and then I checked out Rosie's blog...

PS....omfg.

Welcome to the Big Fruit!

New York City is looking particularly lovely after a sobering drive down the 87.

After a missed opportunity to watch the 730 screening of Twilight, the family settled in front of the LG, and I went for a nappy nap. Sadly, the occupants of this apartment planned on recording two separate shows at eight o'clock, making it impossible for my mother to watch West Side story. The only options left to my sister and mother were one of the two programs, the over-saturated Pushing Up Daisies, or the Rosie Live! Thanksgiving eve special. 

They opted for the latter, as I discovered from the nearby bedroom when a torrent of expletives rose from around the tv. The prime time variety show Rosie orchestrated provided viewers with Alanis Morissette's pitchy harmonies atop Kathy Griffith and Rosie O shrieking over hordes of tooth-rottingly sweet children. This nightmarish soundtrack drew me towards the television, where I found the screen festooned with grown men dressed as giant pie slices and cookies. 

Watching this sad premiere (and holiday special? poor combination, O-lady) Rosie Live! was like watching a bloodied clown carcass sinking into a hot tub filled with Marshmallow Fluff.

This butchery is oddly fitting to the maladjusted racism and obesity celebrated on thnxxgiving in the States. 

Well, Hell...I sure love Turkey though!

All the Colors of the World

It was not until my own recent brush with the pavement that I started taking my friends' bike accidents seriously, and thought to heed their sage advice about helmet-wearing. The monstrous bruise I acquired from my pathetic encounter with a pothole has morphed from a rosy bluish hue, to the darker shades of magenta and royal purple, on into a speckled sea green and demon red. I suspect that soon I will be plagued with that sickly yellow that once curled its way around J. Alfred Prufrock's diseased city.

I think I saw Trip Fontaine today

Plus the frost on the grass stuck to my tires as I cut across the park.

How can you not feel hopeful with a rose-colored Ira Glass?

gooooood morning

A Cautionary Tail

I have been jonesing for a small and fuzzy thing in my life for years now, preferably a canine, but I'm swaying closer to the kitty pool as the reality of time commitments, or rather my lacking ability with time commitments, gets clearer.

I was speaking to an anony this weekend (at a kitten party, actually) bitching about my lonely life without a puppy. Expanding on my concerns regarding the 16-odd years a dog would require of me, this helpful young fellow told me I should most certainly have a discussion with his father, a geneticist, who was currently plotting to manufacture domestic pets that would die within a convenient 2 year framework for us time-strapped (read lazy) yuppie-youngs.

I immediately wanted to vomit because this could potentially be an option for future whiners like myself, and decided to never again bitch about the life-expectancy of other sentient beings.