An e-mail commenting on e-mail... how meta. And funny.

Dear All,

My thanks to all those who have sent me emails this past year...

I must send my thanks to whoever sent me the one about rat shit in the glue on envelopes because I now have to use a wet towel with every envelope that needs sealing. Also, I now have to scrub the top of every can I open for the same reason.

I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl (Penny Brown); who is about to die in the hospital for the 1,387,258th time.

I no longer have any money at all, but that will change once I receive the $15,000 that Bill Gates/Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special e-mail program.

Or from the senior bank clerk in Nigeria who wants me to split $7 million with me for pretending to be a long lost relative of a customer who died.

I no longer worry about my soul because I have 363,214 angels looking out for me, and St. Theresa's novena has granted my every wish.

I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day.

Thanks to you, I have learned that my prayers only get answered if I forward e-mail to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes.

Because of your concern I no longer drink Coca-Cola because it can remove toilet stains.

I no longer can buy gas without taking a man along to watch the car so a serial killer won't crawl in my back seat when I'm filling up.

I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a perfume sample and rob me.

I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask me to dial a number for which I will get a phone bill with calls to Jamaica, Uganda, Singapore and Uzbekistan.

Thanks to you, I can't use anyone's toilet but mine because a big brown African spider is lurking under the seat to cause me instant death when it bites my ass.

And thanks to your great advice, I can't even pick up the $5.00 I found dropped in the car park because it probably was placed there by a sex molester waiting underneath my car to grab my leg.

If you don't send this e-mail to at least 144,000 people in the next 70 minutes, a large dove with diarrhea will land on your head at 5:00pm this afternoon and the fleas from 12 camels will infest your back, causing you to grow a hairy hump. I know this will occur because it actually happened to a friend of my next door neighbor's ex-mother-in-law's second husband's cousin's beautician.

By the way...a South American scientist after a lengthy study has discovered that people with low IQ who have infrequent sexual activity always read their e-mails with their hand on the mouse. Don't bother taking it off now, it's too late.

Creepy vs. Dorky: What's Worse?

The Romneys

The Huckabees

Did you know that mice can't burp?

I know, I know... it's been awhile since I've blogged real words and not just linked to other people's funny stuff. I don't know about you fools, but I have been a very busy bee these days. It's a bit much and I wouldn't mind being a little less popular. JK. kinda.

What's new with me? Let's see, work is busy and a bummer (my coworker/friend/style muse is moving away), still settling into the new apartment. Right now, all of my minutes are spent finishing up the creative nonfiction classics class I've been taking this term. 10 books in 14 weeks.

It's been excellent but also one of the, if not the, most challenging class I've taken yet in my program. And the fun part, yah you this one... I don't even need it. I graduated already, remember? I know, I'm either an overachiever or an idiot - you decide.

In Cold Blood might just be one of the best books - ever, by the way. We've also read some other amazing nonfiction that I am very pleased to have read, namely: Desert Solitaire, Zami: A New Spelling of My Name, and Hiroshima. In Cold Blood is off the charts though- in lots of ways.


Things all over the place seem pretty fucked up right now... church shootings, mall shootings, southern baptist preachers as sudden right wing front runners (wtf?), white house authorized torture and missing interrogation video (of course), a magical talk show host who can supposedly single-handily change history (wow). Oh, and the fucking Spice Girls are back (zigazahahhh).

Another great WTF? moment from last week:

"Freedom requires religion just as religion requires freedom. Freedom opens the windows of the soul so that man can discover his most profound beliefs and commune with God. Freedom and religion endure together, or perish alone.” -Mitt Romney



Really? Freedom and religion endure together, or perish alone? He either has LOST writers on his staff or he thinks all Americans are stupid as his hair looks.


My new favorite news story and priceless fodder for happy hour conversation:

German men are the world's worst lovers, a poll of 10,000 women travellers claims. They are branded selfish in bed while second-placed Swedes are too quick. Third are the "too rough" Dutch, followed by "too dominant" Americans, "sloppy" Welshmen and "too loud" Scots.
Englishmen were voted 10th worst and accused of being too chubby. Turks were marked down as sweaty, Greeks smelly and Russians hairy.

Italian men were voted best lovers followed by males from France, Ireland, South Africa, Australia, Spain, Denmark, New Zealand, Brazil and Canada. (london mirror)


What a fun little survey. I would say I have one disagreement (which most of you can probably guess; I kiss and tell) and three questions: 1) How loud do you have to be to be voted 6th worst lovers in the WORLD? Wow. 2) Where the Asians at? 3.) Canadians? Really?

Ciao, buddies.
-Nina

Fly

Happy Thanksgiving. Gobble Gobble.

"they aren't attacking me because I'm female; they are attacking me because I'm ahead."

anyone catching this cnn democratic debate from Vegas tonight...? wow, this is a wild one. something about this debate just feels really unruly... and also a little more honest and interesting. at least at moments. but I'm drunk.

I'm drunk and pounding my fist in the air and yelling at the tv. this must be what boys feel like on football Sundays.

ciao, buddies.
-nina

p.s. I actually said "you go girl" a few minutes ago.

This was in town on Sunday. We missed it.

"Frankly, I'm surprised it lasted this long."

Fall Canceled After 3 Billion Seasons

Ninja Parade

Ninja Parade Slips Through Town Unnoticed Once Again

aloha!

just a quick note to say aloha! Kauai is, of course, fantastic and gorgeous and fun and great. well, almost... fyi, ya'll, Wendi had a stroke and we've spent the last day or so in the hospital. she's completely fine, for the most part - I'll tell ya all about it later. anyway, we're off to pick her up and get back to our beach chairs! see ya.

here's a quick little sampling of our fun in the sun.

Let's all watch Radiohead kick EMI in the balls...

It is a joyful time for Radiohead fans.

First of all, there is a new album out next week. That alone is enough to make my eyes roll back in my head. But even better, in fact one of the best things I've ever heard, is that they are selling the new album online (digital downloads, I mean), on their own (they are not signed with any major record label right now) ... and they are letting fans pick the price. Really, you can pay one dollar or you can pay one million dollars. You get to decide what the music is worth to you.

I just love it. I love it as a fan, who will probably even pay full price for it (see, they get that people who love music and love Radiohead don't want to steal from them) but also, I love it in that "stick it to the man" kind of way. Seriously - I cannot imagine how the big record labels are shitting themselves over this move, but I like to try. THE biggest band on the planet are selling their music directly to their fans for whatever their fans want to pay for it - come on! It's a beautiful and revolutionary concept.

Oh, bless that little Radiohead. I'm very excited to see how it all works out. Oh and, of course, to listen to the album continuously for ten straight days while I am looking at this:


and this:

and this:


and this:


and this:


I know, I know, shut up. wink.

Ciao, buddies.
-Nina.

...with a little bit of uh, uh.

Oh, Tawny and her internal ruptures...

Welcome home, Tawny!

Ok, well not really "home" - - but welcome back to your own AK pad, which I'm sure is a more agreeable place than a hospital bed, however hospitable those southern nurses may be. We're all glad you are feeling better. Kiss, kiss.

Ciao, buddies.
-Nina.

O lord, good stuff.

NYC , May 2007: A Photographic Time Capsule.

Ah, the Danielsons. God, they're cute.

Yes, yes, ya'll - - that IS a double-decker tour bus upon which we are perched. I'm sorry -I'll just say it - TOTAL BLAST. Really, it's a great way to see the city, comfortably (especially when gritty, city heat is involved), and distanced. Now, I'm not saying to see the city (any city, really) exclusively comfortably and distanced... but it's just one angle. And it's nice.

NYC lends itself to some seriously fantastic, tiny photographic moments. What a lovely thing for a lovely city.

Pure homage to one of my great g-ma's most infamous stories, involving a stolen chair, a fur coat, a crazy-ass BFF named Margaret McCloud, New Year's Eve and, I'm guessing, a few Tom Collins.

Okay, seriously, this is enough to make bring a girl to tears. This is at the MOMA - - I snapped this shot very quickly, thru a tiny window on the second floor, on the way to the bathroom. As I said, very photogenic, this city.

Too. much. to look at in this one... let's all just look at Girl Hog, in her spontaneous and natural beauty. As gorgeous a snapshot NYC takes, Amy bests on a bad day.

To-go margaritas + amazing, cheap, Cuban corn on the cob + blond buddies = good times in the East Village. Manda showed us a hell of an afternoon.

Street food, haaaay!! Gyros are awesome. Mel and I had a wonderful street-built gyro just blocks from where we indulged in the single best lunch of our foodie-wannabee lives at Le Bernardin. Another fanfuckingtastic thing about NYC.

Just another nice, and apropos, NYC shot. The controlled chaos of the busiest of NYC intersections is a sight to behold.

Back at the MOMA. Sweet Jebus, there it was, one of my favorite Chagall pieces, right there, all up in my face. The tour guide saw me chillin' on the periphery of her little schoolkid group, probably as thrilled-looking as they were, and motioned for me to sit right down with them. I did and it ruled.

HUNG over on the Staten Island Ferry. THE most flattering picture of me ever, yes, I agree.

It was "Fleet Week" in NYC. The only thing that really meant to us was to serve as a reminder that Sex in the City was just a television show.

This is right after Tech almost died in Brooklyn. Apparently, Techie was drunker than we thought and in no shape to handle the ladder leading to the rooftop. Somehow, after trying to descend the ladder, he ended up five feet from the top of said ladder, on his back, precariously close to the edge of the rooftop.

Totally sober, obviously.

Again, totally sober.

Jesus, clean yourself up, seriously.

You tell me.

Noted fashion photographer, Nigel Barker! okay, I know it's next to impossible to confirm, but I SWEAR, it's Nigel.

Fierce! (For Nigel. Rahr.)

As much as I love NYC, I know we would have had as much fun in Burnsville. Or not, I know, I know... I just mean -- buddies are awesome.

Ciao, buddies, you're awesome.
-Nina.

Not cool.

One in four adults read no books at all in the past year, according to an
Associated Press-Ipsos poll released Tuesday. Full story.

Shit, people, come on!

...which means "throw momma from the tambien."

Summer's end isn't the worst thing in the world.

... a nasty, naughty, bad boy. spank. spank.

Man, I fucking love these pathetic republican closet-cases... these guys just keep getting better and better.

Maynards and Cougars and Lap Dances, Oh My!

You guessed it - - I'm talking about a Saturday night on Lake Minnetonka. My first time - really! I have to say, I thought I would be feeling super old, partying in that scene... but I didn't. I felt lots of things, but old wasn't one of them. It was entirely thanks to the preying packs of cougars and the creepy old guys. Classic.

My favorite exchange of the night:

Maid of honor, to some hot, random guy at the bar:

"Give her a dollar - come on - and she'll give you a kiss."

Random guy's short, goofy-looking friend:

"What can I get for 17 bucks?"

Photographic proof:


This photo pretty much sums up the festivities for the evening: Missy, looking sexy and adorable at the same time (as a general rule, this an irresistible combination), surrounded by a herd of rich, drunk whiteboyz.


This is your typical "Cheers, ladies!" photo - but yet a tiny bit frightening. Look at blond son of satan in the background!


And my personal favorite moment of the night...

"Hip-hop," as Mel very appropriately named him, was a cute little pseudo-Timberlake who was willing (I mean drunk) enough to give the bachelorette an impromptu and free lap dance.

This is Hip-Hop bringing sexy back. Missy is the dirrrrty babe in the back, preparing to remove Hip-Hop's clothing.

She got him as far as topless...

and then this fool came along and kicked Hip-Hop out because, apparently, only chicks can be topless at Lake Minnetonka bars. No I did not really see any topless chicks, but it was cold and rainy so the girls were bundled up in halter tops made of cotton instead of lace and jean skirts that covered their upper thighs instead of just their upper ass cheeks.

I kid, I kid! It was a fun time, all in all. Oh, and I forgot - Rod Stewart popped by to wish the drunken bachelorette all the best. Or something.

Ciao, buddies.
-Nina

P.S. I always think it's very funny to refer to shirtless males as "topless."

Fun for the whole family.

Sometimes I forget about The Onion. Don't forget about The Onion.

Report: Iran Less Than 10 Years Away From 2016