modelland. smize, y'all

Everyone! I have the internet! Also, the first chapter of Tyra Banks' new book, Modelland, is available on the Barnes and Noble website! Read and discuss.

Crazy catladying it up

Because I am moving soon, I am sentimental. I am thinking about things I will miss about Bloomington...the super-long stoplights, the sub-par restaurants with Chicago pricing. Ahhhh. Bloomington. One of the things that I'll actually miss is that we have like a million neighborhood cats. I know all their names. They all let me pet them.

Venom: Yes, really. We called Venom "Mrs. Honcho" for a long time because she wouldn't get close enough for us to learn her name. She is sleek and gray stripey. She sits on our laps when we're on the porch. She might be a he. S/he predatored a baby bunny in front of Abby. It was scarring.

Honcho: Brother/husband to Venom. Big and dark gray. Mean to all of the other neighborhood cats. Actually kind of won't let me pet him.

Seamus: Orange. He used to hang out with us all the time, but now Honcho took over his territory.

Maxwell: Black and white. Kind of cross-eyed. Once, we rescued him from a tree. By getting his mom and telling her he was in a tree.

Baxter: Orange and white. No matter what door I open in my house, he's out there. I don't think Maxwell and Baxter are related, but it seems like they should be.

We play this game when we neighborhood walk where we compete over cat-spotting. I always win because the game makes Abby angry. Really, it's just my game. I have gotten up to nine cats on a walk before. This is a really catty place. I'll miss that.

you guys! there's a new maru video.

I made one of those talking pig videos

I was bored and made one of those videos with the cartoon characters talking in monotone voices.

shouldn't i move to ravenswood?

i have been thinking about moving to ravenswood in september so that i can have a big apartment but people are trying to talk me out of it because they say it is soooooo far and that i should move to logan square instead. but i friggy hate logan square. too many 2002 memories. you guys have all lived in ravenswood. isn't it pleasant? shouldn't i move there?

i want a giant apartment.

Art movie fake-out

So, on Friday, Abby and I went to see Cave of Forgotten Dreams, the new 3-D Werner Herzog documentary about the sealed and preserved Chauvet Cave in France with the drawings from tens of thousands of years ago.

At one point in the movie, he turns off all the sound equipment, so you can just look and experience and listen to your heartbeat, and then a heartbeat sound comes up, and then the music returns.

It was coming toward the end of the film, and again, the heartbeat sound came up, and the screen faded to black, and it stayed that way for maybe three minutes, which is a long time, in a movie theatre. Everyone in the audience was silent. I was thinking, "Yes, this is like the modern cave." I even thought I could hear my heartbeat. I was starting to feel really uncomfortable with it, too, and then I was like, "I love this; this is brilliant! I feel so uncomfortable! Only Werner Herzog."

Then, some intrepid audience members got up to leave, and we heard this from outside the theatre, "There was a power surge. We're working to restore the movies to the place where they were when it happened."

Which...okay, it was re-started, and the movie was still good, and the ending was about albino crocodiles (spoiler alertish), which are also pretty cool, but it was no three-minute blackout to listen to the silence. I preferred our ending.

it is the afternoon

i'm loooooonely and booooooored. somebody blog somethin. what are you literaties doing right now? i wish i had a satellite camera on each of you at all times so that i could check it and see you working at your desks or taking a nap or vandalizing your neighborhood.

hey sarah, remember when jeff was obsessed with hilary clinton and would constantly say out of the blue, "i wonder what hilary clinton is doing right now." and then you would say something like, "pantsuits shopping with chelsea."

sigh...what are you guys doing right now.

I can't stop watching this.

I'm sorry and you're welcome.

our newest member

this little fuzzy kitten, who prefers the company of his weird furry bed--or what is that thing?--to the other little fuzzy kittens, playing with each other in the distance, and who is clearly engaged in internal conversation with other kittens who aren't really there, and possibly with that furry bed thing, should be an honorary member of venom literati. he is one of us.

Four things

1. The weirdest people have Kindles. Like really old men in the waiting room at a doctor's office, or the custodian. In fact, these are the two only people I have ever seen with Kindles, and these are not the people on the commercial at all. But I do not live in a town with widely used public transportation. Probably you see Kindles all the time and they are attached to the hands of hip youths.

2. I hate when I get an email that says "I read your email," and it's an autoresponse because that person has an app that reads their emails aloud to them while they're driving. Who needs to hear email while they're driving? Is this meant to be a safety feature?

3. App idea: Sarcastic voice email reader. You could use it whenever someone you hated sent you an email instead of just while driving.

4. The Oscars are boring.

This was made for us

Look at this thing, just look at it!
Susanna and Gato can provide all of the long furs, and the rest we will have to spin!

tv stuff combined with celebrity crush stuff

I have a weird celebrity crush on Louis C.K. Recently I was watching an episode of his sitcom, "Louie," and giggling at him as he was on a date, and Abby said, "YOU want to go on a date with Louis C.K." She was right. I do. I want to go on a date with Louis C.K.

Also, I love "Dr. Katz." Here is Louis C.K. on Dr. Katz. Here's something else: I totally remember this scene from, like, 1996 or whenever, but I had no idea it was future-crush Louis C.K.

Dexter, or now I only write about TV

You guys, I hate Dexter. I know I am supposed to like it. It is about a semi-likeable serial killer. That is right up my alley. But I hate Dexter, seethingly. Hate it. Hate it. Hate it.

Here are some things I hate: I hate the flashbacks to his dad teaching him how to use his serial killer compulsions for good. I hate his stupid skinny sister. She is stupid. She should not be in homicide because she is too stupid to be in homicide. Keep her in vice, Chief Whateveryournameis. Oh wait too late because Dexter is using his serial killer skills for good again, to track down other serial killers and selflessly helping his sister get promoted simultaneously. And now Dexter is eating. In every single scene. A banana or a cheeseburger or a crab leg. He is eating with his stupid gross mouth with the hair around it that doesn't match his head hair. Hate. Oh, and I hate how he magically knows if someone is a bad person who deserves to die by, like, recognizing the bad part of himself in him. And! And! I hate the stupid unnecessary voiceovers. "I can't feel, but I pretend to" (not a real quote). You have already said that in a voiceover 80 billion times, Dexter! I hate you! I hate how slowly it moves. I hate everything about it.

And here is the other thing I hate: the promise that it will get better. Oh, the second season is better. You just have to get through the first season. No. I won't. I hate Dexter. And plus also too someone told me that he starts actually seeing his dead dad not in flashbacks but in real life in the future. HATE.

Doug

Did you ever think that maybe Jesus made snow all white and reflective so winter wouldn't be too depressing? Me neither.

Something I think about when I'm depressed this winter (not being the owner of a fancy lightbox like other Literati) is Doug.

Doug plays Mel's husband on Flight of the Conchords. Mostly he is silent and sits in cars waiting for Mel, the Conchords' superfan. Abby and I recently watched the first two seasons of Damages, where the actor who plays Doug is also a character...who spends a lot of time silently sitting in cars waiting for and watching people, albeit in a much more sinister way.

I like to imagine that Damages and Flight of the Conchords takes place in the same universe, and that after Doug spends his day watching Ellen Parsons walk around the city, he goes and waits for Mel outside a bar where the Conchords are playing. Occasionally during the day he'll kill somebody or plant some drugs somewhere or threaten to ruin someone's life, but he's always got Mel to pick up. One eye on Mel and Jemaine, one eye on Ellen and Katie. Poor Doug with his double life.

For some reason this makes me really happy to think about.

New diet craze

While watching Nova over the break I was overcome by a marveous entrepreneurial brainstorm. We all remember Kathy's diet craze: "No Meat, No Maize: The Incan Child Sacrifice Diet," yes? Well, check this out: "The Antarctica Diet: Eat 3000 Calories a Day and Lose Weight--Just by Maintaining Your Core Body Temperature!"

We open a spa on Antarctica. A couple of tents, a fire pit, and a ton of wool socks. Scientists eat up to 6000 calories a day there, just to maintain their weight. If we can fool a bunch of people with disposable income into coming to Antarctica for 10 days, we can feed them nothing but cupcakes and beer, and they'll still lose weight and feel like they're indulging.

Who's with me?

Cat in a bag, and, unrelatedly, Stieg Larsson

I'm working on an essay about Stieg Larsson, posted on Fictionaut that has proved controversial for its allegedly unflattering portrayal of the IKEA food court.

Also, here's a cat in a bag!

this holiday season let's all give thanks for maru, the youtube cat christmas miracle

hey look what i discovered on saturday while watching "living single" on "The U"

not a kitten, but equally as noteworthy. the very end is the best part.

USAgencies Final For Air from Affirmative Insurance on Vimeo.

squeak mew squeak mew squeak mew

I Can Get On Board With This

I can't blog these days because kittens are my only inspiration. But now I CAN blog! Yay!  Have you seen this one?

Here you go!

All in favor of turning this blog into 100% kitten videos say aye!

Sarah Eaton, Interviewed!

I interviewed Sarah Eaton over here about her book Tough Skin.  Sarah could totally make a living doing interviews: she says all the things you want to say but won't.  If you want to know what you really think about everything, read it.

Moth Moon by Matt Jasper, a not-review

Writing reviews is not my forte; therefore, this is a not-review. Behold below, two poems by me and a hybrid-y thingie by Megan Martin, inspired by Moth Moon by Matt Jasper.

Purdy Group Home Van, Flat Tire

Hurdling through a human steeplechase of
Ditchwater, weed, and dirt to what
End

Who’s got the joy gun, and the jack
Cutting through rust and the whipping whipping
Wind of the road

Tire’s skin split like
Dry lips and here we are with insufficient
Supervision and handfuls of atomic
Fireballs and one wheelchair to every
Five people

None of the other tires fit.
Donuts and tubes and filling and
Looking at the sparkles in the dirt.

Purdy Group Home Theatrical Exploration

A man who is not a famous sexual
predator mumbles in a
corner and everyone applauds as far
as teeth-grinding can be
considered applause.
A man who is not a famous artist
steals a screwdriver from his
therapist and secretes
it on his person.
A woman who is not a
murderer does not
like vegetables and keeps
her lips to
herself. A person in
charge is the person
in charge, doing the
things one would expect.

The staff who had contact get sent home early.
It is never the therapist’s fault.

Moths Describe The Moon

1.
His skin like is fly paper candy. Her skin is the cuddliest kitten. Its skin is a scrubbed universe in our mouths. Later, overfed, we vomit our moon on the floor and furry wet sparkles light up our carpets.


2.
Anastasia arrived today. She sticks to the moon like something splattered, sucking.


3.
My hands said I would never find the moon, but then I was inside it swimming and it held me up and my hands weren’t leaves anymore and my hands were webs of light that didn’t fall apart in wind.


4.
I shook my head against the pillow until a bald patch appeared. I shook my head until it bled onto the pillow but nobody noticed. I shook my head until my head was an oozing black strawberry in a dead forest where the moon stood guard.


5.
My body was ashes I was falling into the cracking center of. It’s scary to fall like that, but at the center of the noose is the moon and it’s good to be in the center of something.


6.
Anastasia says things are not very interesting on the moon. The ladykiller was more interesting, she says. I abhor the green yards of suburbs. But it’s easy for her to say that from here.


7.
There is no place for God on the moon because the moon replaces God and is way better.


8.
Anastasia says Pleased to meet you, moon, but really she is plotting a murder. She wants the moon to know what it’s like to wake up with rotten teeth to a room of ladykillers, to ovens of the dead. The moon don’t know shit, she says.

repulsion

Incorporating another Venom Literati theme into Hate Week (which, is it two weeks now?), I would like to ruminate on a celebrity that I hate, but may actually love. That celebrity is Scott Disick.

First of all, his name is hilarious. Clearly I have an immature sense of humor, but come on. Disick. Hehehe. Second, he is a Kardashian baby daddy. Third, he is a snappy dresser. Fourth, his eyes are completely blank all of the time. Fifth, he does awful things regularly, like trying to shove a $100 bill down a waiter's throat, or...actually I can't think of anything else too bad, but Khloe sure seems to hate him, and I'm usually on Khloe's side.

Aside: How did Rob, the Kardashian brother, escape the "K" curse? Is his real name Krob?

Let's concentrate on my third point for a moment. He is a snappy dresser. He is dapper. I look at pictures of him in magazines, and then the looking turns into staring. He wears things like pale pink tailored pants with a lavender and white striped button-down. He looks like American Psycho. He often has a sweater knotted around his shoulders. He is...magnetic. I think he could be a cult leader if he tried. Case in point: Abby also cannot stop staring at Scott Disick once she starts. We arrived at this conclusion separately. Just look at that jacket! That stance! Oh, Scott Disick, how I love to hate you.

Listing of hatred

I hate that when you return from vacation you have so much to do that it instantly wipes away any residual relaxation you might have been hoping to carry over into real life.

I hate that soy milk isn't available as a pour-it-yourself-like-creamer option at coffee shops.

I hate that students don't believe sexism still exists. (Silently wipes away tear, burns bra)

I hate taking over-the-counter medicines. Like, for instance, if I have terrible heartburn and I can't sleep, I will wait for up to three hours before dragging myself out of bed to take some pepto bismol rather than just doing it right away. I also hate taking tylenol/ibuprofen/whatever for headaches.

I hate yoga. Recently I talked to a friend who has to call it "stretching" in order to do it. I am going to adopt this practice, too.

I hate that you have to stay at work for eight hours, even if you are really, really efficient and get tons of stuff done in three hours. It punishes the quick.

I hate it when people leave voice mails just asking you to call them back and not telling you why they are calling. It makes me nervous.

I think I could continue this forever. I hate a lot of things.

hate week: the telling off stories

in celebration of hate week, here is an email correspondence about the virtues of going ape shit. this particular conversation is about a person and situation that must remain mysterious. but the themes are universal.

tell us your telling off stories!

Megan:  i really want someone to tell him off. kathy, have you told anyone off before?  sarah, have you? i have told garrison off at the top of my lungs several thousand times. tell me telling-off stories. i just told gato off for prowling around in my garden and trying to eat my pepper plants which bugs are already eating.

Sarah: Bugs are eating my pepper plants, too.  But I am going to have soooo much zuchinni. The most major telling-off I've ever done was with one of my partners at Brainstorm.  We were full-on yelling at each other, and he kept getting closer and closer to me, and when it was all over, my calves were killing me because I was standing on my tippy-tippy toes so I could be on eye-level with him.  I think I need to re-access my anger.  This is the moral. Tell him off!  Tell him off! Also, all of my gmail ads are about nightgowns, now.  Are yours?

Megan: There are ads for nightgowns? I never want you to go off on me. You'd grow taller and taller with anger like the Incredible Hulk except you wouldn't get more muscle-y. You might not even need to talk: you could just grow and stare through me with that serial-killer face and I would shrink into the carpet like in Honey, I Shrunk the Kids. Kathy, if you go off on him I want you to wear a wire. I need to hear it live.

Kathryn: i feel like i did tell him off but i did it in a really calm, gentle voice. so maybe that is not a real telling off. i think the last person i told off was vinnie, and it was when he worked at betuitive, and it was for something like turning the air conditioner off when i wanted it on. i read that self-control is exhaustible. they did a study where they let one group of people eat as many cookies as they wanted and they made the other group eat vegetables while looking at the cookies. they could see the cookies but they weren't allowed to eat them. the vegetable group could do nothing else for the rest of their day because they had exhausted all their energy not eating the cookies. i think i exhaust all my energy being nice, and that if i didn't use my energy on that, i could use it all on not eating cookies. or writing poems. this could be the next diet craze. the fly into a rage diet. "scream at people all day, and watch the pounds melt away!" remember the incan child sacrifice diet? the tag line was "no meat, no maize."

Sarah: I love your diet crazes, Kathy.  I'm going to fly into a rage on the next person who walks into my office and then skip lunch.

hate week

i am filled with hate and depression today. coffee hasn't transformed me. you know what would help? if you guys were all in my apartment when i got home. with a million cigarettes. but that scenario belongs to another universe, so instead, let's have hate week! this is where we all talk about things we hate, and in doing so, we experience solidarity. and friendship. i'll start:

i hate when i have a load of work to do and my office mates are having a champagne/pizza party and blasting madonna music and stomping around in the loudest high heels in the world.

i also hate it when hipsters talk about "obese people" on their blog, like they're making some kind of progressive observation by saying they saw an obese person. hey hipster, you're just being an ass hat.

i also hate it when men in bars call you sweetheart and grope you. next time that happens someone's head's gonna get knocked off.

now, you go!

isreads 7 is ridiculously good looking

isReads 7, the haiku issue, is now live! it stars venom literati hotties sarah eaton and megan martin, honorary venom literati hottie, della watson, and stephanie barber, colin bassett, dan brady, jimmy chen, fred ecenrode, molly gaudry, jamie iredell, chris killen, tao lin, sam pink, audri sousa and bianca stone (all ridiculously good looking).

this issue was posted around baltimore, chicago, indianapolis, minneapolis, pittsburgh, and providence. thanks to christopher newgent, stephen pemberton, adam atkinson and shannon eddy, our fantastic contributing editors!

Critically-acclaimed violent Northern European films

That's my new favorite Netflix category.