nazi bastards

 

I get a new DVD.

I put it in. It begins to play.

There is always this sort of painful disk ramping up and shooting through pre-ad crap and previews while a new disk warms up.

I do not always mind the previews. Mostly they are annoying but once in a while one is interesting.

But this is not previews. This is —

A bunch of people dressed up like death wandering around a park and all falling down dead while some announcer drones on about how I should not smoke.

 

---

Okay,

Listen up.

I get harassed everywhere I go about smoking. I cannot smoke inside. So I smoke outside. This gives freak strangers some kind of sociopathic imperitive to come up and harass me about my smokes. Which I put up with. Graciously by the way. I turn on the TV? More of freaking anti-smoking swish. Which I put up with. Graciously by the way. But WHEN I BUY A DVD WITH MY OWN CASH AND GO TO WATCH IT IN MY OWN HOME I SHOULD NOT HAVE TO PUT UP WITH GOD DAMN ANTI SMOKING SWISH.

Freaking Nazis.

 

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*btw i want every freakoid who ever thought it was appropriate to harass a smoker to go get a reading on the exhaust output of his or her automobile i am pretty damn sure my smokes are not killing as many people as your car is.

 

where the art work comes from :
that is from sionfullana

me and my band

 

I am —

Standing outside a bar having a smoke. A man who is a total stranger to me walks up to me and tells me I should not smoke. [I do not know why total strangers think it is okay to tell me what to do.] I say, Oh it is a job requirement I am in a band called Black Lung. He perks up. He says, Really? You are in a band? Where do you play?

 

---

[People are SO dumb.]

 

where the art work comes from :
that is from bastatas

the russian of spaulding avenue

 

I was walking through —

The neighborhood the other evening and a woman coming towards me took one look at my face and immediately looked relieved to see me and started speaking to me in Russian. She was looking for a place. She needed directions. This is about all I could get from what she was saying since I do not speak Russian.

Afterwards I thought, Wow, my cheekbones must really be looking Slavic tonight. But today I went for a walk and went into this little store in the neighborhood and it is all Russian. Russian foods. Russian shop keepers. Russian clerks. Russian shoppers. So it was not my cheekbones. Or maybe some of it was my cheekbones, but also, this little shop is flourishing so a lot of Russian people must live nearby.

In the shop, I cannot be mistaken for a Russian. I towered over the women. And some of the men. It is clear in a crowd of Russians I come from some other barbarian stock.

The shop had good strawberries. The neighborhood smells like honeysuckle. It was early evening. People were walking their dogs. I took my Russian strawberries home. I met a funny Dalmation.

 

where the art work comes from :
that is from beyond the sparkle

cute delivery guys

 

The cutest delivery guy —

Came by the other day. I mean seriously cute. 6′ 3″ at least. Built like a God. With one beautiful smile and arms to die for.

Damn.

He asked how I was doing. I said cold. He laughed and said he just got back from New Hampshire where it was eight degrees.

Eight. Degrees?

Holy crap. What is that, like twenty-four degrees BELOW FREEZING?

 

where the art work comes from :
that is by claudio poblete

so i have been wondering…

 

Which is more —

Politically correct these days, harrassing a smoker from a carbon monoxide spewing hummer, or mocking a fat girl?

I was wondering this because of a Kym post. Kym had been reading this Kate Harding essay about being thin or not being thin or putting life off until you are thin.

Pants posted a link to another interesting post. Someone posed the question What do guys think about dating fat girls? on New York Craigslist and wow guys had a lot to say about fat girls.

I am thin so I have to read up on the fat girl stuff to know how that works. I can pretty much guarantee though being thin does not guarantee you a nice boyfriend or easy career choices. I am thin. I have neither.

I do not have to read up on how politically correct it is to harass a smoker though. I am a smoker so am intimately familiar with that. I have been stalked down the sidewalk by two large male Jewish teenagers [those guys in the little black hats with the dreadlock thingies?] who thought it was not just okay but correct to harass and physically intimidate a small woman because she was smoking a cigarette. If “nice” Jewish boys think that is okay it is these days real okay to harrass [and stalk and physically intimidate] smokers.

[Me, I have a problem with this whole cigarettes whether you smoke them or not are THE cause of lung cancer thing. Sure, you can say every person who has ever come down with lung cancer either smokes or has at some time in their life actually known or come in contact with someone who smokes. But cars spew all kinds of poison and no one is mentioning everyone who ever came down with lung cancer either drives a car or at some point in their life has known or come in contact with someone who actually drives a car. By now though any guy coming out of a coal mine with black lung is going to be asked if he ever met a smoker and he will say yes and people will shout, Aha! The cigarettes killed him!]

I say fat girl up there too because I do not think fat guys take half the crap fat girls do. Guys can go out and get big paying jobs and that somehow validates them because okay they are fat but they have real jobs that is their social contract right? But for girls? Well I guess our primary function job just is to be mainstream fuckable attractive and if we somehow violate that social contract well we are just fair game I guess.

So. Smokers? Or fat girls?

 

---

 

where the art work comes from :
that is smoke by sphinx55

night at the playground

 

There is a party —

At the Academy tonight. It is the Nicholl reader party. These are pretty fun. All the readers get together and chat up on scripts and have dinner and some cocktails. I never get to talk to as many people as I would like.

[Also I am insanely curious to know if the cute brunette guy Joan was talking to is Joan Boyfriend Guy --- Joan Boyfriend Guy is mysterious which just makes me on task.]

The night tends to go pretty fast. But I get to catch up some.

[Also one of my favorite scripts made it to the finals yay!]

The Nicholl readers are all nice people. I have never met one I did not like. I think it has something to do with the act. It is time consuming hard work reading for Nicholl. Kind of a selfless act. And the people who make that act, well, they tend to be pretty great people. [Myself excluded I am mean as a snake but hey I keep nice company.]

The Academy has split up into two buildings and Nicholl stuff is at the Pickford Building on Vine and that is pretty close to where I live so I walk on down. The party starts at seven but I do not head out till eight because I am just like that. And I am walking along down Vine. And a guy starts following me.

He is pretty large. I do not look right at him, because I am like that too. I do not do a full stare in this kind of sitch unless I am in a corner and have to. But I know he is following me because I have this cross between an ex dancer’s and a country girl’s stride. Most people do not walk as fast or long stepped as I do. I tend to scream through regular foot traffic. It is just how I walk. Only there is not much foot traffic this night on Vine. There is very little foot traffic. And it is dark. And this guy is pacing me. Staying just a little ways behind, but always this exact amount of space behind.

The problem with this is, I do not know the guy’s intentions. I mean, maybe he wants to rob me. Maybe he wants to drag me into a dark alley and attempt to do something unpleasant to me. Maybe he is just totally whacked out and does not care about witnesses.

[Like witnesses here would really intervene. Upstairs neighbor guy would. But he is the only one I can think of and he is a Southern boy they are different.]

Maybe he is more together and has a solid plan and does care. I do not know. All I know is I picked him up at Sunset, he outweighs me by at least ninety pounds, possibly more that is a real heavy walk, he is coming from behind if he comes, and is trouble, big trouble, on the hoof.

You cannot go in the main doors to the Pickford Center after five unless it is a really big event. The day guards go home and you have to go around back. That means turn off Vine onto a little quiet street.

No people.

No lights.

No way in hell.

I keep going. And keep going pretty fast. I won’t run. Only prey runs. But I won’t slow down either. I keep counting people on the street and distances between and shadow areas and how far between each. I hit the Pickford Center and do not turn off. I keep going to a corner where there are three people standing under a light at a bus stop and I stop. And wait.

He hesitates a little. But then keeps going. I let that guy get a block down before I turn back for that little dark street to the back of the Pickford Center.

I stay twitchy all night.

And I make sure to catch a ride back home.

 

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*by the way at no time during any of this did I get goose flesh or did hair on the back of my neck rise which all did happen when i read this damn post of anita’s how wrong is it her posts spook me ways immediate physical danger does not?

 

where the art work comes from :
that is late nights at the playground by foryoutoknowtice

big time crush

 

Okay apparently —

Someone has a crush on me. I know this because I keep getting urgent email from “Big Time Crush” telling me so. And if I will just hand over my cell number and credit card info, hey, for the paltry fee of $120 per year charged conveniently to my cell phone bill I will get three text messages a month from people I do not know and have never met and do not want to know or ever meet who are loitering in text message basement security facilities just lusting for me [and also for two million other people actually stupid enough to do this but hey who is counting?].

Okay just stop that.

Jeez.

---

ps : big time crush you just made the people who suck list

 

beautiful

When I was three

My aunt asked

What do you want to be

When you grow up?

I said –

Beautiful.

 

where the art work comes from :
that is shoeboxclassics.com go see

fun with vandal madness

 

So a regular —

Occurance at the fun Hollywood loft building is discouraged tenants — that usually means evicted tenants — throwing furniture and overpriced glass light and security fixtures off the roof.

Tonight around 2:30 am, which is the time any respectable discouraged tenant arrives back from last call, furniture started flying. Which is of course pretty exciting and a group activity that involves much shouting and also female companionship which dispells feelings of loserdome for anyone being evicted and is probably a good thing except for the unfortunate high pitched too loud feminine laughter which if you are on a computer trying to work and think coherently kind of pierces your frontal lobe.

For me in my delicate coccoon state, pierced frontal lobe stuff is not so good. And for pedestrians and motorists, maybe a pile of furniture on a dark street arriving unexpectedly out of the air is not so good too. So. I called the police and said, Hey, furtniture is flying again, and, I just heard at least one car hit flying furniture on the street.

Unfortunately for the kids on the roof, cops have started taking calls from this building pretty seriously, and there was a helicopter in the sky nearby. Which immediately abandoned its search for a lone Hispanic who might be selling drugs on a corner somewhere and honed in on the roof here where most likely overpriviledged children of people with too much money who were pissed off Dad refused to support their artistic illusions and was pulling the cord — and so was the landlord for non-payment of rent — were perpetuating the saga creating bitter children hell bent on entertainment at the expense of rattan roof furniture.

Now, there are like five police cars, one helicopter, and at least seven people in strangely marked up black hoodies being tied down with pieces of plastic usually reserved for packaging Amazon express packages.

I am partially on the furniture thrower’s side. If they did not have that too high level of female copanionship laughter that pierced my frontal lobe I might be all the way on their side. Personally I do not like my night discouraged or interrupted by their activities. And personally I disdain most of the common demographic in this building. And yet.

Sometimes they are not common demographic, sometimes they are something else. And these guys had uniforms. That is kind of cute.

Or scary.

 

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---

 

return of a squirrel that looked like hitler

Before things get too damn depressing around here what with animal mayhem and whacko stalkerey guys [not you Valliant Guy you I am going to marry can you imagine, Max Valliant?, with a little spandex I would totally be the super hero girl I always wanted to be plus you have an actual sense of humor and a vocab and that so works for me what is your astrological sign again?] it is time for the return of my favorite YouTube : A Squirrel That Looked Like Hitler.

Yay! Yay! Yay!

Play it again.

I am serious. Hit the button.

Yay! Yay! Yay!

You did good. Shower time.

[Do not even count the yay's there.]

more hitler fun : punkassblog.com
original hitler fun : nikki posts a squirrel that looked like hitler
semi-original and totally swipred hitler fun : max swipre’s a squirrel that looked like hitler

we now return you to your irregularly and un-scheduled depressing and socially conscious programming :

pet food recall .000
pet food recall .001
pet food recall .002