Wednesday, August 31, 2005

You're Standing Too Close to the Screen

While you're admiring the fruits of my inability to resize pictures while my iPhoto is broken, please also take time to consider this:

"Searching for Bobby Fischer" has some awesome dialogue. It's mostly stuff I would never allow myself to actually write (at least without any sense of irony..."He's better at this than I've ever been at anything in my life!"). But somehow when I hear it coming out of Joe Mantegna's mouth, I just want to jump up and scream, "That's right, bitch!"

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Instead of Telling My TV Again

I'll just tell you: I can't stand that stupid commercial with Lee Iacocca and his SUPPOSED granddaughter. Forget the Jason Alexander and Snoop Dogg atrocities, because this one with the kid will forever be the worst......

It's a sunny, southern, Werther's kind of day; Lee Iacocca's talking some country bullshit about cars and families to this ugly, red-headed kid. Then, out of nowhere, the freckled brat decides to openly mock her grandfather, a giant of the automotive industry. She evens speaks slower, as if to say that Lee Iacocca is in someway retarded. Just who the fuck does she think she is?

Finally, the reverse shot of Iacocca at the very end. His lips say, "That's my girl," but his eyes are more, "You talk back again and I'm gonna burn you in the face with a special cigar I been saving ever since I ripped it outta Jimmy Hoffa's fat, dead hand."

Watch it. Tell me I'm wrong.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Hypothetical Social Commentary from the Lazy

If only I had more energy, courage and artistic ability, I would love to display my own versions of the miniature bronze sculptures that populate the 14th St. subway station. Only instead of the cute little "whoops, caught you trying to jump the turnstile" cops, they'd be the "freeze, or I'm gonna shoot you in the face with my M16" kind.

Or maybe fancy tile mosaics that follow you with their camera eyes, Scooby-Doo style.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Child actors rule: Robert Iler edition

I played poker with this kid last night. I can officially report that he was not high, but he did steal people's money.

Monday, August 22, 2005

Postpartum Depression

I can't believe we actually have a medical term for "Holy god, I just shit out a kid and now my life is ruined."

Check this out, and tell me it's not the same "condition" men have when they get married. It's called regret.

Sunday, August 21, 2005

Internal Monologue #1

Cholo on the F train wearing a rubber "I (Heart) Mexico" bracelet:

"Yo Esse, I do love Mexico. I mean, not enough to stay there...but enough to throw down 99 cents like all those yuppies who suddenly care about cancer 'cause some gringo on a bike lost a ball."

Saturday, August 13, 2005

My New Blog

Hi! I'm Paula's new blog. Remember that lame Friendster blog, the one that emailed people everytime Paula posted? WEAK! So here I am, all pretty and nice. My only drawback: I'm not, as you would expect, Why is this? Well, because someone just took that URL. Someone with CANCER.

But anyway, thank you for visiting me. Please check back soon to read a bunch of nonsense.

Paula loves to write nonsense.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Excuse Me, Mr. TV?

Did you just say there's a place where I can get processed chicken product that's been "...stripped down, tenderized and ampliFRIED?!"

Fuck yeah, Burger King.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

Just Like Me

Cows are lactose intolerant too. I fucking knew it.

Monday, August 01, 2005

My Real Life

I have an infestation of tiny, bity red ants in my bedroom. But I'm too afraid that I'll find something horrible if I look for the know, like a billion ants under my bed, feeding on the severed head of my neighbor's dog. So I just wait for the little bastards to crawl out into the open and then I spray them with Clorox.


The other day my mom called me from middle-of-nowhere France, where she's spending the summer at some hippy art retreat. I zoned out in the middle of the conversation (as I tend to do), but then I heard her say, "...and the fucking donkey woke the whole goddamn village up last night!"

I've got to start listening to the beginnings of people's stories.

An Open Letter

Dear Boy Scouts,
Perhaps you missed the first few clues. I don't like you.