Hello, my name is Bex Schwartz and I am about to sing you a ditty. [A Ditty:] This is my home in the blogosphere. It's not as round as a bathosphere. But it's my place in cyberspace so I hold it dear. BLOG. O. SPHERE!
Hug me, please.
How does this happen? I was thinking about the bushes in Glen Rock that kids used to cut so they said “Glen Fuck” — they would cut off the round bit of the R and the top of the o — so I twittercized about it, and then I googled the bushes to see if I could maybe find something about it, and HuffPo had already picked up my tweet? Is this a thing that happens now? The internet is eating itself and then pooping itself and it is a human centipede / ouroboros?
There is too much internet for me to catch up on, and I haven’t seen Mad Men or Jersey Shore or any of the Big Brothers I missed when I was away by myself in Belize. So I am going to stop catching up on the internets RIGHT NOW, because Sean won them. Because this is the greatest backpack the world has ever seen.
I hate everything, except for this. I just watched this four times with tears streaming down my face in a combination of joy and just plain being overwhelmed by the eye injections. EYE INJECTIONS. Why did it take until now for the Rockafire Explosion to sing The Arcade Fire while the world is destroyed and Mitzi and Beach Bear get EYE INJECTED?
When I was about 4 and my brother was teeny tiny, we went to visit my dad's family in Charleston. When we flew back, my brother got his finger stuck the fold-out airplane tray that comes out of the seat when you're sitting in the bulkhead. His finger was gushing blood. The stewardesses called an ambulance to meet us when we landed. My brother and mom went to Valley Hospital in the ambulance. My dad and I met them there. There was a toy shaped like Ernie from Sesame Street that was filled with sand and you could tilt Ernie and let the sand flow from his fingers to his feet. We were not supposed to be spending that night in the emergency room waiting for my baby brother to have his hand stitched up. WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GO TO SHOWBIZ PIZZA TO SEE THE ROCKAFIRE EXPLOSION. My parents PROMISED. But we TOTALLY DIDN'T GO. We went to the ER and there were no animatronic animal bands or ball pits. There was just a stupid plastic Ernie filled with sand.
Oh, Wellmont Theater of Montclair, NJ (did my dad put me on your mailing list? Why are you emailing me?) All I can say is: you have put your Primus chocolate into my Bob Saget peanut butter and I am not sure if you aware of the raw genius that is this email blast.
Primus and Bob Saget! Two delicious tastes that go even better together!
Posts
