Crowd sourcing question — I bought some of those Breast Cancer donation stamps a year ago or longer. They seem to continue to make them regardless of the current postage rate, with qualifying the date (that is, it just says ‘First Class’). Do I need to put additional postage on them now, and how much? I’m not trying to cadge the USPS, but the rates change so fast, how can I know how many cent stamps I need? I expect lots of reblogs like “What’s a stamp?”
[Insert cool, look-at-me Siberia story here] Oh, if you put it that way… I think it was the leaving-NYM party for Spiers (or maybe Lindsay’s birthday?) where Gurley, who I had never met before, heard “my friend” had coke and without introduction asked for some. The friend obliged. I later took a shit in the bathroom which I would rate an 8 on the difficulty scale. (Nothing beats The Fall show at the old Coney Island High on St Marks.) There’s always the rumor that one night Spiers blew Chris Wilson in the bathroom and he returned the favor on her face. Of course, all parties deny this and there’s probably not a shred of truth to it, but it’s a testament to Siberia that such a rumor was even possible.
I remember “the” Siberia very well. But talking about the old days isn’t going to bring it back, no matter how many Nick Zedd in a garage stories you have. Related: Sloane Crosely thought the basement was nasty? Clearly this was her I’ve-never-been-too-a-dive-bar tourist destination. One night at the Blarney Cove, the bartender told me a story of a corspe ‘sleeping’ on a couch in their basement for like two days before someone realized it.
And since I’m on such a roll right now, why doesn’t anyone seem to remember how much better Siberia bar was before it moved across the street from the Port Authority? I mean, yeah, it’s fun to hang out with Lou Dobbs and all, but I much preferred the location in the subway station; there were Wedding Present songs on the jukebox and they had tonic on the regular.
Krucoff, I’m not hiding in Queens, I’m in Florida, and I’m not sure it’s possible to top so cogent and airtight an argument. Bitch don’t know shit? Well that shut me up! And for the record, I’m not a Manhattanite, and I don’t shop at Whole Foods, so she can cram it full of walnuts.
Krucoff, I know that with your new campaign to meet all our pretty followers, you’re probably planning on sending her a questionnaire next, but since I’m still not through with the previous campaign (ie, alienating and insulting our followers) and I still have a hateboner for him, why don’t you send a questionnaire to this guy, who loves nationalist music, cryptoracist commentary and outright offensive portrayals of women. Oh, and worst of all: comic books. Go back to the Maritimes.
I didn’t get this, but I will note that I did just listen to it on the way in from Ohio. Not because I was chasing classic rock stations, but because I have a copy of Moving Picturesin my car. Also: I used to think Neil Peart solos were more interesting. Unrelated: I still haven’t read that fucking article. Sort of related: I was about to ask what the fuck happened to Dash.
Well, I finally read that article. It made me feel sad and tired. That might also be a by-product of the bourbon and the sedatives. I’d really love to know what they factchecked Choire about. “How fancy were those dinners you cooked out on Fire Island, hm? Would you say lavish, or merely gourmet?” Also, why no mention of Gessen’s micropenis?
Listen, you fucking botard, we walked past the Bongo Room, which was full of people who’d commuted all the way from Lincoln Park to eat brunch, apparently. I would rather eat my own asshole than in a place like that. I’m aware that Chicago is famed for its molecular gastronomy and roasted guinea pigs (I read it in the airplane magazine) but I live on a fucking budget and please, please tell me you’re being sarcastic when you’re suggesting that I visit a city—ostensibly a civilized one—and I should rent a car? Look, the Chicago public transport system looks like a fucking bullet hole in safety glass. And the food is stupidly enormous. These things are fact. The one thing—THE ONE THING—I will give you is that the music in Chicago is infinitely better than in NY, and has been for about 25 years. So you got that going on.
You know what’s really annoying? Adults who cannot find their own drugs. This is not directed at you, Boss. At our fabulous brunch during Creativity Yeah! we talked about what it means to be a gentleman. I might have been wrong about tampons, but a gentleman can provide his own goddamn drugs.
Not yet - at this point it looks like I’m buying for the whole fucking team. Word to the wise, or at least dry: $200/qtr. If you and Curt want to go halvsies, fine by me. Next week I can make it uptown. Or does that fuck with your summering schedule?
I mean really. What the fuck? Junior, you know these people, and you were good at getting them on board. Now, can you please get them off? Be sure to kiss after. I hear that’s popular with the sexy lady writers.