Karenpuppy's Tale

Getting my grubby little paws into everything...

Saturday, November 11, 2006

House for Sale! 4 Ghosts Included: Free of Charge!

I've recently finished reading Truman Capote's "In Cold Blood" so naturally I was fascinated when I found a little snippet about how the Clutter family's home is currently on the housing market.

It's completely eerie reading the house description and knowing exactly which rooms each member of the Clutter family met their demise. Suddenly 1959 isn't so far away.

Friday, July 14, 2006

Hey Sailor! Designs FINALLY has an online STORE!!!

Part of the reason that I've been an absentee blogger is that I've been working, trying to get this small bizness thing to grow some legs. I've been producing pieces and just trying to get my own damnself organized. Sure, there's also some drunken summer laziness to blame for my M.I.A. status. It's hard to sit at a computer when it's hot outside and the Jameson's beckons.

But now, we finally found a loving port over at etsy.com. Be sure to check out OUR NEW ONLINE STORE! New items will be added daily.

Monday, June 12, 2006

I Don't Hate You, Babies

Keep yourselves occupied with this handy Big Lebowski Random Quote Generator until I re-emerge from my Jameson-soaked cocoon.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

I'm addicted to You Tube and I'm going to Cleveland.

The two events are not related, but preparing for my 6-day hiatus is partially why I've been absent on this bloggy front. In my absence enjoy this morsel of hilarity!!

I BESEECH YOU, watch this as many times as you can in my absence. Keep a tally of the number of times. Tell me how many times you watched this clip. The viewer with the most views will WIN their very own BOTTLE of STADIUM MUSTARD straight from the ROCK 'N ROLL CAPITAL: Cleveland, OH!!!

Friday, May 12, 2006

Mom Spelled Upside-Down is "WOW"

Leave it to Mr. T to school you on how to treat yo' mama!

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

The Greatest Day in DVD Histrionics...er HISTORY

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Where, oh where has your Karenpuppy gone?

Oh my poor little neglected babies--I haven't forgotten about you. I seem to have slipped down the rabbit hole known as "The Month of April" only to come out the other side a bit more hungover and slutty than when I started it. I had my annual birthday freak-out (I'M OLD, bitches) which causes me to inappropriately act out in wild and wondrous ways. None of which I will talk about here & now. All I will say is that I may have knocked the earth a few degrees off its axis. My apologies to the Equator, and both the North and South Poles for this inconvenience.

Business wise, things over at Hey Sailor! Designs are moving steadily forward. Heat and I are dipping our toes into the world of flea markets and art fairs. To wit: this Saturday (May 6th) we're setting up a table for our "Sample Sale" at:


DATE: Saturday - May 6th

TIME: 10:00AM - 4:00PM

LOCATION: United Methodist Church
on the southwest corner of
Crescent St. & 30th Road

If you are a Myspace Cadet, check out our new Hey Sailor! Designs Myspace page. Our Myspace friends get all sorts of groovy news about product updates, as well at *SPECIAL SECRET DISCOUNTS*.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Play This NOW!

What do you get when you cross Pac-Man with German uber-star David Hasselhoff? THIS!

Thursday, March 30, 2006

From the Mouth of Blogthings to God's Ear

Your Famous Movie Kiss is from The Empire Strikes Back

"Captain, being held by you isn't quite enough to get me excited."

The Things You Find When Going Through Old Papers

Every now and then I get that bee in my bonnet that forces me to go through boxes where I've stored random bits of paper. For the most part it generally consists of old bank statements and utility bills. But amidst all the detritus of money spent and lost on, in or using fiberoptic technologies there were some gems that inspired fits of nostalgia (dammit when will there be a vaccine?).

I found an old "Kerry/Edwards: A Stronger America" bumper sticker. Sigh, such days of youthful optimism! I also unearthed a fetching picture of Eoparty surrounded by pink tulips. It's now donning my fridge. But the thing I found that I must share with you, dear readers, is one of my favorite magazine articles of all time. The article I have is a ripped out page from a long-defunct Columbus music magazine called "MOO". It's from a land far, far away known as "February 1997". It has survived my many moves, and it is way better than any old Dear Abby clippings your mom may have ever sent you by mail (a la "Dear Abby, My daughter's self-esteem sucks).

It is one of the funniest, most wickedly observant things I've ever read. With the author's permision, I have transcribed the whole text and am reprinting it here, for you. I file this under: "The more things change, the more they stay the same." You may want to post this on your fridge

Roadkill: Your MOO Guide to Subculture Boyfriends
Painstakingly Researched by Heather Royce-Roll

To help you, the female Moo reader, I have fearlessly conducted field research to gather information about the various types of men you have the chance to meet if you spent time in this underground dreamland we call rock ‘n’ roll. I accept no responsibility for those who do not heed the warnings.

Worst in my book. I know they look harmless and most claim not to be hippies, but many of those Cat in the Hat alterna-ravers with pipe in pocket and congo drums in closet are just as bad! They are always “musicians” and know barely enough about politics to impress people who want to be politically correct but haven’t the energy to read enough. They are too lazy to keep naturally bugfrree, but won’t let you use chemical bombs, so be prepared to scratch a lot.

Here is a wild guess of what your life will be like: You’ll wear gauzy dresses from India with workboots, make pots of spaghetti fo his friends while they discuss guitars in a stoned, dull way, and practice parting your hair in the middle. Once he and his friends get drunk they’ll revert to the sexist redneck they really are. You’ll get to go to Phish shows and impress him by dancing with your friends like a dandelion ina thunderstorm on MDMA. Of course, your life is fulfilling, beading little bags and learning banjo. You can’t have a real job as you have to be ready to go to California on a moment’s notice. College is okay, be he’ll probably decide you aren’t earthy enough once he’s used up your father’s credit cards. He’ll have great spiritual excuses for not commiting, such as “Men should not own women.”

You can act wild, but then the boys will pass you around. When you run out of boys, no one will talk to you. (The girls decided you were a skanky whore long ago.) Once married, you’ll have three children and sew clothes from heavier material while he grows pot. Working at a college, running a day care center or failing out of herbology school will become your new pastimes. He’ll leave you for a younger, hipper, more nubile girl, mumbling you are now free to open that “Beads of the World” store you forgot you mentioned 10 years ago.

Remember: You can find 45-year-old men everywhere with 20-year-old girls in cut-off jeans cooking spaghetti. Look at your father. Run.

Drug Addicts
Now I like a lot of junkies, but going out with one is nerve wracking in a boring, depressing sort of way. Heroin addicts, for instance. Here is someone with their whole personality locked away, one we imagine is filled with sensitivity and pain. Yes, it can be great fun projecting wonderful fantasies about what he is really like as he slumps onto the floor. I’ve never had one steal from me, but have heard stories of mystical VISA cards and even Grandma’s wedding ring, her only possession from Italy, being pawned by the runny-nosed boy who only yesterday said he loved you with the most liquid eyes.

He’ll talk mostly about the injustice of having to go to Bushwick to score and the merits of Bad Boy bags over pink ones. You’ll go out and he’ll look cool leaning against the wall. That’s his best quality aside from his lack of personality. (Usually he pastes together a patchwork stolen from Johnny Thunders, Keith Richards and Jim Carroll.) Your life will be crammed with jobs for bail money and the rent he ran off with, dealing with sudden mood changes, especially incessant whining, and putting out smoldering mattresses where cigarettes have nestled. He won’t fuck around, except for drugs, so don’t worry about him falling for someone else. Of course he probably won’t love you either, unless it’s 4 a.m., he’s in prison, or needs cash. He won’t care when your Mom dies or even be able to talk to your best friend. It’s not his fault, his mind is on copping, friends who OD’ed and keeping whatever personality he is scared of locked away. He is probably a really nice boy, so it’ll break your heart when he goes to jail.

Coke addicts are like junkies without the sensitive side. If you like flashy car commercials, you’ll like cokeheads.

Potheads are too content or paranoid to ever feel connected to.

Pillheads are really fun! They have multichangeable personalities depending on what they eat. Every Saturday, you’ll have a regular date at the hospital emergency room. Watch out. They may be hanging out with you only because they heard you need your wisdom teeth yanked. (Percodans.)

Guys who like acid are usually really happy in the way that people who cage wild tigers are really happy.

Speedfreaks have mood swings similar to pill lovers and personalities like cokeheads. Be prepared to ride motorcycles and fuck for 12 hours and feel totally empty most of the time.

He loves your record collection. He quotes Kerouac. He bought every book on Joy Division so he can discuss Ian Curtis’ mental problems in depth (like you don’t have enough of your own?). He has 10-hole and 14-hole Doc Martens depending on which is in fashion. He beams when you tell him you shot drugs. And even though you know all it takes is not dying, he can’t wait to take his place in the “Old Scene.”

Usually he is a sweet kid who need to be awakened to his own personality before he ODs to be cool. Maybe drag him to a squat where they can put him to work nailing floorboards. Still, squats are too tense for such a fragile guy. He’ll end up a poet, but never write, just sit around coffeehouses being moody with famous, underground poets who need entourages to prove they are famous, underground poets. After you get drunk and scream for him to get a clue, he’ll tell everyone you introduced him to that you are a silly hag, and repeat every idea you ever told him like it was his own.

There are four zillion books on him. Expect romantic phone calls at 4 a.m. and lots of lying. Imaging playing a very frenzied form of make believe until you forget everything else. This will be when he disappears, leaving you lost without having someone telling you what to do, but then again you won’t have black eyes, either. Be prepared to stay up all night while he rants or cries and then act like in never happened the next day.

The Death Rocker Bat Caver Goth Industrial “ I Have Black Hair, Leather Pants and a Sullen Face” Guy
Some gals, 14 at heart, love these men. They will appreciate your high heels and eyeliner. Having once been narcissistic in a “Am I thin enough?” way with which women could empathize, they still never do enough drugs to ruin their ruined look. Now they tend to frequent metal or dance clubs and pick up the cheerleaders we hated I ninth grade. There will be be other girls’ panties hanging from the lamp shades like trophies. You can be emotional if you look right while doing it. A guy like this dances as if he just ate a snake and it, still alive, joins with him in a beautiful, tormented death embrace. He’ll say that. Many of these men end up in underground flicks, so be prepared to watch him tying up girls paler than you on video. His bookshelf is heavy with Hustler, Tattoo Review and Raymond Buckland’s collected works. The sex magic bits will be underlined. In red.

Garage Rockers
Dates will involved dancing on tabletops with he gets in fistfights, adult book stores, high speed chases with the cops, and lots of beer. Or maybe I’ve just been a lucky gal.

See “Alcoholic.”

These men can provide a lot of entertainment because they take themselves so seriously. He will cry about every injustice happening to people he doesn’t know, have no interest in the guy stalking women in your neighborhood, and do absolutely nothing to make the world a better place. The two of you will try to sleep on my floor whil pretending to work on a benefit gig that never happens, then head across the country eating other people’s food until you end up in San Francisco or Portland where that behavior forms a community.

The Student
Because he is from Iowa, he doesn’t’ know he’s as cool as everyone else (who we know have been faking it). He’ll be impressed by your life – the alcoholic friend who set your house on fire, the time you worked as a prostitute to get airfare back from Malta, the aunt who fed you mushrooms when you were seven (ha ha). You’ll cry because there is something sweet in him that reminds you of how life could have been. He’ll be flattered. Okay, here’s the glitch: one of you will get bored as soon as that normal life he promises you starts to come true. He’ll probably open a trendy restaurant when he is 40. Or he’ll cave in and be one of the boys you already read about.

God’s Gift, the Musician
Besides hearing the same song every day for three years, you will get to see other horrible bands and fend off gross guys while your boyfriend argues with the soundman. Realize he will be hanging out with his band all the time,so if you don’t like them, smile anyway. Remember, they are his primary relationship. It’s okay if his mom doesn’t like you, but if his guitarist doesn’t, you’re history. Warning: How you felt listening to his band’s album is often better than how you’ll fee with his hands against your spine.

Lead singer: It’s lonesome exposed onstage, so let’s assume he’s smashed. He wants to shove his angst, his politics or his dick down your throat.

Guitarist: In school, he thought no one liked him. Before you decide that he’s all sensitive, read more. He thought, “Fuck them; once I can play this Cobain/Thunder/Hendrix riff, girls will screw me and old, cool musicians will finally give me the time of day.” Ask him. It worked.

Bassist: He is so sick of the ego fights in his band, he’ll have no time for your drama. Into beer and male bonding, he’s usually angry that he’s not the guitarist.

Drummer: All night you’ll have this tapping on your belly, all day on your shoulder. Oh, sure, it sounds cute now; you wait four months.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

File Under: It's Funny Cuz It's True

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Elbo Loves "Duck Season"

Fresh off her one-woman tour of the Emerald Isle, Elbo has dived right back into her fantastic coverage of indie films. This week, she examines "Duck Season" by Fernando Eimbcke.

Jetlag and a perpetual Guinness hangover might sideline a less hearty soul, but as always Elbo is at the top of her game!

The Greatest Announcement in Music History

It's not even my birthday, but special west-coast correspondent Yablonsky, has kindly alerted me to the fact that NEW EDITION IS REUNITING for one night!

Why you all coming down on me
Tryin' to tell me how my life is supposed to be
I know you're only trying to help me out
Tryin' to show me what life is really about
But this time I'm gonna make it on my own
So why don't you fellas just leave me alone
Ronnie, Bobby, Ricky and Mike
If I love the girl, who cares who you like

Cool it now

**special thanks to Eoparty for providing the lyrics to the BEST BRIDGE IN THE HISTORY OF MANKIND.

Monday, March 20, 2006

From Special Correspondent e. e. cummings

in Just-

by: e.e. cummings (1894-1962)

in Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame baloonman

whistles far and wee

and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it's

when the world is puddle-wonderful

the queer
old baloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing

from hop-scotch and jump-rope and



baloonMan whistles

"in just" was originally published in The Dial Volume LXVIII, Number 5 (May 1920). New York: The Dial Publishing Company, Inc.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

Karenpuppy Turns 150!!!

Yesterday I did a boatload of laundry in celebration of my 150th post. OK, that's a lie. I did it cuz I got tired of smelling like Febreeze all the time. I wanted to smell like All-Tempa Cheer instead, dammit.

So now my clothes are no longer the source of any embarassing odors coming off of me. Now if I stink, that's all ME, baby.

Yesterday's jaunt to my beautiful laundrette was ceremonious indeed. It was the day that I had to induct new(ish) undies into the B-Team pile. Naturally when I'm doing this sorting I have the theme from the A-Team playing in my head.

I still have plenty of the A-Team left. A few players were sent down to the farm team, never to return (shush, don't tell them THAT). Others are still part of the A-Team, but I had to warn them that they're on probation.

Aren't you glad I shared? Karenpuppy: still inappropriately sharing after 150 posts! (That's 1,050 posts in dog years, yo.)

I pity the fool who missed the first 149 posts!

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