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The above quote just came out of Mr. Drinkwater’s mouth simply moments ago.
I looked up and, there he was, clutching two beverages, one in each hand. In the right hand: a mug of warm, stale “Coke Zero.” In the left: a can of Papst Blue Ribbon (aka PBR, also known locally as “PB-AAAAAAAAH”).
The question for you, dear readers, is…which is worse for our dear Mr. Drinkwater?
So fresh and so clean clean
I always thought that the people who wrote the self-help stuff for college students and people in crisis where either full of shit or a bunch of wusses when they would suggest that, when stressed or distressed, one should brew a cup of tea or “take a hot bath.” I typically interpreted such suggestions as an avoidance of real human angst/suffering on the part of the author. I don’t think I would write a very good self-help book. It would probably be full of things like:
Your anxieties are actually based on some sort of truth, “real” or perceived.
Call an analyst.
Self-medicate (choose your own adventure: brownies, marijuana, or nicotine/tobacco. Alcohol should always be avoided: it is far too dehydrating.).
Get angry at whatever or whoever put you in this mood.
Listen to gangster rap.
Read more philosophy.
Taking a bath seemed so trite and such an empty-signifier of a suggestion to offer someone who was in some sort of duress…
…until now.
…send your nemesis fecal matter!
I give you the shit senders.
Greetings from Southern California, or as Jean Baudrillard so lovingly calls my home state, the “desert of the hyperreal.” I write you all while basking in the glimmering sunshine amidst throngs of blonde women clad in velour Juicy Couture tracksuits, UGG boots, and oversized sunglasses. Tonight, I shall feast on vegan cuisine with my favorite globetrotter, Lauren. While my trusted and best beloved lab partner/co-author/homeslice ices over in Massachusetts, I decided to take some time to put 2008 in perspective.
To begin with, 2008 was the year of the Rat. It was also the year that a small army of mice invaded my apartment. Currently, Lo tha Funkee Feline is holding down the fort and keeping the little critters at bay by intimidating and humiliating these small rodent beings. Apparently, she also likes to sadistically humiliate and destroy phone cords.
So… I’m a temporary cat momma! Lo the cat needed a home until the end of next summer and now she’s living with me — I’m so lucky and so in love!
Friendship has always been a beautiful mystery to me. Just last night, Ian and I were eating chocolate chip cookies while google-stalking hottie biscottis with “safe search” turned off. It was a nice moment of solidarity. Ian and I also like to spend time constructing narratives of what one another’s descent into madness would look like. Today, I logged on to Teletypewriter to see that Ian posted a nice entry on pop and breakups and, upon first glance, that warm solidarity quickly took a back seat to a rabid sibling-like competitive rivalry: I must outdo his mix with my own mix of superior quality. Ah, friendship. Read the rest of this entry »
I cried when I watched Obama’s speech tonight, I was so happy. Tonight was such an emotional roller coaster as Ian and I watched the election unfold. We were also totally mesmerized by the mysterious floating 3D senate/house display and will.i.am’s appearance via hologram on CNN. What was this? Star Wars? Thankfully, CNN was nice enough to provide us with some superior quality eye candy to keep us nerds engaged. How could we take our eyes off of Anderson Cooper in that fabulous suit? Shoot, I’d give up my legbite street cred for him (who is also, allegedly, a legbite. This possible fact only augments his amazing hotness, and, by extension, my street cred). Can I get a witness? Read the rest of this entry »
Photo Credit: Pooley/Getty Images
My mind is still more boggled by the enigma of Sarah Palin than “Joe the Plumber,” but I like how America’s new working-class hero now has to hire a publicist due to all the attention he’s been getting from the McCain campaign. Rumor has it that there are “Joe the Plumber” books, public appearances, and, possibly a country music album in the works. I have to hand it to Joe. I think this is brilliant. What’s more American than the working class? Could it be the middle to upper class’s fetishization of the working class? Of course not! (That would be un-American.) It’s cashing in and selling out! Just think of all the “bootstrapping” yarns the McCain camp could spin now. Read the rest of this entry »
Dear Karl Lagerfeld,
I am so very sick of the weaponry-as-fashion movement that hipsters nationwide have appropriated for their very own. I’ve always interpreted all of those bullet-earrings, hand-gun pendants, and other silk-screened guns on “vintage” T-shirts as a confused fetishization of both capitalism and violence. At the end of the day, though, I’ve always thought: Fine, they can have their violence. If I were to alert them to their problematic gesture, they would probably just sigh, claim said gesture is “ironic” and continue reading Vice magazine through their Ray Bans.
But high fashion wants the handgun now? You finally drove this “movement” over the edge with those shoes you dreamed up for your Chanel Cruise 2009 Collection. Read the rest of this entry »
And is it ever a “Fuck You Friday” here at Teletypewriter! Ian fell ill with the flu and I have to complete one to two chapters of my thesis and the GRE’s in less than three weeks. But our woes can’t compare to the woes of John McCain’s brother, Joe McCain, who apparently called 911 because he was stuck in traffic:
Operator: 911, state your emergency
Joe: It’s not an emergency, but do you know why on one side at the damn drawbridge of 95 traffic is stopped for 15 minutes and yet traffic’s coming the other way?
Operator: Sir, are you calling 911 to complain about traffic? (pause)
Joe: “Fuck you!” (hangs up)
Apparently, the operator found out that it was Joe McCain thanks to *69. I totally forgot that even existed thanks to cell phone caller-ID. Read the rest of this entry »
