At the Chinese New Year Parade

My old phone, the one I woke up and found submerged in a glass of water by my bedside, had a much better camera. This one's, like 1.3 mega pixels.

I kind of want to go buy a decent camera. But I also don't want to turn into one of those people who runs around documenting everything. The only whiteys I saw had huge telephoto lenses and camera cases.

Afterwards, Olivia and I went to Dumpling House. I'm not into dumplings. Anything smooshy and served in a broth generally has me wary.

These were good though. I had pork something or other and a sesame pancake.

Fun with Google Image Search: junior varsity squad

The eagle is a bird of prey. The prey? CHEERLEADERS.

When mom and dad heard about the price of the uniform, they initially balked. They were relieved to learn it would enjoy years of use when Kimmi gets pregnant, drops out, and goes to work slinging cocktails at an Indian casino.


You can bag on cheerleaders all you want, but I LOVE these girls. Tell me they're not adorable. Tell me they're not having fun. Makes you want to sing the school song and host a charity car wash while snorting puffy paint through your megaphone.

These bitches? OPPOSITE. The one in the middle is the reason why I dropped out halfway through high school. Who knows where I could have taken that shit? I could be fucking enormous-wanged NBA players and collecting diamonds for alleged infidelities. At bare minimum, modeling for car shows.


I'll take Flash Gordon Caught in a Glitter Storm Without Appropriate Shelter for the win, John.

Not to get too personal, but I once had a stalker. Even that guy doesn't scare me as much as Lion Head Girl. It's the primary reason Irmo Junior Vocational Tech remains undefeated against all opponents.

At first I was all like, "This is stupid. Cheerleaders don't hang out at the beach. Come ahhhwwwn." Then I noticed the name of the alma mater: SEA KINGS. That fucking OWNS. It's like a street gang from the Fifties. The Sea Kings ruled Brighton Beach and used to get into fisticuffs with the Mastiffs and the Shoobie Boys.

I'll go easy on your girls since you're all of 11, but I will impart one important little bit of advice: black tennies with bare legs will always make you look like domestic help. Trust me. I used to work at Bennigan's during the summer months. Gang up on your coach and whine in that really annoying way teenage girls do until you get better footwear. I believe in you.

UNDERNEATH THIS DIAPER, I AM TOTALLY NUUUUUUUUUDE

my sister did a comic.

"Yeah, that's right. Get some." -- Cat Stevens

Finally, a crush my mother and I can agree on. This picture makes me want to reach through my screen and give him an HJ, even though that zipper is like, 19 inches long.

Fun with Google Image Search: senior portrait

Old Spice High, Class of 1897

Clark Kent: The Early Years, brought to you by Olan Mills

Photo shoot for sanitary napkin commercial? Or school photographer a centimeter away from illegal?

YOU MAKE THE CALL.

Uh...whoa.

Think this one already had a run-in with the photographer a few shots above.

Bro, what's up, bro?

Easy there, Gretchen. That's a horse, not a boyfriend.

Dude, my brother caught the same thing down in Singapore.

Mommy, what's "bitch slap rapping"?

junior year and senior of college i was obsessed with one thing: my biceps.

still pumped from having seen terminator 2 several years previous, i had somehow convinced myself that 4 times weekly gym sessions, embarrassing magazine subscriptions and foul-tasting supplements were the key to developing linda hamilton guns that would take the place of the stork-like linguini appendages i had inherited from my mother.

t2 was more than a movie to me. it was a way of thinking. a lifestyle. one that says it's ok for women to be old. it's ok for them to handle firearms, ride motorcycles, and beat the tar out of somebody.

not that i ever needed an OK, but still. it's always nice to have one. at one point i had linda hamilton pictures in my car, at my workplace, and in my gym locker.

my boyfriend never said anything, but i'm sure he must have found it more than a little odd. those days he spent most of his time trying to avoid me, as any face-to-face contact of longer than 5 minutes would lead to a solicitation for arm wrestling.

I KNOW I CAN TAKE YOU!
JUST ONE MORE TIME!
COME ON!!!!!!!!!!!!!

my biceps quest ended when, after a year of work, i happened upon ms. hamilton's workout routine in an old issue of entertainment weekly and discovered: 1. i had made very little progress, and 2. i'd never have the discipline nor the means to ford rivers, eat dry salads, or spend face time with a former israeli commando.

now along comes this new series: The Sarah Connor Chronicles.

and grandma's a little worried. i gotta tell you.

to go from this:



to this:



just doesn't spell promising.

you can almost hear the discussion between the producers:

---

producer #1
But I don't get it. The main character isn't the robot.

producer #2
Yes, but the main character is O-L-D.

producer #3
So?

producer #1
We can't have an O-L-D promoting the series. How will we get sponsors?

producer #2
Good point. Let's go with the 20 year old ballet dancer.

producer #3
20? I thought you said she was 19.

producer #1
Get Jim on the horn. See if there's still time to cast a younger sister...

---

i'm being super judgmental though. i know very little about it. maybe it'll be really good.

one thing's for sure: NO SUPERFUCKINGAWESOME HIT VIDEO FEATURING A WHITE SPANDEX BICYCLE SHORTS-WEARING AXL ROSE.

I'd Like to Know Where You Got the Notion

Can anyone who sews help me?

I'm trying to find a cloth-covered wire bent into the shape of a U that sort of folds over and has a u-shaped piece that it fits into so the two of them work like a button to hold a coat together.

my big puffy whorey pimp ebay coat has them and several have fallen off and i'd like to replace them. but i do not know what the fuck they're called. hook & eye? frogs?

i went to joann fabrics but it was no help. probably cause i didn't know what the F i was looking for.