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August 2006
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October 2006

Steal This Blog

So I'm kicking around an entry about a fairly harrowing weekend the suburbs...where I totally could have been a lawnmower or something like that...but I think I need another day or so to process that one. And since I spent most of yesterday in a slack-jawed, masochistic haze of watching stuff like this and reading stuff like this, I've really got nothing to write about today. Except...hmm. Hang on. Let me look around for any spare dead horses I could beat for awhile. I think there might be one out back... (Neigh!) Ah yes! MySpace emailed me back! You know in response to perhaps the sixteen dozen complaints of copyright infringement I submitted? Yes. Hello, Below is a pretty comprehensive overview on blogs presented in a FAQ format. It should answer all the questions that you should have about blogs. Questions about...blogs? The hell? Q: What is a blog? Oh helllllll no. A: A 'blog' is an online journal. 'Blog' is short for Weblog. in recent years, 'blogging' or posting an online journal has become very popular. MySpace has incorporated a feature to allow users to post their thoughts, dreams, random internet findings, or anything their heart desires.... Read more →

Into the Smoke

Judging from my archives, it appears I've spent the last two anniversaries of 9/11 obsessing about my womb, in one way or another. I don't know why, but today is harder than previous years. It seems like logically, every year should be easier. It should be getting better. Right? I started to write one of those minute-by-minute "where were you when the towers fell" entries but stopped halfway through and wiped the whole thing away with one long stroke of the backspace key. I don't know why. I've been reading the 2,996 project tributes all morning, and everything else is ringing kind of hollow right now. I was stuck in traffic. I was close enough to the Pentagon to see wisps of black smoke on the horizon. It seemed to smoke for days afterwards and resembled a blown-out birthday candle. The smoke told me that what I was hearing on the radio must really be happening -- the planes and the towers and the car bombs at the Capitol and the fire at the USA Today building and Air Force One being shot down and the world is ending and we were all going to die. I drove to work... Read more →

Roll Credits

Well, there you go. I am totally sure Claudia will never ever plagiarize again. In fact, I bet we've eradicated the problem of Internet plagiarism altogether. Except that I am also pretty sure poor, put-upon Claudia and her Kicky Flat Mary-Janes have probably already created another MySpace account and this one is like, at least 37% gothier and contains 45% more Morrissey lyrics and you know what? She's GLAD this happened. WHATEVER. She's way too hardcore to like, care and shit, especially since her freelance writing is like, going SO WELL and she's totally making $1,000,000 a year now because she is AWESOME and she RULZ! PISS OFF H8TERS! The end. Thanks to Mrs. CPA for finding Claudia's page in the first place, and then taking valuable time out of her cRuiZing 4 MySPAcE hOTTieS schedule to tell me about it. Thanks to Mr. Nice Guy and MetroDad for also writing stuff worth stealing. Claudia's blogroll kicks ass! Thanks to everybody who chimed in with advice and pointers and offers of legal help and dummy MySpace accounts. Oh, and the righteous fury. The delicious, buttery fury. But mostly, thank you for keeping the comments section at a football-in-the-groin, clown-car fender-bender... Read more →

Entirely Hypothetical

So let's say it's been brought to your attention (thank you, Interpid Internet People! I owe you a Coke.) that some loser on MySpace (I know! A loser! On MYSPACE of all places!) is stealing your writing and photos and manufacturing a nice little fake life for her fake self. Let's say you report a couple copyright violations to MySpace. Let's say you didn't initially realize just HOW many entries she's copied because...well, it's a MySpace blog. Have you ever tried to navigate through those things? Do they make anybody else feel as old as I do? Or am I the only one who gets a headache from trying to read a red font on a black background floating over a photograph? While the Black-Eyed Peas are on auto-play in the background? Just me then? Fine, moving on. Let's say you realize she's been posting your writing pretty regularly since at least June, which is when her entries suddenly disintegrate into day after day of cut-and-pasted song lyrics and seriously, if she's stolen shit before that you almost don't care, no way are you scrolling through yet another Elliot Smith song that just perfectly captures all the complicated hurts and... Read more →

Day of Days

Labor Day 2006. A big day. A huge day. A momentous day. The tire moved from the foyer to the bottom of the stairs, as Jason swears he will stick it "upstairs in the storage closet somewhere," sometime relatively soon. And oh! Yes. Noah took his first steps today. That too. *blubberweepsob* Read more →

Carefully Avoiding Any Mentions of the B Word

I am sick. A nice bleearghish sort of sick. Tropical Storm Ernesto* is blowing through town and has brought misery to each and every one of my head holes. My eyes are watering, my nose is running, my ears are throbbing and everything I eat tastes like linty socks. And the sinus pain! OH MY GOD, THE SINUS PAIN. I am discovering sinuses I never knew I had, like on the back of my skull. * "Tropical Storm Ernesto" always makes me think of some tempestuous storyline on a Telemundo soap -- a storyline usually of my own invention because I love to watch Telemundo soaps even though I don't speak Spanish. Does anybody else do that? It's way fun. Maria: Ernesto! Why you come into my life if all you do is destroy? Why you enjoy making me cry, Ernesto? Ernesto: Because I do not like your hair. No one with that hair deserves of the happiness. Maria: Ernesto! Ernesto: I also probably slept with that nun from the last scene, I think. Maria: Ernesto! Ernesto: And now we make angry love. Ernesto OUT. Yes. Clearly, I am sick. I may perhaps be at death's very door. So here:... Read more →