Monday, December 29, 2008


I want to fucking cut up my Ikea pillows and find out why they are so soft.

They say it's downfeather.

I don't know if I should feel guilty.

Isn't that like killing a bird and defeathering it for the sake of my comfort?

I feel like an absolute college student farming wiki for info but it says:

Down can be collected in a variety of ways. Birds which provide the feathers may be used for other purposes, for example to provide meat. Some birds are killed solely for their down, while some birds (particularly some geese) are periodically live-plucked of their breast feathers. Some birds, such as the eider duck, line their nests with down, and such down is harvested safely after the young leave the nest.

I dunno which method Ikea uses. They're all Swedish hippies anyway right? My karma should be in good stead.

Sunday, December 28, 2008

Merry Christmas, etcetera

They say writing is a muscle.

If so then at this point my vigor must be equivalent to that of a child flailing wildly at solid steel pinatas.

New years plans are as follows with long winded descripts:

Either go to

1)Cockfest at friends house

Hang out with "the boys", and hope that a decent number of attractive women show up. This will eventually lead to everyone getting no-less than sloshed and then deciding to hook up with anything that stumbles around the room in a druken haze wearing a skirt. Unfortunately I'm not a big fan of finding that 6 and drinking till she's a 9 theory, so this doesn't look too likely.

2)Cockfest at my house, with rock band

Hang out with "the boys", sans women. Having no women around removes the complication of alcohol-induced horniness(spelling?). Instead it will be a bunch of boys getting completely smashed and yelling at TV for several hours. I find Rock Band to be the ultimate Karaoke get-up. By 4 am, I imagine several people with arms on the shoulders of each other yelling "SOOOO SALLY CAN WAIT" at the top of their lungs. For some reason, I find this quite endearing. Might happen.

3)Cockfest at some random venue in the city

Leave at 6 to avoid "the jam", end up in "motherfucking huge jam" anyway. Cue sighing for several hours in hopes of arriving at aforementioned venue on schedule. Listen to the radio with heavy heart, and to the snarky DJs which have no sympathy for those stuck in the jam (but are forced to act obligingly cheery). If he's confined to a small box for New Years, you might as well fucking be too. Arrive, squeeze past everyone with similar intentions. Oooh and aahh at fireworks ala primal urges to coo at pretty bright things.

4)Find some random broad, have lots of sex

Applications open. Must be hot. Talking optional.