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You like me! Of course, you probably don't know me very well.

Archive for February, 2009

Sunday Best

Sunday, February 15th, 2009

The Office, Lecture Circuit Parts 1 and 2:

“I am single now. What we have here, is the ultimate smackdown between the Nard-Dog and crippling despair, loneliness, and depression. I intend to win.” Andy Bernard.

“I want to get that image out of my head. The psychological issues that go behind licking a cat, are not things I want to go into. Also, I’m pretty sure she coughed up a hairball. ” Oscar. Yes, yes, Angela was licking her $7000 cat. With her tongue. Which is, I guess, how people generally lick.

“Hey, you know what’s even cooler than triceratops? Every other dinosaur that ever existed.” Dwight.

Seriously, who writes this shit? This is spit milk out my nose funny.

Valentines Day:

Was not a let down. And resulted in about forty billion cookies. YAY to cookies. YAY to the possibility of something. And most importantly, yay to an excessive amount of pink. Everyone loves pink.



More boobaliciousness (No, I do not know why I’m currently obsessed with women who are better endowed than me):

Three important things to note. 1) JLHs boobs are nuts, 2) the woman on the runway appears to be dressed for a high fashion rocket launch, and 3) PORN STAR MUSTACHE. Thats kind of an inside joke for me at the moment, but its damn funny for you too, right?

Three important things to note. 1) JLH's boobs are nuts, 2) the woman on the runway appears to be dressed for a high fashion rocket launch, and 3) PORN STAR MUSTACHE. That's kind of an inside joke for me at the moment, but it's damn funny for you too, right?

Awesome old guys:

I think this is Cheech. Or possibly Chong. Offering the paparazzi a fake joint. Whoop whoop.

I think this is Cheech. Or possibly Chong. Offering the paparazzi a fake joint.

 The unthreatening scorpion:



Dexter and … whatever his fake sister/real wife’s name is:

I know they didnt get married this week, but I found out about it this week. Im counting it.

I know they didn't get married this week, but I found out about it this week. I'm counting it. I'm not sure if I could marry someone who played my psychotic brother on television, but whatevs. They're so cute.

The brontosaurus:

Its been awhile since I learned about the non-existance of the this guy. I was talkin about him last night and now I kinda miss him.

It's been awhile since I learned about the non-existance of the this guy. I was talkin about him last night and now I kinda miss him.

read this and die…

Friday, February 13th, 2009

The below post is the long awaited guest blog of the tiniest sprinter, otherwise known as my awesome little brother. Fair warning: I shot coffee out my nose while reading this because it is THAT fucking hilarious.


holy shit you guys, it’s a baby dressed up like a hamburger!

ok, now that i’ve got your attention, allow me to introduce myself:

it is i, emma, no waitmarilyn manson, no,  charles manson, charlie brown, bobby brown, bobby from bobby’s world, the tiniest sprinter!  as promised – a very long time ago – my big sis and i are taking a crack at this whole guest blog thing.  as i type this*, big sis is no doubt filling my blog with all sorts of slander or libel (i can’t be bothered to remember which is which), so i am left with the daunting task of choosing how to retaliate.  what’s that you say?  i should post embarrassing pictures i took of her during her visit to portland?  i like your way of thinking, dear reader, and while there was (were?) certainly many an embarrassing photo op, i don’t know the whereabouts of my crappy little camera, so no photographic evidence exists…  shit, son.  maybe instead of stooping to her level, i should take the high road and just detail all of the great things we did together and saw together while she was out here?  yeah, i think that’s boring too, plus i was drunk as a skunk for much of her stay, so i’m not sure i could remember everything anyways.


what’s a sprinter to do?

freestyle, bitch, that’s what.


i’m so fresh it hurts

yes, today, i will set forth upon my blogging adventure with no map and no particular destination, and see where i end up.  here goes:

so emma’ s airplane touched down at about 8 on thursday night, and after i picked her up there was this big wacky mixup at the parking fee booth and we didn’t have our ticket and this guy was like “you guys fucked up big time, and now i gotta make things weird” and…  shit, emma already wrote about that, huh?

think, sam, think.

think.  ink.  link. brink. clink. drink.

a drink sounds nice…  no!  stay focused!

so…  freesylin’ isn’t working out so well for me, maybe you could tell.  new plan:  i’m gonna go away for 15, put on my thinking cap, and come back with a topic, dammit.  so long, see you in a few.


and i’m back!  i have decided that since both of our blogs tend to be less topical, and instead read more like journals, i will give all you readers (and i do mean all, because my sis gets like an order of magnitude more views per day than me, which is total bs)  a little insight into the inner workings of the best looking brother/sister combo to ever grace the pacific northwest.  yes, what follows is a list of the things i learned about emma/sam that i think are 100% blog-worthy:

1)  as previously mentioned just a few sentences ago, we’re very good looking.  our parents had some killer looks when they were our age, so it doesn’t really come as surprise to me, but i do tend to forget about just how much of the good stuff our family got handed until we’re together.  everywhere we went, strangers stared and stared, with a twinkle in their eyes and awe smeared across their faces.  at one point, somebody driving a car actually crashed into a telephone pole because he/she couldn’t tear his/her eyes away, true story (not true).

2)  when people see a fantastic looking boy and a fantastic looking girl, i think they probably assume that they are dating.  i know that’s what my first thought would be.  well, several times while big sis was here, folks at the fine establishments that we visited treated us in a way that, to me, seemed to suggest that this was the conclusion they had come to, and i tell you what, that horrified me to my very core.  i guess all this beauty comes at a cost…

3)  i cuss a lot (because it’s really awesome) and while emma was out visiting, imagine my joy when i discovered she has a mouth like a sailor too!  between the two of us, the fuck word was stated/mumbled/shouted/etc. as a mono-syllable sentence probably three thousand times at least, and it was no doubt used as an adjective over eleven thousand times!

4)  on my own blog, i have made several references to my hilarious (for me) habit of turning into a stubborn butthole when i get sleepy.  hey guess what? like brother like sister!  that’s a real saying, look it up.  while the big sis was out here a’visitin’, pretty much every night ended the same: whiskey and coffee, shitty movies, and her falling asleep half way through, only to get super-fresh when i suggest that she wake up because it’s only 9:30.  one time she made me set an alarm so she could get 4 more minutes of sleep and she promised she’d get up after that, and i set it for 6 just to be nice, then she wigged out when the alarm went off!  another time she kinda took a swing at me when i tried to take her glasses off for her so she wouldn’t bend them up.  god it must be awesome being my shorty, and dealing with this stuff from me day after day!

5)  us kids are both pretty-damned opinionated, sober.  however, when drunk, it’s like somebody turned our knobs from ‘pretty-damned’ up to ‘super-damned’.  it’s brazy (that’s “crazy” to all you non-bloods) the kind of weird crap that we both have extremely firm viewpoints on, and it’s even brazier (that’s “crazier” to all you non-bloods) how long we can argue about said weird crap.  at times, i felt truly awful for my girlfriend, who had to sit through all of it.  not awful enough to stop though, the urge to argue and shout opinions was too strong….

6)  we both have moustaches.


7)  i’m getting tired of typing, and my tiny fingers need some rest!

so folks, that there is  how i chose to use my guest-blogging opportunity.  i rambled on an on for a while, drew some dirty pictures with keyboard characters, and then made a disappointingly short list of similarities between me and my sister that i learned about or was reminded of while she was visiting…  i hope you didn’t die from all the excitement!  and if you did, i hope somebody finds you before you make a big mess on the carpet!

anyways, i’m getting cranky i think, it must be my bedtime.  please don’t take that decomposing on the carpet comment too seriously, i’m sure you all have loved ones or landlords who would find you long before it came to that.  with that said, sweet dreams to all you readers out there in internet land!


the tiniest sprinter

*i did, in fact, type that first part while emma was writing up something for my blog, but then instead of finishing it in a timely fashion, i pulled my lame card and made excuses for about 2 weeks.  go me!

51st way to leave your lover

Thursday, February 12th, 2009

I love Valentines Day. And when I recently mentioned that to a wise man that I know, he said to me that he hates Valentines Day for a whole big heap of reasons. One was the de riguer ‘it’s a fake holiday invented by Hallmark’.  I’ve never bought into that one, mostly because all holidays are at least augmented if not completely fabricated by some corporate stakeholder.  For example, Coca-Cola TOTALLY invented Christmas. Ok, not really, but you can’t say that Jesus was all about the decorated fir tree or that the folks we’re memorializing on Memorial Day secretly hoped we’d do it with lots of bbq and beer.  And yet you don’t see people objecting to those celebrations.  Therefore, that reason is bunk. Moving on.

His second reason was that it makes women feel bad about themselves. While that probably seems like kind of a ‘duh’ moment to you, I’d never really thought about it before. Probably because a) I don’t usually feel bad about myself for any reason (likely to a fault, although guess what? Don’t feel bad about that!) and b) because I’ve always either been in a relationship or happy to not be in a relationship when this time of year rolls around.

However – I’m now fully on board with that reason.  It’s completely valid and I’ve seen examples of it in women who ARE in relationships, much less those who want one and aren’t.

For example: A friend of a friend recently received an email from his girlfriend in which she enumerated – in bullet points, no less – the reasons that they should be together. I didn’t get to see the list personally, but apparently it included the sweet ‘because I love you’, and the dubious offer of putting monogamy up for negotiation. There were ten in all, but I’m pretty sure that if you have to offer to let your bf sleep with someone else, it might be time to wipe the slate clean and start over with a new fella. Which this woman would probably have realized if it weren’t Valentines Day.

Nonetheless, I’m leaving it high on my list of beloved days. Know why?

  • Pink heart shaped cookies.
  • Cheesy cards.
  • Sweet cards.
  • Pink and white tulips.
  • Chocolate!! How can you dislike a holiday in which chocolate is one of the cornerstones?
  • Getting to draw hearts on things. Not acceptable for a 28 year old woman except on this one day.
  • Special Valentines Day menus in restaurants.
  • Elementary school classes where everyone gives everyone else cards. 
  • Singing telegrams.

Therefore – happy almost Valentines Day. May you spend it in a way that makes you smile.



Tuesday, February 10th, 2009


All I can say is WHAT THE FUCK.

Oh povrecita, tiny little teacup

Tuesday, February 10th, 2009

I’ve been waiting for the tiniestsprinter to get off his tiny ass and post something about my Portland trip, but since he still hasn’t I’ll continue along my merry little way.

My happiness project is coming along quite nicely. Yesterday I read an article about ‘radical honesty’, and I’m kinda sorta giving that a try. I’m not sure how much happier it will make me, but since lying (even white lying) stresses me out a lot, I’m betting it will at least contribute.

You know what comes up when you google "lying images"? A lot more naked ladies than I anticipated.

You know what comes up when you google 'lying images'? A lot more naked ladies than I anticipated.

The gist of radical honesty? We waste a ton of brainpower trying to figure out what other people want to hear AND trying to figure out if they’re telling us the truth or what they think we want to hear. Doesn’t really make sense when you lay it out like that does it?

Turns out this is becoming something of a meme – it’s been around for  awhile but is being picked up in various places, including the so-so new Tim Roth show Lie To Me. Since I have never claimed to be cutting edge, I’m going to jump on the bandwagon without shame.

This sexy mug is the only reason I havent already deleted his show from my season pass.

This sexy mug is the only reason I haven't already deleted his show from my season pass.

So how is it going thus far, you ask? I’m not sure where exactly to draw the line. I’ve decided that personally, my radical honesty project does not apply in any situation that would get me fired or arrested. Fortunately neither of those have come up yet,  so I’m still good to go.

That being said, I suck at this. Yesterday when I was reading the article, I thought ‘there is no WAY I lie 2-3 times in a ten minute conversation. I must be the most honest person ever!’ Yeah, turns out I was conveniently forgetting the conversations I have with, for example, the coworker who will not shut up unless I feign agreement. Or, say, the coworker who thinks that taking his wife to his mothers for Valentines day is an acceptable way is to spend the evening.

I’ll keep working on it. Maybe I should plan an interim step of just keeping my mouth shut… Doesn’t seem likely.


Later note: I’m now reading an article in Esquire about the concept, and he makes some good and damn funny points. I should mention that to fully commit to radical honesty, there is no filter between brain and mouth – think it, mean it, say it.  However, as the article points out, there’s a fine line between radical honesty and creepiness. Or actually no line at all. It’s simple logic: Men think about sex every three minutes, as the scientists at Redbook remind us. If you speak whatever’s on your mind, you’ll be talking about sex every three minutes.

Hahahahahahahahaha and also…. ew.