Posts tagged real life

sorry for not writing

this was always a compendium of things I obsess over or jokes I make on a daily basis but ever since moving within a 5 yard to 50 mile radius of most of this blog’s readership, I feel uncomfortable about being a Joke Repeater. 

Hello, and welcome to a new blog feature/tag/humblebrag called SORRY, ROOMMATES. In which I will try DIY house projects and decorating projects and give an honest appraisal of my work, which will most likely end with “Sorry, Roommates.” 
Meet Kitchen table. Three stained and primed pine boards were bolted together. This beast of wood was then attached to ebay-ed hairpin legs and were oiled up with wood oil that kind of made me feel greasy. 
It’s too narrow for the craigslisted knockoff Eames chairs to fit on the short side of the table, it’s rickety (but I trust to put my computer on it), and it’s given me a couple splinters. SORRY, ROOMMATES. sorry for the overkill chairs too, forgive me bros, but how else will people know we’re hip to mid century modern knockoffs?

Hello, and welcome to a new blog feature/tag/humblebrag called SORRY, ROOMMATES. In which I will try DIY house projects and decorating projects and give an honest appraisal of my work, which will most likely end with “Sorry, Roommates.” 

Meet Kitchen table. Three stained and primed pine boards were bolted together. This beast of wood was then attached to ebay-ed hairpin legs and were oiled up with wood oil that kind of made me feel greasy. 

It’s too narrow for the craigslisted knockoff Eames chairs to fit on the short side of the table, it’s rickety (but I trust to put my computer on it), and it’s given me a couple splinters. SORRY, ROOMMATES. sorry for the overkill chairs too, forgive me bros, but how else will people know we’re hip to mid century modern knockoffs?

get ready for some whimsy kitchen renovation, guys. 

get ready for some whimsy kitchen renovation, guys. 

our apartment’s at the kfc.

our apartment’s at the taco bell.

our apartment’s at the combination kfc and taco bell!

our apartment’s at the kfc.

our apartment’s at the taco bell.

our apartment’s at the combination kfc and taco bell!

there is a spectre hanging over san francisco.

and it is the crippling fear that your craigslist roommate will "bring the party home."

analysis of search results:

10 - “doesn’t bring the party home”

10 - “don’t bring the party home”

9 - “not bring the party home”

1 - “won’t bring the party home”

1 - “never brings the party home” 

3 - “rarely bring the party home”

(and one stand out: “always brings the party home.” Party on, Wayne.)

on overpriced loft apartments in oakland

was it not Gandhi who said, “be the gentrification you want to see in the world”?  

a second vocabulary lesson for your early 20s

a sequel, work and internet edition! 

a Potemkin project - what you have open on your screen during Friday afternoons at work; the smoke and mirrors of productivity (alt usage: Potemkin chore wheel) 

morning after martyrdom - the Catch 22 of being epically hung over at work; your Herculean effort to arrive somewhat on time and contribute demonstrates commitment to your managers, coworkers, and job, and yet they must never realize your condition, so they’ll never know and appreciate your sacrifice.

a joy leash - the equal and opposite reaction to the flash of self-satisfaction that comes from acknowledgment on the internet (reblog, a like, an upvote); the hammer that swings down on you for feeling proud of easy-won praise for your easy-won creativity, and mistaking them both for something more substantial.

My artistic expression while testing letterpress methods and ink mixing knows no bounds.  Happy early birthday, brother.

god, I KNOW it’s the WRONG APOSTROPHE what am I, some sort of FONT PHILISTINE.

Notes on Flannery O’Connor

  • As far as I can tell, she was the first user of “biddies,” in “The Displaced Person,” 1956 (to mean young BIRDS, but I’ll let that slide). The OED has not caught up with me, but I have the word circled, highlighted, and practically bedazzled in A Good Man is Hard to Find, p. 219. Flannery O’Connor, vocabulary pioneer. 
  • She uses down-homey language to distance herself from her most earnest beliefs, mainly deeply intellectual Catholicism. How many times have you described yourself as ~really growing this year~ or ~finding yourself~ or the like with a groan (or, my favorite, waving your arms to the side to look like tildes) to describe genuine but cliche/vulnerable feelings? I thought this was a totally modern phenomenon until I read about Flannery writing in letters about the “Catlics,” and how she is “gawdshile,” and her “pilgrumidge” to Lourdes to cure her of lupus. Flannery O’Connnor, original Thought Catalog writer.
  • "I hope you don’t have friends who recommend Ayn Rand to you. The fiction of Ayn Rand is as low as you can get re: fiction. I hope you picked it up off the floor of the subway and threw it in the nearest garbage pail. She makes Mickey Spillane look like Dostoevsky." - Flannery O’Connor, truthspeaker. 
  • She was good friends with Robert Fitzgerald, author/translator of my back of the book answer key to Latin II and III, “The Aeneid,” Vintage Classics Edition, 1981. Flannery O’Connor, ran with awesome folks.
  • One of my favorite and saddest stories about my mother has always felt like an O’Connor story to me. Our family cat, Sarah, died of old age a few years back. My devastated mother was the only one home at the time. She tearfully buried her in one of Sarah’s favorite boxes in the backyard under my window. For the rest of the day, my mother was plagued with guilt. What if Sarah wasn’t actually dead? What if she had actually BURIED the beloved family pet ALIVE in the BACKYARD? What if she could have been SAVED? My mom didn’t call me to tell me the news until after she a) dug up Sarah to double check, b) had my father triple check once he got home, and c) convinced herself Sarah died warm in her bed, not two gravelly feet underground. Catholic guilt, a dead animal, and an overactive internal dialogue = Flannery O’Connor, always relevant.

It’s annoying to be my friend.

I spend 60% of every roller derby game leaning over to the group, listing off nerdy potential roller derby names:

Charlepain, Zelda Hitsgerald, Gory Vidal, A Fight in August, Stahitstically Significant, and my favorite, Slamdra Day O’Connor. 

bringing a knife to a gun fight

There’s a manichean arms race going down on the corner of North Ave. and Throop.

Home Depot and Lumber Liquidators are directly across the (very narrow) street from each other, and the tension seems to be getting a bit much for both parties.

and most recently:

Best part of my bus ride to Whole Foods, for sure.