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ELSEWARES » INDEPENDENT ART

what a lovely gift this would make me!

3 different colours, too… As my annoying ex-best-friend used to say, they’re all good.

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What’s the Buzz? Rowdy Teenagers Don’t Want to Hear It

I’m so excited I can hardly hold on to my Einsturzende baseball hat/begging bowl, but this guy in Wales found a sound that freaks kids out but the rest of the world doesn’t hear.

I’m not sure I totallyunderstand this, since the bands I loved most emitted high-pitched, monotonous tones, but it sounds like it’s simply a case of tit-for-tat.

A way to de-gather teenagers!

All I can say is, I LIKE IT!

Now if we could get them for morons, molesters and that one guy I’ve devoted my life to resenting.

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Calling all stoners! I’ve never heard of this, have you?

Dark Side of The Rainbow

If you don’t have the patience to carefully sync up your Wizard of Oz DVD with your Dark Side of The Moon CD, you can just buy it all together and experience the stupidity youself.

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Oh, and just one other thing…

I quit smoking about a month ago and I’d be willing to convert to the religion of your choice for a fucking cigarette right now.

Thank you.

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Well, la de dah, my faux-Jewish friend Paul is in the paper today. What a fox. And ladies–no trampling–he works in A LIBRARY!

http://www.startribune.com/stories/462/5731477.html

Paul also belongs to that very exclusive club of people who look better when they get older. I don’t know where he was hiding his sense of style for this story–perhaps under the mustache?

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Okay, now I’m trying to be a little more reasonable. If we move to Sacramento, we can get a 2 bd/2 bath place for $199k. From the looks of the preparations made for the sale, I’m thinking that the owners are kind of, say, stoned. Probably a safe bet we could offer them about $7.00 for the place. $10 if they take all their shit with them.

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Put yourself on the map. Maybe I can see you from here.

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As you may or may not know or not, now that I’ve hooked me a husband, I’m trying to drag him back to the land of my own people in California. To do so, I have many obstacles, including high prices and insane real estate agents.

For instance, I would like to live here:

We only need about $459,000 so feel free to help out.
(just make it out to Dogpatch2000)

Stay tuned!

Oh yeah, the insane real estate agent. This is verbatim (I’m disguising stuff so they won’t show up in search engines):

Howdy,

John XXXXX our Marketing MANAGER requested that I contact you today.
I am very frank and candid. The listing you wondered about is not one of this area best. Not worth a flight out here.

The picture doesn’t show that it is on Stilts.

I have only 1 other picture that I will send in a few minutes.

The price range you are looking at is what I call balcony seats.

Is there any way you could consider raising that budget? So I can show you stuff worth a flight out here.

try going to my [WEBSITE] a doing a search with a wider price range. Please Pretty Please with cake on top.

Happy trails . . .Until we meet again,

Pxxxx Lxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx REALTORS

the “REAL Performer” in real estate

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My Day So Far
(or, the essential blog post. The ur-post. Watch the internet come flying towards you in a massive centripedal implosion as every single living being clicks on this page to read what’s happening to me, Sari Gordon.)

I woke up this morning after a nightmare about a cabal of Shiseido models, designers and employees putting on a big show in a technical college in Vadnais Heights. Everyone was beautiful. Guess who wasn’t? I had to wear pumps that made my feet completely vertical and then had to climb up a rubbery wall with little footholds in it if I wanted to get into The Bar. What I really wanted was a phone so I could call a cab because I couldn’t figure out how to get home and even though it would have been like $300, I didn’t care and then I woke up. Do they even make Shiseido anymore?

So I make coffee, watch the new guy, Tom Butler on Channel 9, who I think is going to turn out okay. At least he’s an improvement over that temp guy, “Flanders” – but I’ll buy–hell, I’ll make a Bundt cake for anyone who gives me the clip of Dr. Ruth repeating “moist vagina” while being interviewed by the poor substitute anchorknob. But I love Keith Marler because he’s an unapologetic Trekkie and toupee wearer (“better put a little extra glue on the toupee today folks!”) and Alix is very stern and judgmental, so I love her and she’d kick Diana Piss’s ass and I love MA Rosko because she’s a geek and has an excellent dog.

Where was I?

Oh yeah, so after a few minutes of CSPAN (to cancel out any Oprah I might watch later), I take my first nap of the day from 7 to 8. Then I get up, check the caller ID to make sure I didn’t ignore anyone I actually wanted to talk to, went to the keyboard and checked for new Google mash-ups and find a new mash-up for that tired old “Hot or Not” crap. I am here to testify that a good 30-minute session of judging others is entirely more satisfying than 20 minutes of my old Transcendental Meditation higgledy-piggledy.

I mean, look at this car-wreck but please, don’t bother slowing down:

Shut the fuck up. I hate you. I hate your smug face, I hate your hat, I hate your t-shirt, I hate your bottle of something, I hate your brands, your blinds, your stupid printer and most of all (and here’s the number one clue that you only rate a “1″), if you cropped your picture specifically to include the fucking dolphin, I really hate you. Dolphins hate you. Dolphins would rape you if they were in the mood, and apparently when they’re in groups, they are in the mood. Much like you and your frat brothers.

I realize this really isn’t fair, since this guy is the penultimate definition of a tool, but he was rated like an 8.5! Shut up, stupid hat-head! Shut up, stupid bony arms and fingers that say “uncircumcised.” Shut up, cheap-ass JC Penny’s gold-plated chain and most of all shut up feeble gang sign and half-finished tattoo and cut-off, trembly muscle, $100 tattoo-exposing t-shirt. Extra shut up points for jaunty hat position and for trying to scowl before even reaching an age where he can sport facial hair. If he was my kid, I’d sell him for a bag of nickels.

Ditto for this turd-burglar. Though he receives prominent tool ranking for setting, i.e. track lighting, paneled ceilings, ruffly curtain dressing and oval-matted portrait. Go take a couple of pretend hits off one of your mom’s Marlboro Lights and barf in the woodpile behind the cabin.

I realize there is the slightest possibility that this is a funny person however he gets a 1 for making me dizzy with all the disorienting patterns and scale issues.

Probably sticking his finger in a Jell-O shot. Lighting fixture from Menard’s automatic disqualifier.

There are a lot of military guys posing with their weapons on “hot or not.com” Though I like weapons, this is gay for various reasons:

1. If you can post a picture of yourself while you’re on duty in Iraq, you’ve got it too good. Get back to work.
2. It’s not your weapon. It’s Army’s*.
3. That war thing. Just sort of a turn-off.
4. You’re in the supply room. Without the gun and the G.I. Jeans, you’re just another schmedrick stealing violet notepads in Peoria.

Okay, this guy almost survived the axe. I think he got a 6 because he looks old enough to enjoy naps. The goatee–even with the upgraded pencil-thin, boy band beard addition–is quite gay, I have to say, but he looks like he could be smart. He looks like he could be on break from a sales seminar and about two clicks from shoving his face into a stripper’s change machine, too, but there’s something a little charming about that. The biggest and most damning bit of all is, of course, the wallpaper. Those flowers say one thing and one thing only, “I’m divorced and visiting my sister.”

He needs time.

Oh and sorry, Bub. Zero points for posing with your kid. Especially with a picture of your wife and kid in the background. Minus major points for Slumberland lounger.

Oh yeah and then, I had this horrible awakening: I actually like Henry Rollins now. In fact, if Scott wouldn’t mind, I’d be happy to bake him a baby. Wouldn’t we have good offsprings? I hated Henry Rollins forever. Why do I love him now? Because he’s funny as hell. He’s not taking himself so seriously. He’s insightful. He’s sort of geeky. He seems, I don’t know, more Jewish.

Then, all my friends have been telling me they’ve been having the same problem as I have. I keep misreading shit. The bad part is that I have to read a lot of stuff twice because I know I read it wrong the first time. The good part is that what I think I see is pretty coherent and pretty funny. One of my friends always sees something raunchy. The bad part is that this will all melt down into delirium and nonsense sooner than later, so I might as well enjoy the previews.

Today, for instance, I was listening to The Clash and I looked down at the iPod screen to see the title and I thought it said, “Lower Back,” which tells you something about the cognitive lake I’ve been fishing in lately since the real name of the song was “Lover’s Rock.”

So there.

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I hate everyone forever the end by Sari Gordon.

Television’s checkered history is littered with smart, inventive critical gems that never managed to find an audience, at least ones sizable enough to continue to justify the shows’ existence on a prime-time schedule. The latest casualty is Fox’s ”Arrested Development.”