This song has been in my head all summer. Also, I have been missing my twin sitter (not as in baby, as in sister without the s) all summer too. They are on my mind. And therefore, on this blog. My favorite thing about my twin is that we always want to do the exact same thing when we hang out: belt music in the car, go get coffee and candy, and talk about boys and tv shows. I love her more than anyone else in the whole dang world. We're turning 22 in the fall and we'll be back at school together and it makes me so so happy.

This song is great. It makes me feel better singing it in the shower, getting out of bed in the morning, when you get stuck in the rain, and when you're waiting for a train or late for something. (funny points because time is not on your side then).



Ok, so it's Wednesday. But get prepared for some seriously cute alliteration...Wednesday brings you the Where the Wild Things Are trailer. This. looks. so. amazing. It's not even twee or precious, just honest-to-goodness heartwarming and dangerously adorable. You know it's gonna be good when the trailer gets you all choked up. And the music! Come on!



This is favorite words, from girls whose names start with A:

“I ordered a glass of champagne on the plane today, and the flight attendant asked, ‘Are you old enough to drink?’, I was like, ‘I’m old enough to worry about being infertile, so yes!" -Amy Adams

"One of my favorite phobias is that girls, especially those whose tastes aren't routine, often don't get a fair break... It has come down through the generations, an inheritance of age-old customs which produced the corollary that women are bred to timidity." -Amelia Earhart

I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman. -Anais Nin



I came across this video a few weeks ago, and I was actually gonna see them by coincidence in NYC but plans got changed. Anyway, completely adorable. Makes me glad to be a girl, and miss days when you wake up hungover with friends, throw on grungy cute clothes and assure each other of your adorableness, listen to music, and go on adventures. Mmmmm. I love being a kid. For me, subtract half the cuteness and all of the musical talent.


Street courting rears it's ugly, unintentionally hilarious head once again, as we knew it would. You know the saying: if you don't laugh, you'll go on a homicidal killing spree. Wait, that's not it? Silly me, I must be so busy being pretty that I just forgot. Whoops!

For posterity:

Me: Digging through bag for cellphone at subway stop near home.

Dude: Conspiratorially and uncomfortably near as he comes up the stairs: Hey, beautiful stranger.

Pause for groans and the gnashing of teeth.

Dude: Can't even say hey back?

Me: Hey. With goofy fucking smile that involuntarily appears due to the absurdity of times like these.

Dude: Approaching with renewed energy. How are you? What's your name?

Me: Silence.

Dude: Too tired to talk?

Me: I'm exhausted. Searching desperately for phone.

Dude: Simultaneously saying: Come on, what's your name? Can I give you my number? Would you call?

Me: No.

Dude: I don't see no ring on your finger.

Me: I have a boyfriend (a completely necessary lie). Phone found, begin walking away.

Dude: Really? You've gotta be kidding me.

Me: Yeah. Shrug, walk faster away.

Him: Calling after me. What about a man friend?

This shit happens every. damn. day.



This is so f*cking funny and ridiculous I almost wish I had never heard it so I could hear it for the first time again. I love the Moth podcast, you should get into it. Then we'll be in the same boat. Heh. Heh.

Now who's up for some hot carriage boiler-room action?


To look busy at work while checking your horoscope: it's classified, but it involves serious typing and straight posture.

Also: You're finding it harder and harder to deal with one person at work or near your residence, and today you may need to confront them directly. That's nobody's idea of fun, but you get it done.

Interesting. Maybe being "that intern" is getting to me?

Also: This is my special friend Patti Smith, singer of this sweet (as in righteous, killer) song. Originally by the Doors, of course.

One of the best lines, I think : the cars crawl past all stuffed with eyes.



Cause sometimes sketchy dudes really bring out the big guns, sexual-harassment-wise. Sure to be a recurring post due to living in the capital of leering, jeering, and general gender-policing of the inspired variety.

I present our first winner:

Me: walking down the street

Old dude: tottering on street corner You're very pretty.

Me: looking up startled Thanks.

Old Dude: And polite.

Me: Walking away, thinking, thanks for your unsolicited opinion of my courtesy and prettiness, weird, old dude! thanks!

Old Dude: shouting after me, Actually, you fine as hell!

anddddd, scene.


That's right I'm two-timing. Deal with it. Check out my post and listen to the awesome girls, already.



Hello children. Running around the city picking up and dropping off packages, mailing people about movie screenings, and getting into serious hijinks with visiting friends has left me sadly neglectful and a little burnt out. But posh on excuses, for they are a scourge on our society and shall not be tolerated. With no further nonsense, I present to you some unbearably sweet things.

This is an absolutely soul-suckingly cute proposal-true-love-for-ever-and-ever song from one of my favorite alt-country bands led by the equally appallingly cute Rhett Miller.

This isn't their best song but definitely the most shamelessly adorable. On the cuteness factor, it brings back great memories of seeing them in concert in Philly with my twin sister and two best friends.
This picture, in the wedding theme, is of the cute-cute-ness of my sister's wedding last year. Say it with me: dawwwwww. Courtesy Erin, who had a pretty dang cute anniversary herself lately.

And last but not least, an adorable and talented friend from BMC has started a hilarious and cute-approved blog about her cute and witty crushes and cute and witty co-workers in cute and (sweaty) Philly. Check it out.



A few funny, surprisingly smart words from the dirty, dirty underside of popular music.

"All that ever holds somebody back is fear, I think. For a minute, I had fear. So I went into the room and shot my fear in the face--then I came out and did the rest of the show." -Lady Gaga

"I'm a musician first, a food-lover second, a dirty mouth with feet, and a girl last time I checked."-Tori Amos

"We should all believe in something, and I believe it's time for another shot of tequila." — Justin Timberlake

And a long time personal favorite:

"This world is bullshit"-Fiona Apple



An appropriately cute and short post, from a vurry tired girl. And two birds with one stone:

My new job, and who I've been cheating on you with!



A little good old-fashioned family promotion. My brother-in-law Curt is working on this awesome project this summer:


His lovely wife, my sister Caitlin, just launched her documentary website Film Sprout, which sister Erin did the illustrations for! I am working for both Cait and Curt this summer (also being their third wheel roomie.) And my twin sister is working on a farm this summer! Serendipity extends her minxy little paw and shakes it with wily nepotism once again!



Here's hoping I can start a new, absolutely adorbs (you see what I did there, with the cuteness?) tradition of posting only impossibly cute things one day a week; I am obviously a complete sucker for anything catchy or precious, but this way, not only do I get to take advantage of alliteration (I kill myself) I also get to retain, on other days, the cynical, irony-loving, bitter kid that just doesn't give a damn about the sweet, the harmonizing, or anything that inspires hugging. Speaking of which, have you read this shit? Is this town going to outlaw flower-picking and puppy-cuddling next?

A little sample: This song is so cute I'm getting a toothache. The video even makes blood and ghosts and decapitation seem charming.

That's Zooey Deschanel, the reigning princess of being adorable, and her special friend M.Ward, collaborating for the band She and Him. So cute you kind of want to die, right?

And this:

Dawwww. Back to things not approaching duckies and swingsets and cotton candy cute tomorrow.



As a feminist and lover of good music, this song should offend and appall me on so many levels. But it's just so damn catchy and the video is so cheeky. "You tell your boyfriend, if he says he's got beef/That I'm a vegetarian and I ain't fucking scared of him." My name is Devan, and this is my summer anthem. If it's wrong, why does it feel so right?



Shout it from the rooftops!

Not only are donuts mad delicious, Dunkin Donuts also has my favorite ad slogan of all time. "You 'kin do it." Damn, I love that.

Scope this to get a fresh batch of tasty donut trivia, and find out where you can score a FREE donut on this most holy of food-related, arbitrarily-decided, for-advertsing-only, but nevertheless freaking awesome holidays.



The Top Ten Best Things About my First Week in NYC:

1. Men in suits. Everywhere.

2. Not ever worrying about smiling enough at strangers.

3. Watching no one react to a group of children barking, literally barking, in unison, at intervals of ten seconds.

4. 85 cent coffee. So many choices of coffee. Coffeeee.

5. Feeling the first angry thrill of the natives as a tourist clings to an entire subway pole on an insanely crowded rush hour train with her whole body.

6. Cowboy boots and sundresses to work. Along with an appropriate sweater, mom.

7. Pouting and wearing huge sunglasses so people think I'm famous.

8. Figuring out which side of the tracks takes me uptown or downtown. And what those two things are. And humming the Indiana Jones theme song to myself as I emerge triumphant from beneath the streets.

9. Witnessing the intricate mating rituals of the Brooklyn hipster.

10. Let's Get It On and Stop in the Name of Love playing back to back in the coffee shop where I sit and daydream before work.

More regular posts to come as soon as I settle into my summer euphoria. Speaking of which:



Happy memorial day. Thank you, veterans, for preserving our liberty to make ridiculous comedies based on harmonizing classically filthy seventies pop. Thank you. 



Happy summer kids. To begin our warm weather journey, a pop culture comparison. First, Katy Perry's obnoxious and weird, but nefariously catchty, Hot n' Cold. Embedding disabled by request, curse of my existence.

And here, the ukrainian polka band reincarnation of said confection. You're welcome. 



Not that way, you dirty little thing. I don't normally get a notion to quote scripture, but this seems very nice and helpful, and not at all about stoning or boning or salt-pillaring, as these things so often tend:

"No testing has overtaken you that is not common to everyone. God is faithful, and He will not let you be tested beyond your strength, but with the testing He will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it." 1 Corinthians 10:13

Can I get an amen?

Expect more cheerful posts soon, about why the barenaked ladies are freaking sweet, how I learned to stop worrying and love the bomb, and the secret to the appeal of several varieties of toaster-based breakfast foods.



I always thought that booster shots sounded great.  Sadly they are not little positive shots of energy, but chemicals. So, in the interest of boosting spirits actually and not medicinally, the men in my life this week: Andrew Bernard and Stephen Lynch:

"I may hug people too hard, and get lost in malls. But I am not an idiot." 

"I'm not sure, but I'm pretty sure I'm in a dance-off." 

"I am single now. What we have here, is the ultimate smackdown between the Nard-dog and crippling despair, loneliness, and depression. I intend to win."

"You know, it's true what they say--Long Island Iced Teas are way stronger in Canada."

EDIT: The first quote is Tracy Jordan. He is my main man, not just this week, but all weeks. Especially shark week. Which I live every week. 



Neither good nor fast times at ridgemont high, kids. Not at all good times.  What's a girl to do? Unironic feminist lyrics, laundry, and some applicable comics to the rescue! 

"I called my sister and said I feel adrift, with no man. She said, oh honey, learn to love the sea." - The Nields

"You don't know a person like me, I could sell your songs to Nike." - my homegirl Dar Williams

"So I walk like I'm on a mission cause that's the way I groove. I got more and more to do, I got less and less to prove. It took me too long to realize that I don't take good pictures cause I have the kind of beauty that moves." -Ani Difranco

"If we're a drop in the bucket, with just enough science to keep from saying fuck it. Plenty revolutions left until we get this thing right." -Indigo Girls

And, this flipping awesome song. 



Spring fever song. Good for what ails you.

And isn't this a perfect picture for the song, somehow? I highly recommend I'm Not There, incidentally.



I stumbled upon this crazyawesome website by dude Craig Damrauer. Ch-ch-check it out.

He makes equations that are:

very funny.
painfully funny.

sweet. pointed.
what you need to hear.
And, in my own new math, the oldie I can't out of my head is:

don't pull your love= (elevator music + hook)/(slightly dirty * sweet)



Guild is the 24/7 computer lab. Hence the hilarious joke.

Top Ten Reasons All-Nighters Are "Awesome":

(get it? all night long? get it?)
1. The strangely pleasing dichotomy of knowing that by staying up all night you are both confirming your status as a vitally healthy young person and contributing to the ultimate tragic dissolution of that status.

2. The ability to use words like dichotomy, dissolution, meta-theatrical, neo-deconstructuralist fantasist, and ideological commodity with an utter lack of irony.

3. The belief that coffee+donut*repetition=concentration and inspiration.

4. The period around 4 a.m when you roll around laughing on the fluorescently lit, carpeted floor with your friends.

5. The impression that your decision to include Bob Dylan quotes and "witty" section headings in your term paper will be considered zany, whimsical, and brilliant by your professor.

6. The decision around 6 a.m to go for a run as soon as you're done here because LIFE is SO freaking GREAT and you FEEL so ALIVE right NOW.

7. The songs that become your obsessive anthems, only to be cruelly relegated back to the dregs of your itunes library once you've had this wild one night ride with them.

Take It To The Limit, The Eagles

Backwoods Barbie, Dolly Parton

8. The reassuring thought that at least you aren't starving, in the army, or a teabagger. And, fingers crossed, no swine flu. Yet.

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c
Nationwide Tax Protests
Daily Show
Full Episodes
Economic CrisisFirst 100 Days

9. The cleaning crew coming in around 5 and looking at you with all the patronizing concern of a neighbor that comes to visit in the mental ward following your gentle suburban descent into the bell jar.

10. Emerging into the sunlight either: a weak shell of your former self, giggling and muttering under your breath "wikipedia is to works cited as the bailout is to global economics. Take that Geithner." b. strumming with life, ready to go for that run and greet the day with arms wide open to take in all of god's glorious creation. A quick and devastating crash follows b, while a pleasant buzz follows a, only to be crushed by the onset of noon.



Well, it is.

Also, I promise I don't work for NBC.


Well, it is.



So, I have been going to the gym. Now, don't get your panties in a twist. I am a die-hard, never-been-varsity, fuck-up of an athlete. But sometimes a girl needs an endorphin high, and running from my room to the dining hall to get to the food faster just wasn't cutting it.

Here is what I now remember about gyms. THEY ARE BORING AS HELL. I like running outside, but here on the Main Line that's practically a death wish.

Our gym is basically what I have always been as an athlete-it has a lot of heart, some grit, it just barely gets the job done. But it has no flash, no genius, no self-awareness.

It has all the technological advances and charming decor of your basic prison camp. It is roughly the size and shape of your average cereal box, and not the good kind. The generic brand your mom tries to convince you is just as good, but you know, YOU KNOW, that it will never be as good.
Due to the absence of any sort of diversion in the form of multimedia (read: no TVs, magazines from 1994) I must grimly gaze ahead at the austere, mile high letters of BRYN MAWR ATHLETICS. I know, I know, now you know where I "go" to "school." So, a warning, in the immortal words of Ms. Jeannie Butler. "Excuse me. If whoever's in the house is still in the house, I'd like you to know that I have just called the police. If you have any brains whatsoever, you'll get your ass out of my house real quick. I'd also like to add that I have my father's gun, and a scorching case of herpes."

So, this is what I do, and this is the challenge I present to you, all 5 of my loyal readers: I MAKE WORDS OUT OF THESE WORDS. I have about twenty, twenty-five so far. How many can you make?

Here is the best song to work out to, EVER.

And here is a little pop confection I CANNOT GET OUT MY HEAD.




My irrational excitement and happiness at this trailer is why I will permanently remain thirteen years old, and incapable of the levels of cynicism and snobbery to which I aspire:

Damn you JK Rowling, damn you!

I may not like your excessive use of adverbs and ridiculous syntax, but goddamn do I respect you.



The best thing for being sad," replied Merlin, beginning to puff and blow, "is to learn something. That's the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then — to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting.
- T. H. White, The Sword in the Stone



Some words and pictures to illustrate that:

a. Dreams are semi-attainable. b. Spring and the civil war are pleasurably nostalgic triggers. c. College is for friends and road trips, not grammar. d. Ambivalence.

Some men are born mediocre, some men achieve mediocrity, and some men have mediocrity thrust upon them.-Catch-22

Reporter: Who would play you in a movie?
Andy Warhol: Well, I guess Edie would. She's like me, but better than me at everything I do.

Here is a lesson in creative writing. First rule: Do not use semicolons. They are transvestite hermaphrodites representing absolutely nothing. All they do is show you've been to college. -Kurt Vonnegut

Had I so interfered in behalf of the rich, the powerful, the intelligent, the so-called great, or in behalf of any of their friends, either father, mother, brother, sister, wife, or children, or any of that class, and suffered and sacrificed what I have in this interference, it would have been all right; and every man in this court would have deemed it an act worthy of reward rather than punishment. -John Brown



Sometimes life is disappointing. And you don't get the job you interviewed for. In light of that disappointment, and resolving not to surrender to whimpering and moaning under the covers, my new life dream is to become Edie Sedgewick, but with less heroin and co-dependency. My job plan involves losing twenty pounds, cutting my hair, and investing in false eyelashes and black eyeliner. Other options include becoming The Velvet Underground, just all of them. I think these are both reasonable and great plans. 


Hello campers. Today is a sunny day. I am going to get coffee and chocolate and toast for breakfast, and go to class and work. I am happy to be alive. Here are the first three paragraphs of the book I am reading for African lit. The Famished Road, by Ben Okri. It's awesome.

In the beginning there was a river. The river became a road and the road branched out to the whole world. And because the road was once a river it was always hungry.

In that land of beginnings spirits mingled with the unborn. We could assume numerous forms. Many of us were birds. We knew no boundaries. There was much feasting, playing, and sorrowing. We feasted much because of the beautiful terrors of eternity. We played much because we were free. And we sorrowed much because there were always those amongst us who had just returned from the world of the Living. They returned inconsolable for all the love they had left behind, all the suffering they hadn't redeemed, all that they hadn't understood, and for all that they had barely begun to learn before they were drawn back to the land of origins.

There was not one amongst us who looked forward to being born. We disliked the rigors of existence, the unfulfilled longings, the enshrined injustices of the world, the labyrinths of love, the ignorance of parents, the fact of dying, and the amazing indifference of the LIving in the midst of the simple beauties of the universe. We feared the heartlessness of human beings, all of whom are born blind, few of whom ever learn to see.

Now, for some lighter, fare, try this. I am super nostalgic for the seventies lately. It has something to do with my epic plans for after graduation, but more on that later.

God, I sweat those glasses.



I don't know whether this makes me feel warm and fuzzy or creeped out and cranky. Your thoughts, please.

Also, please refer yourself to my posts about the sound of music's undying charm and appeal and the venerable sexiness of mr. christopher plummer.



On this holiest of weekends, I thought I would share what I believe to be my ultimate reward should I ever reach heaven. Tom Petty, George Harrison,Eric Clapton, Neil Young, Roger McQuin, and Bob Dylan, all together. Thank you Jesus, Mohammed, and Buddha. Thank you universe.

Forever and ever amen.



Ok, so this is more about me than about you. I have an interview on Friday and need to pump myself up. So, here they are, my most admittedly lengthy and sentimental, but most stirring and non-generic (if you can dream it you can do it), non-inane (shoot for the moon, you'll land among the stars), and non-sappy (live, love, laugh) quotes of all time.

I'm tough, ambitious, and I know exactly what I want. If that makes me a bitch, ok.-Madonna

It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by the dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions and spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who, at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly; so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory or defeat.-Theodore Roosevelt

One isn't necessarily born with courage, but one is born with potential. Without courage, we cannot practice any other virtue with consistency. We can't be kind, true, merciful, generous, or honest.- Maya Angelou

This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; the being a force of Nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.-George Bernard Shaw

For when you are feeling really down:

Tho' much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
-Lord Alfred Tennyson

And perhaps the best and most simple:

Never, ever, ever give up-Michael Scott



This is why, I hate bowling.

We could go bowling, or we could just hang ourselves.

And, germophobe's nightmare.



Don't see Adventureland, unless you want to become dangerously obsessed with:

a. Kristen Stewart. Yeah, blah, blah, blah, vampire chick-lit sucks (hah!) I don't care. After this movie, my feelings for her have gone from passing crush in Into the Wild to desperate love.

b. Pale Blue Eyes. The ultimate depressive love song. 

In other words, you should see Adventureland.



I joined twitter. I feel weird.

I used to hate the internet. I used to hate AIM. I used to hate facebook. I used to hate gmail. I used to hate blogs. I used to hate twitter for christ's sake. 

Now, it seems it's only a matter of time until I am saying things like epic fail, and for the win (ftw, for crying out loud), and devolving into goddamn cat talk.

Oh, god. I love big brother. 


Since I promised it a long time ago, and it has been appropriately rainy and misty, here is a poem for you. By Seamus Heaney, Irish poet guy. (More thoughts on Ireland.) I'm not really into nature poetry. But I like this one.

The Peninsula

When you have nothing more to say, just drive
For a day all round the peninsula.
The sky is tall as over a runway,
The land without marks, so you will not arrive

But pass through, though always skirting landfall.
At dusk, horizons drink down sea and hill,
The ploughed field swallows the whitewashed gable
And you're in the dark again. Now recall

The glazed foreshore and silhouetted log,
The rock where breakers shredded into rags,
The leggy birds stilted on their own legs,
Islands riding themselves out into the fog,

And drive back home, still with nothing to say
Except that now you will uncode all landscapes
By this: things founded clean on their own shapes,
Water and ground in their extremity.


Step into my web.

Walking barefoot in the mud during a thunderstorm when the sky is yellow and glowy. 

Going to the movies. I Love You, Man. Painfully awkward and hilarious, and the least misogynistic of recent guy-love Apatowish fare. (That is to say, the female characters are allowed to be somewhat funny and not stuck up.  Some of the time.) I just love going to the movies. I love previews. And whispering. I love the disenchanted teenagers that sell me popcorn. I love the brazen capitalism of it all. Hell yeah, America!

Grilled cheese with tomato.

Cleaning your room. Seriously. I just did this and my blues were instantly busted. Just don't become a junkie. It's a slippery slope, friends. You don't want to wind up clutching the lysol and muttering to yourself. 

I am not hugely into fashion, but this editorial in French Vogue is so wacked out I couldn't stop staring. It's so cute and weird and stuff.



Dude. I was completely taken in by gmail's april fool today, for about three seconds. I am generally way too sensitive for practical jokes, and scared of hurting people's feelings. But, I do love these:




Top Ten Reasons Christopher Plummer as Captain Von Trapp is The Ideal Man:

1. Dude has seven kids.

2. He is an Austrian who resists the Nazis IN SONG. See 5.

3. Devastatingly handsome.

4. "Yes. Well, you can't marry someone when you're in love with someone else... can you?"

5. "My fellow Austrians, I shall not be seeing you again perhaps for a very long time. I would like to sing for you now... a love song. I know you share this love. I pray that you will never let it die." Gets. Me. Every. Time.

6. "You'll never be one of them!"

7.8. Phenomenal dancer.

9. Max: What's going to happen's going to happen. Just make sure it doesn't happen to you. Captain von Trapp: Max. Don't you ever say that again. Max: You know I have no political convictions. Can I help it if other people do? Captain von Trapp: Oh yes, you can help it. You must help it.