Friday, February 29, 2008

printmaking student association!

Although a printmaking major I am, I don't think I was ever OFFICIALLY a part of the Printmaking Student Association at my university, yet somehow I regularly attend meetings, participate in their annual show and print sale, and receive all their e-mails (read: Jackie is involved with the group, so I end up going to the meetings and tricked suckered into being part of the shows and sales!).

And sometimes Jackie volunteers for me things - like making posters for PSA events. This specific event revolving around t-shirts (because perpetuating the popular-yet-wrong idea that printmaking is just 'making shirts and stuff' is a fabulous idea...), it was dubbed the PSA "T-Party". Rather than bitch and complain* about her volunteering me to take part in an event that a) I don't care about, b) I think is a waste of time, and c) I don't even have the time for, I created the following masterpiece:

I didn't even get it approved by the people in charge of PSA and the event. Instead I just giggled at it and showed it to Jackie and e-mailed it to the higher-ups at 12:30 am. Jackie approves by the way.

But anyway, this poster is either the best idea ever - because kids on campus will be intrigued and excited about the possibilities of the T-Party!!! Or the worst fucking idea, because it is gross and perverted and PSA will realize I never actually paid my $10 member fee and can no longer participate in their print sales where I pocket 100% of my sales rather than splitting it 50/50 with the association!


*I actually did a lot of complaining about it. Duh.

Monday, February 25, 2008

curbing my cursing, or: things i still can't say to my best friend's face because she is too nice for that sort of thing

from a conversation i had ten minutes ago with roommate kirsten.

whiite thrash: i told jackie the story about [name withheld!]
whiite thrash: but i couldn't bring myself to say
whiite thrash: "titty fuck" in front of her
whiite thrash: so i just said he "blew a load on her face"...
whiite thrash: i'm not sure if that was any better.

Monday, February 18, 2008

Don't let mice sleep with your boyfriend.

So, we have mice. We have had mice, rather. It's been months and months. And we don't do anything about it cause...who cares? It's winter. Mice happen. We're not home mostly anyway and mice just want to eat and scurry all day long. I don't feel they have malicious ideas in mind. Despite threats of disease and plague, we wait. Plus they're tiny and cute.

But, when they are in my room I just hate it. The scratchy patter on the wood floors is like nails on a chalkboard. I entertain the thought that it's good I have so many clothes on my floor or else I'd never sleep. And now that most of the heavy objects near my bed (books, shoes) have been hurled across my room at faint noises behind my dresser and radiator, I've felt unprotected and nervous that they're gonna hang out on my bed while I sleep.

This became a reality. I think. I can't be sure, but I woke up a little while ago to rustling and couldn't pinpoint the exact location of the sound. I sleep with what I call my boyfriend (clothes and magazines, anything that somehow doesn't make it from the left side of the bed to where it actually belongs) and I am freaked out that it was nestling where I nestle!!

So, I've just had enough. I googled mousetraps and found some interesting ideas.

This one, in particular seems very easy, not to mention quite sneaky. Mice are never thinking about how, in a co-existing world, the humans never get to be sneaky back. I'm about to rectify this. Fight fire with fire, I guess. Only, in my version of Topple Bottle, there will be delicious poison at the bottom of the bottle. I've given this mouse everything: a warm home, nestling materials, vast spaces to scurry across, and most of all plenty of food. I just can't give it my bed, for reasons clear to most everyone else.

So, I fell asleep around 2:30am, woke around 4:40, and have been up since. First it was the mousetraps, then I youtubed, and settled in with American Idol auditions laughing out loud at this and this and this and this before crying over all the sad auditions. Some girl's dad died 2 days before the audition. This other girl was a meth addict. Oh wait, I laughed at that one.

Then I watched this Carrie Underwood video and CRIED.

But, oh, why stop there? Why don't I watch Connie Talbot?

Blame it on lack of sleep, I guess. Blame it on the mouse. I'm exhausted, emotional. Now, I'm going to watch Dolly Parton videos and fall asleep.

Friday, February 15, 2008

Sasha. Don't.

whiitethrash: hi.
gemath y: hi
whiitethrash: if i did
whiitethrash: the screen print of your dreams
whiitethrash: what would it be.
gemath y: your face
gemath y: nose deep
gemath y: in vag
whiitethrash: oh man.
whiitethrash: just stop.
whiitethrash: i think i want to draw a goat.

Don't ask me for ideas. I'm fresh out.

Saturday, February 9, 2008

Oh shit.

Which is worse?:

1) The speeding ticket I got in the beginning of January
2) The speeding ticket I got at the end of January
3) The speeding ticket I got in the beginning of February


Monday, February 4, 2008

...let's continue yesterdays WFI...

Yesterday's WFI can be found here, you lazy bastard that refuses to scroll down.

And just this very moment I received a text message from Ta.

"Hey you big homo. Jew jokes today at work."

I only work weekends, so, with today being a Monday, I wasn't around to partake in the Jew jokes.

No one there thinks I'm Jewish, but they allllllllll think I'm gay.

Also, I just googled "gay jew" to find a good picture for this post, and not only were the results not offensive, but they were also just boring. So, no picture!

Sunday, February 3, 2008

Comment Card

Long story short, the restaurant closes at 2:30pm. Six, horrible twenty year olds walk through the door at 2:15 and sit in my section. They order complicated things with special requests and are rude about it and just overall ugly. The floors are being vacuumed, windows are being washed, servers are sitting at tables, there is trash on the floor that is in the process of being swept elsewhere etc and we are obviously, CLOSING, but they do not care. So, I make a few bad jokes, openly dislike them, and eventually bring out their food. I dislike them so much in fact, that I bring out a super duper hot plate and I hand it to the girl at the end of the table, whose birthday it was, and say nothing about the dangers of the hotness. DROPS IT. And I laugh. "Woops! Probably should have told you that was hot!" She = not amused.

Then of course they needed sides of this and extra that (all things that require me to go back into the freezer and re-open) and a bowl of this and the fruit is bad and the omelet is ROTTEN. Seriously, this loser guy sends back his omelet - containing nothing but mozzarella cheese - back. TWICE. The manager came over and tried it and said it was fine. He said it was rotten and smelled rotten. I said, "Weird, it's almost like you've never had mozzarella cheese before". He responded with, "If I get sick because you fed me rotten food then I will be back tomorrow and in your face!" Keep in mind - all the omelets are made from the same egg mix, which was being eaten by everyone else at the table, and they were not complaining...

Then one of the ugly girls says..."Can I borrow your pen..."

There are comment cards on all the tables, by the way.

"Sure, but just so you know, I bus my own tables, so I'm just going to throw your comment card away." And I gave her my pen.

It's amazing that I have a job at all, sometimes.

Here are some card highlights:

handwritten across the top: This was a bad experience. Our server was so rude!

Restaurants Overall Cleanliness: POOR
Your Server Was Well Groomed: FAIR

The manager ended up keeping the card...which makes me a little worried. But they were rude to him too, so it shouldn't end up being a big deal.

Anyway, that's the end of my story. I have to actually do homework now.