Voodoo Igloo

Some families have winter homes in Mexico. We have this:

I pity the poor families huddled together in airports waiting for international flights, dealing with pasport control, getting hepatitis medications, studying their well-worn copies of "Spanish for Dummies," dragging wailing children through one crappy gift shop after another. We're at our destination in 7 seconds!

Honesty in Advertising

As it happens, I love generic promos. They matter to me.

Plot point for Alpha Monkey

Dear Blonde Alpha:

Los Angeles Public Television offers discerning viewers a panoramic view of weirdness. Body drummers, bug-eyed old dudes obsessed with alien abduction next to mysteriously rustling potted plants, sweet old ladies who can show you in three easy steps how to teach your dog to crochet.

But my favorite was always Francine Dancer, who used her fame to promote Metropolitan Transportation:



Has any woman ever so loved a public transit authority? I think not.

But the plot point, you ask. Imagine Francine Dancer as a levitating lifestyle guru.

Peace and love and MTA!

Lorraine

Thanks, HuffPost

. . . . but no thanks. . . .

Birds of a Feather?

Wouldn't it be nice?

Jane, even you have to admit this isn't cool

WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY?
Even the Laplanders can see light at the end of their winter tunnel.

The Cold Hard Facts

Winter Can Just F*** Off

I cannot remember a winter as long, as remorseless, as pitiless, as full of huge piles of brown poo in the backyard, as this one. I woke up today and felt the way that medieval people under seige must have felt on Day 6690--what is within reach that I can use to kill myself???

So off I went to the Co-op. And home I came with this:
A potato for baking
A potted Gerbera daisy
Salt and Vinegar potato chips
Edemamae
Rootbeer
Vanity Fair
Vogue
Metropolitan Home
Dwell
Elle Decor
Kahlua
Jellybeans
Chocolate eggs
Chocolate milk
Watermelon
Coffee

If that's not enough to get me through the next 24 hours, I don't know what will.

Holy Moly

I have three major projects due in the next 24 hours. Three of them. So what am I doing today?

Well, I'm cooking chicken mole for my inlaws, of course. They will hate it. They will hate the delicate warmth of the anchos, they will hate the bitter chocolate, they will hate the toasted pepitas ground into a fine powder. They will be filled with warm toasty chocolate and hate.

I knew this from the moment I decided to embark upon the long, complex task of recreating Mayan delicacies in my voodoo bungalow up here on the tundra.

I cannot explain my behavior any longer.

It's time to seek professional help.

In the Yucatan, if possible. Anyone got a villa? And if the Mayas didn't come from the Yucatan, please don't write to tell me about it.

Thank you. In the immortal words of Hodgman, That is all.

Does this come in 2-gallon cans?

Favorite review of this product (or perhaps any product): "I’m guessing that if I were to use Poop Freeze, it would be by far be the best Poop Freezer I’ve ever used and would thus recommend it."--Jason