Read this. Just do it. It’s about Kevin Gillespie/David the Gnome/Beardo (obviously).
If you don’t have a Halloween costume yet, dressing up as Kevin could be fun. Although finding fake beards online is a LOT harder than you’d think. I’m being Bob Ross, so I know these things.
Thanks for the tip about Kevin, Lanster, and hey, everyone? Have a haaappy little Halloween, a happy little day.
[Posted by Mallory]
Filed under adventures, crushes, pop culture
Happy Halloween, fuckfaces:
I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to get my hands on some fucking gourds and arrange them in a horn-shaped basket on my dining room table. That shit is going to look so seasonal. I’m about to head up to the attic right now to find that wicker fucker, dust it off, and jam it with an insanely ornate assortment of shellacked vegetables. When my guests come over it’s gonna be like, BLAMMO! Check out my shellacked decorative vegetables, assholes. Guess what season it is—fucking fall. There’s a nip in the air and my house is full of mutant fucking squash.
I may even throw some multi-colored leaves into the mix, all haphazard like a crisp October breeze just blew through and fucked that shit up. Then I’m going to get to work on making a beautiful fucking gourd necklace for myself. People are going to be like, “Aren’t those gourds straining your neck?” And I’m just going to thread another gourd onto my necklace without breaking their gaze and quietly reply, “It’s fall, fuckfaces. You’re either ready to reap this freaky-assed harvest or you’re not.”
Carving orange pumpkins sounds like a pretty fitting way to ring in the season. You know what else does? Performing an all-gourd reenactment of an episode of Diff’rent Strokes—specifically the one when Arnold and Dudley experience a disturbing brush with sexual molestation. Well, this shit just got real, didn’t it? Felonies and gourds have one very important commonality: they’re both extremely fucking real. Sorry if that’s upsetting, but I’m not doing you any favors by shielding you from this anymore.
The next thing I’m going to do is carve one of the longer gourds into a perfect replica of the Mayflower as a shout-out to our Pilgrim forefathers. Then I’m going to do lines of blow off its hull with a hooker. Why? Because it’s not summer, it’s not winter, and it’s not spring. Grab a calendar and pull your fucking heads out of your asses; it’s fall, fuckers.
Have you ever been in an Italian deli with salamis hanging from their ceiling? Well then you’re going to fucking love my house. Just look where you’re walking or you’ll get KO’d by the gauntlet of misshapen, zucchini-descendant bastards swinging from above. And when you do, you’re going to hear a very loud, very stereotypical Italian laugh coming from me. Consider yourself warned.
For now, all I plan to do is to throw on a flannel shirt, some tattered overalls, and a floppy fucking hat and stand in the middle of a cornfield for a few days. The first crow that tries to land on me is going to get his avian ass bitch-slapped all the way back to summer.
Welcome to autumn, fuckheads!
[Posted by Mallory]
Our dear friend — let’s call her Corporate Barbie — had the most ridonk, legit Anne-Hathaway-in-The-Devil-Wears-Prada job ever. She survived a year and got promoted, and luckily her sense of humor emerged unscathed. Because this here blog is the quickest way to fame — of any kind, really — she penned this little number and asked that we share it with the masses. And I DO mean masses (hi masses! thanks for reading!). As Corporate Barbie explained, “I thought you might enjoy a piece I wrote earlier today. It is inspired by my life”:
Earlier today I mentioned to some friends that we should go to the movies tonight. I was under the influence of a “Mid-Friday Crisis” (MFC). Allow me to elaborate.
The MFC typically occurs between 11am and 1pm on Fridays after a Thursday night out, although it can happen at anytime. You know you are having an MFC when you look at your clock and think to your self, “Crap, I have to start being more responsible. It’s only 10:59 and I can’t order lunch yet because I just ate an egg sandwich. The day is not even close to over and I have so much to do that I inevitably will not accomplish.”
Once this thought enters your head, ideas such as “staying in on Thursdays” and “going to the movies on Fridays” immediately follow. And you are actually able to think they are good ideas.
Then you order a grilled cheese/chicken parm sandwich, someone mentions a cover band and the clock turns 2:45. The end of the day is in sight. The Black Eyed Peas “I Gotta Feeling” becomes the theme song to the soundtrack of your life and you can already taste the bad decisions and terrible dance moves you will be pairing with Yuengling and whiskey tonight.
It is safe to say that our resilience when faced with an MFC is the direct cause to why we are such messes.
I wish you all fun Fridays. I’ll be at the Whiskey Bar in Hoboken if any of you care to join!
[Posted by Mallory, but written by Corporate Barbie. (Maybe you think Corporate Barbie is meant to be offensive. It’s not, don’t worry. Corporate Barbie just has a tendency to look exactly like a Barbie in photos.)]
Filed under adventures, drinks, food, humor, pop culture, post-college depression
He’s Beardo to the Gawker live bloggers, David the Gnome to my roommate, and number one in my heart. (Yeah, I totally went there.) Ladies and gentlemen, let’s all take a few moments to appreciate the snuggly wonder that is Kevin from Top Chef:
Um hi ginger beard.
But he’s not just snuggly! He’s tough too!
Just kidding! Still snuggly! Kevin, c’mere and give me a hug!
Seriously, though. I love Kevin. This is a weird season of Top Chef (as in four people are awesome and the rest suck and it’s just matter of time before the show gets to where we all knew it was going from Day One), and Kevin is the only one who consistently delivers and makes me happy (it’s like Blair on Gossip Girl, always making up for the other characters). Jennifer is painfully insecure about her cooking; Hipster Douche lives with his parents and is just plain irritating; something’s off about Robin; Douche Brother needs to learn to talk with his chin up and stop being a sore loser; Nice Brother is blah; and Jersey Douche makes me embarrassed to have liked his restaurant. But Kevin is perfect.
Speaking of perfect, hey Natalie Portman? Wanna be friends? Yer funny.
[Posted by Mallory]
Filed under celebrities, crushes, food, pop culture, TV
A blanky and heels? Not okay.
[Posted by Mallory]
Filed under celebrities, fashion, pop culture, thoughts
Let’s talk for a bit about how strange and awkward I am. So the washer and dryer in my building only take quarters (yeah, those kind still exist), and this always presents a bit of a conundrum for me because I, um, have yet to get signed up with a bank in DC. I know, it’s not smart and I’m wasting money on ATM fees and yada yada, but it’s the truth. This means that when I need quarters, I can’t just go to the bank and get a roll; instead, my strategy is to go begging at various CVS’s and grocery stores. For the most part, this has worked just fine. Occasionally I have to go to a few stores, but with a couple dollars here and there and the quarters I find in my purses, I can manage.
Today did not go so smoothly. I first go to the CVS across the street and the lady is like,”Sure thing! I can give you a dollar!” Um, lady? It’s 2009! It costs $1.25 to do ONE load of laundry. And rather than begging her for more, I sheepishly walk away. Then I move on to the Dunkin’ Donuts next store. They have donuts! They must be nice! As I’m waiting in line, I decide that I should probably order an iced coffee, because that’s what people order from Dunkin’ Donuts, right? The problem is that I don’t drink coffee, so I paid three dollars for a drink I can’t finish, and THEY HAD NO QUARTERS. Boycott your local Dunkin’ Donuts! Don’t listen to Rachael Ray! Also, anyone want this?
When you’re on your way over to pick up the coffee, feel free to pick me up an iPhone so that I can upload normal-looking photos to my blog. Thanks!
After the Dunkin’ Donuts attempt, I decide to take a break, throw in the two loads of laundry I can afford, and smoke a cigarette. (Okay, I don’t smoke. But if I did I would have totally smoked a cigarette right then.)
My next stop was Safeway. Club soda, sure! I need club soda! As I wait in line to buy my club sode, I prepare my pity plea, and when I get to the register, I lay it on Danny: “Um, hi sir! I have a favor to ask! You see, I really need to do laundry, and see, I’ve been begging all of these stores for quarters, and no one will give me any. Look, I didn’t even want this iced coffee, haha! [Shakes iced coffee in Danny’s face.] So, um, if I give you some cash, will you give me some quarters??” And Danny’s all, “Sweetheart, you know that if you give ten dollars to the Customer Service lady, she can give you a roll of quarters?” And I’m all, “HALLELUJAH SAFEWAY IS MY NEW FAVORITE STORE!!!”
I walk over to the Customer Service lady, a 60-something woman, and she’s cold teasin’ me and says, “Aw Danny said I could give you quarters? Only for a fee!” And my natural response is, “I’ll give you a kiss!”
REALLY, Mallory? You’ll give the woman a kiss? Really?
Moral of the story: sometimes, when I whore myself out for quarters, I end up hitting on grandmothers. Happy Friday to you too!
[Posted my Mallory]
Filed under adventures, money, post-college depression
I’m a little embarrassed to admit this, because of interviews like this, but I’m in love with the new John Mayer single. I even like the video, and find it strangely depressing and authentic-seeming:
Thoughts?
[Posted by Mallory]
Filed under celebrities, music, pop culture, YouTube
“We are at the very beginning of time for the human race. It is not unreasonable that we grapple with problems. But there are tens of thousands of years in the future. Our responsibility is to do what we can, learn what we can, improve the solutions, and pass them on.” [Richard Feynman]
PEOPLE. Running is not safe. No one should do it, ever. We already know that running leads to sprained ankles and general misery. But now we know more: if you go running — like, say, in a half marathon in Detroit — you will die. Read for yourself, from the Detroit Free Press:
In the span of just 16 minutes, three men collapsed and died while running the 32nd Detroit Free Press/Flagstar Marathon — the first deaths in the event since 1994.
The first to collapse was Daniel Langdon, 36, of Laingsburg, at 9:02 a.m., said Rich Harshbarger, vice president of consumer marketing for the Detroit Media Partnership, which handles business operations for the Free Press and Detroit News. Langdon was on Michigan Avenue between the 11- and 12-mile markers.
Rick Brown, 65, of Marietta, Ohio, collapsed at 9:17 a.m. near where Langdon went down, Harshbarger said. And Jon Fenlon, 26, of Waterford collapsed at about 9:18 a.m., just after finishing the half-marathon in 1:53:37, he said.
Consider yourselves warned.
[Posted by Mallory]
six words to change the world. 