Monthly Archives: February 2011

Stuff Heather Thinks is Super Great

Adele, “Rolling in the Deep.” Anyone who’s heard this song would know why it is great.  Have you heard it?  Maybe you should.  Here, let me embed the official video.

Like retro-soul crossbred with Florence + the Machine, no?  Also, if you like this song, you would also like “Rumour Has It,” the second track on 21.  I’d link to it, but the hyperlink button doesn’t seem to be working.

Things That Are Tiny [].  Ugh, this hyperlink button malfunction is obnoxious. But I digress.  Look how tiny this turtle is!  AND IT HAS TWO HEADS.


Chana masala. The other day I was whining about  having to make dinner, which I didn’t feel like doing, and how I wanted Indian food but should just cook something instead of spending money, etc., when Rachel suggested (in her typically dry manner) that I try making my own Indian food.  Let me tell you: holy crap.  What an idea.  End of story, I made some chana masala using a simple recipe off the Internet and was surprised to discover it tasted delicious.  I have since made it again!  I may cook it twice a week for the rest of my life.

Kate Beaton drew a comic about Annabella Milbanke and Ada Lovelace as a child! I haven’t been so excited about Byron and his circle since the hypothesis occurred to me last week that Byron was more or less the Kanye West of his day.  You can find the comic at

Broadcastr. Electric Literature launched a website today that encourages users to record themselves reading aloud their stories and share the recordings with the world/Internet.  I’m excited!  I may make use of the service myself.  We’ll have to see.  I’m uncertain thus far whether the stories referenced are fictional or non-.

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Stuff Rachel Fucking Hates

Hello friends! For one time in my sorry-ass pathetic life of quiet desperation, I am writing one of these things. And it is not even out of a sense of duty to an anonymous internet, but instead out of a genuine bone-deep loathing! Basically as of about 6 pm yesterday I hated everything about the world and 99.9% of the people in it – most of all my place of employment and the people who work there, but also pretty much everything else. I dealt with these feelings the way I assume all human beings do, with wine and eating a lot, but to be honest what helped more than anything else was Pictures for Sad Children. I have seen this before, but I’m not sure how I ended up there last night. The important thing was how bizarrely comforting (while at the same time terrible) it was. I thought about this, and then came to the conclusion that you know what, these are pictures for sad children and I am a sad child today, I will not pick this apart any more than I already have. PICTURES FOR SAD CHILDREN YOU GUYS. This day in the life was brought to you by the letters P, S, and C.


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instead of cleaning my room

things that are in my bed right now:

+ bathrobe

+ cardigan

+ collected works of james baldwin

+ empty bag of fancy spiced nuts

+ letter from city parking department, unopened

+ multiple pairs of socks

+ cover sheet from the printer at work

+ shiny black pants i wore to work today

+ art museum map and guide

+ excise tax

+ purse

+ oven mitt

+ hat, half-knitted, on broken needles

+ pen? maybe? i can’t find it

+ sweatpants? where are my sweatpants, i need to put them on, oh god

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Stuff Heather Thinks is Super Great

Rihanna, “Te Amo.” So I am a year, or something, behind the curve here, SO WHAT.  It is a good song!  God, the beat alone makes my hips want to swivel and my hands to wiggle as if I know how to dance with, as our intro to ballroom teacher used to put it, “Latin motion.”

Swedish food. Do you know what I found in the basement of my parents’ house last week?   No, you do not.  Well.  I found Kirsten’s Cook Book: A Peek at Dining in the Past with Meals You Can Cook Today, copyright 1994 by the parent company of American Girl Dolls.  Yes, a cookbook based on the lifestyle of Kirsten Larson, fictional Swedish immigrant and pioneer girl circa 1854.  Designed with children in mind, it makes cooking easy for me.  Tonight I made potato soup with carrots, onion and (turkey) bacon!  Delicious and hearty.  Unfortunately, though, I didn’t bother considering how much the recipe would yield and now I have enough soup to feed a frontier family of 12.  Please come to the apartment and eat some.  Please.  If you are a vegetarian, I will strain out the bacon bits.  (Vegans, I’m sorry; I can’t strain the milk out.)

Emma’s kitten Dmitri. My parents have begun calling me on a near-daily basis and mentioning how they think it’s time to put Sassy down.  Sassy lives with my parents, but she is my cat, whom we adopted when I was five.  I am twenty-three now.  As I see Dmitri on a regular basis, I fear I am transferring onto him all the affection and worry I would normally shed on Sassy.  BAHAHA I MISS MY CAT.  DMITRI COME HERE.

In two weeks, I move into a new apartment! Once I get there, I will celebrate by making Swedish cabbage-and-apple “salad” with heavy cream.  Then I will dance on the Wii and cry myself to sleep because my cat is dying.

The Hairpin published an article that theorizes where the members of the Baby-Sitter’s Club would end up as adults. Enough said.

The other day when I was talking about Avril Lavigne’s new single, Rachel told me I should start a blog in which I give fake advice to pop stars.  I am seriously considering it. Good idea?  Bad idea?

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a conversation

EMMA: If we were Skins characters, who would we be?

HEATHER: Me?  Probably Jal.

EMMA: Or Panda.


EMMA: I don’t know if I associate myself with any of the characters.  Maybe Sid.

HEATHER: Ha, yeah.  Right?

EMMA: Or a less sociopathic Tony.

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questions i would like to know the answers to

+ what is the black goo around the faucet on the kitchen sink?

+ why will the shower not drain?

+ oh god will i get into grad school?

+ if i straight up fell asleep at my desk, would anyone i work with even notice?

+ will i see the aurora borealis if i look hard enough?

+ will i ultimately regret buying a pastry bag and tips on amazon?

+ can i have an intern to put my laundry away for me?

+ or at least fold it? i hate folding.

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tearin’ up my heart

It’s Saturday, which is Super Great/Fucking Hates Day, but I’m at my parents’ house for the weekend, woefully lacking my beloved Stickies note that lists all my SG items for the week.  My options are to either A) try/inevitably fail to recall from memory everything I planned to blog about; B) write a non-theme post of my thoughts; C) skip blogging altogether until tomorrow night when I return home and to my dear Stickies, as I can rarely think of anything to blog about these days aside from Super Great, which also feels a little superfluous seeing as most of the things I like (Mubarak resigning!  Community!  Michael Chabon!) are popular enough on their own.

So perhaps I will write about Valentine’s Day instead, and My Feelings About It.  Or have I posted about this before?  I don’t even know.

I spent a lot of my life hating Valentine’s Day with a passion.  It was STUPID and COMMERCIAL and SUCKED FOR EVERYONE: it put pressure on couples to make a big deal of it and it made singles feel a whole host of bad things, including but not limited to bitter, pathetic, and/or desperate.  And also, it shouldn’t have been a holiday in the first place, because it was invented by Greeting Card Companies to Sucker You Out of Money and ALSO, YOU SHOULD CELEBRATE LOVE EVERY DAY, NOT JUST ONCE A YEAR. (!!!1!)

I started making these statements in my early teens, when I saw myself as a sort of cross between Carrie Bradshaw-esque Woman Of The World (though I’d never seen Sex & the City) and a pre-makeover Rachael Leigh Cook in She’s All That, except minus the painting.  Instead of God, I more or less worshipped the idea of true love (and subscribed to five different teenmags, incidentally).  Valentine’s Day was a stupid sham because it didn’t appreciate romantic love for everything it was!  Valentine’s took the noble concept of Love and dragged it through the gross, despicable, inherently watchable mud puddle of Consumerism.  Teddies from Victoria’s Secret and teddy bears from Hallmark?  In a word, disrespectful.  Inevitably, as February 14 rolled around each year, memories would arise of that very special 7th Heaven episode in which Mary’s date drove her to a motel because he bought her Valentine’s dinner and she was like, “Um, what? No.”  (What a douche that character was.)  In short: Valentine’s Day was the worst ever and led to only bad things, like tacky presents and loneliness and sexual coercion.  And also, on a totally unrelated note, I was a total catch!  Why was I single?  Oh, right, because I was twice the size of every other girl in the eighth grade.

What I’d say now is this: actually, no, Thirteen-Year-Old Heather, your body’s not the problem.  Your problem is that A) you are a stereotype and B) while it’s no good for anyone to embody a stereotype, you are certainly too young to be doing so.  You are, to reference another Jessica Biel character, the woman she played in last year’s godawful movie Valentine’s Day.  Except for you, there is no Jamie Foxx (thank goodness); there is only a dreamy future with Lance Bass and [redacted], who your best friend will go ask to dance just when you are about to turn to her and say, “Do you think I should ask [redacted] to dance?”

But we will leave TYO Heather where she is — listening to Destiny’s Child and thinking of her butt as “jelly” — and forge ahead, as she’s stuck in the past and cannot be helped.  We might as well skip over Fourteen to Nineteen as well, as the only differences in her lifestyle were an intellectual dalliance with the music of Death Cab for Cutie in place of DC and the substitution of Seth Cohen for dear sweet Lance.  In my twenties, this weird thing happened: I found myself excited at the prospect of Valentine’s Day, genuinely stoked.  The fact that love existed in the world, that it was even a thing, made me want to fist-pump.  And the thing was, nothing had changed in my life! I had changed, apparently, when I wasn’t navelgazing.  (Cue the sappy music and light-up, background water fountain.)  I just walked into a store one day in January and thought something like, “Red fluffy handcuffs!  And heart balloons?  FUCK YEAH!”  Generally red fluffy handcuffs — like machetes — remind me of my high school job, so to think anything else was pretty shocking.

Anyway.  Happy Valentine’s Day, you lovely ladies and gents!  May you receive as  many I-wuv-you bears, candy, and celebratory trysts as you like.

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hey there stranger

I am carefully avoiding looking at the calendar section that says how long it’s been since I wrote anything in here because I know it’s been a long time and I’m sorry. I have no reason not to be here; I actually sit in front of a computer between seven and infinity hours a day now, so this should be easy as pie. I don’t know; to be honest my new job is one of the least hard and least interesting things I have ever done, and somehow it has this effect where my head feels like it is full of cotton and the most complicated mental task I am capable of is online shopping. Is this what America is? If so, I don’t think I get it.

I keep having posts planned out, and some of them are even half written, but so far all of them have ended in me staring at them motionlessly for a while before clicking over to a different tab and eventually getting up to find tea or crackers or a handful of raisins. To be honest, I don’t foresee that changing anytime soon. I can’t remember a time since the new year when I was able to think much beyond a handful of raisins. I also can’t think in a particularly focused or structured or Team Player way at work, which I keep feeling guilty about in a halfhearted way and then giving up. I doodle during conference calls and research haircuts if I don’t have an urgent assignment. Maybe writing that on the internet can get me fired. I don’t know! Here are my top 15 ways to waste corporate time.

  1. Browse eBay for things you can convince yourself you need
  2. Walk to the kitchenette to get more tea, walk back
  3. Repeat, walking the long way
  4. Read your RSS feed, avoiding the ‘not work appropriate’ blogs but thinking the IT people can probably see them anyway
  5. Walk through kitchenette to go the long way to the bathroom, check to see if any free food has appeared
  6. Start to write heartfelt and detailed emails about yourself/your life that you owe to loved one, stop because you wonder if the IT guy can read it
  7. Email your parents
  8. On conference calls: draw realistic pen sketches of boats or seashells on PostIts, make small pieces of origami
  9. Research new origami folds
  10. Write secret journal entries/story sketches in an actual physical notebook that the IT guy cannot read
  11. Figure out what groceries you need at the store on your way home, what you will eat that night
  12. Heat up the lunch you brought to work, eat it slowly, realize you still have a half hour of lunch left and don’t know what to do
  13. Open up the page where you can see what your paycheck will be this week, stare at the number
  14. Check on Amazon to see if there are any legwarmers or pastry bags or hoodies or notebooks on sale with free shipping
  15. Jiggle the mouse occasionally so that your boss doesn’t see your status in Outlook go from “active” to “idle”


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(s)no(w) day

That means there was no snow day for us today –– that between Rachel and I, it took five hours for us to get home from work.  Two for her, two-point-five-and-a-brief-grocery-shop for me.  Also, eight inches of snow.  Also, the heat broke in the apartment.

On the other hand, she made delicious date bars and peanut-ginger sesame cookies (who would have thought so many components could be found in one cookie?  Not I, longtime eater of chocolate chip), while I made box macaroni & cheese with onions and crushed red pepper.  And maybe/hopefully/please there will be a snow day tomorrow?  Please please please.  I don’t envy going out in this weather.

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