6 Sep

Bee a darling and get me some honey!

honey1The time has come for vis­it­ing pump­kin and apple farms. It’s like the best time of the year. The air is crisp and full of leaves. The sun is soft and the wind is slight­ly chilled. I just freak­ing love fall.

Any way, the actu­al point of this blog is to remind you that when you vis­it your local farm­stead, like Trip­ple B or Trax Farm or Soergel Orchards,  to stock up on your pump­kins and apples and hay bales, make sure you don’t for­get to add local hon­ey to your shop­ping list!

Local hon­ey isn’t just super yum­my. It is also real­ly good for you. Here’s a sto­ry from per­son­al expe­ri­ence about why I always buy local hon­ey!

My broth­er has always had TERRIBLE allergies. Like for seri­ous, his face would get all red, he couldn’t breathe, eyes were all run­ny, and some­times he even end­ed up in the hos­pi­tal. All because he was aller­gic to every­thing in the air dur­ing fall and spring.

So when some­one told us that the solu­tion was sim­ply to eat local hon­ey, we were all kind of like, yeah, that’s not going to work, because his allergies are too ter­ri­ble for a sim­ple folk rem­e­dy.

But! just on a whim, and most­ly because we real­ly love the taste of hon­ey, my broth­er start­ed eat­ing local hon­ey. Not like by the gal­lon or any­thing, just like in his morn­ing tea and with cere­al and stuff. And then fall rolled around, and we all braced for his immi­nent mucus explo­sion.…. but he didn’t explode. Sure, he was still a lit­tle itchy and watery, but his allergies were nowhere near as bad!


Hon­ey Bee SO CUTEEEE!

So, hon­ey is the answer to allergies. It’s actu­al­ly the answer to a lot of things. For instance if some­one asks you, “What is super sweet and yum­my and some­thing I should put in my mouth right now?” the answer is prob­a­bly hon­ey.

If I haven’t con­vinced you yet, may­be this will: buy­ing local hon­ey gives mon­ey to local hon­ey farm­ers, and there­fore the local hon­ey farm­ers will keep hous­ing local bees. In case you’re like liv­ing under a rock, you prob­a­bly know that every­one is pret­ty wor­ried about the dimin­ished pop­u­la­tion of hon­ey bees. There have been a mil­lion stud­ies done, and some peo­ple say we’re safe, and oth­er peo­ple say that we’re lit­er­al­ly going to die with­out bees and it’s hap­pen­ing tomor­row. Regard­less, bees are real­ly impor­tant for the envi­ron­ment. And they’re so cute and fluffy! So sup­port your local bees and buy local hon­ey!

Hap­py Hon­ey Day! 

1 Sep

Library Card Sign-up Month is here!

Back to school.  Back to school.  To prove to Dad that I’m not a fool.


It’s Sep­tem­ber, and that means it’s Library Card Sign-up Mon­th!  One of the most impor­tant school sup­plies, and life sup­plies, is a library card.  Books are expen­sive, and there’s mag­ic in the rit­u­al of going to the library.  I know I was entranced by Roald Dahl’s char­ac­ter Matil­da, who spent hours in the library delv­ing deep into sto­ries.  


When I was a child, my moth­er took me to the library reg­u­lar­ly.  It was a rit­u­al I will always asso­ciate with her.  I loved it.  The children’s sec­tion was in the base­ment and even though the ele­va­tor at my local library (don’t wor­ry it wasn’t in Pittsburgh…go to the library!) smelled like pee, I always looked for­ward to my vis­its to the library.  It always felt like a spe­cial treat.  The adult sec­tion looked so grand in com­par­ison to my dear lit­tle children’s area. 

My first library card.

My first library card.

When I got old­er I am ashamed to say I stopped going to the library.  I nev­er went to the library at my uni­ver­si­ty, most­ly because it was a giant petri dish filled with cough­ing col­lege stu­dents who still hadn’t learned to cov­er their mouths whilst sneez­ing.  That was a missed oppor­tu­ni­ty.  That library was gor­geous and had amaz­ing resources.  Ahhh hind­sight, you bitch.  This year I am deter­mined to sign up for a library card! 


If you are inter­est­ed in get­ting a card at any of the Carnegie Libraries of Pitts­burgh, there’s some things you should know.  To receive a card you must show a valid form of iden­ti­fi­ca­tion and proof of address.  You must also fill out an appli­ca­tion  There’s plen­ty you can do with your new library card. 


I’m sure I’m not the only girl to fan­ta­size about being Belle from Beau­ty and the Beast.  Belle with the beau­ti­ful library!!!  Which brings me to my next point, libraries are beau­ti­ful.



And have you heard of New Zealand’s teeny tiny libraries that con­nect iso­lat­ed com­mu­ni­ties through a shared love of books?  It’s pret­ty inter­est­ing…

2AD1F62A00000578-3174100-Puhoi_Town_Library_which_even_has_its_own_website_is_known_as_a_-a-13_1437796666176 p02yc8px


So get out there!  Go get that library card!  With a library card you can trav­el through space and time.  With the right sto­ry, you can go any­where.


24 Aug

It’s Leslie Knope’s Favorite Holiday: Waffle Day


I hope you’re eat­ing break­fast all day because it is Leslie Knope’s favorite hol­i­day: Nation­al Waf­fle Day!!!  On August 24, 1869, Cor­nelius Swarthout of Troy, New York, patent­ed the waf­fle iron (Patent num­ber 94,043 for all of you out there who still think you’re going to win Jeop­ardy one day).   In 1953, Eggo frozen waf­fles were devel­oped. Did you know that the Ancient Greeks were the first waf­fle mak­ers?  They cooked flat cakes between two met­al plates held over burn­ing embers.

I don't know Leslie, I don't know...

I don’t know Leslie, I don’t know…

Now that you know the basic his­to­ry of the waf­fle, here are some eggo-celent waf­fle quotes from the bad­dest bitch in Pawnee, Indi­ana.

We all like waffles, especially when we're in the hospital.

We all like waf­fles, espe­cial­ly when we’re in the hos­pi­tal.

We need to remem­ber what’s impor­tant in life: friends, waf­fles, work.  Or waf­fles, friends, work.  Doesn’t mat­ter, but work is third.”


Every­one should love waf­fles.  If they don’t they’re crazy.”

All waffles should be friendship wafles!

All waf­fles should be friend­ship wafles!

Leslie mea­sures time in terms of waf­fles:  “Maria, I’m going to need two hours worth of waf­fles.”

download (1)

JJ: “Sure, any­thing for my favorite cus­tomer.”
Leslie: “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
JJ: “Oh no, no.  Actu­al­ly you are my favorite.  You’ve spent over a thou­sand dol­lars last year on waf­fles alone.”

22 Aug

Vesuvius Day…reimagined!

 Explosive!  Fiery!

Explo­sive! Fiery!

In 2001 I was in six­th grade, and I wrote a short sto­ry about a girl who died in the erup­tion of Mount Vesu­vius on August 24, 79 AD.  When I found out we cel­e­brate Vesu­vius Day at Kards Unlim­it­ed, I was inspired by my six­th grade self and knew I had to write a new sto­ry.  So here it is!  Enjoy!  And if you like his­tor­i­cal fic­tion, Kit Har­ring­ton sexy-man extra­or­di­naire is in a film apt­ly named Pom­peii.  Clear­ly, he still plays some­one who knows noth­ing because his char­ac­ter doesn’t leave Pom­peii when a “moun­tain” i.e. super dan­ger­ous vol­cano, starts going all wib­bly-wob­bly.  

Steamy!  But is it best kiss material?

Steamy! But is it best kiss mate­ri­al?



10:00AM August 23, 79 AD
Dear Diary,
I am spend­ing my sum­mer in Pom­peii and I’ve just arrived!  Mount Vesu­vius is so green and beau­ti­ful I wish I could live here year round.  Pom­peii may be the lush­est and green­est place I’ve seen in all of Rome!  There are orchards and vine­yards every­where; just a tes­ta­ment to our favor in the eyes of the gods.  Although the vil­las, grand baths, and paint­ed cary­atids are love­ly, I always prefer nat­u­ral beau­ty.  The hus­tle and bustle of the work­ing class has a beau­ty all its own; anoth­er rea­son I love vaca­tion­ing here.  This city is a true melt­ing pot.  I can walk next to slaves and freemen alike.  Like work­er bees in a bee­hive, peo­ple move rhyth­mi­cal­ly, with pur­pose.  Mer­chants, man­u­fac­tur­ers, and farm­ers all work togeth­er to make this won­drous city run smooth­ly. I admire the work­ers and the slaves.  My days are so unbear­ably mind­less and bor­ing.  Although I am “noble” and wealthy, my life seems so unim­por­tant com­pared to theirs.  They live; I watch.  Even the pros­ti­tutes have a more glam­orous life than I. 


I want more than any­thing to live.  I guess I’m only six­teen, so there’s plen­ty of time.  But isn’t that always what peo­ple say before some­thing trag­ic hap­pens?  “I thought I had more time.”  Even eighty year olds on the brink of death mum­ble about think­ing they had more time.  It’s sad real­ly.  I’m so tired of wait­ing for my life to start. 

I am going to a fes­ti­val tonight with my best friend, Octavia!  She knows how to live!  Octavia has been our house ser­vant for the past eight years. I can­not believe she has been a slave her whole life.  I look for­ward to spend­ing my sum­mers with her every year.  Last year, before I left to go back to Rome, I kissed her.  I don’t know what came over me.  It just felt right.  I nev­er had a chance to talk with her about it.  Dad­dy saw and smacked me lat­er.  He said that that sort of behav­ior is for whores and serv­ing girls.  He says the only girls that do that are the ones who get paid.  It isn’t a thing prop­er girls should do.  I don’t like any of the boys in Rome.  I also don’t like that I will most like­ly be a bar­gain­ing chip for my father to gain more polit­i­cal pow­er once he decides to mar­ry me off.  With my luck it’ll be to a man just like him, but may­be even old­er.  


Dad­dy doesn’t want Octavia and I to have any sort of friend­ship.  He says that a politician’s daugh­ter should not asso­ciate with peo­ple below her sta­tion.  Dad­dy is such a social climber, soon enough I won’t be able to asso­ciate with any­one.  Moth­er doesn’t care about my friend­ship with Octavia, as long as Mother’s wine glass is full, she doesn’t care about any­thing, least of all me.


8:00AM August 23, 79 AD
Dear Diary,
Today is the day Lucre­tia final­ly arrives for the sum­mer!  This past year has been so try­ing, I’m look­ing for­ward to spend­ing some qual­i­ty time with my best friend.  I just hope her father isn’t too over­bear­ing.  I’ll just make sure his wine gob­let is over­flow­ing at all times and he’s occu­pied with the appro­pri­ate kind of flesh.  I haven’t told Lucre­tia about her father’s las­civ­i­ous ways.  I’m sure she has an idea; how could she not?  I’ve walked in on him with the sta­ble boys more times than I can count.  Some­times, I’ve even walked in on him with the hors­es.  His wife def­i­nite­ly knows; why else would she keep her­self in a con­stant stu­por?  I work in a house filled with secrets and bal­anc­ing them so that no one is the wis­er is my most impor­tant respon­si­bil­i­ty.  Lucretia’s father is the most con­trol­ling man I have ever met. 


They are decent enough peo­ple to work for though.  They nev­er abuse me, like oth­er slave own­ers have in the past, they feed me well, and, for the most part, they let me have a friend­ship with Lucre­tia.  Slaves have upward mobil­i­ty, so one day I hope they decide to grant me my free­dom.  I could also mar­ry a free­man and declare a child before the mag­is­trate, but mar­riage has nev­er been some­thing I want.  I may be a slave, but I have free­dom.  I look at Lucretia’s life and it’s more con­trolled than mine is.  Sure, she’s pro­tect­ed from a lot of ter­ri­ble things in this world, but she doesn’t have any real friends and rarely leaves her lit­tle pro­tec­tive bub­ble.


Tonight, Lucre­tia and I are going to the fes­ti­val to appease the god Vul­can.  Vul­can is the god of met­al work­ers and destruc­tion.  I hope to show her a grand time!  She kissed me before she left last year.  I’ve been think­ing about that kiss all year.  Lucre­tia has the most beau­ti­ful eyes I’ve ever seen, soft and cat-like.  That night on the dock, when she kissed me good­bye, her eyes seemed to glow like fire­flies.  Lucretia’s par­ents are hav­ing a feast before the fes­ti­val.  I will have to cook and serve, but they always get the high­est qual­i­ty food so I don’t mind. I’m expect­ing a feast of grapes, apples, figs, and fish.  Fish is a sta­ple here in Pom­peii.  Our shell mid­dens are huge!  Any­way, I should prob­a­bly get to cook­ing, if I’m going to be pre­pared for this feast. I want every­thing to be per­fect!


Noon August 23, 79 AD
Dear Diary,
It’s anoth­er rumbly day in Pom­peii.  Tremors are pret­ty com­mon here, but they are more pow­er­ful this year.  May­be it’s all in my head, but Vesu­vius also looks larg­er and the sea lev­el looks low­er. I have nev­er heard of a moun­tain grow­ing in size, so it must be in my head.  Unless of course it’s a warn­ing from the god Vul­can.  

Thanks NASA! Further proof that Vesuvius is a big ass ornery volcano.

Thanks NASA! Fur­ther proof that Vesu­vius is a big ass ornery vol­cano.

In 62 AD, I was born.  My moth­er says that Vul­can was angry because I was stub­born and wouldn’t leave her bel­ly, so he sent an earth­quake to shake me out.  The ground shook and Mother’s water broke, then I came scream­ing out!  I wish moth­er would tell more sto­ries like she used to.  Now she’s always star­ing into a gob­let of wine.  She used to be so full of life; and now, she’s dead.  I think being mar­ried to my father killed her.  She’s a walk­ing corpse, so far removed from real­i­ty she doesn’t even real­ize I’m here.  I try to take her on walks to the sea with me, but her hands shake like Vesu­vius when she’s away from her wine. 


Any­way, strange signs have been occur­ring for days.  I hope the ora­cle pre­dicts that Vul­can is pleased with Pom­peii, but it doesn’t seem like­ly.  After the earth­quake in 62 AD destroyed tem­ples, homes, and altars, peo­ple rebuilt them big­ger and grander than ever before.  This, of course, was in an effort to please Vul­can.  I don’t think the gods lis­ten any­more.  A moun­tain that rum­bles and grows in size and a shrink­ing sea can’t be good.  May­be the first earth­quake was to warn peo­ple to leave Pom­peii for good.  I love it here, but I feel uneasy.  There’s an eeri­ness about that moun­tain.


10:20 AM July 23, 2015
Dear Diary,
I have nev­er worked at such an impor­tant archae­o­log­i­cal site!  I am doc­u­ment­ing all of it!  I’m on my cook­ie break writ­ing in you!  I am so for­tu­nate to work at Pom­peii!  My aunt is in charge of an exca­va­tion group here and I was lucky enough to join.  Ever since I was a young girl, Pom­peii has fas­ci­nat­ed me.  Pom­peii is tomb and time cap­sule.  It shows how real ancient Romans lived, even the com­mon­ers.  No oth­er sites show the com­mon­ers in such an illu­mi­nat­ing light.  A trade hub filled with vaca­tion homes, the peo­ple nev­er knew they were liv­ing on an off­shoot of a lava flow.  They nev­er knew they lived inside the “death zone” around Vesu­vius.  



In 1748, a farmer found traces of Pom­peii beneath his vine­yard.  Ever since, exca­va­tions have tak­en place.  I am a descen­dent of said farmer and so is my aunt.  I guess being fas­ci­nat­ed by Pom­peii is inherit­ed!  Archae­ol­o­gists have been dig­ging through the mas­sive pile of vol­canic ash and mud for hun­dreds of years unearthing death pos­es, stat­ues, altars, vil­las, mosaics, and, my per­son­al favorite, the beau­ti­ful mar­ble cary­atids.  It’s fun­ny to think we under­stand so much about their lives from their deaths. 


We have been exca­vat­ing since ear­ly May and I found some­thing that could be one of the most impor­tant finds to date.  Even more excit­ing than find­ing out that cary­atids were paint­ed!  I have found two diaries which may con­tain firsthand accounts of the erup­tion.  I believe they belonged to two girls who lived in a vaca­tion vil­la.  We are exca­vat­ing around two bod­ies in the low­er sec­tion of the house now.  There are two shapes in the frigi­dar­i­um, rough­ly the same size lying next to each oth­er hug­ging.  It’s like they were try­ing to seek shel­ter in the coolest place imag­in­able.  They must have been burned ter­ri­bly before they died togeth­er.  I don’t know if they were best friends, lovers, or two strangers unit­ed by their con­fronta­tion of a grim and ter­ri­fy­ing death.  I can’t wait to get it trans­lat­ed.  The only firsthand account in exis­tence is by Pliny the Younger and, no offense to Pliny, but the diaries of two teenage girls would be the find of the cen­tu­ry!  


One things for sure, they were nev­er going to escape a ten mile mush­room cloud of ash and pumice that erupt­ed for twelve hours.  A giant cloud of hot ash and gas surged down Vesu­vius, engulf­ing the city and burn­ing or asphyx­i­at­ing all the peo­ple who stayed in their cel­lars.  The lethal cloud was fol­lowed by a flood of vol­canic mud and rock which buried the city.  The erup­tion last­ed three days.  The only way to sur­vive was to leave and many who tried didn’t make it out in time.  After the erup­tion, the sea retreat­ed and a tsunami rolled in.  If the gods tru­ly did favor cer­tain cities, Pom­peii and Her­cu­la­neum were not those cities.

Two lovers.

Two lovers.

20 Aug

I Sing the Body Fantastic: an Appreciation of Ray Bradbury

Look at that punim.

Look at that punim.

If we lis­tened to our intel­lect, we’d nev­er have a love affair. We’d nev­er have a friend­ship. We’d nev­er go into busi­ness, because we’d be cyn­i­cal. Well, that’s non­sense. You’ve got to jump off cliffs all the time and build your wings on the way down.”


I admit from the out­set that I am not a very good Brad­bury fan.  Brad­bury, born 22 August 1920, pub­lished at least 27 nov­els and over 600 short sto­ries (and like­ly wrote a ton more-he wrote reli­gious­ly every day for almost 70 years) and I’ve only ever read one of his books, Fahren­heit, 451 and I only thought it was ok.  One of his works that has stuck with me since I first saw it, though, is the made-for-TV movie The Elec­tric Grand­moth­er writ­ten by Brad­bury and based on his short sto­ry I Sing the Body Elec­tric (named for a Walt Whit­man poem).

The movie tells the sto­ry of a wid­ow­er and his three chil­dren who obtain an android grand­moth­er to help assuage the loss of their wife/mother.  It’s a love­ly and heart-wrench­ing sto­ry and it affect­ed me very strong­ly as a kid.  Ray real­ly knew how to hit you right in the feels, man.

Despite not hav­ing a great ground­ing in his works, I do real­ly love Ray Brad­bury for his love of and com­mit­ment to the art and craft of writ­ing.  Aspir­ing writ­ers now have so much dis­cour­ag­ing them (us) from pur­su­ing our goals that it’s great to have the moral sup­port of some­one so influ­en­tial in the field.

Thanks, Ray.

I know you’ve heard it a thou­sand times before. But it’s true – hard work pays off. If you want to be good, you have to prac­tice, prac­tice, prac­tice. If you don’t love some­thing, then don’t do it.”

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19 Aug

Happy Birthday Great Bird of the Galaxy!

Gene Roddenberry’s birth­day is August 19!  To cel­e­brate, here are nine­teen fun facts relat­ing to the creator/king of Star Trek and his enter­prise (see what I did there…enterprise.  HAH)!


  1. His first pub­lished work was about his children’s bun­nies!!!
  2. Went through Peace Offi­cer train­ing at UCLA.
    images (1)
  3. He was the first mem­ber of his fam­i­ly to earn a col­lege degree.  It was an asso­ciates in police sci­ence.
  4. One of the found­ing mem­bers of the Asso­ci­a­tion for Pro­fes­sion­al Law Enforce­ment: “We are of the opin­ion that pro­fes­sion­al ethics and prac­ti­cal police work are com­plete­ly com­pat­i­ble and we intend to meet togeth­er to pro­mote this com­pat­i­bil­i­ty.”
  5. Obtained his pilot’s license through the US Army Air Corps. 

    Gotta love a man in uniform.

    Got­ta love a man in uni­form.

  6. He wrote scripts under the pseu­do­nym “Robert Wes­ley” because a for­tune cook­ie advised that, “A change of name will bring you fame.”
  7. He flew 89 com­bat mis­sions dur­ing WWII.
  8. He passed his police sergeants exam on his first attempt.
  9. He believed all con­tem­po­rary reli­gions would dis­ap­pear by the 23rd cen­tu­ry.
  10. He was friends with Ray Brad­bury and even asked Brad­bury to write for Star Trek; unfor­tu­nate­ly Brad­bury refused.
  11. Wes­ley Crusher’s char­ac­ter was mod­eled after Rod­den­ber­ry as a teen.  (Man, he must have been an insuf­fer­able teen!) 

    "Shut up Wesley."-Said everyone ever

    Shut up Wesley.”-Said every­one ever

  12. Star Trek was cre­at­ed in 1964.  Star Trek: The Next Gen­er­a­tion was cre­at­ed in 1987.
  13. He worked for the “Pub­lic Infor­ma­tion Divi­sion” of the police as a speech­writer.
  14. He was an avid fan of the John Carter of Mars series.
  15. He was a major drug abuser which added to his health prob­lems lat­er in life.
  16. In physics, a “Rod­den­ber­ry” marks the dis­tance trav­eled at light speed dur­ing a “trav­el­er year”…whatever that means…
  17. He was an adul­ter­ous man-slut.  Sor­ry Gene, you were.
  18. Mar­t­in Luther King, Jr. and his wife were avid Trek fans!  It was one of the only pro­grams they felt com­fort­able let­ting their kids watch.
  19. In 1992, his ash­es were flown into space.
14 Aug

Steve Martin’s Birthday!


Today is Steve Martin’s 70th birth­day! He is an incred­i­ble and intel­li­gent man who can literally–I mean figuratively–do any­thing. He’s a tal­ent­ed actor, play­wright, come­di­an, writer, and musi­cian. He taught him­self to play the ban­jo at a young age, had his first child at 67, and is an ardent col­lec­tor of fine art. He has writ­ten many screen­plays, such as The Jerk and Rox­an­ne, and three excel­lent fic­tion nov­els and novel­las: Shop­girl, The Plea­sure of My Com­pa­ny, and An Object of Beau­ty (avail­able at Kards!). Just this year he won an AFI Life­time Achieve­ment Award and was induct­ed into the Amer­i­can Ban­jo Muse­um Hall of Fame. So, why not cel­e­brate the day he was born with some of his blue­grass music, All of Me (arguably one of his best films), his com­e­dy, or one of his nov­els? Or, cre­ate a drink named after him (A “steve martin(i)” per­haps? No, not that Steve Mar­tini.) to toast his exis­tence, if you’re into that sort of thing. For now, I’ll leave you with a clip from one of my favorite Steve Mar­t­in movies:

Dirty Rot­ten Scoundrels (1988)


12 Aug

Vinyl Record Day!

tumblr_nagb1xxBpP1rqb2tko1_500Some­times peo­ple call the store and ask if we sell records. We don’t, which is sad. (Although we do sell the­se real­ly awe­some bowls made from old records. Only the un-playable ones, clear­ly.) I’m not entire­ly sure why some peo­ple think that we sell records, but I’m just going to assume it’s because Vinyl is awe­some and we sell awe­some things.

A few of my favorite albums of all time are only avail­able on Vinyl. Yeah, they’re old. And not well-enough known for some­one to have ripped them from record and post­ed online for the world to have at their fin­ger­tips. I guess, I could do that myself, but why would I when I could just throw on a record and sit back and lis­ten to that pop hiss beau­ty.

If you stop in your local Bar­nes and Nobles, it’s pret­ty appar­ent that some­one is try­ing to bring records back. You can now get your favorite new hot album in vinyl for­mat, right off the press­es. And they all come with MP3 down­load codes so that you can list­ed to the album on your iPod when you don’t have time to sit down and soak in the sounds from your record play­er.

Even though records are com­ing back (ish?) there are a lot of peo­ple who get all excit­ed by my record col­lec­tion but then don’t know how to inter­act with them. I mean, if I had a dol­lar for every time some­one put their fin­gers right on one of my records or tried to stack them flat, I would still not have enough mon­ey to pay for the heart attacks that the­se inci­dents cause.

So, in hon­or of Vinyl Record Day, here are some handy Do’s and Don’t’s!

  • Do lis­ten to records often. And make sure you’re sit­ting still and pay­ing atten­tion and let­ting that heav­en­ly music stream all the way through your body like a good high.
  • Don’t put your greasy fin­gers on them, I don’t care if you JUST washed your hands. Records are del­i­cate and won­der­ful things, and you know how if you touch your face, you get acne? Well if you touch a record, you give it acne and then it skips inces­sant­ly.
  • Do show off your records to your friends. Because they need to be indoc­tri­nat­ed into the won­der of vinyl. One Of Us.
  • Don’t sit on them. I did that once when I was very small. My moth­er has still not for­given me. Nor has she thrown the pieces away.
  • Do turn the vol­ume ALL the way up. Your neigh­bors can deal. Records are pret­ty short com­pared to ‘shuf­fle all’, so it’s not like it’s going to be noisy forever!
  • Don’t just leave your favorite record on the play­er all the time because don’t you know what dust is? Dust is the thing that makes your record into just a weird flat disk that you can only use to srve pas­ta on, but not even that because there’s a hole in the mid­dle.
  • Do stack your records stand­ing up. Flat records are sad records. I mean, you wouldn’t stack cup­cakes direct­ly on top of each oth­er, would you? Records are like cup­cakes.
  • Don’t just drop that record back into the sleeve. OMG are you seri­ous. You do that one too many times, and BAM, the sleeve splits, the record hits the hard ground edge first and breaks into a mil­lion pieces like Cinderella’s poor pump­kin when those idiot horse rid­ers sav­age­ly stam­ped­ed it. Don’t be an idiot horse rid­er per­son. Slide it in gen­tly while flat.
  • Do treat own­ing records like own­ing Poke­mon. GOTTA CATCH THEM ALL.