10/9/07
so tell me
if i organized a cage fight between the girl who sings:
If you are chilly
please take my sweater
cause iiiiiii
looooove
the way you call me baby
on that fuckign annoying old navy commercial
with the girl who sings that cover of the cat stevens song:
how can i tell you that i love you
i love you
But I can't think of right words to say
on that fucking stupid diamond commercial
would you make a donation to pay for the cage, and the song rights for when we play it for the winner at the end? oh, i also need an admin assistant to do the scheduling and the afterparty coordination, so that's 36K for salary (hey, this is new york) and a catering budget of about 14K.
wait, maybe debeer's will sponsor this? i'll have my assistant get in touch.
although i just found out (i didn't know Director of Events had to do their own internet research, this is why i need an assistant, thanks) that Cat Power does the diamond commercial. and we all know she's fucking crazy so i guess the outcome of the death battle won't be much of a surprise.
hell, just get me two plane tickets to old navy and kay jewelers HQ and i'll just punch the marketing people in the face.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Beach typing
9/21/07
i'm listening to myself type on this keyboard and the sounds (just straight typing, when i'm not stuttering, slamming emphatically or typoing, an embarrassingly identifiable trait in my emails and gchats)
and the stops and starts, thoughtful pauses, and energetic determined unpunctuated sentences started to remind me of my grandmothers mah jong games at the beach with her leathery, chain smoking old beach friends. it sounds like this- pecking, unpredictable music.
she had a cabana at the beach and in the middle of the two rows she'd set up the table and these wizened jewish ladies (and one old funny guy named calvin, who used to tell me you knew you were fat when you could assertively grab two handfuls of stomach) would stagger over. because no one looks powerful walking in the sand, certainly not 70 year old women. they'd wordlessly set up and play, and most of the game was only interrupted when a grandchild would skip (again, not quite skip) up and ask for money for a hamburger. those were so fuckign good. cheap and charred, that smell is still magic.
they'd go till 4 or so and then we'd pack up, exhasuted and hyper and red and headachy and she'd drive us home. saturday nights she ate with our family, it was usually steak and fries.
bret and i didn't appreciate steak and fries at the time.
i didn't appreciate a lot of things at the time, i just realized.
i miss her, i loved her a lot. i wish she knew me now.
i don't think i put many typos in here but i'm not going to bother looking.
i'm listening to myself type on this keyboard and the sounds (just straight typing, when i'm not stuttering, slamming emphatically or typoing, an embarrassingly identifiable trait in my emails and gchats)
and the stops and starts, thoughtful pauses, and energetic determined unpunctuated sentences started to remind me of my grandmothers mah jong games at the beach with her leathery, chain smoking old beach friends. it sounds like this- pecking, unpredictable music.
she had a cabana at the beach and in the middle of the two rows she'd set up the table and these wizened jewish ladies (and one old funny guy named calvin, who used to tell me you knew you were fat when you could assertively grab two handfuls of stomach) would stagger over. because no one looks powerful walking in the sand, certainly not 70 year old women. they'd wordlessly set up and play, and most of the game was only interrupted when a grandchild would skip (again, not quite skip) up and ask for money for a hamburger. those were so fuckign good. cheap and charred, that smell is still magic.
they'd go till 4 or so and then we'd pack up, exhasuted and hyper and red and headachy and she'd drive us home. saturday nights she ate with our family, it was usually steak and fries.
bret and i didn't appreciate steak and fries at the time.
i didn't appreciate a lot of things at the time, i just realized.
i miss her, i loved her a lot. i wish she knew me now.
i don't think i put many typos in here but i'm not going to bother looking.
The Mall in November
9/17/07
I was in Williams Sonoma in high school and they were giving out samples of apple cider. apparently they were also giving out samples of beef gravy, because I wasn't paying attention and grabbed a cup and drank it thinking it was cider. it was beef gravy.
i don't know why there was beef gravy in cups. Maybe it was for dipping something.
my point is, I went to the mall too much when i was 15.
I was in Williams Sonoma in high school and they were giving out samples of apple cider. apparently they were also giving out samples of beef gravy, because I wasn't paying attention and grabbed a cup and drank it thinking it was cider. it was beef gravy.
i don't know why there was beef gravy in cups. Maybe it was for dipping something.
my point is, I went to the mall too much when i was 15.
To The Marketing Director at Keds
9/17/07
To Whom it May Concern,
I am proposing a brand new campaign for your fresh, young footwear line, one that might make some naysayers, scoffers, and so- so'ers turn around and say, "Huh? Was that a KED?" And i don't want more than 10%, sir. Or Madam. Or Sirs.
See, Mischa Barton, she's pretty, right? And in your ads, she looks like she's having a lot of fun. A lot. Her skin is clear, she's white, she can perch on top of an Ford Mustang in white slip ons without anyone screaming, "Geroff mah cah, hussy!"; she can trot down a boardwalk in a houndstooth low top with a brunette cascade down her back (fresh from the ocean!) with the most hither-y of smiles; she can kick your ass in a game of croquette and then go down on you while the sun sets over Cape Cod's shore, while her kicky plaid lace ups lie nearby.
Yeah, I know. I kinda want a pair of Keds now too.
But see? I've got a new angle. You ready? I think we should lose Ked's privileged, intoxicating, supernaturally clean image and go to where the Keds really are. Dump Mischa, and you'll see things start to shake up. Well, then who goes on the Mustang, you ask? Who blows Vanderbilt PuffyPants on the raquetball court?
See, man, here's the thing. You're a shoe company. Show shoes! Except cover them in blood.
Yep, that's right- Mischa out, blood spattered Ked in. It's the perfect image for our on the go teens and tweens and whatever the other one is. 'Mos?
Picture it, put it anywhere. On that beach in the setting sun. A single perfect, red smeared Ked lying next to a railroad track. In a dumpster. In the basement of the church orphanage. Outside of a Quiznos (for a dose of quick cross marketing)!
Give it some thought- I know it's edgy, and I know some OC fans might get a little fussy. But I think we might be able to grab some of the fence sitters on this one. Hey, what about a bloody Ked stuck on a post of a white picket fence?
I don't want a penny for that one.
I hope to hear back a favorable response for what I consider a fantastic way to shock bored consumers back into buying, buying, eating, using, buying, eating, eating.
Onto Nestle!
Best,
Nadine
To Whom it May Concern,
I am proposing a brand new campaign for your fresh, young footwear line, one that might make some naysayers, scoffers, and so- so'ers turn around and say, "Huh? Was that a KED?" And i don't want more than 10%, sir. Or Madam. Or Sirs.
See, Mischa Barton, she's pretty, right? And in your ads, she looks like she's having a lot of fun. A lot. Her skin is clear, she's white, she can perch on top of an Ford Mustang in white slip ons without anyone screaming, "Geroff mah cah, hussy!"; she can trot down a boardwalk in a houndstooth low top with a brunette cascade down her back (fresh from the ocean!) with the most hither-y of smiles; she can kick your ass in a game of croquette and then go down on you while the sun sets over Cape Cod's shore, while her kicky plaid lace ups lie nearby.
Yeah, I know. I kinda want a pair of Keds now too.
But see? I've got a new angle. You ready? I think we should lose Ked's privileged, intoxicating, supernaturally clean image and go to where the Keds really are. Dump Mischa, and you'll see things start to shake up. Well, then who goes on the Mustang, you ask? Who blows Vanderbilt PuffyPants on the raquetball court?
See, man, here's the thing. You're a shoe company. Show shoes! Except cover them in blood.
Yep, that's right- Mischa out, blood spattered Ked in. It's the perfect image for our on the go teens and tweens and whatever the other one is. 'Mos?
Picture it, put it anywhere. On that beach in the setting sun. A single perfect, red smeared Ked lying next to a railroad track. In a dumpster. In the basement of the church orphanage. Outside of a Quiznos (for a dose of quick cross marketing)!
Give it some thought- I know it's edgy, and I know some OC fans might get a little fussy. But I think we might be able to grab some of the fence sitters on this one. Hey, what about a bloody Ked stuck on a post of a white picket fence?
I don't want a penny for that one.
I hope to hear back a favorable response for what I consider a fantastic way to shock bored consumers back into buying, buying, eating, using, buying, eating, eating.
Onto Nestle!
Best,
Nadine
Cookie Puss
On the wikipedia page for Cookie Puss:
"According to Carvel lore, Cookie Puss is a space alien who was born on planet Birthday."
Amazing- he doesn't even have an accent!
Also:
"He requires a saucer-shaped spacecraft for interplanetary travel."
Well, duh, Wikipedia, you dumb fuck open- source website. He's an ice cream alien.
I like Fudgie the Whale, and Fridays.
"According to Carvel lore, Cookie Puss is a space alien who was born on planet Birthday."
Amazing- he doesn't even have an accent!
Also:
"He requires a saucer-shaped spacecraft for interplanetary travel."
Well, duh, Wikipedia, you dumb fuck open- source website. He's an ice cream alien.
I like Fudgie the Whale, and Fridays.
The Secret
8/1/07
the secret
i skimmed through this book at alan's suggestion in a bookstore. i don't really want to get into my thoughts on it, as i didn't really read closely, but suffice it to say i'm glad that if i don't THINK i'll get cancer, or won't get wet in the rain without an umbrella, i WON'T. very, very glad.
but hey, it did tell me something i liked. it told me to think about all the things i like about the people i know, and even list them. so here's a list of something i like about my top twelve. i dont
know quite what order they are in without looking. here!
bret- my brother has a giant brain and a giant heart, and he teaches me how to use mine better.
alan- at any given moment, i want to be wherever he is.
david- doesn't believe in faux pas, and lives that way. he's grand.
marsha- someone once called her 'exquisite' and it's the best word for her, ever.
dondrie- really, if i had to dance with someone forever. i should be so lucky.
josh- he sees art in any text message, evening, or moment. he is art.
leigh- has just the right quotient of sentimentality.
xua- is like the sun.
ben- surprises you.
daniel- he is a giant dutchman and his words are pictures.
sam- manages to make being 135 years old completely hip.
stone soup- makes good plays.
well, look at that. that did feel good, Secret! I owe you $23.95.
the secret
i skimmed through this book at alan's suggestion in a bookstore. i don't really want to get into my thoughts on it, as i didn't really read closely, but suffice it to say i'm glad that if i don't THINK i'll get cancer, or won't get wet in the rain without an umbrella, i WON'T. very, very glad.
but hey, it did tell me something i liked. it told me to think about all the things i like about the people i know, and even list them. so here's a list of something i like about my top twelve. i dont
know quite what order they are in without looking. here!
bret- my brother has a giant brain and a giant heart, and he teaches me how to use mine better.
alan- at any given moment, i want to be wherever he is.
david- doesn't believe in faux pas, and lives that way. he's grand.
marsha- someone once called her 'exquisite' and it's the best word for her, ever.
dondrie- really, if i had to dance with someone forever. i should be so lucky.
josh- he sees art in any text message, evening, or moment. he is art.
leigh- has just the right quotient of sentimentality.
xua- is like the sun.
ben- surprises you.
daniel- he is a giant dutchman and his words are pictures.
sam- manages to make being 135 years old completely hip.
stone soup- makes good plays.
well, look at that. that did feel good, Secret! I owe you $23.95.
rudimentary thoughts on sex
i was on the train to work today and i started looking around at other commuters. there was a couple with a baby near the door and for some reason, instead of just letting my gaze drift to other passengers or the zoni english school or ccny ads (which i really adore), i immediately started to picure them having sex.
and then, i really began to think about how sex just... makes new people. terribly novel thought, right? sex makes a new person! and then i realized that clothing stores are made specifically because of sex. to clothe these people.
i don't know why, but the store i pictured was that horrible place hollister my brother really likes.
and then i started to think of all the other stores that exist because people have sex-jennifer convertible and starbucks and apple store and target.
i could do without these stores, come to think of it. well, with the exception of target. but then what does that mean for the human population?
when i next started looking at everyone's crotches on the train, i decided that was the right time to turn up my headphones and reread my metro.
and then, i really began to think about how sex just... makes new people. terribly novel thought, right? sex makes a new person! and then i realized that clothing stores are made specifically because of sex. to clothe these people.
i don't know why, but the store i pictured was that horrible place hollister my brother really likes.
and then i started to think of all the other stores that exist because people have sex-jennifer convertible and starbucks and apple store and target.
i could do without these stores, come to think of it. well, with the exception of target. but then what does that mean for the human population?
when i next started looking at everyone's crotches on the train, i decided that was the right time to turn up my headphones and reread my metro.
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