shoe of the day...

shoe of the day...

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

email exchange of the day...

me: go find a band-aid, hootchie.

joni: hootchies don't need band-aids!


Tuesday, September 11, 2007

i'm psychic! let's go to the races...

i had a dream last nite wherein (amongst other happenings) my old friend joshua shaved his head and obtained a giant bird tattoo at the nape of his neck. when relaying this news to him today, via email, he smartassed, " my big bird tattoo? it's closer to my shoulder than to my neck." i told him that actually it was a tattoo of toucan sam. he then sent the following picture of his desk:

yeah. that's right.
IT'S TOUCAN SAM...recently obtained from a road trip to toronto.

i should absolutely go hit up the bingo palace tonite. i'm feeling incredibly lucky.

Monday, September 10, 2007

fat ankles and oprah

am wearing some, frankly, fantastic gold kenneth cole wedges today but all four pictures i took of them triggered the "photo = fat ankles" effect. so, use your imaginations.

also: letterman is on oprah today. i agree with my mother's assessment: she's trying to take over the world. she won over the movie people by un-masking tom cruise's CRAZY gene. she's clearly massaged the literary world into submission via james frey, cormac mccarthy, et al. and now she's gone after the funny people. she's a marksman -- an excellent one at that. AND she went on gma with minimal make-up this morning. i feel defeated. it's like finding out your boyfriend is gay all over again. only without the puppets.

Friday, September 7, 2007


i saw 'the bourne ultimatum' last nite. it's pretty fantastic: non-stop action, matt damon-hotness, joan allen & david strathairn hard-ass acting master class.
and if you ever thought that the candlestick was a pretty ineffective clue weapon, this film will convince you otherwise.

Thursday, September 6, 2007

scene from an airport (part two: jfk)

there's very little to tell about my stint at jfk except for this:

i'm sitting on a bench, reading this and listening to the ipod. i look up. there is an airport security guard positioned directly opposite me, leaning up against a pillar with his left hand down his pants. i'm fairly certain he wasn't doing anything lewd <> but still. inappropriate. highly. he wasn't a tall man. it's not like he needed a place to rest his weary hand. maybe they took away his gun and he was experiencing some phantom pains? i don't know. i wasn't about to ask, lest the right hand decide it was lonely and move in with the left.