Never Let Your Sister Listen To T.I.

Right now I am absurdly embarrassed to have been born in Illinois. There are no words. But hey, every state goes through a rough patch after losing a gem like Obama, right? Right???

My head was so corrupted with all the bribery news that I had to watch back-to-back House episodes tonight. I had to drop my Seventh Heaven addiction after they served up an episode filled with political misinformation under the guise of a heartwarming Save Darfur theme. Gag me. I would boycott the Hallmark Channel altogether if my mom and sister and I hadn't gotten so involved in that Love Comes Softly series of movies with Katherine Heigl.

And along the lines of my Baltimore=too hardcore for me exposé. I am pretty sure that Baltimore=too hardcore for my sister too. She is fast on her way to demonstrating the quickest way to get shot in Baltimore. Which would be singing her new favorite song parody, "I can do whatever, I'm white," in the halls of her school. Oh, that one has grown up to be quite a doll.

Kansas looks a little different these days...

I don't think Baltimore will ever really feel like home. Not that my family hasn't tried hard to make it my home too. My house here feels kind of like home. But the city itself isn't really me. Or rather, I'm not quite hardcore enough for Baltimore.

Case in point:
On Halloween all the guys at the restaurant were going crazy because there was a rumor going around that the bloods were going to murder more than 30 women that night. The police said that it was just an urban legend, but the gang initiation ritual is very real. Guys must either murder or slash the faces of a certain number of women in order to become a member of the bloods. The fact that the Baltimore PD issued a statement that the rumors are false is bullshit. Maybe that is their strategy for relaxing the masses, but you only have to go to Google to find out that there are hundreds of people out there who have been victims of Halloween slashings, who know of victims, or who are gang members themselves and confirm the truth of the Halloween massacre initiation. The police should make people aware of the possibility of violence and not just pretend it doesn't exist.

I like to think that nothing bad will happen in the six block radius that is my bourgeois bubble. But this isn't Cape Town where the good neighborhoods are better insulated from crime by armed guards and distance. Baltimore is more urban sprawl than township vs. suburb and people are too unwilling to stoop to precautions like guards and barred windows.

It doesn't help that I refuse to be smart about my safety. Maybe I should at least get myself some mace.

Second case in point:
I walk into the restaurant today and the line-up that usually consists of the manager describing the night's specials started with a "please don't come to work intoxicated". And a "please don't bring your drugs to work". Whoops. Someone fucked up. Apparently the manager found little condiment cups of weed at the front desk and a bag of it downstairs. Someone is a dip shit. Why would you not just carry it on your person if you insist on bringing it to work? Its not like anyone is going to pat you down or anything, especially since I'm pretty sure that the weed that was confiscated was just added to our fearless leader's personal stash. He said that it wasn't that high quality though.

Entertaining, yes, but I am definitely not a Baltimorean 4 Life or anything of that bumper sticker nature. Seattle will always remain my heel-clicking destination.

Violently Pink

Another post for today since I have been shunning this blog for a few weeks...

My nails are the hottest hot pink ever right now. It's very Zenon. I recommend it. It gets me even better tips at work. And, no...get your mind out of the gutter, I don't work in THAT kind of service industry.

So cryptically, here's what is new (ish): I am in a situation that I want to get out of but I don't know how. Meanwhile I am being exactly the kind of person that you see in movies and think "how dumb is she?! Get over yourself and do what you need to do." That's right. I have become Cher from Clueless. I can just hear "We're the kids in America" playing in the background. Actually, I will give myself a huge break and say that I'm Emma instead. Much much better and yet still accurate.

And for my rants of the month:
Did you hear that Bush's new neighborhood didn't allow minorities to live there until 2000? He's got to be either really ignorant to not know that or really asinine to not care.

Also, does Ali Larter bug anybody else, or is it just me?


"I'd rather be horrified than bored."
-Turning Tables

All in the Family

So, one of my cousins is actually pretty big in South Africa. Tee hee. That sounds funny, doesn't it? But its more than partially true. He and his (old?) hip hop group, Entity, have a few music videos out and they got a lot of play on MTV South Africa. And the rest of their songs are good too.

I decided its about time that I started repping him. Check him out on facebook...his name is Kiernan Forbes or AKA.

Here's the link to his last video:
http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=3187207

Or at least I think its his last video. He's very secretive about all this music stuff, so I have to find it out myself through his dad or through Google.

Hair and Hypochondria

My mother is a very reasonable person, but she is also odd to the point of bordering on hilarity sometimes.

Today she took my little sister for a haircut. And not only did she drag herself out of bed in the middle of being sick to do it, she also went up and washed her hair before braving icy outdoors. Her hair wasn't dirty or messy or anything, but she maintains that if the mother doesn't have absolutely perfect hair when taking her daughter in for a haircut then the stylist might think that he or she can do a half-assed job.

Too bad the woman who cut my sister's hair did a bad job anyway and my sister came home in tears, yelling at my mom for taking her to a cheap place and not being willing to shell out enough for her hair. I can understand where my sister is coming from, having been to my share of "let's do an 80's rocker fro with your curls" psycho stylists, but I can't help but wonder how many times I yelled at my mom after she went over and above in the attempt to make everything perfect for me and my haircut or spelling test or LSAT.

I think I am having a mid early-20's crisis. I feel rather melancholy.



And, even worse, my hypochondria is getting seriously out of control. Its really not hypochondria because I don't think that I actually make myself ill. But I certainly make myself think that I am sick. And not just sick...usually I am almost positive that I have contracted a terminal illness. Doesn't take a genius to guess what event this particular psychosis originated from. I have been to two different doctors in the past two weeks, and am constantly online researching my maladies. Where is Lynn when you need her? Plus today I decided that I needed some extensive blood work and now my arm is partially blue and in pain from that phlebotomist. This is it. No more witch hunts for fatal diagnoses.




"I'm looking fine in my navy blue scrubs today. C'mon people! Who wants a taste?"
-Zach Braff

I need to leave Baltimore

I almost quit my job last night. I came the closest I've ever come to just walking out and giving everyone at that stupid restaurant an aneurysm by actually swearing at them all. Gasp! I find it so ridiculous that they all are so shocked every time they hear me say something remotely resembling a swear word. Yes, I'm not exactly the wash your mouth out type, but I'm not above cussing to make a point. And I'm certainly not the bland saint that everyone at the restaurant seems to think I am.

Whatever. The point is that my unfeeling manager made me come to work even though I was ridiculously sick. To be fair, I rallied myself to the point where I don't think the customers noticed that I was a walking sack of germs and snot. But really. Everyone there is ridiculous. I literally almost passed out when I had to carry a giant tub of pickles of from the basement. Thankfully one of the guys in the kitchen noticed me struggling and helped me on the way back down. Everyone else there can go fuck themselves though. They're high off their asses if they think that I will ever cover their shifts for them when they're sick because nobody helped me out. Except one girl...she helped with my chores a little bit. But for the most part I am generally unimpressed. It will be sweet revenge if I got everyone else at the restaurant sick.

Fuck the restaurant. And fuck the east coast.

Good Will Hunting Epiphany

I am watching Good Will Hunting for the first time right now. And I have finally found something that actually portrays how I feel. There is a scene where Will and Skyla get into a fight. She asks him to go to California with her and they start fighting. One thing leads to another and he pushes her up against a wall and punches right next to her head. She cries and takes his head in her hands and says that she just wants to be with him. That she'll leave forever if he just looks her in the eye and tells her he doesn't love her. And so he does. And he walks out.

He's being horrible. But the whole time you are sitting there watching him treat Skyla oh so horribly you are actually thinking that they should be together and you are hoping that they kiss and make up eventually. And you've seen just how bad Will can be. But you love him (platonically...as the viewer) anyway. And you know that he didn't really mean to hurt her and that he does actually love her (well, I think...I haven't gotten to the end of the movie quite yet).

When you think about it like that. Everything that I have done makes perfect sense. And most people I know would do the exact same thing. I wish people would watch that part. Just so they can understand me and not judge me.

Not that anyone I have ever met is a genius on the level of Matt Damon's character. I don't know if I would be able to handle that anyway.