You won’t need directions.

me: “It’s no coincidence that the first two words of Hamlet are ‘Who’s there? and the first two words of Infinite Jest are ‘I am.’”
^this book is wayyyyy over my head

Ian: don’t worry about it. it’s over pretty much everybody’s head except dfw’s
if i had a dollar for every time i considered stopping reading because i had absolutely no clear idea on what was going on at the time, i wouldn’t have bothered to come into work today

me: you are funny

Ian: oh, i’m deadly serious. i’d be a brazillionaire.

Do you see that? Does it hurt your eyes? It’s my hair. It’s so shiny that people around me are putting on their shades.

I’ve only used it one time, but I am now a permanent user of John Frieda’s Luminous Color Glaze. It made my hair butter soft, sparkly shiny and a little bit blonder with just one application. According to the package, the more you use the glaze, the more it works, promising softer, smoother, shinier, more colorful hair. They do not lie. This product is unbelievable.

I’d read rave reviews of the glaze online, with women straight up calling it God’s Gift. Since it’s about ten bucks it didn’t break the bank, so I bought some. In fact, I got two bottles on sale for $15. I went ahead and got the twofer, because all the high praise had me convinced I’d love it. And I do.

I want you to have shiny hair, too. Your lovah will not be able to keep their hands out of it. People will stop you in the street just to admire your tresses. And you only have to slap it on in the shower.

[Disclaimer: I bought the shit myself, and no one paid me to write this.]

First episode: five minutes of Bob singing the “Mares eat oats” song. –Matthew Baldwin

When this came across my reader my heart stopped momentarily. I held my breath.

Without Lynch, I can’t get behind it 100%, but I can damn sure line up to watch it, should it come to fruition.

If coffee black as a moonless night and epic poem-worthy pie and Where’s Annie? were to come back into my life, I just don’t know what I will do with myself. Probably squeal til I explode.

I gotta find some time to take a ride on the 22:

And so the driver, for whatever reason, had to slam on the brakes and everyone lurches forward. And one lady was like, “Ohhhh my neck.” And some other lady was like, “Owwww, my back.” And the bus starts to rumble, “My neck, my back, Lick my pussy and my crack,” until the ENTIRE bus is chanting the dirty version from Khia. They all knew the words.

Any of you out there who are childless have (used to have) an IUD? Email me, I’d love to ask you a few thousand questions.

A little girl with pig tails and silver teeth spoke fast in Spanish into the receiver of a pay phone. No one was listening on the other end. The child’s mother also spoke in Spanish, and seemed to be urging her to end her one-way conversation. I only caught a few words that I understand. Rapido. Limpia.

The train pulled in after nine long minutes of waiting. I took a seat near the door since the next stop is where I would transfer. It’s where most of us would transfer. I cracked a book. A man slid open the doors that separate train cars, which can be heavy and hard to open, but he foisted them wide with what seemed to be no effort at all. He shouted.

“Let’s go, let’s go! Next stop we get off. I am trying to organize us. You need to carry some stuff. Stop doing that, you don’t need to be trying to look cute right now!” Then he stormed back through to the other train car.

I transferred. I watched the woman who was “trying to look cute’ using crutches and hobbling badly. She chose the seat in front of me. The man who yelled at propped up a bike in the seat reserved for seniors or the disabled.

“You so fat, probably couldn’t find the pussy.” The yelling man with the bike said this to the woman who hobbled.

“That’s mean.” She replied flatly, with little emphasis. “Mean.”

“Lots of things in life are mean,” he told her.

“We in public!,” the third person in their trio finally piped up. “You need to relax man. You need major therapy. Major therapy.”

The three of them, two men, each with bikes and many bags, and a woman on crutches who also carried a large bag, had obviously had more than their share to drink.

“She didn’t get me no Jack in the Box. She know I’s hungry, but she cold, so she just looking after herself.” It was the crude man who called his companion fat who did all the talking. He wore sunglasses on the train at 9 p.m. He was clearly under the influence of a stimulant in addition to his drunkeness. He repeatedly insulted the woman as lazy, berating her for failing to buy him fast food. Over and over and over. He demanded that she send him his stuff back. He needed his stuff. She said he could come and get it, but he insisted that she FedEx it to him. She offered the suggestion to have his sister drive him to her place, but he stomped and yelled more about getting it to him by FedEx.

“I ain’t had none in 5 days,” the beligerent man informed everyone.

“What? Stress?,” the other guy asked.

“No, sex.”

His buddy responded with, “I am not talking to you right now, Mr. Horny,” and I was happy to have a second of comic relief. The argued further about which stop they would get off at. Their debate was senseless and unnecessary. The beligerent man was adamant about getting off at Civic Center, so much so that he repeated the name of his stop until he got there.

“Civic Center. Civic. Civic. Ci-vic. Center. Cen-ter. Civic Center. Civic Center.”

When they exited the car it looked like a traveling carnival, with all the stuff they had. I watched the woman hobble away, a large, stuffed-full backpack weighing her down. The other man said nothing when the angry man told her to hurry up and called her a mule.

I never have ideas like this. So, I’m gonna steal it.

My imaginary car wears this and this.

[via Mighty Girl]

This has been up at the Mexican grocery since Christmas, and I just noticed that it’s still up yesterday, on June 1st.