Thursday, July 30, 2009

What Rachel Wants to Know

Rachel wants to know my opinion on the war between the apples and the PCs. The fact of the matter is...I don't know what oversensitive politically correct people have against apples anyway. They protect you from doctors.

Just kidding, I totally know she meant computers. It basically rolls out like this:

I hate MACs because you can't right click.

But we have a MAC because B-rock respeks the hardware.

However - he's magically installed Windows on it. So I can right click.

That's love.

If what she really wants to know if in a blind taste test would I'd choose John Hodgman or Justin Long? The answer to that is always going to be Hodgman. I've loved him since he told that story about getting bit by a penguin in the London Zoo on This American Life. All Justin Long ever did for me was the final scene of Drag Me to Hell (You'll understand when you see it. It's glorious). But he negates that coolness with EVERYTHING ELSE THAT HE TOUCHES. So there you have it.

Monday, July 27, 2009

Can Hair Deflate?

It's 89 degrees in my bedroom at 9:00 PM and I hate everything. I put off coming home as long as I could for the last few days but after a while, you just run out of places to go and you remember that the tomatoes must be watered. And so must the cat.

"Degrees" mean different things to different people. To some people, "100 degrees" promises salmonella poisoning from undercooked chicken. To others, it's an object that is only mostly turned halfway around. For me and all other Portlanders, 100 degrees means we abandon any and all fashion sense (if one may call it that) in an attempt to clad ourselves in the least amount of clothing possible without getting arrested for public indecency (on all but Naked Bike Ride day).

It's the clothing normally reserved for wear only on laundry day in one's own home with the shades drawn. The back up clothing. The
Tae-bo in your living room, but only when you're single clothing. You know what I'm talking about. We put it on and we go OUT. We go out because it's too fucking hot to stay IN. Because we don't have air conditioning. This state, collectively, is like those women who profess to forget how painful childbirth is as they prepare to push out their 8th mouth to feed. The hot days of summer fade quickly into shitty, gloomy rain and we go another year without installing AC. Imbeciles.

Which is how I end up out in public in a hand-me-down patchy jeanskirt that is so short, when I sit in a's straight cheek to vinyl. I sound like velcro when I come back up. Walking down the street I do that preggo waddle to prevent my thighs from touching as they pass to keep the friction from starting a small fire. My tank top is 10 years old and the cotton has become so thin, it's misshapen and see-through. The outfit belongs in a lawn chair at a trailer park. But I wear it, dragging my burning feet along in sandals so thin I can feel the pavement. I wear it and I'm thankful for it. When it goes back to 80 degrees, maybe I'll shudder at my knotted up hairstyle and my lack of makeup, my giant Elton John sunglasses that cover half of my face, les tout ensemble. Maybe then I'll care.

But right now...I want to crawl into my refrigerator and learn to speak Inuit.

Monday, July 20, 2009

A Survival's Guide to...Survival.

**Updated to contain 50% less spelling/grammatical errors. And toothpicks**

There are certain things in this world that a person shoul
d just never be without. And I don't mean stored in their garage or included in their stock portfolio...I mean in a fucking fannypack attached to the waistline at all times. They are:


Key chain bottle opener.

Reading matter.


Collapsible flask.

Bobby Pins (full pckg).
TSA-approved nail file.

Without this survival grouping of goods, I fear for your welfare. And I can't help you when, as a result, you are in danger. I'm just too
far away.

I feel as though you may have questions...let me break the list down:

Chapstick - 200,000 Americans die ever year from chapped lip poisoning. The global numbers are hair-raising. Scientists haven't announced exactly how the poison is secreted through the dried lip skin, but that isn't because they don't know. It's because they know we couldn't handle the truth. And they're right. I recommend Burt's Bees.

Keychain bottle opener - 200,000 Americans have to not drink something in a glass bottle every day due to unpreparedness. Strike that - I'm fairly certain the number is much, much, much higher. These are statistics, people. No one wants to be one of those. That's why I vote no on the census.

Matches - the second half of this is...NEVER pay for them. They are placed in bars for you to take. You'll never know when you
might find yourself in the dark. And needing approximately 10 seconds of light.

Reading matter - I can't emphasize this one enough. There are only two things that really keep public transit/park/sidewalk crazy at bay and they are reading matter and earphones. The difference between the two is that reading matter can also be used as a weapon. Think about it.

Collapsible flask
- I just discovered these in New Orleans. They are the greatest invention since the olive extractor. Talk about always being carry this around and you'll be the POSTER child for preparedness. And then you can sign autographs. Wh
ile beating up boy scouts. Totally pissed. After you actually fill the flask.

Bobby pins
- Perhaps an entire package is excessive. That's only for the hard-core hair putter-uppers, like myself. They also pick locks and take out eyes right from the socket in a dirty dirty street fight. Note: you will lose on average 3 or 4 a week. So really, it's just a matter of planning. I have a usage issue. I find bobby pins everywhere in the house. By the bed, on the floor, in the kitchen, in the key candy dish. Everywhere. Don't be like me. Contain your usage.

TSA-approved nail file - and that means those rounded ones that they can't take away from you at the airport. I've never actually purchased one of these, The Future does a wonderful job of making sure I have one in my Christmas stocking every year. And it's a good thing, because I always need one. And it doubles as a torture device for anyone who thinks they sound like fingernails scraping a blackboard. Shudder. I believe they are an Obama-endorsed interrogation technique. And they'll keep your shit from being all jagged. And I'm not even joking.

Toothpicks - if you don't know how important these are, then I can't help you. And neither can anyone else. Go live alone in a tent on a precipice.

I could throw testimonials in here about how my survival kit has saved lives, marriages, sanities and souls. I could trademark and patent and guarantee the hellfire out of it. But I'm not going to. You'll just have to see for yourself. Statistics.

And this is what you get when I draw a creative blank. A
nd only eat a single Reeses peanut butter cup for dinner. If you don't want this to happen again then you need to help me out. Tell me what you want my opinion on. Do it or I'll send the Wheelies after you.

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Half-Assed Review: Twilight. You Know...For Kids!

Two weekends back B-rock was in Seattle for a nerdstock thing. Seeing as I was going to have the house to myself and I needed to save money, I netflixed some chick flicks and purchased several yards of wine. And cherries.

That last bit was irrelevant.

Of the two movies, one was
Twilight. In case you're not a 12-year-old girl, someone who has been around a 12-year-old girl or someone who has been suckered into reading all 55 of the books at gunpoint by a 12-year-old girl, let me enlighten you. Twilight is a movie made from one of a series of books for tweenies about a vampire named Edward who sparkles in the sunlight and a teenager named Bella (subtle) who wears flannel, going against everything her name stands for.

The first thing I will say about the movie - nothing at all occurs at twilight. So the title is filled with lies.

Secondly - you may be wondering why I watched the mo
vie of a book I didn't read. Two reasons. One - it was mostly filmed in Portland and the Portland area (we can't seem to beat the film crews off with a stick lately). I enjoy trying to recognize places. Two - the dude from the movie is getting attacked everywhere he goes by fans on that physical Elvis-level, so I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Especially since Portland's small enough that I probably passed his pasty British ass on the street before anyone cared that he was once Cedric Diggory.

After viewing the film - I do not understand the obsession. With any of it. And I'm totally typing this with a straight face knowing there will be another of the Sunday
True Blood soirees tomorrow night. Judge not lest blah blah blah. Still, at least those vampires have FANGS!

Yes, what I'm telling you here, people, is that I watched a
vampire film with no fangs. They're fangless, sparkle in the sunlight and for funsies - play baseball.

You know what? That's it. That's all you need to know about this movie. Consider it reviewed.

And then, at the grocery store today I saw this: It may be that camera phones are not the greatest - but if you look closely, you'll see that it's a special US Weekly magazine starring The Sexy Stars of Twilight. And if you purchase the piece of piss, you'll get a free gift. Luckily, the internet can do justice to what my cell phone couldn't. Behold the free gift below. Lip. Venom. V.


My lips ached to know the venom. Good thing New Orleans left me on a ramen budget til the Europe trip. Stopped me just in time.

Friday, July 03, 2009

Vacay, Bitches.

Going down south to play chicken with skin cancer. I may pop in when I can no longer move from eating too much crawfish...but don't hold your breath.

Or hold it...whatever.