Lest Anyone Be Concerned I Take Myself Too Seriously. From sometime last month. No idea what I was thinking. Maybe an attempt at a cross between Governor Kaine and… a duck?

Lest Anyone Be Concerned I Take Myself Too Seriously.

From sometime last month. No idea what I was thinking. Maybe an attempt at a cross between Governor Kaine and… a duck?

Lynyrd looks like an old man when he sleeps.
Lynyrd looks like an old man when he sleeps.
A brief note to those at last night's Sonic Youth show at The National here in Richmond
I hate you. That is all.
"The wife is OCD about her OCR. She’s having the computer mass OCR to searchable PDF. She keeps leaving the room to check its progress."
—

my husband.

It’s true, I am on a manic Evernote bender. (To wit: It’s 5:30 AM and I haven’t slept. Got some amazing shit done though.)

Doing It Wrong, Done Wrongly: A Demonstration I am trying to write a post and needed, for reference, to find a certain past tweet. So I went to Google and, limiting the search to my tweets (using site:URL), typed in one of its key phrases. Specifically, the phrase doing it wrong. I could not find the particular tweet I’d wanted to reference, but I did have several past tweets with the same search phrase. Once I read all my wrong results for doing it wrong, I went back to the draft of the post I’d started. By which point I’d kind of forgotten why I’d needed to find that particular elusive past tweet. So to recap: In looking for ‘doing it wrong’ I found the wrong search results, thus doing wrong by my original goal.  It is a complete cycle of wrongness, likely to continue in perpetuity. And, OMG, how fucking wrong is THAT? __ P.S. For more on Doing It Wrong, see Moltz, who illustrates the concept better/more wrongly than anyone else alive.

Doing It Wrong, Done Wrongly: A Demonstration

I am trying to write a post and needed, for reference, to find a certain past tweet. So I went to Google and, limiting the search to my tweets (using site:URL), typed in one of its key phrases. Specifically, the phrase doing it wrong.

I could not find the particular tweet I’d wanted to reference, but I did have several past tweets with the same search phrase.

Once I read all my wrong results for doing it wrong, I went back to the draft of the post I’d started. By which point I’d kind of forgotten why I’d needed to find that particular elusive past tweet.

So to recap: In looking for ‘doing it wrong’ I found the wrong search results, thus doing wrong by my original goal.  It is a complete cycle of wrongness, likely to continue in perpetuity.

And, OMG, how fucking wrong is THAT?

__

P.S. For more on Doing It Wrong, see Moltz, who illustrates the concept better/more wrongly than anyone else alive.

"All those years I wandered between Olympia & Seattle, I never grasped the rationale for Tacoma. Too late, I realize: @SeoulBrother & @Moltz."
— This is as true for me now as it as was seven months ago. Damn, I love these dudes.
Pain Monopoly

May I suggest Lamb of God, to whom the metallic (as it were) torch has long since been passed?

Sure, I’m biased  - not only after having been moved to the back of their Set to Fail video shoot due to excess boobage, but also because my husband and I are longtime friends of the band. Still, it’s objectively true that when Metallica had them on their recent tour, it was really more for Metallica’s benefit than LOG’s. (Besides, how can you beat a band with the initials ‘LOG’?)

fireland:

So I’ve been listening to Metallica’s Death Magnetic lately and thinking: You know, this really is a return to form. And really nodding my head when I read things like:

“There comes a time when a popular, long-lasting band has to accept that they’re no longer innovators, to simply learn to have fun by sticking to their strengths and put out good, solid albums that please the fans. The Rolling Stones know that, metal gods Iron Maiden, Motörhead, and Judas Priest know that, and in recent years, both U2 and R.E.M. have learned it as well.”

And for someone who is aging with every single passing day, that is profoundly comforting.

But now I’m listening to Master of Puppets and I’m like: OMG this is infinity times better than the Rick Rubin retread. This is something that elder statesmen could never dream of accomplishing, not with all their hard-earned wisdom.

And I’m like: Well great. It’s too late to make my own Master of Puppets. What exactly the fuck am I supposed to do at this late hour?

I managed to be on time for the shrink appointment, so perhaps I don’t really need my shrink appointment. I’m sure he’ll understand if I flee the scene now!
I managed to be on time for the shrink appointment, so perhaps I don’t really need my shrink appointment. I’m sure he’ll understand if I flee the scene now!
"…it’s half slightly-older-and-much-wiser-aunt tales of growing and loving and whatever, and half frat-boy waking up in a dumpster after drinking too much Johnnie Walker type shit."
— The lovely @shoesonwrong, generously characterizing my Tumblr posts. You can all unfollow me now, I’ve gleaned enough validation from this comment to last me for weeks.
When I tell people I had an even lousier Minneapolis-St. Paul airport experience than Larry Craig, I’m not kidding. (Go here for the large, easily readable version; there are various annotations and corrections.) From September 14, 1993: What my ex-college roommate, in cahoots with my mother, sent to the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport police, when my girlfriend and I were hiding out, following which a herd of FBI agents descended and I was shortly thereafter led away in handcuffs.

When I tell people I had an even lousier Minneapolis-St. Paul airport experience than Larry Craig, I’m not kidding.

(Go here for the large, easily readable version; there are various annotations and corrections.)

From September 14, 1993:

What my ex-college roommate, in cahoots with my mother, sent to the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport police, when my girlfriend and I were hiding out, following which a herd of FBI agents descended and I was shortly thereafter led away in handcuffs.

All I’m going to say about this fragment is: It’s from 2004, when I worked at Cafe Gutenberg; The handwriting is mine; I’m not the one who threw the knife. Good times.

All I’m going to say about this fragment is:

  1. It’s from 2004, when I worked at Cafe Gutenberg;
  2. The handwriting is mine;
  3. I’m not the one who threw the knife.

Good times.

Hey @funnyslide! How much of a douchebag could you possibly be? Ordinarily, when someone follows, unfollows, and refollows me on Twitter several times within a short period, I quickly block them - but I became morbidly fascinated by your particular tenacity in using this idiotic strategy to gain followers (“if at first they don’t follow back, unfollow and follow again! And again! And again!”). Really, nine such attempts in less than a month? Suffice it to say that today, the aforementioned morbid fascination has ended, and I am not only blocking your ass but suggesting that others do so as well, if they feel so inclined. Also - and more importantly - you’re not actually funny.

Hey @funnyslide! How much of a douchebag could you possibly be? Ordinarily, when someone follows, unfollows, and refollows me on Twitter several times within a short period, I quickly block them - but I became morbidly fascinated by your particular tenacity in using this idiotic strategy to gain followers (“if at first they don’t follow back, unfollow and follow again! And again! And again!”).

Really, nine such attempts in less than a month? Suffice it to say that today, the aforementioned morbid fascination has ended, and I am not only blocking your ass but suggesting that others do so as well, if they feel so inclined.

Also - and more importantly - you’re not actually funny.

Digging holes in the back yard. Not, alas, burying his poo in them.
Digging holes in the back yard. Not, alas, burying his poo in them.
Henna’ed.
Henna’ed.
Sending care package to kids at camp. Include whoopie cushion Y/N?
Sending care package to kids at camp. Include whoopie cushion Y/N?
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