“Oh double name of God befucked! Sacred bugger-God!”

-new favorite thing to yell when I inflict minor acciental injury on myself, courtesy of a shitty internet translation of the Marquis de Sade’s Philosophy in the Boudoir.

 PS is it just me or did he sort of look like a lesbian suffragist/WOW nerd with delusions of grandeur/okay, really, he is just way less dudely than I expected?






…is it no longer socially acceptable to have awesome fourteen-foot-high Antonioni hair?


So I watched American History X last night, and yeah, not a great movie, not into the dramatic orchestra swells over shitty teenage acting with cameos by the fat guy from Varsity Blues, but I guess heartbreaking tales of racism and/or urbantragedy were, like, IT in the late 90’s and it had its moments.


Skinhead-Ed-Norton was sort of…disarmingly hot. Only in the body, goatee totally excluded, but still. As a vaguely-Jewish American female with delusions of 21st century enlightment (I went to Montessori school as a child!), this made last night…okay, if there were an adjective to describe the sensation of being midway between orgasm, knuckle-biting and donating all my money to UNICEF, it would be that.

Happy Yom Kippur, everybody.




Rune Guneriussen_009_singles[1]

So my taste in art, like my taste in most things, is heinously predictable.


I like light, and common things placed in hilariously improbable locations, or people doing hilariously improbable things in common locations.


So in lieu of any actual skill for art criticism, gotta say that Rune Guneriussen did right by me taking some awesome slow-shutter pictures of table lamps in the wilderness.

I also like nostalgia:


And I can totally remember staging a scene eerily similar to this in boarding school for the express purpose of, uh, smoking cigarettes in the middle of a lake on a pile of chairs. We did not photograph it and that is why neither I nor my friends from high school are absurdly wealthy with cool dutch names.



(via rackreader. check it out, 1/2 of the posts are written by a buddy!)


…$50 worth of loteria cards on ebay.

There are already two industrial sized bottles of glue and some really ugly furniture in my apartment.

In case you were wondering whether or not I was a white girl with too much time on my hands, uh, now you know!


Julia Child’s recipe for French Onion soup (Mastering the Art of French Cooking): totally off the chain + gave me an excuse to buy Hennessey for the garnish + gave me an excuse to sip said yak (gnac?) for the 2 straight hours I spent sauteeing last night.

Work is HILARIOUS today.


I can’t deal with the models on the website and the accesories in this picture are heinous, but despite all appearances: Anna Sui for Target kind of rules, and the obese midwestern in me LOVES being able to buy dresses and fourteen pounds of halloween candy in one fell swoop.


So Jimmy Brooks was pretty much my favorite character on the (ridiculous) (Canadian) (no really, I know it’s ridiculous) favorite teen drama of my youth Degrassi. Dude had it rough; he got shot in the back by a drug dealer AND his eighth grade girlfriend dosed some E and cheated on him. Then he played some wheelchair basketball and dated the goth chick or whatever, but really, I liked Job-style Jimmy. He really captured the struggles of an affluent (north) American youth.


Jimmy has apparently grown up:



…into the pop star who’s singlehandedly responsible for making me picture a vagina whistling the howdy doody theme song or some shit on my way to work.

So in summary:

1. The Noggin channel is ruined forever now

2. I think about musical genitalia on a daily basis

3. I have no reason to live.



1. I graduated from college.

2. I started writing things that are more than 20 sentences long.

3. I started sending them to magazines and magazines started publishing them.

4. I got a real-person job and an apartment and a dog and a couch that I sat down on and read a book for the last…oh, say, 2 months.

5. I cancelled the internet in said apartment, because it’s not terribly conducive to sitting on couches reading.

But the thing is: I still find myself writing things that are suited to literally nothing but a blog post ALL THE TIME! And I have a LOT of time to waste on the internet at work! And I DO things now besides write creepy little snippets about earthquakes and sexual perversity!

So I think I’m going to bring these shenanigans back. Sometimes it will be fiction, and sometimes it will be me offering meek opinions about horror movies or showing you a pictures of something I’ve baked. I see a lot of horror movies and I bake a lot of things. Really, at the very least it won’t be infrequent.

So, to commence: The photo at the top is of a dust storm in Sydney (credit to Tom Hide) and I think it’s ungodly spectacular. The best books I read this summer were The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolano, The People of Paper by Salvador Plasencia and Notes from the Underground by my old buddy Fydor. I went to Zambia for a while and it was great. Dried strawberries and white chocolate go really, really well together in cookies.