackout. Except for just a second—I can’t stop relating to her craziness. I don’t need an explanation for this behavior: I TOTALLY GET IT. Which is why I can’t talk about it. I just can’t go around being all, “Dude, she’s a sister. Brits and I? We get the cruelty of the world. And also? We know just how to face it head on: have a completely ridiculous breakdown, involve as many people as possible, and wait to be saved. Preferably by a man”. So tell me, dear P, which celebrity has caught your attention these days?
Snuggling with US magazine,
p.s. soon to come: Oscar chit chat. Don’t pretend like you don’t like this game. Okay, pretend—humor me.
Monday, February 19, 2007
I am having trouble with my computer—there’s a bug in blogger that won’t let me type. Grrrrrrr… I will try to cut and paste for now. In the meantime, here is some hope that the crappity crap snow will, indeed, go away. These little fellows are showing off outside my front door.
love you and miss posting,
Friday, February 16, 2007
For everyone who harbors romantic notions about winter and its transcendent charms, for those who sip cocoa and gaze out the window as the flakes fall, for all who pull on their Uggs (don't even freaking get me started) and traipse gleefully into the storm, I'd love to share some special images of winter in my city...
Yummy! Oh wait, here's more...
Hold on, I had a thought...what could make the dirty gray snow even more lovely and appealing?
I'm crawling under my blanket and not coming out until April.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
I just wrote a beautifully heartwarming Valentine post that I've been saving for days. Ohhhhh, it was thoughtful, poignant, and maybe the most life-changing piece of writing that's been written in the last decade.
I FUCKING ERASED IT.
Bye bye! I'll never be so brilliant again.
Happy Valentine's Day! I'm going to go kick something.
love you, delicious cream-filled chocolate,
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
First of all, punk ass bitch stole my idea!
But really, this month's issue of Harpers has a lot to say about plagiarism and artistic appropriation. Medievalist pea thinks the idea of original literature is BS; however, pea with friends who are working poets and artists feels protective of their marketable property. Harpers has much to say from both sides of the fence. In the spirit of honoring yet not really saying anything interesting about the debate, here is my own tribute, based on a poetic model that fans of pea will no doubt recognize.
I rarely notice...
I am not...
S o m e t h i n g
I think I am...
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Saturday, February 10, 2007
I've been thinking a lot about bars. As you know, darling pea, I'm going to get married in a bar, in a raucous, crazy party, the highlights of which will include M.C. Pea giving us her blessing and T.D. breaking up brawling groomsmen without breaking a sweat. I visit this bar periodically (there's a popcorn machine!!!), scoping out the prime location for a towering, gooey cake, wondering where my mormon grandmother will faint with dismay at the gin-soaked spectacle. This has, to my amusement, become a bar-hopping paradigm for me. Each new space I enter to have a drink becomes a place where I imagine myself getting married, sometimes with hilarious results. Play along, if you will, next time you go to the Twilight Lounge. It occurs to me that this is a fun game for any public space. Which leads to the obvious question...
Where would Pea + Pea wedding take place?
- Hires Big H. (Onion ring bearers and fry sauce toasts)
- Magnolia Bakery (We dress up like cupcakes and paint rings on with frosting)
- LNCO (This one's all about the photocopies of our butts)
- PF Chang's (Soothing BEAVER Wrap)
- Natural History Museum (in front of the wall of Turtles! Duh!!!!)
- Anywhere in Baltimore (our very own John Waters film)
The possibilities are endless. As we both already have wedding plans, we should perhaps instead start a company based on organizing hopelessly obscure and obnoxious theme weddings. I'll start work on the design for our business cards...
Your enterprising pea
P.S. apropos of nothing....check THIS out!
Friday, February 9, 2007
You and I were the ones who started the "free-floating anxiety" phraseology, right? You know, as a way to differentiate between anxiety over writing a paper or angst about a boy or whatever thing should provoke anxiety and the kind that wraps itself around you for fun. Since I fancy myself to be so complicated and fascinating re. my neuroses, I am not sure what to do with the empirical data that I am not the only one who's a bag of crazy crackers. (see any google search about generalized anxiety disorder)
When I went to work yesterday, I was mid-anxiety attack and here's how it works. I feel almost paralyzed. If need be, I can move around, but when I do, my arms feel really long and cold. So I can't move properly, as you can imagine. When I got to work (don't ask how it is to drive with arms down to your knees), my heart was still racing and I tried to walk off the weird arm problem. Of course, I sedated myself AS PER DOCTOR'S ORDERS but was waiting for the stuff to kick in. In the meantime, I started singing. Like work is an opera. Like this: Do you want some ibuprofen? When did you have your last dose? Oh what a funny little baby with a pointy hat! A pointy Hat! A pointy Hat! Here's the ibuprofen! Is anybody using this computer? Who's on this computer? Why is there so much shit all over the table? Can I throw these Doritos away? Dooooooooritos! All of the heavy in my arms surged into my throat and came out as an opera.
The trouble is that the opera remedy requires an audience and is really a last resort, I think. Right now my whole chest is filled with cold and everything, really EVERY THING is confusing/impossible/painted in strange colors. There are too many things to do and I can't seem to see them clearly. What I mean is that doing the laundry=studying=sending overdue e-mails=eating=showering=fixing my mangled itunes=returning library books=planning a curriculum for work=painting my nails=getting a new s.s. card=brushing the dog=picking up meds... I guess that's plenty of examples. So, it just sounds like a list-- hey, a list! But when everything's the same color, what goes first? Is buying ant traps more or less important than working on a new piece of writing?
Well, I guess this has been the all-about-me show yet again. I'm lonely and scared. In front of me are a thousand ways I could try to handle myself, but they, too, are all the same color. How the hell do you do it?
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
(I'm in a grateful pondering mood this morning)
When I stop thinking, for just one second, that I know everything about everything, I realize that I am surrounded by people who know a lot of shit that I don't. I know this is something I should have learned when I was 5, along with how to share, but I'm a late bloomer-- on both accounts. Most recent revelations:
- Amanda knows how I can add volume to my roots.
- Andrea knows some really cool stuff about babies learning sign language.
- Mindy knows all about haunted places in the city.
- Lindsay knows what working in a state psychiatric hospital was like in the 70's.
- Lindsay also knows how to inspect patients' genitals for crabs (with a flashlight and a magnifying glass)
- Sarah knows everything I've ever needed/wanted to know about reproductive health, especially about std's, pregnancy, and the variations in appearance of women's beavers.
- Oh, and Mindy knows how I can wear a button-down shirt without my boobs popping out.
- My dad knows how to explain NASDAQ to me. Except I never remember, so every few years, I ask him to refresh me.
- Pat knows how to do a thousand things a day and look like she just woke up, ready for a new day. It's seriously weird. Cyborg?
- Ingrid knows about timeless, comfortable, lovely shoes. It's completely mysterious how she knows this.
- My mom knows how to throw a great dinner party.
- Rob knows how to gut just about any animal. That always comes in handy for me.
- Darren knows firsthand about the child sex industry in Thailand. He also knows how to do something significant about it.
- How to get to the front of the line legitimately.
- How academia can fuck a person up and how to soothe me/herself through it.
- How to be super-cute like a fuzzy bunny.
- How to knit and sew things.
- How to tell people off if they need it.
- How to get good service in a restaurant.
- and one million other things that have been invaluable to me...
Now it's time for lunch and though I could meditate for hours, I really need to nourish myself. I know a lot of things about eating. And mysterious diseases with vague symptoms.
Monday, February 5, 2007
P: I apologize. This one's for Leo.
I never could stand your weird sort of munched-up face or your vaguely disfigured pretty head. Um. I have changed my mind. You are sex on a platter in The Departed. You are so. So tough and smart and, yes, you are sensitive and vulnerable and when I leap into your beefy arms, I can only hope that you will feel what I feel. I can't fight this feeling anymore, I've forgotten what I started fighting for... (oh yes, it was for hot hot love with my undercover cop boyfriend) Can I just touch your pecs-- just for a second? Leo, MAKE ME A WOMAN!
Love and licks,
p.s. for Pea: See The Departed for hot hot man love: Matt Damon, Leo, Mark Wahlberg, Jack Nicholson, Martin Sheen... It's hot cop action with lots of blood and tough muscle-flexing.
Saturday, February 3, 2007
Our mutual friend is so young that I can't even remember how young she is. She's like 19 or something like that. Barely legal. You know, maybe she is the better woman for your boy. I'm just saying. They get along well in their mutual hipness and desire to make out and crap. Well anyway, provided she doesn't make some kind of creepy-ass grab for your man, I'd like to plan our ideal day together were we all in your city...
- Cupcakes or maybe, since it's a very fancy day, a WHOLE cake. Which I will eat right before yoga class (at the fancy yoga place) so I can watch it come back up during downward dog.
- manicures and pedicures, because the last time we did that we totally tore up the salon.
- I think Mindissippi might like some keds with whales on them. It's just a (completely misguided) hunch.
- Since she's not legal, we'd have to buy bottles and paper bag it all day.
- Also, since she's probably not even 18, we could take a bunch of XXX nudie shots, sell them, and go to jail.
- Sushi. I know she likes sushi. That's cause she likes raw fish, if you know what I mean. HAR HAR HAR.
- Wait, don't you guys have a guy you want to hook her up with? Seriously, Mindylvania, they do.
- Tattoos. We rotate. Mindectomy gets a big tat of your face on her left breast, You get a big tat of me on your left breast, and I get both of you on my left breast.
- Then we have hermit crab races.
- Then there's the sack races, the three-legged race, pin-the-tail on the donkey, and spin the bottle.
Happy birthday, friend! Pea and I are planning your escape from Utah. Worry not, you'll be outtie in no time.
And pea, I miss you. If you were here, I might be able to pull together some wacky-ass b-day celebrations. As it stands, I can take pictures of hair products (which will be debuting soon) and that's about as energetic as it gets.
love you much and more,
p.s. can't wait to hear about the apartment. YIPPEE!