Filed under: art, celebrities, general, money, television | Tags: art, BBC, digital conversion, Jeopardy, NPR, tracey emin
Emin, 'The Perfect Place to Grow'
I got home from work tonight at about 330. I went to turn on the TV, but it was static because of the digital conversion. I turned on NPR. Because it is the middle of the night here, it was the BBC. It’s like 9am there or something. I turned on the radio, and there was a proper-sounding English woman interviewing a hackneyassed English woman. The first sentence contained the words “rape” and “art” so I yelled “Tracey Emin!” at my radio as if I were on Jeopardy. Well, no, if I were on Jeopardy I would have yelled, “Who is Tracey Emin?” But I yelled her name, and sure enough, it was Tracey Emin. And I thought of how I liked Tracey Emin. And I thought of how my friend Danyel likes Tracey Emin. And I thought of how much I like my friend Danyel.
And damnit I’m glad the TV is just static. I’m glad.
Filed under: growing up, love, money, television | Tags: car crash, hallucination, joaquin pheonix, werner herzog, witch
Oh my god. Every goddamn thing I look at has to do with Werner Herzog. What is it with this guy? How does he know exactly what sort of things I’m interested in? What business does he have with me? What is with this guy? How did he get into my head? How did he get into Joaquin Pheonix’s post-car accident hallucination?
I think Werner Herzog is a witch.
Filed under: growing up, love, money, television | Tags: alcohol, capitalism, existentialism, family, gossip girl, growing up, love, math, money, nihilism, slut wine, symbolism
Lately I’ve been dragging my feet through my life, wishing I was watching Gossip Girl instead of doing whatever I’m doing at any given time.
I only kind of mean that, but I mean it both literally and symbolically. And subjectively.
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot of the following things:
1. Does that mean something?
2. Can I say that?
3. Is that interesting?
I don’t think people ask themselves those questions enough.
I think a lot of things don’t mean anything. A lot of things that are written in essays don’t mean anything. But that’s the kind of stuff that’s really supposed to mean something. And it doesn’t. Not to me. What I can’t figure out is if things that are really supposed to mean something and don’t mean anything are interesting or boring.
Or maybe I’m just stupid, and that’s boring.
You know what makes things less boring? Alcohol.
She was wasted last night. She had 4 dirty stoli martinis. After work I was talking to her and she couldn’t finish her sentences. She would start to say something and then trail off without finishing a thought… she was talking about how we live in a capitalistic society. She would say “I don’t think those bottles of High Life are supposed to be two dollars, I think that’s a mistake. We’re supposed to make a killing. We live in a capulistuck society.” Her speech slurred and her body leaned to the side.
It embarrassed me.
I don’t really get like that. I don’t handle alcohol well at all, but I don’t usually make a fool of myself if I get drunk. I usually start to get a buzz and the next thing I know I’m sitting on the bathroom floor in a cold sweat. I really have very little business with alcohol, so I usually avoid it.
When I was growing up my mom was into wine. She liked sweet whites and blushes. Slut wine. She wasn’t an alcoholic or anything, she usually just had a glass or two, but sometimes she would get drunk. When she got drunk she would get really giggly. The giggles would sometimes crescendo into hysterical laughter, and it would freak the hell out of me. It would make me cry and that would make her laugh more.
My dad used to call me and leave cute little drunken messages on my cell phone. He would say things like “Hi Kelly Marie this is your dad. Remember me? Call me back. My phone number is 391 7822. You can remember that because 3 times 3 is 9. And 3 divided by 3 is 1. And 1 plus 1 is 2. And if you subtract 2 from 9 you’ll get 7. (And so on.) He’s not the easiest person in the world to talk to so if I had to talk to him about something I didn’t want to, I’d wait until he’d had a few scotches. I always kind of liked him better when he had a few drinks in him.
He and my mother are polar opposites. I can’t imagine them ever having a relationship.
This always happens to people in February.
Filed under: dogs, television | Tags: birds, chicago, dogs, hole in the wall, hollywood, julia roberts, mandatory theater, plane crash, TMZ, uggs
A burnt bird smell
This was a critical situation
It was almost a complete loss of forward momentum
email, bill, IGO car sharing, January bill, mandatory theatre, strange closets- Logan square castle, blog- fine diving in Chicago, Facebook- Eric Oij, John Rafman, Thorne Brandt, Eric Oij, Thorne Brandt, Esteban Schimpf, Google- pretty woman, Google- Julia Robert’s dog, Julia Roberts and husband Quarrel over dog, TMZ- pictures of Julia Roberts picking up her dogs’ shit, comments- The husband stealing whore probably took the poop home to eat it. She is a disgusting big mouthed tramp!, Now the only thing the 41-year-old mother of three needs to curb are those 2003 Ugg boots!
What was the sensation inside the cabin after the birds hit the engines? Then I heard the old “brace for impact.” Terror, sheer terror. We began yelling “brace, brace, heads down, stay down!” Let’s talk about the moment of impact.
Stop saic. Can you please tell teach my train is m.i.a. But I’m on my way. Fuck the CTA. I forgot you’re not in my class sorry. 1229 Sullivan. Hi This is just a reminder… I’m not planning on coming in tonight cause it’s been so slow lately but call if you need me. Cheers. What’s that documentary class called? I want to take it. Oh I found it it’s on Monday morning right? Don’t ever stop sending me love texts. Well shoot have fun. I’ll check myspace bulletins to see if anything is going on. I miss ya’ll too. My friend wrote a play and that’s my only chance to see it. I am thinking I’d like to interview you next week about hospitality and small business. I’ll be in touch. Oh ps I forgot to get paid on Saturday and I keep on forgetting my sweaters there. I keep on getting the urge to shout out ‘that’s what she said’ in my feminism class. Probably wouldn’t be appreciated. I feel like an imposter in this class. I like penises. Google Julia Roberts dog. Love.
The captain is in position. George, are you ready for the wall? Are you ready baby? It’s time to face the hole. Face the ho? Isn’t she the announcer? That was an easy one! Not fair! The bozos are saying there was no arm. Judges are ruling not clear. The wall was not cleared. Make it work. Phu was voted class clown in high school and is now a wedding photographer. Leroy said when he gets hurt he doesn’t go to the hospital; he lets his wounds heal on their own. Leroy looks like he’s giving Phu the heimleck maneuver and it makes sense cause hey are choking tonight.
