Thank you, fine limeys at the BBC, for giving me another reason to live now that American's Next Top Model has been chosen and every cast member on the Real World arraigned.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/theoffice/gareth/

I realize that I've watched this about a gazillion times already, and anyone as remotely obsessed with Death Cab and/or The Gibb probably has, too, but it never, ever fails to cheer me up. I especially like the Cockfosters part. I remember thinking that was fucked, too. But in a good way. Leave a comment  1 

http://www.thelashes.org/

Okay, so I've heard exactly one of their songs and wasn't immediately smitten, but their tour diary alone is enough to compel me to see them. Graceland, Saturday night, seven dollars. Come on, roommates. I'm not watching Labyrinth AGAIN.

http://www.jrn.columbia.edu/admissions/programs/publishing/Read more... )

As though it isn't terrible enough that we're not going to Coachella, now THIS happens. Cripes. Did I kill a saint or something in my past life?

http://www.thelongwinters.com/board/viewtopic.php?t=743

( Read more... )

http://thesurrealist.co.uk/slogan.cgi?word=The+Long+Winters

My favorites, after 10 straight minutes of doing this:

Just Do The Long Winters

AND

Have Any Long Winters In You? Would You Like Some?

Um, okay.

I wish I'd known about this LAST week, when I was awash in a dismal sea of self-pity, rather than this week when I was thankfully re-energized by shopping sprees and cute makeup artists with mohawks. I still can't believe NO ONE sang a Cure song at karaoke last Friday night--isn't that against the law? John fucking Denver got his due, for ( Read more... )

To everyone who's had to put up with the incredibly sulky version of myself on display this week, I tip my pink pillbox hat to you. I don't know why V-Day is really frosting my cookies this year, but it is. I promise I'll return to the normal, cynical, hilaaaaaaarious idiot you know and love on Sunday at 12 midnight. Of course, I'll also be busy ( Read more... )

You know, the one who only asks you how your weekend was so that he can force endless hours of data entry upon you without feeling like a total asshole? I have no idea why this man ever talks to me. My dislike must be palpable. Or I've just gotten so adept at hiding it that it's invisible. If so, kudos to me, because I HATE this guy. All day long, ( Read more... )