And the writing. Oh, the writing. It couldn’t be any worse. One of Tookie’s (the protagonist) friends comes from a dimly-lit country called Canne del Abra. The very first page includes the line, “the fog lifted like a push-up bra.” There are a gazillion other terrible lines or names but I have blocked them out because this book gave me some weird form of PTSD.

The worst part of all of this is that this is only the first book in a trilogy! NOOOOOO WHHYYYYYYY I doubt the reality of a merciful god! This book is UNSPEAKABLY BAD. I feel that everyone who has read it should come together to file a class-action lawsuit against the publishers. I know I suffered much emotional distress & deserve some kind of compensation. I know that every time I write a terrible review, a few masochistic people who follow my reviews go out and read the books to see if it’s really that bad. PLEASE don’t do that this time. This book actually caused me REAL SUFFERING. Learn from my mistakes, I beg of you!

part of a hilarious review on goodreads (OF MANY) of Tyra Banks’ debut science-fiction novel “Modelland.”

I could read these for hours. The main character’s name is Tookie de la Creme and her mom’s name is Creamy. Creamy de la Creme. 

It’s all just too good to be true.

At what point does this scarf just look and feel exactly “like a blanket” before I’m just wearing a straight-up blanket around my neck? Because seriously I think this was made from the scraps they had left-over from the blanket I have on my bed (which is ideal). 
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At what point does this scarf just look and feel exactly “like a blanket” before I’m just wearing a straight-up blanket around my neck? Because seriously I think this was made from the scraps they had left-over from the blanket I have on my bed (which is ideal). 

Hey you, up there. Happy anniversary, last week. Thanks for being the best friend, boyfriend, and partner in crime I could ask for. You’ll always be my “that one handsome movie star can’t remember his name” and I’ll always be your “girl from that cinderella movie with Patrick Dempsey” according to my car mechanic. <3 I’ll see you in a bit when I come pick you up. I promise I’ll come b(w)earing sweatpants and an unstoppable hunger for candy from Powell’s, as you’ve requested. Also got the rest of the episodes of Damages season 4. BIG night ahead of us.  See you soon, mr. spinach, first name baby, and thanks for sticking with me. I’d like to kindly request that you *~continue to do so.~* 
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Hey you, up there. Happy anniversary, last week. Thanks for being the best friend, boyfriend, and partner in crime I could ask for. You’ll always be my “that one handsome movie star can’t remember his name” and I’ll always be your “girl from that cinderella movie with Patrick Dempsey” according to my car mechanic. <3

I’ll see you in a bit when I come pick you up. I promise I’ll come b(w)earing sweatpants and an unstoppable hunger for candy from Powell’s, as you’ve requested. Also got the rest of the episodes of Damages season 4. BIG night ahead of us. 

See you soon, mr. spinach, first name baby, and thanks for sticking with me. I’d like to kindly request that you *~continue to do so.~* 

Ugh Flubber&#8217;s such a hipster
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Ugh Flubber’s such a hipster

Megan Amram: Paula Deen’s Health Food Cookbook

meganamram:

Recently, Paula Deen has admitted that she’s had Type II Diabetes for years. Accordingly, she’s putting out a cookbook of healthy food. Here are some excerpts!

FRUIT SALAD

INGREDIENTS:

1 lb. bag of Skittles

3 cups ranch dressing

DIRECTIONS:

Mix well. Serve room temperature.

-

…

LOL

Source: meganamram

1/1/12 - Austin sleeping on the bus at 2 a.m.
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1/1/12 - Austin sleeping on the bus at 2 a.m.

Billions of things changed in 2011 (and one of those things was little old me)

a college student —> a working professional

on a wage —> on a salary

brunette —> blonde

financially dependent —> financially independent

a small-town resident —> a big-city resident

not in love  —> in love

focused on a million things —> focused on a few things

a car loaner —> a car owner

naive —> paranoid

certain in my convictions —> curious in my convictions

21 —> 22

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
  • 66 Plays
  • Dictaphone's LamentTycho

Dictaphone’s Lament by Tycho \ Past is Prologue

It’s raining and you’re driving. (All Tycho applies.)

Maybe I felt like I lived in San Francisco when it took me 35 minutes to find a parking spot the first night I slept in my new apartment. Maybe it was when I got that polish hot dog from down the street and ate it by myself sitting on the floor of my new bedroom surrounded by boxes. Maybe I felt like I lived in San Francisco when we took a walk to Alamo Square Park to sit in the sun and look at the clouds, or when we took a drive up to the Sutro Tower just because it was on our way home. Perhaps it was when we got day-drunk in the Mission for no apparent reason and embarked on a journey to find the 2&#160;o&#8217;clock titty (we found it). I think I felt like I lived in San Francisco that day I wandered around Hayes Valley and stopped for lunch at a little bakery, sat by the window, ate salami and a baguette, and read my book. Or the next weekend when we went to Ray&#8217;s to get sandwiches, then sat in Dolores Park all afternoon listening to music. Or was it when that crazy lady came into Ray&#8217;s and claimed she was from the government. I loved that lady.  Maybe I felt like I lived in San Francisco when we went to the Alameda Flea Market and hauled a bunch of stuff back to my apartment and up the one million stairs. Or maybe it was when I first discovered there is a doggy park a couple blocks away from me that is always populated and full of fluffy puppies.  Maybe I felt like I lived in San Francisco when I got on the wrong bus and had to get off and sprint to catch the same bus going the other direction. Or when I got the same cab driver twice in 24 hours. I think I felt like I lived in San Francisco when I thrifted those loafers on Valencia, or ran downstairs to get eggs one morning when I ran out. Or when we discovered the Thai place 2 blocks away place gave us stomach aches, but the one 3 blocks away is delicious. Maybe when we went to Faletti to get a pint of ice cream and then left the ice cream on a table uneaten moments later because something more interesting was going on. Or all the times I&#8217;ve gone out to breakfast or lunch or dinner not because it was a grand occasion, but because I&#8217;m surrounded by dozens of places right outside my front door, and friends that live just down the street. Or when a drugged up homeless man sat against my front gate and propositioned sex in exchange for letting me in (I didn&#8217;t oblige). I felt like I lived in San Francisco when we walked through the Tenderloin and got a Destiny&#8217;s Child song stuck in our heads for 3 consequent hours. Or when I got in my car yesterday to find the contents of my glove compartment scattered all over my seats and a bent hanger on the floor, and just scooped the stuff up and put it back in, without a second thought. I think I feel like I live here when I sit on my couch eating cereal in the morning, looking out my window at the blanket of parks and Victorian houses covering the hills surrounding my neighborhood. But a couple nights ago I was driving home from work, and right as I came around a curve on the freeway and the expanse of San Francisco unfolded, all the sparkling lights and tall buildings and rolling hills, the perfect song came on, and it truly hit me. I live in this city, and driving into it actually felt like going home. It brought tears to my eyes and I felt like a total sap. But I&#8217;m doing everything I&#8217;ve always wanted to be doing, and it feels amazing. I love this place, and the best part is it has only just begun. And here is another sentence because that last one was just so dramatic.
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Maybe I felt like I lived in San Francisco when it took me 35 minutes to find a parking spot the first night I slept in my new apartment. Maybe it was when I got that polish hot dog from down the street and ate it by myself sitting on the floor of my new bedroom surrounded by boxes.

Maybe I felt like I lived in San Francisco when we took a walk to Alamo Square Park to sit in the sun and look at the clouds, or when we took a drive up to the Sutro Tower just because it was on our way home.

Perhaps it was when we got day-drunk in the Mission for no apparent reason and embarked on a journey to find the 2 o’clock titty (we found it).

I think I felt like I lived in San Francisco that day I wandered around Hayes Valley and stopped for lunch at a little bakery, sat by the window, ate salami and a baguette, and read my book.

Or the next weekend when we went to Ray’s to get sandwiches, then sat in Dolores Park all afternoon listening to music. Or was it when that crazy lady came into Ray’s and claimed she was from the government. I loved that lady. 

Maybe I felt like I lived in San Francisco when we went to the Alameda Flea Market and hauled a bunch of stuff back to my apartment and up the one million stairs.

Or maybe it was when I first discovered there is a doggy park a couple blocks away from me that is always populated and full of fluffy puppies. 

Maybe I felt like I lived in San Francisco when I got on the wrong bus and had to get off and sprint to catch the same bus going the other direction.

Or when I got the same cab driver twice in 24 hours.

I think I felt like I lived in San Francisco when I thrifted those loafers on Valencia, or ran downstairs to get eggs one morning when I ran out.

Or when we discovered the Thai place 2 blocks away place gave us stomach aches, but the one 3 blocks away is delicious.

Maybe when we went to Faletti to get a pint of ice cream and then left the ice cream on a table uneaten moments later because something more interesting was going on.

Or all the times I’ve gone out to breakfast or lunch or dinner not because it was a grand occasion, but because I’m surrounded by dozens of places right outside my front door, and friends that live just down the street.

Or when a drugged up homeless man sat against my front gate and propositioned sex in exchange for letting me in (I didn’t oblige).

I felt like I lived in San Francisco when we walked through the Tenderloin and got a Destiny’s Child song stuck in our heads for 3 consequent hours.

Or when I got in my car yesterday to find the contents of my glove compartment scattered all over my seats and a bent hanger on the floor, and just scooped the stuff up and put it back in, without a second thought.

I think I feel like I live here when I sit on my couch eating cereal in the morning, looking out my window at the blanket of parks and Victorian houses covering the hills surrounding my neighborhood.

But a couple nights ago I was driving home from work, and right as I came around a curve on the freeway and the expanse of San Francisco unfolded, all the sparkling lights and tall buildings and rolling hills, the perfect song came on, and it truly hit me. I live in this city, and driving into it actually felt like going home. It brought tears to my eyes and I felt like a total sap. But I’m doing everything I’ve always wanted to be doing, and it feels amazing. I love this place, and the best part is it has only just begun.

And here is another sentence because that last one was just so dramatic.

Super interesting lesson I learned: if I take Rocky outside every hour, he doesn’t go POTTY in the office.

Here’s Rocky pooping, my leopard-print collar, and my feet in the grass. It’s all pretty nature-y up in here!