Monday, March 23, 2009
Poetry is good, but in the end we're most interested in the poets.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
I'm thinking her name is "Denise." She's an MFA grad from U Michigan, class of 2002, who freelances and temps while writing her novel about a woman who moves to Austrailia on a whim and falls in love with a hairy aussie 20 years her elder. Denise has never been married, but she loves her niece and three triplet nephews, an, of course, LIP PLUMPER.
My favorite paragraph on the whole page:
"Celebrity Sexy Pout is THE BEST ONE ,The first thing I noticed was that it smells yummy, not spicy. I figured "it's probably decent". Understatment of the year! It is the best plumper on all levels: It's got a sexy sheen, it stays put for hours, and the plumping lasts for days. This was the only plumper that had a semi-permanent effect. It's like you can actually feel the lips swelling from the inside out. BUT..if you overuse it, your lips can look a bit too plump (I was asked if I had injections a couple times). The most impressive plumper of the bunch."
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
After a long hiatus from the blog, I have decided to return in a big way...with Siamese Crocodile Twins. Why did I stop? Sometimes the level of inanity to which I routinely ascend scares me. I panicked on February 11th after the beef jerky panties post, not wanting to become yet another posterchild of the Look-At-Me generation obsessed with sniffing out insipid internet truffles.
But then last night I had a revelation. I was looking at Gwyneth Paltrow's celebrity blog, GOOP, and I realized that not only do I hate Gwyneth Paltrow for being a beautiful film actress with fruit children and a rockstar hubby to boot, but I also hate everything her blog stands for...those verbal icons...her director friends...etc. I looked around, and I was alone in the room. There was not a single person I could tell about Gwyneth Paltrow's blogging atrocity, and suddenly I became very afraid. My soap box was floating somewhere a million miles away. "I could send out a mass text," I thought, "But then I would be branded as a psycho...where could I funnel my heavy-handed opinions so someone, someone, could read them? My thoughts must be read."
Then the blog, oh, the sweet sweet blog came back to me: my meglomaniacal stomping grounds, my personal piece of real estate on the world wide web where I can fell as many trees I want. Somebody's gotta hear eventually. Somebody. I am a part of the Look-At-Me generation whether I want to accept it or not.
And so I accept.