I wonder how Smokey gon' sound with no percussion.

I got the less-humorous Landlord Blues. Like John of Gaunt in Richard II, for whom it was tragic before it was tragic.

Mr.Robinson's Neighborhood - watch more funny videos

The neighbor is Mr. T get it

Much of the ocean is still unexplored

I thought the season finale of Saturday Night Live (I know, I'm a little late, but uhngnnn I live in another country) was rad. While a lot of you seem to think that the show, unable to sustain three decades of the progression of modern humor or whatever, has grown intolerably stale, I will always watch it, and it will always make me laugh, perhaps because I am an easy audience, perhaps because I'm quite often under the influence of marijuana by the time 11:30 on a Saturday night rolls around. In the words of Eliot, "I have measured out my life in SNL sketches." Or at least digital shorts. I mean, Laser Cats changed my fucking life. But we all know that.

This is literally the funniest shit ever right now.

(Still saving my real virginity for Andy Samberg.)

"I am fucking you, Tania, so that you'll stay fucked."

This is honestly easier and more entertaining than anything I've had the intention of posting all week. A lot is happening. We'll get to that eventually. In the meantime, life is simply one big French PSA for safe sex. Tasteful yet raunchy.

above the clouds, where the sounds are original

So: thanks to this selfish, selfish volcano, it doesn't look like I'll be back in Edinburgh for everyone's favorite pot-themed holiday. Will instead be, y'know, down in Maryland, kickin' it sober, or maybe a little drunk, by myself, watching some television.

In related news:

"I'm gonna do all the grocery shopping for the White House myself."

Clean up: the past two months

"A day off is something real special, but, so is a good neighbor."

In case you were wondering what cowboys looked like in the 1980s. Someone should sample the shit out of these.

"Everybody gets pitchforks"

"The possibility of gay abandonment"

Very much still alive. Details to come on the nature of my whereabouts or whatever, but probably post my journey back to the Burgh, aka Monday. For now, something I just can't contain a minute longer lest I might explode: my megacrush on Rachel Maddow, but only when she wears the sexy blue glasses she wore on Letterman the other night. I'm talkin' to you, Rachel Maddow.

"When I was a kid, we used to suck on pennies, and it was a delight."

So there's like, four feet of snow out there. It's been coming down since around this time last night, and it got so bad today that my mother and I actually had to stop our car in the middle of route 50 and wait for the road to reemerge from the thick white out by which we suddenly found ourselves enveloped. I think this is all so wonderful.

In any case, I spent my evening eating chicken pot pie and sipping bourbon in front of a roaring fire. I also watched the SNL Christmas special (thanks to my mother's, who, as it turns out, is surprisingly savvy with the DVR), and was delighted to find myself reacquainted with this gem of a skit:


Also, did you know that Fred Armisen and Peggy from Mad Men are engaged? Because I did not, until today.

Allegoooorey

Go forth with integrity

Bay Area Blues

What have I done today, you ask? I'll tell you. I've been watching The Real World: San Francisco, plucked from the antiquated heart of the surprisingly abundant MTV vault! This is some old school shit we're talking about, so the episodes are perfectly bite sized at a little under a half hour each, plus, more denim cut-offs in one vicinity than I bet you remembered could exist. One girl even went to Harvard. Sigh. The early '90s. When people could still communicate with each other, if only remotely.


Oh. And there's also Puck.