Internal Monologue #2:

"Hmph, riding the subway to work everyday so the poor people think I'm just like them....Nice move, braniac."

Just Send Cash

Goodness, it's been a long time since I wrote a post here. I suppose I must've been awfully distracted by my impending birthday...

Which is TODAY.

How Long Do You Think You Will Last?

Chalala really needed that truck.

A Boarding School for Girls

Actual names from the 2005 alumnae magazine of my alma mater, Garrison Forest:

Old School

Reute Butler
Tootie Whealton Burrows
Pendie Pendergast Bell Lippincott
Lowrie Wurts Ebberts
Kitty von Stade Krumpe
Ginnie Croker Easter
Kinko Bailey Hackney
Peppy Heppie Heppenheimer Chase
Taine Yearley Draper
Mimi Stone Medina
Brigid Biggs Buendia
Katie House Constable
Mary Deas Boykin Wortley
Sally-Heath Fahnestock Lloyd
Susan Fremont Fledgling Bird Giancana
Susie Boo Boocock Weld

The Poos

Poo Dana Putsch
Pooh Kuhn Browne
Poo Hoblitzell
Pootah Barrett Rich

They're Really Not Strippers

Bambi Glaccum
Bunny Renaud
Buppy Rawson
Keithie McKendrick
Meriwether LeBlond
Muffie Murray
Muffy Mudge
Sassy Stifel
Westy Litz
Winky Warfield
Weezie Pistell

White Things

Bunny Wight Herring
Christine White Man
Louise White Christmas

They're Really Not Porn Stars

Polly Dickey Cockburn
Titia Dick Ellis
Gay Buck Bennett
La Biggs Moan

Bob Denver...This Is Your Life

This is why Hollywood rules. Special thanks to ImdbPro.com for providing the worth of a man, boiled down into a line graph.


Please don't miss the tiny little gravestone icon.

Nit-Picking Tragedy

Ahhh...internet access. I've been without you for too long, as I've spent the last many days wandering the winding country roads of Maryland in search of the meaning of life. Luckily I've found it, and I plan to slowly reveal the purpose of our collective existence through hidden clues in future blog entries. Tune in, Blogfans!

While we're on the subject, who wants to start a petition to have the hurricane retroactively renamed? It just doesn't seem fair that so much suffering has been at the hands of a natural disaster with such a wussy sobriquet. Hurricane Salvatore or Hurricane Macho Man Randy Savage would be fine, but Hurricane Katrina sounds like a toe-headed Girl Scout in knee socks blowing on a dandelion. And our history books simply deserve more, damn it.

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!"

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.

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.

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.

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.

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."

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, pauladixon.blogspot.com. 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.

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.

Just Like Me

Cows are lactose intolerant too. I fucking knew it.

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 source...you 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.
Sincerely,
God

Some Travel Photos

Am I the Only One...

...who finds this a little Gattaca?

...who noticed that the phrase "to spread the sacred word of our Lord Jesus Christ the Almighty" somehow failed to appear ANYWHERE in the VeggieTales mission statement?

...who thinks an above-ground pool that's exactly the size of your brownstone's entire "backyard" is fucking ridiculous? And am I odd for not enjoying the fact that any and all splashing in said pool by neighbor children and dogs (actual quote: "But Mom, I didn't throw Buster in this time! He fell all by himself - I swear to God!") creates an instant downpour on my side of the fence? I mean, who wouldn't want a laptop chock full o' chlorine, right? Clearly, I'm the asshole here.