In an interesting turn of events, the Russian-bot who stole my blog and republished all my old posts acknowledged my request on Twitter to give me my old blog back. I have permissions to write new posts but not to delete the old ones. I find this all endlessly entertaining and I wonder if anyone is still subscribed to this old piece of tin.
My goal is for this space to become a collaborative effort of internet performance art between myself and some Russian dude who is a stealer. WHO'S WITH ME?
Monday, July 9, 2012
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
this space for rent
i've been playing a lot over on tumblr lately, and though blogger is still written into my will (they stand to inherit all of my html for dummies books), it's easier for me to set up camp in one spot.
join me in my reign of terror.
join me in my reign of terror.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
he said i could leave the glasses part showing
that annoying lawyer guy called last week to tell me he'd be in philly for business (which is code for "i'm coming out to visit you because you don't call you don't write and you probably owe me $$ [which means he was actually in town for business]).
we went to dinner at a hollywood version of an east coast city's attempt at los angeles atmosphere with mexican cuisine. we knew it was going to be a fun night when the lawyer asked the hostess what "el vez" meant, and she said that " el vez is the name of a singer performer; he's like a mexican elvis..."
and it was funny, because neither of us had to blink before we started in with "well, i didn't know he had his own restaurant!" and " who knew that el vez was good buds with stephen starr!" and the lawyer said "well i'm sure according to the lawsuit he won't be!" and we both laughed it up, and the hostess had no idea what was going on, but i might guess she won't last very long there.
or that stephen starr might need to review his training policies.
Monday, March 3, 2008
reasons i do not like dave grohl, in a five-paragraph essay.
many people enjoy the music of the foo fighters. these music fans may also believe that foo fighters lead singer dave grohl is really cool or funny. in this essay i will explain why i think dave grohl is neither.
first, dave grohl takes it upon himself to self-absorbedly direct the foo fighters music videos. these music videos often have a tone of parody or comical context. evidenced in productions like "learn to fly," "bigme," and "monkey wrench," grohl is persistent in wanting to be percieved as very funny or likable. unfortunately, he often casts himself as the protagonist in these videos 1, and lacks the humility and/or confidence that often attracts people to main characters. i say this because the typical protagonist has an implied struggle (man vs. beast, man vs. man, man vs. technology, etc.), and in all of the foo fighters videos starring dave grohl, dave grohl is always the saving grace with all the answers, and that's just a little bit pompous. protagonists are often pompous2, but dave grohl is a real life person and real life pompous people are annoying.
second, dave grohl is supposed to be a serious, introspective, prolific song writer with lots of "tats" and big leather wristbands. this classification of performing artist is usually found with evidence of depression, substance abuse, or general personal struggle3 that attributes to their artistic development. this is somewhat negated by the fact that the large majority of foo fighter songs are written in a major key. a simple yet logical understanding of major keys vs. minor keys is that major keys sound happy, and minor keys sound sad. one could conclude, then, that dave grohl lacks the depth or spectrum of emotion that produces music or any other artform that can be considered introspective or prolific.
a final point in my argument is that since the well-publicized suicide of his former band's lead singer (a band in which grohl was much better suited as the mysterious, talented drummer), grohl has become unabashed as a celebrity opportunist, consistently one-upping the celebrity and public persona alike. for example, did you, the reader, listen to led zepplin in your younger years? well, grohl not only listened to them, but he was obsessed with them and has been since he was a teenager. or perhaps you were one of the millions who enjoyed molly ringwald and her movies when you were younger? well, dave grohl would have given his left nut to be with her. did YOU proclaim that? no. no you didn't. but dave grohl did. further, grohl is known to pull public stunts to keep himself in the media. case in point: he recently announced his run for president. whether or not the article is serious, it is interesting that a rock star would choose to publish an article during a highly-anticipated presidential nomination, wherein election campaign results are often at the top of media headlines.
in conclusion, i reinforce my evidence that dave grohl is pompous, lacks artistic depth, and is an opportunist. while i do actually enjoy one foo fighters song4, the unattractive personality of their very intentional frontman renders him, and therefore the band, decidedly uncool and/or unfunny.
_____________________________________________________
1. While it is not uncommon for lead singers to play the protagonist in music videos, it is also very, very common for them to not play the lead in the music videos.
2. Richard III, Lisa in Weird Science, Captain from 300
3. As noted in this conversation between Elizabeth and Janie in the film Drop Dead Fred:
first, dave grohl takes it upon himself to self-absorbedly direct the foo fighters music videos. these music videos often have a tone of parody or comical context. evidenced in productions like "learn to fly," "bigme," and "monkey wrench," grohl is persistent in wanting to be percieved as very funny or likable. unfortunately, he often casts himself as the protagonist in these videos 1, and lacks the humility and/or confidence that often attracts people to main characters. i say this because the typical protagonist has an implied struggle (man vs. beast, man vs. man, man vs. technology, etc.), and in all of the foo fighters videos starring dave grohl, dave grohl is always the saving grace with all the answers, and that's just a little bit pompous. protagonists are often pompous2, but dave grohl is a real life person and real life pompous people are annoying.
second, dave grohl is supposed to be a serious, introspective, prolific song writer with lots of "tats" and big leather wristbands. this classification of performing artist is usually found with evidence of depression, substance abuse, or general personal struggle3 that attributes to their artistic development. this is somewhat negated by the fact that the large majority of foo fighter songs are written in a major key. a simple yet logical understanding of major keys vs. minor keys is that major keys sound happy, and minor keys sound sad. one could conclude, then, that dave grohl lacks the depth or spectrum of emotion that produces music or any other artform that can be considered introspective or prolific.
a final point in my argument is that since the well-publicized suicide of his former band's lead singer (a band in which grohl was much better suited as the mysterious, talented drummer), grohl has become unabashed as a celebrity opportunist, consistently one-upping the celebrity and public persona alike. for example, did you, the reader, listen to led zepplin in your younger years? well, grohl not only listened to them, but he was obsessed with them and has been since he was a teenager. or perhaps you were one of the millions who enjoyed molly ringwald and her movies when you were younger? well, dave grohl would have given his left nut to be with her. did YOU proclaim that? no. no you didn't. but dave grohl did. further, grohl is known to pull public stunts to keep himself in the media. case in point: he recently announced his run for president. whether or not the article is serious, it is interesting that a rock star would choose to publish an article during a highly-anticipated presidential nomination, wherein election campaign results are often at the top of media headlines.
in conclusion, i reinforce my evidence that dave grohl is pompous, lacks artistic depth, and is an opportunist. while i do actually enjoy one foo fighters song4, the unattractive personality of their very intentional frontman renders him, and therefore the band, decidedly uncool and/or unfunny.
_____________________________________________________
1. While it is not uncommon for lead singers to play the protagonist in music videos, it is also very, very common for them to not play the lead in the music videos.
2. Richard III, Lisa in Weird Science, Captain from 300
3. As noted in this conversation between Elizabeth and Janie in the film Drop Dead Fred:
4. Everlong - one of their few songs in a minor key
- Janie: I did this self actualising course this week and basically they taught us that pain is your friend, it's your humanity, pain makes you interesting. Look at Elvis.
- Elizabeth: Yeah, but didn't Elvis kill himself?
- Janie: Yes, but before that he was very, very interesting.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
i'll tumblr for ya
this is my bandwagon and i saved you a seat.
i don't think i'm going to install comments, so if you'd like to grow some cajones and make fun of me to my face for putting my poetry on the internet, you can do so here.
i don't think i'm going to install comments, so if you'd like to grow some cajones and make fun of me to my face for putting my poetry on the internet, you can do so here.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
coast to coast
whatever guilt i feel from moving so far away from our family's premier offspring is subsidized by the fact that i love this little thing so much, i'm almost nervous that my sister and her husband would want to have another kid.anything that takes away from this one being the absolute in the universe of Things That Are Good is borderline offensive in nature.
i'm off to oregon to celebrate her first year of life. chocolate cake awaits her face and her two first teeth. if you're having any sort of bad day, just watch this on repeat and know my splendor.
Friday, February 15, 2008
my bloody valentine
when i was a girl scout, i went with my troop to a nuggets game (back in the mcnichol's chapter of denver basketball sucketry), and they were beating the utah jazz so bad that i felt so sorry for the jazz because they must have been so embarrassed losing in front of all those people. so i started secretly wishing they would get some more points - and then they did. and then they won. and then i felt bad for cursing a loss on my home team. thus is my internal adolescent struggle.
on that same note, i sort of feel bad for valentine's day because everyone hates it so much. it's mass produced and capital and puts retail robotic rapping stuffed animals in pink ruffles on the shelf at rite aid, and beyond the realm of 5th grade, has the capacity to ostracize people who aren't in a (public) romantic relationship. but it sort of makes me laugh when people get so personally offended by valentine's day's existence: do they put up the same stunt on father's day if they're not a father? mother's day? veteran's day if they're not a veteran?
this is really all just a segue into an awesome story:
my dad has always been very good about sending me flowers on a valentine's day any year that i was single on the forsaken holiday, and this year i did not get flowers from my dad, presumably because i'm not. so yesterday, after a late-day trip to the eye doctor and having my eyes dilated, and having bought a new shirt (i realize it might not have been the best afternoon to do some clearance sale shopping since i couldn't see anything, but i can't ever justify shopping retail, and i found a white blouse in my size for like $15 and i was like, score, i'll wear a pretty new shirt to dinner), i was getting ready for a lovely valentine's day thai food and champagne dinner out with the new bf.
as an aside, white clothing an i have a very long-standing, special, destructive relationship.
after getting home, eyes still dilated, i'm almost ready to go and figure, listen, if i'm getting fancy, i'm getting fancy.
so i reach into the bottom drawer of my built-in loft bathroom vanity where the red nail polish stays, and set it next to me. a moment later i grab the top of the lid to shake the bottle, and must've forgotten i loosened the lid, as i sent the entire, full bottle of red nail polish summersaulting in the air - flinging a massacre of red nail polish in every direction in the room - mirror, floor, foot wall, shelf, towels...and landing back in the open drawer from which it came, sideways, spilling it's entirety onto it's contents.
mind you, i still can't see very well, but i can clearly make out that it looks like a scene from 28 days later.
i stand very still for a few moments muttering a few ohmygods (still trying not to swear), and swiftly grab the bottle of acetone and first, wash off my lacquer-covered hands as not to make matters worse. i take off the new shirt and move it to safe-keeping, and get to dousing my entire bathroom in nail polish remover (thank god for cement loft floors and veneer bathroom shelving), all while my vision is slowly returning to normal.
when it gets to a manageable, non-shock-inducing resemblance of a murder scene, i leave to get fresh air and check the new shirt, totally pre-forgiving myself if i let loose any expletives should i discover the new shirt is ruined.
alas, not one drop of red nail polish landed anywhere on the shirt. my feet? all over. my jeans? yep. the walls which will have to be sanded and repainted? all. over.
but not the new, white shirt - so i immediately pick up the phone and call one person who knows well my tenacity in ruining white cloths and telling her the story, to which she responded, "congratulations, anne. today you are a woman."
on that same note, i sort of feel bad for valentine's day because everyone hates it so much. it's mass produced and capital and puts retail robotic rapping stuffed animals in pink ruffles on the shelf at rite aid, and beyond the realm of 5th grade, has the capacity to ostracize people who aren't in a (public) romantic relationship. but it sort of makes me laugh when people get so personally offended by valentine's day's existence: do they put up the same stunt on father's day if they're not a father? mother's day? veteran's day if they're not a veteran?
this is really all just a segue into an awesome story:
my dad has always been very good about sending me flowers on a valentine's day any year that i was single on the forsaken holiday, and this year i did not get flowers from my dad, presumably because i'm not. so yesterday, after a late-day trip to the eye doctor and having my eyes dilated, and having bought a new shirt (i realize it might not have been the best afternoon to do some clearance sale shopping since i couldn't see anything, but i can't ever justify shopping retail, and i found a white blouse in my size for like $15 and i was like, score, i'll wear a pretty new shirt to dinner), i was getting ready for a lovely valentine's day thai food and champagne dinner out with the new bf.
as an aside, white clothing an i have a very long-standing, special, destructive relationship.
after getting home, eyes still dilated, i'm almost ready to go and figure, listen, if i'm getting fancy, i'm getting fancy.
so i reach into the bottom drawer of my built-in loft bathroom vanity where the red nail polish stays, and set it next to me. a moment later i grab the top of the lid to shake the bottle, and must've forgotten i loosened the lid, as i sent the entire, full bottle of red nail polish summersaulting in the air - flinging a massacre of red nail polish in every direction in the room - mirror, floor, foot wall, shelf, towels...and landing back in the open drawer from which it came, sideways, spilling it's entirety onto it's contents.
mind you, i still can't see very well, but i can clearly make out that it looks like a scene from 28 days later.
i stand very still for a few moments muttering a few ohmygods (still trying not to swear), and swiftly grab the bottle of acetone and first, wash off my lacquer-covered hands as not to make matters worse. i take off the new shirt and move it to safe-keeping, and get to dousing my entire bathroom in nail polish remover (thank god for cement loft floors and veneer bathroom shelving), all while my vision is slowly returning to normal.
when it gets to a manageable, non-shock-inducing resemblance of a murder scene, i leave to get fresh air and check the new shirt, totally pre-forgiving myself if i let loose any expletives should i discover the new shirt is ruined.
alas, not one drop of red nail polish landed anywhere on the shirt. my feet? all over. my jeans? yep. the walls which will have to be sanded and repainted? all. over.
but not the new, white shirt - so i immediately pick up the phone and call one person who knows well my tenacity in ruining white cloths and telling her the story, to which she responded, "congratulations, anne. today you are a woman."
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