The Perils of Reading Online News Are Multiple

McBickle: Check out CNN’s homepage. This is the first time I ever thought Obama was seriously HOT.

Ladyfriend: Um, YEA.

McBickle: That photo just turned me on. Damn. Like, super-mega hot. Not just presidential-candidate hot.

Ladyfriend: Right, no, he has moments of extreme hotness.

McBickle: I finally see this.

Ladyfriend: Hold on, I’ll one-up you.

McBickle: OK, but EW: http://www.cnn.com/2008/CRIME/05/28/jeffs.kissing/index.html

Ladyfriend: Thanks for killing my hard-on.

McBickle: Oh no. Sorry, man.

Ladyfriend: My girl hard-on, that is.

McBickle: Check.

Ladyfriend: It’s cool. Just, EW.

McBickle: Yeah, EW.

A Post About Things I'm Just Not Saying

An oatmeal cookie is not lunch.
A post about an oatmeal cookie not being lunch is a terrible post.

Fine. I was just here:



And on the beach here:


And admiring the derricks here:


And talking to somebody interesting under the Turrell "Skyscape" here:


And, right, there was here:


In other news, text messages sent between the hours of 1:30 a.m. and 4 are rarely anything but odd.

Yes, I Realize I Can Change the Dial. That’s Not the Point.

This is why I can’t stand Jonathan Schwartz.

His voice makes me want to throw a Pimm’s Cup at a piano player. And then he purrs into the world honeycomb pieces of wisdom like this:

“Everything changes; life moves on.
I mean, if we didn’t change, everyone would be a fetus.”

She's Like Fucking Beckett or Something

Mza and I are discussing our evening plans via IM:

McBickle: I kinda want to do nothing.
Mza: I want to do something nothingesque, but not nothing.

Just, Ew, America.

Euthanasia Can Be Handy

I don’t usually read Boing Boing. But I did. And I saw this:

Curator euthanizes living leather jacket made from human mouse stem-cells

“A curator at NY-MOMA had to euthanize a living leather jacket made from human mouse stem-cells -- the art-work had grown out of control and threatened to overflow its containment unit.”

Go read the rest of it. Because you know you have to. I’ll just add this bit from their entry:

[Curator Paola] Antonelli says the jacket ‘started growing, growing, growing until it became too big. And [the artists] were back in Australia, so I had to make the decision to kill it.’ ”

And now I remain at my desk, creeped the fuck out.

And We Adjust

Someone I love watched thousands of people die seven years ago from this roof. Now there is this building.

2:27 a.m. Over the Weekend

I cross the street to a crowd gathered in front of a neighborhood watering hole. I see a woman thrashing around on her stomach on the sidewalk wearing a light gray, polyester shark suit.

“Why is there a woman dressed like a shark on the ground?” I ask the bar’s owner, who is standing to my left.

[Muffled drunken laughter with explanation that makes no sense.]

Woman lifts herself up partway off the concrete.

“Why are you dressed like a shark?” I ask her.

“I went to a Dress Like Your Favorite Holiday party tonight. And my favorite holiday is ‘Shark Day.’”

“Oh,” I say. “OK.”

So I had another whiskey.