Our air conditioner isn't working. 

I called the AC guys to schedule an appointment. They made one. I texted Vince to tell him. 

Vince wrote back, "Maybe I should get an HVAC certification. I could be the next Harry Tuttle."

I think it'd be the perfect job for him. 

Chris Herdt graduated on Saturday. I believe he earned a Masters' of Engineering from The University of Pennsylvania. 

As (he is) a member of OPW, I recommend that he receive the special duckspensation to post more than once in a 24-hour period. 

Muthafuckin' PENN, y'all. 

Roadie Wife is tired. 

I'm sick of people getting killed by police. 

I'm sick of income inequality. 

I'm sick of police having inadequate resources and responding to conflicts with inexplicable and unjustified violence. 

I'm of the systems that cause poor people to have shitty options, commit crimes and/or have children they can't afford to raise. 

I'm sick of people feeling bad because they feel different. 

I'm sick of girls in Lily Pulitzer dresses on green lawns and bankers getting rich while there's drought and poverty. 

I'm sick of religions that claim there's only one set of answers and only one path to goodness. 

When you consider the fact that in 30 years, most of the most expensive coastal property in the country will be under water, while a significant portion of our nation will be drying to dust, why are we worrying about race, gender, preference or interest rates? 

I'm ready for the Vogons to eradicate us. Build a new space highway, fuckers. Write your horrible poetry. 

All day I've felt a feathery feeling in my spine because of what happened to Freddie Gray. 

Today I got another rejection e-mail (some festival in South Carolina) and wrote 18 pages on the new WIP. None of it is long hand, I'm typing from the outline and notes. 

Random idea that came up in my head while writing:

a character's 4 year old son sees slot machines for the first time on an airport layover in Las Vegas while flying to visit his grandparents. He is so taken with them that for Halloween he wants to be a slot machine. So, he and his mother make a costume out of cardboard boxes and paper and tape and aluminum foil and whatever else they can find. His mom wants to dress up as something appropriately casino-themed to go with him. While she's surfing the internet trying to find a way to make a card dealer costume that looks interesting, she finds that someone is selling a Vegas showgirl costume on eBay. 

The Vegas showgirl costume is satirical; it's a gold halter top and boy shorts decorated with coins, and then the headdress and tail are made out of fabric printed with dollar bills and green feathers. It was originally owned by a drag queen who performed in anti-casino rallies in Philadelphia and Harrisburg. Needless to say, she hits "Buy It Now!" 

Unfortunately, the little boy's costume is misstaken for a robot, and he gets so tired of trying to explain that he's a slot machine that he gives up and lets people say, "oh, what a cute robot!" as long as he gets candy.  It's okay. Mom knows he's a slot machine, and he knows he's a slot machine. 

This isn't the whole play, it's just part of it. 

I found a spider in the clothes dryer this morning when I was doing laundry. It was a brown spider about the size of a Kennedy half dollar. I thought, how am I going to get this critter out? 

Then I thought, the washer's empty, so you don't have to dry anything for a bit, just do a load of wash and leave the clothes dryer door open, maybe it'll leave on its own. 

So I said to the spider, "When you were young, and your web was somewhere outside,

You used to say, spin and let spin, (you know you did you know you did you know you did)

But when this laundry clothing washer stops a spinnin', if you don't want to fry,

Leave or get dried." 

Thank you. Don't forget to tip your bartenders and waitresses. 

 This morning I was in a hurry and couldn't find two matching sneakers. I could find one worn-out lime & gray New Balance running sneaker, and one brand newish barely ever worn giant white blocky New Balance walking sneaker, which I think my mother gave me, because even she wouldn't wear this Jerry Seinfeld circa 1996 shit. 

I was determined to get Vince to the train so I wouldn't spend the next two hours driving to and from Center City, and so I could go to the gym and have a productive morning. So, guess what I wore. 

I thought to myself, I give no fucks. And take no quarter. YAARR, I'M THE PYRATE QUEENE OF PLANET FITNESS.

Snapped the photo, sent it to Dr. Fig, because in that tightly wound New York poli sci world in which she lives, she needs this. 

So, as I'm walking out to the gym floor, I see a guy on another elliptical machine, African American, about my height, maybe a little younger than me or the same age, wiry and skinny, with a full beard, dreadlocks, and a bandanna on his head. 

The guy was chugging along, but instead of holding the elliptical machine handles, he was paddling. He was paddling with an invisible canoe oar, alternating sides of his invisible boat, with a pretty good rate of speed. I'd say whoever should prepare to be boarded didn't stand a chance. 

I really wanted to encourage him, but I didn't want him to think I was making fun of him. Because when I listen to This Way To The Egress on the elliptical, it's really hard for me to resist doing jazz hands. 

He kept it up for a pretty good while, too. 

YAR. 

Easy Rider Yelp Reviews. 

BILLY: They say it's Non-Stop Pizza! We gotta get that, cause man, we gotta go! I mean, are you in or what? All I wanna know is, the Non-Stop Pizza... Where's it from, man? 

CAPT. AMERICA: If the pizza is non-stop...

(Pause)

(Pause)

(Pause)

(pause) 

...did it ever start? 

GEORGE: it's not so much the pizza itself but what the pizza represents. 

RAFELSON: So did you guys actually try the pizza? 

BILLY: No, man, we just saw the sign. 

CAPT. AMERICA: We blew it. 

"Let's get the band back together!"

Do you think this t-shirt is a valuable collector's item, considering that Steve's out of the band and Kevin's sick* again?  

The sentimental value outweighs any fiscal value it might have for me, but I'm just curious. 

*Not as sick as my sense of humor. but seriously; according to BNL's blog, he's temporarily "on the bench," as he put it.