I'm complicated and stupid
I can’t ever decide if Lady Gaga is “good” or not. I like her music but I also really like Mrs. Miller’s take on “Downtown,” so I am never fully sure if I have good taste or not. But what I CAN say is that for days I’ve had the line “I’m complicated and stupid”stuck in my head from her 2009 hit “LoveGame” and it just.feels.right.
Maybe it’s stuck in my head because I feel like I still can’t adjust to the new way of life. Why does something ALWAYS get stuck in my eye exactly two seconds after I put on gloves and face mask at the grocery store? Did I always put my hand in my mouth this often before the pandemic? Or is it sort of like, now that it’s forbidden all I want to do is feel every pore on my face, all the time, with my hands? Why do I feel compelled to touch every avocado? Why does all this hand-washing feel excessive? Was I a garbage baby beforehand? Don’t answer that.
Theme music for this newsletter
Surprisingly not LoveGame, I don’t actually like that song all that much. I’ve been on a post-punk kick lately probably because it’s spring and “We’re So Cool” by the Au Pairs is always so good to me.
Pigeon report
In general, the only thing that allows me to distinguish one pigeon from another is whether they have a piece of plastic hanging off of them or are missing a limb. But apparently there are big regional differences between pigeons, to the extent that a pigeon from NYC (mean, aloof) can’t fraternize with a pigeon from Boston (mean, Mark Wahlberg.)
Grade: D, it’s sad that New England pigeons have to be so cliquey
Are you okay? Checking in on my favorite d-listers
Yesterday I read this headline and audibly groaned, and my boyfriend said “What?” I read him the headline and he too, instinctively, made the exact same groan of pain and hatred.
Answer: She’s fine, but I’m not.
The weirdest shit I saw on Craigslist recently
This stupid post is too long for me to show in its entirety, but let us just say that this is why I, as a general rule, do not speak to men.
Hints from Hellouise
I got so bored last week I cleaned my stove. Didn’t follow the majority of this advice, but maybe it’ll help you. Even more notable is that I made zero Sylvia Plath jokes the entire time (I was alone so I had no audience, meaning jokes don’t matter.)
Shit you really ought to read
Sassy letters from a teen during the 1918 pandemic. An Instagram-perfect island explodes. Strip clubs adjust to the pandemic. Obesity myths are fucking up treatment for sick people. All we want to do now is watch baby birds eat squirrels.