Behold! I have created a Myspace for The Sunday Night Sex Show!
Befriend us!
Oh, and luckily I didn't make as much of an ass of myself as I thought, and they're willing to have us back again if they can schedule it. Hooray!
(Update! The next Sunday Night Sex Show will be at The Burlington on August 30th @ 7:30pm)
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
I love Randy Newman... I don't care what you say.
Most of the time, when I unashamedly tell people that I love love love Mr. Randy Newman (and am totally *in* love with him. Because I'm totally hot for genius), they look at me like I just told them I was way into Michael Bolton, or Kenny G or something. I think those people are retarded. I mean, yeah, he does soundtracks. To Pixar movies. It's true. But um, dude also wrote "You Can Leave Your Hat On." And like 85,000 other songs.
This is actually my favorite song ever. Not just by him, by anyone. It's proof that I have tear ducts, because I totally sob everytime I hear it:
When I was like, 2 or 3 years old- before my sister was born and we had to keep up with her nap schedule- my mom and I would drive all around Plymouth in her silver Chevy Citation with the navy blue pleather seats that stuck to your ass in the summer. We'd get breakfast at "The Mug and Muffin," and afterwards I sometimes got to get a rootbeer flavored hard candy stick (which was a huge deal because I wasn't allowed to have sugar). We'd go to all the little shops, and the old mill that they turned into a sorta-mall, and to the playground, and to the shore where they kept that big ol' rock, which I promise you isn't that interesting to look at. I'd practice counting to one hundred and speaking in a cockney accent. And my mom always, always played music in the car- lots of Lou Reed, Tom Waits, Aretha Franklin, Cat Stevens and Randy Newman. The Randy Newman is what sticks out the most for me, maybe because before I knew that "Sail Away" was about slave traders, it sounded like a lullabye- especially to a girl who was partial to sleeping on sailboats. My mom didn't know any, really- she sang Motown songs to get me to sleep. And this:
Which I think is partially responsible for my world view. It's strange, there's something about listening to the music you listened to as a kid that reminds you who you are. It keeps me from being hardened and cold all the way through, which is something I sometimes am afraid will happen, and something I occasionally wish for. It's difficult when you equate being hurt with not having been smart enough- especially when the thing you're most afraid of is finding out that you're not as clever as you think you are, because being clever is the only thing you were ever good at, besides singing, but you don't do that so often anymore unless you're drunk or alone because it makes you feel like a circus freak...
Gah. Oh, and this is my other favorite song by Mr. Newman. I couldn't find his version of it on the YouTube, so I'll post Bonnie Raitt's...
This is actually my favorite song ever. Not just by him, by anyone. It's proof that I have tear ducts, because I totally sob everytime I hear it:
When I was like, 2 or 3 years old- before my sister was born and we had to keep up with her nap schedule- my mom and I would drive all around Plymouth in her silver Chevy Citation with the navy blue pleather seats that stuck to your ass in the summer. We'd get breakfast at "The Mug and Muffin," and afterwards I sometimes got to get a rootbeer flavored hard candy stick (which was a huge deal because I wasn't allowed to have sugar). We'd go to all the little shops, and the old mill that they turned into a sorta-mall, and to the playground, and to the shore where they kept that big ol' rock, which I promise you isn't that interesting to look at. I'd practice counting to one hundred and speaking in a cockney accent. And my mom always, always played music in the car- lots of Lou Reed, Tom Waits, Aretha Franklin, Cat Stevens and Randy Newman. The Randy Newman is what sticks out the most for me, maybe because before I knew that "Sail Away" was about slave traders, it sounded like a lullabye- especially to a girl who was partial to sleeping on sailboats. My mom didn't know any, really- she sang Motown songs to get me to sleep. And this:
Which I think is partially responsible for my world view. It's strange, there's something about listening to the music you listened to as a kid that reminds you who you are. It keeps me from being hardened and cold all the way through, which is something I sometimes am afraid will happen, and something I occasionally wish for. It's difficult when you equate being hurt with not having been smart enough- especially when the thing you're most afraid of is finding out that you're not as clever as you think you are, because being clever is the only thing you were ever good at, besides singing, but you don't do that so often anymore unless you're drunk or alone because it makes you feel like a circus freak...
Gah. Oh, and this is my other favorite song by Mr. Newman. I couldn't find his version of it on the YouTube, so I'll post Bonnie Raitt's...
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
So I wasn't Ann Shirley in Stella Dallas.
So, the reading the other night actually went surprisingly well! Like, people actually came and had a super time and it was nothing like Stella Dallas or Carrie, or any of the many other movies I have seen featuring people getting dressed up and consequently embarassed. I am still bizarrely impressed that someone got the question about dendrophillia right (it means you want to fuck a tree!). I think we got maybe 25 people, which I think was pretty decent considering it was a first effort- and, you know, a reading.
Unfortunately, I was so nervous that I didn't consume anything other than diet cokes that day, and then drank 5 vodka pineapples... and that was kind of a bad idea. I am not really a drinker.
Oh, but awesomely- people seem really super psyched about making this a monthly thing, which would be awesome- I don't think I'd be so freaked out the next time. I think we've gotta find a different place though, because- you know, having not really done anything like this before, I kinda screwed up on timing and stuff, so we went a little long and I think they got mad at us because there were DJ's and stuff that had to go on. Eek! Still, I think we can get a lot more people to come to the next one when we have it. There are a bunch of people who want to read as well, which is also quite neat.
I'm like, retardedly happy about the fact that we pulled it off. Go team!
Unfortunately, I was so nervous that I didn't consume anything other than diet cokes that day, and then drank 5 vodka pineapples... and that was kind of a bad idea. I am not really a drinker.
Oh, but awesomely- people seem really super psyched about making this a monthly thing, which would be awesome- I don't think I'd be so freaked out the next time. I think we've gotta find a different place though, because- you know, having not really done anything like this before, I kinda screwed up on timing and stuff, so we went a little long and I think they got mad at us because there were DJ's and stuff that had to go on. Eek! Still, I think we can get a lot more people to come to the next one when we have it. There are a bunch of people who want to read as well, which is also quite neat.
I'm like, retardedly happy about the fact that we pulled it off. Go team!
Monday, July 21, 2008
Stop the insanity!
Ok.... I have seen like, 50 pairs of these damn shorts lately. Stop it. Now. If you own a pair, burn them. They are seriously the most horrifying things I have ever seen in my life. They are sneaking into my dreams at night and giving me nightmares. I cannot begin to comprehend why anyone would think these are in any way a good idea- it's like, taking a horrible idea (cargo shorts. I'm sorry, they will never, ever be acceptable outside of a camping environment), and making it 80,000 times worse. STOP IT. If you own a pair, burn them.
Also, yesterday I witnessed a couple wearing matching salmon colored shirts and cargo pants and toting around a screeching baby. It's just wrong. What were they doing here? Why weren't they in the suburbs. Suburbs exist for this exact purpose. I live in the city, because I find it preferable to avoid people wearing matching outfits and toting around screaming babies. The stroller derby is totes starting to invade my neighborhood, and I can't say I'm happy about it. Once a neighborhood has been deemed safe for yuppies and their double wide strollers, it is no longer safe for people interested in living in areas that don't totally suck.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Friday, July 18, 2008
Presents!
I invented this mug two seconds ago. Not in reality, just on MS Paint, but it should totally exist, and I should have like, 2,000 of them from various fellas as a testament to my skill and labor in this particular field.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
I am dead, but other than that, things are swell!
I am just going to die today. Seriously. I only got like, four hours of sleep last night, because my stupid phone woke me up (why do I always forget to put it on silent?), and then it was too hot to manage getting back to sleep until like, 4:30am. And today the store is full of delusional people who think they're a size small when even the larges wouldn't fit. I don't get that. Do they think maybe I'm blind? Oy. Who are they trying to fool? Me, or themselves?
Oh! But in awesome news...
1. I saw my dad yesterday and we went out for dinner and it was lovely, and I got to have lobster because I'm awesome, and also my mum sent me a pink umbrella because she's adorable.
2. Project Runway starts tonight! This is the last season, basically, since after this one, it's movie to freaking lifetime, and probably changing it's name to Project; Designers on the Run.
3. And if that wasn't glorious enough... my bad reality show dreams have come true! Rock of Love 3!! And this time... it's on a bus! Sweet!
4. Ok... this is going to sound so, so lame... but I got "Comment of The Day" for the first time over on Jezebel yesterday, and I'm like, retardly excited about it. Yes, I know, I have no life: http://jezebel.com/5025527/reader-roundup.
5. Fun tidbit of conversation:
Robyn: I truly have no desire to see the Grand Canyon or swim with dolphins, and for some reason this bothers people.
Dude: Well, the Grand Canyon is pretty awesome...
Robyn: I don't know, I'm sure it's probably pretty, but how long can that even be interesting for?
Dude: Well, if you like hiking...
Robyn: I totally don't hike. I don't hike, I don't jog, I don't date guys with the last name Peterson, or do anything else that seems to directly correlate to being murdered. It's a thing I have. Seriously, I watch a lot of Law and Order. Hiking= death.
Oh! But in awesome news...
1. I saw my dad yesterday and we went out for dinner and it was lovely, and I got to have lobster because I'm awesome, and also my mum sent me a pink umbrella because she's adorable.
2. Project Runway starts tonight! This is the last season, basically, since after this one, it's movie to freaking lifetime, and probably changing it's name to Project; Designers on the Run.
3. And if that wasn't glorious enough... my bad reality show dreams have come true! Rock of Love 3!! And this time... it's on a bus! Sweet!
4. Ok... this is going to sound so, so lame... but I got "Comment of The Day" for the first time over on Jezebel yesterday, and I'm like, retardly excited about it. Yes, I know, I have no life: http://jezebel.com/5025527/reader-roundup.
5. Fun tidbit of conversation:
Robyn: I truly have no desire to see the Grand Canyon or swim with dolphins, and for some reason this bothers people.
Dude: Well, the Grand Canyon is pretty awesome...
Robyn: I don't know, I'm sure it's probably pretty, but how long can that even be interesting for?
Dude: Well, if you like hiking...
Robyn: I totally don't hike. I don't hike, I don't jog, I don't date guys with the last name Peterson, or do anything else that seems to directly correlate to being murdered. It's a thing I have. Seriously, I watch a lot of Law and Order. Hiking= death.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Sunday Night Sex Show (not today, two weeks from now)! Hooray!
Guess what? In two weeks, a glorious event shall take place- The Sunday Night Sex Show! (Duh, I know I stole that from Sue Johannsen. That's the point.) Anyway:
Who: Hosted by my dear friend Allen and myself, with readings from us, and also the lovely and obscenely talented Jessie, Monique, Alex and Teddie- with some other guests to be added as soon as I confirm them.
What?: A creative non-fiction reading on the subject, in some way or form, of the sexin'- it'll be hot. Also, Allen and I will be passing a hat around for the audience, if there is one, to submit their (hopefully not) burning questions about sex and love etc. And there may be prizes if I have the extra cash! But I haven't figured out for what, yet.
When?: July 27th @ 8pm
Where?: The Burlington. Because they're super nice.
Why?: Because it's going to be awesome.
I am probably going to be harassing the crap out of people to go- even though I hate being that person, because I have a massive Stella Dallas complex. You know, like that part in the movie where Ann Shirley gets all dressed up and has an elaborate birthday party and no one shows up because Barbara Stanwyck is a sauced up hussy? Ugh. I swear to god, that movie is like, the whole reason I didn't have birthday parties after sixth grade- not that my mom is a sauced up hussy, but still. Well, except for when my friends threw me surprise parties- but that's totally different, because then you just, you know, show up. Actually, I think it's kind of weird to throw yourself a party anyway. But still- total Stella Dallas complex. The fear of being dressed up with no place to go...
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Happy Thoughts?
I think terrible things all day long. I really do. Like this morning, I saw this woman wearing a t-shirt that said "I'M THE HOT FRIEND!" on it. I have seen her before, wearing a shirt which said "I'M BRINGING SEXY BACK!"
Neither of these things could have possibly been true. I promise. Unless like, her friends exclusively hang out with the John Merrick Look-Alike Chapter of Chicago. Or like, there is a new strain of sexy going around that is not at all like any sexy we have known before. And I wish I maybe thought something like, cheery and supportive, like "Good for her! I bet to someone, she totally is hot and sexy!" But like, even if the chick wearing the shirt was really hot, I would find the shirts unforgivable, and wrong in every way a shirt can manage to be. But like, when there is just such irony! How can you not notice? I can't handle braggy shirts. I'm generally unfond of clothing with anything on it to begin with, but when you start using your shirt as a forum to declare your hotness to the world (instead of like, wearing a cute shirt), you set yourself up for judgement.
That being said, I would totally like this lady's mirror. Five of them in fact. I'd like someone to follow me around with that mirror all day long.
One time I saw a woman wearing a shirt that said "Your boyfriend bought this shirt for me!" Which also, um, had to be a lie- for 99.9999999999999999999% of the population, at least. I bet it was awkward to buy that shirt- you know, if you were in fact buying it yourself. I mean, even if someone else's boyfriend was buying it for you, I bet you'd get some weird looks at the cash register. Awkward all around.
But yeah- see, I'm totally not a good person. Maybe that's why I have the worst time ever accepting compliments- or really, knowing what to say other than "thanks!" I'm really anti-flattery- I so much prefer constructive criticism. I know how to work with that, and maybe I feel like it's more honest. I'm really wary of people blowing smoke up my ass. It's even worse to be flattered when you have nothing to say back- like, you know, like if a really boring guy tell you you're interesting. I avoid that anyway, because I don't want to be anyone's foray into whimsicality as I so often have been (what was that movie with that guy from Scrubs? Yeah, I totally don't want that.). Seriously- the totally reg dudes dig me and tend to find me "fascinating." Which is awkward and makes me feel more like a sideshow exhibit than a person. Anyway... what do you say to that? "Gee, you're interesting too!" Even though it's a lie? My mom believes that everyone is interesting- and she has this amazing talent for drawing that out of people. I don't. I totally think most people are painfully boring.
I want to be like, one of those people that sees the good in everything, and doesn't judge others... but then I think I'd bore myself and what would be the good of that? Sigh. Well, if you don't have anything nice to say, my dears.... come sit by me.
Neither of these things could have possibly been true. I promise. Unless like, her friends exclusively hang out with the John Merrick Look-Alike Chapter of Chicago. Or like, there is a new strain of sexy going around that is not at all like any sexy we have known before. And I wish I maybe thought something like, cheery and supportive, like "Good for her! I bet to someone, she totally is hot and sexy!" But like, even if the chick wearing the shirt was really hot, I would find the shirts unforgivable, and wrong in every way a shirt can manage to be. But like, when there is just such irony! How can you not notice? I can't handle braggy shirts. I'm generally unfond of clothing with anything on it to begin with, but when you start using your shirt as a forum to declare your hotness to the world (instead of like, wearing a cute shirt), you set yourself up for judgement.
That being said, I would totally like this lady's mirror. Five of them in fact. I'd like someone to follow me around with that mirror all day long.
One time I saw a woman wearing a shirt that said "Your boyfriend bought this shirt for me!" Which also, um, had to be a lie- for 99.9999999999999999999% of the population, at least. I bet it was awkward to buy that shirt- you know, if you were in fact buying it yourself. I mean, even if someone else's boyfriend was buying it for you, I bet you'd get some weird looks at the cash register. Awkward all around.
But yeah- see, I'm totally not a good person. Maybe that's why I have the worst time ever accepting compliments- or really, knowing what to say other than "thanks!" I'm really anti-flattery- I so much prefer constructive criticism. I know how to work with that, and maybe I feel like it's more honest. I'm really wary of people blowing smoke up my ass. It's even worse to be flattered when you have nothing to say back- like, you know, like if a really boring guy tell you you're interesting. I avoid that anyway, because I don't want to be anyone's foray into whimsicality as I so often have been (what was that movie with that guy from Scrubs? Yeah, I totally don't want that.). Seriously- the totally reg dudes dig me and tend to find me "fascinating." Which is awkward and makes me feel more like a sideshow exhibit than a person. Anyway... what do you say to that? "Gee, you're interesting too!" Even though it's a lie? My mom believes that everyone is interesting- and she has this amazing talent for drawing that out of people. I don't. I totally think most people are painfully boring.
I want to be like, one of those people that sees the good in everything, and doesn't judge others... but then I think I'd bore myself and what would be the good of that? Sigh. Well, if you don't have anything nice to say, my dears.... come sit by me.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Who has time for this?
Ok, so--- in the course of a trip to the powder room just now, I noticed that the label on my underwear says "Do not iron."
Does this warning need to be there? I mean- are there people going around ironing thongs? I mean, shit, it's not like I do anything, but I sure as hell don't have time to iron my damned underwear. And would anyone notice if I did? I have like, four things that require ironing, and I pretty much never wear them because of that. Sheesh.
Does this warning need to be there? I mean- are there people going around ironing thongs? I mean, shit, it's not like I do anything, but I sure as hell don't have time to iron my damned underwear. And would anyone notice if I did? I have like, four things that require ironing, and I pretty much never wear them because of that. Sheesh.
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