(no subject)

Either Netflix or the U.S. Postal Service bites batwanger. I mailed back discs last Tuesday, and they're just now showing up as received. I swear I think they're holding out on me.

Speaking of Netflix, you should add me as a friend (chris@chrisheller.net) on there if you can figure out how. I'm honestly not sure.

saying_things says that I inspired a meme when I mentioned the odd search term from my Google search bar. Here are some more. Now tell me what's in your search history.

about aboot
"delois price"
boston accent
"twilight zone" pinball
freddy fixer
"shocking tomfoolery"
"Urhines Kendall Icy Eight Special K"
worst baby names
"jackie earle haley" "steve nash"
"hotel chelsea" price

Another wedding thing: in early July my ex-co-worker Nancy is getting married at this fancy-ass mansion overlooking the Hudson in Tarrytown (a bit north of NYC). I'd actually sort of like to go; Nancy's one of my favorite people, and it's not every day that I get to crash a shindig like that. But the thing is, my friend Wes is going to be in NYC that weekend, and I'm planning to go there and hang with him. Would we look like total homos if we went to the wedding together? (Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I dunno, geez, you know.) Maybe he could wear a sign around his neck reading, "NOT HELLER'S LOVER." But even with that issue aside, would it be considered rude or inappropriate to bring my homie? I'm not really familiar with your strange customs; my primitive caveman mind can't grasp these concepts.

(no subject)

In the past hour, a woman from another department has walked through here twice with what appears to be toilet paper hanging out the back of her pants. Actually, it might be an overly long tag coming out of her sweater. I'm never sure what to do or say in these situations.

What is the deal with pussy incense and pussy fragrance oil? Y'all ever seen that? We had some of it when I was at the publishing course. Our mock-magazine group commandeered a room in the Columbia Graduate School of Journalism for a whole week, and while we were planning and putting together ZHI, we'd be in there burning pussy oil, smoking cigarettes, and serving drinks to people from other groups who wanted to come and see the cool room. We even put up our own lighting. It was quite the scene, man. No wonder no one could ever figure out what our magazine was supposed to be. Anyway, I remember walking back into that room a couple of weeks after we'd finished with it, and the joint still smelled like pussy oil.

(no subject)

It's not funny, my ass is on fire.