sir it seems you may lack employment
Recent downloads, mostly golden oldies, that I just want to hear over and over and over:
Deerhunter, “Nothing Ever Happened.” Particularly the last two minutes or so, after the vocals stop and it gets properly rhythmic and shoegazer.
Northern State, “Sucka Mofo.” I wish they had left out the dated bit about the Democrats, but whatever. All raps should use the word “motherfucker” and disparage Olive Garden.
Pavement, “Starlings of the Slipstream.” There's no coast of Nebraska.
Boards of Canada, “Dayvan Cowboy.” There's a video for this where some maniac skydives from space, it is worth checking out.
A couple of derivative songs by The Hives that I cannot tell apart and are only for running on the treadmill. They make me feel a bit like a television ad, but they also make me run fast.
Say Hi To Your Mom, “Sweet Sweet Heartkiller.” This is a cute poppy thing that reminds me of some other song. Or maybe I am just so old that all “new” music reminds me of something.
NSFW BUT WAIT I THOUGHT WE WERE AT WORK
I don't really feel like rehashing my Pittsburgh trip, and there is not a lot to say anyway except that the city is nice but the hotel needed its head examined. There were a lot of weird little things wrong, not like bedbug-weird but more on the order of my TV remote missing its batteries, the staff not understanding how many teabags might be necessary for a coffee break of 300 science editors (hint: more than FIVE), etc. Also, downtown Pittsburgh is very closed on Sunday.
Here is a short list of things that were mentioned at official functions of my publishing conference, often into microphones or in front of full meeting rooms.
1. Mouse erections and the palpating thereof in student laboratories. Several mouse jerkoff jokes.
2. Cinnamon roll icing = semen comparison.
3. Digital rectal massage.
4. Homosexual necrophilia in ducks.
The whole weekend rates as the most R-rated thing I have ever done with my corporate AmEx. And that is before the drinking started.
SPEAKING OF CREEPY AND COMPULSIVE
Perhaps I am too fond of forensic true-crime programs, but sometimes I find myself mentally retracing my own steps, imagining police interviews with people I encounter, determining what can and can not be proven (eyewitnesses, credit card slips, time-stamped bus tickets). I do this a whole heck of a lot in a new city (Pittsburgh) where no one knows me. I do it from the point of view of a murder victim if I am in a bad mood, and of a spree killer in a good one. (What does that say about me?) Either way, I imagine the detectives making a timeline of my travels, checking my cell phone records (“She Twittered something totally inane at 2:34 pm!”), and interviewing CVS clerks. (“Yeah, I saw her. She bought gummy worms and a travel-sized bottle of hand lotion. Paid cash.”) (If it were a Law and Order episode, the clerk would be chewing gum, looking supremely bored, and being borderline rude to the police. Or maybe even continuing to stock shelves during the questioning, because lord knows no one needs to actually stop what they're doing just to help solve a major crime.)
Is that weird? (Yes.) If you also like to imagine yourself on the run from the law, please email me so I don't feel so alone.
GO SKINNY LEGS GO
For some reason Nora was giving me a tutorial on running form on our way to the bus stop. I am pretty sure she was making it all up. Hold your hands like this, make your feet “springy,” etc. She also showed me how to recover: “lean over and put your hands here to stabilize your knees.” Stabilize! I love that kid.
My favorite though was when she asked, “Want to learn how to get a BURST OF SPEED?” How could anyone say no. I ask you.
Nora is also on a bit of an Olympics kick lately, which makes me wonder if Mayor Daley has pulled a typical bit of demagoguery by insisting that the public schools talk up Chicago's bid. In class the kids were supposed to write a little paragraph imagining themselves as Olympic athletes (wtf, athletics has its place but frankly that's not my number-one parental dream) and Nora wrote this long thing about playing tackle football, complete with illustrations of her with helmet and gold medal, and I did not have the heart to point out that there is no football in the Olympics. Probably because the US would literally crush everyone. Crippling cervicospinal injuries: the spirit of international friendship!
In that vein, she also spent some time at her art table last night and then reappeared offering me a square of paper.
Nora: Would you like a ticket to the Awesome Games?
Me: Would I ever!
Nora: Here you go. Don't lose that, it gets you in to all the Awesome Events.
It was too small to scan well, but apparently the logo for the Awesome Games involves a Spider-Man head, a couple of closed fists, a lightning bolt, the letters A and G, and a shitload of exclamation points. That was what was on my ticket, anyway.
TELL IT TO YOUR FACEBOOK AND QUIT WRITING NOVELS, THANKS
Yes yes yes yes YES!
—mimi smartypants is happy as a moderately happy clam.