Friday, November 30, 2007

A Movie: Beats the Shit Out of Most Stuff I Can Think of

I'm not one to suck at the teet of certain actors', no,, I totally am. [Insert cheerleaderesque levels of squee] Philip Seymour Hoffman and Laura Linney: It's like combining the food politics of California and the ass-size expectations of Indiana into a real place to live.

92% Freshness!

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Stealing Your Employer's Time and Making the Most of it

Recent discovery: Trimming Pubes

No one likes to spend all day at work - especially when there are like a billion other trite things we humans are forced to maintain and service in a week. Considering the eight hour work day PLUS commute time, and you've got maybe eight more hours of awake time to do dumb shit. Examples of Dumb Shit: Exercise, Masturbation, Bill Paying, Fingernail cleaning, Blogging, Reading the Newspaper, Reading books, Pube Trimming.

Perhaps you see where I am going with this? No? All of the above? I do at work. Dude, and there is so much more than that. Specifically, I just discovered Pube Trimming. Before I only exercised and masturbated in the bathroom, but now I can sit there trimming my bush for a few minutes at a time before someone comes in. Word of Warning: For those of you who are easily startled, proceed with caution. A sudden, bodily jolt with sharp scissors in your hand could inflict serious damage to your exposed flaps and holes.

Consumer Safety Alert: The Natural Food Flakes Were Right After All

Although I did eat two bites of Chicken Adobo on Saturday to satisfy cooking self-esteem woes of a certain Filipino lesbian I know, I gave up meat - ESPECIALLY-processed meat a few years ago. No scientist or doctor needs to tell me what common sense already does: Adding chemicals to food cannot be good for one's health.
A recent article from fucking comes right out and says it: "Processed meats, the report explains, are simply too dangerous for human consumption. And why? Because they contain chemical additives that are known to greatly increase the risk of various cancers,including colorectal cancer, breast cancer, prostate cancer, leukemia,brain tumors, pancreatic cancer and many more."
Hey Asshole Over There With the Hot Dog! You can quit giving my cig the stink eye now.

Friday, November 16, 2007

Ethical Arguments With Estranged Husbands

My "she's absolutely the middle child" sister, CopperCrotch, recently exploded rage all over her cell phone to her estranged husband, "Terry", in her attempts to explain an innocent MySpace introductory quote. Rather than let her drown my own ear in her dramatic soliliquy, I forced her to write it down and email it to me so that in her own voice, a published blog could best put her position into the universe. Here's what she said to him, word for word, in an effort to preserve editorial purity.

Here's to your freedom, CopperCrotch. Let it ring; let it ring.

it feels good to be free...whats wrong with that statement? Would it feel better to be in bondage? chained up? tied to pole and stoned? it feels fucking good to be free. You get to make your own choices. You can use your bathroom when you have to. You can buy your favorite flavor of toothpaste. You can take a shower as long as you wish. You can stay up as late as you want watching whatever the hell you want on TV while eating chips in your bed. You aren't responsible for anyone but yourself and your offspring.

Martin Luther King would agree with me. If you were to look back into history, there is no evidence of freedom feeling bad. Freedom feels good. That's why people fight for it. That's why people make sacrifices for it. Whatever, I'm free so I can feel however I want about that, so now what are you gonna do? I'm free and it feels good.

Um, plus I took that quote from a Rilo Kiley song, it's not like I could come up with something so profound on my own.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

I Have to Believe Losing Hurts You More Than it Hurts Me, Adam Vinatieri

My Colts lost for the second week in a row; to fucking New England last week and then to fucking San Diego. We played like shitballs the first half, this past Sunday, but rallied like Super Bowl Champions are paid to do, and made one hell of a comeback. In fact, WE SHOULD HAVE FUCKING WON. Vinatieri. Vinatjeri. Vanatjergi. Vandetjergt. Vanderjagt.

Monday, November 12, 2007

This is an Impossibility for Folks in Indiana

Adbusters' Buy Nothing Day commences November 23, 2007 - which is the day after Thanksgiving (aka Black Mother Fuckin' Friday). The premise of the resistance: "an effort to expose the environmental and social consequences of First World over-consumption." Preach it.
(This doom and gloomer won't board the revolution bus, unless it's for a hijacking.)
And, honestly, weirdly, truly and ironically, this day is the only day I actually enjoy shopping... though it has nothing to do with spending dollars. Traditionally, my sisters, my mother and I have become part of this store-hopping mayhem for the shear thrill of the cluster-fuck. Oh, the memories, the near adventures. T-Giving night, all hopped up on sugar and booze, we'd peruse the newspaper ad inserts, spreading them on coffee table and sofa, debating the finer points of the Target off-brand boombox versus the Best Buy off-brand DVD player. Keeping to planned lists, succinct drive routes and a manageable wake-up time, we froze asses and hands off, rarely - if ever - actually purchasing anything, searching for bathrooms, complaining and only looking forward to breakfast. (I can be forced to do anything with a promise of breakfast in a restaurant. Cracker Barrel! Please settle a spot in California.)
I won't be home this Thanksgiving, to good old capitalistic South Bend, Indiana. So by default I shall participate in the AdBusters' event (being in a cabin in Tahoe insures minimal mall time).

True Story: I'm sad. Fuck AdBusters. I want my mommy and my mommy to buy me breakfast.

Rumble: A Comic by Jerry Lor-Lor

KilledByTheNetwork loyalist, and now official contributor, Jerry Lor-Lor, has forayed into and conquered the art of digital comic design.
And we thought she spent all of her time watching crappy reality TV. Fooled you!

Friday, November 9, 2007

YOU Are A Bad Pop Song, Patrick Moberg

So this douche, who believes in played-out, idiotic and popularly destructive notions of 'love at first sight', becomes the star of his own Tom Hanks mind-sapper and creates a MyPixelatedMegRyan-website after seeing - SEEING - a girl. Once. On a subway. Why am not surprised that he is 21? Why am I not surprised the chick was wearing a red flower in her hair...and fucking blue tights? (Anyone else smell the reeking Drew Barrymore brand of flakiness?) Why am I not surprised that I feel spumescent jealously and hope he gets her pregnant and they are forced to move to New Jersey or Connecticut? Wasn't Lance Bass in a movie about a gay subway encounter? Or wait. He is gay? Anyways: DUMB.

Meat is Art; Murder is Art; Your Hat Should Be Murdered Alongside Your Bravado


Being Gay & Liking Abortion: WWJDNow That Pat Robertson Accepts?

This New York Times article shocks the Christian piss outta me! Pat Robertson, Mr. Christian-Coalition, Mr. 700-Club, Mr. Irresponsibly-Having-Only-Endorsed-Candidates-Based-on-Abortion-Positions, has lent the entirety of the right-wing evangelists' support to Giuliani's presidential run. And it seems to be based upon his preferring prostate cancer recovery and Israeli politics to his love of horses.

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Anyone Shocked Over This?

Why have you forsaken me, Paul Giamatti? Oh wait. You never answered me the LAST time I posed this question - you know, after I sat through all the boring wine-talk in Sideways.
No one's looking at you, Vince. All we have together is Old School.

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

R.I.P. Howard Beale: There Are No Peoples Or Nations, Only Corporations

Finally, some brainiac in the NY Times has pointed out what I've been grumbling to my peers about for the last myriad years: Political and social progress, as accomplished by a government, is impossible when a fuckton of money is at stake.
Why are politicians legally allowed the influence of corporate campaign funds or private funds, for that matter? Easy solution: Cut off the supply. Make all the contributions illegal. What is the harm here? I have never understood why these jerks need to have such expensive campaigns anyways. THEY ARE RUNNING FOR IMPORTANT POLITICAL OFFICES. I AM SURE MEDIA EXPOSURE WILL BE PROVIDED FOR FREE.

Gut Check: Fast Food Restaurants STILL Not Healthy

A thrilling skim-ride of this article provided some shocking and not so shocking restaurant info. The most striking revelation discovered? Subway bread can be composted because it CONTAINS FERTILIZER.
Funnily NOT shocking: "Taco Bell's website didn't have much emphasis on health". No way, Jose!

I Recommend!: TV On The Radio, 11/2 FreshAir Podcast

If you get NPR's Fresh Air podcast, last Friday's had a nice nug in the center. It is a seven minute piece discussing the big SERIES releases of 'Seinfeld', 'Twin Peaks' and 'My So-Called Life'. The treasure clip is hearing David Lynch inadvertently (but in all his charming sincerity) deem "Baywatch" culturally irrelevant, as he's got no clue what it is. Weirdly, I couldn't avoid accepting my gut welling up with seething-hatred upon hearing Jerry Seinfeld's voice. His wifey comes off so icky, association is a real bitch, Jerr. And you know he is part of the machine churning out her "nutritional" shit.
The direct link to that portion of the podcast is posted here. You may, however, prefer to listen to the entire thing. For a good twenty-one minutes Kevin Costner sucks his own junk and tries without success to justify 'Waterworld'.

Friday, November 2, 2007

Dream A Little Dream of Me

Last night I dreamed Jim Halpert was in love with me. And I don't mean he wanted to bang me and then NOT call me the next day or NOT respond to my emails. I mean, I could sense, like Pam could sense, that he really really really liked me. I haven't felt that way in years. Needless to say, I was pretty fucking pissed when I woke up the next morning and realized he had no idea that I existed, let alone that I was the love of his life. So whatever, it sucked to wake up alone again. And not just alone but like, I'm never gonna find a real Jim Halpert EVER kind of alone. But I thought about the crazy breakfast I was going to make for myself and quickly abandoned my grief and self-pity. Eggs over easy with fresh cilantro, herbed up goat cheese, sun flower sprouts, multigrain toast, seedless tangerines, just ground french roast coffee. COME ON! That would take anyone's mind off of the intangible and arguably esoteric discovery of true love. Hell, it's a myth anyways. How are all these people getting together? Every dude I meet has some bubble-butt perfect artist girlfriend. I can't compete with that. I come off abrasive, bitter, to the the point of being considered rude, perhaps. I see myself as transparent, but no one bothers to look. I catalogue hours of thought on an issue and via a sentence and a face, I intimidate and turn-off potential suitors. I am not scary. I'm a real dear if you sift through the black layers of cynisism and hate. I think. Recently, my friend Nic came to visit me here in Oakland. She assumed the role of my self-appointed life-coach for five days. A rough and entirely too self-reflective and self-centered time later, I had become more aware of my short-comings, but was in no safe place to change them absolutely. Fuck. I'm thirty-one. Is it possible to significantly amend, say reverse ingrained personality traits? Dubiously, I only filter now, instead of speaking niceties. Nic says this is a huge step. I say, Nic, I almost blurted out "xxxx" and says, Good Elly; it was good you stopped yourself. Progress.
That dream ruled in comparison to the dream I had one night previous. I lived in some sort of cramped apartment, filled with limbless, decapitated bodies. The wounds were cauterized so there was hardly a mess, but even wrapped in down comforters they still seemed out of place, illegal. I discovered the bodies but had no memory of doing the dirty work. I assumed a friend had committed the crimes and I was maintaining loyalty by stowing the goods and keeping my yap shut to police. It presented quite a moral conundrum of sorts and having too much TV knowledge of crime scene investigations, I was sure no one had covered their tracks perfectly -- especially me -- and sure enough I would be cuffed, questioned and thrown in the slammer. That dream required way too much bargaining and worry, so when I woke up I felt relief akin to wasabi resolution or a passed pregnancy test. Just last week, I dreamt my grandma was maniacally driving me down the coast in her Ford Taurus - forcing me to yell at her "Calm the fuck down, Grandma". Even in a dream, that's a weird fucking thing to yell at your grandma. Anyways, our mode of transportation magically converted to a bicycle and she hit a crack and flipped over the handlebars. Worried about her condition, I phoned my mother. But honestly, I was thrilled our joyride arrived at an end that didn't include us drowning in the Pacific ocean where jellyfish could sting us on our metaphysical dissent into the depths of the universe. Who knew my grandma was such a renegade spaz.

Thursday, November 1, 2007


Does anyone else feel like this clouded, alarmist, reactionary way the federal government makes everything an act of terra' is way out of control? I was fucking pissed about the liquid take-down in the airports, but now we are willy nilly prosecuting random REGULAR AMERICAN CRIMINALS under the guise of terrorism?
Thank God these people are still thinking: Timothy Lynch, director of the Project on Criminal Justice at the Cato Institute & Donna Lieberman, executive director of the New York Civil Liberties Union. Both mentioned, in the NYTimes, the purpose of the new terrorism law was to guard New York from Al Qaeda - ya know, ACTUAL terrorists, the ones who target particular peoples and defy nation-states for ideological or political reasons (
I did my own thinking. I went to and it asked me to input a "legal term" in order to find its definition and guess what? Nothing was found for "terrorism". I found plenty for first degree murder and manslaughter but nothing...for...terrorism... as if it isn't actually a LEGAL TERM. I also found nothing for "slippery slope" but why would I? That is just AN IDEA FOUND IN THE CONTEXT OF CONSTRUCTING A LOGICAL ARGUMENT.
Hell, convict this boy of terrorism. Iiii meeean, jees, he "intimidate[d] or coerce[d] a civilian population". All the prosecution needs is a batshit brilliant psychologist to reveal this kid's tragically deranged motive. I'M SURE IT'S IN THERE, NEXT TO HIS LIQUID EXPLOSIVES.