“…the bottom fell out of the soul-market long ago in New York.”
I quite like this. It actually kind of sounds like it was written by a Catty Young Lady Already in Manhattan who didn’t want any new competition.
It’s hard to pick a best part but right now I’m leaning towards (f) under the heading “TO MEET A YOUNG MAN” — the six-word disclaimer at the beginning in ALL CAPS is probably advice we could all still use today. (And I really want to know what ‘friendship services’ are.)
Also, entirely unrelated but just as amusing, please read the comments on this. A compulsion to chew on wood? SPONGES?
And finally, I haven’t gone fishing since I was about 12, but if I did this is probably exactly how I would respond, from start to finish (including the life jacket with the crotch strap – safety first). I’m right along with you, kid – except unfortunately I’m old enough to know that no, he probably doesn’t like you all that much right now.
At the Hampton Beach Casino in 1991, visitors could lip sync their favourite pop songs in front of a green screen. And a star was born.
This is essentially the ARK Music Factory of the early 90’s. Just see if you can make it to 0:30 without clapping your hands in glee.
ME AT NINE, PERFORMING TO MADONNA IN SUMMER ’91! from Robert Jeffrey on Vimeo.
I cannot stop laughing about this. I’m not even watching it anymore because the laughing is starting to hurt. I don’t even care that this blog is becoming primarily food and cute children (+ occasional self-promotion). I am willing to be a cliche for this.
Complete with the perfect blonde angel to her left who doesn’t seem to have a problem doing it perfectly the first time. Tiny, struggling, brunette dancer, I feel your pain. I had the same haircut as you. I fell over a lot, too. I promise you will be good at something else.
I cannot thank Bab enough for bringing this to my attention.
Ok maybe I should just give up now and rename this the ‘obsessed with cute children blog’. It would explain all the Justin Bieber references.
On gchat this afternoon:
A: How was the gym?
Me: pft I didn’t go
Me: I’ve been looking for jobs
Me: writing on my blog
Me: OH MY GOD I’M A CLICHE
Let’s all take a deep breath… and push the cliche a little further. LOOK AT THIS CUTE BABY I DON’T KNOW:
This? This is not me.
I directed a friend to my blog today (so now I have two readers, if you count me going back to re-read my own entries) and needless to say he was a little confused until we discovered the wayward period in the URL. This may come as a shock to you, but I don’t write “video games commentary, criticism & reviews” — although if I did, wouldn’t it be clever to use my real name and then act all confused and indignant? Hiding in plain sight.
Meanwhile back at the ranch, it’s Oscar season. I have to say the only thing I remember from last year is the following Kimmel bit, and it’s high time we all took another spin on the Handsome Men’s Club merry-go-round.