Tag Archives: IPhone

A day in the life

[feel free to play the Beatles song in your head before you read this. Go ahead; I’ll wait. It’s kind of a long one.]

I have an iPhone because, well, because I’m that type of person. I recently downloaded the app “Instagram” which I guess is kind of like Twitter with pictures…? But I don’t care about the social networking part; I just like taking pseudo-artsy pictures and messing around with the filters.

Long story short (too late!). This is a day in my life told through pseudo-artsy pictures. To enhance your art-viewing experience, the pictures will come complete with a title and commentary. Perhaps the commentary will be witty. Not as witty as it SHOULD be, but I’m sober, so we can only ask so much.

Procrastinator's Delight

Some mornings, while at work, I like to make myself a cup of instant oatmeal because that way I can give myself a couple minutes of complete unproductivity (which apparently isn’t a real word. Thanks, red squiggly line. I get it)¬†while I eat…and I also like to eat. This one is Trader Joe’s Apple Cinnamon. It’s pretty awesome.

Working Nine Tah Five

I actually work 8-5, but Dolly Parton didn’t sing a song about that. She did sing a song about a chick named Jolene, but that’s a whole other thing. Anyway, this is a shot of the left side of my desk. See that thurr? That’s mediocre art. And that other thing is a tape measurer. Tools of the art trade, friends.

I'm in a Raaaaage!

I have redefined hell. It is driving north-to-south in Los Angeles during rush hour on a Friday of a holiday weekend. See how my speedometer is at zero, but somehow my RPM is at 1,000? The wheels were powered by my hate, which I think we all know leads to the Dark Side. But it WAS 71 degrees out, and that’s lovely.

Post-Run Show-Offery

My gym is closed for the week for renovations. So I got this brilliant idea in my head that I would try running. I ain’t a runner, folks. My people are of peasant stock. Ask me to till some fields and shear some sheep, and I could probably do it for hours. It’s in my descended-from-serfs blood. Anyway, I went for some sad walk/run hybrid thing. That headband that you see was way too tight because I have a huge head, but I wore it anyway because it makes my hair look cool. I also wore that watch because I’m an idiot and when I got sweaty it got all slippy-slidey. The water bottle is there because I drank water when I got home. Gotta stay hydrated, yo.


Dinner. See how I just use the cup of the Magic Bullet instead of transferring my smoothie-thing into a real bowl? Class should be redefined to be more inclusive of cool people like me.

Friday Night Shenanigans

And this was me about 30 minutes ago. 11:00 PM on a Friday night. Watching Louis C.K. on Netflix, lying prostrate on my bed, filled with too much ennui to move.

Scrabble Rabble


So, I’ve always considered myself kind of a wordie (like a foodie, but with words. Also, I’m a foodie, but I mostly just say that to justify my binges). I like learning new words. I like etymology. I like learning about morphemes and phonemes. My favorite paper I ever wrote was about language’s loss of meaning in post-modern literature. Blah blah blah smart people things blah.*


The Holy Grail

I’ve grown attached to the iPhone app “Words with Friends,” and I am getting SCHOOLED by several different people. Constantly. Constant schooling. Where are you going, Lisa? Oh, I’m going to SCHOOL, but not alone; someone’s TAKING ME TO SCHOOL.

Words are supposed to be MY thing, so why am I being crushed by my engineer and math-minded sister? It’s untoward, I tells ya!

The worst, though, is my coworker who destroys me be about 100 points every single time. I even had the Z and the Q last game. BOTH.

The third game we played was prefaced by a friendly, “I’m gonna give ya tips this time…” followed later by a “You’re getting better” with a little thumbs up emoticon. First of all, how do you make a thumbs up emoticon? Secondly, that makes me pride burn something fierce.

Now, logically I know that prowess at Scrabble really has nothing to do with your¬†vocabulary, since a well-placed “za” can take you over the edge. Still, WHY CAN’T I BE GOOD AT ANYTHING?!

* I’m well aware that my writing doesn’t really reflect this, but I have been going through a period of intense dumbening (waaait, that’s not how you spell ‘dumbening.’ WAIT! Dumbening’s not even a word). I’m going to blame the Los Angeles smog for this, but in reality it’s probably some sort of metaphor-based defense mechanism to protect me from…life? Whatever. Shut up.