Sabrina. You Was Dancing at the Bar

A few things are on my mind today, not the least of which is this eloquent post to the craigslist missed connections section:

"Sabrina. you was dancing at the bar

Hi
I think you name is Sabrina you are Blonde wearing a bikini black & white i guess.not sure enougth about you name
you was dancing last Friday night at the bar I think you have 18 or 19 year old great body & A.... you know where you was dancing
i really love talk to you
I hear thinks about you..I would love to experiment with you"

Boy, would I want to be the lucky lady who that is intended for. I wonder what kind of experiments Sabrina(?) has in store.

Also, E-dogg and her hopefully sucessful delivery of T-dogg.

And Alice Qin's blag, Through the Looking Glass. Fuck It Manifesto. Brilliant.

N00bs Who Can't Move Gud

Sent at 2:36 PM on Tuesday:

Charlemagne: I have had too much to drink for 2:30

Sent at 2:38 PM on Tuesday

Charlemagne: RESPOND!

Kate: Jesus. Relax. I was down the hall.

Charlemagne: This much drunk is a bad idea when I have an early plane to catch.

Kate: Stop lying about being in Ireland. None of us believe you.

Charlemagne: Where the fuck do you think I am? Didn't you see the pictures?

Kate: They're all of the inside of your hotel room.

Charlemagne: AND the construction work outside my hotel room.

Kate: You're prolly in like, upstate NY

Charlemagne: Fuck you! I'm in Dublin!

Kate: Yeah? What time is it there?

Charlemagne: LAL IDK I'm too wAsTeD!!!!1

Kate: I'm going to blag that you just typed that. Embarassing.

Charlemagne: Don't give a FUCK! Ya know how they have those signs for hotel room doors? Like "Do Not Disturb" and "Please Service"?

Kate: Yep.

Charlemagne: There's one here that says "Fire"

Kate: What the fuck? Like you put it out if the room is on fire? Or set the room on fire and put it out before you leave?

Charlemagne: I don't know. I'm tempted to put it on the neighbor's door and see what happens.

Kate: DO IT! Immediately. And report back.

Charlemagne: Oh there's directions on the back!

Kate: And?

Charlemagne: It's for n00bs who can't move gud and get stuck in the room when there's a fire and need help.

Kate: I can't believe you just typed that.

Charlemagne: So if you can't move gud, you put it on the door all the time.

Kate: I'm blagging you typed that too.

The Silver Saxophones Say I Should Refuse You

But Honey, I want you.


I want you.


I want you so bad.

CCL

Can't. Stop. Reading. Cute with Chris.

Might have to submit some pictures of my cat complete with an anecdotal analysis of his emotional problems. Might also have to describe in detail a few of my varied "Kate Desperately Struggles to Rescue Kittens" dreams to further demonstrate my deep rooted CCLishness.

Comic from XKCD, obvi.

Stares Into Space Like a Dead China Doll

Oh. Em. Gee.

















J. David McKenney

The site comes off as a little bubblegum but the blag is fabuloso. And there's effing paper dolls. Me gustaria.

There's a Little Hippie in All of Us

Gimme this.

Summer, as always has set free the sundress wearing, bead adorned, flower child that I've been smothering with scarves and hoodies all winter. Although this year the scarves are still lingering, thanks to Roommate's growing collection of summer scarves that she insists on wearing with her penguin pajama shorts, while going for a run, probably to bed and maybe even shower. She's got a problem. Seriously.

I personally want to cover myself with copper (seen here from Vagabond Jewelry. mmm. so inspired.) and peacock feathers. I want to weave them into my hair and the collars of all my shirts. OK. Maybe I have a problem too.

Alright, we both do. We've been spending so much time on the porch lately secretly watching our cute, artsy, elderly neighbors that we convinced ourselves that they totally wanted to adopt us. Roommate actually forced an invite into their house last night to look at the wife's art while I chatted up the husband about locally made guitars and mandolins. We learned that they already have two successful artist daughters, so I'm guessing they don't want any more, but Roommate is persistent, so I wouldn't be surprised if she got us invited back for homemade dandelion wine and stories of their days following Dylan and protesting Nam. And I'm totally OK with that.

This Song Explains Why I'm Leaving Home to Become a Stewardess

Well formulated, coherent thoughts escape me lately. It's like the metal in my leg is fucking with my brain frequencies like it does with the reception on my neighbor's TV. But I would like it to be known that I don't understand Chloe Sevigny. I like her, I think. I just don't have the hard on for her that every twenty-something fashionista blogger whose site I frequent seem to have. I mean, sure she can act, but she's horsey looking, and most of the time she dresses like a complete wackadoo. And i don't know how to pronounce her last name. Sigh. That is all.

I now return to my search for swimwear that is well accessorized by the knee high velcro moonboot my doctor is insistent on me wearing. FML.