I am a lyrical soul, bound to get carried away. I am officially in love with everything Roisin Murphy touches. Her new video is ridiculous. It's like she and Yves Tanguy went drinking one night, and this is the product of their hangover.

All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth. What I want for Christmas (aside from Clone High on DVD):



If anyone can make it happen, Jesus can.

Fist, a brick in my hand. I'm not sure why, but my step-mother has started sending me what are supposed to be humorous fowards, but are actually thinly-veild portraits of misanthropy. Here's today's installment:

A study recently conducted by UCLA's Department of Psychiatry has revealed that the kind of face a woman finds attractive on a man can differ depending on where she is in her menstrual cycle.

For example, if she is ovulating, she is attracted to men with rugged and masculine features. However, if she is menstruating or menopausal, she tends to be more attracted to a man with scissors lodged in his temple and tape over his mouth while he is on fire.

Basically, women are hormone-crazed, maniacal bitches who like to set men on fire? I don't know. I guess it's funny. Ha...ha... It kind of makes me want to hide all the scissors in the house and send my dad away for a week each month for his own safety.

My soul is climbing tree trunks. HOLY SHIT YES I GOT THE JOB!

*pumps fist in air*

*dances around like a crazy person*

Sweet in winter, sweet in rain. Once again, if you aren't reading The Stranger, you're missing out. This made me laugh so hard, especially this part, where the author discusses choosing a dating Web site handle:

I became "Nakedanddamned" because I have problems with intimacy and yet, ironically, look really good without my clothes on.

Can't you feel it burning. I may have my horror stories, but nothing compares to these babies. Oh ho ho thank the good Lord nothing this bad has ever transpired to, on, or near my naked flesh.

I can't get you out of my head. There is not a day that goes by when I don't miss my wombat:



Me: Is that you nibbling on my ear?
Raoul: Of course, and giving u a tender kiss
Me: Awww...am so loved
Raoul: Yes yes yes loooove loove looove

Nobody knows where they might end up. Sometimes a song comes up that encapsulates every little emotion that's working its way through my tired mind. Lately it's been Guster's "Come Downstairs and Say Hello," but as I was walking on the frigid island, Mike Doughty's "I Hear The Bells" got it right. I downloaded the song a few weeks ago in my quest for the Veronica Mars soundtrack and didn't think much of it on first listening, but it's a rather cheeky tune that sums up my current frame of mind surprisingly well. This part was especially trenchant:

You snooze, you lose
Well I have snost and lost
I'm pushing through
I'll disregard the cost
I hear the bells
So fascinating and
I'll slug it out
I'm sick of waiting

Bring it.

Stimulate my body. Hey everyone, check out my ass!

Woo! Bootylicious!

Combien de fois la fin du monde nous a frôlés. Damnit! My favorite French professor didn't get tenure! Fuck you, Swells! This is the second time in a week you've pissed me off, and I don't even attend you anymore. Nique ta mère, Swells. Nique. Ta. Mère.

There's always something to remind me. Loo has sent me the best holiday card ever. It outlines her holiday plans for us when she returns to the city from the frigid north. Basically she has descriped the anti-tourist New York holiday, and she made me laugh so hard:

I think we should be totally different...and do everything opposite of normal tourist stuff in NYC when we hang out. For instance, instead of going to the Met, we'll go to the Museum of Natural History. And instead of going skating at Roc Center, we'll go ice skating in Central Park (like in "Serendipity"). And instead of going to the tree at Roc, we'll just pick a random tree in the sidewalk and gaze at it in awe, take photos, etc. Yay!!

I can actually picture us choosing some ratty-ass NYC sidewalk tree and singing carols around it. Yay for the holidays.

To tell me what I want and what my life lacks. Every now and then, I go through my blog archives and delete my whinier posts from back in the day because, frankly, my inane brattiness does not need to be preserved for posterity. However, I have noticed a few interesting things after my most recent cleansing:

1. The amount of annoying posts (from my perspective, anyway) has dramatically decreased since my sophomore year of college. Hooray for progress!


2. The amount of people reading and responding to my blog has also dramatically increased. I owe you all a cookie.


And perhaps the most important thing I have noticed...


3. This is the first blog template I've created which does not prominently feature an artistic rendition of a nude woman. Either I have outgrown my latent bisexuality, or I'm simply suffering because the Yves Klein I had up earlier has disappeared and now I'm using artistic tarot cards to express myself. Either way, it is a credit to you male readers out there that you aren't frequenting this site just for the boobies...although I'm sure they helped.

Tell me a fable. Film critiques don't usually include critiques of other reviews, but that's just reason #576 why you should love The Stranger.

Damnit, I really want to see this movie!

Happiness and cheer. I guess Linus really is the only person who remembers the spirit of the season.

Can I get a "Hell yeah!" This guy pretty much sums up everything my father and I have been talking about ever since November 27 when the crazies started coming out of the wood work and, assuming we're all God-fearing Christians, have been coming up to us and ranting and raving about this so-called "war on Christmas." Dear Christians: You make up 80% of the population of this country. It is, by definition, impossible for us to discriminate against you! Chill the fuck out!

Best part:

Well we’ve fucking had it. You want to play bullshit games and scream about how God’s fucking judgment is gonna come raining down on us if we don't start watching our vocabulary? Go right the fuck ahead. But let me clue you in on something: fire and brimstone ain’t no deterrent for us. We’re not going to hell, assholes, we’re fucking in hell. We live with you.

I will wish you "Happy Holidays" if I damn well please. But frankly, at this point, you're lucky if I even brake for you while you're crossing the street.

Ticking clock; everyone stop. I got my alum magazine in the mail today, and it made me so mad. It was all about the new campus center, and this thing is ridiculous! It's gorgeous and modern and has tons of windows and it's not fair! Stupid Swells, opening your gorgeous new student center the second I graduate. Here's the letter I want to write them:

FUCK YOU SWELLS, I DIDN'T GET TO HANG OUT IN YOUR SUPER-AWESOME CAMPUS CENTER.

p.s. Your career services suck.

In other news, my dog is asleep on my legs and he's snoring. It's really funny.

Have you blood on your hands? Merriam-Webster OnLine's word of the day is "nepotism." Like I don't fucking know what that means! This is almost as bad as the time the word of the day was "challah." Way to help me out, M-W!

I'll be your chauffeur on a midnight drive. Hats off to TWoP for actually making me laugh out loud with this oldie but goldie:

George responds that he's an "old-fashioned kind of guy." In my experience, that only means they won't go down on you. Oh my God, did I really just type that?

Sounds like everyone I've ever dated. I MEAN, no, I have no idea what's going on. Where am I?

I'm just a notch in your bedpost.The business man who represents the GMAT on the Kaplan Scrolling Marquee is ridiculously good-looking. How am I supposed to care about memorizing new vocabulary words when Mr. Hotty McBusinessPants is taunting me with his dry erase marker? Also, if I get a high score on the GRE, do I get to date him? 'Cause then it'd be a very nice incentive...though I doubt he's Jewish.

Leave me to regard the world in better ways. My dad bought me a new computer for my birthday (so shiny!), and I've gone on a huge downloading binge. Months of pent-up music lust are coming out, and I'm completely in love with what I've found. It's quite distracting and is totally preventing me from going about my normal routine. Alas, I am an internet piracy junky.

Anyway, here's what iTunes and I are currently in love with:

• Stereophonics - "Dakota"


• The Velvet Teen - "Radiapathy" and "Naked Girl"


• Beck - "Missing" and "Earthquake Weather" (and all of Guero)


• Roisin Murphy - "If We're in Love"


• The Delays - "Long Time Coming"

There's more, but I haven't had time to cycle through it all yet. Check this stuff out. You won't regret it.

Know it's time to wake up. Go check out "Was it Really that Bad: Black Death" from the Colbert Report. Colbert delivers the best backpacking-through-Europe rant ever. Reminds me of something that happened to me in Florence with two Canadians.

I don't know where we are going now. Fuck it. I think this guy is fabulous. And he makes me feel optimistic. So mock all you want; I don't care:

In her profile on poet John Ashbery in The New Yorker, Larissa MacFarquhar reports that his Manhattan apartment is deeply chaotic. "Everything needs to be open and nothing is ever closed," she quotes Ashbery's partner as saying. "Drawers. Cabinets. Closet doors. Everything! All possibilities must be available at all times." This happens to be my exact prescription for you, Sagittarius. Make your heart as innocent as possible. Suspend your opinions. Judge nothing. Be hungry for the raw truth and beauty that can be captured with the aid of naked receptivity. Oh, and keep all your cabinets and drawers open.

In other news, people who quote Milan Kundera on their facebook profiles creep me out.

I'm not a player I just crush a lot. I have been reading a little bit of Jane Austen for its superior source of GRE words (Panegyric! Alacrity!), and I have stumbled upon what is, perhaps, the most fabulous pick up line ever. Well, maybe that's an exaggerated appraisal of the situation, but it still made me laugh out loud when I read it:

"I do not think we were speaking at all....We have tried two or three subjects already without success, and what we are to talk of next I cannot imagine."

"What think you of books?" said he, smiling.

Darcy is the man!