AUTHOR: Schnozz DATE: 3/26/2006 03:15:00 AM ----- BODY:
... that this many people really get to my site by searching for "hair arrow." Is this some big fashion trend I'm not aware of?
-------- AUTHOR: Schnozz DATE: 1/09/2006 04:14:00 AM ----- BODY:
WARNING: DO NOT CLICK IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO SEE PORN. If you were wondering, yes, there IS a porn site dedicated to the sexy, sexy body that anorexia can give you. I just read about a lot of pro-ana (pro anorexia) sites that give girls tips on how to be anorexic. I thought THAT was bad. But this ... yeah.
-------- COMMENT-AUTHOR:Blogger Squid COMMENT-DATE:4:57 AM COMMENT-BODY:eeeewwwwww im a fan of something im not afraid im going to break in two when i hug it -------- AUTHOR: Schnozz DATE: 1/05/2006 03:14:00 AM ----- BODY:
... is Dan Abrams of The Abrams Report doing to himself? How much plastic surgery has the man had? Not only is his nose the straightest nose of all time (at least it is now--it doesn't appear to be so straight in older photos), but he doesn't appear to have a single line on his face. I have lines on my forehead. Dan Abrams does not. Dan Abrams graduated college when I was eight years old. SOMETHING IS NOT RIGHT HERE.
-------- COMMENT-AUTHOR:Anonymous Anonymous COMMENT-DATE:10:21 PM COMMENT-BODY:I should therefore rescind my longtime nickname for Abrams: "Mad Dog." Mad dogs get lines on their pug mugs when they're worked up; Abrams, on the other hand probably botoxes them. L -------- AUTHOR: Schnozz DATE: 1/03/2006 05:38:00 PM ----- BODY:
I got hungry, went to make a pizza, then forgot I was ever making a pizza. The pizza is now totally defrosted ... and the oven has been preheated for three hours. Ooops.
-------- AUTHOR: Schnozz DATE: 12/28/2005 02:02:00 PM ----- BODY:
After suffering for two days in the Library's Quiet Room,* which has a loud ticking clock and forces me to face the wall and makes me feel as if I am being punished, but has the advantage of a power outlet ... ... I just discovered the power outlets under a little hatch by the leg of each ordinary, sunny, happy, bustling library table. That maniacally giggling person who just plugged her laptop in near the Audio Books section is not homeless. So stop thinking she is. For one thing, she doesn't smell.** Plus, what kind of homeless person is plugging in a Dell Latitude? Huh? ------ *But the Quiet Room doesn't SMELL. So it's always a tough decision. **But the lady who is two tables back certainly does. The fact that humans can generate such a disastrous odor that radiates over fifteen feet from our bodies is solid proof that there is no God. Seriously. Fifteen feet. If you think I am exaggerating, perhaps you should move to a city, so you can have your horizons widened, then suffocate. (To be fair, I made it four hours here before the first noxious person came in.)
-------- AUTHOR: Schnozz DATE: 12/28/2005 12:38:00 PM ----- BODY:
I was walking down my street at about 10 PM. It was just me an another guy, across the street, walking the other direction. As we approached each other, the guy yelled, "Hey, baby! How YOU doin'?" in the most obnoxious tone possible. I have found that ignoring these people just makes them feel powerful, as if you are too scared to look at them. So instead I stared right at him as we continued walking toward each other. He got scared and offered in a much nicer and very conciliatory tone, "Um ... God bless you!" That's better.
-------- AUTHOR: Schnozz DATE: 12/15/2005 12:30:00 AM ----- BODY:
Some time ago, when it was very very cold, the neighbors accidentally (well, I say accidentally, and I'm sure it was unintentional, but in my helpless, huge anger it is impossible not to scream NEGLIGENCE and CARELESSNESS, and this is coming from me, the most forgetful of them all) left their two dogs out in the snow all night, with no shelter at all from the freezing wind. Who knows how long the dogs would have stayed out there, huddled close to the house, if my father had not called over there at 5:30 AM, when he woke up, to alert the neighbors to the fact that they had left their dogs outside all night in freezing temperatures. The older dog, a collie, could barely walk on his frozen feet when the back door to the house finally opened to let him in. And none of us have seen him since in the days that followed ... with the exception of the day after, when he could not stop licking his feet. At this point, we're guessing his frostbite proved too grave to make keeping his feet an option, and he was put down. I hope we're wrong, but my parents are used to seeing that dog every day, and it's been more than a week now. Something tells me these people aren't the type to be slowly nursing the dog back to health somewhere inside that house, where we just can't see him. I am trying not to think about the fact that our is a world of such suffering. If I start thinking about how terrible it must be to be a dumb, trusting, uncomprehending, innocent dog who is slowly freezing to death in the wind all night while waiting, hoping, always hoping, for the sound of that door latch, waiting to finally be remembered as he huddles with frozen paws, then I will inevitably start thinking about how this level of suffering is reached--indeed, surpassed--all the time, every day, by dogs, by children, and by anyone else who is unlucky enough to find themselves powerless in the wrong place at the wrong time. And that is a mental door I try very hard to keep closed.
-------- COMMENT-AUTHOR:Anonymous Anonymous COMMENT-DATE:11:03 PM COMMENT-BODY:Oh man - too sad. Got an upbeat update to erase the ugly from mind? -------- COMMENT-AUTHOR:Blogger Schnozz COMMENT-DATE:12:48 AM COMMENT-BODY:Unfortunately, no. The dog died. They got a new dog. They now mistreat that one. :( -------- COMMENT-AUTHOR:Blogger Schnozz COMMENT-DATE:2:53 AM COMMENT-BODY:As there's recently been interest in this post again, I want to clarify my comment about the dog dying. Yes, he did in fact die from the frostbite--recent commentary has made me think I wasn't clear enough about the cause or when exactly he finally died. We never saw him again after the day he was licking his feet.

I would say more here but I do feel it's irresponsible of me to give any more identifying details without first knowing who is doing the asking, as the Rage of the Internet can be intense indeed. I'm happy to discuss this with anyone, but I gotta know who's asking in case somebody next door turns up dead or something. What they did was and still is wrong, but I'd rather not have blood on my hands. -------- AUTHOR: Schnozz DATE: 12/13/2005 05:13:00 PM ----- BODY:
... is to feel the weight of one mini schnauzer's full weight on your chest while the other mini schnauzer howls in jealousy, and your mom tries to shush the jealous one without actually entering the room, because that would be invading your privacy. Oh, and it's six AM. Hi, I'm 25 and I live with my parents.
-------- AUTHOR: Schnozz DATE: 12/09/2005 12:58:00 PM ----- BODY:
Mr. Schnozz (out of nowhere): I want to be a scientist! Schnozz: You can't be a scientist. Mr. S: Why not? S: Because ... well, you're dumb. Mr. S: But that's why I need to be a scientist. S: Why? Mr. S: To figure OUT why I'm dumb. With the SCIENCE!
-------- AUTHOR: Schnozz DATE: 12/05/2005 10:51:00 AM ----- BODY:
You KNOW the laundry AND the grocery situation is getting bad at your house when you dream that you finally give in and go to the grocery store. In your wedding dress. Because there's nothing else clean. "I'll only stop in there for a minute," you think, as you peel open that sealed box from the cleaner's. "I don't have much choice," you say grimly as you realize that you'll have to pay to get the dress sealed back up again. Then you show up at the grocery store and everyone is congratulating you and you realize how awkward it is to be wearing a wedding dress when you're not actually getting married. And then you run into a real bride, and she keeps talking to you like YOU are a real bride, but in truth you just wanted to pick up a few packages of Chicken Voila before you starved to death. Conclusion: Say "I don't" to wedding-dress grocery store excursions.
-------- AUTHOR: Schnozz DATE: 11/30/2005 04:41:00 AM ----- BODY:
When you are eating down all of your groceries determinedly, refusing to buy any food until no food whatsoever exists in the house, you find yourself making some odd dishes, like Can of Corn in Fat-Free Ranch Sauce. It had never occurred to me to dump a can of corn into a bowl and then glaze it with salad dressing, but hey, we're working with what we have. Honestly, it wasn't that bad. Well, OK, yes it was.
-------- AUTHOR: Schnozz DATE: 11/27/2005 03:49:00 AM ----- BODY:

You're the United Nations! Most people think you're ineffective, but you are trying to completely save the world from itself, so there's always going to be a long way to go. You're always the one trying to get friends to talk to each other, enemies to talk to each other, anyone who can to just talk instead of beating each other about the head and torso. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't, and you get very schizophrenic as a result. But your heart is in the right place, and sometimes also in New York. Take the Country Quiz at the Blue Pyramid

-------- AUTHOR: Schnozz DATE: 11/21/2005 10:10:00 PM ----- BODY:
If I wanted an en dash, I WOULD HAVE EFFING ASKED FOR ONE. I know where the en dashes are, you know. It's not some big secret. They're sitting right there under Insert > Special Characters. Did I click on Insert? OR Special Characters? No. I did not. I'm a grown woman. I know what I want. When I type a hyphen, IT'S BECAUSE I WANT A HYPHEN. Are you aware that the en dash is one of the most rarely used dashes? Seriously. We're talking date ranges, page ranges, and ... what? .005 percent of all compound adjectives? Why are you so hung up on it? What are the en-dash people PAYING you? You say you'll be different. You promise to change. I explain my preferences to you, we shake on it, and I think we've got it all straightened out, and then a week later I'm making numbered lists against my will and there are en dashes all over the goddam place. WHY, Microsoft? WHY? P.S. No, I wasn't trying to make a bulleted list. For God's sake.
-------- AUTHOR: Schnozz DATE: 11/18/2005 05:29:00 PM ----- BODY:
Just after I tried to explain to a friend that Mr. Schnozz really will call me about ANYTHING ... Voicemail 1 Mr. Schnozz: "Hey, give me a call back. I need to know how to spell corporal. I think it's ... uh ... C-O-R ... uh .. P-O-R-A-L. But I don't know. Call me back." This message would be less disturbing, perhaps, if Mr. Schnozz weren't a lance corporal. You would think he would know how to spell it. Seeing as he is one. Voicemail 2 Mr. Schnozz: "Nevermind. I got it. I used a, uh ... a ... dictionary. Yeah."
-------- AUTHOR: Schnozz DATE: 11/18/2005 12:01:00 AM ----- BODY:
Beaten-up hatchback, rolling lazily through town ten feet in front of my bumper, rainbow Cancer Awareness magnet on the back hatch, arm dangling from the driver's side window, cigarette dangling from fingers.
-------- AUTHOR: Schnozz DATE: 11/04/2005 08:34:00 PM ----- BODY:
Last night I dreamed that Mr. Schnozz's armpits were leaking bright orange lobster sauce. Not copiously, you understand. Just sort of seeping through his clothing. I pointed it out to him, and he said casually, "Oh, yeah, I noticed that yesterday." He didn't seem the least bit alarmed that his armpits were manufacturing lobster sauce. And you know what? I really wasn't either. And this is how you know it's a dream, because in real life, armpit lobster sauce seepage would ruin EVERYTHING.
--------