: to do list :

March 4, 2015 § 8 Comments

calendar_contrasttext separator_flourishWell, can you blame me? It’s a bad hair day; a terrible, horrible, awful bad hair day. I’ve reached the last of the clean underwear, too, the pair with no elastic in the legs. So, double whammy.

You know what it reminds me of, my hair? A toilet brush. Tell me the oven wouldn’t be your first thought, too. I didn’t plan to turn on the gas or anything, I just wanted to make the grand gesture, you know? Be a drama queen. Not so much Sylvia Plath as Dorothy Parker, totally campy. With Parker’s poem, Resumé, running through my head:

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

Gazing at the oven racks and heating element, though, I found myself pining for oven cleaner. My bristly ‘do would’ve had that thing gleaming in no ti–

Hey, the sun’s out! Please disregard this notice. Have a good day!

toilet brush

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: footed fingers and other oddities :

March 1, 2015 § 19 Comments

footed fingers

My sitting here is surely a sign of insanity, I won’t be able to reach a wi-fi spot for days. It’s snowing; again or still, I’ve lost track. Winter has blurred into one long snow event.

I could walk to a coffee shop, I suppose. There’s one less than a mile away, a big, drafty, barn of a place with an assortment of mismatched tables and chairs. The coffee’s good, the wi-fi works, they pay no attention to me, and I have $4 for a latte. A fall on the ice ups the cost, since the laptop drops with me.

I’m getting ahead of myself, though. How do I know this’ll even be worth posting? Whoa, what am I saying? Look around, my standards aren’t high. I’m just killing time, really, trying to ignore the ugliness outside. As usual, the internet came though for me. These little jaunts are inspiring, but I’m starting to think I have a foot fetish. Last week it was the Doc Martens, this week it’s footed fingers and Lego slippers. Could be a fetish, could be a rut, but which?

Jennifer Aniston getting throttled by Emma Stone at the Oscars was just too funny to pass up. Oooh, love the strappy gold heels, though.


Jennifer Aniston — “Mmphff.”

The Details:

puppet fingers

Sculptures — watch out, these’ll grab your eyes. No, I’m kidding, put your hands down. Italian artist Alessandro Boezio uses clay and fiberglass to create these disembodied figures. Sure, they’re alien and disturbing, but the creepy part is how they make your skin crawl.

piano fingers


lego slippers

Slippers — they look comfy, almost like Nerf slippers. The fact they’re a Lego brick only adds to their charm, right? Stick your feet in there why don’t you, they’re only $25 and available in your choice of colors: red or blue. Only one size, however (the equivalent of a men’s size 12).

I assume I made it safely to the coffee place, since you’re reading this. Let’s see if I can be as successful returning home. Gee, if I had a pair of Lego Slippers they’d be like snowshoes. Well, off I go, wish me luck …


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: c-c-c-can you spare a d-d-degree? :

February 27, 2015 § 10 Comments



All right, who’s hogging all the degrees? Cough ‘em up.

They’re out there, I know they are. Hiding. Please check under your beds, behind the furnace, in your shoe, anywhere a degree could hide. They’re very slippery and sneaky as Hell.

If you find any wayward deserters, please send them my way. Via FedEx. I’m missing about 80 of the little bastards.

My warmest thanks.

imageCopyright © 2015 Publikworks

: stop that :

February 25, 2015 § 21 Comments

No, sorry, don’t stop what you’re doing. By that, I meant the word that. Please, go on about your business; don’t mind me.

scoldingWell, okay, since you’re here, I’ll tell you: I hate that. It’s overused and distracting, a totally irksome term. People stick a that in everything. Why? It’s a word, not a mantra. And, here’s the totally irksome part, it’s unnecessary blather. We believe if that can logically follow a verb, it should, by God. Yeah? Think again.

Here, I’ll show you: I said that I was buying a monkey. It’s correct, but hideous. Now try it without that: I said I was buying a monkey. Equally correct and so much smoother, practically music to our ea — stop rolling your eyes.

You think this is just another tirade about grammar, don’t you? Ha, think again, smarty-pants. This is strictly a personal bias. That is one plug-ugly word, clattering and dissonant wherever it’s used. The stupid thing refuses to blend in. That, tha-a-a-t, that-that, sounds like honking. I don’t want to honk; who wants to honk?

We could consult the rules regarding the proper use of that: in restrictive clauses and subordinate clauses; when it’s the subject rather than the object of a clause. When which is more appropriate than that; when who is called for, instead. Blah, blah, blah, blah.

Grammarians make everything so complicated. I admire them for sticking to their guns in an ungracious world and all, but come on. Relative pronouns, subjunctive clauses? whoosh, right over my head. I go by instinct. If it sounds okay, that’s good enough for me. Oh, crap, there it is, the dreaded that. Pretty soon I’ll be tossing around gots instead of haves.

Anyway, the point is we can do without that most of the time. You don’t need to quit altogether, but try cutting back. Seriously, the world will be a better, more harmonious place.

That said, thank you for your cooperation.


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: is it gold digging or grave robbing? :

February 22, 2015 § 2 Comments

Both, really. Publishing’s been repurposed.

Sq. Shovel_filter 2Consider the case of Harper Lee, the adamantly reticent author of To Kill a Mockingbird. She’s 88 and in an assisted-living facility, mostly blind and deaf and in frail health. For decades, she refused to entertain the possibility of writing a second book. Flat out dismissed the notion.

Right up until her lawyer slash friend discovered a long forgotten manuscript in “a secure location” in Monroeville, Alabama — Lee’s hometown. It was the first draft of Mockingbird and was entitled Go Set a Watchman. The announcement flabbergasted the publishing world. Eyebrows shot up and dollar signs glittered in beady eyes. This is better than a government bail-out, ladies and gentlemen, this is To Resuscitate a Mockingbird. A salvation for publishing.bird_silo

But at what price? Well, that’s complicated. It could be pretty costly for the legacy of Harper Lee, something she spent her life protecting.

See, first drafts are notoriously raw and unfinished. Very rarely are they publication-ready.¹  And, apparently, Watchman was no exception, since Lee’s editor at the time rejected it. However, the editor had been captivated by Scout’s childhood flashbacks and asked Lee to write a new version from the child’s perspective. So, being a good girl, Harper Lee did. She wrote To Kill a Mockingbird.

Which leaves us to wonder: if Harper Lee was, say, 40 and in robust health, would she be agreeing to publish this thing? There must be a reason she used it as wrapping paper for 60 years. I mean, no one abandons work they invested so much of their heart in. We don’t simply cast it aside and move on to the next project.

Particularly writers. If anything, we’ll tweak and revise forever. Which is what she was doing, I believe — polishing and shaping and amending Watchman into Mockingbird, not in addition to. Nevertheless, the book is scheduled for release on July 14th. Publisher HarperCollins plans an initial printing of 2 million copies and it’s currently at No. 4 on amazon.

Not to be outdone, Dr. Seuss (dead since 1991) has several new books coming out. First up is What Pet Should I Get? I thought it was a parody, What Pet Should I Get? — isn’t that a working title? His widow, Audrey, and his secretary slash friend exhumed the nearly-completed manuscript from a box at his home. It might’ve been written between 1958 and 1962 and is set for release on July 28th — 2015?! Now No. 33 on amazon.

Anything for a buck, I guess. But, you know, these books could just as easily be dazzling triumphs, absolute masterpieces, and I certainly hope they are. For the authors’ sake, not the publishers’.


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¹No less an authority than Ernest Hemingway is quoted as saying, “The first draft of anything is shit.”

: giving up god for lent :

February 18, 2015 § 8 Comments

Why not candy, like a normal person? Or liquor or swearing or Facebook, something ordinary and reasonable? Well, I considered that route, but no. This year, I picked God.


The whole religion thing is a quandary for me. I go back and forth, round and round. One day, oh, there’s a God, all right; He’s trying to kill me. The next, nah, there’s no God. The day after that, who cares, where’re the Cheetos? And so it goes.

I can’t reach a firm, lasting decision and I’ve no solid conviction either way. I’m not a believer. I’m not a non-believer. I’m not even a wait-and-seer. What I am, I suppose, is a ditherer. And I blame Santa Claus. As well as the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, the Pillsbury Dough Boy, Mary Poppins, the whole bunch. They were all phonies.

Santa was simply the tip of the iceberg. When he was pantsed as a fraud and an impostor, he took the others down with him. They fell like dominoes — leaving me shattered and bereft at six. To this day, I have trust issues. Big ones. Paranoia, that’s my constant companion. I don’t believe a word anyone says and I see ulterior motives everywhere.

God, if He exists (and I’m not saying He does, but I allow for the possibility here for the sake of argument), was an unintended, but inevitable victim. His very existence was brought into question as a direct result of those early delusions. Remember The Wizard of Oz? They finally, finally make it to Emerald City and what happens? “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.”

Yeah, I’m not setting myself up for that again.

But what if I’m wrong, you know? I could be, I’ve been mistaken before. Then what? If there is a God, ipso facto there’s a Hell, too. And as much as I love a warm climate, Hell sounds decidedly unappealing. Lakes of fire and pitchforks are no substitutes for sandy beaches and rolling tides. Besides, if you don’t like the accommodations you can’t just pack up and move somewhere nicer. There are no upgrades in Hell. Are there? No, I’m sure not.

See the predicament? Am I overthinking? I do that sometimes, but just as often, and equally troubling, is my propensity to underthink. So, to be safe, I’m holding off on a final decision; I want to see how the Lent thing goes first. Feel free to check back on April 5th.

bolt[1]If I don’t get struck by lightning in the meantime.

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: here, tie these on :

February 15, 2015 § 9 Comments

yellow docsOtherwise, you’ll trip on the laces and fall flat on your face. People will laugh. Probably not the reaction you’re aiming for.

Well, people falling down is funny. Wrong, maybe, but that only makes it funnier. When we’re not supposed to laugh, that’s when we do. People look, they frown in disapproval, making us laugh harder and louder. Sure, we look like insensitive clods standing there snorting and hooting, but we can’t stop.

As for the klutz on the floor? Well, tough break, buster, but thanks. That was hysterical. What else can you do, really?

Hey, try blaming your shoes. These shoes. They’re limited edition Doc Martens, the result of a collaboration with the Cartoon Network. They’re supposed to be funny — Adventure Time was the inspiration. I’ve never seen the show, but I’m a big fan of the shoes.

I’d like a pair for my next face plant; I’ll tell myself you’re laughing at my shoes. Which is likely, since I’d look ridiculous in them.

white docs
The Details

> Two designs: Finn the Boy (white) and Jake the Dog (yellow).
> Only 1,460 pairs of each will be created
> A black canvas-style with Finn and Jake on all sides will also be available
> Prices will range from $85 to $202
> Available March 3, 2015 in Dr. Martens stores and online
> You can pre-order at http://www.solestruck.com/dr.-martens-x-adventure-time-womens-shoes/


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