Qiddie Quotes

All quotes are from girls, unless otherwise noted.

2 y.o.: *knock knock*

3 y.o.: “Who is it?”

2 y.o.: “Death!” (not sure what she was trying to say)

a rabbi's daughter, 3 y.o.: “eeny meeny meiny mo, catch a bible by the toe”

3 y.o.: “Hashem’s house is pink with strawberries on it.”

me: “That’s an example of someone trying to be funny and failing.”

3rd grader: “And it’s not me for once!”

3^rd grade boy, running out of the room on last day of Hebrew school: “I’m never coming back!”

3 y.o. boy: “I’m gonna buy all this.”

me: “How much does it cost?”

3 y.o. boy: “One hour.”

4 y.o. #1: “You got to be the mom a jillion hundred times!”

4 y.o. #2: “That’s not even a number.”

4 y.o. #1: “AHHH!!!!!”

4 y.o.: “Pink is my favorite color in the history of the world.”

4 y.o.: “She’s walking away without her baby. That’s not, like, safe.” - doll. baby DOLL.

me: “You have to go so bad?”

3 y.o.: “No, BADLY.”

3 y.o.: “Look what I got from my nose.”

3 y.o.: “I only have this much chips because it’s a bummer.”

3 y.o.: “Today I’m going to West Portal in a cage to go to the zoo in Africa. I’m going to Africa.”

5 y.o.: “I speak Ebrew because I go to Israel every ear.”

5 y.o.: “It looks like the T Jesus was on.”

2 y.o. boy: “Bubbe has to feed grandpa.”

2 y.o. boy on top of the structure addressing two girls: “I’m pooping!”

3 y.o. boy: “I’m old!”

3 y.o. boy: “I’m not Jewish, I live in Burlingame.”

3 y.o.: “I’m much older than all of you.”

3 y.o.: “She’s only 2. She doesn’t know everything. Only I know everything.”

3 y.o. #1: “What’s inside here?” (teapot)

me: “Probably just air.”

3 y.o. #2: “No, there’s puffing.”

me: “Puffins, like the cereal?”

3 y.o. #2: “No, PUFFING, like what’s in HERE.” (stuffed animal)

me: “Stuffing?”

3 y.o. #2: “Yeah, stuffing!”

3 y.o.: “I one time had a boo boo but I don’t know where it is… it’s in my house.”

3 y.o.: “I wanna show everyone my pimples.”

4 y.o.: “I’m only going to look at you if you stop talking while you’re eating.”

3 y.o.: “Rebecca my favorite friend… and Ariel, too.” (she's referring to Ariel the Disney mermaid)

3 y.o. offended that I had the same favorite princess as her babysitter: “Who your favorite princess? … Belle? Tara love… You love Poccahontas!”

3 y.o.: “I have poof hair.”

3 y.o.: “Dora Splisplora!”

3 y.o.: “Uh-oh, I made a ‘steak!”

3 y.o. #1 asks 3 y.o. #2, who was “showering” in the closet: “How was your shower?”

3 y.o. #2: “Great!”

3 y.o.: “I don’t want Rebecca to eat my blanket.”

me: “I don’t think she will. Does she usually eat your blanket?”

3 y.o.: “No, only me.” She was either trying to say that either she only eats her blanket, or Rebecca only eats her, which she did try to do once.

3 y.o. immediately upon arriving in the morning: “I burped in my dad’s car.”

4 y.o.: “This is ‘I love you, Garbage.'” reading a tattoo that said "I <3 Recycling"

4 y.o.: *forced laugh* “That’s my freaky raff.”

4 y.o.: “Where is HaShem? Can we talk to HaShem?”

a very responsible 4 y.o.: “I’m a set up the chairs because you’re busy doing snack.”

4 y.o.: “I don’t know what he’s talking about. My dad’s kind of…”

4 y.o.: *wrapping hair around chin* “Fear the beard!”

4 y.o.: “I need to taste these. That’s why I’m taking a nipple.”

4 y.o.:“Where’s your DROID?”

4 y.o.: “Look at my killing truck!.. Actually, look at my baby station.”

4 y.o.: “Throw your guns at the shark!”

Gaddafi's Descent into Madness: A Story Told Through Hats

My Junior year biology teacher told us her life story through hats on the first day of class. I didn't care at the time, but I now realize hats truly can tell a story.

Just kidding. That teacher was nuts, but Gaddafi is crazy as fuck. At this point, it's beginning to look like anyone who wears hats regularly is anywhere from moderately annoying to full-on psychopath. If these are the mistakes he makes regarding fashion accessories, think about what it must be like to have him rule your country!

Stage 1: Boxy Berets

Here he is wearing a classic black, with a white robe. Very diplomatic.

Here is a textured burgundy one.

Stage 2: Native Wraps

He's moved into a more desert-inspired look here, appearing rugged yet intellectual.

Clearly one of the people, he is sporting this headdress wrap in camel.

Back to the rich red/brown here.

Stage 3: Boxes

This is a simple patterned box hat, whose tones suggest autumn and prosperity.


Military colors show bravery and patriotism



Here he moves into his more elaborate hat phase, with embroidered silk and a diamond over-lay




Despite being very fair skinned, Gaddafi is still black enough to raise the black power fist, wearing a striped hat that tastefully matches his cuffs




Here you can see how Gaddafi's hats indicate a higher level of refinement and class. Shown here in a shiny copper.




Despite President Obama's African heritage, he is unable to truly appreciate the nuances in Gaddafi's royal red and gold ensemble.




A bold move! Stunning.




At the most outstanding end of the boxy hat spectrum, Gaddafi now has the confidence to sport shiny hats, often with matching tunic.




Although it looks Photoshopped in, he rocked this inspiring blue at a news conference.




Ok, that's just gay.

Stage 4: Crowns

Rawr! King of the jungle!




Afrika 4 lyf, bitches!

Stage 5: Uniform Hats

Military Commander

Southwest Airlines Pilot

Stage 6: Our Hero Has Fallen

When Boys Don't Call (or 10 Easy Steps to Not Getting Laid)

So boys do this thing sometimes, where they really piss you off, but they then seem oblivious to the fact that they've pissed you off, which is even more pissy-offy. One thing in particular that they do to thwart their own chances of getting laid is not calling when they say they will. It goes like this:
1) boy: "I'll call you tonight."
2) girl pretends to not be waiting for call
3) girl wastes hella time totally not waiting for a phone call
4) girl starts to wonder if:
.....a) he forgot to call because he isn't thinking about her, because she isn't worth thinking about because she's smelly and has the sex appeal of a molting toucan
.....b) he's been involved in some horrible accident
.....c) he's cheating on her
5) girl gives up all hope and quells her emotions with Girl Scout cookies
6) one day or later, the girl casually brings up to the boy that he didn't call when he said he would
7) guys says that:
.....a) he fell asleep
.....b) his cell phone died
.....c) he had dinner with him mom and then got caught up watching The Notebook with her
8) girl can't be mad at him for that
9) girl is still kind of mad he didn't at least have the courtesy to text her that he'd call at another time, since she would've done that for him
10) NO SEX

Fellas, next time you say you're going to call a lady friend, fucking grow a pair and do it. And if you don't intend to call her, just say "Text me later, ok?" Then you can be like "hey I'm super busy ttyl." Girls WANT to forgive you for things like this, but you have to actually realize you did something shitty first. Even if you don't feel bad for not calling because you got drunk and spent the night flirting with your best friend's little sister, if you act sorry you might still get laid.

924 Gilman St

924 Gilman Street (also known as The Gilman Street Project or simply The Gilman) is an all-ages, community-run venue and community center in Berkeley, CA, which opened its doors in 1986. Bands such as Operation Ivy, Rancid, AFI, and Green Day began their careers there.

1. I moved a few blocks away from The Gilman in 1995, when I was 9 years old. I used to get off the bus across the street from it, and there were always hooligans in tattered black clothes outside. However, they posed much less of a threat than the booze-hounds laying across the sidewalk after drowning their livers at Pyramid Brewery, which opened a few years later. Mood: cautious

2. I began going to local concerts in 2002, mostly at the now-defunct iMusicast in north Oakland. I literally went to hundreds of shows without going to The Gilman. I thought the punks would beat me up for not being punk enough. Mood: fear

3. By age 20, I was too old to go to The Gilman, even if I had wanted to. On the bright side, I figured an old geezer like myself was safe from assault. Mood: old

4. In May 2010, The Phenomenauts were playing a show at The Gilman. I went. I got a membership card on which I pledged: no drinking, no drugs, no violence. It cost $2. The walls were black and covered in graffiti. Besides band members and parents, I was probably one of the 5 oldest people there. (And if you've been doing the math, that means I was 24.) There was a kid in a studded denim vest who looked to be about 8. It made me want to be an elementary school teacher. I took my earplugs out for 3 songs and my ears rang for 3 days. I went to my parents' house when I had to pee. Mood: love

a Pinkerton cover concert and MIA libidos

There was a period of time when I had many ideas to blog about. But I didn't get to all of them, and some of them are outdated. For instance, for a quite a while I had two essays about the L3 scene on the tips of my fingers. But that ended 5 years ago, and I just can't be bothered to contact all those random people to do the research. Sorry, world, for depriving you of that. And I thought I surely would get around to writing about the Matches last show, which was both incredible and emotional. But, again, I just can't be bothered to tap into that right now.

A few days after the Matches last show--August 27, 2009, to be exact-- a few assorted band boys got together to play Weezer's Pinkerton album. I don't care for Weezer, but all my friends were going, and it was to be a sign that the L3 community could still come together even though the Matches were history. I stood in the front row for a full hour through my intoxicated friends singing unintelligibly. The only line I understood the whole night was "G-ddamn you half-Japanese girls!" Well-stated, Weezer.

I'd say the highlight of the evening was speaking with a new friend about our libidos. You see, we were both at one point hyper-sexual young ladies. In my high school yearbook I was voted "Most Perverse" and "Most Likely To Get Off In Class." And that was before I streaked across campus! And my fellow concert-goer was getting an MA in Human Sexuality. So presumably we like sexy time, right? Not anymore! We both experienced a sudden loss of libido in our early twenties. I had a few theories about what could have caused it (the Pill, trauma, etc.), but she had no changes that preceded it. We were both able to have just as good orgasms when we got into it, it was just the getting into it that was a problem. And it seemed that there was no information out there on the 'Net. There was info for ladies who can't have orgasms (though not much of it actually helpful), but none for ladies with no sex drive. The fact that there was no information out there was even weirder than the fact that we lost our libidos in the first place. If anyone out there on the Web wants to clue us in as to what the hell happened to our yonis, we'd really love to hear from you!

Amanda Fucking Palmer

they don't play the song on the radio
they don't show the tits in the video
they don't know that we are the media
they don't know that we start the mania
I don't want to see but I'm making you
ass is off its seat and I'm shaking you
walking down the street I'm the lady - ja
showing off my map of Tasmania

soft and sweet and shape like a triangle!
some girls want no shape and they shave it all
I think sad it hurts with the stubble
walking around look like an eight year old!
I say grow that shit like a jungle
give 'em something strong to hold onto
let it fly in the open wind
if it get too bushy you can trim

This is the most recent reason why I love Amanda Palmer. It started with the Dresden Dolls, who embodied a pre-steampunk, dark humor that I loved. Don't ask me what steampunk is, but the Dresden Dolls were there first. Then I saw her perform solo and I saw what a real musician should be. This lady loves her dorky ass fans. They shout random shit at her on stage, and she responds. She plays their requests and laughs at their heckling. She dropped her record label and sells her music at whatever price the buyer names. And she makes colorful music videos about getting raped and abortions. And Oasis. And how your friend Melissa can be a total bitch but whatever.

As if this wasn't enough, she teamed up with Jason Webley to perform as Evelyn Evelyn, a set of conjoined twins who suffered a traumatic upbringing but are still innocently eager to please. Songs range from morbid to silly to ironic (for example, their ukulele cover of "Love Will Tear Us Apart"). My favorite is Elephant Elephant. It's about having an elephant.

And then she birthed "Map of Tasmania," and I knew I would never stop loving her. The lyrics are hilarious. The style is totally different from her other songs. And the video is pretty, even though it's about pubes. Amanda Fucking Palmer: what a G.

Pay attention to me on the Internet!

A year and a half ago I decided to write a piece about how lame it is that my blog only has four followers.

I still only have four followers.

I originally didn't tell anyone when I started writing this blog, but then I got tired of that. I know people read it, but few have committed to following it. And no one comments.

It's weird how much of our sense of self-worth is based on people's response to what we project on the Internet.

I am aware that I started this blog as a creative some of my more coherent thoughts, not because I wanted more attention. But I couldn't help getting swallowed by the desire for people to validate my existence by paying attention to me on the Internet. And I don't understand why some of my friends' super lame blogs that they never post in anyway have dozens of followers!

I am aware of how idiotic this is, but I have not yet stopped caring.

But it's not only me! I am mildly annoyed at the response to my blog, but some people seem to only own a camera for the sake of posting photos of their fantastically interesting life on Facebook.

This can't be healthy.