User Tested; Murray Approved

I enlisted the help of my boyfriend in user testing both my webpage and the blog for my final project. After much grumbling, eye rolling, and clicking, I got the thumbs up. This isn't much of a surprise, as (1) neither project is very complicated and (2) us modern folk are, on the whole, quite Internet savvy.

Yay me. Yay civilization.

Wii Fit Called Me Fat

*Note: Above image not actually representative of me. I swear.

A machine called me fat. That's it. They win. The machines have already won. In the future, when we look back and try to figure out how the machines became more powerful than humanity, we'll have to stop and drop our heads at this point.

We gave them the power when we told them they could dictate how we view ourselves.

I'm fat? I'm faaaat!

Well congratulations Wii, you made me feel like crap. I'm gonna go have a donut and a milkshake...mixed together - with some maple syrup on the side for dippin'.

Hoarse

I'm undergoing my second bout of laryngitis in about as many months.

This time the culprit is seasonal allergies. The beautiful weather as of late has brought an onslaught of microscopic invaders which have taken up residence in my head. Their favorite spots seem to be my nose and throat.

My voice has been reduced to what I imagine a unicorn with a slit throat would sound like.


I've tried Claritin, hot tea and lemon. Nothing has helped. Usually the prescription is time but I have to go to work and I can't work from home tomorrow.

Maybe I should see a doctor...

Because I can

Thinner+Lost Boys=Amazing

Extraction Fractions

Yesterday, I had my very first extraction. Yay?

It's sort of a right of passage, having a bone pried loose from your head.

I tried to think of it as such in the days leading up to it. I, idiotically, decided to do a little reading on the procedure the night before. So I knew to expect popping and squeaking sounds, a large needle, and blood.

My procedure took a little long. First, my mouth refused to go numb. I thought I was thoroughly drugged but I began to feel the dentist tugging at the tooth.

"Uhgungahgu," I gurgled.

"Can you feel that?" the dentist stopped her tinkering and asked.

I nodded yes.

"It's ok, I'll take the pain away," picking up the giant numbing needle again and stabbing it into my gum. It hurt. But the pain soon abated, just like she said.

She continued picking and turning, twisting, pulling until she'd removed all the sad shards of my over-retained baby tooth.

I paid my miserable co-pay and was given a pack of gauze for my trouble. I was unleashed back into the world, as drooly and bloody as the day I was born.

Snowpocalypse Now

I hate snow.

Living in Baltimore, snow just stops everything: no mail, no trash pick up, random businesses close leaving me bereft of vintage goods, Jamaican foods, and free books. Sure school and work are canceled but I'm getting an MFA in writing - I can write anywhere. I have the capability to work from home so I'm expected to work at home. Ugh.

Then there's the mess - tiny mountains on the side of the road, salty slush that floods and ruins my shoes, and people who for some reason think dog shit will magically disappear in the snow.

It doesn't. It just freezes and stays there. It's preserved until the sun melts everything and then it's still a piece of shit on the street.

I need some snow boots and a good stiff drink.

Thank You Very Much Mr. J. Campbell

Nothing original here, but oohhh how I love Jeffrey Campbell. I've composed a letter for this occasion.

Dear Mr. Campbell,

You're a stud.

I covet your shoes. I yearn for them like water and that one winning mega millions lottery ticket that you buy 30 minutes before the drawing.

However, the homepage of your website promises a cure for my addiction (very cute, by the way, with the prescription bottle and your name. I love nice clean design - lots of white space, a central figure - A+++).

Alas, I've found no such cure on your site. My addiction has worsened. The blog is the main culprit. Beautiful people wearing beautiful shoes, yes please! Plus videos, black and white photos with models who look as if they can smell death, and girls just like me wearing your designs.

In short you're a liar. But I'm very prepared to forgive you. Please send a few pair of your Spring 2010 line (size 9 please) to the attached address.

You're a genius Mr. Campbell. We should be best friends.

Love,

TM

Postcards from the Preg.

I stumbled upon this blog while looking for one-piece gold lame body suits at americanapparel.net. A photographer named Ryan Marshall decided to chart his wife's pregnancy with a weekly postcard to the little bun in the oven (he calls them The Belly Pictures Series. Obviously the series had to end (the kid was born almost a year ago), but I still find myself returning to this particular section of his blog and reading each postcard. Each postcard is so poignant and touching. It's amazing how much you can tell RM loves this person he's never even met. Amazing.

Also amazing: Marshall got official corporate sponsorship. In each photo, Cole appears in a piece by American Apparel. Well, after a few weeks American Apparel put a link to Marshall's blog on their website and was very kind in providing more pretty outfits for Cole to wear in the series.

So, in summary, I love this little example of narrative because it's sweet, slightly stylish, and done with love.

The End.

The Fellowship

So, no gun - false alarm. But there was a pudding cup soon after. And waffles, well it's only a matter of time. Now that we've cleared that up, on to business.

I first began reading/viewing the Perry Bible Fellowship comics, as a high school student, in Baltimore's City Paper. Since I've discovered their web presence, I can't tell you how many times I've visited the site.

It tells a story in a classic, easy to understand way: the comic. The pictures are simple, separated into usually 3 or 4 windows, and sometimes delightfully laced with profanities. Really, what's easier to understand than a series of attractive pictures that tell a funny story? I, however, would find this incredibly hard to create. Coming up with a story and images week after week...AND making it funny? I'd probably run out of material in a month, after which of course I'd be fired and shamed.

But c'est la vie. I leave the comics up to professionals - the professional here being super genius Nicholas Gurewitch - who always seem to know how to get it just right.

Help

I'm being made to write this post. She might have a gun. Do something. I'm not sure how long I have...

Please bring help. And a jello pudding cup. Maybe a frozen waffle.

I'm counting on you.