e.e. cumming all over your titties

Okay, I don’t know why I did this, but I did. I think it’s because I had two other things I was supposed to do today. In any event, I wrote a screenplay about the events leading up to the repair of the space station toilet. ENJOY.

poopageddon

1) Two fat girls eating frozen yogurt together is kinda sad.

2) A skinny girl eating ice cream with a fat girl who’s not eating anything is sadder.

As many of you already know, Sierra Needle suffered a devestating setback in her personal life. “After upgrading her Robo-boyfriend to v. 3.0.9 (at the behest of her one-time trusted confidant Software Update) Sierra Needle discovered that one of the new and improved features was self-awareness. Realizing his each and every thought and emotion were the product of a cold and lifeless algorithm conceived by some red bull addled programmer, Sierra Needle’s Dreambot broke up with our zero g vixen to ‘find himself, somewhere in the bits and bytes of outrageous fortune.’” Keep an ear out for a pretty skillful scat solo courtesy of THE INTERNET.

TRACK LIST:

RAM me in the ASCII

[does not compute rejection], feat. The Internet

war of contrition

so you’re dating other robots now

Здравствуйте! As the fertile shower of April become the lazy Sundays of May, we here at emilyaxford.wordpress.com take time out of our busy schedule (we netflixed the entire first season of Family Ties) to sift through last months submissions and offer a belated celebration of the zeitgeist of the landmass formerly known as the Soviet Union. Turn down the tv and take out an earbud, cause these fellas have a song to sing and they don’t need a drink special and a teleprompter to do it. So without further red tape, overbearing bureaucracy, and excessive government regulation, I present the winners of last month’s Russian Patriotic Poetry contest.

Third Place! Georgy Rzhykov, Chewer Of Grains For The Toothless

I will build a shrine for you
from the bodies of my ex-lovers.
You like that don’t you.
You are kinky for a cripple.

Second Place! Honza Petrov, Occupational Therapist

Russia!
Alright well yes you are built for heavy labor
But maybe you’d be happier in a career that challenged your mind.
How about smelting?
There’s a lot of growth in that industry these days.
You’re just uninspired by your current career path.
And who can blame you? A mind like yours is hardly content with baser forms of labor.
What about a career that offers opportunities for independence and an extensive benefits package,
Like oxen yoking?
Stonemasonry probably offers the greatest mobility.
Sure, you’ll start out in the quarry,
But once you’ve established yourself and made a few connections
You’re on the fast track to carving and inscribing gravestones.
A lot of my clients can attest that giving yourself to public service can be extremely self-gratifying.
Have you thought about well maintenance?
It takes a real hero to dive in and rescue the community from uncertain thirst when little Boris drops the bucket.
Not to mention those buckets get holes like whoa.

First Place! Pavel Kvovlov, Stepladder Distribution

Russia: Angel in the Tundra!
My soul stirs for you!
Some devotchkas just want me for my livestock.
They say Pavel, you have so many livestock, how did you inherit so many livestocks?
Pavel, you make love me in the stable where you keep your many livestocks.
Move your head I want a clear view of your livestocks when I experience climax.
You are different, beautiful bride.
You say Pavel, you are skillful with handsaw.
You are sturdy and stout, Pavel.
Pavel, you make love me anywhere, so long as it is warm enough for me to unbutton my long underwear.
You love me for who I am.
Not just my impressive collection of livestock.
So yeah thanks for that.

I just got a hot tip that Sierra Needle, the soft spoken, quick witted, several footed menace of myspace, is working on a new album. Here is the official statement from the Sierra Needle camp:

“Hello all. Sierra Needle here. I’ve recently experienced my first space heartbreak. I upgraded my robo-boyfriend to v. 3.0.9, and I guess one of the new features is self-awareness because he realized he was a robot and now he needs time to ‘think about stuff.’ I’m super space devastated. He was my first space love. I’ve retreated into seclusion to confront the complexity of space emotions that are currently orbiting my heart.”

It’s bad news for Sierra, but great news for us. Apparently grief and isolation have spawned an EP entitled You Broke My Heart Drive. Sierra has yet to comment, but her reps tell us she won’t be posting it on myspace (”she doesn’t want to alienate new fans with it’s uncharacteristically somber tone”) but will be offering emilyaxford.wordpress.com exclusive distribution privileges. For those of you who can’t wait another week to hear the sweet sounds of Sierra Needle’s hydrogen tears evaporating into the atmosphere the second they leave her tear ducts, we offer you this teaser: the official cover art for You Broke My Heart Drive. Enjoy!

The following is an excerpt from an etiquette guide from an unidentified extraterrestrial race from the future. Futuro-archaeologists decoded the text to be a sophisticated derivative of Wingdings. The unknown civilization appears to be a man-eating empire with a pillage-based economy. This excerpt follows a discussion on the etiquette of Plunder.

Hallographic transmissions serve many purposes. Sometimes they are casual and conversational:

Zeebatron: Did you hear Gwellfark got a job working for a warship repairman.
Gallizoog: Stop! That’s wonderful. He’s going to learn a very important trade.
Zeebatron: I know! And hear you me, Gwarfag certainly won’t hesitate to call upon his son next time our warship is running low on earthling marrow or a chipped gyroscope prevents a spontaneous trip to the countryside.

A hallographic translation along these lines warrants no particular formula. Other hallographic transmissions may be frenzied and cautionary:

Lurkagog: Murgaburp! I’ve just been informed that the Andromedean navy has launched a guerilla offensive against our aerial bases!
Murgaburp: Oh Lurkagog! I hope they don’t vaporize the Pagan shrine or we’ll never [get married]!

Due to the frantic nature of the phone call, again, no preexisting notions or conventions exist to dictate the right course of action. However, there are several kinds of hallographic transmissions that come with a social ritual, the negligence of which can be insulting, and even provocative.

Re: Informing a Planet of it’s Imminent Demise

This type of hallographic transmission was mentioned in the chapter titled “Re: Plunder of lower intellects”. Many consider this practice antiquated. In general, however, it is frowned upon in the intergalactic community to deliver a hasty hallographic transmission (or to not deliver one at all) before you raze a civilization of its beloved civic buildings and enslave it’s people. The procedure is as follows: Greet, bow, report the weather on your planet, detail the extermination, recall three unique features of their civilization you will miss when flames consume it’s histories and collective memory, then flip an hour glass upside down and laugh maniacally. Few deviances from this formula are justified. Not reporting the weather on your planet denies the opportunity to make informed decisions when packing bags for feudal enslavement in overpopulated work camps. Flipping the hour glass upside down, laughing maniacally, then vaporizing the hour glass with a supa’ray 4000 is insensitive. Both show a total disregard for others. It may seem like a lot of pomp and circumstance to some (ahem, the Dwarf Star Tribe) but there is a reason these practices evolved to what they are today.

Re: Breaking Up with a Significant Other

The formula is as follows: Greet your significant other, show receipt you have received from the Broken Hearts Initiative approving your break up based on the grievances you have filed, chop up his/her/its belongings with a battle-axe, cry in the arms of a more attractive extraterrestrial, and conclude with three memories that you will always hold close to one, if not both, of your hearts. Few people stray from this formula. Oftentimes, a breakup can be repealed by the Broken Hearts Initiative if the hallographic transmission is proven to be ambiguous or unnecessarily cruel.

Re: Application for Employment

Once again, due to the formal nature of the transmission, few stray from convention. The formula is as follows: Introduction of self, presentation of ancestry, demonstration of technical skills (i.e. explosive detonation, pillage, bioluminescence, peeling an orange while wearing mittens, etc.), proclamation of imperial sympathies, and a brief self-amputation as a demonstration of dedication. *Something to note: make sure it’s an important limb. Nothing says “I’m phoning this one in” like the half-assed severance of an already vestigial finger or toe. And remember, anything longer than twenty-seven microseconds and they’re just not watching anymore.

4:35 PM
Rock & Roll is dead. Only Pop will save us.

4:49 PM
Actually, Rock & Roll isn’t dead. Pop is the dead one.

4:53 PM
On second though, Rock & Roll isn’t dead, but it is near-death. Pop is still dead.

4:57 PM
Okay. Do over. Rock & Roll suffered blunt trauma to the head, at the behest of a Chevy pickup, and is in the ICU, hooked up to a respirator, presumably brain dead, and with its next of kin ready to pull the plug. Pop is definitely still dead.

5:03 PM
I changed my mind: Pop died, but it was resurrected.

5:07 PM
Resurrected by evil.

5:09 PM
Pop is undead and feeding upon the flesh of the living.

5:11 PM
And Rock & Roll is still hospitalized, but in the Minor Injuries Unit at worst.

5:18 PM
No, no, I take that back. Rock & Roll is hospitalized with an unidentified illness it caught from a water pump during spring break in Panama. And Pop is still undead, and rotting, and infecting the masses with its perversity.  And eating people.

5:27 PM
Okay, okay, okay… turns out that unidentified illness was a mutant form of tropical small pox and Rock & Roll has three weeks to live, and Pop was just set on fire by an angry mob, and is now dead again.

5:29 PM
Okay disregard all of that. Defying modern science and the prognosis of one Dr. Allen Nesbit, Rock & Roll has retreated to the mountains and healed itself with a combination of yoga and ginseng and goat milk smoothies. Pop’s charred, dead body is hanging in effigy.

5:31 PM
I spoke too soon. Rock & Roll was diagnosed with a rare and lethal bacterial illness contracted from consuming large quantities of unpasteurized goat’s milk and Pop has risen, Phoenix-like, from the ashes of it’s Zombie body and is the second coming of Jesus Christ, Lord and Savior.

5:34 PM
Nevermind. Rock & Roll is fine; there was just a mix-up of medical files (you can bet someone got an earful!), but the re-resurrected Pop turned out to be the anti-Christ prophesied by the First and Second Epistle of John.

5:44 PM
My opinions are emptier than the girl’s room at an Incubus concert.

Dear Jackie:

My Boss is such a jerk! He always gives me assignments ten minutes before I’m supposed to leave. And he always takes credit for my work! How do I let his superiors know what he’s up to without coming across as a tattletale?

Sincerely,
Disgruntled in Duluth

Dear Disgruntled in Duluth:

This a common problem, so it have common solution, right. Okay? Number first you has to realize that you entitled to the credit your deserve. Don’t sell you self short just because someone else is be. Number two you has to learna use kendo sword. What I do in similar situation is I hide in boss’s’s ficus tree in boss room an when he get back from meeting I tickle him with branch so he think he go crazy and go take closer look and when his face get real close I punch his face. He stagger backward and fall onto desk and reach for monogrammed pen for defense. I leap and grab onto ceiling fan and ride around kicking hims in face over and over with every rotation. Finally he scramble out and while he run for door I leap from ceiling fan, tackleling him to ground floor. Now I am on his back and holding him by tie like cowboy, so I yelp likea cowboy ‘Ooeeeooo oi oi’ and ride him like bronco. He scramble free and try to throw mahogany end table at me, a Jackie Chan, so I grab 11”x17” family portrait for shield. Next he throw folk art wood elephant from Guatemala at me, so I run up drawers of filing cabinet that happen to be open so that I can use them like stairs, then back flips onto desk. I kick phone into hand, lasso bossy with the chord, get his superiors on conference call, then drown his face in decorative tabletop zen fountain like waterboardering so he confess all he do.

Hope it help,
Jackie Chan