Friday, January 30, 2009

Yo ho, February approach'th.

Imagine how unstirring Caesar's soothsayer would have been, had Caesar been murdered in early February?
Soothsayer: "Beware the kalendae of February!"
How poetic of the Muses.

Note: mayhap there is a correlation between a declining Japanese population and an obsession with plush gimmicks?

G'day.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

And now John Updike's dead. Before my obsession with Wallace, there was my obsession with Updike. (An unlikely combination, but, eh.) My two favorites from the past five years, dead in the past five months.

What comes to mind is very un-Updikean: Man. This sucks.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Woof.


Ok, at this point I want a dog not just for the standard furry canine companionship but for those sweet little puppy booties, too.  

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Team Face Pot Psych 2.0

Why Hello, and welcome to our soon to be video-series.

Beats and I will be carrying the torch so haplessly dropped by Rich and Tracie of Jezebel's Pot Psychology. You can see our inspiration here: http://jezebel.com/tag/pot-psychology/

So please, send your questions about:
relationships
fashion
boob-sweat
sex
working
hipsters
self-loathing
awareness

to our gmail addresses

But mind you, our webisodes will be called "Sober Psych"
so while we will be giddy/caffeinated/peeved/sweaty/pantsless, we will not be inebriated or high.

except maybe a stray kahlua+milk/celebrex/excedrin back+body

you're welcome.

-team face

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Bless Your Heart Dan

Alright, now that Dan posted, I feel a lot better about posting again (I had a deep rooted fear that team face were the only ones on here alive anymore)

A complaint sent to apple. enjoy.

Order Number *redacted
Case Number *redacted

To Whom It May Concern:

As a lifelong PC user, I am absolutely livid about the product and care I received during my first two days as a Mac owner. After waiting five days longer to receive my computer than predicted, the MacBook I purchased did not turn on. After a seemingly simple call with Apple Care I went to the genius bar to fix my laptop. Although my AppleCare consultant promised not only that she had entered all of my notes into my case number, but also that the only way to receive help was to go to an Apple Store in person, neither was the case.

Upon arrival at the genius bar, a concierge placed my name on the list and told me to wait on a bench nearby. After TWO HOURS of waiting, a representative meandered over and asked why I was waiting. Apparently, he said, I had been mislead by both the concierge (someone would have helped me sooner had she alerted them) and by Apple Care. Indeed, my case number provided no other information than “referred to apple store” and as my computer was purchased online and was a refurbished computer, Genius Bar could do nothing.

The following morning I called Apple to explain all of the circumstances and frustration. After being put on hold for the majority of my near half-hour phone call (with the most nerve-grating music I have ever had the misfortune of hearing), I was told I would have to send my computer back to Apple.

As a freelance writer I find this whole experience to be absolutely unacceptable. To have a late, broken, and now incapacitated computer causes me more than just fury but loss of wages. There was a complete and utter lack of communication between the three branches of Apple that I spoke to.

It is an experience like this that makes me wonder why I ever decided to switch from PC to Mac. I cannot believe that your company clings to its user experience and customer care as selling points.

I am incredibly disappointed and upset by the past days as a failed Mac user.


With lost hope,

Charlotte *redacted
*redacted

Monday, January 12, 2009

Last night I smoked some drugs and wound up on my computer, at Post-Williamsburg, whereat it suddenly hit me that [a] 2008 is really and irrevocably over, [b] blogging is an art form at which I'll probably never excel, and [c] I needed, at that very moment, to consume a heaping bowl of Peanut Butter Crunch.

[a] As I never tire of observing, all of those cliches about "the fast-paced city life" and NYC never snoozing and all that -- these are completely true. Bearing this in mind, it does seem like the last six months of '08 passed with uncommon alacrity. I mean, shit, they're gone. This is strange. Obviously, time in New York City elapses at the same rate as it does everywhere else. When I say "fast-paced," I refer to the phenomological sensation of "pacing." But why does it even feel faster? If my life is busier here, it's not by much. Is it because the buildings are taller? The streets more populous? The signage more abundant? The commutes longer? The air dirtier? The rent higher? Or is it just because conventional wisdom dictates that New York lives should move faster?

[b] It's actually very difficult to be a good blogger, I think. Post-Williamsburg has several. The best bloggers, I've found, are very comfortable with themselves, or are at least capable of simulating self-comfort. They also don't really give a shit about abiding by the rules of writing/revision as practiced in more traditional publishing settings -- i.e., they won't set themselves aflame upon realizing that they've made a typo. The best bloggers are concise and personable. They're comfortable revealing occasionally intimate details about their lives to the world at large. Sometimes, they have personas, and they lure the reader into trusting these personas in the same manner that viewers trust latenight television hosts. None of these things describe me.

[c] I didn't have any Peanut Butter Crunch at hand, last night, and briefly considered an excursion to the nearest bodega in pursuit of said cereal. It was cold out, though. Oh, boy, was it cold out. In a moment of uncommon self-discipline, I refrained entirely from eating. On one level, this is commendable. Unfortunately, it inspired nearly seven minutes of involuted and fruitless meditation on the following topics: eating disorders, the hypothalamus and the presence of cannibinoid receptors therein, my ignorance of global starvation stastistics, fat people, vanity, the curiously recurrent motif of the bathroom scale in popular American culture and advertising, the dogmatic fervency with which the USDA's 1992 Food Pyramid was shoved down our throats as youths, the resultant banality and ineffectuality of that Food Pyramid in our lives/diets today, the unwitting humor of the idiom "shoved down our throats" when used to describe the delivery method of a nutritious eating model, how delicious (and aesthetically delightful) a literal pyramid of Peanut Butter Crunch would be, genetics, obesity, skinny people, Calista Flockhart, fat people making love, fat people walking, sleep apnea, my family tree, my body mass index, my ninth grade physical education instructor. In the time it took me to mull these things over, I could've procured, with a lot less mental turmoil, some Peanut Butter Crunch. Let this be a lesson.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

heppy nooyear

Somehow amidst all the new years eve-y chaos (which was lovely, super loud handclaps to Cait Smith the Extraordinary), I only took one photo. It's pretty great though.