Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death
Monday, April 19, 2004
Some accolades are so much better than others.
To celebrate my 100th entry in the blogosphere, I give you a love note I received today. From overseas.
Posted by Broad10:36 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Sunday, April 18, 2004
The goods on my night of debauchery
As promised, Bubba the Elph and I took plenty of photos from the Roger Clyne show, and they can be fonded here. (Clicky) For our first time together, we didn't make too bad a team.

Unfortunately, Bubba's battery crapped out before RCPM took the stage, but I got plenty of pictures from their soundcheck -- a mini-concert in and of itself -- where the only ones actually present for it were Team Wookie, me and the employees. I did weed out the redundant photos, however, and picked out the ones I thought were coolest.

Oh, and did I mention I have the coolest friends ever? Both Randy and Lenny got me into the gig free-of-charge, only Lenny forgot to tell me he put me on his list. Still, love!
Posted by Broad8:43 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Roger Clyne is sexiest man I’ve ever seen.
Ok, I have an assignment to do, and then when that's done, I'm going to be playing around with my photo editor and Yahoo! and stuff.

BECAUSE I HAVE ROGER CLYNE PICS, YO!
Posted by Broad12:14 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Saturday, April 17, 2004
Same shit, different car
The title is in honor of my little friend Kate, who just royally stuck it up her parents' asses by buying herself a hot 2000 Dodge Intrepid without needing a co-signer. Take THAT, bitches. (Her parents, that is, because they're positively shitty to her and therefore suck. Case in point? The fact that she bought herself a car without having to beg them to help her is somehow grounds for the comment, "Well, I'm glad they have money to throw away on someone like you," when she said her fiancee's parents would've co-signed for her if she needed them to. Whatever. Oh, and I call her my "little" friend because she's 20 to my 34. But don't let the age fool you, because she's got her shit together better than anyone I know.)

So, I spent a good portion of last night figuring out Bubba the Elph; I'm downloading the first shots to Yahoo! now. I'm quite sure that the thing would load my dishwasher and clean the cat boxes, if I could just figure out the settings. (Note to Carl: It's an SD-110, and I recommend it wholeheartedly.)
Posted by Broad10:36 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Friday, April 16, 2004
Day of atonement … or something
Turns out I don't have to tell you the story about how my one ex-best friend and I aren't anymore, and you owe it all to Miguelino and his magic burrito. (Well, Ok, his burrito really didn't have anything to do with it, but thanks goes out to Pauly D just the same -- he's incorporated that into our shtick ever since I told him about it.)
Posted by Broad11:01 PM • (0) Trackbacks
How elfin my Elph is
My camera? Is SMALLER THAN MY CELL PHONE.

I shall call it Bubba.
Posted by Broad1:33 PM • (0) Trackbacks
The. World’s. BIGGEST. PANTS.
You know, why is it that short girls with long waists, short legs and big asses and hips can't go to freakin' Wal-Mart, pull a pair of cargo capris off the rack and be able to wear them without looking like a sausage!?!? What the HELL, man!?!? All I want is a pair of olive green, cropped cargo pants to wear tomorrow night to the Roger Clyne gig. Is that too much to ask!?!? Sigh. But, it justifies for me a trip to Old Navy, and I'm always all about that.

Assuming I find a pair that I like, though, I'm not sure what top I'm going to wear. In my excitement toward my tax windfall, I bought this awesome silver necklace with two rhinestone circles, so that's my jewelry of choice. But I have a peach-colored, 3/4-length shirt with a collar that looks like it almost goes off the shoulders -- tres chic -- and I also have that white sweater with the low, round collar that would look just as cool. (Footwear has already been designated as a pair of black and white adidas kicks.) I know I could always see if my black linen cropped pants still fit over my giant ass, but I really do need a pair of olive green cargos, plus I don't really want to know if the $75 pair of Eileen Fisher linen pants don't fit just yet.

Of course, I can't do ANYTHING until FedEx gets here with my digital camera. Come, FedEx. Come to Butthead.
Posted by Broad11:23 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Thursday, April 15, 2004
BFKAS? Is that YOU?
Jamiel Terry recently penned an essay in OUT magazine about growing up gay in the house of Randall Terry, the notorious anti-abortion zealot who got himself kicked out of that racket as part of a court settlement and who's now taken up gay-bashing as his hobby. This is the response he posted about his son's essay.

Lemme get this straight: Here's a guy who took this boy into his own home, and now that said son -- the one HE TOOK IN AS HIS OWN -- has made a really painful revelation, he's more worried about what people think of HIM!?!!?!?

You know what, people? If you can't think beyond yourself and how you look to the world, do the rest of us a favor and do NOT procreate; do NOT adopt kids; and do NOT look up the kids you gave up for adoption. I know you like to think of yourselves as the Great White Hope, but you're NOT doing us any favors. No, seriously. Our lives are fine without your self-centered bullshit. Keep your delusions to yourself, please. Thanks.

Fer fuck's sake.

[Link courtesy of Wonkette]
Posted by Broad2:22 PM • (1) Trackbacks
Wednesday, April 14, 2004
It’s Kaffy’s fault. Blame her.
I was halfway through this entry about why one of my former best friends and I aren't anymore when Kaffy sends me this thing that was supposed to make me "pee (my) pants" when I listened to it. Well, Outlook chewed up the attachment, so I e-mailed her back and asked her what she's talking about, because I got nothing. She e-mails back, "Damn linkies." and sends me the link instead. But when I went to open up another window so I could see what she was talking about, I hit "refresh" instead, erasing my whole entry. Rats. But it's all right, because after I'd thought about it intermittently throughout the day, my thoughts became oversimplified, and that made for less compelling reading.

Instead, I shall leave you with the reason my post got erased (Clicky heeyah.) And be sure to yell at her for scaring my cats.
Posted by Broad10:56 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Beaten pile of noodly wank, I am
Ok, trying to finish a story at 7:30 a.m. after three hours of sleep, and then trying to catch up on the sleep in one night? Talk about being useless. And yet? I CAN'T be useless today because I have to go out and actually interview people. Meh. But I love my one editor -- I told her my tale of woe, and she was basically like, "Oh, Ok. Well, suck it up." She didn't say it, but I could tell she was thinking it, and that's cool with me, because I'm very much a non-whiner like that. I mean, if I was the dumbass who woke up and decided doing a story at 2:30 was a good idea, well, no one told me to do it that way.

So I'm staggin' it to Roger Clyne Saturday, but not for lack of trying; one of the girlfriends I asked to go is going to my ex-best friend's housewarming party. And I must admit, that kind of stuck up my ass. Not that the one friend chose her over me or anything like that -- she thinks the whole situation is idiotic, period. But I'm going to have to explain later, since I gots shit to do.
Posted by Broad9:54 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Tuesday, April 13, 2004
I’m NOT a WEINER!
This might be a regional thing (Region thing?), but has anyone heard the 7-11 commercial introducing its new sausage-cheddar griller? Cracks. My. Shit. UP. "Sure, you may be full of cheddar, but do you know what I think you're full of ...!? YOURSELF!" says the hot dog. And that voice! Comedic genius, yo.

So, I woke up at 2:30 a.m. to finish my Roger Clyne story; that got done and filed at 7:30 a.m. (No, it doesn't usually take that long for me to pound something out; I was dawdling.) Now, only two more full stories to go, plus I need to get some quotes for another story. And then? Time to pass out. But not before I bitch some more about Greta.

Oh, and did I mention I purchased a digital camera? Yeah, a Canon Elph SD-100. Hope to have it before the show so I can post pictures of Roger and my idiot friends.
Posted by Broad12:05 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Monday, April 12, 2004
You WISH you could be her … oh, wait. Maybe you are.
Hey, shut-up, man! Eleanor Roosevelt kicked ASS. I'm a lesbian first lady. Woo
Which Famous Homosexual are you?
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey

[Courtesy of Cornelia, who found it on Rum and Monkey]
Posted by Broad8:35 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Grrrrrrrrr …
Since when did I say it was Ok for Greta to come in a take the half-drunken bottle of Pepsi I had left over from last night!?!?! I didn't? ...Yeah, that's what I thought. She's SO buying dinner for that.

Two more days. Two more days ...
Posted by Broad6:04 PM • (0) Trackbacks
The problem with afternoon naps
Nothing like dozing off for 45 minutes, only to have the woman I've been trying to contact for three days call and wake me up, and me unable to get a word out of my freakin' mouth. I mean, I thought it was FREAKING TUESDAY MORNING WHEN I TALKED TO HER! GAH!

Not the most embarassing thing to happen to me, but up there.
Posted by Broad3:15 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Sunday, April 11, 2004
The pussification of America, and the one guy’s mystique
After stuffing myself senseless at champagne brunch with Mother today, I just got back from doing touch-up painting in Greta's living room (I know, I know, but she waited for me to get home and waited for me to get my ass in gear after I took a nap, for chrissakes. What would YOU do?), where I proceeded to stuff my face with 1/2 a sausage pizza that I definitely did NOT need. Happy Easter, yo.

So, the one guy called last night. He didn't end up coming over, because he got all squirrelly and decided I was too tired. That never usually stops him, but it did last night for some reason. Anyway, after I was completely awake at 2:30 a.m., I called him back, and we had the type of conversation that reinforces for me why I love him insanely.
Posted by Broad10:31 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Page 81 of 87 pages « First  <  79 80 81 82 83 >  Last »
It is the job of a good person to be honest. To be self-aware. To deliberately explore the fault lines of your character and try desperately to not inflict suffering in this strange, ghost-ridden world of worked and fabricated objects. Sometimes the jobs of writer and good person coincide. But more often they don’t. There are way more writers in the world than there are good people.

100 things
Info meme #1
Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.

Give it to me, baby.

Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...


The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:



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Wholovesya? said: By the by, guess who was most nasty about the charitable giving?  The frigging church.  My church and my mom’s… ...[go].

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