I am in a MAJOR Van Morrison phase right now. Which maybe sounds lame, like “Oh, hey, way to be a few decades late.” But whatever. Van Morrison is summer music for me, and so the second it was nice out, I was cranking that shit up. Maybe if I keep listening for the next few weeks, I can trick myself into thinking it’s not still see-your-breath weather. I’ll let you know how that works.
[Posted by Mallory]
Filed under music, pop culture, thoughts, YouTube
Let me tell you about what happens when I go running.
Before I go running, it’s typically a battle of Good Mallory versus Lazy Mallory. Good Mallory says “Hey! It’s nice out! When it’s nice out sometimes you enjoy the run for almost the first four minutes! Go do it!” Lazy Mallory counters with “But you were kind of sick yesterday! Don’t worry! Keep lying in your bed!” Good Mallory says “You don’t feel sick anymore, do you? Also, what time did you wake up today?” Bad Mallory sheepishly admits “Um, 1 p.m.” Then Good Mallory finishes it up with “EXACTLY. I win, you lazy ass. Go running.”
(It should go without saying that by running I mean jogging slowly for a short amount of time.)
So I turn off my schizo and head out for my run. There’s a nice little wooded path by my house, which is pretty flat and not that long (that’s what she said?). I go running there regularly (read: every other month).
For the first, oh, six minutes, things are going well. Nice temperature, I’m digging my On-The-Go playlist, etc. etc. Then some asshole rock jumps out and trips me, my right foot bends awkwardly under me, and I fall. Hard. My train of thoughts was as follows:
1. Hahahhahahahahahahahahaha.
2. Oh shit. What if this is one of those moments where nothing hurts and then all of a sudden you look and somehow your femur bone is sticking out through your shin?
3. If that were to happen, how would I get back to my apartment?
4. Hey, my knee is bleeding. Bad ass.
5. Did that guy with the dog see me fall?
6. Does this mean I can go home and lie on the couch?
7. Even better, can I call in sick at work for this?
8. I guess this is why uncoordinated people who hate running shouldn’t run.
Before the dude with the dog can get to me, I stand my sorry self back up and start hobbling away. Guy with dog looks at me with pity and is all “Uhhh, you okay?”
In the days since my devastating and life-threatening injury, my ankle has gone from normal looking to softball size to cankle-esque (EW) with a purpleish hue. And I’m rocking an ace bandage. It’s like I’m a real athlete! Also, I got to feel pretty justified doing nothing for the past few days. R.I.C.E., baby:
I understand that this is a crappy, generally useless photo. But hey, camera phones!
Throughout this whole harrowing process I’ve learned one very important lesson: mild injuries are WAY less fun when you don’t get to skip school for them.
[Posted by Mallory]
Filed under adventures, humor, sports
My officemate Erica (who has her own fabulous food blog called Bacon Concentrate — check her out and make her famous!) introduced me to Tastespotting, the most wonderful blog ever. It just has lots of pictures of food! Basically, any food-lover can send in their own handiwork and have it displayed on le blog. Which is both wonderful and really, really torturous. Just ask my keyboard, which is now covered in my saliva. I feel like this site shouldn’t be safe for work. Here are some samples:
(Originally from kitchenmischief.blogspot.com)
(Originally from voodoolily.blogspot.com)
(Originally from latimes.com)
(Originally from spicyicecream.blogspot.com)
Yeah, you’re welcome.
[Posted by Mallory]
As I’ve mentioned a few hundred times on this blog, I’m from Denver. I’m pretty obsessed with my hometown and am quick to brag about it. Until recently, and besides Tom Tancredo, there wasn’t much about Denver that I was ashamed of.
Then last year, “Blue Mustang” made its way to the entrance to Denver International Airport. If you’ve ever flown into or out of DIA, you’ll remember this mustang, although you may only remember its “I-will-eat-your-soul” red-eyed death stare:
In that picture, it may just look ugly, but take my word for it: those eyes are downright terrifying when it’s pitch black outside and you’re on your way to a 5 a.m. flight.
As if the basic aesthetics of the mustang weren’t bad enough, there’s a horror story behind the making of it. The artist DIED when the mustang’s TORSO fackin’ FELL ON HIM:
Haters of this work say that “Blue Mustang,” as it is formally known, by the artist Luis Jiménez (killed in 2006 when a section of the 9,000-pound fiberglass statue fell on him during construction), is frightening, or cursed by its role in Mr. Jiménez’s death, or both. [NYTimes]
That mustang is a murderer! It’s even spawned a Facebook group supporting its removal. I mean sure, you could argue that the sculpture gets people talking, and that it’s bold. But in a city that’s not exactly, er, known for its art, do we really want this to be what people associate with Denver? (Not to mention one of the first or last things they see in the city.) I’d much rather my beloved Mile High City be known for one of its less creepy — but equally wacky and conversation-starting — sculptures. Here’s “Dancers,” which sits outside our Performing Arts Complex:
And my personal favorite, titled “I See What You Mean,” which is outside the Convention Center:
So, dear readers, what do you think?
[Posted by Mallory]
In case you hadn’t heard, your favorite libtard crook politican is writing a book!
Thank you, Chicagoist (via Wonkette, obviously) for this gem:
I’m counting darkside as one word, which makes this a phenomenal six-word memoir (literally! ba-dum ching!).
Blago, I hope your memoir is exactly as successful as Joe the Plumber’s “book.”
[Posted by Mallory]
If you’re in D.C. on this lovely Monday, happy snow day! At the very least, the federal government and my school got a snow delay, and I’ll take it. I woke up this morning around 7 a.m., looked outside, let out a “yippee!,” checked my email, and promptly fell back asleep. I’m impressed, actually…this is a legitimate snow storm. Normally when people are freaking out about snow here in the mid-Atlantic region, I get up on my high Colorado horse and am like “Pssh, you call this sprinkling a snowstorm? In Colorado we put on our swimsuits and call this summer!” (Which, of course, is a huge lie. Colorado is not the frigid tundra that some people think it is.)
Anyway, my morning classes and appointments are cancelled, so hooray! I’m quite happy to snuggle up in my apartment and watch entertaining YouTube videos like this one:
[Posted by Mallory]
Filed under adventures, animals, humor, news, YouTube
I just got a belated Christmas gift, and it was the best kind of belated Christmas gift: an iTunes gift card. Poking around on iTunes and finding random stuff that I like is one of my favorite activities, and it’s even better to get to do it for free. (And not get the random bill emailed to you where you’re all “Damn…I’m just going to delete that and pretend those 25 songs at 3 a.m. did not happen.”)
I found some good stuff today, and I’ll probably post more of it later, but for now here’s a cheeky and all-too-appropriate little song for Sunday night:
Right on target, Meiko.
[Posted by Mallory]
One time, in a real life professional job interview, I actually uttered the words, “List-making is my jam.” REALLY, MALLORY?! You’ll be shocked to hear that I did not get the job.
But list-making really IS my jam, and I probably wouldn’t be capable of getting anything done if not for my beloved lists. For all you haters out there who’ve ever made fun of my ridiculously detailed lists, or of my love for lists in general, know that I am not alone. Leave it to NPR to intelligently analyze my neuroses. In “10 Reasons Why We Love Making Lists,” Linton Weeks makes a list of ten reasons why we all love making lists. (So meta.) For instance:
6. Making lists can help make you famous. Notable list makers include Thomas Jefferson, Peter Mark Roget, Martha Stewart and Benjamin Franklin. “A methodical and wry man,” wrote Franklin biographer Walter Isaacson in Time magazine, “Franklin loved making lists. He made lists of rules for his tradesmen’s club, of synonyms for being drunk, of maxims for matrimonial happiness and of reasons to choose an older woman as a mistress. Most famously, as a young man, he made a list of personal virtues that he determined should define his life.
Though Mr. Weeks failed to mention this, lists are also great for keeping you busy when you’re really, really bored. Just ask my dear friend Amanda, who made lists of all of her high school teachers and all of the people she’d ever hooked up with while bored without a computer at her internship. (These lists, by the way, did not overlap). Maybe list-making should be EVERYONE’S jam.
P.S. Someone should buy me one of these books. Thanks.
[Posted by Mallory]
Yesterday I ushered for a play at the newly renovated Ford’s Theatre (which, according to the website, creepily markets itself as the “House Where Lincoln Died”). The play was called “The Heavens Are Hung in Black,” and was about Lincoln’s life from around when his son Will died until the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation. I did a great job as an usher, taking people to the wrong side of the balcony and acting as though I knew all sorts of cool facts about the Theatre. The best part of the experience, though, was that I realized that Abe Lincoln and I are soulmates. We’re basically the same person.
The evidence? He’s awkwardly tall and gangly. So I am. (I don’t have Marfan Syndrome but whatever.) He loves beards, and so do I. In the play, he makes a comment about falling asleep at the theater as I was falling asleep at the theater. He’s a bad dancer. I am too. He loves nightgowns; I’m wearing one right now. He cries a lot, and I totally cry like once a day.
The point is: I would have made a killer Mrs. Lincoln, and it’s simply too bad that Honest Abe and I weren’t around in the same century to have a passionate love affair and very, very tall children.
[Posted by Mallory]
six words to change the world. 