Hello! It’s going feel like it’s over 100 degrees in NYC today. This is the day I have to wear a fucking suit and pantyhose. AND PANTYHOSE. You men who do not cross dress have no idea. My fantasy is that I’ll get the news I want today, and be able to stride, Nor’easter style, the theme to Rocky on my headphones, from downtown to midtown, and slap a letter of resignation on Mr. Van Halen’s desk. It probably won’t work like that. But a girl can dream, can’t she? If thou are so inclined, do not tell me g*** l***. This is an audition. I must break a leg.
Enough about me. What’s going on in the world?
- Welcome home, for the last time.
- Blah blah blah debt ceiling whatever.
- Wall Street plans for panic.
- Speaking of panic…Gay panic!
- Airport porn is on the way out! I, personally, wrote a letter to my senator, Chuck Schumer, about this. You are all welcome.
- We can all make heat jokes, but people are actually dying.
- Rosa Parks: This story is just sad.
- Champagne! Confetti! Paperwork-o-rama!
- It comforts me to know in that, in this crazy world, allowing a corpse to float about a pool while people frolic is grounds for termination. Also: shout out to Lizzie Borden’s hometown! Pissa.
- I believe this is called karma. Thanks to the Grand Inquisitor, who submitted this — item! — unto me. She is now my intern. My first crasstalk intern! Go get me a cup of coffee, kid. Regla.
- Back in the day, my father brought home those giant wooden spools they wrapped wire and cables around at the telephone company, and we used them as tables for tea parties. We used milk crates as chairs. Then we built castles out of cardboard boxes and duct tape. They never lasted more than a few days. We also created giant forts in the living room out of sheets. This is insane.
