habit is a more true word for activity, hobby, and things
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
DEAR READERS, (MY MOM MY DAD (WHEN I EMAIL THEM THIS LINK)AND PEOPLE WHO ACCIDENTLY SEE THIS PAGE),
THE REASON I HAVEN'T BEEN BLOGGING LATELY IS BECAUSE WHO CARES. YOU CAN GET YOUR NEWS SOMEWHERE ELSE. I DON'T EVEN REMEMBER WHY I STARTED A BLOG. MAYBE IT WAS TO POST PICTURES OF MYSELF, BUT I HAVEN'T EVEN BEEN DOING THAT.
WHAT HAVE I BEEN DOING THEN, LOYAL READER, I ASK MYSELF?
1) I BOUGHT A BED.
2) I TOOK APART A BED.
3) I GOT INTO BED.
4) I STAYED IN BED.
5) I ATE A SNACK, PROBABLY MADE OF DESSERT.
I BOUGHT A MICROPHONE, A BACKPACK, AN IPOD, A TABLE, TWO CHAIRS, I FOUND A BOOKSHELF, I BROKE A DESK AND THEN MADE IT WORK, I RAISED THE PRICE, I THREW UP, I ALMOST SUFFOCATED FROM BEING UNCONSCIOUS WITH A HEADACHE, I GOT THE MAN TO PUT IN A FIRE ALARM, I COOKED, AND ALL THE MEANWHILE MILKY MY STUFFED WHITE BEAR READ TO ME FROM HIS OWN BLOG, RENDERING MY NEED TO WRITE MY OWN NOT NECESSARY. THEN I GOT HOLES IN MY BRAIN THAT LOOK LIKE PIE WHEN I CLOSE MY EYES. IF YOU HAVE ANY RESPONSES TO THIS POST, IE IF YOU RELATE, PLEASE DON'T HESITATE TO CLICK THE LINK AND TYPE THE KEYS.
The youngest daughter of presumptive Republican VP Sarah Palin is "sick and tired" of being overlooked, according to comments she made to The Media on Wednesday night at the RNC in St. Paul, MN.
According to sources, 6-year old Piper sucked her thumb and shook her head as her mother refused to answer any questions that might reveal the ludicrousness of her nomination vis-a-vis what is called, in the political sphere, 'unscripted talking'. Piper's ears perked up, however, when Palin stopped in her moose tracks and responded to one reporter, a fellow 'Alaskian,' regarding her future attention to her home state, the fear of losing her as governor, etc. To use a political term, typical 'separation-anxiety.' Palin's response grabbed our attention, as well as Piper's: "No I'm happy to be governor of Alaska, couldn't be more proud, of course, of my position as governor of Alaska." Now, substitute the word "mother" for "governor" and "my children" for "Alaska" and see what happens. That's right: Palin is suddenly defending her role as attentive mother, the very same role she and the GOP claim make her a more qualified vice presidential candidate than Barack Obama. At least this is what Piper claims, and, unlike her mother, we're listening.
Add to this the image during Palin's acceptance speech on Wednesday night of Piper spit-shining her baby brother Trig's head. (Aside: the baby is named Trig due to husband Todd's incredible capacity for all areas of, as calls it, "The Maths," or as others call it, "Baby-Making.") This disturbing image offers a peak into the private life of the Palin clan: Mamma Bear leaves her cubs alone in the den, forcing her baby cubs to act as primary caregivers to the bald newborns. Perhaps this would swim in other non-manmade circles of rapidly melting ice caps, but not for Piper, known for doing cartwheels when no one is watching, a soft spot for the "mom-colored" gummy bears (paging Dr. Freud!), scribbling with crayons in a super-private journal while glancing around with shifty eyes, and her resemblance to what we might imagine to be a young version of Hollywood superstar Julia Roberts' character KIki in the also much overlooked film "America's Sweethearts," also starring Catherine Zeta-Jones and John Cusack, brother of Joan Cusack. Roberts, offering comments from her own blog based in Taos, NM, writes: "I'm no psychotherapist, but it appears that the child's extreme animal behaviour is an attempt to gain her mother's affections by mirroring that which she has historically observed in her mother, notorious for 3 a.m. moose hunts and secret games of Uno with aristocratic Inuit children, among other easily parodied things. As a mother myself, I'm forced to ask Danny, Why is no one making this child chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast?"
Other sources tell us that, like her older sister Thistle, the 6 year-old has considered premarital intercourse and teen pregnancy as a means to both fill holes in her life and to garner attention. The early bird got the worm on that one, but Thistle will allow Piper to select a middle name. (Top choices include: Mom, Mother, and Ima, Israeli for both Mom and Mother.)
Piper herself spoke to The Media in person rather than via blog, while playing with her Tomagotchi, the latest craze in isolated-yet-cosmopolitan, behind-yet-ahead-of-the-curve-if-a-curve-is-a-straight-line Alaska (Todd's mathematical reasoning). When the child was asked the whereabouts of her infant brother Trig, yet to grant The Media an interview, Piper shouted back with a fiery burst of temper, "Am I my brother's keeper?" Then she fed a quick snack to her Tomagotchi, which is roughly the same age as Trig. While looking down at the small plastic electronic egg with one eye, she turned the other upwards and spun it around, remarking, "I have needs, too!" Her nanny then placed a single meatball in her palm. Piper licked her hand and smoothed out its hair.
SOME OF YOU HATERS OUT THERE DON'T EVEN LIKE FROZEN YOGURT BC YOU SAY IT'S NOT A REAL DESERT. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE; AND YOU ARE WHACK.
SOME OF YOU EAT ANY FROZEN YOGURTS YOU FIND ON THE GROUND. TASTE BUDS NEED STYLE; YOU ARE ALSO WHACK BUT NOT AS MUCH, JUST MEDIUM-WHACK. IF FROZEN YOGURT HAD THE STREET CRED THAT OTHER DAIRY DESSERTS DO, THE ANTY WOULD BE UPPED AND WE WOULD NOT SUFFER THE PAINFUL TEARFUL DISAPPOINTMENT OF SUB-PAR SUB-ZERO DAIRY DESSERTS.
I arrive at the trigger point of my frustration. IF YOU ARE A LOS ANGELINO THEN PAY ATTENTION RIGHT HERE. I'm talking about Penguin's vs. The Big Chill (don't even get me started on TCBY actually maybe it's better than The Big Chill and THAT'S NOT saying much). Penguin's, aka The Penguin, aka "Are you getting the penguin?" knows how to do it just right, with a creamy texture that defies standard fro-yo fare. It's not milky, it's not chalky, definitely not icy or slushy like that shit that melts too slow or too fast. Penguin's melts just right. That's why I go there, and because the COOKIES 'N CREAM is the bomb. Flashback to tonight, when I arrive all hyped up and this man, Mr. Penguin, tells me that they have Irish Mint on Sundays instead of my dear lover cookies 'n cream and now I can't make love to my frozen yogurt with a spoon and a cup. I quickly evaluate my options and head across the street to my future regret, The Big Chill. (Side note: people in LA must be giant idiots because The Big Chill is always crowded even though Penguins is better, I'm not the only one who thinks so, my parents' friends who have kids who my babysitter used to babysit at my house but who really took naps and had us do it agrees: too big portions, $$$$$$$, and painstakingly mediocre texture, and texture is #1 in any Afficianado's Book of Anything.) Welp, The Big Chill has cookies n' cream, i get it, and it sucks balls. It's all the things 3rd world country frozen yogurt is: icy, milky, melty, like Souplantation, like a buffet or a fraud. It's terrible, unless of course you're simply grateful to have any frozen yogurt at all, which I'm not. It must be the best, it must be the bomb, it must hit my tongue like an otherworldly ineffable custard that I would adopt and hence later bed, and even later create and name a perfume after, named COOKIES ET CREME, in a mad ecstatic burst of creativity, also named COOKIES ET CREME. Is it so wrong to wish and hope and die for those kinds of experiences in life? Is it so wrong to be disappointed when you don't get them? Isn't this what being a patriot is all about? Irish Mint on Sunday? Excuse me, but I thought this was America. The afterburp tastes better than the actual frozen yogurt. That is not a selling point on Earth.
When things of this magnitude happen to us -- in any life situation where dessert isn't as good as we want it to be, and thus we feel we've wasted a dessert -- the healthy thing to do is express your anger in a blog. If you don't have one, open one up on the internet. If you do have one, but it's about knitting or polar bears melting or bathroom tiles, then start one, even if it's just for a few hours. If you have a blog, quit humdrumpling about the next idea to change the world (soft-serve self-serve yarn, duh) and blog about something severe for once in a day. People all over the world need to hear about awful shit like this so that we can shut down The Big Chill and stop them making bad frozen yogurt.
Tonight I will try to sleep, but I'm not sure I can. Aristotle said it right: Man is a political animal. Tonight I found the politics in me.
