tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39829192011-06-30T16:50:53.123-04:00mind your own strabismus.and this little known tome.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.comBlogger521100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1137042329987161392006-01-11T23:50:00.000-05:002006-01-12T00:18:49.620-05:00What is it, Bond?Broccoli and what's-his-face knew how to write a screenplay. Do you remember when James Bond enters the undersea lair of Dr. No? (If you don't, turn away from this blaring screen and get yourself to a video store immediately.) And do you remember how Bond, after admiring - and astutely commenting upon the degree of artificial light within - Dr. No's magnified fish tank, proceeds Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1134448400866551732005-12-12T23:31:00.000-05:002005-12-13T00:00:32.850-05:00an email i wrote to an old friend of mine.m to the c, i rolled out of bed today at one o'clock. i had been awake since nine.i think this is what they call post-grad ennui. lying around, staringat the ceiling, the stack of books i could read, if i could read. ifeel like "the graduate."when i finally did roll out of bed at one o'clock, it was not forme. it was for the mailman. the thought of him Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1133676409178656562005-12-04T00:57:00.000-05:002005-12-04T01:06:49.190-05:00Do you hear the frog?Since working as an art museum security guard requires such attentive care to the masterpieces (or as one of the museum tech refers to as "messterpieces") on the walls, i feel a little guilty about one recent discovery of mine.i make noises.not just any noises. frog noises. blackbird noises. cat purrs. i can even do a hummingbird with my tongue on a good day. the ethical Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1131486365545548932005-11-08T16:45:00.000-05:002005-11-08T19:54:22.200-05:00Here’s a funny little factoid from the archives. The word “assassin” originally derives from a medieval order of Muslim fundamentalist hit men – the Assassins - whose chief object was to assassinate Christian Crusaders. Al Salih, the twelve-year old ruler of the coveted Mediterranean coastal city of Aleppo and another mysterious murder attributed to the ruthless Saladin, called upon the Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1131343444311651282005-11-07T00:21:00.000-05:002005-11-07T01:11:05.316-05:00"Press Upon the Hop-Frog for Nauseating Wonders!"A dear companion of mine, a certain Professor Pille at the Mount Palomine Institute of Mysteries, has just contacted me via other-worldy satellite to notify me of the recently erected "Planetary Panopticon" - a veritable log book of the inner-workings and jerkings of his most fascinating Echo World. I, as your dear friend, feel compelled to pass Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1130131756565703982005-10-24T01:11:00.000-04:002005-10-24T18:23:44.976-04:00Jello Biafra busted up my face.But that’s not even the point of the story. The point of the story is that I just had the most spectacular birthday party imaginable. At first, my roommate Lloyd and I were a bit worried. We had prepared a mouth-watering banquet for the event – chicken and snow peas on skewers, sweet potatoes with a soy ginger sauce, asparagus with a lemon-tarragon dipping sauce, Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1121403607818234092005-07-15T00:58:00.000-04:002005-07-15T01:00:07.826-04:00(another installment in the saga of Mirror girl)Mirror girl had a feeling that she wasn’t telling the truth. At times, it is true that one can really be unsure. In our world, there exists a rare person every now and again that can bury the truth and rewrite it. Some might call them compulsive liars but they are not simply that. For their own sake, let us consider them to be the “truth re-writers.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1121213687854389212005-07-12T20:10:00.000-04:002005-07-12T20:14:47.860-04:00 Someone has finally found an answer to one of life's most pressing situations. thank you, typotheque.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1119641596373693642005-06-24T15:04:00.000-04:002005-06-24T21:54:15.346-04:00 Any idiot can face a crisis. It's the day to day living that wears you out. -Anton CheckhovMy landlord upstairs says that every once in a while he fasts for five days to clear out his system. Kregg says he drinks nothing but water. After a few days he slowly introduces himself to juices again. I am wondering what it must be like toErinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1106729741406004842005-01-26T03:54:00.000-05:002005-01-26T03:59:18.126-05:00a quiet day.
There once was a Labrador who was the Queen of an entire realm made up of carpeting and kisses. Because she was the Queen, she could lick any face that she pleased and lay across any square of carpet that was most fitting for her. She was not born a Queen, though she always had her bed fluffed every evening and her water dish filled every morning. She was once a curious Princess, Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1102807634022249262004-12-11T17:54:00.000-05:002004-12-11T18:27:14.023-05:00purse-snatchers
which is worse?
some scallywag stole my wallet last night right from the same poker table that just a few hours earlier stuffed my wallet with its winnings. a nice man from a town that is about 45 minutes away from amherst tracked my i.d.s and called my dad while i was in the middle of my 3 hour crazy search for it:
dad: hey, how's it going?
me: terribly. i lost my wallet, i'm Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1102593686626874902004-12-09T06:43:00.000-05:002004-12-09T07:01:26.626-05:00i have a branding.
did you know that? i have this so very hologrammic branding on the left side of my belly. if humans were rectangles, it would actually be on a different side of the shape than the side that my rectangular belly would be on. it's on my side.
i have completely forgotten about this branding. until last night when i happened to catch a glimpse in a mirror. oh yeah, i thought, Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1101708925373651712004-11-29T01:35:00.000-05:002004-11-29T01:52:42.356-05:00-Insert Title Here-
So I've been thinking about what I would like to call this div. III project that will be ravenously consuming my free time for the next five months. This has become a very important matter of consequence. Right now, it is name-less and, as you all might know, if something remains name-less for long enough, like a pet or a baby, it will inevitably turn on you. Or die. Things Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1101266885888735722004-11-23T22:28:00.000-05:002004-11-23T22:40:38.630-05:00my messI know I've been away a long, long time...
...and all I got was this lousy Div. III outline.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1099873309457868852004-11-07T19:00:00.000-05:002004-11-07T19:27:02.113-05:00di*skus*ing pol*i*tiks (vt)
1. Two or more people in a collective whining about the role, actions, perspectives of a/their government then proceeding to disagree vehemently with each other in increasingly louder volumes (often concerning entirely dubious facts), most especially used in the North Eastern United States when what follows is the realization that they actually agreed with one other Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1098942030160418782004-10-28T01:04:00.000-04:002004-10-28T02:05:43.483-04:00I must have the LAZIEST venus fly traps
And here is how I obtained them:
Jen needed to buy plexi-glass. Brandon had a car. And I had an unexplainable desire to go to the Home Depot. So off we went.
On the way there, I had this aching craving for a hot dog. I mentioned to my friends, hey guys, wouldn't it be cool if there was a hot dog cart in the parking lot? As though Fortune herself heard Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1094025344441887042004-09-01T03:36:00.000-04:002004-09-01T03:55:44.443-04:00The Moon and Mirror Girl
mirror girl could never see herself the way that others saw her. in fact, she couldn’t really see herself at all. whenever she looked into the bathroom mirror or into the shiny square sides of the toaster all that she could see was a reflection of her reflection. she could see all of the shapes of her body as she wiggled and twisted while cleaning her teeth in the Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1093932011233278542004-08-31T01:41:00.000-04:002004-08-31T16:13:08.706-04:00the return of the blog (a gargantuan reappearance)
i am sitting on a bus.
it's 5.34 p.m. and every road out of hartford is jammed as the rain clouds teasingly slap the sidewalk. the windows of the bus are so big that if i squint my eyes and concentrate more than i ever have before i think that i can just pick out each falling raindrop before it smacks against the concrete. if i can just get Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1084095337977664872004-05-09T05:35:00.000-04:002004-05-09T05:40:32.293-04:00 Public Service Announcement
I am very sorry to report that a very large raptor with the wingspan of three new england coastal states has just devoured the last remaining creature of the subspecies Erinsblogasaurus. this species will be added to the extinction list, along with the blue-footed booby and the fuzzastadon who were there to witness, and then become victim to, the brutal massacre.
Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1079759196946607652004-03-20T00:06:00.000-05:002004-03-20T00:11:11.700-05:00Something fishy.
so i think this girl that i work with is trying to get me fired. why? i don't know yet. but here's the lowdown:
one month ago:
her first venture was to take complete control of cashing out the registers. i would grab the money bag and go to do it. she'd bitch about how it was too early. two minutes later she would dash to the registers and cash them out. a possible thief? i Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1076005116377101412004-02-05T13:18:00.000-05:002004-02-06T21:10:35.716-05:00soap in our mouths
today's topic in advanced intermediate italian was: curse words.
i can't keep them to myself, so here are the ones that i remember.
bastardo! no tricks. it's bastard.
merda! shit
cazzate! bull shits
ruffiani! hypocrites (this can be considered a very filthy word)
coglioni shitheads
puttane! whores
let me use this one in a sentence so that Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1075738963169439392004-02-02T11:22:00.000-05:002004-02-02T11:32:49.420-05:00amok in the FDA
enough. this has gone entirely too far. remember in Huck Finn when the quacks come into town and pull their zainy stunts and walk away with a million dollars? well, maybe back then getting 50 was a steal. and maybe it was really Tom Sawyer. but all of this is besides the point. there are quacks out there. jillions of them. and most of them pull in a 5 figure salary every year Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1069141904437849932003-11-18T02:51:00.000-05:002003-11-18T04:33:16.186-05:00I don't remember when it happened that suddenly Santa Claws was bunk.
These past few years I have been totally gyped and have not received even one shiny present from that man. Fair enough. I never sent him any letters pleading for a cabbage patch like all the other kids. Maybe one day he would like to reimburse me for all those carrots I left out for his reindeers though. Reindeers love carrotsErinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1068082991002876392003-11-05T20:43:00.000-05:002003-11-05T20:43:28.373-05:00In northern New Jersey, there is this a magical place called "Space Farms"...
...and at Space Farms you can climb up sixteen stairs and lightly pat the head of "Goliath," the largest brown bear that ever lived.
You can eat the most delightful vanilla ice cream cone you have ever tasted with chocolate and rainbow sprinkles and put your nose up against the snake cage where they hiss at you for Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1066057891526876122003-10-13T11:11:00.000-04:002003-10-13T11:17:15.733-04:00remind me to never drink southern comfort again.
funny how the call it that; the "comfort" part, i mean.
of course, there's nothing more comfortable than the chilly bathroom floor after half a liter, curled up with the moldy unicorn rug in the corner, worrying about my pinkie toe nail never growing back.
or maybe i can drink enough of the stuff that they nationally recognize me and place me Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1063922036043313932003-09-18T17:53:00.000-04:002003-09-18T17:53:56.266-04:00(installment number two) Continued...
...when it was time to attend school, mirror girl was one of the brightest in the class. she knew her numbers and her letters on the first day. all of the children were fascinated by their very different friend. mirror girl had more friends than she could ever ask for. until one day when all of the children were let out to have their recess. a smallish boy Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1063521854682052382003-09-14T02:44:00.000-04:002003-09-18T17:56:59.610-04:00there once was a girl who was covered all in mirrors... (installment number one)
every place of her that would usually be skin had been magically transformed into a soft mirror plate that would reflect all that was around her. at first, this was a fun game. like canaries that peck at their own reflections, the other 4 somethings would delicately poke her mirror skin and she would giggle. Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1061158292138920832003-08-17T18:11:00.000-04:002003-08-17T18:26:24.716-04:00diet crack and purple panties (a love story)
A long, long time ago as the sky exploded when the dinosaurs roamed before you were born like in eighth grade I started to drink Diet Coke. Diet Coke always had a one-up on the real Coke: it didn't leave that slimey film of sugar on my teeth, it came in a stellar silver can, etc. Four years after my first sip was when I finally faced Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1060297754480313382003-08-07T19:09:00.000-04:002003-08-07T19:14:19.930-04:00plug it
Breathing keeps me awake at night.
Not my own breathing of course. That's the stuff that keeps me alive. I mean listening to other people suck air makes it nearly impossible for me to regulate my own breath and goddamn fall asleep. So I have devised a way (i.e. purchased a product) to remedy this most frustrating of situations.
My ear plugs are a mellow shade of canteloupe. They Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1059088966261489382003-07-24T19:22:00.000-04:002003-07-24T19:32:23.066-04:00puddle jumper
most of us have been waiting for this for four days.
for four days now, the weather report claimed thunderstorms all day. each day began with a grey tone sky, maybe a light drizzle. by mid-afternoon it would be sunny again, eighty-five degrees.
sometimes the clouds would deceive a tumultuous storm brewing beyond a mountain. usually this happened at about eight o'clock in the Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1058819798789965722003-07-21T16:36:00.000-04:002003-07-23T23:24:07.760-04:00...Helicopter-like flight enables California leaf-nosed bats to pluck insects directly from foliage without even having to slow down...
I believe that this quite accurately describes the way in which I have been grabbed up by my life long pals.
Shout out, yo.
Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1058401535842046222003-07-16T20:25:00.000-04:002003-07-16T20:31:05.320-04:00I must tell you about the absolutely smashing sick day that I took today. I woke up at a comfortable ten fifty-three a.m. to immediately give Circles his daily batch of bloodworms to munch on and then jump on my bike. I took my bike to a nearby Watroba's market to buy three things: (1) a batch of 8 eggs (2) a small top round steak and (3) a new york times. It took me two register runs and an Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-1058118412500650772003-07-13T13:46:00.000-04:002003-07-13T13:46:52.470-04:00smoke shop haikus.
(1)
people on main street
walk to the corner and pause.
the shops stay behind.
(2)
the girl is just short.
the penny jar lies empty.
she'll return the favor.
(3)
an old man i've met
sold antiques and parakeets.
repeat after me.
(4)
(according to ancient rules of haiku, this one is perfect...)
the dishes pile
so high that i can't keep up.
soon the ants will come.
i guessErinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-950832862003-05-30T11:11:00.000-04:002003-05-30T11:12:14.000-04:00I had the most frightful dream of my life last night.
Everything was grey tone; nearly black and white but more similar to someone taking a Crayola marker and scribbling on my eyes. My fish bowl was on a high shelf, just at face level. I peek inside to check on Circles, the love of my life. He is swimmingly fine, enjoying the twilight and the height of his bowl. I give him a tap and a kiss and Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-949222952003-05-26T23:06:00.000-04:002003-05-26T23:06:26.660-04:001936.
the far tip of long island.
my pop pop was lucky to run around the sand dunes
& up the beach with the tide on his heels
before the whole chunk slid into the Atlantic.
& i can't think of one place that i have been to
that doesn't exist anymore.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-947556632003-05-22T17:35:00.000-04:002003-05-26T22:59:10.000-04:00Bears.
I once had a 500 pounder no more than six feet behind me at half past midnight and felt almost as safe as I did at a mafia family reunion.
I was reading an actual newspaper today.
The front page newspaper headline: BEAR ATTACKS CHILD: 2-year-old Sparta Boy Unhurt Outside Home.
The picture: The wily toddler looks slightly confused on his mother's lap but more as if the flash of the Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-944170462003-05-15T19:18:00.000-04:002003-05-15T19:18:12.213-04:00just for kicks & comments & utter drunkenness at 7 pm:
my own words.
Evensong for Nina Simone
She's giving up prayer &
praying to god; hums to the duet
of swamp ghost & moonlight.
Under the welkin,
she whistles Mister,
I've got more
to sell than these
white teeth & hips.
She's got love songs & propositions
to harvest. The quick of her step
tills the footpath.
With only the silver dust
Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-944156622003-05-15T18:45:00.000-04:002003-05-15T19:14:00.000-04:00I believe that this summer I will find Fiji on a globe & lick it. I believe that I will find a copy of the "Dreckopathika" and translate the German myself. I believe that I will collect enough nightcrawlers in a jar to make it daylight all the time. I believe that I will ride a bike for a kajillion miles and never run out of breath. I believe that I will believe in parrallel timelines as the Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-941891822003-05-12T02:45:00.000-04:002003-05-12T02:45:04.626-04:00i think i need something new/like shoes/to wear around and pretend/that things are different with these new shoes/to stomp on worms with/or maybe i need to learn/the names of the ants in the kitchen/it would be nice to have new things/to say good morning to.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-935190012003-04-30T03:53:00.000-04:002003-04-30T06:06:11.000-04:00About being hyper-aware:
So much of my brain is spent thinking about martians & EMOs & missiles pointed east & maniacs with power & ConAgra & the death of poetry. And then I start to worry even though I know that we are caught in a maelstrom & planets away from being perfect.
So what exactly am I worrying about?
-Looking a Mad Dog Dead in the Eyes
Yusef Komunyakaa
Perception can force you Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-933284152003-04-27T00:45:00.000-04:002003-04-27T00:47:16.000-04:00I have bionic powers of death.
exhibit A: A PlaySkool Lawnmower. (circa 1987)
It all started when I was a chicken-poxed kindergartner and my mom forced me to play with the neighbor's kids so that they could catch the pox as well.
The omnipotence of viral infection must have been too sweet for my immune system. History would inevitably take its course.
exhibit B: A pile of rocks with one Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-929142562003-04-19T22:51:00.000-04:002003-04-20T15:23:15.000-04:00Meanwhile, back at the ranch...
or, the past seven minutes of my life.
or, it's been a while so here's something I've slapped together.
1. I had caught the OED in quite a predicament.
There is no such thing as "a pyjama".
And a trouser exists only to its wearer.
Is there no such thing as a pyjama-wearer?
2. I had been told a delightful piece of information by a short & stout man & a Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-924196832003-04-11T06:38:00.000-04:002003-04-11T06:38:49.496-04:00MILLION DOLLAR PRIZE for anyone on the planet who claims to know the answer to this trivia question:
At an angle of how many degrees is it necessary for the perfect foam to develop after slowly pouring a dark stout into a Tom Collins glass?
[Answer to be posted in a week or so. Unless I forget.]
Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-924168662003-04-11T04:55:00.000-04:002003-04-11T06:15:50.000-04:00There is quite a bit of champagne & speed sloshing about in my veins right now. This, combined with an intense preoccupation to ignore my brobdingnagian [*gold star for a cool ass word] pile of work, reminds me of one of my favorite rants:
toys these days.
I believe that there is nothing worse than a toy that lights up & talks &, in essence, plays with itself. I believe that it is quite Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-921297572003-04-07T01:13:00.000-04:002003-04-07T01:13:45.420-04:00Caution: This, in its entirety, is one giant complaint that does not even deserve proper grammar.
Besides NPR, there is only one good station to turn to when I'm sitting in the smoke shop, selling phillies to wicked annihilated townies while wishing bad things for the woman who cannot remember the brand of her husband's cigar & could I please just run off some names for her until one sounds Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-919628362003-04-04T00:19:00.000-05:002003-04-04T00:19:40.936-05:00Vend-A-Bait.
Ever since I heard the phrase, I could not stop thinking about it. Quarters go in, worms & nightcrawlers come out. Coins in, Insects out. It's purpose: obviously for the modern, on-the-go fisherman.
My first Vend-A Bait machine appeared in the backwoods of northern New Jersey. I don't remember the exact name of the town but it was something like Beemerville or Mastadon Lake. I'm Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-918414112003-04-02T08:32:00.000-05:002003-04-02T08:33:15.000-05:00It's 8.25 a.m. and I'm sitting in the Smith College library, still drunk from the night before. It is expected that the one book that I need is already checked out by someone whose expected time of return/renewal is ten minutes before the class that I need it for begins. It is times like these that I revel in being a total asshole when it comes to studying.
In other news, a government dolphin Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-916809362003-03-30T21:51:00.000-05:002003-03-30T21:56:57.000-05:00my latest business venture:
120 different ways to say "vagina"...approximately.
I've decided to categorize these so that the list doesn't seem so jumbled. A lot of them may seem a bit obscure. Those English keep quite an extensive slang dictionary.
-words that I think are socially acceptable in a conversation with your local Roman Catholic priest:
*twat
*cunt
*business
-words/phrases that areErinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-913927722003-03-26T00:06:00.000-05:002003-03-31T15:32:04.000-05:00Two days later and I'm back on the 'puff the magic dragon' wagon.
But seriously, guys. This is one of the most tragic songs ever written. Consider:
Puff the Magic Dragon, lived by the sea.
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honoli.
Enter stage left: Puff. He is a dragon who lives by the sea. Most obviously. He also gets extra points for frolicking. Think about how Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-912465782003-03-23T19:02:00.000-05:002003-03-23T19:40:45.000-05:00some things just don't make much sense to me anymore.
1. this
2. and that.
i've got this new record. it's one of marlene dietrich's (the german actress). she does this strikingly beautiful version of "puff" from the fantastical kid's story of puff the magic dragon. i adore little jackie paper and his rascal puff. it's up there on my list of best pieces ever written for children that i still Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-852849592002-11-30T01:39:00.000-05:002002-11-30T01:39:13.593-05:00i'd like to discuss money and why i never have it.
it's proper to clear away some minor details before i begin this discussion. firstly, i work about thirty hours a week. i do not have lazy bones. i also do not possess anything of incredible value in which i am required to make payments upon. the situation is as follows: i work, i receive money for that work, then immediately that money turns Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3982919.post-852376572002-11-28T22:51:00.000-05:002002-11-28T22:51:32.053-05:00i am off to a tiny start, more concerned with such trifles...truffles...turkish delight...than actually finishing a thought. i am fascinated in this blog as an experiment. my hypothesis is that i cannot handle "sharing" with invisible people. perhaps if i pretend i have many invisible friends with no physical traits who speak in times new roman. i will try...i've got it. lists.
1. today is Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14442095104159300372noreply@blogger.com0