Category Archives: Random

I do need a job…

This Craigslist post has left me completely confounded.  They’re looking for people to work full-time December 1st-23rd to create one-of-a-kind toys for children in need.  If selected for the job, they will pay for you to fly to Alaska where you will stay in Santa’s Village in Northpole, Alaska, be paid $25/hr, and “be back with your families just in time for Christmas!”

Sounds like the premise of a low-budget slasher film.  But they do promise I’ll be back with my family in time for Christmas…  (I guess Santa’s workshop isn’t looking for anyone who celebrates any of the other holidays, such as Hanukkah Dec. 1st-9th.)

Also confusing is that this opportunity is listed as a “Sarah Palin Economic Initiative.”  It’s so ridiculous that I’m afraid it might be for real.  Does anyone know anything about this?  Is Sarah Palin funding a bizarre toy workshop in Northpole, Alaska?

The official website (WorkForSanta.com) also looks suspect.  The free apartments in the “dream village” offer these amenities:

• Fireplace

• Queen sized bed

• Flat screen television

• Full kitchen

• Full bathroom

• Meals included and provided daily

Also, “Aside from the luxurious sleeping quarters, we have put together a modern holiday lodge that truly exemplifies the spirit of Christmas. The main lodge contains a heated indoor swimming pool and whirlpool, as well as a sauna. There is a large gathering room where we encourage all of our employees to relax and mingle on nights and weekends. The gathering room contains a large beautifully decorated Christmas tree and a lovely fireplace. We also have a full concierge and a coffee bar with complimentary beverages for all of our guests.”

Yayyyyy!

Note: I was going to put a photo of Sarah Palin at the top of this post, but when I got to Google Images, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.  Also, this quote from the site does sound an awful lot like Palin rhetoric: “We need to have hope because we can, and will, rise up once again and reclaim our status as a financially stable, independent and respected country.”

Oh, screw it.  Let’s look at her!

Santa's helper?

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Not much to report, except–

In the photo below, a convenience store clerk was using a claw to try to retrieve a package of Trojans for what felt like five minutes:

In the video below, Kenny Loggins has one of the best venues ever:

In my Chinese astrology horoscope below, I have a pretty good outlook:

Strutting your stuff at a party, you could be the cock of the walk, attracting attention from all corners of the room and just generally being a star.

It’s hard to exist.

I’m struggling with existence again. As usual. It’s so lame. And it’s also the least lame thing ever.

An old friend texted me a few minutes ago saying, “I hear you’re some kind of comedian now.” And I texted back, “I’m not sure what I am. What are you these days?”


I was riding the subway on Monday, and I was eating a turkey sandwich. The turkey sandwich part isn’t so important, except that the train was crowded and I was dropping lettuce on myself and I felt sort of bad, but not that bad because the woman sitting next to me was eating an apple.

In an attempt to avoid eye contact with any Q Train passengers who might be watching me eat, I started studying advertisements. One in particular caught my eye. For a few reasons:

1. It was for a book and I like those.

2. The concept for the book turns the author into a whore.

3. I’ve long thought about writing a book just like this. Well, sort of like this:

“Publisher’s Weekly” ascribes this book to the “stunt-blog memoir genre”. There is a gimmicky feel to this genre, but it can be done really well! I don’t care if Oprah plugged it, I really enjoyed Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman’s Search for Everything Across Italy, India and Indonesia. Shit was inspiring. I also enjoyed Danny Wallace’s book Yes Man that inspired the Jim Carrey movie I didn’t see.

But as far as stunt-blog memoirs go, this has gotta be one of the most stunt-bloggy of them all. Maybe I’m just upset I didn’t think of doing it myself. I mean, how can you really go wrong when the backbone of your stunt-blog memoir has these kinds of stats:

IF OPRAH WERE… A NATION her 51.4 million weekly viewers and magazine readers would equal more than the population of Canada (33 million), Spain (40.3 million) or Argentina (39.9 million).

IF OPRAH WERE… A PILE OF GOLD she’d be equal to 24,000 14-karat gold bars.

cnnmoney.com reported in January that Oprah ranked second only to Google as the biggest brand newsmaker of 2006. Behind Ms. Winfrey were Amazon, eBay and iPod.

IF OPRAH WERE… A NATIONAL ECONOMY what she’d pump into the U.S. economy would be slightly more than the GDP of the Bahamas. See more here.


The only thing left to do now, now that I’ve accepted I’ll probably never figure out the big existential questions, is figure out what to spend 365 days of my life doing that I can convince a publishing house will make a memoir and make them money.

Actually, my old friend texted back to tell me what she is these days, and it sounds like the perfect title for a stunt-blog memoir: Nomadic Barista.

West 12th Street – West 42nd Street, First Leg

Cabinet in hospital trash pile.

Manners.

 

Snack break.

 

 

Grey clouds

Amy Adams groping herself.

Self-portrait break.

 

 

West 12th Street – West 42nd Street, Second Leg

No. Fuck you, Macy's.

Good question...

Meet a wax figure of Nicholas Cage?

No.  Definitely not.

New Year, Same Auld Blog.

It’s 2010.  You know what that means…

Jake.

A new season of The Bachelor with a man named Jake.  I plan to watch last night’s episode online as soon as I hit the “publish” button on this post.  At which time I will laugh, cringe, cry, and masturbate.

I’ve been incredibly productive this year.  One highlight: I cleaned my room.  I found $20.  So far that money has bought me an egg and cheese sandwich and a coke.  Updates on the remaining $14 to come.

I also found my mini microphone.  I plan to hook it up to my laptop and record myself singing in the laundry room basement of my building.  I may even share some of these recordings on this here page.  The acoustics are pretty clean down there (pun intended).

AND LASTLY, I found the memory stick to my digital camera.  I went on my first photographic romp of the new year.  Here are the results:

It's 2010. You know what that also means.

Hate when buildings force me to consider things.

Dog in pink bonnet. You're not fooling anyone. You may be wearing a hat intended for a human, but you're still not allowed.

Still Life with Surgical Mask

(The Inevitably Vagina-Related) Search Phrase Free Write!

I don't know who this is. It doesn't matter who this is. He is pretty cute, though.

People don’t get tired of searching the net for vagina stuff, and I have not yet gotten, nor anticipate getting, tired of writing about vagina stuff.  Today’s search phrase free write, courtesy of two aspiring ornithologists, is: “bird vagina”.

The closest I’ve come to seeing two birds having sex is the male pigeon’s courtship dance.  Beyond that, it’s easy to forget that birds are sexual.  It’s kind of like when you see your mom and dad flirting.  Or Santa and Mrs. Claus giving each other eskimo kisses.  “Oh yeah,” you think to yourself. “They have urges, sexual and otherwise, just like the rest of us. Weird.”

Hey, remember how last year my dad bought my mom Predator on DVD?  He accidentally did that again this year. 

Other noteworthy Christmas gifts: our cat (my dad) bought the entire family a copy of Terminator: Salvation.  My dad let me open it.  When he handed the present to me I asked him why the tag (To: Family, From: Critter) was taped onto the back of the gift instead of the front.  And my dad said, “It’s from the cat.  He’s stupid.” 

So, bird vagina.  One of my favorite things about home is that outside of our big kitchen window, right in front of the sink, my mom hangs a bird feeder and suet from the tree.  So it makes this perfect bird-watching spot!  In the comforts of the kitchen!  It’s really great.  Sometimes I can see their vaginas.

Some people are probably sexually attracted to birds.  I started to write more on this idea, but decided it wasn’t worthy of anyone’s time.  One of the sentences may have posited: “Women like a nice beak.”

Anyway.  I’m thankful for a lot this holiday season.  I’m pretty ecstatic about where I am, who I am, and the people who are surrounding me.  And I’m especially ecstatic about bird vagina.