June 5, 2007
Ssshhhh, children. Mama’s got a headache.
I woke up in a ditch several hours ago covered in wet beaver fur and sans my wallet. Ah, Durham—you still know how to party.
So while I scramble to reassemble my shredded dignity, I’ll give you your one-day warning to get your entries in for the latest “May We Suggest” contest, which you’ll find a few posts below. Tomorrow we’ll unveil the winner, who will receive the swingin’ refigerator magnet shown at right, the only thing I managed to lift from the Stuckey’s I stumbled across in my quest for a new “Depends” to get me on the road home. How I suffer for my art…
April 20, 2007
Blazer Manpurse has never been a slave to fashion, kay? I have a BFA, but I don’t wear those dumb ’70s glasses, I don’t own any soccer shoes. And I certainly know better than to pull something like this:
This reminds me of that really skanky, over the hill lady at a party who mourns the loss of hotness with rub-on tanning cream, a conspicuous thong, and several pounds of “funky jewelry.” If this building was a famous actress, I’d have to send her to my new favorite web site for a much-deserved bitchslap.
Plus, if you squint really hard, it looks like it says “Oligarchy.”
Moving along, thanks to everyone who mouthed off at our recent “new slogan for Durham” contest. Our expert panel of cranks and substance abusers has determined the winner, submitted by the entity known only as Dead Bastard. It reads thusly:
We couldn’t agree more. The aforementioned illegitimate corpse will receive the promised “fabulous doodad,” a key fob with a difference:
Thanks for playing, and look for more pointless, snarky contests soon.
And for god’s sake, keep buying real estate!