the name game

LOOK!!

2005-08-08T21:59:00.000-04:00

i have a new website!

my blog will now be located at www.namegameblog.com

it's totally pretty and classy.
i'm still in the midst of the transfer, but if you continue to post comments here, i think that they will continue to be perpetually floating in cyberspace. because they've certainly disappeared.

thanks for reading!
see you over there.

movin' on up

2005-08-08T09:06:00.000-04:00

i'm working on my new site!

there are still lots of little things i need to take care of, but if you want to check it out, cruise on over to namegameblog

i'll let you know when it's official.

sooooo exciting.

a long post about my weekend as a yuppie

2005-08-07T13:19:00.000-04:00

i'm about to tell you that i went on a day trip to a little island off the coast of Connecticut. well, it's really part of New York, but whatever. but before i tell you this story, you must know that taking day trips on an airplane to ritzy islands does not make me a yuppie. i assure you. in fact, the details of my story will likely reassure you if you don't believe me.

so, yes. my friend Jon can fly planes so he invited me to see Fisher's Island with him. i was totally nervous about being in one of those little tiny planes (even smaller than the ones you may affectionately refer to as "puddle jumpers"), but it was a trip to the beach--on an island--and we were flying there. of course i'm coming!

while he flew, i took up some light reading.

once we landed, i took loads of pictures, but pictures can be boring unless they have people in them. so, my story is going to be about the people we encountered on this ritzy island. the island that has only two (i'm not exaggerating) fucking public restrooms from end to end. that's 7 miles.

in fact, the absence of restrooms was certain to be my demise as we walked to the "town" from the airport--whose bathrooms were unfortunately out of commission. there was even a sign directing me around back with cruel lack of compassion.

when we got to town, an area of the island that was host to the place's only cafe, i was met with more of the same. "No public restrooms! Sorry!" yeah, sorry my ass. whatever, i was hardcore, right? we went inside and got something to drink. regardless of my bladder situation, i was thirsty. we had been walking in the heat on an island in the sun. replenishing our liquids was essential. so, i ordered an iced coffee.

we grab our drinks from the foreign girls working the counter and sit outside to rest up before our long hike back. this is where i met the first group of people of this little story. there were about four or five of them and they were all dressed head-to-toe from J Crew's mid-summer catalogue. seersucker shorts with purple polo shirts and dragonfly flip-flops. or the summer-weight capris with the oxford style shell and ballet flats. at first i commended their style. but then i heard them speak. having sat outside in the midst of their conversation, Jon and I only heard the punchline.

"the strongest force in the world is COMPOUND INTEREST!"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! she said COMPOUND INTEREST! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"yes! it may run a CLOSE second to gravity, but that's it!"

more laughter.

ok. maybe i'm just ornery because i have had to pee for about two hours and i'm now drinking more coffee to test fate, but i could not find a single way for that dialogue to be amusing. i even spent a few moments thinking of the way the joke could have began. was someone hospitalized with compound interest vertigo? had their crony recently been urged to marry based on this threat of compound interest? was their plane delayed en route to Fiji because of the strong compound interest stream?

it didn't make sense. this was not funny and these people were some rare island species that i had been certain only existed in comedy sitcoms.

after snapping their photo, the one in the purple asked me (i'm sure with condesention) if i'd like him to take Jon and I's picture. "oh, no thanks." i'll just put you on the internet and make fun of you instead.

we walked over to the post office to see if they had a restroom. the lady smiled and said that there were only two on the island. one at the yacht club and one at the ferry. i wanted to burst in and proclaim i'd simply use hers, but she was old and nice, so i just said "ok", smiled weakly, and started back toward the airport hoping to find the ferry.

well, we did find the ferry and i peed. and i took more pictures and saw a jelly fish and made fun of the island people some more when i came across the fifth one of these signs:

now it was beach time. ahhhh.

we went to the beach and i took craploads of pictures of the water and pretty rocks that looked like sunbathing seals. then a little doggie came to visit us. Jon went off to find some revolutionary war bunkers he'd read about and i trekked down the beach with my new friend, the dog.

the dog sniffed out the few sunbathers as we walked, and one couple were not happy with the doggie's visit. in fact, the man of the couple rolled up his magazine and tried to hit the dog! so i took their picture:

please make fun of the fat man to yourselves.

i found some smelly things and took more pictures and then met back up with Jon, who claimed to have stumbled upon the lady from the postoffice--sunbathing topless. so, i promptly put my shoes back on and off we went to find her.

sure enough, i saw her postoffice vehicle parked at the edge of the island.

while Jon described her rockin bod, i reminded him that she was at least forty years old. then i told him that he should have asked her for her digits. apparently Jon has yet to master the art of aking topless women for their phone number. instead, i took some tasteful photos of her--for his sake, of course.

i'm sure the other people, including the fishermen and boaters, had prime viewing real estate. but i'd had enough, so we marched back to our spot near the dog.

i read Jon the Jennifer Anniston interview from Vanity Fair, and we packed up our stuff and headed back home.

on our tiny-ass airplane. (and YES! they do have keys!)

thanks, but no thanks

2005-08-05T13:32:00.000-04:00

well, my kiddly-winks.

it's poll day once again.

i must say that i'm a bit disappointed in the results of last week's poll. too many think i have a "pretty face" and that i should model it, along with my fat body. also, the differential between about 4 or 5 of the other options was just too close for me to listen to you. it's like that polling-the-audience option on Who Wants to be a Millionaire, but when basically the crowd is full of morons.

thanks anyway.

be sure to vote in this week's election. let's get serious, folks.

lay off the sweets

2005-08-03T19:29:00.000-04:00

once again inspired, but this time by alex blagg over at blaggblogg. after reading his piss-your-pants post, come back over here so i can lead your laughter cool down with my additional thoughts on Starbucks.

the other day i was in the Barnes & Noble Starbuck's Cafe. i was sipping my small vanilla latte and eating my sugar shortbread cookie, my greasy fingers probably lubricating the pages of the magazine i certainly wouldn't be buying.

little did i know that, moments later, i would be pondering one of modern society's greatest mysteries.

while i was sitting in the corner, i peered up to spot a somewhat attractive boy placing his order at the counter. i quickly tried to slide my cookie out of sight, because we all know that such a quick move takes pounds off your figure--sometimes even moving the weight to your breasts.

i adjusted my glasses and kept a coy eye on his place in line. nice clothes. decent figure. stylish hair. no wretched birth defects visible. things were looking good.

but then Starbucks stepped in.

my boy was ordering his beverage along with a "Double Chocolate Chunk-N-Nut Cookie, please."

sonofabitch!

Starbucks, you bitchy little wench! how on EARTH is a man supposed to retain his dignity after ordering such an atrociously-named sweet? CHUNK? no wait, DOUBLE chunk? and did he just say he wants to eat a NUT?

no one can come out of that situation looking cool. i don't care who you are. this dude may as well have been wearing high heels and carrying a bag from Louis Vuitton.

seriously. think about it. Jonny Depp ordering a Gooey Fudgy Peanut Butter Bar? *shudder*
Jude Law ordering a Sticky Bun? ick.
how about Trent Reznor or Sid Vicious asking for the Triple Moist Mocha Layer Cake? even they would look like complete assclowns.

don't think so? well, now let's call it a Kremey Karamel Krispy Kookie.

yeah, that's what i thought.

let's get logical, logical

2005-08-03T12:55:00.000-04:00

a recent entry of justin's over at dude.man.phat. left me initially feeling virginous, and then feeling perplexed.

seriously. who makes up these things? no really. who?

for the sake of discussion, let's take the dirty sanchez. (if you don't know what it is, drop justin a line and he'll redirect your call.)

but for those who can participate, let's be adults for a moment. surely we can apply logic to an odd sexual act! of course we can.

the format of this round-table discussion will be that of me asking questions, me talking about my theories, and then you answering them. preferably with humor. or complete distaste. make sure you see the sign-in sheet. it's floating around there somewhere.

good. so, back to the ol' Dirty Sanchez.

first and foremost, is there anyone out there who has actually been one consentual half of this, um, technique? does it simply exist in porn?

maybe this is why i'm sexually deprived, but i can't see this happening in most beds, or any bed, of anyone i know, have seen, or could imagine. if one even wanted to try such a thing with their lover, how is the topic approached? do you take her out for some Mexican food first to allow for a little transition? are there instruction manuals? i'm sure that some kind of poorly judged move could lead to some painful bruising, at the very least. i think the horrors of having to explain your predicament to the ER nurse would be deterrent enough. heh. i wonder if Richard Gere has tried this out...

also, do such conceived activities exist for those who need such fetishes? if so, must there be a corresponding act for each weird thing? one maybe where the man is strangled with the strap of an espidrille before the woman finishes him off? it doesn't always have to be the female being exposed to the vile parts of such fantasies, i'm sure. because that would just be sexist. and i don't have to take that.

and lastly, let's talk about the fact that these techniques are all named by what was either an immature email-forwarder or a pornstar producer seeking to increase it's popularity with thehungry, mexican, or youthful viewer market.

actually, let's not talk about that.

in fact, this meeting is adjourned.

let's never speak of this again.

i don't look like lisa loeb: my proof in 5 steps

2005-08-01T16:33:00.000-04:00

i know i'm hot. let's just get that out of the way.

this post is in no way to be construed as an attempt to recieve praises and compliments from strangers. in fact, i hate compliments. unless they are coming from myself. (see first sentence.)

now, having established my hoTTT factor, i do have to carry around a specific burden throughout my everyday life. in fact, you just may be experiencing the same burden if you meet the following criteria:

1. you wear plastic-framed glasses.
2. you are a female.
3. you have brownish hair.

i would wager a large amount of money, drugs, or sexual favors that if you, in fact, satisfy those three prerequisites, you have likely encountered my grief.

"You know who you look like?! You look like LISA LOEB!"

now, this, in and of itself, does not have to be an insult. in fact, Lisa Loeb is quite striking (or so i've been told by several men). my problem does not lie with being compared to a somewhat attractive pop-folk-bubblegum singer/songwriter that will forever launch the lyrics youuuu saayyyy into my head at her very metion.

my problem is that i actually look nothing like this woman. don't believe me? please refer to diagram #1:

Diagram #1: Kristine

please note the following marked points:
A. smile/mouth
B. nose
C. forehead
D. glasses
E. chin

Diagram #2: Lisa

again, note the same marked points:
A. smile/mouth
B. nose
C. forehead
D. glasses
E. chin

in the spirit of simplicity, we'll go in alphabetical order.

A--notice how my mouth curves slightly upward when smiling. now notice how lisa is more of a straight-smiler. we also have different teeth. apparently she was privileged enough to experience an orthodontist's office as a child.

B--again, lisa's nose is somehwhat wider than mine. in fact, mine is down-right beak-like in comparison! one would be clearly blind to suggest they are in any way similar! perposterous!

C--now, this section is difficult because lisa has bangs and i do not. however, i would wager that behind those wispy strands is the home of a much smaller forehead, unlike my expansive one.

D--THE GLASSES. now, this is where people tend to reassure me that i do, in fact, look like lisa loeb. "but you have the glasses!" well, my friend, as you can see here, our glasses are quite different. so, you're wrong. you have a poor visual memory and you should rely on other cognitive devices to recall important information.

E--this is probably the most subtle of our differences, but it does round off the inequity. lisa's chin is slightly more square, whereas mine is a bit more rounded. it's true! take a closer look! see?

so, there we have it. i actually don't look like lisa loeb. so please stop suggesting that i do. it's only making you appear very dumb.

in fact, according to a very scientific celebrity-look-alike computer software, i look more similar to the likes of Anna Kornikova, Amelia Vega, and Sophie Marceau

my sad place: the county fair

2005-07-31T14:50:00.000-04:00

i'm about to make a strange request of all of you, but bear (bare?) with me.

there are people of the world that will tell you, in jest, to think of your "happy place." this typically occurs when the two of you are having a conversation. you are annoyed with something to a degree that is entirely socially and psychologically acceptable, when your friend takes the opportunity to make you feel foolish by suggesting you're completely off your rocker. the only way to put you back on your rocker is for you to imagine your "happy place." likely some secluded beach on a tropical island with lots of sunshine and shade and barely dressed men that are holding palms to fan you as you sip on a tropical drink and soak in the sea air....

but i digress.

my request is for you to push all these happy thoughts aside for a moment and think of your "sad place."

that's right. go ahead.

...

...

what have you got?

maybe that time that your pet parakeet was feet-up at the bottom of the cage?
the day you didn't make the JV cut for the basketball team?
when Sam dumped you for that other chick/guy who was SO not fucking hot?

ok. all excellent sad places.

you want to know what i've got?

i've got the county fair.

the county fair, almost universally across this great nation, has got to be one of the most depressing places. having attended one the other night for my summer job, i realized that county fairs indeed make me sad.

where else can you witness a morbidly obese woman wearing spandex and selling deep-fried twinkies for $5?
or how about the booth operator who will flirt with every member of the family, including the infant you're pushing in a stroller, or the dog you've brought along to aid your feeble grandpa, in an effort to get you over and pop some balloons with a dull dart?
where else is it expected that parents will lose their children--guaranteed!--that there is a booth established for reclaiming such ill-babysat toddlers? toddlers who are then turned over to the awful parents without so much as a warning or repremand for ever breeding in the first place?
where else do you see people dumb enough to still be intrigued by the lady with a snake's body? where else can you find people on this planet who are willing to part with their own money to witness something that , if you've managed to complete at least a 5th grade level of education, is irrefutably a poorly-masked con?
where else do you see old men trying to sell some cookware or garden hose to a group of equally old-ish county fair attendees with more vigor and passion than can be found on most daytime soap operas?
where else to you find individuals, again paying money, to get on a ride that is visibly rusted and rickety, tossing all care to the wind, to completely trust some greasy-haired toothless freak that they won't be hurled into the sky when that cable finally breaks?
where else is it ultimately clear that America has, indeed, jumped the fucking shark?

only at the county fair--a place that is still envisioned as a time for family fun and excitement.

and that makes me incredibly sad.

who is the hottt-est of them all?

2005-07-29T00:05:00.000-04:00

and the winner iiiisssss....

...TDDLLDLTTTLTLLDLDDLTTLD...(that's a drumroll)

PAULY D!

(sorry guys. next time i'll hook it up so these bigheads can't vote more than once.)

second place goes to BILVOX!

and last, BUT HOTTEST, is my fucking cute-ass mutt, ANGIE! (she doesn't have a website, folks. she's a goddamn DOG.)

and Paul, you know i love you, but your GRAND PRIZE has become null and void because you broke a TRIPLE-DOG DARE.

so, now, we're just even.

LOOK AT THIS WEEK'S FUN NEW POLL!!

(and if you actually vote for me to take on the world of plus-size models, just know that i'm a good stalker. OH, and for the "smart" people, the last vote option is like a write-in ballot. to chose this option, you have to WRITE IN your suggestion.)

ok, GO.

fuck office space

2005-07-28T15:58:00.000-04:00

i want to let all of you in on a little secret. i'm on the verge of a REVOLUTION. that's right kids, a damn rebellion.

i share this with you today, because i think you want to be part of this grand war. i think you are all suffering, quietly suffering, every damn day of the workweek.

oh, that's right. i'm talking about idle workplace discourse.

overweight office-lady #1: "hoo! it's a scortcher out there Betty!"

overweight office-lady #2: "you betchya, Karen! i'm heading to my daughter's after work to take a dip in her pool with the grandkids!"

overweight office-lady #1: "well, aren't you the lucky duck! send some cool thoughts my way!"

overweight office-lady #2: "i sure will!"

ladies, ladies, ladies.
there will be no sending of thoughts! telepathic communication only exists in the MOVIES. are you in a movie? NO! you're NOT IN A MOVIE. people do not speak LIKE MORONS in real life. there will be no more use of the terms "hoo-boy!" or "you betchya!" or "irregardless" or "as per" or "take care, now!"

there will be no more of this oblivious commenting either. like when you're riding to the deli to pick up the group's lunch order.

nerdy office-man #1: man! it's hot as balls in my car, huh?

balding office-man #2: you can say that again! (rolls window down)

nerdy office-man#1: (gives balding office-man #2 a sideways glance and turns up the A/C as he pulls out of parking lot)

balding office-man #2: the breeze is nice though! thank God for that!

nerdy office-man #1: yeah. well, i could put on the A/C if you want

balding office-man #2: nah! i love the fresh air.

nerdy office-man #1: (fuming silently, turns air vents directly at his face)

listen, driverman. you clearly have not heard of the REVOLUTION. this is how you handle the situation: "um, jackass...you wanna roll up that window? i have the A/C on."

there. done.

JOIN THE REVOLUTION.

tell your cube-neighbor to stop farting.
tell the lady in accounting that she needs to stop fucking up your paycheck. her job is specifically to not fuck up your paycheck. remind her of that.
when the random what-does-that-guy-do-here-anyway dude strolls by to remind you that it's almost friday, tell him that you already have a calendar that you're capable of reading. tell him to stop being annoying, already before someone reports him for being a trespasser.

let's not pussyfoot around this, mmkay? there is no need for such behavior. you do not need to comply with moronic exchanges. inform your boss that being productive requires you to as little interaction with idiots as possible. then tell him, on that note, that you need to get back to work. do not say "pronto."

you have now joined the REVOLUTION.

(if you forward this VIA EMAIL to your friend, who works down the aisle from you, i will officially kick you out of the REVOLUTION.)

on a weeknight?!

2005-07-27T21:31:00.000-04:00

last night i had to attend a teen dance party. it's all part of my job this summer as a fancy interim coordinator.

(on a side note, the director told me yesterday over lunch that i had signed a full year contract with the department. oh. "i thought it was only through august." he laughs. very loudly. and longer than i was comfortable with. "heh, no." more laughter.)

so the dance party was hosted by my group of kids and the region's top 40 radio station. it was nothing short of awful. i busted a few moves for pure comic relief and then resigned myself to texting people i hadn't spoken to in months.

since i had transported two of the girls, i got to hear about how much they thought the party sucked during the drive home. since this was making me feel even better about how i spent the past three hours of my life, i opted to change the topic of discussion.

"why didn't your sister come, tatiana?"

"she's on punishment." kiara piped in from the back seat.

"what'd she do?" i asked.

"i dunno, but it was real bad 'cuz she's in trouble for the rest of the summer."

"well, didn't you ask her what she did?"

"no." tatiana had no interest in elaborating.

"aren't you curious? i mean, she's grounded for the entire summer? it must be bad right?" i pleaded.

"i guess. if i asked her, she'd just tell me to mind my own business anyhow."

i was really shocked by this. apparently i'm more nosey than my youth activists. before i could insist any further, she turned the conversation toward her crazy events from the previous evening. this is something i was completely unprepared for.

the two girls settled in to explain how tatiana almost got jumped by some girl while ordering chinese food late last night.

"you were out at 11?! on a weeknight?" i mean, yeah, it's summer, but come on! it's no secret that this city is known for it's ghetto-tastic qualities.

kiara ignored me and begain. "i was outside with mines and tati was in there wit' Mr. Ling..."

"wait," i interrupted. "mines? are you talking about your boyfriend?" the girls laughed in agreement. "you have to translate these things for me."

"miss kris, you crazy!" they call me miss kris. and yeah, i am a little crazy.

"so anyway," tatiana took over. "this girl came up cuz she thought kiara was my sister and then when she saw she wasn't, she thought she could fight me."

i interrupted again. "you still confused miss kris?" kiara was laughing again.

"well, why did this girl want to fight you?" these girls clearly needed some tips on good storytelling.

tatiana sucked her teeth as she tried to gather her thoughts. "well, it kinda started with pappi...you remember that crazy old man that lives with us?...she was makin' fun at him the other day and pappi is crazy. so he was like 'i'm gonna kick that fat bastards ass!' and started runnin' at this girl. and pappi's crazy and he gets this look in his eye and you just gotta run."

oh. ok. i didn't bother asking anymore questions. i was now giggling along with the girls.

"so mr. ling sees that this bitch..."

"tatiana! you ain't supposed to say that!"

"awww...you girls are so good!" i say to them and allow tatiana to finish telling her story of fighting a girl at the chinese food store at 11pm on a weeknigh in the ghetto.

"...and he calls mommy and my sister. and then kiara calls hers."

i couldn't help myself, "wait. mr ling has your phone number?"

"yeah, errbody got my phone number!" tatiana says to me.

oh. ok.

i resolved myself to silence as tatiana and kiara took turns telling their highlights of the story. it all ended in what i imagined to be a crowd of people spilling into the streets in the middle of the night. mr. ling with his portable phone, yelling incoherently to tatiana's mother, who i'm sure must have translated instincitvely as if talking to Lassie. then boyfriends ran up, in outfits to match their girlfriends, to show their undying support of tatiana and kiara. when the mother and sister of tatian arrive, they're in their skivvies, rollers in their hair, more fired up than a bull in a bullfight.

all on a weeknight. in the middle of the night. thank god for mr. ling.

on driving, violence & drifters

2005-07-27T15:11:00.000-04:00

i spent a lot of time driving yesterday, which has prompted me to discuss a few things about drivers and their automobiles--habits of the road in general. and i'm not just referring to the fact that nobody on the fucking planet seems to have passed driver's ed (well, except for me and you...and that chick from college. man, she sure knew how to handle a stick.).

no, no. i'm referring to people driving very fancy cars--more specifically, those people who clearly should not be allowed to even ride in one.

i was getting off an exit, waiting for the BMW in front of me to merge into traffic, when i noticed a few things.

one: it was silver. do they make that frigging car in any other color for christ's sake? i'm thinking it must be cheaper in silver. or maybe it's a knockoff from Canal Street.

secondly, the dude had a busted tail light. sure, shit happens and people are busy. but when said shit transpires and you have little time to spare in your busy BMW-driving world, do you then go to the automotive supply store to buy that red masking tape shit that never sticks for more than a week in an effort to repair the busted plastic? well, if you drive this silver BMW, you do.

and to top it ALL off, you are a big fan of those little tree air fresheners. and by "fan" i mean that you dangle at least one from your rearview mirror at all times, with the plastic baggie still attached, allowing the vanillaroma-goodness to seep proportionately into your leather interior. and when that one is kicked, you get another one, in a clashing color--probably blue, and hang it alongside of your previous tree. maybe those are your school colors and you can't get past your high school glory days. maybe the combination is a odor you just can't get anywhere else. or maybe you're just a fucking douchebag and you should move to Maryland.

you're not fooling me, mr silver, air-freshened, busted-light BMW driver. do the world a favor and merge into this approaching Mack truck, k?

*****

moments after my BMW episode, after i had successfully merged off my exit ramp, across another highway's entrance ramp, and around a lost driver, i came upon a curious sight. alongside this treacherous roadway was a group of individuals, walking.

everyone has seen this now and again. sure. you run out of gas. your car breaks down. you're running away from a zombie in some horror flick. and, inevitably, you must walk where you typically would not.

however, this was a herd of people. i did a double-take in an effort to count them. there were at least twenty. i'm not exaggerating. 20 people of varying ages walking alongside a major highway. surely this was illegal. but beyond that, what the hell were they doing?! i was tempted to swing around and inquire about their destination, but i was on a tight schedule.

and quite frankly, i was a bit scared. there wasn't much explanation for their presence aside from them having just emerged from the woods, a secret access point to their tribal village...underground, even. i'm sure they were savages. savages about to wreak havoc on modern society in some sort of defiant, violent protest.

i should have at least pointed them toward the silver BMW.

laugh. you'll feel better.

2005-07-26T17:09:00.000-04:00

i've been adding new links to my list, so please be sure to check them out. they're really freakin' hilarious. like, for real.

today's adds are:
(in no particular order)

1. Citizen of the Month
2. dude. man. phat.
3. pink is the new blog

none of them need much help with publicity, so this is really just me looking out for my readers'/visitors' well-being. you know, to help you laugh more. they say that's good for you now.

especially if you're in a bad mood. force a smile. no, i'm not kidding. DO IT.

DO IT AGAIN!

see? don't you feel silly and happy? it's totally a scientifically proven fact that i read somewhere.

edit:

AND DON'T FORGET TO VOTE! looks like P-Diddy was going to sweep the competition (have you people SEEN his picture?!) but Bilvox is making an impressive comeback!

DO YOUR NATIONALISTIC DUTY. DON'T BE APATHETIC. VOTE OR DIE.

on guard!

2005-07-25T21:39:00.000-04:00

let's wrestle.

i have 1505. how badly have you beaten me, kind sir?

it's all about the embracing--or--my "back tat"

2005-07-25T15:38:00.000-04:00

if your name is gina favata, and you're writing a bakery-girl memoir in Gallway, you know all about this story. but for those of you not falling into this category, allow me to tell you a little tale...

i'll never forget the details of that day in September (or was it October?). i was in Plattsburgh and it was sunny. i think it was the evening, and i made Katie and Gina come with me to meet Mad Pup of Mad Pup Tattoos.

at the ripe age of 18, i was what i would call most of my students today: a punk. i had the manic-panic dyed hair, bleached first of course, for maximum color. i shopped primarily in thrift stores. i owned clothing that was meant to be worn by men. i did drugs. i drank. i wore brown lipstick. i totally dug poetry.

oh yeah, i was effing cool.

when i finally got to college, i kind of became anorexic, sustaining myself on cigarettes and coffee and the occasional french fry. now that i had the hip figure to go with my oversized Mr. Bean-clothing, there was just ONE THING i needed to complete my image.

a back tat.

i needed some mothergrabbing ink, my friends. and everyone on campus knew that Mad Pup was the dude that had maybe helped that Lizard Boy get all his tattoos, or maybe it was the Lion Lady, or Cher, or someone completely different. regardless, i knew he was my go-to man for my punkass completion.

Mad Pup is likely the exact image of who you've already imagined Mad Pup to be. he was a man in his late 40s with long dark hair and a beard. he had a pot belly and wore a tank top with some sort of Harley Davidson graphics on the front, tucked into belted pants that sat right below his round belly. and of course he had tattoos all over his arms. he was quite intimidating, but i was too amped to care.

so, i picked out the first pretty design from one of their books and plopped myself, face-down, onto Mad Pup's tat chair.

he didn't speak too much, but when he did, his words were laced with dry humor. gina would peak in occassonally and ease my discomfort with her nervous laugh and a quick photo of the procedure. when i felt comfortable enough, i even started chatting with them. a song came on the classic rock station that Inkmaster Pup had playing out of his beat-up radio.

"i love this song!" i started singing along....see the thorn twist in your side...i waiiit.....for you....

"what song is this?" Mr. Pup inquired.

"ummm, U2?! you don't know these guys?!" i was shocked. he had to have been joking.

Mad Pup was apparently not joking, and did not appreciate my mocking his yuppie-band ignorance. "You better watch your tone to a man who has a needle in your back."

i heard Gina's nervous laugh and her subsequent scurrying out of the room.

i quickly apologized and he let out a mischevious laugh.
there was not much more conversation between Mad Pup and myself after that exchange.

that's the story of my back tat.
i don't like it anymore, but at least its connotations have changed in modern day to symbolize an extremely worldly and intelligent female. i'd hate to be seen as someone with a very high bangability quotient.

ryan fucking adams

2005-07-23T22:53:00.000-04:00

this dude is one of my favorites. like, top 5, if not top 3.

but, he's also a tremendous asshole. it's a struggle to see this guy in concert and still love him afterwards. if he talks, it's gibberish. if he plays, it's not what you want to hear. if he's on stage, he's likely taken too much of some sort of stimulant. or depressant. or a nice mixture of both.

so you go home, curse him out a bit, pout, bemoan Ticketmaster, and then play a bunch of his songs that made you a fan to begin with. eventually, you decide to not totally give up on him. there's always AA, or rehab, or zoloft. i'm sure the chick that dumped him in NYC was a complete bitch. i'll give him that. it'd fuck any of us up, probably. it's not his fault. right? right.

because, in the end, he's still one of the few artists that has the balls to do this: "shut the fuck up, asshole!"

god has a message for you

2005-07-23T13:48:00.000-04:00

i checked my site statitstics this morning and noticed that i'd had an unusually high number of unique visitors. soooo, i checked my referrers, and this is what i found:

1. http://www.pauldavidson.net/2005/07/22/words-for-y... 4

2 http://legendarysurfers.com/blog/blogger.html 3

3 http://djkrishkay.blogspot.com/ 3

4 http://omahaundergroundchurch.blogspot.com/ 2

5 http://pink_toes.blogspot.com/ 2

6 http://juanlenonblog.blogspot.com/ 2

7 http://chatterbots.blogspot.com/ 2

8 http://auntiescountrycorner.blogspot.com/ 1

9 http://vitordasilvarodrigues.blogspot.com/ 1

10 http://cyberanger.blogspot.com/ 1

11 http://chroniclesoffreespeech.blogspot.com/ 1

12 http://blogdocagareu.blogspot.com/ 1

13 http://www.joywalker.blogspot.com/ 1

14 http://jillyoung.blogspot.com/ 1

15 http://cuty-pie.blogspot.com/ 1

16 http://lyrikallounge.blogspot.com/ 1

now, the freaky thing about this is that a vast majority of these sites are freaky RELIGIOUS PEOPLE'S BLOGS. i mean, i have nothing against the religious, but:

A. i've never met one that actually had a blog
B. when i checked a random sampling of their sites, none of them had any kind of link to me.

clearly, this is a message from god. he has intervened to send these people to my site.
and i think what he's saying is obvious:

God says,

RELIGIOUS PEOPLE! (god kinda always has that shouting-booming kind of voice, so caps are necessary.) THROW DOWN YOUR...EH....(god turns to someone in his posse: WHAT ARE THEY CALLED? he can't really whisper. it's like one of those Greek "asides" where everyone just has to pretend you didn't hear.) AH, YES! THROW DOWN YOUR KEYBOARDS. YOU ALL HAVE SOMETHING TO LEARN FROM THIS HERATIC AT THENAMEGAME.COM! LET HER BE YOUR LEADER!

and it was so.

i expect to have an interesting following showing its presence around here in the next few days, people. let's embrace them. they have so much to learn and need our guidance.

you must be this tall to enjoy this ride

2005-07-22T16:34:00.000-04:00

thanks for playing, kids. a new poll has been posted.

fyi, relations were had, but said boy has been kicked to the proverbial curb on the grounds of acting his pathetic age.

if you are interested in having relations with me AND can act an age (with photo ID) of at least 26 or higher, i may or may not be interested. it all depends on how much money you make, really. and how much travelling i'd have to do.

et tu, scallywag?

2005-07-22T15:25:00.000-04:00

last night was a really groundbreaking evening for me. i decided upon two things that will certainly change the direction in which my life is heading.

1. i no longer want to be a teacher
2. i'm going to bring back the term "scallywag" (or "scallawag"...whichever spelling you prefer)

you see, teaching is just kind of boring. plus, i learned that there are rumors that i'm a bad one circulating around my workplace. and, though i have tenure, i realized that i am, in fact, a lame teacher. because it's getting boring.

here's where you come in. if you would like to hire me, or even drop my name at the next meeting (making it a bullet on the agenda would score you some serious brownie points. and i don't pay in brownies, IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN), i would be really thrilled. i'm thinking something that pays me better than you, preferably, and that will emerse me in beautiful, single men (you know, those ones that understand that being a size 10 does not make you a plus-size model, you asshole). oh, and it should be something in the writing field. with music. good music. and few to no emo-hipster doofuses. i'm willing to move anywhere in the nation. except Alaska. oh, and Maryland. nobody deserves to live in Maryland.

i mean, i could find this job myself, but i'm a very busy woman. i have smokers to save and floating bars to mutiny in an effort to sail to Gallway.

as for the scallywagging, i want to make insults fun again. as i was leaving my floating bar, i engaged in a verbal confrontation with a man who was wearing a hands-free cell phone adaptor. and this man was not driving. he was not even near a vehicle. clearly, this man needed to be informed of his ridiculous existence, but i had no tools with which to work. had i thought of scallywag at that moment, both he and myself would have had a much more enjoyable evening.

there isn't an expert on the planet that would refute that logic, my friends. not a single one.

spending time with mother

2005-07-20T22:41:00.000-04:00

a few hours ago, i was listening to the news while i ate some dinner. either Roz Abrams or one of the other evening broadcasters, perhaps Sade Baderinwa (i listen just to hear her say her name. it's salacious.), was talking about the recent Supreme Court Justice nomination. none of it was very entertaining or even insightful. they got to the part where they asked what i imagined to be some visibly annoyed or homeless new yorkers about their opinion on John Roberts. people droned about their worries, and valid ones, but i kind of tuned out. or maybe my mother's chomping drowned out the interview. either way, i managed to tune back in at the perfect moment:

"i hayuf aulwahs bean ah cuhnserfateve."

umm...ya think? where the hell did they find a hick in new york city? i wasn't watching, but i reckon it must have been the naked cowboy.

after dinner, i found out that my friend Lana had been evacuated from the mall in which she works because there were two bombs found. like, real live ones. they even had to detonate one! it was totally on the news and everything. naturally, recapping the incidents to my mother quickly went from concern to excitement to, hey, do you wanna go shopping?

(which, speaks volumes about like every major issue i have, but this is a funny post, so shut up and just let me tell the damn story.)

anyway, we get to Old Navy at the local dirt mall and i'm sitting on the bench of the dressing area waiting for her to show me some pants or something. her room was directly in front of where i was seated, so i could see her sneakered feet beneath the dressing room door. i could also see that she was trying on a pair of jeans WITH her sneakers on.

now, my mother is accident prone and very in-your-face about any kind of mishap she might encounter. seeing that sneaker trying to slip in through what couldn't have been a very wide denim leg, i instantly imagined her falling over. and not just falling clumsily onto the little bench they have in that little room. i envisioned her plowing into the suddenly cardboard-looking divider panels and creating a massive domino effect while narrating the entire decent with shrieks and flailing appendages. first her stall would buckle, her nylon pantied butt for all to see, and then the petite teenager in the next room would let out one of those classic shrills. i'm sure the event would be topped off with a third character emerging from yet a third dressing stall, holding her clothing in front of her wrinkly body. maybe the dude in charge of the fitting room would get on his little CIA-looking walkie-talkie contraption and call for back-up, which would be the entire store, and in lightning speed.

and i'm still sitting there, horrified, as the pressed wood creacks and price tags flutter to the floor.

the image was so real that i actually flinched and grimmaced as i sat. the patient boyfriend of the chick in the stall next to my mother totally saw me. he had been sitting next to me on the bench and i felt his sideways glance.

i stifled my smile by pretending to clear my throat and biting my lip, but since i'm not slick, this was not effective.

this is not the first time i've caught myself physically reacting to a little daydream that i've let get a little unruly.

and i STILL think i'm too cool for online dating.
boo-yeah.

a coupla' things

2005-07-19T22:43:00.000-04:00

for those of you playing at home, here are the result's for last week's quiz. windex was the winner and the correct answer. all other options run very closely behind my beautiful blue buffer.

i yanked this one a bit early so that i could run a oh-so-important poll for this week. please read and vote asap. mmkay? grrrreeat.

oh, and no, i'm not the dude in my profile picture. i'm a female. please check out my flickr page if you need to fantasize about me with an image.

thanks
--management.

just a few things on today's agenda

2005-07-18T12:29:00.000-04:00

first, the soreness in my right glandular region has now spread to the entire frontal surface of my neck. yesterday, i joked with kristen, in my ineffectual attempt to make her feel bad, that she's implemented a new diet regimen for me since it's become quite painful to eat. something about the saliva glands being triggered. i later mused with another friend that i partially think that, because there is no bruising, i am bleeding internally and will die a slow death, only to be remembered as the girl with the vampire-like lesbianic friend.

maybe the new soreness is just from nursing the other side. that's a theory, too. i guess.

next, if you haven't voted in my COOL NEW WEEKLY POLL!! i'm going to, well, i'm not going to do jack shit. because i'll never know if you've voted or not. but GOD will know, people.

thirdly, check out this new site that i've added to my too-cool-for-school roster: paul davidson's words for my enjoyment. it's very funny. very. plus he's hot. with a totally proportionate head.

lastly, my next interview with a rockstar will be We Are Scientists. i'm really excited about these boys because they're funnier than most people i know combined. i'm so excited, actually, that i've already told them that i'm nearly orgasmic with joy. this, perhaps, was the key to snagging the interview. if you have any suggestions for questions, please leave them in the comments section. i'm so excited that i'm kinda drawing a blank. eek.

and since there are no questions (don't you DARE be that person that asks a really fucking annoying question as the meeting is being hinted at dissolving, you bastard), please enjoy the refreshments at the back of the room. and if there are no refreshments back there, i totally give you permission to leave work early to find some.

my friend Kristen

2005-07-17T16:33:00.000-04:00

i wasn't going to go out last night. i'd been abandoned for the second time this weekend, and was literally all dressed up with nowhere to go.

then i remmembered Kristen was back in town from LA.

fuck yes.

when i found her at the waterfront, she was already very drunk. we hugged, with a bit of leg-around-the-hip lesbianic action. that's just what you do when you see kristen. you spend the evening getting yourself into suggestive situations that typically would not surface on a night on the town.

for example:

1. kristen is hot and she was wearing one of those shirts that ties in the back, but has no back. you get the picture. as the night marched on, it was growing loose and she asked me to tie it while we were at the ghetto duck bar. now, the ghetto duck bar has a really small bathroom that is *always* 20 degrees warmer than the rest of the place. thinking i could just be slick, i attempted to untie her shirt so that i could re-knot it more snugly. my puny finger nails were no match for the taut fabric, so i resorted to biting at the knot, which naturally resulted in an instantaneous bar-boner for the boys in the crowd. kristen reached her arms backwards toward my bum and squeezed. the crowd went wild.

i did a shot by myself to catch up with her and apologized to the bartender that i'd likely harrassed during my wednesday night bender.

oh, and then i spotted a transvestite. he/she was there alone, it appeared, and was likely in danger of a beat-down if any kind of flirting was attempted. these kind of things just don't happend in the 'burgh. i really wanted to tell him/her about that gay bar on Broadway, but by the time i thought of it, he/she had either left or was tossed overboard. i did see another one several hours later, so i can only hope that they were working some sort of buddy system.

when i found kristen again, she was on the deck of the ghetto duck bar with three boys from Brooklyn who had sailed in and were spending the weekend in jolly fraternal merriment. we sat with them and chatted for a bit. well, kristen chatted, and the rest of us tried to get a word in edgewise.

oh, and kristen bit me.

yeah, she bit me exactly four times. i have two large bruised on either upper arm and an intensely sore neck. it almost feels as if my gland has been removed. and maybe a piece of my jawbone. naturally, i bit her back. simply because this is the kind of behavior that takes over when spending time with kristen.

i know you probably don't believe me, but if you want, i can set up a meeting and we can test it out. it's true. you'll go home buzzed, strangely aroused, and wondering if your insurance plan covers Ear, Nose & Throat specialists.

say no to emo.

2005-07-16T22:27:00.000-04:00

i found this on stereogum.

it's really funny. oh, and kinda loud. so, if you're at work or have on some earthingies, then turn your volume down.

stop EMO haircuts

a word to the sponsors

2005-07-15T22:34:00.000-04:00

the following commercials should be put in a hole in the ground with terrorists.

1. the one for the mini-van that says "mothers have changed. shouldn't the mini-van?"
no, you assclown. you should fucking change you sexist, ignorant, fuck.

2. the one for some kind of menopause pill that says it can "increase the risk of uterine cancer if you have a uterus." YOU ARE A MORON.

3. the one for that new SUV that plays "Dust in the Wind." just because i really fucking like that song, and i'd rather not picture some phallic looking automobile when i hear it, you selfish advertising asses.

4. the one for Coke that has some lame-looking urbanites sitting atop a roof with an acoustic guitar in some new-age hippie circle, singing about teaching the world to CHILL. yes, yes. that's it. take a deep breath. just chill. that's what the fucking world needs. sonofabitch! HA! damn! how'd we fuckin' miss THAT ONE! whew!

told you. (LOOK AT THE NEW FUN POLL!)

2005-07-15T22:25:00.000-04:00

well, by now you should know that i live my life to entertain you. to amuse you. to, yeah.

anyway. this past week was kind of dull. numbingly dull.
then there was Wednesday night, when i spent my time at the bars with an alcoholic, semi-racist (is that possible?), sex-crazed former co-worker.
that evening led to fuckbuckets worth of drinking and even more amounts of embarrassment for this dumb ass drunk.

so embarrassing and, shameful, really, that i'm not going to share them. publicly, anyway. so, just shake your head and silently scorn me.

BUT!! MORE IMPORTANTLY!!!

look at my new gimmick. it's a weekly poll. every week you can click on new buttons and be enlightened and amazed and humored by your favorite blogger.

(oh, and no. he hasn't called. can we call this one yet? it's clearly brain dead. "i told you so!" does not feel sweet in this situation, but it's all i've got. so, I TOLD YOU SO!)

BOB and BABS

2005-07-12T19:53:00.000-04:00

so, as part of my new "Interim Coordinator" position, i'm currently, um, "listening" to a live webcast of teens with disabilities and how they get legislature to listen to them. it actually has very little to do with my summer job, and, pc or not, it's so incredibly fucking boring. i feel like i'm listening to a bunch of 7th graders reading off cue cards, but with fake annoying voice inflection.

so, rather than pay attention, and rather than abandon ship (i'll always at least pretend to do my job), i'm going to poll you, my devoted readers.

preface: i'm no longer despondent about the MD boy. but his behavior is not uncharacteristic to boys i've encountered in the past. THUS, my poll. because, the world should also know that boys are JUST AS COMPLICATED as girls.

ok, to the poll:

DIRECTIONS: please read the following passage and answer the questions that follow. you may refer back to the text at any time.

A boy, we'll call him BOB, has expressed interest in a girl, who we'll address as BABS. BOB spent the evening with BABS and they had great fun. the next day, BOB even called BABS to have a more formal encounter...

(sorry for the interruption, but this kid on the webcast just used the term SOUL SEARCHING. he's like 10 for christ's sake!)

...BOB is a busy boy and lives far away, so he asked BABS to come visit after their lovely date. BABS said I'D LOVE TO, BOB!

and it was so.

BOB never called BABS, so she rememered an upcoming test he had and sent him a TEXT MESSAGE to say good luck and "let's get together soon." he didn't respond. later that evening, when drunk, BABS remembered a moment the two had shared and texted him a joke about it. he responded, rather promptly, with another quip about the moment.

and it was so.

BOB hasn't called BABS since that brief, unromantic TEXT exchange. BABS still has his number, but she thinks the ball is in BOB'S proverbial court. she's even thought of deleting BOB'S digits so that she doesn't drunken TEXT him anymore.

POLL QUESTION #1: What should BAB'S do?
POLL QUESTION #2: Do you STILL think BOB will call, you crazy optimists?

in your dreams

2005-07-11T15:59:00.000-04:00

i just checked the weather and it's forecasted to rain (with scary-ass lightning) for the next 10 days. perfect. that will help my mood.

last night, i had a crazy dream that combined about 12ish random things i've encountered/discussed/thought about over the past few days. it was incredibly entertaining, almost along the lines of a Seinfeld episode.

*****(Wayne's World Dream Sequence Sound)*****

as i remember it, the dream began with me looking for an apartment.

(not-so-random thing #1--getting an apartment)

i shared this with my parents and my brother, but when i told them about the place wanted to rent, they frowned. i wasn't surprised by their reaction because the realtor in charge of the rental was infamous around town. the exchange went something like this.

"they're going to try to convert you, Kristine. i really don't think this is a good idea. you can find something better, just give it time."

"i don't have time, Mom! they won't convert me. Lana found her place through these people. they're just Mormons! it isn't some crazy cult."

(i think Lana made a brief apperance to nod her head enthusiastically when i mentioned she'd rented from the zealots. she left the dream as soon as she entered.)

(random thing #2--Mormons)

my brother was even weary, only giving me a sideways glance of, "eh, yeah, Kris. i'm with mom; that's kinda creepy."

suddenly, i was at the apartment that i wanted to rent. i was at the apartment and was waiting for the Mormons to come to show me the apartment. right. when they arrived, i was surprised to see at least 15 people at the door and simultaneously squishing themselves into the entryway. i made a comment about how many there were, when a man explained that it was just a big family. oh. ok.

(random thing #3--the man that spoke was the father dude in that crappy TV movie i fell asleep watching last night).

just when i thought everyone was there, one more kid squirmed in. i remember thinking i knew him as one of my students at the time, but his face is no longer familiar. but he did have striking blue eyes. (random thing #4--the appearance of the eyeballs of my crush)

i looked around the apartment with some of the teenage girls, but i only remember seeing the bathroom. it was a nice place, but very narrow. extremely narrow, actually. (random thing #5--that narrow-ass apartment of some dude i was screwing. actually, not his apartment; his sister's. in Chelsea. sorry, i don't have a link of us screwing. but here's a narrow bathroom in an apartment in Chelsea.)

suddenly, the apartment tour with all the mormons turned into a blogger party. the following people were present, all of whom i've never met in person. some i don't even really talk to. (random thing #6--dreaming of bloggers. people that don't really know me. i'm sorry. i guess i'm creeepy.) citycrab, ikeepadiary, and jeremyhawkins were all there. oh, and that dude i work with--the one who i think *may* be gay. he and jeremy kept switching identities, so i'm not sure which one was really there. i think it was my co-worker, but he was dressed all hipsterdoofus, which i think is more jeremy's style. (random thing #7--dreaming of my other half-crush, metro style)

so this party now consisted of morphing strangers/friends and some family members. my 18 month-old cousin that i've been babysitting showed up, completely on his own, and made a mad dash for the open sliding glass door. i sprinted to catch him before he could fall off the balcony. when i grabbed him, he became miniature, fitting-in-my-palm miniature, and i thought i'd squished him with my fingers.

(random thing #8--my draining times with toddlers, unpaid--no link to protect the identity of the innocent. and the innocent's formerly coked-out mother.)

he must have disappeared, or maybe i actually squashed him, because now i was focused on the fact that my Mormon apartment was either in Beverly Hills or Greece or something. it was all stuccoed on the outside, and my balcony overlooked one of those swimming pools that looks like it's merging with the distant ocean. aparently i could now afford the ultimate sign of affluence. Thanks Mormons! (random thing #9--the swimming pool in that rap video i was watching while on the eliptical machine yesterday)

and i think that was the end.

wasn't that a weird dream?

sometimes i'm sad

2005-07-10T20:52:00.000-04:00

i just got done chatting with a friend. we talked a little about love. he told me about the love he'd found. he talked about meeting her family and her meeting his. he showed me pictures. the timing is bad, he says, and there are things to consider. but love is love, right? my story had little to no detail. it's all underdeveloped, undone, in limbo. i steered the dialogue away from myself when my eyes grew sore.

i told him i was jealous and bruised, but also compassionate and hopeful. heartache is heartache.

i said good-bye and went upstairs to eat with my parents.
when my mother passed me the plate of chicken, i speared one with my fork, and plopped it on my plate. then i looked at her and began to cry.

when you have depression, you sometimes forget how terrifying, encompassing, personified, dangerous-- sadness can be.
i haven't cried in a while, and i wondered as i was lying there in the dark of my room, not even taking solace in my cuddled dog, if and how i've been avoiding this.

(my own space, my aching limbs, my wandering eye, my unsettled spirit, my forgotten love. there is more to be done here! i will not--cannot-- stop yelling from this old, dry well until my arms are strong enough to lift me out.)

tears don't always have to flow in streams. sometimes they seep over hours, days, weeks. they're dissipating while you're sleeping or while you're driving or watching TV. sometimes they take this long, i assure you. but the wet on your pillow, your hands, your shirt--it is always heavy and always cold.

guess what?

2005-07-10T16:53:00.000-04:00

the other day i was at one of those ghetto-fabulous ATMs at a local gas station. when my $20 bill dispensed, a white moth came out with it and flew away.

my camera broke. now every time i try to take a picture, the power turns off. i'm sad because i wanted to take pictures last night. it only had heart enough to take one shot, after which it resigned itself to the piece-of-shit status that i knew it'd had in it all along.

i'm seriously looking for an apartment. i'm gonna make-it-hah-pen (mariah carey style).

i went to Katz's deli last night and tried a knish for the first time. i had ketchup and salt on mine. it was kinda gross. i'll stick to my falafel.

when we were at Mercury Lounge last night, Lana's boyfriend made an ass of himself trying to compliment one of the dudes from We Are Scientists. only, it was a dude from Bishop Allen. specifically, the drummer, who is very nice and pretended he didn't notice that Brian had just told him that he liked the other band better.

i take zoloft. 100mg per day. if i skip a dose, it makes my eyes feel like they're pulling on my brain and i get dizzy. but, it keeps me suicide free!

he still hasn't called. there was a brief text message exchange, but no phone call. i don't hate him though. he's still really kickass. just busy. i guess. dick.

verdict: no call

2005-07-08T21:21:00.000-04:00

i feel like that girl that has been in the previews for that upcoming movie Wedding Crashers. i mean, to call me crazy or a little out there on any typical day would rarely be taken as an insult. today, it might sting. i'm sad about the boy, more than i feel i should be. let me tell you about him.

we met at a bar. (yes, the ghetto duck bar.) i don't ever expect to meet any kind of upstanding citizens when i'm out drinking with my girls, and tonight was not an exception. in fact, myself, Teresa and her sister Siobhan had encountered a rather high proportion of creepy, intoxicated, underdressed and overweight males. and naturally, why *wouldn't* they approach three pretty twenty-somethings that are young enough to be their daughters with pickup lines and molester-like stares not befitting even a rock? the logic will never fail to bewilder me.

we'd hopped around a bit to avoid this hail storm of white trash, but ended up back at our mainstay, the boat bar. we were just finishing a verbal degredation of another boy when we felt eyes upon us from another direction, "Looks like you have another fan." Siobhan said to me with a trademark roll of the eyes. i didn't even glance their way, but this didn't deter my boy.

"Hi guys! I'd like to buy you a drink and ask you a question." he had a nice goofy smile, and striking eyes.

Siobhan and I eyed each other and smirked at his inquisition. "Why in that order?" she quipped.

the three of us were soon laughing, my boy flustered by his misspeak and myself flustered by his light blue eyes.

his trio and my trio spent the rest of the evening together. he and i did a little impromptu ballroom dancing in the midst of a nightclub (he dips!), joked about careers and lifestyles, and smiled and laughed and generally had a terrific time. and we let each other know exactly that.

...yadda, yadda, yadda...

i plopped into my bed at about 7:30 the next morning and was woken 6 hours later by his call. he was leaving town to head back to Long Island (where he's doing his residency as an anesthesiologist) and wanted to see me before he split. i groaned about my headache but told him i'd be ready in 15 minutes. i splashed my face and hoped my cute skirt would detract from my mussed hair. i spritzed some perfume and was ready when he pulled up. i was giddy.

he took me to lunch. it was a beautiful day on the Hudson so we ate on a patio and we chatted about yachts, money, elitist clubs, and how much shrimp should come with a shrimp ceasar salad. then we spent about three hours just walking up and down the riverfront. he held my hand, put his arm around my waist, walked silly, took my picture, asked me to come visit, lounged on the grass, people watched, and kissed. i held his back, welcomed his closeness, felt his sides, squinted up to meet his gaze amidst the sun, asked him to delete my awful picture, flashed half the riverfront in an attempt to gracefully lie beside him, and kissed him back.

i haven't liked a boy, reasonably, in about two years. i had an absolute blast. (plus, i must say, his taut body and MD tag were/are completely hottt.)

but he had to go, so he dropped me off.
and then he went home.

what's a girl to do?
well, go out drinking with the girls, of course!

taptaptaptaptap

2005-07-06T18:14:00.000-04:00

my leg is bouncing. i'm starting to go crazy. well, you know what i mean.

this is what a girl does when she waits for your call:

1. she remembers every last detail of your most recent encounter. and then when that is exhausted, she goes to the one before. and if there's more than two encounters for her to reflect upon, and you are making her wait for a phone call, then she's already hating you.

2. she's the most productive she's ever been at work. she goes to the gym and does at least one hour of cardio just to pass the time. it also helps her to know that she's fucking hot and if you don't call her, then she's still a hot fucking chick who can rock it out career-style and then kick major spinning ass at the gym. AND she'll still smell good.

3. she's calling every other person she knows other than you. if they call her back, she'll probably talk about you briefly, but not too much. friends have a tolerance limit for such things. if she's lucky, one of these friends will be willing to go out for coffee, knowing full well that this will only lead to full divulgence of her anxieties about your delayed dial.

4. she will come up with about three reasons why it's feasible that you haven't yet called. when those have lingered in her brain for a few hours, at most, she'll think of at least 10 reasons why you should have already.

5. she'll think of what she'll say when you call. she'll even launch into a fabricated internal conversation during which she also imagines what you'll say in response to what she says when you call.

6. she'll end up eating lots of cookies with her mom, who will say really sweet things that she desperately needs to hear as her emotional waves near high tide.

7. she'll watch Seinfeld until she remembers that you both love the show, which will lead back to a brief revisit of #1.

8. she'll check her email. read blogs. watch that video clip her friend posted on a message board, the one she couldn't see earilier in the day because her government job has a really good Internet filter.

9. she'll do her bills and remember all the important nuts and bolts of her household that need attention. she'll remember that her car is making a fairly loud grinding noise and that her front right wheel might fall off, and isn't it such a fucking bitch that she missed the warranty coverage by a few fucking miles.

10. she'll pout. then she'll be flippant. then she'll almost cry. then she'll call a male friend. or maybe she'll just text him instead.

11. she'll google you.

12. she'll look at the clock and thank the good lord that it's finally a socially acceptable time to go to sleep, happy that this day of waiting is over, you selfish, arrogant asshole. (and she'll fall asleep trying to remember exactly what you look like.)

look!

2005-07-05T22:06:00.000-04:00

my friend can flip you off with her foot!

wanna know more about me?

2005-07-05T21:13:00.000-04:00

here's how my brother sees it.

"By Request"

it's honest, observant, accurate, and humbling. (and full of brotherly love.)

swoon

2005-07-04T22:08:00.000-04:00

i met a boy.

he's funny. he's friendly. he's very polite. he's quirky. he's hot. he has a superb figure. he dresses well. he's not pretentious. he's fun and fun-loving. he's outgoing. he's spontaneous. he's flattering. he's an excellent kisser.

(he's a doctor.)

and he totally likes me back.

excuse me for a few days while i act like a giddy twelve year old.

:D

edit: rather, excuse me for a few days while i freak, staying busier than ever with work and gym visits, wondering and awaiting his phone call.

:/

(i'm sure i'll rationalize his non-call or applaud his call when the time comes. this is a goddamn twister of guts and glory (and butterflies and sunshine).

bugbites, etc.

2005-07-01T21:51:00.000-04:00

haven't written too much lately. primarily it's because school is done and my friends are in town, so i'm actually living for a bit. but, to catch you all up to speed:

1. arson boy was temporarily evicted from his home after a late-night, foul-mouthed screaming match, during which my mother and i hid in my room with the lights off so we could hear what was being said without being seen. so stealth.

2. i've started a new job working as a big-shot fancy interim coordinator for an anti Big Tobacco group. no, i'm not against smokers, but you really should quit. unless you want to get this:

but anyway, i got the coveted office and now have exactly two enemies, i've been told. it's ok though because my office is in a government building which means there are sheriffs on duty at all times. hopefully the next one won't be so weird and flirty and fucking MARRIED, but whatever. of course, on my first day i met a cute and available boy, but i had a zit so fucking humongous that i was even repulsed. (but on that note, i'm no longer worried about marriage. i think i've decided it's not for me...for now.) but yeah, the job. i make my own hours. there is a filter on the internet access, but i'm making bank. i think i can deal.

3. if you actually listened to me and signed up for that dodgeball thing, please go ahead and unsubscribe. i get incessant text messages from some computer in corporate headquarters and i think it's really mocking me that i have no real friends.

4. i've spent most of the money i'd wanted to use to start a savings. and tomorrow i'm going shopping again.

5. i've gotten three bugbites.

6. my migraines have returned, and i think it's because i clench my teeth.

that about does it. i have some more pictures to post from Teresa's homecoming bonanza, but i'm too lazy to do that now.

i'm hearing some fireworks going off somewhere in the distance, likely the same i saw while picking my mother up from Sears. sitting in the parking lot with my window down, breathing in the heavy, wet air, i saw some of the booms flickering above and beyond the treeline.

i'm saddened by them this year. or maybe it's just tonight. can someone remind me what we're celebrating?

casbah rocked.

2005-06-26T21:00:00.000-04:00

(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

2005-06-23T22:19:00.000-04:00

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...

2005-06-23T11:17:00.000-04:00

90.3

healthspan calculator

Your calculated health span is 90.3 years.

commencement

2005-06-23T08:13:00.000-04:00

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

2005-06-21T20:56:00.000-04:00

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

2005-06-20T14:26:00.000-04:00

farts are funny.

hehe.

poot.

"you're a jerk!"

2005-06-20T09:29:00.000-04:00

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

2005-06-19T19:11:00.000-04:00

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

2005-06-17T16:44:00.000-04:00

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

2005-06-16T08:11:00.000-04:00

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

2005-06-15T20:03:00.000-04:00

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

2005-06-13T12:03:00.000-04:00

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

2005-06-12T12:42:00.000-04:00

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!)

2005-06-12T01:02:00.000-04:00

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

2005-06-10T12:34:00.000-04:00

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

2005-06-09T14:06:00.000-04:00

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

2005-06-08T21:16:00.000-04:00

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

2005-06-08T19:12:00.000-04:00

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

2005-06-06T20:50:00.000-04:00

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.

2005-06-02T17:33:00.000-04:00

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

2005-06-01T21:35:00.000-04:00

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.

shampoo girl

2005-05-30T20:40:00.000-04:00

something queer happened to me on Friday.

i went for a haircut to my regular stylist. nothing strange about that aside from maybe how long it took me to get an appointment.

anyway, i get there exactly on time and wait only a few minutes before some petite hispanic girl dressed entirely in black (dress code) calls my name and intoduces herself as Jennifer's assistant (Jennifer is my gal). i felt a fleeting sense of discomfort because i'd been eyeing this girl's lipstick job and secretly thinking that she could use some lessons. i hoped she didn't notice my stares. from her smile it seemed as if she had not.

still, this is nothing extraordinary; every now and then there will be a separate shampoo girl that preps me for Jennifer's chair.

she has a quiet voice and is very delicate as she covers my neck with a towel and gathers my hair into the sink. her delicacy remains as she begins my shampoo.

"is the water ok?"

"yep!"

i start to feel slightly odd when i notice that she's taking a bit long to finish the shampoo. she started it off in a typical manner, equally sudsing and scratching, but then she began to slow down. she took her three middle fingers and traced them firmly around my hairline, starting at my ears and ending in the center of my forehead. i'm feeling relaxed but still slightly curious. i've never had a head massage and i'd yet to realize that this is exactly what i was recieving.

she fingers my scalp a few more times before rinsing the soap, again asking if the water temperature is to my liking.

now she applies the conditioner. this part of the hairwashing is usually fairly quick. the stylist or shampoo girl doesn't wait for the conditioners to "soak in" as i typically do; just a thorough application and quick rinse.

but the shampoo girl wasn't quite done with my head.

she began this stage of the massage by firmly and slowly kneading my head in circular motions with her fingertips. initially i tense up. i am now fully aware that this head massage is erotic and i am trying to supress any further stimulation of my libido. i'm certain she is hitting on me, but then remember that Jennifer had another customer in her chair as i was being lead back to the sinks. ok, so she's just stalling. i can handle this.

she stops the kneading and then plants her thumbs toward the back of my head's crown, moving her other fingertips both toward and away from the stationary fingers.

as the tingling in my crotch continues, i feel panicky and blurt out the only thing i can think of saying. i figure conversation is called for when a female is turning you on. or at least something is called for so that i don't start full-on squirming in the fucking chair.

"i could fall asleep!" i say awkwardly. maybe my voice even cracked a little. i may have let out a little laugh. i'm not fully sure.

she responds with an exhaled laugh. though i can't see her face, i picture her smiling down on my head.

christ.

i certainly didn't want to go to sleep. i wanted to have sex--with a male, of course--but sex nonetheless. i was ready to go and i could only hope that shampoo girl couldn't tell. i think i pulled it off. i managed to get through the rest of the shampoo without any heaving breathing, twitching, or hip rocking.

after a few more finger traces and circular temple rubs, i was finally in Jennifer's chair. i say hello and mention, with casual and inquisitive laughter, that her shampoo girl gives amazing head massages. Jennifer laughs it off and explains that she'd had to squeeze in another client and apologized for my wait.

"oh no...it was great."

i still feel a little weird about this but will feel much, much better when i get a *male* version of this lovely massage. i'll have to work it into my study...which has fallen by the wayside evidently...

Bishop Allen

2005-05-27T22:08:00.000-04:00

here's the official interview that i'd posted earlier. it's been chopped a bit, but not too much has changed. if anyone reading this is currently a rockstar, let me know so i can interview you next.

Wheelkick Records

100% Stickler

2005-05-26T21:34:00.000-04:00

my new best friend Jennifer sent me this link. it's a quiz on commas and apostrophes. i, naturally, scored a 100%. i think the quiz used the word "stickler."

Eats, shoots, and leaves

how'd you do, punk?

might i also suggest the Hall of Shame? i'm not sure whether to roll my eyes and smirk in condescending arrogance or cringe with an air of elite longing for worldwide literacy.

old school

2005-05-26T20:45:00.000-04:00

i think i mentioned having recently found lots of childhood paraphernalia.

let's see...there was the elementary school report on pollution. it was crudely constructed in alternating red and black crayon, clipped newspaper and magazine photos, and the occasional sticker--all held together in a flimsy booklet i'd created by folding some thin paper in half.

there was also an old, quite disgusting looking, yellowish sling that i'd earned after falling off my brother's bike while totally tearing it up on our make-shift obstacle course. i remember this set of trees that were so very perfect for weaving in and out of. i think i lost it after the third one on some wet grass. i guess i kept it because i'd really wanted a cast but unfortunately my arm wasn't broken, just sprained. but i had my friends sign it anyway.

countless book reports in those old school report folders took up most of the box, along with some notebooks and artwork from middle school. there was this dictonary i made in one of my enrichment classes full of words that my group and i had created where we saw the need for verbiage. it's so awful. about 80% of the terms end in -itis.

oh yes, and my writing! one day i'll have to try to photgraph or post the laminated edition of my original work, "The Kingdom of the Blabbing Birds." i'm not going to lie; it's a thrilling story, captivating, and full of tangible characters and talking animals. oh, and it's *so* illustrated with colored pencils and printed out on one of those old dot-matrix printers.

of course, there were also the yearbooks. in that musty, thinly dusted cardboard box were my two elementary school (marking the meeting of my mother and stepfather, and subsequent move to another town, a bigger town), one junior high and one senior high school yearbook.

and while i know it's certainly the best to reminisce in your own yearbooks, i'm going to share a few of the things that were written in mine by my former classmates. I promise not to list any of the "remember"s. i will, however, share them in their original, unedited form.

today, we'll take a trip back to my middle school years...

1994

Hey baby,
Had a fun year with you, hope to see you next year in NFA. Stay away from naughty little boys this summer. Stay out of jail. --Adam

i must add that Adam was a boy that i totally crushed on, but who also tormented me when i wore ugly clothes--which was fairly often.

2: Kristine
Hey hunny! Whats up? Well, this year went by very fas and your a good friend. I really don't know what to say so Im going to go! Bye [heart] Lena

i have no idea who Lena is. and yeah, it was written with pink ink.

Kristine,
What's up? This year, I had fun picking on you. I don't think I would have pass at least half of my classes without you. You always got mad at me when Jamie did it all. Your a good friend and I hope to see you next year. But I'll see you over the summer because Chris and me are coming to your house. Goodbye, have fun.
Nick

Nick wrote his in script. I actually still see this boy, occasionally, at the gym. We have yet to acknowledge each other. the teachers he and I tormented in junior high also belong to the gym. I've already posted about my long-overdue apology to them.

...we'll pick up where we left off tomorrow kids...

are you on the list?

2005-05-25T22:09:00.000-04:00

i'm a little choked up at the moment, but in true Kristine spirit, i have decided to name names; when things go badly, i like to blame others.

so, i hold the following individuals personally responsible (in part) for Bo's loss to Carrie Underwood (aka "wet napkin" or the default "skank ho"):

1. Joanne
2. Lisa
3. Jeremy
4. Wade
5. Gina (and her mom)
6. my brother
7. my FBI co-worker
8. my chef co-worker
9. Mr. Married Man
10. George W. Bush (for good measure...like there's any doubt in your mind who he voted for?!)

and, as if my plea last night wasn't enough! these tainted ten teabaggers are not guilty of poor musical taste. they are guilty...of...apathy...

(i mean, who doesn't do a little coke these days. well, i mean, there's me...and well, most or all of my friends and family, but still...let's not get CARRIED away here.)

ok, i'm done.

i hope you all give me, Bo, and your great nation, a sincere apology.

(oh, and if you're not on the list, i probably don't like you to begin with...and if you didn't vote, i certainly strongly disagree with most of your principles. so consider yourself listed anyway. you disgust me. friggin' filthy animal. well, that is, unless you're really big and mean. then what i'm really saying is that i want you to love me. i talk a lot of shit. seriously.)

friends, countrymen...lend me your ear

2005-05-24T16:19:00.000-04:00

i'm sure you're all wondering why i've gathered you here this evening.

well, the truth is that there is a special horizon before us. this is a time when we must take our American-given right to speak loudly, clearly, and as often as possible via touch-tone phone or text messaging.

but before i get into that, i want to take just a moment to reflect upon what it means to live in this great country...

ever since i was a little girl, i looked to the sky and dreamt of what the future might hold for me. i was born into a simple world, one devoid of many materialistic things.

but as i grew, the flag of our great nation would flap in the winds of change, reminding me that there is always tomorrow--that, here, in The United States of America, dreams really can come true.

please. hold your applause...
...yes, here...pass a Kleenex to that young man in uniform, would you?

now, friends, family, co-workers, fellow citizens. let us remember this glorious country at a time when it needs us most. i can hear the canyons echo, the mighty eagle screech, the oceans whisper, the dolphins making that weird sound they make, the forests calling, and the birds chirping:

use your voice! use the tool that you have been blessed with in your great country! rise up! show the nation that we will not be melded into one homogenous mass of celebrity! we are individuals! we have touchtone phones!

and we vote BO as our next American Idol!

shit, no...this Bo:

this is your moment to shine. may god (God, G-D, goddess, etc) bless you, Bo, the United States of America, and no place else.

bastards.

2005-05-23T20:28:00.000-04:00

today was rough. the kids broke me. the bastards won.

even Joe! and Joe is supposed to be one of the good ones. *sigh*

and when that happens, i always look at what i'd done. what did i do that made them behave in such a way? how did i let them get to me? how can i get them back without breaking the law?

so bear (or is it bare? i need to look that up in my cliche dictionary...remind me, Lisa) with me as i recall and assess the morning's downward spiral:

1. my skirt was uncomfortable and i was wearing a pair of those hotshort underwear. one was hiking up as the other crept down; the combination resulted in way too much fidgeting and self-doubt.

2. i was trying to figure out this new palm pilot that our Academy got from administration. i don't usually try to concentrate too hard while supervising children. this may have been a problem.

3. Mr. Married Man was out for the morning and absence among teachers leads to resentment. i would imagine it's similar in most places of employment.

4. my team-teaching partner for the morning disappeared about 40 minutes into the session (which is about 2.5 hours in length). i assumed he was on the phone (still) because that was the last place i'd seen him. so, i began secretly hating him in my mind.

5. my students were disregarding my rules for music in the computer lab. before "yelling" i offered a reminder (in the form of a question...maybe with a *twinge* of attitude--it is almost June for fuck's sake. this is not a new rule!), which was recieved with undue hostility and defensiveness. several students (even Joe) told me to "chill out!" and to "relax! damn!"

6. there was a Code Blue Shout announced over the PA system (this means that a medical emergency is taking place on school grounds. when it is announced, i grab my AED and First Aid bag and sprint to the announced location). since my co-teacher was MIA (and no one else knew he was gone), i had to leave my 25 kids unsupervised in the lab.

7. en route to said Code Blue, i run past some other students of mine who proceeded to coagulate, point, heckle, and laugh about my ability to run. i, naturally, think that i was/am/can run very well.

8. upon arrival to the scene, i am informed (as i gasp for breath...i totally had the furthest to run) that it was a false alarm. great.

9. i conceed to my grumpiness and return to the classroom to try to talk more civily with my children, hoping they'll see that they've made me sad, thus feeling badly about their behavior. it will be a blissful reconcilation that falls short of a group hug.

10. however, my students have heard from the others that i cannot run very well and inquire about my membership to any kind of track and field team in college.

i suppose it was just a day when the meek inherited the earth. or something. fuckers. i'm so going to grade them harshly on their Porfolios.

or maybe even just slip this in with some of their final assessment reports:

do you know Spanish?

2005-05-21T23:54:00.000-04:00

because i'd really like to know what this says. (i got the "jajaja" part, thanks)

Deconstructing porn
Classificat a:

* General

@ 4:56 pm

De tant en tant, algun mail d’aquests que arriba amb el FW davant del títol, té gràcia. Copypastejo una anàlisi científica i rigurosa del què es pot observar empíricament a partir de l’observació de pel·lícules porno:

1. Las mujeres llevan zapatos de tacon alto incluso en la cama.
2. Los hombres NUNCA son impotentes ni tienen problemas
para mantener una ereccion casi eternamente.
3. Diez segundos de cunnilingus son mas que suficientes.
4. Si un extraño descubre a una mujer masturbandose,ella no se pone a gritar sino que insiste en tener sexo con él.
5. Las mujeres sonrien con gracia cuando los hombres les llenan la cara de esperma(vosotras también no????jurrrrrrrr).
6. A las mujeres les encanta practicar el sexo con hombres feos y de mediana edad.
7. Las mujeres gimen de modo incontrolable cuando la chupan(ja,como q puedes).
8. Una mamada salva siempre a una mujer de una multa por exceso de velocidad(será en el resto de comunidades,pq creo q en zgz no).
9. Las mujeres se corren siempre en el mismo instante que los hombres(si,claro).
10.Todas las mujeres hacen ruido cuando follan.

11.Esos pechos son de verdad.
12.Una practica comun y muy satisfactoria para un hombre es coger su propio pene semierecto y restregarselo repetidamente por el culo a una mujer.
13.Los hombres siempre dicen “oh, si” cuando se corren.
14.La doble penetracion hace sonreir a las mujeres.
15.Los hombres asiaticos no existen.
16.Si encuentras a un chico y su novia dandose el lote,el no te parte la cara cuando le metes la polla en la boca a su novia.
17.Existe una cosa que se llama trama.
18.Cuando penetras a una mujer por detras, puedes excitarla de verdad dandole cachetes en el culo.
19.Las enfermeras le hacen mamadas a los pacientes(jajaj).
20.Los hombres siempre se corren fuera.
21.Cuando la chica le pilla follando con su mejor amiga,se enfada un poco, pero acaba en la cama con los dos.
22.Las mujeres nunca tienen dolor de cabeza o la regla.
23.Cuando una mujer esta haciendote una mamada, es importante recordarle que chupe.
24.Los culos estan siempre limpios y no tienen pelos.
25.Cuando se les hace una mamada de pie, los hombres siempre ponen una mano en la cabeza de la chica y la otra, orgullosamente,en su cadera( a modo de jotero).
26.Los hombres no deben pedir, nunca. Ya estan ahi las mujeres para ofrecerse amablemente a lo que sea.
27.Las mujeres siempre parecen agradablemente sorprendidas cuando desabrochan los pantalones de un hombre y encuentran (oh, sorpresa!!) una polla!! (y yo me pregunto q narices esperan????)

in fact, much of the blog i found this on (this one) seems like it would be humorous, and those online translation tools just don't work.

tenure

2005-05-21T23:30:00.000-04:00

i was going to post about how i'd cancelled a hot date (really, it's just an adjurnment) to instead bake brownies, eat some batter, and become pensive about my need for alonetime and romantic love.

but i'd only accomplished 3/4 of my list when my brother handed me some mail. today, i got my tenure letter. woo-hoo!

"On behalf of the entire [insert my school's name here--i'm still paranoid, even with tenure] I want to extend our congratulations on your recent tenure appointment as Teacher of English."

(though, i do still need my Masters and i'm not sure if i can swing it. let's hope NYS is lenient with those extensions.)

note: if you are one of those people that is not a fan of tenure, that's fine; but please don't vent on my blog. it will get you nowhere. voting between a giant douche and a turd sandwich, however, most certainly will.

some things on my mind

2005-05-21T13:12:00.000-04:00

back to lists:

1. cherries are my favorite fruit but i'm annoyed that they're associated with sexuality, often sported by virginal adolescent females.

2. what the hell, exactly, is Bollywood? i don't get it.

3. since when is India considered part of Asia? did i miss that much of my global studies classes? am i that ethnocentric? nationalistic?

4. i wish i had an excuse to shave my head because i want to, but don't have the courage to do so.

5. i also want a Brazilian Wax, but i don't want to look like a porn star. well, in that area anyway.

6. i need to be a nicer person.

7. i miss romance. i miss it more than anything in the world.

8. i haven't been to the gym in what feels like 3 weeks. and i've been eating really unhealthy foods. that makes me feel really flabby.

9. i'm not sure how much i weigh.

10.i just found out through some other students that the boys in my class like to talk about my ass. i find this terribly troublesome.

11.while the rumors were sustained about me and Mr. Married Man, one perk was that it kept another pervy co-worker at bay. but now he's getting quite inappropriate and i'm not sure how to handle it. i'll likely do nothing.

12.whenever i throw out a number in an effort to exaggerate something, i consistenly use the number twelve. even if the result is not an exaggeration at all.

13.i have no money and likely won't have any until this coming September. dealing with living paycheck-to-paycheck made me cry twice this week.

14.i cannot wait for the summertime. i need something new and fresh, even if it is ultimately more of the same. (i will travel, if only a few hours away. that's what i used to do. i don't want that part of me to dissipate any further. i fear i am losing myself sometimes.)

interview with a rockstar, part two

2005-05-18T10:38:00.000-04:00

I did this interview for my friend's site. It's not posted yet, so I'm cutting and pasting. When it's posted, you should check out the site: Wheelkick Records. You should also listen to this band: Bishop Allen. And finally, you should leave comments on my blog on a daily basis because I get lonely.

*****

I first heard of Bishop Allen about a year and a half ago when I went to visit a friend in Boston. Within an hour of my arrival, Gina had loaded Charm School into the CD player and was bopping around her apartment telling me each one was her favorite song. I was pleased enough with their melodies to join her in bopping. Bopping progressed to full-on dancing when we managed to see Bishop Allen twice during my five-day stay in Beantown. It was during those live performances that I fully appreciated their energy, sound, and musicality. They’re great on CD, but they’re nothing short of spectacular live. (And I’ll throw in an apology to Jack, the scorchingly hot drummer for being his token sexual harasser for the evening—I imagine he doesn’t remember, but I certainly recall drunkenly stumbling as I offered to help him lug his gear to their van. He declined.)

A few weeks ago, I saw them for the third time at their April gig at CBGB’s. There has been talk of the much-awaited live album and I was pleased to hear some of these new tunes, maybe even catch some rumors on when to expect Clementines on the streets. Their velocity and vibrancy was as I’d expected, so after a few beers and a sustained excitement for their music, I approached Justin Rice, front man of the group, and asked for an interview. I lingered creepily beside him as he was in the midst of a conversation with who must have been another eager fan. Quickly realizing that this method of indiscreet stalking wouldn’t pay off, I aborted my hovering and tapped him on the shoulder. Maybe I interrupted the closing deal of his new record label or maybe I saved him from a creepy chatter. I like to think it was the latter because, remarkably, he complied. And here’s what Justin, singer and guitar player of Bishop Allen (not to mention his new acting appearances), had to say:

I was told your band name came from the location of an old apartment. True? Did you really toss furniture off the roof there?

Central Square. Cambridge. We crowded in there for a while. We lived on the top floor, and walked up four flights of stairs every day to get there. There was a back stairway we'd take up to the roof. We threw ice after a party. Then fish sauce. And, eventually, furniture. A busted
chair we'd picked up from the alley below, a desk that was missing a leg. There was an empty parking lot behind. It belonged to Genzyme. There were all kinds of weird biotech companies in Central Square, and they all maintained empty parking lots.

And now you're in NYC. What brought about the move? Do you miss Beantown or are you completely and utterly thrilled with The City That Never Sleeps?

Almost everyone we knew lived in NYC. It draws people like nowhere else. If you're not going home (say, like me, you were born and raised in Dallas, and you can't really imagine heading back), it's easy to end up somewhere where no one is really at home. I miss Boston. I miss the
bookstores. And I know so many great people there. And it's great during daylight hours. But when I go back, it seems small and cold and dark. Hell, even New York starts to seem small after a while.

You all toured relentlessly last year and, from my strategically placed informants across the globe, I hear you gave it your all at every gig. How do you keep your energy up?

Spend five hours every day in the car, and you'll understand. The best thing about being on tour is playing. The rest of the time you're just getting somewhere. When you finally get to play, it's amazing. When that ceases to be true, it's time to give tour a rest.

When I'm trying to explain your sound to virgin fans, I'll often describe you, roughly, as having a Modest Mouse or Pixies sound. Do you get that a lot? Do you ever find it annoying?

I've heard those comparisons. But people rarely say things like that to me. They rarely try to describe our music to me at all. It's not annoying. I like Modest Mouse. I'd cite the Pixies as an influence.

Christian [guitar, vocals] has claimed himself to be more of a songwriter than guitarist, yet he has a distinct sound. How did he decide on, or come upon, the tone he uses? It's distinct, yet simple and defines quite a bit of the band's sound.

Christian plays a Gretsch Nashville Junior through a custom Fender Deluxe. The amp has a Jensen blue back speaker and lacquered maple instead of tolex. That's all I can tell you.

I know at least Christian is a fan of the Strokes. Other fans? What are your thoughts on their newest album?

Truth is, we all like the Strokes. They're an easy band to hate. Or at least they were. I don't know how often people think about them these days. But their songs are good. Catchy as hell. Interesting guitar parts. At times even gutsy. I like the second album better than the first. It goes a bit further. There's rarely a moment that shouldn't be there or an instrument that's doing something gratuitous.

What are you listening to right now; what gets your groove on?

Working on a record makes it hard to listen to music. I only listen to things I know right now. Otis Redding. CCR. The Yummy Fur. The Velvet Underground. When we were on tour, we listened to the Fiery Furnaces non-stop. And, of course, We Are Scientists, who are about to truly take the world by storm.

Have you ever heard of Newburgh, NY? How about Poughkeepsie? (Did you know that Newburgh has a higher crime rate, per capita, than NYC? My local high school has sweatshirts dubbing it the 6th Borough. Do you want one? If so, what size and color?)

Last week, someone told me Poughkeepsie has the highest murder rate in the country. I used to know people who went to Newburgh Free Academy. Is that in Newburgh? I think so. Yes, please on the sweatshirts. One extra small, two mediums, one large. Pink, pink, pink, and black respectively.

After most of your gigs, you all can typically be found hanging out with fans in the bar. I'd like to know how you deal with awkward situations that may arise when you're stuck with someone that's kind of creeping you out.

"Kind of creeping you out" isn't the problem. It's when someone's *really* creeping you out. Owens is likely the most susceptible to this. But there are four of us. And finding the others is always an excuse. And finding the others always solves the problem. Running for cover, circling the wagons. Mostly it's nice to talk to people who like our music. It's exciting to hear that somebody cares about what we're doing.

So is the due date for Clementines still somewhat up-in-the-air? Have you chosen a label yet? Are there any still groveling at your feet?

We've been chatted up by a few folks, and we'll figure it out as soon as we have to. Today we recorded more. So even if someone wanted to put out the record, they couldn't. It's not done. There's nothing to put out. The details of negotiatons are top secret. Negotiations.

Does the name of the album have anything to do with that movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind?

No. It's from a line from one of our new songs: "Though the years have been unkind, like a winter clementine, we can only come of age in the cold." I believe that clementines are in season in the winter. Little, tiny, sweet, orange, happy moments in the midst of the grim, horrible,
freezing doldrums. If that's not true, and they're not in season in winter, I'm just going to say they are. Oh, my darling, oh, my darling, oh, my darling . . .

Sad part is, we prolly started working on the record when that movie was still a glint in Charlie Kaufman's eye.

Where was the album recorded? Will there be any hidden sounds (rain? trucks?) we should try to listen for when we're stoned?

Car alarms, burglar alarms, cursing and spitting, "Learn to Speak English" tapes. Most of it we recorded at home or at the practice space. A band called Longwave practices next door. We're doing our damndest to keep them off the album. They determine our recording schedule. Gotta get in whatever we can before two in the afternoon.

Any plans for videos in the near future?

Yes, yes. Hold your horses. I promise there will be at least one. Prolly several. As many as we have time to make. Maybe even one for every song. I want to shoot something at the horse races. And in outer space.

I've heard there's going to be piano, some horns, and other new and exciting things on the new record. And a lot of time has passed since Charm School. Would you say that your sound has changed much?

We make songs that have more energy. Charm School was recorded by Christian and me, and we didn't have a drummer or a bass player, and we'd never played live, and nothing sounded right that required a drummer or a bass player. Now that we've got songs with more energy, we want to muck with them, figure out what they sound like with this and that thrown in just for the hell of it. My, how we've grown ambitious.

Who are your top three most annoying celebrities? Musicians?

Dave Matthews, Anthony Keidis, Perry Ferrell. George W. Bush.

If Oprah ran for President, would you vote for her? (I totally wouldn't; in case you were wondering)

Ugh. On the way to a show, we stopped off at a Manhattan polling booth so that someone in our band could vote in the presidential election. We were running late. That person voted for the communist candidate. Why? I don't know. Not because we're communists. I guess that person wanted to prove a point at the polls. An anonymous point. If Oprah ran against George W. Bush -- or his ilk -- I'd vote for her without blinking.

How'd your spot on the flick Saved come about? Is one of you secretly working in big Hollywood, and, in a strange series of events, lead to the major rift between Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie?

The phone rang, and it was someone from the movie. They said they'd had a hard time tracking us down. I was in Hollywood last week. I think I just missed Paris. Christian Owens is friends with her, I think. She seems to know everybody.

Also, our friend, Andrew Bujalski (who lived with us on Bishop Allen Drive) just released his movie, Funny Ha Ha. It's playing in theaters in selected cities. New York, LA, Dallas, Houston, Austin, etc . . .

Christian Rudder is one of the stars. I'm in it. Briefly. Covered in dirt.

It's obvious that you all work very hard to maintain a kickass band. Are you happy with results you've seen?

We're in limbo at the moment. I think I remember when we were playing show after show, and people came to see us, and they were happy, and we were happy. For the past six months, we've been wrestling with a record that just won't seem to give in. I like the way the songs are sounding. And tomorrow I will wake up and take some small comfort in the fact that I like the way that the songs are sounding. And I will wrestle some more with those same songs. But results? It's hard to see around what's consuming us right now. It's hard to imagine that anyone will ever hear what we work so hard on. It's easy to get lost, and to forget that there is any such thing as "results." We're like 3 weeks into a 3 month diet.

When I was in LA, I saw some friends play to an audience of 10,000 people. You stand in front of that many people, and it's something. It's : "HOLY SHIT." Everything that happens to us happens so slowly. Every time you look in the mirror, you're a little older. But do you notice?

How will you maintain continuous forward movement?

It's time for a frantic push. When we're done with this record, we're going to play in every damn city in the world. Three times. And again. And again. The whole time working on new songs. The pace will only increase until we fall down dead. And then we will take a nap and start again.

What do you do on your down time? (assuming, of course, that you have occasional down time)

Frequent naps. Summer barbeques with all of our friends. We still have friends, though we don't see them as often as we like. Wednesday night poker games. There's a bar in Brooklyn where, when you order a beer, you get a free pizza. I walked across the Williamsburg Bridge yesterday.

Have you caught any good shows lately? Baseball games? Movies? Amateur strip clubs?

I'm going to the Metropolitan Opera tomorrow night. I like to go once a year. To prove to myself that I can. That, yes, I live in New York, and yes, there is culture here. And yes, I can sit through something that comes from another century and that I don't really and truly understand. It's a test. Of patience. Also like a sweat lodge.

Movies: note the above about Funny Ha Ha. Not bad at all. Not bad at all.

Do you enjoy the smell of Windex (or similar cleansing products)?

Amonia smells like cat piss. I like dryer sheets. Now that's fresh.

My other job, besides interviewing rockstars for incredibly prestigious and prolific Internet publications, is educating high school students. Often, they will use "hip" terms that I am not familiar with. As a rockstar, are there any "hip" terms you can share with me that I can use
to impress or even baffle my students with during tomorrow's grammar lesson? I'd appreciate it if you included definitions.

raff: lackluster, listless, characterized by tongue thrust
bunk: bored out of your fucking skull
steve: anyone or anything, used with disdain
deked: decoyed, as in shang-haied
Rough Rider: I don't know, but the kids on the street used to call us that
in Cambridge

Those are the real deal. All I can think of for now.

Ok, let's end with a bang, people. I want to hear a funny story (preferably involving all four of you) that happened recently. Us fans get fulfillment from feeling like one of the gang, and if I ask for all of them, then you only have one stalker instead of thousands.

The story I'll work on and send you soon . . .

i (don't heart) Ryan Adams

2005-05-17T16:36:00.000-04:00

so, i'm about to tell you that i saw Ryan Adams and Rachel Yamagata in concert. ok, so i just told you. what i'm actually about to tell is that they are the type of people that should refrain from putting on a live show. don't assume that i have much to support my views other than having been a participant in the audience. music was never a part of my collegiate studies, nor is it really a hobby of mine aside from listening to it and going to, primarily, good shows. i happen to be feeling cynical at the moment and i'm simply telling you about my evening--an evening which happened to include going to a bad concert.

Rachel had a cold. now, maybe this adds to her voice. it is a husky one, very sultry. it's a lovely, widely ranging set of vocal chords she has and i presume, maybe foolishly, that this is something that can be sustained without an upper-respiratory infection. you see, all of this became the focus of my attentions when Rachel performed. after each song, she timidly and huskily approached the microphone and proceeded to sniffle through some petty diaglogue, even admitting that she was not doing well at her attempts to relate to the crowd. now, i'm not completely unfeeling. i can understand the little annoyances that come with a runny nose. but sniffling *sniff* after *sniff* every *sniff* word *sniff*? that's *sniff* just *sniff* annoying *sniff* and fucking *sniff* gross. *sniff*

she was embarrassed and awkward and hid behind her bushy hair for much of the performance. call me crazy, but if you have stage fright, you may want to reconsider your calling as a musical performer. it kinda takes away from the show. and at the very fucking least, blow your nose prior to your arrival on stage.

in the end, she was the highlight of the two performances.

and then there was ryan. fucking ryan adams. i'll get his praises out of the way first. live, his voice is flawless as is his guitar and piano playing. it's difficult to argue that the man is not talented musically, vocally, and lyrically. so, i won't. i don't like difficult things.

when he first came on stage i was reminded that he'd decided to get into facial hair recently. i'd seen a picture but was somehow still holding onto the idea that he was really hot. i mean, he may still be, but his face didn't make much of an appearance throughout the evening. in a pinch, his head could be severed and used as a body-double for one of those Popple creatures i used to play with as a child.

he didn't speak much, but between songs, he'd fumble about the stage. i didn't find the lack of conversation bothersome, but his dilly-dallying was. eventually, the dilly-dallying became talking among the band members. in time, this too progressed to ryan yelling at his amplifyer. yelling at the amp gave way to shaking his fist to the ceiling, and the culmination of his crack-head behavior was when he began to speak in phrases that seemed to make no sense whatsoever. my only recollection, specifically, of his brief steam of verbiage was "e-lower-case-cummings" and then a mention of Sylvia Plath weighing herself, but being unable to separate her actual body weight from the weight of the oven gas she had swallowed. when the crowd reacted with mixed murmers and laughs of disbelief, he childishly shouted, "but he started it!"

i left the show before he finished his second set. i was too angry to stay. short of a full personal apology and $45 in cash or comparable sexual favors, there was nothing he could do to make me happy to be there. he was awkward. he was rude. he was abrasive. he was annoying the shit out of me. oh, and he was wearing cowboy boots. pfft.

i'm not sure if he was on drugs during the performance, or if he was in need of them. i'm thinking the latter. i mean, no sane rockstar can think that a mop of hair, long beard, and the occasional glimpse of eye-glasses is attractive, right?

though, i mean, in a pinch, i guess i'd do a Popple.

nevermind

2005-05-12T11:11:00.000-04:00

eh, fuck it. i couldn't decide what to edit. everything started to look completely damning.

i'm completely paranoid at the moment about someone finding me.

there's nothing to see here.

i'm still excited, just not so publicly.

cough, sniffle (me)

2005-05-11T20:41:00.000-04:00

i am very sick, my friends. i fear my day of reckoning is just over the hill, around the corner, about to ring my bell. *ting*

so, please, if you will, leave a few words below so that the angels of mercy will have, umm...mercy on me when i approach their (ok, i was actually going to write "supple bosom" there) ...

and, after that, watch this funny video: America! Fuck Yeah!

but if you watch the video and don't leave me some kind words (they can be about how sexy i am or about how fucking hilarious...the blinking cursor taunts you, begs you, lures you...) then you will most certainly miss out on any supple, merciful bosoms of any kind.

[the highlight of my week was hearing a funny story about my goofy co-workers running from bees and thinking they'd been electrocuted. id' post the picture of them, but if you're clever, you'll find it anyway. the rock bottom was hearing my giddy friend talk about suspicions she has that her dickhead boyfriend is going to propose. my mind is still exploring the art of fallatio. i'd settle just for a memory of good sex at this point.)

strangers welcome!

2005-05-09T21:39:00.000-04:00

i set my purse and denim jacket on the kitchen table and peered out the window. i knew my dad was home, as i saw his truck parked on our freshly sealed driveway. what i didn't expect was to see him climbing our 9 ft. ladder to gain access to our roof.

"uh, whattya doin'?"

"i'm feelin' motivated, Teen! [he calls me Teen] i have to fix that piece of siding that blew off in that storm last year. just listen in case you hear me screaming!" he said with a chuckle.

if you're screaming, there's not much i can do for ya, big guy, i think to myself.

you should know that my father (technically "step father" but that's just a formality) is a large man. as his 350 pound frame mounted our roof, i flinched at the creaking sounds that marked his progress across the shingles toward the missing piece of siding. if he was falling, i most certainly wouldn't be able to help him. i was actually nervous.

within moments, i heard him talking to someone. this was a good sign. it was likely our saintly neighbor. now, my dad is not exactly the type of man-of-the-house that does the physical labor. really, my mom does everything. and our neighbor (yes, the father--again, technically "step"--of the arsonist) takes it upon himself to help out when my mother is sweating through her clothes as she edges our driveway or rakes stray branches or fertilizes the lawn. hearing his voice was equivical to a helping hand fixing what was wrong. at least in the public aspect of our family.

when the mumbled voices were accompanied by a car door clapping shut, i peered out the front window to see exactly who my father was talking to. someone had just pulled up and my dog was yapping. it wasn't our saintly neighbor: it was some stranger. he was kind of chubby and fresh looking, but must have been around my age. he was certainly talking to my father but i couldn't figure out why. so, when the mumbling halted for a few moments and i heard a faint rapping on our garage door, i kind of froze, considered, then pretended i heard nothing.

i leashed up my mutt for a quick walk around the neighborhood about fifteen minutes later. i needed some reason to make sure my dad hadn't somehow Tim-Allened himself on our roof.

he startled me when i opened the garage door.

"you're not going to believe what just happened!"

initially, i envisioned the entire side of the house having been ripped of all the siding in some freak misjudgement of my father. "what?"

to spare you the details of my father's lack of observation and utter naivetee, i'll summarize here.

the fair-skinned boy was a friend of the arsonist.
the arsonist's first name is Chris.
the boy mistook my house for his pyro-friend's.
he saw my dad and asked if Chris was home.
my dad, assuming (as he explains, without much reasoning that i could deduce) that it was a friend of mine from work, points the foreign arsonist-befriender toward the door and into my dwelling as he is perched, precariously and vulnerably, on our roof.

(i mean, i'm not exactly paranoid, but i feel as if this is foolish behavior, no?)

thanks dad.
this blog just may be full of arson-boy stories. i have a feeling that this summer is going to be a breeding ground for living fiction.

nooooooo...

2005-05-08T13:34:00.000-04:00

so, yeah. this is my favorite aisle at the grocery store. big surprise, i know.

but something made me pause with horror the other day at my local ghetto-fabulous ShopRite as i purused the cleansing products for sale.

LavANDA?

what in the name of anything holy?! really, i post this with the hopes that someone out there can explain to me why my Windex people have blasphemed the English language this way. please. you must not understand what Windex means to me. yes, it's that weird.

and for a good kick to the abdomen while i writhe on the ground, i spot this on my way home (and nearly kill myself taking the picture):

it has been a sad day for the English language. let us have a moment of silence.

the momma-dukes

2005-05-08T13:30:00.000-04:00

i love my mother more than anything or anyone on this planet. and the best thing is that i think she knows that.

Happy Mother's Day!

note: for some reason, she refuses to take any picture with her glasses on. so this really isn't what she looks like. either way, she is beautiful.

women are fickle

2005-05-05T19:39:00.000-04:00

ok, so this week, THIS is definitely my new favorite blog.

and it's worth not skipping the intro. he's just. that. funny.

you're not doing it right

2005-05-05T13:47:00.000-04:00

Tugging all day at perverse life:
The indignity of it!
--Weed Puller, Theodore Roethke

(money)

when something is taken from you--and i mean really taken away, never to return--it's a terribly agonizing emotion that begins to develop in response. like a nasty rash that is merely a vague itch at first, but by the end, has you so enraged that you are considering self-amputation.

on Tuesday, i drove homeward on 84 with my gas light on for almost the duration of the 25 minute trip. my anxiety and slight excitement of possibly running out of fuel without an immediate means of assistance must have given me a headache, so after spending over $30 to fill the tank i walked into the store to buy some coffee.

about an hour later, i am home waiting for a friend to call. we're supposed to meet up because she's in town. the time has been moved back a few times because of unforseen circumstances, so i keep busy by unpacking some summer clothes. so, when the phone rang, i assumed it was her.

this was certainly not her, notably because it was a male.

"hello?"

"this is Officer [somethingorother] from the Town Police. i believe we have some property of yours."

immediately i think of my purse, which had been stolen from the kitchen of a bar i worked at last summer.

"yeah, i don't think it's that. it was just turned in today. i'll have it at the desk so you can come pick it up."

"uh, ok, yeah. i'll be right there."

confused, i run to my purse. moments later i realize that the man in blue is correct. it was my wallet. i drove over to the station (making a few wrong turns along the way) and asked the morbidly obese clerk for my wallet. he summoned an officer, who came out and presented it to me. everything was there. minus about $50. my money for the week.

the manner in which all this unfolded is really the point of interest. i must hae lost my wallet during the gas-getting stop. the station was right off the exit ramp of 84. evidently, the wallet, my wallet, was discovered in Chestnut Road which is less than one minute from where i live. literally. by deduction, either i carried my wallet nearly to my house, was compelled to toss it through the window, and then promptly developed memory loss to forget both the tossing and the initial compulsion. i suppose the more realistic option is that the wallet rode with me, almost entirely, somewhere on the exterior of my car, finally leaping to freedom as we rounded the bend toward my house. sadly, it saw very little freedom. to keep with the timeline, it must have been found within 30 minutes. the finder then drove the wallet to the other side of town, a drive of about 10-15 minutes, taking the money somewhere along the way. i just cannot concede that my wayward billfold was stumbled upon twice, by chance, in such a small window of time.

so, i grab the wallet from the short officer asking him to give me a call if anyone turns in $50.

he laughs.

*****

(mutual consideration)

in the midst, my friend keeps me waiting for the remainder of the evening, only to cancel on her ride home, citing shitting problems. i tell her i'm angry and hang up very abruptly.

about an hour later she leaves me a very diplomatic, assuaging apology. she even mentioned it would be understandable if i just needed to be pissed for a few days. but that, definitely, we'd hang out and party this weekend. on her.

*****

(time & tears)

today, i saw the culmination of these petty disturbances. Mr. Married Man initiated the old game of "returning gifts." i complied, with ardor.

how this started, today, is vague even to myself, but it did lead to more discussion between the two of us than there has been in months.

"i'm sorry."

"get the fuck out of my room."

"i just didn't realize we were heading in that direction..."

"wait." my sniffles cease and my brow tightens. "you didn't KNOW? you, are the one that came to me with all this "i have feelings" crap last year! you didn't KNOW? bullshit!"

silence. "i'm just trying to smooth things over."

"fuck you. i'm done with this. go away. now."

more sniffles from me, even more tightened brows, and mostly vulgar language followed.

he's sorry.

but there wasn't enough there for me to latch onto. an apology needs substance. it cannot be airy and clandestine. it must be--inherently!--passionate, painful, and full of anguish. you must prove the amount of suffering is at least equal to that which you caused.

i believe it should be something like this:

it might start straightfaced, but it won't remain that way.
your fingers may tremble, and shortly after so will your voice.
if you are a man, it will even crack for a moment, notching down your pride a tad more.
if you are a woman, your voice will revert to a childhood pitch.
you will let out a deep sigh that sends spittle to your lips.
your eyes will narrow, inward i think, because it hurts to keep them open.
eventually there will either be intense reddening in your cheeks or your tears will break from your eyes suddenly. the crying will never beome full, but it will begin.
you will recite to me all the small details that i want to hear as i continue to sit on my anger.
you will allow me to remain in possession of my dignity, my pain, my time, my paper-cut frustration.
you will take the blurry vision away from my brain with the concrete resolution of your selfish ways.
you will take that grey cloud that has covered me, banished me, underscored my presence. you will take it and make me proud it was there. it will be warmer here as you talk.
you will break it all down, break yourself in so many pieces that i am almost sick with the drama--almost, but not quite. for each piece, i will know you are hurting. i will know you are sad. i will know you are determined enough to show me that you just might spin the globe.
and then, you will slowly build me back up again, as i allow you to do the same.

that is how you apologize, my friend.

:/

2005-05-02T15:53:00.000-04:00

just wanted to let you know...

i came home to the arsonist helping my mother with yard work. and, i shit you not, i think his parole officer just pulled up in front of my house.

the vagina dialogues

2005-05-01T23:02:00.000-04:00

we'd just sat down in a booth at the diner. it's a diner that everyone in this county, and most that have passed through, have heard of. it's the one that had to change its name because of the lawsuit with the car company. but we all still call it the Lexis, or just Lex.

with the name change was a complete revamping of the diner's interior. before it was standard mauves, blacks, greys, and other forgettable colors that covered the vinyl and linoleum. the renovations brought lots more neon lights and a vibrant interior with wall murals that cover the major walls. our view depicted some sort of ancient town with lots of water and men in tights.

all the waitresses wear vibrant colored shirts instead of the former white shirts with black bowties. i mean, it's nice, but it's just a diner.

my mother and i were seated next to one of the muraled walls, so when she started making a funny face, i had a feeling what she'd noticed.

"what are you looking at?" and i turned to confirm what i thought she'd answer.

"doesn't it look like a V?"

apparently, "V" was her codename for "vagina."

she had spotted this:

"yeah, well, there's a term for that, mom."

"yeah?"

i cleared my throat and adjusted my glasses for effect. "yes. when you can see it like that through someone's pants, it's referred to as a camel toe."

she was amused, if only for the conversion of her V to my explicit term.

this brought to mind the previous visit we'd had to this diner, when we were seated next to a section of the mural which was home to a very well endowed elderly man.

we reminisced briefly and dicussed the likelihood of the artist's homosexuality. i looked over and saw him at the far end of the wall next to which we were seated. there was an older couple seated next to our subject. they didn't seem to notice his bulging crotch. i kept my eye on them, hoping they were close to finishing their meal. when the booth was finally free, i scooted over and took a shot:

has no one else noticed this? we did some further sudy of the mural, noting the absence of many females, but those seemed to be the only two suggestive subjects. of course, that is only one wall of our mighty diner...

there's an expose in here just waiting to be discovered, don't you think?

today

2005-05-01T01:31:00.000-04:00

today:

i woke up late.
i cleaned up years of clutter.
i found my old school report cards, elementary school yearbooks, and pictures from abroad.
i smelled the papers that were damp with mildew.
i sneezed.
i downloaded wallpaper for my cellphone.
i went shopping.
i made plans.
i had my plans revoked.
i let myself get sad.
i learned my ex uncle has come out of the closet. and i felt the pressure of keeping it from my cousin who has yet to hear the news. i listened to my aunt describe her son's eventual condemnation of his father.
i thought of calling a boy i like, but rememberd my horoscope advised me to play "hard to get."
i used that as an excuse not to call.

i had a great talk with my mother. it was simple and human. she told me what she thinks about when she rides in cars. what she looks at when she's in a group of strangers. and what she listens for when i'm quiet.

i gave myself a pedicure.

(and now i'm here, seeing my day take form. it's full of small circles. and though i'm not sure if i can see through them, i know that the spaces between are dark and solid.)

i ate nothing healthy today.

circle YES or NO

2005-04-28T22:02:00.000-04:00

the latest on the boy front:

(because, as a dear friend said recently, "it's always complicated.")

really, this is kind of a poll. so, you know what that means? it means i'd REALLY like it if you gave me your opinion here. yes. ALL of you. even if i'll see you five minutes after i post this.

my issues with men are never very, umm...good? not that i date assholes or that i get involved in relationships that involve several acts of poorly performed drama. i actually don't even get to that point. my trouble is in how or whom i am attracting. let's make a list (and some of you may or may not be included in this list, but i'll never tell you either way, so just get over it.).

1. the married man
2. the *possibly* gay man
3. the completely unattractive man
4. the emotionally unavailable because i-have-so-much-more-going-on-in-my-life-than-you man

currently, i am taking issue with a man that falls into the second category. he shall remain nameless, but i will say that i work with him. oh, and he lives like three streets over from me. so, here's a super brief background. he's pretty. he's a self-proclaimed "kinda metro." he gets manicures. he is known to tan. he is still getting over a girl he dated three years ago. he thinks all females are virtually evil.

i'd worked with this guy for three years, even lived near him for possibly longer, and only began to know him during a recent field trip. he's excellent. and he's a cop on the side. hoTT.

oh yeah, the poll. sorry.

so, tonight, after not talking to him for about 4 or 5 days (long weekend, conflicting schedules at work, yadda yadda), he calls me. about 20 minutes ago to be precise. now, at first he's inquiring about my whereabouts and my journies of the evening. we share these boring details which leads into him talking about some of the other guys at work going out tonight. *pitter-patter* is he asking me to come with?! (no. of course not.)

but they're going out in Middletown, and that's a hike from here at this hour, he says.

yeah, i hear that...

yeah. [pause] so you're not doing anything?

now, at this point, i'm thinking, well, maybe he's trying to see if i'm free...if i wanna hang, yadda yadda. so i drop some hints ("nothing" "kinda bored" "what are you doing now" etc.) but he doesn't bite.

so, in essence, we spent about 15 minutes on the phone just "chatting." i was under the impression that males did not really partake in this generally feminine ritual.

WHY did he call? i'm not sure the reason for my intense need to know this (probably pride, but whatever) but i really want to know. i mean, just chatting... does this mean he's gay? or does it mean that he totally wants me and was too nervous? or maybe i'm just friend material? (that can't really be it, can it?)

oh, and i should add that he briefly discussed this other co-worker...an infamous wild girl who called us both the other night while completely boxed. her conversation with him, however, was apparently unrepeatable. and he shared this fact with me. not sure why.

yeah, so maybe there's about fifty questions in here instead of just one, and all are pretty vague. but check in anyway and make sure i'm still breathing, ok?

(i still believe that, despite this mess, things are really cut-and-dry. not complicated. so you can simply circle "yes" or "no" if you wish. that's really all this comes down to.)

i'm not that desperate

2005-04-27T22:22:00.000-04:00

so, this guy moved in to my neighbor's house. after some minor investigative work, i discovered that this boy is the eldest son of my neighbors. this means that he is my age and has just returned home to live with his parents. and we all know i will not fault him there!

it took little time at all to realize that this boy is very good looking. and even less time to realize that he's hoTT when i saw him mowing the lawn, sans shirt, the other day.

now my investigation has kicked up a few notches. i begin inquiring to my mother if she knows any details. i ask around among my circle (eh, so maybe it's a triangle) of friends and some other peers of the neighborhood.

my results are discouraging. mr. cutie is apparently freshly sprung from the big house, kiddos.

ok, well, is it that bad? people change, right? sure! he did his time!

i share this with the momma dukes and she seems to feel that there is still potential. so, i don't give up hope--yet.

as we go about our lives in taunting proximity, we still have not introduced one another. it's still last-minute waves as i'm pulling out of the driveway or he's slipping away to more yardwork.

...then, i get a call from Lana.

"oh my god, do you know who he is?"

"i have general idea, but more details would be appreciated."

"he just got out of prison, right? and his last name is Rhinebach?"

"yeah?"

"dude, he's one of the kids that set fire to Lori and Carmine's house five years ago! remember? when they were on vacation?"

fuck.

a drug addict? maybe. car theif, sure. but arsonist? i'm not sure i can swing that one. and yeah, there's a story that makes him seem slightly less rough around the edges, but c'mon. arson?

and the punchline is killer. my mother is still encouraging the hookup. she even knows the victims! (and we know those people! Lori and Carmine are recognizable names in my household. granted, it has something to do with my father's heavy drinking habit, but still...arson?) so, as my mother strikes up a conversation with the father, mr. cutie mowing in the distance, i sit here thinking we should treat our elaborate deck with some sort of fire retardant.

lookee here

2005-04-26T09:47:00.000-04:00

this is my new favorite blog: city crab.

ch-ch-check it, check it out.

note to self

2005-04-25T21:10:00.000-04:00

i was reading an interview of Natalie Portman recently and in it she spoke of the pheonomenon of the American Celebrity. the topic rambled slightly, but she seemed intent on getting across a specific point. her understanding of celebrities sharing information with the media, or even being a passive participant, signified a type of insecurity. her tone seemed condescending, almost. then, at the end, she made it clear that she was glad that she'd never felt so alone--so alone that she needed to share her personal thoughts, pains, or happiness with complete strangers.

taken out of the "celebrity" context, i cannot see anything wrong with this--this sharing of humanity. i have fallen out of habit with the human race, i'm afraid. there's too much lurking. too much shadow. and i think my writing is tucked away in those folds of tattered clothing. i must remember to observe. a writer's keenest sense should never be through the fingers.

(there is no line from me to you, but i assure you it's a simple path to follow.)

copying again...sans guilt

2005-04-25T20:04:00.000-04:00

i saw this on this girl's site. i haven't read much so i can't say if you should go there (and my predilection is to hate, apparently). but she did have this really fun quiz which i've copied just to show everyone why it's good that i don't believe in Heaven and Hell. (because if you don't believe, it doesn't exist, right? eek.)

[edit: she's good. check out "Sometimes a Little Sand on the Face is the Least of One's Concerns" here.]

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Second Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	Very High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Low
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very High
Level 7 (Violent)	Very High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	High

Take the Dante's Divine Comedy Inferno Test

apparently it's not bad enough that i must be perpetually aroused without the possibiltiy of satisfaction (interested? see my research project below), but i must also be surrounded by the Furies (dripping with women's limbs and fucking HAIR? *gag*) and have my face used as a nest for some bird-creature (Lana, that'd kill you, huh? thank god you're a Jew!).

and, is it just me or do level niners seem to have it made? i can handle the cold weather and some interesting company!

i'm gonna stick with the lists

2005-04-25T18:07:00.000-04:00

1. so i picked up a copy of Watership Down. and i'm a tad peeved that the book seems to be written, entirely, from the perspective of fucking rabbits. that's my Book Quiz book? it better be one hell of a story. or at least explain to me why rabbits fuck so much.

2. i saw the shins last night, and i'm sorry to report that they were just OK. while this may seem blasphemous, i assure you that it is not. they're just kind of subdued in the flesh, my friends. and the one spazzoid that does muster up some enthusiasm just seems to need some medication by the end of the show. it's obvious he has that new disease that all the drug companies are talking about. so i'm doing you all a favor by suggesting that you save your money and just download a show if you're in dire need of their live sound. and under no circumstances should you pay to see, agree to hear, or even entertain legitimate musical discussion about their opening band, the brunettes. they're simply laughable.

3. on a similar note, Webster Hall in NYC reminds me of that creepy orgy scene from Eyes Wide Shut. (its decor is most likely dictated by this aspect of the building's existence: Webster Hall Fridays.) i'm not sure why they didn't film part of the movie there. my companions and i even found a secret lounge upstairs that was velvety and creepy enough to be the setting of some of the more profane scenes. it was nearly frightening when i thought about the gathering of the masked people as they beckoned Tome Cruise to provide the password. i certainly knew no password. (have i used this metaphor before on here? i feel as if i have...)

4. i'm thinking of signing up for this Team in Traning schtick. it's part of my agenda of doing more things that will allow me to feel personal pride. of course, it seems fairly out of my league and there's a strong possibility that i will not follow through. but if i do, i expect each and every one of you to pledge loads of money to me so that i can feel better about myself. i suppose, by extension, you'll feel swell as well.

5. i contemplated, in my car for about 45 seconds, going to a singles party. you know those ones that are advertised by that online dating service? yeah, well, i think i'm just going to continue my attempt to have sex with Jeremy instead.

6. i'm finding that i'm excessively fatigued as of late. if anyone has any suggestions as to which pills i should take, vitamins to increase, or solutions to inhale/insert/consume/apply, i'd be grateful.

7. going back to the music theme, i'd like to take an informal poll on the existence of encores. are they *really* necessary? i vote no. just play the damn songs altogether and stop making us all chant and clap for you. we've already paid more than we should have in fees in an effort to demonstrate that we think your music is fairly kickass. and if you need a break, take a break. chug a beer onstage while your drummer does crazy tricks. something, anything to get rid of that pompous encore. that's what i think anyway. what say you?

8. marriage and family are an ongoing background concern of my brain, and by extension, myself. is it really a woman thing? age thing? personal thing? sure i'd like it some day, but it's quite tedious to continue thinking about it until i chase down someone (or chase them all away in the process). there are only so many marathons a girl can run to bide her mothergrabbin time, my friends.

9. i'm babysitting tomorrow night. those kids are going to watch American Idol with me if i have to promise them each a gallon of ice cream afterwards.

a few things of interest

2005-04-20T22:03:00.000-04:00

1. i think my mother is menopausal. she's demonstrating symptoms of split-personality disorder and has taken to pronouncing the word "frustrating" as "fuss-trating." all of which i find terribly, ahem, FRUStrating with a fucking R.

2. i got mad at my frind today at work. it was so incredibly childish and shameful. my behavior, that is. sadly enough my anger spouted from an incident involving a boy, a truck, and a piece of furnitrue. sorry dude. i'll be a big girl now.

3. if anyone has a vacant room (with separate entrance preferably), apartment, studio, house, cabin, flip-n-fuck, or futon, please contact me in the comments sexxxtion (oh, you need to have a penis, also. and be into using it for sex. with a real live girl). i am interested in conducting a study that involves the heterosexual intercourse/time relationship. i'm kind of serious here, people.

4. if anyone has any good advice for getting out of a prior engagement, please let me know. i made a promise to attend a Yankee game with a hyperactive, raunchy co-worker and her WT companions. i'm just realizing now that this will not be any kind of fun.

5. i'm trying to reach Bishop fucking Allen because they won't return my goddamn emails. i'm finding this to be FRUStrating as well.

6. ...so, what's this i hear about the Pope being a Nazi?

(7. oh, and in case you didn't hear, i may be one of the greatest people of all time.)

"you may be one of the greatest people of all time"

2005-04-18T20:14:00.000-04:00

well, i made an ass of myself on Jeremy's blog because i hate Oprah and i'm cranky. i think it may have something to do with being too lazy to masturbate.

regardless, here is the quiz he posted. i'm biting off him completely because it makes me feel better about being obnoxious in his comments section.

You're Watership Down!

by Richard Adams

Though many think of you as a bit young, even childish, you're
actually incredibly deep and complex. You show people the need to rethink their
assumptions, and confront them on everything from how they think to where they
build their houses. You might be one of the greatest people of all time. You'd
be recognized as such if you weren't always talking about talking rabbits.

Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

oh, and for the record, i'm not into rabbits, persay. i just perfer them over armadillos. they're one of the more disgusting creatures on the planet.

fun stuff for a Monday

2005-04-11T20:04:00.000-04:00

my friends gave me linkage. a blink, if you will.

(do you have something on the ettiquette of this, Jeremy?)

so i'm going to pimp him out. and her. my pimping sees no gender. it is asexual, if you will. something i can only aspire to be...but for now, it shall only be obtained by my pimping.

(right.)

so, my friend is Gina.
her man-friend is Jon.

she is arguably the hottest girl under 5 feet i have ever seen. ever.
she is also intelligent. she knows a lot about feminism and literature. she has a Masters Degree. she's well traveled. she's really funny and allows me to Windex her current apartment when i'm drunk (while her man friend cleans the toilet with Coke--c'mon, you know you got that email forward. he just put it to the test, my friends.) and she helps me when i'm stoned. sometimes i get stoned and bad things happen. historically speaking, that is. but i'd imagine that if i were to be stoned once again, she'd continue this behavior. even if she were incredibly hungry.

he is really nice. he sings very well, plays guitar very well, and is really funny even while driving a non-power steering vehicle. i shit you not. sometimes he has stalker groupies and i tend to hate them. but, in spite of such annoyances, jon remains nice. he also happens to be a Boston fan. and i still think he's nice. that should say a lot about how nice he really is.

so please listen to Jon Gorey's music. especially if you live in Boston, because then you can go see him play. and you could probably even talk cleansing products with him. and be nice to Gina. the rest of the girls there, you are free to condescend. but only if they are avid online Scrabble players.

*****

today's classroom comedy:

The Scene

Two pubescent teenagers seated in the computer lab, dressed and prepared for the day's lesson. the female is seated behind the male and is gently massaging his shoulders. in an adjoining room, class is commencing.

[Enter Teacher]

Teacher: Umm, guys...what are you doing?

Male Student: (talking with a deep voice that is counteracted with a pronounced lisp) We're waiting to for Mr. Smith. Mr. Anderson said we were working with him today.

Female Student: Yeah.

Teacher: Well, that's great, but it doesn't mean we're going to massage each other in the mean time.

(Male student rolls eyes and leaves the room without pushing in his chair. Female student sighs noticeably and also leaves the room, not nearly as embarrassed as she should be. Teacher remains to ponder her use of sarcasm in the classroom.)

Fin.

'round we go

2005-04-10T20:52:00.000-04:00

i know it's probably extremely cliche to talk about how a hipster-doofus movie made me realize something about my life--even worse that said move was about existential philosophies and the doofuses that either spend entirely too much time thinking about them or not nearly enough. but, that's kinda what happened.

sometimes i refer to myself as a writer, but it's more in the sense that i feel i'm better at grasping the English language than most people i encounter on a daily basis. as far as actually writing, i would become extremely embarrassed to even share some of my latest. whether it's laziness or lack of talent, one of the two is the reason why i'm not completely thrilled with much of what i do. i'm kind of perpetuating my own turmoil by allowing this to happen. i claim to be passionate and i claim to be intense, but i think i'm more accurately defined as a fencerider. not that this is about definitions...

i've always been completely impressed by cyclical things: the water cycle, horses shitting and eating in the same field, the seasons, the sun, the moon, babies, sex, routine, interpersonal relationships, fashion, music. often, fearing the life/death cycle, humans spend much of life trying to break the commonality by doing something fantastic. something that is not in the cycle. something that is "unique." but even that, really, is all part of the blanket, my friends.

but let's not get depressed, ok?

it is so astonishingly wastful to dwell. to categorize. to assume.

i like to be funny, but i was just kidding. so please stop laughing.

and i absolutely guarantee that my next post will not be about myself. i'm gonna give that big ol' wheel a powerful spin.

more on this later

2005-04-09T00:33:00.000-04:00

i just returned from a lengthy field-trip. my eyes are heavy and i'm dehydrated. that happens when you travel. it was a trip i won't forget. it was me getting to know things about a few people i work with. it was me learning more about me, and how i seem to wedge myself against others.

(there are things i need to explore there...i promise to come back to that. i owe you and myself some detailed mapmaking--something to decipher my streak of vague writing and excessive parenthetical half-thoughts. i'm quieting my thoughts and my anger. i'm ready to talk about lakes and trees and placid loves. and i won't regress. it's new. it's restrained. it's crafted.)

oh, and there were the kids. my kids.
i learned, finally, definitely, that i am happy to be doing what i do. i want to be better.
i love my career. i love a youth that can study and stress in some strange hotel, knock on my door at 6am to see if i'd brought an extra pair of socks, bust ass for several hours in physical and mental competition, and then bust a move with that girl from Herkimer County at the dance later that night.

in these things, life is big.
(enough now. enough.)

i am thrilled to be here, right now.
here's that smile again.

salacious is my favorite word

2005-04-05T14:05:00.000-04:00

there is a wind, vibration, tingle...indecipherable--like the annoyance of knowing that car in your blind spot is going the exact same speed as yourself--and unsettling.

why have we met this way?

there is so much laughter...
things aren't making sense.
[i need the concrete. i want to mold this into something. then i can sit back, look, shave, chip, alter, crumble, destroy, create. let's go, please.]
i am your dream, not in it, and my body is moving about. my visions are blurred and antagonizing. but the colors are cool. you are always calming. you clean up after yourself (i can do it for you). i'm always picking up after you.

i want more than this. i want more than you. i'm looking into an empty pot, distracted by the silver scratches. swirls of a mother, a father, a woman alone.

i hear you cutting yourself and now i understand why.

tick...tick...(boom?)

2005-03-31T20:05:00.000-05:00

so the pope's gonna die soon.

thinking of that makes me think of my grandfather. my grandfather was a deacon of the Roman Catholic Church. he was also a gigantic asshole. he died a few years ago; i honestly can't even remember what year it was. i didn't go to the funeral nor did i get sad or cry. and it's not one of those grieving cycles that went unfulfilled. therapy is certain not to bring me to sobs after eventually realizing how much i loved him. i never did, really. the flashes of memory i do have of him were that he was somewhat frightening. the stories my mother has told me of her upbringing only seem to validate my judgement. he was abusive and, like many abusers, i'd imagine, he loved his power but hid it from the rest of the world.

my mother once revealed to me that she was raped by one of her brothers when she was a teenager. they still speak, when they are around each other. i find it hard to even look at him. i'm not sure why or how my aunts and uncles have collectively decided that this would be a good way to continue life. i guess, somehow, they just detached themselves from the pain, the anger. i know my mother mourned the death of my grandfather.

these are the skeletons that lie in my family's closet, and i'm not sure what to do with them. they make me want to grieve something i've never encountered. they make me angry. they make me anything other than complacent, quiet.

i think family is a form of religion, and i see myself trying to make it my own.

*****

last night, i saw my 11 year old cousin perform in the All-District Arts Festival at my former high school. he played percussion. his mother and siblings live in the inner city of Newburgh, about two blocks away from the latest murders that have maintained headline status. i picked them all up so he wouldn't have to take a cab to the school. i brought a tie of my brother's for him, and trembled with frustration as i attempted to tie the damn thing around his crisp, taught collar.

we secured some seats and sat through the orchestra and chorus before Jake finally came on. his face, almost immediately, became scrunched with concentration. his first instrument was something that sounded like the infamous cowbell; all i could see were those little ball-ended sticks flailing about his head. then he played the cymbols--to the Star Wars theme! i was so incredibly excited and proud that smiling and laughing nearly resulted in streaming tears on several occasions. he was so adorable, so lovable, so amazing.

it made me yearn for my own child. i want to feel that energy for another human being. i wonder how much of what we know and desire is innate.

(we're fancy mammals; we need to procreate. we need to build firm families so that our offspring survive. )

i seem to be grasping for ones that are already established.

i want to have a good one. i want to start fresh.

tell me you agree

2005-03-29T22:39:00.000-05:00

big, big decision to make, kiddos.

here are the two options:
1. go to see Bishop Allen at CBGBs with a very close friend and her man friend, who will have travelled from Boston to see this gig.
2. run a 5K with "the" co-worker and perhaps some students.

now, the decision seems strikingly clear, but allow me to talk my way through my thoughts...

i suppose here is where i have to tell you about how the drama has come full circle at work. i'll try to be concise, and in return, try not to think of me as a homewrecker.
apparently the wife has been reading his emails. his work emails. she figured out his password and checked his daily correspondance. it wasn't really an issue, as i had put a stop to the flirty emails quite some time ago. seriously, i did. and not because i didn't want the flirting, but because it was just too dangerous of a trail. in a way, however, it did tone down the things we should've been not doing in the first place. so things were going well, considering the near run-in with adultery that had happened about a month or so prior (is it possible to blame you, Jeremy? you totally stood me up! just kidding...).

in place of these emails came little comments that he would drop about how his wife was suspicious. now, there was nothing concrete that every really happened between myself and this very married man. yet, there was still stuff to suspect. hell, most of the building had been suspecting it before even he and i did. eventually, these comments began to show their aftershocks when he didn't join our academy's traditional birthday lunch. my birthday lunch. instead, he stayed behind, rummaged through my desk (god, he must have seen my slip in that drawer...very embarrassing) and watched my Family Guy DVD.

then he decided not to go to the annual Srping Fling. the reason there was obvious, but in the kind of way that no one would speak it. he simply couldn't arrive solo, nor could he very well bring his other half.

so when he was absent from work one Monday, things were kind of sticky, but completely OK. we were both dealing with this mess quietly. but then my other co-worker shared some information that made it very clear to me that things were getting beyond silly and had plunged into the unprofessional. perhaps this had happened long before i saw it, but at least i caught on. it always takes me too long to get angry--about things that matter.

so i sent him an email. it wasn't really too terrible of an email. it was about two lines long and it said, "I realize that our friendship is falling apart, but our professional relationship shouldn't." (yes, i capitalize in the workplace and take off points when my students do not.)

(i just realized that i'd forgotten to be concise. sorry.)

she intercepted the email. he'd called the classroom; a student handed me the phone.

jesus christ, this is getting riciculous.

yeah, i know. he was still jovial. i was running my hand through my hair, stressing. well, she may have sent you something in response, and i just wanted to let you know that you shouldn't read into it very much.

what?!

i read the email. she'd sent it from his work account. i guess it was the type of email i'd send to the other woman. i didn't respond. i was completely furious, but i did not respond. not because i felt bad for her, but because i wanted to win this. my maturity and self-control would surely get me the purse. the next day, however, i let my married co-worker know exactly how big of an ass he really is. i also cried a lot. i'm not the kind of girl to keep my mouth shut.

...and now i'm on Easter Break. the tide is retreating; but doesn't it always return?

so, i got into running because of him. i signed up for this fucking 5K for me, though dammit. i found out about it, have been working toward it, and was the one to share it with him. i thought it would be a nice "practice" for the 10K i've agreed to do in June. but now this mess. i'm trying to eliminate him as a friend. go for the complete opposite of what we'd been creating. i mean, none of this is fair. (yes, he started it. yes, i tried to stop it...kind of. but that doesn't work anymore; not when you're 26.) so to say it's not fair for me not to run is illogical.

but i know that if i don't go, i'll use it as a guilt card. i'd rather not do that either. but i have no fucking self control, people!

i think i should go see Bishop Allen. tell me you agree. sometimes i just need to hear it.

he doesn't find me amusing

2005-03-28T13:25:00.000-05:00

Read the Complete Interview Here

*note: after reading this interview, he has requested that i do him a "favor" and not contact him again. either he is very touchy, or i am a poor journalist.

So, what's it like being a rockstar? You guys have been creeping into the spotlight lately. I even saw you on some featured iTunes mix!

I wouldn't know what being a rockstar is like but yes, things have been going well for us lately. We've all been working our assess off for a long time, and we all believe in this and have all made a lot of sacrifices to keep doing it so its gratifying that things seem to be moving forward.

What are the best and worst things about being on tour?

Best thing - playing shows every night with 4 people who I love and respect, and meeting new people every night.

Worst things - having little to no control over where and when we eat and sleep.

And, mostimportantly, have you signed any women's breasts?

nope.

Who, in the music industry, do you look up to?

I used to work in the music industry. I learned a ton working for Ken Weinstein and Jim Merlis at Big Hassle Media, and they are both great people who pretty much cheered me on when I quit my job there to be able to devote more time to the band. And Jim has given me his Mets
tickets on occasion. I'll usually choose a Mets game over a rock show if given the option.

How about outside the industry?

Elliott Spitzer, Joe Biden, Al Franken, Brian Lehrer, Seymour Hersh, Philip Roth, Wes Anderson, Michel Gondry, Spike Jonze... The list goes on.

Where would you like to see the band in five years?

Still together making records and touring for a living.

So your new album is in the works; what can your fans expect on this latest release? What were some of your inspirations, motivations, and good vibrations for its creation?

Emblems was the first record that I played on - even when I first heard Matt's demos (just acoustic guitar and vocals) I thought that there was something of a shift in the songwriting; nothing dramatically different, but everything was more immediate and direct both musically
and lyrically. I think the new record will take that shift a step further. There was a conscious effort to make this record more aggressive, with more songs with faster tempos, but its still us. I
think people who already like the band will be a bit surprised by parts of the new record but they will hopefully still like it. We did the bulk of the recording over a week of 12 hour days at Bearsville Studios in Woodstock. I was sick as hell the whole time and it was one of the best weeks of my life.

Is there a tentative release date?

Fall...

Any funny or fantastic stories of events during the recording process?

We just worked our asses off the entire time. We went to a bar one night and Matt sang Time after Time karaoke style.

Who do you think would win in a fight: Anne Coulter or Ellen DeGeneres?

I'd be rooting for Ellen but Anne Coulter is made of evil and would probably fight dirty, so I assume she would win.

Is it true that you are the real reason behind the Pitt/Aniston split?

I can't think of anything in the world I care about less than the personal lives of celebrities.

Describe a typical day in the life of Brian Pearl of matt pond PA.

When we're home its pretty boring. I work then go to the gym if I'm not being lazy and usually have band practice or something band-related at night. Sometimes that just consists of getting drunk with people I play music with. On tour, every day is identical: wake up hung over,
get in the van, arrive at the club, sound check, sit around, try and find something ok to eat, start drinking, play show, drink more, go to sleep.

What's your biggest pet peeve?

I have no idea. I don't get along very well with people who consider Fox News a legitimate place to find out what's going on in the world. Other than that, I don't know.

East Coast or West Coast?

Both. I'm from California and I've lived in New York for almost 9 years.

What are some of the bands you're listening to right....now!

Hayden, Daft Punk, R Kelly, Cam'Ron.

Who are your top 5 favorite bands at the moment?

I'm bad at these lists. These are just five bands I love in no particular order: Luna, Pavement, Broadcast, Blur, Pinback.

I have some embarrassing photos of your sweaty armpits. Will you be angry and/or sue me when I release them to the general public after you're rich and desired by the finest women in the land?

I doubt it.

Be honest; no one important will read this interview. Does Hartford really suck?

We didn't really have much fun there.

Do you enjoy the smell of Windex?

I hate it actually.

Did you feel as awkward as I did as you half-walked me to my car after the Pixies show?

That's a pretty bizarre question to ask.

the kangaroo

2005-03-25T23:44:00.000-05:00

moments when you can just giggle with someone that you normally cannot fully giggle with are so outstanding.

today, my mother and i went out for a "fun" day of shopping. really, it was me carting her ass to places such as TJ Maxx (which isn't so bad), The Rag Shop, and Home Goods. by our third store and fifth hour, i was getting anxious and tense. before erupting at my mother without provocation, i told her i was getting restless and then began wandering the aisles in a state of daydream. then...

i saw this:

look closely...

yes, that does appear to be a large penis coming out of the groin region of what appears to be a horse.

i was only equipped with my camera phone, so i apologize for this crude photo. actually, it's better if you see it this way; you are now reacting the same way i did in the middle of Home Goods, Middletown, NY. i do believe i even voiced my shock aloud...what the hell?!

it was some sort of paper machier creature that, i assume, would adorn a mantle or table in some quirky abode. of course, it did appear to be an anotomically correct, and aroused, horse. however, it was in fact a kangaroo...and the penis was in fact the head (ha) of the marsupial's child. the pouch was evidently not to scale.

i scurried back through the aisles and found my mother still wandering, her basket full of bargains that she would inevitably talk herself out of by the time we left the store.

hey kiddo, what do you think of...

wait...come here; i have something hilarious to show you!

she looks up and puts the green Easter platter back on the shelf.

what? she smirks.

i'm cracking up, allowing for pause...

oh wait, i think i know what you're talking about! the kangaroo?

she'd already seen it! yes! oh my god, what the hell is that thing?

now we're both full of giggles, finding our way back to this odd knick-knack. when we find it, there are more giggles and some photo ops:

we even pointed it out to the woman you can partially see behind my mother.

it was a boring day of shopping.

poor Easter bunny

2005-03-25T22:07:00.000-05:00

interview with a rockstar

2005-03-24T23:31:00.000-05:00

it's been entirely too long since i've posted something substantial. and i actually attempted to earlier this evening, but then a bill collector called and i got all responsible for a while with my financial matters.

but now i'm back to sitting here thinking about how i should be writing. i could outline the drama that has now come full circle at work, but it would cause me to do too much introspecting. and let's be honest: no good is gonna come out of that!

so instead, i'm going to share the questions that i've developed to use in an interview with Brian Pearl. he's a musician in the band matt pond PA. i have never done an interview before, and was even more bumbling when i actually hung out with this dude on once occasion so i tried to mask my deficiencies with humor. try to pretend there are some really witty responses following each of these questions--responses that were triggered by my own cleverness.

*****

So, I met him through Friendster (which I realize is so passe, but I'm sorry; I just cannot get into Myspace). I think the premise was that I thought he was hot--even before the rockstar factor! After weeks of flirty emails and Instant Messaging, we met face-to-face at one of the several NYC Pixies dates, gulping down several beers at a dive bar rather than suffer through the Le Tigre, who was opening that particular night. I was very nervous walking in to meet him because I was really self-conscious about the size of my puffy jacket. However, he'd voiced great concern about me finding street parking rather than paying at a lot during our conversations leading up to this first encounter, and the fact that I had managed to do so was something to brag about. At least I had an ice breaker. If that failed, I'd simply bail out by mocking my own jacket. But here I am talking about myself already when this really is all about Brian Pearl of matt pond PA. After some more prominent media attention with appearances on The Carson Daly Show and spots on Fox's The O.C., I still wasn't surprised to learn that this modest guitarist agreed to give me a bit of his time for this incredibly professional interview as he is on tour in Hartford, CT. I promised him that the questions would not be boring or tedious, so don't expect to learn anything too profound about this musician other than his sentiments on random things that amuse me.

So, what's it like being a rockstar? You guys have been creeping into the spotlight lately. I even saw you on some featured iTunes mix!

What are the best and worst things about being on tour? And, most importantly, have you signed any women's breasts?

Who, in the music industry, do you look up to?

How about outside the industry?

Where would you like to see the band in five years?

So your new album is in the works; what can your fans expect on this latest release? What were some of your inspirations, motivations, and good vibrations for its creation?

Is there a tentative release date?

Any funny or fantastic stories of events during the recording process?

Who do you think would win in a fight: Anne Coulter or Ellen DeGeneres?

Is it true that you are the real reason behind the Pitt/Aniston split?

Describe a typical day in the life of Brian Pearl of matt pond PA.

What's your biggest pet peeve?

East Coast or West Coast?

What are some of the bands you're listening to right....now!

Who are your top 5 favorite bands at the moment?

I have some embarrassing photos of your sweaty armpits. Will you be angry and/or sue me when I release them to the general public after you're rich and desired by the finest women in the land?

Be honest; no one important will read this interview. Does Hartford really suck?

Do you enjoy the smell of Windex?

Did you feel as awkward as I did as you half-walked me to my car after the Pixies show?

Were you satisfied with this interview? (Please respond via Friendster testimonial.)

as a child...

2005-03-16T19:48:00.000-05:00

i believed these things:

1. that when the snow would melt along the mountains, then refreeze into gigantic, colorful iced waterfalls, that someone had actually put food coloring on them to make them prettier.

2. unicorns were magical.

3. that the lyrics to Don Henley's song were actually "poison summer"

4. my mother's scent, a mixture of cool breeze, perfumed soap, faint cigarettes, and warm skin, was the most glorious thing on the planet.

5. that life was just about living.

spring cleaning

2005-03-13T13:38:00.000-05:00

ok, i think i'm emerging from the funk. (or i'm now able to supress it sufficiently) and i've decided that it's time for me to be funny again. this depressing shit is annoying me, so i can only imagine that it's annoying the crap out of you too.

i'm thinking essays...if anyone has any interesting topics, feel free to suggest. so far, i've only come up with the idea of religion--specifically, how Christianity got the popular vote. i mean, there are so many more religions out there that are more fun, no? or at least less similar to the anguish of doing ab-crunches while trying to hold in a fart. there's some offensive humor just begging to be explored there.

two

2005-03-12T20:27:00.000-05:00

And I'm not sure what the trouble was that started all of this
The reasons have run away but the feeling never did
It's not something I would recommend, but it is one way to live
Cause what is simple in the moonlight, by the morning never is
What's so simple in the moonlight, by the morning is so complicated.
What's so simple in the moonlight, so simple in the moonlight

my friday night consisted primarily of hairspray and red wine.

my saturday, children and cameras.

(life can be so much more pure and manageable when we have fewer words with which we clutter the empty, stagnant spaces.)

the name game

LOOK!!

movin' on up

a long post about my weekend as a yuppie

thanks, but no thanks

lay off the sweets

let's get logical, logical

i don't look like lisa loeb: my proof in 5 steps

my sad place: the county fair

who is the hottt-est of them all?

fuck office space

on a weeknight?!

on driving, violence & drifters

laugh. you'll feel better.

on guard!

it's all about the embracing--or--my "back tat"

ryan fucking adams

god has a message for you

you must be this tall to enjoy this ride

et tu, scallywag?

spending time with mother

a coupla' things

just a few things on today's agenda

my friend Kristen

say no to emo.

a word to the sponsors

told you. (LOOK AT THE NEW FUN POLL!)

BOB and BABS

in your dreams

sometimes i'm sad

guess what?

verdict: no call

taptaptaptaptap

look!

wanna know more about me?

*swoon*

bugbites, etc.

casbah rocked.

for my cousin

hope you live to be...

commencement

dodgeball.com

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

"you're a jerk!"

this was my weekend

here's something funny

someone should be fired

Wham-O

be a patriot

point and laugh at me

drunken post! (now, with edits!)

civil blinking

i was looking at your picture

rawr

a quick breather

ms. brightside

i'm ok, you're ok.

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

shampoo girl

Bishop Allen

100% Stickler

old school

are you on the list?

friends, countrymen...lend me your ear

bastards.

do you know Spanish?

tenure

some things on my mind

interview with a rockstar, part two

i (don't heart) Ryan Adams

nevermind

cough, sniffle (me)

strangers welcome!

nooooooo...

the momma-dukes

women are fickle

you're not doing it right

:/

the vagina dialogues

today

swoon

i'm not that desperate