Again, lazy. But this couldn't be passed up.

Fugly! The What Not to Crochet Blog.

I had something truly inspiring to write, but now I'm not in the mood, so instead you get this:

Liveblogging The Hills trailer

The view from my office window.

Followup commentary:
1. The cemetery is not really pink.
2. There are no gruesome tiny murders occurring in the windows surrounding it. Sadly.

Brrrring! Brring!

Remember this? The funniest thing EVER. From an unlikely source.

What @!#%! time is it?

Yeah, 345. I'm Very thirsty and my mouth and throat feel like they've been sandpapered. I've been dreaming about men's butts, Kitty Carlisle and musicals. I wish I were kidding. All the men were actually or based on people I knew and coincidentally had the same name. I also popped some Jiffy Pop (in my dream). Maybe that's why I'm so thirsty.

I just took some Claritin and Tums. Maybe my situation will improve.

Totally unrelated, but pretty neat quote

“There are so many clichés about love, food and cooking,” she said. “But cooking with your lover is a great way to see where your relationship is. I have been called an alpha cook, but when I am in love, the man can put as much salt, cream and butter into the dish as he wants. Even if it’s ruined, it’s still the best dish you’ve ever eaten.”

- Kim Sunee, in today's New York Times. She's had a pretty interesting life. I think I'm going to get her book.

Anna Karenina Quote of the Day

She hardly knew at times what it was she feared, and what she hoped for. Whether she feared or desired what had happened, or what was going to happen, and exactly what she longed for, she could not have said.

- Tolstoy, "Anna Karenina"

Things you think about when you're vomiting.

Will I stop vomiting?
Why can't I stop vomiting?
What exactly am I vomiting?
I need to clean the bathroom.
Boy I'd like to sleep, but I keep getting up to vomit.
Ick.

Did you ever wonder....

Whether you weren't good enough for him? Or, rather, maybe he wasn't good enough for you? Or, both? Neither?

Nope. Not at all.

I need someone to illustrate this character for me.

Stormy Pleather - Tales of a Vegan Dominatrix!

I need a talented and mildly kinky artiste with whom to collaborate. The only thing I can draw are happy faces and Snoopy sleeping on his doghouse.

A special, heartfelt message to several cast members of "Gauntlet 3: Real World Road Rules Challenge"

Dear Beth,

You are forty.

Dear Coral,

You are bald.

Dear Katie,

You are haggard.

Dear Robin,

You are a man.

Love,
Michelle

Hug the cow!

I want. I don't know why. No, I really don't want. But if I had counter space, I'd enjoy a whimsical toaster.

The Team: Mongolia

Very cool. Go click here and do your thing.

Featuring the voices of Jesse Falcon, Matt DeCoster and Margot Leitman. Created and written by Pete Olson.

Strange AND compelling!

Betcha can't watch it just once!

Bret Easton Ellis's "Velveteen Psycho"

"How do you become Real?" said the butter-soft, black glove-leather Rabbit.

"Real is when you are capable of feeling Real things. Only killing someone can make you Real." The Skinned Horse was old. So old he had become not quite Antique, but definitely Vintage. His pony-spotted coat had been sheared nearly off and tiny down feathers and lofty Egyptian cotton tufted from his battered form.

"But I don't feel anything, Skinned Horse. No pain, no happiness. Nothing. How can I feel Real things?"

"When you shoot a nail in the back of a beautiful girl's head. Or drive a gleaming ax into the body of some asshole you can't stand anyway. Or when you shoot a kitten, and maybe an old lady."

"Will this make me Real?" The Rabbit's shaky voice grew more determined as it echoed through the minimally-decorated bedroom, on the thirty-sixth floor of the best building in the West Eighties.

The Skinned Horse lit a Dunhill and dragged on it slowly, deliberately exhaling a stream of smoke towards the foot of the Conrans tubular-steel framed bed. "Better. Or worse. It will make you Human."

my afternoon if my afternoon was documented by Bret Easton Ellis

so I woke up in the middle of the afternoon kind of disoriented, and remembering the dream I just had where I was in the Sunshine Theater ladies room getting undressed and then I wondered why I had my pants off. I guess that's kind of weird but typical if you were the sort of person who analyzed dreams which I wasn't. My shrink was youngish and always wore boots and chewed Trident and told me every time she quit smoking except it never lasted and I always saw her when I was late, outside on her cell phone smoking her Parliaments. Stretched out, took a big slug of water from the half open bottle on my nightstand. Thought about ordering Burritoville, maybe some nachos. Bean burrito, extra guac. The usual. I flipped through an old Salinger paperback I picked up from the tiny book store on St Marks that got smaller by half every year. It wasn't one of the famous ones they made you read in school, it was pretty rambling bullshit but somehow cool. I stuffed it in the back pocket of my jeans, threw on my down coat, pulled up the hood of my red hoodie with the Looney Tunes cat on it that vaguely irritated me, and headed out for a walk. Anywhere. It was four-thirty and I hadn't been out all day. I never did get the burrito.

Yin/yang, yum/yuck....you decide.

The blog, "Offal Good" by the mad sexy contender from "The Next Iron Chef," Chris Cosentino. Damn, he makes me forgive bleachy faux-hawking. It's NSFDT (Not safe for delicate tummies).

Me, I have had some deliciously prepared tripe. Can't wrap my head around liver, although I'd eaten it when I was a kid. Same with kidneys, although the tiny 19th century anglophile in my head would love to try a steak and kidney pie. Kind of.

Rats.

Make Me a Stupormodel (too easy, I know)

"It's like a fraternity....except really good-looking"
- Make me a Supermodel

You know, watching Niki and Tyson (darling do you need a last name?) make me realize how great Heidi Klum is at her job. And, believe it or not, Tyra. She's fakey, but in a believable way. Genuinely fakey.

I know I don't make sense. I've eaten my weight in baked potatoes. I'm kinda miserable. I've been watching too much Bravo TV.

But given the choice between being a supermodel and a WWE Diva, guess which I'd prefer?