These ridiculous amateur astronomers don't recognize extraterrestrial craft, and mistake them for horrifying NATO drone-mother crafts who give birth to thousands of drone babies.
Meet Stella, the very handsome rescue cat! Stella is adventurous and outdoorsey. But she is not a fan of jogging, and so her owner was ticketed this week "on suspicion of tethering his cat to a rock after the pet refused to go jogging with him." Cats. What can you do.
Yesterday was Thursday! Forwards means backwards, and left is right. What a jerk this guy was, right?
He's about as hard as Darth Vader, in his sweat shirt, khakis and Chuck Taylors. Like the Twitter of Valdis Zatlers. And I will never stand naked in front of you, or if I do, it won't be for a long time. They are people who sometimes have strange obsessions and really cool cars.
And the weather wasn’t barely hot—did I mention that the sweater was a Jeremy Scott? "If they don’t consent to it, then it’s murder and not good."
You’re hilarious, thanks for all the laughs— [...]
This is one of the five things you see on Twitter before you die. (Another being TWEETS FROM YOUR GLEEFUL EXECUTIONER.) It is: "How do girls wearing rompers go to the bathroom? Is it just really awkward?" Well, it had to be asked. Because apparently the romper/jumpsuit thing is out of control-so much so that the Houston Chronicle, that arbiter of fashion, is all over it. Oh yes: "There are short romper styles at Wal-Mart and elegant jumpsuits at Nordstrom and other upscale retailers." Wal-Mart, people. And "upscale"-like Nordstrom! Oh my. Also NewsNet5 is on the case: "Rompers are all the rage this summer!" Haha, [...]
"You have sex with my mother."
His tone is flat. He could have said, "I have a dog." Or, "I ate burritos for lunch."
I can feel my cheeks burning. It is idiotic, but I sincerely believed, all these weeks that Nan and I had spent together, pretending to go to the movies but instead ending up in my apartment, fucking each other madly like teenagers, that Devon didn't know, didn't even have a clue. But he knew all along.
Joe Coscarelli is working up a list of complete sets listed. There is: Usher's "Little Freak." ("Like Santa I keep a vixen/ Got that Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Dixon, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen!" Um, ha. And then there's Jay-Z, who (sorry) I have never felt, particularly for a stunt like this.
If you are considering going to college (which, from where I'm sitting now, looks like a big fat waste of five-and-a-half years) you should major in engineering of some sort. According to a pretty unreliable "thing found on the Internet," seven out of the top ten undergraduate degrees by salary are in engineering. Surprisingly, sitting only 20 spots lower, a philosophy degree (stupid, Dave!) will supposedly earn you more than business administration, business management and advertising. Twenty spots lower than that, journalism languishes below nursing, English and agriculture. But just above forestry. Which will probably be incorrect by the time you read this.
Here are my iPhone notes from this week that never saw the light of day:
• "Your 20s are about crashing parties that you weren't invited to; your 40s are about RSVPing to parties and then not showing up. This works out perfectly."
• "Make sandwiches."
• "Wallet chains are not back, and it is too fucking soon." (Noted during Tuesday night's Destroyer show at Le Poisson Rouge, which, may I point out with great rage, saw the band taking the stage at 11:45 p.m.? Jesus Christ!)
• "How does a Canadian songwriter recruit 7 band members and end up with 100% white men? You can't throw a stone [...]
Huh. I guess we were right?
On Fridays, we take requests. A reader writes: "It's sad that I rely on your blog so much in order to have relevant things to say in conversations about recent viral videos. And I understand—one day is pretty quick to come up with something to say about this amazing tome of teen angst that picked up seven million views yesterday. But come on."
Well, that email was from 30 hours ago, and now it has 16 million views on YouTube. So here is what we know. 13-year-old amateur Rebecca Black's song "Friday," which was a song purchased and recorded for two grand from a vanity label, is about [...]
"Everything is sold as novelty. Everything in the box says 'novelty item' only… It's not something you sit down and actually eat. It's more for licking and tasting. Edible? No. It's not going to fill you up." —"Sensual products" store owner Rosemary Benitez, who was surprised by the San Antonio Department Of Sanitarian Services' assertion that in order to sell erotic products that were meant to be consumed by humans (like the Red Laces bikini bottoms above), she had to acquire a food permit for her store and open it up to health inspections. In response to Benitez's complaint, a San Antonio higher-up retorted: "One, it's the law. Two, [...]
Choire Sicha: IS THIS FOR REAL? Alex Balk: Wow. Choire: It's… hard to know where to start with this! And I'm torn about whose beat this is?
Okay, kids, "re-set day" is drawing to a close. I hope we all noticed and enjoyed so many awesome things that we will be carried through the weekend on a cloud of bonhomie and be dropped gently into Monday morning with our sense of serenity and our capacity for cheer still completely intact. You are all very special to your editors here at The Awl-yes, even you-and I'm glad we were able to share this celebration together. In other news, I'm completely out of ideas on what to end the week with (I was going to do a Listicle Without Commentary on the 31 Best Porn Films Based [...]
Is there a name for the psychological cozy feeling when you're finally not the last person in a long line?
— Choire Sicha (@Choire) June 22, 2012
In the interminable Stumptown morning line that spills into the lobby of the Ace Hotel every day (LOL, I know, but it's the only place for good coffee drinks by our office), I was last in line for a while and then this friendly fox sidled up behind me and was like "Aren't you thrilled that you're not the last last in line anymore?" I was! There ought to be a word for that, we agreed. Part of it is [...]
Rebecca Black wakes somewhat too perfectly in the early scenes of her viral video, "Friday." Her eyes open exactly as the clock beside her bed flashes seven. She wears full make-up. Rare for a teen, she isn’t tired, longs not for any receding dreams.
Her cultural debt is less to Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles than Evie Vicki the robot girl from Small Wonder, we realize, as in a voice controlled by Auto-Tune she enumerates the banalities of an anti-existence: “Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs, gotta have my bowl, gotta have cereal… gotta get down to the bus stop.”
She offers the camera a hostage's smile, forced, [...]
You have no soul! You have no soul and this recently released report, from the UC Davis Olive Center, proved it to me! And I quote: "Sixty-nine percent of imported olive oil samples and 10 percent of California olive oil samples labeled as extra virgin olive oil failed to meet the IOC/USDA sensory (organoleptic) standards for extra virgin olive oil." You're a liar! You have no soul and no organoleptic standards!
"Coffee or tea?" Dree is standing in my kitchen. Her yellow sundress is wrinkled. The ruffle at the hemline form an unruly wave, making the dress look even shorter than it is. Her hair is loosely braided into two pigtails. The heavy makeup she wore last night has been washed off. Her skin-a shade darker than cream-looks fresh.
I have watched two videos in the last twenty minutes. One of them upset me! Was it this one?
This is something of an embarrassing question to ask, since all of us who've done time in the Garden State carry a residual shame, a sense of terrible inferiority and unworthiness, about the whole thing. Still, I've spent many years pondering this query and have yet to find a satisfactory answer: Why is it so goddamn hard to get a Taylor Ham & Cheese sandwich in this fucking town?