i have the capability to sit in my apartment alone, writing up lists of exactly what shirts to bring on my vacation; however, i cant seem to simply pick my socks up off the floor or clean out my car.

lists lists lists lists lits sits for listssssssssss

i spent an entire morning composing a blog entry about commercials. since this thing autosaves everything right away, said entry is filed neatly away in my archives. instead of hearing me thoughts on effective advertising, but not veering ENTIRELY off the subject, i present you with this:



i dont recall when i first saw this, but its one of my favorite things on YouTube. mostly because ive been obsessing over The Shining ever since i was little and fucking freaked because there is a picture of my dad in the same red jacket AND same hairstyle as Jack. i never developed that invisible friend/talking finger complex though. have you ever paid attention to the wardrobe in this movie? incredible, with a few rare exceptions (tan corduroy overalls over a flannel? bad idea, mrs. torrence. no wonder your husband wants to kill you.) all of you bitches out there know for a fact that if danny torrence were about 23 and you saw him riding a bike wearing THIS


rocketship sweater, and sporting this perfect haircut, you would cream your pants and then go home and try to find him on myspace.

i am no good at many things.
i.e photography, turning off the oven, paying attention, focusing.

do i have ADD?

this, tender reader, is my kind-of-but-not-by-blood nephew, devon.
we went to the zoo!
it was...you know...just like the zoo, but the lions were being lazy as hell and were nowhere to be found, and the gorrilla setup REALLY REALLY stank. very stinky.

we travelled to Niagara Falls, just because devon is 9 now and will actually remember it.
most memorable moment was not the look of wonder on the youngsters face when presented with one of the seven wonders of the world...
it was this social commentary as we were leaving:

(as we were heading north on some street, back to our car, a rather pudgy drunk bum stands on our left, smoking. a group of glam/goth fashion kids walk toward us, heading south. i mean...you know that band AFI? like, that hair? that myspace glammy black/blonde spikey chunky hair? bleeeggghhh.)

bum: heyuu kids gat any money? iayno bum i swear. im juss tryin to get hometa makids.
group of kids: no way, sorry man. no. no money sorry. etc.
bum: ahdammit (proceedes to smoke).

devon: i KNOW those goth kids got money. (devon lives in alabama, BTdubs.)
me: what? why?
devon: i know they got money because how else do you think they get their hair all dyed and done like that all crazy? how do they get all them goth CHAINS? where in the heck do they buy ALL those black CLOTHES!? they spend allllllll their money to look all....weird....like that. why ARE they wearin all them black clothes for? dont they know its hot out here? ITS SO HOT!


once, i told devon i didnt want to go for a bikeride because "i was tired."
he proceeded to tell me, "well, youre also a BUTTHOLE!"

yoy.

weve been adventuring!
weve been out walking in our new shoes.
weve been complimenting you; how come you dont blush in your modesty?
we're smoothing down and heat-gliding and aligning.

slip and slides were pretty harsh. what adult figured it was a good idea for a child to heave their bodies TO THE GROUND onto some plastic strip lubricated with water? i mean, youre basically trying to break a 6 year old's arms. you are throwing yourself onto the ground. after running from a fairly decent distance, after gaining speed.
they were fucking fun. chrissy, jenny, michael, my brother and i used to kill it on those things. michael had this genious idea...put the hose on the swingset slide and the slip-n-slide at the bottom. i thought it was amazing. i was only about 8 years old, and when i got to the top, i stood up. keep in mind, girls had perpetual bathing suit wedgies/saggy butts back then. my brother was in charge of turning the hose on as soon as we reached THREE. and s we all counted "ONE! TWO! THREEEEEE!" and i plugged my nose (????) and flopped my ass down on the slide. my asshole bipolar little brother didnt let the kink out of the hose and i ASS SQUEALED down to the bottom. narry a slip OR slide in sight.

last year, around this time, my best friend angela and i went on a trip to vegas to see my other best friend tim. the night we got there we had a little love affair with casino-side bevvies and Maddog 20/20. long story short, i attempted to do a "YEAH!!!" jump (you must know what those are) off of some concrete patio furniture on the way to the community pool and i busted my shit all over the pavement. i still went swimming (doye) beacause alcohol is the devil and i drove myself to the hospital the next morning to find out i seriously sprained it.

whatever, i still drank beers in the pool while crying on the inside.

anyways! 3 lortabs, one cast, and crutches later, EVERYONE in vegas decides its time to rig a giant tarp onto this hill in a public park and turn the sprinkler system on, thus making THE SLIP-N-SLIDE that broke my heart.




can you imagine not being able to slid down this thing? i was wearing a damned dress, fainted from taking too many lortabs without drinking water in 120 degree heat. these kids were wasted, flipping down the hill. they were holding hands. surfing. somersaulting. fuck.


to make up for all the negativity associated with water and soap covered plastic...you must rent me this:

WTF!