knifefight in BK

upsetting product of the day

i haven't liked jane magazine since jane pratt left, but it's often the only reading material at justin's office that isn't completely esoteric and coma-inducing or, say, a copy of entertainment weekly from october 2003. the last issue of jane, however, held unknown treasure: this add for just a drop. basically, it seems that this is an anti-stank product made for when you're taking a dump at "a party, friend's house or at work." SWEET. hey, whatever, we're all adults (and i have crohn's disease) and we all poop. but, now, take this very seriously because, again, I HAVE CROHN'S DISEASE - i have never in my life pooped at a party. at least not since i was old enough to read jane magazine. have you? do you poop at parties? are you a party pooper? i mean, i think anyone who's had the misfortune of working in an office knows that there are designated poopers, the people who practically have a designated stall they occupy every day at the same exact minute. but AT A PARTY?!? is it weird that i find this so disturbing? like, "hey guys, great party! i'm going to go poop covertly now." i mean, i understand why they're selling it in a chick magazine - "it fits in your purse!" - women are supposed to shoot roses and, like, freshly baked pies out of every orifice. god forbid the world knows that women are pooping! ESPECIALLY AT PARTIES!!! ok, actually, that wasn't the point, the point is that it's weird to be worried about pooping at a party. "better just keep my 'just a drop' in my purse, in the event of a spontaneous party, which would naturally induce pooping." WEIRDED. OUT. (oh, i can and will go on and on about this...)

the horror

my friend nicole had previously discussed with me her super's fascinating penchant for holiday-themed lobby decoration. however, we were both a little confused as to which holiday these two clowns were supposed to be celebrating. weirder still is their shared desk chair, computer monitor (you can see it in the reflection), banker's lamp, phone, and clock. who are they calling? why are they at work? why do they need to know what time it is? which one is inhabited by the disembodied spirit of a serial killer? why would anyone want to come home to a creepy reminder of the clowns they work with all day (ha ha, that was lame)? nicole's update answered one of these questions...

grammar vs. advertising

my associates and i saw this ad on the L a while ago. i know, when you're just trying to get your crappy guerilla marketing done on the subway, there's no time for things like, oh, constructing any sort of a coherent sentence. i mean, why? you're just trying to convince people to give you their money, it's not like you need to make any sense. it asks you, "why i am THE BOSS? because the company isn't... link up EZ w/ EZ link cell phones. LINK. do i get a bill? NO. do i get late charges? NO." ok ok whatever, you want me to buy... a phone... or something. but what does "why i am THE BOSS?" mean (even derek jeter doesn't get it - look, he's like, "ad on my face, i glare at you with contempt.")? is it like, "why? i am the boss!" or is it like, "why, I AM the boss." or does it mean "why are you doing a whole post on this? it doesn't make any sense." or! does it mean "why do you expect some cheap weird cell phone scam ad flyer to make sense?"
because i am THE BOSS. that's why.

happy knifefight day!

it's been brought to my attention that knifefight in BK is a year old! sweet fancy moses on a raft! i'd like to thank y'all for reading my crazy theories and stuff the past year, and i assure you that year two's majesty will be so overwhelming that you'll pee. inadvertently. in an inappropriate setting.

ebay is a magical world

this guy has become one of my favorite things on ebay. he has some long-winded excuse about why he models the (vintage women's) clothing himself... something about not being able to afford a model and only wearing women's clothing in this context and being so secure in his masculinity that he can do this kind of stuff... anyway, who cares, this guy's awesome. he makes selling gowns look fun, and i hope he is aware of the joy he spreads with his ridiculous pictures and captions.

thanks, wacky ebay cross-dresser guy!

(in other fun cross-dressing news, uh, don't threaten people with a flare gun... ever... but especially not when you're a dude in a purple bathing suit...)

majesty

some very important birthdays have been going on lately: fourfour's first birthday (blogday?), winston's alleged second birthday (aka "the day his spaceship landed on earth" or possibly "the day he hatched from his rainbow and glitter-encrusted space-egg"), and optimus prime's estimated seventh birthday (who knows? ask the negligent lesbian couple who threw her wondrousness at me).

yay team awesome!

rich, winston, optimus prime, i hope you all know that you're the wind beneath my wings, and the sprinkles on my baked goods. (i'd say you're the frosting, but a. that sounds kind of gross, and b. sometimes frosting is bad, like when it tastes like straight up butter, you know? i mean, i'm all about butter, but there's something not right to me about a pile of pastel-hued whipped butter on a cupcake, ok? for real.)

it's my mom's birthday

that's right, y'all, the illustrious dr. braddock is celebrating another year of majesty. if you see her, you know, recognize. my mom rules.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM! YOU'RE AWESOME! I LOVE YOU!

check out her majesty circa 1984. i can only aspire to such awesomeness! (plus, check out our sweet fashion-forward ensembles - we're totally 22 years ahead of williamsburg here!)

drag queens, cake, etc.

the lovely elise's birthday party was held at lips nyc - i mean, naturally, for what is a birthday without drag queens? thus, one of the perfomers decided to climb into the lap of elise's ex, kelly, and proceed to unbutton his shirt and taunt him with a piece of cake.
fortunately for everyone involved, kelly was sitting right across from me, allowing for an unobstructed view of the unplanned birthday gift of "embarrassment of the ex-boyfriend."

kelly's a good sport, so i'm certain he loves having this picture of himself with a drag queen on his lap plastered on the web.

first i cook and then i chill

thanks, nicole, for making my day with $240 worth of pudding. does anyone remember the loveseat one? yeah, i got that after the jump. we're takin' it back to '94. awwwwwwwwww yeeeeeeeeah.

briefly

i have important things to do (see picture at left), people, so here's everything you need to know in convenient list-form:

1. i have seen the worst film ever made. ever.
2. i give it 6 months until paris hilton is dragging one of these down some red carpet in a really big vuitton bag.
3. actually, i find this less upsetting than our president's misguided alleged chats with J.C. (thus, i give it 8-10 months until paris hilton's dragging around a bunch of mystic, fortune-telling dwarves in some giant vuitton bag)
4. latoya jackson is, in fact, fashioned out of sculpey.

sad

we here at knifefight in brooklyn (by which i clearly mean "me") try to avoid being maudlin as much as possible, but we've just lost a wonderful family member, so shut up.

coupon was a majestic orange gentleman who lived with justin's mom and stepdad. he pretty much rocked. i mean, come ON, his name's COUPON, how can he be anything less than awesome? he would let me pick him up even though he weighed upwards of 20 pounds and i probably shouldn't have because 20 plus pounds of writhing cat is generally a recipe for something unpleasant. there are few things more adorable than a gigantic animal who doesn't realize how big he is. also! he had this tiny tiny little meow, which was just ridiculously cute coming out of someone so large. coupon passed away after a mercifully protracted illness - at least everybody got to say thank you for being such a cat of majesty. we miss you already, sir!

from my cats to you.

we want to wish you a happy easter/passover/post-prophet's birthday/sunday/whatever, and i swear i'll 'splain what i haven't updated in forever VERY VERY SOON. it's, like, all kinds of death-defying.

oh COME ON...

look, i have IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO TODAY*, so here's a quick rundown of what's presently disturbing me, in order of importance:
ebay has a thriving "metaphysical" section.
i deserve to be related to joel veitch, and yet i'm not.
wow, this guy's a half-assed butcher.
and, in other news, the old man who screamed at me (see the mattress story) apologized, so now i totally love him, and i have to go back to being pissed at our upstairs neighbors for stomping all the time, which i had rescinded in favor of being annoyed at the cranky old gentleman who called me a mattress-hallucinating liar.
*ok, these "things" actually don't include bow hunting OR hogs. sorry. not my steez.

happy belated christmas!

hey, whatever, i think it's a funny picture. can you handle the majesty of this lobby? it's aggressively joyous. so, because i don't believe in st. patrick's day (in that it's NOT mardi gras 2, ok? it's NOT! why are you flashing people? why do you have beads?), merry christmas.

but if you're really curious about what i did on saint patrick's day for some unholy reason...

i know you were wondering...

...what i was up to mid-june of 1996. naturally, i was standing in a bunch of bushes with nicole in san francisco's polo fields at the tibetan freedom concert. you can't tell by looking, but i totally had a concussion, because some rather...girth...challenged... lady's butt landed on my head whilst she was crowd surfing. let's establish a few things: i have ALWAYS looked kind of disheveled and dorky, and i'm pretty much ok with that. furthermore, yes, nicole has always been the more fashionable of the two of us. additionally, that's duct tape holding the bottom of my pants together, and i think that's a reasonable course of action in the world of emergency pants-fixing. moreover, i still have those shoes, i've had them since sixth grade, and i consider this a testament to the glory present in the construction of dr. marten's footwear concern circa 1990-something. if i've learned anything from/since this picture, it's that wearing more than one totally rumpled jacket at a time looks kind of dumb, and that having long hair, i think, makes me look short.

thank you, and good day.

got me some hate mail!

SWEET! i totally got some hate mail from some... person... who can't spell. it was awesome! unfortunately, i deleted it, because this is a house of love, not a house of bad spelling and telling me i'm captain meany-pants! anyway, i drew a picture of what i believe the "perp" (i watch law and order) looks like. basically, yes, whiny bad-spelling person, i DO think it's ok to make fun of drew barrymore's boob saggage (even if she hadn't made fun of it herself), i DO think it's funny to complain about my cat, i DO think it's brilliant to make fun of everything and everyone you (YOU PERSONALLY) hold dear, and, ok i totally forgot what your other grievances were, but your indignant pissy-ness totally made my day and justified the existence of this blog. huzzah!

NO MEET

look, this has nothing to do with anything, but i'm really overwhelmed by how freaking adorable this note is. it's from yola's, it was wrapped around my (vegetarian) burrito, and it says "NO MEET." i love you, yola's.

well, crap, nam june paik died.

one time in college, i flew standby to new york and stayed in a creepy, straight up murder-y hostel in harlem with my sociopath classmate just to see the paik retrospective at the guggenheim. so let's be all serious for a moment, and be sad that nam june paik died in miami on sunday. go check out his majesty.

additionally, from the paik studios website, memorial services will be held in new york this week:                   

Frank E Campbell Funeral Chapel 1076 Madison Avenue at 81 St. (phone 212-288-3500) in Manhattan, New York City, this Friday, February 3rd, at 3 PM. There will be a viewing at the same location on Thursday from 11 AM to 8 PM.

UPDATE: the funeral's private, but the viewing is open to the public.

Cards and letters of condolence should be sent to:
                  

                  

Nam June Paik/Shigeko Kubota
        341 Lafayette St, # 4306
        New York, NY 10012

                  

In lieu of flowers, contributions can be made to:

                  

EAI (Electronic Arts Intermix)
        535 W 22nd St, 5th floor
        NY, New York 10011
        212-337-0679

 

just when you think i'm back...

...i have to go to florida to see justin's sister singing all fancy-like, you know, in the opera way. fortunately, i got a ridiculously huge memory card for my camera, so i'll take lots of pictures... that i won't post because i'm lazy. yeah! anyway, um, feel free to cherish this elegant picture of me trying to comprehend what we call a "sip" at a 7-11 in nevada. i'll be back soon, and with majesty. so just go read rich's blog, because he's funnier anyway. don't worry, i'm sure i'll have something to complain about by the time i get back.

that's right, it's a dragon

i know i haven't updated in a while, and i think we all know that it's because the dragon there... took me... somewhere that doesn't have an internet connection? yeah. anyway, look, since my last update, i've been in jersey, pennsylvania, nebraska, and nevada. I'M A BUSY LADY. a busy lady who got kidnapped by a dragon... hey, and big ups to rich for taking care of my totally ungrateful cats while justin and i were kidnapped by a big purple dragon, uh, a dragon that kept... making us... play craps... updates to follow (and give me a break, i just took the red eye in from vegas)(america west's spacious, polyester, awkwardly angled seats are the new camp x-ray)(and p.s. we flew in during like, new york's random monsoon season and the pilot missed the approach a few times - my mom's remark this morning was "oh, i was asking the people at my office if they'd heard about any plane crashes in new york." wheeee!)(and furthermore, justin was all congested and his ears can't pop, which meant that his head was literally about to explode, scanners-style, for the last hour of the flight continuing to the present moment)(the nice thing is, now he gets to try some prednisone, and see all the fun i've been having with steroids the past few years)(wooo)!

ebay is weird.

were you just this moment wondering what kind of exciting novelty gift you could acquire for your favorite mongolian baby? sprinkler fitter? estonian? tablet making machine operator? well, look no further than this crazy-ass ebay store. what better way to say "kiss me, i'm stenocaptioner" than with a tee shirt, right? i've assembled some of my favorites below... WEIRDED OUT...

don't blame me, blame the red states

y'all, i was in omaha, i didn't forget about you or anything. i have to unpack, so, uh, check this out.
my crunk juice lynndie made it to the big time!
if you're not familiar with bad gas (the site, not the... gastrointestinal... problem), you should be, so let them entertain you while I figure out where to put my new cactus.

let's scream at my man-friend!

that's right, elise and i got a whole lot of people to pack into a restaurant and scream when justin walked in. i know it's probably not fair to do that to a man of "a certain age," but he didn't have a heart attack of anything, and, uh, there was... a lot of cake...
CHECK OUT THE MAJESTY HERE.

HEY! I JUST ADDED A LIKE A MILLION MORE PICTURES. GO SEE THEM.

holy crap, it's crunk juice.

if you are aware of the horror that is the "supermarket" known as c-town, you probably know its one redeeming factor: C-TOWN SELLS CRUNK JUICE. that's right, friends, for one easy payment of $1.75, you can experience the liquified essence of lil' jon. yeeeeaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh! i've undertaken the great responsibility of checking into crunk energy juice for you. you don't have to thank me, but you DO have to check out the experiment...

check out le bean's majesty

i don't normally enjoy the idea of my awesome friends being menaced by some... random... dude... with a creepy fake moustache... but i feel like le bean's (70's tennis star) discomfort in this picture is rightfully legendary. BEHOLD.

nicole best lives up to her name again

yeah, nicole's probably heard every single retarded joke possible about her last name, but the weird thing is, she actually is the BEST NICOLE. EVER. it's, like, not a joke. to prove the appropriate nature of her last name, nicole sent me the pocket monsters lunch... 'do rag... pictured at left. this thing is called "LUNCH ACCESSARY GOODS," ok, people, and it's a protective... cloth... thing... for your lunch, naturally. the good people of the "LUNCH ACCESSARY" world "wish to enjoy your lunch, as we have them every day." huh? yeah. anyway, this thing is AWESOME. and it has so many uses, which i will share with you. because sharing means caring. and i care about you. awwww.

welcome to the terrordome UPDATE!

...and by "terrordome," i mean, "my apartment." justin has three college friends visiting. i don't know if this scientific anomaly has been reported anywhere outside of, say, fraternities and medieval torture chambers, but i have collected damning evidence that suggests that methane gas levels rise dramatically in respect to testosterone levels. let me 'splain: 4 men in a small brooklyn apartment produce an increased but not yet alarming amount of methane gas. when beer, machismo, and poker are added to this scenario, methane gas production increases astronomically. within 4 hours of the commencement of this 4 man beer-and-shouting poker game, i had to point a fan at their half of the apartment and try to create a lysol force field. i was scared that lighting candles would make the kitchen explode. more than 24 hours later, there are still faint pockets of musky poot (this is a medical term)(in less scientific terms, this is the phenomenon referred to as "concentrated essence of a schizophrenic bum's underpants") in surprising corners of the apartment. how can 4 intelligent, handsome lads turn 800 innocuous square feet into a hazy ape-house of olfactory terrors? the mind reels. anyway, i have to go buy stock in industrial air fresheners now, and try to figure out how to grow back my nose hairs. keep reading to check out jeremy's sweet math skills...

oh, how i enjoy voiceover artists!

i have not always been a lady of leisure. there was a time when i worked as an associate producer-type at a cable network. easily the best part of this job, aside from rollin' with wacky editors until 2 in the morning and getting yelled at by self-important corporate wackjobs, was working with the voiceover artists. i spent many an hour on the phone or at the audio facility with some of the most interestingly-voiced gentlemen ever. there is no greater joy than getting paid to ask someone to "say this line really, um, MURDER-Y, but also like you're scared of how murder-y it is, and kind of like it was your birthday yesterday, and all you got was socks."

mog will be the end of me

i am recovering from a nasty cold. like, NASTY. mog does not feel this pithy thing we call "compassion." she mocks my plight! oh, how she mocks! last night, it looked as though i might actually be able to get some sleep without waking up 700 times because i couldn't breathe at all and my throat felt like there were weasels inside it, trying to claw their way out. i was so happy! and so very naive... mog, you see, had other plans for me. i was JUST falling asleep when i felt something scratching at my feet. i opened my eyes to see mog, poised to take a dump right on top of the blankets. YAY! justin turned on the lights, at which point we discovered the glorious steaming pile of cat vomit she'd lovingly displayed on the floor, right next to the bed. it's like her brain just went "sleeping humans in visual range; must expel waste products." and that would be just a weird, fun moment in the middle of the night if it didn't happen EVERY 15 MINUTES UNTIL 8:30 IN THE MORNING. it's like, i'd just JUST be closing my eyes when i'd hear weird cat-honking sounds, and i'd have to bolt out of the bed and find wherever she had just puked/was about to take a crap. i swear, she must've been filling out some kind of weird cat-terrorist checklist, like "0445 - attempt at pooping on laundry thwarted, will attempt pooping on couch at 0500 hours. puke on floor a go. 0500 - interrupted mid-poop on couch, will target bed again when subjects are incapacitated. 0515 - have been forcibly removed from bedroom, subjects have placed a tarp on previously considered locations, must commence yowling and kitchen vomit tactics at once." don't worry, she's fine now, she goes through these weird dramatic poo-vomit things every few months and is no worse for the wear. me, however? i'm a mess. mog = 10 points, humans = 0.

man, do i love the tard blog...

i cannot tell you of the joy that the tard blog brings me. not because i'm some sick jerk who likes funny stories about the disabled, but because i actually spent about 6 years volunteering and 2 years working at a day camp for physically and mentally challenged children. i can completely identify with pretty much all of the stories. if you haven't witnessed the majesty that is tard blog, you should. it brought back all those misty, watercolor memories... of the countless times someone vomited on my head, and the times i had to chase a 200 pound naked kid for 3 blocks, and the time i extracted several lima beans from a kid's ear, and the time i witnessed a four-foot arc of banana-flavored projectile vomit, and the time i got body-slammed by a 6' tall kid who was humming "iron man," and the times i discovered, at the end of the day, that my pockets were filled with surprises like unwrapped cheese slices and drool-soaked pieces of string, and the time i had to bribe a kid with froot loops to stop him from screaming obscenities at other zoo patrons on our field trip, and the time a kid plopped down on my lap and peed while laughing maniacally, and the time i discovered someone eating most of a cactus... yeah, i've got stories. it might sound weird, but i really miss those kids. they were awesome. for real.

the overstock.com lady creeps me out

i'm tired of seeing these overstock.com commercials because a. i don't need last season's patio furniture for any conceivable reason, b. they make me feel dirty, and c. i think overstock.com is actually a cult. they have this white-clad lady breathily telling me "it's all about the Ohhhhh" and "it's all about the mOhhhhhld" and "it's all about the Ohhhhhhveralls" and all this other crap with a long O sound, and why is she trying to seduce me? i don't WANT her creepy irregular luggage or gold-plated tennis bracelets and crap, and i don't need her getting all fresh with me when she's hawking her dirty-sounding wares. and why is she naked? what does that have to do with buying cheap socks online? i think overstock.com is a cult for perverts who are into... naked... bargain shopping... anyway, the creepiest thing is, this lady has an internet fan site. my mind is blown. what kind of bizarro world do we live in that it's natural for someone to be like, "huh, that overstock.com lady REALLLLY sold me on buying discount towels on the web, i wonder where i can turn for more information on her life and career?" sometimes i wonder why al gore even bothered to invent the internet...

in case you were wondering...

... my weekend wasn't all about shoving toilet paper up my nose and upsetting the cat with my cold medicine-fueled weirdness, justin i also spent some time with the always lovely tiffany and loni, drinking and watching some sporting events. ch-ch-ch-check it out.

and now for the most disturbing thing i've heard this week...

from here and here via cityrag, i learned that officials in st. bernard parish, louisiana have been shooting (like, killing with guns) dogs left behind in the hurricane. it sounds like the dogs weren't sick or badly injured or posing any sort of threat AT ALL, but these fuckwads (warning: really disturbing video) shot them anyway. arming these national guard douches is, apparently, about three times less clever than, um, arming otters. i think it's sick. and if i had the money, i WOULD arm some otters, and take them down to louisiana to investigate. here's a link to list i found of people who should be harassed about this.

are you ready for some majesty?

i met three exciting gentlemen last thursday. this is a picture of one of them. can you handle the excitement that is rich's amazing associates? me neither. go see the pictures, and be very jealous of me and the people/cats i get to roll with.

let's talk about cats.

that's right, i've totally run out of interesting things to say in the wake of my def juxathon and the torment of replacing my social security card, so i'm going to talk about my cats now. deal.

carnival of cuteness

go look at rich and his cats. now!

at least he didn't raise his hand

george thought he might have to go tinkle, so he wrote a note to miss rice about it during story hour. good penmanship, george! and good use of manners. OH WAIT, i meant to say "president ass-hat isn't sure if it's possible that he needs to go pee (seriously, read the note - "is this possible?"), so he asks that one smart lady he hangs out with, because he actually has nothing better to do than write dumb notes about his bladder during security council meetings at the U.N." hail to the chimp, indeed.

let's complain!

again i feel that humidity and people have formed an unholy alliance, the sole purpose of which is to be really annoying to me. let me tell you what's annoying: people who can't chew gum correctly. if you can't close your mouth/might be descended immediately from cows, you should NOT be allowed to have gum in public places. there's nothing more enriching than being packed into a B.O.-filled subway car 2 feet away from some jackass who may or may not actually be chewing cud. juicy, smacky mouth noises make my skin crawl. juicy mouth noises 24 inches from my ear, crafted by some vacant, scalp-reeking hipster bitch make me cranky. when these noises are so pervasive that they can't be drowned out by an ipod AND a screaming infant, they make me homicidal. and what do you do? that's, like, the least plausible legal defense for a beat-down ever. "your honor, i HAD to freak out and drop this woman because she was making nasty mouth-sounds with her gum right up in my ear." but what do you do? politely say, "please excuse me, would you mind chewing less offensively? it sounds like you're actually chewing IN my ear, and i really hate you." because that seems like it wouldn't be received well. whatever, i should have just vomited on her ironic heels and moved on with my life.

NEW: oh myspace vampires, how i love thee

hi everybody. today i want to tell you about the joy that is... THEE VAMPYRES OF MYSPACE.COM. i have long celebrated myspace's role as the "naked goth friendster." myspace happily picked up the cheesy networking site-less naked, angry midwesterners- i mean VAMPYRES- so poorly served by the much smirkier and glossier friendster. myspace decided to keep it real... goth. join me for an exciting glimpse into the darke majicke that is... THEE MYSPACE VAMPYRES...

for real though

you should DONATE TO NOAH'S WISH. they rescue animals during disasters and have been down in louisiana, trying to help out the strays and abandoned pets screwed by hurricane katrina.

can someone get these guys a sitcom or something?

ok look, i know it's weird and very, very girly of me to find, like, beauty and wonder in a picture on a website dedicated to making fun of people wearing socks with sandals. but, um, yeah, i love these guys. look at them! sandal man is so protective of his coned cat. check out his mustache! it screams majesty. and look at the other guy! he's so nice! he loves you just the way you are! and they love their teddy bear! and their... ribbony... gazebo... place. I LOVE THEM, AND THEIR SOUTHWESTERN-MOTIF BLANKET THING. thanks. good night.

seriously

DONATE TO THE RED CROSS or help ACTUALLY HELP RESCUE SOME PEOPLE or HELP SOME EVACUATED PEOPLE

from the "pictures of the damned" collection

ok look, i know this picture was never meant to see the light of day. sometimes, when you're walking around the house with a pickle jar and a bag on your head, things happen. justin feels that i am iron chef williamsburg, and this is my costume. it's clear that i am also iron chef dorkyland, but whatever. i am sharing this picture with you because it is AWESOME. admit it.

25 years of majesty

ok, let me just say that i KNOW my birthday is no reason to abandon my website like a prom-bound teen mother. rich, winston, skenecia, le bean, all the other people i force with bribes and threats of arson to read my blog, i'm sorry, y'all. i only hope that this glimpse into my days without you will somehow make up for my absence. check it out.

what's this all abooot?

ok everybody, dr. braddock (yeah, my mom) has decided that i will be spending the remainder of the week in canada with her, which is hot, because they have some really good cheese up there in quebec. also, they speak french with some kind of duck-like accent, so that's pretty fun. anyway, don't worry, i'll be back friday night, so just look at this picture of mog and think about how much you miss me. and if you need any maple leaf shot glasses or decorative syrup bottles, holla.

man, i hate the quiznos baby

maybe it's weird that a husky-voiced hypersexual infant with a disturbingly blurry CG mouth doesn't make me want sandwiches. is that weird? maybe it's not okay that whenever these quiznos commercials come on, i run out of the room, crying, screaming, and throwing things at the tv. i mean, yeah, it's weird that a cranky duck (is that a duck or a goose?) sells insurance to yogi berra and all, but this quiznos stuff is ACTUALLY DISTURBING. "hi, i'm a grating, nasal, talking frat-baby, and i'm obviously trying to sell a sandwich to people who watch the man show and enjoy 'hotties' and 'boobs' with their oven-toasted ham on rye." that's just wrong on so many levels. i hate the quiznos baby.

this cat, sweet jesus, this cat is cute

i don't know who this cat is, but this cat is so obscenely cute that it's going to give me an aneurysm. as a side note, i'll be in chicago july 15-july 21, so, uh, don't think i've forsaken you. just look at the cat, and slowly go insane from cuteness overload.

my love affair with lye

i remember when my mom, on the advice of some nuns (which is where my mom gets most of her advice, i think) started making soap. this is noteworthy for 2 reasons: first, i will never in my lifetime need to purchase soap, for it flows freely, and second, holy crap, my mom has a lot of jars of corrosive chemicals floating around the house. so, knowing what i know about corrosive chemicals (thanks to my mom and my friend dan), i've been joking about, you know, throwing lye at people for years. IT'S A JOKE, OK? i wouldn't ever actually throw lye on someone. the point is, lye is cool, and TODAY I HAVE USED SOME LYE, TRIUMPHANTLY.

UPDATE: nike's all "sorry dischord"

seems that nike apologized for their major threat logo - and TOTALLY passed the buck ("To set the record straight, Nike Skateboarding's 'Major Threat' Tour poster was designed, executed and promoted by skateboarders, for skateboarders.").
right, thanks, blame the skateboarders. assholes.
(click the image to enlarge)

right, right, ZOMBIE DOGS, right

so it seems that, um, some nice people in pittsburgh have created some zombie dogs. FOR REAL. you can read the full story below, or just stare at the really disturbing picture. (from news.com.au)