the slack daily

Everyone's Gotta Have a Hobby.

Dear Drunk Chick--

—who fought her way to the front of the stage after The Strange Boys were told by the person running the show that they had time for two more songs and yelled for them to GET THE FUCK OFF WE WANT THE REIGNING SOUND:

I hope you woke up this morning in a pile of someone else’s vomit.

Love,

Nina

*Last night’s line up at Alex’s Bar 12 Anniversary was amazing. While I was just there to see the headliner (Reigning Sound), all of the bands rocked my face off and The Strange Boys specifically.

I wasn’t certain from the first song, but the second or third song in The Strange Boys’ set where Will and I turned to each other with that YES YES THIS IS IT.

I don’t get out to shows much anymore, and I rarely have the patience to sit through three opening acts because there’s always at least one that I don’t care for.  Even if they’re not my thing, I sit in the back and clap politely. Because whoeever’s up there is playing their heart out and trying to make their dreams a reality. How can you not respect that?

So to summarize: STFU.

 

 

(originally posted on my Tumblr.)

Sorry, Kids.

Not true. But the font was a nice touch.

Source: Me, writer on Lizzie McG and confirmed with Stan Rogow, EP of Lizzie McG.

A Letter to the Guy Reading War & Peace While Walking His Dog.

Hey There Dude Reading War & Peace While Walking Your Dog,

Most people are content to demonstrate their smartness by walking and chewing gum at the same time, but you, sir, you took that challenge and turned it up to eleven! First I thought perhaps you were working out your biceps with Tolstoy's giant tome of the effect of the Napoleonic Wars on Russian Aristocrats, but you made sure to crack the spine into submission as I walked by to show me that you were as serious as...well, War & Peace.

I can only imagine the conversations you have with your dog - who I imagine is ironically named Lenin because he likes his dog bed extra cold - at home. While Daisy and my most frequent conversation goes something like "HEY! GET OUT OF YOUR BUTT!" you must be discussing the cultural ramifications of Tsarist Upper Class Problems. (I got 99 problems but a Tsar ain't one.)

In the meantime, my hat is off to you, sir, in your quest to multitask your education with pet care. Just look where you're going, because Lenin just shit right in the middle of the sidewalk.

 

Love,

The Slackmistress
(Who is vaguely related to some Russian Aristocrats way back when.)

OPERATION RESOLUTION!

It's the most wonderful time of the year to discover how we irrevocably screwed up the past three hundred and sixty-some days. Wasted hours, ruined relationships, missed opportunities litter the halls with a bloated fat man in a diaper who was way cuter when he was Baby New Year 2010.

Usually the only thing I resolve to do is floss, because it's the sort of resolution I can handle: cheap, easy, and it only takes a couple of minutes.*

But I'm trying something new for this year. This year, we're gonna crowdsource that shit.

What should my resolutions be? Professional, personal, vegetable or mineral, it's up to you. Leave 'em in the comments - or - if you prefer to be anonymous, you can drop me a line here on my Tumblr (anonymous question enabled.)

I'll post the best ones (or all of them, or the ones I'm going to attempt, or whatever the hell I want) on January 1, 2011. 

 

 

 

*Insert sex joke here.**
**Insert sex joke about inserting here.***
***Insert sex joke about inserting here.****
****Prepare for sex joke event horizon.

CATS ARE EVIL, or How I Twitter Through Anything

If you think you've broken your ankle*, I suggest you do it on Twitter.

 

 

Thanks to everyone who kept me company (and kept me laughing): Virginia, Caissie, Gene George, Nutcase, John, Miss Grace, LateandSoon, Mocoddle and finally NOVYSAN for realizing he was closer to me than Will was and picking me up and taking me to the ER.

 

*It was only a bad sprain. The nurse was shocked. I HAVE BONES OF STEEL.

Mr. Peabody & his Boy WTF?

About a thousand and a half years ago, I wrote (with my then writing-partner brother) on a show called Romeo!

I am not excited. The show was called Romeo!

That's Romeo-Exclamation-Point. I'm not a fan of the mandatory use of punctuation in show titles. It's a little desperate. As in see, no, it's a really new and exciting show and you can tell people there's an exclamation point or we used that question mark because we're not sure that it's actually going to happen even though we know it already did I'm looking at you Bethenny Getting Married?(!)

Romeo! was...an experience.

They'll Never Ask You to Babysit.

Who Are the People in Your Neighborhood?

A sampling of the WiFi networks in my friend P.'s apartment complex in Atlanta:

The Offensive Part of This Is...

Ask me anything, here.