Tag Archives: suicide

And the Oscar goes to…

O best beloved internet, today I took some time from my busy schedule to worry about getting that bird flu and whether or not Hilary Swank will wear Vera Wang. Then that baby of my acquaintance stopped by. Here’s the thing with babies: They are swirling existential voids. People think babies don’t know anything, but they are wrong. Babies know they are helpless and insignificant, and this rightly pains them. This one is constantly suicidal, throwing himself at electrical outlets with tongue extended. He is also good at seeking out buckets containing one inch of water. I feel bad stopping him since he seems to really know what he wants, but I am pretty sure assisted suicide is illegal, even in this godless liberal state. Not that I looked that up, so don’t believe junk you read on the internet.

This disjointed rambling brings us to the results of our Vomitola election. I know you’ve all been irritated and jittery waiting for these results. I praise those of you who voted multiple times, especially for me.

And the winner is —

Cease! Desist! Impudent whores, I claim this puny electronic fiefdom in the name of superior intellect.

While I am no stranger to the pleasures of the flesh and the mother’s milk of the vine, one cannot build a nation by telling the little creatures that they do not have to toil if they do not wish to do so. Indeed, I rather admire the notion of enslaving the sans-culottes. However, I simply cannot abide the necessary company of rogues and japesters required to bring this to fruition. Let them exist under the iron rule of my ministers, out of sight and distance of hearing.

Thus, I see no other course than to appoint myself Monarch in Perpetuit. It is for your own good, you incompetent strumpets! Democracy is pointless and ugly simply because the pointless and ugly are allowed as much of a say as I. Now yield me my due as sovereign, and I will endeavour to rehabilitate the status of this intellectual cesspool.

-Melvin I

I want hot noodles!

I really hope the Hellboy movie is fun. It’s got Nazis! And, um, Selma Blair. Odd.


Spalding Gray, ya bastard. Drowning has never been on my list personally. But I can understand the why. Sorry to hear it. It is hard to reach out from the midst of a black cloud. How do you call someone up and say “It hurts so bad, but I have no good reason. I don’t think I can do it anymore.” Either that person will feel put upon to be burdened thusly, or they will ignore it because it’s uncomfortable, and babble about the shoes they bought on sale. People frequently self-flagellate in the aftermath of a suicide, wondering why the person didn’t just call them up to talk. Sometimes death is preferable to saying another word. It’s not you, it’s them, like any breakup. Or is it? Ugh.


The baby shower. I saved the most horrifying thing for last! At one point some of the guests started to fight about who had the best mini van. Someone shut them down by saying “Well, mine rides like a Cadillac.” How can you top that, I dare you.

Then someone asked me what kind of cheese was in the goat cheese, raspberry, and pecan salad. So I told her, and she bellowed into the other room, “SEE, DAWN! I TOLD YOU it was FETA CHEESE!”

The low-carb dieters munched on meat and mayonnaise roll-ups. Many sports-themed outfits were received. And the “gift basket” was in full effect…instead of purchasing something actually useful, the individual fills a laundry basket with random crap from the dollar store. Oh look, novelty giant diaper pins. Frequently the cost will amount to that of one larger, useful item, but some feel quantity makes a better showing.

The worst part was that the whole event was a tacky extravaganza, from the plastic Farmer Baby favor bags to the overly be-ribboned floral arrangements. Yet everyone loved it, and complimented me on my good taste, saying how it “really shone through.” I am a mean, nasty person, because that only made me feel worse. When it’s my turn to be knocked up, I’m going to “elope” for the duration. I’ll just show up one day, bundle in tow. “Oh, this? Yeah, I found it. Someone left it on my car next to a gym flyer.”