Lies About Padma Lakshmi That Might Be True

Padma, in between her exciting four minutes on-air providing banal transitional statements, sits in her trailer, weeping silently and rubbing her scar while she stuffs various prescription painkillers into her lipsticked mouth.

The Fun Is Over

CJ and Jon have a pool party. I don’t really understand it either.

(Click through for video)

While Consuming My Extremities, Tyra Banks Offers Advice

While half asleep this morning I had a strange semi-waking dream in which Tyra Banks was eating my fingers and toes. She was well put together in the dream, her wig neat and she was wearing one of those viscose wrap dresses that she prefers. The fact that she didn’t look monstrous was calming in an odd way. As she gnawed my digits she suggested I get a job in publishing, because that’s what her producer said I should do.

Points of Interference Between A and B

I wish I knew why I am so thoroughly fascinated by these sorts of videos.

Click through for another demonstration of the general idiocy of my interests.

The Kitchen Fire Was Lovely

There is something about exploding housewares that thrills the imagination, for me.

I will admit to minor pyromania as a child.

(Click through for video, which confused me at first, too)

This Is Funny To Me Because?

One of the top searches that might lead a person to this very blog is “how to seem sad”. It’s true. WordPress told me so.

In Which I Become Another Disturbing Statistic

I’d thought it odd that I hadn’t received any email today at work. Odd, but nice, for a Thursday when I was feeling lazy and otherwise engaged in the creation of a Tumblr for Fake Kanye West.

Of course I was laid off at the end of the day, so there you have it.

A Freakish Yet Affirming Tale From My Childhood

Now most people would like to believe that I sprung fully formed from my mother’s womb, but it simply is not the case. I, like you faithful reader, was once a child. A tow-headed child with skinny legs and dreams, yes, dreams, you bloodsucking vampires (I’m kidding, I love you bastards. I’ve been drinking, to be honest, and I’m being conversational here, so bear with me) and here is a wonderful tale from that time.

There was a kite store that briefly operated in the town I grew up in. I loved kite-flying, I thought it weird and magical, and there was a particular kite there that had piqued my interest. It was a firebird, quite literally, a dark ‘V’ shape of black nylon with streamers of red and orange shooting off the wings, and a sleek head and beak squinting forward from the point. I visited the bird several times a week for a month but I couldn’t afford to buy it. It was a serious kite, not like the junk from The Talbots Five and Dime that I’d flown previously, but an actual kite with a price around one hundred dollars, an almost insurmountable figure for a ten year-old. Imagine, though, how such a beast would cut through the air. Sadly, imaging was all I could do.

Until one sunny day when I was walking from the kite shop to the candy store to shoplift candy (yes, I know, that isn’t heartwarming but I was kleptomaniacal in that candy store). I noticed something skittering in the breeze on the pavement in front of me. Ever the inquisitive child, I bent down to investigate. It was four twenty dollar bills, loooking ATM fresh, blowing together down the street.

I glanced around. There was no one in sight. Just the street in front of me, my dream kite behind me, and a larceny waiting to happen in front of me.

Now some might find themselves in a moral dilemma here. Do you take the money and bring it to the nearest grown-up? Do you let it blow down the street to someone more needy? Or would you run down the street to the police, cash in hand, to turn it in? Me, I grabbed the cash and stuffed it in my pocket. My mother didn’t raise fools, and when I asked at the kite store if they’d do a lay-away for me they said yes.

Later, my mother having underwritten the rest, I took my firebird kite out to the back field. Let me tell you it was magnificent. And whether it was God or a careless woman who wouldn’t be able to feed her children because she dropped her money, I was thankful.

This Moment Here

The boredom is like a wave, you have to let it wash over you. Struggle and you’ll drown. Acquiesce, and you float.

A Dirty Story About Harry Potter

There once was a fellow named Harry Potter. Not the Harry Potter, but rather a postal employee on Long Island. He didn’t really like bathing all that much.