sometimes i can't spell my last name but i'm always willing to clean bathrooms

ATTN: ALL EMPLOYERS!

in nine short days i will be free from the retail tethers which have held me so uncomfortably close throughout the past year.

though i'm currently looking at apartments&jobs in the city where husker du called it quits (because apparently my entire life can be summed up by bands from minneapolis), i am willing to move anywhere in the midwest* or south, but mountainous regions (we're talking boulder here) and coasts do absolutely nothing for me unless you're going to give me a house with floors made of gold - then we might be able to work something out and by "something" i mean i'll rip up the floor and open the house to squatters.

i've got great references.


PLZ EMAIL ME BY PRESSING THE "TELL ME TELL ME HOW BAD I SMELL" LINK TO YR RIGHT & TELL ME HOW YOU'VE GOTTA HAVE MY STENCH IN YR WORKPLACE.



*okay, not anywhere. i refuse to live in the dakotas.

it makes me sigh

i've mangaged to effectively do j.f.s. today, apart from listening to a yo la tengo song on loop for about four hours while i re-downloaded the music that was lost in the great computer crash of ought five. granted, i can't really remember all of the shit i had on this thing, so it's just a free for all and kind of exciting in that blank canvas kind of way. i also drank a lot of water. check and check.


king of the hill will be on in ten minutes and i still need to make a cherry limeaide. sometimes i don't want to kill my tv but rather snuggle up with it and hand feed it grapes, which is not unlike the relationship i had with that one person i made out with that one time.

pour myself a cup of ambition

so i come back from a weekend of curry ice cream and late night park romps to: "i'm yr manager. i wear an asshat. you are on final warning. go sit in the corner."

which is like, YAWN, get yrself a new manipulative strategy STAT.

so it's like all TWO WEEKS NOTICE for me tomorrow and maybe working at the DQ or some shit.

would you like a blizzard?



CAFTA's coming up for vote in the house of (85%) dudes this week.

at least santorum's decided to crawl back into his cave of delusions for a while longer and spare us the horror that would be his campaign.

kleenex box decorated with puppies and kittens - one of many reasons i love right now

ooooh. hi. ooooh.
i'm shacking up with the the most radical people in the most radical house in columbus complete with a jungle for a backyard. they are lovely, always talk with a sense of urgency and take trips out for vegan sloppy joes and popsicles.
it's been too long since i travelled four hundred miles to sleep on someone's futon.
one t. martinez is here and has the tenderest bosom which i nailed with a pillow last night, temporarily forgetting the fresh piercings she got just four days ago at the week long pro-choice activism workshop. one a. armstrong just presented me with copies of his favorite zine of all time "doris" and asked me what the word "striation" ment. c. meals is at work now, at the union, but when she comes back we are going to bake her a cake and celebrate her birthday and general wonderfulness.


the last time i was in columbus, when i was 15 and on the longest road trip my family ever took, we arrived during the ribs and jazz fest en route to VA beach and i didn't eat any ribs 'cause i declared no more meat and walked around kind of sulking (this was the same year as being upset about funnel cakes and general moping in public places) but now i'm back and the rib and jazz fest is this weekend and i am the opposite of sulking, i want to meet everyone and suck the city dry.

i wasn't even at that party

things i'm excited about:
1: a state in the middle west that looks like either an elephant's head or an old, saggy upper arm that's slowly melting off from a recent nuclear blast in the war between the midwestern states.
2: my friends and their loved ones doing well for themselves and, literally, making their childhood dreams come true. FOR EXAMPLE, one "lady laura" is married to one "chris samnee" whose work on the amazing forthcoming comic/graphic novel/book with pictures, "capote in kansas" should and will be awarded with an eisner and thusly i will invite myself over to their house for cigars and caviar as we warm ourselves by the fire whilst smelling the sweetness of burning twenty dollar bills in an airconditioned room in august, just because we can. then, there is one self-proclaimed "available feminist dude" chris lynge who is re-enrolling in school and learning italian to woo the never-ending line of ladies and also, you know, do that whole thing with "journalism" and "writing" and "achieving his dreams." and there are more examples and the whole thing makes my heart swell.
3: tim wise's white like me and maria raha's cinderella's big score. i'm not finished but what i have read is like cracking things open and reaffirming at the same time.
3.6: fifteen days until PAT BENATAR graces the washMO town&country fair stage. i've seen the likes of alabama, styx, the nuge, george thorogood, reo and leanne rimes up on that platform, but the only other time i can remember being this excited about a fair act was when cheap trick took the stage and that was at a time in my life when i chose to stand on the midway and complain about how lame everyone was for being there. it doesn't make sense to me either, but that was like two years of my life and i'm pretty sure i was just upset 'cause i didn't have enough money to go get another funnel cake.
4: my new shoes with a super absorption system. i haven't gotten new shoes since last october and after a few convos i realized that maybe thats why i've been wanting to saw off my bad leg. i started thinking about my shoe evolution throughout the years as i was driving to work today and then i realized how fucking stupid it was that the idea would even cross my mind. shoes and socks baby. socks and shoes.
5. two nights of the hold steady on nbc. it's a sick sick obsession, but i think that's the way it's supposed to be.

forever in debt to the only insurance company that matters: hioqi, inc.

PRE ORDER THIS SHIT NOW!!!
'less you want a shanking.

com'on dudes, an amazing NEW issue of hit it or quit it with alternate hold steady and miranda july covers! and between those covers there may be one little sumthin' sumthin' by yours truly.


it was the highlight of my summer and the least (or most) you can do is shell out five bucks, okay? forgo that pack of cigs or skip that overpriced coffee or withhold from downloading that miriah ringtone or swipe that bottle of jack instead of paying for it since all this stuff is bad for you anyway and do something GOOD for yourself - hit it or quit it: the new guide to new health, as endorsed by oprah and spoon.

five generations of an unlocked door

my computer went bonkers and, thusly, i have been having to do things such as "read trashy magazines i stole from planet sub" and "stuff my face more than usual" and "watch the proactive infomercial simultaneously on two different channels."


i have some kind of spider bite ON MY FACE which has this shot glass sized redness surrounding it and i've been spreading some goo on the bite, so it's making my i'm-in-my-twenties-and-yes-i-still-get-acne flare up like fucking mt. st. helen.

in addition to my purchase of anti-spider goo, i bought a CANE because someday i will obtain my dream of becoming a famous vaudeville singer with legs up ta there.

...back in april of ought four i took a fall - a long story involving togas, inebriation, and post-modern spectacle - and this unfortunate event led to two months of bedrest, shattered bones, insurmountable medical debt and enough metal under my skin to make araya sound like anka.* now it's over a year later, the pain comes and goes but lately it's been coming and not leaving. at this point i would like to invite you to please make your own "cumming," "that's what she said" type joke and email it to me at theredoaktreeATyahooDOTcom. i will post the winning joke and send you excerpts from some bell hooks essays and three sticker puzzles.

in conclusion, if you see a fat red faced girl with a cane, wondering around the lou, hopped up on two thousand mg's of nexaproxin, give her a popsicle (not a hug, she does not like to be touched unless she has professed some kind of adoration for you).




*speaking of which, paul FUCKING anka is on the overhead speakers at work. do you know what it's like to listen to paul FUCKING anka cover van halen's "jump," "black hole sun," and, yes, fucking "smells like teen spirit" three times an hour, FORTY HOURS A WEEK FOR AN ENTIRE MONTH?

i'm not the only one who hopes that whatshisname, the lead singer of coldplay, gets poisoned by a toxic sharpie the next time he puts an equal sign on his fucking hand, right?

who the hell is hounding you in the bmw

i just read this on m.i.a. like twenty minutes ago and i'm still sitting here like, wow.

with one foot in the grave and one on the pedal

i've been watching the house while the pops and bro are up in the minneapolis region picking up the other bro from his first year of higher learning and the moms is in vegas with her sister at a bridal shower doing things i don't really feel comfortable thinking about because i'm from the midwest and i was raised catholic and while i can participate in all things vegas without a flinch, i do not like to think about my mother's first encounter with a chippendale dancer at the age of 52.


i've had the past two days off and i have nothing to show for it except 5 once filled sonic cherry limeaide cups, 3 frozen pizza boxes and 6 bucks in late fees at the movie castle.



i really shouldn't have had that last pizza because my stomach hasn't felt like this since that one time i thought it would be a good idea to drink beer and eat an entire stick of raw cookie dough.

a man who couldn't make things go right could at least go

two days ago, this old man, in his late seventies i guess, bought a journal for his upcoming trip.

"so, where're you traveling?"

"as far west as i can get."

"'til you hit the ocean, huh?"

"naw, i might not make it that far. i've been ill, in and out of the hospital...i'm supposed to have a operation, but i told my wife i was just gonna go west. i might make it to herman, i might make it to the grand canyon...we'll see."

at this point we were both on the brink of tears and as he left he said, "you should really read blue highways..."


then i took a ten and sobbed in the breakroom.

riding around in yr jeep or yr benzos or in yr nissan sitting on lorenzos

i love fourth of july.
i know that takes me down fifty notches on the politico meter but, seriously, after daylight savings, it is my favorite holiday.

not only are there fireworks (which, when you think about it, are a lot like heat lightning only with more colors and pollution) and the excuse to get time and a half at work (which i just did), but it is completely casual and pointless. it's not depressing like memorial day or thanksgiving (it's depressing in a totally different way), you don't have to dress up and you're supposed to sit outside and stuff your face (most holidays do include sitting around and stuffing your face, but the fourth is one of those ones that the media hasn't tackled about "holiday pounds" and shit like that - apple pie and popsicles for all!).

top three favorite fourths of recent memory*:

3. thoughout jr. high and high school i went to my best friend's grandmother's house for the fourth. the house is just a block away from the town fairgrounds, on a hill facing east, the best view in the entire town for fireworks. her extended family came, lots of neighbors and family friends, my family, everyone we hung out with, you know, very small town, very rural midwest. anyway, i believe this particular time i was sporting an "anti-flag" shirt because i was way into that kind of incredibly tacky rebellion (which, i've found, manifests itself deep and strong in small town kids, especially if they're from rural areas of the midwest/south). so i'm hangin' out with my dudes and dudettes talking about burning flags and being general soulless degenerates throughout the entire fireworks display when we decide to go down to the TOWN DANCE at the fairgrounds. the sparsely populated "town dance" consisted of six snarky teenagers (us), a couple drunk couples plucked straight from 1987 (not the "cool" new wave 1987) and one particularly blasted bald dude with a big potbelly and cut off harley shirt. there was something of a sing-a-long going on to the ever favorite garth brooks tune "i've got friends in low places." we danced in that way you dance when there are ten people on the dance floor and everyone's at least twenty years your senior. we continued to dance until "crazy train" made bald potbelly man go a little "crazy" with the singing, stumbling and thrusting that made more than a few people a little uncomfortable, though i was literally falling over from laughter.

2. chris and i consumed massive amounts of orange food and orange drinks before we set off to find orange fireworks. yes, we put alcohol into sippee cups and yes, we wondered around a small liberal arts college campus with them. eventually we trespassed onto a football field, saw the town fireworks and felt loving patriotism swell in our hearts. later on we came across some fireworks and the near-death-happy-fourth-moment came when i told chris to stand by a firework fountain with his sparkler so i could capture the off-brand kodak moment. at that moment the fountain started doing that high pitched "eeeeeeoooo eeeeeoooo" thing. chris FREAKED OUT, ran toward me, shoved me away from the doorway i was standing in, realized he still had a sparkler in his hand, ran back toward the fountain, realized that if he went any closer he'd catch on fire, ran back toward the door, threw the sparkler on the ground, opened the door, realized the sparkler was still on fire, then lept off the stoop on to the still flaming sparkler and screamed "DEAR GOD!"

1. i invited emily to my to-be roommate's fourth of july party at his homestead in the northwest suburbs of chicago. obviously, emily thought "party" meant "beer." in reality, "party" meant his parents offering us cokes and hot dogs while telling the 19 year old boys to "watch it" with the homemade explosives. after a couple dr.peppers and polite convo, we split to drive around fox river grove in search of fireworks. we pulled into a strip mall, went to the mcdonalds drive-thru, then sat in the harris bank parking lot surrounded by neon 'mobil' signs and watched fireworks peak over the billboards, competing with golden arches.





*there are no punchlines. this is one of those times when you're supposed to turn to me and say "yeah, good story," then turn away, rolling your eyes.