But Wait!! There's More!!

This morning I was chatting with Keehnan when the topic of infomercials came up. This, of course, led to a discussion of the beef between Billy Mays and Vince Offer (or, as I prefer to call him, That Young Upstart Tryna Usurp the Throne). Where do you stand on this very important issue?




Keehny is pro-Vince Offer. When I asked him to defend this stance, he cited Vince's delightful ridiculousness (exemplified by this statement- "Stop having a boring tuna, stop having a boring life!"), That he does his own commercials in Spanish (but clearly does not speak Spanish), and that he, unlike Billy Mays, does not yell.

I, on the other hand, am the fucking Captain of Team Billy Mays. First off, I am a creature of habit, y'all. I'm comfortable with Billy Mays. I know Billy Mays. Who the fuck is Vince Offer? What, he thinks he can just show up out of nowhere and sell me a highly absorbent towel, just like that? My head isn't turned that easily, I'm afraid. Also, he sounds like he's from New Jersey, which is probably the fastest way to get me to not trust you.

Billy Mays is great! He gets me all fired up! People complain about his constant yelling, calling it "abrasive" and "super fucking annoying", but I love it. I listen to a lot of mainstream rap music, you guys. I get uncomfortable if someone isn't yelling at me about their product preferences.

Jim Jones & ByrdGang - Splash
Uploaded by jeewhite94

Also I am excited about this.

Do You Really Wanna Hurt Me?

T.J. Cowgill is the father of some of my all-time favorite brain-babies.



Not only did he front one of my favorite bands (Teen Cthulhu, R.I.P.), and another band I really like (Book Of Black Earth, still alive), but he is also the dude behind Actual Pain, makers of rad t-shirts and apparel.


I am not sure what is going on in that second one but I like it.

And if that isn't enough for you, the Actual Pain website has excellent mixtapes that you can download for free. It's like a one-stop awesome shop. He should sponsor me. Hey T.J.! Are you reading this? Give me t-shirts.

Or, I guess I could just go to this and buy stuff for cheap.


Tidbit: One time, like four years ago, I ran into T.J. at a bar and he told me he was interested in rapping. Then he rapped at me for like 5 minutes about witches and wolves and shit. That dude is nothing if not consistent.

Unexpected Bonus to Obama Presidency:

Sexy, sexy Congressman Rahm Emanuel as Chief Of Staff? Does this mean he'll be on Meet The Press a lot? Because that is exactly the change I need. Way to hold my interest, Barry.



I can't handle it.

International Male

I was talking to my buddy Keehnan yesterday about the Spaniards' Lisp (I like how I made that sound like Terrifying and Contagious disease. "Next on 20/20, The Spaniards' Lisp! It may already be in a household NEAR YOU!!"). Do you know what I'm talking about though? Spaniards pronounce their "sssss" sound more like a "thhhhh" sound. It really bothers me. I bought some "Learn Spanish!" tapes at a garage sale last year, but I can't use them because they're all, "Repeat after me. Me llamo Thilvio! Thoy de Barrrrthelona!!" And I can't repeat after him, because I am too busy laughing.



Anyway, we were talking about this, and we got to wondering, do gay Spaniards lisp extra hard? Or do they lisp the same as straight Spaniards? Also, do gay French men lisp? What about Russians? Or Somalians? Or Guamanians? Is the lisp of the stereotypical flamboyantly gay man universal, or is it indigenous to English speakers? Wikipedia is not helping. As Keehnan said, "That article is a stub-ass stub."

I am so curious, but I don't know how to get answers without offending anyone. So, my well-traveled readers, I ask you. Do you happen to know of any non-English speaking sterotypically flamboyant homosexual men who do/do not lisp in their native tongue? Or perhaps you have heard of some study about this that I may now Google?

Our family has grown!

It's been a few months since I've posted regularly here, and in that time, I've acquired a few new imaginary pets!! I'd like you to meet them.

This is Miss J. Alexander:


Tracy Morgan:


And the newest addition to the fam, Karl Lagerfeld!

The Power of Intention -or- Kitten Party!!! A True Story!!!

A lot of the time, I have trouble falling asleep. It used to help to think about interior design, because nothing interested me less and I could bore myself to sleep contemplating duvet covers and decorative tchotchkes. This stopped working for me about a year ago, as I have become dismally domesticated and now find the subject absolutely thrilling. A solution came to me a couple months ago as I lay thinking to myself, "Wouldn't it be, like, the best thing ever to be surrounded by baby animals of all sorts?" I imagined a baby monkey hanging from my neck, a tiny hippo leaning against my back, and kittens. Lots and lots of kittens. It was glorious, and it soothed me into sleep rather quickly. This train of thought has since become my go-to relaxation technique.

On a recent visit to Portland, the dream came true.

We were visiting our buddy Emmett, who took us to his friend's house after a night of well-ventilated bars and charming Puerto Rican strippers. One of the residents of the house informed me that her cat had just given birth, and asked if I would like to see the brand new tiny baby kittens.
Imagine my glee! She took me into her closet, and there they were. Seven adorable kittens, each about the size of a can of tuna, nestled close to their mother, sleeping sweetly. And that was when she started putting the kittens all over me. There were three in my lap, two in my shirt, and one in each hand. It was perfect. And it just goes to show, if you just think about something hard enough, it will totally happen, which is why I need to stop thinking about how raccoons own the night because they have thumbs.

A Mystery is Afoot

Someone shoved a pair of underpants into my mailbox.

Panties, colloquially. Red and pink striped Victoria's Secret panties, size small, specifically. I have composed a list of suspects.

1. The Goth Girl in Apt. 8: Last week, me and my buddy/neighbor Alex were smoking on the balcony when Gothy McSoulisdark forced herself into our conversation. For 20 damn minutes. She was boring and not funny and she wouldn't go away. A couple days later, Alex and I were playing Turner Classic Movies Scene It in Alex's apartment with the windows and shades open. Alex got this clue: "What 1969 movie had the tagline, "One man went looking for America. He never found it." It was Easy Rider, but she wasn't getting it, so to give her a clue I went into the whole "Yip-yip-yip-yip-yip-yip!!!!! Indians." thing (if you don't know what I'm talking about, rent Easy Rider. It's the best damn part of the whole movie). That exact moment, Gothy came out of her place, and hearing my "yip-yip" routine said, and I quote, "What is that, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on crack?!" That, my friends, is not only demonstrative of how not funny she is, it basically amounts to word salad. Then, as her first bout of verbal diarrhea garnered no response from us, she tried again. "Xena Warrior Princess!" We continued to ignore her. The next day she came outside while I was smoking alone. We did not speak.


Could it be an act of vengeful mischief?

2. The Australian: A couple months ago, the Australian called me a stupid bitch for drunkenly blasting Aerosmith at 7am. Is she still mad?


3. Alex: She says she didn't do it, but this kind of seems like the work of a buddy. And look at her! Those eyes are full of mischief!!


4. My husband, Landon: He was the one that "found" the offending underpants.


Seems shifty to me.

5. Caralee McElroy: I can't see any reason why not, and I would like to hear her alibi.


I would love to hear your thoughts on the suspects. Tampering with the mail is a Federal offense!