My Little Poopsie

Last night at 9:00, I told the kids to go hop in bed and I'd be there shortly to tuck them in. Two minutes later they were standing in front of me again. "It smells like cat crap in my room," Dylan reported. "Yeah," said Olivia. "Totally pee-yoo."

"Oh my GOD," I said, throwing my hands up in exasperation. "You two will do anything to avoid bedtime. Look, I guarantee you there's no cat poop in your room. Cats aren't like puppies, okay? They don't just poo all over the house. They use LITTERBOXES, duh!"

But it did stink in Dylan's room. Bad. I was stumped. I looked in the closet. Nothing. Then I pulled back the curtain under Dylan's loft bed, where his little clubhouse is. Right there in the middle of all the pillows and blankets and stuffed animals sat a fresh pile of cat doody the size of a dinner plate.

WTF? No really. The CAT CRAPPED ON HIS PILLOW.

The kids ran to hide Dewey; I stomped off to get garbage bags, swearing a blue streak. In the kitchen, the pristine litterbox was all, "Hey, don't look at me." And in the depths of some closet, somewhere in my house, Dewey stroked his chin and grinned. "Check and mate, beeotch. Mwah ha ha ha ha!"


Asshole.

"Kitty," The Presidents of the United States of America

Puddle of Mudd, "She Hates Me"

"Smack My Bitch Up" by Prodigy

* * * * * *
Animals I Don't Loathe
B and Nicole have two adorable new baby boxer pups. Oh my lord, the cuteness.





More cavity-inducing photos here .

* * * * * *
Thanks, Mr. Kruesi!
My beloved (hack hack, cough cough) CTA has announced that they will indeed be closing el stations in my neighborhood while they make "improvements" over the next five years. How super-duper!

The CTA originally pledged that all neighborhood stations would stay open during renovation of the 9-mile line, which runs between the Loop and the Northwest Side ...

... "Residents and business owners along the Brown Line who were unequivocally and repeatedly told that there would not be station closings now understandably feel misled," [Aldermen] Schulter and Fritchey said in a statement. "The CTA has in fact decided to ignore our input and make our constituents pay the price for their errors."

... Brown Line stations at Damen, Montrose, Irving Park, Addison, Paulina, Southport, Wellington and Diversey will be closed temporarily on weekdays and weekends, although no adjacent stations will be closed at the same time, the CTA said.

Toot toot!

* * * * * *
Two Trailer Park Girls Go Round the Outside



The moment we stepped into the bar* on Saturday night, Wendi and I remembered why we ditched this town to begin with. But we gamely paid our $2 cover, ordered up a couple of Old Styles and concentrated on avoiding eye contact with dorks in sports jerseys. Three Eminem songs and one ex-boyfriend-spotting later, we abandoned our beers and ran like the wind. "If I smell one more perm I'll barf," said Wendi. "And did you see how fat Chris is?" Plans were made to visit the Tiny Lounge this week, thus offsetting the imbalance in the universe.

*The Wounded Minnow was our second choice, but Big Eddie's sorely disappointed when all three (3) patrons inside failed to be someone we know and/or attractive and/or under 50.

Hi, I'm Scary.

It's been two weeks since I stalked, er, talked to my Train Boyfriend. I haven't even seen that biznotch since then. But before we all start jumping to conclusions, let's keep in mind that I haven't left work at the normal time in two weeks either. So, yeah, it's possible that he's avoiding me like the dental plaque, but maybe he's been loitering on cold CTA platforms, letting trains go by while he waits hopefully for me to appear. HA HA HA HA. Sure.

"Music Is My Boyfriend," The Hidden Cameras

"Boys You Won't," The Wrens

Fiery Furnaces, "Single Again" Or, you know, still. Whatever.

* * * * * *
The saga of The Crazy Cop Who Hits Chicks And Then Kills Himself When He Gets In Trouble For It finally came to an end yesterday, when I picked up my settlement check from da City of Sheekahgo. It's not a huge amount of money or anything but it's better than a punch in the head.

* * * * * *
The next time some weirdo in a bar asks for your number, wouldn't it be awesome to say "404-MEAN"? Or "967-DICK"? Or "328-I-CRY"? From now on, I shall answer the query with "909-OMEN." Which is fitting, no?

What does your phone number spell?

On Da Job: A Haiku

crap, i spoke too soon
inbox is overflowing
dumb things, all due now

sweepstakes entry forms
more headlines about tissues
busy but still bored

this job is bullshit
i used to do commercials
now i write coupons

Slackeriffic

Time I've spent on actual work today: 18 Minutes
Time I've spent writing my blog, looking at crap on the internet, emailing my friends and picking my nails: 4 Hours 22 Minutes
Times I've told someone "I'd love to work on that but I'm just too busy right now": 3
Number of donuts eaten: 2

I'm exhausted.

Dressing Up Your Pet
So wrong it's right.


Humiliate your cat today!

ZZZ...
I like this guy's blog. Weirdly, it's only about his sleeping habits, with each night's snooze rated on a scale of 1 to 10.

B 4 .... And After
Bingo Night at the Gingerman!

It's a Sledgehammer
Tequilaphile & Hot Married Boyfriend Dana would like you to visit this Napoleon Dynamite soundboard and waste more of your employer's time and money. DANG.

How Not to Do It
Um, gross.

So the Nard Got Nude
Whatever.

1.25.95

Dear Dylan,

So we've been together now for 10 years. You should know, that's my longest relationship ever, by far. Sure, sometimes we fight about stupid stuff, and we don't always see eye to eye, and I certainly don't get your taste in music, but still we're close. We talk. You still want to tell your mom everything. And I love it when you fill me in on your adventures at school, and the way you've learned to use your brain to defend yourself instead of your fists. Like when that kid wouldn't stop poking you, even when you asked nicely, so you hooked your foot under his chair and yanked it out from under him, saying loudly, "And THAT'S why we don't lean back in our CHAIRS" and the teacher yelled at him and he had to move. I believe they call that "creative problem solving." Yeah, it's sort of mean but that kid totally had it coming.

I love the way your mind works, Dylan, the way it's just a little bit different from everyone else. It makes you so much more interesting. Of course, being so very, very bright comes with its own set of challenges and rewards, including an exquisite sensitivity which paints everything around you in ultimatums and extremes. I have to remind myself of that from time to time, that the way you feel things is amplified and passionate and weird and wonderful.

Your life changed in a very fundamental age when you were very little, and we've gone through some rough patches as we all make adjustments. But over the past year or so, I've watched you really come into your own. You seem more comfortable in your skin, more controlled, more empathetic to how other people are feeling. You have this sly sense of humor that catches me off guard and makes it impossible to stay angry with you. You're good to your sister -- most of the time. And you're a wonderful son. I can't always buy you the things I'd like to, but you never complain. All you ask for is time and attention and affection, things that are easy for me to give.

I'm incredibly proud of you, and I feel blessed to be a part of your life. There's nothing about you I would ever want to change, except possibly your chicken-scratch handwriting. Also, someday I will beat you in Halo.

I love you, Dylan. Happy Birthday, kiddo.

Always,

Mom


"Beautiful Boy"

Protesting the Coronation

32 hours on a bus. 2 hours in a security checkpoint line. 4 hours on wet, frozen feet waiting for the Inauguration parade to start. All for 5 seconds of giving Bush the finger in person. Totally worth it.



The line to go through the security checkpoint was over a city block long and 25 people wide. Thousands of people, mostly protesters, waited in line for two hours to get in. It seemed a little hinky that it was taking so long for them to let us in, like maybe they wanted us to give up and go home. That, or possibly freeze to death. Finally though we got our overly-intimate pat downs and were let through to Pennsylvania Avenue. We headed for the ANSWER anti-war rally, the first organized inaugural protest ever allowed on Pennsylvania Avenue.

SIGN: Fighting for peace is like fucking for virginity.

It was an anti-war rally but really every issue was covered: gay rights, women's rights, worker's rights, the Bill of Rights. You know, all the rights the Right hates. US Rep Cynthia McKinney gave a kickass speech, as did former US Attorney General Ramsey Clark. I'm told Nicholas Berg's dad spoke too, but unfortunately we missed him.

I'd say there were about 10,000 in our little area, and then more people lining the street as far as you could see in either direction. There were special viewing areas set up for Bushies too, and in an awesome turn of events, they had to walk through the protesters to get to them. You've never seen so many scared whiteys in fur coats in your life. For the most part, the Repubes were quiet and non-confrontational, perhaps even a little sheepish. I simply gave them the peace sign as they walked past, but other folks weren't so gentle. The chant "DRAFT REPUBLICANS FIRST" was extremely popular and enjoyed many repeat performances.

SIGN: wtf?

5 hours after we got there, the parade FINALLY started, big buses of Bushies going by first. The crowd boo'ed and gave them the finger. A limosine with a big W on the side drove by. The crowd boo'ed and gave it the finger. The parade emcee: "And that was former President Bill Clinton who just passed..." The crowd: "Doh!"

Rummy went by. He got the finger.

The Army marching band went by. They got two peace signs (me) and the finger (everyone else).

Finally the Arse in Chief himself rolled up in a bulletproof limo. The crowd went fucking apeshit. A deafening round of boos; many, many one finger salutes. For five seconds he couldn't pretend that half the country didn't hate his fucking guts. It was right in front of his face. It was ringing in his ears. For five seconds, 10,000 people stood there and represented half this nation and 98% of the world. It was the face of dissent, and I love that as he started his stupid parade and four new years of fucking things up, that's the first thing he saw.



SIGN: Today I'm heartbroken. But all the beautiful people here give me hope for tomorrow.

And that's exactly how I felt as we got back on the bus to come home. There are dark days ahead, no doubt, but there are also people working to make things better.

SIGN: Stop bitching. Start a revolution.



* * * * * *
In a move that surprised absolutely no one, the Chicago PD continued to earn their reputation as complete fucking assholes. Our ever-professional boys in blue openly jeered at protesters' signs and shirts, trying to bait them into action. Way to represent, jerks.

Also, here are pictures of Wendi getting into it with some DC cop. He didn't want his picture taken. So of course we took it twice.



* * * * * *
The reporter who wrote this article in the NY Times must have been standing next to us the entire time. Read it or die.

* * * * * *
Pictures were taking too long to load, so I moved them here.

The Counter-Inaugural

Dear Everyone,

DC was fanflippintastic.


A full recap of the protest will coming soon, but right now I need to SLEEP.

Peace and hairgrease,

Tequila Red & TequilaSis

P.S. Don't believe what you saw on the news, kids. It was much bigger and better than they're letting on.

Everything's Coming Up Milhouse

My brother B has a new wife, a new house, and now, a new baby on the way. Guess who's "the good one" in the family.


B and Nicole wonder when they can start giving me parenting advice.


Amy: God, stop COPYING me!

Things That Really Chap My Ass

1. The word "President" next to the word "Bush."
Wendi and I (and by "Wendi and I" I mean "Wendi") procrastinated too long on gettting tickets to the Counter Inaugural and now the buses are all full, fool. So unless something comes up in the next couple of hours, looks like we'll be ignoring the inauguration on TV.

2. Hat hair.

3. Imminent Brown Line CTA station closures.
Apparently the president of the CTA has decided to just close down each Brown Line station as the city makes improvements. This means I get to pay $1.75 twice a day for the same shitty service and I get the privilege of an extra 8 blocks' walk to do it. Wow, what a deal! You know, if the CTA is so freaked out about their budget that they're threathening reduced schedules and higher fares, then maybe adding escalators to Brown Line stations isn't, oh I don't know, a hugely pressing concern. You think?

4. Joanna Newsom.
The indie scensters fall all over themselves loving this chick. Not only do I not get it, I REALLY WANT IT TO STOP. For the love of GOD, woman.

5. Winter.

6. The Cubs.
First they get rid of everyone I like. Then, in an obvious effort to further confuse fans, the Cubs decide to remove the players' names from their jerseys. What? Now how the hell are we supposed to know who anyone is? "Woo! Nice catch, Mois-- uh, I mean ... new ... right field ... guy! Go Number 17! Wait, is that a seven? It is? Nice catch Number 17. New Guy. Whoever. Hey, does anyone see the Beer Man? I'm parched."

7. Cats.

8.


9. This guy.

10. All these people.

11. Everyone involved with this.

Football is like totally my favorite sport and stuff.

From Sunday's Boston Herald, a Vitally Important NFL Newsflash:

In battle of babes, Ben beats Brady bad
By Gayle Fee and Laura Raposa
Sunday, January 16, 2005

Once Tom Brady & Co. dispatch with Peyton Manning tonight, the real debate can begin: Betwixt the NFL's two hottest QBs - Tom and Pittsburgh Steelers stud Ben Roethlisberger - who has the more smokin' galpal?

Tom is, of course, dating "I, Robot'' actress Bridget Moynahan. Ben is newly linked with a lady of the links, the lovely Natalie Gulbis.

Advantage: Ben!

First off, what is up with Bridget's hair???? She needs to fire whatever stylist talked her into that coiffeur horror. And we are not even going to get into the Web speculation that Bridget has had some Awful Plastic Surgery!

Meanwhile, Natalie, the so-called Anna Kournikova of women's golf (except that she actually wins), poses in a series of raaaather hot photos for her 2005 Natalie Gulbis Calendar!

Clearly the Man of Steel wins this round!

Of course, we don't want to commit the ultimate sin in Bill Belichick's book and look beyond the opponent at hand. But Peyton Manning is happily married to his college sweetheart, Ashley, so he cannot be part of this discussion.

However, we did hear that baby bro, New York Giants QB/QT Eli Manning, scored Hollywood hellcat Lindsay Lohan's digits a couple of weeks ago. . . .

Hey, who says girls don't know anything about football?

Pay attention, there will be a quiz.

Holding the Bag
I really need a new purse. I'm thinking something cute but practical, something that will go with everything but that also says "Don't even think about punching me in the back of the head, prick." Something like this:


The Guardian Angel (via Popgadget)

A purse that makes the bad guys think you're packing? Brilliant. God bless those wacky Dutch. The looks you'd get on the train alone make it worthwhile. And Wendi, you will need one too, of course, maybe the one with the knife outline? Hey, I wonder if we can get em in time for our trip to DC on Thursday. Ha, ha. That was a joke, Secret Service. Back the fuck off.

One Man, 34 Characters
If anybody is looking to be all cultured an' shit, I've heard fantastic things about this play. There are still some $30 tickets available, but I'm pretty sure it'll sell out soon. Come on, knuckledraggers, it wouldn't kill you to see something that doesn't star Jude Law.

Ignore the Golden Globes
"The Aviator" is long, pointless, and godawful.

Tell you what. Save the $9 you'd spend on a ticket, I'll put on my combat boots and kick you in the ass for free, and you'll feel like you just spent 3 hours watching The Nard pretend to be schizo. Everybody wins!

Things Now Seared Into My Brain
Thanks a ton, Page Six:

WHILE dining with her new boyfriend Chris Botti at 'Cesca on Saturday night, Katie Couric treated the trumpet-playing hunk like he was the daily special. Our eagle-eyed spy reports that 48-year-old Couric eagerly swapped spit with Botti, 42, behind a menu she was holding up. "As the drinks continued to flow, Katie got bolder and bolder with him," the witness tattled to The Post's Braden Keil. "Soon she just forgot about holding up the menu, and went after Botti like a hormonally charged teenager. At one point she just grabbed his face and shoved her tongue down his throat."

Say it with me: EW.

I Stole Brad
Is this really necessary? And can I please get one in a medium?

Only one song today because you've been so naughty.
Or wait, was that me?
"It's a Bad Wind," The Secret Machines

At Last We Meet

Guess who was already standing on the platform when I went to catch the train Friday night? So, gathering up every ounce of courage I owned, I walked up and stood next to the Train Boyfriend. "I see you on the train all the time," I said shyly. "I'm Kari." He smiled and held out his hand. "Derek," he said. "Nice to finally meet you."

Or, that's how it should have gone.

Instead, my dumb ass walked right by, pretending not to see him. I stood further down the platform, berating myself. He looked over, caught my eye. COME OVER COME OVER COME OVER, I vibed him. Nothing. Finally a train came, a crowded one, and we piled on. He was right behind me. We were almost touching. I caught his eye in the reflection but it was too squished to turn around, even if I wanted to.

At every stop, people rearranged themselves, shifting to let others off and on. There was a smattering of eye contact. A smile. But still no talking. Eventually I found myself standing right next to him. This is pathetic, I thought. He gets off at the next stop. You're never going to have a better chance. OH MY GOD JUST SAY SOMETHING YOU FUCKING PANSY. And then my Train Boyfriend put on his stupid headphones and it was too late. Except somebody forgot to tell my hand, which had just received the delayed "Must Make Contact" signal from my brain and was totally going for it.

I touched his arm and he took off his headphones. "I see you on the train all the time," I said. He looked at me blankly. Waited. Oh god. Abort! Abort! "Have we, um, met before?" I asked. Oh no she di'int! That tired old thing? Bitch please.

"Um, I don't think so," he said, looking confused. "Do you work in the Mart?"

"No."

Dead silence. I couldn't think of a goddamn thing to say. Everyone was staring and I was going down in flames. Then he grinned, held out his hand and rescued me. "I'm Derek, by the way."

PRAISE JEEZUS. We shook hands, I asked what he was listening to, we talked about Pinback for a minute and then it was his stop. "I have to go," he said. "Have a good weekend, Kari."

So ... that's it? But I guess it's better than nothing. Right? I mean, it could have been smoother, but still. I TALKED TO MY TRAIN BOYFRIEND. Yay! And if he sounds less than enthusiastic here, let me just say. 1) He kept his headphones off until he was about to switch trains. Why? To better hear the silence of 100 claustrophobic commuters? 2) He's the one who kept the conversation going while I was distracted by thoughts of the "HOLY CRAP DID I JUST SAY THAT?" variety, and 3) his body language was all "hey baby whazzup bow chicka womp womp." So there.

Anyway, now we know each other enough to say hi, and maybe, if he doesn't think I'm too retarded or start catching a different train to avoid the stupidness that is me, then maybe next time we can have an actual conversation. And then maybe, in a few years or so, I'll get up the nerve to ask him out.

Guess I'd better start working on what to say.

Hey! You Steal My Watch!

TIME: 2:00 this morning
PLACE: The Tiny Lounge

Wendi has the hiccups. She holds her breath, she eats sugar, she sucks a lemon. Nothing works. The bartender says he has an idea, and goes to talk to some foreign guy at the end of the bar. The foreign guy comes over.

WENDI: You're gonna get rid of my hiccups? Yay!

FOREIGN GUY: Hello! I see you here before, yes?

WENDI: I don't know. Maybe. I'm here a lot.

FOREIGN GUY: Yes, I see you here before.

WENDI: Yeah, that's great. Listen, I really need to get rid of these hiccups.

FOREIGN GUY: What's this thing you talk about, "hiccups"?

WENDI: But didn't Mark send you over because you know how to cure the hiccups?

FOR: Eh? I come over because last time you are here, you steal my watch.

WENDI: Wha?

FOREIGN GUY: My watch! I take it off, I set it on bar by window, I see you take. You steal my watch, my best watch!

WENDI: WHAT? I didn't steal anything!

FG: It was you. I remember the hair.

WENDI (POINTS AT ME): Maybe it was her.

ME: Hey!

FOREIGN GUY: No, it was you. You steal.

WENDI: I swear to god, I didn't steal your watch.

ME: And anyway, the last time she was here, she spent every second sucking on some guy's face. She wouldn't have had the chance to steal your watch.

FOREIGN GUY: I know you steal my watch!

WENDI: STOP SAYING THAT.

FOREIGN GUY: My $500 watch! You. STEAL. Stealer!

Foreign Guy stomps off angrily. Everyone looks at Wendi.

WENDI: I DIDN'T STEAL HIS STUPID WATCH. God.

BARTENDER: Hey, everything okay down here?

WENDI: Sniff. That guy thinks I stole something.

BARTENDER (SMILING): Okay, but do you still have the hiccups?

WENDI: I have NEVER sto- wait, what?

Foreign guy laughs, walks over, hugs her.

FOREIGN GUY: I was just fuckin' with ya, kiddo. It was Mark's idea. A distraction. You're so busy convincing some guy you're not a thief that you forget to hiccup. You know, that sort of thing.

WENDI: ....

ME: That's brilliant. I love it.

WENDI: Fuck you guys. That was so mean.

BARTENDER: But did it work?

WENDI: Hey! I actually think - (hic!). No. No, it didn't. But thanks anyway. Assholes.

* * * * * *
Mark is my favorite bartender in this city or any other. The man is an artist, and his medium is alcohol. What could be better? Plus, dude be fiiiiiiiine. My glass is never empty when he's behind the bar, and sometimes he lets me have the rest of the martini from the shaker after he's made a particularly tasty one. Yum. And now we find out that he's got killer taste in music too? This guy might need a restraining order in the very near future. YowZA!

A Tiny Playlist
Matt Pond PA - "The Hollows," "Closer," and "Measure 3"
Songs: Ohia - "Two Blue Lights" and "Tigress"

* * * * * *
Confidential to Jenna: I have seen the future and it is Xi'an Boyfriend. Please destroy his visa and keep him here. Thank you.

Miss Scarlett

Let me just preface this by saying: no one cares about this except me.

My hair is now insanely red. Like magenta-placenta-red. R-E-Double-D. It's pretty hot. You can't really tell by this photo, but I like it so I'm posting it anyway.



The Other Thing
Seats are still open on the Counter-Inaugural Bus. Let's go!

Songs You'll Like Even If You Never Listen to the Songs I Post:

"Left and Leaving," the Weakerthans - the song is flat out awesome and no, it doesn't remind me of anyone I know, not at all, so stow it

The Shins, "So Says I" - my fantabulous new ring tone, be prepared to chair dance

"Ladyfingers" by Luscious Jackson - a classic for all my grrlz

The Hold Steady, "Most People Are DJs" - not for everyone, but different and weird and cool and I totally heart Craig, the lead singer

Now leave me alone. I have work to do.

Cat Scratch Fever

I am not a cat person. Which is unfortunate, as I own a cat. But while there's certainly no love lost between Dewey and me, I tolerate him, mainly because I know that some day, some way, that fat bastard will eventually die and I will be free.

But three months ago something horrible happened: Wendi's cats moved in.

You guys, I hate those cats with the blinding white hot intensity of a thousand suns. HATE. They live in my room - HATE. Cat litter all over the floor every day - HATE. Shedding on my comforter - HATE. Clawing up my fancy Egyptian cotton sheets - OH MY GOD HATE. All night long, they frolic and play, jumping on me, knocking things over, banging against closed doors, rattling the blinds, meowing their stupid heads off. Sometimes I give up and sleep on the couch. Many times I feel like weeping. Every morning I drag myself off to work with big, dark circles under my eyes. Always I fantasize about dropping them off at the pound, or maybe just tossing them out the back door. HATE, people. HATE.

Last Saturday, we got rid of one of those suckers. Oops, I meant to say, we "found him a loving new home." Whatever. I put up a rather creative ad on Craigslist, posted a cute picture, and he was gone the next day. HA HA! Take that, ya jackass! One down and one to go.

Or maybe two. Depending on how fast Dewey can run.

* * * * *
Dear Amy and Chris,

Still looking for a unique baby name? This one is available:



Just a suggestion.

Love,

Tequila Red

* * * * *

Asking CL Friends For Support/Advice - 32
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: anon-55104585@craigslist.org
Date: 2005-01-10, 11:57AM CST

Does anyone else suffer from TV addiction? If so, have you had success with recovery? I would really appreciate your advice and/or support.

I am not sure where to turn right now.

"Where to turn"? I would advise against ABC, but that's just me.

* * * * *
My company donated $100,000 to the tsunami relief effort. Hey, maybe they aren't such huge assholes after all. No, wait - they are. Nevermind.

* * * * *
Here are 2 cute songs by Ben Gibbard's old side project, All-Time Quarterback: "Plans" and "Sock Hop"

And here is an adorable song sung by Ben Gibbard's girlfriend (and mine), Jenny Lewis: "Glendora"

Download! Now! Heeah!

Circle Circle Dot Dot

Drunken debauchery and sloppy public displays of affection occured at Chicago's Worst Bar Ever on Friday night, when old work friends and current chick friends mixed and mingled saliva at one of those all-you-can-drink-thingees. It was a going away party for a guy I used to date. He and his new girlfriend wore matching shirts. Also, hi Jeff and Kevin! Pictures forthcoming.

The not smoking thing? Not going so good. And there was no coffee in my office this morning. Grrrr.

I finally figured out where Random NYE Guy came from, after I accidentally answered my phone last night (i.e. one of my friends handing out my number like a party favor). After failing to come up with a polite way to say Nope Not Interested, I told him I was already seeing someone else I'd met that night, and that I don't date more than one person at a time. LIAR!

Speaking of The Wolfman, he called to tell me he's dating a bunch of other girls and busy with school. But we can still be friends! Super!

[NOTE: Any and/or all of the above mentioned dudes could be reading this right now, if they're privvy to Wendi and Jenna's blogs. If so, Hi guys! Feel free to leave something interesting in the comments section!]

I don't know if you heard, but Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston totally broke up on Friday. No, really! I swear! They so did! Shocking, I know. It was the lead story this morning on the Today show. That last part? Not a joke.


The Other Woman Says: "Golly, all this over lil ole me?"

It's All the Rage On the Playground

Before your next big date, be sure to stock up on Cootie Spray.



I'm living proof that IT WORKS. Thanks, No Cooties!

This message has been brought to you by Decibully and The White Stripes. Please spray responsibly.

Hold Me, Thrill Me, Stalk Me, Kill Me

A couple of days ago, I found this picture in my phone:



I think it was taken on New Year's Eve, but I have no idea who the hell that guy is. Or at least I didn't, until the phone calls started.

He left a message for me last night. Harmless enough. Just "Hi, Kari, this is Random Bar Dude. I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to you on New Year's Eve--" and this is where I suddenly had a vivid recollection of sitting in a puddle of beer on the bar floor "--so anyway I was hoping we could maybe get together sometime--" Whatever, Guy I Don't Remember. DELETE!

And that's the end of that.

Right?

HA HA HA HA HA. That would be waaaay too easy.

Do I have "STALK ME" tattooed across my forehead in Nerd Ink? Because Random Bar Dude has called me no less than four times. SINCE LAST NIGHT. And you guys remember Chadtastic? He emailed Wednesday, asking if I wanted to go to that Elvis musical this weekend. I haven't seen the guy since that one time in October, but whatever. Crazy Michigan Guy wants to send me shoes. Oh lord, look what he just emailed me:

I listened to the same album last night (while sipping hot chocolate with marshmallows) and thought of you, as well. Aw shucks, I guess I am pretty sweet, but what can I say...I was having sweet thoughts.

Hey! Keep your "sweet thoughts" to yourself, mister. And also, WHY GOD WHY?

Curse this beautiful face!

Dylan wonders what all the fuss is about.

The Reviews Are In!

Critics across the country agree: My Date With Wolfman is the big fat disaster of the year!

ABSOLUTELY UNEXCEPTIONAL!
"Did he ever stop talking about himself? If he did, I missed it."
- Ram Bullon, Center of the Universe Times

A TOTAL TRAINWRECK!
"I did like the part where he talked about how much he hated people with that 'George Bush is a Punk Ass Chump' bumper sticker on their car. Cut to the 'George Bush is a Punk Ass Chump' sticker on her car. HA! Now that's comedy!"
- Income Paddible, www.datingbitesthebigone.com

ANTI-CLIMACTIC!
"Come on, it actually wasn't that bad until the last 10 minutes. But boy, the ending really sucked."
- Nata Kissinsight, FRUSTRATION MAGAZINE

MAJOR DISAPPOINTMENT!
"I missed Alias for this?"
- Home Bytenfifteen, LOSR Radio

I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE IT AGAIN!
"Hey, who knows? Maybe it'll be better the second time around.
I kind of hope he calls. He's really hot."
- Glut Inforpunishment, FOX Newsertainment

Be sure to pick up the My Date With Wolfman soundtrack, featuring songs like:

"Hello Goodbye," Tegan and Sara
"Debate Exposes Doubt," Death Cab for Cutie
"A Captive Audience," The Velvet Teen
"Miss Misery," Elliott Smith
"I Didn't Come Here To Die," Spoon
"Better Luck Next Time," Scissor Sisters

Apparently Poe Has Been Added to the 2nd Grade Reading List

Olivia made this in Art class:



The title of it is "Exquisite Corpse." I swear I'm not making that up. "Exquisite Corpse." It's even spelled right. I don't know whether to be proud or scared.


"If You're Feeling Sinister," Belle & Sebastian
Deerhoof "Gore in a Rut"
"OK With My Decay," Grandaddy

104 Hours

That's how long it's been since I've had a cigarette. It sounds more impressive in hours than days (4), so I'm going with hours and anybody who has a problem with that can SUCK IT. I'd figure it out in minutes if it didn't involve so much math. Math can SUCK IT also.

My co-worker came in a little while ago and said, "Hey, Kari, what are you gonna do today?" And I said, "Whatever I feel like doing, GOD!" Then I told her to SUCK IT and punched her in the throat.

I have a date tonight. You remember the Wolfman from New Year's Eve, right? We're meeting for Thai at Opart, but then again it's supposed to snow like a gazillion feet this evening, so I don't know. Tom Skilling, SUCK IT TWO TIMES. I'm kind of crabby too, which you probably haven't noticed. Wolfman, you lucky, lucky boy.

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Daily wisdom from Craigslist makes me laugh and laugh:

most heinous moving task ever
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: anon-54340574@craigslist.org
Date: 2005-01-03, 9:54PM CST

packing the Magnetic Poetry on my refrigerator.

Ain't that the truth.

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Go on, steal the Garden State soundtrack. Then justify it by thinking of the money you sent the tsunami victims. Kindess deserves to be rewarded, I always say.

What's that? You didn't send money to the tsunami victims? Well, ponder on this my heartless friend: Sandra Bullock is a better person than you. That's right. Despite Two Weeks Notice, Speed 2, and yes, even Forces of Nature. She rules. You drool. So SUCK IT why don'tcha.


She's a giver.

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Currently obsessed with: this little French girl's blog. Tres adorable, y'all. Tres cuteness.

Wednesday Happy Music, for Happy People Like Me:

Decibully, "Tables Turn"
"Eight Days A Week", The Beatles
The Libertines, "Up the Bracket"

Tina, come get some ham!

This was my favorite movie of 2004. Yep. If you haven't seen it, all I can say is get yerself to the Blockbuster STAT. Oh, and feel free to keep it for a few extra days. They don't care about such things anymore.

I have to work now, but please take a moment to listen to The Shins and Grandaddy. Also, some dude named Braden Blake. Thanks.

This Year is Already Better Than Last Year

But then it didn't take much.

I kissed a very cute boy on New Year's Eve. Then he made out with the waitress for 5 minutes, but I'm willing to overlook it. She kissed literally everyone in the bar, including me. Hey, New Year's Eve.

Anyway, I don't have to give the boy a blog nickname since my wonderful friends were thoughtful enough to tag him with one of their own. So, uh, Wolfman and I have a date on Wednesday. Which, whatever, he's totally hot. He looks sorta like Jason Lee, and that bitch is so saucy people write songs about him an' shit:


See?

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I also like him. Day-um.

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In less happy news, I quit smoking. No, for reals this time, assholes. I'm turning the mega 3-0 this year and I always told myself I'd never be thirty and smoking. If nothing else, my vanity requires it. Hey Sliver, you still in?

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Crazy Michigan Guy is baaaaaaaaack. He not only called to wish me a Merry Stalkmas, he also sent me a Stalkmas present. Since it's that sweet Bettie Serveert CD I've been wanting, I won't be able to treat it with the scorn a gift from a guy you never really dated who nevertheless thinks you're his soulmate and won't go away and somehow found out where you live and keeps asking for your shoe size truly deserves. Darn.

[NOTE: The upcoming Bettie also sounds friggin' awesome. Go listen to it in the multimedia part of their website. The "Lover I Don't Have to Love" Bright Eyes cover is so good I could pee. Bettie S'll be at the Abbey on Feb 12 if anyone wants to go with me. No, not you, Crazy Michigan Guy. Anyone else? Anyone? Beuller?]

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Here's a list of legit charities providing tsunami relief. With an estimated 5 million people left homeless, Habitat sounds like a good bet. Hey, why not send them the $9 you were going to spend on The Life Aquatic until it got such shitty reviews? I am.