1. Corked sold in South Korea yesterday. I received the deal memo as I was doing a pre-interview with a Korean filmmaker. It came in at exactly the same time I was flexing my only real piece of Korean trivia — that Ted Turner has dumped a bunch of cash into the preservation of the lush, untouched ecosystem of the DMZ, because he loves cranes.
2. AMAZINGLY, CHUCK THE HANDYMAN FIXED THE SHOWER HEAD SO IT IS NO LONGER AS FLACCID AS BOB DOLE, OR A LITTLE DEAD GOLDFISH.
3. I made a unicorn with my gross hand. To stay awake in story meetings, I peel flaps of skin off my fingers. I did a real number on my left thumb on Tuesday.
4. Okay, so maybe I don’t like Zapp and Roger so much. OKAY? Jesus.
5. Down with pants, up with skirts. And all that.
my baby brother is 25 today. when he was tiny he had white hair and i would fantasize about smothering him with a pillow, because he was the most beautiful baby. the day he came home from the hospital, i was so angry with my mother that i threw a lego house i’d been building against the kitchen wall and just SCREAMED.
when he was 11, i pinned him to the ground by kneeling on his shoulders and i gave him pink-belly with a wooden cutting board i’d made in IT class. our parents were in montreal for the weekend, thank GOD, because SHIT did he ever bruise.
i was a terrible sister. now we’re great friends. he made this blog with his BARE HANDS and BARE COMPUTER KEYBOARD.
this, but also peter mitton, who came into the workspace at the end of today with the big rolling recycling bin and yelled RECYCLING PARTY.
I called my extravagant friend Nazneen “second daughter of the Sheikh” Sheikh tonight to yell at her about what a pain in the ass pomegranates are.
She said, “Dahhhhhhhhhhhhhling that’s why we have servants.”
I need to call the Humber Writing Program to get them to get me an intern. Also, my tennis racquet needs to be restrung.
And I am extremely horny.
Don’t you sometimes feel like that special goldfish in the middle, and everyone else are just shitty bluefish?
Sometimes, aren’t you certain that you are one of the shitty, pedestrian bluefish?
Gets picture taken with animal mascot of indefinite animal origin. Rick is qualified to do many jobs. Once he was the exterminator for Lisa “Suckdog” Carver’s house on the eastern seaboard. Now he knows all about photographs. And other things.
but now i have no boyfriends, and i take my own blazers to the dry cleaner(ing) service(s) place across the street.
“Yesterday my friend sprinted over to my house so that I could sign a copy of my book for his ex-girlfriend. He was sprinting around because he had to go pick up our other friend who has been spending his weekends in jail for a few reasons. He looked tired and there was mania in his eyes. I asked him if he was okay. He said, ‘I just snorted a rail of Oxycontin, so I actually feel great.’ He offered me some but I declined, explaining I was making matter paneer. I then glanced at the counter and noticed the top of my little pine box which houses my brass knuckles was clean of yellow powder. For weeks, there had been a small pile of powder on the box — another friend had given me a leftover Oxycontin from his knee operation. Within minutes of receiving it, I’d spilled some water on the pill and it had disintegrated somewhat. Still, I was keeping it on the box like that just in case I felt the need to mix it into some juice or something to feel better about things. I yelled, ‘Vitoria!’ And my friend said, ‘Kathryn, why are you yelling ‘VITORIA!” I explained that my new cleaning lady must have polished the little pine box and cleaned up the powder and thrown it away. I was so disappointed.”