All I could eat

We consumed our portion of a 30 pound turkey in a home that looked like something out of Yankee magazine.

We had flaming ambrosia and volcanos next to the big fountain at Kowloon while the band played Tiny Bubbles. We gorged on nine-layer dip and tequila, followed by a wake-up call of Rock Star punch (a disgusting mixture of every energy drink in stock at the store 24. Congratulations to my pals for discovering the recipe for anger, hatred of mankind and instant colossal headaches.)

We showed Herr W. our side of the Atlantic on this crisp November day in the lovely and salty town of Marshfield.



Then we introduced our foreign friend to Robby the lobster, pictured here steamed.



Now if you will excuse me I have to go slip into a coma....

-xo

Posted 11:52 PM by Lambchop

23 pieces of paper



You can be moved by something that seemed like nothing. Sometimes the most insignificant thing can be sublime.

Posted 11:43 PM by Lambchop

Failure to thrive

Where oh where to begin? Thanksgiving with Mr. H's family was bar-none the most stressful event in recent memory. You know that trendy book The Corrections? Just like that. Twenty-one people, ranging in age from four to seventy-eight, crammed into one incredibly overheated room. On an island.

There are many other interesting doings, including a surprise illegitimate child being hidden away in another state. The other illegitimate child we already knew about. He's still cooking, and from the looks of things, being liberally basted with scotch. Not unlike what I was planning on doing to a pork roast later today. Yes, people said something right to mommy. Yes, it was ignored. Lurleen cited What to Expect When You're Expecting, saying they endorse having one drink a day. I checked yesterday, they do mention that some women choose to have a glass of wine per day, but say "this is not a wise course of action to take." How do you stop crazy from doing whatever crazy wants? If anyone figures that out, please let me know.

There's so much more. So much. Lurleen was put off when her bun did not get his name in the cup for the Christmas gift drawing. Considering he's got to roast another 5 months, I think he'll forgive this oversight. Then competition began between the two grandmothers of the illegitimate children. "Your pictures are AFTER UTERO, Lurleen's are better because they are IN UTERO."

Now, if I get sprogged up, no ultrasound pictures will be shown to anyone. The wee nubbins always look like seamonkeys, and the shots are totally incomprehensible to anyone besides the proud parents. And as Mr. H said, "You NEVER put a beta release in front of consumers!" That's right, if anyone asks, we'll just tell them they have to wait for the Gold Master. That's a hilarious nerd joke, if you were wondering.

That was Thanksgiving in a nutshell. A lot of deep breathing, counting to one hundred, drinking, and stepping out into the bracing cold, usually to find another family member out there, cradling his or her head in hand. For Christmas, I hope to be on a plane to a place with umbrella drinks and cabana boys. Or I will beat someone to death with a bottle of rum.

-xxoo

Posted 2:49 PM by Licketysplit

Vomitola offers you Meat



Dear Kitty Winn,

Someone made this photo-collage of me and sent it to my email account. Should I imagine that I have enemies? Or is it in good humor? Paranoid in Montana...

Thanks,

"Richard"

(Note to the dear, gentle Reader- the photo-collage in question in question depicts a great, tumescent Schlong, so be warned if you are tuning in at work, or simply do not like to look at great, tumescent Schlongs.)

Dear "Richard",

I see you are wearing some sort of sports cap. Apparently a Boston Red Sox cap. So humiliation and loss is something of a badge for you. You also admit to being both paranoid AND living in Montana- I could spend all day on this complex little nugget, but I will stick to your question, as I have a mimosa turkey brunch. So your face appears as a dainty cap, a Jimmy Hat as it were, on a massive Schlong. But this is not so much of a "letter from a foe", as a friendly reminder that you are a Big Weenie.

gobble,
Kitty Winn

Posted 9:41 AM by Lambchop

und und und ...



Lambchop wishes you all a happy Thanksgiving. Blow your Horn of Plenty.

-xo

Posted 11:53 AM by Lambchop

Posted 11:50 AM by Lambchop

Picture Pages

You've been scratching and clawing and squeaking like rats in a drainpipe, all of you desperate to see

Lambchop's new work!



-xo

Posted 10:20 AM by Lambchop

You can be NEW



Gone are the days of me eating cheese and sucking down tequila, falling into some paranoid dream with a full belly and my boots still on.

Well, not OVER. Can't I be gin-sodden and be FIT? Science is about to tell us this. Last night was my first appointment with Thunder, my personal trainer. It was great! "Feel the burn!", he said, "Are you sure you have never done this before?" Oh my god, if I had a nickel for every time...



-xo

Posted 9:31 AM by Lambchop

Deutschland Ueber Boston

Herr Werkhausen has come to visit me from Berlin, his first trip to Amerika! Two things you can't find in Berlin are sweet potato waffles and non-potato root-type objects. Fascinating!



There is more Americana in store!!! Long, leafy walks, Thanksgiving dinner, & the Simpsons in English. But if someone really wants to feel like an American, we must teach them how to fritter away their money. I mean spending great flipping wadges of cash on utterly useless items such as rubber goldfish suspended in handsoap, a Dukes of Hazard thermos, a Mr. bubble t-shirt or an issue of Rolling Stone with a List in it.

So I am sending Herr W. back to Berlin with blue bathwater dye. And then we are going to the harbor and eat a nice piece of fish.

Honorable ME-ME-MEntion: the Women's Art Organization of Berlin has published a new book and it includes the work of yours truly! If you wish to purechase a copy, email Lambchop and she will procure one for you to the tune of a C-note. (Shut up, I had to buy my own copy, too).

-xo

Posted 3:22 PM by Lambchop

Our house, was our castle and our keep

So, not an hour after I am assured we can move into the new place on Monday, the human blowdryer at the real estate corral calls MY HUSBAND to say "um, you can't after all." I guess Verizon was right, the building is imaginary. It's a good thing he decided to go over my head, because I would have taken his call, kicked my heels up on my desk, and had a voiceover segment. There would have been some spangly dream sequence music, and a perky voice would ask "What would Anna Wintour do?"

And then I would have REAMED HIM WITHIN AN INCH OF HIS LIFE. His office is a few blocks from mine. I still might. Throw a cellphone at his head and key his Grand Cherokee.

Point of clarification: I am not really a douche bag when I deal with people. This is a fantasy, designed to detract from how totally crushed and helpless I feel. We've scheduled a shut off for the utilities, scheduled them for the new place, given our landlord notice that we'll be out, and hired movers. Even my new haircut, which looks amazing, thanks for asking, isn't helping. I am so calling Hank Phillipi Ryan. And, as Aaron suggested, I'll be booking rooms at the Ritz and deducting the bill from our new rent. One for me, one for the cat, one for all my stuff.

Posted 1:17 PM by Licketysplit

Panic in the streets

Today is all about dread. Fear of the blinky red dot on my mail icon. Fear of the blinky red light on the phone. Fear of the clucking chicken ring on my cellphone, which means messages waiting. I guess it's my own damn fault for picking that ring, I should switch back to the Bewitched theme.

I am short of breath, and my ears are humming. Now more than ever, I need a personal whitelist of who is actually allowed to address me! I don't want to field a question from the assorted ding dongs that need to get all up in my existence today. The clueless freelance client who can't remember where they bought their domain but still needs it pointed somewhere else. The real estate monster, calling to say "We-ell, you can still move in on the first, but you may not have a working elevator..." Verizon, saying "Oh, you would like a phone in your new place? How NOVEL."

I also don't want to give advice to people with poor life skills who won't take it anyway. This includes friends and extended family. Oh, you have baby daddy trouble? That's too bad. You gained weight? Ha. I am getting a sore throat.

Did this entry stress you out too? I'm sorry. Really, I am. You shouldn't have to suffer too. Why do we always hurt the ones we love? Let's talk about a far more soothing topic: my hair. Oh, deep breath. I am soaking in it. I am getting a cut today, which always makes me feel like a squillion bucks. Yes, I know I just got it cut a month ago. But I am like a nappy little Shetland pony. If I don't go today, when will I go over the next few hellish weeks? The terrorists will have won, and my layers will be shot to shit. Please do not bring up my grown out highlights. I will buy you a gingerbread latte if you just look the other way.

-xxoo

Posted 10:24 AM by Licketysplit

Bullseye

Sadly, going to Target is not as high-spirited and monochromatic an experience as the TV ads would have one believe. There are no rockettes or dancing christmas trees, and Mark Mothersbaugh is not hovering up in the front office personally DJing new wave hits over the PA system. I did not see Isaac Mizrahi either. I believe he is in his lair in Trenton, busy laughing, absolutely splitting a side over all the girls who are hoping "you can have high fashion at Target, really." You can't. Please do not embarass either one of us further by pretending it's true. What are you, a communist? I love a bargain as much as the next gal, but crap is crap. It's Mom Jeans.

But we still managed to make impulse purchases. How do they do it? I came for packing tape and cat litter, I departed with a fleece throw. I didn't need a giant Toblerone bar, yet I left with one anyway.

It's just as well, because I ate a few segments of that for dinner: a new level in culinary incompetence even for us. I thought butter noodles a few weeks ago was the absolute nadir, but I was wrong. We're moving one week from today, and we've gone from eating off paper plates to just not bothering with actual food. Well, we did have some apple pie. That's half a Cider Jack and half a Harpoon Winter Warmer. Spicy. The traces of apple in the cider will prevent scurvy.

Then I capped off the weekend by working on a particularly wretched DHTML-laden freelance project. It seemed like a great idea back in September, but of course the other parties involved assed around until November, and then the client demanded it be live on the 26th. Because the day before Thanksgiving is such a crucial time for web browsing. Why am I not better at saying no? Oh, right, I'm a whore.

-xxoo

Posted 12:22 PM by Licketysplit

30



Today is the first day of the rest of my life. So glad i began it by waking up in my clothes, laying in a drooling heap atop my presents. And such lovely presents they were! Thank you all for being my friends and coming out and clinking my glass. And giving me stuff.

And thanks, Licketysplit, for being the best pal ever.

Tonight I am going to road test my birthday present to myself- a gym membership. Yikes. In just a few hours I will be having my body fat circled with a felt tip pen by some horribly buff person. I know what you are all thinking: "fitness is not our lambchop, knocking back gin and eating popcorn while watching 20 minute workourt on tv is our lambchop!" Hrmm, I really can't argue with that. But I did get impossibly adorable Betty Boop themed workout clothes- they even had polka- dotted sweatbands!

-xo

Posted 3:37 PM by Lambchop

...bzzt...

Today I am having so much trouble keeping my internal monologue that way.

-xxoo

Posted 1:03 PM by Licketysplit

Huzzah, huzzah!

Unfurl the gossamer banners, and don your t-shirt featuring dogs having a tea party! Pipe lurid pink icing flowers on a solid slab of marzipan, and flood the streets with confetti, for it is Lambchop's birthday! And not just any birthday, oh no. It is a special number, but I shall leave that for her to reveal in her own good time.

To celebrate, I have quite the surprise. I let us get pregnant a few weeks ago when she was passed out! No, kidding, kidding. But I did pick up a few gaudy do-dads, and when I purchased one of them the sales-slattern said "Oh, your daughter is going to love this!" What is more alarming: our truly infantile taste, or that this shrew thought I looked old enough to have a six-year-old?

Now I give you photographic proof that we are two heads sharing one body. This was taken in Barcelona a few years ago, atop a bus. Luckily we never forget which one of us is on the right in photos (Lambchop!).



Now what more can I say about my splendid pal? Hmm... no matter what I come up with, I am sure that ABBA has said it better at some point.

There was something in the air that night
The stars were bright, Fernando
They were shining there for you and me
For liberty, Fernando
Though I never thought that we could lose
There's no regret
If I had to do the same again
I would, my friend, Fernando
Yes, if I had to do the same again
I would, my friend, Fernando...


-xxoo

Posted 1:04 AM by Licketysplit

Jackie O.T.


Dear Diary,

I have been put in charge of filing the orders of a very important customer. So I ask myself: what goes better with a glittery silver top- glittery silver polish or just the plain silver???

Life is six-cups-of-coffee-by-day,-on-the-rocks-yes-please-salt-the-glass-by-night, kind of good. Now that I am a Drudge like the rest of you, I can see it has some merits. The free flavored coffees, the bad moods, the charmingly misspelled articles in the Metro. I can stand around the copier, plucking at my highlights and talking about the South Beach diet in a South Shore Redux. (the South Beach diet is the one where you eat clam rolls and waffle cones, right?)

Since Helen and I opened the Pandora's Box of Lambchop and Licketysplit memorabilia, I also sifted through my own box of Stuff That Used to Matter. Among the myriad of fascinating items were (1) a Brownie Smock, (2) a collection of orange Honor Roll buttons (they say "Honor Roll" on them in chunky black letters. This way all non-Honor Roll types can make them out and know they are in the presence of Achievement. I wear these to work.), and (3) a report card that says my long division Needs Improvement (NI) but my Spelling is E for Excellent!

I am going to start issuing Needs Improvement cards to my friends and associates. There really ought to be a system of checks and balances for the faux pas' of our acquaintance, to address horrible sweaters, placing knees on the table, and interrupting ME when I am saying something fascinating.

The last thing I want to rant about, before I go back to punching holes in things, is a startling new development in Boston culture (didn't know we had any, did you?). Musical amplification devices and Wind Instruments are strictly VERBOTEN! from subway platforms and trains. No more can that batty old geezer plonk out "Alleycat" on his Casio. And the tortured yearnings of the acoustic guitar player will also go unheard as he whispers, ampless. This is all Licketysplit's doing, for it is she who went around paying these chaps to STOP playing. The frightening result of all this is that it has opened the floodgates to ACAPELLA. My betteylunchbucket morning commute is now punctuated by the few brave soloists who try their hands at Crooning. The resulting bellows and caterwaul make me feel like Day Room at the madhouse again.

-xo

Posted 11:59 AM by Lambchop

Counterpoint: Bodddyyyy, I am tired of doing our taxes!



[pictured, from left: Licketysplit, Lambchop]

Why do I always have to be the responsible one?

I always say to Heather "Just once I would like it if you laundered the money!" But does she listen? Oh no. She is usually preoccupied by a shiny pinwheel or some other geegaw, while I gnaw a pencil to a stub and readjust my green visor. She'll never sweat over off-shore holdings the way I do!

And it pains my soul, because I am fun-loving too, you see. I enjoy gumming jawbreakers, tissue paper flowers on sticks, crackers shaped like animals, and dreamcatchers. But everyone thinks I am the stodgy one because I have the head for figures. Oh, the trials of being 10 minutes older.

Finally, I will say to Heather that just because a kitten follows us home does not mean we get to keep it. Who will end up cleaning the litter box? Me, that's who, and you will not even let me use our other arm. Oh no, you will be too busy styling your hair with the Twist-a-Braid!

I am not even going to discuss the turtle you allowed to wander away into the heating duct. Also, I've made up my mind, from now on I will only remember to apply under-eye cream to MY eyes! Please save your crocodile tears, I am too busy playing with this tinsel garland to listen to you! La la la la. La.

-xxoo

Posted 11:01 PM by Licketysplit

Oh! Bodddyyyyy!



Bodddyyyy, why do you always get to kiss the boy?

We are a two man outfit in one sleek, supple vessel. Helen is really the brains of this operation. Our sweatshop in Malaysia was entirely her idea. It was she that earned us those splendid S.A.T. scores, pencilling in those little ovals like a Kennedy. Helen picks out the sweater sets and makes sure the juice boxes are packed. The butterfly tattoo and the cough syrup addiction were my idea. Helen is the one who speaks during Oral exams. I am really much better at flirting with policemen.

If I can prove that I have spent ten minutes of the day in a rational manner, she lets me hold the kite string. Sometimes I think I am a liability in her quest for world domination.

We are coming to your town in mismatched socks.

-xo

Posted 5:21 PM by Lambchop

Op/Ed



Lambchop would like to take this time to mention that she no qualms about promiscuity. Equal rights to be miserable and tangled in the mire of human emotions for everyone- gay, married, or otherwise! That is All!


-xo

Posted 12:58 PM by Lambchop

Go go gadget gay marriage

Well...it's a start.

Massachusetts? Are you there? It's me, Licketysplit. Why did you persist in electing Mitt Romney, who has gone on record saying he would veto pro gay marriage legislation? Also, God? Why are people still wearing open toed shoes in November? The cosmos is a baffling place. YOU SHOULD ALL BE ASHAMED.

In all seriousness, I am strongly in favor of gay marriage. None of that civil union crapola, although that's a foot in the door. I was allowed to get "married" in Massachusetts outside of the umbrella of religious blessing (a whole 'nother can of warms). Our actual legal marriage took place at some creepy guy's house in Allston. We gave him $100 and our marriage license, and after subjecting us to a story about his own divorce and how his cat is his best friend, he said "I now pronounce you wicked married."

The actual wedding day was another story entirely. It was full of love and joy and burning money and alcohol poisoning, and in attendance were several long term gay couples who didn't have a shot at doing the legal bit by virtue of the wrong chromosomal arrangement. If the reason to keep marriage between a man and a woman has to do with morality, let me just say that I am weak of character! I enjoy deviant sexual practices*! But I still got a license, no questions asked. May I remind you that there are plenty of het couples who get married and still fuck everything in sight. (We're saving that bit for our five year anniversary cruise to the Mexican riviera. Oy gevalt. Equal opportunity emotional tearing down, please.)

I'll be watching the development of this situation, and possibly standing outside Tom Finneran's house in an animal suit. Tom Tomorrow is right, I should have married a goat.

-xxoo

*Er, I mean spooning, mom. Maybe a little closed-mouth kissing.

Posted 8:22 AM by Licketysplit

Le car, vroom vroom

Two weeks ago, a butterfly flapped its wings in Moscow. Today I impulse-purchased a Volkswagen. And you know what? I instantly started to drive like a total asshole. Like I'm from Cambridge. For my next trick, I'll pop out a few kids and let them pull shit off the shelves in Bread & Circus while I yap into a cellphone headset.

Oh, the car. It's Galactic Blue (hooray for Science!), with lots of bells and whistles and even jimcracks and doohickeys. And technically it was not a purchase, but a lease. So at some point over the holidays I'll have the pleasure of explaining to my parents and other older family members that I do not actually have "anything to show for it." It's the matrix, ma.

Another plus: we got rid of Mr. H's Ford Focus. Now the family of spiders that lives in it is someone else's problem. Shudder. I am certain Super Townie at the dealership plans to set the white whale on fire and roll it into a lake. And he'd be right to do it.

-xxoo

Posted 10:44 PM by Licketysplit

Hot 97



Continuing our riveting streak of self-flagellation, here's a goth polaroid! Enjoy, eat it up. That's me on the left, Heather on the right. What is it about teen angst that makes girls press their heads together and take high-contrast self-portraits?

Our thing was looking like we were about to throw up. That's where the Vomitola name first came about. We used to click off a zillion shots, wait for them to develop, and then cobble them together to make a story, complete with captions. Sample: "Helen spies the bucket..." or "Now it's Heather's turn."

We were also pretty into the two heads, one body idea, as you shall see from tomorrow's offering.

-xxoo

Posted 10:21 PM by Licketysplit

Get up on this



So Heather came over tonight. We painted our nails and organized our sticker books. Then we busted out the 40s. Round two pictured here.

All Lisa Frank dreams aside, this picture was taken in 1996. It's unflattering. We both had to use drastic mezures to hook up in those days. Hence the plastic knives. But that's in the past, yo. And let the past be the past. Although that's hard to do when one finds the PHOTO BOX. That's right, we're going to be taking a little trip trap through the misty watercolor memories in the corners of our minds.

I have to go take Lambchop's bra out of the freezer. We havin' a sleepova.

-xxoo

Posted 11:17 PM by Licketysplit

...I know, I know, it's seeeeerious



Dear Kitty Winn,

I am a single girl and I keep going to parties where I wind up drunk and passing out my phone number like it's Pez. Then i live for a few days in fear and paranoia that boys with neck tattoos and wives are actually going to call me. Now, this would be my problem, except that none of these bedraggled suitors have even called! What gives?

-I know I'm unloveable

Sheila Take a Bow,

Buck up. Kitty herself was stalked by a mad Russian she entranced while doing a kicky Serbian folk dance at a party. But I mostly find that blacking out has the virtue of erasing all unfortunate acquaintances, and leaving me to start each day afresh, blissfully unaware of the doings of yesterday. You are lucky that Mr. Neck Tattoo does not lurk upon your doorstep- what would the neighbors think of your taste?

I am sure you have many charms in addition to being an alcohol sucking tartlet. If you can name at least two you can stop hurling song lyrics around. Try bowling instead.

-Kitty Winn

Posted 2:31 PM by Lambchop

LipSmackers

Lambchop is on strike until she gets a snarky set of lips (or similar) to appear wherever wisdom and poetry fribble from her fain mouth!
Come through, ye gods, with a sticky pawprint for yours truly.

It is matters of gross importance such as this, that consume me as i endure Upper Management training here at the Box Factory. Learning how to sandwich sheaves of yellowed forms into a bulging and creaking drawer so that they can safely be ignored until this whole place goes up in flames, is a vain and tedious pursuit. Five more minutes of this and I will be forced to drill holes in my skull to aerate my brain pan.

Unlike me, I hope you lucky layabouts are all out shooting morphine and diving to the pavement in horrible flashbacks every time a car door slams. After all, its Veteran's Day, celebrate!

Lunch today is on the Vet,
wonder what we're gonna get?
Purple Heart Pizza or Missing-Leg Pie,
Filet-of-oh-god-I'm-gonna-die!

Veteran-tastic!

Oh, the Training is about to move on to proper placement of Staples and Other Perforations. My heart weeps. I dream of leaping stallions and roan colored mares galloping through fields.

-xo

Posted 11:08 AM by Lambchop

What would Martha do?

Ugh. I've got a hangover, and I only just started drinking. No, not *that* kind of hangover, a wedding hangover. That's right, we're still not done with our thank you notes. So if you didn't get one yet, that means we dislike you intensely, and we found your gift terribly unimaginative and downright insulting. Oh, I keeeeeed. The list is in fact alphabetical (we are somewhere in the R-S range, we can't help being popular), and I was foolish enough to think Mr. H might actually help with birthing them.

But then again, I married someone with a limited vocabulary. Hey, I'm not being mean, it's just the truth. If I were with a man as verbose as I am naturally, we'd never get anything done because we'd be too busy trying to out-conversate the other. Why, it would be like being married to Lambchop. We ruled out same-sex marriage as a possibility years ago. A) she wouldn't get the donkey dingle graft, and my hips are far too slinky to carry it off, and B) we'd never have sex anyway because we'd each be too busy trying to put on more makeup than the other. So Mr. H and I, we compromise. I explain the big words, like "abutters" and "that other one from the other day he didn't know," and he makes dinner. But he does know enough to say "You'd better not be making fun of me on your stupid website."

Now, Kitty Winn says that the secret to a good thank you note is to create your own custom attractive letterpressed notes, and also to lie, lie, lie. For instance, the truth is not always suitable for print:

"Dear Aunt Hilda,

thank you for remembering us on our special day. I'm sorry to hear that what you purchased to commemorate it is "too heavy to mail," but I eagerly await the day you drop it off at my mom's house several states away from me. I am sure it will make a lovely addition to her hall closet, be it a solid block of obsidian or a mastadon femur. I really hope it's breakable! We'll see you at Christmas.

kisses,
-Helen & Mr. Helen"

No, no, that simply won't do. What am I going to say? I have no idea. But Mr. Man also knows enough to open a second bottle of wine, so I'm sure it will sort itself out. If you are in the lucky R-Z last name category, you can look forward to a sloppy, drooled-upon note in a few days time. But we ran out of the nice letterpressed ones, so T.S.. Note to self: next career -- purchase letterpress!

-xxoo

Posted 8:58 PM by Licketysplit

There's a feeling I get when I look to the west

I've got "Stairway to Heaven" stuck in my head because some deviant was playing it on an acoustic guitar in the train station. Call me a Nazi ("Nazi!"), but people shouldn't be allowed to play in public if they aren't any good. There, I said it. It's too bad there's not a musical version of nanowrimo to keep those sorts otherwise occupied.

I also inadvertently confused the names of two ethnic characters in a thinger I was trying to code, which led to hijinks and me wondering why my shit didn't work. Hi, my name is Hitler. Then my sister pointed out that I am terrible at recognizing people, just like she is. And it's true: people frequently say things like "Hey, I saw you at blah blah (the cheese counter at Shaw's, Starbucks) and you were blah blah (staring into space, trying on a bra), and I blah blah (batted my eyes, yelled at you) but you didn't notice me." I think it's a symptom of late-onset autism.

(But really, if you were an art director, would you name your token ethnic characters incredibly similar names? Mary, John, Patty, Samir, and Samar? I think not!)

Heather mentioned the joys of being completely insane in her triumphant return post. These days, instead of skittering around worrying that the Hancock Tower is going to thwap down like a flyswatter and squash me, or goggling at how shiny the sidewalk is, I just stick with garden variety rage. I blame the MBTA, hormonal birth control, the downstairs neighbors, going to work, ill-fitting pants, the incredibly unexciting lunar eclipse, and solar flares for my rage. If I had managed to retain my propensity for ingesting random substances people hand me, things might be different. Curse you, aging process. And curse you, common sense.

But someday Lambchop and l will have to tell you about the time we huddled under a pool table for hours, only taking a break to watch Suddenly Susan and wrap duct tape around a computer monitor.

-xxoo

Posted 11:04 PM by Licketysplit

You turn to us

For:
kitty winn
bukkake
alien souveniers
antoinette k-doe
ass-bear
bad kitty skulls cat
cat anal leakage ?sex
choire sicha scorpio
crawfish drive thru new Orleans
do dachshunds wheeze
g-l-a-m-b-o-y steve strange
heather morgan god
how do goths lose weight
kitty winn rumors
louis vuitton on newbury street
marabou christmas tree

And Heather and I are happy to serve, for we love our audience.

Actually, we are a smidge appalled by some of those investigations. Most importantly, Louis Vuitton is in the frigtastic Copley Mall, not on Newbury Street. I should know, they made the bags under my eyes this week. As an aside, hard work is really bad for my appearance.

Also, I am just kidding, I wouldn't carry a Louis Vuitton bag if my life depended on it. Unless it were free, in which case I'd write MY name all over it. Or possibly if they managed to make one without gold-toned hardware. I will admit to fleeting temptation when the Murakami bag came out, but it's just not me.

Some of the other searches make perfect sense, especially the marabou Christmas tree. If I had any inclination to celebrate Christmas, I'd order one right away. Maybe I'll settle for a non-denominational wreath. What is a better symbol of pagan fertility than pink marabou? As for the rest of the terms, I am sure you have your reasons, but please do not tell US about them.

I have also added 3 breathtakingly lovely ladies to the left sidebar. There's Heather Armstrong, who I first caught guest-blogging at Coudal Partners. Then there's Anna at Absolutely Vile, spotted via Look's journal. I am almost hesitant to link to Anna because she has a smashing pink design that seemed to require talent and actual effort. It puts ours to shame, hot dirty shame. I found Look through a friend of a friend's LiveJournal. Anyway, they all crack my shit up or make me, y'know, think about, like, stuff. And lots of photos never hurt.

Back to the steppes of Hell. Er...work.

-xxoo

Posted 11:16 PM by Licketysplit

I'm Baaaaaaack



Your intrepid Lambchop finally has computer access because I have been PROMOTED. Here at the box factory, I have been moved from the floor to the FRONT OFFICE. No more tri-folds for me, its strictly applying glittery nail polish and winking at my boss.

Watching my little girl grow up and get married was both delightful and painful. Midnight wedding night saw me clinging to her ankle with a claw up her silky dress, crying "NOOOOOOO!!!" as she and Mr. H. weaved and wended their way to the bridal suite. Later, at home, I fell down the stairs. Now THAT'S a party!

So much has happened in addition to these startling achievements of Lickety and myself. With Mr. Lee dressed to the nines, there were 3am cabrides to Chinatown to partake of sashimi and sake. He chased me through a sprinkler on the last day this year you could still see green leaves on the Bay State Road. Beautiful! There were four new paintings; there was a party for the twins, a party for polka-dots and a party for Pac-Man (it was his birthday). There were some shows and a week straight of Halloween. All this really amounts to is me falling down the stairs in different colored wigs.

Licketysplit and I have often discussed the merits of being totally mad. Permanent lu-lu. I have made up my mind to push the boat off for good this time. I can contemplate shinyness all day. It came to me while I traipsed through Newark on a random Sunday, wearing bunny ears...

...oh there is more...

-xo

Posted 3:31 PM by Lambchop

I, Melvin



Already today I have been provoked to the brink of madness. As I wandered into the train station at the start of my morning journey, I thought I heard the strains of "The Star Spangled Banner," but in a manner so devoid of musical talent that I thought a wee child must be having his way with a recorder. As I descended the stairs, I saw that it was in fact a gentleman of competent mental age wielding a fife.

He gamely struck up an off-key attempt at "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." I clenched my fist and rolled my eyes heavenward, debating what to do. Should I club him dead where he stood with my umbrella? Should I offer him money to stop playing until the train came? I feared that either approach would lead to an unpleasant discussion on the nature and quality of my patriotism, so I slunk away. I may indeed be a patriot, but I am no nationalist, and there is nothing inherent in the meaning of patriotism about suffering through the abuse of the Western musical scale. Just try telling this to the Ashcrofts among us.

Then he lurched into an utterly tuneless rendition of "Greensleeves," followed by a dissonant take on Pachelbel's Canon. All bets are off, I thought, I owe it to myself and the rest of the populus to strike him dead. The train was approaching at long last, and the hapless fool began to tweet his way through "When Johnny Comes Marching Home." I lunged viciously, but was restrained at the last second by a burly buffoon wearing a fleece vest that read "Pro Player."

And you sir, you are a professional at what endeavor? Balding? Overeating? The wearing of stone washed DENIM? I hissed and narrowed the pupils of my eyes like a lizard, and he released me from his grasp as if burned. I dove into a waiting car and stalked to a seat, only to be displaced by an immensely fat woman.

I sulked all the way to the terminus of my route. I wasn?t even able to delight myself with my favorite game of imagination, wherein I script little cards bearing grooming and sartorial advice to be handed to the other passengers.

-xxoo

Posted 8:30 AM by Licketysplit

Please welcome?a Tarantula

We have a family of spiders living in some ambiguous part of the car. Sometimes they crawl out from behind a visor or across the dashboard. Then we freak out and wave our hands in the air, while yelling "Ahhhh! Ahhh Ahhh!" This does make driving more difficult. Finally, the non-driver scrounges up a piece of paper or an atlas page from a less popular state (like Alabama or Arkansas) and squooshes the brute. This is no small undertaking because these are big fleshy gangly white spiders. They bear a passing resemblance to Dr. Phil.

Today I was wondering how cold it has to get before they die of exposure. I said "I'm going to ask a spiderologist." Mr. H said "I'M BRIAN FELLOWS."

So I turned to my old friend the internet. It seems that the organs of spiders just swim around in hemolymph, which is their sorry excuse for blood. They survive during the winter by burrowing for warmth and lowering their metabolic rate. That's what I'm doing right now. Except my strategy involves a bottle of wine and a plate of pasta and a duvet rather than leaf mold.

We had one more parasitic encounter before we even made it into the house. The downstairs neighbors waylaid us and asked us to look at their computah because they took it to Best Buy after they got it from their brotha, and they put the bits and the bytes in it, but they can?t get on the internet because Comcast says they don?t have enough bits, but they left them a CD, and then they had to call Microsoft, and that cost thuhty dollahs, can you believe it, but they still aren?t on the internet, not the high speed one, and they need a Windows 98 disc because they can?t download the explorer, and their friend Sheryl had a look, and she is so good with computahs, but she couldn?t figure it out eitha, and could we just take a look?

Of course someone at work already basically asked me that same question today, so I was able to answer in no uncertain terms "Find where it says 'Attachment' in the menu bar of your email program, then choose 'Save.'"

Here's some pictures of spider bites. There are more vile pictures in the lower left nav if you are so inclined.

-xxoo

Posted 9:22 PM by Licketysplit