I saw someone wearing jellies today. Fantastic.
And in other news...my panties are in a knot. Hmph. What exactly am I supposed to say in response to shiznit like that??
"Who put me in command here?"
-Chloe's thought while practically hallucinating from lack of sleep while reading geopolitics HW.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Ughh...PSYCH! Put your pants back on. Put your pants back on.
The indian one doesn't believe that Chloe and I are being good students. Whatev. The truth is that doing homework at 4 in the morning is as good as it's going to get. The only alternative would be sleeping (or possibly just hanging out) at 4 am, having not started any work at all. Clearly, we are at least attempting to act like good students.
I don't actually know what is going on in my life. What I do know is that people who are so wholly unattached to me should probably stay out of my biz-nass. I don't stalk you and then randomly spout dumb shit about you in front of other people. Number one, because I don't give a shit about your private life. Number two, if something is obvious to you from what you observe when you STALK ME then I have probably already considered it myself and don't need you to point it out for me, thus creating an extremely awkward social situation.
Aaaand, this is for YOU Samantha and Chloe (anyone else, avert your eyes because you will not be amused): What is this shit about wiping the wrong way? Whoever says that you must wipe front to back is high. It is not anatomically sound. Think about it. Plus, I have to say this too...if men were the ones who used tampons I am positive that they would have flushable ones by now. Whoever thinks it's reasonable to put used tampons in the trash and not flush them has obviously never had a period in their life. Seriously. Are you kidding me? You can't even get it to the trash without making a huge mess. People are so high sometimes that I can't even comprehend their ridiculousness.
Don't worry. I only did the reading for one of my three classes. I would rather sit in the sun, bitches.
"I HATE Borat. He is a fucker."
-DG after searching for the Borat dvd for an hour so that she could return it at blockbuster, and finallly realizing that the burned copy with of Borat sitting on the tv, was in fact the actual dvd made to look like it was burned and had the title written with a sharpie.
I don't actually know what is going on in my life. What I do know is that people who are so wholly unattached to me should probably stay out of my biz-nass. I don't stalk you and then randomly spout dumb shit about you in front of other people. Number one, because I don't give a shit about your private life. Number two, if something is obvious to you from what you observe when you STALK ME then I have probably already considered it myself and don't need you to point it out for me, thus creating an extremely awkward social situation.
Aaaand, this is for YOU Samantha and Chloe (anyone else, avert your eyes because you will not be amused): What is this shit about wiping the wrong way? Whoever says that you must wipe front to back is high. It is not anatomically sound. Think about it. Plus, I have to say this too...if men were the ones who used tampons I am positive that they would have flushable ones by now. Whoever thinks it's reasonable to put used tampons in the trash and not flush them has obviously never had a period in their life. Seriously. Are you kidding me? You can't even get it to the trash without making a huge mess. People are so high sometimes that I can't even comprehend their ridiculousness.
Don't worry. I only did the reading for one of my three classes. I would rather sit in the sun, bitches.
"I HATE Borat. He is a fucker."
-DG after searching for the Borat dvd for an hour so that she could return it at blockbuster, and finallly realizing that the burned copy with of Borat sitting on the tv, was in fact the actual dvd made to look like it was burned and had the title written with a sharpie.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
"Insufferable Man"
I've watched Pride and Prejudice so many times now that when I read the book I can't help but hear the actors' dialogue in my head. The same voices and intonation and everything. It's not really a problem, I don't think I could've done better with just my own imagination while reading, but I've never experienced anything quite like it. More than anything, I think it's a testament to the accuracy of the movie and its loyalty to the text.
And the story is so perfect. I honestly don't think I've ever seen/heard/read anything with better plot, character development, wit and tension.
I had an incredibly disturbing-sounding dream this morning right before my dad woke me up at the crack of dawn (in Seattle time) for church. It involved me fighting with my med school roommate because he made some unsupported generalizing comment about Democrats and how we all support people like Al Sharpton. It was pretty realistic, because my med school roommate tends to make slightly patronizing generalizations all the time, and I can imagine one randomly sending me over the edge in the near future. But then, the dream took a typical veer away from reality (I hope) when he slowly and purposefully cut me on my palm with the knife he was chopping food with...twice. And the third time I did it myself, and then started crying and was hugged by the one I have history with.
Then, I was woken up and got into the shower and promptly cut myself quite deeply with a razor--by accident, of course--just above each ankle. It still hurts.
What it made me think about, though, was how one day he (not the med school one, the other) is going to wake up and be completely alone and without friends and wonder how it happened. It happened when you were unceasingly unconcientious, and always took without giving back. We all put up with you, and those of us who have considered you an friend for awhile now don't want to lose you, because we're loyal and we care about you and can remember having fun with you on several occasions. However, the complete indifference you show to most of us on a regular basis will drive us away eventually. And, like I told you already, if you die of cancer I will not attend your funeral. You think I'm joking, but I'm not. It would just be another case of you disappointing me as a friend. And I know that if you heard all this right now you would just write it and me off and say that you don't care and don't consider me a friend anyway. Sadly, I know that that is not true. You do not have that many friends or even acquaintences, and I know who you depend on for emotional support when things get tough. I am your friend, because I have been there for you more than you EVER were for me....even when my best friend died. I am not saying that I want you to end up old and alone, but inevitably one day, the way you take your friends for granted will bite you in the ass. And I would be very curious to know how you will react when that day comes. I would say, "don't come crying to me when it happens," but that's a lie. I'm the kind of doormat friend who will always be there for them no matter how horribly someone treats me (friends, not boyfriends...simportant distinction) because I get overly attached and can't bear to see anyone unhappy. But, because you're so proud, I doubt very much that you will come crying to me. You will probablly find an unsuspecting girl to attach yourself to, and hopefully you'll be able to hang onto her without smothering her (you treat girlfriends quite the opposite of the way you treat your friends). If you do lose her, just don't commit suicide, because that level of emo-ness is beyond even you, dear.
*Here when I refer to suicide as emo, I am not making commentary on all suicides, just those that are inspired by depression of being dumped.
"An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. --Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do."
-Volume 1, Chapter 20, pg. 78
And the story is so perfect. I honestly don't think I've ever seen/heard/read anything with better plot, character development, wit and tension.
I had an incredibly disturbing-sounding dream this morning right before my dad woke me up at the crack of dawn (in Seattle time) for church. It involved me fighting with my med school roommate because he made some unsupported generalizing comment about Democrats and how we all support people like Al Sharpton. It was pretty realistic, because my med school roommate tends to make slightly patronizing generalizations all the time, and I can imagine one randomly sending me over the edge in the near future. But then, the dream took a typical veer away from reality (I hope) when he slowly and purposefully cut me on my palm with the knife he was chopping food with...twice. And the third time I did it myself, and then started crying and was hugged by the one I have history with.
Then, I was woken up and got into the shower and promptly cut myself quite deeply with a razor--by accident, of course--just above each ankle. It still hurts.
What it made me think about, though, was how one day he (not the med school one, the other) is going to wake up and be completely alone and without friends and wonder how it happened. It happened when you were unceasingly unconcientious, and always took without giving back. We all put up with you, and those of us who have considered you an friend for awhile now don't want to lose you, because we're loyal and we care about you and can remember having fun with you on several occasions. However, the complete indifference you show to most of us on a regular basis will drive us away eventually. And, like I told you already, if you die of cancer I will not attend your funeral. You think I'm joking, but I'm not. It would just be another case of you disappointing me as a friend. And I know that if you heard all this right now you would just write it and me off and say that you don't care and don't consider me a friend anyway. Sadly, I know that that is not true. You do not have that many friends or even acquaintences, and I know who you depend on for emotional support when things get tough. I am your friend, because I have been there for you more than you EVER were for me....even when my best friend died. I am not saying that I want you to end up old and alone, but inevitably one day, the way you take your friends for granted will bite you in the ass. And I would be very curious to know how you will react when that day comes. I would say, "don't come crying to me when it happens," but that's a lie. I'm the kind of doormat friend who will always be there for them no matter how horribly someone treats me (friends, not boyfriends...simportant distinction) because I get overly attached and can't bear to see anyone unhappy. But, because you're so proud, I doubt very much that you will come crying to me. You will probablly find an unsuspecting girl to attach yourself to, and hopefully you'll be able to hang onto her without smothering her (you treat girlfriends quite the opposite of the way you treat your friends). If you do lose her, just don't commit suicide, because that level of emo-ness is beyond even you, dear.
*Here when I refer to suicide as emo, I am not making commentary on all suicides, just those that are inspired by depression of being dumped.
"An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. --Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do."
-Volume 1, Chapter 20, pg. 78
Saturday, March 24, 2007
UCLA in the Final Four
I just saw Shooter. The one with Marky Mark of the Funky Bunch. It was ace actually....chock full of liberal commentary, so I naturally ate it up. I particularly liked how in one of the first scenes of the movie, they enter into a CIA office to have an incredibly corrupt discussion and the picture that is in the background as they enter the room is the Gipper himself. Any movie that rightly aligns Ronald Reagan with a murderous, renegade CIA is fine by me.
My father's criticism of the movie was that with the current political climate it is just too easy to make it believable that a politician of that level could wield so much under-the-table influence. I don't quite understand what he was getting at, but it sounds to me more like a criticism of the current political climate. My only question about the movie was whether it is worth it to kill that many people in self defense. Believe me, even though I say I am a pacifist, I am all for the use of extreme violence if someone is trying to kill you. But at what point is it okay to shoot, stab, and blow up tens and tens of officers who are coming to kill you? At that point is seems like you are making a statement that your life is worth more than all the lives you are taking. I'm not saying that he should have just laid down his life to avoid conflict, especially when most of the people trying to kill him were completely corrupt, it just seems a little destructive.
What is also destructive is cancer. I know this probably sounds incredibly trite and not worth mentioning at all, but it is truly shocking how many people are affected by cancer. I bet every single person I know has known someone who had it, has it, or died from it. It's odd because, I think most people are like I was when I thought about cancer before this year. Yes, it's scary and everything, but it doesn't seem that terrifying because you always hear about radiation treatment and cancer survivors and doctors being able to fix everything. But they can't. And with cancer, nobody knows what the fuck to do. People are literally dropping like flies and we have no cure. Elizabeth Edwards, Olive, Tiger Woods' dad, my little sister's best friend and her twin, the women's college basteball coach who just died, my dad's best friend, the Jewish one's dad, Chloe's aunt. I know this doesn't really make a point, because it's just random people that I've heard of or have known, but it astonishes me, because I never considered it such a deadly problem for so many people. But it is. And we have Ronald Reagan to thank for preventing us getting a jump start on necessary stem cell research into a cure for cancer. Biatch.
Me: "My pet peeve is when basketball players can't make their free throws."
My dad: "I know. If they can't make their free throws, they shouldn't be allowed to have tattoos."
My mom: "Or facial hair....or underwear."
Me: "Are they allowed to wear thongs still, then?"
My mom: "Only on the outside of their clothing."
My father's criticism of the movie was that with the current political climate it is just too easy to make it believable that a politician of that level could wield so much under-the-table influence. I don't quite understand what he was getting at, but it sounds to me more like a criticism of the current political climate. My only question about the movie was whether it is worth it to kill that many people in self defense. Believe me, even though I say I am a pacifist, I am all for the use of extreme violence if someone is trying to kill you. But at what point is it okay to shoot, stab, and blow up tens and tens of officers who are coming to kill you? At that point is seems like you are making a statement that your life is worth more than all the lives you are taking. I'm not saying that he should have just laid down his life to avoid conflict, especially when most of the people trying to kill him were completely corrupt, it just seems a little destructive.
What is also destructive is cancer. I know this probably sounds incredibly trite and not worth mentioning at all, but it is truly shocking how many people are affected by cancer. I bet every single person I know has known someone who had it, has it, or died from it. It's odd because, I think most people are like I was when I thought about cancer before this year. Yes, it's scary and everything, but it doesn't seem that terrifying because you always hear about radiation treatment and cancer survivors and doctors being able to fix everything. But they can't. And with cancer, nobody knows what the fuck to do. People are literally dropping like flies and we have no cure. Elizabeth Edwards, Olive, Tiger Woods' dad, my little sister's best friend and her twin, the women's college basteball coach who just died, my dad's best friend, the Jewish one's dad, Chloe's aunt. I know this doesn't really make a point, because it's just random people that I've heard of or have known, but it astonishes me, because I never considered it such a deadly problem for so many people. But it is. And we have Ronald Reagan to thank for preventing us getting a jump start on necessary stem cell research into a cure for cancer. Biatch.
Me: "My pet peeve is when basketball players can't make their free throws."
My dad: "I know. If they can't make their free throws, they shouldn't be allowed to have tattoos."
My mom: "Or facial hair....or underwear."
Me: "Are they allowed to wear thongs still, then?"
My mom: "Only on the outside of their clothing."
ACC, get out my grill
Pac-10 3
Big 10 1
ACC 1
That’s right. Maybe if people in the East Coast (including all the commentators in the US) actually stayed up one night late enough to watch a Pac-10 game, they would see that West Coast is where it’s at for basketball talent, especially this year. Instead, they fawn so much over the “power conference” teams that I would expect their courts to be covered in roses. My dad scrawled the Pac-10 vs Big 10 and ACC tally in the dust on our car, but my mom made him wipe it off because we thought we might get shot at now that we’re in NRA country. Every other car either has a bible verse, a NRA sticker, or a Bush 04 sticker, so you know these people are dangerous. We actually passed a few cars with gun racks too. That was when we knew we had to hold my dad back even more. Like when he was upset when a car cut him off and was going to go know on their window and have a go at them when we all were stopped at a stop light. It wasn't a pick-up or anything, but better censored than lynched, right?
Seriously though. I like the South apart from the raging lunacy that is displayed by the conservative bumper stickers. Every single person you pass on the street smiles and says hi, which actually makes for very warm and fuzzy feelings all around. It is a step up from the indifference you encounter in Seattle and ten steps up from Baltimore’s pure hostility. These people don’t want to enslave me, they just want to be my friend! No, I know that’s not true. But I could totally live in a place like Savannah (which in addition to rhyming with my name, is GORGEOUS and warm), and just not interact with the crazies. I can find a liberal enclave, I am sure. I saw people biking, which combined with their Timbuktu messenger bags, screams liberal.
Besides, John Grisham is from the South. And I like him.
USC lost their Sweet 16 game an hour ago which was a dagger through my heart. But I will survive as long UCLA or Oregon makes it to the Final Four. I’m counting on UCLA. I am even at this exact moment in time wearing my Nate Robinson underwear as a Pac-10 good luck charm for tomorrow’s game against Kansas.
Big 10 1
ACC 1
That’s right. Maybe if people in the East Coast (including all the commentators in the US) actually stayed up one night late enough to watch a Pac-10 game, they would see that West Coast is where it’s at for basketball talent, especially this year. Instead, they fawn so much over the “power conference” teams that I would expect their courts to be covered in roses. My dad scrawled the Pac-10 vs Big 10 and ACC tally in the dust on our car, but my mom made him wipe it off because we thought we might get shot at now that we’re in NRA country. Every other car either has a bible verse, a NRA sticker, or a Bush 04 sticker, so you know these people are dangerous. We actually passed a few cars with gun racks too. That was when we knew we had to hold my dad back even more. Like when he was upset when a car cut him off and was going to go know on their window and have a go at them when we all were stopped at a stop light. It wasn't a pick-up or anything, but better censored than lynched, right?
Seriously though. I like the South apart from the raging lunacy that is displayed by the conservative bumper stickers. Every single person you pass on the street smiles and says hi, which actually makes for very warm and fuzzy feelings all around. It is a step up from the indifference you encounter in Seattle and ten steps up from Baltimore’s pure hostility. These people don’t want to enslave me, they just want to be my friend! No, I know that’s not true. But I could totally live in a place like Savannah (which in addition to rhyming with my name, is GORGEOUS and warm), and just not interact with the crazies. I can find a liberal enclave, I am sure. I saw people biking, which combined with their Timbuktu messenger bags, screams liberal.
Besides, John Grisham is from the South. And I like him.
USC lost their Sweet 16 game an hour ago which was a dagger through my heart. But I will survive as long UCLA or Oregon makes it to the Final Four. I’m counting on UCLA. I am even at this exact moment in time wearing my Nate Robinson underwear as a Pac-10 good luck charm for tomorrow’s game against Kansas.
Spring Break '07
Let’s be honest. This Spring Break trip theme is not so much “plantation-hopping” as it is “Phoebe eats ribs across America”. Yum.
It turns out that plantations are not exactly the spice of life. They’re gorgeous, yes. But you would think that when touring a former plantation, the focus would be on the legacy of slavery that the place depended on, right? Wrong. We went to a plantation called Middleton Place yesterday and I swear to God, the only mention of slaves we heard was one sentence during the house tour where the guide was explaining that slaves could carry a slave tag when traveling to work on other plantations for a day where they could earn money to buy their freedom. Well, hot dog! Exploitation? Who said anything about exploitation?
As for the Union soldiers, those demons from hell burnt down the Middleton’s main house. You can tell that most of the Middleton Place Foundation volunteers think that the Union soldiers should be tarred and feathered for their crimes against humanity. Gosh darn it, the Middletons worked so hard on their acres and acres of beautiful gardens, for it all to be ruined in the name of war. Of course, here, they all seem to be forgetting that the point of the war (for some) was to end the free labor that the Middleton’s gardens and rice fields depended on. The Middletons, you can tell, are a fucking bright bunch too. They owned over 20 plantations and couldn’t even think of something to grow on this plantation until they got some slaves there and watched the slaves grow rice for themselves. So they decided, meh, let’s make that into a cash crop.
Plantation touring is overall a weird experience. If you are into learning about slave-owner family legacies I would highly recommend it, but if you’re looking for something more legit-feeling you might not be super pleased. Although, the baby animals (lambs, bunnies, ducklings, turtles, 6-foot long alligators, etc.) were adorable and made the experience pretty enjoyable by themselves. My dad was upset to hear that we didn’t take a turtle home from the plantation with us. He has this idea that we will get a turtle and then the zany one of our cats, Roo, can ride it about the house.
The ribs are wonderful. I love ribs. I haven’t eaten them for about a year, just because I never have the occasion, but I am making up for lost time this Spring Break. It is a tiny bit awkward when we go around the table and my mom orders shrimp, my sister orders soup, my dad orders salad and I go for the half-rack of babyback ribs, but worth it in the end. At the last place, even the cute southern waiter kid was laughing at me. He had the thickest drawling accent and my mom whispered conspiratorially “I think he’s from around here”. My sister, ever the princess of sarcasm, retorted “No mom, he actually bikes all the way to South Carolina everyday to wait on people.” We called her Stormy when she was a toddler. Just wait until she hits high school.
She’s kind of funny sometimes. I appreciate it, when she isn’t giving me a 30-minute backseat telethon on the joys of press-and-seal wrap in the car. I got that today, between Charleston and Lynchburg, and now I know how to make the pillow, the seat cover, and the noises.
“What does ‘dora’ mean? It’s at the end of so many girl’s names that it must mean something. You know, like *******…Nymphadora…”
-My sister. She was irate when we called her Turtledora for the rest of the day.
It turns out that plantations are not exactly the spice of life. They’re gorgeous, yes. But you would think that when touring a former plantation, the focus would be on the legacy of slavery that the place depended on, right? Wrong. We went to a plantation called Middleton Place yesterday and I swear to God, the only mention of slaves we heard was one sentence during the house tour where the guide was explaining that slaves could carry a slave tag when traveling to work on other plantations for a day where they could earn money to buy their freedom. Well, hot dog! Exploitation? Who said anything about exploitation?
As for the Union soldiers, those demons from hell burnt down the Middleton’s main house. You can tell that most of the Middleton Place Foundation volunteers think that the Union soldiers should be tarred and feathered for their crimes against humanity. Gosh darn it, the Middletons worked so hard on their acres and acres of beautiful gardens, for it all to be ruined in the name of war. Of course, here, they all seem to be forgetting that the point of the war (for some) was to end the free labor that the Middleton’s gardens and rice fields depended on. The Middletons, you can tell, are a fucking bright bunch too. They owned over 20 plantations and couldn’t even think of something to grow on this plantation until they got some slaves there and watched the slaves grow rice for themselves. So they decided, meh, let’s make that into a cash crop.
Plantation touring is overall a weird experience. If you are into learning about slave-owner family legacies I would highly recommend it, but if you’re looking for something more legit-feeling you might not be super pleased. Although, the baby animals (lambs, bunnies, ducklings, turtles, 6-foot long alligators, etc.) were adorable and made the experience pretty enjoyable by themselves. My dad was upset to hear that we didn’t take a turtle home from the plantation with us. He has this idea that we will get a turtle and then the zany one of our cats, Roo, can ride it about the house.
The ribs are wonderful. I love ribs. I haven’t eaten them for about a year, just because I never have the occasion, but I am making up for lost time this Spring Break. It is a tiny bit awkward when we go around the table and my mom orders shrimp, my sister orders soup, my dad orders salad and I go for the half-rack of babyback ribs, but worth it in the end. At the last place, even the cute southern waiter kid was laughing at me. He had the thickest drawling accent and my mom whispered conspiratorially “I think he’s from around here”. My sister, ever the princess of sarcasm, retorted “No mom, he actually bikes all the way to South Carolina everyday to wait on people.” We called her Stormy when she was a toddler. Just wait until she hits high school.
She’s kind of funny sometimes. I appreciate it, when she isn’t giving me a 30-minute backseat telethon on the joys of press-and-seal wrap in the car. I got that today, between Charleston and Lynchburg, and now I know how to make the pillow, the seat cover, and the noises.
“What does ‘dora’ mean? It’s at the end of so many girl’s names that it must mean something. You know, like *******…Nymphadora…”
-My sister. She was irate when we called her Turtledora for the rest of the day.
D-E-N-I-A-L
T minus 41 days
Candy Apple Red Nail Polish
15 lbs.
An aversion to serious music…or at least a lack of real connection to it.
These are things that have changed about me since Olive died. Not much. But the bigger things that have changed are too difficult to articulate, not because they’re too difficult for me to talk about but because the change was too gradual and too difficult to pinpoint.
Sometimes I wonder why nobody ever talks to me about her. Does nobody know? My other half disappeared from the earth almost a year ago. Does it seem like I’m perfectly all right? And even more than that, is no one at all curious what it’s like to lose the person you are closest to in the whole world?
I wish someone would ask. Because it’s odd. It’s not as sad or as lonely as I thought it would be. It is literally like she just vanished, and now I use memories to remind myself that she once existed. This girl who I spent all my time with. Whose name became synonymous with mine to the ears of nearly everybody we knew. We had the same tendencies and reactions. We were both shy, but exuberant. We liked Savage Garden and being introspective. We liked acting. We were extremely silly. We hated being taken for granted. We always felt the same things at the same time. We never ever liked the same boys. We were both warm people, but whenever we hugged each other it was sort of awkward. The kind of awkward hug where both the people are really skinny, instead of one of the people being relatively cuddly. It’s hard to explain, but though we never talked about it, I am sure she would have known exactly what I mean, and we would have laughed at the fact that we both recognized it separately and someone finally brought it up.
We were also different. She was flexible. I was most definitely not. Physically, that is. She also had a more flexible demeanor and was more conscientious. Whenever there was any tension between us—and mind you, this would always be unspoken, and never developed into an actual fight…there were NEVER any fights between us, which I have never experienced with any other friend—she would attempt to resolve it and could not rest until everything was perfect again, and she had restored our emotional chi.
How odd it is, that the person my life was based solidly around for years, is gone and I am still emotionally intact. I don’t feel sad on a day-to-day basis. And I don’t constantly think of her. What should I do, though? How are you supposed to act? You move on. Because you can’t go back. Not to be all metaphorical, but it is literally like that chapter of my life is closed for good. And so I am living in a completely new book. Maybe when more time passes I’ll be able to look back at the Life With Olive book, and slip into memories without apprehension. But for now, the extent of my reminiscing about that time is restricted to what I write in here.
Candy Apple Red Nail Polish
15 lbs.
An aversion to serious music…or at least a lack of real connection to it.
These are things that have changed about me since Olive died. Not much. But the bigger things that have changed are too difficult to articulate, not because they’re too difficult for me to talk about but because the change was too gradual and too difficult to pinpoint.
Sometimes I wonder why nobody ever talks to me about her. Does nobody know? My other half disappeared from the earth almost a year ago. Does it seem like I’m perfectly all right? And even more than that, is no one at all curious what it’s like to lose the person you are closest to in the whole world?
I wish someone would ask. Because it’s odd. It’s not as sad or as lonely as I thought it would be. It is literally like she just vanished, and now I use memories to remind myself that she once existed. This girl who I spent all my time with. Whose name became synonymous with mine to the ears of nearly everybody we knew. We had the same tendencies and reactions. We were both shy, but exuberant. We liked Savage Garden and being introspective. We liked acting. We were extremely silly. We hated being taken for granted. We always felt the same things at the same time. We never ever liked the same boys. We were both warm people, but whenever we hugged each other it was sort of awkward. The kind of awkward hug where both the people are really skinny, instead of one of the people being relatively cuddly. It’s hard to explain, but though we never talked about it, I am sure she would have known exactly what I mean, and we would have laughed at the fact that we both recognized it separately and someone finally brought it up.
We were also different. She was flexible. I was most definitely not. Physically, that is. She also had a more flexible demeanor and was more conscientious. Whenever there was any tension between us—and mind you, this would always be unspoken, and never developed into an actual fight…there were NEVER any fights between us, which I have never experienced with any other friend—she would attempt to resolve it and could not rest until everything was perfect again, and she had restored our emotional chi.
How odd it is, that the person my life was based solidly around for years, is gone and I am still emotionally intact. I don’t feel sad on a day-to-day basis. And I don’t constantly think of her. What should I do, though? How are you supposed to act? You move on. Because you can’t go back. Not to be all metaphorical, but it is literally like that chapter of my life is closed for good. And so I am living in a completely new book. Maybe when more time passes I’ll be able to look back at the Life With Olive book, and slip into memories without apprehension. But for now, the extent of my reminiscing about that time is restricted to what I write in here.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
"Mess with me and you mess with the entire trailer park."
I knew that we had finally hit a southern state yesterday when we stopped for lunch and the people at Subway took a full 20 minutes to make two sandwiches for us. I swear to God, its faster in the HUB...and there, you have to wait in a 10 person line before you can even order.
Myrtle Beach, South Carolina has been a bundle of fun. I don't actually particularly like the place, and I like the people here even less, but it turns out that the older I get, the more I appreciate the hilarity that is my mother, father and sister. Today, after having breakfast at the crack of noon, during which I was called "darlin" more times than I have ever been called it before put together, we jetted off to a sort of outdoor mall/kid-attraction development. The kind of thing that reminds you of Wild Waves with all of its have-fun-in-a-super-fake-place glory. The best part was when we went into one of those beyond hokey t-shirt stores that have literally hundreds of shirts saying things like "Facebook friend request reject" and "I couldn't figure out why the frisbee kept getting bigger and bigger, and then...it hit me." The fabulous part was that my dad bought me one of the most ridiculous ones under the condition that I would actually wear it around campus. I'm pretty much psyched about it.
Funniest family moment: after leaving a candy store my mother mentions that they had free fudge samples and my sister gasps and charges headlong back into the store to claim hers. As soon as my dad registers the conversation and realizes that he is missing out on a free fudge nugget he turns around and follows my sister back into the store at a full-on jog, knocking aside two members of the enormous cheerleading convention that is apparently in town who were exiting. When he came back outside to find me on the ground after snorting my fudge and spitting it all over the ground laughing at him, he defended himself with "Those cheerleaders were clearly confused about which way they were going, so I was just helping them to the side of the walkway."
Next we played the most excellent game of miniature golf that I have ever engaged in. The course was a piece of waterfall-covered, island extravagance, complete with sea monsters in the water and different levels that all the holes were on. On the highest level you could see out far over the water. In my last 8 shots I got a hole-in-one every other time too, which made the entire experience even more noteworthy. Usually, my golf skills are only as good as Dick Cheney is congeneal. And, to top it all off, playing golf in South Carolina holds special significance because SC was the location of the first game of golf in the United States. Booyakasha.
What's weird, though, is that I've seen a maximum of 10 black people since we passed Virginia, not counting my dad. I thought there were supposed to be a lot of African'Americans in the South. Although, granted, if I were fully black, I would NOT be living in a place where the Confederate flag can be seen flying even more often than the American flag (which is nearly everywhere).
“And I want to tell you, ladies and gentlemen, that there’s not enough troops in the Army to force the Southern people to break down segregation and admit the nigger race into our theatres, into our swimming pools, into our homes and into our churches.”
-Strom Thurmond, July 17, 1948
Lovely man, produced by the great state of South Carolina, and representing them in the U.S. Senate from '54 to 2003.
Myrtle Beach, South Carolina has been a bundle of fun. I don't actually particularly like the place, and I like the people here even less, but it turns out that the older I get, the more I appreciate the hilarity that is my mother, father and sister. Today, after having breakfast at the crack of noon, during which I was called "darlin" more times than I have ever been called it before put together, we jetted off to a sort of outdoor mall/kid-attraction development. The kind of thing that reminds you of Wild Waves with all of its have-fun-in-a-super-fake-place glory. The best part was when we went into one of those beyond hokey t-shirt stores that have literally hundreds of shirts saying things like "Facebook friend request reject" and "I couldn't figure out why the frisbee kept getting bigger and bigger, and then...it hit me." The fabulous part was that my dad bought me one of the most ridiculous ones under the condition that I would actually wear it around campus. I'm pretty much psyched about it.
Funniest family moment: after leaving a candy store my mother mentions that they had free fudge samples and my sister gasps and charges headlong back into the store to claim hers. As soon as my dad registers the conversation and realizes that he is missing out on a free fudge nugget he turns around and follows my sister back into the store at a full-on jog, knocking aside two members of the enormous cheerleading convention that is apparently in town who were exiting. When he came back outside to find me on the ground after snorting my fudge and spitting it all over the ground laughing at him, he defended himself with "Those cheerleaders were clearly confused about which way they were going, so I was just helping them to the side of the walkway."
Next we played the most excellent game of miniature golf that I have ever engaged in. The course was a piece of waterfall-covered, island extravagance, complete with sea monsters in the water and different levels that all the holes were on. On the highest level you could see out far over the water. In my last 8 shots I got a hole-in-one every other time too, which made the entire experience even more noteworthy. Usually, my golf skills are only as good as Dick Cheney is congeneal. And, to top it all off, playing golf in South Carolina holds special significance because SC was the location of the first game of golf in the United States. Booyakasha.
What's weird, though, is that I've seen a maximum of 10 black people since we passed Virginia, not counting my dad. I thought there were supposed to be a lot of African'Americans in the South. Although, granted, if I were fully black, I would NOT be living in a place where the Confederate flag can be seen flying even more often than the American flag (which is nearly everywhere).
“And I want to tell you, ladies and gentlemen, that there’s not enough troops in the Army to force the Southern people to break down segregation and admit the nigger race into our theatres, into our swimming pools, into our homes and into our churches.”
-Strom Thurmond, July 17, 1948
Lovely man, produced by the great state of South Carolina, and representing them in the U.S. Senate from '54 to 2003.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Bitch and a half.
Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, oh my goodness. Small emotional crisis RIGHT NOW!
I hate endings so much. I never understand it. I look forward to the end of the quarter so much because I get so overloaded, especially when I work plus take 20 credits, that I would decombust if it dragged on too long. And then its all over, and its a relief, even though I always wish I had studied harder, edited more and showed up to class on time. But after fully 30 MINUTES of relief, I get depressed. I hate ending things. Even hard things like game theory. And how am I supposed to enjoy Spring Break when it is THE LAST SPRING BREAK OF MY LIFE!!! Where has my life gone??? I am only 19. That's the same age as some COLLEGE FRESHMAN!!!! Who decided that I should have to graduate and lose all my friends and move away to who knows where and be lonely and stressed out this early in my life? Oh, wait that was me at 16 deciding to FUCKING GO TO COLLEGE! I can't just leave my UW bubble this early? I'm not mature enough for this. [insert mom from the Parent Trap voice right there]
I am SO concerned.
I like college.
It's not fair.
What will I do with my life....as in like NEXT YEAR!!! Don't lie, I know I won't be able to be BFF with my friends who are friends right now. It doesn't work like that when you are NOT IN THE SAME COUNTRY AS THEM! And, yes, I'm excited about the prospect of going to South Africa and braving the risk of getting raped by a random person who has a 1 in 4 chance of having AIDS and higher considering the people who are rapists probably are more likely to have contracted HIV during their sexploits. But, I'm excited for the future me to do that one day. As in one day when I'm at least 21 years old, maybe. And maybe I will just curl up in my lovely Pink House that other people are trying to rent for next year. BOO!!! You won't throw as good parties as us, just because you are getting a good party house. Good parties will LEAVE as soon as I leave this University.
And what if I don't get into an excellent law school. I can't HANDLE mediocrity.
God help me. I think I am destined for sadness, disappointment, and everything in the end of the middle of a Jane Austen novel. Except that I won't have a happy ending that ends in love because NOBODY LOVES ME THAT I AM INTERESTED IN BECAUSE I AM A DORK AND MY LIFE IS ENDING WHEN I LEAVE COLLEGE, BECAUSE WHAT IS THERE LEFT TO DO????? I don't know!!! I need a plan. And you know what?! Joshua Johnson does NOT count as a plan. That is some off limits shit that we are not even going to go into right now. We never can again, actually, because Olive was the only one who ever understood that clusterfuck of a 6-year shenangigan. What am I going to do?
Apparently I'm destined for motherhood, because I'm a Cancer...but wait, you need a FUCKING PARTNER for that (pun intended, bitches). WhatEVER.
What is happening in my life???? Damn it. Why are all my friends gone for Spring Break already or still in finals. I need hardcore distraction. March Madness would suffice, except for the fact that the Huskies didn't even make it into the NCAA tournament on the bubble. My life has become so meaningless.
Hmmm. Duke is on. But I don't even like watching theeeem anymore because they're not fun to hate since JJ "panties in a permanent knot" Reddick isn't there to whine and drain 3's anymore.
Oh fabulous. UCLA is on and it might all work out. I can be bohemian next year, right? Pac-10 represent. THis East Coast bias is bullshit, and I feel like this is our year to prove ourselves even if the Huskies won't have our chance at the Final Four.
"Ending a relationship with a Cancer is like giving up your baby for adoption."
...I'm not talking about boy/girl-relationships, but everything from friendships to my relationship with game theory.
I hate endings so much. I never understand it. I look forward to the end of the quarter so much because I get so overloaded, especially when I work plus take 20 credits, that I would decombust if it dragged on too long. And then its all over, and its a relief, even though I always wish I had studied harder, edited more and showed up to class on time. But after fully 30 MINUTES of relief, I get depressed. I hate ending things. Even hard things like game theory. And how am I supposed to enjoy Spring Break when it is THE LAST SPRING BREAK OF MY LIFE!!! Where has my life gone??? I am only 19. That's the same age as some COLLEGE FRESHMAN!!!! Who decided that I should have to graduate and lose all my friends and move away to who knows where and be lonely and stressed out this early in my life? Oh, wait that was me at 16 deciding to FUCKING GO TO COLLEGE! I can't just leave my UW bubble this early? I'm not mature enough for this. [insert mom from the Parent Trap voice right there]
I am SO concerned.
I like college.
It's not fair.
What will I do with my life....as in like NEXT YEAR!!! Don't lie, I know I won't be able to be BFF with my friends who are friends right now. It doesn't work like that when you are NOT IN THE SAME COUNTRY AS THEM! And, yes, I'm excited about the prospect of going to South Africa and braving the risk of getting raped by a random person who has a 1 in 4 chance of having AIDS and higher considering the people who are rapists probably are more likely to have contracted HIV during their sexploits. But, I'm excited for the future me to do that one day. As in one day when I'm at least 21 years old, maybe. And maybe I will just curl up in my lovely Pink House that other people are trying to rent for next year. BOO!!! You won't throw as good parties as us, just because you are getting a good party house. Good parties will LEAVE as soon as I leave this University.
And what if I don't get into an excellent law school. I can't HANDLE mediocrity.
God help me. I think I am destined for sadness, disappointment, and everything in the end of the middle of a Jane Austen novel. Except that I won't have a happy ending that ends in love because NOBODY LOVES ME THAT I AM INTERESTED IN BECAUSE I AM A DORK AND MY LIFE IS ENDING WHEN I LEAVE COLLEGE, BECAUSE WHAT IS THERE LEFT TO DO????? I don't know!!! I need a plan. And you know what?! Joshua Johnson does NOT count as a plan. That is some off limits shit that we are not even going to go into right now. We never can again, actually, because Olive was the only one who ever understood that clusterfuck of a 6-year shenangigan. What am I going to do?
Apparently I'm destined for motherhood, because I'm a Cancer...but wait, you need a FUCKING PARTNER for that (pun intended, bitches). WhatEVER.
What is happening in my life???? Damn it. Why are all my friends gone for Spring Break already or still in finals. I need hardcore distraction. March Madness would suffice, except for the fact that the Huskies didn't even make it into the NCAA tournament on the bubble. My life has become so meaningless.
Hmmm. Duke is on. But I don't even like watching theeeem anymore because they're not fun to hate since JJ "panties in a permanent knot" Reddick isn't there to whine and drain 3's anymore.
Oh fabulous. UCLA is on and it might all work out. I can be bohemian next year, right? Pac-10 represent. THis East Coast bias is bullshit, and I feel like this is our year to prove ourselves even if the Huskies won't have our chance at the Final Four.
"Ending a relationship with a Cancer is like giving up your baby for adoption."
...I'm not talking about boy/girl-relationships, but everything from friendships to my relationship with game theory.
Courtesy of Mitch, the Aquarius.
Word of the week: intractable.
"Can't a guy smell some thongs now and then?!"
-the indignant B-hawk, who was indeed smelling Samantha's underwear that she left in the dryer. At least they were clean, right?
"Can't a guy smell some thongs now and then?!"
-the indignant B-hawk, who was indeed smelling Samantha's underwear that she left in the dryer. At least they were clean, right?
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Fuck the South
I hate being underage I hate being underage I hate being underage.
I can hardly handle it when I'm in the house all alone. Especially when just a little bit ago there were people swarming all around. And then they ALL disappear to do 21-ish things. I think they do feel somewhat bad for me. B-Hwk was trying to talk with me about how he missed J-Mu's cabin too. And the Jewish one was rubbing my head. I was feeling particularly weird because I took a renegade nap at 8 o'clock and at 9:30 I woke up from a scary nightmare involving my father and the ASUW President who convinced me that this little floor vaccuum cleaner robot was trying to get me. Sounds dumb, but it was quite scary and I'm upset that I had to be alone in our huge house after going through that.
Luckily, though, exactly an hour and a half later, when I had resorted to watching Phil of the Future to cover up my sad/scared mood, EVERYone burst back into the house. Mitch and I wrote passive aggressive notes to put on the thermostat about people constantly turning down the heat, and the Jewish one complained about how Mitch farting recently has completely ruined the idea of girls as sex objects for him. Mitch actually got all riled up and was like "that is SO ignorant!" It was amusing.
It's too bad that I suck at life, cannot study, and will fail my game theory final on Thursday.
Also disappointing is that Hillary Clinton apparently campaigned for Barry Goldwater back in the day. I hope that it was in the 70's or something like that and she was HIGH. That would make it not as bad.
T minus 3 days, and I will be in THE SOUTH!!!!!!
"Fuck the South. Fuck 'em. We should have let them go when they wanted to leave. But no, we had to kill half a million people so they'd stay part of our special Union. Fighting for the right to keep slaves - yeah, those are states we want to keep.
And now what do we get? We're the fucking Arrogant Northeast Liberal Elite? How about this for arrogant: the South is the Real America? The Authentic America. Really?
Cause we fucking founded this country, assholes. Those Founding Fathers you keep going on and on about? All that bullshit about what you think they meant by the Second Amendment giving you the right to keep your assault weapons in the glove compartment because you didn't bother to read the first half of the fucking sentence? Who do you think those wig-wearing lacy-shirt sporting revolutionaries were? They were fucking blue-staters, dickhead. Boston? Philadelphia? New York? Hello? Think there might be a reason all the fucking monuments are up here in our backyard?
No, No. Get the fuck out. We're not letting you visit the Liberty Bell and fucking Plymouth Rock anymore until you get over your real American selves and start respecting those other nine amendments. Who do you think those fucking stripes on the flag are for? Nine are for fucking blue states. And it would be 10 if those Vermonters had gotten their fucking Subarus together and broken off from New York a little earlier. Get it? We started this shit, so don't get all uppity about how real you are you Johnny-come-lately "Oooooh I've been a state for almost a hundred years" dickheads. Fuck off.
Arrogant? You wanna talk about us Northeasterners being fucking arrogant? What's more American than arrogance? Hmmm? Maybe horsies? I don't think so. Arrogance is the fucking cornerstone of what it means to be American. And I wouldn't be so fucking arrogant if I wasn't paying for your fucking bridges, bitch.
All those Federal taxes you love to hate? It all comes from us and goes to you, so shut up and enjoy your fucking Tennessee Valley Authority electricity and your fancy highways that we paid for. And the next time Florida gets hit by a hurricane you can come crying to us if you want to, but you're the ones who built on a fucking swamp. "Let the Spanish keep it, it’s a shithole," we said, but you had to have your fucking orange juice.
The next dickwad who says, "It’s your money, not the government's money" is gonna get their ass kicked. Nine of the ten states that get the most federal fucking dollars and pay the least... can you guess? Go on, guess. That’s right, motherfucker, they're red states. And eight of the ten states that receive the least and pay the most? It’s too easy, asshole, they’re blue states. It’s not your money, assholes, it’s fucking our money. What was that Real American Value you were spouting a minute ago? Self reliance? Try this for self reliance: buy your own fucking stop signs, assholes.
Let’s talk about those values for a fucking minute. You and your Southern values can bite my ass because the blue states got the values over you fucking Real Americans every day of the goddamn week. Which state do you think has the lowest divorce rate you marriage-hyping dickwads? Well? Can you guess? It’s fucking Massachusetts, the fucking center of the gay marriage universe. Yes, that’s right, the state you love to tie around the neck of anyone to the left of Strom Thurmond has the lowest divorce rate in the fucking nation. Think that’s just some aberration? How about this: 9 of the 10 lowest divorce rates are fucking blue states, asshole, and most are in the Northeast, where our values suck so bad. And where are the highest divorce rates? Care to fucking guess? 10 of the top 10 are fucking red-ass we're-so-fucking-moral states. And while Nevada is the worst, the Bible Belt is doing its fucking part.
But two guys making out is going to fucking ruin marriage for you? Yeah? Seems like you're ruining it pretty well on your own, you little bastards. Oh, but that's ok because you go to church, right? I mean you do, right? Cause we fucking get to hear about it every goddamn year at election time. Yes, we're fascinated by how you get up every Sunday morning and sing, and then you're fucking towers of moral superiority. Yeah, that's a workable formula. Maybe us fucking Northerners don't talk about religion as much as you because we're not so busy sinning, hmmm? Ever think of that, you self-righteous assholes? No, you're too busy erecting giant stone tablets of the Ten Commandments in buildings paid for by the fucking Northeast Liberal Elite. And who has the highest murder rates in the nation? It ain't us up here in the North, assholes.
Well this gravy train is fucking over. Take your liberal-bashing, federal-tax-leaching, confederate-flag-waving, holier-than-thou, hypocritical bullshit and shove it up your ass.
And no, you can't have your fucking convention in New York next time. Fuck off."
-FucktheSouth.com
Some of the most beautiful prose I have ever read in my life. I wish this person would become the liberal version of Ann Coulter so that Democrats could represent with a fucking backbone....except our version wouldn't be such an evil Soulless bitch.
I can hardly handle it when I'm in the house all alone. Especially when just a little bit ago there were people swarming all around. And then they ALL disappear to do 21-ish things. I think they do feel somewhat bad for me. B-Hwk was trying to talk with me about how he missed J-Mu's cabin too. And the Jewish one was rubbing my head. I was feeling particularly weird because I took a renegade nap at 8 o'clock and at 9:30 I woke up from a scary nightmare involving my father and the ASUW President who convinced me that this little floor vaccuum cleaner robot was trying to get me. Sounds dumb, but it was quite scary and I'm upset that I had to be alone in our huge house after going through that.
Luckily, though, exactly an hour and a half later, when I had resorted to watching Phil of the Future to cover up my sad/scared mood, EVERYone burst back into the house. Mitch and I wrote passive aggressive notes to put on the thermostat about people constantly turning down the heat, and the Jewish one complained about how Mitch farting recently has completely ruined the idea of girls as sex objects for him. Mitch actually got all riled up and was like "that is SO ignorant!" It was amusing.
It's too bad that I suck at life, cannot study, and will fail my game theory final on Thursday.
Also disappointing is that Hillary Clinton apparently campaigned for Barry Goldwater back in the day. I hope that it was in the 70's or something like that and she was HIGH. That would make it not as bad.
T minus 3 days, and I will be in THE SOUTH!!!!!!
"Fuck the South. Fuck 'em. We should have let them go when they wanted to leave. But no, we had to kill half a million people so they'd stay part of our special Union. Fighting for the right to keep slaves - yeah, those are states we want to keep.
And now what do we get? We're the fucking Arrogant Northeast Liberal Elite? How about this for arrogant: the South is the Real America? The Authentic America. Really?
Cause we fucking founded this country, assholes. Those Founding Fathers you keep going on and on about? All that bullshit about what you think they meant by the Second Amendment giving you the right to keep your assault weapons in the glove compartment because you didn't bother to read the first half of the fucking sentence? Who do you think those wig-wearing lacy-shirt sporting revolutionaries were? They were fucking blue-staters, dickhead. Boston? Philadelphia? New York? Hello? Think there might be a reason all the fucking monuments are up here in our backyard?
No, No. Get the fuck out. We're not letting you visit the Liberty Bell and fucking Plymouth Rock anymore until you get over your real American selves and start respecting those other nine amendments. Who do you think those fucking stripes on the flag are for? Nine are for fucking blue states. And it would be 10 if those Vermonters had gotten their fucking Subarus together and broken off from New York a little earlier. Get it? We started this shit, so don't get all uppity about how real you are you Johnny-come-lately "Oooooh I've been a state for almost a hundred years" dickheads. Fuck off.
Arrogant? You wanna talk about us Northeasterners being fucking arrogant? What's more American than arrogance? Hmmm? Maybe horsies? I don't think so. Arrogance is the fucking cornerstone of what it means to be American. And I wouldn't be so fucking arrogant if I wasn't paying for your fucking bridges, bitch.
All those Federal taxes you love to hate? It all comes from us and goes to you, so shut up and enjoy your fucking Tennessee Valley Authority electricity and your fancy highways that we paid for. And the next time Florida gets hit by a hurricane you can come crying to us if you want to, but you're the ones who built on a fucking swamp. "Let the Spanish keep it, it’s a shithole," we said, but you had to have your fucking orange juice.
The next dickwad who says, "It’s your money, not the government's money" is gonna get their ass kicked. Nine of the ten states that get the most federal fucking dollars and pay the least... can you guess? Go on, guess. That’s right, motherfucker, they're red states. And eight of the ten states that receive the least and pay the most? It’s too easy, asshole, they’re blue states. It’s not your money, assholes, it’s fucking our money. What was that Real American Value you were spouting a minute ago? Self reliance? Try this for self reliance: buy your own fucking stop signs, assholes.
Let’s talk about those values for a fucking minute. You and your Southern values can bite my ass because the blue states got the values over you fucking Real Americans every day of the goddamn week. Which state do you think has the lowest divorce rate you marriage-hyping dickwads? Well? Can you guess? It’s fucking Massachusetts, the fucking center of the gay marriage universe. Yes, that’s right, the state you love to tie around the neck of anyone to the left of Strom Thurmond has the lowest divorce rate in the fucking nation. Think that’s just some aberration? How about this: 9 of the 10 lowest divorce rates are fucking blue states, asshole, and most are in the Northeast, where our values suck so bad. And where are the highest divorce rates? Care to fucking guess? 10 of the top 10 are fucking red-ass we're-so-fucking-moral states. And while Nevada is the worst, the Bible Belt is doing its fucking part.
But two guys making out is going to fucking ruin marriage for you? Yeah? Seems like you're ruining it pretty well on your own, you little bastards. Oh, but that's ok because you go to church, right? I mean you do, right? Cause we fucking get to hear about it every goddamn year at election time. Yes, we're fascinated by how you get up every Sunday morning and sing, and then you're fucking towers of moral superiority. Yeah, that's a workable formula. Maybe us fucking Northerners don't talk about religion as much as you because we're not so busy sinning, hmmm? Ever think of that, you self-righteous assholes? No, you're too busy erecting giant stone tablets of the Ten Commandments in buildings paid for by the fucking Northeast Liberal Elite. And who has the highest murder rates in the nation? It ain't us up here in the North, assholes.
Well this gravy train is fucking over. Take your liberal-bashing, federal-tax-leaching, confederate-flag-waving, holier-than-thou, hypocritical bullshit and shove it up your ass.
And no, you can't have your fucking convention in New York next time. Fuck off."
-FucktheSouth.com
Some of the most beautiful prose I have ever read in my life. I wish this person would become the liberal version of Ann Coulter so that Democrats could represent with a fucking backbone....except our version wouldn't be such an evil Soulless bitch.
1. You chew your gum too vigorously
What? Study game theory...for the biggest final of your life?
No, thank you.
Oh, watch 10 Things I Hate About You and eat pizza and drink Mike's Hard Lemonade?
Yes, pleeease.
"Chastity: I know you can be under whelmed, and you can be overwhelmed, but can you ever just be, like, whelmed?
Bianca: I think you can in Europe. "
-10 Things
That is like me and the word ness. Well, the word-ending ness.
No, thank you.
Oh, watch 10 Things I Hate About You and eat pizza and drink Mike's Hard Lemonade?
Yes, pleeease.
"Chastity: I know you can be under whelmed, and you can be overwhelmed, but can you ever just be, like, whelmed?
Bianca: I think you can in Europe. "
-10 Things
That is like me and the word ness. Well, the word-ending ness.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Put the Lime in the Coconut
The ebola seems to be leaving my system, and I am entirely grateful.
My parents are really dolls. Today they ordered me Chinese food from Baltimore. (That's where they were, not where the food was from.) I hope that if I ever have kids, I will be as nice to them as my parents are to me. Except if I ever get angry at them when they're little, I hope that I don't twist their ears, because that hurts like hell.
I finished my China paper, which I am quite pleased about. 7 pages single-spaced, bitches. Except tomorrow I have to edit 1.5 of those pages completely away. Hmmm. C'est la vie. It wasn't even that painful to write, because I interspersed it with movies. The last Lord of the Rings (extended version, no less), the end of Mission Impossible II, and a History Channel segment on Jonestown. Lord of the Rings made me sad....watch the very end and tell me that you don't feel like crying. They're finally safe, but they can never go back to the lives they used to have, and any life they do have now will feel empty because they have no purpose in life like they used to. Watching the Jonestown bit with B-Hawk was also interesting. It reminded me of how that kid has broken every blender he's ever touched. I remember last year he was making some mixed drink at a polisci party and all of a sudden he's there with his finger on the go button and the thing starts smoking, and he doesn't even stop. And this year as soon as he moved in he broke Samantha's blender. I decided that all curses aside, our house needs a blender, and I am going to bring one back from Spring Break. I am sure that I can convince my parents that a blender would be a positive thing to invest in for me. And B-Hawk will not be able to touch it. I don't know how that relates to Jonestown....maybe the connection between cyanide laced kool-aid and mixed drinks.
If I had a blender I would eat nothing but smoothies. And my leftover Chinese food.
"Phoebe is the kind of girl that I want to marry."
-This is the statement that made me smoke my first and only cigarette. The smoking plan backfired, but everything was okay in the end anyway.
My parents are really dolls. Today they ordered me Chinese food from Baltimore. (That's where they were, not where the food was from.) I hope that if I ever have kids, I will be as nice to them as my parents are to me. Except if I ever get angry at them when they're little, I hope that I don't twist their ears, because that hurts like hell.
I finished my China paper, which I am quite pleased about. 7 pages single-spaced, bitches. Except tomorrow I have to edit 1.5 of those pages completely away. Hmmm. C'est la vie. It wasn't even that painful to write, because I interspersed it with movies. The last Lord of the Rings (extended version, no less), the end of Mission Impossible II, and a History Channel segment on Jonestown. Lord of the Rings made me sad....watch the very end and tell me that you don't feel like crying. They're finally safe, but they can never go back to the lives they used to have, and any life they do have now will feel empty because they have no purpose in life like they used to. Watching the Jonestown bit with B-Hawk was also interesting. It reminded me of how that kid has broken every blender he's ever touched. I remember last year he was making some mixed drink at a polisci party and all of a sudden he's there with his finger on the go button and the thing starts smoking, and he doesn't even stop. And this year as soon as he moved in he broke Samantha's blender. I decided that all curses aside, our house needs a blender, and I am going to bring one back from Spring Break. I am sure that I can convince my parents that a blender would be a positive thing to invest in for me. And B-Hawk will not be able to touch it. I don't know how that relates to Jonestown....maybe the connection between cyanide laced kool-aid and mixed drinks.
If I had a blender I would eat nothing but smoothies. And my leftover Chinese food.
"Phoebe is the kind of girl that I want to marry."
-This is the statement that made me smoke my first and only cigarette. The smoking plan backfired, but everything was okay in the end anyway.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Clearly, I have the HIV
I can't remember the last time I was this sick. It's scary to me when I cough and it feels like there is fully a half-cup of liquid in my lungs. And it burns so much when I try to get it out.
Last night I woke up shaking from a nightmare that wouldn't seem scary to anybody but me. And even once I was awake, I thought that Olive (or rather, her ghost) was in my room. It was a full minute before I could get myself to look over my comforter and confirm that the thing by the door was in fact my Japanese lantern, and not the spirit of my dead best friend.
And on that note, Lord of the Rings made me cry tonight. It wasn't at any of the traditional sad parts either. At the end of the first movie, after Sam catches up to Frodo who was intending to set out alone, Frodo turns to Sam and says "Sam, I am glad that you are with me." It's very lovely and the whole point is that Frodo and Sam are meant to be on this journey together. Well, it made me sad. Because sometimes things just don't work out. And what are you supposed to do if the way things were meant to be is not how they ended up?
"Frodo: It's a pity Bilbo didn't kill him when he had the chance.
Gandalf: Pity? It was pity that stayed Bilbo's hand. Many that live deserve death. Some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them, Frodo? Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment. Even the very wise cannot see all ends."
-Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
Last night I woke up shaking from a nightmare that wouldn't seem scary to anybody but me. And even once I was awake, I thought that Olive (or rather, her ghost) was in my room. It was a full minute before I could get myself to look over my comforter and confirm that the thing by the door was in fact my Japanese lantern, and not the spirit of my dead best friend.
And on that note, Lord of the Rings made me cry tonight. It wasn't at any of the traditional sad parts either. At the end of the first movie, after Sam catches up to Frodo who was intending to set out alone, Frodo turns to Sam and says "Sam, I am glad that you are with me." It's very lovely and the whole point is that Frodo and Sam are meant to be on this journey together. Well, it made me sad. Because sometimes things just don't work out. And what are you supposed to do if the way things were meant to be is not how they ended up?
"Frodo: It's a pity Bilbo didn't kill him when he had the chance.
Gandalf: Pity? It was pity that stayed Bilbo's hand. Many that live deserve death. Some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them, Frodo? Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment. Even the very wise cannot see all ends."
-Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
Thursday, March 8, 2007
Swing Low
"Close your eyes and picture a convict standing in front of you. They're wearing baggy pants and a backwards baseball hat and saying something regular like 'fo shizzle'.
Now open your eyes. Were you picturing a black person?
Because that was a white woman. Shame on you."
-The Office
I'm convinced that Hillary can't win. Puh-lease. Don't go to the South and talk to a church full of blacks and say "nobody ever said that this road awould be easy to walk" blah, blah, blah. It may be a long road, but as a white woman who is worth millions I highly doubt that she is actually walking that particular road, and so it's a pretty bitch move to explain to people who are "walking that road" that nobody ever told them it would be easy. Yes, Jon Stewart made fun of Obama too, but guess what? Obama can pull that shit off.
I was in a meeting today where people were discussing whether U-PASSes will be able to be tracked in the future, and the possible implications for privacy violations and one of the professors says "Well, I don't think it would be good if for instance they could say, 'Oh look, he traveled down to his ex-wife's house a half an hour before she was murdered in her bed.'" And then the whole room was silent for a second, and then everyone started laughing and he goes "Not that I have those issues or anything." It was pretty much hilarious.
I'm sick and gross. I need to sleep.
"You look exotic. Was your father a G.I.?"
-The Office
Now open your eyes. Were you picturing a black person?
Because that was a white woman. Shame on you."
-The Office
I'm convinced that Hillary can't win. Puh-lease. Don't go to the South and talk to a church full of blacks and say "nobody ever said that this road awould be easy to walk" blah, blah, blah. It may be a long road, but as a white woman who is worth millions I highly doubt that she is actually walking that particular road, and so it's a pretty bitch move to explain to people who are "walking that road" that nobody ever told them it would be easy. Yes, Jon Stewart made fun of Obama too, but guess what? Obama can pull that shit off.
I was in a meeting today where people were discussing whether U-PASSes will be able to be tracked in the future, and the possible implications for privacy violations and one of the professors says "Well, I don't think it would be good if for instance they could say, 'Oh look, he traveled down to his ex-wife's house a half an hour before she was murdered in her bed.'" And then the whole room was silent for a second, and then everyone started laughing and he goes "Not that I have those issues or anything." It was pretty much hilarious.
I'm sick and gross. I need to sleep.
"You look exotic. Was your father a G.I.?"
-The Office
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Eleanor Roosevelt was full of shit.
I would rather have a teen pregnancy than get a tapeworm.
Granted, I shouldn't compare a baby to a parasite. However, tapeworms are temporary, require less of a time commitment (even into taking account the surgery to get one removed), and do not change your entire life. And I would still prefer a baby. Hands down.
My house is full of ridiculous girls. Between four of us we have two ten page papers, one two-page and a four page paper due tomorrow. As of 10 pm, only one of us had started writing, and yet we all sat down to watch Lost, the Daily Show and the Colbert Report. Digging yourself into a pit of law/grad school rejects, seems more acceptable if everyone else is doing it. And, to be fair, the Colbert Report was uncharacteristically funny tonight even apart from our utter giddiness.
Amusing thought: Robert says that he always assumed that when I have strands of hair dangling outside of ponytails/half ponies that it is an intentional style thing. I suppose other people think that too. It is actually just a mistake that I am too busy to rectify in my rush to get to class. Today I actually ran part of the way to game theory I was so late. But then, my professor only talked for HALF AN HOUR out of a two-hour review session because we stopped asking questions. Fuck me. So, sickness and all, I went and stood outside the HUB and tabled for an hour and a half. I am the queen of making incredibly poor choices.
On the subject of poor choices, I agree with Jon Stewart that Robert Novak is an ENORMOUS FUCKING DOUCHEBAG. He is further proof to me that most journalists are scum of the earth and look down on the rest of the earth from pedestals made from the ruined lives of undeserving people (like Valerie Plame...and only partially-ruined life, in her case). Deep throat represents the way that investigative journalism should be. Novak getting into bed with the Bush administration represents the way that it most often is.
"Noone can make you feel you inferior without your own consent."
-Eleanor Roosevelt...I think she may have actually said " no man". Still, I don't buy it. When I go on my Spring Break plantation-hopping tour, I will tell the museum people that I think that slaves only felt inferior to their supressors because they themselves made the choice to feel that way. Ha! We'll see how that goes. And even if I did believe a tiny bit of the quotation's intended meaning, I don't think there is ever a circumstance when you could share that bit of insight with a person who is feeling inferior and have any hope of improving the situation.
Granted, I shouldn't compare a baby to a parasite. However, tapeworms are temporary, require less of a time commitment (even into taking account the surgery to get one removed), and do not change your entire life. And I would still prefer a baby. Hands down.
My house is full of ridiculous girls. Between four of us we have two ten page papers, one two-page and a four page paper due tomorrow. As of 10 pm, only one of us had started writing, and yet we all sat down to watch Lost, the Daily Show and the Colbert Report. Digging yourself into a pit of law/grad school rejects, seems more acceptable if everyone else is doing it. And, to be fair, the Colbert Report was uncharacteristically funny tonight even apart from our utter giddiness.
Amusing thought: Robert says that he always assumed that when I have strands of hair dangling outside of ponytails/half ponies that it is an intentional style thing. I suppose other people think that too. It is actually just a mistake that I am too busy to rectify in my rush to get to class. Today I actually ran part of the way to game theory I was so late. But then, my professor only talked for HALF AN HOUR out of a two-hour review session because we stopped asking questions. Fuck me. So, sickness and all, I went and stood outside the HUB and tabled for an hour and a half. I am the queen of making incredibly poor choices.
On the subject of poor choices, I agree with Jon Stewart that Robert Novak is an ENORMOUS FUCKING DOUCHEBAG. He is further proof to me that most journalists are scum of the earth and look down on the rest of the earth from pedestals made from the ruined lives of undeserving people (like Valerie Plame...and only partially-ruined life, in her case). Deep throat represents the way that investigative journalism should be. Novak getting into bed with the Bush administration represents the way that it most often is.
"Noone can make you feel you inferior without your own consent."
-Eleanor Roosevelt...I think she may have actually said " no man". Still, I don't buy it. When I go on my Spring Break plantation-hopping tour, I will tell the museum people that I think that slaves only felt inferior to their supressors because they themselves made the choice to feel that way. Ha! We'll see how that goes. And even if I did believe a tiny bit of the quotation's intended meaning, I don't think there is ever a circumstance when you could share that bit of insight with a person who is feeling inferior and have any hope of improving the situation.
Pink House PJ Party
My house was adorable tonight. I think the nice weather made us cuter roommies. And it was all thanks to me being sick and wanting to sit around all night. I somehow convinced six of the roommates to procrastinate with me and watch Cruel Intentions. It was lovely (in addition to the fact that we were watching one of the hottest movies ever made).
It's funny how everyone in the house buys food in cycles. We all seem to always have the same things, because one person will get them and share a bit, and then everyone else wants their own and runs out grocery shopping. At the beginning of the year, it was hummus. There were literally eight things of Athenos hummus floating around in our fridges. Next it was the Trader Joe's hummus quartet, of which we definitely had three. Then, Noah's bagels became the thing we all had to have (and we still do). Same with the Trader Joe's potstickers, but then we decided that Ling Ling's are much easier to make. We didn't even talk about it, but all of a sudden our freezer is now filled with at least 5 bags of them. Currently, the food of the week is the masala flavored naan from Trader Joe's. Basically we are devout Trader Joe's shoppers, and that is probably the number one thing to be drawn from this.
Watching Cruel Intentions tonight reminded me of Winston. I remember watching it with him at Mykonos. And in the scene where Reese Witherspoon unbuttons her shirt, he said something about how Ryan Phillippe shouldn't go for her because she was a fatty and Jennifer Love Hewitt was so much hotter. First of all, that is so far from the truth. Second of all, yes, he was half-joking, but he definitely said judgmental shit like that sometimes. I am a firm believer in recalling the good and bad about someone when you remember them. It's more honest that way. And, it means more when you can still love them anyway.
I'm worried about B-hawk. He's started smoking, because he's so distraught over his girlfriend dumping him. She was a nice girl and all, but she has started being such a colossal bitch to him that there is absolutely no reason to risk a 1 in 11 chance of lung cancer by picking up a dirty dirty habit like that. If this leads to his death, I am going to have something to say to that girl. I mean, I've made guys feel led on and dumped them quickly too, but not after that long of a relationship and after she said some of the things that she did. I hope I am never that nonchalant about hurting anyone's feelings ever. Getting out of a relationship is any girl's prerogative, but there is never a reason to make someone feel even more like shit after you've dumped them. Seriously, stay classy, San Diego.
"Eat me Sebastian. It's all right for guys like you and Court to fuck everyone, but when I do it, I get dumped for innocent little twits like Cecile. God forbid, I exude confidence and enjoy sex. Do you think I relish the fact that I have to act like Mary Sunshine 24/7 so I can be considered a lady? I'm the Marsha fucking Brady of the upper east side and sometimes I want to kill myself. How's that for a physco analysis Dr. Freud?"
-Cruel Intentions
It's funny how everyone in the house buys food in cycles. We all seem to always have the same things, because one person will get them and share a bit, and then everyone else wants their own and runs out grocery shopping. At the beginning of the year, it was hummus. There were literally eight things of Athenos hummus floating around in our fridges. Next it was the Trader Joe's hummus quartet, of which we definitely had three. Then, Noah's bagels became the thing we all had to have (and we still do). Same with the Trader Joe's potstickers, but then we decided that Ling Ling's are much easier to make. We didn't even talk about it, but all of a sudden our freezer is now filled with at least 5 bags of them. Currently, the food of the week is the masala flavored naan from Trader Joe's. Basically we are devout Trader Joe's shoppers, and that is probably the number one thing to be drawn from this.
Watching Cruel Intentions tonight reminded me of Winston. I remember watching it with him at Mykonos. And in the scene where Reese Witherspoon unbuttons her shirt, he said something about how Ryan Phillippe shouldn't go for her because she was a fatty and Jennifer Love Hewitt was so much hotter. First of all, that is so far from the truth. Second of all, yes, he was half-joking, but he definitely said judgmental shit like that sometimes. I am a firm believer in recalling the good and bad about someone when you remember them. It's more honest that way. And, it means more when you can still love them anyway.
I'm worried about B-hawk. He's started smoking, because he's so distraught over his girlfriend dumping him. She was a nice girl and all, but she has started being such a colossal bitch to him that there is absolutely no reason to risk a 1 in 11 chance of lung cancer by picking up a dirty dirty habit like that. If this leads to his death, I am going to have something to say to that girl. I mean, I've made guys feel led on and dumped them quickly too, but not after that long of a relationship and after she said some of the things that she did. I hope I am never that nonchalant about hurting anyone's feelings ever. Getting out of a relationship is any girl's prerogative, but there is never a reason to make someone feel even more like shit after you've dumped them. Seriously, stay classy, San Diego.
"Eat me Sebastian. It's all right for guys like you and Court to fuck everyone, but when I do it, I get dumped for innocent little twits like Cecile. God forbid, I exude confidence and enjoy sex. Do you think I relish the fact that I have to act like Mary Sunshine 24/7 so I can be considered a lady? I'm the Marsha fucking Brady of the upper east side and sometimes I want to kill myself. How's that for a physco analysis Dr. Freud?"
-Cruel Intentions
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Good Vibrations
I swear to God I saw Napoleon Dynamite sitting in the quad, picking his nose as I came out of game theory this morning.
I liked today. I'm the kind of extrovert that actually dies a little inside when I'm not around people enough on any given day. It's like I actually need to soak up the energy from other people. And if there's anything that a 4-hour block of class does for you, its that. It's not that I actually interact with/like most of the people in my classes though. This quarter, it seems like God decided to push me to my absolute limit by filling most of my classes with brownnosing dimwits that ask questions every other minute, to the point where I know that even the professor is annoyed. I may have been one of those nerdy kids who started college early, but I have NEVER been one of those hand-permanently-in-the-air whiners. What...you thought this was supposed to be a Socratic education? Well, then the professor should actually have a chance to slip in a word or two between your constant yapping.
I am SO offended.
And in other news, I encountered something so apopletically dorky today that I had to refresh the webpage to make sure that I wasn't high or hallucinating. On dictionary.com, you can't just click the little microphone icon to hear a pronunciation of a word. You have to be a subscribing member to get those kind benefits. It will just advise you to pay for premium service where *gasp!* you can get ad-free access to more that 60,000 audio pronunciations. Puh-lease. I'd rather pay for B-Hawk's tranny porn. And I will never reveal what word I was looking up. That is a secret that I will take to the grave. You will have to guess at what it might be whenever you hear me mispronounce anything. It's a rare phenomenon, however, so actually just don't worry about it.
I'm feeling all sparkly still from this morning's sunshine, which is remarkable considering that I spent all of my 11:30-9:30 hours doing things that I didn't want to do. As in waking up, going to class, going to work, and doing coding for my thesis. But, since I impressed myself with that marathon-sized block of concentration, I sat on my perky butt for the rest of the evening. [Perky butt is a reference for p-dizzle, if she reads this entry, and nothing more. If anyone else is reading this, don't even worry about it. I will stick you with my shiv if I ever see your eyes drop down to butt-level, because I am NOT fond of boys right now. I will throw rocks at you. Unless you are a girl or a gay, in which case I probably don't mind.]
I don't feel at all guilty for my vegging, however, because I think I am getting sick. So I have been downing tea all evening as well. I'm actually just off to use up my third tea bag from South Africa. Did you know that they make tea over there? Well, it is delicious. And I plan on finishing off half the package tonight.
I'm also quite happy, because I looked like I like to look today. I realize that most people probably look however they want every day. I, on the other hand, often give into other peope's suggestions that I wear my hair down, or at least half-down. And that I wear earrings, and professional-looking clothes/shoes for my job, blah blah blah. Well, fuck you. Because I only like wearing my hair in a ponytail. And I like necklaces with black cords. And I like converse more than flats. And I think that earrings make me look different in a way that I'd prefer not to.
Argh! Someone in this house is a dirty whore and I hate them. It's probably the Jewish one. WhoEVER it is, they need to learn that the correct way to turn off the christmas lights is to unplug them, not flip off the whole fucking power strip! So I have to go ALL the way downstairs and turn the powerstrip back on and then unplug the lights that they left in. Whatever. It's fine for now, but the next time he halks a lughee into our sink just because he's fucking Samantha so he thinks he can use the upstairs bathroom, I am going to confront him, and then yell at him about constantly disconnecting the internet too.
Just to clarify, I'm not being derogatory to Jews. I say it's probably him because he was the last one in the living room. Besides, I don't know if it even counts as being derogatory to Jews if the person you're bitching about is less than a quarter Jewish, is the only practicing Jew in his family, and is by most people's analysis in it for the free alchohol and shabat naps. I will give him some credit, however, he does the "Jewish thing" every single Saturday and makes us turn on and off lights for him and everything. And, just yesterday he told me very seriously that he thinks its probable that Jesus had children, but that it doesn't matter anyway because Jesus is not divine. Snaps for following religious doctine and everything, but really all I want is for every day to be a Saturday for him so that he can't TURN OFF THE FUCKING INTERNET!
Don't be confused. I'm mostly joking. I love all my roommies, and it actually makes me happy to rant indignantly.
"Yeeeeeah. Can you feel it baby? I can too."
-Good Vibrations, by Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch
Someone showed this to me recently, and I actually love it more than life. Go see it, and while you watch it you should probably lick your lips along with Mr. Whalberg: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UnzgNAzquCw
I liked today. I'm the kind of extrovert that actually dies a little inside when I'm not around people enough on any given day. It's like I actually need to soak up the energy from other people. And if there's anything that a 4-hour block of class does for you, its that. It's not that I actually interact with/like most of the people in my classes though. This quarter, it seems like God decided to push me to my absolute limit by filling most of my classes with brownnosing dimwits that ask questions every other minute, to the point where I know that even the professor is annoyed. I may have been one of those nerdy kids who started college early, but I have NEVER been one of those hand-permanently-in-the-air whiners. What...you thought this was supposed to be a Socratic education? Well, then the professor should actually have a chance to slip in a word or two between your constant yapping.
I am SO offended.
And in other news, I encountered something so apopletically dorky today that I had to refresh the webpage to make sure that I wasn't high or hallucinating. On dictionary.com, you can't just click the little microphone icon to hear a pronunciation of a word. You have to be a subscribing member to get those kind benefits. It will just advise you to pay for premium service where *gasp!* you can get ad-free access to more that 60,000 audio pronunciations. Puh-lease. I'd rather pay for B-Hawk's tranny porn. And I will never reveal what word I was looking up. That is a secret that I will take to the grave. You will have to guess at what it might be whenever you hear me mispronounce anything. It's a rare phenomenon, however, so actually just don't worry about it.
I'm feeling all sparkly still from this morning's sunshine, which is remarkable considering that I spent all of my 11:30-9:30 hours doing things that I didn't want to do. As in waking up, going to class, going to work, and doing coding for my thesis. But, since I impressed myself with that marathon-sized block of concentration, I sat on my perky butt for the rest of the evening. [Perky butt is a reference for p-dizzle, if she reads this entry, and nothing more. If anyone else is reading this, don't even worry about it. I will stick you with my shiv if I ever see your eyes drop down to butt-level, because I am NOT fond of boys right now. I will throw rocks at you. Unless you are a girl or a gay, in which case I probably don't mind.]
I don't feel at all guilty for my vegging, however, because I think I am getting sick. So I have been downing tea all evening as well. I'm actually just off to use up my third tea bag from South Africa. Did you know that they make tea over there? Well, it is delicious. And I plan on finishing off half the package tonight.
I'm also quite happy, because I looked like I like to look today. I realize that most people probably look however they want every day. I, on the other hand, often give into other peope's suggestions that I wear my hair down, or at least half-down. And that I wear earrings, and professional-looking clothes/shoes for my job, blah blah blah. Well, fuck you. Because I only like wearing my hair in a ponytail. And I like necklaces with black cords. And I like converse more than flats. And I think that earrings make me look different in a way that I'd prefer not to.
Argh! Someone in this house is a dirty whore and I hate them. It's probably the Jewish one. WhoEVER it is, they need to learn that the correct way to turn off the christmas lights is to unplug them, not flip off the whole fucking power strip! So I have to go ALL the way downstairs and turn the powerstrip back on and then unplug the lights that they left in. Whatever. It's fine for now, but the next time he halks a lughee into our sink just because he's fucking Samantha so he thinks he can use the upstairs bathroom, I am going to confront him, and then yell at him about constantly disconnecting the internet too.
Just to clarify, I'm not being derogatory to Jews. I say it's probably him because he was the last one in the living room. Besides, I don't know if it even counts as being derogatory to Jews if the person you're bitching about is less than a quarter Jewish, is the only practicing Jew in his family, and is by most people's analysis in it for the free alchohol and shabat naps. I will give him some credit, however, he does the "Jewish thing" every single Saturday and makes us turn on and off lights for him and everything. And, just yesterday he told me very seriously that he thinks its probable that Jesus had children, but that it doesn't matter anyway because Jesus is not divine. Snaps for following religious doctine and everything, but really all I want is for every day to be a Saturday for him so that he can't TURN OFF THE FUCKING INTERNET!
Don't be confused. I'm mostly joking. I love all my roommies, and it actually makes me happy to rant indignantly.
"Yeeeeeah. Can you feel it baby? I can too."
-Good Vibrations, by Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch
Someone showed this to me recently, and I actually love it more than life. Go see it, and while you watch it you should probably lick your lips along with Mr. Whalberg: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UnzgNAzquCw
Monday, March 5, 2007
Sunday Night Live
It appears that I am on my way to a recovery. For future notice, here is my feel better recipe:
1) An upset--in basketball that is.
2) Wine+funny Mitch+slightly tipsy B-hawk
3) Realizing that I am not broke and do not have herpes...snaps for avoiding poverty and STD's!
4) The Senate--I've never heard happier, sweeter music, and more intense (at times) music in my life
5) Party planning--Save Darfur partay next quarter. Theme=70's...anything from disco to hippie to mod. I love that the best parties I've been at this year have been at my own house. I think most other people agree too. Seriously. We throw kick ass parties.
6) Tucker Max
And that is that.
I was realizing, though, that I am not that unique in my beliefs. Specifically, most of my opinions on big issues come from my parents. Is this a sign that I have not adequately thought things through and am just following the family bandwagon? I hope not.
My parents both hugely deviated from their families in terms of their political leanings and their tendency toward feminism. My dad moved to the US, so obviously the politics he developed opinions on were new to him, but my mom came from a staunch conservative background and did a complete 180. And somewhere in there, both of them developed these hyphenate-your-name, don't-shave-your-legs feminist viewpoints. The fact that they came to these conclusions pretty much of their own accord (like a lot of people I know and consider horribly smart) impresses me, because they must have thought so much more about what they believed and must really be committed to it.
I, on the other hand, fall neatly in line with my parents' said political opinions. I am liberal, fairly feminist (although I shave my legs, which my father views as a small failure at life...pshaw, I may be selling out, but he would too if he had gone to my middle school), a pacifist, and I don't do the flag salute. The only part of me that does not come directly from my upbringing is my acceptance of most Da Vinci Code-esque claims, and my resolute belief that homosexuality is not a sin (my parents aren't from the Dark Ages, and they do believe in completely equal rights under the laaw for homosexual couples, they are just literal-perhaps overly so-about the Bible...don't worry, they believe in evolution and everything!). This makes me slightly worried....I want to know that I would still come to my visciously liberal opinions all on my own. I'm actually not that worried that I'm right, just that I would have the intelligence to get there without the help of my parental unit.
Did you know that my father was once investigated by the FBI? Because he's South African, and there was an uprising going on when he came to the States. About this thing called apartheid, I don't know if you've heard about it. [insert sarcasm here]
Anyway, isn't that deliciously silly? Wait until they hear that he taught me to not salute the flag...shock and awe, they will send him right back to SA, and I will go too and get a brilliant tan.
I wonder if the reason that I feel so much more connected to South Africa than my sister is that I look more like my dad, and people treat me different because they recognize me as non-apple pie american. Tess actually looks light enough be the Olsen twins' little sister. But, it also could be that I am just more attached to family than her. Cancers (me) are supposedly more attached to family, and Scorpios (her) not in such exorbitant amounts. It's interesting, because I was reading that Scorpios are also supposed to be able to withstand pain more at a young age, and that was very true of her. I remember her splitting her chin on the tub at the age of two and not even crying...not even while they gave her stitches. And then, about year later, she stuck a sticker of Jesus right up her nose and had to go to the hospital to get it out. She said "But, mommy, I just wanted Jesus inside of me." Little shitter. Of course my mother couldn't blame her after that bit of adorable-ness, so she blamed me instead, because I gave her the sticker. Ohhh, I love that kid. I can't wait to see her at Spring Break when we go to the SOUTH!!!! I am very excited at the prospect of seeing plantations and shit. And, first, we are stopping off in Lynchburg, VA. Does anyone else think its amusing that Jerry Fallwell's university (Liberty University) is in a town called Lynchburg? In my opinion, that connection is right up there along with Strom Thurmond's familia owning Al Sharpton's great grandfather. Scandalous.
"It's important to remember that feminism is no longer a group of organizations or leaders. It's the expectations that parents have for their daughters, and their sons, too."
-Anna Quindlen
1) An upset--in basketball that is.
2) Wine+funny Mitch+slightly tipsy B-hawk
3) Realizing that I am not broke and do not have herpes...snaps for avoiding poverty and STD's!
4) The Senate--I've never heard happier, sweeter music, and more intense (at times) music in my life
5) Party planning--Save Darfur partay next quarter. Theme=70's...anything from disco to hippie to mod. I love that the best parties I've been at this year have been at my own house. I think most other people agree too. Seriously. We throw kick ass parties.
6) Tucker Max
And that is that.
I was realizing, though, that I am not that unique in my beliefs. Specifically, most of my opinions on big issues come from my parents. Is this a sign that I have not adequately thought things through and am just following the family bandwagon? I hope not.
My parents both hugely deviated from their families in terms of their political leanings and their tendency toward feminism. My dad moved to the US, so obviously the politics he developed opinions on were new to him, but my mom came from a staunch conservative background and did a complete 180. And somewhere in there, both of them developed these hyphenate-your-name, don't-shave-your-legs feminist viewpoints. The fact that they came to these conclusions pretty much of their own accord (like a lot of people I know and consider horribly smart) impresses me, because they must have thought so much more about what they believed and must really be committed to it.
I, on the other hand, fall neatly in line with my parents' said political opinions. I am liberal, fairly feminist (although I shave my legs, which my father views as a small failure at life...pshaw, I may be selling out, but he would too if he had gone to my middle school), a pacifist, and I don't do the flag salute. The only part of me that does not come directly from my upbringing is my acceptance of most Da Vinci Code-esque claims, and my resolute belief that homosexuality is not a sin (my parents aren't from the Dark Ages, and they do believe in completely equal rights under the laaw for homosexual couples, they are just literal-perhaps overly so-about the Bible...don't worry, they believe in evolution and everything!). This makes me slightly worried....I want to know that I would still come to my visciously liberal opinions all on my own. I'm actually not that worried that I'm right, just that I would have the intelligence to get there without the help of my parental unit.
Did you know that my father was once investigated by the FBI? Because he's South African, and there was an uprising going on when he came to the States. About this thing called apartheid, I don't know if you've heard about it. [insert sarcasm here]
Anyway, isn't that deliciously silly? Wait until they hear that he taught me to not salute the flag...shock and awe, they will send him right back to SA, and I will go too and get a brilliant tan.
I wonder if the reason that I feel so much more connected to South Africa than my sister is that I look more like my dad, and people treat me different because they recognize me as non-apple pie american. Tess actually looks light enough be the Olsen twins' little sister. But, it also could be that I am just more attached to family than her. Cancers (me) are supposedly more attached to family, and Scorpios (her) not in such exorbitant amounts. It's interesting, because I was reading that Scorpios are also supposed to be able to withstand pain more at a young age, and that was very true of her. I remember her splitting her chin on the tub at the age of two and not even crying...not even while they gave her stitches. And then, about year later, she stuck a sticker of Jesus right up her nose and had to go to the hospital to get it out. She said "But, mommy, I just wanted Jesus inside of me." Little shitter. Of course my mother couldn't blame her after that bit of adorable-ness, so she blamed me instead, because I gave her the sticker. Ohhh, I love that kid. I can't wait to see her at Spring Break when we go to the SOUTH!!!! I am very excited at the prospect of seeing plantations and shit. And, first, we are stopping off in Lynchburg, VA. Does anyone else think its amusing that Jerry Fallwell's university (Liberty University) is in a town called Lynchburg? In my opinion, that connection is right up there along with Strom Thurmond's familia owning Al Sharpton's great grandfather. Scandalous.
"It's important to remember that feminism is no longer a group of organizations or leaders. It's the expectations that parents have for their daughters, and their sons, too."
-Anna Quindlen
Saturday, March 3, 2007
LFO stands for Light Funky Ones
If I were a piece of punctuation, I would be an ellipsis. Hands down. I overuse them even moreso than commas.
I am frustratingly indecisive, perhaps longwinded, I don't like letting subjects go without a little more description and discussion, and I think that there is always more to be shared and analyzed on any subject. This is somewhat ironic, because the typical intended use of an elipsis is to omit something from text. I do not, however, like leaving anything hanging, and this is why I cannot even remember the last time I used an ellipsis at the very end of a sentence. That would lack closure, which I cannot stand. (Titles don't count, because they are beginnings not ends of anything).
I have several feelings that I despise more than anything in the world. If I were to rank them, I think cramps would be the worst. The time I first got the really abnormally horrible kind, I actually thought that I was dying. And then they became regular and I started passing out from pain. I have a pretty high pain tolerance, but Thank God that stopped because it was almost too much to bear, and it is THE reason that I am terrified of ever giving birth. Running a close second is the feeling I get after not having drank enough liquid. There are days when I am getting ready for bed and realize that the most I had to drink all day was one sip of water. This is probably why nobody else I've talked to about it has ever experienced the weird pain I get after not drinking. Because everyone else is not dumb and has no problem ingesting liquid. And third for worst feelings, is feeling like I am not good enough. I simply despise it. I don't mind not being interesting or charasmatic or good looking enough on my own, but when someone else is better than me in any/all categories and EVERYONE seems to prefer them to me, it makes me depressed.
I saw Zodiac tonight, and it was oddly unsettling. The only movie that has ever left me feeling scared afterwards is The Ring, which terrified me to the point where I could not sleep for literally days. Nothing else affected me though. Silence of the Lamps? Piece of cake...even in a cabin in the middle of the woods. Zombies and horror movies? Completely fine. Given all this, I have no idea, why this movie still seemed haunting to me after getting home. Maybe because it was based on a real story. I'm over it now, but earlier tonight I was still weirded out. Sooo good, though. I highly recommend it. Seeing Mark Ruffallo, Jake Gyllenhall, and Robert Downey Jr. all together is reason enough, but it was also satisfyingly gripping (I remember at one point actually trying to tell Jake out loud to "leave at once, in fact, jump right out that window." Chloe and Emma appreciated it, at least.), as well as complex and very well-acted.
Having seen the movie will probably do me a lot of good, besides mere entertainment value, because for the first time I have decided that perhaps it is a poor choice to go gallavanting around alone at night. I don't do it a lot, it's just that I like to run late late at night, and I don't like to run with other people generally. I always told my roommate last year that I would probably be able to outrun an attacker, and otherwise would kick them in the crotch. This was before she tried to call the police on me one night after I apparently stayed out on my run too long. Anyway, though, I will think twice before I run alone again, because you never know who might randomly be out to knife me.
Chloe and I are such dorks, though. At the movie theater we decided that it would be really smart to get some toilet paper to take home since we have none and anticipated needing to go to the bathroom sometime tonight. We are enormously cheep. But savvy.
"There is nothing quite so terrible as evil masquerading as virtue."
-Dietrich Bonhoeffer
I am frustratingly indecisive, perhaps longwinded, I don't like letting subjects go without a little more description and discussion, and I think that there is always more to be shared and analyzed on any subject. This is somewhat ironic, because the typical intended use of an elipsis is to omit something from text. I do not, however, like leaving anything hanging, and this is why I cannot even remember the last time I used an ellipsis at the very end of a sentence. That would lack closure, which I cannot stand. (Titles don't count, because they are beginnings not ends of anything).
I have several feelings that I despise more than anything in the world. If I were to rank them, I think cramps would be the worst. The time I first got the really abnormally horrible kind, I actually thought that I was dying. And then they became regular and I started passing out from pain. I have a pretty high pain tolerance, but Thank God that stopped because it was almost too much to bear, and it is THE reason that I am terrified of ever giving birth. Running a close second is the feeling I get after not having drank enough liquid. There are days when I am getting ready for bed and realize that the most I had to drink all day was one sip of water. This is probably why nobody else I've talked to about it has ever experienced the weird pain I get after not drinking. Because everyone else is not dumb and has no problem ingesting liquid. And third for worst feelings, is feeling like I am not good enough. I simply despise it. I don't mind not being interesting or charasmatic or good looking enough on my own, but when someone else is better than me in any/all categories and EVERYONE seems to prefer them to me, it makes me depressed.
I saw Zodiac tonight, and it was oddly unsettling. The only movie that has ever left me feeling scared afterwards is The Ring, which terrified me to the point where I could not sleep for literally days. Nothing else affected me though. Silence of the Lamps? Piece of cake...even in a cabin in the middle of the woods. Zombies and horror movies? Completely fine. Given all this, I have no idea, why this movie still seemed haunting to me after getting home. Maybe because it was based on a real story. I'm over it now, but earlier tonight I was still weirded out. Sooo good, though. I highly recommend it. Seeing Mark Ruffallo, Jake Gyllenhall, and Robert Downey Jr. all together is reason enough, but it was also satisfyingly gripping (I remember at one point actually trying to tell Jake out loud to "leave at once, in fact, jump right out that window." Chloe and Emma appreciated it, at least.), as well as complex and very well-acted.
Having seen the movie will probably do me a lot of good, besides mere entertainment value, because for the first time I have decided that perhaps it is a poor choice to go gallavanting around alone at night. I don't do it a lot, it's just that I like to run late late at night, and I don't like to run with other people generally. I always told my roommate last year that I would probably be able to outrun an attacker, and otherwise would kick them in the crotch. This was before she tried to call the police on me one night after I apparently stayed out on my run too long. Anyway, though, I will think twice before I run alone again, because you never know who might randomly be out to knife me.
Chloe and I are such dorks, though. At the movie theater we decided that it would be really smart to get some toilet paper to take home since we have none and anticipated needing to go to the bathroom sometime tonight. We are enormously cheep. But savvy.
"There is nothing quite so terrible as evil masquerading as virtue."
-Dietrich Bonhoeffer
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