And she's known in the darkest clubs for pushing ahead of the dames

Apropos of my most recent post, this is the only shirt I'm gonna wear from now on, and I mean every single day and night, forever and ever and ever because I love it SO HARD:

Hat tip to Adrien at the forever-wonderful Looks Good From the Back for finding it -- they do good work over there, and not just on the days they post pics of Idris Elba. Although that is really nice, when they do that; it's a public service provided at no cost to the viewer, like that bat-signal thing the networks run at noon on Tuesdays to make sure you know when we are or are not in a nuclear war.

Work-appropriate?

Every once in awhile, I wonder what in the sam hill I am doing looking at fashion-y websites. Me, who is (am?) sitting here in my kitchen, eating a scrambled-egg-with-mega-Sriracha-and-cheese on tortilla, drinkin a Safeway seltzer, wearing my Vandelay Industries t-shirt, no makeup (I ... think I own some that is still good? somewhere?) with my hair up in a clip (still sweaty from the gym -- I showered but didn't wash my hair, the better to maintain the expensive dye job). It amuses me, this habit of mine, useless and strange though it certainly be ...

ono i drobbed it my gum

yoo guys i cannt stoplauvhing


dissis my favrit

Well, get on with it, motherf*****!

16/40

Another thing is, you are generally way past the years of infatuation with what my Analysis of Film Language professor James Schamus once called the "piece-of-chicken teenage hunk" -- although of course as a Grown-Ass Woman you will forever own your right to ogle inappropriately-aged youthful beauty, it's just that the really young ones look like unformed little baby proto-human otters or something, and furthermore unlike what I gather 40-year-old men get out of ogling very very young women, a 40-year-old woman ogling a very very young man would probably just ... feel old by comparison. Anyway, that's my reaction -- you go right ahead being you, as ever, dig?

And but so, my point: You've moved on, crushwise, and you can have all of the feelings about Idris Elba, instead.

By this time we were both half-crazy from too much whiskey, sun fatigue, culture shock, lack of sleep and general dissolution.

Wowie wowie wow, if you wanna see a post that totally nails it, go to here -- inspired by the upcoming release of Before Midnight, Joanna looks up some of her favorite screen couples to find out what they're up to now. It is awesome. I want more. (Hat tip to Sarah Brown for finding it!)

a few months after moving in together in houston, lelaina was hired by bunim/murray. she moved out to LA, and troy came with her.

And if you want to read the piece that was the very genesis of Hunter S. Thompson's gonzo streak, not to mention his first collaboration with the great Ralph Steadman, go to here -- there are some great footnotes that you won't want to miss. Hat tip to Mr. Gleemonex, because he sent it to me, and this man knows what I like, y'all.

"I was sure it was the last article I was ever going to do for anybody," Thompson said in a 1974 interview with Playboy. "Then when it came out, there were massive numbers of letters, phone calls, congratulations, people calling it a 'great breakthrough in journalism.' And I thought, 'Holy shit, if I can write like this and get away with it, why should I keep trying to write like the New York Times?' It was like falling down an elevator shaft and landing in a pool full of mermaids."

Sometimes known as the leader of the homeless

Awesomeness Potpourri: Some Things That Are Great Today

The dance routines, the excelling, the periods, the junior sexual harassment, the rompers

I almost can't stand how much I love DOSBS's new joint, Me At 13 -- it's one of the tumblrs I now look at about 15 times a day on my phone, hoping there's a new post. Also I like its tumblr address, which I read as "meat 13." Wondering whether you'd like it? Here is a context-free sample of things on it that have made me schnorg-laugh in a most unladylike fashion in public lately: 

     --Cacique, the favored store of NBA Spurs wives

     --while doing a bunch of secret exercises you made up to do in your room at night after everyone goes to bed

     --I never get to make my own decisions. It’s just like tennis camp.

     --Mrs. Mortimer told us in theater arts today that nobody is allowed to do any more Toonces the Driving Cat improv scenes. She has hit her limit.

The greatest interview in the history of interviews: A "Home-Free" Hitchhiker Tells How He Rescued a Guy From Being Killed By a Racist Maniac Who Said He Was Jesus Christ

I'm not even trying to be funny here, y'all -- this is for real. This guy, Kai, is my new jam. I love him. Yes, this video is funny in parts, but I'm completely serious about my genuine human affection for Kai, and if you want me to shut up before I start talking about the beauty of the human spirit and how this is the kind of thing that gives me faith in humanity, you'll just go watch it yourself.

And finally, just for shits: Recent Searches on my iPhone
does melamine contain bpa
[name, alleged hometown & alleged occupation of my sister's new gentleman friend]
the americans fx
what the fuck should I make for dinner
vrbo molokai
lyrics johnny ryall
vegan icing
obama administration cabinet
TMJ

The dust of Winona Ryder's dreams

Ohhhhhhhhh shit y'all, Sarah Brown -- I am in severe respiratory distress since reading this crystal nugget of hilarity -- canNOT stop laughing!

I had this whole thing I was gonna say about how I just can't with handbags, no matter how much I like former Sassy staffers (which I do, forever), but that'll keep for another day.

Curated ... by Mario Batali ... [wheezing, feeling faint]

It's like the milk truck scene in Three Kings.

I'm'a take a break from baggin on shit today and bring y'all:

A Few Wonderful Things From the Internets, Which Maybe You've Already Seen, But If Not, Here's Your Chance

So Ladies If the Butt Is Round, and You Want a Triple-X Hoedown
This rendered me HELPLESS with the awesome! Guy cuts together 295 movies to form "Baby Got Back" -- everybody from Cary Grant to Pee-Wee Herman and Marge Gunderson gets a word or two in. From the guy who did Don Draper Says What, so you know this is fucking gold medal shit, y'all. (Hat tip: the forever-winning List of Things Thrown Five Minutes Ago). 

Voguing Into Manhood
Perhaps the only thing that could have made me wheeze in agonized laughter this morning (I was up, I think, SIX times with the teething REM-sucking vampire, and once with the 4.5-year-old brat-phasing one): A kid doing a full-out, absolutely committed performance of Madonna's "Vogue" at his own bar mitzvah in 1992. There is a large Madonna poster involved, as well as a king-hell jacket-tearing-off which reveals a gigantic Madonna rendering on the back of the kid's dress shirt. It's -- it's kind of uplifting, honestly; as one commenter said, "he must have really supportive parents, bless him."

Sippy Cups Can Go to Hell
Holy shit, did this make me laugh yesterday -- could. not. stop. For like hours. I can't even stop finding stuff to quote -- but here's a taste:

One more thing about the whole BPA issue: I'd like to issue a big FUCK YOU to whoever found out BPAs in plastic are possibly harmful. I bet this was Kelly Preston's doing. Now I can't put the sippy cup in the dishwasher because the heat will cause the BPAs to leak out and give my kid triple AIDS or something. Any item that can't go into a dishwasher should be destroyed.

SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT

Holy crap, Internets, I got a basketload of goodies for y'all today.

--STFU Conservatives: Where I spend most of my time online. A Tumblr of wonderfulness that will also enrage in a head-explodey way. Good for keeping fired up in this election season, and I adore Jess & Joe, the proprietors (whom I've never met or even corresponded with, just to clarify; they're just really kewl).

--Fuck Rick Santorum: A Canadian gets in on the game, and hilarity ensues.

--I Hope Rick Santorum: ... encounters a whole bunch of shitty little first-world problems, pretty much every minute of his day every day of his life. AWESOME.

--Dr. Jen Gunter: Wielding the lasso of truth -- it's her tagline and the actuality of the blog. Thoughtful, intelligent, extremely interesting posts on the issues of the day by a doctor and single mom.

--Bracketology: Greatest Wire Characters. You come at the king, you best not miss.

Cause I'm sick of your mouth and your two-percent milk

Three Things To Delight And Surprise

--Mo: Looks way too skinny to be durable, according to the baseball prospectus in 1996 (about the all-time saves recordholder and future Hall-of-Famer, now 41 and still lights-out). I think all writing ought to be like the writing in this here document, forever and ever.

--Jo: There's a blog I read called A Cup of Jo. I kind of love her -- fresh, sweet, interesting, full of gorgeousness. It's almost always an upper for me. But then a small and ugly part of me sometimes kind of hates how fabulous she is; surely the Germans have a word for this conflicting emotion. ACOJ never approaches Gwyneth-flavor smugness -- she's not that way, at all. But everything is so perfect, so design-y; her friends are all these wealthy-looking work-at-home-in-fabulous-cities types; there always happen to be professional-quality photos of professional-quality photo-ready Perfect Moments ... it just (through no real fault of hers) sometimes manages to make me feel bad for eating takeout for dinner and watching TV on the couch instead of biking across the Brooklyn Bridge for a lovely dinner with some lovely friends at a lovely little bistro, you know?

--ROWE: We bout to do this up in my work, y'all. End of this month. HOLY SHITCAKES.

Alison's starting to happen

In honor of Women's History Month, a Selection of:

Things That Are Makin Me Happy Today!

1.) The 80th anniversary of the Earthly manifestation of the Most High Anointed, the Grand Ka-Boom, the One From Whom All Blessings Flow: William His Highness the Shatner.

2.) Mimi Smartypants -- holy Shatner, does she kill me:

4. Speaking of, who on this train could you take in a fight? Pick somebody to hate. Picture yourself standing up and thumping the hell out of that person. Picture the spilled Starbucks, the torn North Face jackets, the general pandemonium. Maybe he would fight back. Maybe other commuters would join in, vigilante-style, to beat the crap out of you. Picture your black-eyed, bloody-nosed self being carried off the train by the police, still thrashing and fighting. Hey, I won’t be in today. I kicked everybody’s ass and got my ass kicked in return. I’ll check email later.

3) These goddamn little triple ginger cookies from Trader Joe's. WHY SHATNER WHY are they so tasty?

"Oh, didja hear that? He was GETTIN there. Psssh. Son, you wouldn't know what to do with it if you HAD gotten there, so don't worry about it."

What's Impeding the Bloggage Lately? A Partial List

--The immense, fantastic suckitude of my job. When every day starts with that sick dready third-day-of-seventh grade feeling, plus a heapin' helpin' of poison loathing, and there's so much work to do that for the third night in a week you're up past midnight plugging away, and you still make what you made three years ago, plus you're bossed by aggressive halfwits, and twenty-five-year-olds are getting promoted over you -- you know it blows!

--Under the Dome. GodDAMN, Stephen King. I WISH I KNEW HOW TO QUIT YOU. But I can't put this (five-pound) thing down, dammit. I'm sick ... and I never want to get well!

--Various and sundry Grownup Life Tasks (getting prequalified for a mortgage, booking travel to HHL's wedding, arranging family social shit, gettin us all to the dentist, payin bills, what have you)

--Running! I never knew I could love it, but reader, I do. Longer and longer distances, higher and higher runner's highs ...

--An inability to handle horrifying shit in the news (for days I've been trying, and failing, to come up with something to say about the murder spree that numbnuts crazy fuckwad went on in Arizona -- I got nothing but outrage and sadness).

--The daily irritation of seeing those Natalie Portman - Ashton Kutcher movie posters in the festering pit that is BART. Now, y'all know I love me some Natalie, and Kutcher, for all his retarday, will always hold a special little place in my heart for my beloved Dude, Where's My Car?, but come ON. It's the tagline that really bothers me: "Can SEX FRIENDS stay BEST FRIENDS?" Because: What? "Sex friends"? Has anyone -- in the history of ever -- used that phrase? I get what you're going for, but THAT IS NOT A THING.

--Unproductive yet awesome shit I find on the Internets (a series of tubes). These two are via my personal Kenny Powers of Internet Awesome, Mimi Smartypants: First, Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit. Second: The hills are alive ...

In that moment, I was a god - the god of cake - and I was unstoppable.

WERE YOU AWARE …

1) That there is food that doesn't have salt in it, and that these foods don't taste very good? (This profound and provocative observation brought to you by the fact that I had a great soup from the cafe at work yesterday, but it wasn't great until I added four little packets of salt to it.)

2) That Mr. Gleemonex, upon reading #1, will do a full-body cringe and probably dry-heave a time or two, and then have dark thoughts about my blood pressure, made annoying to him by the next thought, which is that my blood pressure is fine? (Genes are a bitch. I eat salt like other people breathe, with no ill effects on the ol' BP; it's the sugar diaBEETus or the poor ol' beat-up liver, not the hypertension, that'll eventually get me.)

3) That my grandboss gave our entire team a lecture yesterday on how she and the other three Senior Directors (on our team of twenty -- also we have one VP, five Directors, four Senior Managers, and two Managers, none of which are me -- we real top heavy up in my group) are "aware" of some " … well, disrespect in how people are treating each other around here," apparently including "sniping and backbiting" and "complaining to each other about people not delivering things they promised and so forth," and that this was "not aimed at anyone in particular here" but that "everyone should be aware" and that "we're not going to tolerate it" because it's "frankly unprofessional," and that she went on in this vein for nearly fifteen minutes, during which I wrote on my agenda in the guise of serious note-taking: "Probably this is related to me and Blue Flame. Also FYI, everyone here is fucking MISERABLE"?

4) That this right here is the funniest goddamn thing I've seen in AGES?

Do you prefer "fashion victim" or "ensembly challenged"?

Internets: Once upon a tyme, as I believe I have done told you more than once, I was quite the ... well, not snappy, but more like interesting dresser. I put thought into it -- a LOT. And time and money. And then I went to college and between the sudden disappearance of curfew, getting palsy with my good buddy Andy Alcohol, and my discovery of the East Coast College Aesthetic (early 1990s version, grunge years), there was no more of that for the next, oh, decade and a half.

But now I am a Mid-Career Professional, and I find myself in the annoying position of having to dress better to be taken seriously at the Day Job.

Which is where these wonderful humans come in -- the geniuses who operate Looks Good From The Back, a bubbling spring of fashion inspiration for real people who want to dress more gooder. Adrien and Marianne are both cute as hell, and have a great sense of fun to go along with the whole dressing-like-a-grownup thing -- and I am seriously dorking out about the fact that they chose me as their project for September! They're fixing me!!!

You guys -- go check it out. And then, start reading them every day!

Love,
Gleemonex

-------------------------------------
Thanks once again to BlabberMouse (aka She From Whom All Good Things Must Flow), who introduced me to She's Still Got It, who in turn put me on to my new pals Marianne & Adrien. And of course: THANKS, MARIANNE & ADRIEN! You guys are awesome.

The awesome and the puketastic

Internets, I have but two things to say to you today:

1)This man is a true American hero. I want him to be the mayor of Queens, the governor of California, and the Grand Marshal of the Macy Day Parade -- and henceforth, whenever I quit anything, it shall be with Master Steven Slater in mind: Some form of curse-riddled public address, a showy exit, and a coupla beers for the road (followed by hot sex till the cops get there). Fuck yeah!

2) Whereas this -- THIS -- makes me want to puke. Puke puke puke. Gaudy ribbons of lunch-flecked slurry, waves and eddies and snarls of it filling the corners and spattering the ceilings of all the rooms in all the world. Puuuuuuuuuuuke. I got it from one of my favorite sites on the Internets -- STFU Believers -- and am as yet unsure what part of it makes me puke most violently: the writing, or the point of the story.

--The writing: Like a ghostwriter for Stephenie Meyer, this shit. I've found that all these modern-day Xtian parables (which are 100% complete dingo diarrhea, btw) sound the same; there are people who "give" "slow chuckles," they're always smiling and saying things "gently" (general abuse of adverbs is a habit with this crowd), and the tone -- oh the tone. Perky, earnest, clean, full of overwrought symbolism -- it makes me want to go on a tri-state ARSON SPREE.

--The point of the story: Mens are bad (except Jesus and Daddy). Your un-poked vaginer = the entirety of your value on earth and in heaven forever and ever amen. Your father gets to know when you have all your "firsts" with guys. (NB: Of course it's guys -- you're not a homo faggot lesbo, are you?) If you "give a man your pearl," wink-wink, and you're not married to him, then you're a cheap slut who disrespects herself, God, and her parents and deserves to be banged and dismissed by anyone and everyone and GOOD DAY TO YOU, we don't love you anymore and neither does Jesus and never will any man, you little whore.

I've already goddamn told you what you need to do to protect and aid your daughter, you sick creepy fucks! Now go do it.

Love,

Gleemonex

Also, Mary preferred to sit inside and sew on her nine-patch colorblock quilt because she's a goody two-shoes kiss-ass little twit.

Or: Further Adventures in Children's Lit
Sparked by a comment I was going to leave over at Sarah Brown's joint, which comment became overlong and moved itself over here instead:

1) I have started reading Little House on the Prairie to my almost-three-year-old. It is pretty awesome, and she likes the sound of it, and follows the story remarkably well. But I'm glad she can't actually read yet, because I have had to do some on-the-fly editing-out of this and that -- such as the Ingallses basically being HOME-INVADED by some Indians while Pa was away (it is really a terrifying chapter, no kidding), and how Ma is constantly mouthing off all racist about Indians in general (even before the home invasion).

2) Speaking of home invasions (Cat in the Hat, GOD), I never knew how much a person could grow to hate Dr. Seuss. Now, a bunch of y'all just went "Noooooooooo!" and started composing defenses of the man and his work, but y'all -- Y'ALL -- have never had to read "Blue Fish Blue Fish" for the eighth god damn night in a row, all that "Ish Wish Dish" and "Zans cans" and "seven-hump Wump" shit.

3) And speaking of editing, I don't edit the ending of Henny Penny, where HP, Cocky Locky, Goosey Loosey, Ducky Lucky, and Turkey Lurkey stupidly follow Foxy Loxey into his lair and he and his wife and kids EAT THEM ALL UP. Because DAMN, y'all, get some brains and don't follow a fucking FOX into its LAIR.

Ponce de Leon / constantly on

I been at work for over three hours already, that's FIVE IN THE A.M. motherfuckers, because of shit that is a complete beatdown to talk about but is over and was quite successful so yay me and also now I have the moral superiority of FIVE IN THE A.M. you lazy assed sleepin-in motherfuckers who I work with. Also maybe I am A Crazy this morning, see above.

But so it's been very productive except for a brief detour down a few magical roads on the Internets (I should say tubes, since the Internets is a series of tubes), all of which -- as is often the case -- began with the delightful Sarah Brown. So in that spirit, I share with you some nuggets. From the tubes.

Peach Pit After Dark
Now look at Brandon's nerd hair. And denim on denim? This is why everyone hated you, Brandon. That and your self righteousness that nearly killed everyone. No, really. Kelly was shot because of you. You're like the worst parts of Jack and Kate (from Lost) combined. You have Jack's need to be a hero and you have Kate's abilities to ruin everything all the time.

Dealbreaker indeed
You don't like the Beatles
I don’t … I can’t … do you … what the … how can you … I just … but they … I mean, all music … it’s just that … okay, so … no, wait … okay, so you’re saying … no, I don’t really … I don’t see how … alright, but if … so the thing is … but … can’t … form … sentences … too … confused.

Ahhh, the beach. I used to love the beach.

Oh man, Internets -- did this genius post ever speak to me! Herewith, I give you (with some crossover from the original):

Things That Messed Me Up As A Kid

--The typewriter-on-wheels on Sesame Street. I somehow equated it, in my mind, with the cement truck that came to pour us a carport when I was about three, and it was fucking terrifying. Like, leave-the-room terrifying.

--The no-mouth girl from the Twilight Zone movie. HOW COULD SHE EAT WITHOUT A MOUTH???

--The nowhere-place in the Twilight Zone movie. What's scarier than being literally nowhere?

--Lithgow getting his face squeezed by the plane-shredding fantod thingy, which then wagged its scrapey finger in his face and flew off laughing its hideous demonic laugh. In the Twilight Zone movie.

--The staticky TV that was the portal to the beyond in Poltergeist. Channels don't go off the air anymore, but when they did, back in the day, I would do ANYTHING to turn off the TV before that happened.

--The toys-come-alive scene from Poltergeist. To this day, I get the heebie-jeebies just thinking of it. I might die of a heart attack if I got locked in a toy store overnight.

--The evil tree from Poltergeist. The parents said it was just his imagination and then it GRABBED THAT BOY!!! Who the fuck let me watch this movie?

--Charlotte's Web. I cried because a fucking spider died. That must be some good writin, because y'all, I would personally be the architect of a goddamn arachnid holocaust if I were sure it would work (you come at the king, you best not miss -- any survivors would have it OUT for me). (More than they do now, that is.)

--The fluorescent ear worm things they put in that guy's ears in Beastmaster. They strapped him down! They put THINGS in his EARS! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

--The Kraken.

--The mud baths in Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Once again, who the fuck let me watch this movie? There was NO REASON for that. And this scene is the reason I will never, ever take a mud bath (besides the fact that, well, you're naked in mud), and I can't be comfortable in that scene in The Player where Tim Robbins and what's-her-face are hiding out in a desert spa. Even though I know there's no zombies in that one.

--Ichabod's ride home in the animated Legend of Sleepy Hollow. Holy shit, that's intense, and we saw it like four times a year in elementary school, sitting Indian-style on the floor of the stage at one end of the cafeteria, with the curtain pulled and the projector whirring.

--The end of Greg Kihn's Jeopardy video -- you know, where all the old couples' hands and arms start melding together and he's all tripping out on being trapped into holy matrimony? Yikes.

Foursquare Tuesday

Random bits of this, that, and the other thing:

--On last night’s Cuddy-centric House episode (no spoilers): I didn’t mind them straying from the formula, and it was interesting to get her side of the story. But a few things:
1) Those blouses, my god. Her funbags are RIGHT OUT THERE. You can practically see the nipular region. People, this is not workwear, not even in California, not even for a girl fresh out of college who doesn’t know any better yet and doesn’t have much to lose – for a professional woman at the height of her career, among people whom she wants to take her seriously, it is RIDICULOUS. I’m not saying it’s not hot – and I know this is a teevee show, all right? I’m just saying, the Dean of Medicine should not dress like she works at Wet Seal.
2) I am troubled by how many opportunities this gave the show to call her a bitch. I get that a woman in her position probably is not unused to being called bitch, but it … felt a little like “Hey, here’s your big episode, bitch. What? Powerful women get called ‘bitch’ all the time, right?” An excuse to do, in context, what they sort of wanted to do all along. Yuck.
3) With regard to that “professional woman at the height of her career” stuff: This is what she busted her ass her entire life for? To take flak from all sides, to be constantly harangued and bullied and importuned, to have no time for her kid or her boyfriend or her yoga or her fucking lunch? Nothing is worth that kind of life, to me. No amount of money, no amount of power or prestige. Fuck that noise.

--Indeed yes, good sir: the stone cold truth about apostrophes.

--A short story which is not for everybody. Woof. I warn you, this one will stay with you. You’ll think about it at four a.m., you’ll think about it on the bus, you’ll get a shiver of dread down the spine out of nowhere on a clear blue day.


--A little bit of how I’m feeling in my professional life these days, courtesy of the true-Jesus geniuses at Married to the Sea:

marriedtothesea.com

In the sleepy west / of the woody east

Two things, Internets, and for once only one of them is television-based:

--Sesame Street. My kid is obsessed with it (we got her these two DVDs for Xmas, 40 Years of Sunny Days, which is a sort of best-of from all the seasons), so since we’re about to be driven nutbag by the repetition, we thought we’d TiVo a few current eps. First of all, it’s only on for an unforgivable ONCE a day. Remember when it used to be on like four or five times and you just had to sort of find something else to do while you waited out the horrible, horrible Electric Company and the meh Mr. Rogers in between eps? Secondly, it’s so … earnest now. The skits go on too long, they’re very draggy, there’s none of that punchy quirky jump-in, jump-out stuff they used to just throw in there, there are Serious Lessons all the damn time, Cookie Monster is basically shelved (listen, MY generation wasn’t the one with the childhood obesity problem – I don’t think it’s fucking Cookie Monster’s fault, so why does he get the blame? Why is HE sent off to the Old Age Home for Disgraced and Discredited Puppets? Fuck that noise), and to top it off, all the new characters are these uninteresting babbly little toddler-aged puppets who, like, mispronounce stuff – what kind of thing is that to teach a kid? GOD! Kid Gleemonex lasted about twenty seconds into the ep before she started in with the “I don’t like this one. Mommy, skip it! Want to watch monstos.” (Which is what she calls Grover, et. al. – clearly these fools weren’t monsters, and this crap wasn’t Sesame Street, eh?)

--My gal uncouth heathen linked to this totally awesome sorority rush dress code from some silly bitches at Cornell – srsly, you should read it, it is hysterical, and it totally validates (for the billionth time) my lifelong aversion to this particular subset of female relationship crapola, and besides, for real, girls, you’re at Cornell -- if you really had the mettle for some serious motherfuckin sorority life, you shoulda gone to Vanderbilt or something so give it up. But more importantly to me personally, the tone of this dress code – the intensely personal voice of the writer – put me immediately in mind of this person, the unnamed person from an unnamed part of the Gleemonex past. It could absolutely have been written by this person, with his/her egomania, prescriptive view of everyone else’s life, and unshakeable faith in his/her eternal and thoroughgoing righteousness. It is uncanny. For all I know, that’s actually what he/she is up to right now – yet another completely invented life, this one in Ithaca, New York, raining capricious and terrible misery into the lives of innocent, impressionable teens once again …