Now on the California pavement, we struggled to maintain consciousness. As if fueled by our ruin, the partying intensified. We observed as near nuclear tanning spells erupted, accompanied by fierce freaking and what seemed like an endless session of putting hands up. We heard the obstructed bellow of the queen as she released her horrible, unmentionable shrieking: “Aoaoaoao oh aoaoaoao!”
More anthropological field analysis of the California Gurl, here.
A day late, for a good reason – the weekend in verse:
In the early morning hour,
just before dawn, the two lovers wake
and sip from the leftover Franzia box wine.
She asks, “Do you love me or yourself more?
Please, tell the absolute truth.”
He says, “Me.
But only because I have no clue who you are.”
More debaucherous quatrains here.
Each one of these U.S. maps from Michael Crawford are more amusing than the last. Here, Oklahoma fears another Dust Bowl:
There’s something nice about Google Dropcloth. More here.
The following is a beach house listing on CraigsList:
$1,000 wk/8BR — Come enjoy beautiful East Hampton this summer! Awesome beach house just steps from ocean, with fabulous views throughout. New Weber grill. Plenty of rooms to sob in. Totally did not just rent this and hope I could find seven other people to spend the summer with me. Tennis nearby.
Interested renters inquire here.
For the bloggin’ community – the titles of great novels, SEO’d:
8 Surprising Ways West Egg Is Exemplary Of The Hollowness Of The American Dream
Animal Farm, Catcher in the Rye, and more, here.