Wednesday, December 14, 2011

A Public List of My Preferred Baby Names

Since I'm rapidly withering on the vine and prospects for me having a kid within at least the next 12 - 18 months look unlikely, I've decided to post my fantasy baby names publicly, since all of my friends always steal them anyway. So go ahead guys. Shatter my dreams. Steal my grandma's name. Go ahead. I'm cool with it. Because I don't think I really want to go nine months without bourbon anyway. I mean, just beer and wine? For nine months? Forget that.

Charlotte (maybe)

(that's it for boys, actually)

There. Take them, they're yours. Who needs kids anyway? All I need is my solid gold car and rocket house and I'll be fine.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

The all new fragrance for men. Children.

'Sup.  Just look at me.  See these pecs?  They're actually made of plastic.  Those arm hairs?  Those are actually individual eyelashes.  You know, the fake ones, sutured into the dermis of my forearm.  Sometimes I slick them over with pomade.  Anyway, I know I sort of look like an android but that's the look I'm going for.  Have you ever played the video game "Need For Speed?"  Well, everyone looks really smooth.  Like, their skin is all soft and melty.  It's like if one of those cardboard cylinders of Crisco were left out in the sun and melted, and then you poured the melted Crisco over your skin to make it shiny, and then it hardened and dried.  That's how I like my skin to look.  Not just 'cause it reminds me of video games and how awesome those smooth-skinned racer dudes are--all aerodynamic and hairless and shit--but it reminds me of my mom's cooking too.  Mom makes the best cookies with that stuff.  I think she used butter flavored Crisco, though, but whatever, I don't even care.  What was I saying?  Oh, yeah, I look only sort of like a man.  Like an undercooked prototype of one.  I'm a Millennial, so I'm not gonna chase after you and kiss your ass so you like me.  You have to earn MY respect.  You have to fight for ME.  I'm awesome and if you don't see that it's your problem.  It should be automatic that you like me.  It should just be automatic.  Just like the transmission in my Ducati motorcycle back there.  I don't have a motorcycle license yet because those clowns at the DMV say I have to take some test or whatever and never sent me one like I'm entitled to.  Just like this girlfriend thing.  She's pretty, I guess.  Yeah, she's hot and shit, I guess.  But she has to fight for me, dude, 'cause I have things to do.  I'm doin' my thang.  Like riding my motorcycle and eating my mom's cookies and playing video games.  Seriously, I'm really busy.  This is my world: I am in command.  I'm in control.  Dammit, I'm a man-child, you gotta fight for ME.  How about THAT?  Yeah, smell that, bitch.  ::WHUT::

Anyway, gotta roll.  I got a man-date with my bros, DB (he's a rockstar) and my man-child mentor Jared Leto.  VROOOM-VRROOOOM!!!

Monday, November 21, 2011

Why I am not successful, Part 1: I am a trivial person

It's 11:30. So far today I have made particularly tasty coffee and a stand-up omelet, perused dresses on the internet, and written an email to my sister. I would like to point out that today is a Monday and that I am self-employed. (OK, I sent out one press release. I am not entirely horrible, just mostly horrible.) However, I should also point out that if I worked in an office my productivity output would be about the same. What I'm trying to say here is: I am not a successful person.

For years I have imagined that my essential problem was laziness. But I wrote a book! How could I be lazy? It's also possible that I'm stupid. But I've met people far stupider than myself and they seem to be able to navigate the World of Human Adulthood.

Then today, as I was flipping through some magazines, I realized my problem isn't that I'm lazy: it's that I'm just incredibly un-serious. When presented with the New Yorker and The Atlantic what do I do? I flip to the back to check out the comics caption contest and the funny advice column respectively, then discard the rest of the magazine.

I'm silly. Flaky. Childlike. Nonsensical. A human non-sequitur. Incapable of earning a living because, while I technically have a profession, that profession, whimsically enough, doesn't pay actual money. (Writers are paid in fairy dust, rosewater, and dish-soap bubbles.) I traipse through the forest of my imagination all day long and tend to injure myself if I try to work at anything. Office-work results in papercuts and entanglements in staplers, and it's only thanks to the grace of God that I haven't killed anyone while waitressing. (I think I'd make a fantastic kindergarten teacher but I find flesh-children rather noisy.) I'm an outstanding ghost-tour guide, I will say that. Mainly because it is a profession predicated on being completely bonkers.

What can a person like me do? The Sedaris family has already cornered the market on whimsy, so I can't sell that. The New Yorker caption contest doesn't actually pay any money. Working for the J. Peterman catalogue probably isn't at all in real life as it appeared on Seinfeld. I suppose I'd better buckle down and finish that young adult novel about teen witches and hope that pays off somehow. But first I think I'll write a short essay on "Betty Boop in Snow White." Because that is the least practical thing I could be doing right now. And I am a very silly person.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011


The sound the title of this post is making is the echoing of my voice through the blogosphere. 

Well, I'm back at the 'Slacks.  Back on the old Slackseroo.  The Slackseroni.  Yep.

I took a sabbatical* through the summer and early fall.

Doing some major research on some stuff, important things. You wouldn't know about it so I won't bore you with the details.** 

But suffice it to say, I was just TOO busy to blog, was just DROWNING in work.***

Anyway--blahh! I'll shut up about it!--just wanted to say hi for now.

*Author got lazy.
**Author was at the beach.
***Author was sodden drunk.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

I look good

I mean I look really good. Hey everybody! Come and see how good I look!

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Everything I need to know about life I learned from cutting my own bangs

1. Be bold. If you pussy out you will end up with thin, wispy, shitty, wimpy bangs. They will be limp and greasy and fall in your eyes. What you get will not be what you wanted because you only went halfway.

2. Sometimes you will fuck up and look like an asshole. This is how life goes. Not everything you do is great.

3. But in about two weeks or so you will totally get over it, and soon nobody will really even remember the fortnight you spent looking like a retarded kindergarten teacher. Seriously. You will get over it.

4. And also seriously, not everybody is paying attention to every little thing you do all the time. Most of your most intimate and profound traumas they not only don't care about or want to know about, but they don't even notice.

5. Unless you were stupid enough to capture your awkward phase on camera. Be very careful about who you let photograph you. You do not want to end up tagged in blurry, shitty pictures on Facebook where you always seem to have your mouth open like you're screaming underwater just because someone "likes candid shots."

6. But also sometimes you will cry. This is inevitable when you end up looking not like Ana Karina but the aforementioned kindergarten teacher. It is OK to cry sometimes, even out of self pity. You're only human. And, if you have someone in your life who will sympathize and maybe even take you out to dinner to cheer you up because you are ugly and miserable, cherish that person forever.

7. Along these lines, don't be so hard on yourself if you don't look like Kate Moss when you're finished with the kitchen scissors. You're just a regular person. Don't expect the world.

8. And, don't expect that anything that can be performed in ten minutes or less will transform you completely. That's just greedy.

9. Nothing in nature is perfectly symmetrical. Do not strive for perfection unless you enjoy being unhappy.

10. Sometimes you will get hair in your eyes and it will kind of hurt. Sometimes you will slice open the skin on your brow-bone. You cannot complain about these things. You are the one who took up the scissors in the first place, remember.

11. Also, don't blame the scissors. It's a poor workman who blames his tools.

12. Although, you really do want to try to get your hands on the best equipment possible for the job you're about to do, if you can afford it. It will make things a lot easier. If you can't afford it, that kind of sucks. It sucks to be poor so try to avoid that if you can. This is the real point of lesson #12.

And finally, because who doesn't like a baker's dozen,

13. Maybe you shouldn't wear bangs at all. Sometimes in life you fool yourself into thinking you're more special than you are, have more talent that you really do, can pull off something you can't really pull off. Maybe you are wise enough to know when to give up. If not, I hope you have a special person in your life who can gently take you aside and say, "Dude, stop doing this to yourself." Or maybe you can pull off a heavy, dramatic fringe. If so, good for you. But they need a lot of upkeep. Prepare for constant maintenance.

Remember kids: your bangs will break you down. Especially if you are really shallow, like me.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

I Don't Wanna Die!

The new Old Navy ads are out for summer 2011.

At first I thought, "Ha, balls.  Those ladies are getting tea-bagged hard.  Heh." 

But then I thought about it and realized, "They're gonna die."

They are going to die in there!!!

Remember trying to get your footing in the Chuck E. Cheese two feet deep ball pit?  Shit was hard. 

These ladies are NOT getting outta there alive:

Tagline says, "Put on your happy life."

More like, "Put on your DEAD life," Old Navy!!!!!

But let's take a look at this issue seriously for a minute.  Could someone ACTUALLY be crushed by balls?

Optical illusion: his balls are really crushing that guy's leg.
Below calculations are 100% accurate.  (Note: calculations may not be accurate)

Wikipedia says the average sized private pool is 12ft (144in.) by 24ft (288in.).

Toys 'R' Us says a package of 250 play balls is 25.5 x 14.2 x 11.7, and 5.6 pounds.

OK, so I admit couldn't remember how to calculate volume so I found a website for that too.

(L x W x H = VOLUME, btw)

Assuming the pool is 6 feet deep, that means its dimension are this: 144l x 288w x 72h.


POOL VOLUME = 2,985,984 inches
BALL VOLUME = 4,236.57 inches

So that means there are roughly 705 sacks of 250-count balls needed to fill a whole pool. 
At 5.6 pounds per 250-count package, that means the total ball weight is...

3946.94538 lbs.


 Plus, there is still this to think about:

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Red Carpet PSA

For the love of Doritos, ladies, stop standing like this.  Your center of gravity is off when you do that and you're liable to tip.  Plus your legs look like capital Xs.

Friday, May 13, 2011

Today's Forecast

Oh, hi. I didn't notice you there. I was busy running my hands through my thick mane. I know, it's impressive isn't it? These two lovely ladies seem to think so. I call them Blonde and Brunette. Maybe they have real names, I don't know. Yeah, they're acting like they don't see me, but they do. They love me. Know why? Gorgeous: that's why.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011


I'm as free as a bird! As free as a bird in a wheat field!

"Extra! Extra! Woman Liberated After Standing In Wheat Field!"

This got my brain thinking about questions, questions like: Who has access to a wheat field? Who aspires to stand in a wheat field? When did standing in a wheat field become something women want to do? How is a wheat field representational of women? Isn't it yogurt's job to be the voice of women?

Yogurt's going to be pissed when she finds out about wheat field. Yogurt worked hard to get where she is. Yogurt will want to stand in the middle of that wheat field. If wheat field and yogurt start fighting to be the voice of women but then they die pulling out each other's hair, what will happen to women?

Who will we turn to if wheat field and yogurt are both gone? What will it mean for the cause of women's liberation if yogurt and wheat field kill each other when they were supposed to just support one other? Wouldn't their actions be contrary to the very cause for which they stand? For the love of God, someone toss a cup of Dannon out in that wheat field and let this nightmare end! Please! For the love of yogurt. And wheat fields. And all that is liberating about womanhood.

Friday, April 29, 2011

How to upstage the bride

Sometimes you can upstage the bride by looking better than her, or almost better (viz. Pippa Middleton). And sometimes you can wear something so horribly hideous and distracting that you will blind all the other guests to anything but your strangely monochrome, raccoon-eyed, caduceus-hatted self. Either way, you'll get the attention you so badly crave.

In the funniest coverage of this hat I've found so far, Helen Popkin calls it the Cthulhu hat, saying Bea's choice to wear a "chapeau representing a 'monster of vaguely anthropoid outline' ... really paid off."

P.S. For the record, I loved Princess Eugenie's whole outfit. Sincerely. This is actually what I wear to the Casual Slacks office most days.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Something funny on the internet

I actually found something on Gawker that made me laugh out loud (it's been a rather slow day at the office). Re: Jennifer Aniston's new WV apartment:

"...[w]e should focus on that lonely widow's walk of a terrace. Look at all that terrace space! Perfect for standing and looking out forlornly at the busy city, so full of happy people... On occasion, the neighborhood kids down in the street will suddenly stop playing, feeling a strange chill and melancholy in their bones, and they will look up and swear they can see sad Jen up there in her aerie of isolation. But their mothers will come and shoo them away, feeling themselves as if a cold cloud has passed over their hearts."

Tee hee! Oh I love laughing at her pain! Extra points to author Richard Lawson for "widow's walk" and "aerie."

Cross post, whiskey-related

If you're an avid reader of Spinster Aunt, this will be old news to you. But if you're not*, here's some new news:

According to my good friends at the Canadian Press, women are just discovering this awesome new thing called bourbon.

"I think there's this sense of relief that finally we were at a point where we can be taken seriously as women who enjoy bourbon and the lifestyle that accompanies it," said Mary Quinn Ramer, a founding board member from Lexington.

And man, what a lifestyle it is. It's pretty much all success all the time.

Here's another fun fact: "Bill Samuels Sr., concocted the Maker's Mark recipe in the 1950s, but it was his mother, Margie, who coined the brand's name and came up with the idea of adorning the bottles with dripping red wax."

I'm thinking Mama Margie's "idea" came about kinda like this: "Oh fuck me, I spilt the goddam wax again!"

* If you're not reading Spinster Aunt, WTF?

Friday, April 15, 2011

Sexy Pete Doherty

Today at work a coworker was tasked with researching images of Pete Doherty.  The tension read on his face and the email chain below is real, though his name has been changed.

On Apr 15, 2011, at 10:10 AM, P.L. wrote:
If you keep knitting your brow so hard it's going to stay that way....

On Apr 15, 2011, at 10:12 AM, Mario wrote:
A good morning to you as well, Pamela!
It is already too late for my brows...

On Apr 15, 2011, at 10:14 AM, P.L. wrote:
You’re so serious over there!!!!!! sooooooooooo serious.....

On Apr 15, 2011, at 10:18 AM, Mario wrote:
I would really like to know how you would look if you had to search for SEXY Pete Doherty photos…


On Apr 15, 2011, at 10:20 AM, P.L. wrote:
touche, sir.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Extra Fancy

Squash here!  Get your squash here!  Extra fancy squash for sale!

"Who ever heard of 'extra fancy' squash!?!!  LOL!!!  'Oohh, well, only EXTRA fancy squash for MOI, thankyouverymuch! Now come along it's time for tea!  Ho-ho, I say, I quite love those dangly-bits of the exxxxtra fahncy variety!!' What are you even TALKING ABOUT, oh my god!!"  I exclaimed inside my head.

So I did some hard research (Googled it) before I started shooting my mouth off, and it's a good thing, because it turns out the US government actually has a "fancy" classification for produce.  BUT NOT FOR SUMMER SQUASH.  For nectarines?  You bet.  Carrots?  Nope.  Okra, strawberries, onions?  No, no and no.  How about Apples?  Totally.  An apple can totally be fancy.  Let those MFers eat cake.  But summer squash?  Guys, summer squash can only get one of two grades:

  • 51.4051 U.S. No. 1.
  • 51.4052 U.S. No. 2.

And there is nothing fancy about that.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Gone Junking for a "Sensuous Man"

What a day to go junking!

Sometimes something so awesome comes along that all you can say to yourself in the face of its breathtaking awesomeness is, "This is some awesome shit."

Such is what happened to me when I found a treasure tucked away in a brown box of free shit at 3rd Place and Henry Street.  There was a lot of free shit on the stoops today--spring cleaning, I guess.  I saw a Wishbone dog VHS tape, a scrambled assortment of plastic army men, and a medieval castle playset that had a real drawbridge!

I also saw acrylic paints, a stained sheet, and a movie about the solar system.  All solid finds.  I took none of them.  I don't know, but in retrospect I must have had a psychic instinct to hold out for something better.  "Be patient, Pamela, some awesome shit is about to come your way," my inner voice intoned, I think.  I don't know, I wasn't really paying attention.

But the crux of the issue is this: the weather was very nice and I wanted to trip lightly through the streets, and my bag was already bogged down with a bag of jelly beans I had in there.

Onward I went until there it was, like a musty piece of trash rotting in the tepid fallout of the BQE:

Ladies and gentlemen, I've met my match.

I haven't gotten very far into Dell Publishing's 1971 book The Sensuous Man ("the first how-to book for the man who wants to be a great lover") yet, but a cursory view of the table of contents tells me chapter 12 subsection "Over the Hump--or Sex During Pregnancy" is going intrigue.

The oral technique of "The Velvet Buzz Saw" described in chapter 8 sounds terrifying, but "The Strawberry Suckle" sounds simply delicious!

Chapter 13, subsection "Every Twenty-Eight Days! Red, Red Everywhere" reminds me, take heed, for this is not a book that can be read, read everywhere, like on the subway, at your mom's house, or at a children's playground, for example.

I will have to select my places of reading wisely, so as to appear as a fit member of society.  Regardless, stay tuned!  I plan to share many, many, MANY quotes.

For all you fellas out there, you can thank me later.  IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!!!!!!!  LOLOLOL!!!!!!

Thursday, April 7, 2011

How Do I Look?

Dear My Italian Friend,

Tonight I am eating my pasta in a way that would shame you at your family dinner table.  I know because you've given me this look before when I was sitting at your family dinner table.  If a record player were in the room that night the needle would have slipped off of it in a screechy way, as if to ask the question in its own record player-y way, "What's wrong with you, sloppy American girl?"

But it is just too late (10:50PM) and I am SO HUNGRY.

If you only KNEW how hungry!!!!!!

Thursday, March 31, 2011

Very Important Businesswoman: Being a Famous Writer

I always find it funny when people express surprise at disciplined writers. I'll come across a sentence like this in an article somewhere: "I got my first lesson in writerly discipline that cold winter of 1975 when Tom Wolfe was staying at Pup-Pup's Vermont hunting lodge with us. He'd rise every morning at 9 am and write for a full five hours before buggering off with Mum for most of the afternoon, which they mostly spent quilting, I was told." It's utterly amazing to some that writers actually have to sit down to get their stuff on the page, and that they actually do it not only some days, not even most days, but almost EVERY day! This amazement is rarely expressed in relation to the other arts where, in my experience anyway, it is never supposed that Van Gogh just got up one morning and puked out some paintings, that Bach just sat down and farted out some symphonies. Hey, art! Wow! You never hear people say, "Gosh, that Rock Hudson was amazingly disciplined -- he went to set every single day!" I'm not sure why We Famous Writers get so many kudos just for doing our jobs. This would be like congratulating a regular person for, oh I don't know, paying their rent every single month. "Bob was amazing. Not once did he lie around in bed on a weekday morning drinking whiskey and beating his children instead of going to work. No, he showed up during all regularly scheduled hours. He didn't even piss away his paycheck at the track! No sir, he paid his bills with it -- he even bought food with it. Food he shared with his hungry children. The man was a.... I don't want to say genius, because what is that, anyway? But boy, he sure taught me a thing or two about discipline!"

Monday, February 21, 2011

You're Soooooooooooo Smart

Do you guys use to track your finances?  I sooooooort of do, in that I signed up for it and never log in, but every few days the system sends you status updates and they're really MFing dramatic about it:

Let's take a second look at that figure they've interrupted my day to tell me about:

Srsly, Mint?  WTF?  You MFing EMAILED me to tell me I owe another seventy-nine cents?  79 cents.  Seriously.  No, seriously, you emailed me to tell me that?  Seventy-nine cents is, like, the least of my worries, dude, you are WASTING my MFing time.  Seriously, Mint, you're an asshole.  You're like the Nelly of email listserves, sniveling into my inbox like you know it all.  79 cents?  I can dig that out of the fucking asphalt.  I got "hit" with a finance charge?  COME ON!!!!!!!

Mint, like Nelly, so fucking proud.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

YOU go back to biology.

Took a New York Times heath quiz, "How Much Do You Know About Your Body?"  I'm questioning the accuracy of the results:

"Go Back to Biology 101?"

YOU go back to biology, New York Times.  Your MOM should go back to biology.  Your FACE...

As a self-diagnosed hypochondriac with health issues that have run the gamut from impacted teeth and upper respiratory inflammation, to plantar fasciitis and foot surgery, biology is not my Achilles heel.  If there is one thing I can show from regular bouts of insomnia it's my deep knowledge of things that could physiologically be wrong with me.  I'm not talking about visits to WebMD, that's kid's stuff. 

If you're a hardcore-hypo like me, you're watching your own surgery, studying diagrams of the human eye ("It's 3:47AM--are you going BLIND?  Better find out!"), and evaluating whether you have AV nodal reentrant tachycardia or if 5:00PM is simply too late to drink coffee.

So yeah, your FACE, New York Times.

Friday, January 28, 2011

To Market, To Market: "Moisturizing Moisturizers"

Mario Badescu, you're writing the jokes for me.  It's all in the subject line:

I've enlarged it here for the blind and bespectacled:

Well, color me enlightened!  A moisturizer that true to the definition of the word itself moisturizes your skin.  Say goodbye to all those hardening lotions, you guys.  No more rough-making lotions.  No more of those cumbersome skin coarsers.  Finally, finally a lotion that ADDS moisture to your skin--doesn't take it away!!!!!!   I feel so in-the-know, it's like I'm a beauty expert or something!!!  From now on, only moisturizing moisturizers for me.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

What shall I be today?

Looking for jobs is fun. I like to imagine all the interesting careers I could have, like so many schizophrenic, overqualified Barbies. What shall I be today? Perhaps a Kidney and Liver Transplant Specialist? Or maybe a Head Lice Removal Specialist? So many choices!

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

'Shit Better Be City-Appropriate

Saw this today:

Finally, Lauren asks the big question!!!  "How can I wear leather and suede in a sleek, city-appropriate way?"  Finally!!! THANK YOU LAUREN!!!!!  This is so awesome.  Because you can wear the shit out of leather and suede, but if it ain't City-Appropriate what's the point?  (snicker, snicker)  How many TIMES have I seen a $2500 fitted leather racing jacket on a woman in SoHo and thought, "You bumpkin!  Look at you!!!  More like City-Inappropriate!!!"

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

How to be a VIB Part III: Learn Cutting Edge Technology

If you can master complex systems like Facebook and Twitter, this $115k/year government job might be right for you! Remember though, social media is a grave responsibility, and you probably can't handle it unless you have the emotional maturity of someone at least 22 years old.

Sunday, January 23, 2011

VIP Businesswomen...the SERIES?

I think the "VIP Businesswomen" topic is substantial enough to turn it into a full-fledged blog series, but I haven't thought about it any longer than it's taken me to write this sentence.  It's worth trying for though, and here is why: I am full of important information on how to successfully be a Very Important Businesswoman.  First tip:
  1. Throw a Fit if You Are Not Ccd on an Email
This one is as simple as it sounds.  Go ahead, try it!   The next time you don't get Ccd on an email, simply stomp around your office corridors and make wild gesticulations that show your coworkers that you are angry, nay, insulted that you have been left out of a thread of meaningless, time-wasting sentence fragments that have eaten up space on the company server and will henceforth have to be deleted from your inbox to promptly make room for the next batch.  People will interpret your urgent, impassioned reaction not as the self-aggrandizing act of philistinism that it is, but as sincere concern for the well-being of the company.  You will be promoted.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

How to be a Very Important Businesswoman

Innovative millennial job-hunting tactics here for those interested in becoming a "general scientist" (I prefer the term scientician myself) or game designer ("Employee will responsible for making up a fun game"). The fact that I'm way too old to be considered part of this group but still find this article amusing is funny in a sad way, like Liza Minnelli. On a related note, the odious Christopher Buckley offers something to be enraged about in this month's Atlantic when he writes about an hilarious episode in his life in which he moved back home: "I don't have the statistics for this, but it's quite possible, in this economy, that even some recent college grads are."

Monday, January 3, 2011

New blog ideas

Why, I say, limit myself to just Casual Slacks? Why not start a blog called.... "Elegant Lounge Wear!?" Or "Vast Oeuvre!" Or "Suspiciously Milky Tea?" I'm telling you people, I have a LOT of ideas right now!