Friday, August 29, 2008

But wait

And this one's entirely unintentional from Paul Begala, a Democratic strategist, on

"In choosing Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin to be his running mate, he is not thinking 'outside the box,' as some have said."

Yep. Outside. The. Box.

I am listening to: Heart Shaped Box - Nirvana
I am reading: Henry VIII
And I am: Rolling

Miss Alaska

Regarding McCain's pick for VP:

"It's a coup de twat."

"Great to see another woman with a 'crack' at the presidency."

I sure love this country.
I am listening to: What I Got - Sublime
I am reading: Not much
And I am: Amused

That’s great, but

“He gave a great speech last night, Hedy,” says Da this morning.

“Now do you understand why I like him?“

“He said everything we wanted to hear and more. If he can do half of what he says he can do, he’s a miracle worker. I’ll pray for him.”

“That’s great, but will you vote for him?”

“Ah. I don’t know about that.”
I am listening to: Like a Prayer - Madonna
I am reading: Neil at the Sun-Times
And I am: Happy

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Great day

"It's a great day," said the cab driver, winding his way through Chicago, helping me get to Union Station. Helping me get a little closer to home.

"It sure is," I say.

"Obama is our candidate for president," he said.

"He sure is."

I realize I can't convince any of you to vote for Obama. And that's okay.

Even if he doesn't win, tonight changed everything.
I am listening to: Obama in Denver
I am reading: Henry VIII by Margaret George
And I am: Elated

Getting it straight

Thanks for all the great comments yesterday.

My favorite was submitted by brave little Anonymous. I was really hoping someone would pick up on my disingenuous jab at McCain. Thank you. Whoever you are.

"Let me get this straight. You're not contesting that the man spent extra time in a POW camp because he refused to leap-frog other POWs and accept an out-of-sequence repatriation offer...But you are questioning his motivation for doing so? That truly saddens me."

Confession time.

I don’t actually believe that McCain passed up a Get Out of Hell Free card for political gain.

I can believe a lot of bad things about politicians – hell, John Edwards and his wife were willing to jeopardize the entire democratic process earlier this year – but I don’t believe McCain was focused on anything beyond surviving his time in Hanoi.


Here’s my point: How is what I said any different from the right-wing whack-jobs claiming Obama is a Muslim terrorist?

The fact is, both are extreme, ridiculous claims with no basis in reality or fact.

But if my pseudo-cynicism about McCain saddens you, then good. As that brainiac Bush would say, Mission Accomplished.

Because what saddens me more than anything is when people don’t bother to investigate the facts before spewing garbage about political candidates.
I am listening to: Songbird - Fleetwood Mac
I am reading: The Autobiography of Henry VIII by Margaret George
And I am: Sad, too.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Two choices

The way I see it, you have two choices: You can vote for McCain – a tired, angry old man who represents the party that plunged us into the worst economic crisis of our time, not to mention a war based on nothing but lies and greed that has killed thousands of American soldiers.

Or you can vote for Obama – an intelligent, patriotic young man who represents a break from politics as usual, a break from our disgracefully racist history, and a break from an economic policy that has helped the rich get richer over the past eight years.

But Hedy! Obama will tax the crap out of our businesses. If we don’t elect McCain, companies like mine will simply shut down.


All of the brilliant Bush/Cheney tax cuts for the wealthy and tax breaks for big business have done what for us? C’mon. They’re economic morons. Admit it.

The Republicans – who claim to really understand finances, ironically enough – have done nothing but increase our debt and lower our standard of living since they’ve been in office.

But go ahead, vote for McCain if you want more of the same.
Hedy! You call Obama patriotic when McCain is the veteran and former POW? Shameful! Show some respect!

Yes, being a veteran is the ultimate patriotic trump card, isn’t it? McCain deserves respect for the sacrifices he made for our country. No question on that.

However. Being a veteran is not the only way to define what it means to believe in your country.

Because of Obama’s history – because of his heritage – and because of his accomplishments, I believe that he understands more about what this country means to regular folks like you and me, than McCain ever could.

McCain is just like Bush. He got where he is because of his family, because of the privileged life he lead, and ultimately because of his connections (and don’t get me started on what uber-wealthy wife #2 has done for him.)

I know, I know.

As a POW, McCain could’ve used his connections to get out earlier than the rest of his men – he chose not to. Maybe because it was the right thing to do. Or maybe because he didn’t want it coming back to haunt him in his political career. We’ll never know, will we?

Obama got where he is through good old-fashioned hard work. And intelligence. And a willingness to make sacrifices to make a difference in the lives of others. He believes in everything this country stands for because he’s lived it and benefited from it and ultimately, his children will benefit from it.

Being a patriot isn’t something you can inherit. It’s not something you can assimilate by simply knowing the right people.

It’s an effort.

And as far as patriotic efforts go, McCain and Obama are more than equals.

Vote for McCain if you want more of the same.

It almost has the same ring as 'Be a Moe Ho'. I like it.
But I’m a one-issue voter, Hedy. I’m pro-life. And McCain is my man.

Okay. What has the Republican Party done for you on that issue, really?

They’ve held more sway over the Supreme Court than the Democrats, by far.

And yet Roe v. Wade still stands.

Here’s my theory: Republicans love, love, LOVE you pro-lifers because you’ll give and give and give ‘til it hurts in hopes that abortion someday will be illegal again.

It ain’t happening. As long as abortion is legal, people like you will support Republicans, who care more about being re-elected than about the Right to Life. But go ahead, continue to support these folks. Sure.

To summarize: The Republicans take your money and do nothing.

Don’t you want to at least give the Democrats a shot at taking your money for a change? Who knows what could happen? And you’d be no worse off, that’s for sure.
“I stopped forwarding you stuff about Obama so we won’t argue,” says Mom this morning.

“Like what?” I say, knowing what’s in store.

“Well, that he’s a Muslim.”


Like I asked Mom, I’ll ask all of you: Please, please focus on what the candidates say and not what others say about them.

And please, rather than relying on the endless stream of crap forwarded from people too lazy and too shortsighted to care about the truth, do your homework.

Care more about your country and your way of life than to trust it to anonymous, fear-mongering assholes who have a vested interest in keeping things just the way they are by keeping you desperate and afraid.

I would also ask that you focus on what’s really important. Things that will have a direct impact on your family, your work, your lifestyle, and ultimately your freedom.

Things like our piss-poor economy. The deficit. Our antiquated energy policy. The war in Iraq. Healthcare. The environment.

I don’t give a fig if Obama worships the God of Bacon Bits and Oreos.

Is he more capable and more committed than McCain when it comes to making a difference for you and me? Yes.

Two choices. Care enough to make the right one. Please.
I am listening to: Walk This World - Heather Nova
I am reading: Neil Steinberg
And I am: Worshiping the God of Bacon Bits and Oreos

Tuesday, August 26, 2008


She always sounds like she's reminding us to clean our room.

Whether you like Obama or you're a total Moe, you have to admit Barack's way better than Hillary.
I am listening to: "CLEAN YOUR ROOM!" Clinton
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Grateful

The way it's meant to be

When things are good, it's easy to forget how miserable you were.

Walking into the office today, I remembered that dark and dreadful feeling I'd get going to that other place. It was a smokey, dirty, depressing and dysfunctional environment. Not to mention the fear of getting screamed at for no reason every day. Hard to believe I lasted six months.

Now I walk into my clean, airy, fun, positive office -- with no worries beyond how to do more today than I did yesterday for these fine folks. Better still, we're not only growing, but thriving, in spite of the crap economy.

Since it was entirely serendipitous finding this place, I'm noodling lately on how everything happens for a reason and how (perhaps) being in this new place was meant to be.

It seems like everything finally clicked back into place when I came here. This is a feeling I've been waiting on for nearly four years.

Have you ever had that feeling? That ahhhh, sigh-filled feeling when everything goes back to being right and good again? Maybe it was when you had your first child. Maybe it was when you found your spouse. Or the right job. Or a house that finally felt like home.

That's where I am right now. And it's cool.
I am listening to: The Way Life is Supposed to Be - Bob Schneider
I am reading: Nothing much
And I am: Joyful

Monday, August 25, 2008

C’mon, how much?

“C’mon, how much you making these days?” he’d ask. “C’mon. How much? Just tell me.”

And then: “What kinda car you driving these days? C’mon, tell me. Tell me.”

My first reaction? “What difference does it make? Why is this so important to you?”

But eventually he’d wear me down, I'd wince and tell him.

It happened every six months or so – much later, I realized he’d only call after receiving a raise or promotion, or after getting a new car.

It always was important to him to know where he stood in relation to me – a twisty little competition he’d created between us since childhood that was mostly amusing but occasionally downright irritating.

We don’t speak much anymore. I’m not sure why.

But I don’t miss the competitive aspect of our relationship at all. And I wonder how happy he is, constantly measuring the 'things' in his life against others.

To me, the better questions have always been: What have you been up to? What is new? What excites you about your life? How’s your family? How are the kids? How's work?

If you’re going to count anything in life, it ought to be your blessings above all else.

What’s the rudest question anyone’s ever asked you? And how did you respond?

Beyond the whole salary/vehicle thing, here are a few more of my favorites:

Are you pregnant?
How much did your house cost?
Is that your real hair color?
How about a blow job?
Are those your real boobs?
Are you a professional?
Are you a professional? Why is that rude, Hedy?

Well. I was in a club. Dancing.

"HEY, that GUY just asked if I was a PROFESSIONAL," I yell to Nelson over the music, beaming proudly, thinking the dude meant professionally trained dancer.

"STRIPPER, Hed. He thought you were a STRIPPER."

Oh. Right. Rude.
I am listening to: Everything Counts – Depeche Mode
I am reading: Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine
And I am: Counting my blessings

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

The devil craves Vicodin, the angel takes Advil

"Would you like some Vicodin or Codeine for the pain?" asks the young and lovely Dr. Patel at Urgent Care this morning.


That would be the wily little devil camped on my right shoulder.

Now, Hedy, the Advil is working just fine. You don't need anything stronger. And do you really want the temptation of Vicodin, which Jim calls your Bitch Pills, in the house again? Remember what you went through getting off that stuff after your knee surgeries? Be smart. Be like Nancy Reagan. Say no.

Imagine harp music playing while the angel buzzing my left ear talks me down from the splendid and tempting offer for heavy drugs.

"No, thanks, the Advil is enough," I say, with a tiny bit of regret.
"Well, we almost made it two years," says Jim just now.

Yep. Injury-free for almost two years.

Tip: If you're going to fall and would like to maximize your embarrassment/horrification, do it right outside Union Station during rush hour where everyone congregates on benches.

If I hadn't been so shocked by suddenly sucking on the sidewalk, I would've leaped up and yelled "TA-DA!"

A few friendly tourists helped me up and offered me beer.

"How could you tell they were tourists?" asks Jim.

"Well, they had British accents and...they helped me up and offered me beer."

So I have a bruised bone at the base of my thumb. It's covered by a nifty black wrist brace, for broadcasting my bumbliness.

And the angel is doing back flips while the devil is flipping me off.
I am listening to: Angel to You, Devil to Me - The Click Five
I am reading: My interview with Playboy's EVP of Interactive
And I am: Taking Advil

Thursday, August 14, 2008

A jolly rogering

Here at HedyBlog, we're all about excellence in journalism.

And cock jokes.

So whether you're large or small, thick or thin, you'll say God bless Jan Vinzenz Krause, inventor of the spray-on condom.

Have you heard about this? It's called Jolly Joe.

Apparently ill-fitting condoms are the scourge of the $300 million willy wrap industry.

I seriously wouldn't know.

The closest I come (shaddap) to a condom these days is putting on the nifty rubbery case for my iPhone. It's a sick, twisted little thrill. And I do it as slowly as possible. Gently slipping the case over the hard edge, giving it a fun little snap to secure it in place...

Whew. Okay, I'm back. Sorry.

So Krause - who Time magazine compares to Edison and Ford - invented spray-on condoms.

Yep. Edison and Ford. Time Magazine.

All hell's breaking loose in Russia or Atlanta or whatever. It turns out the ancient Chinese secret is "Lie about everything, who gives a fuck, we're communists."

And leave it to Time magazine to make a headline out of protecting your cock from crotch rot.

I'm not even going to say it. It's too easy. Okay, I can't resist.

When it comes to hard news, Time is like a sore wiener: You just can't beat it.
However, all is not well in the land of the sealed penis. Apparently the latex takes two to three minutes to dry.

More than enough time for Mr. Peeper to lose his pep, if ya know what I mean.

But no worries, ladies. Krause - who says he "felt a little like MacGyver" created clever packaging so you can diddle while your dude dries. Brilliant.
Just a side note on the Olympics: We've got Tancock and Beavers fighting it out in the Men's 200-meter individual medley tonight.

Again. Excellence in journalism, folks.

I am listening to: "Beavers ends the race on top of Tancock..."
I am reading: Not much
And I am: Playing with my iPhone again

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

That's my classy wife

From: Heather
Sent: Tuesday, August 12, 2008 2:25 PM
To: Jim
Subject: Hi

Looking forward to our date tonight.
On 8/12/08 2:32 PM, "Jim" wrote:
Me too
From: Heather
Sent: Tuesday, August 12, 2008 2:35 PM
To: Jim
Subject: Re: Hi

I got my digital picture frame working finally
It’s very nice. Thank you. xoxo
On 8/12/08 2:59 PM, "Jim" wrote:
Well that’s good
From: Heather
Sent: Tuesday, August 12, 2008 3:01 PM
To: Jim
Subject: Re: Hi

Are you okay? Are you disappointed because you’re not coming downtown tonight?
On 8/12/08 3:09 PM, "Jim" wrote:
No I am in a meeting
From: Heather
Sent: Tuesday, August 12, 2008 3:11 PM
To: Jim
Subject: Re: Hi

Ahh well then fart poop shit ass piss. Ta-da!
On 8/12/08 3:15 PM, "Jim" wrote:
My laptop is on the projector
I am listening to: Pump Up the Volume - M-A-R-R-S
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Classy

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Here's the deal

Yesterday’s entry on alcoholism caused more of a stir than I imagined.

All of your great comments helped broaden my understanding of why alcoholism is, as Taxman says, ‘a strange genetic curse.’

Having grown up in a family where alcohol was literally non-existent, I can’t begin to know what it’s like living with an alcoholic.

I do know that it means a cycle of profound pain and anger and disappointment and grief for those touched by it. And I’ve seen how that deep, in-your-bones brand of hurt bruises generations because it changes people and their relationships and their view of the world.

But here’s the deal.

Anytime learning about a topic takes me from a place of anger and judgment to a place of compassion and understanding, I feel like I’m growing a bit and doing my part to become a better citizen.

I wrote on this for one reason and one reason only: Because Neil Steinberg’s book Drunkard transformed my perception of alcoholism. This is a Very Big Deal, as Mom can attest. She was shocked by what I wrote because we’ve argued repeatedly (and sometimes rather loudly) about the alcoholism/disease thing over the years.

Beyond the small miracle of changing my narrow opinion about alcoholism, Neil’s book has me assessing our family history to determine if we’re at risk of allowing it to ruin our lives. It's entirely possible. And it is frightening.

Again, I can't imagine what Neil's drinking put his wife and children through. But his book helped me understand that alcoholism isn't about wanting to hurt your spouse or family, it's about your body and your brain making it damn near impossible to avoid hurting them.

And that kind of pain is simply unimaginable.
I am listening to: Starry-Eyed Surprise - Paul Oakenfold
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Relaxed

Monday, August 11, 2008


Maybe you know someone with a drinking problem.

They’re fun – way fun – until they’ve had too much alcohol. Then they become abrasive:


Or emotional:


Or silent:

“ . . . !”

Which implies they HATE you or LOVE you – something for you to ponder whilst they’re barfing on your Blahniks.

It’s become a cliché, but the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and over again expecting different results. So why do these people keep getting hammered all the time?

Neil Steinberg’s book Drunkard helped me finally – finally! – understand alcoholism.

If you’ve known me for more than 10 minutes, you’re aware of my unhealthy yet purely intellectual crush on Neil Steinberg – brilliant, balding columnist at the Chicago Sun-Times.

But here’s what you probably don’t know: Neil is an alcoholic who got drunk and smacked his wife a few years back and spent a night in jail because of it.
I sent this email immediately after reading about the incident in, of all places, the Chicago Sun-Times:

Hi Neil,

Just thought I'd tell you: You are who I wanted to be when I grew up. Hang in there.

Heather S.

This reply came five minutes later:


A drunk who assaults his wife? Still, thank you for the kind words.

Hey Hedy. You drink. Probably more than average.

Hell yeah, I do. I’ve had three Jack and Cokes as I’m writing this.

And I’ve been known to get hammered and whip my top off in the Gulf of Mexico in broad daylight. But that happens MAYBE once a year, tops.

We’re social drinkers. We rarely drink during the week other than special dinners out and NEVER to excess. And we tend to tip a few on Fridays and/or Saturdays but RARELY to excess.

We drink to relax – and if you’ve ever been really, really, really drunk – you know it is perhaps one of the least relaxing things you can do. So we know how to manage it and keep it fun and most importantly, safe.

Here’s the difference between us and alcoholics: We never NEED to drink. We WANT to drink.

And that is precisely what puts us at the most risk for eventually becoming alcoholics.

It creeps up on you. Alcoholism.

This is one of the big lessons from Neil’s book.

One day you’re a happy go-lucky social drinker, the next day you’re snorting vodka fumes from an empty mini-bar bottle and abandoning your 9-year-old son at the library to hit the liquor store up the block. Or you’re hitting Billy Goat on Washington for a boozy little breakfast to take the edge off before walking to work.

Somehow your typical one or two glasses of wine on weeknights is no longer Nearly Enough and once you start drinking, you can't stop until you pass out in bed, waking up hung over as hell and dreading work, yet somehow itching to do it again As Soon As Possible.

It’s frightening. Disturbing. And it’s genetic.

It happened to Jim’s dad. He was a social drinker. Then he retired and started drinking every day and pretty much didn’t stop until he died. He started to need it. It changed who he was.

That was Neil. He examined his life and realized that at some point he went from wanting drinks to needing them.
“Tell me I’ll never have another drop of alcohol my whole life and it’s fine. Tell me I’ll never have Ruffles Sour Cream & Cheddar potato chips again and we’ll have a major fucking problem.”

That’s me. Still.

Yet I wonder if someday I’ll reach the point where whiskey replaces chips on Hedy’s hierarchy of needs. I wonder.
Three Jack & Cokes, Hedy? What’s up with that?

I wrote this several Wednesdays ago on the train ride home after meeting a group of former co-workers for celebratory drinks. The last time we were together the three of us were miserable and searching for new jobs.

Miraculously, we’ve all landed in delightfully pleasant places and THIS is cause for great celebration.

A three Jack & Coke celebration to be exact.
Excerpt from Drunkard:

“Have you ever looked back on a period in your life – a year, a week, an hour – and said, ‘I wish I drank more? Have you ever looked back at an event and said, ‘You know, that was fun, but I just didn’t drink enough?”

Jonathan laughs, shaking his head. “Never.”

“Exactly. So why look forward and despair at all the drinks we’re not going to have in the future when the truth is, once we’ve lived through it, we won’t miss them at all?”
Cancer is a disease. Parkinson’s is a disease,” I’d say. “Alcoholism is NOT a disease.”

I was wrong.

Reading Neil’s book helped me understand the way an alcoholic’s brain works. The compulsion to drink is a physical, genetic condition involving the CREB gene. You can read about it here.

This is going to sound insane – and you cancer survivors can beat me up about it – but I’ve come to believe alcoholics have a tougher path than people with ‘traditional’ diseases like cancer or Alzheimer’s or ALS. Perhaps it isn't fair to compare. Suffering is suffering, right? But still.

What the fuck, Hedy? Worse than a three-year-old with a brain tumor?


Here’s why: Cancer patients get treatment. They get drugs. And most importantly, they get compassion.

Alcoholics have AA. And will power. And they are essentially alone in their battle to stay sober.

Try telling a cancer patient to ‘rely on your Higher Power’ and ‘take it one day at a time’ to get healthy and they’ll tell you to Fuck Right Off.

But that’s what we tell alcoholics. And if you’re an agnostic, well, it especially sucks.

“Let me get this straight. My only hope for staying sober is to rely on some religious bullshit I stopped believing when I was 12? You’ve gotta be kidding. I need a drink.”
Of course, a lot of what’s involved with battling alcoholism is mental.

I’ve recently had the pleasure of getting to know someone who hasn’t had a drink in 15 years.

Not because he had a problem. No.

Because his father was an alcoholic. And he realized if he didn’t stop drinking completely, eventually he would have a problem, too.

So he stopped. Isn’t that cool?
Read Neil’s book if you’d like a better understanding of why alcoholics do the batshit crazy things they do. Read it if you’ve always been skeptical about Alcoholics Anonymous and the whole higher power thing.

Don’t read it if you want a juicy, emotionally charged account of Neil’s battle back to sobriety. He’s a journalist. Plus, he just ain’t that kinda guy.

And the jury’s still out if Neil is the sort of guy to stay sober.

I don’t know and I get the feeling from his book that he doesn’t know either. I do know his book helped me have a better understanding of alcoholism.
I am listening to: Rehab – Amy Winehouse
I am reading: Neil at the Sun-Times
And I am: Glad I read Drunkard by Neil Steinberg

Friday, August 08, 2008

Vote Moe

Dear Moe,

With all the whining you do, it sure seems like you’re not satisfied with your work/life these days.

I have a solution.

If there’s any justice in the world, Detroit will be needing a new mayor very soon.

You are perfect for this job.

You’re frugal. You’re a hockey fan. You certainly have the pedigree.

And you’ve been itching for an excuse to get back home to the ‘hood.

I know at least three people who’d vote for you right now. By the way you owe me $9.

Just think: You’d be able to stop all of this incessant complaining AND finally put some of your brilliant political ideas into action.

I’m sure the people of Detroit would find it refreshing to have a compassionate, generous soul like you leading their beleaguered city out of its current shit storm.

Plus, you’re always complaining about how much it costs sending your kids to that fancy-schmancy school – Detroit schools are notoriously cheap. In fact I’m pretty sure it’s the only district in the nation where wiping your ass with an outdated textbook is not only encouraged, but required.

Of course there’s the whole power/sex thing, too.

Mrs. Moe won’t be able to keep her tiny hands off you once you’re in office. (Just had an a-ha moment here: I figured out why you married a small woman – it makes Little Moe look ginormous. Nice going.)
A few thoughts on campaign slogans:

Be a ho, vote Moe!
Shaddap and vote for Moe
Moe: He ain’t black but he’s willing to learn
Vote for Moe or my buddy Degrande will kick yer ass
Moe: Cheap. Horny. White.
Moe: Not nearly as bad as that last douchebag
Moe: Too cheap for texting
Quit yer whining. That’s my job. Vote Moe.
A word of warning, though. Politics can get ugly.

Keep in mind that even seemingly small things – like leaving the American flag off your hybrid go-cart, for example – can and will be used against you. But I’m sure you know this, being such a huge fan of Fox News and Rush Limbaugh.

So whaddaya say, Moe? Mayor of Detroit.

Do it for the citizens of that sorry-ass city. Do it for your family.

But most of all do it for your faithful fans who’d love to see you quit belly-aching and actually do something for a change.


Moe: Do Something For a Change. Perfect!
I am listening to: The Star Spangled Banner
I am reading: Neil in the Sun-Times
And I am: a Moe ho

Tuesday, August 05, 2008


For you wake one day, look around and say: "Somebody wonderful married me."
I am listening to: Married - Cabaret soundtrack
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Blessed

Saturday, August 02, 2008

Mine goes to 11

Just when you think the world can't surprise you, there's this from -- ironically enough -- the Land Down Under:

Australian doctors warn against 'designer vagina' craze

I refuse to actually read the article for fear of being caught up in this muff-related mania.


Isn't keeping up on skirt lengths and hairstyles worrisome enough for us fashion-impaired types?

Now I have to think about couture for my cootchie? C'mon.
Okay, I had to read it.

And I'm all "WHEW!" and then "THAT'S CRAZY!" and then "OUCH!"

Apparently this latest craze is about surgery for 'vaginal rejuvenation, revirgination, designer vaginoplasty and G-spot amplification.'

G-spot amplification? Amplification?

Is there a knob somewhere? Does this mean there's a mute button, too? Who knew?
But Hedy, you had a boob job. Would you deny women the opportunity to improve their quality of life through surgery?

Tits are one thing. You just don't mess with the muff.
I am listening to: Pink - Who Knew
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Having t-shirts made