Happy Saturday

Too great to keep to myself

Please enjoy an excerpt from one of my recent g-chat conversations:

Anonymous:Do you ever use the computers in the public library?
Me: um no... i think i have once. are you on one right now? make sure to sneeze all over your hands and then smear it on the keyboard.

Also, this guy is simply outstanding...

For those of you who like shopping:

Apparently this is just like a mini mall...

What software did he use to produce this advertisement gem? I must have it.

My new favorite

is Matthew Curry. I found him via the chalkboard blog and immediately fell in love (the platonic kind...) with his awesome illustrations and creative layering. More of his work, if anyone cares, can be found from his design studio here.



On a more bizarre note, has anyone heard of the stiletto race in Moscow? Wow, these girls are crazy, and maybe, my new heroes. They inspire me- even more so than the women from the Cuban volleyball team.

Buy Me All of These Things for my Birthday

1.) The ampersand t-shirt. (see above)
2.) The exhile of comic sans. Yes, I really hate it.
3.) A telegram. Did you know that currently, telegrams are no longer in use. Instead of sending me a birthday card, I'd be truly impressed with a telegram.
4.) A globe lamp. I'm not really sure where you can find them, but I love them and ever since the movie "While You Were Sleeping", I've always wanted one.
5.) A name necklace! My name necklace, that is. Obviously I would want it to read either "Boji" or "Joanna".

6.) Boca Jr. jersey/apparrell- preferably Requelime; but, I would love just about any CABJ paraphanalia that I received. Please note: this in no way includes River Plate. I hate them.
7.) Graffitti. Well, not really- I want to see the LA wall mural, it's the longest in the world!
8.) "Escape to Witch Mountain". I'm not really sure why, but I feel like watching this movie the day before my birthday would really help set the mood.

There's Not Enough Time for Your Liver; Sorry.

Here's the thing... I like shots and vaccinations just as much as the next person; however, I lack the maturity and time management skills necessary to safeguard myself from a.) myself, and b.) disease, more specifically: HEPATITIS B. So I'm going to Ghana. It's been confirmed- I leave in less than 48 hours. I first fly into Germany and will be hanging out with my dearly missed Emily Anderson, and technically, I won't actually step foot in Africa until May 8th, but even still, "THERE JUST ISN'T TIME," says the burly haired clinician who wouldn't administer all of my HepB vaccination. "You should have come in sooner." Honestly who says that... "hi, there just isn't time for your liver. Better luck next time?"
I don't understand what this means. All I really know is that after about 600$ and 6 painful injections, I am still not 100% clear on hepatitis. Now, please refer to the map above. For those of you who are unclear, Ghana is on the central west coast of Africa. Note the darkly shaded green "high risk" shading in the region. I am not exactly sure how one goes about contracting the HPVB, as I have heard so many people affectionately refer to it as, but my mother has just about scared me into an early grave about it. I think, by her descriptions, that by breathing, eating, or even sleeping over there, I am at "high risk"... This is frightening. I can't really hold my breath for longer than a minute or so and while I can probably go longer than that without food or rest, it is unlikely that I can survive 5 weeks without at least one of the two. Pray for me. I love you all, but the question is: will you still love me when my eyes turn yellow?

We Were Really Cool.

Out of respect and admiration for my dearest cousin Jenna Toronto Rammell, I have decided to treat my fan base of approximately three readers, to a brand new post!  Actually, today is a very special day as it is the birthday of my brother, Adam Toronto.  I would like to just bore everyone for a moment with a favorite memory from my childhood with Adam. 

Precocious, indigenous, and utterly abstract,  Adam and I used to collect a farrago of trash assortments.  No really- migrating from one room to another, we would crawl to each trash can in our house and hoard away several different treasures from each basket.  Then, without really knowing why, we would tuck our newly gathered waste into our shirts, handling them the way a hen handles her baby chicks, and begin our sojourn to Jesse's room.  On our hands and knees, careful to not let any of our waste spill out, we would ritualistically chant, "Litter bugs, litter bugs, litter bugs...".  Like insects on all fours, we would somehow fester our way into his room.  A look of anger would fill his eyes just as quickly as surges of excitement and sheer trepidation would wield through our veins.  Knowing that we were about to get our lives handed to us never stopped us from throwing our troves of filthy oddities at him while simultaneously crooning our anthem, "Litter bugs, litter bugs...".  Instead of standing up and running away like any other self-respecting criminal would do, we refused to surrender our insect like characteristics, and would try to escape the fury of Jesse (approximately 16 times my size and 8 times Adam's) by squirming away as quickly as our elbows could drag us.  It did not take long for Jesse to catch up with us but, for fear of sounding too morose, I will let the reader contrive their own ending from here.  Keep in mind, Adam and I usually practiced this ordinance at least twice a week. 
I love you Adam.  I wish it was still okay for people to throw trash at other people- maybe for us it still is. Next time we are in New York City together, we should give it a go. New Yorkers wouldn't notice a difference anyway.  Happy Birthday. 
P.s. I realize this is a decade or two overdue, but sorry Jesse?