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Coke Talk*
Staggering through Hollywood with an eager nose and a sharp tongue.
* Skip To The Good Shit | Dear Coke Talk
Ask Me Anything | Twitter | Gmail | RSS
Staggering through Hollywood with an eager nose and a sharp tongue.
* Skip To The Good Shit | Dear Coke Talk
Ask Me Anything | Twitter | Gmail | RSS
Rosanna, The Essential Toto
This song is my whole fucking world right now. It’s making my jeans fit better. Turn it up, a quick bump, and we’re out the door!
Something about those knuckles. I need to get choked.
I’d like to see Kristen Schaal and Demetri Martin get together for some deadpan and awkwardly timed hipster comedy sex involving a bunch of unnecessary props and visual aids. Watching them fuck would be inherently funnier than either of their stand-up acts. Plus, if they eventually had a baby together, it would be yet another of their family members they could trudge out on stage for a self-indulgent performance-art based finale.
Not me.
Thanks to everyone who sent in names. They were pretty hilarious and seem to break down into five very odd categories.
Fictional Characters
Audrey Horne
Elvira Hancock
Doralee Rhodes
Drug References
Allison Snow
Jessica Powder
Anita Line
Germanic Nobility
Allison Von Dorland
Petra Von Kunt
Coco Von Trapp
Hipster Band Names
F. Murray Kill
Voletta Black
Lady Tramp
Drag Queens
Miss Demeanor
Foxy Britches
Cherry LaRue
Needless to say, we haven’t struck gold yet.
As much as I want to get a boston terrier puppy and name her Coco Von Trapp, I don’t think it’s the name that belongs at the end of my emails. I’m not a muppet.
I’m interested in a pen name that doesn’t sound fake, so I guess I’m really asking what you think my name is (or should be) in real life. Click here to submit a pen name.
I need a moment like this.
I need a pen name. I can’t use my real one, and referring to myself as Coke Talk makes me feel like an asshole. It’s a bit like Bobby Flay signing his checks as Iron Chef, you know? Super tacky. Thing is, I can’t seem to re-name myself. It just feels weird. I already have a name, and coming up with a fake one makes me feel like I’m gearing up for a career in porn. I haven’t had that moment where the name appears to me in bright blue neon lights with a purple outline, so I’m opening it up to all my readers. I need you to help me pick my nom de plume. Thanks, everybody!
The teenage lesbian sex that Kristen Stewart and Dakota Fanning would have together is the kind of thing that would make poets weep.
Go ahead. Imagine them kissing. It is the reason the Ancient Greeks had four distinct words for love.
Feel It In My Bones
Tegan & Sara? Tiesto? Friday afternoon? Yes to all three.
I wasn’t going to say anything, but the Salinger worship is getting a bit out of hand. Honestly, people. Catcher in the Rye is basically a Judy Blume book that grew a little hair on its balls.
Before all you English majors get your panties in a twist, go pull that paperback with the red cover off your top shelf and give it a fresh look now that you’re not writing a high school book report on the significance of the elephants on Phoebe’s pajamas.
Read it with the eyes of an adult.
I think you’ll quickly realize why Salinger knew better than to let it become a movie, because it’s hard not to imagine some ineffectual little pussy like Robert Pattinson in the role of Holden Caulfield.
If you loved the book, fine. That’s great. I’m not saying it’s bad. I’m just agreeing with everyone who thinks Salinger is overrated.
I mean, come on. The guy lived for ninety-one years. He basically hit the literary lottery over a half-century ago with one little novel about teen angst. Good for him, but let’s stop confusing Salinger for guys like Vonnegut and Hemingway.
Are you F*cking Kidding Me?
I like it when Kate Miller-Heidke gets all zeitgeisty.
