Thursday, December 25, 2008

YOU DON'T KNOW ME.

To say my neighbor "watches" television 24/7 isn't totally correct. There's no way she's watching all that shit, I don't even think she's home half the time. Last night, J claimed that he heard the Harry Potter dvd menu soundtrack for 2 hours before she started the movie. Yesterday I heard her talking on the phone, and she speaks just as loud as she listens. Sometimes I am able to watch entire shows with out even turning on my television. I just base it off what I can hear, and my memory of the particular episode. Today she is "watching" Murray Povich. Does anyone else think it hurts Connie Chungs credibility to be married to him?

Additionally, my neighbor across the hall has a karaoke system. He gently wakes me in the morning, and lulls me to sleep every night. By that I mean he screams the lyrics to that "Too Close" song by Next, the one I remember from Jr. High that I think might be about getting a boner. Somedays he sings Prince, other days it's Britney Spears. He's going to be a star, I can feel it. 

I was thinking of making a recording- One side of the lady next door, the other of across the hall. I would play it as loud as my stereo would allow before I left the house for the day. I would probably title it "You have no idea how embarrassing you are."

For Christmas, I painted J (per his accidental request a long time ago) a golden disc of two panthers having sex. here it is:


the pictures aren't so great, but you get the gist. For those interested, it's made of wood, acrylic, krylon, gold leaf, and swarovski crystals.

Friday, December 5, 2008

hold my calls

I always like finding an empty classroom to work in on my lunch break and pretending it's my private office.

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Okay, go-

According to Google, I created this blog in 2006. Isn't this just a livejournal for adults or young professionals or people too cool (read: embarrassed) to use livejournal? I seem to remember wanting to use this as an online studio, but the following will have to do:


Today I opened what I can only refer to as "the least desirable box."

I moved into my place on February 25th, which is now almost two months ago. I still have a car full of junk that needs to come inside and several boxes waiting to be unpacked. Sarah invited me to participate in her garage sale in May. This is a huge relief, as no one needs this much crap.

But back to the undesirable box.;It's labeled "PAPERWORK" and after slashing through the tape, I should have actually labeled it "photographs, neglected ideas, and death certificates," or maybe even "where the last four years of your life went." I guess "PAPERWORK" is less depressing.

It isn't even kind of organized. I have floppy disks and post-it notes. pictures of what I want my living space to look like, other pictures of faces I can't even put names with anymore. I reached in and blindly pulled out a handful of papers and whatever else. I took the first item off of the stack and scrutinized over what to do with it for 10 minutes. I should just throw the whole box in the dumpster.

Oh, and the first item was a picture of Interpol that I tore out of a magazine 5 or 6 years ago. I opted to keep it.

The only benefit to opening this box was finding my black (flag) Chanel nail polish, which I just used to avoid dealing with T.L.D.B. anymore.


The Factory sent our store a copy of The Teenager's album and some notes about a promotion we'll be running soon... I ripped the disc to my computer and am barely impressed. Also, are they French or just pretentious? Prefrenchious. Whatever, I'll probably still go to their show when they come into town and maybe DJ one or two of their songs.


Is this really my life? Just wondering.