Sunday, December 30, 2007
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
While I was checking out the upper church, I noticed two Italian looking dudes come in as well. As far as I saw, they weren't there for a tour (like me) or confession (a couple people were waiting for the priest). All they did was have little conversations in various corners of the church. They definitely did not stay in one place, but they had no interest in the church itself. They simply carried on their conversation the entire time. The occasional hug would be exchanged as well. I feel as though deaths were being arranged to look like accidents. Some shady shit was going down.
I swear they're in some sort of mafia. But mafia? In DC? I dunno...
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
- Solar Powered Spy Camera
- Mini Donut Maker
- Photo Hangers
- Comma Cufflinks
- Robot Necklace
- So much of Black Fleece
Monday, December 03, 2007
2. This damned problem. I know I should be able to figure this out. This is further proof that I was much smarter at 15 than I am now at 24.
3. Fucking Apple and their fucking iPods!
6. Basically a good percentage of the Planeteers' special abilities.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
In addition to that, my phone apparently fell out of my pocket in my car and I was unable to locate it. I did not notice it missing until I had to go somewhere after work. Since I caught a ride home with my mom, I assumed that it was in her car, and planned to retrieve it later. Unfortunately for me, it rang while I was in the car. I took solace in the fact that it was not in my mom's car, but within my grasp. So when I finally got back home, I tried calling it so as to determine its exact location. I drive a Mini Cooper, it can't be too hard to find. Right? WRONG! For some reason, when I called, it would ring on the phone I was using, but no ringing would actually come out of my phone. I still do not understand why it was doing this. Why would it ring to alert me to its presence, then refuse to ring when trying to find it?! After 20 terrible minutes in the cold, I finally found it wedged underneath the seat, mocking me with its closeness. When I got back inside, I called it again. Lo and behold, it promptly rang as though the fucking Hunchback of Notre fucking Dame was in charge of that shit. God. I'm so annoyed.
Mark your calendar or Palm V. You can expect to die on:
March 8, 2007 at
the age of 23 years old.
On that date you will most likely die from:
Contagious Disease (13%)
Heart Attack (8%)
Third Degree Burns (5%)
Alien Abduction (5%)
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
2. Decide if I can pull off white during the winter. Perhaps if I do an over the top "Where-the-regatta-at?"-preppy it can work for me.
3. Sell off the shoes I never wear anymore to help facilitate my international gallivanting plans. My shoes are in awesome condition, but I never wear so many of them. It's sad really. I'll probably just hold on to a couple pairs of dunks and release the rest into the wild. (Wild = Ebay)
4. Play with the camera more often. Now that it's getting colder (excluding this 60-70 degree Thanksgiving break), I like the look of DC architecture. It all looks so much more interesting when deserted.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
The S is for ACTION!There is no "s" in Action. Where the fuck did this come from? Shit drives me crazy. Is there actually an "s" in the word, and I'm just not seeing it? I've been known to miss such painfully obvious things, but I've looked and looked, and it's just not there. Please, someone explain this to me. God, this hurts my face.
Normally, I do not seek out things that hurt me in such a manner, but my cousin insulted a pair of my shoes which are SUPER CUTE, and she wears Sketchers. I'm sorry, that invalidates any opinion she can possibly have on the cuteness of shoes. I'm really bothered by this. Ugh, it really hurts my face. I'm going to comfort myself by staring at my cufflinks. I <3 them.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Who is Jill Scott? Words and Sounds Vol. 1
This is awesome. I suggest that everyone listen through.
Do you want it on your rice and gravy? I do, Jill. I really do.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
So one of my professors wants to meet with me to discuss these plans. She's asked me to bring in a copy of my resume, an unofficial transcript, and a career statement. The problem is the fucking career statement. I am still blank on what to write. Is it acceptable to bring in something like:
I want a career that enables the buying of extravagant shoes with no financial worries and worldwide gallivanting. Let me in. I will make it happen. I'll be your best friend forever!
Somehow, I don't think that's going to cut it. Anyways, I'll perhaps go to Philly this Friday or next Monday for this meeting. It's time to man up and do something productive. Hopefully, I can whip up something awesome, or something barely sufficient to get me into a school. Either way, I'm OK with it.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Unfortunately for me, TF2 is infinitely more addicting. The pace is so much faster that it's obscene how easily you lose track of the time. I was planning to play a little bit before going to bed last night, and suddenly, it was 1 AM. How did that happen?** Le sigh. It's probably a bad thing that I got this game. My friends thought I was getting pretty anti-social when Halo 3 came out. And then I got this. Here's an example of how I have problems battling addictions, especially when new and exciting:
Scene: Happy Hour at LotusI think I have my priorities straight. It's the WORLD that is crazy.
K Street, between 14th and 15th Streets
Friend: So we're all going to 18th Street Lounge after this, you're coming, right?
Me: Uh, I have plans.
Friend: Oh, where are you going?
Me: Home. TEAM FORTRESS 2!!!!111!!!!11!!***
Me: Hey, those heavies aren't just gonna buff themselves! Someone has to do it.
Friend: Why are you such a loser?
Me: Because it's awesome.
* Sasha is no joke, she can crush you.
** It's not a good idea for me to play video games before going to sleep. I dream that shit and wake up whenever I die, so it is especially non-restful when I dream TF2.
*** Yes, I was looking forward to it that much.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
DO YOU SEE?! Terrible, I know. It's one thing to dress up an entire sixth grade class in the same ugly tshirt for keeping track of the dumb children, but it is quite another for tourist/demon couples to dress alike. Why would they do this to themselves? It's just terrible. Even more importantly, why would they do this to me? It hurts my face beyond measure.
The only thing that can rival my annoyance towards tourists is my hatred of the summer interns. I don't CARE that you work in some senator's office. I REALLY DON'T. And if you were so proud of your position (as resident copy maker), perhaps you would not run around your nation's capitol in flip flops. This is not an appropriate footwear choice. The worst offence of the summer intern, however, is the use of security badge as accessory. Some people declare status with awesome shoes or the latest super expensive purse. These children use security badges to establish the pecking order.
Alpha Intern: Oh, you work for a representative? Well I work for a SENATOR. Suck on that.
::Beta Intern curls up into the corner and cries::
These are not a legitimate accessory. They are large and ugly and really are only good for getting past the guards or making it easier for that serial killer in the corner to catch your name and track you down.
Serial Killer: It puts the lotion on its skin.
Intern: Um, is this Creme de la Mer? My dad buys me Creme de la Mer. Could you get me some? I'm allergic to this stuff.*
I don't like the summer interns. If only this fate could befall them all.
* Also, I fucking hate it when people claim allergies at stuff they simply don't like. Just say you don't like it. Christ, you're hard to deal with.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
FYI: From what I understand, I am capable of particularly loud sneezes for someone of my size. It's hereditary. My grandfather, for example, could be heard from across the street while deep within the house, and my mother's sneezes make me want to hit the ground in case the bullets come through the windows.
Bonus FYI: I've never had sinus problems and, if I am remembering correctly from various commercials, the sinus cavity is at the top of the nose. So I'm guessing that's where the explosion occurred. It really fucking hurt. I cannot emphasize that enough.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Sun, Jul 29 2:30pmI have no idea what this means. Perhaps it's a reminder as to how to start spelling my name? Perhaps I was about to note someone as a cunt? I really have no recollection of this. :T (This is my new favorite emoticon. Yes, I have a favorite emoticon. Sue me.²)
Fri, Jul 20 3:43pmI think a friend and I were in the process of categorizing people we know. For the most part, everyone seemed to pretty clearly fall into cool or nerd, with very few straddling both.³ It was then pointed out that while I used to reside mostly in an angry place, I am now definitely in the nerd category. I accept that. It's not MY fault that they read In Her Shoes and I read The Zombie Survival Guide. When the zombies come, who'll be laughing then?! WHAT NOW, JERK?!
cool factor v. nerd v. angry
Mon, Oct 1 8:16pmOHMIGOD. I was watching TV and suddenly Justin Timberlake is advertising for some quick cash loan deal. It was one of those places that tells you to put up your car for the loan, and then in fine print, there's like, 150% interest or something terrible like that. Anyways, after about two seconds it sinks in that this is NOT Justin, but a lookalike. Crazy. He even had the trying-too-hard stubble, off center fedora, and I think a vest that only Mr. Timberlake can wear without everyone assuming he's gay. In addition to that, the end of the commercial had this dude sitting at a grand piano. Do these people think Justin is a good loan sharking public spokesman? Are they targeting females from the ages of 10-25? Is that prime loan shark bait? Somehow, I really doubt this.
fake jt for cash!!!!
Upon reviewing the above summary, I really don't convey how amused I was. I was literally squealing with delight. It was awesome.
Thu, Jul 19 5:05pmSo I'm walking to my ride home after work, which is around Judiciary Square, when I see what looks like a group of interns. They all look about 18-20, so I assume they were interns. They are wearing super business formal clothing for the most part, a little bit of business casual, so they were straddling that line. (Re: Tee Hee) It was not cute. A herd of poorly dressed things. A cacophony for the eyes, it was ill-fitting suits and bad shoes. Blech. Their queen, however, had FUPA hanging out of her suit jacket. It was, admittedly, a short jacket, but FUPA! And not just FUPA forcing her shirt to paunch out along with it. NAKED FUPA! Her shirt was also too short! NAKED FUPA at Judiciary Square! Terrible. My eyes still burn. I had to go stare at the Fall/Winter Balenciaga show to ease the pain.
fupa is not business casual
Mon, May 28 4:12pmI must have gone to Tyson's Corner. Usually, I just take a picture of the sign with my camera phone, but I think I was (and still am) out of memory.
level 1 aisle e
Mon, Jul 16 10:58 amI was in Philly and had to pick up a friend at an unfamiliar street. My phone's GPS got me there fine, but then we had to go to another unfamiliar area. At this point, satellites decided that they hate me when my phone spewed out this direction. How can I possibly make a left at recalculating route? I don't think that's a real street. Needless to say, I was sad and much pouting ensued. Luckily, I was able to find my way, but not without much sturm und drang. And, of course, more pouting.
make a left at RECALCULATING ROUTE
Wed, Jul 11 7:34amThat is all.
tweezing on the bus is a bad idea
¹ Sorry, I'm in an especially random mood right now. Let's call it crazycornystrange.
² For real though. Please don't.
³ Tee hee. Straddle.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
After four more hours of gameplay last night, Fet and I beat Halo 3. Right when the end sequence is starting, the fucking XBox tells me that the disc is fucking unreadable. UNREADABLE! So we saw nothing. NOTHING! So disappointed. So now, I'm gonna have to beat the entire last chapter again.
On a semi-related note, why is Cortana able to leap from the disc where she is housed into the fucking computer through the air. COMPUTER PROGRAMS SHOULDN'T BE ABLE TO DO THAT.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
So I went to the mall to trade in some DS games and get Halo 3. Unfortunately for me, the Kids Foot Locker is right next to the game store I use. On the way from the store to the mall exit, I made the mistake of glancing to my left and seeing these SUPER SHINY SHOES. These pictures do not do the shininess justice. They really are GLORIOUSLY BLINDING.*
Le sigh. Despite the things that make me like these, namely:
- HIGH TOPS,
I don't know how to feel.
* I apologize for my abuse of the Caps Lock, but I really mean it.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
And then my phone rang within the next minute. Same number calling. I pick up again and inform him of his mistake. He apologizes and asks me to confirm the number he's been trying to call. It is, indeed, my number, but unfortunately, I am not who he wishes to speak to. He apologized again** and hung up.
This is really new and different for me. Usually wrong numbers are big jerks who somehow blame me for owning someone else's phone number, or they act as though I'm the one running around misdialing calls. I once spent five minutes on the phone going through this routine over and over:
Jerk: Who is this?I was much too stubborn to hang up and admit defeat. Clearly, the other person is a bigger jerk than I am. In any case, I hope this will become an ongoing trend. Strangers being polite to one another. Anything is possible.
Me: You called me. Who is this?
Jerk: No. Who is THIS?
Me: I am the owner of this phone. Who is this?
* Perhaps Brad? Something with a "B."
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Is this really necessary, Nordstrom? Could you not find any reasonably attractive people that will actually fit this suit? I know that such people exist, I have seen them wandering about this land. I vehemently disagree with this model casting. It's not right. Just get a plus sized model for christsakes. They need to eat too. Clearly, if they didn't have that urgent need to make a living/eat, they wouldn't be plus sized models, would they? So Nordstrom, take pity. Feed a model that needs the work and save this tiny model from having to wear a fatty suit. Ok? Iappreciateitthanksbye!
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
1. Desktop Publisher
4. Cartoonist / Comic Illustrator
7. Fashion Designer
8. Probation / Parole Officer
9. Director of Photography
10. Set Designer
12. Addictions Counselor
33. Marriage and Family Therapist
37. Sport Psychology Consultant
Some of these are actually quite hilarious. Clergy?! Really, after God's recent treatment of me, I THINK NOT. I guess I'd enjoy being a translator, if not for that pesky lack of multilingual skills. Parole officer? Criminals scare me. It doesn't matter if you're a rapist or a billionaire humanitarian serving time for avenging his murdered family. I don't care if you did really hard time or spent it dancing to Sister Act music. I'm crossing the street if I know you did time. I know this is a sort of terrible/bigoted stance, but that's how it is. Some of these really are absurd. The most, however, must be Addiction Counselor. It is only my fear of criminals that has kept me from finding new and exciting addictions. I have quite the addictive personality. It can only be attributed to divine intervention that I never picked up some terrible drug habit, a lifestyle which was quite available to me.
Hm, perhaps this divine intervention is the cause for God's spite? Have I never thanked Him (Her? Shim?) for the guidance away from addictions more terrible than shoes? If not, I'd like to post an official THANK YOU for such aid. I appreciate it, I really do. I mean, if all my money went to drugs, how could I afford these?
I was about to hit publish, when I reached inside of my jacket pocket and found the Vanilla Mint Coffee lip balm that I thought I had lost a while ago. THANKS, GOD! YOU'RE AWESOME!
Another reason for thanks: My hair is kinda awesome today. I didn't put any product in it post straightening, and yet it's super awesome. Like, suprisingly awesome. It's perfectly floppy without being out of control. :D Thanks, God!
Of course, this tranquility lasts only until I hear murmurings that seem to be pointed in my general direction. I ignore them, thinking I'm hearing things, or perhaps I'm just catching snippets from some conversation outside of my visual range. The murmurings come again, forcing me to look around. The dude sitting on the bench is asking if I just bought new shoes and pointing to the Downtown Locker Room bag that I have sitting in front of me.* "No, it's just an old bag."** I return to my game.
For a visual image, he's a ratty thing. He looks about 18-19ish, braces, super unkempt hair. He's wearing fucked up black Air Force Ones, a GINORMOUS t-shirt, and dirty jeans. He is not cute. I'm not saying dudes need to be perfectly put together at all times; there is such a thing as attractively disheveled and this was not it. It was as though he spent the night painting a fence, and on a whim decided to take the bus into DC this morning. He needs:
- A haircut,
- A shower,
- A washer/dryer,
- A tailor, and
- A speech therapist. (I can't stand such poor enunciation.)
This is not a good omen. This just isn't done on my bus route. There are rules about this sort of thing. Unless you are friends with the person, you do not get up to sit next to them, and even then, if there are adjacent seat pairs that are empty, you sit in a different seat pair close enough to talk, but far enough for sprawling out a bit. He proceeds to ask me random questions to which I provide one/two word responses while gazing out the window.
Him: What time is is?Thankfully, he stops with the questions about thirty seconds before the last stop. He tries to initiate no more conversation. I really don't know what I did to deserve all this punishment. First the iPod dies on me, then I miss an awesome photo opportunity, and now this. God, what did I do to offend you so terribly?
Him: So you ride out here everyday?
Me: No. (Actual answer: Yes, just not at this time normally.)
Him: So you work in DC?
Him: So you shop at Downtown Locker Room a lot?
Me: Not really. (Actual answer: I used to a lot, but not as often lately.)
Him: So where do you work?
Me: Government stuff. (Actual answer: Not government stuff.)
At least I have another reason to catch the earlier buses.
* I bought some tiny SpongeBob Squarepants Dunks for my friend's new baby. So adorable. So shiny. So yellow. So awesome.
** Every couple of workdays, I show up with a bag full of english muffins/bagels, cream cheese, and a lot of whatever frozen dinners are on sale at Safeway. It's cheaper than buying lunch everyday, but easier than actually making lunch.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Monday, September 10, 2007
I truly fear that my iPod will never recover from this blow. The electric Prozac/Morphine of iTunes may do nothing to stop the path to destruction that he seems intent on. Over the past few months, he's been a little slower to wake up in the morning. He needs a bit of encouragement when syncing up with iTunes. His battery life is no where near where it used to be. Is this truly the end? Could a year and half of hard living caught up to iPod so quickly?
Unbeknownst to iPod, I've begun looking at his newer, younger, prettier brother: the iPod Classic. I am severely tempted to get one. Perhaps Nigel will take custody of iPod for the duration of his life while I start a new life with Classic. I am conflicted. I do not wish to take up with a new iPod while mine still lives, but I have needs. I am only human.
The main problem facing me now is my damned embargo. The 160 gig classic is $349. God. That is a glorious pair of shoes. I really believe that God is testing me now. After my declaration of embargo He probably snickered and thought,"Embargo, eh?* Let's see how well you do with this!" And then ZAP. My iPod is on its deathbed. I must resist. I must explore all ways to keep this iPod alive. Like that Schiavo chick, I will keep this thing on life support for as long as possible. I can only hope against hope that he pulls through.**
* Apparently, God is Canadian.
** Is this in bad taste? Has an appropriate amount of time passed for me to say this? Is this reference perhaps the final nail in the coffin God is constructing for my iPod?
Friday, September 07, 2007
I have a problem. It's not so much an issue I need to resolve or something that needs to go away, as with many of my friends' problems, but something that I lack. In addition to this, it is not merely a single thing that I lack, but a combination of things that will inevitably lead to my destruction:
1. I have no stuff. Now, plenty of people have this problem. Homeless people, for one, and perhaps monks, and they seem to get along just fine. However, this does not bode well for me as...
2. I have no impulse control. In my profile, I say that I have poor impulse control. This is quite the understatement. I don't even think it qualifies as impulse control. It is a mere whisper of self-control; the vague apparition of an impulse control that once was, but will never be again. Combined with my lack of stuff, it's always dangerous for me to enter any kind of store. Or go on the internet. Or open my eyes. Shit is dangerous. "But how is this harmful?" you ask. Oh, I will tell you, faithful reader. I will. It is...
3. My lack of money.
I'm not broke, but I have places my money needs to go. Like into my car payments, or IRA shit that I don't really get, but I vaguely understand that I will need in order to eat when I am old, decrepit, and unemployed.* I need to eat, and I eat a lot. It can actually be quite obscene. Where does a 115 pound Filipino thing even put that much food? (Answer: In her FUPA.) My car also needs to eat, but he doesn't eat that much (thank God). I really do have few things I have to pay for, and I have never not been able to meet these demands. However, in the past year, I have developed a love of stuff that is new and different. It is not simply a love of shoes (which has also, much to my shame, been altered slightly) but a love of STUFF.
Jackets and jeans and shoes and shirts and gadgetry all at once. It's terrible. It really is. My AmEx card hates me from all the wear and tear it undergoes, but American Express loves me. Or they will when my 0% interest stops at the end of the year. ** I can recite my credit card number/security code/expiration date with no thought whatsoever. I can mime typing these numbers in without a number pad. That is how ingrained often this care is used. They love me so much that they more than quadrupled my original limit. I was horrified at this removal of one spending barrier. It's a slippery slope, my friends. A slippery slope indeed.
I am now known quite well amongst certain circles of my endless string of embargos, which are promptly broken whenever I encounter a new pretty/shiny/awesome thing-that-I-must-have-immediately. A couple of weekends ago it was cufflinks (so awesome!), before that it was more Threadless shirts, preceded by random gadgetry, preceded by a new jacket, preceded by new shoes, and so on. Each of these purchases resulted in my claiming an embargo. None lasted for more than ten days. In fact, after the cufflinks, I declared embargo. This was the last weekend of August. On Wednesday, I ordered a couple of shirts online. (They arrived yesterday. SO FAST! But also too big, alas, they must be exchanged.) So I am declaring embargo again.
I am on embargo until my car is one year old or when it hits 10,000 miles, whichever comes first. I'm currently at about 9100 miles, but I've been quite stingy about driving lately, so the former option will likely come first. Hopefully, this embargo will take hold. If all goes well, my desires for things will try their best to escape from the confines of my mind, much like starving Cubans brave the terrible sea for the shores of Florida.
Pray for me. And for my wallet.
* Assuming that I actually overcome a set of conditions that makes this a semi-unreachable goal.
** I absolutely refuse to pay interest on anything though. So I must gain control by then.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Fast forward to 4:30. I had to poo. It wasn't a particularly pressing need, but I walk about two miles after work, and I'd rather not have to haul around a full load with me. The same woman was at the sinks of the bathroom. She seems to be further along in whatever it she does, so I enter the stall. She seems to be heavily involved in searching for something in the purse, accompanied by humming/talking at a crescendo. I grow concerned. This is not a mere urine situation; there is poo involved. I take my time getting situated in the stall. I wait. I have to pee anyways, so I let that go. I wait. She is still rummaging/humming/talking. I wait. I wait. I cannot perform with an audience, so I exit the stall and proceed to wash my hands. Slowly. Very Slowly. This woman then proceeds to start wiping down the entire sink/counter area that she has been occupying. Of what, I do not know. I saw nothing to wipe up, but who knows. Finally, she leaves. At that point, I was in the midst of drying my hands at the slowest possible rate I could muster. Once I hear the second set of doors close, I get back into the stall and handle my business.
Things I am strangely curious about:
1. What was she looking for in her purse at multiple points in the day? I can only assume it was the same item, but if she had trouble finding it in the morning, why the continued loss in the afternoon?
2. Why did she have to wipe down the counter? I saw no spillage of anything. Additionally, it was not simply the immediate area around the sink she was occupying. She definitely infringed on areas belonging to the adjacent sinks. (I was two sinks away.)
3. For someone with such lingering public bathroom behavior, why have I never seen her before? Judging from her color-blind-pajamaesque ensemble, she definitely doesn't work for the super-businessy things that we share the floor with, so I can only assume she is with the labor union that is also on this floor.*
Do these laborers/wives of/associates of laborers not understand protocol?** It is in and out in the minimum time needed to achieve sanitary/satisfactory conditions. No lingering is necessary. Needless to say, it was a very stressful poo. Very unsatisfactory. :(
* Which, curiously, has actually had it's lights on for the last few days. After a year in this building, I have only seen the lights on maybe four times.
** I realize my using the term "laborer" seems elitist, but that's only because I don't want to give away where I work. I love those who labor. They are awesome.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
I want to rip my leg out.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Monday, August 06, 2007
P.S. If, for some reason, you are feeling especially generous, perhaps you could also find me those Paul Smith shoes at an under $300 price. You know which ones. I eagerly await your response.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Is there a reason why the stalls can't extend from the floor to the ceiling? Was there a shortage of materials? This design flaw accounts for much of my reluctance to use public bathrooms. If these things were turned into actual rooms, I'd be much happier. In addition to the sound aspect, it removes the possibility of being identified via the shoes; and with shoes as bright as some of mine are, this is a very real danger. I can only imagine the ramifications:
FELLOW URINATOR: Someone with bright green shoes was peeing for literally seven minutes. What did she drink and why was it all coming out at once?So I've never actually peed for seven minutes, but sometimes it really felt like it.* In any case, I do not like that I can be identified during a time that no one needs to be witnessing. I get pee-shy. Don't judge me.
URINATOR'S CO-WORKER: What a freakshow.
5 PM at the elevator
FELLOW URINATOR: *whispers* Look! It's the freakshow.
URINATOR'S CO-WORKER: Strange. She doesn't look like a sponge.
* That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
ADDENDUM: In discussing the remodeling of offices today, my boss mentioned that he can hear the toilets in the women's bathroom from our small library. I. am. so. self-conscious.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
When I look at it now, I realize that I'm probably just walking by excellent photo opportunities every day. Le sigh. Perhaps this will change over time, but for now, I'm just super-jealous.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
she wants to eat salad and some sort of meat...and
can you think of anything fun we can do with salad and meatWhy don't people understand that I have the maturity of a 12-year-old boy* and censor their thoughts/words accordingly?
* As well as the body. Might as well beat you to the joke. You know who you are.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Monday, July 16, 2007
2. I browsed through Teen Vogue and knew who these fucking designers were.
3. I have a nice collection of Nike Dunks and Air Force 1s that barely get worn anymore.
There are more offences to be listed, but I cannot think of them now. They are behaviors so natural to me that I can't even fathom the young me disliking them, but she definitely would. Perhaps I will elaborate when the mood strikes me. Perhaps I will not. It will be an adventure.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Is this perhaps just a general change in the system? The firewall has been very inconsistent in my time here. Sometimes style.com is blocked, and sometimes I can wander through it just fine. All I can do now is hope against hope that the biggest drain on my wallet will be returned to me (during work hours).
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
2. My boobs have gotten smaller. For anyone who knows me, you'd think this is an impossible task. You are wrong. I am officially a prepubescent boy. Thanks, God. I appreciate it. Are you mad at me? Is it my new...
3. Rating system? A rating system that is the greatest to ever be put into everyday use? Essentially, you begin with, "On a scale of one to Jesus," and end with anything remotely related to religion. For example, no more sales tax in NYC, on a scale of one to Jesus, is God dancing. On the other hand, getting your feet cut off at Six Flags, on a scale of one to Jesus, is the Archdiocese of Boston. This need not be regulated to extremes, however; it can be applied to the average day. My shoes are 2nd tier today. They are not shoes I would kill for, nor are they fuckupables. On a scale of one to Jesus, they are the First Letter to the Corinthians. You can use this for any occasion, for all occasions. Just be prepared for God to punish you in strange/effective ways.
* Real Fact #127: A hummingbird's heart beats 1,400 times a minute.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
So You Think You Can Dance is my favorite summer series. I'm not into American Idol at all, but I find its dancing equivalent to be completely entertaining. I'm seriously considering voting for Sara, only because in her little interview tape, she's wearing my favorite pair of premium Dunks. This is not to say that she doesn't deserve a vote based on the dancing alone, but if I had to make a decision right this moment, based only on this one episode, I'd go with the shoes.
I'm not sure whether to be disgusted or amused.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
1. Getting more physically active. I'm on the Wii workout and have taken to walking about 2 miles after work pretty much every day, depending on my work load/arrival time at work, which is dependent upon morning rush hour traffic. I am turning into a fat load, and am not happy about it. Also, I just need to be more fit when the zombies come.
2. Return to a slightly more artsy-fartsy place. I have purchased a Nikon d40 to enable this endeavor. As long as I am gallivanting through downtown DC every afternoon, I'm going to take (try to take?) nice pictures. We'll see how this goes. Hopefully, this hobby will stick. It had better stick with all the money I've spent so far.
3. Actually filling out grad school applications. I am at a 95% confidence interval for applying to MPH programs. We will see how this goes.
4. Cutting back on TV time. Instead of wasting away hours of time watching pointless TV and reruns that I've seen eighty-six times before, I'm just going to watch new episodes of series that I enjoy online with out the wasted time of commercials and what not. Also, this frees up my primetime activity and I'll be watching these things on Sunday mornings and other days when nothing of importance/productivity is occurring.
So that is the summer plan. Hopefully, only good things will happen, but you never know. I figure that posting this will give me a better reason to stick to the general plan. I can easily manipulate myself that way. I'm super easy.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Your internet connection is experiencing problems or your network administrator has blocked Gmail chat. Learn moreI really hope it is problems with my internet connection, as that tends to happen from time to time here. However, I can still gallivant through the intertubes with no problem. I fear that the network has actually blocked Gmail chat. I think I'm going to die.
ADDENDUM (4:47 PM)
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
2. Wii I finally got last Sunday. I had essentially stopped looking for one around February as the search only served to frustrate me, and I was doing OK with my DS. On Sunday, I noticed one of my cousins was playing Cooking Mama on her DS. It looked super-fun, so I proposed a quick trip to Best Buy in order to get it. However, when we walked in, there was a board saying there are Wiis in stock! To my infinite pleasure & my wallet's dismay, there were three left on the shelves. I purchased one immediately along with Prince of Persia: Rival Swords. Normally, I would have gotten Zelda, but why throw down the $50 when I could simply use my cousin's copy? This leads me to the beginning of the . . .
3. Wii workout, which officially began today. I am the flabbiest skinny person in the world, & it sucks. Gross. I'll be boxing for thirty minutes everyday in addition to suffering the jump rope until I want to die. I need to up my general fitness level if I expect to survive the zombies. I don't expect there to be any significant changes in weight/size though. However, there has been semi-drastic change in . . .
4. the hair, which is now the shortest it has been since I was about 11. I didn't plan on such a change, but the "trim" I got was demonic. So I got another cut & it is now just grazing my shoulders. I'm still messing around with how to wear it though, but I think my potential for super-emo hair has increased tenfold.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Wednesday, May 9 5:49 AM
level 2 row 4
It seems as though the poor memory is in my blood, as I took this note for my father so that we could go home upon our return to DC. Without this note, we surely would still be wandering the long term parking at National hoping to see our generic Honda amongst the herd.
Wednesday, May 9 6:03 AM
just saw the first white woman "randomly" selected for screening
This was a historic moment for all travelers everywhere. Apparently, this woman has not flown on a plane for years, as she did not remove her shoes or jacket, left her boarding pass in her bag (going through the x-ray machine), and then proceeded to ask about all of these "new" processes. The person (who was black) that waves you through the little gate then "randomly" selected her for more intense screening. I took great pains to refrain from indulging in gluttonous, self-satisfying peals of laughter. Instead, I simply internalized it, which is probably a good thing, as it (hopefully) counteracted all of the other internalized reactions of the negative nature that will eventually lead to my heart attack/stroke when I'm 26. In any case, this was an excellent moment for me, but a truly glorious moment for anyone darker than khaki.
Wednesday, May 9 12:28 PM
jerks who put their shit in any overhead. it fucks up everyone else.
I really do not like these people. The ones who just shove their carry on luggage into the first open space they see regardless of where their seats are. If you are sitting in 37B, don't stow your bag above row 10. Where do you expect the row 10 passengers to put their things?! It completely throws off everyone's luggage, so at landing, everyone is going up and down the aisles trying to find their stuff. Don't be a jerk. Just use the space allotted to your seat area.
Friday, May 11 9:23 AM
so many open toed shoes with hose!
At the USC graduation, there were some very well dressed people. Unfortunately, the overall state of dress was average due to some atrocities. Open toed shoes with hose are not right. I had no words, just gaping disbelief. While on the topic, there were some really excellent shoes on display. That part was glorious. It's probably as close as I can come to knowing what it feels like for men to graduate from Playboy to titty bars. LIVE ACTION PORN! Besides the shoes, however, there was one theme that so many people embodied at the graduation: skin cancer. For all the creationists out there, how can you deny evolution's veracity when there are BASEBALL MITTS sprouting legs, running around, and sending offspring to college? I DEFY you to explain that to me. The point is, use sunscreen. You are a person, not a leather good used to play sports.
Saturday, May 12 3:05 PM
I got my period.¹ Ugh. I had to take note so as to remember putting it into my Grand Calender of Suffering. I don't have anything to add to the already vast library of period complaints. My only real complaint is the cramps during the first 36ish hours or so. However, God did seem to take a little bit of pity on me and only stuck with the (relatively) lighter body blows to the abdomen instead of His usual gut-wrenching uppercuts straight into my uterus. God, is it really necessary for all the pain? I know women are the source of all sin, but I didn't offer any apples to anyone.
Sunday, May 13 5:00 PM
if you need a cane, why are you in heels?
I randomly remembered seeing a woman in heels using a cane during the graduation. (That is how my memory works. I will see something, forget about it, and then spontaneously remember for no reason at all.) I understand a love of heels. I really do. But if you need a cane to walk, maybe you should stick with flats. It just seems self-defeating to me.
Sunday, May 13 9:08 PM
another deflated aero bed
We stayed with fake-me-out family in Vegas on Saturday night, and I got put on the aero bed. Now, it started out pretty poorly filled, but I just assumed that was a time constraint. I was wrong. Something was wrong with the seal, and I woke up on the floor with nothing but a sheet and 2 layers of plastic between my body and the floor. It was quite sad. The only thing that makes it sadder is the lack of novelty. This has happened to me before, except on purpose and with spite/torture in mind. I was trying to get some sleep during a ski trip during which I did nothing but drink and go snow-tubing, when someone decided that they were bored and I would be the one to entertain her. So the seal was broken, and I was on the floor. I hate aero beds.
Monday, May 13 12:23 PM
they almost lost my luggage!
Have you ever gone to the luggage claim area at the airport, watched other people haul their bags off of the conveyor belt while waiting for your own, and then see the stream of luggage just end without yours ever showing up? Yeah. It sucks, right? I'm standing there like a puppy, pouting, willing the conveyor to randomly start up to deliver my one fucking bag. Clearly, my will was not strong enough as that didn't happen. As I began my trek to the luggage services, I began mentally listing all of the items in the bag that I had lost, and how much it would cost to replace all of it. If anything stopped me from replacement, I was going to fight someone. This despondency was only aggravated by the fact that of the 2,109,387 bags my family had checked, only mine was lost. By the time we got to the service area, I had calculated a reimbursement of about $870.² I was all ready to fight someone about my stuff. Fortunately (unfortunately?), they had my suitcase at the service area. Apparently, it got put onto an earlier flight from LA to DC, and no one had claimed it. Thank God.³ Most of me was overjoyed at the recovery of the suitcase, but a small part was disappointed in not having an excuse to fight. I like to find new ways to release aggression.
More than this happened, of course, but these are the only notes I remembered to take. Some good, some bad. Some shitty, some bloody. That was LA.
¹ Sidenote: Few things are more amusing than finding the one other female in a room full of boys and talking about periods so that everyone can hear. The facial expressions are totally worth it.
² I have a lot of stuff. This isn't even all of what I brought for the trip, as I shoved some into my mother's GINORMOUS suitcase when I got lazy in repacking everything.
³ I guess this sort of makes up for the bleeding, but not really. Is the bleeding really necessary though? Nothing should bleed for 4-7 days without dying. It's not right.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Yo' momma so fat her belly button has an echo.Instead, I would say:
Yo' momma so fat that she is at serious risk for Type II Diabetes, cardiovascular disease, and various respiratory problems. She probably won't live more than 3 more years.This is not exclusive to jokes demeaning mothers; they can be used for all afflictions of life.
You so ugly that your mom fed you with a slingshot.Unfunny/Super-funny alternative:
You so ugly that you will immediately be judged poorly when meeting people. This will severely limit your job/friendship/relationship opportunities. You'll probably die poor and alone. I'm sorry.Traditional insult:
Yo' momma so stupid it took her two hours to watch 60 Minutes.Unfunny/Super-funny alternative:
Your mother has severe mental handicaps. You should probably put her into some sort of home and prepare yourself to live life as an orphan. Hopefully, she won't be abused and forced to live in her own filth. Good luck with that.With a little effort, the yo' momma joke can be used to change the way we look at the bodily/facially/mentally disadvantaged. They need help. Remember, everyone is someone's mother/daughter/father/brother/son.
And they, too, have mothers to use as targets for our own amusement.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
The best thing about Chinatown is awesome knockoff products. For example, when I was in high school, Bebe was Teh Hawtness.* Unfortunately, not all people could afford it. This is not a problem now with the production of:
GLORIOUS thing, and choked. CHANNEL! I have no words. Despite this glory, there was one product to rule them all:
WRONG! This seemingly innocent product is actually:
SATAN! This is manufactured in the depths of HELL! Why import from China when you can import from Hades itself?! I am still riddled with giggles whenever I think of it.
* I'm from PG County, that's how it is. Was? Just accept it.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Monday, May 07, 2007
A human brain weighs around 3 pounds.Damn you, Snapple! Why must you continue to torment me?! I thought we had moved past this stage in our relationship and could enjoy each other's company without petty put-downs constantly arising. Clearly, I was wrong. I know I ate an entire frozen California Pizza Kitchen last night as a "snack." And then had a very large mango. I know I had already eaten half a pot of sinigang for lunch, followed by half a chicken as my merienda, all with generous helpings of rice. I know all of these things. You do not have to keep throwing my increasing predilection towards fattiness in my face. Why won't you just LOVE ME?!
I don't even know how to begin to lose that weight. I just don't know where to begin. I could kill brain cells with alcoholism, I suppose, but then I would most likely gain quite the beer belly. There is the possibility of the hardcore drugs, but I really don't want to have anything in common with Lindsey Lohan. It's a matter of principle. I guess I could just let my mind atrophy at the normal U.S. citizen rate. Perhaps I could go hardcore and take up Fundamentalism? Those people don't seem to ever think for themselves. I'm sure that would set off a neurological explosion killing off the vast majority of my brain. Perhaps I could even get my brainstem to lose some weight in the process. That thing must weigh at least 8 ounces. Summer svelte-ness, here I come!
Sunday, May 06, 2007
* Insert dirty joke here. Do you see how I just cater to the dirty minds? Do you? And people say that I'm inconsiderate. Bastards.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
I heard/read a rumor that some trucking union conspired to circle the beltway at exactly 55 mph to ensure heavy traffic so as to bring attention to their anti-illegal immigrant stance. If this is true, I'm voting for whoever screws them over. I can just imagine the clandestine planning taking place in some random warehouse:
Jerk Trucker: How can we make Washington pay attention to us?
Idiot Trucker: Let's quadruple the entire city's commute time!
Fucking Horrible Trucker: Excellent idea! The hatred of thousands will ensure our victory!