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:

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

3 comments to 113211469785371541

  • First of all, I hated every single thing about every single one of those guys that you hated. Which is why it made me more happy than anything in a long time.

    Second, they do make Shiseido. You can get it at the Asian mall in Cambridge next to the place with the bubble tapioca drinks. I’m not sure if they let you buy anything if you’re not in skinny jeans and 4″ strappy heels that you got at Jasmine Sola, but I could ask. I usually go straight to the market and buy Pocky. Sometimes chocolate, sometimes strawberry.

  • I came back again today to find the link for “hot or not” or whatever it is. I need that kind of therapy. What’s the link?

    Also, please explain, what is google mash up? I feel like I’m missing the part of my brain that would allow me to read that blog you linked and understand it.

  • Hello you most hilarious woman in the universe! Google mash-ups are the unholy result of Google maps and computer language coder freaks who mash databases with maps so you can visualize anything on a list on a map. Like, for instance, the latest crime incidents in Chicago, or the home addresses of registered sex offenders in Toledo or Miama. Here’s one for Minneapolis: http://www.sotanlife.com/experience.php/page/estab_list/section/restaurant/map/true

    Here’s the best place to keep track of new mash-ups: http://googlemapsmania.blogspot.com/2005/11/us-google-maps-mashups-boston-philly.html

    This is the Hot or Not, but it’s screwy–you can still find the fresh, floppin’ catch of the day in there somewhere. http://hotmaps.frozenbear.com/

    Tell me what you find!