The Omnivore's Hundred

I could cross-post the hundred-line foodie meme that I put up over at paid-to-write-blog, but instead I'll just link to it. Because I am a lazy ass.


vignette: in the big house

Joseph: wow
Joseph: we just got a wrong number call from someone in prison.
Joseph: i feel bad.
Joseph: they wasted their call
me: oh no!
me: that's horrible
Joseph: i know!
Joseph: like, it was collect
Joseph: and the name was, blah blah im in prison
Joseph: but i couldnt accept the call just to tell him he had the wrong number
Joseph: ok, should i?
Joseph: he's calling for the third time
me: don't accept!
me: it could be a scam?
Joseph: yeah, possibly
me: like a nigerian $15.00/minute thing
Joseph: the phone number id just says "prison"
me: yeah, um, prisons don't actually do that
me: not that i know firsthand.
me: but it's the operating theory by which i live my life.


Random Rage

I am going to use this space to dump a little bit of context-free vitriol that didn't really fit in a post I did for that blog I get paid to write. La la la. I get to pick what I post here because this is my special area of the internet.

We realize that the schtick of the Huffington Post is that folks who you'd never expect to be writing one of these newfangled "blog" things (on the surfable 'net, no less!) put fingers to keyboard and poop out a musing on the topic of their choice. Ninety-eight percent of the time, this is prefaced by some sort of self-aware introductory paragraph in which the HuffPo blogger plays out something like "I read [political/fashion/movie/food] blogs, of course, but I've always taken them with a grain of salt..." And the writer goes on to deliver some sort of opinion that we, the readers, are supposed to understand is in fact more nuanced than those silly little professional bloggers, simply by virtue of the fact that the writer is so above it all, so removed from the unwashed masses of the internet, and then we the readers should be interested and grateful in what this non-internet person has to say to us from their lofty existence in the real world (cue unironic, dated use of "meatspace.") The other 2% of HuffPo contributors are actual bloggers who know how to use the internet, and they are generally really psyched to be writing on a site with so much traffic, to the point where they will defend the pseudo-intellectual blather that surrounds them.


Barack Your Body ('Til The Break Of Day)

Last night I had a sex dream about Barack Obama.

To be fair, it was not a complete sex dream, in that we did not actually have sex. But there was some very intense hugging, and grabbing of hips, and he very obviously had plans for what he and I would be doing later on that day.

It also took place in a synagogue, during services. And I kept seeing Michelle out of the corner of my eye and getting really nervous that I was breaking up his family and that his daughters would hate me.

And yes, I read the New Yorker article on candidate dreams, and no, I was not prepared for this one.


What Makes You Special?

If you google the phrase "midnight train to whore-gia," the ONLY RESULT is my twitter. And now probably this page too.

I feel sort of one with the universe right now.


vignette: dirty thoughts

Mia: i told hanna about icream
me: hahahaha
Mia: and she asked why didn't they just call it wet dream?


Chuck It

The online store Delias, pinnacle of chic in my high school days, is having a contest in which the prize is "a year's worth of Converse Chucks," i.e. 12 pairs of the shoe.

This is just wrong. A year's worth of Chucks is not 12 pairs. It is one pair, that you bought four years ago, and will wear for the next two years after this one. A year's worth of Chucks is one-seventh of a pair of Chucks. Duh.

Some of My Best Friends are Holding a Gun

Breaking news! I am totally not racist totally hate white people!

This is according to an online psychological test out of the University of Chicago, where you view 100 scenes, each containing a black or white man, each holding either a gun or something inoffensive like a cell phone or wallet. You hit [/] to shoot and [Z] to holster, and the computer measures your response times.

Nick Kristof at the New York Times is a mega-racist. Or, okay, maybe not a mega racist, but, as he says:

I shot armed blacks in an average of 0.679 seconds, while I waited slightly longer — .694 seconds — to shoot armed whites. Conversely, I holstered my gun more quickly when encountering unarmed whites than unarmed blacks.
In comparison, my hot enlightened unracist self had a completely inverted setup: I shot the gun-totin' black guys after a delay of .641 seconds, whereas I waited only a scant .600 to blow away the white dudes. And on the flipside, I only needed .641 to ID that a man of color was not holding a gun, whereas I needed .646 to ascertain that of a white guy.

You can take the test here. You can feel smug or guilty about your results, meanwhile, wherever you darn well please.


I Can Has Double Cheeseburger?

I would like to go on record on the internet as the first person to make that joke I made in the title, btw. Sadfacedly, I think it's unlikely that that's the case.



Look, we all knew Orson Scott Card was a shit. He destroyed the Ender series by turning it into this weird, overlong meditation on the nature of power and masculinity and religion, and in every interview he's ever given he seems utterly convinced of his own superiority over the world. And now, unsurprisingly yet still unfortunately, he's given this deeply awful editorial to the Mormon Times in which he rails against same-sex marriage in ways that are ably destroyed by the folks at AfterElton.

This is just sort of newsworthy, but I'm also posting it here because it's a leadup to something else I want to talk about vis a vis our hateful little UtahNorth Carolina-dwelling sci-fi author here. I've got to do some rounding up of research and coherent writing before it'll go up here. Hold your breath? Hm.


Update! Lina corrects us: "OSC lives in North Carolina.
he is Utah-dwelling only in the sense that he wears special underpants on his brain."



Mi deziri al trinki kafo cxo Esperanto, send mi am nervoza tio ili ne fari komprenimi.