Bedtimes Are Getting Later.

The Yankees just squeaked it out last night with Nick Swisher's solo home run in the top of the ninth. Andy was pitching so admirably through the eighth inning the louts had the audacity to complain about how many warm up pitches Mariano was able to throw. As if it matters please.

Deftly avoiding a nervous breakdown as I recently had a meltdown and quit my job. Was offered a gig in LA, that I just couldn't groove on at the last minute so am here in the Northwest looking for new non-lame employment. Some recruiter has contacted me and is dangling temp gigs at the mega-crisis, and that may just send me to a viewing of Robin Hood in the middle of the day. Old co-workers are gathering at a local bowling alley and are encouraging me to come and make a spectacle of myself. Tell all my old co-workers what I really think of them. Altogether tempting in that it's the kind of thing one generally dreams about, but never does... I will never make a spectacle of myself. Never. And certainly not in order to make a point to people of no consequence.
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The A.P.C. denim I bought back in February is now officially "filthy" and has to be washed. Or "rinsed in Woolite Dark" as they suggest, but something must be done.

Structure From Emptiness.

Absolutely went nuclear on AT&T yesterday. I cycled through no less tha 6 of their telephone reps and left each one with a quivering voice objecting to my assessment of their skill and competence. I eventually grew weary of the exercise and concentrated on the baseball game. There is after all an app that performs their function anyway.

And about that... It's not to say that the girls played poorly, no not at all. They have, on occasion, played somewhat better. A bit more sharp on the field, but I am sure they are just in quite a pique over the Red Sox cheating from the night before and their nerves got the better of them. I certainly wouldn't say they were "clobbered" like this ridiculous cock. They gathered themselves and closed the lead late in the game, but there were just not enough innings left in the game to mount a serious 8 run comeback.
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This "gal" at my work talks incessantly about her children and her grandchildren. Seriously won't shut up about them. I got to work this morning and she was yammering on to this Filipino lady who pretends to not understand any English, and I for once understand why she feigns ignorance of our language. Focusing on the Internet. Super duper hot rugby player is being followed by me on Twitter. He's been working in his garden, messing up tractors, posting pictures of his misadventures and this morning has posted a pic of his friend taking a shit. I fucking love Twitter.

Now Is The Time To Look Away.

The Yankees game last night is clouded in scandal. I'm going to just take Joe's word for it that the Red Sox did something underhanded and despicable in order to defeat, I mean cheat, the Yankees. They pulled an ineffective pitcher under the pretense of injury giving the relief pitcher unlimited time to warm up. Well maybe not unlimited, but more time than he should have received. The loss is being protested and I didn't even know you could do such a thing over rule 8.03 or something which goes to show that you learn something new about this remarkable game all the time.

Game dragged on last night so I started "two fisting" it with the game on the television and a documentary on Quantum Electrodynamics on my computer. It really took me back to days I wouldn't mind revisiting. Occasionally.

Listening to the New National album High Violet and it's dope. Had to take off The Boxer in order to make room on my nano which is not cool.

Yes, Well I Do Walk On The Wild Side.

Managed to make in home in time to watch the last half of the Yankees/Red Sox brawl which actually happened to be the better half. And it was a brawl! Hits, runs and scrapping all around although I hardly have to say that the Yankees looked far better doing it.

Kevin Douche-lick was trying to catch the white orb when he ran into some dude's elbow and then acted all offended. I really couldn't stop laughing. Have I mentioned how much I despise Kevin-Douche-lick. Him and his stupid goatee which actually just looks like a giant vagina slapped on his chin. I seriously can not stand the sight of him.

I was in the dining room when marcus Thames hit his first walk off homo ending the whole affair. I was so happy they won and so bummed I was on the phone and in another room when they did. Puddles, but the best possible kind!

Effing rain wrecked my morning, but I had this unwavering inclination towards lotus flower perfume. It wasn't until the bus was about to drop me off on Marion that I realized that the entire area of the bus surrounding me was deserted. Success? Well it's early and I'm still waking up so I'm going to take the leap and say Yes!

There Are Things About Me.

Yeah, quite fucking naturally I went to see Robin Hood this weekend. It was magical, but I am biased. I can't actually imagine anyone sitting through the movie unless they are genuinely interested in the period. There's no need to go into the whole how none of it ever actually happened.

Eileen Atkins was amazing as Eleanor of Aquitaine, and I'm actually a little bummed I didn't pick up the biography I recently saw. It was only $1 sheesh. And this is not the first time I've heard Ms. Atkins utter "The King is Dead, Long Live the King". Homie playing Richard I was actually doing a rather good Anthony Hopkins impression, but he was done away with quickly in what they oddly called France. They were calling a lot of shit France which was a little disconcerting, but not as disconcerting as the rage I began to feel as those saucy French troops began to land on the beaches of Dover. My fists were clenched and I was in a state. I was quite taken away actually! Go see it! But don't complain to me about being bored.
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Saturday was an amazing day and I trotted all about the Hill getting all manner of errand ran. Garage sale season is upon us and I have been tempted by more than one sale I've happened upon.

Weather is gloomy today and the AC at work is still busted. Walked to work expecting lame and lame is what I found in my inbox. Just continued through the weekend in my absence. Stopped at the coffee shop on Harbor Steps for some yes coffee and was confronted with two lesbians in track pants absolutely dripping with perspiration. I vomited slightly in my mouth, gathered myself, and focused my eyes on anything other than them. Truly an example of how bad an idea it is to leap headfirst into physical fitness regimes whiile in your autumn years. Ease into it.

I read somewhere that vomiting in your mouth gives you canker sores. Fucking drippy gross bitches.

Quite Enough Of Those Questions.

Lady who's knitting as she walks and chuckling to the sounds of her ipod is the most seriously touched person I encounter on the way to the office. Homie wearing a parka even though it's suppose to hit close to 75 degrees today isn't even a close second as he wears the same parka every day. Just his thing. Bee dive bombed my ass on University and Boren. Knocked my sunglasses off my face shewing the bloody thing away and busted them. Not really bummed since I have plenty others, but none with me so slightly deflated for a Friday morning.

Was told to bring shorts to work in case the AC is still busted, and I compromised and brought flip flops. The AC is quite naturally still busted so this is good. But the idea of wearing shorts (as I believe I've mentioned) is foreign to me. Being told what to wear by some middle management douche lick rocking Dockers almost makes me expire right there on the spot. Havaianas, khakis, white tee with bangle bracelet. Subtle Chanel necklace under the tee. Good enough for a casual Friday in a blast furnace jackass?

Well anyway, I've taken my B complex this morning and I have vowed not to allow anything that happens in this lurid office upset me today. Just roll with the punches, look flawless and smile. But never a smile that portrays exuberance or joy. No never that.
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Style Tip - It's never too late to hang up the studded belt.

Feelings Of Boom.

The Stanley Cup Finals are interfering with the transmission of Coronation Street. Which is bad. They show them at 3:30 while I'm still enslaved, and they repeat the whole week on Sunday morning. I missed them last Sunday morning, and will just be in fits if it happens again.
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The Yankees won 8-0 last night which was 7 runs more than they needed if you ask me. What was even more galling was how they, if given the chance, would have wasted even more. 8 nothing in the bottom of the eighth and the bases are loaded. Bases loaded with all runners staring longingly at home plate. I just about fell off my chair.

The most uncomfortable moment of the game was when they did an interview with Eminem and Jay-Z. Eminem repping Detroit, and Jay-Z all about New Yawk. I didn't realize, but Jay-Z is a lot gayer than Eminem. Buckets gayer. I mean he seriously opens his mouth and a purse falls out. I don't know what I was expecting from a guy whose first big brake came from looping samples from the musical Annie, but he seemed so much more butch in his songs.
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By way of update, the AC is not fixed in the wretched shit-hole. The smell of sewer still lingers out the front door, and people are afraid of one of the bathrooms. I complained about the ghastly heat and they moved me into a cube farm. Jerks. Something about the cube farm is appealing to me though.

Better To Disengage

Last night's game was a rain out which was only a minor puddle as there was all the news of the first coalition government since Churchill's wartime coalition. Quite historic actually and I got a little choked up. I listened to the speeches on the bbc while at work, but I think I was the only one listening. Which gives me cause to wonder if this is really the place for me.

Came to work where the low rent shit-hole of an office is now a sweltering hot-house. It started like this yesterday and got worse over the evening. Exposed brick is a recipe for HVAC disaster. The mindless drones hadn't said anything. They just sat there with these fans blazing their frizzy hair all about.

No one seemed to mention anything last night and this is when I really start to think they do this shit deliberately to piss me off. They suggested that I send an email to someone. This is what I'm here for? To articulate your thoughts for you? I sent the fucking email, but I was so floored at actually having to send the damn thing I do fear it may have been a bit "testy".

I'm already planning my escape to the park in the event that they can't fix this wretched AC or find me an office on a floor with AC. Is that too much to ask? Apparently it is, but I am not going to be having some fan blow in my face all day. Oh dear God someone is on a chair trying to poke something through the vent. They're Visigoths!
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This makes me want to start smoking again. This, and the aforementioned fuck-nuts I spend Monday-Friday with.

Reflection A Bit Frightening.

Style Tip - Unless you are at the beach or you happen to be 12 years old playing in a playground somewhere then shorts are most likely wildly inappropriate. I rarely leave my house in them. Even when it's 90 degrees because it's a matter of principle and one might even say breeding. You can always tell who the tourists in LA are because they are the only ones wearing shorts. Unusually hysterical when it's April or worse May!

I only bring this up because we happened to have some unseasonably warm weather and I just saw way too many shorts on the loose. Now, I understand shorts are kinda the "rage" right now, and that they are all that's hot on some "blogs", but that in and of itself does not make shorts appropriate. Merely trendy. And wearing shorts doesn't mean you're "with it" or "happening" or "of the moment". No. And that last one isn't a joke I read it on some blog. It just means you're a trend whore without a mind of your own and probably closets filled with long forgotten fug.

You see they need to make and hype and peddle shorts because they are just that much different from pants. And of course you have plenty of those and aren't easily sold on new ones, but you know what you don't have?

A lot of things I imagine, but it doesn't give you the right to wear shorts. You probably don't have herpes, but that doesn't mean you have to go rub your face in some ho-bags vagina. Just saying.

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And the word bespoke gets bandied about all too often with little regard for what the word actually means. Generally it means something made to one's specifications. Although this is more costly than "off the peg" it doesn't mean that all things that cost a lot are bespoke. Having a hefty price tag doesn't make something bespoke, just expensive. Additionally, and someone needs to explain this to selectism, calling something bespoke does not in fact mean it is bespoke. I can call an elephant a monkey and only the most very impressionable and vacant will be convinced. I understand that the vacant and impressionable are probably their target audience, but I thought I'd just put that out there.

There Is A Time And Place For it After All.

Weekend was absolutely drowned in baseball. Yankees trounced the Red Sox 10-3, and then 14-3 on Saturday afternoon wasting Jesus knows how many runs in the process before just getting tuckered out and succumbing to the Red Sox last night in a haze of a game wherein they lost 9-3. One could say they could have used some of the runs from the nights before, but I'm not going to say anything even if I already kinda have. I'm just going to sit here.

Did the courtyard planting as well as my small herb garden in the back with lovage, oregano and chives. There was the tiniest ever drunkest shrew on the sidewalk who wasn't long for this world. Kept walking sideways. Once he stopped breathing Annonymous D placed him in the dumpster with what I hope was an appropriate degree of ceremony.

Yesterday was the very first day of the Summer Freak Show (Farmers Market) and everyone was in a deliciously foul mood. Flaunting their respective personality disorders about and throwing what emotional baggage they had around for the whole neighborhood to see. Just delightful!

I scored some blue and purple potatoes (no lies) as well as some enormous cucumbers. Really I said I wanted two so they gave me the biggest ones they had! Grabbed some tamales which are gross and just what you might expect on Capitol Hill oh well. I imagine the tamales in Ballard are just as vile. They come with a side of inexplicable grilled vegetables. Beets, turnips and God knows what else.

Rolled into work this morning where this mindless dip-fuck insists on trying to have a conversation with me (like actually while I'm trying to write this) and it takes a fierce & dizzying barrage of "I see"s, "You don't say"s & "Oh My"'s to make him disperse. Exhausting. Fuck, the phone is ringing.

Having Read Bagehot Helps.

Serious puddles!

Our twittering and ultimate fighting hottie Roger Huerta lost his last night's tussle with some ogre named Pat Curran. Did not anticipate this.

The mindless freaks at work seem to find it necessary to inundate me with ponderous and irreverent questions and I have not had time to check my twitterings. Which is boo.
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Yankees play those douche-bags again this weekend.
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Had two episodes of volcanic ash cloud delayed Country Lifes waiting for me when I got home yesterday. Plus all my fresh gear from the UK was waiting for me in FedEx pouches. Shirts from Folk, and the Passarela Death Squad tee is seriously the softest wispiest cloth I have experienced and I have a closet full of seriously soft and wispy shit.

Uber lame local McBoutique Blackbird wants you to know that they'll be carrying Folk in the fall. They've made a habit of this. Links you to an article from Selectism from last month they do. I don't know how I came to receive their "newsletters", but I'd seriously like it to stop. Sorta like announcing that they are about to be on what was once considered the scene and would like to talk about it. I know I've bagged on these assholes so much that it's started to lose all meaning, but they do bring me down with their self-impressed and congratulatory pronouncements of what the rest of us came to understand some time ago.

Everything would be alright if they would just change their name to "Me Too". Although given their penchant for the over-hyped & ordinary they might prefer "Me Too & Giles" or some such bullshit. "Me Too + Guiles" perhaps?

One shop that I actually can stand has opened it's online shop. H Lorenzo/H Man is available on the links at the left they stock Demeulemeester, Watanabe, etc. & the ultra hard to find & predictably priced Shellac is there as well! And that's not all. I have ravaged their sale room like a rabid squirrel and have walked away sated with loads of unwearable gorgeousness! So next time you're in the area of Sunset Plaza check them out!

Video Kills The Radio Star.

"Rolling around on the mat" says it all indeed! "Getting back on the horse and keeping going" is sound advice as well!

Lets Try This Again Shall We.

U.K. elections today and I am just on pins and needles. Communications between the Americas and the United Kingdom have been frozen ever since the Icelandic volcano grounded my episodes of Country Life. How I'm managing to keep my finger on the pulse is anyone's guess.

Watched House of Cards last night right after the bbc news. I simply love the program, and as in the video I too sometimes have an inclination to take my co-carbies out back and shoot them. The copy machine as well every time the useless thing needs servicing. Maybe if the service dude were hot, but no, of course not, he's not.

Yeah Yeah Underdogs Unite Blah Blah.

Yesterday's game against the loutish Orioles was fresh. The Yankees won 4-1 and tres dreamy Yankees catcher Francisco Cervelli is making himself more than useful while poor Georgie recuperates from an owie.

Had three hits a sacrifice bunt and pulled a Derek by bounding into the dugout to make a catch and almost falling headfirst before his teammates and coaches could steady him. This was by far the highlight of the game and the moment when they started showing Cervelli in all the highlight reels.
He just ran ran caught the ball and toppled ass over tea kettle into the dugout. And they replayed it over and over again.

Run, run, catch, ass up.

Run, run, catch, ass up.

Run, Run, catch, ass up.

You get the point, but I was simply mesmerized by watching this fine Italian ass just go run run catch & then up it goes. One of his teammates placed his hand on the precariously perched hiney in an effort to steady him before getting hold of his senses and removing it. I just thought "Oh sweetie, you've so waited 7 months for that moment and you ruined it. Just ruined it. Right in front of the camera too!"

Over and over in the replay his ass is going up over the railing and I'm sitting there open mouthed thinking how thoroughly fucking amazing this game is, but then I feel a little bit dirty and manipulated by MLB. I mean there's this, and the way they just let the camera linger on Chompers' booty sometimes is just galling! Galling!

Capped off the evening by narcing out to a documentary on alternate universes. Postulates the existence of 4 types of alternate universes. Those that occupy the same physical universe as our own given the assumption of infinite size, those that are self contained within branes within a higher dimensional "bulk", and then two others that must have been fascinating, but obviously not run, run, catch, ass up fascinating.

Happy Cinco De Mayo yo!

Putting My Scandal In Perspective.

Dude!

It's on TMZ and everything. It couldn't be more unsavory. And Gloria Allred? Are you fucking kidding me?

Oh Jesus! And now some whacky Utah law is being thrown in the mix?

Your Famous Yes We Get It.

The girls have won 7 of their first 8 series which is the first time they have done so in quite a long time. So long it caused someone to mention it during last night's game, but I was distracted by something and didn't catch the actual figure. I have noticed in myself a certain casualness when I sit down to watch a game, and it's like the third inning or something, and the Yankees are ahead by a few runs, and it's like, oh look, the Yankees are winning. Isn't that nice dear?
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I scandal has erupted at work. Scandal is probably a bit of an exaggeration, but I think it's the best word to describe the email fail that occurred yesterday afternoon. Job basically entails reviewing and forwarding a lot of emails. Dizzying variety of emails sometimes. All sub-literate and ponderous. Some personal, however, and invariably bitchy. Accidentally forwarded one of these email threads to an inappropriate group of people prefacing the entire thread with instructions for something associated with work and not at all related to the sniping venomous diatribe contained in the thread below. Email recall feature was in some sense effective, but not entirely so. Shoot. These things happen I suppose.

On the plus word got out about my forwarding fail. Probably because I have never laughed harder in my life and the number of personal emails I'm now receiving at work has dropped to zero!

Yes I think I've earned it yet baby.

Labors Like These Can Never Be Lost.

Kicked off May by turning the page on my super hot Ben Cohen calendar and it goes without saying that I had to stifle a gasp. Hotness like this really impacts me in a profound way and I quite lost control of myself for a moment.

Watched baseball this weekend cuz rugby could not be found. The girls wasted so many runs yesterday I just don't know what to say. 12-3 in the end. You can do the math there. Derek just smacked the daylights out of the poor ball while RoRo was taking a day off from the excitements.



End Clothing was having a sick promotion over the weekend. Free International shipping on all items. This, coupled with the realization that I wouldn't have to pay VAT tax on the items, and I was in heaven. A bit naughty perhaps, but they accept paypal so it wasn't even like spending reals money. Scored some fresh summer shirts from Folk & YMC as well as a steamy Passarella Death Squad number. Not the one above, but very similar. I guess it would have been more helpful if I had mentioned this before or during the promotion, but still exciting. Now alls I have to do is the Dance of the Mad Bastard with FedEx and get my gear.