What Are You Looking For?

Google Search History for the Week of February 6, 2012

- Hickey Spoon Trick

- Cilantro Lemon Hummus

- Washington DC Animal Shelter

- Does anyone else eat half an apple at a time, or does everyone eat the whole damn apple at once? (Sometimes when I'm feeling too crazy to ask another human being a question, I ask Google)

- Beyonce Discography

- I have a ton of cilatro recipes

- Can you buy just a handful of Xanax at a time anywhere?

- Tribe documentary Michael Rappaport

- 30 Rock Writers

- Do individual slices of cake need to be refrigerated?

- Pretty Woman Flossing Bathroom Scene (These search results were way less weird than they could have been)

- Eat Your Vegetables Saturday Morning Cartoon (Does anyone remember this? The veggies, and maybe some cheese and a glass of milk like, march along the table? It was the shit. I can't find it anywhere)

- Can you make Hummus in a Blender? (You can.)

- Children's Book Awards 2011

- What time does SuperBowl 2012 start

- Where My Killa Tape

It was a weird week.

Share Your SpinBrush, Whore.

(I always mean 'whore' in the good way)

Wait, so it's weird that I keep a toothbrush in my purse at all times? Everyone doesn't equip themselves with a full-time Travel Toothbrush? Other people are that certain about when they'll see their at-home toothbrush 100% of the time?

Maybe this speaks to my somewhat unstable lifestyle, but I find it's excellent social planning. No one bats a lash when you're like "Yo, can I borrow your toothpaste?", but most people are hard core weirded out when you're like 'Hey, so I'm just going to polish mes dents with your Spin Brush real quick?' (Bless the friends who are totally cool with that*.) I mean, humans do all manner of weird shit to each other with their mouths - the toothbrush seems like such an arbitrary line. A toothbrush is probably one of the cleaner things of someone else's that you can stick in your mouth.

Anyway, yeah, I do find myself wanting to brush my teeth in other people's bathrooms on the fairly regular, and no, it's not because I'm some kind of escort (I wish! If we learned anything from the 90's, it's that if you're a hooker with good oral hygenie, Richard Gere will save you in the end**) but because I have emotional problems and abhor regularity and routine and frequently find myself not-at-home when it's time to brush my teeth***.

I don't think it's that weird, or necessarily indicative of sluttiness (although I am both kind of weird and kind of slutty, I don't think there's any correlation.). But today, when my Travel Toothbrush fell out of my bag, my boss had a lot of questions about it, and it got me thinking.

Also, it had gotten separated from it's container (by which I mean 'the off-brand Ziploc bag I store it in had busted') so it was just floating around in there all raw, which is gross, but it's a pretty new purse so there's not a lot of tobacco flakes and Kashi dust littering the bottom yet. Still gross, okay. Sorry.

Anyway, Travel Toothbrushes are cool. Brush your teeth, yo! And eat your vegetables! I know I seem like a shitty person to take lifestyle advice from, but that shit is probably why I'm still alive. Also, drink water. SEE? I'm a genius.

* Like following the debased summer of 2006 when - in September - four of us realized we all thought the purple toothbrush was ours. And then were like 'We should probably just toss the purple one? Since we have worked it out.' (Word up, Spot kids!)

** And that George Costanza is mad rapey! Seriously, I'm not letting my hypothetical daughter watch Pretty Woman until she's like, twenty-eight. That movie does not prepare young girls for life. Don't trip, though, we are going to watch the shit out of Dirty Dancing. No fast forwarding through the botched abortion scene, either. That's a useful message. Wrap it up, yo!

***Which is actually like, all the time. I have the worst teeth. I look at sugar and I pop a tiny cavity.

See what I did there? Richard Gere saved you in the end!

For My Ladies, Single and Otherwise

I don't think I've made a habit of endorsing products here (though I have made some specific warnings about certain gross foods. Frozen pudding, gags and gags, ugh.) because I feel like: if you care about my opinion on something like face cream or conditioner, you'd just ask me. And since no one's like, banging down my door, I'm assuming no one cares. But today, I have to say something. I can't keep this to myself.

Holy shit, Garnier's BB Cream. Holy Shit. This stuff - it's like making the switch from pads to tampons. Your life will improve that much. Honestly, there is no reason I shouldn't look like absolute shit this week. I went out too much last weekend, and I smoked too many cigarettes, and because I'm old now I just can't stop being exhausted, and I'm probably PMSing and a whole host of other shit that should make my face look like, haggard. I keep waking up and expecting to see Heidi Fleiss in the mirror. But I don't. I look kind of fly. Because of this stuff.

I am a maddeningly inconsistent human being, but when it came to foundation, I kept things pretty regular for the last fifteen years or so*. Until last year when I was like 'I am tired of putting all this shit on my face every morning' so I went to just concealer, but then sometimes you're like 'my face looks like a pile of garbage this morning' and foundation's really good for that.

Then the other day I was reading XOJane.com (Cat Marnell is totally what I would have become had I grown up with money, so, naturally, I love her and read everything she writes. Also, she's a fabulous writer) and she was raving about this BB Cream, and her opinion's been gold in my book since I first saw her rocking these tights (look at these tights! They are the most fabulous things ever. I'm wearing them right now.) So I was like 'I'll try it'.

Holy shit. Holy shit! First of all, it smells better than foundation (it's more like a tinted moisturizer) and you can just smear it on your face and it blends in easy, and then - it actually makes your skin look better. For reals. Measurably better. After like, three days I noticed a difference, and then I was like 'maybe I'm just drunk' - and I was - but, here it is Wednesday and my skin looks fucking awesome. That's it. If you want your face to look fucking awesome when it has no earthly right to, then use this shit.

If you're a guy and you made it this far, I have a prize for you. And by prize I mean advice. Buy this shit for someone in your life**. And if they respond 'Um, why the shit did you get me face cream and hoisery?' Just be like: Woman, I am about to rock your world/make you feel like the sexiest motherfucker alive/whatever it is you say to your lady friends, because I'm betting you don't talk to them like the character that resulted when Shaft and Leon Phelps mixed their DNA. Anyway, they'll appreciate it.

*In a sort of backhanded product endorsement, that old standard was CoverGirl AquaSmooth. I've tried everything out there, and that shit is my second favorite. And it's like, $30 less expensive than the third favorite, which I don't even remember what that is I've been on CG so long.

**I don't know, probably not for Valentine's Day? I don't really know the rules for that, though.

Honestly, There's Nothing Sexier Than Manners

(Not even those sex-line ab muscle things that go into a guy's jeans. Those are totally top five, though.)

So I have some beef with DC. Mostly it's my own shit, because I have beef with everything (including, even, beef itself), so I'll leave most of it aside and just focus on the manners thing.

Oh my goodness, why does EVERYONE in DC have the most terrible manners? I have three examples from JUST TODAY. Pretty much every single time I went somewhere, some motherfucker was just so crazy rude/oblivious it made it hard for me to continue about my business.

Example One: Not Saying Thank You.

This afternoon I got some grub at Zorba's*. I was waiting on the wall for my number to be called, so I had an amazing perspective on the guy whose order was called right before me, who picked up his souvlaki and fries from the gentleman behind the counter and DIDN'T SAY THANK YOU. He didn't even look at homie. Just picked up his shit and turned his back. The cook was like 'thank you!' without a hint of snark in his voice, and I just wanted to apologize on behalf of all people who've ever eaten at his restaurant, ever.

Like, when, EVER, ever, is it acceptable for you not to thank the person who made your meal? I don't want to think about what kind of upside-the-head-slap I'd incur from my parents if I pulled that shit. Oh, wait. Zero, because my parents taught us to thank people who do things for you, because they were interested in raising decent human beings. Imagine being on a date with that guy? There's literally no explanation he could give me that would make me see the rest of that situation through. Almost anything would be easier to rationalize than that:

Second Worst Date Ever: "I gets real Norman Bates with it. My deceased mother is on a rocker in the basement."

kk: "Oh, word? Is she...was this a request of hers? Is she like, at least preserved and shit? Are you waiting for an ideal location in the cemetery crypt to open up? Are you saving up for an ill plot? That shit is pricey."

I mean, I'm not going home with Bates Jr., but I'm staying through the end of lunch. For the story, at least. But Non-Thanking Guy? Bye. Give me your falafel, and I'm out. Yeah, ALL your falafel, son. Also, that guy was with a lady. Unless she was on a pound of Xanax from dealing with that dick day in and day out, there's no excuse for letting that slide. She's accountable, too.

Example Two: Not Giving Up Your Seat on the Bus for a Child

I'm breaking in some new boots, and my right foot hurt like woah, so I took the D2 rather than walking home this afternoon (I swear, it's just as fast.). Three stops in, a woman got on with her adorable, curly haired girl child. The kid could not have been more than three. Despite the fact that both rows of seats along the front of the bus were lined with able bodied adults, not ONE person offered their seat. (I was standing, towards the back, before you throw your stone.)

My father once said, in reference to the Titanic and other disaster situations: "That women and children shit? No way. Children only. I'm not giving up my seat to no lady. I might kill your ass and float on you, but I'm not giving up my seat."

Which, word, I totally get that. I should know how to swim if I get on a boat. I can't rely on my tits for everything. But children! Children! Yo, get the fuck up and give that baby your seat, jerk off. I mean, seriously. You know what's right.

Example Three: Yo, SAY EXCUSE ME

I am getting heated again, so I'll cut this one shorter.

But, on the real, I don't know if it's because there are so many international people...no, okay, that doesn't excuse the fact that there is no real flow to the pedestrian traffic patterns here. I was going to be like 'well some people in the world drive on the left...' but in reality, if some adorable British dude walked into me because he didn't get how to pass and shit, that would probably charm the tights off me, and that has also happened a total of zero times. Usually, it's what happened this afternoon: a crazy white lady on a run spasms and runs directly into me, and just spins on by, like how an insect flies into you. Also, why are you running down Wisconsin at 5:30 in the afternoon? You realize there's like, woods and paths and LESS CONGESTED STREETS AND SHIT, RIGHT? No. You don't care. And it's not just runners. It's people everywhere in this city. They bang into you, and just don't excuse themselves. How is this okay, ever? I want to have everyone's parents over for a conference: You raised some rude ass humans. You have failed so solidly. Address this.

That's it for now, I guess. I'm also really annoyed that the whole city recycles at a second grade level and no one knows how to cross the street, but I can save those for later posts, I'm sure.

*Shout out! To the bomb ass Greek gentleman who ran the coffee shop on the 8th floor of Boston's City Hall, and who made the straight up greatest Avgolemono soup I have ever had in my life. Nothing has ever come close. I half expect to go to Greece and be disappointed. It was also like, two huge servings for three dollars. Homeboy kept me sa-ti-ated.

...PP, Yeah, You Know Me! Yeah, Everyone's Probably Making that Joke.

Planned Parenthood is not an abortion clinic.

That's like...that's not a hard concept. If all they did was perform abortions, they'd probably be called something like 'Termination Parenthood', or 'Abortion Place', or probably neither of those, because they aren't very catchy names*.

For reals, though, besides the fact that only like, 3% of PP's money goes to funding abortions...even if you're pro-life, you really don't see the benefits? I know my bleeding lefty liberal goggles make my vision all hazy and blue, but - seriously?

Listen, I've never had an abortion. I hope that's a decision I never have to make. But Planned Parenthood has definitely had a hand in helping my womb stay empty. (Or who knows, maybe they had nothing to do with it. Maybe I'm barren! Probably not. I'm Irish. We've got that rabbit DNA.) Boston, that mecca of wanton liberal urbanity, has plenty of convenient, accessible PP locations. Do you know how poor I was the first years I lived in Boston? I mean, I was poor the whole time - I'm still poor - but those first years in the North End? Dude. When your stove is also your heater, shit has gotten interesting. (Like, the apartment was set up that way. This was an OG North End apartment. By which I mean we lived in a tenement.) I was broke - and Planned Parenthood was my jam.

And just, even if you have insurance, birth control can be expensive as hell. You can get like, every kind of birth control at Planned Parenthood. So you can experiment with different kinds and see what works for you, which is important from a reproductive freedom standpoint. And, everything is WAY CHEAPER than at any pharmacy. Plan B is literally 50% cheaper at PP than at CVS. At least. And condoms are always free - they're in a big old bowl by the doorway, just like in gay bars. (Why don't straight bars do this, by the way? If you ask me, conservative straight people are irresponsible as shit. Wrap it up, yo!)

I went to PP, I never got pregnant. The same, completely sensical point that lots of people make: Planned Parenthood is keeping abortions off the street, friends. And I'm just a regular ass person with no additional shit going on in my lady cavities, but if there were trouble in the neighborhood, Planned Parenthood could give me a hand with that, too. Planned Parenthood: It's More than Just Birth Control (And It's Hardly Ever Abortions)**.

Whatever programs the Susan G. Komen Foundation wants to fund is up to them. That's their prerogative as a private organization. And it's your decision as an individual citizen where to donate. If you're uncomfortable with their politics, don't give them money. Honestly, I've never understood all this Racing and Walking and Biking and Scuba Diving and Dog Sledding for The Cure fuss anyway. If I want to donate money somewhere, can't I just give them the money? I don't see why anyone needs to like, perform feats of athleticism for it. (And all that pink swag seems a bit...precious. To me.) Cut down ya overhead, son! But again - personal choices.

If we had our socialist healthcare by now, this wouldn't even be an issue. But we don't, so this kind of shit happens. Health care shouldn't be politicized. It should just be. You know?

Seriously, has someone put a remixed version of 'OPP' on the internets yet? Because I've been making up lyrics in my head this whole time: "I'm down with the PP, that's why I've got no baby!" Yeah, you have to shoehorn that in there a little but it works, trust me.

*They'd probably stick with 'Planned Parenthood'.

**Man, I suck at slogans.

Yo, it was HARD to find an amusing image using the search term 'Termination Parenthood'. So - enjoy this still from the Motion Picture 'The Never Ending Story'. Because I think we can all agree: Falcor is the bomb.

I made a Tublr! I don't know what Tumblr is, really.

It's here: http://kk413.tumblr.com/

If you figure out what the title's a reference to, you get five dollars. In dollars!

You're Beautiful, And You're A Joy To Be Around.

I just got off the phone with my Dad. His little sister was dying and he flew up to Boston to say goodbye. She waited for him before she went.

He gave her last meal: half of an orange Chuckle, the inside of a Bulls-Eye, and part of a Clementine. The nurse asked him 'What are you doing?' And he said 'feeding my sister things she likes.'

Clare: you were your own delightful thing from beginning to end. To the lady who gave me my first Star magazine, and my first tube of mascara: I love you forever. I've still never found a mascara I liked better.

The Point Here Is That Eventually I Start Talking About Baby Kimonos

Yo, so sometimes on Fridays, when I get to the end of the internet, I Google myself. I think my Mom told me to do this back when the internet was newer - to make sure all my shit was in check over in cyberspace. Not like there's anything I could do, really, if my shit was not in check (were we both operating under the assumption that Google search was like a credit report?) but I still do it sometimes because I'm a crazy narcissist and part of me is always expecting people to be talking about me.

No one is. There's a bunch of articles from when I worked at Boston Landmarks, some other boring stuff, and then it's into other people with my name: some Midwestern high school girl's MySpace page (apparently that's where MySpace is still a thing?), a crazy chick signing on YouTube, and then we're into Magdalena Neuner, who is awesome, but no relation (that I know of. I don't anything about the German bits.).

But today I came across something new: a baby registry! Because I'm way more nosy about shit when I'm not invested in a person's life** (that's when being judgmental is at its purest form of joy), I started clicking my way through a complete stranger's baby registry. At first I thought it was a wedding registry, and it was just mad full of baby shit and I was like "Wow, these two are not coming at it coyly, huh?" Then I felt like a jerk. But not really,because I don't know them, so who cares! See, it's fun like this. Anyway, the point here: baby stuff is crazy expensive!

It's so expensive that for a minute I was like, 'you should totally buy something for them off this registry, how awesome would it be if a complete stranger with the same name as you bought you something for your baby!' But I can see how that might be the creepiest goddamn thing in the entire world, so I decided against it. Also, I'm poor. But now it's time to go home!

I am AWESOME at wasting time on the internet.

** Seriously, if you're friends with me, and you send me a baby registry, I am never going to read it. I'm just going to get you something cool that you didn't ask for. Or maybe you did ask and I just know you so well I didn't even have to read the registry! But probably not. Probably I bought your baby an awesome infant kimono, which I don't even know if that exists, but now I really want to get it for someone. Baby kimonos! Holy shit.

***I'm sorry, how CRAZY CUTE is this baby in a kimono! It's like, ten hours later - which is an awkward amount of time later - but this baby is still my jam.

One of the Many, Many Who Sip Henny

More Disturbing:

That the newly released 'Best of Ja Rule' album exists, or that I know almost every word to every song included in said Ja compilation?

**Okay, there are so many hilarious pictures unearthed by the Google Image search 'Ja Rule be Trippin', but this one of Ja in a tiny mirrored space is one of my favorites. Why are you in a tiny mirrored space, Ja? Where on Earth could this possibly be? WHAT DID YOU DO WITH ASHANTI? Seriously, Ja, where is she? Lady should be singing hooks somewhere. Wouldn't it be awesome if she went and found LL Cool J and they did a song for Ludacris to do a crazy remix of? And even the non-remixed version is sort of awesome because the video has Uncle L doing push ups under a waterfall while Ashanti lounges on his back, and they play it on Vh1 Soul all the time?

Yeah, I don't know what we're talking about anymore, either. Someone find Ja Rule so we can make sense of all this!

**I just spent a LOT of time Googling Ja Rule.

Best Of List, Yo!

So like, three people read this blog. I think my mom even stopped because I quit updating it for eight months, and she totally has better shit to be doing on the internets. Even so, people do end up here.

The Most Awesome Search Terms Used in Finding My Sporadically Updated, Cabernet-Soaked Blog:

I hope you all found what you were looking for, eventually. These are in a semi-particular order.

'Sex Mimosas and Donkey Com'

I don't know what Donkey expectorate they misspelled, and I don't want to. Okay, I know. We all know. I think this combination is known in some circles as a Tijuana Brunch. Even if they were talking about video games. Tijuana's crazy.

'Labeled Diagram of Mimosa Fruit'

So...maybe just Google 'Orange'? Sometimes a classy joint will impale a strawberry on the side of the glass. I don't know, it usually involves Cook's or Andre. You need a diagram?

'Bonectomy on Toe'

Wha? Does that mean taking the bone out of your toe? So you'd just have like, a squashy skin-grape at the end of your foot? Why would you search for something this grave and then click on a blog? I am so embarrassed that I've used the word 'bonectomy' on the internet.

'2011 NCAA Tournament Results'

How deeply did you Google these results that you ended up at this post on my (Never) Award Winning NCAA pool strategy? (Fucking TRY IT. It's fun. And you will have so many weird conversations with dudes in bars on this. People have OPINIONS about which imaginary creatures would win in a fight.)

(Sidebar: Why does Everclear have a Greatest Hits album? Can you name three Everclear songs? If you said yes, just - get out of here. Or go wait in the corner over there until we're through. Seriously, that's awful.)

'Lynn Dorms'

There are dorms in Lynn? Are there even enough high school graduates in Lynn to populate a dorm? Ohhh! Just kidding. One of my grandmothers was from Brockton. I can't say shit. I might have even just made up that stereotype about Lynn. But...I don't think I did.

'Tom Tancock'

Yes! I will happily glorify any reference to the 2008 Olympics. Controversies aside, those Olympics were the shit.

'Angry Rocket Play Therapy'

This is probably a better band name than Rocketship of Intelligence, but I feel like it's totally not the sound we were going for.

'They Call Me USHER RAYMOND'

You're damn right.

'Bingo's Dream Dorm'

When the shit did I write about dorms this much? (Oh wait. The Meadow Soprano time.) More importantly - what is Bongo's Dream Dorm like?!?! I hope you found it, searching friend. Sounds like it could be a weird time.

'Follow the Drinking Gourd Fake'

BLASPHEMY. Go sit in the corner with the guy who knows all the Everclear songs!

'Tom Bergeron Eats Chips'

Who searched for this and DO YOU WANT TO GET MARRIED?

(Yeah, I still have a Tom Bergeron thing.)

'Yinka Shonibare Child Obsessive Alien'

I don't know what the shit this is about, but holy band name. My lord. (Originally, this one was ALL IN CAPS but I felt like I needed to calm down. I have to go to bed soon. Seriously, though, this is awesome. But I'm never searching for it on my own. I don't want to know.)

* I don't know what the hell this picture is about. I searched for 'best search terms ever'. Google Image is my favorite.

They Call Me U-S-H-E-R-R-A-Y-M-O-N-D

Imaginary Phone Conversation Between Myself and Mr. Usher Raymond, circa February 2009

kk: Hi, Usher?
ur: Hey! kk! Iwas just thinking about you!
kk: Aw! Ush! Stop. Seriously, though, I called for a really specific reason.
ur: You want to act out that R.Kelly featuring Nivea 'Laundrymat' video from 2003 again?
kk: No. But I love where you're heading with this.
ur: I'll put it on ice. What's up?
kk: We need to talk about your video for 'Trading Places'.
ur: It's dope, right?
kk: I'm obsessed with it.
ur: What did you think about the Hologram Ice Piano?
kk: Dude. I LOVED the Hologram Ice Piano. More than that though, can we talk about your lyrics?
ur: I guess. But I'm a little...it's just...some people on the internet hated them.
kk: Usher. No. Only nerds use the internet. These lyrics? Are GENIUS.
ur: Really? You think so?
kk: Yes.
ur: You're not fucking with me?
kk: Never. Clearly, your recent collaborations with R. Kelly have been paying off.
ur: 'raises eyebrows' (Sometimes my imaginary conversations are video chats)
kk: I'm serious. Like...okay, the part where you make your lady breakfast in bed and then you list all the items on the plate? Amazing. And you provide her with "strawberry and grape jelly"? Both jellies!

ur: I like both. When I'm at a diner, I like that they have all the little kinds so you can mix it up. Sometimes I even go crazy and get some orange marmalade in there.

kk: Me, too! What I'm saying, though - only people like you and the Kells really get that shit.

ur: Well, thanks, then.

kk: Also, the part where you're listing all your household chores? I mean, you don't go too into much detail, but it seems like a relatively non-gendered division of labor. Also, I like that in your household, taking out the garbage is a pants-free endeavor. These are interesting things to me.

ur: Do most people wear pants?

kk: To take out the garbage? I think so. But I've lived in the northeast my whole life.

ur: Next summer, try it. It's liberating.

kk: Noted.

ur: Anything else?

kk: No, I -- oh! Yes! The end. When you encourage us all to stay tuned for part two, where you reverse the scenario...back. To your normal roles?

ur: Yes.

kk: Wouldn't that just be...like all your other songs? So we're staying tuned for --

ur: Yeah, I noticed that after I released the song. That's why there's no 'Trading Places: Part 2 - Regular Sex and Our Usual Chores'. But now that you mention it --

kk: See? This is exactly something that R Kelly would do! I love you so much. Did I tell you that this year I made my own 'Usher's Greatest Hits' cd and listened to it like, four times in a row when driving up I-95 on Memorial Day weekend?
ur: You did. You mentioned that during our last imaginary conversation. But that makes it no less awesome. I love you, too. Okay, I have to go take the garbage out. Should I try it with pants?
kk: Never, Ush. Stay you.

Imaginary Band of the Month

Rocketship of Intelligence!

A revolving-member outfit that uses only instruments available to elementary school children. (Xylophones in various sizes, bongos, triangles and cowbells, maracas, tambourines, and gourds - you know, what you played in elementary school music class if you grew up in a hippie college town.)

This concept was developed over drinks on Tuesday when Leila, Sarah and I -- each a product of Amherst Public Schools -- discovered that we all shared the childhood experience of ironically singing slave songs while doing chores.

You can try to block out the memory of opening your tray-table onto your face as much as you'd like. Your face, however, will remember.

I Love it When...

...you're randomly prowling around on Facebook, and you click on someone that you haven't checked in on in YEARS, and all of a sudden they're married and they have really cute dog, and they're on a hike or farming or something, and their spouse looks really nice and totally like someone that makes sense for them to be into, based on what you knew about them 13 years ago, and you're just like, "Ah, that is so awesome for them! Tiny, wonderful things happen to people all the time, and it's fantastic!"?

As weird as it is, and as awful as it can be, that's one of the things that I really, really like about Facebook.

It took me literally three minutes to decide if I want 'so awesome' to be capitalized (which it originally was) in italics, or bolded, because they all mean different things to me, and I really wanted to make sure it didn't read as sarcastic. And now I'm like 'do I care way to much about punctuation?'

This was the second picture of the Google Image search 'Facebook is okay sometimes.'

Mascot Challenge 2011!!!

It's not that I don't know anything about college basketball. It's more like: The NCAA tournament is such a wonderfully bizarre, unpredictable sporting event, I don't know how a person could enjoy themselves if they actually sat down and tried to predict what 'should' happen. So I just try to figure out what mascots would win in a fight. I've been doing this for years - and fully committed to it the year the Wichita State Shockers pulled exactly as many upsets as I'd predicted, based on the awesomeness of their mascot.

And also: yeah, I pay almost zero attention to college basketball during the regular season. Currently, I'm 8th out of 71. But I have no shot unless the Gators take the whole thing. I really, really counted on the angry drunken Irish mob mentality to show up and defeat the Seminoles. So close to St. Patrick's Day! Damn my sentimentality towards my heritage. I should have known those bastards would be too hungover on Sunday to get much of anything done.

Winter 2010, Nutshellized

"Right behind lack of confidence, and right before lack of knowledge about general American History, lack of manners is one of my ultimate turn-offs." - March 10, 2010

One of my favorite things about GMail is how easy it is to play 'One year Ago Today'.

Last winter was so weird. I wrote that to J + S (our on-going three-way journal, coming up on it's second anniversary) after cutting off relations with one gentleman companion after he displayed an egregious intellectual error. A few weeks later, I was sort-of email dumped by a guy I hadn't really been dating.

The first incident occurred after Gentleman #1 made the mistake of asking whether the Pilgrims and Columbus were contemporary travelers. No, he didn't say it like that. I think he said 'didn't they happen at the same time?' Which, I guess if you look at them both like diseases, isn't completely off base. We were driving down the highway, and I don't even know what inspired the comment. I just remember being really, really startled. Like, dude, we grew up in Massachusetts. It's like, Pilgrim Central. And Columbus? Did you not attend elementary school? You didn't learn the rhyme about 1492? No?

It wasn't like I demanded that he pull the car over right then and there. But I never saw him again after that weekend - and we had been hanging out a lot. In retrospect, it was a pretty shitty way to handle the whole situation.

A few weeks later, I went out with a friend-of-a-friend. He wasn't much like the dudes I usually hung out with, and I figured it was worth a shot. We had two of the chastest dates I've ever been on. Tuesday night dates with plenty of beer and zero sparks. This was in early February. I'm forever getting involved with people at the beginning of February, and making that whole Valentine's Dilemma all the more awkward. Anyway, a week or so after our last date he sent me this relatively convoluted, totally indirect email about how 'something happened' with someone else and how he hoped I wouldn't be mad at our mutual friend, because 'he was the dud'. Dude, obviously you're the dud. You're referring to people as 'duds'.

Then I started sleeping with my roommate. That was actually the least awkward of all of the above situations. There was a while where I felt like I should teach a class on How to Sleep With Your Roommate and Have It Not Be Awkward. One time we even high-fived over the not-awkwardness. Lesson One: Make sure your roommate is someone you're cool high-fiving over vague social relations concepts. Lesson Two: Make sure there's a shelf-life on the roommate situation. Preferably, one of you should move out of the house (and the city, and the state) within three or four months. Lesson Three: Have other roommates. Lesson Four: Don't tell them.

Anyway, that's what was happening one year ago today. 2010 was crazy.

Things I Am Not So Good At:

Pouring wine, from a box on a shelf above my head, in the dark.

Why would a person keep a box of wine on a shelf above their head?

?

?

This picture was the fruit from the Google Image tree of: Red Wine Fail. What?

Sorry, I always looks for the picture after I write...whatever this is. And it's always a random combination of words - you know, what everyone got tired of doing when they were in fifth grade/2005? It still delights me, every time.

Notes on the Recent Past

Recommendations of Late:

R Kelly's new album, 'Love Letter'. If you are a Kells fan, this is him at his finest. If you are not an R. Kelly fan, something is the matter with you. Listen to this album, and remedy said matter.

Adele's new album, '21'. She's just fucking crazy.

Learning to make your own tomato-basil-mozzarella salad. I think grown ups call it caprese.

Occasionally substituting rosemary for basil because for some reason Whole Foods only sells basil in enormous quantities.

The movie 'Youth in Revolt'. I LOVED that movie. It's the best thing I've seen in recent memory.

Using a bag of frozen peas as a hangover headache remedy when you feel too barfy to take Advil.

Things to Avoid:

Drinking 12-plus mimosas in a sitting.

The movie 'Dogtooth'. Unless you want to be seriously disturbed by some Greeks for two hours. When it was over, I looked at Baylor* and literally said 'What the fuck just happened?' I get that it's incredibly daring and shocking and definitely causes a person to think, which is kind of the purpose of art and all, but...okay, there's one part where I was laughing because the Son character runs across the lawn in a particularly hilarious way that reminded me my favorite scene in 'The 'Burbs' (A movie I DO, whole-heartedly, unabashedly recommend. It's goddamned hilarious.) and then I cut off my laughter mid-chuckle, because suddenly he's stabbing a cat in the stomach with a pair of garden shears. I think I mostly hate it because no one else I know has seen it, and I just want to TALK to somebody about this mess.

Smoking a lot of cigarettes when you haven't in a while.

Licking a lot of envelopes in a hurry.

Wearing pants. Pants are the worst.

ps: I got this picture when I GoogleImage searched 'R Kelly Tomato'. I don't know WHAT this has to do with tomatoes, but it's R Kelly singing, wearing a t-shirt with a picture of R Kelly singing. Which is just amazing.

*Baylor's a dog, but he has pretty solid opinions on movies and shit.

Charlie Sheen's Reluctant Mistress

The other day, a friend and I were talking about Twitter. More specifically, about whether or not I should join Twitter, and, were I to join, what my Twitter-name should be. There's probably a more techno-elegant name for that. Anyway, he suggested that I "just pick a celebrity, and throw a 'not' in there. Like - NOTCharlieSheen.' A few minutes later, we had my new favorite band name: Charlie Sheen's Reluctant Mistress (it's too long for that Twitter-name business.). And over the next few hours, I had a lot of thoughts about Charlie Sheen.

It appears that he's been in the news more than usual lately, for the sort of Charlie Sheen-esque escapades you'd expect. Rehab! Sex Tapes! Divorces! Why is anyone surprised? Why are these women in his life AT ALL SURPRISED BY HIS INSANITY, EVER?

The whole reason 'Reluctant Mistress' is awesome, to me, is because it indicates that one should be somewhat-to-extremely embarrassed to reveal their romantic affiliation with the dude. Because homeboy is a train wreck.

Ladies - it's fucking CHARLIE SHEEN. Charlie Sheen. If you turned to me randomly, at any time of day, and said "Quick: name the celebrity you think is most likely to be snorting a line of cocaine off a woman's body at this very moment?" My answer will ALWAYS be: "I don't know, Charlie Sheen?" Three years ago, if it were after midnight, I might be like "Possibly Steve-O. Or Russell Brand. But if they are, Charlie Sheen is probably with them. Charlie Sheen probably started it." But now it's 2011, and Steve-O is all straight edge (probably for the best) and Russell Brand is all wifey-ed up with Katy Perry (eh...is anything really for the best when a Katy-with-a-'y' hooks up with a guy who exclusively wears skinny leather pants and a lot of eyeliner? We'll call this a draw.) But Charlie Sheen is still bankrolling porn stars to hang out with him at days-long parties, where he greets guests at the door in a wine-stained shirt and, apparently, gold teeth.

So, ladies who make the - likely substance addled, but presumably consensual - decision to make things official with Mr. Sheen...what the hell were you expecting?

Given everything, it's surprising to me that Two and a Half Men is still on the air. Not because it's stupid - it's really no stupider than 90% of the other shit that's on network television right now. My own personal problems with the show stem mostly from the fact that I hate to think that Duckie grew up to be some awkward, marginally employed loser with a borderline retarded, loafy child relegated to living in his brother's house with a wardrobe consisting entirely of ill-fitting shorts and belts that look like they're apologizing for being so...braided. And, I hate that creepy kid and the housekeeper character is terrifying. Charlie Sheen is the character on the show I'd actually most like to hang out with.

I have to stop writing now. I can't believe I just said that. Putting the wine DOWN.

If Pandora Were A Person...

10:25 p.m.. On a Sunday. The Sunday after Christmas. It is snowing. Sort of.

Pandora plays Mobb Deep's 'Hell On Earth'.

Pandora: What kk? What?

Me: Are you trying to get me pumped up right now?

Pandora: Yes. You look like you're falling asleep over there. It's time. For you to get pumped up!

Me: For what, exactly?

Pandora: I want you to get really pumped up --

Pandora plays 'Wu-Tang Clan Ain't Nuthing Ta F' With'.

Pandora: to MAKE YOUR LUNCH FOR TOMORROW! YESSSS!!!

Me: I have to admit, I'm legitimately excited to make to go make my lunch right now. Spinach salads better recognize!!! But why are you using all this motivational goodness up on me right now?

Pandora: I know you, love. Better than anyone else. And I care about your well-being in a completely proportionate amount. If I'd played that one-two while you were getting ready to go out last Saturday? Scary things might have happened. That close to the full moon and the solstice AND the eclipse? People might have died. Or at least disappeared. Wait, what are -- are you doing the butterfly right now? Hang on.

Pandora plays SWV's 'Rain'.

Pandora: Are you...is that a little better? I don't want you to stab yourself over there.

Me: That was exactly what I needed. Now I'm relaxed. Unpumped, a little. But still ready to continue chopping. Also, the SVW got me thinking about Taj, the lady in the group who got to be in SVW, marry Eddie George, and then was on fucking Survivor. Like, she is so awesome. Holy shit, I just Googled her to link to her name, and her Wikipedia page is unexpectedly inspiring. I was not expecting to read that and be like 'what an incredible story!' She is going to be so creeped out when I write her a letter asking if I can write her biography.

Pandora: Can you repeat that? I didn't catch it all, I'm playing pretty loudly right now. You turn it up a few notches when you're two to three glasses into the bottle. I'm not judging. I just notice these things. Hello, my whole appeal is in the observational data I gather and process. What were were talking about? Taj. Don't look at me like that! I mean it. I want to know. It's not silly. Tell me again. Oh my god, you're just going to tell me later anyway, spit it out. No, I'm not laughing. No. No (snort) I'm sorry, honey, now you're making me laugh. With your angry face. It's a perverse reaction, I know. Didn't I just get you all pumped up to make that salad? I can't relax for a minute? I'm listening to these songs too. Are you...what, you're not talking to me now? Don't test me, child.

Pandora plays an insipid commercial block, then threatens with the monthly listening limit warning.