A writer is a writer not because she writes well and easily, because she has amazing talent, because everything she does is golden. In my view, a writer is a writer because even when there is no hope, even when nothing you do shows any sign of promise, you keep writing anyway.
They’ve never had a Primo’s Hoagie! Maybe the State Department should use Unbreaded as a field manual.
“All of Human Kind has one thing in common … the sandwich. I believe that all anyone wants in this life is to sit in peace and eat a sandwich. And who am I to say that my delicious Italian Sub is better than it’s Stone Mt (Georgia) equivalent? Which is why I will have a Carp Po’ Boy w/ extra Chuckle (Pig Taint).” - Liz Lemon
Today I was notified by my alma-mater Penn State that it is hosting a contest for free football tickets on Facebook. Hey, free is free and I have a really great story I wanted to share so I indulged in their transparent ‘online marketing’ stunt.
The rules state:
Just go to the Penn State Facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/pennstate and post your most memorable Penn State football moment.
And that’s exactly what I did. Here’s what I submitted:
At the Indiana home game in 2002 I was sitting in the student section frothing in what I would call a typical level ‘yellow’ rage when one of the Indiana’s defensive backs got hurt bad enough to stop the game. While the rest of the 100…,000+ stadium sat in respective silence as the medics tended to the obviously injured athlete I went into the ‘red’ zone. This monster I mutate into must be part shark because sensing there was blood on the field, literal and figurative, got me so worked up I went into a frenzy. With a deafeningly silent stadium praying, reflecting or sending general good vibes to the visiting student I stood on top of my seat and screamed “WHAT’S THE MATTER, DID YA HURT YOUR VAGINA?” Until that moment I had never really seen ‘utter disgust’ in a person’s face, especially not directed at me, but after that moment of ‘fan-turrets’ I turned around to see the entire student section shaking their heads in disbelief. From somewhere in the sea of white I heard “Dude, too muc”.
Then I went back and re-read the contest:
Just go to the Penn State Facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/pennstate and post your most memorable Penn State football moment. Keep it “G-rated” and sober, please. (Inappropriate posts will be disqualified and deleted.)
Whoops … well that’s OK surely the mere mention of the word “Vagina” isn’t enough to bump my entry into the PG ratings and out of the contest, right? PSU, the number one party school in the United States, couldn’t possibly be offended by the only word to ryhme with ‘angina’ could they? Wrong. Five minutes later it was taken down. I guess that’s what I get for not joining the stupid Alumni Group.
With Rocky-esque iconography Seth captures a cinematic narrative that is less cliche as it is true to the blue-collar city of sanctioned violence that is Philly. Please check out Seth’s new project that gives Orphans in Peru the oppurtunity to create art with donated digtial cameras.
Sometimes I wish I did drugs … ya know the fun kind that makes you move like you kind of have cerebral palsy … ya know the fun kind of cerebral palsy that makes you sing like it’s only you and God alive and then goes away when the drugs wear off.
We who are
your closest friends
feel the time
has come to tell you
that every Thursday
we have been meeting,
as a group,
to devise ways
to keep you
in perpetual uncertainty
frustration
discontent and
torture
by neither loving you
as much as you want
nor cutting you adrift.
Your analyst is
in on it,
plus your boyfriend
and your ex-husband;
and we have pledged
to disappoint you
as long as you need us.
In announcing our
association
we realize we have
placed in your hands
a possible antidote
against uncertainty
indeed against ourselves.
But since our Thursday nights
have brought us
to a community
of purpose
rare in itself
with you as
the natural center,
we feel hopeful you
will continue to make unreasonable
demands for affection
if not as a consequence
of your disastrous personality
then for the good of the collective.
We are half-hearted creatures,
fooling about with drink and sex and
ambition when infinite joy is offered us,
like an ignorant child who wants to go on
making mud pies in a slum because he
cannot imagine what is meant by the offer
of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily
pleased.
“Ladies, I know I will never know the pain of childbirth, but until you’ve had your ovaries sucked out of your body and impaled by a sledgehammer you will never know the pain of running into a mailbox balls first”