Oh, Fuck You

So I've been reading about George Bush's whole anti-gay marraige thing. It's really, really upsetting me right now. I know I shouldn't be upset, because George Bush is just a stupid ass monkey who's some how gained control of our country and is busy driving it into the ground, but . . .

The thing is, even though it may not be readily apparent from this blog, I'm a nice girl. I try my best not to hurt other people. I'm a pacifist. I'm a vegetarian. If someone needs help, I'll do my best to help them, within reason.

The things I do that are "bad" are not things that hurt anyone. I kiss girls. I fall into sex a little too readily. I've been known to partake in substances that are not, strictly speaking, "legal." I don't believe in god. I say things that other people don't.

I don't think these are bad things to do. I don't think that they make me a bad person. If you don't like them, then don't do them. I do, so I will. I'm not ashamed of doing these things. I'm not going to pretend I don't do them.

And then we have the President of the United States of America, who is killing people even now, as I type, for reasons that were, as it turns out, largely made up. And you know what he says, the way he expresses his "sympathy" for gays?

"I am mindful that we're all sinners, and I caution those who may try to take the speck out of the neighbor's eye when they got a log in their own."

Well maybe he's a sinner, but I'm fucking not. I don't even believe in his fucking god, the one that apparently tells him that he should go ahead and kill people and tell me that what I do and what I feel, shit that's not even hurting anyone, isn't right.

I mean, on the one hand we've got me, who wants to maybe one day fall in love and decide to spend the rest of my life with some beautiful girl and have a big foofy ceremony celebrating it and get some legal protection to make things easier for us, and on the other hand we've got him, who's busy bombing the shit out of a country where half the residents are under 14.

And I'm the one who's in the wrong here?

I just don't understand how anyone can believe that.

When Dreams Come True

I ended up falling asleep on my couch from 5 pm until 6:30 or so this evening. I had this crazy dream about cannibalistic men who had escaped from the army prowling in a suburban landscape where I lived. (They wanted to eat my preteen dream next-door-neighbor.)

Then I woke up to Phil crouching over me and licking my arm.

Some Words/Phrases I Am Currently Very Fond Of

• less than optimal
• rad
• erudite
• sexy on the internet
• tranny hooker

It's Funny Because It's True

Oh god, Cat and Girl have met me.

Poor, Poor Me

As if the indignity of having no gin was not enough, I totally do not have an extra $900 to spend on an Oxford English Dictionary.

Take a Picture, It Lasts Longer

Ever since I redyed my hair, I am getting a ton of random street ogling. The official motto of checking Cyn out seems to be, "Come for the hair, stay for the tits."

Also, two elderly black men sitting behind me on the bus got into a fight over my hair. (One was against it, one was neutral.) I pretended I couldn't hear them.

Lush

If there was any kind of god, there would be some gin in this house.

Conversation

Me: Phil, do you pheer my leet skillz?
Phil: No.
Me: Well maybe you should start!

In other news, the archives now skin.

Quote

"The happier you get, the less you need comedy."

- from an interview with The Filthy Critic.

Cyn's Guide to Dying Your Hair Pink

So your hair is not pink, or is pink but is sad and faded and has roots and all the matching pink lipstick in the world won't restore it to its former glory. It's time to dye your hair pink.

Advantages to going pink: It is simply the best color for ones hair to be. If you have blue or green eyes, it will bring them out nicely. Also, dyes with higher red values tend to stay bright longer due to natural pigments in the dye.

Disadvantages to going pink: You will never be able to wear red again. Everytime you redye your hair, you will have to reevaluate all of your lipstick colors.

You will need the following things: some cheap-ass blonde hair dye (I like Nice n' Easy) as light as you can find, either Manic Panic or Punky Colors dye in some shade of pink, a comb or brush, a shower, a hair dying shirt you don't care about ruining, and a fabulous roommate. (Roommate optional.)

The first step is to use the cheap-ass blonde dye to bleach your hair.

Now, at this point you may be going, "But Cyn, I'm a natural blonde. Do I still have to bleach?" Yes. You do. The bleach not only strips out color in your hair so that the pink will be brighter, but it also roughs your hair up and makes it easier for the pink vegetable dye to hold on to your hair. Basically, the more damaged your hair is, the longer it'll stay pink.

Do not wash your hair right before bleaching it. Not only is dye more effective on slightly dirty hair, but if you wash your hair, you will strip your scalp of natural oils that will protect it from the bleach. I broke this rule when I dyed my hair yesterday because I wanted to get the pomade out of my hair, and my scalp is now very, very angry at me.

Put on the hair dying shirt. Either have your fabulous roommate put the bleach on your hair, or do it yourself. Follow whatever directions came with your hair dye, except about how long to leave it on. I like to leave the bleach on for at least an hour to make sure my hair is as light as possible. So leave it on for an hour or as long as your scalp can take. Also, put a plastic bag over your head - the heat will help the chemical reactions. I also only bleach my roots, because they're all that really need it. It tends to bleach most of my hair just through proximity, but it lessons the hair damage to some extent. Sometimes your hair will develop green, brassy overtones, but the pink dye will cover these.

After an hour, rinse the blonde dye out of your hair. The dye will probably come with some sort of color protecting conditioner - do not use it. You don't want to protect the blonde color - you want the pink dye to cover it up. And the more damaged your hair is when you apply the pink, the better the pink will look. Now, your hair should look like this. Do not be frightened, it will be pink soon.

Towel your hair off, and then have your fabulous roommate apply the pink dye. (Manic Panic tells you that your hair should be wet and toweled dry. Punky Colors now says to apply to dry hair, but I've always applied it when it's slightly wet. You can blowdry it if you want. I never do.) Follow the dye instructions, usually you need to comb the dye through your hair. Manic Panic froths, Punky Colors doesn't as much. It's a good idea to comb it through anyway, to make sure it's evenly distributed.

Now bag your head again. Even though the pink is a vegetable dye and will not have a chemical reaction, body heat from your head will make the bag kind of warm and help the dye set. Also, it keeps it from getting all over everything. Now, wait at least an hour. You can wait longer if you want, but generally an hour is fine.

Now go in the shower and rinse. And rinse. And rinse. You will most likely be recreating the shower scene in Psycho, only pink. Just stay in there until the water runs clear. Now apply the color safe conditioner that came with your blonde dye. Leave it on while you try to scrub some of the excess pink off of your body. Now rinse until the water runs clear again. Try to scrub the rest of the pink off yourself, and then get out.

Your hair should be pink. Other things that will be pink include your entire body, your hairbrush, your sink, your towels, and your bathtub. All of these things will go back to normal after a week or so, except for the towels, which are doomed. Things that you may turn pink in the next month include your bra, the collars of all your shirts, your pillows, your signficant other, and your keyboard.

Now, put on some eyeliner and pink lipstick that matches your hair, mug for your website, and go out and pick up a hot dyke.

Aftercare: Don't wash your hair. Ever.

Now Even Pinker

I dyed.

The Mysteries of the Universe

Why can you wear a black shirt with brown pants, but not black shoes?

Sexy on the Internet

I feel like this blog has been a little uninspired lately. Or at the very least, I've been a little uninspired lately. I think it's due to my recent trip to the land of, "I Hate Everyone. Yes, That Includes You, Asshat. Also, I Hope My Princess Bitch Coworker Has A Horrible Fisting Accident" via the ajoining lands of, "I Never Sleep Except Sometimes When I Sleep 16 Hours In One Day" and "What the Fuck Are You Doing, Uterus?"

But, I'm feeling better now. At this specific moment time, I probably only hate about 50% of the population.

I am totally becoming one with the internet right now. Since I started actually answering my email, it's grown to the point where whenever I turn on my computer I have 10-20 new emails waiting, and only about 3 of them are spam. And don't even get me started on Friendster. Friendster is officially double-O C and off the heazy.

I'm also totally rocking the internet crush. Yeah, it's completely dorky, but man, is it ever fun.

Excerpts from two real life discussions on internet crushitude:

Me to Em: "I'm totally sexy on the internet!"

Me to Phil: "If I have an Outlook Express folder called 'dating,' does that make me a total dork?"
Phil to Me: "It just means you're . . . organized."

In other Totally Valid Uses of My Time news, living with Phil is making me totally high maintance. I may go all day without putting a shirt on, but I never forget to moisturize.

JUICE!

I've been totally craving juice lately. Which is strange, because usually the only form I ingest juice in is mixed drinks.

I think it might be a hormonal thing, in which case it's way better than my body's usual, "Hey, let's go get some ice cream!" bullshit.

Or it may be because, big hippie that I am, I've stopped drinking soda, and I just want to drink something that's not water. (It's kind of exciting now when I do drink soda. I'm all, "Oooh, fizzy!")

In any case, I just had some pear nector, and it was super yummy. I also highly recommend Odwalla's Lime Refresher. I had some lime tea the other day, and it was also really good. Very tart but sweet.

Haircut Photos!

This is me posing with one of the mix cds, which I am going to mail out tomorrow. My hair is pretty curly in this photo, and also in this photo. My hair is straight in
this one and this one.

My hair is actually much cuter than it is in these photos. You can rest assured that while I myself remain hideously ugly, my hair is totally awesome. How great is this haircut? The day after I got it, I totally drunkenly made out with a random cute boy. Y'all know that is some good haircut action!

Children Are Evil

The Frances McDormand character in Laurel Canyon neatly illustrates why I should not have children.

I've been thinking a lot about kids lately. Like, what if you have a kid, and they turn out to be really horrible? Or worse, stupid? What if your kid's just really stupid and annoying?

What if they go Republican? Or can't make a decent Martini?

There are just way too many unknowns in the whole child equation. I want a child I can design, like a sim or something. And also, someone else can do the whole pregnncy thing. Then I'll have a kid. And she'll have blue hair. And a tail.

Saving the World

My super power is so totally the ability to wear purple lipstick.

I Am a Lazy Whore

All the mix cds have been claimed, so if you want one now you're going to have to make me a trade for it.

I meant to get them all made and sent out today, but instead I ended up sleeping until 2 pm. Well, actually, I woke up at noon, showered, and then decided to go back to sleep until two. I am a dirty frat boy on a dirty soccer team.

I'm reading this book called WORD FREAK by Stefan Fatsis about the world of competitive Scrabble, and it's really fascinating. Unsurprisingly, it turns out that many competitive Scrabble players are total freaks! Also, I now have a total hankering for some Scrabble. I kick ass at Scrabble, man!

Yay! Haircut!

The lovely and talented Gwen cut my hair today, and did a totally kick ass job despite me doing shit like changing my mind about what I wanted halfway through the haircut. I'm totally lazy about haircuts - I probably get them every two to three months, and my hair has the tendency to get big and pink and kind of overpower my features. So now that it's been tamed down to a reasonable size I'm like, "Ahhhh, I have a face again!"

There will be pictures soon.

In other news, there are still about ten mix cds left. Get them while they're hot!

Limited Time Offer!

Today is my two year blogiversary. Which is, well, hopelessly dorky. But also impressive, as I have hitherto now been unable to keep any sort of journal/diary thing for longer than two months. I'm also coming up on 50,000 hits, which I am very excited about.

So in honor of my blogiversary, I've decided to do a mix cd giveaway. The first twenty people to email me with their address and/or anyone who wants to do any sort of trade with me will recieve 78 minutes of pretentious & delightful indie rock. Artists include Mirah, Fountains of Wayne, Cunts With Attitude, Gravy Train!!!!, Imperial Teen and Sleater-Kinney. The cd comes with a booklet in which I wax rapsodic about various songs.

I'm sending the cd to the first twenty people who email me, and then after that it will go to anyone who wants to send me something in trade (other mixes, zines, fun toys, etc.) and anyone who begs really creatively.

I'm really excited about this, so please email!

Honeybush

Actual quote from the back of my teabag: "Honeybush will not grow bitter, nor shall you."

First of all: Honeybush? So totally a 70s lesbian euphemism for vagina. I mean, please. Who thought that was a good name for tea?

Secondly: Let's address the "nor shall you" part of this sentence. Hey, thanks for the advice teabag! I'm totally letting go of all my negativity now that I've gotten those words of wisdom from a freakin' drink! Maybe if my biggest worry was being dunked into boiling water, I wouldn't be bitter either. Talk to me when you start dating, tea.

What is up with tea having hokey sayings on it? I also drink this Yogi Tea chai, and it always has the worst shit in the world on it. It's all like, "Travel light, live light, be light," and I'm just like, "What? That doesn't even make sense!" Also, I'm just looking for something to drink here. If I want some life advice, I'm not going to go to a beverage. You don't see coffee handing out faux sage advice. Possibly because all coffee would have to say is, "Hey! Wake the fuck up!"

I Actually Was Very Productive Today

I wonder if I should feel bad about the fact that I just got around to putting a shirt on now - at approximately 8 pm?

It should be noted that I'm working 9 to 5 tonight. Nine pm to five am, that is.

I actually got a ton of stuff done today. Set up about six appointments to see various apartments and made a super yummy dinner and worked on a top secret surprise project that will be revealed soonish. I just did it all sans top.

Moveable Cynthia

I realized that between my laptop and my cell phone, I could really be anywhere and have the same functionality that I would have, say, sitting at my desk.

I could be Anywhere!

In reality, however, I am just in my living room.

Because Everyone Needs A Blog (& We Need More Hot Gayboys on This Here Internet)

Everyone's favorite hot gay roommate (or at least, my favorite hot gay roommate) now has his very own blog.

Ladies and Gentlemen: Kicking Puppies.

Some Thoughts on Maxim

Confession Time: Sometimes, I buy Maxim. Mainly if there's someone on the cover who's boobs I'd like to see, but sometimes if I'm bored in the airport or something.

I have a thing about magazines - they're so shiny, I really like them. I like the short little infotainment style articles, and the pretty pictures, and I even kind of like the advertisements. The only problem is that I only really really like three magazines: Bust, The Utne Reader (I'm a hippie.), and The New Yorker, and I subscribe to all of them. Usually I've got a New Yorker I'm not done with, because they come every week, but every once in a while I'm in the airport or a newstand or something, and I find myself jonesing for a magazine, and I'm left choosing between Wired, Maxim, and Jane. And only one of the three of them has boobies in it.

(Oh, and I also like ReadyMade, but it's quarterly and hard to find.)

The thing about Maxim that really appeals to me, besides the boobs, is the fundamental difference in attitude from women's magazines. If you read Cosmo, which is basically the women's mag version of Maxim, it's all about how to make yourself better. Here are make up tips, here's how to do better at work, here's how to get a man, here's how to make a man happy while you have him, here's what you should be doing right now to make yourself a little less totally disgusting, you fucking skag.

The two most utterly repellant things I have ever read in Cosmo:

• If you've had more than six sex partners, you should lie about it so that boys don't think you're a big slut.
• You should be on top during sex, because it burns more calories.

Maxim, on the other hand, is all about things guys like. Boobs! Gadgets! Sports! Shit blowing up! If they do have self improvement articles, they're like, "Ways You Can Trick Women Into Sleeping With You." It's like they stole Cosmo's sense of entitlement to all things fun. Also, the writing in any given article is, while not good per say, about ten times better than in any given Cosmo article.

I could really like Maxim. I really like the silly cheesecake porno factor. I like gadgets. Generally about half to two-thirds of their non-boob driven articles interest me in any given issue. The only problem is that whenever I read it, I end up being struck dumb by just how much they hate women.

It's not just the sexist jokes. I love a good sexist joke, personally. (Hey, why can't Helen Keller drive? Cause she's a woman!) It's just . . . everything. Their little snappy captions mocking the the women in their cheesecake photos. They way their articles tend to be about how women are tricking you using their evil wiley woman ways, and how you should trick them in return. The way they constantly treat women as "women" and not people.

I really want to like Maxim. Maxim and I could have a lot in common. I get along with it way better than I get along with Cosmo. It's just that Maxim happens to hate me.

Parody Paradise

Sometimes I feel like I'm becoming a parody of myself. I'm like, "I like pink! And kittens! And sex! And sparkly fuzzy shiny! Giant Sparkly Fuzzy Shiny Pink Giant Kitten Sex! Hey, look, I'm cute! Cute, funny me! Look, I have something fuzzy on my head! I like sex with girls!"

But when I talk about my love for Roland Barthes or the finer points of .NET programming, people are like, "Hey, Cyn? You're a dork."

More than they usually are, even.

I think I've always been kind of a parody of myself. When my friends were all trying to come up with what kind of comic character they'd be, they decided I would be . . . me. Within days of meeting one of my former friends, he told me, "Wow, you seem like such an airhead. It must be great to be constantly underestimated." (For some reason, my response was not punching him in the face.) When I was in high school, all of the smart kids freaked out when I suddenly had better SAT scores than they did, because I was just that weird girl who hung out with the freaks and shrieked and giggled a lot.

I think it's more fun this way, though. People may not take me seriously, but I get to wear glitter eye shadow and kitty pants to work. Also, when they underestimate me, it makes it easier for me to succeed in my nefarious plans! And steal their girlfriends.

Why Can't A New Apartment Find Me?

Looked at an apartment today - it was tiny, which I think is what we're going to find in our price range in our neighborhood. West Philly, here we come!

If anyone knows of an apartment/house in Philadelphia that's two bedrooms, under a thousand a month, semi-spacious, and in a nice neighborhood, for the love of god, email me.

That's More Like It

If you think I am totally loving Philo's redesign, you are so, so very right.

In the Off Chance You Don't Know Me

I put up a new about page.

FoW

I had a really freaking awesome time at the Fountains of Wayne show last night. I was down in the main area of the Troc, and I was a bouncing, dancing fool. You really just have to dance to Fountains of Wayne. I dance around to them in my office all the time, it's not like I'm going to be standing and nodding at their concert. (Usually in my office I'm grooving to them and then I fall over and start giggling and then my manager comes in and is like, "Cynthia, how many times do I have to tell you about the No Dancing policy?")

Going to concerts by bands that I'm really into is always kind of amazing to me. It's like, "I've head these songs come out of my cd player a billion times, and now they're coming out of real people!" Fountains of Wayne was actually less goofy looking than I expected. They look totally freakish in the photos I've seen of them, but onstage they're just four regular looking guys in their early forties. Also, there appear to be people who are even harder core Fountains of Wayne fans than me. This amazes me, because even though I know a lot of people who like Fountains of Wayne, I never meet people who have heard of them before I played them.

The opening act was Ben Lee, who was actually quite enjoyable. This is the first time I've seen an opening act at the Troc that didn't totally suck ass. There were people heckling him, which struck me as totally weird. I mean, it's a Fountains of Wayne show. Haven't they heard "You Curse At Girls"? FoW is all about the love, guys! "Each time you curse at girls /You curse a little at yourself" and the same goes for cursing at Ben Lee!

And the best part of the show: There totally were no hipsters there. YAY!

Wheee! Free time!

I do not have to be at work until Tuesday, and I totally have nowhere to be today. I'm so excited. I'm making deviled eggs right now, and I think later I may try to get some sewing done.

Your Hair's a Mess

I made a new skin. It should be the default, for those of you sans skin.

This Explains Everything

These are the two crazy kids I spent the weekend with.

More photos available here.

Mwa Ha Ha Ha

My shitty realty company (That would be Maxwell Realty. In Philadelphia. Who suck.) has begun showing our apartment to people, apparently.

Sometimes, a bathroom full of porn really is the best revenge.

Stacy's Mom Has Got It Going On

Do you want to go to see Fountains of Wayne with me Saturday?

Circle YES or NO!

I Am Full of Points To Ponder

The good/bad thing about those online personal sites is that they kind of allow you to go impulse shopping for people.

Hmmmm

I've come to the conclusion that I like most objects and hate most people. Which is not to say that if I had to choose between my laptop and my roommate, I would choose my laptop. But if I had to choose between saving the life of my cunt-ass-bitch coworker and my pink terrycloth hoodie, I'd be asking my manager if we had any resumes left from the last time we hired people. I mean, hello, pink terrycloth!

Okay, that last example is probably a bit of hyperbole. I haven't actually been in the situation, and I am a terrible push-over, so if she started whimpering a bit I'd probably hand the hoodie right over and live with the pain. But the fact remains that I dislike a large proportion of humanity, and I really dig a lot of inanimate objects.

My possessions make me really happy. Not just the ones like CDs and books that make you happy because they're art, either. I really enjoy, say, my furry hat. Or my shoes. I really like my shoes. Or my pen with the fuzzy feathers and Hello Kitty bobbly thing on top. Or my desk. My desk has this really great shape to it, it kind of goes with my dresser, which is also really great. Or the train case I keep my make-up in.

I'm not entirely sure that this is a bad thing. I mean, it makes me pretty happy. On the other hand, it's probably safe to say that I won't be going Buddhist any time soon.

Return of the Cyn

I'm back in Philly after going to Maryland for the weekend. My friends Em and Lynn are living together in College Park, MD. It makes things quite convient for me when my friends live together, it's like one stop shopping. I'm considering trying to convince all of my friends to move to into the same apartment building - perhaps the Benjamin Franklin, as it is close to me, and amusing. The only downside to this plan is that I'm it would end in at least one person being killed.

Anyway, I went to College Park and it was quite delightful, with the noteable exception of having to take Greyhound there and back. I got there Saturday night, just in time to attend a party that featured a mix of Oberlin colleagues and charming UM radio people. A very good time was had by me, and I drank a lot of Bud Ice and ate a lot of guacamole.

The next day, Em and I went shopping for used cds and watched the aforementioned Legally Blonde 2: Red White and Blonde. (If I have time, I must write an entry about Elle Woods and her relationship to the proletariat at some point.) I aquired an assload of new cds, which I am excited about as I had begun to hate all of my music.

I also aquired Josie and the Pussycats on DVD, which I am super excited about.

Today, Lynn, Em and I all went and ate at the UM co-op and then sat around and discussed art and philosophy and the Golden Mean as it applies to the virtue of truthfulness.

Then I got completely drenched in a rain storm while walking to the Metro, and spent a lot of time being very wet on Greyhound. It was possibly even more unpleasant than Greyhound usually is.

Peer Pressure Works!

Amy is Blogless no more! Checka checka!

So far it's quite witty, insightful and interesting.

Things I Shouldn't Admit / I Miss When the Internet Was Dorky

Friendster is now officially double-O C. (Out Of Control, for those of you who are hopelessly unhip.)

Today I was browsing through my friendster network, and I found someone I had already slept with.

That's not who should be in my friendster network! My friendster network is for people who I would possibly like to sleep with but will not approach in any way. People I've already slept with are totally not my friendsters.

(As always, if I haven't slept with you and you'd like to be my friendster, add me! cyn AT pinkhairedgirl.com)

If this entry made no sense to you, I apologize, but really, you're most likely better off.

Gay Dogs!

Legally Blonde 2 = BEST MOVIE EVER!

Things Are Going To Change, You Will Be Amazed

I was just sitting around my house, thinking about how I wanted to food, but didn't want to cook . . . when my roommate and his boyfriend came home with all this food they had left over from their picnic! It was exactly the kind of food I wanted, too, lots of different kinds of light, summery food. (I had a tamale, a samosa, a bean quesidilla and some potato salad.)

I have come to the obvious conclusion that this means I have finally tapped into to my latent ability to shape the world to my desires with the power of my mind alone.

Now that I've finally accessed this power, you better believe that things are going to be different around here. For one thing, there are going to be a lot more giant kittens.

Bathroom Sink, I Love You!

After two (or possibly three) long weeks, my bathroom sink is finally unclogged! One should note that we've been calling Maxwell Realty pretty much daily about this for the last week. To be fair, we did try to deal with it ourselves for a while, first by ignoring it, and then by pouring some of that liquid plumber stuff down it. Unfortunately, what we ended up with was a clogged sink that was full of poison, so we resorted to professional help.

Our kitchen sink has also been completely full of dirty dishes for the past week. This means our bathtub has been fulfilling all of our sink needs. (A bathtub is, after all, nothing more than a really big sink.)

But no more! The sink is unclogged!

I can wash my face again! When I brush my teeth, I won't have to spit into the bathtub! When I wash my hands, I won't end up drenching myself because Phil never turns the shower off before he turns the water off! (Seriously, who doesn't turn the shower off first? It makes no sense.) Oh, sweet sweet sink, god bless you and your little shiny drain!

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr ARRGGH

A telling example of my mood today:

As I was walking home, I passed someone who I thought I might now. I thought to myself, "He looks familiar. I wonder if I hate him."

On second glance, it turned out that I didn't know him. I might still hate him, though, one never knows.

Lesbian Party!

I think I should have a party, and to be admitted you should have to bring a hot lesbian. It would be like a scavenger hunt! You could get some sort of special prize if I slept with your lesbian.

In any case, my friends definitely need to start making friends with more hot dykes.

Maybe I should suggest to my manager at work that we start an All Lesbian hiring policy. Sure, it would be, you know, discriminatory and against the law, but it would make the workplace so much fun!

Sometimes the Internet Is a Little Too Convenient

The problem with getting the K Records newsletter emailed to me, is that I can go, "krecs compilation cd for only six bucks! Hey, I better hurry up and get that!" and then I can click on the handy link to it, and then while I'm at the website I can go, "Hey, I should get the new Mirah while I'm here, I want that," and then I've spent twenty dollars without even leaving the house.

Why can the internet tell me what new cool things I really need, let me buy those things instantly, and not, say, wash my dishes? I need a sink that doesn't have dishes in it a lot more than the new Mirah (although I do need the new Mirah a goddamned lot). Especially since my bathroom sink is clogged, which means that all my sink needs are currently being met by my bathtub.