Friday, February 26, 2010

How To Write a VC Andrews book: bayou, blonde, lithe, rich, rape, father, incest. Done.

Why do you hate VC Andrews? No really, I never read Flowers in the Attic.

When I was a young pre-teen tweak in the making, I was well read. I was just one of those reader kids, and I was lucky enough to have parents who had good taste, and aunts who thought books were the best presents. I read everything in the house, and then I read it again and again.

I don't know if I got them from the library or friends, or who knows, maybe my parents, but somehow The Babysitters Club and Sweet Valley High made it into the house. Babysitters Club was mostly harmless. The adventures of high school girl stereotypes as they maintain friendships and make money and have silly boyfriend and kid debacles was not literature, but it was mindless and mostly innocent. Sweet Valley High however was more insipid. The Twins were perfect blonde barbies with perfect boyfriends and cars and beaches, and the books made a point to mention over and over again how perfect their size 6 bodies were. Interesting and depressing side note: the more recent Sweet Valley books make the girls a perfect size 4. Thanks guys.

I was embarrassed to read these books even then, but they were my go-to books when I was home sick or just wanted something quick to read. Cause you could go through any of those books in an hour. It was my pre-teen equivalent of watching One Tree Hill reruns. Mostly I picked them up if I had nothing new to read that was better.

However when the Sweet Valley Twins hooked up with guys, it was kissing and mostly making out in cars. It was not having sex with your brother in an attic because your Super Christ Freak grandmother has you locked in the attic, because she thinks of you as inbred Devil Spawn freaks.

VC Andrews books were basically what the Twilight series is now, bad formulaic writing that makes copious use of the sexualization of young girls. It is pre-teen porn. Everyone good is beautiful and blonde, everyone evil is either ugly, or slutty. There is no subtlety, every moment is overblown and dramatic. The plots exist solely to railroad you through to the end, jumping from sexy scene to violent scene to sexy scene. But all with a veil of Wrongness draping over every Louisiana bayou scene. It is WRONG to do these things, it is WRONG to be sexy, it will lead to you being kidnapped, tortured, or murdered if you are sexy, being a young girl is Wrong and Dangerous.

VC Andrews was herself an anti-social cripple in her young life, just like Stephanie Meyers is a repressed Mormon. What they've both done is figure out a way to produce over and over again a representation of their own fucked up mental states in legalized child porn.

And you know, if adults want to read that stuff, fine. I don't even think there's a problem with smart well read kids reading it every once in a while. Everyone picks up a romance novel or a pulp horror novel sometimes. But when I was young, I was reading one, maybe even two books a day. Most kids don't do that. And when they are only reading a book occasionally, I don't think they should only be reading trash. Because it doesn't encourage them to read good stuff later, it just guarantees they will keep reading trash. Like bad CSI and lawyer novels, or NY Times paperback bestsellers.

And the really bad part about these books is that you don't learn anything from them. You don't learn about sex. You don't learn about people. You learn nothing about the real world, or science, or imagination. In fact, you don't even learn how to properly fantasize about sex or relationships, which is ridiculous, at least if the books did that they would have some defensible purpose. Maybe, MAYBE, you could argue it builds vocabulary. But they use the word bosom in Jane Eyre too.

There's this idea that as long as kids are reading, and it's a young adult novel (which of course is perfectly safe), then it's better than nothing. I hate that idea. What you read as a child impacts your life in such a heavy permanent way. It dictates what part of culture you're going to identify with, what you'll choose to read when you're older, and what kind of interests you develop. It changes how you'll do in high school, what kind of friends you'll make, what kind of conversations you'll have with strangers. It's fucking important.

So that's why I hate VC Andrews, and also why I will be the aunt who buys books. Just watch. You start popping out kids, I am going to sign you up for the Madeleine L'Engle book of the month club.

Ask me anything

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

When Vampires Eat Crayons, They Become Power Rangers

What will happen if I eat crayons?

Funny story. When I was very small, I fed my much smaller new baby sister some watercolor paints. Then everyone freaked out when her urine was weird colors. I don't know if this story is true per se, I remember knowing it, but I don't remember if I imagined it, or Mom told me at some point, or like I made it up while writing a story. I have quite a few childhood memories like that, mostly insignificant events or silly uncertain details.

If you eat crayons, your entire life will become my memory. Every day will morph into a technicolor haze of faces you can't quite place, while Tom's Diner plays on hellish repeat in that space between your ears that you forgot to clean up after dreaming.

You'll stare for hours at your own fingers, marveling at their ugliness, their uncanny resemblance to the shade Flesh.

Also, your pee will turn reddish brown. It will not be from the wax.

If you had to referee a fight between two local media personalities who would they be and who would win and why? And would you throw the fight in favor of one or the other?

I had to think about this for a while, at least five minutes. And here is my conclusion. I cannot name a single local media personality anymore. I mean, I can pull Robin Svaboda and that's it. Which I was going to say something snarky about, something about how she shouldn't feel so good about that because I also think she wears a wig and is a pill popper. But you know, let's let her have that one. I've lived in this town for the good part of thirty tv watching, newspaper and free magazine reading, radio listening years, and she is the only one whose name I know. I seriously can't even think of that old guys name, the one with the Woolly Bears. I fucking remember the Woolly Bears though.

I suppose I could think of two bloggers to fight each other. But I like being neutral and peaceful and just writing my crap without interference. Bloggers are nasty beasts if you wake them up from hibernation. Also, I would kind of feel ill giving them the title "media personality". Or, even better, I could name two bartenders! But you never know where you might end up drinking.

In conclusion: I'm so Switz.

is it ok to like twilight?

NO. No, it's not okay. It's not okay even in a cheesy girly laughing ironic way. It's so not okay, I can't even make a joke about it. It is bad writing, it's terrible for young girls to read, and it's an emblem of everything that is wrong with our country's perception of sex.

Also I hate puppies and unicorns and flowers. And VC Andrews.

(that part about the unicorns is a lie. that part about VC Andrews is true. REALLY REALLY TRUE)

Ask me anything

Edit: My mom just sent me an email telling me that I ate crayons when I was little and peed purple. I don't know, I remember watercolors too. Also, this explains why I have a repulsion towards ever watching Purple Rain.

Edit edit: I predict that one of the girls on American Idol will cover Tom's Diner this year.


Monday, February 22, 2010

I used to have a pet gecko. It died. They don't live that long, just saying.

What are your favorite things in Cleveland that aren't there anymore? Like places that have been bulldozed, restaurants or stores that have closed, etc.

Hmmm, let's see. I miss the gyro place that used to be on Lorain across from the Unique Thrift. I miss Europa, which was a dirty nasty club by Berea Rd. The boy and I were just talking about how much it sucked that no one had bought Marshalls, which was a bar on W. 41st and Bridge that got closed because the owner did some bad bad things. But it had a piano! It was probably the first bar I was ever in with a piano. I liked the Hi and Dry a lot when it was open, Alli and I liked to pretend we had money and eat there after paydays. The old Grog shop, which was infinitely better and nastier than the new Grog shop. Speak In Tongues, always. No place like it yet. I wish the Bop Stop would figure out if it's going to be open or not. The old Grid downtown, when it was next to the porn store and the Goldschlager flowed freely.

I miss the view of the steel mill before they put that gawdawful shopping plaza there.

Do you talk out loud with yourself?

Constantly. This is a habit I picked up from my dad, who used to have conversations with himself all the time while working or doing dishes. Now I will break into little snippets of conversation all the time if I'm alone, especially in the car. But, just like my dreams, it's always third person conversations between vague undefined characters, and very seldom has anything to do with anything going on in my actual life at that moment. Its usually very dramatic moments too, like breakups or lies or apologies. Other people are constantly lying in my head, to other people.

I think my brother does it too. I'm not sure about my sister. But I think those of us who do talk to ourselves are people who have lots and lots of wheels spinning in our heads all the time, like high metabolic thoughts, and it doesn't mean we're crazy at all. At all. In fact, it means we're smarter than you, so smart that we have to let our words get out of our heads or they will back up like clogged plumbing and then one day explode our skull, probably someplace really inconvenient like on the highway or in the middle of a movie. And then wouldn't you be sorry?

Answer: you would.

What's with car insurance companies and the goofy mascots?

I don't know. Am I allowed to talk about how much I hate Flo? I mean, I do, lipstick to headband. But other people LOVE her. No really. LOVE HER. It's made me realize how utterly disconnected I am from the American populace, since I can't get THAT at all. And that Esurance chick? Oh my god can SHE suck it. The Allstate guy who used to president on 24, and has made his entire career out of seeming trustworthy? Heartless bastard. Looks like he strangles puppies with those hands.The fucking cavemen from Geico who lost my sympathy vote when it became really clear that even cavemen make more money than I do, with their bikes and tennis sweaters and pools. And don't even get me started on "Justin Case". Even though I would probably fuck him. Meaning, I would.

The only one I have any tolerance for is that damn lizard. And I think that's only cause I have a soft spot for things that shed their skin and poop everywhere and only want a nice piece of hot sun to lie in. Also, they're probably keeping him alive with some horribly painful scientific equipment, the same stuff they used on Dick Clark and Casey Casem, where like you get formaldehyde injected in your eyeballs and lips. Cause I think the lifespan of a gecko is like a year, at most, that's how long mine lived.

Oh wait, Google is telling me it's at least seven.

Ask me anything

Quiche Cliche.

So I'm pretty sure in some cultures, when a woman reaches a certain mature age, such as when convenient store clerks might justifiably start calling her ma'am, she celebrates this longevity by learning to cook brunch foods and party dips.

I woke up yesterday with a craving for breakfast, but not enough time to get any before work. So the eggs craving stayed with me all day. First I thought I wanted a frittata, but when I started searching recipes I realized I didn't want potatoes and eggs, I wanted cream and nutmeg and eggs. I talked Buddy into letting me use his oven in exchange for dinner. We bought the requisite bottles of wine needed anytime Buddy and I cook anything together, and as per tradition didn't actually start cooking till about 9pm.

I've never made a quiche before. In my head it falls squarely in the realm of spinach dip and layered bean casseroles. Which is to say foods that reached their peak in the 70s. I also feel like I should have had some awesome hand glazed stoneware to make it in.

Those aren't potatoes floating around in there. It's chunks of cheese. And flecks of nutmeg. I mean seriously, the apartment smelled so good with the shallots and the nutmeg cooking away.
I definitely wasn't going to fuck with a crust, so I made a "crustless quiche" which worked out really well, I don't see why anyone would need a crust. I didn't really follow a recipe, since this is basically egg pie you can put anything in. So I added Canadian bacon, shallots, and fontina cheese. Let me just say, fontina cheese is now one of my favorite cheeses. It melted so well, so smoothly. I may never use mozzerrella again. Which is a lie, but also sort of the truth.

I really liked it last night, but I liked it even more this morning. I'm not the worlds biggest fan of eggs, but the custard was really light and smooth. I may have discovered my new favorite lunch food. Also, what's cheaper than eggs? And yes, I know that is a shitload of tomatoes on that plate. I happen to like cherry tomatoes a lot. What of it?

Crustless Quiche

1/2 cup panko bread crumbs
1/2 cup parmesan
5 large eggs
2 cups heavy cream
1 tbsp nutmeg
1 tbsp pepper
However much filling you want. I used 8 slices Canadian bacon diced, a very large chunk of fontina cheese diced, and 3 shallots diced.
1 tbsp butter

Preheat the oven to 425.
Butter a non-stick baking pan, preferably a 9 inch pie pan or quiche pan
Mix together the panko and parmesan. Layer the bottom of the pan with it.
In a stovetop pan, fry the bacon, and then add the shallots. Cook slowly until slightly carmelized.
Spoon the bacon and shallots into the pie pan. Do not eat the bacon.
Layer the diced cheese on top of that.
Then whisk together the eggs, cream, nutmeg and pepper. Pour that on top of everything else.
Very carefully place in the oven, taking care to not step on cats or let the refrigerator door hit you in the elbow as you're walking past and someone else is getting wine.
Bake for 35-40 minutes, or until set. You may want to cover with foil for the last ten minutes, depending on how browned it gets.
Let cool for at least an hour.

We also tried making these lime-coconut bar cookies, but we forget to put butter in the crumble on the bottom (10:30pm perhaps being the wrong time to make cookies, one bottle deep). So what we got was a cookie with two very yummy top layers, and one very dry oat/flour flavored crust.

I'll try them again sometime and let you know. Turns out sweetened condensed milk is totally the ingredient of 2010.

I'm so old.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

The NSA Always Goes Dutch

You undoubtedly heard about the plane that flew into the Austin IRS office. As I followed the news online, govt officials were saying things like, "It doesn't look like terrorism." Why do we discount homegrown terrorism?

Because the definition of terrorism is so fucked these days, old people, like cops and journalists are having trouble catching up. It's like when you hear your mom say "sweet" or "gnarly" or "teabag".

I think, in all seriousness, that in order to forestall the inevitable semantic shit storm that is going to take place anytime anybody blows something up, we should just all agree that something is labeled an act of terrorism when it is perceived as part of a greater campaign. This old guy, he wasn't the first strike in some ongoing plan, or even part of a group with a higher philosophy. He was just a broke down crazy man who decided to go nuts one day. Even if he was sending a personal message to the IRS, it was his and his alone.

Terror is a thing people experience. Terrorism was, at least when I was learning how to spell it, an ongoing attempt by a group of people looking to propagate their own agenda through fear and violence. Everything that is "terrible" is not terrorism. For instance, serial killers are not considered terrorists. Pedophiles are not considered terrorists. A guy who shoots another guy in the middle of a public street over a bar brawl is not a terrorist.

As to actual homegrown terrorism, I don't think too many rational people discount them. It sounds like you're just pissed that people don't blame their own country for producing the nasty people, and instead blame foreign groups. Good luck with that battle.

if you were to write an anonymous but deadly serious ad for an nsa relationship, what would it be?

So I first read this, after having answered the first question, and I was like "Why would the National Security Agency ever hire me to write an ad? And I don't understand the word relationship. Are we talking about a recruiting ad?"

Turns out you meant No Strings Attached, something I had to google, because I don't spend my days trolling Craigslist.

Also, now it sounds like you want me to write an ad as a serial killer trolling on Craigslist.

In case you haven't noticed, I am a girl. This means I don't have to write ads to get laid. I can just go get really drunk. And I'm really confused by the idea of a No Strings Attached Relationship. How can that even exist? If you see the person more than once? You're kinda in a relationship of some sort, healthy, anonymous, or not. Even a dude and his favorite glory hole have feelings man. So I assume this is referring to a one night stand. Once again, why would I write an ad for a one night stand?

Okay, but if I did, here's maybe what it would say:...

No wait, let me try that again:...

Shit, I don't think I'm capable of being deadly serious about anything.

Um okay, maybe:

Do not respond to this ad if you are a Republican. Do not respond to this ad if you are a virgin, or poor, or have an STD. Do not respond to this ad if you are planning on raping and beating me. Do not respond to this ad if you are cheating on a significant other. Do not respond to this ad if you think condoms are stupid. Otherwise, wanna buy me a drink? You are totally paying for everything by the way.

I don't know, how is that?

Ask me anything

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Wait, isn't Vancouver on the Moon? Isn't that why everything is so clean?

Have you went to MELT in lakewood if not..... then go and your welcome

Yeah, no, I'm a thirty year old dating girl who lives on the West Side, and all my friends live on the West Side, and I talk about food constantly, and I up until recently spent way too much of my budget going out, and I'm on facebook and twitter and read band flyers and blogs for a significant portion of my day, and I have a lot of friends who work in restaurants BUT BUT BUT I've never heard of Melt.

Oh, also I never drive on 117th, so I have also never seen Matt Fish's billboard, or made fun of those fucking tattoos.


Apparently Melt is now the ONLY restaurant in Cleveland. Besides the Greenhouse.

Look, Melt is good, and I'm sure it deserves at least half the praise it gets, and the sandwiches I've had there were good. But I, unlike the rest of the Cleveland population, like to eat things other than grilled cheese. I'm also not a fan of waiting for an hour for a grilled cheese sandwich.

I will go there in the middle of the day on a Monday, and that is it.

Do I have to wait till Christmas to meet you?

Yes? No? I cannot think of anybody who would have to wait an entire year from now to meet me. Unless a)my brother has some girlfriend he hasn't told me about and he stupidly let her read my blog, or b)this is my boyfriend's mother, in which case, no. Also, your son has never touched me.

I mean, the only people who wait until Christmas are people who are coming home for Christmas, which are usually students, or family. Otherwise, invite me to come to you. I will probably do it. I will especially do it if you pay for my plane ticket. Also, do you live in Wyoming? I really want to go to Wyoming or Alabama. Maybe you could move there before Christmas?

Wait, this is Jesus, isn't it?

Your last meal on Earth. What would it be? Would you feel guilty about eating meat in case of retribution during the afterlife? Would you drink beer, wine, hard liquor, or some comforting, nostalgic soda pop from your past (like Shasta or Cheerwine)?

We didn't drink pop as kids, so there's that.

And why would an avid meat eater like me, who avidly doesn't believe in an afterlife, care about retribution? Unless you and India know something I don't, and there is an afterlife, only it's run by cows. Angry angry cows.

My favorite foods change constantly, but right now last meal would probably be a coconut beef dish with red peppers, broccoli, peas, carrots,water chestnuts, no onions, over rice noodles. Crab rangoons on the side. Pistachio-apricot pie with vanilla ice cream for dessert. And lots of pineapple and vodka. So in other words, I'd like to cook my last meal myself please.

And oh my god, what it Cheerwine?

How should you treat a difficult cat?

You should love them and pet them and feed them and not overly aggravate their insecurities. Then when they still shit on the side of the litter box instead of inside the litter box, you should lock them in a small cupboard and bang the door every few minutes so they can't just fall asleep. Maybe play the movie Snow Dogs right outside, so they think adorable huskies have taken over the world. Or read them Call of the Wild, with sound effects.

Alternately, you could play really really rough with them, so that your forearms resemble the scarring of a fifteen year old cutter. You will be ugly and ashamed of your hands, but they will respect you. It's true. Difficult cats are creatures who know better than to submit to playing with some stuffed fake mouse. They want blood, and they will respect you more if you take it first.

Which one is better, Canada or the moon?

They are both cold, under-populated, and offer free health care.
They are both very clean. Most of their water supply is in the form of ice.
Americans have only been to either one exactly once.
I think it's a toss-up. The moon controls the tides, but Canada controls the internet prescription drug trade. Canada requires a passport now though, and I think the Moon is still pretty open to foreigners. I like to believe they both have black squirrels, but if Canada were to suddenly require their black squirrels to have passports, the Moon would definitely win.

The real question is which one will let me go live there without requiring a work visa. I hear the mining gnomes on the Moon are real hard asses about documentation. Also, I'm allergic to bottled oxygen. But most places in Canada require that too.

Moon! No, Canada! No, Moon! No wait, Patagonia! (that's in Canada right?) Isn't that where the Canadian dinosaurs live? And all their immigrants?

Ask me anything

Find the letter thats two to the left of the letter thats three down from the letter across the letter thats 5 above the letters F and U

Last night Tara and I went to the vegan bar to take their annual IQ test, which is the most brilliant bar event idea ever. You know what was brilliant about it? Everything. The waiting until, when you're nervously talking about how much you're gonna suck at it. The moment when she passed out the little yellow booklets with IQ TEST across the cover, and a place to fill out your name just like in school. The two hours in which everyone in the really crowded bar sat silently, tapping their #2s on the bar, their drinks, their neck. The occasional murmurs from test takers about "oh my god this is so hard" "why did I do this?" "I feel so stupid now". The mere fact of being in a room with a bunch of kids voluntarily submitting themselves to a test on a Friday night. The whole test taking vibe, I dig it.

The fucking test was hard yo. First of all, NOT multiple choice. Write in only. A lot of math too, so you know, WRITE IN MATH. You know what I suck at? Math. It took me pretty much the whole 90 minutes for 40 questions, and I skipped 5 of them completely, also I wrote "Stab" and "Cum" as answers to two of them which I'm pretty sure was not correct. There were some I was just plain embarrassed not to get. Like, find the matching words that mean the same as this phrase : "Measurable bulk amount of grass fodder". I couldn't get "bale of kale" out of my head, or "bay of hay". I have no idea what the right answer is, one of you smarties tell me. I loved all the "what shape is missing from this graph" or "what picture has the most in common with these pictures" questions.

Finally, minutes before the proverbial timer, I gave up, handed it in, and ran outside to have a cigarette. And now everyone was comparing questions and answers, and there was a sense of camaraderie you used to feel about term exams in school, where you talked to people for the first time that you never talked to in class. Everyone recounting their hardest questions, and the ones that blew their minds, and the questions they were really proud of themselves for figuring out. Did I mention I love taking tests?

I did horribly though. I got 15 out of forty. Not even average. Below average (which was 20). Tara beat me, though not by that much. But some people got in the upper 20s and I think a few in the 30s, and darlings I salute you! Last years winner I think only got one or two more than me, so that made me feel better, especially since I talked to him before briefly, and he didn't seem like a lead poisoned freak, so I think it's safe to assume that I'm not either. Look, I can walk and talk and function in public! It's a miracle, considering...

Friday, February 19, 2010

Yay! Questions! (More to come, don't get your panties in a bunch)

why didn't you read/enjoy the oz books as a child? how has that shaped your adulthood? (--cath)

First of all, I totally read the Oz books when I was a kid, CATH. I read them all. Even when it become all about the gnomes and got kinda freaky and weird and was obviously not a really tight economic allegory anymore, which 9 yr old me was pretty disappointed in. Although, I maintain that 20 years from now, you'll be able to go back and find examples of all the real world revolutions in those books. Because Baum was prophetic. Also he was the real Princess Ozma. Right Tip?

Sidenote: when I googled the titles of the first 14 books, it also came up "His Majesty: The Scarecrow of Oz" which came out in 1914. Let's talk about how NOT SEEING THAT YET has shaped my adulthood. As in, I will not think about anything else for at least a week.

Can I have that chick's phone number? The one who asked you to do her taxes?

You have not given me the best question. You are not even trying apparently. You think I'll respond best to directness, or some bullshit like that. But hey, nice to meet you, my name's Bridget, and I need to be MANIPULATED.

Did you write the same awesomeness you write now into books in high school? I always wondered what you wrote (besides that awesome poetry on the wall). I'm serious when I say awesome. I laugh AND love out loud when I read your stuff.

I assume from the tone of this question that we went to high school together, in which case I'm going to ask you to remember that pentacle I wore around my neck and then you tell me if you think I wrote "awesome" stuff.

I did bother to try and find some old Scriptas (the "literary" magazine). I found the one from our Junior Year, which HELLO did every fucking Junior get a poem in that year? Cath, you've got like 5. And there's a few from Fiordalis and Chu and Moon and Hermann. And let me take this opportunity to say, when I was actually in prep school with you guys, I've never got the last name thing. Now I totally get it and wish I was part of it. Anyway, I couldn't find the Scripta with my awesome "Higher Education is like the Odyssey" poem. Instead I found one I wrote called "III New Age-Celtic Joni Mitchell" which I obviously wrote while fucking high and while madly in love with Chris Berkey. I am not giving you the whole thing, but here's a few lines to quench your curiosity...

"When clouds travel in on Atlantic winds
And congregations of bats hover above
menacing pine trees, then there is an hour of silence.
No words are allowed to break the air
And everything is melted like candle wax"

If I could, I would go back and beat the crap out of high school me. Fucking what the fuck is that? You know what else was melted like candle wax? Everything in my goddamn bedroom.

Let's never talk about this again.

Dial Idol -- what's that all about?!

It's about getting Siobhan Magnus to the finals, asshole.

Ask me anything

Why There is a Structure for a Good Date Night: food, drinks, movie

So I had a crappy day yesterday. First my internet wasn't working, then when the signal came back it fried my modem, so I had to go get a new one. All of which is a giant pain when you work from home. I texted the Boy and said "please let's hang out tonight, I hate today" and so we did, which is the point of a boyfriend really.

First we went to dinner at Minh Anh, and drowned our collective work week stories in rice noodles. I drank almost the entire pot of Jasmine tea before I started to forget about the morning. Then he took me for a few martinis, and we tried the place at the end of his street with the inviting blue glow, Jazz 28.

When you walk in, the blue glow surrounds you, and then you adjust to notice the singer in the corner (one of the owners), the couple on a date at the bar sipping wine. The older women at a table in the dark corner. It's quiet except for the music, and it's calming and sparkly. The bartender Judy was awesome, and below is my first Sidecar, which kicked my ass. Two drinks and I was trying to convince the Boy that we should plan our birthdays together, and also our breakup, and also no I don't believe Alton Brown's statement that carrots are orange because of politics, but of course you've got that damn iPhone always to prove me wrong, and oh how I want to go to the Goodyear Blimp Hangar and take pictures and blah blah blah. It's word spit up when I drink brandy, apparently. Hopefully he thinks it was cute. Or was also drunk and didn't notice.

After saying goodbye to everyone in the place, because it was nice like that, we wandered home and watched Rocky 3. Thus marking my first time watching a Rocky movie to the end, and my first time messing around to Eye of the Tiger.

This morning I stumbled into Civilizations unwashed, because I am addicted to coffee and croissants in the morning and should just live across from a bakery in Prague, and nobody openly passed judgment. Which was nice of them. I was terrifying looking, in a happy glow glazed hungover sort of way.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Ask me Questions!

I'd like to remind everyone to go to the right of this page, to that little box that says Ask Me a Question, and do what it says. Otherwise tomorrow we're discussing more of the merits of American Idol hosted by Ellen. Which is fucking awesome, by the way.

The last question I got was some random I don't know her girl asking me if I would do her taxes, WITH HER ACTUAL PHONE NUMBER. Next person to ask me the best question WILL GET THAT PHONE NUMBER.

Why Can't I be a Pundit too, huh?

The political media landscape is littered with ex-beauty queens, skinny PR crack whores, body language readers, 14 yr old preachers, stand up comedians, desperate attention seeking born-agains, and pill popping addicts.

I qualify as at least 3 of those. Maybe 4.

Preview: Why America is F--Ked

Chapter 1: You are all grossly uneducated, but that's not really your problem, because I am too. That's why you should listen to me. Overly educated people, who read books with facts, are out of touch with the American Reality, which is that You are Reality.

Chapter 2: Why You Are Fat. It is not your fault that you are fat, it is the fault of the Mega Evil Food Conspiracy. They have been basically lying to you about what's in their food, by putting it in fine print on the back of their products with a bunch of words you don't understand. No one should expect you to know those words, cause you're grossly uneducated. Also, if you were educated enough to know what dylomexodecylingen meant, you wouldn't be buying Doritos, you'd be eating the tumors of small locally farmed grass fed orphans. Rich people are trying to kill you.

Chapter 3: American Idol is awesome. Ryan Seacrest should run for president, but not Simon, cause he's mean, so he should be Secretary of Defense. Of course, even that show is going to the gutter cause they got rid of Paula, who was SO pretty and SO nice, and replaced her with a Gay. Also Ellen isn't really gay, she's just being paid to get white people to dance to R&B. Sort of like how the dorky little brother was on the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. But if she was Gay, she would still smack of "I'm better than you-ness". With her stupid canvas shoes and striped shirts. You know who wears striped shirts? The British Navy. The Brits are totally paying Ellen to corrupt your children. When people cry on American Idol, it proves God exists.

Chapter 4: Coffee is supposed to be thin like water and taste like fake creamer and Splenda. Anything else is unAmerican, and if you do drink fancy coffees, you obviously are a smug beret wearing dingbat who belongs in Vancouver carrying a Whole Foods bag and listening to goddamn Coldplay on your ipod. The French Press was invented by Muslims.

Chapter 5: The only person you can trust about politics is Matt Drudge. Because he doesn't pretend to discover stories on his own. You can never trust someone who says they discovered a story. It only becomes validated once someone else repeats it. For instance, a guy I worked with told me a story about how his friend wrote the entry for pierogis on Wikipedia, and it said that pierogis were created by a shoemaker in Parma. Wikipedia has since taken it down and replaced with a bullshit story about it meaning "pie" or something, and I know this is a false story because no one has bothered to tell me about it since. Nice try Wiki. Everyone knows Ukrainians only eat beets.

Chapter 6: When I was 20, I did a lot of drugs and whoring and cutting down of saguaro cactus in Arizona, which is totally illegal but I didn't care because I believed in Socialism. Socialism teaches you that everything should belong to everybody, which includes your teenage daughters hymen. Then I ended up being kidnapped and sold into forced labor in Russia where they made me press out the twistoff caps for those cheap bottles of vodka. 8 hours workdays, can you even imagine? I had to sit inside, I never got any sunshine, and I always smelled like fish because that's what Russians put in their vodka. You should always buy American Vodka, like Paramount, which is distilled from the healthy patriotic waters of Lake Erie. When I finally escaped, I went immediately to AA, where they told me they couldn't take me cause I wasn't technically an alcoholic. But I kept showing up, so eventually they had to let me speak, and I convinced everyone in the room to leave with me, and start a new Church, that doesn't discriminate against people because they aren't "technically" dying of liver disease. Cause America is an equal opportunity country, for everyone with a right to be here. Now I sell certificates online if you pass my "I Am An American" online exam, and I am rich. God Bless Arizona.

Chapter 7: Any book that is longer than 7 chapters doesn't respect you, and you don't have to take that shit. Buy a gun and build a well. I've included instructions.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Childrens Books That You Have to have read to get me even a little

Alice in Wonderland
Through the Looking Glass
Black Beauty
Peter Pan
The Last Unicorn
The Phantom TollBooth
The Wind in the Willows
Little House on the Prairie
His Dark Materials
The Black Cauldron
The Secret Garden
The Pushcart Wars
The Little Princess
Just So Stories
The Prince and the Pauper
The Little Prince
Watership Down
The Blue Moose
Super Fudge
Tuck Everlasting
The Once and Future King
The Wrinkle in Time Series
Lord of the Flies (YES, this IS a children's book. Children get it more than you do)
Adventures of Sherlock Holmes
The Redwall series
Call of the Wild
The Cricket in Times Square
The Chronicles of Narnia
Boxcar Children

Note: this is a recipe to have your kid turn out like me, so retrospect...

No, really.

This is ArgumentEndersaurus. In case you ever hear one of us say that and wonder what the fuck is wrong with us. He roars and shoots light out of his mouth. Its highly satisfying. I think it got adopted for this purpose to make me feel better about being the one without the iPhone.

This is seagull floating down the icy black Rocky River, shunned by the ducks huddled further up the snowy shore. You know, in animal fantasy novels, it's never a good idea to shun the seagull. Just sayin, ducks.

This is me wondering why my birth control looks so much like a jelly bracelet, and why they don't make it glow-in-the-dark. And glittery.

Here is Rabbit with her indie chic raggedy ann haircut. I was changing the bed sheets and she immediately jumped onto the bed and took up her position, because there's nothing she likes more than having you make the bed over her. Top sheet and all.

First we went and got very caffeinated, then walked in the snow by the river until it was too cold, which took about a fifteen minutes. Back at home, we drank a lot, and watched a bunch of Dave Chappelle at the kitchen table. He took me to Target to buy board games just cause, then whipped me in Battleship while I got fucked up and sang along to the Kanye station on Pandora. Mac should have made us a commercial, with as much as we used that damn laptop. Then he made me chicken piccata and I read Peter Pan to him, the first part which is all about Mrs. Darling's kiss and Peter's shadow, and is my favorite part. Right? Right? I know.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Cleveland is My Valentine

This morning I went, finally, to the laundromat. First I stopped at Marc's to buy some stuff for tomorrow. And yes, Marc's is the most unromantic place to get groceries for Valentine's Day, but when it's sweetened condensed milk, who gives a shit? Also I picked up these Purex 3 in 1 Laundry sheets, and they are awesome. If anyone from Purex would like to give me money to elaborate on that, email me.

So then I trucked my garbage bags of bedding and dirty underwear into the laundromat, converted my sad little dollars into quarters, and sat down to make my valentines while the machines made noises akin to galloping Chicoteague ponies. Then this guy walked in, who was obviously a regular. He was wearing khakis, a plaid shirt, these dark blue sunglasses, and was carrying his laundry in by hand with no bag. He started talking immediately to the old woman sitting behind the counter, the one who made fun of my lost expression when I had walked in twenty minutes ago. He loudly asked the other guy there, who like me was obeying the "Silencio and Ignore" rule, if there were any large machines left. Then as he was loading his quarters in, he looked at each one and told us what year it was. He had a 1966 one, and told the woman if he had a 1964 one it would be 50% silver.

After his laundry was in, and going, (and leaking water all over the floor but I wasn't going to say anything after all Silencio and Ignore), he asked the woman if she had a microwave. Cause he had something in the car to eat, and hadn't eaten all morning, cause he had been moving stuff, but not moving out just moving stuff around the apartment. She let him use the microwave, after asking if there was anything foil on it. Then he sat in the chair directly across from her desk and started to talk about everything he knew how to do. Fabricate metal. Electrical work. Coins. As I was getting my stuff from the dryers, he had moved onto how all he ever wanted in life was a family and children, and how money didn't mean anything in the end, and what kind of things were important.

And it was sad, because you knew that not only did he not have a family, or children, or a valentine, he didn't have any money either. And the old woman working at the laundromat probably had family, but also had no money. And here was I, with no children or money, but I have a valentine.

Not everybody has everything all the time, so Happy Valentine's Day for whatever you have, love or money or family or just reliable internet access. The internet loves you.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

The Decision

Faced with imminent doom, or rather slow creeping trickling doom, I've come to two very solid conclusions.

1)I only require more money because I go out to see people and need money for alcohol, gas, food, ect. I spend way too much on these activities.

2)I will only ever be more financially solid if I stop going out to see people and start working on my writing seriously. Like, every night. Like a professional. Like someone who wants it.

Thus, I am henceforth resolved to not go out anymore or spend any money on anything except bills. This means you may not see me. Actually, this means you will for sure not see me unless you invite me to your house and don't expect anything from me, or you're paying. Even then I may refuse.

I am sick of being broke, and I am sick of having nothing to show creatively, and I am not going to succumb to "social responsibilities" anymore. I will refuse to feel guilty about not seeing you. I will refuse to be shamed into buying birthday present and going away presents and the ilk.

Let the record show I was this resolved on the 11th of February, 2010. For whatever use that may be in the future, when I'm sure I'll be feeling slightly less resolved. 6 months! At least!

Also let the record show that I got this entry right without a single misspelled word, which is a minor miracle because I thought for sure I got imminent wrong or succumb. See what a purifier resolve is!

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Exile in Snowsville

So everyone has been in an uproar over this Forbes article that claims Cleveland has the worst winters in the country. They should have kept their mouths closed, because they pissed off the Lake Monster, and now it's snow snow snowing. I'm all snug and cozy in my house, so no complaints, except that I have to do laundry yet have no motivation to leave the house to do this. Yay no underwear days.

A text exchange with the Boy yesterday:

B: Snowpocalypse! Snowapalooza. Snowmageddon. nightmare in snowsville.
S: World War Snow
B: Snow of the worlds
S: Saving Private Snow
B: The Snow Also Rises
S: Snow on 34th St. Dances with Snow. Snow White and the Snow
B: The Seven Snows, duh.
B: War and Snow
S: Aqua Teen Hunger Snow
S: The Grinch that stole Snow
B: I think we're done
S: No!
S: What about "A Few Good Snowmen"

I watched so much TV last night, I kinda don't want to watch anymore ever. At least till next Tuesday. It was one of those locked down marathon sessions, where you catch up on all your DVR stuff, then there's LOST, and more DVR stuff. At the end of the night, I think I was convinced that Nathan Fillion was an international spy sent to kill zombie Iraqis, who recently found out he was the father of a blonde Abercrombie & Fitch model. A model who's dating Mac from Always Sunny.

Speaking of Life, Unexpected (I hate that comma so goddamn much. I don't even think there IS a comma there, but it sounds like there's a comma there, so I put a comma and curse my life every time.) Anyway, speaking of, I got stuck before bed last night trying to predict every single episode summary they will have on that show. I feel like if maybe I put them all down here, and then they all come true, someone at CW will note my prescience and hire me. So here we go:

Probable Upcoming Episodes for Life, Unexpected:

1) Parent teacher conferences. Baze (the irresponsible Dad/bar owner) does something irresponsible, which leads Kate (the uptight and self-righteous mother) to believe he won't show up. But then he does. And the teacher, witnessing their inability to get along, tells them all of Lux's problems are their fault. Which is true. Then they both gang up on the teacher, and feel better about themselves. Lux says some poignant adult words of wisdom which makes everyone realize foster children are smarter than everyone else.

2) Ryan (Kate's fiancee) finds out Kate and Baze slept together the one night they were broken up. He threatens to leave. Kate appeals to his pity for her (I can't be a single mom, blah blah blah) and he stays. Baze is depressed about this, since he figures out he loves Kate. He drinks some more. Lux says some poignant adult words of wisdom which makes everyone realize foster children are smarter than everyone else.

3) Ryan and Kate, being recently outed as a couple in their professional careers, have to discuss their upcoming nuptials on their radio show, which leads to Kate having some cold feet. So she makes out with Baze. Ryan leaves her. Everyone is happy his completely unnecessary character is gone. Lux says some poignant adult words of wisdom which makes everyone realize foster children are smarter than everyone else.

4) Lux makes some new misfit friends at her ultra preppy high school, and then her old preppy friends who hated her now hate her more and she becomes the target of some really lame jokes. She is miserable, and wishes she was back on the streets with her heroin dealer boyfriend Bug. Then she runs away for a night to Bug's apartment, and Kate flips out, and they have a discussion about boundaries. Bug once again tries to convince her to run away with him to Tijuana to start that pony show they always talked about. She says she can't leave with him, even though it will mean two holes in her heart (she had heart surgery as a kid). Lux says some poignant adult words of wisdom which makes everyone realize foster children are smarter than everyone else.

5) Since Bug and Lux are on the outs, totally predictable because now she's all rich and fancy, Lux meets a new preppy boy at school, and totally crushes on him. Bug finds out and beats New Guys face into a bloody pulp by the bicycle racks. Lux tells Bug to run, and doesn't turn him into the cops, but is forever known as Bloody Mary at school. She cries in her room all the time and won't eat. Kate gets a large pitbull/boxer mix for protection. Lux says some poignant adult words of wisdom which makes everyone realize foster children are smarter than everyone else.

6) Lux's paternal grandfather takes her out to lunch, to get to know her. They discuss his true feelings about his son Baze, which are basically a combination of homophobia and disappointment. Lux bonds with her grandfather over these mutual feelings, and Baze gets very unhappy about this. Then Kate's mom wants in on the action, but no one pays attention to her, cause she's an alcoholic, which is secretly why Kate gave up Lux in the first place. Lux gets really sick with another hole in heart, and goes to the hospital for emergency surgery, which makes everyone realize they love her and should put up with all the other bullshit in order to make her life better. Lux says some poignant adult words of wisdom which makes everyone realize foster children are smarter than everyone else.

7)Lux's grandfather takes her on a camping trip, because she's probably never seen a fish, even though she lives in Seattle. But actually he's testing her reflexes and cognitive abilities, because as it turns out, he had a daughter that died at her age, and then he created an avatar of her and planted that in a giant robot body. Which is why no one wanted her when she was little. Lux says some poignant adult words of wisdom which makes everyone realize foster children are smarter than everyone else. Also robots.

8) Lux somehow managed to skip three grades of high school, and has to pick a college. Kate gets all freaked out that she'll leave them, which Lux would do, only she's bound by the poison her grandfather has been administering her every day and has to get the antidote from him every week or she'll die. So she stays local, and gets an apartment with one of her misfit friends. Then Bug shows up and tries to get some crack money from her. When she won't let him in, he rapes her roommate and then gets the blame placed on Baze. Who it turns out has a record. He beats the crap out of Kate's alcoholic mother, and holds a hasty wedding with Kate before running for the border. Lux says some poignant adult words of wisdom which makes everyone realize foster children are smarter than everyone else.

See? They should just give this show to me now.

Monday, February 8, 2010

For Little Sister


History makes sense of weekends.

On Saturday, we went to La Petit Triangle, my first time there. They sat us in the unfinished second half, which was a French garret, stacks of chairs and open wine bottles. We sat in the corner, drank coffee, then wine, then crepes. We sat for two hours looking out the blinds at the snow. Red wine was spilled on the tablecloth. Food trickery was railed against, toxic effects of echinacea (e china sea) and company operating systems discussed. St. Patricks stood immovable across the street, pretending to be a cathedral.

Then we went to a party. A pinata was killed, eventually, after a crisis of where to hang the condemned which almost ended in the demise of a ceiling fan. I met a group of people who taught at a Quaker boarding school, and spent their summers traveling to abandoned beaches on other continents. Early on in the evening, we smelled something burning, but couldn't find it amidst the clutter of salsa and bottles and candles. Later, I wondered how I got ash on myself. Later still, I noticed the entire side of my clutch was burnt to a crisp. Car accidents and trips to Peru were dissected. Boys tried to do flips in the living room, and several people fell down. Blinds and curtains were pulled down. One of the Quakers got yelled at to behave on the front porch. More red wine was spilled on a girl's baby blue dress. We were the first to show up, and the last to leave, the survivors slowly abandoning the wreckage to the front room, where a guy played a song on the piano and we stumbled into the snow to get ourselves home into safe clean beds. Other people may have woken up in more compromising positions that morning. I heard the sink was found torn away from the wall. We made sure to blow out the candles before leaving.

And then last night, back to civilization in the form of a living room and a baby, chili and the Superbowl. The Saints came marching in. The ads sucked. The Who proved that no one in America knows Who they are anymore, except as the maker of CSI theme songs, though it made me want to watch Tommy again. Corporate America won nothing. I went to bed tossing and turning, with a swollen ankle and too much coffee in my system, things not even a warm back against me could solve. The last thing I heard before trying to fall asleep was the History Channel telling me that nuns used to slit their noses, in order to be too unattractive to rape, hence the saying "cut off your nose to spite your face". History is a dirty thing. This morning, I met up with Jere at Starbucks, and he told me about the girl taped to the toilet, who didn't know how to chew, and would instead hold the food in her mouth until it dissolved enough to swallow. The present is a dirty thing as well.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

I have watched my quota of Fox News for the year.

So last night we watched the two parts of John Stewarts interview on O'Reilly. Watching anything on Fox is something best not done alone, it's like a team sport. You have to support each other and rally the team on and occasionally dump cold drinks over each other. Also, it's particularly fun to watch anything political with someone you're newly dating, because then the actual talking about things starts. Like, do you vote in local elections? How did you feel about Kerry? Exactly how libertarian are you?

From the start, the Boy said that John Stewart always comes off looking like a loser from these sparring matches, because he looks diminutive. It's true that next to O'Reilly he looks smaller, and a little tired. But I think I only love him more for lack of sweeping gestures and spray tan. After all, Stewarts best interview skill is that he knows what he's fucking talking about, and he doesn't talk about what he doesn't know. O'Reilly kept trying to make the point that it was ridiculous for Stewart to be seen as a serious newsman, to which Stewart kept agreeing. But I think he should be taken seriously as a pundit. I like him more when he's talking seriously about a subject than when he's making Jewish jokes. He's articulate and reasonable and passionate. He always takes the high road in argument, like for instance when Beck was brought up. He could have gone off about so many apeshit things that man's done, but instead his only rebuttal was that Glenn Beck wasn't Everyman because he had a tv show. Short, sweet, dismissive and yet not insulting. O'Reilly, of course, was pretty much himself. His cameramen kept laughing the whole time, which was kind of nice. He DID look diminutive though, and kinda gray at the gills. I think the Fox News makeup artist did it on purpose, OR he wouldn't let them put makeup on him cause it might have been poisoned with narrative minded nanobots.

I wonder why Stewart did the interview in the first place. I imagine it was some sort of trade off agreement for guests that have been on his show, or maybe he just does it for himself, to have a chance to be serious.

Regardless of whether or not its a good thing, I agree Stewart is the Anchor of our generation. There's no one else I can think of who would even begin to qualify. I grew up with Gwen Ifill and Morley Safer, but I'm safely in the minority there, because I come from a weird family. And maybe the point is that within our generation, the news is so utterly ridiculous, it can't be stomached without a filter of incredulity and impotent rage. Also, the Daily Show is sort of like the accompaniment to your daily intake of internet news. You have to be prepared before you watch it, know the back stories, know the headlines, to really appreciate what they choose to comment on. So its News Cliffnotes, but also Destinos? It's not like we really get our news from the Daily Show. More like we get our fortitude to keep reading and watching news from the Daily Show.

In related thoughts, I'm trying to force myself to think of the internet differently. Specifically as not "the internet" cause I feel like I should be living in Seattle about to foreclose on my house every time I say that. It's archaic. It doesn't begin to encompass what the network actually is, and what it does for us, and what it should do for us. I really want us to recognize the extent of how much we changed in the past ten years, how all our internet growing pains resolved themselves into neater more maneageable adult neuroses. But instead it will be forgotten as people push past their iphones and kindles into the brightly lit LED future.

But seriously, fuck the term Social Media.

Friday, February 5, 2010

The Evil Sheep Man Took My Baby, and Buried It in the Permafrost

So, some cat news. Yippee.

1)We have finally consolidated litter boxes in my house. I was worried, because I had heard two cats should always have two boxes, and these particular two cats try to assassinate each other nightly. But then I observed both cats, on two separate occasions, DIVIDING UP THEIR WASTE between the boxes. Like, peeing in one, then going in the other to poop. And then going back to the first one, just to maybe pee some more, probably just seeing if there was anything to shake out. So I decided that instead of murdering my cats, which was the first impulse, I would just take one box away and they will learn to deal. Which they have, handily. They are lucky I am counting on them to dispose of my body when I die, because otherwise they are USELESS.

2) the picture below is what Nina has done to my shower curtain. And by curtain, I mean, the curtain for the window in the shower. Why are there always windows in showers in old houses? There is a whole wall without a window in my bathroom, why couldn't they have put the shower there? Now everytime I take a shower at night, I feel like my next door neighbors can see everything, even though I would only be a blurry blob thanks to the frosted glass. However that's MY blurry blob, and I don't think the lady next door needs to see it. Or wants to. Also, she now knows how often I shower and how much I hate the Earth. It's bad enough that I keep my garbage on my upstairs back porch, so the possum can't get to it. Now she thinks I'm a possum starver and a water waster. Nina's favorite game is to hide out in the shower and jump through the shower curtain to attack you when you sit down on the toilet. Or to try and climb up the shower curtain, a feat she has yet to succeed at, but I imagine her final purpose is aerial attack. Good for her. Points for determination. She is also very fond of trying to get in every kitchen cabinet I own, but exceedingly bad at it, so that really it's just her banging the damn cabinet door for an hour while I throw stuff at her from my computer.

I was terribly sick yesterday. Migraine, cold, nonstop phlegm, ect. It's because my "time" is coming up, and instead of getting cramps, I get terrible sensitivity to smells and mega-allergies and pizza face. Not to be crass, but lets just point out that being really sensitive to smells and bleeding from your nether regions do not really go together well. Hence my vendetta against our species fresh water supply. Luckily, by chance, I had an ample supply of alcohol. Does alcohol deaden allergies? Cause I feel like it does. Someone find out for me. Then keep it from me.

Buddy turned me on to these vegetable steamer packets at the grocery store, and now I'm in the habit of just eating a whole one for lunch every day. For instance, below is my lunch from yesterday. And listen, even though eating a bunch of broccoli and only broccoli, sounds super awesome healthy for you, it's not. As you can see, it's coated with processed cheese sauce. It's like Kraft box Mac and Cheese, only camouflaged. And the corn I'm going to eat today might as well be covered in movie theater butter. But it feels like I'm doing something good. That's what really counts, right?

Everything is pretty good though. It's all settled into a winter routine. Movies, and tv, and food, and bills, and stresslessness. I still itch for exploring, but no one will go with me because it's so cold (and they are all wussies), so I'm saving it all up for the first hint of Spring. It's snowing intermittently, the Boy is coming over tonight to watch a movie, and the groundhog apparently saw his shadow, so whatever, it will be Winter forever. It can't touch me. I have control over my inside crazies, I am storing them up in safe secure emotional bunkers to use as reserves when the grass starts to grow. God, I even vaccuum on a semi-regular basis now.

Now if only we could teach Carly to control her crazies, and use them for good, instead of this. Do not skip this. Watch it. All of you people who tell me you just don't pay attention to politics, because what's the use? THIS IS THE USE.

I fucking love people. You are all batshit insane.

P.S. I totally call that Halloween costume for next year.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

The Internet Knows Me So Well. Almost, Too Well.

So I was bored today and looked myself up on Urban Dictionary, you know, for that incredibly simple and useless and not funny meme that was going around Facebook. A sidenote, right now I am kicking myself for not naming my cat Meme. It means I will probably name my firstborn that instead. I will tell her, your name could have been Nina, but Mommy didn't think long enough.

There was a brief moment of panic when I realized that I referenced Urban Outfitters more than Urban Dictionary in my browser bar. But then I remembered its because Urban Dictionary is a site for 13 yr olds who still think it's funny even when they don't use a last name. Hint: Last names make it funnier, guys.

So here are all 14 of the entries for Bridget from

1. Bridget

An amazingly happy, yet clumsy person, who is so nice and is always helpful to cheer up everyone else.
I need a Bridget. (in example of needing the happiness)
You pulled a Bridget. (in example of the clumsiness)
cheerful helpful hugable happy clumsy
by naturally happy drunken cow May 13, 2006

Naturally Happy Drunken Cow? I'd like to thank you for being so very very accurate.

2. Bridget

A woman more entrancing than the greatest laser show at a European Night Club and a woman who could make the darkest day brighter than the sun. Women who try to imitate this woman pitifully fail - mostly because its like trying to imitate the most beautiful celestial body in the universe with the personality of Princess Charming.
Man, I tried to imitate Bridget today and I couldn't...
wonderful beautiful gorgeous entrancing irish sun
by DeClan Jackson May 9, 2006

Declan? I will go to a laser show with you anytime. Especially a European one. Where I can call myself Princess Charming.

3. Bridget

A shota icon, who is frequently featured in threads on image boards such as not4chan, 7chanfapped over. Due to his feminine appearance, he can cause sexual confusion for people of both genders, although tends to be a favourite of straight men. Bridget originates from the video game Guilty Gear XX, where he sought to prove his masculinity in a very short nun's habit, using a pink yoyo, and with the help of his teddy bear, Roger. and 12chan, where he can be
Everyone is gay for Bridget.
shota bridget yaoi guilty gear trap
by Statuess Dec 1, 2006

I am a huge fan of Guilty Gear XX. And of Bridget. However, proving his masculinity is not exactly what I saw happening.

4. bridget

hottest girl alive. guys, you know you want her. the most beautiful, and a lovely dancer. she can act, she can sing, she is perfect all around, inside and out, but she is very down to earth and can brighten up anyones day. she is also, quite a prankster and can do many bad things without getting caught. she is amazing. bridget is very charmig and can get you do do what ever she wants through her charm
has fairy-like qualities and is really good with animals. one of a kind.
Wow, I cant stand it. I wish bridget liked me.

but isnt she your best friend? i mean goh your so lucky!

yeah but im in love with her.
roses maiden pixie bella hotti
by lucyhhhhhhjjjjjjjjkkkkkkkkikf

See that little exchange at the bottom? That is what we call 14 yr old Think. Oh, but you're so lucky she talks to you! Yes, I know, but I'm in LURV with her, so Im actually the most pitiful worthless depressed piece of shit in the ninth grade. The good news is, I think you're in love with a Disney Princess. The bad news is, those bitches only care about bling.

5. bridget

One of the nicest people you will ever meet! Loved by all, unless envied because of their perfection. A Bridget is overwhelmed by friends, for they are too cool. But usually a Bridget's best friend is a Nicole, becuase of obvious reasons. A Bridget is fun, crazy, smart, pretty, and loves animals! A Bridget is the the ultimate cool!
That girl just helped an old lady, what a Bridget!

Damn, look at that grade, you're so a Bridget!

I wish I could be cool like a Bridget!
bridge bridgie bridgie bridge cakes brijotte britta
by coolio girl Feb 27, 2007

I would like to add "A Bridget is the Ultimate High. Not available for shipment over borders. May cause nasal hemorrhaging"

Apparently Coolio will never be forgotten.

6. bridget

another meaning for the hottest person in the world.
wow your so hot, just like a bridget.
bridget bridgid hot beautiful sexy.
by totesdevo May 29, 2009

I may actually get a t-shirt of this one.

7. Bridget

A bitch, but a loveable and funny one. She can always brighten up your day with those funny remarks and insults.
Bridget, you're so mean to him; I love it!
bitch loveable funny careless nice
by hahaha123iloveyou Jul 23, 2009

"God, you're such a loser." "Haha, you're so FUNNY Bridget!" "No, really, I think you are the most vapid dipshit in the history of Cuyahoga County's Lead Poisoning Program." "Oh Bridget, you're the best."

8. Bridget

unique, small, outgoing, very very popular, hot, sweet, loving the most amazing girl you will ever meet, has a lot of friends that love her, long blond hair and aqua eyes. shes the california cutie. loves animals.
all the guys are falling all over her.
all the girls are trying to GET over her. shes the best. better then the rest. has amazing smile, eyes and personality.
Kevin: OoOoh bridget straightend her hair!!

Jason: And just when I thought she couldnt get any hotter


Jason: ...

Kevin: ooh i better leave.. this is just what happend wth me and my ex_girlifriend clare.


Dear Diary,
I wish i had bridgets body..

I wish i had her eyes

I really like her gold hair

I want to be her.

sophisticated unique classy sassy beautiful
by pimpdaddywanted Apr 29, 2009

This one is, for obvious reasons, my FAVORITE.

9. Bridget

my best friend :)

the coolest
the funnest
the funniest
the amazing-est
bestest <3
"hey look at bridget, she's awesome. so suck it"
bomb izzle hehe teehee heh
by lmfaoHAHAheheHAhehehe Jan 23, 2010

Even though I am blissfully unaware of any middle schoolers reading this, it's true. You can suck it.

10. Bridget

Someone Who Just Cant Get Anything Right.
-Tosh Zombie
"well slice my wrist and call me Bridget"
bridget ew slut stupid not worth it
by ToshZombie Jul 22, 2009

This is probably the most accurate. ToshZombie, you used to date me, didn't you?

11. bridget

A shota icon, who is frequently featured in threads on image boards such as not4chan, 7chanfapped over. Due to his feminine appearance, he can cause sexual confusion for people of both genders, although tends to be a favourite of straight men. Bridget originates from the video game Guilty Gear XX, where he sought to prove his masculinity in a very short nun's habit, using a pink yoyo, and with the help of his teddy bear, Roger. and 12chan, where he can be
Everyone is gay for Bridget.
bridget guilty gear shota yaoi trap yoyo
by Statuess Nov 30, 2006


12. bridget

A character from Guilty gear that, despite his very feminine appearance and name, is male. He was raised as a girl because it was bad luck in his villiage to have two twin boys. Bridget is a common term used for any shota that features a young cross-dressing boy.
Wow I found a lot of bridget on burichan.
by Leonis Jun 6, 2005

I am not aware of anyplace in the world where it is bad luck to raise twin boys, and yet considered a better thing to raise one of the boys as a girl. I might go live there, if it existed anywhere except Leonis' WoW game. Also, Bridget is not also a common noun AND a plural. Or semen.

13. Bridget

n - someone who is retarded or foolish.

Rhyming slang; derived from Brigitte Bardot / tardo.

Chris and Toni are a couple of Bridgets.
tardo retard tard bridgette brigitte
by Shanier Jul 12, 2006


14. Bridget

An offspring from the slang Breadrin, Or Brethrin - Means Brother or Comrade
Yo Bridget, Whats up!?

What what?