It was Christmas Eve, babe, in the drunk tank
24 Dec
As promised, Christmas songs that I like. (more…)
Archive | December, 2009
Kris Kringle was a car thief
23 Dec
Christmas music generally makes me want to hit myself over the head with a yule log. That way, I could be niiiiice and unconscious until the general public is finally spared from hearing tracks off Snoop Dogg Presents Christmas In Tha Dogg House. Sadly, even though I avoid malls, department stores and other dens of piped-in, holly-jolly music, the stuff is damn near inescapable. (more…)
Death or glory
22 Dec
I remember the day, seven years ago, when we found out that Joe Strummer had died. For once, I didn’t mind Chicago’s cold and gray skies. They seemed appropriately somber. That afternoon, while riding a crowded Madison bus westward toward Western, I wound up squished next to a fortyish guy with various punk buttons on his jacket. (more…)
Swimsuits, my ass
19 Dec
As a woman, I’m somewhat expected to groan at the thought of swimsuit shopping. Women’s magazines devote plenty of ink to finding the right swimsuit for one’s body type (pear! apple!) as though we are a nation of Cathys. Through these articles we learn about padded tops, hidden girdles, string bikinis, tankinis, monokinis, and so forth. But nothing hides the fact that wearing a swimsuit is akin to parading around in one’s underwear, and no swimsuit can magically hide our jigglypuff. (more…)
recently
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Steal this look?
Look! It’s my head in a magazine.
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Laundry girl
Meeting the next Frida.
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I am a cliche you’ve seen before
Writers write. Lazers laze.
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Random, late Thanksgiving musings
My mother is trying to get me pregnant.
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Curved-letter cities
The ideal city is one called Portberlyn.