Musings from the God of Cities

yes, yes, i realize it's officially after christmas, but like i said in my last post, i wanna get in as much 2004 stuff as i can while it's still 2004. that said, i present to you my the story of my very first christmas tree. growing up, my folks never got my siblings and i a real christmas tree. i think my mom didn't want to deal with picking up needles, and my father just didn't want to deal. through the miracle of half-assed parenting, though, they did managed to decorate random household objects too take the place of a real tree. more often than i care to admit, my childhood christmas tree was a lamp with decorations scotch-taped to it. there was always plenty of presents, but i always thought it would have been nice to have an actual and factual christmas tree. fast forward to this year. i'd bought a bunch of really nice ornaments at the moma store on ultraclearance and decided i was gonna get a tree. and get a tree i did. i enlisted in the aid of my formerworkgirlfriend and christmas entusiast, princess regina phalange:


we went out and bought me a lil' ole tree...


and took it home to decorate. i let princess regina do most of the tree-trimming. and by "i let" i mean "i was told to 'cause i was 'doing it all wrong.'"










me being me, some of my decorations were things that i'd found out on the street, like this earing:



when all was said and done, i had a my first tree, and underneath it, some lovely presents (courtesy of princess regina and her mum)

i realize it's almost christmas, but i never got around to posting these halloween pictures and i want to do it now before it's '05. (stay tuned for thanksgiving and christmas pictures next may!) anyways, i present you with pictures of dogs in costume at the thompinks square park halloween dog... thing.






















i really thought these hobbit dogs were pretty great:






this last dog wasn't in costume, but it did chase it's tail for like, forever. and that's gotta be worth something.

Labels: dawgsz

this past sunday, dw and i went to amy ruth’s restaurant to get out breakfast on. when we got there, we noticed that there was a line outside and opted against dining there, as we were both starving and not in the mood to wait. as we were standing in front of the restaurant trying to figure out where else we should go, we hear some woman behind us yell out, “yo, fuck what all dem hoes say! i been a loyal fan since day one!” at first i figured that the person yelling was just one of the many charming lunatics that this fair city is known for, but then i turned around and saw who she was addressing. standing on line was none other than the ill nana herself, foxy brown, smiling and absently waving to her boisterous fan.

having figured out where we’d eat, dw and i headed away, regretting not having said anything to mizz brown, like, “oh my god! can i have your autograph, li’l kim?” or “you were my favorite member of destiny’s child! they never shoulda have kicked you out.”

UPDATE: i got e-scooped by my own boyfriend!

1. the art piece i donated to the auction we had at the office went for a measly $10. and it was a pity bid, at that. ah well... a $10 donation to a children’s charity is better than no donation at all.

2. i read a review of the comic book black panther that said the artist who drew it made the title character "the definition of silent but deadly."

"i just fixed myself some tea on the hot plate here. my stomach’s gone. I can barely keep even this honey milked-up stuff down but i need the warmth. i’m in a hotel now. my studion’s history. a lot these days is history.

i haven’t even washed the blood off yet. not all of it’s mine either. still caked around my fingers. signs of it on my shirt. “what’s happened here?” i keep asking myself. “what have i done?” what would you have done? i went straight for the guns and i loaded them. the obvious thing was to shoot something. after all, that’s what guns are designed to do--- shoot something. but who? or what? i didn’t have a clue. there were people and cars outside my hotel window. midnight people i didn’t know. midnight cars i’d never seen before. i could have shot them. i could have shot them all.

i threw up in my closet instead."

from the house of leaves, by mark z. danielewski

The show consisted of what looked like nothing. The gallery had been emptied, the bare walls painted white, the windows, blue. Klein, through a friend, managed to hire Republican Guards, otherwise preoccupied with protecting the president and cabinet ministers of France, to watch over the place. A mob arrived; the local police and firemen had to be called in to disperse crowds spilling onto the surrounding streets. Special blue cocktails were served: a mixture of gin, Cointreau and methylene blue prepared for Klein by La Coupole, the famous brasserie. As Klein intended, the cocktails caused the urine of drinkers to turn blue for about a week, roughly the planned run of the show.

mr. eejit was telling me about the elevators at the hospital where he works. he said that there were two elevators. the regular one, and the service elevator. mr. eejit said that the only thing wrong about the about the service elevator was that if you took it, you'd have to ride "with patients".

as i'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer, i initially thought he meant "patiently, as the elevator is slow." but then i realized that that didn't exactly make sense and thought, "oh, maybe he means that there's an elevator operator, and her name is Patience, and boy is she a pistol!"

i finally got what he meant on my third try.

i guess it's true what they say, "if at first you don't succeed, you're a complete moron.