phamos: (wangchungorillkickyourass!)
Thing I like: Genius playlists in the new iTunes. Hell YEAH if I want to listen to "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper I'll also want to listen to Heart, Wham, and Til Tuesday! Love IS a motherfuckin' battlefield, Pat Benatar, thanks for pointing that out!

Thing I don't like: That Nancy Botwin keeps fucking stuff up with her hot shirtless boyfriends. I already don't get to see Romany Malco on my TV anymore; now just because she has a moral problem with human trafficking, I can't see the sexy telenovela guy next season? SHENANIGANS.

Other thing I like: Teeny baby bump.

Corollary thing I do NOT like: Pregnancy heartburn. Whooorf.
phamos: (Default)
OK, bugs. I'm trying to have a nice evening here on the balcony, drinking a glass of wine and reading a disappointingly mediocre Matthew Yglesias book. It is time for you to stop flying in my face, getting confused and stuck behind my glasses, and deciding that your best route of escape is up one of my nostrils.

Seriously. Beyond time.
phamos: (wangchungorillkickyourass!)
I would like to state for the record that I was NOT the only one driving the streets of Madison today with my windows rolled down and my stereo cranked up. Far from it! In fact, people were busting out their summeriest cars -- I spotted a Volkswagen convertible, one of those Cameros with, like, batwing panels missing from the top/sides, and, best of all, a bigwheel Jeep Wrangler with no cover and a rack of HUGE spotlights atop the windshield. It was like a scene out of an 80s high school movie, people piling into some suburban last-day-of-summer keg party, and the preppy girl in the VW (played by either Lea Thompson or Kristy Swanson) is secretly in love with the guy from the wrong side of the tracks (Camero, wearing acid-washed jean jacket and possibly in possession of some kind of wispy facial hair), so he and her fratty boombatty boyfriend (Wrangler) are going to RUMBLE. This fight may or may not be set to the strains of "Separate Ways" by Journey.

ANYWHOO, it's very lovely out. However, I have noticed that on days when it's nice out, it takes about twice as long for the pizza delivery guy to get here. I am having trouble coming up with a reasonable hypothesis as to why this is.
phamos: (funnywalk)
The number one silent killer of American 20-somethings? Getting up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night not realizing your foot is asleep, then crumpling to the floor in a giant wrenched-ankle heap, hoping your skull doesn't smash against the coffee table. Today, at 3:54 AM, by the grace of Jeebus, I escaped death's icy clutches. Tomorrow is another day.
phamos: (twilight)
I am currently in a queue, being valued for my custom. Joe Biden cannot pronounce any of that.
phamos: (The Fuck?)
Think you know what an "overweight" person looks like? Think again. (Pippa and Erin, I salute you.)
phamos: (brain poison)
Wait. Do what now?

Dude, I feel you. Jeb Bush is totally all in my house with disease, too.

Maybe it's just because I haven't slept, but I'm seriously about to piss myself laughing over his 49th reason he's running for president:

To Prove the United States Government killed my sex life, my wife sex life, my daughter-in –laws sex life both may sons and other of my family members sex life with Espionage Experimentation and Espionage Exploitation sex killing.
phamos: (superpower)
To come in and preside over the rape of so many people with a big smile on your face and an attitude of benevolence and righteousness...it was almost too offensive to comprehend. A lot of these people sincerely believed that their North American birth and their superior dentistry made them the arbiters of public morality by default. Growing up, I'd been taught that that sort of attitude had died out of American life with King George. It hadn't.

And he's NOT talking about Iraq, folks! (Actually, this was written about the American expatriot/USAID contingent in Moscow during the loans-for-shares scandal in the '90s.)
phamos: (regent)
Step away from Owen Wilson, Travolta and Preston. I swear, if you two come within 15 feet of that poor man with an e-meter and a bottle of frickin' niacin, I will have to call shenanigans on your Scientologist asses. SHENANIGANS!

(I seem to have come down with a case of the dread OotP CAPSLOCK OF DOOM of late. I apologize for that. Usually when politics makes me upset, I start paying attention to celebrities, and vice versa. Unfortunately, they both have me quite riled up right now.)
phamos: (we.are.as.gods)
I just took a nap and dreamed that I went on a camping trip with Barack Obama. He was really cool in the dream. That is all.
phamos: (surrealbaboon)
For some reason, I am craving those Marshmallow Rice Krispies that they made back in the '80s. Do they still make those? Because I WANT SOME.
phamos: (brain poison)
Congratulations on your 17th child, Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar!



(Am I a terrible person for thinking that the fact that his name is "Jim Bob" makes this about 20 times funnier?)
phamos: (kitties)
In the absence of roaches to chase, Simi has become obsessed with ridding the area immediately surrounding my desk of ANY AND ALL POST-IT NOTES. This is to be a Post-It Note free zone. Mostly because they flap up and down in the breeze from the air conditioner and make her all cracked out. But also because Post-It Notes are inherently evil and MUST BE STOPPED before they can demarcate any more printouts from the AEI website. The Post-It Note reign of terror is almost at an end.

u no me.

Jun. 26th, 2007 01:12 am
phamos: (12th level)
Heh. Fhqwhgads.
phamos: (superpower)
I'm probably late to the game on this one, but I only just realized that Henry Waxman looks like Batboy.
phamos: (Default)



May you all be touched by his noodly appendage this holiday season.

phamos: (frazzle)
When you dick around on Wikipedia late at night looking to clear up random assertions about neocons from BBC documentaries, you find out things like the fact that the Chairman of the Council on Foreign Relations is married to Children's Television Workshop founder Joan Ganz Cooney. My worlds are colliding. YOU'RE KILLING INDEPENDENT GEORGE!
phamos: (twilight)
Heh. I'm renaming some mp3 files, and I accidentally titled that Filter song "Hey Man Nice Shoe". That would be a very different song.
phamos: (eyes)
In the last few months, since I began actually typing my thesis and cover letters, it has become an increasingly conscious decision of mine to write my journal in all-lowercase letters. I somehow managed to balance the web/non-web spheres of my typing universe while I was in high school, but lately my brain just can't handle the incongruence. So as I barrel around the curve to my birthday on my unavoidable careen towards my late 20s, I have decided to begin using proper capitalization rules in all my journal communications.

This is something I have considered for some time, and I do not take the decision lightly. In the last year, I have struggled with this every day, not wanting to leave Abby alone in the world of uncapitalized proper nouns that we have co-existed in for 10 years or more. I do this not as a rebuke to Abby and my other lower-case friends. I do it because if I have to go back and change the words "Wolfowitz" and "Iraq" to begin with capital letters one more time, I'm going to go insane.

For now, my email .sig will remain the lower case "-mags", because the idea of parting with this aspect of my uncapitalized personality causes me to let loose with big heaping sobs of loss and shame. One step at a time.

...

Of course, this entry is totally taking the piss. But yeah, I'm going to use capital letters now.

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March 2009

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