Writing a guide for men on how to dress for nightlife festivities is difficult when my current lifestyle resembles that of Emily Dickinson.  

Although I rarely find myself enthralled by anyone or anything that is overtly sexy, I do like this video (even with the exquisite concluding lyrics, “meow, meow, meow…”). I like that Daisy Lowe is comfortable with her own body. And at the same time, she doesn’t take being sexy so seriously. She doesn’t have eyes emanating icy stares worthy of Narnia’s White Witch or the “I am going to cut you down with a machete” look, which so many other models who are doing “sexy” have. Plus, she has mad moves.

Since I just graduated with two degrees that have proven to be useless in securing a job (that constitutes something other than peddling my eggs to desperate barren couples seeking to raise children who biologically have the pedigree similar to their own; or my loins to desperate men seeking escorts who are able to exhibit a pedigree similar to their own) that could feed my stomach and my raging materialism, I am feeling pretty lowly these days. But goddamnit, I have not given up on my goals. Here they are, listed below in no particular order: 

1. Taste soy sauce-flavored Kit Kat

2. Recite from memory, T.S. Eliot’s “Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”

3. Raise decent, sane children who will not need therapy later in life

4. Get published in The New York Review of Books

Being anal and unfocused is the worst combination. I can never get anything done.

I meant: sarsaparilla + coffee = the new essence of chicken

Also: brain = soporific sop  

The fact that I can only spit out pseudo-mathematical thoughts right now does not escape me. 

sarsaparilla + coffee = the new chicken of essence

Cobra Starship is also figuring prominently in my ability to stay cognizant right now. (The head-bopping keeps me from nodding off.) 

This recalls to mind:

1. Fred Savage, who unlike his brother, escaped the fate of the Jew ‘fro

2. My mom almost named me Winnie 

handkerchiefsandwich:

srsly:I never really thought she was that pretty, but oh man, that HAIRRRR

I had this same hairstyle all throughout elementary school, thanks in part to Winnie Cooper.

I have come back from almost a month-long hiatus from updating my tumblr, only to find I have one more follower. Not that I am not ultra flattered, but Glamour Cats, why are you following me? 

Sometimes I feel like tumblr just feeds my magpie tendencies.