A Website on the World Wide Web with writing by Laura Jayne Martin

Willie Nelson wrote a song about this cup. It was made famous by Patsy Cline. That song? "Scary F'ing Cup".

No.  The question is not: does the person who wrote this cup have a personality disorder?  The question is: what personality disorder does the person who wrote this cup have?  And I think it’s whatever you get from eating too much Cinnabon.

We gotta find him, because he’s going to be climbing into your window later tonight.  He’s going to be sporting a severe head wound but like, not really care about it, or even seem to notice it.  Then, he’s going to put on Twenty Four Hour Party People and scrawl guacamole riddles all over your Johnathan Adler for Target wallpaper. That’s his endgame.

You see what I’m saying here?  Chipotle didn’t find a crazy scrawler and ask him to write on their cups about guacamole.  He was always scrawling crazy about guacamole.  Chipotle just gave him the cups.

I'm a Big Fan!

It’s not that hot anymore. Remember when it was really hot and we had tons to talk about, Mr. Bodega? And you, Madam Duane Reade bag, next to me on line for the bus? Oh last week, gone but not forgotten.

Remember the cooling centers of days gone by? Well elderly, you’re on your own again. Enjoy not constantly having your day interrupted by nosy grandchildren checking to see if you’ve burst into flames. Hello…? Oh Hey!

Sister please. You made it through WWII, do they think some humidity’s gonna getcha? You are one Cool Hand Luke and you are not going out like a sucka. You LIVE for balmy! Next time they call just ask: “have you ever been to Palm Springs, bitch?!”  Then slam the phone down.

I mean seriously. What was it 100? 107? Sweater weather, my friend, sweater weather. I literally saw my 85 year old neighbor climbing up the fire escape with an a/c unit in a cardigan.  In. A. Cardigan.

The air conditioner? It was for his grandson’s room.

sorry bro

This is Just to Say I’m Tired of Sharing an Apartment with William Carlos Williams by Laura Jayne Martin

These got me through the MCAT, you guys!

So, you probably don’t know this about me, but I work at a fairly well-known University, as a fairly well-known Provost.  But before that, I rode the rails.  It was during this time that I figured out what America was all about, got my nickname (Haywire), and developed severe seasonal allergies.

I paid my way working as a short-order cook on the night-shift for any truck stop that would have me. What’s that?  Highways and railways are usually miles apart?  Don’t underestimate me.  How do you think I went from hobo to Provo? Pain and determination.

Also, these people don’t do background checks. Like any background checks at all; literally anyone could work for this University.  Seriously, name someone–I can get them a job.  Elizabeth Hasselback? Done. That Double Rainbow Youtube guy? Done. Your old yellow bean bag chair from your mom’s house? Assistant Registrar.

Anyways, the other day I took a bite of one of these Doritos Late Night All Nighter Cheeseburger, and it took me right back to my old days of slinging Blue Plate specials and Adam & Eve on a raft.  (While I’m on that note, let me tell you something, diner lingo is not exactly welcomed by the academic community.  Never ask a collegue if she wants anything “bloody”.  What am I just supposed to do, divine how she takes her coffee?)

Back to the Doritos.  They are legit.  They look like a corn chip, but taste like every burger I ever slapped cheese on to cover up the burnt smell.  You know how much I love Doritos Late Night Tacos at Midnight.  And I love these cheeseburger mutant-snacks even more! Or I did.  But then I started thinking about the tagline: “Bring on the night”.  Bring on the night?  What the junk?!

Are these Vampire Doritos?  Or even just like Adam Lambert-Doritos? (I don’t want anything from you, get off my back, Lambert!) Either way, are these Doritos going to nightstalk me, and fight other Doritos for the love of an inarticulate teenage girl?

Did these Doritos even finish high school? Will these Doritos wear my blood in an amulet around their neck? I kind of feel like they will.  Stay the hell away from these Doritos, man.

Do these Doritos want to sell me Etsy pills or something?  Probably. Who knows? Well, I’m not buying!

Listen, these Doritos are bad news.  Now, I’m not sure, but I’m pretty sure Doritos Late Night All Nighter Cheeserburger keyed my car last Wednesday.  And I know these Doritos do whippets! And they also train Whippets!  These Doritos are training hounds to come kill us!

Doritos' Weapon of Choice

If I learned one thing from riding the rails—and supervising curricular, instructional, and research affairs at a fairly well-known university—it’s this: Watch the f out for these Doritos.

One Bread, One (Governing) Body

I know my faithful readers will remember I advised Justice Soto on her Confirmation.  I would be remiss if I did not do the same for SGK.

The Senate Judiciary hearings with Solicitor General Elena Kagan are over, but don’t worry the full season comes out on DVD August 10th.   This includes bonus footage of Ms. Kagan eating Christmas dinner with friends at a Chinese restaurant and behind-the-scenes bloopers of Sen. Arlen Specter referring to himself as a Whig (he just can’t stop doing this).

The confirmation process, however, is far from finished. There is still a full Senate floor debate and, of course, the Judiciary vote (text Kaga to 8779).  I am sure at times this is a harrowing ordeal for Ms. Kagan.  This is why I think it will be useful for me to share with her what I learned from MY confirmation.  You know just some tips for the blessed event, no big deal.

Hi Solicitor General Kagan!  First thing’s first, you have to pick a Saint’s name.  Don’t listen to any new wave dunces who advise you to choose your own name.   Do you really want to be Justice Elena Elena Kagan?  My younger sister is stuck with Emily Rose Emily for life.

I chose Barnabas, after Barnabas Collins on Dark Shadows. Laura Jayne Barnabas Martin, perfect; unfortunately this choice was promptly rejected by my parents, Father Midori, and Sister Francine—the head of the CCD Young Catholic education program.

So, I went with Michael instead.

Step two you completed head of time, which is so like a Princeton student (Good Job!).  You already have your sponsor.  I chose my aunt, but The President of the United States is okay too.  He’s not a Catholic but neither was Jesus (and the Vatican loves them both).

Now for step three, you just need a dress.  No matter who you are, you are not going to be Confirmed in a pantsuit (I tried).  I would try some of the nicer malls, like in Westchester—but if you’re crunched for time, just head to T.J. Maxx.

After your Confirmation, you should probably throw a big party at your house.  Watch out, your dad might try to get one of those cakes with your face on it! It will be decidedly less cool than a Bat Mitzvah and no one will get souvenir boxers.   Take heart, you will have a delightful time dancing (I know Sen. Coburn hates when you do this, but hey, it’s your Confirmation, not his!) and most likely a seat on the United States Supreme Court.  I hope this helps!

Here’s the thing about the World Cup: I. don’t. care.

Goaaaaaaaaaaal!

It’s not because I’m American, or a girl, or more concerned with organizing my pencil-case.  (Although, I would really like to know when my new batch of personalized stationery is going to arrive in the mail).

It’s because I’m at maximum lifetime capacity of soccer games witnessed.  Between my two sisters and their gym class, recreational, travel, Olympic development, high school, college, and adult soccer teams, I have seen, literally, 17.4 million games.

And I still don’t know what off-sides means.

One of my cornea is webbing over, and I have a phobia of three-day weekends.  You haven’t felt real fear, until you’ve heard the words “Round Robin” uttered again and again by enthusiastic parents.  Are you aware the middle 80% of Long Island is actually just soccer fields?  Are you even aware of that fact?  It goes Brooklyn, Soccer Field, Soccer Field, Soccer Field, Soccer Field, Hamptons. Most of the exits on the Northern State just say “Fields 64-90″.

So this is the reason that I don’t care about The World Cup.  Also, I made a pact with myself a long time ago, (I’m my own blood brother). There’s no room in my life, (or cabinets) for cups.   I don’t care about the World Cup, or the Stanley Cup, or the Ryder Cup, or the Sprint Cup.  I certainly don’t give a crap about Tin Cup, so don’t even ask.  (Hear that Costner?)

Jock Straps?  Irrelevant.

And I measure everything by counting to 4.

It usually works out.  Besides, if the international community can’t even agree upon a standard definition, something’s fishy.  It’s between 280 and 284 millilitres, …or  it might just be 6 oz.  No one knows for sure.  I mean, why bother measuring at all?  I’m just gonna scoop up some liquid with a bra.

Hot Dog!

The best part of barbeques is how excited people get about barbeques. If you combine meat, outdoors, beer, and fire and then drop people into it that combination, they will lose their mind.  You don’t even have to marinate them first.  BBQ originated in the US in the 1800s during cattle-drives.  I did not look that up; I just went to a really, really good school.

However, the most intriguing example of BBQ I’ve seen in a while is BD’s Mongolian Barbeque.  BD stands for bondage and discipline, which is what it takes to make someone understand the conceptual leap involved in their advertising campaign.

Mongolian BBQ actually originated in Taiwan in the 1960s, which is like Mongolia, in that they are both geographical locations, both have names, and people live in both places.  The chain says that their BBQ technique is from the ancient Mongolian Empire when it was common for soldiers to cook with their swords on their shields over a big fire. While this story never happened in actual history, that’s no reason it can’t sell actual stir-fry.

Many companies have created complete falsifications of history to sell their product. For instance, The Soup Nazi: never made any soup.  He made chowder.  And he was a Fascist.  Pretzels were not originally sold out of Roman chariots (though they did cost twice as much in the Coliseum.)  Lastly, Polly-o string cheese did not originate during the French Revolution.  That is completely ludicrous.  It was used during the Salem Witch Trials to determine who was a warlock. (Hint:  the warlocks didn’t need to peel them).

I’m going to share with you some things I learned in the past six weeks.

TheMoreYouKnow# (coming soon)

1. The 7 Year Itch is an Amazing movie with an unfortunate title.

I stayed away for too long thinking it was either about baseball or STDs.  It turns out it’s about two gay interior designers living together openly in a city with a delightful-sounding vegetarian restaurant and being referred to with nonchalance in 1955.   Okay fine, it’s not about that, but that happens.

2. Passion Pit is messing with your mind, man!

Hypsteria!

First, they’re playing at The Fader’s ‘One Step Beyond’ party at the Museum of Natural History for only $25! (So what if it’s only a DJ set.)  Then, a few days prior to the party, they announce a Passion Pit secret show 90 minutes before the Fader party.  And it’s free. And open bar.  And amazing.

Upon hearing this fans were so overwrought, they put on skinny jeans over their skinny jeans.  Three people are still in the hospital having pants surgically removed (You think those things just come right off?)  My friends went, but I didn’t go.

However, I was at Passion Pit’s personal pan pizza and massage party 45 minutes before their secret show.  It was in a Mason lair covered with bones of other lesser indie bands. With free food. And they paid me to go.   Nate Donmoye gives a great backrub and makes an okay Margarita pie.

3. Elena Kagan’s  SATC 2 cameo was cut when they found out she wasn’t gay.  They replaced her with Liza Minelli, which probably stung.

Desert Storm.

However, she did manage to grab 43 of the 51 the votes she needs for confirmation by performing a remixed Lady Gaga duet with Grayson Carter on the Idol Finale.  Which is weird, because Lady Gaga recently wrote a scathing dissent of Kagan’s: “Private Speech, Public Purpose: The Role of Governmental Motive in First Amendment Doctrine”.  It’s called “Alejandro.”

And that’s the only reason why that’s weird.

But, by far the most important thing I learned in the past 6 weeks is this:

Bros are Icing Bros.

See Gawker for whatever ridiculous headline I'm sure they made up to chronicle this stupid phenomenon

Bros are f’ing icing bros!

Bros.

Are.

Icing.

Bros.

Did you hear me? Get on the dude phone! Call Broseph stat and tell him to Fitch up ’cause things are totally gnarly!

When will we learn that Bro-on-Bro icing only leads to more Bros being iced? (And less shirts.) Please join me in solace for all the iced bros out there.  I am selling Diamond Wristbands for the cause. Please buy one and demonstrate your support for Bros not icing each other and having less of a media and internet presence than they currently do.