As my political & pop culture writing will be featured on the exciting, sexy, totally new and uproarious Pundit League as of tomorrow, this site is now…just…me. Just me talking about stupid crap, or my feelings, though those terms are interchangeable, no?
My blogs of old, as some might recall, were just me documenting wacky personal events or complaining about pain or men or remembering dreams and trying to make it kind of entertainingish. If you don’t care for that sort of extended tweeting, as I now think of it, you’ll just want to check the Pundit League every Monday for my new posts. If you like the scary gelatinous innards of my brain, you are welcome to it. There’s even marshmallows.
I may even continue to post book excerpts & music I’ve recorded here. It sort of depends on whether or not I actually do anything ever again. If I also sound very defeatist right now, it’s because I am exhausted and I have a headache. See? Good old fashioned complaining, where I am neither entertaining nor insightful. Not that I claim to be that ever, but I try-ish.
But enough of that! as I hear your brain scream “Make with the funny, stupid!” Here is some stuff in my head lately:
Does anyone else refer to their curled up cats as Russian hats? As in “Look at the Russian hats on my bed!” Just me? Ok.
Cigars are harder to smoke than anybody told me.
I must have a squeaky little voice, because gay men always make fun of it.
I’m in a weird period in my life where I have more fun than money. So, college. Except I’m not being indoctrinated with how my lack of personhood as a woman is somehow destroying the marshlands. Or having any where near as much sex.
My friends are more convinced of my brilliance than I am, which is handy, as it insures that people still want to do things with me, even when I’d never do things with me. I still don’t tell them what’s really in my head though, most of the time, because my head is like Chuckie Cheese. In front there’s all these games and noises and it’s shiny. In the back are a bunch of Mexican guys furiously trying to make the inedible look like pizza. Behind the kitchen, in the alley, something rots in the dumpster, and also? They’re filming an episode of CSI.
And always the screaming. Always the screaming. And you get a ton of tickets that really only buys you a light up pen. All that skee ball, and all you got was a light up pen.
I’m sorry that all I gave you today is a light up pen. I know you want ComicCon 2010 Saturday. It’ll come to me. There was a lot. And I’m trying to figure out how to explain details of that day without revealing things about me that will make some of you want to be my friend, but for fake stupid reasons that will ultimately depress me.
Suffice to say, I can tell now.