The Bathtub

The Mayor's Weekly Address: All Blogs Must Come to an End

Blogs are fleeting -- people begin and quit all the time.  We're quitting because we don't want the Bathtub to go down the drain, so to speak. Best to just get out of the bathroom entirely. So, This is the day I say goodbye. Generally I think that the best goodbyes are quick -- drawing things out only delays the inevitable. With this in mind, I say, so long Bathtub. So, goodbye Buddy Love, KELLYq's dad, Emgusk's mom, and Gorg-o. Sally Jesse, I think I'll miss you most of all. It's been nice having people occasionally read what I write. If you ever get nostalgic, you can read over my rants and EBay reviews. Also, you can read the blog to which I sporadically post.

Mayor's Weekly Address/E-Bathing: Buks R Laym

Note: If you read this post before 8 pm, you read an unfinished draft version. Sorry -- I forgot I had to finish my post. Whoops!

I don't read much, or, at all really. This is unfortunate for many reasons, chief among them that I am supposed to be writing about books this week. Don't you remember how poorly things went the last time we focused all our energy on the printed word? Or have you already forgotten the Knut Hamsun debacle of April '07? I myself have been so turned off of literature that I haven't picked up a book since that fateful week. I guess it's good that this blog is closing down soon, since apparently we don't know how to learn from mistakes. In any event, I kind of luck out here because Ebay sells a ridiculous number of books. I have chosen to focus solely on children's books published between 1900-1949. I'm hoping beyond hope that I find some sort of blog fodder here.

The Mayor's Weekly Address: New Jersey and a New Posting Day

I don't know if you caught D.C.'s announcement, but today is my last post on Thursday. From here on out, I'm going to be posting on Tuesdays. I'll do my best to continue bringing you great EBay finds, but "my best" has seriously degraded since I switched jobs. Don't expect much in the way of quality or effort: if I can't promise that to my students I sure as hell can't promise it to you. What I can promise you (and my students) is that I will show up and half-ass my way through something for you each week. So in the name of Britney Spears, and all people everywhere who would just as soon sleepwalk their way through their jobs rather than call it quits, I will post something every Tuesday. After the jump, I continue to take my sweet time before I finally mention New Jersey.

Mayor's Weekly Address:A Trip to Jamaica via the F train

I have tried -- oh, how I've tried -- to stave off my urges to rail against the world. But the O.O. was right, and my recent move to New York City was bound to awaken the beast within sooner or later. It has been exactly 79 hours since I’ve arrived in the city, and mocking Precious Moments figurines no longer satisfies my anger. After the jump, I share the story of a recent (and unfortunately memorable) trip in the style of the more irascible Mayor’s Weekly Address.

The Mayor's Weekly Address: No Spring Chicken

I loved all the list-making that marked the earlier half of this week, but I think it's time we stop beating around the bush and really face the facts of this week's theme: Lauren is getting old. Once you hit 24, you can't parade around as if you were some hot young thang, because let's face it -- you're in your mid twenties and father time is already beginning to stalk you and drag you down. Lauren, as your elder I have some words of wisdom for you (as well as for all you other tub-babies) about what awaits you once you reach the ripe age of 24.

The Mayor's Weekly Address:Momma Mayor

Since I live with my parents, it was pretty easy for me to get in touch with my mom to ask her for ideas for today's post. In a blatant attempt to steal Lauren's idea, I asked her to come up with some ways in which we were similar. To my surprise (and I suspect the surprise of those of you who know me and who have also met my mother) she replied that we have "lots of differences" because we are "different people."  I fail to believe that we are all that different, but whatevs -- she's the boss. With that option gone, I asked my mom to tell me some things she hated so I could rant on her behalf. But my mother does not share my proclivity for ranting, in fact I think all my anger makes her sad.  She opted to instead provide me with a short list of things she likes. After the jump, some of my mom's favorite things.

The Mayor's Weekly Address: Rewriting History

Social studies was one of my favorite subjects in school. Just ask Jerome. I used to sit next to him in 11th grade, and with each interesting and new fact I would turn to him and say "Wow, if I had been alive then I would have (fill in blank with an annoying and stupid idea)." Sorry about that Jerome, I totally ruined your Mogge experience. Despite the formidable attempts of many teachers through out my schooling, there were some historical facts that were so boring that I didn't even bother Jerome about them. In fact, I didn't even try to learn them, and neither should you. There are a lot of things about history that should be completely ignored, or better yet rewritten. After the jump, I rewrite three of the lamest historical eras.

The Mayor's Weekly Address:Toothless Spring

At the very time that you were jumping into the tub to start this day with a healthy dose of vituperation, I was having my wisdom teeth removed. Though oral surgery will not tame my anger, the potent pain killers I've been prescribed are an entirely different story. If you want to read something angry about spring, go here because I've already ranted about a spring-related issue. All I'm offering today is some drugged up poetry about spring. As you read, remember that I am under the influence of very strong pain killers and without the benefit of the extra wisdom my molars had afforded me up until this morning. Also, don't be surprised if I'm missing a few I's and K's.

The Mayor's Weekly Address: Taxing my Patience

I have already filed my taxes for 2006, which means I have already thought more than enough about taxes to last me another 12 months. After pouring over multiple tax documents, and trying in vain to devise a scheme that would allow me to recieve a credt for using alcohol as a fuel, I was filled with dread knowing I would have to revisit the topic of taxes today. Why on Earth would I want to dwell on the subject of taxes more than necessary? Thanks for coming up with the most annoying theme to date Rory (thanks also for refraining from declaring the theme to be zoophilia -- I really do mean that). In case you couldn't tell, the honeymoon haze from last week's breakfast theme has completely worn off and I'm back to my old cranky self. More after the jump.

The Mayor's Weekly Address: Here Comes the Sun

I find it relatively easy to get myself worked up every week about something pertaining to the theme. After all, I am an "odious, elmo-bashing a-hole." Thanks here to Tori for such an accurate (if uncharacteristically pithy) description. However, there are a few things that I genuinely love, and one of those things happens to be breakfast. So thank you DC for allowing me to pull a Caitlar and gush about the best meal ever. If you were looking forward to breakfast bashing, you're two days late, but if you're looking for an unabashed love letter to breakfast then you're right on time.