Conversation this morning
M: Want to go to Disney World tonight?
Me: Ok.
And thus...
Schedule:
12/30 - 1/3 Disney World
1/6 - 1/12 CES
Later, taters.
It has been brought to my attention that I am one of those assholes with a Bluetooth headset that talks to themselves in public and everyone hates because you can never tell if they're on a call or not. Jesus christ, that snake just slithered up my leg and devoured me quietly. I hadn't even realized it.
I like to think that I'm a pretty laid back kind of girl. I'm pretty level headed, I'm nice to waiters and people in customer service and I bathe regularly. As such, the Bluetooth headset assholery was really gradual. One of my techs gave it to me when we found it in an apartment so this wasn't an out of the way purchase (/excuses). I figured it would be nice in the car, especially when the dog was busy eating my face. But never outside the car. Never, never. And thus, it began.
It is so tiny and so convenient that I couldn't help it. I was on calls in the car and could walk out to the house uninterrupted with bags in my hands. I could take the trash out and chatter to myself continuously without thinking about it. It wasn't until this morning while I was at the grocery store asking my mother whether she wanted SKIM or WHOLE MILK and WHY WOULD YOU WANT WHOLE MILK, IT'S BASICALLY CREAM when it hit me. I am that person. I am that jerk. I am every idiot I saw at CES last year that wouldn't give me the time of day when they were in my way and I was trying to hustle through. It must be stopped.
I am beginning the appropriate acts of contrition, including chaining it to my dashboard. I'm not sure what technology addicted contrition involves, but I'm making it up as I go along. It is going to be hard with the recent receipt of a Garmin GPS doo dad, but I am trying to use my powers for good and not evil. Besides, defeating your evil alter ego, isn't that what Christmas is all about? I thought so.
Tonight I am going to be one of those jerks out on the highways. You will watch me, or someone like me, on a dull and somewhat sensationalistic report on CNN Headline News (or your local analogue) and laugh smugly from the comfort of your respective homes. Go ahead. I understand. I give you my blessing. I will be tired from sleeping on the floor and probably driving worse than usual but so be it.
I feel like I am playing a huge game of "Pass Out / Tag Out" with Christmas this year. I am not sure who is winning.
(I've got a feeling
I'm going to get a lot of grief
Once this seemed so appealing
Now I am beyond belief)
man.
Moving really sucks.
Hello!
I am feeling pretty cranky right now.
That is all!
I am beginning a series of transcribing notes that I wrote and received from my one girlfriend in high school to the Internet. I imagine I will eventually become too old to save these things and many of them are such amusing little relics (amusing mostly to me). I'm starting with a little book that Eileen hand wrote and illustrated for me (just in case I could forget what I look like with breast burn; who Mr T. is) back in sophomore year. Enjoy! It's not for you!
Love (of all things Jersey, Korea or Lincoln) Saves the Day: A Summer Story of Mystery, Intrigue, and Unabashed Sexellence
"I was dreaming when I wrote this, so excuse me if it sounds real strange." -1999 Sixth grade. Team B, Rad.nor Middle School. Mrs. Gra.ham's English class. Sixth period. Eileen, for the record, has no friends. Crazy Kipp raises her hand all the time to speak loudly and clearly about issues she finds to be pertinent. Hearing anyone speak to uncautiously makes Eileen vicariously seasick and hopeful that the beautifully combed and seated other twelve year old will accept the voice louder than Mis Gra.ham's hushed (god awful, scary) staccato. Each weekend was her house, with pretzels and her dad's Doors records and images of social success she could play for herself whenever. I don't think any friends came over that year. What were you doing, Kipp? You were very happy, even though I thought you had no right to be. You had glasses like me and Lindsey didn't give you permission to talk as much as you did, but you thought she was stupid and censorious and you knew that sixth grade was a junkyard full of nettles, weeds and easy assignments. Matt did not move you, Earl was just a loud boy, there was more where they came from and that one's of the reasons G Hill and Rad.nor boys bored you. There were too many and they hadn't become any better since you played "Stone Scott!" in fourth grade. But, common knowledge, I desperately loved and feared and sough after any dirty Limited Too aristocracy. You would talk to me and I'd laugh the way I thought Diana might: lovely, giving, hoping someone cute heard me. I think you were a little lonely. You had Merritt and Mae An and all the Asians money could buy and even the Norn, but something was missing. Me. "You're lonely and you need a thug in your life!" -2Pac. Hop in the Spruce Moose!
What a spastic business venture for you. You offer me a seat on the bus, I tell you in a whisper yes but only if Diana already has a partner! I liked you more than I liked pretending I liked myself. You are still the only person I know that's anything like you. I am still apart at the seams and inarticulate. But older now. Remember the last time I saw you? Canteen Boy saw me out the door. For a redhead, he's no blushing maiden! The scizout had me out of your hizouse in nizo tizime. Punk.
Top Dirty Reasons I Love Rad.nor
1) There is no redhead contingent of Eagle Scouts
2) There is a contingent of Meagle Scouts
3) All night long, let me see that Pon
4) It's the Louis capital of the world
5) There's no shortage of booty history teachers
6) Near Fishtown, Deptford, Flourtown, Jersey at large
7) One time I saw 15 boobies
8) It tastes like Grandma
9) Haley's in Germany
10) Gupta's great rackI don't know how wicked bad chicks such as ourselves will stomach another school year. If we were on stage and I started singing 'Champaign Supernova' would you run over and kick me? And if I had, say, five pence, would I lend it to you for your admission to the circus? [note: this is a really obscure reference to Vieuphoria] "Where's my TWO DOLLARS?" Kipp Kipp Kipp, all you want is a boy who's not a violent sociopath. But the band that truly rocked hardest in our freshman experience was not the testicle shrinking Korn, Bon Jovi, Winger, Boston, ZZ Top or Guns N roses. No, they were Lifeless and to a lesser extent, Hector and the artistic opuses of both C and P Bizull. The Biz were an inspiration, an obsession, the perfect pair, Nature's cruelest mistake.
So what's in store for our sophomore slump? The Stump? The Dreads (for you)? The Freshmen? "You like jail?" No, with my leaky purple Magic 8 ball I see Radio Shack (aka Love Shack), secretly short girls in platforms, the distinct odor of an exquisite quarantine for me. But I'll support your romantic double-dutch hopscotch. Save the nerds because you pimp it like no one's business and Korean's don't do that! I Love You Moran-- Ishi, 300 pounds.
So. I spent my highschool career reading and writing letters like this. Have I ruined any of the mystery and/or intrigue about high school girls?
A Self Realized Person Will...
- Be unique in a way that is pleasing to everyone
- Accentuate the positives--medicate the negatives
- Have a hairstyle that is flattering to some and offensive to few.
- Have access to money
- Never cry herself to sleep in front of others
Learn More About Yourself:
- Make a self-esteem collage using pictures of other people you wish you were
- Wing it! Quit your job without any financial plan or backup savings
- Sleep with someone Chinese
- Spend a lot of time in the bathtub
- Disguise your voice and call family members posing as a police officer. Suggest that there has been a homicide and then question them about yourself
- Spend some time at the zoo. Record how the animals react to your presence
- Write yourself a fan letter
- Put something small in your anus during lovemaking
- Fly Air India
Why did I buy myself NINE BOOKS that are arriving at various intervals during finals week? My number one favourite avoidance activity is reading fun stuff. Now I will never get any work done.
I like cooking. I like cooking, baking, sewing, knitting, crocheting and even cross-stitch and needlepoint. I am not exceptionally crafty because materials for most of those pursuits are pretty damn expensive and it doesn't make sense for me to pay more on the yarn I'd use for a sweater than for one I'd buy in a store. Cost benefit analysis, y'all.
Cooking and baking are really the most fun. Ingredients are generally cheap and the payoff is pretty impressive, immediate and delicious. While a lot of recipes that I plug away at (especially the non-flour/non-sugar stuff with all sorts of bizarre substitutes) can turn out really awful, I'm pretty good at fixing and salvaging. It's nice to work hard on something and then be able to hold it in your hands when you're done. Hold it in your hands and then shove it in your face. You know what I'm saying. (This is potentially the reason why I've never been able to focus myself on software: I have an irrational internal bias towards tangible goods. )
Irregardless, I'm not a foodie. I don't really like Trader Joe's or Whole Foods, my knives aren't stainless steel and I only watch the Food Network for cake challenges. Hence the revelation of my number two secret:
One of my favourite foods is olive loaf. Yes, baloney with olives squished inside; the most delicious of the invented sandwich meats. I eat it rolled up with ketchup. No bread! Bread adulterates the situation. I am a heathen.
Whatever it takes
I know I can may it through
Uh-uh-uh, yeah-ah-ah
If I hold out
|
|
I know i can may it through
Be the best
The best that i can be-e-e-e-e.
Hear what-at I say to you
Whatever it Takes
I can see yeah-ah-ah-ah
I know I can make it
I know-ow. I know-O!
I know I can make it through.
