it is exactly

I was a sea world trainer for Halloween. I made my two friends be orcas and carry me on their backs. I did not get hit in the face by anyone and I went rock climbing in a banana suit. Hello, November.

Hollow Dreams and Hussy Housekeepers

Yann Arthus-Bertrand; Military cemetery in Verdun, France

I am going to be Jacques Cousteau or a Sea World trainer or a seal for the dumbest holiday ever. Hate it can't stand it. Where I live everyone dresses like an asshole and gets drunk everyday. Add candy and Übermenschasshole be free.

Right now my roommates are busy being pretentious and shitting themselves over David Foster Wallace and their art. I'd rather it be Halloween. Get me my wetsuit.

I went to New Mexico last week. Sick ol' dudes pretending to do bike tricks and more gauged ears than...I actually had no idea this was still something people pursued outside of cultural practices.

Now they are reading aloud excerpts of DFW short stories. I'm going to go pour myself some jug wine and unsheathe my TeenVogue from it's pristine plastic wrapping. Perfume samples and Taylor Momsen making out with all ten of the Culkin brothers!

Back to New Mexico. It was great. I saw Jenny Invert. They are like half of Grand Canyon with a new adult contemporary post-post-neoalternativedavidfosterwallaceÜbermenschmentioning spin. Check it. They are so good--and I hear that I began the process of coercing them into a New York Tour de Dance. I danced until my 1990s ill-fitting floral dress was soaked in gnarly bad-smelling sweat. My hosts were both hospitable and informative. They were also annoying and shoving their love in my face. I don't care how you feel fix my bike let me eat your cereal. Lots of bike riding/carpe diem-ing. (I feel shame; I rode a lime green fixed gear bicycle. I haven't slept in two days and I think this has something to do with it.)

Now the roommates are giving life advice to each other in terms of how to cope after graduating from college. We are all still in college. This is a battle of wits. I hope it turns into a physical fight. (Our rent is cheap enough that one less roommate would be feasible, right Mom and Dad?) No. The dynamic needs to be this way. Wrestle.

The Cramps

Domino


Surfin' Bird

I hate it. Part XXVI.

I hate Halloween. I hate kids and I hate tricks and I like savory things more than sweet things. October 31st is my worst nightmare. Not because it is spooky. Because it is a pain in the ass. If I am going to dress up like a freak I will do it on my own time. I don't need society to give me one day a year when it is suddenly okay for me to show my true colors. Last year I was Cindy McCain. So obviously herein lies the crux of my holiday dilemma. I am brilliant at choosing costumes but I just hate the holiday. As is life.

I hate Halloween movies, Halloween colors, but most of all I hate pets in costume. Why? Because I love it so much and I know I should hate it because it is wrong to dress up one's cat or dog and that really pisses me off. Look at that pet in costume. It fucking hates you. In summation: You can be the jackass that you yearn to be all year long and dress up like a giant baby or a gargantuan skankbrains but leave your pet out of it. My fridge smelled like rotting cheese--not sure why--so I cleaned it with tons of bleach. The bleach is what makes me so angry.

ARG! Big Boi is so good. Listen to his voice? Do you hear that? This is classified as "feeling so good, inspirational hip-hop now sound." It is that melodic ding ding and gospel cooing that creates a goose down landing strip when you reach the jump off.

I will listen to it and maybe take it home.