let's visit the land of imagination

i wish i had a tiny little jared leto all my own. i would keep him in a little glass box and look at him all day long and give him tiny little tubes of eyeliner and itty bitty fingerless gloves, and when i was sad i would take him out and he would scream his silly little songs and play a tiny guitar just for me and i would laugh and feel better.

i want to be a japanese rabbit

i would wear this all the time. i don't care how many hillbillies would laugh and point and get their guns, i would totally wear this and be happy with myself.

here is the link to minky shop, in case you want to see more of their adorable clothes imported from japan.

and the world spins madly on

iran has tested more missiles and the united states has vowed to defend israel at all costs.

quick, here is something to distract you from the thoughts of nuclear war creeping into your tiny minds!!!!

japanese street fashion to the rescue!

now the outside matches the inside

yes, that's right kids, it's now absolutely official: i am a dork. case in point...glasses. all the time. damned astigmatism.




as my beloved marilyn says in the fabulous film "how to marry a millionaire":

"men aren't attentive to girls who wear glasses"

guess i'll have to fall back on my rapier wit, indefatigable humor, and superior brain power to keep the boys lined up at the door...see, using my sarcasm already...

i'm sure it's every bit as tasty as you're imagining, you wretched filthy pervert

i found this little item at the grocery store and since that's what cell phone cameras are for, i had bob take a picture to share...you're very welcome.

my arch nemesis

a couple weeks ago, bob's oldest son elijah called and announced that we would need to pick him up at the airport in four days because he was leaving california and moving in with us. unexpected, but - alrighty then. so i drove to pennsylvania after class and wandered through pittsburgh international airport until i located the dirty hippie kid with the waist length hair. who was holding a cat carrier. unexpected, but again, i say, alrighty then. i can roll with these things, cause i'm cool like that. so i drive them back to west virginia and install them both in my living room. everything's cool, right? right....

turns out this Cat (who incidentally has no name, the airport tag on the pet carrier actually said "no name perrine" on it) is like, birthed from the bowels of hell or something. i think he has multiple personalities, an eating disorder, and a drug problem. the second night he was here he ate all the food in his rather large bowl and then broke into the kitchen cupboard and dragged out a new bag of cat food and ate at least a third of it. he also found the bag of catnip and dragged it out too, leaving it scattered all over the kitchen floor where he had apparently been rolling in it all night on some crazed kitty lsd trip. one minute he's rubbing on your leg and purring, like a perfectly normal little kitty would do, and then suddenly he's hissing and attacking you. after he fucked my hand up pretty badly (see exhibit a) i decided not to attempt to pet him anymore and just ignore him. but, since elijah went on the road with bob for two weeks, i have to feed this demon Cat and clean his litter box. i am satan's servant apparently. last night i went into what used to be my living room but is now elijah's room in order to give The Cat some water and he attacked my leg. i wasn't even looking at him, he just ran up and hissed and jumped me. so now i'm all paranoid and everytime he walks by me and gives me the evil eye i get as nervous as a virginal white girl walking in the wrong neighborhood alone at night with a short skirt on and $200 in cash in her purse.

don't let the photo fool you, folks. he may seem like an ordinary animal, but look more closely...see that evil glint? see the flames of hell dancing in his eyes? this Cat is dangerous. he's plotting my death right now, i'm sure of it...

ode to my lost gloves, wherever they may be

have could you have abandoned me, just when i needed you the most? i have searched everywhere for you, but alas, all is in vain...you have disappeared like a cloud blown from the sky, like the long ago child inside the adult, like jimmy hoffa, like the last lil smoky on the buffet table. maybe you will turn up in the most unlikely of places, but i fear we will never meet again. but still, i have the memories...i will never forget how you kept my hands warm while leaving my fingers free to be dexterous in the cold cold dental lab...how you enabled me to be warm, yet still stylish...how convenient you were during photography adventures...

r.i.p. fingerless gloves...i will never forget you...

milkman dan for president!

i can't decide who has a bigger claim on my heart, ted johnson or the ever delightful milkman dan. if you haven't discovered this hilarious and disturbing comic strip in your local underground paper, please, by all means, follow this link and enjoy. by the way, max cannon, the creator of this strip, is a childhood friend of bob's....which explains so much...there must have been something in the water those boys drank...

Anniversary

December 15th marked the first anniversary of our marriage, so naturally bob and I spent the day together. At work. In the truck. At the landfill. As unromantic as that seems, it was great to just have each other's company, and I always appreciate good photo opportunities. Besides, I had never really seen what actually happens to our garbage after we put it by the curb at night and the magical trash fairies whisk it away...

This is what several tons of baled garbage from New Jersey looks like on the back of a flatbed tractor trailer:
bob had picked it up in New Jersey the previous day and brought it down to West Virginia, and we were taking it to Kentucky. It was a rainy drive and the skies were a nicely dismal shade of gray, lovely. (Really, I mean that...I have always preferred overcast skies to sunny ones).
I also love factories...I think this one we passed had something to do with car manufacturing...
We arrived at the landfill and bob had to unstrap all the bales of garbage:
He has a tough job...Did i mention it was raining? Exhibit A, ladies and gentlemen - mud:I stayed in the truck and played with the camera and the mirrors...Two roads diverged in a yellow wood...I mean a landfill...and we drove up the one on the left to where the real business happens:Unfortunately I wasn't allowed out of the truck (plus bob warned me the foremen might confiscate my camera if they caught me taking pictures anyway) so I am unable to show you the veritable mountain range of refuse that was spread before me. It covered miles and miles. Here's bob, checking it out...
The equipment used to move the garbage around was quite impressive - the kind of vehicles little boys dream of driving, with giant spiky tires:I guess it all has to go somewhere, but looking at this place, i couldn't help but hate myself and all my American neighbors for our pre-packaged, individually wrapped, paper or plastic lifestyles that create this kind of massive wasteland of junk. I mean, it's not gonna keep me from using four paper towels at a time to clean up a milk splash on the counter or anything, but it tickled my conscience slightly. Only slightly. Like Tom Tucker's mustache when he kisses women...(there's a Family Guy reference for every situation, I am firmly convinced.)

After we got all the bales off the back of the truck and bob had swept the remaining bits of nastiness from the flatbed and removed his work boots (you should have seen the disgusting muck that was stuck to the bottoms of them) it was off to the nearest truckstop for a late breakfast. Mmmmmmm...eggs....After all the post-apocalyptic mad max surrealism of the landfill, my sunny side up eggs appeared strange in my eyes, as did the tacky gift shop that accompanies any good truckstop. I think I should start collecting state snow globes:I love my life. I think it is a gift to be able to have fun in any situation, and to be truly fascinated by the world around me, no matter how odd or trivial the circumstances. I feel sorry for people who spend their lives complaining, wishing for more material possessions and ever more exotic experiences. Open your eyes and your mind a little, and you can make every day as amazing as a trip to a landfill in Kentucky. Pretty freakin sweet...

Self-Flagellation

I saw this video late last night on mtv2. It had such a dark fairy tale thing going on that really appealed to me - I love the end when the girl turns and reveals her face and it kills him, it reminds me of the scary book of French fairy tales from the 1600's by Perrault that I read obsessively as a child until my mother took it away. Since I loved it so much I downloaded the AFI album it comes from called "Decemberunderground" (yes, I am an evil downloader person, come and arrest me) even though I know nothing of the band except that the lead singer wears an awful lot of eyeshadow for a guy. Not that there's anything wrong with that, I'm all for creativity and individuality in personal appearance, it's just that guys in eye makeup these days are generally of a certain type, emo or whatever. That should have been a red flag, but I didn't let it deter me. Turns out I like most of the tracks on the album except for the few with too much screaming and not enough singing (not my bag, baby) but I can't remember the last cd i liked all the tracks on anyway so that's not surprising.
I decided to do a little reading on AFI to find out what they're all about. Now we get to the real reason for this post: apparently AFI is classified as goth-punk and they have a real "hot topic/depressed/cut yourself vibe" going on. Gag. I should NOT like the album. I should NOT be listening to it for the third time. Goths are ridiculous mall-haunting Anne Rice reading attention whores, and I don't want to listen to the music they cut themselves and cry to. My shame for liking this album should be exposed and I should be properly punished. I sometimes think I'm a closeted Catholic, what with this desire for confession and penance and all, but then I remember god is dead like a good little Nietzschean. So when things like this come up, I like to punish myself through the public airing of my bad musical tastes via my blog. Here you go, world, Jenny is an embarrassment to herself. I need to listen to some Zeppelin now to wash away the shame.