Where The Wild Things Are: This movie is awful. It’s just so god-awful. I’m not even sure what it was about– probably because it wasn’t about anything. It was just some kid screaming for an hour and a half. And everything in the movie was brown. Don’t watch it. Read the book. The book is actually [...]
I’m sure we all know people who don’t do things on Sunday. I don’t watch television on Sunday. I don’t go to parties on Sunday. I don’t listen to secular music on Sunday. I’m not any fun to be around on Sunday. You know what I don’t do on Sunday? Shower.
I found this picture today. The beauty on the left is my great-great-great grandmother Elizabeth Ann. She wears the same charming expression in every picture of her ever taken. Ever. But more exciting to me than finding a picture of my 3rd great grandmother and her sisters was discovering that my 3rd great aunt was [...]
Yesterday afternoon, Kurt and I saw a middle-aged couple, in some egregiously ill-fitting tank tops, taking in the sunny weather in their rather large boat, enjoying a beer and a cigarette. Nothing particularly unusual about any of that except that their boat was parked in their driveway. They had to have been at least five or ten [...]
“Have you tried a neti pot?” (Awkward silence) “Um, I don’t do pot.” Good call, little sister.
Me: You need to get an Air-Soft gun so you can shoot the neighbor kids. Kurt: That would be fun… (You can be horrified if you want, but those kids are noisy.)
Sometimes, just for kicks, Kurt and I like to discuss the names of our future children. Just for kicks, ok? My eggo is not preggo, and won’t be for a long, long time, because I don’t know if you know this, but babies are really needy and scream all the time. Also, they poop themselves. [...]
I love 30 Rock and I want to be Tina Fey when I grow up. If you don’t like 30 Rock, we can’t be friends. Sorry. The season finale last Thursday was a whizbanger (Do people still say ‘whizbanger’? Let’s be honest: I’m not even sure what it really means.) and not just because Matt [...]
I know that everybody and their dog has already written exhaustively about Coco Before Chanel, but I just saw it last week, ok? It was good. It definitely shattered some of my notions about Coco Chanel as an independent, self-made woman– which she was, but… anyway, she had some help. Which is fine. I guess. [...]
In second grade, a boy in my class named Colin told me that BP stood for “Big Penis”. I had a feeling that was incorrect, and I was right– it stands for British Petroleum. And yet, lo these many years later, I hear “BP” and think “Big Penis”, and in light of recent events, that [...]