Sun 29 Oct 2006

Liveblogging the Pup Awards

Filed under: COSTUMES, MOMENTOUS OCCASIONS, PUPS — Alec @ 1847PM


“Looks like another ladybug!”

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Fri 20 Oct 2006

Nuremburg Chronicle

Filed under: ART, PRINTS — Alec @ 1221PM

Strange People section

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Wed 18 Oct 2006

F. S.

Filed under: ART, PRINTS — Alec @ 2019PM



Frank Stella
Arundel Castle | Arbeit Macht Frei | Marriage of Reason & Squalor | Delphine & Hippolyte
Gezira | Zambel | Avicenna | Kingsbury Run | Averros

Glug

Filed under: ART, PRINTS, UNDERSEA WORLD — Alec @ 1930PM


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Mon 16 Oct 2006

D. H.

Filed under: BEASTS, DEATH, DESTRUCTION, NEW YORK, RODENTS — Alec @ 2046PM

I never understood why is it that people hate mice. I always liked mice, even if they were biting through the bottom of my box of Honey Smacks. The whole standing-on-a-chair-screaming thing is odd to me; why not for a roach, who’s so much more inhuman and alien, and disgusting? Comparing a mouse running across the floor with the slow crawly throb of a millipede on a white wall there’s no contest. And mice can’t help squirming around all the time. Bugs stand way too still. When I turn on the lights and what I think is a smear of old tomato sauce on the wall right above the lip of the stove, a second later, starts moving, that’s unnerving. At first the roach thinks it can just wait me out, that I’m not going to notice him hanging out there, and then it’s like Fuck it, and makes a break for it, and I’m like Yow. Mice don’t do that. Being warm blooded prevents the creepy stasis that afflicts lizards and bugs. Also mice have fur, and fur isn’t scary.

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Tue 10 Oct 2006

How To Walk Quickly Through Times Square During Rush Hour

Filed under: DESTRUCTION, NEW YORK — Alec @ 2052PM

Times Square presents a steep challenge to even the seasoned New Yorker. Confusing traffic patterns, bright, flashing lights, gaudily-dressed out-of-towners: they all add up to one of the most ridiculous and inconvenient areas to traverse in our ridiculous, inconvenient city. And at rush hour? Fucking forget it. Take every working stiff just unchained from a dusty cubicle in some windowless law firm, add like four million schmucks from God knows where, stumbling out of Modell’s or Bubba Gump Whatever, and stir in a goulash of the usual screaming lunatics, teenagers groping around for MTV headquarters, and a bunch of cops on horses, and you have one really unpleasant stretch of pavement.

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This one’s for you, Chris.