Saturday, August 16, 2008
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
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
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
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
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
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
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
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.