a conversation i keep forgetting to remember

Overheard in Chinatown, conversation between two teenagers.

One: Please, you can't even tell me she was a dude. You see that body? Bitch was all female. I could tell.

Two: You can't even neither, yo.

One: You cannot fake that sort of thing, brother. You can't.

Two: Whatever. I take you to some clubs, you won't even be able to tell which is dudes and which is ladies. I know places.

One: . . . Well. What do you wear to a place like that?

Two: Black shirt, black pants.

i do now

via Poppytalk

This dkim poster on Etsy really speaks to me today.

car commercials should be like this

an embarrassment of friend wealth

My wonderful Emily darling threw me a surprise party for my birthday last night. I was so extremely touched (in a figurative way because even Jeffrey kept the groping to a minimum last night. Yay, Mr. Jeffrey! You're the Mayor!).

I would like to share two handcrafted gifts that display the depths to which my friends' veins of awesomitude run:

1. A six-legged lamb hand puppet named Spyder, courtesy of Daria and inspired by this article:


2. An exceptional work of art by Adam.



Also, I am now the owner of a superfly mindcrafted gift, given to me by Lanyard. It's a song about my dog to the tune of "The Ballad of John and Yoko." I sang it to Pelle this morning, and it seemed to calm him. Then he bit my armpit.