Economical Truths

Cupcakes: A Review

Trifecta
I’ve spent the last 2+ months working on some custom paintings for my LiveJournal friend Dorothy. I’m very honored that she trusted me with this! The Fam, 17×17 Dorot

holiday guest list continues to wane
My grandma fell last week. She lives with my mom’s older sister, Sharon and that in itself is a very storied history that would exhaust me to try to type out. But I will say that in the years since my pappap’s passing, Sharon has grown increasingly damaged. In a nutshell, I tend to liken the situation to Grey Gardens. Rather than call 911, Sharon called Henry who proceeded to go to my grandmother’s house at 10:00pm, pick her up from the floor and put her back into bed. When he came home, he told me that my grandma’s legs looked very swollen, like she has no use of them. “I don’t mind going over there and helping out, but I really think Sharon sh

tweets give thanks for the people who understand sarcasm
A Note From This Tweeter: If you cannot grasp the concept of facetiousness, or if you feel you might literally stop breathing unless you correct my every spelling error, then perhaps you should not follow me. Because: I do not have time or the care to reply to every douche bag and say “Dude, it was a joke.” I do not have an editor to proof-read my tweets, nor do I need you, a stranger, to do it for me. Guess what?? I’m a HUMAN BEING sending TEXTS from a CELL PHONE. And sometimes I even do it when I’m DRUNK. Until someone starts the Twitter Gestapo, GET A FUCKING GRIP. This is Twitter not the motherfucking New Yorker. Thank you.

This Is one of them test0rz
Hello. Through a beautiful miracle, I was able to upgrade my downtrodden Blackberry with the busted-ass trackball for an iPhone. Now I can finally join the Mob. Isn’t that the criteria? No? Oh wait, but I can join the mob of Feist-loving, scarf-wearing hipsters at Starbucks?! Bonus! In other news, Thanksgiving is this week & I’m so excited to be finding shit for Henry to make. My mommy is having dinner at her house, after refusing to acknowledge that special November Thursday as a holiday last year. I love Thanksgiving. Mostly for the food. Ok, only for the food. If you’re American and you’re reading this, what are your Turkey Ho

When hockey-watching begets heroism
The proposition of “Let’s go downstairs” seemed innocent enough. No, that’s a lie. I was actually quite taken aback and had visions of being knifed/blackmailed/tickled/forced to lick a shoe until I caught Alisha shaking her pack of cigarettes at me. We were at her friend Mark’s apartment, watching the Penguins game, eating pizza and quickly drankin’ our way through three bottles of wine. “I’ll come too,” Mark decided, since he first period had just ended. He and Alisha grabbed their wine glasses. Not wanting to seem like some wino who canR