In case you’re not persuaded: How much of a stud was Gustave Dore?!!




The thing is, I REALLY don’t like thinking about whatever evil genius auteur runs the internet. Reading this is like finding out why God lets war happen and babies get cancer and T-Pain make millions and millions of dollars. We’re just not meant to know.

Why Today Sucks


panda barf

1. I burnt a cigarette hole in my only pair of stockings and my real-person-who-deserves-her-salary-and-doesn’t-burn-cigarette-holes-in-her-clothing disguise is RUINED.

2. I made the most incredible, intricate antlers for halloween and can’t figure out how to make goddamn rabbit ears to go with them. Awesome jackalope costume: TERMINATED. Awful Mean Girls-esque Bambi costume: ACTIVATED.

3. This.

4. I don’t remember who drew the vomiting panda picture and will probably be sued.


So if you haven’t gleaned it from the fact that I have a damn blog devoted to things I think about with no particular unifying theme, I have an office job. Sometimes I give my “employees” (eighteen year olds with lip piercings and accents) menial tasks; sometimes I participate in clothes swaps with fourteen middle aged women;  sometimes, I play Farmville.

For the uninitiated (I won’t say unaccquainted because this is some cult-level shit,) Farmville is a flash game on facebook (related: FFFFFF) wherein you harvest imaginary soy beans for imaginary coins to spend on imaginary sheep and/or tractors. If you save up enough coins, you can buy a pagoda or a little Italian villa. You can also pay fucking actual money for your farm accoutrements, but I’m not quite at that level yet.

I am, however, at the level of checking on my goddamn digital raspberries hourly in case I forgot when they were suppose to “ripen.” That little guy there, with the mullet? He has been black, female, fu-manchued, and vaguely resemblant of Lady Gaga a la that hella awkward French Vogue shoot when she dressed up like a weeping clown, all in the past three days. I get uncomfortable if I let my land lie fallow. I get weirdly stoked when people fertilize my watermelons.

The thing is, I have a real life. Like today, I discovered the most excellent office-clone-cum-stoner lunch of all time: sage box American Spirits and banana pudding, with real fucking bananas and whipped cream and little swirls of graham cracker dust and oh god it was delicious. Until I remembered that my rice paddies were withering, as we speak, on the internet and suddenly, my banana pudding tasted like shit and everything was awful. Then somneone sent me an elephant topiary, and everything was okay again. Except not on the inside.

So today I’ll shamelessly rip off notcot and do a COOL ART BONANZA DAY!

First: Rob Tarbell.

rob tarbell 1

I mostly love it because of good associations with my weird profusion of circus performer friends, but also the medium is listed as smoke on paper, and we all know how I feel about unconventional substances on paper. Her’es a hint: I’m for it.

rob tarbell 2


rob tarbell 3




More reasons to build a time machine.


via…somewhere on facebook.


BBC Says: “France has arrested a researcher at the European Organization for Nuclear Research (Cern) for suspected links with al-Qaeda, officials have said.”

ToSmithereens Translates: TERRORISTS ARE GOING TO  HIJACK THE HADRON COLLIDER AND MAKE A GIANT BLACK HOLE THAT WILL SWALLOW TIME. …Unless James Bond and a contingent of foxy lesbian Soviettes with grappling hooks, y’know, do a thing.


via BBC




I’m probably the only pseudo-yuppie twenty-something hyphen-ated person I know who doesn’t like coffee, but this is too rorschachish not to love.


via notcot

But I will be DAMNED if that stops me from shopping for dog halloween costumes.

bridehalloween dog 10 jewish[1]Dogzilla%20Dinosaur%20Dog%20Costume[1]


(obviously the lobster, and obviously I would keep her in the pot at whatever pathetic, dog-allowing halloween party I end up at.)


I need friends.


As the kids say: brills.

via 99sense.