Does it annoy anyone else when people say “a couple” when they really mean “a few”? I mean, it doesn’t annoy me as such, but “a couple” very obviously means “two” and why would you use it otherwise, because that’s asking for trouble.
Anyway. The first link is one I got off this post on reddit. Executive summary: American mortgage broker becomes homeless, has laptop, maintains some kind of social life/support network by talking to people on the internet. He’s now set up a blog at Lillyweather Lane whereon he’s documenting his continuing adventures. I will point out that he is both smart people and good writers and well worth reading.
Link the second is to a main dudette of mine who has finally done the honourable thing and started a blog. She’s from Belfast, everyone. She has a funny accent. It adds at least three layers of excellent to her already jolly good material.
And just because I’m not about to be pushed around by no pedant, here’s a third link I happened to have open. I don’t care whose toes I step on.
Far be it from me, in general terms, to make grand statements about a book I haven’t even finished reading yet, but listen: David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest is the greatest extant work of art in any medium. Every single page excites me. I have been excited a total of 758 distinct times so far, not counting endnotes, and that’s hard to argue with.
So those touchscreen video jukeboxes: concealed within each one is a metric shitacre of hilarity. Every song gets a limited amount of real estate, with the result that titles often get truncated, leaving us with gems like:
- I Would Do Meat Loaf
- Here Comes The Shorty Long
- I Just Called Stevie Wonder
and the reigning champion:
- She Bangs The Stone Roses
But I’ve discovered that it’s not limited to video jukeboxes. The wee little yokes in Eddie Rockets, with their charming old-timey tunes, are suggestive goldmines. Witness:
- I’m Gonna Tear Your Ann Peebles
- But I Do Clarence Henry
- Tell Laura I Love Her Ray Petersen
and the plaintive
I would have more for you, but things got a bit Jimmy Ruffin last night after some girl accused me of grabbing her Ray Petersen, at which point her boyfriend punched me right in the Ann Peebles. Bad times.
but this man has the right idea.
I was going to just throw a remark in about what a great song The Bewlay Brothers is, but of course I ended up listening to the rest of Hunky Dory. Huge album, like. Enormous. And what with the poncing around the flat and whatnot, I ended up leaving to go to Supervalu two minutes late, meaning I arrived one minute after they locked the doors. Damnit Bowie, always one step ahead.
Still, I’ve found half a bottle of Malibu stuck in the back of a cupboard so I’m not completely at sea. Coconut is a type of food.
I had no idea what my alarm was this morning. I’m talking serious moment of panic. This weird beeping noise coming out of the walls, my phone hopping around with these unfamiliar lights coming out of it… and this was after waking up in the middle of the night and spending a bleary few minutes trying to figure out how the walls had reconfigured themselves without anyone noticing.
Seriously disoriented. On the other hand, great hair today.
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