Saturday, August 16, 2008

This Week

Since I came back from home, the few times I've used my car I've forgotten my MP3 player. (Yeah, I'm too cheap to buy an iPod, so sue me). That's meant that I've been stuck with the radio. I heard this song this week, and liked it except that it was trying too hard to be a ballad I didn't want to listen to. Luckily, some DJ type had the same feeling.

I do like my heartbreak with a techno beat, what can I say? It's less tempting to slit my wrists that way.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Oh, For Fuck's Sake

This shit is getting tiresome. I just passed a rash of signs at the Albany airport telling me the various fees the airlines are charging to check one bag. Just raise the fucking ticket price by $30 and stop charging me at the fucking airport because then if I'm traveling for business that's an extra receipt I have to submit. Assholes.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Fuck You, General Motors

Last year, I discovered this song by Brandi Carlile. I liked it, I bought it from iTunes, I sang along to it in my living room, I thought in happy moments that it might be about John and in unhappy moments that it never could be. I still like this song, even if I had to take it off my MP3 player there for a while when it had a tendency to make me cry.

This song is now the background music for a fucking General Motors commercial running during the Olympics.

Fuck you, GM, for making me look even lamer by making this song a crappy commercial for your crappy cars.

That said, congrats, Brandi, I hope you make a shit ton of money off of it. I'm sorry that I'll only listen to it when no one else is around.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Other weird things

1. I realized walking home tonight that the Big Dipper was the constellation of my youth and Orion has been the constellation of my adulthood.
2. Mozzarella sticks with raspberry sauce. What the fuck?
3. How quiet it is here that living more than a mile from the railroad tracks I still hear the whistles.
4. Raspberry sauce. Like, for real. They charged me 50 cents extra. Ew.

Saturday, August 9, 2008

The view from here.

Things I find absurd:
1. How much processed food they serve in hospitals.
2. That this is one time my loud, high-pitched voice comes in handy. I still talk too fast, though.
3. The openness patients get with their evacuatory functions. I remember reading a study once about how people would pee their pants before dropping trou in front of strangers. Not so here.
4. How cold it is here.
5. I remember the hospitals I've stayed in smelling worse. Is there actually a market for hospital smell eliminating chemicals?
6. My grandmother's former roommate who kept trying to smoke in the bathrooms, including other people's.
7. Why the fuck is everything pink?
8. How fucking perfect the weather is.
9. That I'm sitting in the hall typing this.
10. The insanely hot ambulance guy that handed something to the gay male nurse and said something about a "hard stick" while we both drooled and another nurse gloved up to go into my grandmother's room.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Greg says

"I really like gay porn. I just pretend it's two guys that got to the party reeeally early."

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Um, Fuck You, Too

So, some blogospheric Gloria Steinam syncophant would like me to know that it is, like, totally okay to cry in front of the subjects of your interview. You know what? I don't get to be a reporter for the Financial Times. I get to randomly blog about politics and random girl crap on the blogosphere. And yet someone who identifies herself as "a snow bunny" and admits to ripping off my work and the work of the other women with whom I work ("intellectual property, my ass" she says) says "Cry Me A River" and re-posts this picture of me from this here personal blog. Well, you know what? That picture was taken by me more than a year ago to show off to my best friend my change from blonde to red hair. Oh, and crying in an interview is unprofessional.

She also says "Even thinking of her voice is like taking a Xanax in a marshmellow bathtub of womb water." Actually, if you listen to my actual voice, I sound like a 13 year old Valley Girl, or so I've been told. But, you know what? Great feminist point to body/voice snark me, sneak into my personal blog, link to a photo that you're not even paying to host and snark my race. Think your feminist icon would be proud?

Also, I don't cry in public. I'm open about that. I've written about it. But even if I did randomly run around D.C. crying, I wouldn't do it in an interview with one of the most important women of the 20th century and, if for some reason she caught me on a day, like today, when my grandmother is dying horribly of cancer, I wouldn't cop to it in my article on the fucking Financial Times for the purpose of making the interview half about me. So, you know, fuck you, "Fawn." Your name is as stupid as my voice AND my writing.

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Out Of Sight

I know I've been bad about updating this month. A friend just IM'd me to ask about my dating life these days and I said that I didn't have enough emotional energy to bother trying. That's sort of like this blog. With all the blogging I'm doing for Jezebel and Glamocracy, it's been difficult to think of anything else I might even want to bother saying.

If you're worried you missed any of said blogging, I chronicled it all here. And I'll try to get back to daily updates and shit.

Saturday, August 2, 2008

Wisdom of Greg

If you treat women like objects, you're going to end up having to treat an object like a woman.