She WON a marathon yesterday. Here’s the story. I can’t decide if her running in and winning the marathon counterbalances my having sat around all weekend consuming and ass-enlargening, or if it just exposes in harsh harsh light the ass-enlargening hunk of laziness I’ve become. Either way, I’m proud to bits of my friend, whom we affectionately call Xofod. And now I’m taking my exposed enlarged ass outside to move around a little.
When I was a kid I used to pretend my eyes were a camera. I’d stand in place, turning 360º, blinking snapshots: the next-door neighbor’s trampoline; the split-rail fence along the side of our yard; my 5th grade teacher opening a birthday present; the arcade at Putt-Putt. I thought that by concentrating on the thing I was blinking the picture of, it would stay in my memory forever. Not unlike the lyrics to Mr. Roboto, but perhaps a little more deliberate. I also tried keeping journals. I’d get a new notebook and start, in earnest, recording the mundaneities of my…
The guest room chez Upside Up has been officially christened now — Larry and Al came up from New Orleans to spend Friday night with us. Larry has a tendency to arrive with out-of-the-ordinary goodies so it was almost not a surprise when he brought out a silver fleecey wrap and unveiled a bottle of Absinthe. According to wikipedia, the effects of La Fée Verte have been described by artists as mind-opening and even hallucinogenic, and by those jolly prohibitionists as turning good people mad and desolate. Mad! And Desolate! Rimbaud and Verlaine! Van Gogh! Toulouse-Lautrec! We would swirl around…
Upside Up Index for Halloween 2006. Number of Little Mermaids: 2 Number of pumpkins carved: 4 Number of economy-sized bags of candy purchased: 10 Hours it took to dispense entirety of economy-sized bags of candy: 2 Number of handfuls of candy I stole from Zoe and Lucy to put back in our dispensing bowl: 4 Number of times our doorbell rang after we turned out the lights because our candy was gone: 3 Number of kids in the first half hour to come to our door without a costume: 6 Number of parents who, along with their kids, held out…
I got this spam email the other day. Listen, I am not sure whether you got my first email or not. I am sort of concerned. People are making me feel uncomfortable and I don’t like being in the middle. Some of the staff are spreading rude jokes behind your back about your weight. I personally have no problem with you being you. Please don’t come back at me for informing. I just wish to help if anything. I thought about mentioning it to a boss but then to have something like this explode is silly and embarassing for everyone…
Apparently Disney is turning over a new leaf, announcing they will be limiting their licensing to “healthful” foods. Here’s an article from Ad Age talking all about how not only will they go lo-fat and lo-sugar (not inherently “healthful” mind you — sorry, I’m a terrible food snob) with all the food they emblazon with their images (my take on this, above), but they will also be reformulating foods at their theme parks, banning trans-fats entirely. I guess it’s just a matter of time before the obese cross-dressers are going to take a stand against the ban.
So I’m working on this design job (or, at least, I’m supposed to be working on a design job — right now, I’m posting something to my blog, which means I am decidedly not working on a design job) and I’m looking for some stock photography for an elusive concept. So far I’ve searched Veer for “path forward,” “path,” “prescribe,” and “balance.” Searching for “balance” yielded, predictably, a lot of photos of yoga photos of people walking on ersatz balance beams photos of people with things on their heads and this: Hello? What does this mean? Anyone?
Adios CBGB. Good luck in Vegas.
We’re back! And you’ve all been so patient — thank you for putting up with my absence of the past 2 weeks. We have returned from our 6 day, 1500 mile, 10 state, 9 city, whirlwind, east coast extravaganza and I’m now settled back in enough to tell you about it. Many of you may recall our last trip north, a nightmare of herculean proportions that spawned a tidal wave of two-year-old-ness in Zoe and Lucy that didn’t stop until they were knee-deep in their threes. It featured snow-boundedness in a non-childproof house, white-out 5 mph driving on the Jersey…
