2004-02-04
1:50 p.m.
Explaining McSweeney's is something I'm often asked to do, but I find it to be like trying to explain the mysteries of the Gospel or how stoplights know that you're sitting there waiting for the light to change or how it is that Hot Tamales reappear in our candy dish at my mom's house whenever the level gets low. You just have to read McSweeney's, however begrudgingly, keep at it, and it will suck you in and you will become a fan. David gets the physical paper version that comes out in bookstores quarterly and 99% of the time that is way over my head, but I really like the web version. I don't get why everyone thinks the White Stripes' "I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself" is so great. All I ever knew of that song was when Cameron Diaz sang it at karaoke in "My Best Friend's Wedding." I think it sucks in equal measure whether she's singing it or the White Stripes are. Today I was thinking about this time my friend Josh's crude, decrepit grandma (who is now deceased) was telling us about how much she pooped after eating a bunch of Fiber-Con. She said in a roomful of people, "I'm telling you, I filled that bowl up! Had to flush it twice." I think that is so hysterical! David forbade me to ever say it again. Ha ha!
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