Jabba makes cameo appearance on HBO series Girls season 2. Hannah takes offense when Jabba doesn’t want her to wear a gold underwear ensemble à la enslaved Princess Leia. Hannah wears it anyway.
Maira Kalman’s illustrations are some of my favorite things. I like them better than when my cat is scarprised (a combination of scared and surprised), and he jumps backward at least a few yards. This says A LOT, because I think the only reason I have a cat is for these scarprised moments. Let’s just leave it as Maira Kalman is a boss, and I’d like a take a moment today to appreciate her. I cry every time I read, “Fireboat.” You can watch this TED talk by Maira Kalman from 2009, or you could just browse her website. I can’t believe it took me FOREVER to find out that beneath the book jacket of “And the Pursuit of Happiness“ is some incredible lettering and a doodling homage to Lincoln (as pictured above, awesome right?).
I think it’s safe to say I would read ANY book that Maira Kalman illustrated.
Books that I would cherish, if Maira Kalman illustrated them:
- The mating rituals of the Three Toed Sloth (possibly titled, Slow Sex) … sorry, I couldn’t not write that, and the look of confusion when people realize this is NOT the book that they were expecting.
- The history of dentistry.
- An illustrated encyclopedia of weapons from World War II.
- Snooki’s biography.
- Contemporary Hip Hop Culture.
- A book about grammar. I kid.
- The history of the New York Stock Exchange.
- Obscure sports.
I feel like this list will never end, please never stop making awesome books. I love your stories.
It’s seven a.m. my cell phone alarm rings a sweet marimba tone to remind me it’s time for my daily contraceptive. The sun is rising, I can hear the cars passing beneath my windows as responsible Americans commute on their way to work. My husband has a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice at the ready to accompany such a delicate pill. A quick wink, and I toss the pill into my mouth; my husband shouts a countdown as I throw down my OJ while pumping the other fist high in the air.
We high five, we chest bump, we invite the local high school pep band to play, “Eye of the Tiger”as we celebrate our victory over unprotected sex. We celebrate my victory over agonizing menstrual cramps and occasional break-outs, and we celebrate our victory to responsibly plan our family. I am filled with joy, throwing handfuls of tampons and maxi pads at the crowd that has gathered to share in this historic event. We parade through the streets as people cheer. My husband is overcome with our victorious achievement, he runs up behind me and showers me with a cooler of gatorade. The endurance boosting drink runs all over my body, I’ve never felt more alive than this moment right now. I’ve got an interview to give. I answer a few brief questions, “Yes. Every morning, 7 a.m.,” thank my OB-GYN, and my insurance provider, along with a shout out to Planned Parenthood from back in the day when I didn’t have insurance but still had a place to responsibly learn about my reproductive rights and choices. No more questions please, I’ve got so much more to give today.
My heart is full with the amount of freedom and joy swallowing that one little pill provides. After all the celebrating, I take a quiet moment on the balcony and sing a trill arpeggio to match my light spirits. A chickadee flits by and matches my soprano with its sweet song. Another bird joins and pretty soon we’ve got a small avian choir singing the joys of contraception. I spread my arms and take in their sweet song as my spirits are lifted. A ring of birth control pills appears in the background, an emblem of my reproductive freedom. I feel as regal as the great bald eagle, wings spread, proud and intelligent, shouting from my second story balcony, “Let Freedom Ring! Let Freedom Ring!”
A small crowd has gathered below. One person begins clapping, slowly, but firm in her support. Another joins in, the beats becoming closer together. Each person in the crowd looks at one another as their claps unify and crescendo into a wild eruption of support. I back flip off the balcony and am carried away, surfing over the crowd. A woman grabs my hand and shakes it, our eyes meet and we weep. We know we have experienced something truly special this morning, and every morning, right at 7 a.m. when that sweet marimba tone chimes in and reminds me once again just how freeing contraception can truly be.
My library had a Mo Willems inspired craft party (this is where I should clarify that the party was FOR CHILDREN) so I had my OWN craft party and made these awesome Pigeon badges. I made these for my children (read: myself) to wear to the party.
This is just felt + embroidery floss and some Mo Willems pigeon inspiration. I don’t have instructions because WAIT FOR IT . . . I just WING IT as I go along.
I seem to be the only person on my block, possibly even the whole damn neighborhood, who was so affected by the thriller/suspense movie Kiss The Girls, that I refuse to put my garbage out the night before. I am the only asshole dragging my giant garbage and recycling cans to the curb and making loud noises at 6:30 in the morning. And you know what? I’m okay with that, because I know that some psychopathic fictional killer / collector is not going to be rummaging through my garbage and figuring out when my cycle is.
These are normal precautions that everyday normal people take.