Oh, the Things I Will Eat!
Cupcakes Oreos Captain Crunch Ketchup antifreeze ninety raisins dunk-a-roos Bahn Mi Ants Licorice Loose Change Stracciatella
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@megfazzi
Oh, the Things I Will Eat!
Cupcakes Oreos Captain Crunch Ketchup antifreeze ninety raisins dunk-a-roos Bahn Mi Ants Licorice Loose Change Stracciatella

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Some Bullshit
A tar pit An egret A donut crown Grain of sand A planet's weight Eight eyes Tired Trying Wings pinned Gait good
Perfection
The truth is My purse smells like cat pee The cute woven basket part The striped fabric lining Sections of strap Darkened with wiz
The truth is Since day one I knew When I smelled it close I passed a threshold To carry its weight anew
The truth is I wondered if anyone noticed If anyone cared
The truth is I donât care
The truth is I still think itâs perfect
The truth is You donât give up On love
During a late-night garage rehearsal in a sleepy San Jose suburb, the Rare Futures gang has an unexpected visitor... Watch the "This Is Your Future" video.
My husband, friends and I made a music video inspired by The X-Files, or, if it was 1995 and I was 12, The Sex-Files, because I wanted to beam Agent Fox Mulder right into my vaginer. Not anymore, though. Heâs too old.Â
Grand Central Forty Sec- Give Me A Goddamn Break
Mickey Mouse T-shirt
Crisp, white, new
At-home bikini wax, presumably
Checking your analog map
Husband front-carrying a pink leather backpack
Yours, presumably
He doesnât want to sit
The car is chilly
You throw your sweater around your shouldersÂ
With the abandon of a Costco shopperÂ
In the middle of the dairy aisleÂ
At 9:07 AMÂ
On a Wednesday
That was the side of my head
I imagine strangling you, presumably

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House Rules
Sometimes bands my husband is friends with pass through our city and need a place to rest their greasy heads. Understanding the grueling life of the touring musician, we offer our couch and floor when we can. Most of the time our guests are great, sometimes they ainât and I often think that a list of house rules will keep me from wanting to take a shit in their backpacks while they sleep.
âŚâŚ.
Welcome to our home! We hope you enjoy your respite from the motorized fungus farm you have been traversing this great country in. Here are some pointers to ensure that your stay with us is as successful as your record after next will be.
1. Stop & Take Stock
What do you notice? Do your surroundings say an incredibly affable woman spent days of toil to adorn the walls with a gutsy combination of ironic and vintage art? Select throw pillows that are elegant yet comfy? Who shampoos the rugs biannually? Do you see three awesome, well adjusted cats with stellar personalities yet do not smell them? If you answered yes to any of these questions, you probably have quickly surmised that this ainât no Ho-Jo and therefore cleanliness is next to godliness. Which brings us to our second pointâŚ
2. Take a Fucking Shower
Lord knows your matted taint hair is a ratâs nest of gas station toilet paper and pasty ball guff. I donât care if youâre sleeping in your own rotten sleeping bag on a pillow you have had since you were 12 and have not washed in as many years. I donât care that you like the way your hair lays after a year of not washing it. I donât care that being on tour and looking like a time traveling 70s drifter and smelling like vomit, garlic and sriracha in your mind equates to âliving the life.â The only life I am aware of that requires such low expectations is that of a goddamn transient. Wash your body. All of it. Use soap. Lots of it.
3. Donât Leave Food Out & Clean Up
Saving that roast beef sandwich for later by leaving it on the dining table will only result in one of our three cats ripping through that meat like Katie Morgan at a blowjob contest. Itâs modern times, brosefs, put that sammie in the icebox. If you decide not to eat like a barbarian and use a dish, cup or utensil, count your blessings that your hands are not broken and wash up anything you have used. Any take out bags should promptly make their way into the trash can. Yes, we recycle. No you canât leave a soda can âdrainingâ in the sink. If there is no one around to find out where to put the recycling, throw it in the garbage and be comforted by the fact that one dolphin getting an aluminum can stuck in its blowhole is nothing compared to the number of dolphins the Japanese round up and murder in cold blood every year.
4. Donât Dribble
Hold your lilâ snake firmly when you go pee-pee. If you over shoot onto the toilet seat or the floor, grab a swag of toilet paper and get to wiping. It may not be until you are halfway to Philly before I notice the havoc you have wreaked, but when I do, hell hath no furry like a woman who has to wipe up dried pee from the bathroom floor. Getting urine anywhere but inside the toilet, means you are incapable of being a functioning adult let alone a traveling musician and should pack your things and catch the next Greyhound back to your parentâs house.
5. Turn Off the Television
Watching television is a great way to wind down after a long day of travel and a face-melting show in front of twenty people. Dozing off to a marathon of Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives at 3AM will make that $300 guarantee that magically morphed into free drink tickets and a blank stare from the promoter seem like a distant memory. Before yâalls hunker down and start questioning your chosen career paths for the up-teenth time, be sure as a band you appoint a Remote Captain. This person has the esteemed responsibility to make sure the television volume is at an appropriate level and that it gets turned off right before ni-nights. If I wake up at 7 AM to get ready for work and the TV is still on, someone is getting kicked in the head. And by someone, I mean everyone.
6. Donât Worry About It, Dude
If you hear this phrase, it probably came out of Mattâs mouth, and therefore should be ignored. Anything you take out, move, use, disrupt, turn on, shift, soil, messy, touch, breathe or shed on, should be âworriedâ about. Everything needs to be put back in proper order or I will ruin you. No longer will you be Mr. Buddy Bass Guy or Brooding Kinda Cute Socially Awkward Lead Singer. Your entire identity will be systematically erased and replaced with that of a murderous pedophile. On the lam for the rest of your days, you will ping pong between Bakersfiled and Lodi, eating and sleeping in dumpsters behind Chevrons and Taco Bells. The worms reproducing at breakneck speeds in your bowels will be your only friends. You will die one foggy February morning when you are dumped and subsequently crushed in a garbage truck compactor as you slumber in your dumpster cave. Your mangled body interred for eternity amongst bloated baby diapers and old tires in the county landfill.
All I am trying to say is real men/women handle their shit. If any of the above offended you, you should probably go suck your momâs tit-tays. Baby.
Xoxo,
Meg Fazzi
Your Appointment with Mary Kay
Dear Future Mrs. Schwab, A woman's wedding day is one of the most important days of her life. That's why as your Mary Kay Independent Beauty ConsultantÂŽ I am honored to be an integral part of creating the best you on your magical day! I write to confirm our appointment on Saturday, September 19 at 11 AM at the DoubleTree Denver located on Quebec. Please let me know your room number as soon as you can. Attached are some looks I have created for some of my past brides. To say that they were thrilled with the outcome would be an understatement. These four Debbies (can you believe they all had the same name?!?) had looks that ranged from classic to edgy. We can go with one of these stroke-for-stroke or create any variation of the four. I will follow-up in the coming weeks, but if you have any questions for me in the meantime, please page me and I will call you back from the payphone near my condo. Please let me apologize in advance apropos of my less-than-ideal "office" situation. I have this on-again-off-again boyfriend, Lorenzo, who can be a real bull when he's had too many High-Lifes. A couple months ago we got into it something fierce because this dumb bizsnatch Lorraine, who doesn't even LIVE in our freakin state keeps calling him. (Sorry for the foul language, but I gotta to call a spade a spade.) So I told him that if he wants to keep me around making his sandwiches and washing his greasy undershirts, he's got to tell the broad to TAKE A HIKE! You know how he reacted???????????? He didn't - he kept strumming his guitar and sucking down beers like he was a death mute! I yelled "ARE YOU DEATH, LORENZO?!?!?" And that lazy mothereffer just continued to pluck away, so I kicked his dog. He barely flew four feet, but the force by which Lorenzo threw that beer bottle at my face youâd think I tried to rip Brandoâs hind legs off. You shoulda seen the sweat on his arms and face (full disclosure it was kinda sexy, but I held my ground). His fury was Tasmanian! I could barely make out anything but the f-word and my name (it's Karen, by the way, did I tell you that already?) then he just started ripping my phone out of the wall. It's not like he doesn't know that 90% of my business is conducted over the phone or email if I can get to the library before it closes (guess where I am, LOL). So for him to go all berserk and practically ruin my ability to live is a new low. I can't exactly tell my landlord either because I would be out on my ass and Lorenzo knows this. I think he felt pretty bad about the phone, so he got us a pager to share. He said it was cheaper than a cellphone plan, which he's totally right. My Lorenzo, the business man. If it wasn't for his smarts, I would have left him years ago. Oh, you'll love this: Just last week I got a page at 4 AM so I got up and hoofed it to the payphone because I thought it might be my aunt who is staying with her boyfriend out in Lodi. My aunts been havin some health issues and she means so much to me and I want to be there for her no matter what, but itâs mostly over the phone because she is so far away in Cali, but I told her anytime, anytime at all. So I call the number and the voice on the other line says "Renzies?" I just about ripped my robe off I was so lit up. I said "get a life you stupid cunt" and hung up. The crazy part is Lorenzo wasn't even at my place. He said he had a gig at Eddie's Bar N' Billiards, but I'm no spring chicken. We've been together for eleven years and not once have I heard him play anything but Smoke on the Water. If I had a dollar for every time Lorenzo farted through that song, I would be able to afford my car payment. Which reminds me, if you or anyone you know can give me a lift to the DoubleTree I would really appreciate it. I can't really drive my Cadillac without running the risk if being popped and it would just be the worst if that happened on your wedding day. Plus the breaks are shot. Let me know and I will send you my address. I am really looking forward to meeting you in a few weeks. If you would like to set up a make-up trial prior to our big day, let me know and we can find a mutually agreeable day and time for you to stop by. Sincerely, Karen Rizzo Mary Kay Beauty Independent ConsultantÂŽ "How old you are is your business. How old you look and feel is mine."
Turnt
I hear a sad song, I think about my cats dying.
I hear a love song, I think about how much I love my cats.
I hear a dance song, I think about how long it would take to train my cats to boogie on their hind legs.
She was ready for anything in pants.
Pulp novel Sandy by John B. Thompson, 1953.Â
A âRibald novel of a young Louisiana girl âwho never knew shame.â She grew into a creature of matchless beauty and fiery temperamentâŚtaking nude sunbaths on an old automobile top (and on the sand). She never could understand the fires she ignited in the men whoâŚdirected their boats just near enough to the beach to let them devour, with their eyes, the supine sleeping bodyâŚâ  (Description from The Old Bookshop of Bordentown, cover art from Found in Momâs Basement)
Camilla
He is too much; this cat-calling is plain offensive. How he knows my name is anyone's guess. The clapping and kissing sounds are vexing enough, but add to that the fact that he is a middle-aged dolt tottering on roller skates wearing a grammatically incorrect t-shirt that reads "Jesus Love Youâ and it becomes quite imperative that this man is a situation to be ignored. Â Maybe instead of gripping white-knuckled to the fence and injecting himself into my day, he should improve his skating on the vast expanse of blacktop available for his maneuvering, preferably far away from me. Does he realize how many other individuals I have running up in my face?
"Cameeya! Cameeya! Come here my baby!"
Baby? I haven't been a "baby" for over six years. That kind of sugary drivel is best reserved for someone who hasn't been around the block a few hundred times. Sorry, pal, waving that weed you just pulled from a crack in the concrete isnât going to do it. I can't just trot over, accept your whack gesture and allow you to cup my face and pat my butt like weâre old friends. I am not some Runaround Sue. I have better things to do with my lifeâŚlike protect all this stuff. Milton thinks he has free rein over anything in his line of sight. If I don't keep focused I could lose this Frisbee or this ball or this stick. The stick, in particular, was hardly-won and I plan on enjoying it from tip-to-tip in the shade of my favorite bench before it's time to go bye-bye. Kicking the fence now, are we? The prig!
It was the strangest thing I have ever witnessed, Deb. I was at the dog park with Milton; it was so hot today that I thought he could use a nice cool down with his buddies. I was filling up the pool when I heard this bizarre choking/growling sound so I turned to see Frank sitting on the bench reading his paper and Camilla underneath ferociously eating a stick, which, as you know is par for the course for that one, but the noise she was making was very strange. Well, the next thing I know she is charging at this nice man on roller skates who had been cheerily observing the dogs with his kid. Frank had no chance to grab her collar and by the time he put his paper down Camilla was up on her hind legs, hackles raised reading this guy the freakin' riot act! She wasn't even using the fence for balance! Isn't that just something? You shouldâve heard the language she was using. I think at one point she said something to the effect of âIt's CA-MILL-AAA, you fuck.â Frank just stood there sweating he was so embarrassed. That poor man, he tried to cut in, but Camilla wasn't having it. She held up her paw and calmly said "This isnât about you Frank," and then started pacing in front of the man.
âDo you understand? CamiLLLLLLLLaaaaa? Now I know you think I am some dummy that has nothing to do all day but sniff ass and eat garbage, but you're wrong, buddy. Dead wrong. I am the farthest thing from whatever notion you have in your twisted little brain. Your base tactics are incredibly distracting especially when you are some no-name asswipe bumbling around on roller skates â 1985 called, by the way, and they want their recreational activity back. If you want my attention why don't you start off with a real treat? You can take that weed and shove it in your dickhole. I am a serious individual with serious pursuits and if you can't step out of yourself for one cotton-picking moment to recognize that then you're a waste of space. Do you realize how grating it has been hearing my name called ad nauseum for the last 30 minutes when I am clearly trying to do shit? Do you know how hard it was for me to get that stick I just ate? I'll take your silence as a no. That pitbull over there outweighs me by 55 pounds. Fifty-five-fucking-pounds! One of my many life mottoes is "you set it, you meet it," which means that I was gonna win that stick. And do you see a stick? No, because it is now in my stomach. And that's the whole crux of this entire conversation: you don't get me. Last night I completed a month-long project cataloging Frank's record collection by genre, then year, then producer, isn't that right Frank? Frank, speak up! Â And here you stand under the fallacious assumption that by calling my name I am putty in your hands. Take a goddamn flying leap. Go back to your dial-up and your Chef Boyardee. I am done with you.â
Do you know at one point she used a British accent? It was really quick so you could have missed it, but I heard it I tell you. The man was so absolutely shocked by Camillaâs bad attitude that his kid had to roll him away. It was like he had PTSD or something. He was only trying to be nice. Frank hardly did anything by way of reprimand. He gave Camillaâs collar a little tug and she sat down with a violent cough and gagged that stick she had been so proud of all over his loafers. She didnât even care, like no response whatsoever. I kinda felt bad for the sap, but it was also a little funny considering.
âOh Camill, you know these are new.â
âOpen the gate, Frank.â

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Weenie Warrior
Nicholas,
As we look ahead to the upcoming holiday, I write to implore you to take heart and do your duty as the forefathers of our country did over two centuries ago. You are the first of four children and as such must take on the mantle of bravery and daring. Think not of your trepidation or eventual discomfort, not of the beating sun on your sweat drenched brow, not of the dribbles of tepid water running down your chin on to your festive Wrangler short sleeve button up, not of the pasty mix of bun and saliva coating your fingers. Focus your soul upon the golden dawn of your unborn child as you raise her up as the daughter of a legend among busters. The human throat was divinely crafted to accept tubular vessels with the ease of a mallard landing on a glassy pond in the hushed summer twilight. Take comfort in this sacred truth and hoist your family name high in the cathedral of greatness. Your digestive issues will be complex and unpleasant of which tonics will do little to assuage. This fact might give you pause, but remember, dear brother, that no man from any age whose name remains on the lips of people across this vast earth has ever reached immortality without trial. You have met this all-beef foe once before and vanquished him with 32 knights of ferocious mandibular agility. Stories of this nascent battle tell of a great warrior fisting franks from folding table to novelty chalice to mouth with such speed that the collective breath of the small band of onlookers was stolen from their breasts. Should you falter during the contest, stifle your retching and cast your watery eyes to those of your son who looks to you as a great lion who needs to sack up. Your kin will be at your front, shoulder-to-shoulder, supporting your harried jaunt. Ardor will carry you.
 Fly.
Your beloved sister,
Meg
HOW REGULAR ARE YOUR PERIODS??? TO THE DAY OR OFF A SCOSH?
Never kept a menses diary, but they come on the regs and are revered like the second coming of Christ.
DANCING WITH THE DEVILS
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
October 15, 2014
NEWARK - When God closes a door, she opens a window. With the shoulder-shrugging departure of the New Jersey Devils Dancers who underwhelmed Devils fans with their Spears-meets-Perry gyrations both on the ice and atop sections 3 and 14, a new spot has been blasted open on the list of Top 9 Hottest Ice Girls Squads. Meet the Brown Devils. A resilient improv dance duo clad in white leotards with brownish stains in the uh-oh places. The brains behind the duo are New Jersey native Rudy Culstone and O.G. Californian Morgan Fullletti who collaborate on what they describe as "just us dancing to music we like." When asked what's the deal with the stains, Fulletti said "we really wanted to approach our costumes as a medium through which we could get people thinking. It goes without saying that women dancing wildly in kinda see-through leotards in a sports arena with a large male contingent will whet some serious whistles, but it also can be divisive, especially among the lady hockey fans. That's why we chose white, because it's the color of purity, light and wedding gowns. It says let's share a bottle of Prosseco. White is also the best color that allows brown to show up at a distance. So as we are dancing up and down the aisles people will wonder 'Is that poop or something?'" So is it poop or something? Culstone says not necessarily. "It's whatever you want it to be. The brown represents the murky 'What if?', and it could be something as simple as 'What if I get another beer during the second intermission?' to the more mega 'What if I decided to change the world?'"Â
What do Fulletti and Culstone hope Devils fans will take away from their performance? "Pictures of us on Instagram." Avant-garde? Yes. Talented? Maybe. Worth your money? Always. You can catch the Brown Devils and their thought provoking performance at the Devils home opener against the San Jose Sharks this Saturday, October 18 at the Prudential Center.
Naughty postcard, 1920s (More here!)
Gentleman. Minstrel. Iconoclast. Enigma. Contemporary luminary. Boss Hog. Hunky Hawaiian. Happy Birthday to my best husband @mattfazzi. You had me at vacation hair.

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Source
Talk to me when it's $350.