casbah rocked.

(a photographic essay of an evening to celebrate the birth of G.)

"ok, let me get an official 'before' shot."



done.

while we waited for the remainder of our posse to arrive at bar #1, we talked to a duck that resembled a cow. this killed time and prevented the old, mustached men next to us from making any moves.



once the crew was in full REPRESENT force, we started boogeying down. even my aunt (member of the previously mentioned Desperate Houswives crew) made an appearance. after a few shots she started talking about cocaine. that was weird.



(notice how dark my makeup looks in the following photo. this will become important later when i start to look like a man.)



not wanting to hear more about my aunt's drug habits, we hiked over to the next bar. i feel this qualified, literally, as a hike because the walk was over mostly gravel for what must have been 12 miles (ok, maybe like 0.12). i had to pee desperately and we had been "responsible" that evening and gotten a ride from Gina's pops (hubba-hubba).



at bar #2, Gina announced that she was really wasted, throwing her arm to the side for dramatic effect. this resulted in a spilled beer and me having her recreate the motion for documentation purposes. nice reinactment, G.



hey, Gina...what's that ticket in your shirt?
yeah, i'm not sure why it's there, but it's actually the admittance ticket from my cousin's high school graduation. i must have found them in my purse and thought they'd make a great Gina accessory. i must say, i was dead on with that one. HOTTT.

in fact, maybe i'll just DARKEN MY MAKEUP, jump into this phone booth over here, and turn into a TRANSVESTITE for a hilarious action photo of my sticking the ticket in your shirt!!!



yikes.

i think Gina was a little scared, so she went to smoke a cigarette. some boy found her and tried to mack it up, but Gina steered the conversation to politics instead. i was her protector for the evening, so i did as any protector would and took pictures that made her boobs look gigantic and then had Lana poke fun of her encounter on the back deck.



hehe. i wonder if he saw your ticket.



as we were leaving this bar, there was a brief encounter where i may or may not have tossed a boy against a wall for using foul language toward the birthday girl. there is no photographic evidence of this, but i assure you i am the best b-day protector that friendship can buy. plus i get a bit violent when i'm drunk.

moving on...

bar #3! hey lana...pretent you're picking Brian's nose real quick! thanks!



hey G! how you feelin'?

"i'm a little bit very much wasted."

excellent!



after this proclamation and another encounter with some G-lovin' boys, we decided it was time to go home. i thought of harrassing the cops with my gang signs until they offered a ride,





but evidently i'm not very threatening. so we just called my kickass brother instead.

i had Gina pose on the corner of Broadway as we waited for our ride. it seemed like a totally non-stupid idea for two drunk girls to be doing in the ghetto at three in the morning.





oh, and to be official, here's the "after" shot:



she doesn't look to bad, but i assure you she was blitzed. i seem to have been also, since it's a pretty crappy shot.

big ups to my bro for driving us home!



and Gina says, peace the fuck out.

for my cousin

i just spend about 4 hours at my old high school. my younger cousin just graduated (she's going to Oswego in the fall...so excited for her).

the graduation itself was not remarkable. i did notice that there were more beachballs and such than when i rolled through the football field, but all-in-all it's still the same. just different. you know.

mostly i want to share some comments i overheard during my time on the bleachers, shielding my eyes from the setting sun:

"I don't believe in sunscreen." the young man sitting next to me, in response to an older woman's comment about his sunburn.

"that's my cousin!" said at least six times by the set of girls a few rows back. they have a large family, evidently.

"where's the senior class presENT!?" shouted, by an irate woman at least 20 times at very inappropriate moments (like during the valedictorian's speech, etc). we deduced that she was angry that the senior class presIDENT had not been asked to speak this year. a uniformed officer firmly and effectively encouraged her to remain silent after about 45 mintues of her intermittant outbursts.

it's wierd because being there kind of made me wish i was teaching there...

hope you live to be...

90.3

healthspan calculator

Your calculated health span is 90.3 years.

commencement

last night was graduation. i'm a bit hungover, but more tired than anything else. my post is "crowd control" every year, and this year i only got shoved once by an eager photographer. all in all, a nice and concise ceremony. a few hugs, not too many tears, and lots of humidity.

i'm glad this year is over. i'm ready to make the next one count.

and here's a pretty picture of me and my friend Lisa at the annual afterparty.

dodgeball.com

sign up, ass.

i feel like a moron standing here by myself.

i'm feeling 12 today, so here's some more

farts are funny.

hehe.

poot.

"you're a jerk!"

already sick of TomKat?

have a good chuckle at him getting squirted in the face with a gag microphone.

and take notice of him getting wiped down by the old lady.

what a weinie.

Tom Cruise is a Douche

this was my weekend

1. Friday

i'm not the kind of girl that like, ever, gets the hot boys to look at her. i'm dead ass. there is always some other chick that is more whore-ish. or maybe just prettier. whatever.

so, on Friday, when i was approached by a sweet chap and his entourage on my return from the ladies' room, i was slightly surprised. but i totally played it cool. check it:

*i needed to get back to Gina, my drinking partner who was still at the bar, so when Boy #1 yelled something in my direction, i pretended not to notice.
*this was part of my ploy to be hip and cool and breezy. i stalled my return to G-Love but whipped out my phone to text her instead.
*this forced Boy #1 to repeat his question.
*it was a way-lame comment about my glasses (the Lisa Loeb connection...i thought after several unsuccessful CDs, this comment had become obsolete) but it allowed me to maintain my coolness with a super foxxxy eye-roll.
*Gina found me and we all conversated on topics such as Italy, construction, investments, and weird military boys that wear Air Force Jumpsuits out to the bars.
*i continued to look uber cool when two or three other male friends (total freak occurrance) came up to me to say hello. then i got a text message. i was a hot commodity. hottt.

but this swell night of glorious fate came to an abrupt ending when Boy #1 recieved a phone call from someone named Chris. apparently Chris had been hit. i'm not sure who or what hit him, but the trio instantly transformed into i-gotchyo-back mode and left. they were polite and said goodbye. but they left. no digits.

i am in mourning.

2. Saturday

i go with G to a barbeque. it's at her manfriend's girlfriend's place. G's manfriend is really hot and really smart and i hope that he soon dumps the fancy girlfriend. until then, i can only be giddy knowing that he thinks i "look good." you see, there was an awkward introduction where he didn't remember me and i told him we'd met several times. then G mentioned my dad (everyone knows me through my dad; it's embarrassing) and his head tilted back. oh yeah! sure!

anyway...G stayed with him to smoke a cigarette and i went indoors to befriend the gay couple that was seated near the salsa. while on the porch with her manfriend, G spoke with him about me. i didn't recognize her! she looks good! and yeah, i guess that implies that, at one point in my life, i may have looked bad. but whatever.

moving on...

after some homemade vodka/wine concoction and some beers, G and I drove to the Mercury Lounge to see Bishop Allen. en route, we had each developed a hangover headache from the weird drink her manfriend made, so we stopped for coffee, popped some Advil, and sang oldschool rap songs in traffic on the FDR. i even pulled a sweet U-turn to snag a killer parking spot. if you see a transmission in the middle of esSEX street, it may be mine.

Bishop Allen was really great. while dancing and watching, i realized that i still want to bed Jack, the drummer. and i'd like to know what Christian found so funny. he alternated between the face of a stoner to that of a highly amused person. ok, so that was a bad comparison, but the truth is that we both wonder if he was on drugs. oh, and we also decided that we really love Justin's dictator dance moves. hot shit.

3. Sunday

i slept until 11 and then ate two donuts. when i remembered it was Father's Day, i ran to Home Depot with my mother to purchase a weed whacker. then i ate some yummy steak and salad.

now i'm typing this and thinking of getting some ice cream.

you wanna come?

here's something funny

if you're like me and go to bed before Conan comes on, you probably missed this funny commentary with Triumph The Insult Comic Dog. it features the crazy bastards that held vigil outside the courhouse of the Michael Jackson trial. if all his media coverage were this brutally honest, i'd be much less disappointed with our country.

click me.

someone should be fired

this is a marketing disaster. no wonder it's on clearance.





nads.

heh.

edit: a huge thanks to all you jerks that told me i'm like five years behind on this joke. you wanna talk about your mom?

Wham-O

ah, the classic water-park-in-a-box! the teethy youngsters that adorn the front! the vibrant sunshine! the oodles of laughter that comes with this epic summertime funtime! when the commercial comes on, i am killing the summer between third and fourth grade, sitting about three feet from the television, indian style. i see those youngsters and their sunshine before me. they are perfectly hued with their appropriate little bathing suits and well-manicured lawns. they are leaping! jumping! sliding! splashing! untormented from the summer heat! as a girl that grew up in a low-income housing apartment complex, this was the closest i'd get to a waterpark adventure. and...AND...i could have it in my very own back yard! MOOOOMMM!! CAN I HAVE THIS??!! PLLLEAAASE!!! i run yelling into the kitchen to find her.

weeks later, when my pleading had become unbearable, or i'd traded a sufficient number of chores for the prize, were in the backyard ripping open the box that is held together with gigantic killer staples. i see my lovely little cronies on the box's front, the same that had been on TV, i thought. i have visions of being the neighborhood it-girl and maybe do a little wiggly-jig to demonstrate my excitement.

but, my dear friends, this is the closest that little girl will get to her dream.

for now, i've realized that you must blow up large portions of the slip-n-slide. 45 minutes later, i am feeling weak and my mother is getting annoyed that i've already put on my bathing suit. she scolds me quietly with her eyes.

as she unwraps the hose, her hands and arms and t-shirt are muddied with last year's dirt mixing with this year's spigot leak. once it is connected to my personal waterpark, i begin to see that something is terribly wrong. i do not have a large grassy span of yard to manipulate for proper launching and sliding trajectories. i have a ten-by-ten area of shotty grass that is bordered by a chain-link fence on one side and a slab of grey concrete on the other. i struggle to rearrange, pulling out my incessant wedgies after each bend-over. when i am finally satisfied, the slide part of the toy is now on a slight incline. i may have not noticed it now, but in a moment i certainly will. until then, my mother hammers in the plastic stakes.

the herds of children i had expected to approach during this process have not yet shown. i brush this off and yell for my brother to come out and play with me. he'll do for now. as i wait for him to dress, i try to ignore my bladder's urging. i will likely not go pee for hours; going potty with a one-piece bathingsuit on is simply ridiculous and unthinkable to a 10 year old.

when my brother finally arrives in waterpark attire, i give a quick run-down of the rules of my theme park. he politely obliges, interjecting when he feels the rules are downright foolish, but only to be silenced by my pointer finger and fierce scowl.

of course, i tell him, i will be going first.

the slide is nice and slippery and the pool toward the end has now gathered about a quarter of an inch of glorious water. both are glistening and i hear the water's tinkling. i am glory bound.

i give my brother an imaginary ticket and start lifting each leg with might as i pretend to climb the stars to this ultimate, killer ride.

i give a nervous smile, then leap....!

i hit the thin plastic with a surprising thud and my elbow finds a large rock which, as i slip down the slide, then scrapes my pudgy belly and lanky legs. i realize that one of the anchoring pegs has been lifted with my ungraceful landing, causing the plastic to flap over my feet like the curling tongue of a storybook beast. my nervous smile is now a grimmace and the little plastic streamers leading to the pool area mock me with tickles as i land face-first into a muddy puddle.

i stop for a moment to blow the muck from my lips and rub my aching arm. there is a whimper perhaps, but no tears. my brother is yelling that it's his turn.

i get up, bruised, dejected, speckled with blades of grass and bugbites, and march toward our concrete slab to find my towel.

i don't want to play anymore. i'm going to find my SkipIt.

be a patriot

i was going to post some op-ed articles about this Downing Street Memo revelation, but i think this kind of situation calls for personal assessment. so, i ask you each to read this memo and think about what should be done. i'm doing the same.

*****

SECRET AND STRICTLY PERSONAL - UK EYES ONLY

DAVID MANNING
From: Matthew Rycroft
Date: 23 July 2002
S 195 /02

cc: Defence Secretary, Foreign Secretary, Attorney-General, Sir Richard Wilson, John Scarlett, Francis Richards, CDS, C, Jonathan Powell, Sally Morgan, Alastair Campbell

IRAQ: PRIME MINISTER'S MEETING, 23 JULY

Copy addressees and you met the Prime Minister on 23 July to discuss Iraq.

This record is extremely sensitive. No further copies should be made. It should be shown only to those with a genuine need to know its contents.

John Scarlett summarised the intelligence and latest JIC assessment. Saddam's regime was tough and based on extreme fear. The only way to overthrow it was likely to be by massive military action. Saddam was worried and expected an attack, probably by air and land, but he was not convinced that it would be immediate or overwhelming. His regime expected their neighbours to line up with the US. Saddam knew that regular army morale was poor. Real support for Saddam among the public was probably narrowly based.

C reported on his recent talks in Washington. There was a perceptible shift in attitude. Military action was now seen as inevitable. Bush wanted to remove Saddam, through military action, justified by the conjunction of terrorism and WMD. But the intelligence and facts were being fixed around the policy. The NSC had no patience with the UN route, and no enthusiasm for publishing material on the Iraqi regime's record. There was little discussion in Washington of the aftermath after military action.

CDS said that military planners would brief CENTCOM on 1-2 August, Rumsfeld on 3 August and Bush on 4 August.

The two broad US options were:

(a) Generated Start. A slow build-up of 250,000 US troops, a short (72 hour) air campaign, then a move up to Baghdad from the south. Lead time of 90 days (30 days preparation plus 60 days deployment to Kuwait).

(b) Running Start. Use forces already in theatre (3 x 6,000), continuous air campaign, initiated by an Iraqi casus belli. Total lead time of 60 days with the air campaign beginning even earlier. A hazardous option.

The US saw the UK (and Kuwait) as essential, with basing in Diego Garcia and Cyprus critical for either option. Turkey and other Gulf states were also important, but less vital. The three main options for UK involvement were:

(i) Basing in Diego Garcia and Cyprus, plus three SF squadrons.

(ii) As above, with maritime and air assets in addition.

(iii) As above, plus a land contribution of up to 40,000, perhaps with a discrete role in Northern Iraq entering from Turkey, tying down two Iraqi divisions.

The Defence Secretary said that the US had already begun "spikes of activity" to put pressure on the regime. No decisions had been taken, but he thought the most likely timing in US minds for military action to begin was January, with the timeline beginning 30 days before the US Congressional elections.

The Foreign Secretary said he would discuss this with Colin Powell this week. It seemed clear that Bush had made up his mind to take military action, even if the timing was not yet decided. But the case was thin. Saddam was not threatening his neighbours, and his WMD capability was less than that of Libya, North Korea or Iran. We should work up a plan for an ultimatum to Saddam to allow back in the UN weapons inspectors. This would also help with the legal justification for the use of force.

The Attorney-General said that the desire for regime change was not a legal base for military action. There were three possible legal bases: self-defence, humanitarian intervention, or UNSC authorisation. The first and second could not be the base in this case. Relying on UNSCR 1205 of three years ago would be difficult. The situation might of course change.

The Prime Minister said that it would make a big difference politically and legally if Saddam refused to allow in the UN inspectors. Regime change and WMD were linked in the sense that it was the regime that was producing the WMD. There were different strategies for dealing with Libya and Iran. If the political context were right, people would support regime change. The two key issues were whether the military plan worked and whether we had the political strategy to give the military plan the space to work.

On the first, CDS said that we did not know yet if the US battleplan was workable. The military were continuing to ask lots of questions.

For instance, what were the consequences, if Saddam used WMD on day one, or if Baghdad did not collapse and urban warfighting began? You said that Saddam could also use his WMD on Kuwait. Or on Israel, added the Defence Secretary.

The Foreign Secretary thought the US would not go ahead with a military plan unless convinced that it was a winning strategy. On this, US and UK interests converged. But on the political strategy, there could be US/UK differences. Despite US resistance, we should explore discreetly the ultimatum. Saddam would continue to play hard-ball with the UN.

John Scarlett assessed that Saddam would allow the inspectors back in only when he thought the threat of military action was real.

The Defence Secretary said that if the Prime Minister wanted UK military involvement, he would need to decide this early. He cautioned that many in the US did not think it worth going down the ultimatum route. It would be important for the Prime Minister to set out the political context to Bush.

Conclusions:

(a) We should work on the assumption that the UK would take part in any military action. But we needed a fuller picture of US planning before we could take any firm decisions. CDS should tell the US military that we were considering a range of options.

(b) The Prime Minister would revert on the question of whether funds could be spent in preparation for this operation.

(c) CDS would send the Prime Minister full details of the proposed military campaign and possible UK contributions by the end of the week.

(d) The Foreign Secretary would send the Prime Minister the background on the UN inspectors, and discreetly work up the ultimatum to Saddam.

He would also send the Prime Minister advice on the positions of countries in the region especially Turkey, and of the key EU member states.

(e) John Scarlett would send the Prime Minister a full intelligence update.

(f) We must not ignore the legal issues: the Attorney-General would consider legal advice with FCO/MOD legal advisers.

(I have written separately to commission this follow-up work.)

MATTHEW RYCROFT

*****

for what i think is a fairly comprehensive breakdown of all the characters and events surrounding this release, go here.

i'm feeling drenched with alternating waves of anger and sadness. i feel helpless and i'm not sure what to do. printing letters and signing petitions seems utterly pathetic and juvenille.

he is such a dark man, and i am confused and disheartened that more people are not as despondent as i am.

point and laugh at me

ok, that's enough.

now that the pointing and laughing is out of the way, let me share some information that will lead to more pointing and laughing.

let's say it was curiosity, namely because it's valid. this curiosity led me to fill out one of those profiles on eHarmony.com--yeah, the dating thing.



i actually started it on friday at work. ha. it turns out that this thing takes, no joke, at least half an hour to complete. so i saved it and packed up for the weekend thinking i'd pick up where i'd left off at a later time, preferrably while i should be doing something like grading or attending Palm Pilot training.

but i got an email this morning from the friendly founder. a reminder to fnish my questionnaire. ok, i'll admit that i've nothing better to do and that i'm still in my PJs with mascara smeared on my face from the night before. why NOT fill out an online dating service form?

so for the past 30 minutes, i've been checking off boxes on a scale of 1-7, ranging from "not at all" to "somewhat" to "very much" on topics from parental relationships to personal qualities. after the first few pages, most of the qualifiers and questions seemed nearly identical. but i scratched the mascara from my eyepit and kept clicking away.

SEVEN YEARS LATER...

i'm finally done with this goddamn thing...
they're about to show me some matches....
i'm excited to look at new faces for the next few moments...

i enter in all my personal information with a fleeting concern that someone from work will figure out my identity from this profile i've just created, and click on the button:


eHarmony is based upon a complex matching system developed through extensive research with married couples. One of the requirements for successful matching is that participants to fall within certain defined profiles. If we find that we will not be able to match a user using these profiles, we feel it is only fair to inform them early in the process.

We are so convinced of the importance of creating compatible matches to help people establish happy, lasting relationships that we sometimes choose not to provide service rather than risk an uncertain match.

Unfortunately, we are not able to make our profiles work for you. Our matching model could not accurately predict with whom you would be best matched. This occurs for about 20% of potential users, so 1 in 5 people simply will not benefit from our service. We hope that you understand, and we regret our inability to provide service for you at this time.

You can still receive your free Personality Profile by clicking here.

uhh? excuse me? i'm unMATCHable?!

so, i'm actually stunned for a moment. shocked. then i'm amused. go ahead--picture it: the black cotton PJ pants that are covered with my dog's hair, the t-shirt i wore out to the bar last night, sans push-up bra, the mussed hair. who wouldn't want that!?

had i misunderstood some of the questions? oh wait...i'm wondering if all those times i rated the necessity of my partner to be "very sexually attractive" may have damned my prospects.

fine. these fuckers. so i'll check out the Peronsality Profile. i better get something for this entirely voluntary time wasting.

the "overview" is not exactly on point, so i'll spare myself the humiliation of those inaccuracies. instead, let's move on to my "needs." this should be good.


In general, human beings are defined by their needs and individuals by their wants. Your emotional wants are especially important when establishing with whom you are compatible. While answering the Relationship Questionnaire you established a pattern of basic, subconscious wants. This section of the report was produced by analyzing those patterns. Our wants change as we mature and obtain our life goals. You may find it valuable to revisit this section periodically to see how your wants have changed.

You may want:

* Activities involving contact with many people.

* Many and varied activities.

* Freedom from many controls and limitations of creativity.

* An outlet to vent your emotions frequently.

* Acceptance in a variety of groups.

* Partners who practice listening and participation.

* Popularity.

* An audience to perform to and entertain.

* Recognition of skills and ability.

* Unusual, new or innovative activities.

* Support of your ideas and dreams.

well, no wonder they couldn't match me! evidently i'm a 12 year old child! "i'm sorry but we are not currently matching those who are under the legal age of consent, or their equivalents."

drunken post! (now, with edits!)

we'll see how comprehendable this is... this is simply not a word. using language that makes your sober self seek the dictionary in the morning will likely result in poor writing.

topic: sex (and don't hate...if you're anything like me, as a female, you're already scoffing at my topic...but i assure you that i'm not whore-ish.) way too many elipses here. maybe drunkenme was experimenting with morse code?

i enjoy going out and being social. but when i go out to a bar, there is the compulsion to look for a mate. and, recently, i've realized that this no longer interests me. this is better stated as "i have now understood why i am such a bitch to most men that approach me at a bar. unless he is hot. then he has a window of civility."

if you're a regular reader of my blog (read: if you're a friend of mine, or someone i stalk on the Internet), you know that i'm sexually starving and that i think i'm at my peak for sexual desire. (so, there's no need for you to read anymore of this. i'm sorry you've gotten this far.) yet, when i go out, simply finding someone to "hook up" with is not my goal. i'm embarrassed to have used the term hook-up. even more embarrassed that it's in quotes. i'm certain drunkenme would have gone as far as finger-quoting that term after typing it. actually, i have no goals when i'm out other than getting a nice buzz and avoiding the police. well, this is just a lie. i love talking to the police when i'm drunk. seriously. and i'm always staring at those that drive by at 5 mph to see if it's the one cop i know from work. this bizarre behavior on my part has resulted in several instances of paranoid drives home because one of the cars i'd spooked was following me home.

last night i ran into two ex-boyfriends of mine. i kissed one of them. let's get a fucking sigh of relief that i spared the details. and i hate that i did that. good to see i'm remorseful when drunk. i believe that's what differentiates a drunk girl and a whore, right? i'm not interested in having casual sex. even casual make-outs do nothing for me. like, at all. i can arouse myself to that point on my own. sorry. this is so so bad.

i miss intimacy. i haven't had that in SO FUCKING LONG. *smile* so, the song Desperado just loaded on my mind's musical rotation. excellent, drunkenme.

and i think my deprivation is becoming obvious to those who know me well...and they tell me that i'm pretty enough to have a boyfriend. which is true...i mean, females generally hold the upper hand in that department anyway, regardless of their looks. i'm failing myself simply on organization alone. clearly, this particular rant of self-pity mixed with sef-cheerleading is out of place.

so, what am i saying? i'm not sure. it's a drunken post that consists of me whining, primarily. i think drunkenme is onto something.

in summation: for those of you that have boyfriends that you LOVE, don't get bored and don't get restless. love is fanfuckingtastic. and you'll miss it so much if you let it go. and yeah, that includes sex, of course, but not in the carnal sense. right. such the philosopher. horrible advice, by the way. don't listen to me.

i guess i really am just proclaiming to cyberspace that i'd like a boyfriend. that's lovely. quite.

essentially, there is no story here. my story should have been about spending the evening with my aunts and their friends, in true desperate housewife fashion. or even just about how awful the band was. watching fireworks off the back of the boat. the humidity of early June. rediscovering Corona. the patterns and tendencies of inebriated West Point boys. flip-flops and miniskirts.

this won't happen again.

civil blinking

we're not really friendly, i've learned, but i think you would laugh your ass off at her latest post: How Not To Eat an Italian Ice

edit: as i continue to waste away my day on the Internet in an attempt to postpone grading more fucking poorly written Critical Lenses, i found this guy's site called Heaneyland. i found Classy Humor to be especially, uh, humorous.

i was looking at your picture

a sigh typically starts the process.

i may be browsing old correspondance, photographs, music--or maybe i've just caught the scent on the heavy air, saw a shirt long lost and hidden in my drawer, tasted the salty water, unintentionally, at the shore.

and then i'm elsewhere, bridged between now and then by that soft strand of memory. it's fragile, and i know it's not fully with me; it's not actually here. often i'll brush it away like a spider's web, thinking of how it's primarily a distraction from what i should really be viewing.

but now i sit down, lean forward, set my papers quietly on the concrete and brush the pebbles from my palm, rubbing the spots where they've marked my skin. i can spare this moment to look at you. there is enough time in the day, stillness in the breeze, and sun on my shoulders. i look and listen and remember.

you are a piece of this plait and you are more than welcome here.

you should always know that you've made me smile.
(i will take comfort in you)

rawr

i forgot to mention that there was a bear watch at my school on Tuesday. apparently one was sighted somewher and we had to sign off that we would not take part in any outdoor activity during the afternoon session.

i had to leave early so i told all the kids that we'd likely be the first to go since we were in the culinary department. they thought it was funny and i ran to my car unusually fast.

in honor of the poor bastard that will likely be shot by a police officer in the near future, take this quiz:

You're The Animals!

You're just a soul whose intentions are good. You are praying for
some understanding, but somehow you seem to know already that it's not going to come
through. You wouldn't have thought that a mere house could ruin your life, but now
you don't even look forward to the sunrise anymore. With all this ruin, you think it
might be time to go on some sort of tour. You've got to get out of this place, if
it's the last thing you ever do.


Take the Animal Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

a quick breather

the concert was good fun, as expected:
interpol was just as thick and full as i'd hoped they would be.
the killers were fun and hipster and totally overdressed for the 90 degrees-with-humidity evening.
there was lots of beer and i drank some of it.
there were lots of attractive men, and i didn't have sex with any of them.
i danced until i got so sweaty i wanted to take my pants off.

we actually left about 4 or 5 songs into the killers' set so that we could drive over to the other concert (that was somehow part of this same radio "fest") and catch the keiser chiefs. unfortunately, the headlining act was not the band that closed out the evening. we arrived between their set and that of the closer: the dresden dolls. that duo was horrible. momentarily, it soured the mood of the evening. so my three friends went outside to the designated smoking area in a joint effort to bum a cigarrette. i had to stay inside with my water as per the bulky security guard. while inside i was befriended, to my dismay, by a early twenty-something, big-haired hipster-doofus. i smiled and talked to him politely, but he liked the dresden dolls and was trying to help me give them a "fair shot." so once i finished my water, i walked outside while he was mid-sentence. i just couldn't cooperate, i guess.

all in all, the best part of the mini-vaycay was being with people. yeah, duh...i know. but i'm definitely too antisocial and this reminded me of the cost of such behavior. there's less laughter, less silliness, and less conversation. the highlights of my journey:

1. braiding strands of metal beading while we killed enough time trying to give the dresden dolls a "fair shot."
2. my friend gina saying to me after i'd made fun of a woman's tattoo, "you know what's hot? that cream on your face." i was eating a donut.
3. scraping melted, chewed, smeared chewing gum off my window.
4. getting stoned and trying to keep my laughter in check, like a cool stoner would.
5. planning how i'm going to pay for those sweatshirts i promised Bishop Allen.
6. talking about people that are in love..."talking about" them in a good way.
7. coming up with more things to add to my "mature" list (which i've already forgotten).
8. slipping into my british accent once again.
9. people-watching at a concert.
10. text sex.
11. beautiful, light, nondescript affirmation.
12. (i can't think of a twelfth thing, but i really like that number.)

ms. brightside

i'm slowly trying to make this a cooler site. you guys are great and everything, but i'd like a cooler following.

totally kidding.

it took me about an hour just to put in the damn links, so you better check them out. as for the RSS feed, i still can't understand fully why that's so cool amongst the tecchies of the world, but all the cool bloggies have the link, and i'm totally a cool blogstar.

tomorrow i am heading to Boston. i will be seeing The Killers and Interpol, along with a few other bands with my faux-British friend, Gina. it should be jolly good fun. maybe i'll end up at a male fireman's auction, like i did during my last visit to beantown. then again, i'm devastatingly broke, so that might kind of hinder things drastically.

*bright side*
i need some time out of this town.
i've been listening to too much Bright Eyes.

i'll be back, hopefully less tightly wound.

i'm ok, you're ok.

you know that giddy feeling that came with assemblies in middle school, or the bus ride for a field trip--maybe even at the cafeteria table with your crew?

i loved that silliness and i most certainly must have been one of those incessantly laughing adolescents that cause me to cringe most days.

well, today there was a faculty meeting. we have a typical faculty, i'd imagine; most school professionals seem to epitomize the clusters of children that they now teach in many respects. there are cliques, rumors, resentment, bitterness, love, scandal. the works.

during my drive home, long and straight on 84, i tried to reconcile these two things. and i am struck with the fear that i am--quite clearly, i think--immature.

here are the tally marks under the "grow up" column:

1. i giggle when placed in large groups.
2. meetings excite me and often i feel the need to entertain if they are small groups.
3. i find that i talk loudly so that i am overheard.
4. i think that i am shy or at least antisocial, but my actions don't concur.
5. i hold grudges.
6. i give people the silent treatment.
7. i whine, both when it is acceptable and not.
8. i gossip.

yikes. ok, i could probably go on, but that's enough for now. and to be fair (and perhaps to try to prove to myself that i'm "ok," i'll make list #2)

why i am so fucking grown up that everyone should totally respect me, Dave Eggers style:

1. i just quit smoking a few months ago.
2. i take care of my mother, mostly in the emotional sense.
3. i take care of my mother, physically.
4. i'm paying off debt.
5. i survived massive heartbreaks and am still independently happy.
6. ummm...

ok, that seems to be all i've got.

but in the process, i've realized this: i did have a plan. my plan isn't surfacing. and i'm not sure if i need to flee or embrace what has become of it.

this is what was supposed to happen:

A. My Plan (for myself, circa age 26)
1. Career
a. writer, specifically a poet, but would "settle" for journalism
b. successful because of my intelligence and talent.
c. always be surrounded by intellectuals of my field. college professor?
2. Education
a. at least a Masters, gunning for PhD
b. Ivy League
3. Love
a. married to Drew
b. happy. in love.
4. Location
a. fully traveled, time abroad
b. college town, lots of green
c. in my own place

and this is what i've got:

B. My Life (at age 26 years, 3 months)
1. Career
a. teacher at a vocational high school
b. successful...at a job that nearly anyone could do. it's the simplest form of teaching on the planet.
c. working with remedial English and surrounded by blue collar workers.
2. Education
a. Bachelor's Degree
b. SUNY school
c. too broke and financially blacklisted to even start working on my Master's. (something i need for my job)
3. Love
a. wishing i had the $4,000 instead of Drew's engagement ring
b. often lonely. missing romance.
c. owner of a blue vibrator
4. Location
a. landlocked for over 5 years now
b. my hometown
c. my parents' home.

i'm not sure if this is funny or sad. i'm not sure if i'm too young to be thinking this way or if i've let it slide unnoticed for too long.

that heaviness--it's not always there, but when it comes i know it's never left me.

*names have been changed to protect the identity of some characters

so i need your help kiddos. i think if we all cheer loud enough, i can get "somedude" to share his little story...

it started off a little like this...(color-coded for your reading pleasure)

[*somedude apologizes for interrupting our online conversation to watch some TV for a few minutes...that should catch you up to speed]

somedude: i had to see Evander holyfield cha-cha
somedude: it was alright
somedude: but he has no foot work

areallyhotchick: oh god. you're watching that? haha :-P

somedude: my mom is
somedude: the tv is near by

areallyhotchick: likely story

somedude: okay, you caught me
somedude: I am metro
somedude: maybe not, if i wa metro, i would have better fashion

areallyhotchick: hmm...yeah, well just get a girlfriend. that's the easiest fix

somedude: hmmm
somedude: i will get on that
somedude: as soon as i get out of this damned place
somedude: -sorry, i was supposed to be home monday
somedude: thanks to the plague, i have been trapped here for the week
somedude: luckly i will be getting home in the morning
somedude: specking of finding someone
somedude: i just read your last post

areallyhotchick: oh god. don't start! i'm busy proving my heterosexuality to another male at the moment :-P

somedude: now that sounds interesting
somedude: so how are you provining it to him?

areallyhotchick: lol
areallyhotchick: not like *that*
areallyhotchick: he's in another AIM box ;-)

somedude: darn, i could use a good story
somedude: honestly, nothing is worse then getting turned on by the same gender
somedude: and that is a story for another time,
somedude: i got to get off
somedude: later

areallyhotchick: haha!!
areallyhotchick: no way!!

somedude signed off at 9:34:37 PM.

don't you want to hear this boy's story?! of-fucking-course you do! *cheer* by leaving your comments below.