When I saw you on the counter, I thought you were a chew toy,
or a sea anemone.
You came into my life like an old razor blade, shiny, oddly beautiful
and dangerous.
At first orange seemed like a friendly color, but your sharp protrusions left
marks on my hand,
and on my soul.
Deceitful, deceptive, disgusting charlatan!!! Wearing a mask of solar flares
When inside
You breed seedy green Jell-O.
You sicken me (and taste like bananas).
[Update 08/06: I realize these are difficult...here are some hints: 1) comes from a novel written by the same author who wrote High Fidelity and About a Boy 2) the next line in this song that was covered by The Jam goes I wish I could be like David Watts 3) A. Van Houten = the source of this gem 4) contained in the collection of short stories, Jesus' Son 5) From a movie starring Jamie Bell]
Alright, this week we are offering a name-that-quote-and-who-said-it quiz! Woohoo! So here's the deal: Name the source of the quote (ie. song, book, story, movie) and which person (book/story/movie) speaks it. You can respond by commenting below! Good luck and stay clean, as in sure you can google it, but that's just no fun...but I guess if you're desperate...it does show a bit of effort.
1) "Metaphorically," I said. When someone uses the phrase "the prick one," and you know immediately that this is a synonym for the word "metaphorically," you are entitled to wonder whether you know the speaker too well. You are even entitled to wonder whether you should know her at all.
2) I am a dull and simple lad / Can not tell water from champagne / And I have never met the queen / And I wish I could have all that he has got
3) Can we have $14 back in 10's, 1's, and a 5?
4) Georgie came back to my side of the truck with his shirtfront stretched out in front of him as if he were carrying apples in it, or some such, but they were, in fact, slimy miniature bunnies.
5) Gosh darn it, honey, you pierced his dorsal.
[NOTE: The following story was a writing assignment with the following stipulations designed by Justine -
1) Character: Scotty McPhee (male or female)
2) Setting: a park bench in the middle of a violent rainstorm
3) First Sentence: Everyone knows there are exactly fifty-three ways to lure a rodent into a bright yellow gym bag.]
Everyone knows there are exactly fifty-three ways to lure a rodent into a bright yellow gym bag. Everyone said that there are exactly fifty-three and no more. Everyone said to attempt otherwise was futile and near suicide, but Scotty McPhee was tired of everyone telling him what he could and could not do.
Consulting his blue prints for extreme accuracy, Scotty McPhee laid the 32 cream colored buttons in a perfect circle, each button 5 and ¾ centimeters away from the next button, each button run through and secured in the ground with an oversized thumbtack. He then encircled the button circle with the metal bicycle chain and placed the 7.4-pound hunk of imported Swiss Gruyere in the center. The remaining oversized thumbtack he stabbed into the heart of the cheese, the bright yellow gym bag lay open at his feet. Now it was time to wait. According to Scotty McPhee’s calculations, at precisely 8 minutes after the beginning of the storm, a bolt of lightening should have hit the oversized thumbtack stuck into the heart of the imported Swiss Gruyere, sending an electric shock into the rodent, who would have by this time already succumbed to the powers of the fragrant cheese and settled down for a nibble. This electric shock in turn would have sent the rodent squealing and scurrying into Scotty’s bright yellow gym bag. According to his calculations, nothing could have possibly gone wrong, but as everyone knows, fifty-three is a prime number.
[NOTE: The following story was a writing assignment with the following stipulations designed by Steph -
1) Character: Marjory
2) Setting: a state penitentiary
3) First Sentence: I'm comfortable with the level of ginger.]
I’m comfortable with the level of ginger. Marjory reassured herself as she sat with a platter of homemade honey ginger orange oatmeal cookies on her lap. Carl got testy when there was too much ginger. Not that he disliked ginger; he just liked a precise amount of it. The two or so dozen times she’d missed that mark, she’d paid for it. But that wasn’t why Carl was in prison.
To her absolute delight, Marjory found herself crowned Miss Lawrence, on her way to the state competition. At the Miss Kansas Pageant, Marjory wore her high school prom dress, made with pink taffeta and pink plastic pearls. She was first runner up, to be crowned Miss Kansas should, for any reason, the actual Miss Kansas be unable to fulfill her duties.
The predominant adjective of the night: sweltering. Upon entering the 5 person capacity elevator at Vox Populi gallery in Philadelphia, a brief verbal exchange among the six passengers consisted of an utterance of “cool” followed by a knowing, “It’s not going to be cool in there.” Wise words, these.
It was not until sometime after Bloomington, Indiana’s Impossible Shapes concluded their green-lit, somewhat low-energy (could it have been the heat?), yet successful set with an amiable and quite danceable number, that some clever minds opened the warehousey gallery space windows. The thin crowd that had grown since the beginning of the set, now collapsed below the rising heat, conserving energy by speaking in low murmurs.
The next act consisted of the unorthodox comedian, Neil Hamburger. Never mind his off-color, offensive, tasteless, and downright disdainful jokes, all completely void of humor, and half of which made absolutely no sense, one glance at Hamburger, dawning a black suit with a bowtie, a red carnation in pocket, and a terrible forward comb over was discomfort enough. His constant coughing, hacking, and clearing his throat loudly into the mic may have been his shtick, but did nothing to add wit or entertainment to his act. The man spent a quarter of his set on a joke concerning Courtney Love and every detail of a Thanksgiving meal. His brand of funny was certainly at a loss on me.
Finally, Danielson arrived to save the night, complete with matching captains’ uniforms! The troupe consisted of six members for the night: Daniel on guitar with sister Megan on glockenspiel, her husband Jedidiah on bass, brothers Andrew and David on drums (one sweaty audience member would later proclaim that the brothers’ perfect unison on drums gave her chills, even though she could see only the left hand of each), and friend Evan on keys. Danielsonship kicked the set off 
concluded their green-lit, somewhat low-energy (could it have been the heat?), yet successful set with an amiable and quite danceable number, that some clever minds opened the warehousey gallery space windows. The thin crowd that had grown since the beginning of the set, now collapsed below the rising heat, conserving energy by speaking in low murmurs.fittingly with “Ship the Majestic Suffix” and played through many of the tracks off Ships including the super-spectacular hit, “Did I Step On Your Trumpet” and the joyous “Five Stars and Two Thumbs Up,” which Daniel wrote with wife Elin in mind, though she was absent for the night. Other pleasant surprise inclusions in the set were “Singers Go First” from Fetch the Compass Kids and “Cutest Lil’ Dragon” from Tri-Danielson Vol. 2, a sing-along which Daniel rehearsed extensively with the crowd. Needless to say, the snap/clap/sing-alongs were plentiful and highly enjoyable. There was a brief chastising of friend Evan for “excessive rocking,” during which he nearly knocked over his mic, but other than that and the deathly humidity, the performance was a precious jewel of delight. I still love you, Danielson, even though you made me and my friends melt into sweat puddles! Only complaint: not enough dancing! —I blame it on the heat. Damn you, Heat! I raise my fist with threat at you!
A visual commentary of the performance of comedian Neil Hamburger by Steph:
(click for larger image)
If you’ve ever been the kid who was picked last for the (insert sport) game in gym class or the person on whom people spit out watermelon seeds, there is hope for you yet! Even the reviled GRAPE, detested and loathed time and time again, has found new life. We may now forgive Grape's poor track record, illustrated by the abundance of leftover grape flavored jolly ranchers in the candy dish and the revolting gag reflex grape cough syrup always creates, as the flavor GRAPE now makes a triumphant comeback and puts the world to shame with Fruit 2 O’s new naturally flavored water: “Natural Grape." Although this delightful zero calorie beverage contains 0% fruit juice and less than 2% of natural flavor, the hint of grape is quite distinguishable, coming across as sweet but not syrupy, light and faintly aromatic, and completely devoid of a horrible after taste.
Finally grape has acquired some self-esteem. Fear no longer drives Grape to hide under construction cones or build fortresses out of supermarket shopping carts. This Grape not only wants to pick a fight with you, this Grape is out for blood. I know what you’re thinking, “how can a zero calorie water with such a dainty, fruity, refreshing taste not be sissy?” Well don’t let “Natural Grape” hear you, because “Natural Grape” shows no mercy.
“Natural Grape” snuck up behind me while I was visiting the beach with my family. I was just looking to have a nice relaxing day; the sun was shining, there was an enchanting breeze in the air, and then an ominous shadow descended upon me…I looked up and discovered the towering figure of “Natural Grape” blocking my path. I said (politely and as sweetly as possible as to not offend the wrathful Grape), “Dear Sir ‘Natural Grape,’ won’t you kindly step aside and let me pass?” to which “Natural Grape” bellowed, “NAY!!! ‘Natural Grape’ stands aside for no one!” and then “Natural Grape” punched me in the mouth.
I know that “Natural Grape” only punched me because “Natural Grape” loves me. Sure, we’ve had our differences over the years but at the end of the day “Natural Grape’s” powerful blows are really more like soft kisses on my taste buds. I love you “Natural Grape.”
The unfortunate teenager with the acne-rampaged face and neck seated the short, slight Indian man at a small table beside an island filled with white flowers neither could identify. And from the moment he took his seat, which was covered with crumbs he did not bother to remove, and peeled open the menu whose pages stuck together with some sort of condiment or beverage, Sanjay Sandip knew his lunchtime visit to the Macaroni Grill would end badly.
When a young lady with a pleasant smile and a bright orange tie arrived a few moments later to take his drink order, Sanjay told her that he'd like an Italian Margarita without salt on the glass—he hated the way the saline crystals stuck to his lips and mustache making him look silly. He also informed the waitress that he was ready to order his entrée, the Chicken Scaloppine. To these requests, the polite waitress asked Sanjay to repeat himself as she leaned in closer to listen more carefully. Sanjay, annoyed at her inability to hear his voice—though it truly was just barely-above-a-whisper—refused to adjust his volume as he repeated his order. Fortunately, the girl was able to make out just enough syllables to piece together the selection.
As he sipped at the tasty margarita the polite waitress brought him, Sanjay noticed that the drink was tart and refreshing, but contained very little alcohol. His friends had always teased him for being a lightweight, but this mild beverage would simply not suffice. He did, however, find it absolutely delicious. Maybe if he got through enough of them…
Soon, a service duet arrived with Sanjay's meal. A tall, blond, all-American boy effortlessly handled the chicken platter with one hand, while the polite waitress followed brandishing an intimidating, two-and-a-half foot tall, wooden pepper mill. He watched subdued as the polite waitress showered the chicken with dark flecks of fragrant pepper fragments. He realized that the pepper mill was nearly half his own height, and gulped down a minor spasm of shame. Before the polite waitress left him, Sanjay requested a second margarita.
Sanjay's lunch hour was dwindling into minutes, and he'd completed his chicken and second margarita. The polite waitress stopped by with his bill when he asked her if it was possible to order a third margarita to go. At this request, Sanjay noticed a momentary glimmer of panic in the polite waitress's eyes as she hesitated before informing him that she didn't think that was a possibility, and retreated to service her other patrons. Sanjay felt dejected and embarrassed—and completely sober. And worst of all, as if he hadn't already been cut down to the knees, he'd only be able to leave the polite waitress with the pleasant smile and the bright orange tie the change from his twenty dollar bill: $2.22.
To Andy Pemberton:
Mr. Pemberton, I heard you resigned this past week from your short-lived editor-in-chief position at Spin magazine. Couldn’t hold out for the severance pay, huh? Well, I say: Hooray! And good riddance!
I’ll not delve into the apprehension I feel over the next abomination the McEvoy Group will dredge up to replace you. Rather, I’d like to focus on what you’ve done to poor, dying Spin. It’ll give you some things to ponder while you’re at the beach.
Let’s see…last month, I found my “ALL NEW!” Spin in the mailbox featuring Jack White and the Raconteurs on the red, yellow, black, and white cover. Headline: “Jack White Talks! His Rage, His Marriage, His Genius…” So riveting. This month, whom do I find on the cover of Spin magazine, but Beyoncé! Beyoncé! Wind-blown tresses and all! Not only do we get Beyoncé, but yet another helping of “America’s 101 Wildest Parties!” in red, yellow, black, and white. Well, I must admit you did not disappoint. Eight pages of “wildest parties”—yes, I know, 101. And who wouldn’t prefer a collage of photos featuring drunk, sweaty hipsters making out with themselves over the former “Soundcheck”—a classic two-page photo spread of a live performance shot.
And let me extend my most sardonic thanks to you for the new “Barometer” section of the magazine, informing the readers about “everything that’s hot…or not.” I especially appreciate the sophisticated thermometer graphic that indicates whether or not a subject is actually “hot…or not.” By the way, a barometer and a thermometer are not the same instrument.
A few other wrong turns I’d like to bring to your attention include the item which most belongs in an issue of People or US Weekly, “Body language explained,” as well as the new “Spin Pinup,” and the brand new column featuring a porn star dishing out sex advice. I don’t know about you, but I’m not convinced that a response like, “Wow. You have a girlfriend and you still use a condom?!” suggests wisdom. It’s not like anyone actually picks up Spin to read about music anyway.
Oh, and don’t worry, ditching Klosterman’s “Back Pages” for your “25 Big Questions,” including such gems as “Is there a God?”, “Bong, joint, or pipe?”, and “What’s your favorite color?” doesn’t make Spin anymore like the next celebrity gossip rag than naked pictures of Britney driving with her baby on the roof of the car. But I guess you didn’t really have a choice there, did you.
I realize that Spin hasn’t been the juggernaut of hipster music publications for a while now, but bloody hell, Pemberton, what have you done!?
So long, farewell.
Thursday, June 29, brought with it one of the most amazing and unexpected turn of events in the twenty-first century when amateur driver, Stephanie, succeeded in traveling to the train station, and, back home again. 
At the start of Stephanie’s driving career, things did not look promising. Panic, frustration and a complete void of any sense of direction plagued the young driver from the beginning culminating in many tearful phone calls home and an expensive garage mishap. However, on Thursday this was not the case!!! Un-phased by pre-fourth of July traffic, Stephanie accurately estimated the extra time she would need to pick up her beloved friend Justine, skillfully maneuvered through crowded streets and over frightening highways and successfully dropped her friend off within a record 24 minutes. When asked about her experience as a passenger during this voyage, Justine stated, “at no time did i feel that my life was in danger.”