Repress Yourself

Tired of paying hundreds of dollars in therapy? Fed up with prescription pill addictions and office furniture couch-sores? Has your psychologist stopped seeing you since you made a pass at him? Or maybe you're an amateur analyst and are looking for a chance to gain experience as an advice columnist. Bloggers: substitute these posts for therapy sessions and readers: comment away.

26 June 2007

Better Than Flying

I decided today that if I could have a super power I would want to have the ability to know what I wanted to eat for dinner.

Forever.

Think of all the time and energy I'd save, not having to think about it for seven hours until I'm either so hungry that I eat whatever is readily available (cereal), or not able to muster the strength to figure it out and just skip eating altogether.

When I figure out a foolproof system, I am gonna make a billion dollars. You're welcome, America.

21 June 2007

These Modern Socks!

This is a conversation I had via AIM today

Fishboy: I just got a TM* that the p'zone is back
Kittenpants: excuse me?
Kittenpants: the pizza calzone?

Fishboy: best food name ever created
Kittenpants: wow.
Kittenpants: someone texted you that?

Fishboy: yep
Kittenpants: and then you IMmed me.
Fishboy: yep
Kittenpants: that makes this the saddest use of technology, ever.

Reminds me of the time I went on tour with Corn Mo and The Polyphonic Spree. I was only joining him for a few days, so at one point, I went back home to NYC and Corn Mo kept going on the tour. A few hours after we parted ways he called me. I was in the mountains somewhere in North or South Carolina and there was no reception, so the cell phone kept disconnecting. Eventually I had to pull off the highway and into a town where I could call him back. Turns out he was just calling to let me know that he tried the new (at the time) McGriddle, and that it totally ruled.

*TM=Text Message

13 June 2007

Not Exactly Wonder Years

I'm in a mood. So I have been procrastinating work in favor of wandering around the internet. I read Cory Kennedy's blog today for like the 2nd time ever. If you ever feel like you totally partied in high school, and you're not Cory Kennedy, then you're wrong. Read her blog, and then read your old high school journal, and see how they compare. Here's Cory's typical week:

thursday i did some nylon tv stuff, and ate dinner with michael and ana... on friday i went to go see morrissey @ the hollywood bowl with my most favorite person andy neuhuse. i had the greatest time ive had in months. i really did... most amazing seats, most amazing company, and most amazing music... all happening at the same time... later today im gonna head over to the fader mag party. probably with jenny. tomorrow is the a.p.c. store opening in l.a. this saturday at the hollywood forever cemetery is rebel without a cause. so that should be rad...


I didn't have a blog when I was 16, because back then, the internet was just a gleam in Al Gore's eye. But if I DID have a blog, a typical post may have read something like this:

sat - went to tom thumb and walmart with mom, shes like "noooooo you can't get Finesse conditioner, its too expensive!!!" so i settled for the suave. on sun, me and carol watched Dream a Little Dream and ate homemade french fries. Mon, late for geo. so I faked cramps. my econ paper is due tomorrow and I don't have the bibliography yet... guess I'll miss "A Different World" - unless Dad can figure out how to work the VCR...


Not ONE reference to a concert, fashion show, night club, or media-sponsored event attended.

I'm not saying I didn't go to parties or concerts when I was 17. I did, if by "parties" you mean "hanging out at the beach 10 blocks from my house drinking wine coolers with the kids from my school until curfew" and if by "concerts" you mean "concert." Certainly nothing that required being on a list, or knowing a magazine publisher or fashion photographer.

I'm really not jealous of the Paris Hiltons and Lindsay Lohans of the world. But I might like to have Cory Kennedy's VIP pass and a time machine.