On August 4th...

This Blog had it's Golden Birthday.

And I missed it. Ah well.

I've been blogging for 4 years.
Maybe I should finally turn this sucker into a book.

Goddamnit, The Hills!

Ok, so now TWO of my nicknames are being shat all over on The Hills.

LC was the first.

And now Lo.

Fuck you, MTV. Just, fuck you right in the ass without any help.

And Now For Something Completely Different...

I saw the coolest thing this morning.
I saw 3 robins hanging out on a lawn. I thought, That's strange. You don't normally see robins that close to one another unless they're mates. Then I realized. It was a mother and her fledglings. They were out on a lesson. The kids were about ready to be on their own, but kids they were. Hanging out with their mom.
THAT is something with which to start the day.

Oh...Who Are the People in Your Neighborhood in Your Neighborhood, in Your Neighborhooooood?

I don't know the name of the people who share a back porch with me. Even though we speak regularly and they have offered the use of their grill if the occasion arises. I feel badly about this sometimes. And then I'm reminded WHY I don't any of know my neighbors' names:

Last night, after exiting a cab and carrying an assload of groceries, I happened upon a "neighbor" lounging on a camping chair in our courtyard situation. By "courtyard", I mean a long stretch of road that is only accessible by foot and bicycle and police vehicle that stretches from my street all the way down to Broadway. Some call these roads "Malls". Anyhoo, while pretty, it is a recipe for the following.
So, I see this guy lounging, eating some crackers, drinking some soda. It was a lovely evening, and feeling uncharacteristically neighborly, I said. passing by, "You look very comfortable". How NICE! And then he answered.
"Yeah, well, I'm dead as of tonight, lady. (incoherent mumbling) For 200 bucks."
More mumbling made more incoherent by MY internal response as I quickened my pace "Whoops...Sorry, didn't realize you were one of the hundreds of fucking CRAZY people living on my street."

Thank you. For the Ugly.

On my way to the vet this morning, I hit the sidewalk at the Loyola stop and noticed a construction site. And at this construction site was a very nice fence situation with a nice floral motif to cover up the constructionness of the construction site- to make it look less, well, ugly. Then I smelled paint thinner. I looked up ahead and saw one of the construction workers wiping at a piece of graffiti. And I thought to myself, "wow. Vandals can't leave anything nice, can they?" and it kind of made me a little mad.
Any attempt to make something look nice, and some gang or some shithead kid has to come along and write his goddamned name on it.
Like a dog pissing on a tree.

Later, when walking to the bus, I thought I'd go to the stop down the block because it had a bench and seeing as how it was such a lovely day, it might be nice to sit in the sun and read while waiting for the bus. Because MY stop doesn't have a bench anymore. Most likely due to some murder. So off I go. When I get there, there's a nice, big, chunky pile of junkie sick right in front of the fucking bench.

Thanks, neighbors. For the graffiti, and the throw up.

Put Your Makeup Back ON, Paul Stanley.

ew Ew EEEW!!!
At least with the make-up, his oh-so-pursed-lips were contextual. Now, they're just sordid. And frightening.

OH MY GOD! He looks like MIchael Jackson! He looks like Michael Jackson saw him in a magazine and said,
"HIM! THAT GUY! THAT'S who I want to look like. So, start cuttin'!"

BEHOLD!

It's Been a Rough Morning.

First, I find out that LeRoi Moore, sax player for the Dave Matthews Band died. He was fortyfuckingsix.
Then, I find out that PBS is dropping its syndication Mister Rogers' Neighborhood.
What? Apparently, they're only going to provide one episode a week via syndication to local PBS stations. Thereafter, it will be up to the local affiliates to make the show available to viewers. This arrangement, apparently makes this a big pain in the ass for the local stations. And we all know what that means. Anything that requires more than 10 minutes of effort in this country stops.

I've probably posted this before, but here's a link to Fred Rogers' appearance before the senate to ask for more funding for PBS back in the 60's.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yXEuEUQIP3Q

And now they want to drop him. Way to suck PBS.

Is It Still a Robert DeNiro Movie...

If Sympathy for the Devil ISN'T played somewhere in the film, near the film, or during the trailer??

Or is it just Scorcese?

Kind of like John Landis's "See You Next Wednesday", except without the decapitation by helicopter?

Ugh.

WHY is Scarlett Johansson such a big fat fucking deal?
She's not a good.
At all.

She's pretty? Kind of? Is that it?
Really?

The Plague Continues

Yeah, so, note to self:
When suddenly aware of how long it's been since you've been sick, quickly move away from that train of thought lest you suffer the fate of the Cubs every time one of the fucking announcers says something like "The Cubs haven't lost a game at home in...." or "Ryan Dempster is going for his blankth win at home today", and such and such.

Suck.

Seriously.

The good news, we've finally set a date. I can't tell you what it is, however, for fear that you might write that date down and then use the time to hatch a plan to lie in wait until all of my loved ones are at my wedding and descend onto their homes to rob them of their things.

Yes, that's right. This was what my mother warned me about when sending out a public wedding announcement.
She's such a "glass half full" type, you know?

In other news, I am now an iPhone user. (Note to selves, thieves.) I heart it more than a whole lot of things I've ever hearted before.
It's the closest thing we've got to a Tri-Corder in this day and age and puts a nice band-aid on the seeping wound in my soul that I'm not driving around in a flying car right now.

Hey, also.
Russia? I'm sorry. Isn't there some kind of law or something that there's no war allowed..or at the VERY least, no NEW war allowed during the Olympics? Way to suck, Russia. Honestly, I think we can all agree that once again, you manage to take the fun out of something awesome.

Russia, the world's own embarrassingly inappropriate dinner guest.

Thanks, Hobo!

Hooray! I'm coming down with a cold!

I passed by a homeless person yesterday who, I think, blasted me with something toxic.
I was walking down State street towards Sears. I had decided it was high time for some new underpants. Sears has some very cute options. And I must have opened my mouth to take a breath because I was walking really fast and all of a sudden I get slapped in the face and mouth with the WORST HOBO STINK I HAVE EVER EXPERIENCED.
It was fucking epic.
So epic in fact , that I believe I cried out in revulsion. Or at the very least yelped out loud.
It was awful. And I barely saw the person. I wasn't paying attention because normally when I see those people I hold my breath until I'm well out of range. Which, I know, makes me a terrible person. But this one got me. Down wind. Right in my soul. A mouthful of Hobo.

It stuck with me all fucking day long. And then other people stunk too. I was literally sick to my stomach with the smell of humanity yesterday.

Urine and Sweat. Mixed with street mung.
All day.