1. Mimi Smartypants may have drunk deeply of her bitchjuice lately, but it makes for pretty hilarious reading. Especially this:
When I am in a mood like this, my writing self does an eerie split-personality routine. With each paragraph I set the table, forks and knives and flowers and cloth napkins, glass of wine? Sure I'd love one. Oh won't this be nice. Let's eat! And then the other part of my head, the Drunk Dad from all those Irish Novels Of Great Domestic Misery, comes home with big boots tracking mud everywhere, and he is set off by some little nothing and the table's knocked over, the dishes are broken, the spaghetti is sliding down the wall, and then he's passed out on the couch while the rest of my psyche twists the dishtowel and says oh dear oh dear. Don't forget the kid part of my brain, headphones clamped on ears and nihilistic rap turned way up, thinking why even bother. And don't forget the narrator, third-person and entirely-too-omniscient, sitting back and saying ooooh you are so fucking clever with your little analogies.2. Then via Subspace, there's this hilarious review of Grindhouse. It is, in fact, pretty relentlessly hilarious if you're juvenile like I am, but here are some choice tidbits:
He kicks ass that isn’t even in the ass area. Like, his director skills are so stripper-with-chainsaw good they make you grow asses on other parts of your body that he then kicks.And
You know how Sly Stallone kind of looks like Bea Arthur now, and Jean-Claude Van Damme looks like Ally Sheedy? Well, Kurt Plissken looks like a dumpster full of drop kicks. He could fuck a bulldozer into eight Mini Coopers.I dunno. It was hard to choose.
3. Also this, which you've probably seen before (I mean the poem part) if you are a smart-ass and also a poetry lover. (That Venn diagram has, I'm sure, a large intersection section.) I've really been laughing about it ever since she posted it.
Also, my car pics are on flickr, but I don't have time to post them here. They are very sad.