Buy me something pretty…
I’m a poor dresser. It’s not that I don’t like pretty things-I do. But generally it’s easier for me to wear jeans t-shirts and sneakers and call it a day. And I could go into the whole it’s “hard to find find things in my size” rant, but that’s not the point of this…
Were I to find someone willing to buy me (because it’s all pretty pricey) everything on Locher’s website, I would be adorable EVERYDAY.
If you like pretty things embroidered with not so pretty messages, consider visiting the site and emptying your bank account for a shirt that says “I hate children”…and then let me borrow it…
PS-Look how I can change the color of my font… Oooooh…
Ewww… That’s tacky…
Has anyone heard the song “The Sex is Good” by Saving Abel? Because it’s really terrible. Srsly.
Not to say that this band’s other songs are particularly deep, but…
You know all my deepest secrets
I think you know, you know to keep ’em
But I wonder if you know
I hate sleeping alone
That’s not even the chorus. I know 5th graders that could write something that actually conveyed a message and had more style than this…
I have to fake it
I’d leave if I could
I’m not in love, but the sex is good
That’s the first half of the chorus. He seems really emotionally conflicted… I am too, really…
You can’t mistake it
Cause it’s understood
I’m not in love, but the sex is good
(Yeeeeahhh Mmmmm)
The affirmation noises were included in the lyrics I looked up so I feel obligated to include them…
If you want to read the rest of the lyrics, I’m sure you can find them on the interwebs (may I suggest using a search engine such as Google and Bing-they’re quite popular). I assure you the rest of the song will not move you so much as inspire you to put out your own crap album so you can make millions of dollars at the expense of drunk college boys everywhere…
I wish I could say that the song was degrading and offensive, but really I just find it tacky. I mean, he’s obviously singing about a woman he hooks up with a lot, BUT really anyone could be singing this song about someone of any gender… So I suppose I could even call it equal opportunity… Yes?
Anyway-I’m pretty sure this guy’s problem could just be solved if he got a teddy bear and started frequenting S&M clubs-he definitely has some impulse control problems and I feel like a bit of sado-masochistic role-play could get that out of his system.
Adios, mofos.
Hmmm…
I thought of a topic to write about, but I’ve since forgotten it. SO! I’m going to share something I think everyone should see.
Found this while cruising the interwebs: http://www.sharesomecandy.com/2010/07/dave-mead.html
Enjoy, mofos!
Dear Body, I’m sorry. xoxo-Annamal
Dear Body,
We’ve known each other for a long time, and you’ve been relatively loyal to me. I just wanted to take a minute to thank you for said loyalty and apologize for everything I do to you, even though I know I shouldn’t and that it hurts you.
To my head: I know I’m constantly flipping you over to blow dry my hair and covering you in cosmetics, but I do it because I want you to look your best when we go out. Face, you tolerate my plucking/waxing/threading, make up applying, and under-moisturizing and still manage to avoid breaking out on a regular basis. Thank you, Face. Hair, you’re the star of the show and you know it. Thanks for cooperating 9 times out of 10. You’re my favorite, Hair. Ears, thanks for not being sticky-outy; I mean it.
Hey, Arms and Legs, we get along pretty well. I’m glad. I’ve never broken you guys, and you’ve pretty much always worked well with me. Thx!
Feet, you’re super tiny and sometimes that means it’s hard for me to find shoes. Sure, this sometimes means that when I’m in a bind and need shoes for something PRONTO I’m SOL because no one else wear’s my size and my size sells out first, but it also means I don’t impulsively drop $80 bucks on a pair of shoes I’ll never need or wear. Thanks for keeping me in the black. And for not being horribly ugly with crazy long monkey toes. Gross.
GI system… Where do I begin…? I’M SORRY. I’m sorry I fill you with dairy despite your inability to break down lactose. I’m sorry I don’t take care of you by giving you more fiber to keep you… feeling alright? I’m sorry I make you deal with things high in calories and low in nutrition and then complain about the work you do. You deserve better and I know. And I’m doing my best to be a better partner to you. But know that I still love cheese, and I am weak. I will some times indulge and we will both pay. For this I am sorry, but I will try to keep those days few and far between. I love you GI, even if you don’t always love me back.
Hey there, Liver. I didn’t forget about you, I just didn’t know where to begin. I know that some weekends I put you to work. I appreciate the overtime. I promise that once I turn that certain age (which is fast approaching so don’t worry), I’ll let you relax. In the mean time, know that I appreciate EVERYTHING you do, and do try to look out for you from time to time.
In short, Body, I know that sometimes I wish you were longer, leaner, and more cooperative-but I know almost all of those complaints result from my own doing and I’m going to stop complaining and fix what I think is wrong. I know you’re just doing the best you can, and the truth is, you’re not too shabby. Thanks, Body. And happy new year!
Love and Nosebleeds,
Annamal
Nazis: Wow they’re popular…
I’ll be damed if people don’t love watching stuff about Hitler.
Seriously, there are probably thousands of documentaries, series, television specials about the rise of Hitler and the Nazi party, and I can guarantee that you and your social network has collectively seen them all (I’m not ashamed to say that I watch them too). It’s astounding! The Nazis are to history what Ancient Egypt (and dinosaurs, for some ill informed people) is to archaeology.
Have you ever looked at the tv guide on the history channel? I can promise you that the program on is about one of three topics 99% of the time: A reality show about truck drivers/pawn shops/antiques, something about ancient Egypt (I know you’ve watched all of those too, don’t lie) OR it’s about NAZIS! Why?
Why are we so fascinated by it all? Are we still shocked and amazed that a failed artist/vegetarian managed to convince an entire country to persecute and kill millions of people? Are we feeling residual guilt for not getting involved sooner? Maybe we’re all just really impressed at the sheer efficiency in which all these people were exterminated (“Well I’ll be-that Adolf sure did kill a lot of people fast…”).
If you are one of those people that does watch all of those programs, I have a suggestion for you-watch the series Auschwitz. It’s available on Netflix instant and it’s a very honest and well made mini-series/documentary. And Linda Ellerbee does little chats at the end of each episode! But it’s not completely “Nick News”.
Traxx
Sooooooooo…I was trying to figure out how to upload music or add bits of songs for the blog when I found http://www.8tracks.com. It’s pretty neat-you can basically upload your own music and share playlists with people. You can listen to their music (but not illegally download) and they can listen to yours… Only problem is that wordpress doesn’t want me to imbed my list!! Gahhh…. WHY?! Okay, well that means no one gets to enjoy how awesome my track list was. Eat it, WordPress.
Adios, mofos.
Resolutions
I think I may be pro-resolution. It’s always good to have a goal for the beginning of any new “term.” Right?
I cannot argue with wanting to improve oneself for the sake of oneself. In that vein, I’ve spent the past 2 days trying to think of what I want my new years resolution to be. Productivity. That’s what I want to do, aim to be more productive in EVERYTHING. I want to Reagan EVERYDAY. Work, home, LIFE. But starting tomorrow… Look, I have a lot of DVRed Bevery Hills 90210 to watch, and no, I don’t mean the “new” on. Teen dramas were dramatic in the 90s-now they’re just kind of mind numbing. In the 90s they addressed issues like AIDs, abortion, censorship, and elections, not who Tiffany is sleeping with and where she got those killer shoes.
That was my soap box rant. Sorry guys, I get really passionate about things. Things like human rights, bank holidays, and tv shows that make me feel young again.
Anyway, I’m off to watch what the Walsh kids are facing today. Adios, mofos.
Good things: Intra-office terrorism.
A lot of people say they enjoy the simple things in life, and I claim to be no different. I enjoy walks alone, going to the grocery store, eating a good meal and various other everyday activities.
Like so many others, I also enjoy teasing and joking around. One day, my co-worker and an agency volunteer (both of whom are actually also friends of mine) decided to “prank” me. Despite saying she had protested and only participated under duress, the volunteer was swayed into helping my co-worker remove almost all the items (except for a relatively large fishbowl) from my desk and hiding them in very high spaces around the office. I am short so this was a bit distressing for me and my co-worker found herself in fits of laughter when I discovered her work. I promptly had her return all of the items, and pledged that the favor would be returned.
The favor continues to be returned.
In the days that followed, I tried to think of pranks that would be not just equivalent, but better than hers. I found myself in her office one day, retrieving something while she was at lunch, and left her notes in red sharpie on some of her things (a plastic container that held her gum, her mileage book, and a bottle of hand sanitizer). Little did I know, that these notes would drive her to distraction.
On her return, she found one and flipped out! She made her way to my office demanding I tell her when I had written on her things and how many notes I had left. The thought that she had completely missed things that were in plain sight had put her into a complete tizzy (“You could have roofied my drink and I wouldn’t have known!!!”). It was magical.
Knowing that she was not observant by any means, and that the mystery of the notes would consume her, I answered neither of her questions and decided to add more notes, in red Sharpie, here and there. Soon there were post-its in every nook and cranny in her office; they often greeted her cheerfully with a “Hello!!” or cryptically mocked her with greetings like “Hello, Clarice.” There were a few I was particularly proud of and excited for her to find, and knowing that there was “a really great one” she would find herself wasting 30 minutes scouring her office for the “it.” Every time she found a new note, she ran into my office exclaiming, “I found it!! It’s this one!” And then I would have to tell her that it wasn’t that one, but she would probably find it soon.
She eventually found the one that had the best hiding spot (I wrote “BOO!” on a post-it and took a picture of it with the office digital camera that she keeps), but she continues to find more, and still hasn’t found the one with the second to best hiding spot. Before they drove her crazy, but now there is an element of joy on her face when she finds one (today she found a note on a restaurant magnet that was on her filing cabinet) and she’s almost proud of herself. That will change soon, but I’m going to let her get comfortable first.
Intra-office terrorism: it’s a good thing.
SALT.
Okay, I realize that everyone and their sister is a ‘foodie’ and it’s totally the hip and trendy thing to be and do these days, BUT I want to put it out there that I loved food before it was chic.
I loved food when it made your stomach ache and your jeans tight (thank the miracle worker that thought to put “stretch” in jeans!)-I’m what has been called an eater. I eat when I’m bored, happy, excited, pissed. I’ve been known to do, what I call, “anger-baking” and make a meal simply because I wanted to see if I could. I love food, feeding people, learning to do something new in the kitchen, and most of all-I LIKE TO EAT.
So, knowing all this, my annamalfacts expert of a roommate bought me salt for Christmas. Not just regular salt, but FANCY salts. She did also bestow an adorable pepper grinder, but honestly, the salt stole the show. The list includes: smoked salt(!), Hawaiian red salt (!!), Himalayan pink salt (!!!), Eurasian black salt, and truffle salt (!!!!!). I have no clue what to do with all of these things, but I’m pumped to figure out what they’re best on.
If you, dear reader, have a suggestion, let me know!!
Numero Uno
Raise your hand if you “appreciate art.”
I could sit here and proselytize about art having meaning and integrity, but if you appreciate it, then well, you already know that. That being said, you should find this doc-or mock?-umentary frustrating, unbelievable, and hilarious. In that order.
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Annamal's Guide to Life and Style... 