October 2011
3 posts
September 2010
3 posts
May 2010
2 posts
March 2010
1 post
WatchMarion Cotillard as Lady Rouge for Dior belting out Franz Ferdinand. Dee-lightful.
February 2010
1 post
January 2010
1 post
September 2009
2 posts
August 2009
3 posts
July 2009
1 post
June 2009
12 posts
Just freaked out because car key wasn’t in my bag. I’m sitting at a red light.
I’m hungry for the spiderwebbian delicacy of Modernist details. And a cheeseburger.
I can't …
I can’t:
* open a newspaper machine (do they still exist?)
* walk significant distances in flat shoes that aren’t flipflops (damn tendons)
* sing (utterly, hopelessly tone deaf)
* sleep in any position but face down
* be patient when someone, somewhere is popping gum
monkeyfrog:
funsizebytes:
Blow up balloons.
Or blow a bubble with gum.
I’ve tried. My ears feel like they’ll...
Nervous.
Wow—was just having the same conversation with myself. Trying to be better about it, rather than just pretending to be Grace Kelly with binoculars. (Though oogling Jimmy Stewart wouldn’t be half bad, and I do love me some Grace … .)
You guys are like characters in my fave books—who talk to each other! It’s like Darcy is talking about his day to Ignatius, who is...
May 2009
5 posts
Not enough.
And sometimes, at certain moments on sunny Sunday mornings, when the golden light is just so—you can see in it the refracted beauty of a million yellow suitcases.
Smudge on the Wall: A One Act
Scene 1: Our shittee downstairs deli, generally only frequented on rainy days when no one wants to leave the building to get anything better. Lunchtime.
Cook: What would you like? Me: Chicken salad on toasted wheat. **3 minutes pass** Cook: What would you like? Me: Chicken salad on toasted wheat. Cook: Chicken salad on toasted wheat? Me: Yes, please. **another 3...
When raindrops hop a ride on your umbrella + dry car from Point A to Point B, do they ever make it back to their home family puddles?
I FREAKIN’ LOVE SATURDAY MORNINGS. Hello, all. Wishing you boucoudles of smirks & lattes. xoxo
I want a magic gun that bung blasts rude people & sends them to a planet inhabited by mold & talking pigs who misuse the word “literally.”
April 2009
46 posts
Wearing rose-colored glasses + even rosier pjs, crying over the Gilmore Girls. (Er, I mean CUSS CUSS BEER.)
Madame, my inner karma chameleon hearts your splatterpaint pants.
Spilled assorted kitty food nuggets all over the floor b/c I was staring out the window at falling cherry blossom petals. Aesthetic cuss.
Today smells like elevator music & thyme.
O, Ear Infection—thou art but a poor player who struts upon my head’s stage w/much sound & fury, signifying misery. Be gone, evil strumpet.
Gramma got into fisticuffs w/another lil’ old lady at the bank yesterday. Her explanation: “I had just had a permanent & was feelin’ sassy.”
Today I bought another copy of a book I already own ‘cause it had a cooler, beautiful-lr cover. Sick? Perhaps. Don’t think Kindle is for me.
Receptionist at my hair salon could be a tad more humble. And wear pants that show us slightly less of her hooha.
Calling all connoisseurs of sweetness . . . .
I’m an observer. I think most of y’all have figured that out. I’m constantly responding to you in my head as I observe your posts & follow your threads both here & via Twitter. (Really, I am!) If you’re tuned in to my frequency, Kenneths, you may have heard me. I hope I sound like Neko Case through fog.
I’m just as fascinated by the way your mind works...