WEEK IN CRAIG: ALL MEN ARE FREAKING STUPID.
 
 

Ok, first off, Earth To Reject, she needed to smile? She was in a hospital waiting room, and you think that she just needed to smile? What the hell is wrong with you? There is nothing that burns me up more than some jackass guy that I don't know walking up to me and telling me to "smile." Now, can you even imagine being in the waiting room at a hospital and having some pervy genius telling you to "smile" and that "life isn't that bad!" MORE

 
 
THE WEEKLY RUNDOWN FOR JULY 3.
 
  During a Tuesday speech, Bush said the looting and violence in Iraq "remains a challenge" but vowed to stay in Iraq until "freedom is fully established." As things stand, American taxpayers chip in $3 billion a month so soldiers can get hit by a nation of potential snipers. MORE
 
 
HAIL, HAIL, LIT-ROCK AND JIM ROLL.
 
 

For a guy who ain't a writer, Jim Roll is remarkably well known among the hip literary set. It all started last year, with the release of Jim's third album, Inhabiting the Ball. With lyrics by novelists Denis Johnson (Jesus' Son) and Rick Moody (The Ice Storm) and liner-notes by Neal Pollack it had the distinction of being the first record released by Dave Eggers' McSweeney's publishing juggernaut. MORE

 
 
A SPADE IS A SPADE: HOW TO MAKE A TRUCKER CAP OUT OF GARBAGE.
 
  Red Dog and Elvis? Shiiiit. That's like Long Beach and Compton -- now you know you in trouble! Not only are you wearing a hat made from crap, staples and melted plastic, but you're rocking two totally unrelated pop culture references simultaneously, like some crazy human race car team. MORE
 
 
LIFE AS A LOSER #162: "BILL LUMBERGH RIDES AGAIN."
 
  Friday, August 1, is Favorite Team T-Shirt or Jersey Day, where employees can wear clothing that shows their love for their hometown team. Those who do not like sports are presumably encouraged to pretend for a day, or, at the very least, claim their favorite sport is boxing and just go topless. This will, at the very least, provide an opportunity to find out which dork in the office has a Yankees jersey with his own name on the back. MORE
 
 
WEEK IN CRAIG: MISSING MISSED CONNECTIONS.
 
  Well, it's official. They've changed Missed Connections. The newly instated forums, along with stricter enforcement of the posting policies, have rendered most discussion on the Missed Connections board completely non-existent. Now nobody is talking about thongs or big penises or bad fashion choices on Missed Connections. MORE
 
 
A GRAPEFRUIT GROWS INSIDE ME: OVARIAN CYSTS ARE COMMON, EASILY TREATED, AND SCARY.
 
  The cyst had other plans. I woke up before my loathed "Social and Legal Aspects of Chemistry" class one day and felt a terrible pain on the right-front side of my abdomen. You know how it's easier to pretend everything is normal when it's not? A less stubborn person would have walked down the hall to wake a friend to take me to the health center. Instead, I went alone. MORE
 
 
THE LONG AND ARDUOUS SEARCH FOR THE END OF MISS RHEINGOLD'S TATTOO.
 
  Actually, that's where my imagination has to take over, because that's all they'll let you see on the glorious billboard stretching across Houston Street. In it Miss Rheingold sits in a bathtub full of Rheingold beer, peering over her shoulder, giving you a stare that's half-taunting, half-pissed off. It's as if she's daring you to find out where that tattoo goes, and I needed to find out where that tattoo went. MORE
 
 
CONSUMABLES: THE NEW RADIOHEAD RECORD, CLAY AIKEN, TATU AND GRANDADDY.
 
  OK, kids, listen. No matter what your parents say, you are living in a great pop era. But you keep supporting crap like Clay Aiken and you just play right into your folks' hands. He's not funky, not soulful, not meaningful, and not memorable. Kids, just because FOX tells you he's got a great voice doesn't mean he's a great singer. Now go to your room and think about what you've done. MORE
 
 
A CAMPFIRE WITHOUT WEINERS: THE BLACK TABLE LADIES WAX OFF ON SUMMER CAMP.
 
  My big lesbian fiesta happened on the last day of camp when I was fourteen years old. We had just had the obligatory last-night-of-camp bonfire, replete with lots of hugging and crying through warbly campfire renditions of "You've Got A Friend." Afterwards, all of the girls in my "village" got all weepy about going home and decided to go get naked and jump in the lake and then take a shower together. An obvious choice, for sure. MORE
 
 
PUT ON THE SUNBLOCK, JIM. THESE TEN SONGS CAN CAUSE SUNBURN.
 
  I’m a short, white woman. So, when I first walked into a record store to buy the Sizzla album, “Good Ways,” I was greeted with smirks and looks of confusion all around. What was Miss Whitey McHonkyPants doing here, looking for an album by a semi-well-known reggae artist who’s famous for his aggressive views on black oppression? I wanted one of my favorite summer songs, that's what. MORE