Running A Website For Eight Years / 31 October 2003
TWENTY THINGS I’VE LEARNED FROM RUNNING A WEBSITE FOR EIGHT YEARS
- The ladies go flat-out ape for Georgia; find Verdana to be “sort of gay.”
- One time I took a pair of golf cleats to this guy’s dangling participles.
- If I’m going to eat a cute animal, I want it to be totally ground up and unrecognizable, i.e., no eyes or paws or fluffy tails.
- Everyone’s voice is disappointingly high.
- Flexing my rippling chest muscles works just as well as an iron, in terms of removing wrinkles from my shirts.
- No one’s impressed by your whistling like at all.
- God plays Uno Deluxe with the universe.
- God grows out his pinky nail and uses it as a coke spoon.
- There are two types of people in this crazy old world: staplers, and staple-removers.
- I can keep the white-hot fires of geniusness burning indefinitely.
- I use “white-hot” a lot. Also “particular” and “sinuses” and “-infused” or “-fueled.”
- There’s good sexual harassment and there’s bad sexual harassment.
- When I was like 11 I got some business cards for my detective agency (“Dietrich’s Detectives: Detectives, Spies, and Odd Jobbers” — I don’t remember if I was supposed to be Dietrich or what) and I wanted to run an ad in the paper advertising my services but my mom vetoed it. The minimum number of cards I could get was 500 so they haunted me for years, always popping up, being used as scratch paper, etc.
- O, wandering maid, sing to me of your adventures, your knife-fights, your blackest yearnings.
- Daddy could kill a man just with algebra. His nails were cracked and yellow. A lazy eye implies that the other eye is stronger but he had two lazy eyes so maybe his condition should be called something else. He worked for a man who worked for a man. He had a thing for Lynn Redgrave. He is my hero.
- And P.S. Alex says I’m always talking about transdermal patches and injecting things into one’s eye.
- There was a parrot in the neighboring cubicle — an African Gray. It could simulate a truck backing up, a cellphone ringing. It would re-create one-sided phone conversations, complete with the phone-hanging-up sound effect. Lucky for it it was so good. Then one afternoon, when it was just me and Zach in The Pit (the super-sized cubicle that held five or six people), it said: “All we do is fight.” Sort of quietly. And only that one time. Zach and I looked at each other, wondering if we’d heard what we thought we heard.
- Time rots with each passing second and so by now it’s pretty haggard, on its last legs.
- Every day I should create a little and destroy a little.