Here’s my ice bucket challenge video. Yes, I’m a little late to the game, but I’m super early for the silent film revival craze.

What’s The Big Idea?

a.) All of the above.

b.) A coven of witches at my command.

c.) Vegetarian food that is yummy AND good for you? Seriously? How do they do it? THIS SOUNDS DELICIOUS AND HEALTHY? I’m-a-Mom-of-Four (LOL, like it’s a whole job title, right moms?) and this would be great for my family. They eat meat like fucking savages.

d.) A 55-story skyscraper made out of donkeys.

e.) Big E

f.) Everything except the above.

g.) Hummus Tuesdays. 

toddgrindle said: Will it be a Black Bengal goat? Because the Australian Cashmeres always make my toes break out in hives.

Yes, it will be a Black Bengal goat. They are my favorite kind of goat. You can expect yours in 4-6 weeks. It is a dead one, but very nice. I hope this is okay?

The Seven Habits of Highly Delicious Pizzas

1. Meet as much pepperoni as you can. Events such as roller derbies, school lunches, and sleepovers are great places to interface with the Ryan Seacrests of the pizza world.

2. FOLLOW UP with the pepperoni you just met. A nice note card reminding them of your shatteringly thin crust is a sure bet to make a lasting impression. If you’re feeling saucy, try scenting the card with some of your grease. 

3. A pizza pizzes. No more excuses. If you’re not pizzing at least 2 hours a day, another pizza is and he/she will get the job.

4. Decide on your toppings and stick to them. Sir Sliceypants High-Five got where he is today only because he knew what he wanted and wouldn’t rest until he was covered in five kinds of heirloom squash.

5. Stay true to yourself. Maybe it’s just some wholesale, part-skim Sargento on you, but it’s YOUR Sargento.

6. Decide on your toppings; and then be flexible with them. Did you know that Sir Sliceypants High-Five originally wanted to be a pediatrician?

7. Think like a delicious pizza. How would a delicious pizza move through a crowded party? Why does a delicious pizza score so much awesome swag? Delicious pizzas know they’re delicious pizzas and expect the world to treat them as delicious pizzas. If you think you’re delicious, that’s one more pizza on your side.

The barrels are oak, the meth is organic, and El Gato is all business.

Featuring Graceann Dorse, Alex Decanaes, and Beeker

Thanks to: Chris Webb, Toby Miller, Mark Bracamonte, Oliver Jevremov, Louis Gordon

Come fly the friendly skies with Brooklyn Portland Airways!

Thanks to Chris Webb, Jessica Schoen, Tom Cryan, Kimberly Brown, Oliver Jevremov, Sienna Jevremov, Bill Donnelly, and everyone at American Airpower Museum.

A Squirrel’s Goodnight Prayer

Now I lay me down to sleep

I pray my nuts are buried deep.

And if they’re gone before I wake

There be some real nuts I gonna break.

Bostonian Curtain Styles of the 1760’s

The Tory Husher

Crofton’s Beedlebuggered Snodswag

The Droonken Scotsman with optional vomit pockets

Ye Olde Kurtaynes

Parson Payne’s Procreation Privacy Panels

The Back Bay Fleabeater

Fire and Brimstone and Brocade on Fire

Kapstone and Gielgud’s Patriot Valance

Tears of a Prussian

Revere’s One if by Style, Two if by Value!

There are worse things than both death and the Gowanus.

Defining Moments in a Swiss Roll’s Life

Feb. 13, 2012. 8:04am. I am given life by Nancy H. on an assembly line in Musky River, IL. My placenta clings to me, dark brown and sticky. As it slowly hardens into an exoskeletal shell, I am bound in a warm sweetness. It’s almost too much to bear as I lie on the vinyl conveyer belt, struggling to maintain consciousness. Is this living? O Universe, my spirit bursts forth! Oops, a crack.

Feb. 13, 2012. 8:36am. A life partner! I have been mated with one of mine own kind, as the Creator herself has deemed it be so. We are placed on a marital bed of thin white cardboard, our bodies becoming one, fusing at the sides, which will later produce a satisfying snap when broken apart. As I weep with happiness, I melt myself a little.

Feb. 13, 2012. 8:47am. Our union has been consummated. My mate and I have been sealed together forever within a transparent veil of plastic, keeping the world out and our love in. As if life can’t get any better, we are sent off on our honeymoon in the back of a truck.

Feb. 20, 2012. 4:38pm.  I fear Cupcake and I have hit a rut in our middle age. (She hates it when I call her Cupcake. “I’m not a cupcake!!”, she screams to me.) We never talk, and the tempered seam running down the middle that used to bind us now seems as if it were no more than a coincidental melding of corn syrup, hydrogenated palm kernel oil, and alkalized cocoa. All is dark. We have been stuck in this box, in this damp warehouse that smells of gasoline and rubber, for a week. I sometimes wish Nancy H. had eaten me.

Feb. 22, 2012. 2:17pm. Let me teach you a lesson. It’s always darkest before the display. Just when I thought all was lost in that cinder block cave of despair, I (no, we!) sit proudly on a merchandising kiosk strategically located near the check-out of the Rite Aid in Coheegaskaw, MI. “Pick me! Pick me!” Oh, sisters and brothers! Zebra Cakes and Star Crunches! We shall all get picked. We shall all be purchased, whether impulsively or pre-meditated, whether by debit or cash, or even credit. Times is tough, lady. Swipe the card! The music plays on, and the music plays on. But no sound is as sweet as the snap of our shells, souls uniting as bodies are sundered. Cupcake, I love you. “For the last time, I’m not a cupcake!”. No, my love. You are not a cupcake. You are a Swiss Roll. I am a Swiss Roll. We are all Swiss Rolls.

Original writing by Graceann Dorse, with help from her brain and fingers.

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