if you know me, you know i love me some lindsay morgan lohan.
i just can't get enough of her.
...but can we talk?
now, you may have heard about la lohan's monster forehead, and we all know the girl had some issues with her weight... but... um... what's up with her belly button?
today, a bunch of pics of lilo at the beach hit the internets, and her button looks really high. like reeeeally high. like running away from her choonie high.
look.
(sorry for writing on your tums and nana, dina... all my love)
seriously, what is up? shouldn't your navel be closer to your crotch than your nips? where are her abdominal muscles? that button is seriously in the upper quadrant of her midsection.
it's creeeeeeeeeepy.
love the scarf, though. great suit, too. oh, and the glasses are hot.
do you think that the people who make spam (the delicious faux-meat product) are pissed that their name is associated with emails that flood your inbox, asking if you're afraid to visit swimming pools because of your small penis?
while i'm certainly afraid of visiting swimming pools, it has nothing to do with my small penis. it has more to do with kids dropping kids off at the pool in the pool. let's not forget i worked at a public pool for a few summers. you only need to see one digested snickers bar floating in the baby pool to really turn you away from the whole swimming pool thing.
but i digress...
i mean, come on, evil-doers. you couldn't come up with a better way to get "small penis" into the subject line? who is in charge of your marketing? they suck. wait... are you hiring? i think i could bring a lot to this sort of position. i'm very good at garnering attention in very few words. oh, and i'm sneaky. sleuthy, too.
might i suggest...
"your dick is small. take this pill." "tiny pecker no more" "if you've been asked, "is that a penis or a clitoris?" then you probably could use our help." "free boobies! just kidding, you have a tiny, wittle weenie." "re: your subscription to no sex" "sienna miller and other chicks who dig wee men" "all you want for christmas is your two more inches." "we're all laughing at your pee-pee."
clearly this is a natural talent. better snatch it up while you still can.
i love that i worked the word snatch into a post full of small dicks.
- a special edition gold, d&g razr (i've had the silver one and have the black one, so might as well get the gold, too) which is not available in the u.s. of a. - a towleroad t-shirt (sz. small... x-small if they have it) - the my scene barbie by nick v. from project runway - strike that... just nick v. from project runway. fuck barbie! - a black, moleskin address book that would easily fit into a clutch - steel magnolias - abs of steel... the muscles, not the movie - buns of steel for that matter, too - fuck, just some buns... they don't have to feel nothing like steel... right, tai? - speaking of a thai, how about ty pennington loses the ability to speak? - speaking of thais, some joy's cashew chicken - further speaking of thais, a small maddie jolie-pitt of my very own to babysit (yes, i know maddox is actually cambodian) - oh, and angelina jolie - a jar of peanut m&m's - a pair of wellingtons that actually fit snugly around my tiny, little, eight-year-old girl calves - a new job - a jew knob - a blow job - a joe blob - some cashmere - some mere cash (c'mon, you had to see that coming) - a gay best friend who lives in chicago - candy canes for everyone - something to put in my day planner - to meet a celebrity - 3 minutes of application tape genius - to once more feel a part of something greater than myself - more joe - and more joe blobs while we're at it - an epiphany - some tiffany's - passion - and fashion - a fluids assistant... just like mariah's - the promise of key west for president's day - a food dehydrator - really anything ron popeil makes - a great new year's eve - socks - underwear - world peace - a pony
while i am sure that many of you are wondering where this boy is...
i am much more concerned with the whereabouts of one ms. molly my-roommate-and-good-friend-of-many-years. yes, that is her real last name.
seen here:
molly has been missing for several days. despite living with her, i have not laid eyes on her less-than-fortunate mug since last wednesday.
though, i do know her to be alive.
i still find her hair in the bathtub. i notice her [my] scarf is not in the same place every night when i return to the a-p-t. i find her blog has been updated recently. i receive incredibly drunken phone call after incredibly drunken phone call from her in a single evening... but not once am i informed as to her own location.
if you have seen this young woman, please alert me to her last known location. there is a reward of one cupcake for her capture and return. she has arms and is potentially dangerous. she will probably appear disoriented/intoxicated/giddy and be wearing something either painfully fabulous or horribly awry (most likely a pair of red fleece, snowflaked-patterned, pajama pants). avoid eye contact at all cost, unless you have a pint of beer in your hand. her distinguishing marks include the most amazing rack you have ever seen and cleavage akin to a black hole, e.g. nothing, and i mean nothing, can escape its pull.
i am being cockblocked by the state of california, and believe me, i neeeeeeeeeed to get laaaaaaaaaaaid.
for the past 2 weeks or so, joseph has been working on a project in the city of angels. the week before that i was home for thanksgiving. the week before that he had a project in nashville.
anytime we have spent together since our last coitus on november 20 has been hounded by extenuating circumstance. i was sick. he was sick. he had an early flight. i had to leave for the weekend.
...and where does that bring us. well, to this brother being hard-up. that's where.
the worst of it is that i'm being cockteased. he may or may not be flying home for the weekend tonight. argh!
i know it's sort of shitty to call someone out, but i need some help.
one of you, fair readers, works for publicis groupe in paris.
or for one of their subsidiaries... oh... i don't know which one... perhaps, let's say, starcom... you know, starcom, here in our very own chicago.
as in the starcom that i'd love to work for.
i only know you come around here because i stalk my own website and see your ip with the publicis groupe address.
seriously, though, seeing it about made me pee in my pants. "holy shit, someone from publicis is reading this crap... e-gads!"
anyhow, i ask not because i want you to get me hired (though, that'd certainly be nice, too) but because i was wondering if you had any insight for me on what they look for in, say, a media associate... or really any other entry-level position they've got over there.
if you don't want to give me a holler or simply don't have any advice, that's cool... but anything would be awesome.
please, please, please contact me at hedrinksalot@yahoo.com. i even created that email address extra-special just for you.
now, be a good little publicis groupe employee and help a brother out!
every first thursday of the month is rockabilly night at martyr's.
rock this billy, they did.
i have not seen that many poodle skirts, peek-a-boo-toed heels, and bowling shirts in one room since 1954.
it operates as a sort of open mic. bands get stage time and perform 2-4 songs, then hightail off to the beers they left at their tables. very laidback. very cool, daddy-o. couples dance. singles drink. everyone enjoys some foot-tappin', bass-strummin', pompadour-toutin' rockabilly goodness. even non-rockabilly folks will have a blast, as molly, kortney, and i certainly had fun. oh, and it's free. no cover = good times.
bands worth mentioning:
buck smith and the buckshots - with their conway twitty inspired look, these guys definitely have stage presence. they were like the country cousins of the killers: great lyrics and sound without the synth and eyeliner.
the honeybees - imagine the andrews sisters had played instruments. great, harmonized girl vocals with strong enough bass, guitar, and drum presence to keep you interested once the ladies' novelty has worn off.
sophia wolf(e) - a wonderful blend of loungy, rub-your-hips-while-you-sing-to-me sexiness and beat-driven, swing-dance-with-your-"bird" fun.
other rockabilly kids to look into: the beauty shop (local cats out of champaign), mercury express (great rockabilly christmas covers), and of course, the infamous man in black, mr. cash
soon to come:
the photobooth pictures of tina (molly), special k (korts), and nose candy(myself)... taken after leaving martyr's and while listening to the new madonna album at the village tap in roscoe village.
don't know why i felt like giving all of us drug-inspired nicknames.
-the sunday before thanksgiving, my mother came to chicago for a conference. sunday afternoon, i went to meet her and the women she works with for lunch. it was a liquid lunch. 6 women from central illinois, one thin boy, and a haitian cabby named patrick shared a taxi from kitty o'shea's to my mother's hotel on michigan. i then headed over to see the joseph before he went to nashville for business. he'd be returning once i had already left for home.
-monday, molly and i had a psychic meeting of the minds during my morning walk home from joe's, and both took unannounced sick days. once molly's headache had subsided, and i... nevermind. anyhow, after we "felt" "better", we headed down to broadway in b-town and did a little early x-mas shopping. molly was shocked at the cruise-iness that is caribou coffee... correction: cruise-a-boy coffee.
-tuesday, i took sick day numero dos. i had packing to do. that evening, i went to a banquet with the madre.
-wednesday, madre, her coworkers, and i departed chicago via rail. i slept the entire way to springfield. when we arrived at the springfield station, mother dearest pulled my bag down from the overhead rack, i awoke, and the conductor stole my bag. my mother said, "brett, you better go after him, i don't know where he's taking your bag." i bolted after him, still half-asleep, and watched in horror as the fucker pitched my luggage from the train door to the platform. i mean, he literally threw it off the train. i ran after my luggage... with mother and coworkers in tow... leaving my messenger bag with my laptop, i-pod, cds, law school apps, lsat prep book, and make-up work from my sick days on the train.
-still wednesday, i frantically work with amtrak to locate my bag o' my life. i told them exactly what it looked like, exactly what could be found inside, exactly which seat it was under on exactly which car of the train... but apparently, and be warned fair reader, there is no way in this modern age of wireless internet access and recklessly proliferated cell phones for a conductor on an amtrak train to be contacted enroute. so rather than my bag being found and handed to a station attendant in carlinville (a mere 40 minutes or so from home), my bag journeyed all the way to kansas city, missouri, where it then turned around and came back to st. louis (about 1.5 hours from home). fist of rage, amtrak! fist. of. rage.
-thursday, we ate. then popsicle and i drove to st. louis to fetch my bag. mother and i saw mr. potter at the local theater that evening.
-friday, went off with little fanfare.
-saturday, after my mom thought a good send-off would be to visit my dying uncle, i drove back to chicago. that night i went out like a rockstar and was nearly forcibly removed from charlie's... yet again.
-sunday, i finally saw the boy again. we went to lunch and then spent the rest of the day being very domestic. that afternoon, he keyed me. yep, keyed.
that pretty much brings us up to speed. but keys! fucking keys! mailbox key and everything. they jingle-jangle in my pocket, as a constant reminder that this boy likes me... really likes me.
...and though according to the molly, "you don't give yourself enough credit", i don't understand it. i don't get what he sees in me, and i don't mean that in a self-pity sort of way, just in a i'm-wholly-confuddled-by-this-whole-thing sort of way. he's so much more than what i thought i could get, and that makes me happy... but it's scary getting what you want.
i spent so long needing, really needing, something in that part of my life. i was terminally single, and now, out of nowhere, there's joe... and i'm crazy about him. truly, 100%, batshit crazy about him... but that part of me that was single for so long doesn't know how to function anymore.
being alone was what came naturally to me, and now, i find myself learning how to walk all over again. everything is new. everything is amazing and fascinating and scary and wonderful.
...and i guess the key is to be willing to learn. to be willing to take those steps with him. to be willing to fall in stride with the jingle-jangle of him in my pocket. in my life.
-in a world full of boys in dark-rimmed glasses, i'm the one you'll remember
-i like beer
-sports don't scare me
-i can't win a boardgame to save my life
-i make lots of wonderful facial expressions
-i tend to flail
-dads like me; moms love me
-i'm great with names and faces
-four little words: "best wedding date ever"
the bad stuff:
-i have problems acting my age... you'd think i'm 29 not 24
-you better like the word "seriously"
-my friends are some tough competition
-i'm a mama's boy
-my impressions are horrible at best
-i tend to flail
-balancing my checkbook is a lost art, but i totally get physics
