Friday, April 28, 2006

The Goo Report

It's Friday, and that means another edition of the Goo Report.

Last night, revellers revelling in the appointment of Tony Snow disrupted my LSAT class, which was pretty lame. What would be exponentially more lame is if this story from Slate were true.

It's a good thing the Pepsi Company has a good grasp on the English language, otherwise they would be reduced to crying, "Nuh-uh!" in response to allegations of condoms in their Cola. Instead, they call the reports "spurious" and all but blame the guy.

Another peice of Chicago history is history. But they're bringing Frangos back to Chicago, so I guess it's ok.

Judge puts code in "Da Vinci Code" ruling...

This story comes to us via New York HackTurns out your cabbie isn't such a bad driver after all. And if you haven't already realized it, cabbies and the homeless are by FAR the most interesting people to talk to. More interesting than the people on Greyhound. Especially if you've had a drink or two. Hmm, maybe we should have a "Converse with Your Cabbie and Homeless Guy Who Sleeps on My Stoop When He Gets Kicked Out Of Meridian Hill Park" Awareness Week.

Dennis Hastert totally got punkd.

A lot of people who hate cats offer platitudes to the tune of "you never see cats saving lives like Lassie, do you?" To them, I offer this story.

Continuing with the cat theme, I love this headline: Nine Lives, Six Paws!

Being carless, I'm laughing about the hike in gas prices. I will laugh even harder when this comes true.

The Oxford English Dictionary: Over One Billion Served.

Thursday, April 27, 2006

Fuck U.

Great editorial today from the NYTimes about the ridculousness of those stupid university ratings.

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Metro Rules!

From the DCist archives today, a set of unofficial metro rules. Even if you don't live in DC, but you take any sort of mass transit, you should come to know and love these rules.

Highlights of my favorite rules from the comments section:

  • When a train is full ... it is full. There is nothing that you can do about it. Physics is not going to cease to exist just so you can get on this train. There is another one directly behind it. You know who you are ... and no one likes you. Feel free to hip check those people outside of the train doors just as they are closing.
  • Leave the bars that go from the floor to the ceiling for those people who are too short to reach the ones up top. Otherwise be prepared for someone to fall into you.
  • Shower. Lose weight. Brush teeth. Repeat.
  • If you live in or near the nation's capitol, ride the Metro and for some reason like to complain about tourists and out-of-towners to no end, please either (a) shut up or (b) move to a city that doesn't attract tourists. D.C. was this way before you arrived and will be so long after you leave. Your whining and complaining is not new. We've heard it before and we think you are arrogant and ignorant.
  • Hey, M. People do complain about tourists, but at least some of us are being pro-active in deterring them from coming here. Instead of yelling at your fellow area residents, why don't you get off your ass and make with the stank eye at some out-of-towners. They aren't going to discourage themselves!
  • No smoking on Metrobus, unless it's the 42 bus with that lady driver who smokes.

  • The back seats on Metro cars smell funny for a reason. They are priority seating for crackheads. Please don't be so rude as to take these seats when there are crackheads sitting or standing elsewhere on the train.

  • Don't stare at me by looking at my reflection in the window. I know what you're up to.

  • DO NOT STOP AT THE TOP OF ESCALATORS! People can't stop moving behind you and it just ends up becoming one disasterous, dangerous accordion of Metro travelers.
To all these rules, I have to add my own most important rule ever of all time:

  • Never, EVER, touch your genital region in any way when I am sitting next to you. Double true if there are children around, you fucking Pervy McPerverson (this happened last week, and I actually called the guy out, "Dude, can you stop touching your genitals until after you get off the train?" He got off the train.)

Monday, April 24, 2006

Just in Case You've Got A Bad Case of the Mondays

This cheered me up when I was feeling bored and uninspired.

Friday, April 21, 2006

The Goo Report

In honor of National Poetry Awareness Month, this week's Goo is dedicated to Frank O'Hara. Alright, this isn't really news at all, but I just learned it yesterday and have been dying to share. It turns out that the poet, composer and erstwhile roommate of Edward Gorey died. Actually, about forty or so years ago. But we're more concerned with how he died: while he was napping on the beach at Fire Island, a dune buggy ran over him. So sad. Stop snickering!

Anyhoo, onto The Goo:

Wanna lose weight? Try drugs!

Another sad victim of the Euro.

What surprises me about this report is that the kids didn't take credit for having the porn.

"'I've become a born-again Christian and God has given me a stewardship of his money,' Swafford said in an earlier interview. Before winning the lottery, Swofford impregnated two co-workers and married one of them. The women were sisters." Do you really need to know more?

Last week, the Goo reported on police detaining innocent ninjas. It appears that we've gone one step lower; police are reduced to having standoffs with imaginary criminals.

Pop Rocks have been around for fifty years!

Turns out the reason you didn't get any candy this year is because the Easter Bunny was in jail.

This is SOOOO much better than the Jessica/Britney thing.

As if you needed another reason to fear fish...

If only there were a comparable solution for Metro.

I'm not sure if this is much better than slipping grades.

And finally, this one is for all you kids out there who are dog and cat people.

What I've learned from the LSATs so far:

My house is officially to the point where I can't stand actually being in it, b/c it's so messy, there are cats everywhere, and they meow a lot. If my house is too messy, then I can't study. According to Big Teddy the LSAT guy, I need to study in order to do well on the LSATs. If I do well on the LSATs, I may get into Berkeley. If I go to the concert tonight, I will not clean my house.

If the passage is true, which of the following MUST BE true?

A. If I do well on the LSATs, then my house will be clean. No! This is not complete reversal and negation of the contrapositive!
B. If I sleep with Big Teddy the LSAT guy, I will do well on the LSATs. No, I think I'd have to go to Newton, PA for this one.
C. If I bail on the concert tonight, I will go to Berkeley. The premises do not support a subsidiary conclusion to establish this conclusion.
D. If I cannot stand being in my house, then I will not go to Berkeley. Yes, the transitive property through the contrapositive tells us this is true.
E. If I cannot study, then my house is too messy. Similarly, this is not complete negation and reversal of the contrapositive.

My brain is no longer my own.

Thursday, April 20, 2006

Out of Control

You know, I'm all for things like World Laboratory Animal Day, Sleep Awareness Week, and National High Five Day. Until these topics are regular parts of our quotidian discourse, awareness weeks, days months, etc. serve as a reminder to our sense of social, um, awareness. Plus, they have snappy mottoes- "Sleep- As important as diet and exercise, only easier!"2

However, here's a reminder I didn't need:

I've been trying to forget about mathematics ever since I stormed out of my last math course in high school1, I've been trying to forget math. But it keeps stalking me like paparazzi onTomKitten. Everywhere I go it's math math math: make change; pay the bills; do your taxes; subtract the real time from whatever time your alarm clock thinks it is to find out just how late to work you are; IT JUST WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE. I do NOT want to be more aware of math.

April is also National Poetry Appreciation Month. So, in honor of both mathematics month and poetry month, a poem:

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Thinking of math
Makes me spew.

Can I get a high five for a soporific poem that raises awareness about math? Great, I'm going to go free some lab animals, because in the words of Stephen Fry, "I think animal testing is a terrible idea; they get all nervous and give the wrong answers."

1. "Imaginary number my ass! You guys are just making this shit up now!"
2. Try telling that to your boss when she catches you sleeping at your desk... it works really well.

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Breaking: First Daughters Fired

From this morning's Washington Post (again with the accidental leaks, Mr. Bush?):

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

This Just In From the Redundancy Department of Redundancy

A sign to tell you that the District is studying signs. This changed my life forever.

Monday, April 17, 2006

Best Photographical Evidence EVER.

My favorite part of today's awesomest story, from The Feed, is how Lee Raymond, the retiring CEO of Exxon Mobil completely personifies Exxon Mobil.

The extra girth on the double chin comes from eating all the endangered baby seals he clubs. Hell, he might even have a baby seal or two in those jowls.

Band of My Little Ponies

Scourge of the Swimming Pool1 gave me the new Band of Horses album, Everything All the Time. Imagine putting together the dreampop sound of Seely and My Bloody Valentine with the lyrical "melodies" of Neil Young and you'll get a pretty good sense of what BoH is going for.

My initial reaction to BoH was unimpressed; the songs all stay about mid-tempo and serve as a showcase for Ben Bridwell's plaintive and heavily reverbed vocals- he sounds like he's trying to contend for Postmodern Monster Ballads. However, the dreamy layers of guitar picks and the complexity of drumming provide a sweeping foundation for his vulnerablely sweet lyrics. On tracks like The Great Salt Lake, the imbalance works perfectly, allowing Bridwells vocals to soar over the layers and lift the songs up out of the emo weight that threatens to pull the songs down, while the twang of the guitars give a lightly kistchy alt country feel to the whole experience.

The most appealing aspect of the album is that despite its unoriginal songwriting, the music and lytrics are so genuinely earnest that you can't help but look at your own heart on sleeve tendencies. "To wake next to you in the morning/and good morning to you;/how do you do? /Hey, good morning to you /more covers for you/sleep soundly dear cause i have to go." Bridwell's lyrics are so sweet without being saccharine that you can't help but indulge yourself in picturing curling back under the covers, laughing at the ridiculously silly grin on your face, as the love of your life kisses you goodbye. It's as though cynical Seattle pop met up with optimistic Midwestern emo and the two fell in love and wrote an album about it.

1. For those of you keeping track, yes, Scourge of the Swimming Pool was formerly known as the Object of My Affection. Recent Deep and Meaningfuls have led the Scourge and I to believe that Platonic Super Awesome Bestest Friends Friendship is the way forward, and all parties interested are much relieved and happy with the decision. All parties also maintain that whilst there was drama over the past month and a half, it was the kind of drama that gets critical acclaim at independent film festivals, so it's all copacetic.

Just in Case You Were Wondering What To Do

Friday, April 14, 2006

The Goo Report

Ever wonder how drag queens find shoes? Me too!

We were the first to bring you the news of the recent epidemic in toilet seat gluings. We are sorry to report that the epidemic has spread transnationally. Please, try to keep your glue from spilling on toilet seats. Won't someone think of the children?

Best Hollywood Star on the Walk of Fame, until Tigger gets one. But not Rabbit , unless he quits his bitching. On a side note, how come only Disney toons get stars? Why isn't Roger Rabbit on there?

I really hope this guy becomes the poster child for Ritalin.

I hope this bra gets a better interweb connection than the lappy.

Wait, let me get this straight, Europe- defaming the Prophet Mohammad=ok, defaming Nazi Pope= not ok? I totally get it.

Did you know the monocle was back in style? Did you ever know it was in style?

This was one of the hardest stories I've ever had to read. First of all, it means all Poofygoo denizens (who are ninjas by default) are at risk. Second, how to decide which to be at a Pirate vs. Ninja party?

Thursday, April 13, 2006

I STILL Maintain I'm Not Blonde

The other day Wonkette accused me of being the yupsteriest twenty-something hipster in all of DC. Just because I wanted to go hang out at the DC Bee. Normally, I protest such easy categorizations, but the vehemence of the name calling made me wonder- am I a hipster?

No fucking way.

But I devised this little test, with questions from The Hipster Handbook, provided here with my answers, so you can see how I'm too unique to belong to a genre:

1. You graduated from a liberal arts school whose football team hasn't won a game since the Reagan Administration. To be fair, my alma mater, Lawrence University, was a liberal arts college. But I'm pretty sure this one doesn't apply to me since the football team hasn't won a game since the Nixon administration. So that's a no.

2. You frequently use the term "postmodern" (or its commonly used variation, pomo) as an adjective, noun, and verb. Only when provoked, as in this conversation I had on Tuesday night about Jincy Willett's Winner of the National Book Award:
Big Teddy the LSAT Guy: So the author is totally rocking the meta-narrative?
Poofygoo: Yeah, but she doesn't make it sound too pomo, it's just sort of snuck in.
So that's kind of a no.

3. You carry a shoulder strap messenger bag and at one time or another worn a pair of horn-rimmed Elvis Costello glasses. HA! Today I left my messenger bag at home. I'm carrying my mini-messenger bag. And my glasses aren't horn-rimmed, they're tortoiseshell. So that's a no.

4. You have refined taste and consider yourself exceptionally cultured, but have one pop vice that helps to define you as well rounded. I suppose that depends on your definition of "well-rounded"- but the good news is that between indie punk shows, literary readings at the Warehouse Theater, Monday's dart nights at Bedrock Billiards, reading blogs, climbing rocks, and watching Project Runway, I think I'm very in tune with my many pop vices. It's all about redefining what pop culture actually means. So that's a no.

5. You have kissed someone of the same gender and often bring it up in casual conversation. Well, sure, being hetero-flexible is one of the things they teach you in liberal arts college. But, as studying for the LSAT has taught us, logic says that we haven't established the premise that all people who go to liberal arts college are hipsters. We have only established that all people who attended college at a liberal arts school that hasn't won a game since the Reagan admin are hipsters, and we have established that all people who attended liberal arts college are taught to kiss someone of the same gender and bring it up in casual conversation, so the conclusions that kissing someone of the same gender leads to being a hipster is therefore invalid. So that's a no.

6. You spend much o your leisure time in bars and restaurants with monosyllabic names like Plant, Bound, and Shine. Hey! I have to eat at Tryst- they don't people who make less than $65K other side of Connecticut Avenue. So that's a no, because I don't have a choice.

7. You bought your dishes and checkered tablecloth at a thrift store to be kitschy and often throw vegetarian dinner parties. No, I bought my dishes at the thrift store because I don't have any money to buy dishes. So that's a no.

8. You have one Republican friend whom you describe as "my one Republican friend". Well, yes, that's James Curry, but I have another friend whom I suspect is secretly Republican, so technically, that's a no.

9. You wish you had less disposable income to increase your street cred. Hellz no! Although I would take money from any hipster who wishes this.

10. You enjoy complaining about gentrification, even though you are responsible for it yourself. Loaded question! Unfair! I'm white and I live in the city, of course some people will think I'm responsible for gentrification. But then why is my black landlord moving out of the neighborhood to raise her kids in a better area? There are those who say it's not even an issue of race, but rather socioeconomics. I disagree, I think it's a combination. Hmmm. I say no on this one.

11. Your hair looks best unwashed and you position your head on your pillow at night in a way that will really maximize your cowlicks. I position my head on my pillow to maximize my sleeping. So that's a no.

12. You feel one of your most life-changing experiences was the time you studied abroad in a developing country. No, I feel that two of the most life-changing experiences I had was when I studied abroad twice in two different developing countries.

13. You own records put out by Matador, DFA, Definitive Jux, Dischord, Warp, Smells Like Records, and Drag City. No, my ipod has albums on it put out by Asthmatic Kitty, Kill Rock Stars, FatCat, French Kiss, and Sub Pop. So no.

14. You write a blog and often refer to "the blogoshpere". Ummmmm... But at least I hate the word blogosphere. I prefer "bloggy". So that's a half no.

15. You regularly attend protests for your favorite causes, like saving whales, snails, and how to hug a tree better. No, I can't go to these because I used up all my personal time at work sleeping off hangovers from indie pop concerts. So that's a no.

16. Your t-shirts are close-fitting and ironic. Well, my tight blue t-shirt that says "Lawrence Lucky Charms" is coincidental, not ironic. How many people who bought that shirt from Urban Outfitters can say that?

17. Your car has more than 100,000 miles on it and bumper stickers from your favorite concerts and outdoor extreme sports adventures. I don't even own a car. I put those stickers on my refrigerator.

18. You are originally from the Midwest, but immigrated to the Williamsburg neighborhood of Brooklyn. No, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, which takes place in 1930's Williamsburg, is one of my favorite books.

You throw the devil sign in photos —even at weddings. Especially at weddings. No, I throw the Blood sign at weddings.

You could, if really drunk, explain when it is and when it is
not appropriate to dance at a concert. If not drunk enough, you will trash the person asking you to explain this. No, I get bloggy about it the morning after.

You hid a Jimmy Eat World CD under your bed before your friends came over
. Ummmm, NO! I swear, I have no idea how that got there.

I think from this test, we can clearly see that I'm not a hipster. Thank you for your time, and thank you to Andrew Womack, Robert Lanham, and Scourge of the Swimming Pool, all of who may or may not have knowingly contributed to this post.


Oh pretty flowers, you make me sick. Literally.

I used to mock Fraternal Unit K for having allergies. "It's a sign you're poorly evolved," I would smugly declare.

It turns out it's more a sign of ridiculously high pollen count. Which we have here in DC, because everyone thinks flowers are sooooooo pretty. I admit it, I was once one of those people.

But as of this morning, I am no fan of flowers. Because for the first time in my life, I have hay fever, the lamest illness ever: a failure of your body to adapt to its surroundings. My eyes are watering, I sneeze constantly, even though there's nothing to expel, and my sinuses feel like they have water balloons inside of them.

I know what this is. Karmic retribution for all those years I spent mocking those with allergies.

I'm going to go try and pluck my eyeballs out.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Just in Case You Don't Read the Comments Section

This just in from Chris Chan:

"I first learned what "defenestration" meant when I was 11, read a murder mystery where the word was used, and looked it up.
Here's one of my favorite anecdotes on the history of defenestration, quoted from Wikipedia.

"Historically, defenestration was used as an act of political dissent. Notably, the Defenestrations of Prague (1419 and 1618) helped trigger prolonged conflict within Bohemia and beyond. Catholics ascribed the survival of those defenestrated at Prague Castle in 1618 to divine intervention (often said to be done by angels catching them), while Protestants claimed that it was due to their landing in a large pile of manure."

I say the survivors were caught by angels. Definitely. No way manure's taking the credit for that. "

Well, Chris, let me tell you how I first learned about defenestration. None of this "looking it up in the dictionary" business, I learned it first hand, shortly after my sixth birthday party. Some kid who didn't know me very well gave me a Barbie as a gift.

Back up a second: some important background. Five months earlier, Santa had given my fraternal units1 a nintendo and a basketball hoop. The nintendo doesn't play into the story at all, I just remember the hoop because of the nintendo- it was like the cake under the icing2. As soon as the hoop was installed on the patio in my backyard, we played actual basketball for about twenty minutes before it got old. So we raced up to Fraternal Unit T2's room on the second story, which had a window that overlooked tha patio- adn more importantly, was about five feet up and ten feet over from the basketball hoop. We pushed the screen out of the corner in the window and tossed out anything we could find , trying to make baskets. Eventually, a whole elaborate points scheme was created, with additional points being given for how pissed off the parentals got, and how well an item weathered the toss.

Well, by the time my birthday rolled around in May, for some reason, the fraternal units had not yet gotten to the point where they would take my stuff and throw it out the window. Until I came home with a Barbie. One of the older ones (there are five) baited me, "Hey, do you want to learn what defenestration is? Barbie will really like it! It's the coolest thing ever!"

Now you'd think I'd be a little wary about accepting such advice from the fraternals. I'd been burned before, badly. A few years before, when I had received my first Cabbage Patch Kid Doll, Fraternal Unit D2 had waited until my parents were out, and then told me that I'd be really cute if the CPK doll and I had the same haircut.

"But I'm not allowed to use scissors, won't I get in trouble?" I asked.

"No way!" replied Fraternal Unit D2. "Mom and Dad wil think you're even cuter than before, and they'll think you're so creative for matching your doll. And your doll's hair will grow out just like yours!"

Well, as the youngest of six kids, let me tell you, it's hard to be creative when five people have come before you and done EVERYTHING3. I constantly strove for new ways to seem original and inventive to the parentals, so that they would love ME best. I cut off all of my doll's hair as well as my own. When the parentals arrived home, I don't know if they were more pissed off that my precious little girl curls were gone, or that I had ruined the doll they woke up at 4 o'clock in the morning to get. As they yelled at me, tears of confusion welled up in my eyes while Fraternal Unit D2 sat in the background and smirked. That was the day I learned the word schadenfreude.

So by the time my sixth birthday rolled around, I should have been a little less trusting of the fraternals' motives, a wizened old woman. But I wanted the fraternals to play with me, and more importantly, I wanted them to see me as radical4. Barbie was DEFINITELY not cool. So I handed Barbie over, and the fraternals delighted themselves while I stood in the background watching. The assembled a cadre of G.I. Joes and Transformers and duly threw Barbie out the window, limb by limb, saving her head for last. A couple of her limbs made baskets, and a few of them stayed in the net for many moons, reminding me every time I looked at it, that defenestration made me kinda cool for an afternoon.

1.Well, ostensibly to me as well, but I never got to touch either, and if I did, by some weird fluke, get my mitts on a ball or a control, a fraternal would snatch it back, telling me they'd show me how to do it.

2. Yes, I mean that. Icing is sooooo much better than cake.

3. Except law school!!!!

4. It was 1986.

The First Rule of TestMasters is YOU DON'T TALK ABOUT TESTMASTERS

I just thought I'd share with you the highlights of the enrollment agreement for TestMasters, my LSAT prep course.

I certify that I am enrolling in the TestMasters LSAT Course to increase my LSAT score and not for any other purpose.

Seriously, no one tell them I'm just in it for the green1 lifesavers in the back of the room.

I agree that I will not copy or cause to be copied or reproduced in any manner, electronic or otherwise, any of the TestMasters Materials, any notes based on these materials, or any notes based on the course lectures that I attend.

Riiiiight. What I'm about to tell you isn't based on any written materials or notes from the lectures, so don't worry about my integrity. But in terms of not sharing the lectures, I've gotta wonder why. Last night, I asked my instructor3, a guy called Big Teddy, if he was using "bad argument" interchangeably with "invalid argument". Hi response? "Yeah, I am. That's probably not a good thing, but learn to like it because that's the way I roll. "

I can see why they don't want you to share the lectures...

I agree that I will not engage in any activity in the classroom that would, by commonsense standards, be disruptive to the class as a whole or inconsiderate to other individual students in the class.

So this means I can't get up every five minutes to go and get another green lifesaver? I may have to rethink this whole law school thing.

1. Why only green? I didn't get that. Seriously, there were only green lifesavers. A guy named Stu with suuuuper sexy grey strands2 in his sandy hair winked and told me not to take them all. I think he's just doing it for the lifesavers, too. Maybe I can blackmail him into doing my homework for me.

2. Seriously, I'm not kidding. I think young twenty-somethings with a few strands of grey in their hair, but otherwise very youthful is very sexy. I'll probably change my mind when I start getting grey hairs, or when those other dudes hair ALL starts to turn grey, but for now, it's mad crazy good looking. Go back to the post now.

3. Actually, a very competent instructor who has that incredible ability to sort between the valid questions (ones I ask) and the ones that just eat up class time (never the ones I ask). First sign of a good teacher, a mon avis.

The Lost Art of Conversation?

Conversation walking down Columbia Road the other night:

Scourge of the Swimming Pool: Hey, thanks again for editing my blog post.
Poofygoo: No worries, it's a great blog.
Scourge: You're the only one who reads it.
Poofygoo: Wait, I'm your editor AND your audience? What's the point?
Scourge: Yeah, it's kinda like we're just talking back and forth at each other.
Poofygoo: I feel kinda weird without the gmail chat window.
Scourge: Hey, you should feel lucky! I'm liveblogging to you right now!

Another One on My Shitlist

I'm thinking of adding a sidebar so that we can keep track of who's on the Poofygoo Shitlist. This guy gets to top the list today. The report (that's some crack journalism, huh?) doesn't mention the condition of the victim, but all of us in Poofygoo hope he's doing better.

My favorite part is that he kept driving into shit and hoping no one would notice. Subtle, eh?

Monday, April 10, 2006


You know what I wish? I wish I could come up with great ideas the same way the Bush administration does. Best idea ever: Bomb Iran.

Sheer genius. Where do they come up with this stuff? I guess it does seem like the next logical step. The war in Iraq is going so well; I think they've really shown that they know what they're doing with this democracy building stuff. I have to admit that I was skeptical in the beginning. The quality of life in that fledgling democracy really seems to be soaring upward 1.

Even more importantly, we've learned that you can just make up reasons to go to war with people. This means if they can do it, so can I, which is carte blanche for mischief. Fuck yeah!

And now that we've set everything right with Iraq, I think it's a great idea to bomb Iran. Sheer fucking genius. Who says Kennedy had the best and the brightest? I think we have evidence of it right here, right now.

1. C'mon, any sentence that starts, as does this one from the Washington Post, with "Today, despite the killings of 25 firefighters by Sunni Arab and Shiite Muslim extremists, the murders of his driver and bodyguard, and the fact that his children must be escorted to school by armed security personnel..." has GOT to be followed by good news.

I'm Going To Have To Follow Up On This

One of my all-time favorite words is defenestration. I love it because somewhere along the line in the history, enough people were being thrown out the window that such a word was warranted. If I ever get to be a dictator, or even a professional revolutionary, that will TOTALLY be part of my m.o.

Sunday, April 09, 2006



I was running by the White House (it's about a mile from my house) and the secret service shooed me away. I protested, since I'm not just some stupid tourist standing on the wrong side of the metro escalator. Those police were NOT ok with that, bu the way. I was definitely escorted back across the street, with the other tourist riff-raff. Whatevs, I kept on running, and I noticed a whole bunch of hazmat trucks racing towards the White House. "Whoa, shite must be going down," I thought (and ran faster in the other direction).

So I get home and check it out. I'm expecting to see my roommate glued to the t.v., watching breaking news of a terrorist attack. She was completely nonplussed, watching the Braves game (yeah, I have no idea on that one, either). So I scoured the news, looking for answers- white powder, Al Quaeda, Cheney shot someone again- something.

Well, something. Check it- from

Intruder arrested on White House grounds

WASHINGTON (Reuters) -- An unarmed man penetrated the White House fence on Sunday, screaming incoherently at security guards who pulled their guns and subdued him.

The bearded intruder, wearing ragged clothes and looking distraught, made his way several dozen yards onto the White House grounds before guards surrounded him, forced him down and dragged him away.

President Bush was inside the executive mansion at the time.

What? Incoherent? Distraught? Several dozen yards? He had a beard???? Clearly, a terrorist.

Americans, I don't feel safe anymore. Clearly, our national security is deeply threatened. The most disturbing part of the whole affair:

That's right. This raving lunatic wants God to Bless America. See how crazy and disheveled he looks? Look at how that belt buckle is slightly off-center!

I think it may be time to move. I just don't feel safe anymore.

Friday, April 07, 2006

New Feature! New Feature!

The Dame of Poofygoo, Diane Rhem1 inspired the newest segment on Poofygoo, The Goo Report. We all know that the news we read is very rarely relevant to our daily lives. But I am to bring you the finest news stories that are not only irrelevant, but also inane.

This week:
Pillows really do matter. So to all of you who mock me for having the same pillow I've had my whole life, Now I can tell you, "Hey. Cleopatra understoof the importance of proper pillow phlumfage3."

Geese have finally had enough of the bad reputation they get from the game "Duck, duck, goose." Denizens of Minnesota should be safe; however, I still reserve the right to point and laugh at you, since "duck, duck, grey duck" is an even stupider game.

A possible case of sibling rivalry gone awry? You be the judge. I don't think the parents have any grounds for a lawsuit, since that kid looks so damn happy. I would totally pick him over the pink unicorn.

Turtle hoarding - yep, you heard me. You've heard about cat hoarding, which is pretty creepy, but turtle hoarding? Well, you know what Raul Hernandez says: "Turtles are nature's suction cups." Maybe he just has a lot of stuff to hang up.

Fresh from the U.K., here's a ticket policy that's almost as douchey as 9:30 club's ticket policy. Oh, and the whole thing is LEGAL.

I dug this one up from the Poofygoo Department of DUH: Why do cats scratch? You know what? I'm going to become a scientist so that people will give me heaps of money to tell you what you already knew.
Kitty would like to add that cats scratch because they want you to put them the fuck down, dammit. Why do cats have such potty mouths? I thought dogs were the ones drinking from the toilet.

Another reason I won't be having a baby. Ever.

1. Who probably does not realize the honor I've bestowed on her. I love Diane Rehm, not because she overcame adversity (the reason her voice sounds like that is that she has a spasmo larynx), but that she's not afraid to give ANYONE a verbal enema.

2. Made you look. Do you think academics are ever tempted to do that with their footnotes?

3. You know the word phlumfage, you just haven't heard it before. It's the correct ratio of fluff to plump in a pillow, which is essential to a good night's sleep. Other items essential to a good night's sleep: about six other pillows properly phlumfed and a kitty. That's what I find to be the hardest part about camping- wild cats are just not nearly as cuddly.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Coolest Moment in Time Ever

Tomorrow at two minutes and three seconds after 1 p.m. it will be 01:02:03 04/05/06

A New Fear

Just when you thought you had no more fears to add to the catalogue, here's a new one: Fear of your ass getting glued to the toilet seat at Denny's.

In the Fine Tradition of Kelley Women

I think I can say, without bias, that my niece, Lucy Caroline, is the cutest baby in the history of baby-dom. See for yourself (Lucy is in the pink):

In fact, I was worried she was too cute to be a Kelley, until I saw this picture of her aiming her foot directly for her mouth:

Everything's Coming up Poofygoo

Oh what a beautiful morning!

Sigh, I haven't been so excited to wake up since the Democratic National Convention in 2004. See, NPR wakes me up every morning. When I woke up that July morning, the first thing I heard was Bill Clinton giving a speech on the radio. It's all been a bad dream, I'd thought. Bill's here, and all is right with the world. Unfortunately, it was just a tease. I definitely wrote an angry letter to NPR telling them to kindly time their reports with my post-sleep haze a little better.

But this morning. Oh, the deliciousness of it all. Because this morning, the stories weren't teasers, and the good news just kept rolling in: Tom DeLay resigns in disgrace1. The Cubs won their home opener. Every news analyst thinks Donald Rumsfeld should resign. In the Women's Final Four, Maryland is a contender because of the success of Title IX. Adoptions at animal shelters are on the rise.

I bounced out of bed (that happens about once every three years; it's usually a long, slow, and painful process) and put on my ninja kitty shoes2. Waiting for me in the fridge was the delicious food I'd prepared for today: for breakfast, orange lentils in a Thai green curry sauce with loads of spinach and fresh basil, and for lunch, a mixed baby green salad with pears I lightly poached in a citrusy red wine reduction, toasted slivered almonds, slices of frech buffalo mozzarella, and a rosemary and a peppery citrus dressing I whipped up. I packed my bag and hugged kitty, who didn't even try to gouge my eyes out when I picked him up.

When I walked outside, everything smelled dewy and clean from last night's terrific thunderstorm. In Poofygoo, about the only weather we like better than a good thunderstorm is crisp, blustery sunshine. And oh yes, dear reader, that was the weather that greeted me this morning. When I got to the bus stop, the bus came right away. A gracious guy let me board the bus first, and there, beckoning me, was the only seat left on the bus- and in the regular part, too, not the front where you may have to give it up at any moment, and you're always in danger of getting your toes stepped on and your eyes gouged out by a standing passenger3. I sat down and did the WHOLE SuDoKu on the bus.

I arrived at work, where waiting on my desk for me, on the top of my mail, was an exclusive invitation from Canada. That's right, Canada has invited ME, not you, to do something 4. All the other people who sit around me have gone to the Executive Committee Retreat or are out sick, so I can blast Art Brut as loud as I want without having to suffer the inane questions of my non-hipster co-workers 5. And despite the gloomy and mopey clouds of blah that the Object,6 and certain other Production Editors are trying to cast on my day, the day is coming up Poofygoo. Hellz yeah.

1. Yes, it IS in disgrace. Resigning because you think you can't win because you're an indicted sleazebag is disgraceful. While he's no longer a contender in the congressional race, this maneuver makes him a prime contender for biggest douchenag of the year award.

2. By far my favorite pair of shoes, I bust them out ONLY on special occasions. They look like this:

Except that they're light blue with kitties- NOT Hello Kitty- all over them. They have a look that says, "Yes, I'll kick your ass, but I'll do it adorably.

3. Not that I don't have all the sympathy in the world for these standing passengers, who still have it the worst on the bus, being smushed up together and having to constantly be aware of moving to the back of the bus. I believe this is one way we're sheltering our children, not preparing them for the future. In the song "The Wheels on the Bus", the driver shouts for the passengers to "move on back." But you never get a sense that those are They don't really sing about the trials and tribulations of the passengers people and that one day, that could be you. It's truly sad state of antipathy, being the standing passenger on the bus.

4. I don't know exactly what I've been invited to, since I threw it away without opening it.

5. "Did they just sing that they've seen her naked twice?" "Why does modern art make him want to rock out? I don't get it."

6. To be fair, the Object did sing a funny song over chat:
If I had a hammer/
I'd bring it up on ethics charges/
And subpoena the shit out of all the other tools

Monday, April 03, 2006

Rubbing it in Just a Bit

I love to brag about my job, specifically that I have fantastic benefits. Well, that, and for the most part, I enjoy my work and the people I work with. But the benefits are SWEET, considering that I work for a small non-profit.

The point: I just found out that not only will my work pay for me to take the best LSAT prep course, I also don't have to use a vacation day to take the LSAT in the middle of the week, as they are both considered "professional development". So all you corporations out there cutting benefits, take note: a happy employee is a productive employee. That's why I'm blogging from work.

Saturday, April 01, 2006

I Forgot to Have "The Talk" with Him...

It's a lazy Saturday afternoon here in Poofygoo, and the neighbors are blasting Marvin Gaye's "Sexual Healing." Kitty has started mewing along to the song. I'm not sure if I have the heart to remind him that he's neutered.