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437571

I am here for Friends

About Me

For years now, my "about me" has been a list of things I hate. I still hate all those things. However, in an attempt to show that I, in fact, am a happy person, here are some things I love, in no particular order: freshly-sharpened number 2 pencils, pistachios of any kind, clean sheets, fried egg sandwiches, reading in bed, my car, and my winter boots. I find that washing dishes is very calming. I love sushi, especially yellowtail. I make a killer buttermilk-custard apple pie, and I love to give said pies as gifts. I love my job. I love playing blackjack, even if I lose. I love playing Scrabble, and I always win. I love documentaries, horror movies, AM gold, saltine crackers, Battlestar Galactica (the new one), Jason Lee, Jackson Katz, and Margaret Atwood's book "Oryx & Crake." Hugging is fun, smooching is more fun. Orange juice makes me happy. I like road trips and sharp people. Irreverence is key.

My Interests

I'd like to meet:

Anyone who can heckle.

My Blog

No really. . . the children are our future! Seriously!

Education, indeed. My father and I agree on a handful of things: Waco was a federally funded mass murder followed by a cover-up, cats are the superior household pet, and old horror movies rule. Beyon...
Posted by on Thu, 06 Oct 2005 18:55:00 GMT

I missed my calling as a television exec

Among the other fine literary pieces that keep me brainy and current is US Weekly magazine.  I have recently learned, through said magazine, that Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie are, in fact, goin...
Posted by on Thu, 29 Sep 2005 14:15:00 GMT

Okay, technically I wrote this last summer, but it's still pertinent

There is a moment in everyones life when you look in the mirror and think, What am I doing with my existence? Where am I going? Perhaps I should stab myself in the heart? My mirror moment happened t...
Posted by on Sun, 31 Jul 2005 22:54:00 GMT

Open letter to Casey Dewey

In response to your terse summary of The Devil's Rejects ("it sucked") I offer this:  you clearly left to piss, or were distracted by the unshoed foot resting on the seat next to your head, or yo...
Posted by on Sun, 31 Jul 2005 12:47:00 GMT

As promised. A humiliating but necessary life inventory (or, How I Learned to Love Da Bomb)

While in college, I lived next door to two young white men who fancied themselves gangsters. The one with the better body slunk around shirtless a la Mark Wahlberg, his pants sagging well below his Ca...
Posted by on Fri, 29 Jul 2005 12:05:00 GMT

More television shit I MUST unload on you

Every time I visit the local feminist bookstore, I must reserve five minutes to flip through the cardboard box of full of bumper stickers. Theres BEANS, NOT BOMBS and UPPITY WOMEN UNITE! and GODDESS ...
Posted by on Thu, 28 Jul 2005 23:47:00 GMT

I prefer my reruns with a big fat ass

For those of you who have never seen Sex & the City, heres a synopsis: four New York women spend the bulk of their time eating in trendy restaurants, drinking heavily, and talking about their sex...
Posted by on Thu, 28 Jul 2005 15:32:00 GMT

Which strip bar would Jesus go to?

  When I was about 11 years of age, I wrote a melodramatic story that went something like this: A Raggedy Man (yes, I think that was his moniker, not to be confused with Raggedy Ann) arrives in...
Posted by on Tue, 26 Jul 2005 19:12:00 GMT

I like to wax philosophical about retro teevee programming

Like millions of my peers, I was formed into a functional human being by television. I spent countless hours in front of our tube -- I seem to recall it being framed in dark fake-grained particle boar...
Posted by on Sat, 23 Jul 2005 13:01:00 GMT

Maury. You have to love him.

According to ancient histories, the earliest pregnancies were a mystery. Men could not figure out why women occasionally swelled up and then pushed out another little person. These communities worship...
Posted by on Fri, 22 Jul 2005 12:06:00 GMT