Sometimes I catch myself wondering that; then I realize no, I just miss looking at this dude.

This shit is STILL hanging on the door to our garage in Illinois. My optimistic poem makes me die inside a bit, superficially because of how thin the rainbow’s red stripe is compared to all the others. Not to mention the misplaced comma after “rainbow.” Just kidding! Sort of. I really do think these two things every time. But it’s not like I can’t handle it.

I much prefer my younger sister’s “poem,” at left. Very spoken-word. Exclamatory. WAY cooler to perform. We should totally stage a slam!

(Just tried. Will post video entitled “Slammin’ It!” or “All in the Slamily” later. Probably not.)

Oh tiny, not-yet-disillusioned young Annie… where the F is “this rainbow”? I’ll spend my life trying to find it because you said it was there. You little fucker.

I made it to Stray Dime Island. How pretty is it?!

No, I’m at the Barrett Family Compound (BFC, which also stands for big fucking cabin) in New Buffalo, MI, hard at work in the fields of eating, drinking, and developing skin cancer. This is my first official “vacation” all year! I plan on using it to avoid any houeshold duty whatsoever. My dad’ll be like, “Yo, A, how ’bout a refill on ice water?” and I’ll wince and shake my head, “Sorry,” even though I’ll be standing at the sink, spitting cherry pits that don’t belong in the sink into the sink. Or Dee will cry out, “Annie! Cut yourself a phat slice of raspberry-almond danish!” and I’ll glare at her from my perch on the couch, then point to myself with both index fingers with a powerful smirk that clearly conveys: “ON VACATION.” She will then serve it to me with a fork, and I will laugh and laugh, but not hard enough to make my stomach muscles exert themselves, because that’d be like… working.

This happened yesterday :(

The resemblance is uncanny. But my accidental guacamole-on-carpet map is way better than this crap graphic (which, I am aware, is not of the Galapagos Islands). My terrain’s got elevation. Texture. Layers. Flavaaaaaaa. I can’t believe no artist has thought of this yet. It is so much better than shit on a canvas.

Who wants to come with me to Stray Dime Island, the less lush, more industrial, pro-capitalism offshoot of the Guacapagos? (Can you spot it? The whole thing is very Magic Eye, which I’m usually anti-, but whatever.)

Ha! Just realized the dime is like the “scale” portion of my map. I think of everything!

And I should have showered.

Photo is from two weeks ago. Keepin’ it fresh!

Um, Starbucks? Maybe I HAVEN’T.

You better not pull this crap with the sugar.

—

Happy 29th, James! Remember this? (A beyond-awful DR digital short)

“Still rolling, still rolling.”
“Still rolling!”
“Are we still rolling?”

We are. Miss you.

Same with clothes.

This is DR’s “colleague” Michael Slezak, trying to ignore the somewhat jarring Bolton’s window display at his right. I wouldn’t use this photo, but I’m positive he’ll never see it, so it doesn’t matter. Consider this a test to see if he knows I have a blog.

He is perhaps reaching for a gun?

I’m wondering if anyone has ever been inside a Bolton’s. This is a store I know I’ve seen 100s of times and in different NYC locations, but never once have I acknowledged it as a store I might enter. Why? It’s not this window display’s fault — I find the warped attempt at a sweeping social statement bizarrely endearing. I think it’s that the fancy script in the logo reminds me of Lord & Taylor, and judging by the shit in the window or lack thereof, Bolton’s is nowhere near L&T. Why am I suddenly pro-L&T? I haven’t been there in seven years. I bought earrings that I lost the next night.

This font is so much kookier!
“Heeeeeeeeey girlie girl, I’m Lord & Taylor, shop me up, holla!”

The “W” in the Bolton’s photo is part of “LATE SHOW.”

PERSPECTIVE, what up?

—

UPDATE: In honor of my surprising triumph with this post (thanks to Slezak having a google alert for his OWN NAME), DR proudly presents its first installment of Listen2This:

Calling All Boys — The Flirts

This one’s a bopper!

In “honor” of Father’s Day, EW.com did a gallery of the worst dads on TV.
Mine was Gob Bluth from Arrested Development, obvs.

That’s all I got.

“Annie Barrett!”

Another staff confessions gallery today on EW.com: My Pop-Culture Blind Spot. This is a good one. Mine, “popular music,” is the second page.

My partner in lunch and occasionally crime, Sam, created this lovely collage of people I don’t recognize to go along with my entry that basically says “I think I’m cooler than you if you recognize these people.” But really, I have no idea. The guy on the bottom left looks familiar because I think I’ve read like 1000 different blog posts and a few videos about his eyeliner. Who cares about his eyeliner? That hair is disgusting.

Please don’t tell me who the people are. That’s the whole point.

UPDATE: I’m featured on Jossip. Yeehaw.

You guys, I can READ VIDEOS.

Even when presented in such incredible environs.

I really thought I could handle this. I wanted to be like Mary-Louise Parker in Weeds and walk around the office with the straw lazily hanging out the corner of my mouth while exuding a “What the F are you looking at” gaze. I’ll have to do it without the beverage. I shall overcome.

I I I I I I I.