Some stray coding has popped up and made itself visible in IE and Firefox. I don’t see the same thing in Safari at home. And I have briefly looked through the template code to see if I could find the culprit, to no avail. So if any of you html wizzes out there get a spare moment, why don’tcha look at my source code and see if you can find what the hell is causing…
I have loved I Blame the Patriarchy from the day Aunt B instructed her readers to leap links and take a gander. And now, she of Twisty Faster fame has written something so perfect in its snarkalicious sincerity that I can only pass it along to you (using my new blockquote format, by the way) in the hopes that it will make your chest swell with pride as it did mine: As I was saying,…
I just ate a turkey/cheddar/cracker Lunchables and I instantly feel the need to barf.
Andrew Sullivan was on The Colbert Report tonight and I thought he was utterly charming and cordial and downright jolly about things. And I just want to say I love the way his site is laid out now. Far superior to the nonsense he had going on before.
It snowed for about seven minutes today. Everyone at work got on the phone and called other people in town to ask if it was snowing where they were. I had a good time this weekend. Saw Brokeback Mountain*, visited the Lorraine Motel on Martin Luther King Day, got my ass handed to me in Scrabble, and got Joey and Marie lost in some squalor for a good half hour. An all-around success. I even…
My company is looking for a designer (editorial copy, not ads). Read the SND listing here, then whip your resume into shape, wow the suits, and come sit by me.
Continuing my previous James Frey post, I just want to say this: “FTBSITTTD” is the dumbest tattoo I have ever heard of, even if it stands for some kind of bad-ass mantra. Don’t care. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Which is why I’m glad it actually stands for Forgetting to Brush Slowly Is The Trail (to) Tooth Decay,” since Frey is apparently a dental hygiene nut. Yeah, I don’t really care if it’s true or not. I…
I am the last person on earth to weigh in on this James Frey crapola, which, for whatever reason, has incited a widespread outrage he likes of which I cannot recall ever witnessing before. I just want to remind everyone that we’re talking about an author who fudged the details of a memoir. A writer who wrote some things that weren’t true about his ultimately inconsequential life as a junkie. It’s bad, sure, and unfortunate,…
It’s true. So says the busboy(man?)/chip deliverer at El Mezcal. Randomly. To the man at the register while we’re paying for our check. At least that’s what Phil thinks he said. My jury’s still out, playing in the fountain in front of the courthouse. So Joey and Marie are here. We sat and shot the shit for an hour or so before I had to come to work. Tomorrow we’re going downtown to check out…
I live in an apartment, okay? Not a giant, drafty, Victorian house with a basement full of rows and rows of purple lights feeding troughs of pot plants. Thanks, conveniently engineered energy crisis! You just dicked me out of nearly an entire paycheck.
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