hi guys! hey, thanks for getting in touch. yeah, i’d totally love to write some 500-word blog posts for you for $5 each. totally! food? who needs it? not me! i’ve really been meaning to cut down on my meat, fruits, and vegetables anyway.

oh, what’s that you say? you’d like to know if i could get it to you in…fifteen minutes? ABSO-FRAKKIN-LUTELY! hold on, let me just…gnaw on some cardboard here…ok, now what was that? could i throw in some points for the marketing plan, too? i’d love to! i worked in marketing for a long time, so i’ll adjust my rates for you…oh? it’s not in the budget? it’s a favor? but i’ve never worked with you before, so i don’t…okay. no, yeah, you see – because i still have to pay taxes. and my health insurance. and all that other bothersome stuff that goes along with, you know, living.

so why don’t i just sell some crap on eBay, you can ring up that doin’-it-for-free guy who’s your cousin’s husband’s college buddy and has that awesome blog about kangaroos, and we’ll both get exactly what we need, ok? problem solved!

so i was going to write this big long thing about bea and What I Learned At BEA and The Future of Publishing and maybe some internet week crap and be newsworthy and tag stuff and “blog” about lots of other stuff everyone else is “blogging” about, yet in a different way, different enough to define my “personal brand”, but you know, it’s monday.

and i’d rather think about zombies.

specifically, the walking dead and amc’s frank darabont adaptation, which i could not be more excited about. geeks, please stop dooming the show before it’s even started, with your “it’s too dark for the common folk” “i was so over the books after i discovered there was no ending” “zombies are such a cliche”. in the words of kelly killoren bensimon, “just staaaaaaap!” god, next thing you know you’ll be crying over a skinny girl margarita gift bag and chomping on “lollis” like there’s no tomorrow, all the while reminding me that you’re “up here” and i’m “down there”.

so, what was i saying? ah, who knows, it’s monday. and i’m excited for the walking dead. especially because of nick cave’s appearance!!!

just kidding.  not funny?  no, not funny.

aaand that’s all i’ve got today – zombies, excessive use of quotation marks, and a case of the mondays.

(image via io9)

1.

2. the gates, abc’s new summer (aka future fresh kills landfill fodder) series, is apparently about suburban vampires/werewolves living in an upscale gated community. i could not say it better than a scifiwire.com commentator, who noted: “didn’t the simpsons do an episode like this?” *

* speaking of the simpsons and vampires, i always lol at bart simpson’s dracula when mr. burns – er, i mean, dracula – is all, “why if it isn’t little….boy!”

(top image via gothamist)

when i was a little kid,

like maybe seven or so,

my parents had an old pink typewriter.

it came in an attached hard case.

dragging it out of the closet

akin to carrying a rock with a plastic handle.

sometimes i’d drop it on my foot.

i wrote my first short story on that pink typewriter.

well

my first short story that made actual sense,

wasn’t about giant horses,

wasn’t scrawled on old-school vanilla paper that ripped if you scrawled on it.

the story was titled “it”.

(before stephen king.  i’m old.)

“it” was about some sort of creeping sludge.

“it” lived in a country river.

people started disappearing because “it” was “getting them”,

“eating them”,

and sometimes “spitting their bones up out of the river.”

(at the tender age of seven, already a horror fan.)

today, i came across a vendor.

it – but not “it” – was online.

they sell old typewriters.

of course, yes, why not, this has been around for ages!

seeing the image of a pink typewriter made me nostalgic:

dragging that thing out the closet,

dropping it on my foot,

plopping down in the middle of the living room,

snapping open the case,

fingertips at the ready.

pink typewriter even had a SMELL – inky and metallic.

(and slightly bloody from my foot.)

sometimes, i’d pretend i was a really good typist.   just like on television.

but i wasn’t.

so i flailed my fingers around on the keys,

very loud and fast,

and created masterpieces:

“asklnl893jfkdkbvnbrhj”.

oh, pink typewriter, how i miss you!

image via mytypewriter.com

anyone feel like putting on a carrie suit and finishing out the week for me? it’d be just like this:

additional duties include researching jack coe and early pentecostalism, being frustrated with the florida review (i included a self-addressed stamped envelope, dammit!), and spending at least two billable hours marveling at how difficult it is for a healthy young woman to obtain an affordable, individual health care policy.

takers?

do you think walter would welcome him with open arms?

who remembers squirt tv? i do i do!

also, know your damn chicken, ok?

was that shawty fire burning on the dance floor last thursday morning? nah, it was just the laundromat underneath my apartment building going up in flames.

this shawty right here was standing outside her apartment for about two hours, in a crazy red robe and black elastic sweatpants – cliff burton-style. (i tried to find a picture to illustrate this, but you try typing in “metallica cliff burton metal sweatpants 80s” to google and see what comes up. this was my favorite:

oh manowar, i barely knew ye.)

so yeah, these are things no one else needs to see.

but on the hilarious side, someone mistook me for bjork. yes, i am bjork, she who likes to stand around on the corner clutching a dirty white macbook and her dog, wearing a robe and slippers, watching a building burn at 9am. so neighborly, that bjork!

the roof of the building after the fire:

in other news, i sure am glad the month of febraury is over. aren’t you, law & order?

febraury sucked, you guys!

because shoes are the backbone of any good wardrobe.

(image via katelovesme)

…i’m a style editor for a magazine. also, i get eight hours of sleep every night and never feel slightly dizzy when i wake up in the morning. wait, where was i?

oh, at the capsule trade show.

yeah, so anyway, my job is not hard. any editor who says they have a “hard job”, go ahead, cry me a river. it’s busy, sure, and requires alot of maintenance much in the way that having bangs requires maintenance (have i mentioned that i snipped my eyelid the other day instead of the wayward hairs i was trying to trim?) – not unpleasant. i get to touch clothes, alot. and i like touching clothes. is that weird? i like touching things. i mean, i’d touch paintings at the met and moma, too, if i wouldn’t get arrested. the thick smears of ancient oils, taunt canvas, lumps and bumps and planes and….wait, where was i?

oh yeah. capsule.

so i go to capsule (one of how many trade shows this past month?) and touch alot of clothes. my favorites: whit, with wool bubble skirts and bright red cashmere and super light stripey tops. sounds basic, and it is, but it’s great. also: timo weiland. jackets with little fluttery wool pieces on the bottom – as much as wool can be fluttery – so soft and non-itchy in the way good wool should be. and the people working the booth, so nice! so welcoming! such a change from the normal “oooh, ok” i get when i inform booth people i’m not a buyer, simply a lowly media pleeb.

what else? lorick – hitchcockian. and lined in silk! i imagine ruining the lovely silk immediately with some sort of deodorant mishap, but no matter. it feels good. dirty librarian chains, displayed on top peter beste’s true norwegian black metal book. dlc, are you letting me know you’ve been inspired by this? i’m on board. nothing i love more than abbath when he don’t feel like dancing.

samantha pleet, she of the witchy-ish goth-ish jumpsuits, showed wool SHORTIE jumpsuits, like little onesies almost. gimme. and red by wolves shoes kept making me want to say BRED by wolves, which is guess is the point, although if they were truly bred by wolves their price points wouldn’t be so out of the current realm of possibility for me. unless they’re bougie wolves. living in the english countryside. whose fathers were cobblers. have i mentioned how hard i want these winklepickers?

so yeah.  now i’m headed down to the corner store for powerball tickets.

l.y.l.a.s, k.i.t!