global glob of glue
JAPANESE FAST FOOD
Yesterday Nora was relating her summertime adventures, about how she and her sitter went to the beach ALL DAY and something about the way she said the words “all day” made me automatically reply, “You’re so pretty when you’re unfaithful to me!” Because I am damaged by having Surfer Rosa as a near-constant adolescent soundtrack. Saying this was a mistake.
Nora: What did you say?
Me: Never mind. Nothing.
Nora: Did you call me PRETTY?
Me: Yeah. It’s a line from a song. It was a reflex, it’s nothing.
Nora: PRETTY has nothing to do with the BEACH.
I WILL BE OVER HERE EATING DORITO-COVERD PIZZA
Despite all my swearing and blowjob talk (sounds like a radio show! Hello and welcome to Blowjob Talk!), I am quite prudish about certain things, such as my Womynly Tyme O’ The Month. I cannot get behind all this oversharing and tampon tales (another radio show!) told on Twitter. But I am about to break my own rule, because I’ve had such a hormonally ridiculous day in which I cried FOUR times. Reasons for crying: I read something about a 25-year-old with terminal colorectal cancer (WTF, universe?); I read this book (again with the cancer); some stranger was curt and dismissive to her kid on the bus, and I realized that there have been times when I’ve sounded like that; and I dropped the orange juice carton. It didn’t even break or spill! I was just very very sad to have dropped it. I need to get a grip. Or just wait a few days, I suppose.
HELP HELP
The slime is freaking me out!
Also: terrifying safety videos!
Be afraid! Pikachu has rage!
I HEAR YOU KNOCKING, BUT
In a sidebar ad for some high-rise rental, I saw the phrase “controlled entry building.” That struck me as a particularly baroque way to say it, but it’s not all that uncommon, as approximately 500 Google hits will show. I live in a controlled-entry building too! We use a thing called a “key” as our means of control.
—mimi smartypants is not allowed on the premises.