tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72016762411178726342011-12-03T13:07:06.611-06:00What Fresh Hell is This?Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.comBlogger3881100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-51913785242667432482011-07-14T10:14:00.000-05:002011-07-14T10:14:40.671-05:00

Dear Evangelical Christians*-When I was 8 years old, I asked my mother what our religion was, and her reply was simply "our religion is that you don't get in anybody's face". This small statement has always made sense to me, which is why I do not tend to get very Richard Dawkinsy about my atheism/skepticism. For instance, I am not going to tell my 80 year old grandmother that a miracle of St.

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-69059854142097710102011-04-06T07:52:00.005-05:002011-04-06T12:48:14.862-05:00

Looks like we're all blogging and shit again. ANYWAY... So, I read an article yesterday about how apparently kids are getting plastic surgery (like getting their ears pinned back and such) to deter bullying. Huh. Now that is some shit. As someone who went through some pretty serious bullying shit, one lesson I learned early on is that there is not a damn thing you can do to make those people

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-77865812982211373652010-11-14T19:44:00.002-06:002010-11-14T20:38:16.706-06:00

So, today, like so many days before, a totally weird couple came into my store. Sorta- the dude, actually, was hilarious, like, truly, very quick and very funny. His girlfriend, however, ignored him entirely aside from quietely admonishing him for touching books and warning him to "not annoy the salesgirls.""He's fine," I said, realizing that I'd said the exact same thing to mothers about their

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-37715377584442541892010-08-09T11:23:00.005-05:002010-08-09T13:52:52.726-05:00

I have a lot of "things." I wouldn't necessarily classify them as phobias, because if you sat me up on the Maury stage and chased me down with them, I probably wouldn't start screaming and crying hysterically or anything like that. I would probably just feel awkward. I was just discussing my "things" with the guy at Atomix who also has "things," and our friend who has a genuine phobia of snakes.I

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-89139080796521255652010-07-29T11:16:00.002-05:002010-07-29T11:27:04.255-05:00

Never trust a girl that wants to get in with the boys. Who tells you when she meets you that she’s never friends with girls. Who tells she likes to hang out with guys because they’re “low drama“. Who says that she thinks women are shallow. Who says she likes drinking and sports and crude jokes and not make-up and dresses and gossip. Says she thinks all feminists are whiny, and that there’s no

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-76508515594847187532010-07-19T15:30:00.000-05:002010-07-19T15:31:23.231-05:00

Can a Roger Corman movie starring a half shark, half octopus (and Eric Roberts!) be anything but awesome? I should say not. I'm way excited to see it- especially because.... hear that freakin' awesome theme song going on in the background there? THAT IS MY FRIEND'S BAND. The Cheetah Whores! YAY!Therese is way more awesome than most people, she will tell you the future and rock your face (she

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-36178298702762458252010-07-12T14:04:00.003-05:002010-07-12T14:18:21.270-05:00

I have a habit of looking on Craigslist for ads from hilariously terrible people in order to post them on my friends' walls and declare them as their new boyfriend/girlfriend. Because I have a full and meaningful life, of course. Anyway, whilst trolling the "misc romance" section- always the most... special, I found THIS special fella. A real, honest to goodness "Nice Guy (TM)."I sent him the

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-42008247979029830232010-06-07T15:06:00.005-05:002010-06-07T16:03:35.856-05:00

So.... It seems I'm finally getting to that point in life where some of my friends are actually having babies and getting married and crap. Which is weird, at least to me. Mostly because my average relationship lasts about a month (I'm a quick study, it doesn't take me that long to realize they're terrible), and because, well, taking care of Mr. Catface is responsibility enough for me at this

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-22972851104092771242010-05-10T09:18:00.004-05:002010-05-10T10:56:35.495-05:00

(One of my mother's favorite songs, decided whilst sitting at the kitchen table and listening to the entire Great Rock and Roll Swindle album with my best friend and I in 6th grade.)You always hear stories about women freaking out over "becoming their mothers"- or at least, this is an old schtick in the same vein as women eating pints of Ben and Jerry's while crying, buying lots of shoes, and

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-36953420822656577312010-05-06T10:43:00.002-05:002010-05-06T11:08:22.266-05:00

Ok, so I was getting my eyebrows done at the cheapo nail salon across the street the other day (they're actually not terrible. Plus it only costs 7 dollars, and it's not like anyone really sees my eyebrows anyway, what with my bangs and all. Just so long as I don't look like Jo-Jo the Dogfaced Girl- which was a thing on the verge of happening.), when all of a sudden I hear "Seasons of Love" from

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-17321726110121472982010-04-20T14:20:00.004-05:002010-04-20T15:38:10.106-05:00

(A picture from the old days of Pandora/Michael and I with Kate Pierson from the B-52's and our dear friend Louis)Ok, so, because I haven't written too much in here for a while, I somehow neglected to mention on here that one of my dearest friends from back in Rochester was on RuPaul's Drag Race- the incomparable Miss Pandora Boxx! Which is funny because in real life I never shut up about it

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-61736278168611962702010-04-18T00:58:00.002-05:002010-04-18T01:35:29.637-05:00

I am home right now, which is a place, quite honestly, I am surprised that I ever got to.The day started out a bit like any other- I was a bit more hungover than usual, having spent the previous night drinking too many varieties of booze. White wine at work, PBR at this art show I went to with Miss Melissa featuring various paintings based on the movie The Last Unicorn, a dark and stormy at

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-8554184138759318422010-03-17T10:50:00.001-05:002010-03-17T10:50:35.812-05:00

St. Patrick's Day is kind of a funny thing. I know I say this every year, but the whole celebration of old timey racism, coupled with the fact that people go around saying that "everyone is Irish on St. Patrick's Day!" which is not true and it would be weird if it were, tripled by the fact that most people in this country, probably most people celebrating St. Patrick's day are not even Catholic

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-85391284454504415862010-03-10T15:51:00.003-06:002010-03-10T18:11:46.813-06:00

I just read this post on Jezebel about whether or not bullying victims have poor social skills. My question is- does it really matter? Being an asshole to a person with bad social skills doesn't make you any less of an asshole than being a jerk to a person with good social skills. You're still an asshole. What?I've written before about my time served as a social pariah- not because it's

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-79913124458534750072010-02-25T19:19:00.004-06:002010-02-25T20:19:18.142-06:00

AHOY!So, if we are not friends in real life, or even on the book of faces, and if you are anything like my mother (I doubt it, but who knows), you may have thought I was dead. I'm not. I merely stopped writing in this blog for an especially long amount of time, both because of personal reasons, and because I am lazy in the winter and think nothing interesting anyway during this time. I wish I was

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-23558001021973708722009-11-03T08:33:00.005-06:002009-11-03T12:01:14.893-06:00

If you have been to your local supermarket this week, you were more than likely confronted with the question "WHO'LL DIE FIRST!!" accompanied by a variety of horrid looking pictures of celebrities you weren't giving all that much thought to these days anyway. Still, you were probably curious, but not curious enough to avoid the embarrassment of picking it up and checking. That is what I am here

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-39376703373703614172009-10-28T08:18:00.005-05:002009-10-28T13:35:51.385-05:00

1. Despite being an owner of cats, and a by-proxy (via my parents) dog owner, pictures of cute animals do absolutely nothing for me. Really. In fact, I find them noxious. In fact, I don't think there is anything even the slightest bit clever about LOLCats. Also, I feel as though I must go on the record as saying that Mr. Catface has way better grammar than said LOLcats.2. I am not conflicted

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-57678274869470796242009-10-21T10:06:00.002-05:002009-10-21T11:16:28.302-05:00

Since 8:30 last night, I have been trying to wrap my head around the logic of an article I found via feministe. Apparently, according to Mr. Stephan Marche of Esquire Magazine, vampire books and movies are so popular right now among the ladies... because vampires represent gay men... and we want to have sex with gay men... because sex with a gay man/vampire is less "threatening" than sex with a

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-20676529606609671522009-10-20T12:22:00.004-05:002009-10-20T13:40:28.197-05:00

When I was younger, I had a deep and heartfelt fondness for the Weekly World News. Every week, my friend and I would pick it up, and then read it aloud in a diner while drinking bottomless cups of coffee and chainsmoking. Here in the future, I don't so much spend 5 hours in a diner, because I'm allowed to drink booze in public venues and you can't smoke indoors anymore; The Weekly World News has

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-46874236545195722702009-10-06T02:56:00.002-05:002009-10-06T03:06:22.721-05:00

Boy: You, Robyn, are a vicious and terrible person for thinking that people who go on cruises are inherently boring. Maybe they just like different things than you do! Also, you shouldn't mock people for their PDA's in a diner at 2am, maybe they're really in love.Waitress: You, Robyn, are awesome because last Halloween you helped me bus tables and get drinks when you came here after you got out

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-22464410702073440902009-09-21T19:53:00.003-05:002009-09-21T20:20:24.505-05:00

One morning, about a month ago, I was standing at the bus stop, innocently trying to get to work, when a creepy old dude with a GIANT mole on his chin (one of the skin colored ones that look like you should just be able to flick it off with your finger. Gross.) starts talking to me about the weather, and how it's not the kind of weather you want to see WHEN YOU OWN A BOAT COMPANY."Oh, yeah, I

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-16402066192001518212009-09-10T11:26:00.001-05:002009-09-10T11:26:00.704-05:00

Following in Williamsburg's footsteps, Chicago now has it's very own hipster grifters!A fella who goes by the name of Mike Meadows has been hanging around Wicker Park, and outside of various venues like Schubas and The Metro, claiming to be a member of various bands and soliciting "donations" in exchange for CD's that turn out to be blank.See, now, the way I found out about this is because the

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-4903813595865551802009-09-03T17:32:00.002-05:002009-09-03T18:00:16.149-05:00

The weekend of the 11th will heretofore be known as Robyn's Overexposure weekend!Why? Because the short film I did a few months ago, "At Last, Okemah!" has been accepted into the Chicago International Reel Shorts Film Festival! How neat is that? In case you are not up to date, in the movie, I played the bitchy girlfriend/ex-girlfriend of a musician, which was, of course, a huge stretch for

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-1370968513854616032009-09-01T08:58:00.000-05:002009-09-01T08:58:00.839-05:00

For over a year now, I have stalked shoe stores across Chicago for a pair of red flats. Easy enough to find, you'd think, but no. I mean, I've seen some, but they just haven't been right. They've been a soft, muted, tomato-ey red, or dark cherry red, when what I really want is fire engine/ Chanel Red No. 5 lipstick red. Or, they've been old-lady looking, or made of pleather, or sandal-y, when

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-13057038857885631952009-08-31T08:20:00.003-05:002009-08-31T08:44:42.951-05:00

First, bring me some hot chocolate, because I've run out, and being that it's 8 in the morning and I'm in quite a state after last night's show, I'm so not going to Dominick's right now, and I don't feel like making coffee either.Second, go to www.mrrussia.net, and download the new EP, not only because they're awesome and happen to be my dearest friends, but also because you can play a fun game

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-25911909052029028112009-08-04T23:21:00.005-05:002009-08-19T22:00:36.758-05:00

This evening I was flipping through channels, when what should I see, but a show on the We Channel called "Extreme Wife: Mail Order Brides." The first thing I see is a group of women sitting around a table with bananas, and an older, somewhat crazed looking Ukranian woman announcing that "when we like a man, when we really like a man, we send him a vagina smile."I was in. Not only was I in, I was

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-79979772879597455582009-08-04T16:39:00.003-05:002009-08-04T18:29:01.407-05:00

I just bought this shirt! Jealous? I thought so. I'm such an easy sell. I was sitting around, watching Judge Judy and getting some writing done, and I thought to myself- do you know what I need? A shirt with her face on it. Lo and behold, the internet obliged. I just accidentally slammed a window on Mary Pickford's head. Not the actual Mary Pickford, a bust I have that looks like Mary Pickford.

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-81925355169931793062009-07-23T11:53:00.004-05:002009-07-23T12:06:34.190-05:00

I have never purchased a copy of Marie Claire in my life- until yesterday. I bought it specifically because I had read two articles online about a piece in this month's issue. The article in question is called "Where The Guys Are" and apparently is suggesting that you pack all your shit up and move to a city where you have like, a better chance of finding a boyfriend/husband whathave you. You

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-82536103975862671902009-07-21T10:36:00.007-05:002009-08-04T10:19:34.645-05:00

I am feeling much better today, after having spent a week or so feeling especially persnickity. Maybe because it's my day off and I have no plans to do anything whatsoever. Unless I go see Duck Soup in the park tonight. I do love me some Marx Brothers...Totally unsurprising fact about me- I own every Marx Brothers movie in existence. I also firmly believe that if one were to combine all of the

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-4358467138956164642009-07-20T01:28:00.003-05:002009-07-20T10:55:53.108-05:00

Oh god.How to explain this weekend. Let's go backwards, shall we? I came home about an hour ago, and have eaten cherries, and I've drank water, and juice, and right now I'm sucking on a freaking lifesaver, and still, I have the most horrid dry mouth I've ever had in my whole life. Nothing works. I think maybe I've been smoking too much.Before I came home, I was at the Bottom Lounge, but I had a

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-35950123226353172582009-07-15T10:31:00.006-05:002009-07-15T13:15:50.890-05:00

I have a very sore upper arm right now, and tomorrow I will surely have a bruise- and not because I did anything fun.My arm hurts, because it was repeatedly accosted on the bus this morning by the brim of a hat.Is it so much to ask that people more than a head shorter than I am not wear brimmed hats? On the bus? While standing next to me? Especially if said person is apparently unable to steady

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-50925433945452616272009-07-06T20:43:00.006-05:002009-07-07T13:06:09.529-05:00

When I was 15 years old, my family moved from Massachusetts to Rochester, NY. Even though I was basically loathed by nearly the entire town from whence we came, moving was still difficult for me- because I did have a few good friends, because I would miss my house, and because it was too strange being so far away from our whole family (even though most of them weren't too fond of us either). On

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-48669072652887702772009-07-05T09:07:00.004-05:002009-07-05T09:50:09.613-05:00

I have pretty much the worst time ever saying no to canvassers- at least as long as I generally agree with them. I did NYPIRG for like a week, so I've got a lot of empathy (worst time ever. I love you Ralph Nader, but my my feet did not)- plus, I like talking to people who are really dedicated to some sort of non-jesus related world saving cause. Too many people talk about nothing. So, anyway,

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-15043651876717633842009-07-04T22:07:00.003-05:002009-07-04T23:56:38.215-05:00

I am staying in this evening, as evidenced by the fact that I am writing this right now instead of going out. I must confess, I am not the biggest fan of fireworks. In fact, the noise from them is driving the cats and I insane at the moment. Anyway, I went out last night, and am still in recovery mode.In case you were wondering what my midyear resolution that I made yesterday was... WELL- It was

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-56130772646609666902009-06-23T09:51:00.008-05:002009-06-23T12:01:27.768-05:00

I think the problem with dudes is that they don't know when they're not being original.You know how a dude will text you at 2 in the morning all the time and then get all huffy and freak out if you dare insinuate that he has no interest in you other than getting into your pants. "See where your evil, whorish ladymind goes?" He'll say, "I wanted to play Parcheesi and talk about current events!

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-12738383931472257992009-06-11T21:23:00.005-05:002009-06-12T09:59:43.272-05:00

I have oft been accused of being evil or morally bankrupt- usually by dudes, and usually in regards to my attitudes concerning sexuality, fidelity, etc. Oh, and you know, that whole having gone my whole life not having ever believed in god thing. Anyway, this is not exactly true. I just have my morals in different places- I was just raised with different commandments- commandments like "be way

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-75139366936730719382009-06-03T14:37:00.002-05:002009-06-03T15:59:19.482-05:00

I am totally psychic. Do you know why? If so, clearly you are psychic as well.Just this very Monday, I was telling Jill about this weird thing that happens after I break things off with a dude. Not to sound like a crazy egomaniac, but I swear to GOD, half of them end up dating what can only be referred to as Robyn Action Figures. They're like, tiny versions of me that don't talk. I don't get it.

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-45635436785691134022009-05-30T20:11:00.003-05:002009-05-30T20:43:18.642-05:00

I was informed today that... horror of horrors... one of my all time favorite movies from childhood, Girls Just Want to Have Fun, is going to be remade as a freakin' Miley Cyrus vehicle.I hate life.

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-50022829921872722822009-05-28T15:19:00.003-05:002009-05-28T16:21:18.603-05:00

Yeah, you just keep on crying, Betty. You know, in public. Girls like you always do.Just kidding. I actually feel a bit bad for Veronica. She's way too bad ass for a schlub like Archie. Not that I've ever actually read an Archie comic, but I get the gist of it.

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-23172241484501423162009-05-28T12:46:00.005-05:002009-05-28T14:26:33.976-05:00

Oh good lord. My mind has been BOGGLED. You know, sometimes, I probably set up strawmen in my mind when trying to imagine why people might be against things that I personally believe in. I hope that they don't actually exist, but then I find out that they do, and that they're far worse than I'd ever imagined.Ladies and Gentlemen... I give you Sam Schulman and his delightful thesis on why gay

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-48995433892321251582009-05-25T15:47:00.002-05:002009-05-25T17:29:26.195-05:00

Is it wrong that every time I watch Intervention, the thing that keeps nagging at me is how these people are ALWAYS in a relationship- and usually with like, the nicest person ever. Sometimes they've been married several times, which is totally mind boggling. Like, how can 8 different people marry someone that messed up?I wouldn't sign up for that, personally. I have zero patience for such things

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-78746507843076369992009-05-23T08:35:00.003-05:002009-05-23T10:20:58.205-05:00

Darlings. It is a fact that Asti Spumante turns me into Tallulah Bankhead at midnight and a giant pile of mush and pain in the morning. Oy.Also, it is a fact that the employees of late night dining establishments tend to go all Dr. Huxtable on every gentleman caller of mine they happen to meet, which is kind of hilarious.

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-11341413416658866942009-05-21T03:03:00.003-05:002009-05-21T11:04:31.759-05:00

You know what's weird? When you run into a guy you had a crush on a long time ago, but never dated because like, say he was dating someone else at the time and also his friend thought you were his soulmate, and like, for whatever reason he's no longer dishy, but you're still kind of into it. I take issue with people for not liking tomatoes. I take an inordinate personal offense to it for some

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-64524134101408356882009-05-18T15:59:00.000-05:002009-05-18T16:00:13.662-05:00

It's always a good thing to not have the same taste in dudes as your friends. For instance, Roommate tends to dig the super "Nordic God" (as she says) looking types. You know, blonde hair/blue eyes- that sort of deal. I'm not so into that, really. I think it stems from a pathological fear of Nazis. I like my men a bit darker. It totally works out, you know, because we never like the same guys.So,

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-87507867312723749652009-05-14T23:53:00.002-05:002009-05-15T00:16:07.757-05:00

So today, our cleaning lady at the store (who by the way, totally hates my guts- and also has a side business in renting "luxury porta-potties" that come with mints or something) gave me like, 87,000 compliments in a row about my shoes, my dress, my hair, the fact that when I sing along with the music she thinks I sound "like that Amy Winehouse" (which I do not) etc. "You dress for fun!" she

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-25648335713226808072009-05-11T15:37:00.007-05:002009-05-11T18:30:11.942-05:00

(Someday I will tell you the story of why I think John Cusack is responsible for the downfall of humanity, but not today.)Excerpt from a recent conversation:Dude: Are you going to Lollapalooza this year?Robyn: Probably only if my roommate can get me in for free. I do kind of feel importantly about the Lou Reed, though- just because I've never seen him and what if he dies before that happens? I'd

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-9670266907821306742009-05-10T03:40:00.002-05:002009-05-10T03:47:30.306-05:00

So, tonight, Roommate and I went to The Kills Show. Now, during a point in the show where she had to go to the ladies room, this gross dude comes up to me and says, and I quote: "Hey pretty lady, why aren't you smiling?"And thus, I yell at him "You wouldn't say that to me if you saw my huge dick."Exactly.Yeah, sorry. Got a thing about people I don't know telling me to smile. Blah.And now, SLEEP.

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-66744091891708866432009-05-09T00:25:00.005-05:002009-05-09T00:50:23.102-05:00

It happened again. I actually ran into a guy that I went on a few dates with a while back and was entirely unable to place where I knew him from until he started talking about Princeton and I was like "Ohhh.... guy who mentioned how he went to Princeton every 5 seconds... I remember you!". Ouch. I don't think he noticed... but still. I suck. I have some weird glitch in my head where I can

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-61245870167489789182009-05-07T22:25:00.002-05:002009-05-08T08:21:17.356-05:00

So, Elizabeth Edwards was on Oprah yesterday talking about John Edwards infidelity- I didn't see it, because I don't watch Oprah- but I saw this clip on Jez, wherein she basically puts all the blame on the woman he cheated on her with.Isn't that always the way? Now, I can understand that she's pissed- but I'm so not down with this whole idea that women are supposed to be the sacred guardians of

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-52839258071732979122009-05-06T17:35:00.004-05:002009-05-06T18:34:09.746-05:00

(This is how every library should be. No bacon in the library. Ever.)Ok, look- it seems as though everyone will not shut the fuck up about bacon these days. I'm starting to feel left out and out of the loop, because bacon is probably my least favorite food product, period. In fact, even thinking of it makes me vaguely nauseous. I absolutely loathe the stuff.I understand if you don't want to be

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-35527662287645573392009-05-05T08:35:00.003-05:002009-05-05T09:12:54.613-05:00

To clarify my statements from last night, when I talk about arguing, I'm pretty much talking about politics, ethics and social issues. I have no interest in like, personal arguments. Ever. In fact, that sort of conflict makes me run screaming from the room in horror and disgust. I think that on some level, everyone enjoys some sort of conflict. Some people have drama in their lives- I pretty much

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-48918043482594596232009-05-04T20:18:00.002-05:002009-05-05T01:36:47.358-05:00

SO. I was going to the Thai Spoon with some lady friends for the half off maki special (I know, they're confused.)- and parked right in front of the restaurant, we see this:(not the actual one we saw, just another one on their website)Super creepy. SUPER creepy- and while I'm standing there, pondering about exactly what sort of nutjobs would drive around in such a thing- I SEE them. A giant,

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-85152448650117300382009-05-02T20:11:00.002-05:002009-05-02T20:34:58.712-05:00

What does it say about me that I am currently writing a story inspired in part by a Tori Amos song? Isn't that just so highschool-y? I don't know, I just had it stuck in my head all day.Funny but true story (not the one I'm working on)- When I was in 6th grade, my Uncle asked me what I wanted for my birthday, and I said a Tori Amos CD or something. However, he ended up getting me a Laurie

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-46835923556145197772009-04-28T14:46:00.003-05:002009-04-28T20:54:36.175-05:00

Thought that just popped into my head: You know what would totally make my whole outfit? A really nifty WWII aviator hat, ala Amelia Earhart. Preferably with goggles. (Please take note that what I am currently wearing is my Newport Jazz Fest t-shirt that used to be my mom's, an army green mini-skirt, leggings, wellies and a navy Little Lord Fauntleroy looking blazer.) In fact, my mind is dancing

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-71074299103883980662009-04-28T08:19:00.003-05:002009-04-28T09:53:24.357-05:00

I totally have a new girlcrush, thanks to Britni- the ladyduo of Garfunkel and Oates.This particular song, "My Self Esteem's Not Low Enough To Date You" struck a chord with me, primarily because... I think I've actually said that before- and meant it completely earnestly. If not that, then definitely things along those lines.This one is also glorious.The weirdest thing ever is that pregnant women

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-20498651738879380372009-04-27T08:45:00.002-05:002009-04-27T09:57:56.342-05:00

I ran out of my apartment a few minutes ago to grab cigarettes, and I threw on my dress from last night to do so, because I'm lazy, and now I think the guy at Rio Balsas thinks I'm a hooker, because he asked me if I was going to work or coming home from it, and then suggested I keep on doing what I'm doing, while winking at me. SNSS was awesome. We had a touching tribute to Ms. Bea Arthur. We

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-39180250263318701062009-04-24T08:42:00.003-05:002009-04-24T09:11:47.804-05:00

This is an article, written a long time ago for Bust Magazine by Courtney Love in which she is right about everything. The first time I read it, it was like something popped in my head in this "Oh my god, I totally get myself now!" kind of way. This isn't the whole article- just what I was able to find online a long time ago- I lent out my original copy of it to someone who needed it and never

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-86532823515320439692009-04-12T23:13:00.003-05:002009-04-13T11:30:39.504-05:00

If my bruised knees and scuffed up palms are any clue, you should know that yesterday was FANTASTIC. So fantastic, in fact, that Jill (whom some of you may know as Blowjoy) and I have decided to blog about it in chorus.Let me tell you- the day did not start out so swell. My lint brush was magically gone from it's proper place in the powder room and I was forced to run to Dominick's and procure

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-90039299892778147042009-04-06T09:23:00.006-05:002009-04-09T00:51:43.589-05:00

I started working on this list the other day whilst on break at work. If nothing else, I find it entertaining and cathartic. It's basically a list of confessions regarding various dudes over the span of my life. I am sometimes an asshole, especially since many of these things apply to several instances.It's not that I wanted to "wait" because I thought you were special. I just didn't want to

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-88653087091997813142009-04-05T12:00:00.004-05:002009-04-05T18:44:44.291-05:00

The waitress leaned over the table- "And what will you be having today, little girl?" I popped my eyes as wide as I could, announcing loudly "I think... I will have a large order of PROGNOSIS NEGATIVE!"My mother rolled her eyes and said that, no, actually, I would be happy with the Little Red Riding Hood Spaghetti. I was probably about 7 when I started thinking this would be a fantastic thing to

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-8753886618319522442009-04-05T10:00:00.002-05:002009-04-05T10:50:40.125-05:00

And it was supposed to be a grasshopper, but the I left the grasshopper I made out of construction paper in a cab on the way home from work, and I bought construction paper to make another one, but then I found an awesome squishy alligator at Walgreens, and I put that on my hat instead? Because I went to my friend's birthday party dressed as Helen Hunt in "Girls Just Want to Have Fun?" And then I

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-25382522956471073752009-04-04T09:13:00.002-05:002009-04-04T09:32:59.169-05:00

Had a lovely dinner last night with Jill, during which I had a delicious sandwich, and decided upon the three primary reasons for my being so keen on being single:I have no interest in telling people what to do. I cannot do it. Despite my gift for dispensing sage advice.I do not react well to anyone telling *me* what to do. In fact, it makes my face burn, and I will be compelled to do the

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-30605244959328748582009-03-31T16:30:00.002-05:002009-03-31T17:20:26.277-05:00

I am making a return to the acting thing (after a bajillion years)! My very talented friend Michael is directing a short film this April, called At Last, Okemah! in which I will be playing the bitchy ex-girlfriend of a musician. Which, of course, is a huge leap for me. I am hugely overwhelmed by the amount of people that want to read at next month's show. We can really only do like, 6 people, so

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-42788502447747642652009-03-30T07:49:00.005-05:002009-03-30T12:42:41.641-05:00

Oh my goodness!When we first started doing the Sunday Night Sex Show, I'd walk into the bar at 7:30, find that I was the only one there, and panic and drink too much until like, my 20 or so friends showed up (after I sent them many panicky texts). Well, 20 would be a number I was thrilled with. But like, NOW, I get there, and there are like, already like 30-40 people that I don't even know,

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-22473697321611729422009-03-29T08:57:00.005-05:002009-03-29T11:10:10.513-05:00

Britni has a great post up about booty call etiquette, which everyone, especially every dude, should definitely read. Now, I myself- not so much a fan (of booty calls. I LOVE etiquette. Manners are my favorite.). My new rule is that I won't even answer calls or text messages from a dude after 9pm unless the plan to make contact at such a time has been established beforehand. I just won't. I have

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-90574826841261433142009-03-28T08:32:00.000-05:002009-03-28T08:56:01.724-05:00

Do you know who this is? Do you KNOW who this IS? I will give you a clue. It is the motherfuckin' SHAMWOW guy. THIS guy:And do you know why he's in that mugshot? Because he punched a prostitute in the face. Let me repeat that for you in case it wasn't clear. The Shamwow guy was arrested, because he punched a prostitute in the face. Because she bit his toungue. Nice.

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-47241172160699269862009-03-26T21:19:00.005-05:002009-03-26T23:35:57.023-05:00

Cardinal Says New Feminism Must Include GodFACT- When you have a penis, and are a representative of a notoriously patriarchal and sexist institution, such as the Catholic Church, you don't have any say in what "the new feminism" will be. Especially when this "new feminism" involves being anti-choice and homophobic- which, ya know, are two things that feminism is pretty specifically not about

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-55028135888518706742009-03-26T19:31:00.002-05:002009-03-26T19:51:31.314-05:00

For reasons well known to her.**That's what she said. And by she, I mean Faye Dunaway as Joan Crawford in Mommie Dearest.

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-10083592999864281932009-03-26T08:57:00.003-05:002009-03-26T09:25:44.634-05:00

I just found out yesterday, that a woman I believe to be highly sensible and rational, totally believes in the evil eye. Once upon a time, she said, a guy asked her out and she said no, and he gave her the malocchio, which caused her to fall and sprain her ankle later that day. It, of course, had to be cured via that oil ritual thing that people do.To quickly explain, the evil eye is when someone

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-53336826878501561262009-03-25T22:12:00.003-05:002009-03-25T23:19:15.951-05:00

I live like, two store fronts down from a mysterious "store" that is never open, which boasts a sign in the window reading "HOLY WAY MINISTRIES.". Just now, as I was standing across the street, waiting for the dude from the Jalisco to come back so I could get some cigarettes and a diet coke, I noticed that the lights inside were blinking on and off. Naturally, I started to panic a little bit,

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-30113797843943866082009-03-23T12:28:00.003-05:002009-03-23T12:45:40.645-05:00

ESPECIALLY the hat. I would wear the hat now, actually. I like how the skirt comes with camel toe, as well, as that is always an attractive look for anyone. But anyway, I spent 20 minutes making a superhero version of myself (and you wonder how I manage to reel in that oh-so-desirable mid-30's dude who still collects action figures market!). Why? Because I'm awesome and also a bit bored. Actually

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-53332411193983247262009-03-19T21:57:00.000-05:002009-03-19T22:37:01.224-05:00

Oh, memes are always a fun timewaster. This nifty one is from Ren, and the way it works is that you volunteer to be interviewed in the comments, and then I interview you and you post it on your blog. However, I don't think too many people who read this even *have* blogs, but if you do, feel free.Jazz or Blues?Blues, definitely. Bessie Smith is pretty much my favorite ever.Your dream job is?

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-35452294846394349452009-03-19T15:27:00.007-05:002009-03-19T17:54:21.035-05:00

It was the summer Lorena Bobbitt cut her husbands dick off with a Ginsu knife...I first read The Bell Jar when I was 11 years old. I often joke with my mom about how appropriate it was for her to hand that particular book to a girl that age- but she maintains that 11 would be the time to read something like that, considering how mental everyone is during puberty. I think now that it might have

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-21588759568907940682009-03-19T09:32:00.005-05:002009-03-19T22:59:39.047-05:00

(Not a picture of Robyn. At all. For any reason.)So, the other day, I watched the premiere of VH1's Tough Love (What can I say? I'm a masochist.)- and by the way, can I just tell you that the host dude sounds exactly like Scott Baio? Anyway, the "sad and pathetic" women did some challenge where they got makeovers and then went to some fake party to socialize with fake dudes. Then, after the

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-52310737815969758692009-03-19T09:17:00.003-05:002009-03-19T09:32:27.925-05:00

Once upon a time there was a giant douchenozzle named Kyle Payne. He wrote a smug little blog about what a super awesome feminist/pro-feminist/feminist ally he was. He counseled rape victims. He was totally against porn because of how totally awful it was. He talked a lot about social justice. And then, one day, while working as an RA at a college, he walked into a girls room, lifted up her shirt

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-65248926064284903402009-03-17T14:29:00.002-05:002009-03-17T18:44:23.446-05:00

Inspired by Jill at Feministe, who was in turn inspired by the always glorious Kate Harding, who was inspired by the generally dreamy Michael Ian Black... I am creating a "Fuck-It List." Which is like a Bucket List, except it's things you don't care if you ever do. Best idea ever.Miss Robyn's Fuck-It List- See the Grand Canyon.- Swim with Dolphins- Get Married- Have babies- Go Camping- See any

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-54218697298995918762009-03-17T11:50:00.005-05:002009-03-17T13:12:23.815-05:00

There is a very, very creepy dude who works at the Dominick's next door to me. He looks like he's disintegrating. He looks hepatitis-y. He looks kinda like Iggy Pop. His yellow face, which looks like it might fall off at any second, blends in with his straw-like yellow hair. His eyes are that weird super pale blue/almost white color that always reminds me of this:And he stares me down. Always.

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-63842901355733368462009-03-12T21:30:00.003-05:002009-03-12T22:26:12.065-05:00

Oh, fuck clues. It's totally me! And Allen! And The Sex Show Team! I present you, in it's entirity, the New City article this week about The Sunday Night Sex Show (with a couple small corrections, from me, in bold face):Sex School: The Burlington offers everything you’ve ever wanted to knowWhere can you find six women in one room who would happily don a strap-on and take on a guy? Or a bar full

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-50311957102228425632009-03-12T13:38:00.000-05:002009-03-12T13:38:00.493-05:00

I got all sorts of nostalgic last night after seeing this posted on Jezebel last night- it's an 11 part documentary on YouTube titled "Riot Grrrl Retrospective," featuring Tobi Vail, Corin Tucker, Allison Wolfe, Sharon Cheslow and other heroines of my youth. I get really gushy about that shit, you should know. It turns me right into a 12 year old fangirl.When I was in middle school, I lamented

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-74941145233521957102009-03-12T08:05:00.003-05:002009-03-12T08:34:40.321-05:00

So, according to some study I read over the weekend, the Justice Department has found out that text messaging is becoming a popular method of stalking. To which, I say- duh.Let me tell you a story. A couple weeks ago I was out with a friend, and a friend of her friend decided I was very impressive and awesome or something due to my ability to sing along with both Frank Sinatra and Biggie Smalls (

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-81191369357542910312009-03-08T11:49:00.003-05:002009-03-08T12:21:51.814-05:00

1. Happy Daylight Savings Time! I have yet to figure out how I ought to celebrate *this* Daylight Savings Day... other than being annoyed at having to wake up an hour earlier. It's not like Time Travel Day or anything amazing like that. I'll figure it out.2. I got a weird text message at 5am. Which, you know, is not unusual for me, what with the hours my friends keep and the creepy stalkers I

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-55307607847456015302009-03-06T09:24:00.004-06:002009-03-06T10:23:52.363-06:00

As you may know, one of my favorite hobbies, for various reasons, has always been reading personal ads. I'd like to say it's because of the interesting cross-section of humanity, or something like that- but really it's because they're hilarious, and also I like the feeling of superiority I get reading them. You know, because I can spell and form complete sentences. Also, I tend to have an

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-16461357832016159452009-03-04T09:28:00.003-06:002009-03-04T11:44:42.810-06:00

Oh Christ. I thought/hoped I was hallucinating the other night when this thing popped on the telly:Via http://www.videogum.com/Really? Baby hungry? Baby hungry? Ew. I don't know a single "single girl" that doesn't screech in horror or throw up in her mouth at the mere mention of child bearing/rearing, so I do not know where you are getting your information from, Mr. Dude I've Never Heard of

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-54448994220092254832009-03-03T08:51:00.007-06:002009-03-03T11:28:10.970-06:00

Hey, here's a tip! If you are interested, for whatever reason, in not seeming like a creepy stalker, it would behoove you to not text a girl late at night telling her you can see her in her living room from the bar you are at on the street below her window. That would not be the best way possible to ask someone for a drink. And, um, even if a girl really, really likes Tom Waits, it's still weird

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-47972985021477953682009-03-02T13:14:00.003-06:002009-03-02T14:02:41.146-06:00

Last night was our half year mark at The Sunday Night Sex Show... and it was GLORIOUS. Glorious I tell you! There were so many people there that I did not personally know! We were almost at capacity! Oh, and a girl from New City came to write things about us- it'll be out on Thursday, I think. How nifty is that?Eeee!I'm working on some stuff too- like someone to be officially in charge of taking

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-75373716347596208732009-02-28T09:07:00.002-06:002009-02-28T09:37:19.098-06:00

I am an hour early to work. Why? Because for some reason, my mind decided to play tricks on me and I thought it was 9:15 when it was 8:15. I'm probably losing it, you know. I didn't even realize until I got here and was thinking everyone else was late.Funny. I think I was just kind of stuck in my own head this morning so much that I failed at time. These are the things I was thinking about:1. How

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-54744593339553736692009-02-27T08:21:00.004-06:002009-02-27T09:11:48.970-06:00

1. I have taken up the peculiar habit of drinking straight lemon juice.2. It is possibly not the best of all ideas to have two glasses of sparkling pinot noir (which, if you were wondering, is the best thing ever), two vodka and seven-ups, and two glasses of sangria. While I am not hungover, I am still a bit nauseated. But I'm in a *splendid* mood, so it doesn't matter.3. I've been back from

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-34884789315004023872009-02-26T08:31:00.004-06:002009-02-26T09:28:53.389-06:00

I feel pretty importantly about good skin. So much so that I once plotted to moisturize a man in his sleep. It's true. So... I thought I'd share with you my absolute favorite skin trick. Mostly because I don't quite feel like going off to work just yet.All you need is Albolene (if you don't have any, run over to Walgreens and get some. It's the cheapest miracle worker ever) and a business card/

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-27478972803864903842009-02-25T19:34:00.003-06:002009-02-25T20:35:16.160-06:00

I have just been ever so Garbo-esque lately- not because I've managed to figure out being mysterious (I'm just not. I've accepted it.) , but because I've barely left the house lately. I actually think I haven't been out-out since the last show (and the next one is this Sunday). There are several reasons for this:1. Stupid recession. No one has money to go anywhere.2. It's cold and I don't so much

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-76965629761256440472009-02-16T10:17:00.005-06:002009-03-01T15:41:33.169-06:00

For your convenience, and because I love you, I have compiled a list of some of my all time favorite movies that you can actually see online, for free! Yay!Now, Voyager - If we are at all aquainted, you've probably heard me mention this movie at least 45,000 times. Bette Davis is spinster aunt who gets sent to Claude Rains' sanitarium, gets a makeover, goes on a cruise, meets Paul Heinreid and is

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-11159582610814159072009-02-13T07:54:00.005-06:002009-02-13T08:49:38.872-06:00

You should know that in the third grade, one of my favorite hobbies was spelling that word- so, despite the Murphy's Law aspect of my life, I have no ill will towards Friday the 13th. I like Friday the 13th. Friday the 13th comes right out and says "You know what, shit's probably going to go wrong today"- I like a honest holiday. Not like Thanksgiving, which never says anything about the fact

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-51167172091687943672009-02-12T14:46:00.003-06:002009-02-12T15:03:18.103-06:00

This morning I was late for work because my dresser attacked me, so I had to take a cab. No big deal. I get into the cab, and see that the driver appears to be rather dishy. Well, I don't know that he was dishy as much as he was wearing a tweed sportscoat... and I have a longstanding weakness for men in tweed sportscoats. But anyway, we got to talking, and he was a Frenchman from Algiers, and

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-58666320383576328802009-02-07T08:51:00.003-06:002009-02-09T11:38:30.697-06:00

The girls at my work totally get me (and my deep, nearly obsessive love for fantastically terrible things), which is why when this lady came in and dropped off a brochure of sorts for her "services" they totally saved it for me.It is, without a doubt, one of the greatest single things I have ever encountered. It's in the shape of a purse, hand decorated with a sharpie. And on the outside it

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-89916137450213933732009-02-06T07:56:00.004-06:002009-02-06T08:24:41.046-06:00

We all have *things* that we love. I love my non-functional lamp, One-Arm Juanita; my shoebox full of pictures of people I don't know; terrible/wonderful things I've found at dollar stores and flea markets; books; crates full of clementines... etc. But, um, there are some people who have things that they love love. Like, romantically. And sexually. And no, they don't require batteries.Meet the

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-88310894247126827992009-02-05T18:32:00.002-06:002009-02-05T18:51:40.147-06:00

You know, sometimes people say "I hate to say I told you so"- I don't. I love to say I told you so. It's one of my favorite things to do. It makes me feel vindicated. I like feeling vindicated.And so it goes with this. Now, after the innauguration, many people had the pleasure of hearing me kvetch about Beyonce singing "At Last" while Etta James was alive and well and in fact still touring. I was

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-20534310024286135252009-02-05T10:04:00.004-06:002009-02-05T11:57:30.496-06:00

I just read this article in AdAge about the Verizon Wireless commercial featuring Italian American stereotypes, and I've been seeing more and more like it lately. I've been trying for some time (like, 18 drafts worth) to iterate how I feel about this sort of thing. It's not easy. I'm not really sure how these stereotypes affect me. For the most part, I don't feel like they do, and I don't feel

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-24814966209177223672009-02-04T17:55:00.003-06:002009-02-04T18:59:18.223-06:00

There's just no other explanation anymore- this shit is just getting too freaking hilarious:But wait... there's more! The comments are also genius- per essample:WOW !!!! To Glory be to God forever theex-masturbatur [SIC] t-shirt is blazin hott [SIC] got to purchase me one i'm a witness that freely by grace through faith proceeding with true repentance JESUS is a habit breaker. I struggled wth

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-38608777515701337482009-02-03T10:32:00.007-06:002009-02-03T14:17:33.364-06:00

Last night, I was innocently watching Heroes and trying to figure out what the hell was going on, when I saw a charming commercial for "Pepsi Max." It's a new diet cola... for men!Soda as a gendered product kind of blows my mind. I remember when Tab came out with that whole pink can, it's a cola for women thing... but I don't recall that taking off so well. My dad has been drinking Diet Coke (

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-42740927439563180502009-02-02T10:40:00.012-06:002009-02-02T13:59:07.224-06:00

I just read this article in the Guardian about political lesbianism- or rather, the idea of women "becoming" lesbians as a feminist statement.Um.... No.I call shennanigans. For one, um... that is one choice you don't choose. If we say that women can magically become lesbians to fight the patriarchy or whatever, than we give credence to religious weirdos who think they can turn gay people straight

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201676241117872634.post-61810085625691770682009-02-01T10:22:00.004-06:002009-02-01T11:03:39.211-06:00

Last night, we went to the Darkroom and I debuted my fancy new Joan Holloway dress with my glorious red shoes. If you think you're sick of hearing about it now, just wait until you see me wearing it every time you see me, because wearing it as a uniform is the only way I can justify it's purpose.Speaking of uniforms, some unfortunate looking creature wearing a lavender paisley ascot comes up to

Robynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01920800524804549168noreply@blogger.com0