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Abashed
1. Ashamed or embarrassed
2. Disconcerted
Ron Jeremy couldn't help but feel abashed after catching his reflection in the mirror and realizing his massive penis looked like a twinky sticking out of bagpipe.
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Thursday, March 23rd, 2006
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I threw my power bill in the mailbox this morning without putting a stamp on it. I use one of those communal apartment complex mailboxes, so I couldn’t retrieve my unstamped bill from the slot, but I did leave two stamps in my mailbox in the hope that my mail lady would put the stamps on and forward my power bill. My question: do you think this will happen? I may have guilt on my side, as the lady who delivered the mail last Saturday almost killed me.
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Whether you call it saleratus (aerated salt), sodium bicarbonate, or plain old baking soda, Church & Dwight is the world's #1 maker of the powder. Church & Dwight's ARM & HAMMER baking soda is used as a deodorizer, a cleaner, a swimming pool pH stabilizer, and as leavening. The firm makes laundry detergent, bathroom cleaners, cat litter, carpet deodorizer, air fresheners, toothpaste, and antiperspirants. Church & Dwight also makes Brillo scouring pads, Trojan condoms, and industrial-grade carbonates.
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Wednesday, March 22nd, 2006
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Four jobs you have had in your life:
*Monitored slot machines
*Cook’s helper at Benihana
*Research Assistant
*Telemarketer
Four movies you would watch over and over:
*Mulholland Dr.
*Mikey and Nickey
*Lawrence of Arabia
*The Fog (original)
Four places you have lived:
*Reno
*Austin
*Elko
*Spring Creek
Four TV shows you love to watch:
*Sopranos
*Twin Peaks
*MASH
*House (I only get Fox these days so my choices are limited…I like this show, though)
Four places you have been on vacation:
*San Francisco
*Vancouver
*Portland
*Venice
Four websites I visit daily:
*Livejournal (just started up again…I actually missed it)
*Slate
*Yahoo
*Hoovers
Four of my favorite foods:
*Anything curry
*Pesto
*Burritos
*BBQ
Four places I would rather be right now:
*Bed
*In a bottle
*Victoria B.C.
*New York City
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I had a dream that I was watching David Lynch's Wild at Heart and there was an alternate ending with the car headed down the road and a voiceover saying, "to the extent it's real, it matters."
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Oh, my favorite onstage banter came from Rebecca Stark:
"Some people don't believe the seasons exist anymore. But I still believe in the seasons."
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Guillemots
Lavender Diamond
Fiery Furnaces
Xiu Xiu
I really wanted to see Chin Up Chin Up but I was too damn tired. Work sucks.
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Thursday, March 16th, 2006
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Every five minutes I bash a Cleopatra doll against my desk when my cubicle neighbor attempts to pronounce “implementation.”
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I read Denis Johnson’s “The Name of the World” in thirds and it didn’t add up to anything.
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Here's what I made it to the first night:
New Pornographers
Frog Eyes
Plimsouls
Go! Team
The Frog Eyes were a treat.
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Saturday, March 4th, 2006
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Saturday, February 25th, 2006
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Psst: Matt Dillon likes niggers. Crash may be the worst movie I've ever seen.
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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Wednesday, October 19th, 2005
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I'm wearing a handle bar mustache made out of Lebanese pubic hair and a desire to be a better man. What are you wearing?
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Comments: Read 2 or Add Your Own.
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Tuesday, October 18th, 2005
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Early opinion of Leonard Cohen's "Beautiful Losers": the best book ever written that begins, "Catherine Tekakwitha, who are you? Are you (1656-1680)?"
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The best single malt scotch tastes like a cheap cigar being extinguished on a used rubber. I mean that in the best possible way; Ardbeg is divine.
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Sunday, September 18th, 2005
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This is from the September 5th issue of The New Yorker:
"A few years ago, Passard, the owner and chef of the restaurant L'Arpege, on the Rue de Varenne, in Paris, which since 1996 has had three stars in the Michelin Red Guide, bought the chateau in order to create a potager, an organic vegetable garden. He bought it through a uniquely French practice, in which a younger person buys the property of an older one while the old person is still alive. This gives the older person a cash infusion, and the new buyer gets at least a little use of the property while he or she waits to get it all. The practice can create a situation as intensely delicate as a Roman imperial adoption, since the buyer becomes nearly a son or daughter of the house as he begins to occupy it, or bits of it, while by ancient French cynical conviction, the sudden onset of money combined with the power of spite extends the life of the older person out to the demoralizing edge of immortality."
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Your mail indicates you attended Emory University. I read a wonderful article in the university magazine last night about Deborah Lipstadt's trial with holocaust denier David Irving. Were you involved? I like Lipstadt, but she did one thing I thought was quite stupid: C-Span offered to feature the book she wrote about the trial on Book TV. But she declined after finding out C-Span would air a talk by David Irving immediately after, for "balance." Lipstadt asked, "How can one debate someone, on any topic, who deliberately lies and falsifies history?" How can one not? It wasn't so long ago that everyone knew the Bell Curve was bullshit but couldn't or wouldn't prove it in writing. And then there was that clinical psychology study that was denounced in congress for implying that victims of childhood sexual abuse weren't worse off because of it (a study often referred to by NAMBLA). But lets get back to you, Michelle Lewis. A package from Netflix arrived for you the other day--Born into Brothels, eh? I'm sure it's better than that stupid weeping camel movie. But here's what I really want to know: Who is Sara Webb? A former lover? An old tenant? She was sent a card from the Church of Scientology of Texas that states:
If we win, you will. The kids in school will grow up. And you'll have a world without criminality, without war.
We mean it. And the only slim chance this planet has rests on a few slim shoulders, overworked, underpaid and fought--the Scientologist.
Later on, if we make it, what will be your answer to this question?
Did you help?
--L. Ron Hubbard
(flip card)
You can make a difference and accomplish something worthwhile. Right now we are hiring for technical staff to train to be experts in the delivery of Scientology improvement technology. Don't miss out on this opportunity! Apply now! Contact the Personnel Procurement Officer...
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You sit in the Chicago Lounge chair you got at Dania, swallowing the undissolved granules of cocoa at the bottom of your mug. The Emmys are on, and you're wearing a pair of scotch plaid flannel pajamas you purchased out of the fall LL Bean catalog. Ellen DeGeneres is starting one of her quirky dance routines, her third of the night. You used to wonder why Ellen dancing looked so awkward, thinking maybe it was an ironic piece of dykey pop culture that had passed you by.
Your wife shrieks something about a tree collapsing in the yard. Your feet immediately slide into the faux wool lined slippers she got you for Christmas. You once thought your wife's outbursts somehow impugned your manhood, but now you realize she's just nuts and have some fun with it: you descend into the garage, put on a utility belt, and grab the flashlight off the workbench. You clump upstairs--the tools on the belt jingling and jangling--and run into the yard. Your wife is right; a four feet long, half inch wide branch has fallen next to the tulip pots. You aim the flashlight at it. Snoopy nervously walks by. Your wife stands behind you now knowing this show is at her expense but not getting it. She mutters something and by the time you return to Snoopy, he has shit one of your tube socks in the carport.
You wish your wife could make latkes. You once dated a jewish broad--older and rounder but unembarrassable. She took you to meet her mom and you ate homemade latkes and drank Sanka. You wife makes rum raisin cake that tastes like rocket fuel and looks like it's stuffed with ferret shit.
You return to the kitchen, put a pot of milk on the stove, and reload your mug with cocoa mix. The Desperate Housewives are cleaning up.
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Wednesday, September 14th, 2005
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I just got in my first car accident and I have pneumonia. This week sucks.
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Tuesday, September 13th, 2005
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Right now Mike Allen is fighting insomnia by thumbing through a Land's End catalog and polishing the buckles on his loafers. Mike Allen never learned the ideal number of tangerine golf shirts in one's wardrobe is zero.
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