Month: December 2009
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Dear Rival Gang Leader Tom Logan: If You Ever Try to Take Over My High School Fortress-City, I Will Lob a Molotov Cocktail at You, Which Will Be My Only Recourse Since It’s Not Like I Can Go Tell My Mom, What With That Virus Wiping Out Everyone Over the Age of 12 and All
When I was a kid, I read this one book. Oh, all right, Sherlock Hemlock: I read about 4,000 books. Approximately 3,800 of those reading experiences have fallen into the crevasse carved into my brain that night in college when I drank too much Jagermeister. Fortunately, I still carry the imprint of the other 200 books (only […]
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Postage-Free But Heartfelt
Dear Inhabitants of the Interwebs, You Slimy, Three-Eyed Beasts: At this reading, may you be sipping on something mulled, wearing something fuzzy, and not hating those around you. What’s more: may you have protein in your belly and a carb in your heart. I offer up to you the following holiday greetings with a shrug of my […]
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Although I Felt the Freak in Many Other Ways, There Was This Month in Seventh Grade When We Did Track in P.E. Class, and As It Turned Out, I Was Pretty Good at Standing Broad Jump and the 100-Yard Dash. Whenever I Feel Down, I Remember Out-Jumping and Out-Running All Those Cute Little Things Who Had Boyfriends, and Suddenly I’m Humming Again, Which Indicates That My Happiness Stems from a Place of ‘In-Your-Face, Bitches’
A few weeks ago, my sister sent me a book. I think she’s making up for all those years in childhood when she insisted a “slap fight” was actually a “fun game” as she pinned me down and proved her superiority at fun games. Plus, once, she took my Bass ballet flats and threw them across the […]
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You Should See What I Do With Lincoln Logs
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I Promise You At Least Five Parenthetical Asides in This Post; Bonus Points If You Count More
There is a fortuitous convergence at the end of the semester: Gasping for air from beneath a heap of research papers, I claw one hand out from under essays about childhood obesity, bacteria-phobia, the death of newspapers, and the upsurge in wind farms, and that hand, calloused and gnarled, flops around blindly (what with […]
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Recipe for a Headache
My life policy of Don’t Get Harried is inviolate. Also, I lie a lot, especially on Mondays, when zipping around and feeling always eight minutes behind is the norm, and my life policy is brutally, repeatedly violated. The policy of Don’t Get Harried is predicated by the fact that doing lots isn’t part of my […]
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Juicy Fruit
Scroogey McSkinTheReindeer here. It’s that time of the year again. Sumpin’ about jolly and holly. Not this grouch’s vibe. Nor is Kill The Turkeys day. In trying to put a finger on why the holidays make me want to carve a cave into the side of Wal-Mart using my bare hands and then climb inside […]