Look at this shit, y’all!

I had an Exit Through the Gift Shop moment with a guy on the subway the other day who was drawing with two pens simultaneously, as you can see above. I thought maybe he was some famous New Yorker cartoonist or something so I got excited. As it turns out he’s just some rando, like the dude in that movie. The only evidence of him on the Internet is the video above, which some other person took three years ago.

I really can’t make sense of fine art – I went to the Guggenheim a couple years back to see a Kandinsky exhibit and I was like, “Is this good? I honestly can’t tell.” And everyone was like “Go away you’re dumb.” It’s weird, because I’m such a fiend for films, books, and especially music, but I’m a dunce when I walk into an art museum or look at an art book on some rich person’s coffee table.

Speaking of rich people, I worked a reception at an apartment on Eighth and Fifty-Seventh with a nearly panoramic view of Manhattan this evening, so obviously the first plan of action was to scope out the bathroom situation. I thought they would have the finest toilet paper money can buy. But to my horror, the toilet paper was the shitty kind you steal from work when you’re running low! What the fuck is that! Do you think they put the shitty kind out when they know they’ll have company? By the way, folks, I just Googled “shitty synonym” because I saw I’d used the word “shitty” twice. And now that’s four times. So I guess that’s a sign I should stop writing now, or perhaps it’s a sign I shouldn’t have started in the first place. Good night!





Seasonal Affective Disorder

I’m moving right along with Little Women. It’s so fucking charming that it makes me want to bake a whole goddamn cake just for funsies. Or maybe just eat one.

google_sketchAnd this is the Google Doodle today! It’s like I have ESPN or something.

Seasonal Affective Disorder, whose acronym seems so on the nose that it’s almost inappropriate, is actually less SAD and more APATHETICFATIGUEDBOREDANXIOUSLISTLESSHOPELESSSEDENTARY. For me anyway. For example, it’s taking me literal actual hours to write this fucking post.

We’re singing Beethoven’s Ninth in choir which I was really excited about, but as it turns out, singing it brings about this unfortunate paradox in which your throat is somehow dry while simultaneously fifty percent of the air in front of your mouth is filled with spit. The piece has no chill whatsoever. But neither did Beethoven. I mean, look at him:


That dude has definitely spent some quality time with a Fleshlight.

Speaking of Fleshlight, I just Wikipedia’d that shit (if you only knew the internet spirals I’ve descended into over the years) and learned this:

“In 2011, the company that manufactures Fleshlight sent a complimentary package of its products to the members of the SEALs team that killed Osama bin Laden.”

I’ll let y’all meditate on that. Enjoy this shitty-ass weather, friends.