Nap Time News

We Report. We Throw a Tantrum. You Decide.

Tight Shots

Lena Dunham is my favorite young director. She is smart in her perversity - and has created an ensemble cast comfortable in their strange and funny improv. The result sometimes shocks and almost always amuses. You can see more of her work at pistolskillponies.com.

More than Meets the Eye

A short film. Transformers. Me. Enjoy.

The Ceramacist

Sara fell in love with a man. He was a competitor in ceramic shark sculpting competitions. And she had serious plans for him. Gutter cleaning, oil changing, take out the trash plans. But she wasn't ready for him yet. She'd have to wait until her tour of duty was over - which wouldn't be for at least another year. She said, "I've got a light inside of me that burns 100 times brighter than most street lamps. Which is 93% brighter than what's inside of most people." I agreed with her. What I disagreed with was her driving. She drove like her father's rage. He always rode in her back seat. And whenever his temper flared or his blood pressure rose, Sara would crash into something - a parked car, a median strip, a trash can. Impending accidents everywhere. Especially on her way to those shark sculpting contests. Everyone at them was very serious. They all wanted to have the most realistic, most biting ceramic shark sculpture. Sara crashed into a concrete island. And then she thought about how badly she wanted to win.

Word to the Mothers

Thank you to the Mothers, you who wipe our faces with your own spit. Thank you for the trays of cookies and teaching us how to sit. Thank you to Mother Magpie who is a bird, Mother Hubbard who always has a kind word, Mother Superior who jumped a gun, Mother Theresa who gives her all but doesn't have much fun, Mother Jones who carries an old purse, Mother Earth who quenched her baby's thirst, Mother-May-I who teaches the q's and p's, and special thanks to you, dear Mother Fucker, for showing us how to do it on our knees.

Orna-Mental Floss

I had my eyebrows threaded today. A first. And how could I say no to a new experience proposed by a large woman with hot wax at her disposal? She said it was only a dollar more than the old, hot method. And at only $8, paying to have an Uzbek woman put thread around her neck and then use it to somehow floss one's face is a real bargain. Stephania, the ironically bearded Uzbek lady, twisted and scraped and gritted her teeth - and elegantly ripped hair out of my brow into a very stylish shape. My eyebrows now echo the tamed beauty of an English garden. So it is with great enthusiasm that I recommend this technique to you, my hairy, swarthy friends.

The Wishes of Fishes

"Peculiar travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God." - Kurt Vonnegut I've been meaning to mention Peru. There were fish everywhere. Raw fish. Caught by fishermen in the morning. Brought in to the fish markets, sold, sliced and doused in the juices of lemons and limes. All to be eaten before noon. Ceviche - most heavenly food of the sea. This food has effected me deeply. Lately I traveled deep into the sea in dreams. I met a very nice fish there. We talked for while. He recommended a nice red wine, which I thought was very clever for a fish. He told me he had once been a Sommelier when he lived on the West Coast. Next I was seated at a dinner party. The table was filled with young, fashionable people. We all had lovely yellow tuna steaks on our plates. And we drank red wine. The same red selected by the fish - the very one it appeared was also being served upon the plates. The fish had chosen the wine to be had with himself. A very clever fish indeed. If wishes were made by fishes, this fish had made his last one a good one.