Wednesday, June 29, 2011

sorry!

your level of D.U.M.B. has been exceeded for the day.

please turn off your phone and e-mail for the rest of the day.

this means you. and you too.

***

your level of D.U.M.B. has been exceeded for the day.
your level of D.U.M.B. has been exceeded for the day.
your level of D.U.M.B. has been exceeded for the day.
your level of D.U.M.B. has been exceeded for the day.
your level of D.U.M.B. has been exceeded for the day.
your level of D.U.M.B. has been exceeded for the day.
your level of D.U.M.B. has been exceeded for the day.
your level of D.U.M.B. has been exceeded for the day.
your level of D.U.M.B. has been exceeded for the day.
your level of D.U.M.B. has been exceeded for the day.
your level of D.U.M.B. has been exceeded for the day.
your level of D.U.M.B. has been exceeded for the day.
your level of D.U.M.B. has been exceeded for the day.
your level of D.U.M.B. has been exceeded for the day.
your level of D.U.M.B. has been exceeded for the day.

ERROR. your level of D.U.M.B. has been exceeded for the day. ERROR.

Friday, June 24, 2011

dear sangria...


this week... this week about killed me. and it wasn't even school. that was the EASY part! it was the idiots i work for. i'm fairly certain that the fates realize that i'm on my final lap there - what? only two and a half months left? - and they're going to make that time absolute hell. today i realized i would have actually accepted hard drugs if they had been offered to me. if i knew where to score some heroin, i would have spent every last dime i had to get some because i just want to be a limp doll. that's how my brain and my psyche and my everything feels. not that i know from first-hand experience that limp doll is the result of getting high on heroin, that's just what the movies tell me.

instead, i choose sangria. because i know where to get that fix. i do not regret spending all of my food money for next week on your supplies sangria, i know you're worth it.
you just keep on chillin', marinating and getting generally awesome in my fridge...

sangria, i have a question for you: can your favorite hug, imagined hard enough, actually take the place of the real thing and squeeze all the shit from the week out of you?
i think that happened just a tiny bit today when i was walking home from the train.
tiny bit of imagined hug, tiny bit of shit gone.

i'm so exhausted sangria. the truly incoherent prattling in this post should show you that. please just let me be blissed out in your awesome this weekend.

uhngha bungha,

captain cave(woah!)man.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

things i'm happy and excited to worry about:

1. going back to the nervous breakdown after a two week hiatus because i don't think i'll ever be able to catch up with all the reading i've missed. is there a sum up? a "best week ever" of tnb?
2. applying to a big-girl school on friday... i'm only eight weeks away from getting out of the community college pond and i'm a little jittery about this new adventure.
3. having to set a "last day in mortgage". (!!) i'll only miss three people here.
4. finding some seemingly frivolous and menial part-time job to work while going back to school full-time.
5. going to belize in december wherein i can worry about potentially getting skin cancer because i won't be able to get enough of that warm orange ball of awesome in the sky. (!!!)
6. what i'm going to do with part of my mid-august and all of my mid-september paychecks since i'll have paid everyone off by then (touch wood). what?!
7. touching wood.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

dear dorothy parker:

a-fuckin'-men!!

RHYME OF AN INVOLUNTARY VIOLET

when i ponder lovely ladies
slipping sweetly down to hades,
hung and draped with glittering booty -
am i distant, cold and snooty?
though i know the price their pearls are
am i holier than the girls are?
though they're lavish with their "yes's,"
do i point and shake my tresses?
no! i'm filled with awe and wonder.
i review my every blunder....
do i have the skill to tease a
guy for an hispano-suiza?
i can't even get me taxis
off to sydney, abes and maxies!
do the pretty things i utter
to the kings of eggs and butter
gain me pearls as big as boulders,
clattering, clanking round my shoulders,
advertising, thus, their full worth?
no, my dear. mine come from woolworth.
does my smile across a table
win a cloak of russian sable?
bab, no. i'd have to kill a
man to get a near-chinchila.
men that come on for conventions
show me brotherly attentions;
though my glance be fond and melting,
do they ever start unbelting
with the gifts they give the others?
no! they tell me of their mothers,
to the baby's pictures treat me,
say they want the wife to meet me!
gladly i'd be led to slaughter
where the ermine flows like water,
where the gay white globes are lighted;
but i've never been invited!
so my summary, in fact, is
what an awful flop my act is!