I noticed the other night that Fox News is making the dreadful mistake of posting transcripts involving Sarah Palin. Now we all know how difficult it is to follow Sarah Palin while watching her speak. But seeing it in black and white — wow. I really think she must have a learning disability or she’s dyslexic or something. Feast your eyes on this exchange after the State of the Union:
VAN SUSTEREN: And Governor Palin, in terms of the speech, do you think he managed to reach across the aisle, even though you used the word “lecture,” are any Republicans persuaded, let’s try to work together?
PALIN: Not necessarily Greta, because the remembrance here has got to be that he and the Democrats, they’ve been in charge of Washington this last year. So the common sense reforms that he is looking to Republicans to join him on, he could have implemented many of those “common sense,” as he calls them, reforms all along. Nothing has stopped him from doing that.
His mention of offshore drilling, considering that, and new energy plants, and other things that do make a lot of sense, and I appreciate he mentioning those in the speech tonight. Those things that again are common sense he could have implemented. And I think that was a bit condescending as he spoke that received by Republicans, who are saying, wait, we wanted to do that all along. Where you been?
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In December, Michelle Collins over at Best Week Ever turned up this amazing local advert for a perfume retailer ingeniously named the “Smells So Good Perfume Outlets.”
Quoth Michelle:
It was then that I discovered my Winter Jam of 2009. Never before had the epitome of luxury collided with the lowpoint of humanity in such a poetic and marvelous way. This youtube video, taped from directly off of someone’s TV, was the only online proof I could find of this work of art, and frankly its sh*tiness only heightens the dramatic effects of the commercial. It is the Andrew Cunanan of local ads.
Since I couldn’t possibly add anything more of value, I’ll leave her summation at that. But it is also absolutely necessary to introduce those of you residing outside the UK to a (considerably slicker but no less beguiling) British contribution to the techno-commercial art world, that of We Buy Any Car (dot com). Yes, you need sound: (more…)
I am in the market for my first home purchase, which means I am spending many hours perusing home listings and deciphering all the lies that come with them. Fortunately for me, I have a whole upside-down city for sale at my feet. Home prices in the Vegas area have fallen again for the 39th consecutive month; it is literally a fire sale out here. So here’s my beef; how in the fuck do you expect to sell your home when your dumb ass either doesn’t post pictures or (even better) you post completely useless pictures of corners in your house? I’ve just spent the entire morning going through my latest online search results of 399 homes which fit my criteria, and maybe half of them have barely decent photo representation. I am fucking amazed at the bullshit people post, thinking it will help them find a buyer. Fuzzy pictures, shitty cell phone camera pictures, pictures taken with the blinds closed and the lights off, pictures of utterly useless ‘features’ of the home.
A message to anyone trying to get me to buy your home: DON’T LIST WITH A REALTOR WHO IS NOT SMART ENOUGH TO SHOW YOUR HOME IN THE BEST LIGHT. Because I can forgive some asshole who just wants to sell for the best price and who trusts the realtor to do their fucking job. Realtors want their cut which means they are directly invested in how well your home appears to a buyer. I have money to spend and good credit to use, but guess what? You will never get me or anyone with half a brain to tour a house you present like this:
Perfect! Finally a corner I can stretch out in!
I could never buy a house without knowing what the top of my pressboard bookcase will look like.
THE SIDE OF HOUSE BUSH OF MY DREAMS!!!
STOP. THIS IS THE DREAM HOUSE FOR ME. I MUST HAVE IT. IT HAS EVERYTHING I COULD WANT.
I went to the eye doctor the other day and left with wide set pupils, letting in all kinds of light and making me blind for half the day. Any way, I mentioned that I was all ‘dilated peoples’ and no one got it. But my homie, BCW sent me this to tell me that she did in fact, get it.
Imagine you were out walking your dog at 7 a.m. one morning when a little white-haired old lady ran across the street and greeted you with this question:
“Your diplomat friend — how’s he built?”
Yes, that was my greeting from Minnie Trimble a week or so ago.
We had never discussed my paramour before. I had never even told her I was dating anyone. But yes, now he stays over a couple of times a week, and she has obviously seen the diplomatic plates on his car. But why she wanted to know what is body was like, I did not know.
I sputtered in confusion.
“Ummmm … average height? Quite compact?” (He later told me I should have said: “Huge cock.”)
“Is he over six feet?” Minnie asked.
“No, he’s about five ten. But Minnie, why are you asking?”
Why was she asking? Because Nosy McIntrusive was peering through my living room window one night when I was downtown, and noticed one of my son’s very tall friends walking past it. I explained. She replied that she almost called the police. I asked: “Why?” while struggling not to say: “Why the fuck, crazy lady?” She responded that she had never noticed Alex’s tall friend before, because, you know, apparently I am supposed to supply physical descriptions of every person who walks into my home.
Oh the Trimbles. And the worst thing is, Dolly the hound dog runs over to their house to say hello every time I take her for a walk. I sense their judgment of me every time I see them, especially when my paramour is there. I know they are praying for my slutty soul every time they go to church. Yet only Dolly seems to really care.
My man is a little annoyed with me today. This is because I didn’t come to bed until after 3am last night. But, I couldn’t help it. I was making a mustachioed Italian plumber jump, thrust and pound with my hands and I just don’t stop until my nailbeds bleed.
What? I was playing Super Mario Bros. Wii, what’d you think I was doing?
Anyway, I had a lot on my mind and it helps me to relax and let my subconscious churn the gears and bring fresh ideas to the surface. I’ve been playing GTA IV but I’m stuck on a mission and hating Niko’s bike skills, and I already finished Scarface (again), The Godfather and BioShock (again). I’m almost to World 9 in Mario Wii, but I decided to start over and collect all the coins and find all the warps. So this is what kept me up until the wee hours. That and a general funk over things this week. It’s just been one of those weeks; it’s been grey and drizzly every day, the news is extra depressing what with Haiti and then the Dems bending over and taking it from anyone who wants to give it. I don’t know, man. You remember that woman I used to work with that I told y’all about; the one with the worst karma in the world? Well, I was talking to a colleague yesterday and got an update on the latest shit things to happen to her. Only now I’m starting to wonder how much of her “bad luck” is self induced. I’m not saying she’s to blame,……..well, yeah, I guess I am saying she could be to blame for some if it. Here’s the rundown of things that have happened to her in the last few years; (more…)
I can’t believe it’s been nearly a year since I did a post about a piece of advertising that irritates me! Surely for someone as easily irritated as me, this should be ripe blog fodder and yet I haven’t touched that poisonous fruit in some time. Wondering how that could be, I’ve come to the conclusion that a) my resistance to live television viewing is strong and b) like most folk in this day and age, I’m so generally bombarded by it as to become largely inured. I don’t read magazines anymore, so most of my exposure comes from online ads (which barely register, with the exception of the ubiquitous ModCloth ads – cute dresses!) and product placement in films/shows (again, unless someone blatantly pops open and takes an Adam’s-apple-bobbing gulp of Pepsi or ostentatiously places their Apple Mac in the smack-dab center of the screen, I don’t so much notice).
The one place I do notice it is on the street. Billboards on buses and cabs, posters on buildings, and above all else, the massive adverts along the walls of the tube. The latter is the only situation in which I am forced to stare at an ad for a prolonged period of time, contemplate it, internalize it. Nothing subliminal about staring at a Hennessy ad for two minutes while you wait for the train and avoid eye contact with your fellow commuters. So while I’ve been waiting for the tube every morning for the last week and a half, I am annoyed afresh by this relentlessly stupid Google Chrome ad that’s directly in front of my preferred Stand for the Train Space (halfway down the platform to the right of the entrance, approximately six cars from the back – it’s an art form): (more…)
I’ve never thought of myself as a girly-girl, or a lightweight in general. While I don’t spend my weekends camping in a bog or mountain-biking, I have done these things and fared okay, even fancied myself quite rugged at the time. I’ve hiked up the Continental Divide a few times, gone skeet shooting, and rappelled down a cliff-face or two (not big cliffs, but still). I have a pair of jeans I’m not afraid to get dirty and I believe there to be a pair of L.L. Bean hiking boots somewhere in the back of my closet. Sure, the last time I wore the grimy jeans was while putting together a Malm dresser from IKEA, but I own them, don’t I? If someone wanted to take me duck hunting, for example, I could rustle up the basics (if I went out and bought waders) – even if I wouldn’t ever actually shoot a living thing, per se, my wardrobe contains clothes in which to not do it!
Basically, while I didn’t grow up on a farm, I have milked a cow and used to ride horses. I may be citified, but I have some exposure to the elements. I went to summer camp in Arkansas and Colorado for years, for god’s sakes. I’ve lost electricity in hurricanes for literally hours. I am a tough cookie! Or so I thought, until my boiler went out yesterday.
I live in London right now, and we are in the throes of a pretty cold winter. It’s been snowing on and off for the last two weeks, and I don’t really hold with snow – it’s all pretty and shit until you have to be somewhere. Anyway, I’ve been slugging along fine on the tube and trying to keep my outdoor exposure to a minimum, and it’s been fine, or was, until this boiler thing up and died on me like an injured sled dog. (more…)
