Recent Posts
Haggle over a women’s rib-knit cowl-neck sweater that I’ve priced at 25 cents.
by Heather B. Armstrong
September 24, 2001
Although I’d sworn off fast-food lunches last month after realizing that I’d spent over 40% of my weekly income on “extra guacamole,” today I decided to violate my midday meal policy with several co-workers at the nearest Baja Buds. I needed the camaraderie–the inevitable, universal…
by Heather B. Armstrong
September 19, 2001
Sparklehorse: It’s a Wonderful Life
by Heather B. Armstrong
Propaganda, American-style
by Heather B. Armstrong
Still eat the cookies I baked at 475 degrees when they were supposed to be baked at 375. The dial on the oven was all fuzzy.
by Heather B. Armstrong
Ask me, “Are you going to finish that burrito?” You even think about reaching over here and you will promptly lose two fingers.
by Heather B. Armstrong
Every television or radio journalist from Dan Rather on down should have the word “flotilla” striken from their vocabularies. Every corporate employee within earshot of any other living, breathing fellow employee should have the word “genericize” scribbled on a chalky piece of paper and shoved…
by Heather B. Armstrong
September 18, 2001
I refuse to genericize my template.
by Heather B. Armstrong
Bubble-Squeak
by Heather B. Armstrong
Assure me that Temptation Island will return for an encore season.
by Heather B. Armstrong
When I catch you picking your nose in your car, instantly pretend that it was just an itch you had to scratch. That’s a mighty deep itch, motherfucker.
by Heather B. Armstrong
What am I going to do with 36 rolls of toilet paper?
by Heather B. Armstrong
September 17, 2001
