pineapple heart

Saturday, February 24, 2007

mundane accidents

Pelle tried to eat a pen. It exploded and now he is covered in blue spots.


Thursday, February 22, 2007

on erradicating narcissism

I was on my way to MySpace, but I accidentally went to Space.com. If a lot more people did this sort of thing on a regular basis, I think we'd have a solution to our entire generation's problems.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

two bad things, two good things

Bad Thing the First: I have to waitress tonight. On The Valentine Day. I was hoping to get smashed and flirty on Kir Royales somewhere less blind datey, but it looks like I'll just have to be roaring wasted at the workplace instead. And all of the men there will be, like, forty and paunchy, so I'll flirt, but ONLY FOR TIPS.

Bad Thing the Second: I refuse to take Pelle out in the snow for more than five minutes. He is so bored. Here are some desperate paw prints he left next to his leash.


Good Thing the Lonely: I got a lovely pin for a couple of bucks at a vintage jewelry shop. Lauren P: The P is for Pernicious. Here is the pin being sexy on my lapel.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

yahoo's first date tips for men, as reviewed by a human being

I don't have much to add to these so-sexist-they're-almost-satirical suggestions. Please enjoy reading them if you missed them on Yahoo's front page while checking your email for the eighteenth time in one hour in case someone sent you a Valentine and you didn't see it because you were watching your dog eat your laundry receipt.

1. If you're choosing the restaurant, run it past three platonic girlfriends. You might love the local trattoria for its friendly waiters and free Limoncello, but it's the ladies who remember bad lighting, dingy bathrooms and day-old fruit garnishes.

See, sexist!
I love free alcohol. You should take me anywhere there's free alcohol. What are bathrooms?

2. Pick a date up for dinner, even if she lives next door; and if you're having drinks after work, swing by the office. Meeting at the restaurant simply reads as half-hearted. Women appreciate men who put their needs first, if just for the night.

What need would the guy be putting first? My need to be guided to the restaurant because I'm female and therefore ass-over-teakettle useless? This suggestion is crazy and claustrophobic.

3. For the love of button downs, don't you dare tuck in your shirt! Unless you're dining at the country club or a jacket-required establishment, you'll risk looking like your father en route to the 18th hole (and there's nothing hot about that).

And don't wear a button down. Unless it's plaid.

4. Pay your date a very specific compliment that shows you're paying attention. Nice eyes? She's heard it. Cute dimples? Much better.

Yeah. Dimples are really overlooked. Good call. Don't be afraid to call attention to things that a really specific to her, though, like "You have a sweet smile" or "Mm, I love your shampoo."

5. When looking over the menu, ask if she's a sharer. If she loves variety, suggest small dishes to split-or swap plates halfway through the meal if you feel at ease.

This suggestion is a diamond amidst a sea of gravel.

6. Save the "Notice me!" soliloquy for Mom and Dad-that is, until your date asks about you. Because she will, if you let her steer the chit-chat. One man's self-involved boast is another's self-aware banter. It just depends who's inquiring.

It takes a lifetime of being shoved in lockers, metaphorical or otherwise, to dim most dudes' enthusiasm for talking about how much more well-read, more musical, and more athletic they are than everyone else--especially their dates--so how about being less vague? Tell them to lie and be self-deprecating.

7. Slide one sensitive topic about yourself into conversation and ask your date's opinion about it. This moment will be more memorable than the pricey dim sum or your canned jokes, since it's laced with trust, sincerity and vulnerability.

This "sensitive topic" will inevitably be the admission, "I was the fat kid in middle school." Um, gross.

8. Keep PDA on the DL. A hand on the leg is too forward for a first date, but snuggling close in the corner banquet, with a kiss on the forehead, is just right.

A kiss on the forehead is a little paternal, isn't it.

9. Suggest a decadent dessert, even if she hesitates or says she's full. Every woman wants to secretly sample the chocolate mousse torte, though society prefers she order sherbet. Lift the burden, and try not to stare when she eats more than half.

If she says she's full, maybe she's full. How about you wait to second-guess her decisions until you've been in the relationship for at least three or so days?

10. Pay the bill, already. She'll do the faux wallet-reach, but that doesn't mean she actually wants to reach inside. If this one's a keeper, she'll pick-up the nightcap.

Ha ha! Women are golddiggers. You know what? If this one's a keeper, she'll let you pay and then feel obligated to reward you by letting you fuck her in the restaurant bathroom! Ha ha ha!

Monday, February 12, 2007

sugar and spice


This is my new dress. Hey, Daria, do you remember that time last year when I made a vow to stop wearing ruffles and ribbons and buttons and bows because I already look like I'm twelve and I was upping the Lolita factor by at least forty percent by dressing the way I do? Are you ashamed to know me now? I am. But my hair sort of looks good, so whatever.

press send

Two dreams I had that would make good movies.

1. I can talk to dead people through text messages.

2. A bus full of girl scouts is hijacked by a group of meth addicts who drive them to a Holiday Inn in Detroit. Things look dire until the girls rescue themselves with text messages.

fake tracer trees

I finally decided what I'm getting myself for my birthday. It's a tracer projector. I plan to use it to create this sort of mural in my bedroom:

Image from Hakarl and Jili's home tour, ApartmentTherapy.com

I realize that I don't have an arc light or a beautiful sheepskin rug stretched across a supple leather couch or even a plant that's been alive for more than a week, but I think this mural would get me a step closer. Then on the other wall, I'll draw a mural of the dog park so that Pelle thinks he lives there and gets sick of it. I'm trying to avoid crazy dog park devotees like Dave the Finger and Noah the Collector.

Sunday, February 11, 2007

city kids

I saw this little girl running away today, and instead of a little red wagon filled with cookies, she was pushing an entire shopping cart filled with a giant mess of clothing, books, cookware, and frozen foods. And her mom was running after her yelling, "LISA!!!" and the little girl was just like, "I'm running away! I'm running away!"

headlines, overwrought & bizarrely subjective

From this AP article: Pollution woes of India's great river as epic as river itself.

Friday, February 09, 2007

thanks, you stupid dog.

Jen hates dogs. It makes her want to vomit when she thinks about people living in a small apartment with one. But when she came up to my place to meet Pelle, she tentatively told him, "You're cute. I mean, I don't want to touch you or anything, but you're kind of actually cute."

So Pelle was kind of well-behaved. Like, he tried to eat her shoe, but he stopped when I told him to stop. And he tried to lick her camera lens, but he climbed down from the couch when I commanded it. He sat when I said "sit" and he rolled onto his stomach when I said "down." So just when Jen and I were taking the elevator back downstairs and I thought I'd maybe convinced her that dogs are gross but mine wasn't all that bad, he peed all over her glossy patent leather flats.

I'm so sorry, Jen. Pelle isn't, but I really am.

Thursday, February 08, 2007

also, it's necessary that

I share Finn's new haircut with the world.

Check it.



Yesterday, I inadvertently went to a Top Design viewing party, and yes, I saw many of the strange-looking and untalented contestants who have the misfortune to be featured in a national embarassment of minor proportions while I was there, but Finn's haircut was the only thing that was seared into my memory and appeared behind my eyelids when I closed them last night.

I told him that his expression was sort of Some Folks Call It a Sling Blade but he said that no, it wasn't, and when I asked Emily, she also said that no, it wasn't, but the truth is that it sort of is, isn't it.

my best friend moved to southeast asia

And took two strips of excellent photo booth photos with him.

Hide your face in shame, Thomas.



Follow my lesser half's adventures at Where Where Where if you care about culture, homelessness and poverty, shiny things, a multitude of approaches to religion, massage parlors, cheap food, or any of that crap that I don't really have the time to think about because I am polishing my toenails and they're lookin' pretty good.

laugh if you want

But I know the autopsy will say that Anna Nicole died of heartbreak.

background noise

Sometimes there are weeks when I want to document my life and sometimes there are weeks when I want to erase every reference to myself on the entire Internet and burn my computer into a little lump of graphite and jumbled keyboard buttons. This week is a documentation week, and considering I don't know how the long the urge will last, you better enjoy this look at me and my mundane day-to-day while you got it.

I said you better. I said sit down. I said pay attention.

I said this is an educational establishment, not a night club.