Ducks and What They Do

How's the Weather?

2010-07-14T13:12:00.006-04:00

Lately, the weather has been a bit bipolar. Last week it reached a whopping 103 degrees Fahrenheit, and today it is 75 degrees with scattered thunderstorms. I was a sucker during both the days, and working in Midtown, NYC easily bought a personal fan and an umbrella on a whim, on each respective day. Living in these uncertain times, filled with barometric discrepancies has me dressing in mini skirts with scarves, wool pants with sandals, and linen shirts with a poncho. With weather straight out of the movie Jumanji, I keep expecting three-foot insects to land on my head, bats to fly in through windows, chattering monkeys to take over the office kitchen, and a stampede of giraffes to rush through the hallways. Ok, maybe I am exaggerating a little, but it just so happens that I am not so great with such a wild climate.

Certain artists, like mosses, enzymes, and lichens, are extremophiles. That is, an organism that lives and thrives in an extreme environment. The most famous of these artists is probably Georgia O’Keefe, who after her first summer in New Mexico, fell in love with the barren landscape and expansive skies of the desert. She relished the desolate and decaying bone graveyards. She loved the burning, hot tones of reds and oranges. O’ Keefe wrote, " I have picked flowers where I have found them- have picked up sea shells and pieces of rock and wood that I liked... When I found the beautiful white bones on the desert I picked them up and took them home too... I have used these things to say to me the wideness and wonder of the world as I live in it." The so-called “Painter of the Desert” chose to live alone and eventually die in the New Mexican sun.

20x200 (where I intern) has its very own extremophile, Tom Prior, who is working on several documentary projects that look at beautiful and dangerous recreation spots around the world. He's photographed in the Bonnevile Salt Flats, whose highest recorded temperature was 112°F in 1939 and whose lowest recorded temperature was -18°F in 1990. His photographs at the Blackrock Tower in Ireland are slippery, treacherous, and filled with nervous anticipation. Prior says it best, “Its a mixture of the super dedicated people and beautiful open landscapes. I remembered the changing light and engine noise of Bonneville, Utah. Starting at about 4pm in summer the light changes by the minute all the way till dark after 10pm. Blackrock diving tower is such a cool structure, out there on that pier all by itself, and it’s so un-Americanly dangerous. The locations are simple yet not at all boring. They’re visually incredible but made more amazing by humans.”

But, maybe the most extreme is Steve Eiden’s account of Leonard Knight who for the past 24 years has been living alone in the desert of Niland, California, a few miles from the shores of the Salton Sea, working ceaselessly on a giant monument to God known as Salvation Mountain. During the five coldest months of the year, he sleeps in the back of an old broken down flatbed truck. The other seven months of the year, he sleeps in this bed.

Just a Thought.

2010-07-09T17:35:00.002-04:00

I need an onomatopoeia for the sound my thighs make when they rub together. Not to be confused with the sound corduroy makes when it doubles back and touches itself.

Materials on same materials.

Girls, empathize.

Why can't I get comfortable?!

2010-07-08T16:15:00.002-04:00

I finally figured out how to describe how I've been feeling the past few days. Yes, I'm too hot, sweaty, and suffering from heat headaches like whoa, but that doesn't get at the heart of it. I think the best way to describe how I'm feeling is to describe how I am NOT feeling...

It's late October, and you're at home after a hard day's work. You're in comfy clothes, maybe your boyfriend's tee shirt and loose athletic shorts. The front room of the first floor of the house smells like warm leather and a lavender scented candle. Your legs are smooth and it feels nice when your calves touch the backs of the thighs as you relax on the sofa with a good book, maybe a Carol Shields novel or that new book everyone's talking about "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo." You open to your bookmark, and, not for the first time, are lost within its pages as you comfortably sit in your house.

That is what most people call being "absorbed." I like to call this being settled. I want to be a settler, someone who comes home and is instantly relaxed by their own space.

When it's 103 freaking degrees out and the air conditioning unit may or may not really be working--there's air coming from it, but is it cold?--it's nearly impossible to be a settler.

After going through a mini freak out this afternoon when I failed to complete a house project and didn't get to finishing the other house project I started yesterday, I jumped into a cold shower...a much needed shower due to the brick dust stuck in my hair. I took a cold shower for a good five minutes. That's a long shower, when it's a cold one. Before hopping into that shower, I turned on the AC unit in the master bedroom. Dripping, I reentered the cooler room, put on underwear and then... that's it.

I finally began to feel better. Clothes off, AC on, bed made, chocolate-almond Hershey's bar ready to eat... and then the fear factor began.

I have an abnormal fear of strangers coming into my house. I'm not sure where this fear came from. This has never happened to me (knock on wood), and I grew up in a very safe neighborhood. Although now I live in Killadelphia, the fear began way before coming here.

The point is, I had to quickly put on clothes and leave the door open a crack so I could hear if anyone was breaking in. What I am going to do if that actually happens, I don't know. But there's a machete, a baseball bat, and a police baton at the ready here next to me.

That seems strange, but now that I'm thinking about all this, the first settlers in America (or anywhere for that matter) probably had more dangerous and many weapons just in case the natives weren't friendly.

Peace,

LWoJ

P.S. As I wrote that last paragraph, I realize that so many things could be assumed from my choice of words. I didn't mean any of them really. It's just too hot and uncomfortable here. I don't wanna be a covered wagon traveler; I wanna be a settler.

Mountain out of a Garage Hill

2010-07-01T08:19:00.003-04:00

For the past few days I've been an anxious wreck in Philadelphia, an hour and a half from my family's house in Lancaster. I suppose a lot of things have added to everyone's stress in the past month, i.e. moving out of the house in which we grew up, and two of us (my brother and I) moving away from home. My sister is left to live with the parents during the summer, working as a server across the fairway (on which my parents live) at the golf course restaurant.

With all the stress and thinned attention, my sister accidentally tore the front bumper off my dad's car as she backed out of the driveway.

The consequences of this accident were magnified because my mother is volunteering as a nurse at a sleep away camp, so (with my brother and I gone) my sister incurred the wrath of my father, who has exactly two emotions: happy and angry. Sadness is possibly a third, but I've only heard of that once and it was extreme circumstances... still, I didn't witness this third.

If anyone reading this is a middle child, then they know exactly what I mean by: sometimes, I have to "translate" among all my family members, because they all speak different languages. So everyone texted or called me during this car crisis, yelling or crying. Self-loathing and other-loathing and frustration. Anxiety and total lack of motivation to live were a few of the feelings flying at me through the phone.

I couldn't go back to Lancaster, however, because my boyfriend needed a ride to the airport this morning. But now, I'm in Lancaster. I parked next to the said wrecked car and checked out the garage door.

Okay, so there's no front bumper and the headlight is cracked.

But.... where this $3000 worth of damage to the garage door is, I have NO IDEA. I didn't see anything wrong with it. Not sure if it's "internal" damage, but I wouldn't even know where the "internal" part of a garage door is.

So why is everyone freaking out??

Because my mother is a calming force in these situations, and she's (thank goodness for her sake! haha) at camp.

I hereby declare, mothers are now required to be present during incidents of destruction, but are forbidden to be harmed or involved in that destruction.

The world would be a better place if mothers were there to make valleys out of these mountains out of garage hills.

Outtie,

LWoJ

Let's Color!

2010-06-29T15:49:00.001-04:00

It is amazing to see how color can enhance your day. Several ancient religions used to employ chromotherapy, or the healing effects of color. More recently, scientists have developed color mood theory and color psychology. The hues can affect our disposition, appetite, self-esteem, and spirituality. For example, blue represents peace, tranquility, stability and confidence. Black fills one with feelings of sophistication, mystery and depth. Green is soothing, youthful, and associated with fertility. But, in general, the human eye is (supposedly) most attracted to red.

What color brightens your mood? Why not try some yellow prints for optimism? Or an orange based print for an energy boost? Explore the complete visible portion of the electromagnetic spectrum, the rainbow, here.

Also in honor of Roy G. Biv’s mood influences, there is a new and exciting project going on worldwide called the “Let’s Colour Project”. Imagine the planet as a giant coloring book. Before we color in the pages with magic markers, crayons, or colored pencils, they are empty and grey…rather drab. Well, the Let’s Colour Project sees the world as a coloring book yet to be filled in! They say, “Grey is out. Gloom is gone. It’s time to live our lives in colour.” The project, started in March 2010, is working together with local communities, across the globe, and rolling up its sleeves to paint streets, hotels, houses, schools, villas, and squares. More than simply gentrification and renovation, the "Let’s Colour Project" aims to encourage local participation and collaboration. It wants denizens of a town to design and style their own communities! So far London, UK; Rio de Janeiro, Brazil; Jodhpur, India; and Marseille, Lyon, Paris have been colored in! The next stop is Istanbul, Turkey.

If you’re far and away from the aforementioned locales, do not fret, anyone can get involved! It doesn’t matter if it’s your bedroom wall or your local school. Everyone can be part of it. Read more about the "Let's Colour Project.

Tutti Frutti

2010-06-24T21:00:00.005-04:00

Upon observation of the natural fruit kingdom (in broad terms, a fruit is a structure of a plant that contains its seeds and is edible in its raw state), there are certain fruits that are not good for on-the-go consumption. Some fruits look silly when eaten like an apple.

These include:

A pineapple (Ananas comosus); it looks weird growing on the ground, in the center of a bush, and being eaten as a whole. Also, did you know the natural pollinator of the pineapple is a hummingbird? That's a bucket of wtf. Anyway, pineapple is probably best served warm with meat dishes and a Maraschino cherry....according to Wikipedia.
Tomatoes (Solanum lycopersicum), this one looks normal at first because it's actually similarly shaped and colored to an apple, but then people do a double take and say...."hurm, now what's going on her missy?" They are also a little too juicy to eat in the hand, seriously, driptastic. Did you know that they were Thomas Jefferson's favorite fruit? Yes, I said fruit, it is technically a fruit. Same goes for tomatillos.
Guavas, Pomelo, Honeydew, Watermelon, and any number of Melon related fruits (Cucurbitaceae family); listen fruits....you're just huge. You should be shared in a fruit salad or over a red-checkered blanket during a picnic. You do however have large quantities of vitamins A and C, Omega 3 and 6 polyunsaturated fatty acids, and high levels of dietary fibers, so I guess it's pretty worth it for the awkward eater.
Coconuts (Cocos nucifera); If I have to open you with a machete or a machine, I should not eat you in public. Likewise, if I can use you as a bowl or as a cup for my tropical drink, you are first a bowl, second a fruit. 'nuff said.
Lemons, limes, grapefruits (genus Citrus) ; Go ahead, bite it. Enjoy the pulpy, pippy, waxy, protective rind. I actually suck lemon wedges whole often, much to the chagrin of my enamel. However, I have never once bitten into a lemon, but now I am tempted. At least so I could be the first of my friends...

Knowledge is Power,

Keren Rhymes w/ Heron

Sam L. Jackson and the U.S. Border Patrol

2010-06-24T12:40:00.009-04:00

The U.S. Attorney's office in Yuma, Arizona is located only 7 miles from the Mexican border. The AUSA (Assist. U.S. Attorney) office is actually being hosted in the U.S. Border Patrol office in a small room made even smaller by four bulky cubicle style offices. However small it may seem, these guys see cases where men cross the border into the U.S. with 12,000 lbs of Marijuana... yeah, 12,000 lbs!

Last week, I spent a day inside this office, and one of the AUSAs was kind enough to give me a tour of the Border Patrol processing rooms. I got to see illegal aliens in holding cells, border patrol officers lifting weights in the on-site gym, and, my favorite part, the surveillance room.

Imagine a cross between NASA and Jurassic Park control rooms. Actually, the only part taken from Jurassic Park control room is Samuel L. Jackson... his face, his voice, his attitude. Take those traits and attribute them to a guy in Yuma named Gary and put him in NASA control room, but the video monitors along the wall are surveying the Mexican-Arizona border rather than SPACE.

According to Gary, five years ago Mexicans were scrambling across the border in droves. Now, it is a rare occurrence that illegals are crossing successfully (at least relative to five years ago). The reason for this? Perhaps it is due to the insane amount of security Arizona has put in place.

I'm not saying that AZ bill 1070 isn't wrong, but with everything the government has done, I can imagine the frustration.

Along the AZ-MX border is a primary fence yards tall, which is fairly climbable. Behind the primary fence is a canal about 10 yards wide and pretty deep... fairly unswimmable (at least for those of us who didn't pass the Guppy stage at YMCA swim lessons... gulp). Then, there is a secondary fence which is rendered unclimbable by special mesh fencing the government has developed specifically to prevent illegal border crossing. The mesh covers fence posts, and is so tightly woven that fingers, hooks, straps etc are unable to go through it.

Yet, there are break points where the canal and mesh fence cross each other, and this is where illegals cross. However, this is also where ground patrol officers are stationed (in addition to stations all along the border).

Not only do they have ground patrol, but the video surveillance room is full of people watching the border 24 hours a day and recording what they monitor.

In addition to all that, there are seismic sensors, infrared sensors, and motion detectors in place along the entire border.

CRAZY!

All this Samuel L. Jackson told me in his "hold on to your butts" bad ass laid back, but serious style of conversing.

So how is it that people and drugs are still entering the country illegally?? Well, there are other states like NM and TX whose borders may not be as tightly controlled. As well as the ol' balloon across the border trick, where drug lords float substances atop the fences and patrolmen.

In conclusion, my trip to Arizona was very educational and almost movie-like in the behind the scenes stuff I got to see. These guys seem to have it under control despite all the hype in the media. Then again, I have heard that people aren't coming here with such alacrity as before given that the economy is in the dumps. Although I can't speak of the other states, Arizona definitely has the upper hand when it comes to state versus street.

One more noteworthy tid bit: I was told by a guy sitting next to me on the plane from Cincinnati to Phoenix that Yuma was quote "Shoot 'em up bang bang." And I should be careful. Perhaps I should have told him that I was coming from Philly... Yuma is hardly the shoot 'em up bang bang city I thought it may be. At least out there I can walk five blocks down the road without being offered crack rocks.

Peace,

Leah

Live With Art

2010-06-23T21:28:00.006-04:00

As the graduate intern for 20x200: A Jen Bekman Project, here's some of the stuff I do on my down time at work! 20x200 is affordable art for everyone! (limited editions × low prices) + the internet = art for everyone

Live with Art, It's Good for You.

It's lickable, clickable, art. Like a schnozberry.

Roy G. Biv

2010-06-23T14:31:00.004-04:00

Taste the Rainbow
(from 700 nm to 400 nm)
Rocking your visible portion of the electromagnetic spectrum!

Street Vendors of the World, UNITE!

2010-06-21T11:38:00.002-04:00

If I had to eat street vendor food, for the rest of my days, I would probably be incredibly corpulent. I would also be fearless in my food eating quests; monkey brains, scorpions, dog, etc. Considering most street vendor cuisine is both finger food and fast food, the need for utensils and thus dish washing would be moot. Amazing!

Maybe I should be concerned with the potential cultivation of disease due to lack of refrigeration and cleanliness. Vendor-man totally pees using the same hand with which his hot dogs get delivered. Oh well. Thus is the life of a woman relegated to local, regional street cuisine. Cheap, varied, delicious.

Here is my top five list of countries ( I have tried ) with the best side of the road bites:

5. Holland and The Netherlands - Little shanties selling raw fish. They can be smelled up to a mile away. This hasn't been tested by anyone but I'm pretty sure I'm right. The smoked and raw fish products are called a "viskraam" or "haringkar". Just in case your breath was not bad enough, the raw herring is served with chopped onions and pickles, on a hot-dog style bun. Also, Pannekokken! It's a Dutch pancake. It's larger than American style pancakes and MUCH thinner. People top them with pears, raisins, pineapples, apples, and stroop, A VERY, thick, tangy syrup.

4. Jamaica - Curried Goat, actually slaughtered in front of the customer. Bammy, a sweetened fried dough. Jerk Chicken or Pork in jerk pits or steel drums! The smell stays on your clothes for days, which can be a good or bad thing...Such an exotic blend of scotch bonnet peppers, onions, scallions, thyme and allspice.

3. England - Listen. English food is definitely not my favorite. Blood Pudding. Blegh. Sweet Breads. Boo. Haggis, crappit head, Scottish eggs....no! no! no!But there's something about fried cod with chips, wrapped in newspaper that is just so freaking satisfying. Throw in a Cornish pasty with filled with beef, sliced potato, swede (also known as a rutabaga), and onion, and I am almost willing to forgive the British for the Boston Tea Party, The Shot Heard Round the World, taxes, and fighting a war with the Americans.

2. Israel - Sabikh! It's a warm pita stuffed with hardboiled eggs, eggplant, pickles, and sesame paste (tahini). Bourekas stuffed with potatoes and cheese. Shwarma and Falafel! And Kebabs, a relatively global street food favorite.

1. Malaysia -Fried rice. Crispy, fresh prawns. Satay mutton. Barbecued duck. Roti chicken. Fish filleted before your very eyes, sometimes still moving. Curries, peanut sauces, chili powders! Coconut Juices! Lime Juices! Clay pots, Coconuts used as bowls! Malaysia might just be the culinary equivalent to the Paris of street food.

Dig in kids. Good eats,

Keren, Rhymes w/ Heron

P.S. Did I totally forget America? We have hot dogs! Knishes! Fish Tacos. Cheesesteak. Soft Pretzels.....pretty much international street food due to our melting pot status.

YUMA, az.

2010-06-18T14:10:00.007-04:00

For now, I'm just giving you these pictures. The one is me being a cactus. The other is on the road from Phoenix to Yuma.

Since I've been here I've learned a few things, i.e. physical perspective may lead to emotional perspective and America has experienced what I'm calling "The Loss of the Gardener."

Promise more later.

Newspaper Blackout Poems

2010-06-17T11:53:00.000-04:00

Two years ago a few friends of mine, (BenCo, Calder, and Sonja to be in the specific) had the idea of creating Newspaper Blackout Poems out of the same article. We did this to show the vast number of ways one conglomeration of words could be interpreted and reinterpreted, smashed and rehashed. We each did a few versions, and probably had about 12 different iterations of the same (approx.) 480 word article. Mine shall remain hidden away in the bowels of my "Pictures Folder" because of its lack of neatness and my OCD. Below are three favorites:

As per most tasks in the life, all you need is a Sharpie and a bit of creativity.

by Sonja Vitow

by Calder Stembel

by Ben Cocchiaro

Thus concludes,

Now go on and try your own, ruin your dad's paper!

Why Friends Shouldn't Buy Friends Books.

2010-06-16T11:16:00.007-04:00

There and back again; a tale by Keren Veisblatt.

This all started because blogger buddy and all-around best friend, Leah, bought me the book Coraline last year, which I promptly read in 2 hours flat and then said, gimme more, like Cookie Monster,and devoured four other pieces by Gaiman within a week. Now I'm an official follower, not in the Twitter way, in the real life...I stalk this man way.

While standing in line, arriving one hour early to see Neil Gaiman, science-fiction/fantasy author of Coraline, Sandman, Good Omens, The Graveyard Book and other eerily complete novels, I found myself standing with the rejected souls of high school club, to be specific these types of people (in prose form, note a terrified Keren below, left):

....Plaid, neon stripes, weird wiccan hair ornaments, people that say things like, 'that's so derivative, man', pixie cuts and then really scraggly unkempt dark hair with split ends, nerd voice talking about statistics, girl with Indian braids, awkward man complimenting girls boobs and giggling, teen discussing the redeeming qualities of Iowa, 40 year old soccer mom with a fairy shirt on, man doing Rodney Dangerfield impressions badly, man in full blown suit giving out business cards about his bug preservation business, blue spiked hair, woman dressed as witch but wearing sneakers, non gendered person dressed in cosplay outfit, buttons on all purses, girl reading bad poetry out loud, Asian sketching herself as an anime cat, dragons on 4 shirts, ironic Hawaiian shirts, non-ironic Hawaiian shirts, man with purple painted toenails in Sikh attire, frames with no lenses, skirts over jeans, Lesbian dressed as Asian boy, lesbian dressed as princess from Sleeping Beauty, blue hair, green hair, yellow hair, rainbow hair, girl taking picture with flash to see if auditorium is haunted, girl touching pages on her book slowly and purring audibly, man playing with one hair on bald head, man with violin and guitar case forgetting to pick up either every time he walks, skirts worn over jeans. Weird goatees that remind me of the 1760's, man in full winter coat in 92 degree weather, serial killer lookalike count at 5...

Aha! The over sized Auditorium clock chimes 7 and we all shuffle into our seat. The panel is meant to showcase contributions from Neil Gaiman's new book, STORIES. Those present included Kurt Andersen, Jeffrey Ford, Kat Howard, Joe Hill, Lawrence Block, Walter Mosley, and, of course, Neil Gaiman.

Lawrence terrified me by reading excerpts of a story entitled "Catch & Release"...which is essentially about the moments before a serial killer skins a woman.

"Polkadots and Moonbeams" by Jeffrey Ford has some of the most amazing metaphors and similes I have ever encountered, i.e. the sun rising like a bubble in honey, and her dress' dots like the stars patterned in a perfect universe.

The book is filled with big-shot, big-name writers, Joyce Carol Oates, Jodi Picoult, Neil Gaiman, Chuck Palahniuk...but there sat Kat. In a panel of all men peeped one very small woman, with a pair of very intense shoes, Kat.

This is her publishing debut and her story, "A Life in Fictions", was a grand reinterpretation of the fantasy genre. After she finished reading the story to the six hundred person audience, I went home and re-read it to myself, just as personal the second time...just as empathetically scary. Read it, buy the book, and read it. But buy the book anyway because it's brilliantly edited.

The overall theme of the night was,
"The joy of fiction is the joy of the imagination. . . ."

All words, put to paper are imagined worlds with imagined words. If they are describing New Jersey, or the imaginary planet Chuzoo, they are still fantasies and still creations of the authors vast and limitless imagination. Now, with the internet, there is a promiscuous availability of information but not imagination. A good book, whether about vampires, murder, extramarital campus romance, harlequin romance, or detectives, supersedes genre.

As Neil says, "As I close my eyes, the world becomes no darker".

Side Note and After-Hours Edit: Head over to Kat Howard's blog where she actually responds to my comment, huzzah. --->Strange Ink.

She gives me fever.

2010-06-14T13:32:00.013-04:00

Good reasons to be hot:

Recent vacation to St. Tropez left you very sunburned after sailing all day.
Psychosomatic feelings from reading Dante's Inferno or "Fire and Ice", you're a VERY intense reader.
- (From Harper’s Magazine, December 1920.)
  
  SOME say the world will end in fire,
  Some say in ice.
  From what I’ve tasted of desire
  I hold with those who favor fire.
  But if it had to perish twice,
  
  I think I know enough of hate
  To know that for destruction ice
  Is also great
  And would suffice.
  -Robert Frost
Being incredibly turned on by your new boyfriend, Gael Garcia Bernal, sexy. Please Google Image Search immediately.
Rush of blood to the head from winning $10,000 million dollar lottery from a $5.00 dollar ticket.
First day of summer vacation and your AC broke.
Finding an amazing sale on your favorite Winter Jacket, but having to try it on mid August, since the sale is off season.

Bad reasons to be hot:

Having a sinus infection that has not gone away in 7 days and with the use of 72 hours of antibiotics.(true life)
Menopause, period, hormones. (true life)

SOS. Splash some water on me,

Keren Rw/ H

The Enormous Bathroom Key, a short story by John Cheever (*)

2010-06-13T09:22:00.009-04:00

Friday afternoon I decided to take the train into Center City and walk to a cafe in Old City to do some writing, reading, and blog layout editing. It took me about 23 and 1/2 minutes to walk from Market East/Gallery station to 2nd St and Chestnut, the location of an artsy coffee shop called Doubleshots Espresso Bar. By the time I got there, I was "glowing" (as my boyfriend would call it, because girls don't "sweat").

I immediately ordered a Medium Iced Chai Latte, and the super skinny Asian transgender behind the bar whipped it up in about 2 seconds. I kid you not. 2 Seconds! I've never had a latte come to me that quickly.

So I sat around for a while staring at a blank page in MS Word, chatting with various people, watching the group of high school boys who were having some sort of computer geek club meeting play chess while having the meeting. And I also witnessed a first date set up by eHarmony! Whoa, were the sparks flying awkwardly.

And then, I felt the need to pee. If Keren were here, she'd be making fun of me saying that I'm a pee machine. I pee more than most people, but exactly how many times is appropriate for someone who makes sure she gets all 8 glasses of H2O.

Not only did it require packing up all my belongings, because I didn't really feel comfortable asking anyone in there to watch my things, but it also required me to traverse a hallway in the back, then traverse back to the bookshelf in the main room to retrieve the BATHROOM KEY.

It was so embarrassing! I've never been more embarrassed by going to the bathroom publicly than I was in that moment. The thing attached to the key was a piece of railing! Like one of the posts holding up a banister along a flight of stairs, like a big decorative wooden post!

So I had to spend a few more moments in the bathroom to take pictures of this monstrous key to show you all how ridiculous this was.

(*) In case you don't get the title, it's a play on the John Cheever story "The Enormous Radio"... yes, I'm a dork.

Frito Bandito

2010-06-10T14:07:00.007-04:00

My undergraduate thesis advisor is most likely right when he "supposes, because this image played such a large role in the televisual upbringing of the architects of Senate Bill 1070, it is the only one they can conjure."

Some context: Arizona recently passed a law (in effect on July 29th) making it a crime if a person is not carrying immigration documents and they are suspected to be an illegal immigrant. The NY Times sums it up better than I can do:

"The law, which proponents and critics alike said was the broadest and strictest immigration measure in generations, would make the failure to carry immigration documents a crime and give the police broad power to detain anyone suspected of being in the country illegally. Opponents have called it an open invitation for harassment and discrimination against Hispanics regardless of their citizenship status."

Next week I'm on my way out to the state responsible for potentially setting a trend in border state laws. Zack de la Rocha started a boycott in AZ, discouraging other musicians from performing in the state until successful legal action against the bill takes place. So far, however, no legal attacks against it have been successful... both sides of the argument seem to believe the other side is acting unconstitutionally.

Anyway, I thought the video was interesting seeing, as my professor points out, that the commercial aired while the people who made the law were growing up....

Being Joblessly Successful

2010-06-10T13:18:00.009-04:00

Magazines and newspapers often feature articles about How To Be Successful in Your Job or How To Get The Boss To Notice You.

I say... whatever. I want to know how to be joblessly successful.

So far, I think I've been extremely successful, and it's been about two years since I've had a job. Technically, it's been about two weeks, because I did get hired at a cafeteria in a nursing home, but then quit the next morning so I could see my childhood home one more day.^*

I've spent some time today thinking about how I've been able to achieve this state of unemployment. I feel kind of like a real life Kramer; I do odd jobs every now and then for some cash, I don't live with my parents, and well... that's about as far as it goes.

My philosophy about being joblessly successful involves a few innate attributes, without which you may not be able to move on to the skills section of my philosophy. Those innate attributes are 1) being more intelligent than most Americans, and 2) being mildly attractive when it counts.

The first is not very difficult. I don't mean to be rude, and of course I love all sorts of dumb people. But most people are dumb. I don't consider this an insult, because "dumb" includes some very successful, very nice, very fun and charismatic people. However, being smart and mildly attractive when it counts can allow you to make the right decisions when it comes to being jobless.

For instance, I have been able to continue my education for 5 years after graduating from high school, and I will be continuing it for sure for another year at least. After next year, I may or may not have a job at a college or university. Those kinds of jobs only require you to work during class, office hours, and only in the fall, winter and spring. Hardly the winter either, because you get a whole month (or longer in some cases) off. Is that really having a job? Technically.

You can't achieve that many years of post H S school if you don't have some brains.

And if you aren't mildly attractive, it makes things like dating and flirting more difficult, and we all know the key to a free meal, free movie, free drink(s) or whatever (i.e. mini golf, vacations, gasoline) is making people want to purchase those things for you.

This also means you have to be a pleasant person. No one wants to buy things for bitches. This however, is not an innate attribute, but rather a skill. It's most definitely a skill, because I know some people who have consciously perfected both the art of bitchiness and the art of pleasantries.

When people want to spend time with you, they want to spend on you. Another for instance: This summer I have lined up a trip to Yuma, two weeks at the beach, a week on the Massachusetts coast, three days in Montreal, and three days on a lake in Maine. All for FREEEEEE.

Who has time for jobs when I have so many vacations planned? I consider my summer plans a complete and utter success... however none of this could happen if I buckled down and hit the streets with a folder full of resumes and a big PR smile on my face.

This brings me to one last element of my philosophy: That is, creating the illusion of job seeking. Phrases to be uttered in the creation of this deception: "I've put out like a million applications."

"No one's hiring."

"Obama's screwing everything up in this country; did you hear his jobs report last week?"

"People with MBA's are working as janitors now. How am I supposed to get a job as a server if everyone's got PhD's!?"

I pass on this information to you, and hopefully it isn't too late for you to be joblessly successful. Perhaps all of this advice is coming about 20 years too late... perhaps I'm only like this because since the age of 4 my dream in life was to be a college student. I think only a kid with that dream could grow up to be jobless and successful. That's what college is all about.

I gotta go... gotta continue my search for jobs in Philly.

Warm regards,

LWoJ

P.S. The guy in this photo is working waaaay too hard to find a job. That's what I call actually wanting a job, rather than wanting to give the impression of wanting a job.

^*Clarifying Endnote: My parents recently moved out of the home my siblings and I grew up in. They moved down the street on to the 18th green of a golf course.

Movie Theater Strategy

2010-06-08T14:38:00.013-04:00

Cue Annie:

Popcorn is delicious; salty, buttery...but it is not discreet. Very crunchy, loud, stains the fingers. Also, since it is made on the spot, sometimes it's too hot, too cold, Goldilocks syndrome.

Raisinets are amazing because they feign being healthy and you do not feel so awful chowing down on them. They are a classic movie theater food, made with no articificial ingredients, and from homegrown California Raisins. Yay for classic Americana. Reminds me of childhood and warm, fuzzy feelings. Same goes for Goobers. Snocaps fall into this classic catergory and have the added benefit of being made from dark chocolate and lasting the whole movie (so many little small morsels!) However, they all melt much too easily.

My next snack of interest are Twizzlers. I mean, they double as a straw. Imagine drinking your $5.75 Medium coke through a STRAWBERRY SUGAR STICK. What a confectionery delight. These vertical snacks are also highly shareable. Alas, they are wrapped in some of the loudest packaging known to man.

My local cinema recently added Hot Dogs, Soft Pretzels, and Chicken Fingers to their menu. Listen, you me, that is carnival and festival cuisine. I understand that the movie theater/carnival crowd often overlaps on food but I do not want you eating an entire entree during my movie. This is not The Complete Unedited Digitally Enhanced Nine Hour Lord of the Rings Trilogy, wherein I will allow you to eat an entire dinner service. This is snack time. Leave your hotdogs out of my theater.

Believe it or not, some moviegoers use food as a distraction for tense, suspenseful, emotional, or scary plots. Munching on comfort food helps them get through the anxious, terrifying, desperate roller coaster. It also helps as an excuse not to make out with someone on a first date. "Bobby, can't you see I'm drinking Cherry Cola through a Twizzler straw?"

Lets look at caloric intake:

Large Buttered Popcorn (20 cups): 1500 calories, 116g fat, 90g carbs
Hot Dog (1 dog with bun): 305 calories, 4.5g fat, 23g carbs
Nachos with Cheese (large, 4 oz): 1101 calories, 59g fat, 131.5g carbs
Soft Pretzel (large): 483 calories, 4.5g fat, 99g carbs
Junior Mints (3 oz): 320 calories, 5g fat, 68g carbs

But wait, there's lots more,

Milk Duds (3 oz): 340 calories, 12g fat, 56g carbs
Sno-Caps (3.1 oz): 360 calories, 16g fat, 60g carbs
Raisinets (3.5 oz): 380 calories, 16g fat, 64g carbs
Gummi Bears (4 oz): 390 calories, 0g fat, 90g carbs
Goobers (3.5 oz): 525 calories, 35g fat, 55g carbs
Twizzlers (6 oz): 600 calories, 4g fat, 136g carbs
M&M's (5.3 oz): 735 calories, 31.5g fat, 105g carbs
Skittles (6.75 oz): 765 calories, 9g fat, 166.5g carbs
Reese's Pieces (8 oz): 1200 calories, 60g fat, 138g carbs
Starburst (24 pieces): 480 calories, 10.5g fat, 99g carbs
Coca-Cola with ice(ice having no calories but being necessary to include) (large, 3 pints, 18.9 fl oz): 353 calories, 0g fat, 88.4g carbs

So, in the end water is the way to go. Obviously.

Glug Glug (water drinking sound),

Keren rhymes w/ Heron

Carpentry? I must be a deity!

2010-06-07T14:37:00.006-04:00

Today I made a table with 4 legs, 11 nails, 7 pieces of splintered wood (1 pre-painted), and sundry tools. Tomorrow, I conquer Carthage.

My day began this morning with fatigue and menstrual cramps, but will end with high energy and, well, probably more cramps. My secret? Involuntary manic behavior once begun can overcome any anti-productive lethargy. Even if that lethargy is the result of no sleep for 48 hours. Of course, you have to have some sort of mental disorder to achieve the results found in this blog post study.

In my refrigerator right now is a pineapple souffle I made this morning. I used a whole pineapple I bought at Reading Terminal on Friday and crushed it myself in order to make the souffle today. While letting it cool, I browsed the internet for Home Depot's weekly in store specials!

At this point, I realized how dumb I am. And how I'm like 90 years old at the age of 23, but that's fine. Being 90 is actually a good time. I rarely suffer from hangovers, and I have yet to acquire some incurable STD, let alone a curable one.

Then again, a few weeks ago I woke up the morning after a wedding and threw up the entire contents of my stomach, including such treasures I didn't know I had consumed such as a sticker from a piece of fruit. I'm guessing it was a piece of fruit, but I didn't remember eating fruit at all, so maybe it was a sticker from something else.

The point is that I was eating fruit. 90 year olds often eat fruit. It's just there thing.

This week at HD, you can buy good potting soil for about 6 dollars when it was originally about 8. You can also buy 4 perrenial plants (in 6 in containers) for $10.

Good deal. Good deal.

There are the downs to being ninety, such as: the coupling of stubbornness and general inability.

I experienced this nasty coupling today while building a table. Perhaps you are wondering: "why are you building a table?" My answer: 1) I haven't the money for buying a table; there are no specials at HD this week for those, and 2) I had the materials to build one.

As I stated first, my materials involved pieces of scrap wood from the garage-- NOTICIA: JUICE, do not worry! I did not use any scrap wood that would cause you to be unable to finish the molding in your house. I basically tried to nail a bunch of wood to the sides of a larger piece of wood before standing it up to see if it was capable of holding things.

The first time, it wasn't.

Because of the mania I was experiencing, I did end up finishing a table that works as a table, but I thought to myself: "Maybe Jesus felt like this... carpentry, outside, planting things." Good times. Good times.

That was basically all I was getting to with this post. In addition to making a table, I also planted a tomato plant, a hydrangea bush, emptied the cat litter, made cookies (because I ate the rest of the cookies that Juice usually eats for breakfast... Sorry, menstrual cravings...), and I am sure that the rest of my day will be filled with many little, braggable accomplishments.

Of course, my table can hardly stand. So perhaps I am less than a deity and more like just crazy and in need of a job.

Peace, Love, and Planting,

Leah, Wife of Jacob

Wrong Side of the Bed.

2010-06-07T11:06:00.006-04:00

Well, it's only 11:09 in the a.m. so I can hardly say I am having a terrible day yet. A full 24 hours of terrible have yet to happen, however, this is what I can say:

1. I woke up to my air conditioner spewing some sort of toxic sludge onto me.
2. The coffee I had earned through customer loyalty, 15 stamps on a card, was destroyed
(see 3).
3. The elevator I take up to the fourth floor of my office building, prematurely closed on me, has no "door open button", and so hit my wrist swiftly causing me to drop, ney, fling my coffee cup.
4. Said coffee cup subsequently flew up my skirt and burned my thighs, and soaked my underwear.
5. I have my period.
6. Pad I was wearing absorbed coffee spill.....now I am sitting in a hot, coffee, genital mattress.
7. Because I was running late for work I had to settle for a smoothie of pre-macerated, pre-chewed, once whole fruits. We are not allowed anything but drinks at the office desks.
8. While cleaning up said coffee spill in the bathroom, looking in the mirror and realizing I have a pimple smack-dab square in the middle of my forehead.

These are the 8 occurrences, in the three hours I have been awake, that lead me to believe this is going to be Keren and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

How do you get yourself out of a funk?

Le Sigh,
KRwH

Another Introduction, Moving to AZ.

2010-06-07T09:12:00.004-04:00

Y'all met Emilene. She is apparently funny, and hates small talk. I, on the other hand, love small talk. So much so that I decided to introduce a man named Juice. This picture is of him when he was in Guatemala, suffering from severe food poisoning. If I remember correctly from what the picture-taker said, this photo was taken minutes after Juice evacuated the rest of his digestive system by all pathways for the last time before he felt well enough to slaughter the cow in the background and get sick again from eating that.

From time to time I will be referring to Juice in personal anecdotes, both fictional and nonfictional, so I figured I better introduce him now. I give my readers license to assume whatever they will about Juice and me... perhaps we are bf-gf. Or maybe we're ltbf-ltgf. Or maybe he's just my sex pot who does whatever I tell him to. I shrug my shoulders and smile at you, reader.

Also... I almost did not put up the picture of him in guatemala, because it makes him seem really interesting and adventurous. On paper, he does appear this way. He's traveled all over the Middle East, including Afghanistan where he and the Picture-Taker narrowly escaped being kidnapped. I guess it wasn't that narrow. They witnessed a man on the street outside the hostel where they stayed being dragged into a van.

Again, this makes him seem cultured. He is not! Firstly, he is a miser. By miser I really mean misanthrope. He hates people. The motivations behind his adventures all relate to his enormous ego, the Picture-Taker's rusing, and Juice's inability to not take a bet.

I was going to go on in this post about yesterday's fiasco at Juice's dad's birthday party, but perhaps that is bordering on not small talk, and I opened the post saying that I would stick to an introduction.

Oh yeah... I'm moving to Arizona soon because Juice is moving there, and I'm the kind of girl who follows Juice anywhere. My biggest question: What are the latest fashions in AZ? I googled "what to wear in arizona" and 9 out of every 10 results dealt with wedding dresses in Arizona... I don't know what that's about!

The problem with small talk

2010-06-04T21:32:00.005-04:00

The easiest problem to identify with small talk is quite simple: everyone hates it. I don't know a single person that would enjoy making endless remarks about "the weather," "how different you look," "how different the weather looks," "how long it's been since we saw each other," or any combination such as:

"how different we saw each other once"
"how long it's been since we've seen the weather"
"how different we looked when we last saw each other in this weather"
"what different weather we long ago saw each other in"

And countless others. And yet, we all do it. And we all do it in the same way; with a pleasant smile, a higher tone than we usually use, an air of absolute optimism, and a ticking clock barely moving in our brain-- assessing when we can get the fuck out of there.

So- why do we do it?

It seems that we do it out of respect to others- its a societal convention that's demanded of us if we don't want to appear rude or disrespectful to the neighbor you barely know and see three times a year when you're home in Macy's in the clearance department. And yet, if all of us really hate it- aren't we being cruel to inflict such mind-numbing suffering on others?

I think we are.

I think the world would be a shit-ton (a quantifiable and legitimate unit of measurement) better if we all stopped bullshitting each other. A simple hey, or head nod is good enough. You acknowledge that I exist and I do the same- why do we need anything more??

Now clearly, I 'm not talking about good friends or even regular friends or people you sorta like from a distance (I mean that in the least creepy way possible). I am talking about people you barely know- names you search for and figure out ways not to say because you're not sure if its right. Old neighbors, old but no longer connected friends, old people in general. The cashier, the bank teller, just fucking people. Because here's the thing, I don't care about:

1) your daughter's baby (ps, you look a little young to be having a daughter who's having a kid)
2) the weather
3) what Jeff is doing these days
4) That Ashley's in jail (ok, I do want to know about this- so small talk rules don't apply here)
5) What the fuck you're doing over the weekend
6) The weather.

Now, I realize I may seem rude, but it's really out of my utmost respect for the human race. I want you to be able to get your shit done and be with the people you really want to be with rather than spending valuable time talking to me about shit I'm not caring about or listening to.

So, hello Ducks and What They Do readers- I'm Emilene and it's nice to meet you.

Now go the fuck out and be with the people you care about. I hope we will never need further introductions.

Also, if you ever hear me talk about the weather- send me a stink bomb in the mail.

Lap Tops?! Pshht. Pulease. (Live)

2010-06-04T12:27:00.009-04:00

Desktops are totally cool. AND portable. I currently am watching this guy (or kid? It's hard to tell.) surf the web on his desktop computer... IN BORDERS BOOKSTORE. He has the monitor, the keyboard, the mouse, and the tower all here.

Being a wuss, I am having a difficult time getting up the pluck to take a photo of him, but I did get a picture of his work station when he got up to use the bathroom. Although the photo doesn't show this, on the chair next to him, he placed a small vase (most likely plastic) with fake flowers in it. At his feet, he has a gym bag full of clothes. From my angle it appears to be full of folded dress shirts.

Without telling you that I am pretty sure this guy is mentally challenged, I'd like to ask: what are the pros and cons of the lap top versus the desk top in a public wifi area???

PROS:
1. No one steals a desk top. You could leave your post for hours, and come back to find your machine as you left it.

2. In a similar vein: "Excuse me? Um, do you think you could watch my stuff for a sec?" says the wary lap top owner to a big scary man who grunts a response you hope means yes. The web surfer who brings his desk top to Borders never has to engage is awkward human-human communication. And isn't that the point of being on your computer in Borders in the first place? You automatically look busy when you're on a computer, even if you're just looking up all the different hair cuts Jessica Simpson has ever had.

CONS:
1. Desk tops may or may not be heavy.

2. People may or may not stare at you if you lug your desk top into a bookstore, especially if you're like this guy I'm looking at who has not purchased anything. In fact, it appears as if he is using books as if this were a library...

If my math is correct... +2 + -2 = 0 Then there really is no need to ogle at this man (for now I see he is no "kid") smartly googling images of Jay Z on his Dell.

Now I feel embarrassed for being seen with my 13" lap top.... oh. oh. no.

Bye...

Cya,
Leah

Photo Realism, Really.

2010-06-04T12:16:00.020-04:00

Pictures from top to bottom: Diego Gravinese, Ralph Goings

It's a painting, based on a photo. The painting is realistic. So is the photo, naturally. And aren't all photos realistic? Or just the ones trying to do realism? Are all paintings realistic, or just the ones based on photographs?

It's a genre I do not quite understand and that's why I think it is enticing! Let's think about it:

Photorealism

...is the style of painting that is primarily based on using cameras, and subsequent photographs, to procure highly detailed, visible information. From these snapshots, the artist creates a painting creates a painting that is so hyper realistic that the eye believes, at first, that is could only be a photograph. But alas, Aha! It's NOT a photograph. In fact, it is highly detailed, almost pixelated art work. Photorealist painting cannot exist without the camera. It could not have been invented without this technology. Photorealism, usually, captures VERY mundane situations, forcing the audience to reexamine the situation from a new vantage point. It is almost like the artist gave us, new glasses, with a prescription that had never existed before he invented it. I like the idea of using a new technology to enhance an old art form. How else could something old become new again? Let us ponder; perhaps:

Using the structure of a wooden horse-and-buggy to pimp your new ride?

Hooking up an Mp3 player to a Jukebox? Reviving the old sockhop?

Using weird, new, moon minerals and mars rocks for sculpting

Knitting a spaceship?

....Starrpoint, an avid art blogger, says: "Photorealistic paintings are more real that a photo. Photos, as good as they are, have a certain flatness, a shallow depth of field, and lack of detail, that the photorealistic paintings do not have. ... In most cases, they are more 'real' than real."

What the heck is more 'real' than 'real'? Why not just take a photograph? Isn't the artist essentially re-capturing what has already been captured? Whatever it is, it is so postmodern it's practically a meta commentary on a commentary. So many layers, like a fucking Vidalia onion, it's SWEET!

Now you know.

Keren Rhymes/w Heron

The Great Abilities of Strays

2010-06-04T08:27:00.004-04:00

This little number here is a dumpster kitty. HER name is Felix. My boyfriend, before he knew me, assumed most cats were male when he saved her from the dumpster across the alley in back of the house and named her that. But oh my goodness, isn't she cute?

The other day my mom came to Philly all the way from Lancaster to drop off a few items for me, i.e. a rolling pin, an industrial sized stapler, and a tiffany style lamp. She knocks on the front door as Felix and I are sitting in the living room. Felix, like all cats, tenses and strains her ears in the direction of the front door. I get up and open the door. My mom walks in. Felix freaks out, and her claws slip all over the wood floors as she runs upstairs for her life!

She does this every time someone comes into the house. The first month I was living here, she did this when I came in. But running away from my mother made me think about humans as cats...

Get THIS: A guy in his late twenties/early thirties who exhibits house cat behavior.

When his girlfriend's mother comes into the house, he scurries upstairs and hides under the bed.

On nice days, he sits on the window sill and scratches himself.

At night, he sleeps on top of his girlfriend's head and practically suffocates her with his hairy body. And when this doesn't wake her up, he starts shaking his legs... most likely not from trying to reach an itch on his back, but perhaps from Restless Leg Syndrome?

He's afraid of the vacuum cleaner, but follows around the swiffer while his girlfriend traps dust, dirt, and hair in the microfiber disposable Swiffer pads everyone has come to love.

When he wants to relax, he does not move from his spot, even if his girlfriend tries to shove him out of the way by sitting on his tail.

When there is a fly buzzing around, he goes crazy trying to catch it, but when he does catch it, he lets it go so he can catch it again.

When his girlfriend sprinkles catnip along the kitchen floor, he gets really excited and rolls around in it.

When his cat, named Kitten, gets in his way, he claws at her and runs around the house knocking things over.

Sometimes, his girlfriend thinks he wants to eat her the way that he looks at her and starts slowly sniffing her feet, legs, and arms.

When his girlfriend opens the windows, he forgets about the screen, and runs, leaps, and tries to escape from the house through the window only to fail miserably and whine about it for half an hour.

Anyway, maybe it's only funny to me.... Or maybe I'm like really lame for even thinking cats are funny in the first place.

Oh my God... I am NOT turning into one of those lame lame people who are obsessed with cats. But maybe I am. Maybe this is a result of not yet securing a summer job. Perhaps this is what the consequence for being lazy is... lame lazy feline lovers lay lethargically all day long.

Later,

Leah

Like the Travelocity Gnome.... but Las Llaves en Miami.

2009-06-24T12:11:00.026-04:00

Joel's Keys took a fantastic trip to Miami the other week...we wanted to share with you all the crazy and wild things they did. Joel's Keys let effing LOOSE!

04:00:00 Joel's Keys: Empty SEPTA car en route to PHL Airport. Sooo excited!!

08:30:00 Joel's Keys: Bienvenidos a Miami!! Checkin' out those palms!

12:30:00 Joel's Keys: FT. Laudy, beaches! Eyein' that storm on the horizon.

13:00:00 Joel's Keys: Smokin' a cig after a long day en la playa.

22:00:00 Joel's Keys at the dyke bar.

10:30:00 Joel's Keys eating Huevos Rancheros... South Beach, the morning after.

11:30:00 Joel's Keys shopping off the hangover.

12:45:00 Joel's Keys seeing the sights.

21:00:00 Joel's Keys gettin' crunk at the arcade they call Dirty Blondes. And Leah's O-face...wait, what?

Much later.... maybe 3am, maybe 5am Joel's Keys with the hott young THANGS!

Joel's Keys did it all. To see where Joel's Keys go next, visit www.joelskeys.com See y'all in the next HOT SPOT destination! ;)

Signed,
Jessica Rabbit
Leah, wife of Jacob

Father's Day Run Down

2009-06-21T11:29:00.003-04:00

Happy Father's Day!

My sister refuses to use sugar packets (or sweetener packets) that aren't yellow.

My mother chastised my sister for stirring her coffee without holding the spoon like a pencil. She then demonstrated for my sister the proper way to stir coffee. My sister then corrected my mother, telling her that she was stirring tea, and therefore, my mother's assessment was irrelevant.

Fox News gets there White House correspondence via Obama's Twitter account. Which is sadder? Obama letting us know information about Iran by tweeting? Or the media considering Twitter newsworthy?

My father declared this morning: "First! The coffee we make today will be vanilla flavored. Second! I am staying in pajamas until 9p.m. Well, actually maybe 9a.m. because by the time 9p.m. comes around, I will be going to bed so there really isn't a point to declaring my pajama state finished until I wake up tomorrow."

There are dark clouds closing in on Lancaster, but the sun is shining on the west part of the house. I am drinking orange juice, and blogging at the kitchen table.

I am currently jobless, and I am going to the beach for two weeks in about two weeks. Ha!

Check this out:

Aaaah!! Bird attack in my backyard!

2009-06-10T13:26:00.005-04:00

Okay, so I am currently sweaty, red in the face, and wearing grass-stained sneakers. Although I am always a classy, bougie lady in DC, while in the Lanc I am a grass-mowing, flannel-wearing, construction-man-attracting Lancastrian Woman. hahahaha. Well, perhaps not...

The past few weeks, except the one during which I went cruising down Sistrunk Blvd in Ft. Laudy looking for hookers, I have been out in my yard doing everything from mowing to trimming to weed pulling to pulling large shrubs (including the roots) out of the ground by hooking a chain from the back of my Isuzu Trooper to the shrub and then replanting it in the backyard so my mother and father can see it as they enjoy their coffee on our back porch in the mornings.

To the back of our house there is a line of pine trees three times the height of our house, which are good to have because I don't have to do any yardwork involving those. However, to the other side (the much longer side) there is a long row of forsythia which are more than ten feet high and wickedly overgrown. My mother's idea of a dream yard is one in which no one can see her so if the mood struck her someday, she could sit naked on our back porch and no one would even know.

But it's my job to do the yardwork because no one else knows how to do anything here, so the forsythia needs trimming and I got to it!

I trimmed the sides and the bottom, making sure the bottom was slightly less trimmed because they live longer that way (don't ask me why). Then, I got out the old rickety step ladder that scares the shit out of me because when you step on it, it sways wickedly.

But! It's the only way to trim the fly away branches at the top! So I was on the ladder, with the electric hedge trimmers, which are plugged in and BAD things happen if you don't pay attention and you accidentally cut the cord. Ouch and sparks!

But today the ouch was not because of cutting the electric cord. I, in my haste to get the hedges trimmed before five, trimmed into a bird's nest!!!!!!

The little gray tailed something or other Bird darted out and screeched at me and then began plunging toward me, flying back up and then plunging toward me again. I screamed and jumped off the ladder, throwing the hedge trimmers down on the ground and I ran back into the garage!

I waited a few minutes before emerging from my safety grotto (haha). But when I came out again, the bird swooped toward me again, and I ran back into the garage and then into the basement, up the stairs, and into the kitchen to sit down and calm down for a minute. Those birds, man! They are determined to have eggs!! Jeez Louise!

Now, I don't really know what to do, except wait for a while and then start trimming down the other end first and then avoid the bird's nest for a couple days. I don't want to hurt it... we love birds here. We have birds nests all over, but the hedges are just getting out of hand.

Oh yea, I forgot to mention that there is a lot of construction going on along the road in front of my house. When I ran and screamed as the bird attacked, a bunch of the construction men turned around and laughed like I was Jeff Foxworthy or the Cable Guy (I think that's who people around here laugh at).

I also thought this was appropriate because of those BlackBirds in ?California? that are attacking people in the city's financial district.

Outtie!

-Leah

xoxo

Apparently Summers are Difficult.

2009-05-23T17:30:00.004-04:00

One would think that, without a job and without classes, I would be blogging it up! But no... apparently occupation is the mother of blogging.

I will preface my first graduate post by saying: The summer will be slow. And... continue:

Things Adults Talk About, in no specific order:

1. EZPass

2. Aches and Pains

3. Sales and How Much Things Cost

4. Diseases (compliments TMcD)

5. How Lost Our (as in you and me, not the Adults) Generation Is (compliments TMcD)

6. Charlie Horses (IDK about this one... K suggested. haha)

7. The pleasantries of giving business to one company over another, and in conjunction...

8. The criticisms of businesses who do not deserve receiving business.

9. The way things (like well water and septic tanks) work.

10. What is the best way to kick children out of homes when the children are approaching 30.

11. The pros and cons of croquette vs. horse shoes

12. Which dressing is best for pasta salad, and a chronology of dressings used prior to the current pasta salad dressing.

13. Cell phones. Cell service. Hand-held technological devices, and how they can't figure them out but they can't remember how they got on without them.

14. Hitchhiking.

15. The best highways to use.

16. Tolls.

Did I miss anything?

Ducks Graduate. And some Non-sequiturs.

2009-05-16T08:56:00.005-04:00

Well, today is the end of an era. As my dad would say as he quotes the great Sam Clemens, "I've been through some horrible things in my life, some of which actually happened." I'm not sure if the shaking in my body is from my nerves or from all the vodka redbulls I had last night.

Probably the latter, if we consider both the affects of alcohol and taurine versus my baseline behavior in other milestone events.

At my high school graduation, I couldn't get out of there faster. So done. So ready to move on. In HS Graduation I was sitting next to this girl who is the eleventh of thirteen brothers and sisters, and she started crying. At first I thought, "Ya, I guess it would be sad, esp having to leave a large family like that." Then all the rest of the girls and a few guys in my row also started crying.

Then I immediately thought, "Oh, wow. I'm so glad to be getting out of here. No more Deer Hunter games at the pool hall. No more Tractor Day. No more watching my friends chug a gallon of milk, throw it up, and then the next friend try and see if they can do it, before of course throwing up themselves... all while Homecoming is going on."

But now, looking back at what I originally thought about the girl next to me crying, I still think my subsequent thought reaction was appropriate, but I would like to qualify my reaction to the first girl:

It doesn't matter how large your family is for this liminal space to seem so... unliminal. haha. I don't really know what I'm saying anymore... I think my hangover is starting to set in.

Last night, as I went downstairs to pick up my order of hot wings from Pizza Movers (it was the only place open at 3:40am) I started imitating E.T.

Eliot. Eliot, be good. (good rhymes with food in this instance, in case you forgot how E.T. speaks)

So cool, man. The end of his finger lights up.

Also... another thing I thought of while writing this post: when I (and many others) abbreviate the words like "esp" or "idk" or "nvm" there really is no way to say those 'words' literally. Isn't that interesting? We've moved from a world in which words and the idea they signify are difficult to separate in our minds into a world in which that separation is almost irrelevant. It's like... we don't even need the aural signifier for communication anymore. kk ttyl cya. Those aren't words. They're ideas.... weirrrrrd.

Alright, I'm taking a Gummy Vite and rolling some topical caffeine under my eyeballs. Woo. Woo. Woo.

Yea College!

Lovey,

Leah.

P.S. Just so you know on what I look upon as writing this morning: a room with no visible floor, and a lot of paint chips all over the place. Don't tell maintenance or housing, but Keren and I had to sand and paint parts of our wall... oops. We didn't know her dad's industrial tape would be so.... industrial. (Btw, you can totally still tell that the wall is effed up.)

Infomercial-->Slap Rap?

2009-05-13T23:03:00.002-04:00

COLOUR.

2009-05-08T23:30:00.001-04:00

SHARKSPEARE

2009-05-07T00:08:00.000-04:00

Beshaudyldacrylebotecelliputacatepillississimo

2009-05-06T20:44:00.003-04:00

Pifdylli y thregbatter rehn burther cohyn rhuet wheurityn. Ohng yurhknut shuftergurgurgwherner y purhehrnumorit. Quoricthirth iourthyier shoullet. Pifdylli y thregbatter rehn qherourourellesly y zhycamera zigot zygote?

Bluhr quibster ashcanter fohlgerum tridental.

Vuhnsternbergur!

:)

Enh...rhemun opticlytia (shurgs shulders).

(Twelve hours later...)

What I think I mean to say: I'm having difficulty expressing myself verbally.

Physical gesture to express how Ducks is feeling:

Lying on floor of living room. Forehead to carpet. Waving arms at sides like the making of a Snow Angel.

Lolling tongue outside of mouth. Dropping chin to neck, and looking upwards into Purgatory.

Erm... I don't really know what else (shurgs shulders).

Vuhnsternburger!

Contents of an Alien Dob Kit:

2009-05-04T11:58:00.007-04:00

1. Effervescent blue spackling paste made from any type of building material (such as concrete or human bathroom tiling) used to heal neon green bleeding from thorax.

2. Personal sized Infrared Interferometer (It picked up from the equivalent of the sample-sized dollar bins at CVS) used for finding life.

3. X-Ray mirror (hand held) used for even deeper inspection of pores, blackheads, blemishes, and the like. Especially used among the metrosexual alien demographic, and of course, women aliens.

4. Miscellaneous paper that It threw into the dob kit as it rushed to check out of the hotel room in the morning:
a) The equivalent of the human palm card that contains pre-calculated tips for a list of meal prices (i.e. Cost of Meal: $20.00 --> Tip: $3.00).
The Alien's "tipping" palm card includes the elements of the Drake Equation, which approximates the number of planets containing Life:
-The rate of formation of suitable stars.
-The fraction of those stars which contain planets.
-The number of Earth-like worlds per planetary system.
-The fraction of planets where intelligent life develops.
-The fraction of possible communicative planets.
-The “lifetime” of possible communicative civilizations.

b) Other miscellany paper products randomly strewn about the dob kit, including the Soviet Union's 1967 stamp, shown at right and the receipt from Seven Eleven for a 3-pack of Magnums.

5. A vile of Expanding Liquid Water, for shaving in transit, as in--IN SPACE. And a razor: Gillette, of course.

6. A small black box nicknamed the Substrictus Alienus Cache (of course, the Alien who owns a dob kit will be in love with Roman history, and thus he names this black box in the Latin words for Small Foreign Cache).

The SAC is used as a prison for microbial life, which is the most common race of enemies for aliens. He realized however that on Earth, humans do not fit in the Substrictus Alienus Cache, and microbial life on Earth is the least of the enemies unless harnessed by Middle Easterners who then spread the microbial life in places in which the Substrictus Alienus is unhappy... and then it kills humans and other large beings.

7. a) A vile of a base dilute ethanol (70%-90%)
b) Oil of lemon, orange, or bergamot
c) A sprig of rosemary, lavendar, or jasmine
(aka Eau de Cologne)

8. A comb, with various spacing and sizing of teeth.

Cha-Quack Amex Card, also: Religion Maybe.

2009-05-02T15:27:00.004-04:00

Funny word: cause/Cause

"It's for the Cause!"

"So the It is causing the Cause?"

Speaking of causes and Causes...

Anecdote:

A girl eats lunch with her business partner, who is also a woman.

After discussing sundry business items that they had written on their small leather agenda books, the one girl sighs.

The other girl asks why the first girl sighs. The sighing girl responds, "Boys."

The other girl looks up to Heaven and says, "Oh my women relatives, why did we not heed your warning?"

Both girls look at each other and realize that they make no sense. They return to the last item on their business agenda: Cha-Quack Amex small business card.

End.

So this got me to thinking about the choices that we have: The Choice we all have to look up or down when speaking to dead relatives: Shouldn't we do both just to cover our bases? Up and Down.... you know, just in case?

Or if you're a Dante-ist (not a Catholic), you can look directly forward into nothing, and address those dead relations stuck in Purgatory.

What's with getting rid of Purgatory anyway? It completely changed the Catholic dogma.

Now's it's catma.

A sufficient number of reasons why we need Purgatory, and so it should be reinstated:

1) 80-year old sluts.

2) Afterlife housing for the refugees who were displaced after Purgatory was gotten rid of.

3) The DULL. The ones who aren't good or bad, but just making the world suffer with their mediocrity.

4) Baby-killers (before the third trimester... I mean, really... it's not that bad, but it's BAD.)

I think those are good causes for the Cause.

In nomine Patris et fillii et Spiritus Sancti.

-Leah, wife of Jacob

-Keren, rhymes w/ Heron

Love's Labour's Lost: it's not love, it's masturbation.

2009-05-02T15:06:00.004-04:00

If y'all haven't heard yet: the Swine Flu (or if you are currently in Israel reading DWTD: the Mexican Flu) has come to GW. The girls were moved from Thurston Hall to City Hall because GW can get more money out of Freshman than Juniors, who have already paid so it doesn't matter if their parents complain and threaten to withdraw their sons and daughters (quothe the cynic Steve R.)

Well, I don't know about all y'all cowards and hypochondriacs, but I'm not going to give up a good time just because of the SWINE FLU. Puh-lease. Pshaw.

During my good time last night, I came across this guy named Roddy Doyle who I have had my eye on for a while. We were flirting and having a good time. He held my hand. We drove around the city. It was all whirlwind, heat, and flash. We killed my parents and were on the road before we knew what we were doing.

And then Roddy Doyle turned to me and said, "You know, you can tell when a woman is in love with you because they come during sex, and they come quickly."

I proceeded to laugh: "HAHAHA!"

Thought he was joking. Thought this was funny. Turns out, this kid was serious. He really thinks that when women finish quickly it means that they are in love with their partners. I have news for him and for the other men out there who may think the same: It's not LOVE, it's self stimulation when you're not looking.

If it's not self stimulation on the sly, then our partner just happens to be one of the following: 1) very experienced or 2) making us feel very comfortable or 3) we're drunk enough to be comfortable even if you're not that great in bed.

I let him drop me off around the corner from my building, and laughed all the way to my door. Then laughed some more when I crossed my apt's threshold.

So, Roddy Doyle: you're a great flirt, but the love-logic part of the brain seemed faulty for a minute or two.

Sorry.

-Leah, wife of Jacob

Oreo-getorix

2009-04-29T01:11:00.003-04:00

(Oreogetorix.)

Whoops! T SHIRT TUESDAY IS TODAY!

2009-04-28T10:19:00.003-04:00

T-Shirt Thursday is ACTUALLY T-Shirt Tuesday, SO that makes T-SHIRT TUESDAY TODAY!!!!

Sheesh, Dr. Cohen, can't you just get it right the first time?

Reminder: Much Ado About T-Shirts

2009-04-27T22:27:00.011-04:00

Just a reminder: if you bought your high-end, tailor-made, black leather studded Florida State University English Department T-Shirt, do not wear **it tomorrow**, because **tomorrow** is GW English Dept T-Shirt Thursday. Yes, Tuesday is T-Shirt Thursday. [The previous information is now correct, although yesterday it was not.]

It's kind of like GW Monday, which is actually a Wednesday.

Oh my god! It's Hamlet! Everything's backwards!

Which reminds me of an anecdote:

Two BFF Girls walk into a hipster party. Guys are macking on Girls. Guys are macking on Guys. Girls are macking on Girls. Girls who may be guys are macking on guys who may be girls.

And each mack is assisted by the brilliant and creative moleskine owned by the hit-on-er. The hit-on-ee laughs (or doesn't laugh) as they fall in hipster artsy love.

The BFF girls eat some pretzels and drink PBR as they observe the party.

The first girl turns to her second girl and says, "Oh my god, it's Much Ado About Nothing!" But she pronounces the title in Middle English, so the pun is clear. The second girl laughs and laughs, and then they leave and go to 51st State where they get picked up by pretending they know nothing about anything and everything about 'Nothing.'***

END.

***Notes, Vagina, but not a dirty link, I promise.

This may or may not ruin the photo if I tell, but I'm just so damned proud of my skills: I totes photoshopped those Moleskines into the picture. Ha!

Post Draft #69 (and the beach is preeetty.)

2009-04-26T22:15:00.005-04:00

So I was looking through all the posts I've written in a fit of self-absorption. As I was patting myself on the back for being wildly intelligent and insightful, esp on such posts as "Nonsensical Opposites" where I compare an African Elephant to a Pear, I came across a few posts that I hadn't published. They were just saved as Drafts.

One was one liner: "Un-disaffected Youth." And that was the entire post. I'm sure I meant it to be longer, but I was probably a bit drunk and fell asleep before completing the thought.

Another post was the following: "Queer Theory: humans are biologically created to receive pleasure from the same sex, i.e. the prostrate [sic] and positioning of the (whisper the next word) clitoris. Ew ew." Apparently I couldn't continue writing the post... hmmm I wonder what that says about me. Hopefully not a lot.

Then, I struck gold. The following was Draft Post #69 (for real, actually) and was given the wickedly pithy title: "Mai Thai"

Mai Thai

1oz Jamaican rum (Appleton Estate is good)
1oz Martinique rum (Rhum St. James is good)
1/2 oz orange curacao (not the blue stuff)
1/4 oz Orgeat syrup (not creme de almond)
1/4 oz sugar syrup (and Vic puts a little vanilla in his)
the juice of one small lime (3/4 oz approx.)

I couldn't let DWTD readers miss out on this recipe which is totes fab fab.

Enjooooy. Don't get too liquored up.

"Oh my is that Ducks Reader in the bag!? Well goodness gracious!"

Peace, Love, and Joy,

LwoJ

P.S. Woooo the beach!!

Capote Support Group

2009-04-26T22:07:00.003-04:00

The talented, caring, and hilarious GW professor H.G. Carrillo showed me this video the other day. I wanted to share it with DWTD Readers!

It's.... well, it is interesting.

xoxo,

LwoJ

The Artistically Sensitive Caveman (and others).

2009-04-23T18:26:00.012-04:00

The Artistically Sensitive Caveman: Wakes up in the morning. Light shines into the cave just enough for him to see the artwork he made on the walls the night before in the dark. The self portrait he drew is accidentally on top of the drawing of the buffalo in the field. He curses the era into which he was born.

The 22-year-old Who Is Retired, but Not a Millionaire: He walks around and asks people around him, "What day is it? Friday? Ever since I retired, I can't keep track of the days." He also oft' makes references to projects he completed in high school, i.e. the book report he got an A on in honors English on the Harry Potter series Years I, II, III.

The Woman Who Believes That When People Ask Her For Analgesics or Band-Aids That She is The One Who Caused the Pain and Suffering, and She Takes Personal Offense:
Anecdote:
Friend: "Do you have any advil or tylenol? My head kinda hurts."
Sensitive-to-Analgesic Woman: "Is it something I did? It's my perfume isn't it? I can sponge bathe it off!"

Emo Animals.
Brief example: Lion: "King of the Jungle, but... whatever..."

Prison homosexual sex [sic] as a polite gesture or rehab group led by a nice woman who speaks in platitudes. "So, we're all here. Might as well make the best of a sad situation. When you've got lemons, make lemonade. Buddy Sytem!"

Peace, Love, and Joy,

Leah wife of Jacob and Keren Rhymes w/ Heron

"Under there!"--"Under where?"--"Hahaha..underwear!"

2009-04-23T09:55:00.003-04:00

Last night I took one of the most necessary and most un-fun showers ever. Since I only take showers when I do laundry and I don't do laundry very often, you can imagine the manifold ways in which the shower was necessary.

So here is how this experience went down:

Ten long hours in the library in my special place that I always go to. That place, however, was hotter than ever. There was a maintenance guy brought in toward the end of my stay in the reading room who fixed the vent.

I trudged home, hanging my head. I passed one of my best friends and grumbled as I continued to walk by. (I felt bad when I hit the end of the block and realized I just blew her off.)

Upon returning home, I saw the shirts pants panties bras belts sweaters skirts dresses socks gloves hats mittens shorts and other sundry articles of clothing drooping around my room. I decided to get nude and do all my laundry (in one load, because I couldn't find any more than six quarters, and I only had $1.61 on my GWorld.)

So there I stood: Nude. Well, nude is relative.**

I hauled my laundry downstairs to the laundry room, and shoved it in the washer. Then I came back upstairs, showered for 30 of the 38 minutes laundry takes to wash.

Then, still Relatively Nude, I went back downstairs to put my wash in the dryer.

I then proceeded to go crazy for all 60 of the 60 minutes it takes to dry clothes, during which Keren and I discussed Granny Panties, pronouncing it "Granny Pannies." And then I picked up my laundry, and brought it back. (I guess I also folded it and put it away.)

End.

** So this post is really about what it means to be Relatively Nude:

Why, dear friends--dear women, do we keep those panties that we hate? The panties that are HUGE. The panties that are possibly holey and non-elastic where they used to be elastic? These panties are possibly flowered, or just plain cotton white, or some shade of white, or some have dots on them, or holiday print!

These panties are the ugliest panties that we own, and we never wear them unless we are washing ALL of our other underwear. Sometimes we even go commando when these panties are the only ones left in the bureau. A friend of mine sometimes even digs out not-so-dirty underwear and wears those panties when the "Granny Pannies" are alone next to our multitudes of unworn socks.

It's not like we MUST bring everything we own to college with us? We have an entirely good place to keep panties like these in our parents' homes, such as our dressers there. But we DO bring them. We CAN'T throw them out. I can't throw them out. Why????

O-curse the Immortality of the Granny Pannies!

Outtie, boo!

Leah, wife of Jacob

Keren, Rhymes w/ Heron

Peace!

Tentative Correlations

2009-04-22T22:57:00.005-04:00

A brief study in the humanity of Keren --

(Please visualize me writing this after having devoured a side of french fries but before having opened my bag of recently purchased Dark Chocolate Peanut M&M's, I am also in sweats and two-day oiled hair)

Times when Keren gains weight: Finals week, Winter hibernation, Stressful scenarios, holidays (any and all, including Memorial Day, all of Black History Month, The Day of the Dead and Septemeber 20th, National Punch Day)

Times when Keren loses weight: In the 48 hours preceeding a date, Summer, When she sees a joyous elderly couple and then imagines being lonely forever, After a breakup, During a moment of fitness actualization when she tries to prove weight loss infomercials wrong, Immediately after being informed of a death in the family (but not during the funeral/shiva...that's a weight gain), When existing in any room that has a full length mirror for over an hour.

Times when Keren maintains weight: Nullset.

What is college really but a time when students should grow and expand their waist and waste?

Continually broadening my pants size and literary horizons,

Keren, Rhymes w/ Heron

Pulitzer Prize Winner at GW Tomorrow!

2009-04-21T09:12:00.003-04:00

Edward P. Jones, author of The Known World, is reading tomorrow Wednesday, April 22 at 5pm on GW's campus in Philips Hall Room 411.

The Chair of the English Dept Dr. Jeffrey Cohen requested that Ducks attend. Well, Doctor, we accept! And we are inviting whomever reads this post in time and is in the area to come and join Ducks to sit and enjoy Magister's clean, deep voice as he reads from his collection of short stories All Aunt Hagar's Children.

(magister=latin for teacher)

Mr. Jones is a good man, and I have benefitted from his instruction these past few months.

He is also, like most great writers, a bit of an oddball. And I say this with respect, for how could a writer create such complete worlds and plots and feelings without occasionally leaving this world for a moment or two. I am always telling Keren that I believe I black out when I write sometimes. The next day, when I read my writing again, I can hardly remember writing what's written before me. Even these blog posts... I wake up after writing them, and then proceed to edit all the bad stuff out. For instance, one time I was going to write a blog post about how my friend can tell a lot about a person's life just by knowing what their poop looks like, and I was going to give myself as a model for his great skill. That post turned into a post about poop in general, and thank god for that... my mother reads this blog. Phew!

Anyway, so if you come to the reading tomorrow night, you will get the chance to meet a great person and an amazing writer! And also, you can get my autograph if you wish. I'm sure Dr. Cohen will also be signing autographs.

Peace, Love, and Joy,

Leah, wife of Jacob

Headline: EARTH DAY BRAWL BTWN DUCKS, SWAMPY!

2009-04-19T19:36:00.007-04:00

Moe, the Flaming Lips, and about ten screaming tweens in green tees were part of the entertainment for Earth Day 2009 on the Mall today. The stage was set up by the 9:30 Club, and it was set up perfectly so that directly behind the performers and speakers was the Capitol building. The day began beautifully, and even though it drizzled a bit toward the end, everyone still seemed happy to be there, smoking jays and drinking beers.

There were also these cool stands set up that highlighted people's research and findings in "green" engineering.

So... among great feats of engineering, well-hidden jays, and chill music were a lot of other things Ducks noticed. Here's a list of things we saw and/or learned:

1. Dude with dreads playing with a Kermit (the Frog) hand puppet, wearing all green and dancing with the puppet when the Lips came on.

2. Irish guy with BRIGHT orange shorts on, and you could see that he had a little peen.

3. Woman in tie dye who can't control her dog. It was sniffing everyone and was on its hind legs, standing up like a human, dancing with people when Moe was on stage.

4. Girl who was first standing up in a sleeping bag dancing, and then I guess she got too warm and then took off the sleeping bag to reveal that she was wearing Billabong swim trunks. And she also reminded Ducks why white girls shouldn't dance.

5. Dude with no shirt on, but using his shirt as a bag (he tied the sleeves) to hold beer. He was also wearing red heart-shaped sunglasses and was definitely under 21. He still had peach fuzz on his chin. Awwww, boy puberty! (actually, it's not really that cute)

6. POT SMOKE TALLY (as in # of times we smelled a jay like whoa): IIII IIII

7. Question: When did They coin the term the Green Generation???

8. The Congressman Markey forgot what the United States of America was called and said, "the United States of the Americas..."

9. Hippycritical Girl (term coined by Keren) offered to expose her breasts to people for $100

10. HOW TO MAKE YOUR OWN WATER FILTER, in case you find yourself dying of thirst near a muddy river and happen to have all the things you need to do this:

Things you will need: a funnel, a bottle with top neck cut off, napkins, cotton balls, pebbles

a. Put the funnel on top of the bottle. Layer cotton balls, napkins, pebbles, cotton balls.

b. Pour dirty water over top of the layers through the funnel. Filtered water will drip into the bottle.

c. Repeat as many times as necessary to get clear water!!

d. LIVE!

11. Guys who looked like they could very well be serial killers, including John Wayne Gacy look-a-likes. After I asked if it was just me or do lots of men here look like serial killers, Keren said "Imagine a world where serial killers only killed other serial killers. John Wayne Gacy killing all other potential John Wayne Gacys."

12. SWAMPY! A man dressed up as a swamp with frogs on him.

Anecdote of Romance and Love, starring Keren and Swampy:

"I'm getting my hydrology all over you," says Swampy.

"Well, you know, life is all about fluid exchange," says Keren.

They embrace.

End.

Signed:

Leah, Wife of Jacob and Keren, Rhymes with Heron

SAVE THE EARTH!

Pity and Fear

2009-04-16T08:49:00.009-04:00

These [pity and fear] are the two most universally relatable* emotions, which is why many of Shakespeare's comedies failed in the movies, i.e. Paul Czinner's As You Like It. Not only do earlier films have shitty sound, but isms such as racism, sexism, domesticabuseism are subjects in Shakespeare's comedies. Those subjects, for a great portion of modern viewers, are no longer considered humorous. So... today's movie-goer fails to relate to Shakespearean comedy.

Jessica Rabbit introduced to me today the term The Boomerang Generation. I'll copy and paste what the Wiki article says about this generation:

Boomerang Generation is one of several terms applied to the current generation of young adults in Western culture, born approximately between 1975 and 1986.[citation needed] They are so named for the frequency with which they choose to cohabitate with their parents after a brief period of living alone - thus boomeranging back to their place of origin. This cohabitation can take many forms, ranging from situations that mirror the high dependency of pre-adulthood to highly independent, separate-household arrangements. The term can also be used to indicate only those members of this age-set that actually do return home, not the whole generation.

As I was contemplating the relatability of tragedies, comedies, and histories to my generation, I thought about my two friends and how the universality of emotions fits right in with the Boomerang Theory:

I used to Pity my older friend (four years older) for coming back home after he graduated with an important degree from a good university, and now I just Fear that I will end up doing the same.

My younger friend (three years younger) is ending her freshman year of college this semester, and I can't relate at all to her all-smiles, excited-to-come-home-for-the-summer attitude. I've totally forgotten those feelings...

So there. It's all true.

Wordie Dacrygelosis

2009-04-13T10:44:00.005-04:00

I recently had a friend break up. It doesn't happen very often. Usually a mini break up happens when both my friend and I happen to have horrible PMS simultaneously and a week later we are crying into each other's arms that we were stupid and we can't live without each other. Then everything pretty much goes back to normal.

This break up was of a more permanent kind... there were consequences to this person's actions and lies and also insults that cannot be repaired without honesty and sincerity. (although there is always hope for repair).

In my time off from our friendship, I began talking to another friend and he told me I should write a blog post about the rice site that gives children grains of rice if you know vocab. It was weird that he mentioned this because that site is actually one the of the many distractions that I have been engaging in during the past few weeks to cope with the overwhelming sense of Doom, Failure, Depression and Anxiety that has been looming. I find burrowing my mind in small tasks like the Rice for Third World Children calming, and I suppose helpful to the world (although I've never been one for charity in general).

All of the above got me thinking about this rice-vocab. And friendship. And doom and gloom.

Here's a little anecdote:

A girl walks down the street and thinks about her future. She smokes a cigarette.

Another girl walks down the street and thinks about her future. She bums a cigarette from the first girl.

Both girls, who were very lachrymose, recognize the weepy looks and burst out crying together. Then they laugh together.

A friend-commiseration-ship blossoms.

End.

I feel like this has happened to me at least once if not thrice in the past few weeks. I'm not really sure what this post is about except that maybe Words and Rice for Children are the answer to this dacrygelosis I (and one or three other people) are feeling.

2009-04-06T13:40:00.003-04:00

VAMPIRES!

OMG. LOL.

Hey! Menotron, it's snowing!

2009-04-01T10:15:00.003-04:00

While kids like me and you slowly reach the age of Disaffected Young Adulthood, moms like you choose Jiff! Actually, Moms like ours go through this thing called menopause. So, if we break down the Latin/Greek root words, we understand this word to mean, literally, the stop of the month. We all know it is just a euphemism for what it really means (covers mouth a giggles).

Just in case you don't know what it really means, I'll tell you in the form of a teeny story:

*
So this guy I know is talking to his best girl and he says, "Did your mom ever go through that crazy phase? You know, that menopause whatever?"

His best girl laughs and throws her head back--when she's nervous she often laughs too hard and this guy and this girl may or may not be hooking up in an hour or two-- and says, "Yeees! I know! It's just craazy."

"Ya, right. I came home from being out somewhere with my friends, and it's in the middle of winter, right? And I come into the front living room and she's got the windows open. The air's just blowin' right in. I said to her, 'Ma! Why you got the windows open? It's snowing into the house!'" The guys says.

The girl laughs.
*

Menopause is the reason that this woman left the windows open. This woman is what is known now as a Menotron. That is, a menopausal woman who, like a robot from the 80s, only acts on one program at a time. That program called Menopause may last for a year to eight years. The Planned Obsolescence of this programming is arbitrary and hits like a tornado. Unfortunately Bill Paxton and Helen Hunt aren't here to throw Dorothy into the 'suck zone' to figure out how we can warn people before it destroys homes.

Take N Train North to 49th Street and 7th Ave station for.... TKTS booth. Or the 4,5,6,7 Train North to Grand Central for Michele's place.

2009-03-30T23:54:00.006-04:00

First, I apologize for not having posted in a few days... or couple weeks... I had blog block real bad. I know how so many of you need Ducks for their news source, so I am sincerely apologetic.

That all being said, I was standing around the other day outside New Hall. My raven black bangs were greased into the side sweep, and I had my back to the wall with one foot on the ground and the other resting on the wall. I decided I needed a cigarette to complete my look, that of the Disaffected Youth. As I lit my cigarette,

my hands were older.

They were drier, redder, and just older. I realized that I wasn't a Disaffected Youth anymore, but instead a Disaffected Young Adult. The next morning Keren and I packed up our young adult shit and went to New York City to find men and show off our bods. Yea, it was a great idea.

The Chinatown bus being as great as it is, we completely forgot we were in the bus and thought we were flying Jet Blue. I impossibly all of a sudden was wearing a gold bead necklace and plucked an olive out of Keren's martini glass. Keren was impossibly wearing a coral colored silk blouse and slurped her extra dirty martini--bombay gin of course.

Keren said that I was impossibly the calmest alcoholic ever... impossibly because we were still really on the Chinatown bus.

Later that day:

I can't remember how this one went down, except it had something to do with the beginning of this post, and we came up with New York's Naked Disaffected Youth in Times Square Who Doesn't Care about the Naked Cowboy.

The Point:

Sporatically the rest of our mini-holiday with boys and bars and sluts, we had many o' conversations when we stepped into the shoes of the Serene Alcoholic and the Naked Disaffected Youth in Times Square Who Doesn't Care about the Naked Cowboy. These New York conversations between us usually ended with the NDYTSqWDCANC (I left out some articles, unimportant!) saying "whatever."

Split Infinitive

2009-03-10T23:27:00.005-04:00

Keren was talking to her friend online, and that friend--we'll call him/her Aubrey--asked Keren about a split infinitive.

I said. "A wha wha wha infinitive?"

Keren said, "A Split Infinitive! Aubrey wants to know. Isn't it so weird that Aubrey and I are such good friends and you still haven't met him/her!?"

I said, "Naw, it's not that weird."

Then the omniscient narrator of our lives--we'll call him/her Pat--wanted to add to the narrative and said, "And then quite simultaneously the two girls each in their own head thought about how a lot of her friends do not know grammar. Leah thought that Keren should look up the definition of a split infinitive at the same time that Keren said to her, 'I'm going to look it up.'"

That is what happened according to Pat, and I believe Pat because he is a creation of my and our minds. What?

Split Infinitive: or cleft infinitive is an English language grammatical construction in which a word or phrase, usually an adverb or other adverbial, comes between the marker to and the bare infinitive (uninflected) form of a verb. For example: To boldly go where no man has gone before.

In the Peter Pan movie from 2003, Captain Hook exclaims, "Split my infinitives!"

It's kind of cool, right?

xoxo,

Leah

Ducks Went to the Spa (and ended as Aliens)

2009-03-09T23:57:00.004-04:00

Almost self explanatory. (Deep conditioning hair masque; hair steaming under CVS bags)

Fruit and Veggie

2009-03-03T09:27:00.007-05:00

About three weeks ago (maybe four... I can't remember) Ducks went to the emergency room on a weekend because GW's Health Services isn't actually for college students (because it keeps real doctor's office hours, yet doesn't take insurance like a real doctor's office). Anyway, so Keren and I were in the ER forever; apparently some nursey-poo was having a birthday, and they were all gathered around the desk instead of attending to us.

We waited in one of those closed off "rooms" that have curtains for walls. We could hear everything and see nothing (except the nurses' station cuz we pulled back the front curtain a bit). The guy next to us was saying the same thing over and over again--his mantra began as a mutter and ended as a shout: "Fucking idiots, those mother fucking idiots tryin' to keep me here. I'm just gonna fuckin' leave, fucking idiots!" And then a couple seconds later he'd say the same thing again.

The guy on the other side of us kept burping. He'd burp a little one and then a big one. I've never heard anyone burp so much in my life, and I assumed after ten minutes of hearing him burp that that was the reason he was in the ER, for burping!

Eventually Keren and I began making noises ourselves. We groaned and grunted, acting for each other: holding our backs and letting out a long loud groan. Might as well make ourselves feel comfortable.

I'll skip over the part where I basically had a silent panic attack and sweat myself to death thinking about all the disease that had at some point been festering in the same chair I was sitting on and room we were touching all over. I think I swabbed my hands and feet and phone with alcohol more times than is necessary, but nothing was clean enough. And there was sweat literally running off my hands.

The point of all this is: I have a terrible terrible immune system and now I'm sick. I've been sick since a couple days after the ER experience. I've already taken an antibiotic, which didn't help. But now!!! I have found the cure for all sickness!!!!!!!!!!!

Behold: l'il Critters FRUIT & VEGGIE Gummy Bears
Packed with Antioxidants
ONE FULL SERVING of FRUITS & VEGGIES in TWO teeny Gummy Bears.

It's AMAZING what science can do!!!!!!

These lil critters have definitely improved my condition, and I am guessing that if the burper in the ER had known about lil critters he would have been home with his sig fig makin' loooove instead of creeping me and my friend out.

I bought them at Trader Joe's in the Vitamin Aisle. Please, take Ducks advice, and git yerself healthy!!

1/2 Carafe (or 1/2 C'rafe!)

2009-02-26T17:02:00.008-05:00

Set the setting:

Keren and Leah having crazy episodes after dealing with Abbie W from the CCAS Fake Umbrella Advising System about graduation. They are at Bertucci's during Children's Literature on a Thursday, drinking many half carafes and making plans to open a wine bar called "The Half C'rafe Cafe". The billboard for The Half C'rafe Cafe would be Keren and Leah with their heads cocked almost parallel with the floor (to give the effect of being totally serious) with speech bubbles: one, from Keren, saying "Half" and the other, from Leah, saying "C'rafe!".

Sitch the Situation:

We ended up talking about Quitting Things for Fashion.

Spelunking:

When women were young and thin and could drape their bodies in anything and look 'oops, sexy' they went spelunking all the time. But now, with the matronly figure having set in, the gear for spelunking (the light on the head and ropes and clips hanging off and squeezing body parts) just isn't fashionable. So, women quit spelunking for fashion.

The Presidency:

The suits just weren't the president's style. Too drab. Too boring. Can't believe the three buttons! Akhh! When were the one or two button suits de-vogued? So, the president resigns for fashion.

I guess... the idea posed in this post is: What would be a good job to quit for fashion?

Crazy,

Leah, wife of Jacob
Keren, rhymes w/ Heron

Lovey!

The Coulda, Shoulda, Woulda Inventor

2009-02-23T14:16:00.008-05:00

Pop Quiz: Who is not rich? The answer: Me.

Why is this? I ask myself this question daily when I am trying to afford expensive eau de toilettes, black truffles and Basmati rice!

(it's the most expensive long grain rice, you know, you have to be rich to even consider cooking a whole bag in one sitting. 3.00 dollars a bag! Steep!)

There are many reasons I am not opulent, affluent, moneyed or "rolling with it". These reasons might include my propensity for never acting on my ideas, or is may include my realization that every epiphany I have ever had has been "pre-epiphanied" years before. Simple objects. Simple inanimate gold mines.

For example, I did not invent the paperclip. I also did not invent the thumb tack. I did not invent sliced bread or even the wheel (I still believe cave drawings are remnants of the Stone-Age patent office ). I never even thought of inventing an aerosol can or an airbag. I cannot even fathom inventing Kool-Aid, nor can I explain how mirrors or bar codes work. But mainly, I am not rich because I did not invent velcro or the zipper.

I remember being more creative as a child. Has education stolen the power of innovation from my finger tips? I used to make 14 things out of a cardboard box, daily, in a homemade fort.

Let us brain storm and harness the power of the solar winds!

How about something that lets me record exactly what my five senses are experiencing at any moment, and then save it? A REAL LIFE CAMERA. Oh wait, that's my brain. Maybe a a battery powered battery installer? But how do you get the batteries in it? Maybe my invention would have to be some sort of implant, because I'm already too lazy and bulky to carry more things around. How about something like reduced calorie peanut butter, it's ridiculous that someone hasn't been able to figure that out yet! Come on! We've sent men to the moon!

(I should invent something that stops me from using so many interjections and exclamation points)

Aha! By golly! Ye Gads! An Invention Machine. Guaranteed to invent successful inventions. It also produces irony!

Love, the failed inventor of our time, and still poor,
KRwH

"Anything that won't sell, I don't want to invent. Its sale is proof of utility, and utility is success." - Thomas Alva Edison (who thinks I am not a utility)

Ducks Wake Up to Daryl and Jon

2009-02-20T12:43:00.000-05:00

People who are walking contradictions:

2009-02-18T15:38:00.007-05:00

A Joycean Ramble;
Keren's version of Jerry Seinfeld's "WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH..." :

It might just be the heightened level of estrogen I am experiencing this week or maybe it is the fact that everyone in my life is carrying some sort of winter plague, whatever the case may be, I am feeling AWFULLY judgmental.

While walking down the street, I cannot but help to have a bad case of "hate at first sight".

This afternoon, on my rain laden walk to work, a woman was carrying the most offensively large umbrella I have ever seen. It must have been blocking half of her body, the sidewalk and obscuring the view of the road and some of her neighbors. I am almost surprised she was able to see the "42 seconds" to cross, walking man. (Secretly, I was wishing she could not). In fact, the thing looked like something The Wicked Witch of the West would wear in order to keep herself from getting hit with even a speck of dew, as she disintegrates upon the touch of water.

But here's the kicker. This is the part that's rich. THE WOMAN WAS WEARING SANDALS.

I don't get it! Do you want to get wet? Do you not want to get wet?! Is your upper half more important than your lower half? Did you need to wash your feet?

Moral: A giant umbrella and open-toed sandals does not a complete, sensical person make.

Please start making sense! This lovely society that we belong to, entitled HUMANITY, is truly not that selective but, if you insist on being a contradiction, I will insist on retesting you for entrance examinations into HUMANITY. I ALSO INSIST ON USING RUN-ON SENTENCES.

Filled with Malice,
Keren

POSTSCRIPT: Next week's episode: People who leave those "100% Wool Tags" on their jackets. Idiots. If this were the Dark Ages and wool was only reserved for dedicated monks and the aristocracy, maybe then, one would gloat and let the world see this tag. Otherwise, you're saying "I am lazy, forgetful, and pathetic".

In the animal world, every physical and social act has an implication. Example, a cat yawning is a sign that he trusts his company. Showy feathers on a peacock is a sign of health and mating prowess.

Lest we forget, we too, are animals. Leaving this tag on is a sign that you are NOT ready to mate...at least not with me.

Do names determine profession?

2009-02-17T09:33:00.006-05:00

If not for the fact that K and I keep our room generally very clean, I would have been ashamed to admit this: We have cockroaches in our apartment. We do! There, I said it.

Last semester was worse than this semester. We had hardly seen ten in all of January. Lately, however, they came back for another feeding. So I called the exterminator and he promptly came with his half keg of death hooked to a rubber tube for precision.

He is a hefty guy with white hair. Don't let the white hair fool you, he could lift you and your friend and spin you around like car tires just for show before throwing you like a discus. Although he has been here many times, I always feel really awkward when service men come in to the room. I don't know exactly why I feel like that, but I do. All the other times he has been here, I've coincidentally been ready to leave the room and let my roommate deal with it...sorry, Keren.

This time, having strep throat, I was hardly prepared for the knock--hid the candles in my room in case it was health and safety inspection-- and opened the door to Mr. Exterminator.

I awkwardly shuffled my feet around until he took his can of death out the room. But he left his card, and his name was George Clemons. I said as much aloud to Keren, who promptly responded:

"If there is a name appropriate for an exterminator, it's George Clemons."

That got me to thinking about Shakespeare's Richard III... he is rudely stamped and determined to be the villain. Is naming a child the modern day version of stamping them with their fate (as opposed to the olden day version which was left to God, but, you know, God is dead or something)? Can a name prove to be the thing! the it!, the thing that determines the child's future?

Of course not!

Bah! Nonsense.

But I say, if an African Elephant is the opposite of a Pear, then giving a child a name that sounds like the name of an exterminator, determines his path in life.

That just means that I'll have to name my first born son "King Edward" and my second child "Duchess Fergie" (that one could go either way... royalty or glamorous pop star).

Rotating Desserts, and some other good advice.

2009-02-17T08:51:00.002-05:00

The best desserts are desserts that spend the day before you eat them rotating in a glass case.

Grouper always tastes like cardboard.

Unless you know the person is a newb, never make fun of someone for being a newb. My friend and I once had the following conversation in a diner on Columbia Avenue:

Her: Get me some camel lights. There's a Hess.

Me: No.

I then handed her one of mine so I wouldn't have to get her some at the Hess. And then lit my own.

Her: You burned your cigarette.

Me: Yea?

Her: Newb.

Me: What the hell do you do with your cigarettes? Newbie?

Her: No. Newb. Only Newbs say Newbie.

A fox always represents the devil, never a fox.

No artificial flowers allowed March 1st thru Nov 1st except holidays (in general for cemetaries).

When a ring that was given to you as a gift dissolves in your palm, it is a bad omen. Never see that person again alone.

Always visit a graveyard on Christmas.

A friendly reminder is never really intended to be all that friendly. It's really just a reminder.

Nonsensical Opposites, Synonyms, and then at the end an Analogy or Two

2009-02-12T15:54:00.003-05:00

Running<-->Smoking (weed)

Literacy<-->Being in a Relationship

Baldness<-->Having a Green Thumb

African Elephant<-->A Pear

Vegetarianism<-->Test Tube Babies

Egyptian Sexual Prowess<-->A Line of Executive Desk Toys

Getting the Goosebumps<-->A 60 Watt Light Bulb

Lumberjacks<-->Prize Winning Orchids

Facial Hair<-->All Saints (in radiating flames of glory)

A Deficiency<-syn.->Constipation

Brown vs. the Board of Education<-syn.->The Colossus of Rhodes

Craving Chocolate<-->Flesh Eating Bacteria

Judith Plotz volunteered these three:

JP1. Reaching Puberty<-syn.->Marriage

JP2. Jealousy<-syn.->Incestuousness

JP3. Mother<-syn.->Magical Tree

Feminine Hands<-->Penis

Masculine Hands<-->The Aristocracy

Macromastic<-->Filigree

Going to Prom<-->Being Loved (verily)

Judith Plotz is to Mother Goose as Peaches is to Sex Goose

(the defining sentence being JP teaches as a MG as P teaches as a SG)

Just a Note: We love love love Judith Plotz. She may or may not know we exist though... at least, she probably knows Keren, but I'm pretty sure she doesn't know me. We love her though.

-LWoJ and KRwH

Neolojism: The feeling of erotic joy resulting from exposure to a new word.

2009-02-11T13:07:00.013-05:00

Leah and I have been really into inventing new words, as of late. We really dig nomenclature and vernacular! Sometimes we even dig colloquialisms and slang. Mostly, though, we love Onomatopoeia! Sha-Bam! Clank! Whoosh! Buzz!

We understand that some words are created and ultimately fail. For example, Yahoo's word of the day yesterday was :

"temerarious"

A million and seven points go to you if you know that word without googling it, also 34 DollHairs (which, when one says it quickly sounds like dollars, and can be used to trick unsuspecting children into giving back rubs...worked for my uncle). Weird.

Anyway, I consider it a failed word. Here are other failed words, that at the time, probably seemed really necessary (which when one reads some of the definitions below, is actually surprising, pathetic, and terrifying). Clickity Clank!

Before we begin, an ironic side-note, even the word that by definition means, an obsession with words is failed! Logolepsy! Transitively speaking, this post is antiquated. Sigh!

In No Particular Order -

gabelle - n. - tax on salt

wappenshaw - n. - muster of men with their weapons formerly held in certain areas of Scotland.

balaniferous - adj. - bearing acorns.

zoanthropy - n. - delusion of a person who believes himself changed into an animal.

macromastic - adj. - pertaining to large breasts

isohyet - n. - line on map passing through all places with same rainfall.

isohyetal, adj.

squatinid - adj.,n. - pertaining to an angelfish.

omnilegent- adj. - reading or having read everything; having encyclopedic curiosity and knowledge

Question: Was there a time when someone was truly able to be omnilegent?

rosmarine - n. - walrus; mythical walrus-like sea animal believed to feed on dew; sea dew.

xystus - n. - indoor exercise area.

postmundane - adj. - after the end of the world.

prelapsarian - adj. - pertaining to the time before Man's fall.

Gosh, these "P" words are scary. What happened to words like Petunia and Pretty and Pleasant?! Boink! Whizz!

noyade - n. - drowning, especially of many persons together as form of execution.

dacrygelosis - n. - condition of alternating laughing and crying

This one seems WHOLLY NECESSARY. I do this all the time. Finally! I can articulate how I am feeling! So happy, so sad. So confused, so elated. So embarrassed, so proud! These are the emotions I experience every time I am in the bathroom. Dacrygelosis.

Enough. What I am really asking here, through all the subterfuge is this, if you could create a new word, what would it be? We (being Leah and myself) shall look up Latin roots and come up with something so snazzy for you it'll put you into a state of dacrygelosis.

להתראות

KRw/H

P.S. I personally want to invent a word for the smell/taste of when you forget to brush your teeth and then have coffee. YOWZAS! SHWING!

I just whispered to myself: "Just Lasagna"

2009-02-10T23:33:00.004-05:00

My Lasagna Body

a poem by Leah

Instead of bones:

Cooked lasagna pasta

slippery noodle hooked

to my toe.

Ducks was published on Urban Dictionary!

2009-02-05T15:47:00.003-05:00

Click THIS link or copy and paste this URL

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=philacaia

to see Ducks, the Blog's first entry on Urban Dictionary!

We finally made it!

Love,

LWoJ and KRwH

Words You May Wish to Start Using

2009-02-05T01:13:00.005-05:00

Keren and I, if I may say so (oh, I can feel my cheeks blushing), are quite excellent in Neologism. Here are a couple examples that you may feel free to begin using.

philacaia (fil-uh-ki-uh. long i): someone who smokes a lot of pot, but isn't a pothead.

i.e., there are many functional, ambitious, hardworking people who, because they enjoy a sleeping bowl or an afternoon joint with some friends, are what we lovingly and respectfully call philacaias.

intaedesse (in-tuh-dess): the point at which one loses interest

i.e., while reading the introduction (to What Maisie Knew) by some woman who called herself Adrianne Poole, I found I reached the intaedesse around page ix.

Please, oft use them freely.

love,

leah, wife of jacob

Furin's and the Fog Bot Gardening Club

2009-02-03T19:30:00.003-05:00

Perhaps you may not think that Furin's (the best cupcake place in the world) and the Foggy Bottom Gardening Club (the club that plants plants in barrels near the 7Eleven on 24th street near City Hall Dorm) have nothing in common.

Jason Mraz and Ben Folds are coming to DC on Friday, February 13th. What an unlucky coincidence; that is the day after my birthday, so many many people will still be waaaay too hungover and possibly even still black out to attend the concert. Oh well! Maybe next year, Ben Folds (Five).

Furin's is on 28th Street and M Street. For real, get the Chocolate Mousse Cupcake with a heart on it and perhaps ask--politely--to give the cupcake their 'special treatment' ;) It's worth it.

Lovey,

Leah, wife of Jacob

Batman's Panties in a Bunch

2009-02-03T19:26:00.003-05:00

http://www.aolcdn.com/tmz_audio/020209_christianbale.mp3

Hmm.... ooh. Well... wings, guns, and the news apparently aren't enough for true happiness. All DP's must die.

Christian Bale's Childhood Dream

2009-01-28T00:26:00.005-05:00

Christian Bale has gotten everything every little boy has ever wanted. I was watching clips from the Newsies today and visualed:

Chistian Bale on his knees, leaning back, with his fists high in the air and his eyes closed tight:

"I was a Newsie and now I get to be Batman!!!!!"

In the song "Sante Fe" he has a dance solo and nailed every move! His parents must be SO PROUD!"

Also: He was a cowboy.

(in 3:10 to Yuma)

The Angry Inuit

2009-01-23T15:15:00.004-05:00

DC generally has decent weather.

Before today, it's been damned cold out! KRwH and I have been trying to understand other cultures, especially cultures that live in extreme cold.

This is all we came up with:

The Angry Inuit:

ICE fishing? You want me to go ICE fishing?

Nowhere Man

2008-12-05T15:11:00.004-05:00

“Slowly as the talk goes on, slowly, we have the feeling we are getting nowhere. That is a pleasure which will continue. If we are irritated it is not a pleasure. Nothing is not a pleasure if one is irritated. But suddenly, it is a pleasure, and then more and more, it is not irritating. And then more and more, and slowly. Originally, we were nowhere, and now again, we are having the pleasure, of being slowly nowhere. If anybody is sleepy, let him go to sleep” – John Cage

http://ubu.artmob.ca/sound/dial_a_poem_poets/dial/The-Dial-A-Poem-Poets_20_cage.mp3

History of the Dial-a-Poem era ala the New York Times,

"It's 1969; the phone is the medium and the poem is the message. Dial-A-Poem is brand-new. You pick up your phone, dial (212) 628-0400 and hear one of a dozen recorded poems by William S. Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg, Joe Brainard, Anne Waldman, John Cage or who knows who. The next day there's a fresh dozen. Some are dirty. Some are radical. A lot are about guns. Some really aren't poems at all but songs or rants or sermons.

Millions called. "The busiest time was 9 a.m. to 5 p.m., so one figured that all those people sitting at desks in New York office buildings spend a lot of time on the telephone," wrote John Giorno, the founder of Dial-A-Poem. "The second busiest time was 8:30 p.m. to 11:30 p.m. ... then the California calls and those tripping on acid or couldn't sleep, 2 a.m. to 6 a.m.""

I sit at my desk now, researching the receding glaciers, our deteriorating planet. My politically correct office calls our cubicles, pods. My calender is ticking down the days to something. My coworker told me today that the only way to really kill cockroaches is get rid of all your alcohol. I tell him, that's just not going to happen. Humanity is meant to have cockroaches. I have seven pictures of people from an African culture to my left. They all wear red. Bean, everyone's telling me to eat beans and fiber. Today it's healthy. Fish is not. Mercury. The poison, the planet, our loss.

I can see the allure of calling. Listening to sages. Listening to new ideas, to people who are not boring. Not clad in three piece suits, pin stripes and constrictive ties. Goodbye formalities, hello spontaneity!

What would you want to hear on the other end of the line? Who would pick up on your phone call to no-one? One of us is always on the other end of the receiver.

להתראות

KRw/H

Girl.

2008-12-05T12:32:00.002-05:00

An Important Document, read aloud.

2008-12-03T15:34:00.003-05:00

You may read along if you like:

When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Law of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

The Almost Generation

2008-11-23T22:17:00.004-05:00

We make new strides in fashion, almost.

We make unheard of music, almost.

We make never-been-seen art, almost.

We write experimental poetry, almost.

We are the Almost Generation, continually reaching for something that has never been and never quite getting there.

We are the Almost Generation, continually striving for all types of equality and fairness, but only almost getting there.

"The Almost Generation" expresses the hope and despair of our current age. It's an awkward age, it's a vulgar age, it's an almost age.

I'm almost sorry for this post, but not quite.

Leading a Poopuseful Life

2008-11-23T16:47:00.010-05:00

Posing a question: Does a person's poop schedule mean anything about their life? Possibly reflect their life? Can a bowel movement turn into an intellectual movement?

According to SmellyPoop.com, about 3/4's of anyone's average, normative turd is made of water. The neutral Ph of water is integral for many enzymes and most life on the blue planet. For example a cell of the E Coli virus contains 70% of water, the human body chimes in at roughly 70%, the plant body goes all the way up to 90% and the body of an adult jellyfish (one of life's most ancient inventions) is made up of 94–98% water.

Transitively speaking, this makes poop really important. So important that we have no shortage of words for the said artifact, introducing an introduction of the poop A,B,C,D's....sing along now.

anal butter
ass goblins
awkie
booty cakes
bowel movement
brownie
ca ca
coeliac flux
coprolites
crut
doo
doodie
dookie
drek
drol
dropping

Whatever the case may be, I think there is a mental, emotional and physical imperative to having a rewarding shit on a regular basis. Talk amongst yourselves.

להתראות

KRw/H

Friends as Mixed Tapes (working tittle)

2008-11-22T13:38:00.042-05:00

Friends as mixed tapes. 7 1/2 songs, rounded upwards, for each.

Music is the truth baby. It's the language of higher beings, and the combination of the animal call with linguistic human truth.

Here is our Typology of Friends in terms of Musical Simulacrum. Y'all enjoy now!

Warren Kessler (pictured on left) as a Mixed Tape:

1. Sloop John B.

by The Beach Boys

2. Wouldn't It Be Nice

by The Beach Boys

3. Kokomo

by The Beach Boys

4. I Get Around

by The Beach Boys

5. Good Vibrations

by The Beach Boys

6. Surfin' Safari

by The Beach Boys

7. Still DRE

by (y'all know!) Dr. DRE

7, 3/4. Cecilia

by Simon and Garfunkel

A League of Her Own (not pictured and name not disclosed) as a Mixed Tape:

1. Purple Haze

by Jimi Hendrix

2. Drippy Eye

by Black Moth Super Rainbow

3. I Wanna Be Sedated

by The Ramones

4. Devil in Her Heart

by The Beatles

5. Wild Pack of Family

by Modest Mouse

6. Destroyer

by The Kinks

7. Throw it on a Fire

by Bell Orchestre

7, 3/4. For Real

by Okkervil River (fucked up, man. check it out. all about murder)

Thomas McDonald (pictured in middle) as a Mixed Tape:

1. Sex and Candy

by Marcy Playground

2. Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk

by Rufus Wainwright

3. Doo Wop (That Thing)

by Lauryn Hill

4. Flip!

by Apollo Sunshine

5. Down on the Corner

by CCR

6. The Scotsman

by Bryan Bowers

7. Poor Tom

by Led Zeppelin (poor tom, works done, been lazin' out in the noonday sun)

7, 3/4. Lola

by The Kinks

Vanessa Fitzgerald (only female picture) as a Mixed Tape:

1. Fix You

by Coldplay

2. Mama Mia

by Abba

3. Squeezebox

by The Who

4. Call Me

by Blondie

5. Paint it Black

by The Rolling Stones

6. Canned Heat

by Jamiroquai (specification: off the Center Stage soundtrack)

7. We Belong Together

by Mariah Carey

7. 3/4. Fuck the Pain Away

by Peaches

Cura ut valeatis, and להתראות

L,WoJ and KRw/H

That which pertains to the softening of spirits...

2008-11-19T10:37:00.002-05:00

After getting past the houses, we come to a stop. Many ought to have been wondering at that. Many suffer great terror. For the carriages, which we had ordered to be brought forward, had been driven to the opposite part, although they were in the most flat field.

Because of those sentences... I will be drinking heavily tomorrow evening... around... noon thirty. I figured I may as well post it on my blog that I will be doing so, because I think I might begin at noon thirty in Kogan Plaza.... I'll be the hatted crazy brown baggin' it, and you can point and laugh and say 'hey, that's the hatted crazy who fucked up Latin and Calculus by means of Sex and the City!"

Damn urban sex bitches.

(sigh.)

Today's Weather

2008-11-18T14:43:00.001-05:00

It's snowing.

Predictions for Next Year's Baby Names

2008-11-15T15:13:00.008-05:00

Here is my prediction for the top ten baby names for 2009 all inclusive in terms of gender:

1. Brydon

2. Flora

3. Opie

4. Kaki

5. Jodi Picoult

6. Clinique

7. Chong Cha

8. Aloysius

9. Henry

10. Cockrell

Taking bets up to $5 that I'm right.

Love y'all,

L,WoJ

The Love Song of Olga and Manny by T.S. Eliot

2008-11-10T11:14:00.005-05:00

Some things I've learned about DC in the four years I've been here include

1) there are a lot of gay men who are very attractive and seemingly straight, and
2) there isn't a good pizza place that delivers to campus (with possibly the exception of Cappucino's, but I swear the last time the pizza-maker was on acid because my pizza was shaped like an ameoba and all the toppings were on one slice).

So... I feel like there is a correlation here. And my roommate (hey ya! to the K.V.) enlightened me last night, and I quote: "Waiting for a pizza from Manny and Olga's is like waiting for a boy to call."

The more I thought about it, the more truth I found in this Wilde-like observation. Let's examine.

About waiting for a pizza: About waiting for a boy to call:

1) the idolization of your phone...

it sits on the table in front of you or on the window sill or in your hand while standing near a window... because we all know that the closer your phone is to the sky, the better service you get.

lack of service will not be the reason this all-important phone call is not received!

2) all-consuming hunger...

however... waiting for pizza, waiting for boy gives you reason not to eat anything at all... not even to tie you over.

2) thoughts of the other's infidelity...

how many people could he/pizza place possibly be servicing? are they delivering to someone else instead and forgot about you? should you call?? make sure that the delivery is on its way??

3) stress of the situation results in eating before the meal...

when it finally arrives, you already feel fat.

4) feelings of guilt and low self-esteem...

when you eat it anyway, you feel guilty, and the question becomes:
will you order from there again?

all your friends say no, but they're alway open late! and it's pretty cheap for DC prices!

As a result of the examination:

Pizza, like sex and love, cannot easily be consumed. Pizza, like sex and love, cannot be satisfyingly consumed without a long wait and a long drink.

Basically, Manny and Olga's is only good if you want pizza because it's been a while, not because you really want to enjoy a delicious slice of the pie.

Cura ut valeatis,

Leah, wife of Jacob

Vote!

2008-11-04T10:26:00.002-05:00

Ba-Rock the Vote!!

DC is trembling by the energy of election day. I'm bringin' that electricity to PA today.

Love the people, by the people, for the people. Vote. And vote Obama!

Quoth the Dylan: "The times they are a' changing." It's time to meet the power of the dominant culture with the power of the people, baby!

Love y'all,

Leah

Coca Cola

2008-11-02T22:16:00.003-05:00

So.... there is this really cool coca cola t shirt I want, but I need to collect enough 'Coke Rewards' Points.

If you look on the underside of your coca cola product's cap, you'll see a number/letter combo.... can I have that combo to enter online and get this t shirt???

Thanks folk.

Kisses,

L,WoJ

Midterms are fun (full stop).

2008-10-29T11:16:00.004-04:00

Here is an email the Engl Dept sent out today:

[and quote]

When you have a moment, please stop by the seventh floor of Rome Hall and add your quotation to the "Sticky Words Project" on the wall in front of room 771.

Our objective is to reach the point when the wall is COMPLETELY covered in post-it notes. Bring your own sticky notes or use the ones we've placed there.

Hey, it's more fun than writing midterm papers. Isn't it?

[end quote]

I would have to argue: No, it is not more fun than writing a midterm paper. But I am going to post a sticky note anyway.

Any suggestions? I will post all suggestions, no matter what they are, on the Engl Dept wall... so go ahead and project all your negative thoughts and feelings on me.

AND COME TO THE HALLOWEEN PARTAAAY!! TOMORROW NIGHT!!

Even if you're over 35, come anyway... there's at least going to be someone else who looks as old as you.

Lovey,

L,woJ

I went home this weekend...

2008-10-27T11:23:00.007-04:00

Displaced voyeur watching rural coffee shop hipsters.

Lancaster County, central Pennsyltucky.
Going urban in the middle of farm.

The Seagull

2008-10-23T23:56:00.004-04:00

All y'all should come see 'The Seagull' directed by Jess Creane, starring Vanessa Fitzgerald and some other actors that you probably know if you go to GW... but mainly just Vanessa is the star!

No, for real, everyone was really good.

Friday, 7pm and 10pm showings, Lisner downstage, aka the Black Box.

Or! you can come with me on Saturday night at 8pm, same place!

I will be the shorty outside, wearing a cream colored knit cap (made by my mama) and probably chain smoking Marlboro Lights... the hard pack please! (why even make soft packs??)

THE SEAGULL

by Anton Chekhov

a great play.

Cura ut valeat,

L,WoJ

Ads that come up on your FB?

2008-10-22T12:23:00.005-04:00

So Google, who (notice the use of a pronoun that suggests life) will rule the whole world someday soon, has figured out how to place on a web page advertisements that are relevant to the text on the web page.

This is not a new thing.

What this means is that the things we look at or search for the most are recorded by Google's 'crawler' ( I'm pretty sure that's right, but maybe not) and then we see ads for things we are more likely to buy.

Here is a list of ads that have come up for me just today on Facebook and on the side of my Gmail account:

Singing birthday cards
Bath rubber ducks
T-rex room-mate 50% off
Fly cheap to Seoul 70% off airfare
Recent Toy Recalls
Find People in 1 Minute: Get current name, phone, address. No Hit? No fee!
Your New Best Friend: a new computer
Michael Phelps Halloween

So... now you know what kinds of things I search for on the internet.

What are your ads??

Cura ut valeat,

L,WoJ

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

2008-10-22T09:09:00.000-04:00

Hey y'all, it's this kid's birthday today!!!

Do Dogs and Cats get their Periods?

2008-10-21T12:19:00.003-04:00

I've never owned a pet before.

Well, that's kind of a lie. My little sister (who actually isn't so little... she's like 5 inches taller and 5 inches blonder than I am) owned two pets: 1) a hamster named Abner, and 2) a gecko named alfonso... named after the brother of a drug dealer I knew in high school by the name (the real name, and maybe I shouldn't say this, but.. what the hell) of Love Lester. Both Abner and Alfonso died within a short amount of time and both times my mother and father made me tell my little sis that her dear pets died... except I am not the kind of person who can keep a straight face about anything. So as I told her that they had died, I laughed. And she thought I was kidding, but then I showed her the dead pets and she cried and I cried because I am incredibly insensitive.

So... I've never owned a pet before. No dogs, cats, iguanas, ferrets, what have you...

My question is: Do dogs (or any pet really) get their period???

Please! Enlighten me with stories about dogs on the rag.

Roommates and What They Shriek

2008-10-21T12:17:00.001-04:00

"Don't sprinkle that on me!"
-JR, in her sleep, last night.

Apple Picking

2008-10-20T09:59:00.000-04:00

Keren Veisblatt went apple picking this past weekend. I know... you may be thinking: what? Keren picking apples? Nooooo. She's so Philly. She's so city. She's so.....flyyy. But hear ya, hear ya (not here ye): Apple picking has been an urban sport since the time of the ancient Romans. Not only was it a sport of great intensity and excitement, but it also begun Christianity.

I know a whole lot about Roman history, and therefore I know a lot about Paganism and Christianity, which are pretty much the same thing, but some of the figures in Paganism have wings. So basically, this is how it goes: Plinius, the younger, wrote the following about the sport of apple picking in the city of Rome. Because he says it better than I can, I'll quote:

"Ais te adductum litteris, quas, exigenti tibi, de morte avunculi mei scripsi, cupere cognoscere, quos ego Miseni relictus (id enim ingressus abruperam) non solum metus verum etiam casus pertulerim.

'Quamquam animus meminisse horret, ...incipiam.'

Profecto avunculo, ipse reliquum tempus studiis (ideo enim remanseram) impendi; mox balineum cena somnus inquietus et brevis. Praecesserat per multos dies tremor terrae, minus formidolosus quia Campaniae solitus; illa vero nocte ita invaluit, ut non moveri omnia sed verti crederentur."

And therefore, because all the whores in the stadium rushed the trees, picked the apples, and threw them at all the gallant, dominating, pig-headed, Women-hating, rapist-like gladiators, the Bible now says that it was the Woman--Eve-- who picked the apple.

Anyway, the point of all this is: Keren Veisblatt went apple picking, and THAT'S OKAY!

Apparently she wasn't that successful at it... only two of them even look like apples.

Isabel Archer

2008-10-19T23:09:00.002-04:00

Hi.

The previous post, however true, was a bit forward. With the sympathies of women at GW already having been acquired by that post, I'd like to begin this one by saying: I love men. I do. I love them, but only because I have extracted from men a few qualities. These qualities I have surrounded with a soft, but firm, cushioning, which has shoved the rest of what makes up men to a point past relevance. After which I have taken the separated qualites and exaggerated them for the purpose of redefining 'men.' Men, in my worldview, is now synonomous with 'penis.'

And for all you who may think this rude, I mean it not in that way. I mean all this with the most respectable intentions. I do not mean to spread the false opinion that I am a 'loose woman.' I am not. Quite the contrary, actually. By redefining Man as Penis, I have now protected myself from being falsely deceived into a relationship that posits itself as anything more than what my redefinition implies. Therefore saving me from trouble I need not.

I implore you (Women and Bottoms only), heed this advice.

-L,WoJ

It's a Rounds Thing.

2008-10-19T15:32:00.001-04:00

Fanny Dooley loves cheese but hates Brie.
She loves coffee but hates Folger's, Dunkin Donuts, Starbucks.
She loves Maxwell House coffee though. (good til the last drop!)
Fanny Dooley loves Jess Speiser, but hates Steve Rounds.
She loves Keren Veisblatt, but hates Leah Webster. She really hates Leah.
Fanny Dooley. Fanny Dooley. Why do you hate me???

Steve, this Bud's for you. (but not you, Jess, because Fanny loves you.)

Roommates and What They Do

2008-10-16T21:27:00.000-04:00

"Onetime I had a roommate who was so mal-hygenic that my other roommates and I made a bet to see how long he would go without toilet paper before he finally bought some. (I pretty much moved out, and the other roommates had their own bathroom.)

21 days.

He went 21 days without any toilet paper. Once he grabbed napkins from J-Street and brought them to use. Once I saw some paper towels in there too. But no toilet paper for 3 weeks.

Seriously."

-JB

"My roommate creeps the SHIT out of me and talks/screams/cries/punches and even flirts with me in her sleep. She also tried to jump my man's bones... his ratbones..."

-He Who Must Not Be Named

"One time Kelly Finnegan had sex in my bed."

-Anonymous

Pictures of Ducks.... just to reiterate.

2008-10-16T18:40:00.001-04:00

Here are pictures of some really good ducks, showing you what they do.

Call for Roommate Gossip!

2008-10-16T18:19:00.001-04:00

I have a great deal of experience with roommates. I will briefly enumerate a few of my roommate credentials:

First, I lived in a teeny house with two siblings until the age of three. And then we moved into a bigger house. But still, I had those three fabulous years of having a cradle in my room and a big brother with scary friends (who had bad gas) just across the hall at the top of the stairs.

Secondly, my freshman year I virtually moved in with my freshman boyfriend and his knife-throwing roommate with German heritage... it's turned me off to living with men... and really to associating myself with anyone who does live with men. I guess I really have no experience in dealing with men successfully, however, the purpose of this call for roommate problems/gossip is not so that I can give advice. (Real point follows momentarily)

Thirdly, a certain roommate who I will remained unnamed (and whose initials are A.B. and who comes from a not-so-foreign foreign country before she moved to NYC and now goes to Styveusent Town Dental to get her teeth cleaned) was a big problem, and I loved talking about her and all the drama she created.

Fourthly, the current situation, which I can't talk about except in vague, ambiguous generalities.

SO: I am calling for anyone who reads this (and I'm pretty sure I know everyone who reads this... and I think it's just Diego and a couple other of my stalkers... hey, stalkers! I know who you are. I stalk too!), Again: anyone who reads this, send me your roommate gossip! Send me your problems!

I won't guide you on how to deal with it, but I will post it on the blog.

I will post the problem (anonymously or un-anonymously) right here on "Ducks and What They Do" so that you may have a release and so that everyone, mainly me, can have some entertainment.

GTG, TTYL.

L,WoJ

Money!

2008-07-15T01:17:00.000-04:00

I generally assume that the 11 views are mostly my own (unless it knows when it's me, and doesn't count them) and also Diego. He's the only one who has confirmed that he's read the blog.

The point is... maybe I should just use the blog to tell a lot of secrets that I have and haven't been able to tell anyone... because they're secrets. I'm a really good secret keeper though. (and for you HP people...I'm a hell of a lot better than P.P. aka W.T.)

So... here's the first secret. It may not be a big secret, but if you were family this would totally make your day. My confidence that my family doesn't listen or care enough to even spend time checking the internet for my presence there allows me to tell you all (Diego) that it was me! I took a fifty dollar bill from my mama's dresser. The whole family mercilessly teases my little sister about stealing the money (because she used to steal a lot of other things) and then putting it back. I actually took it and when the parents blamed my sister, I snuck back into their room and returned the fifty, making her look even more stupid.

The teasing has stopped, but the incident was a rather significant incident in our childhood. And it really summed up my sister's general childhood behavior for everyone in the family. We all consider her the rebel child who takes money because she feels entitled to it. No one will ever know its me because I do not do anything rebellious. Plus, I put it back.

So, maybe this is a lame post. But I don't really think lame posts matter for this blog, because it's called "Ducks and What They Do."

Allergic to Ducks?

2008-07-15T00:37:00.003-04:00

No problem. Geese are pretty much the same thing. You can just use those instead.

Salt isn't Sugar

2008-07-11T19:14:00.000-04:00

So lately my boss at work has been like poking fun at me, hassling me. I think it's because I'm the youngest waitress he has. But the other week we had a pregnant woman and her husband come in for breakfast. So I get their order and the woman orders french toast. I get their order and I bring it out to them. A little later I check on them. And I noticed there was more than half left. So I asked her, I was just like, 'did you not like your french toast?' or 'was there something wrong with the french toast?'. So then she tells me, 'well, I thought it might be just my hormones, but this french toast tastes really salty' and I wasn't really paying attention to what she was saying until I heard the word salty and I was like, 'hunh?'. Her husband had tried them too and he said they were really salty. So, I go to find my boss and I run around looking for him, calling his phone. And finally he comes back to the restaurant and I told him what was up. And so he goes back to remake the french toast. The whole time he's like 'that doesn't make sense.' And then he tells me, he whispers, 'I think I was using salt instead of sugar.' So I take out the new plate and she tastes it and it was good. My boss went out and told them, and it turns out he's been making french toast for the past couple weeks now with salt instead of sugar.

Geese aren't Ducks

2008-07-11T19:09:00.000-04:00

So I was driving home from the zoo with my family. My Aunt Mary was driving and next to her in the front seat was my cousin Gillian and me and my cousin Andrea were sitting in the back. We were driving home from the zoo and we were on a fairly busy road. And all these cars were slowed down and stopped. And we saw that like they were stopped because a big family of geese were crossing the road. While we were waiting my Aunt Mary got all excited and said 'we're waiting because of the little ducks.' She said 'Look! look at the little ducks!' My cousins got excited too, and I was the only one who knew they weren't ducks. Because they were geese. But I didn't say anything.

Pictures of Ducks

2008-07-11T19:02:00.001-04:00

Here are some really good ducks in pictures showing you what they do.