THIS was the worst fucking idea.

tumblr

2009-05-17T17:56:00.001-07:00

yo, few readers.

we are working on a move to tumblr.

new posts will be there.

tumblr

thursday night's plans.

2009-05-11T17:08:00.000-07:00

Seriously.

2009-05-09T19:23:00.000-07:00

today i walked into my favorite local art store. it's pretty new, but they had a few in tempe/phoenix when i lived there. a nice little independent store. with good supplies. and not craft shit. i love stores without craft shit (fuck you knitting/puff paints/scrap book supplies!!!).

and lo and behold. holy effing shit. bitching mother fucker. a handwritten note taped to the door. if desperation had a typeface, it was definitely printed in it.

HELP WANTED PART TIME

help wanted!!! and i want to help!!! i've been trying to help for a year! and in an art store!!! without a uniform!!! so i can wear jeans and tshirts and sneakers and be happy!!! and never would i have to begin a sentence with ~~"would you like anything to drink?"~~ "hey can everyone be quiet? i need to take attendance..."

and part time even! lord knows i don't like to fully commit to anything - but to partially commit?? oh i can do that. i've been doing that all my life!

GIVE ME AN APPLICATION!!!!

OH - AND LET ME MAKE A PURCHASE TOO CUZ I CAME HERE FOR THAT REASON SPECIFICALLY!

(i got a swweeeettt new sketchbook btw)

so i fill out the application. it looks good - save for kinda sloppy handwriting - but what did they expect when they hand me some old bic?? this bitch uses GEL PENS. get real, please. but come on - FINALLY an application where putting down "BFA isn't laughable! and maybe...is even PREFERRED!!

i hand it in and continue on my way. about twenty minutes later when i'm nearing my neighborhood i am reflecting on m day and i realize...

i didn't put my phone number on the application. anywhere. no where. not any place. no place. no line. no box. no nothing.

fucking. crap.

but see - this is how we know i've grown as a person over the last year. previously i would have just left it was it was. i would have continued home, maybe slightly bummed, or maybe slightly in good spirits because shit - that is so fucking retarded it's lame. here i have been, laid off for months, and job searching/being rejected from everything so much that i'm depressed and borderline miserable and i blow the opportunity of a lifetime! (and yes, sadly, this is just that for me.)

but no. I'VE GROWN. call it desperation or call it adulthood - but i picked up my phone, 411ed the shit out of that store and talked to the cashier.

"uuuh...hi. i just filled out an application there but i didn't put my phone number on it..."
"oh...haha, well, that's odd. let me fish it out for you!"
"okay, also, let's pretend this never happened and that i'm not an idiot."
"nooo problem..."

the irony? i gave them my phone number...and they will never, ever call.

2009-05-08T13:23:00.000-07:00

(srsly though...how does she twitter?? outsourcing??)

more math department.

2009-05-07T12:14:00.000-07:00

this continued!

probably a huuuuuge WFI at the time

2009-05-06T22:02:00.000-07:00

but it doesn't appear as though she was gang banged at all!

craigslist

2009-05-06T17:52:00.000-07:00

twitter

2009-05-05T16:28:00.000-07:00

ain't that the truth, steve! lolz!

but let's be honest, steve left out the part about getting your feelings hurt and feeling like the most useless person in the school!

substitute teaching, ftw!

2009-05-04T21:35:00.000-07:00

the context for this doesn't even matter, but i had friended someone on thefacebook because I WANTED TO SEE HER PICTURES. turns out, she is going to be in town next week and wants to hang out.

i do not.

that's my brother by the way. in the room adjacent to my own.

2009-05-04T18:22:00.000-07:00

little well read bastard.

2009-05-03T23:52:00.000-07:00

2009-04-27T18:52:00.000-07:00

more info here: http://www.womenscycling.ca/newsletter-august-september-06.htm#agony

edited to say: This is simply NOT funny.

Things I Believed In Middle School; or Things I Found To Be Untrue

2009-04-27T16:36:00.001-07:00

1. When I was about 13 I was fairly certain world peace would be achieved when Shania Twain released her follow up to "Come On Over".

"Up" was released in November of 2002. Yeah. I wasn't right about this one.

2. In middle school I was fairly sure that Drew Barrymore would never turn 30. Not that she would like, die or anything. I just thought she'd be in her 20s forever. I really wanted this to be true 30 is just so...old? I just couldn't even fathom her as a 30 year old.

Drew is now 34 years old. Woops. Also, now that I'm 24, I no longer fear the 30s for other people, because I am far too busy fearing them for myself.

3. Bea Arthur is invincible.

As we all found out this week, this is sadly, not true. RIP Bea. dorothy4eva.

Just because you're dead, doesn't mean you're not funny.

things i text to kirsten while at work.

2009-04-25T14:20:00.000-07:00

yes, i know i said i got laid off. and i did. but in substitute land, getting laid off means that instead of choosing your own jobs every day - and being able to choose from like, 15 of them EVERY DAY - you maybe get called for one specific job each month. so instead of making $90 a day, you're making $90 a month. yes. my life. anyway, here we go!

7:22am: Im subbing at the high school where i havent been in a couple months and a kid saw me in the parking lot and called me a dumb bitch!!
7:23: it wasn't very nice of him.
7:28: i'm so bored. i'm working a math class.
kirsten 7:30: perfect. your preferred subject!
7:31: i sure do love it. numbersnumbersnumbers!
7:36: this girl is making a fortune teller instead of doing her work. i want to play w it so badly when she's done!
7:56: thank god i found a magic eye calendar to keep me busy!
8:14: this girl i refer to as "cheeto fingers" is in my class
8:15: she is just staring at the floor
8:18: now she's putting on mascara.
8:21: now she's curling them.
8:23: now 20 minutes in she's opening her notebook. good for her!
kirsten 8:24: ahaha. i want to meet cheeto fingers.
8:27: i don't think you'd have much to talk about.
8:34: she closed her notebook. ten minutes is enough for math. i agree!
8:39: she's asleep on her backpack now.
8:44: still sleeping. she didn't even look up when the phone rang.
8:47: she's awake and looking around the room to see if anyone noticed. i did!!
9:52: aw, this girl failed her drivers exam :(
kirsten 11:02: poor thing
11:11: i can't see the magic eye!!!!!
kirsten 11:17: it's a pig
11:48: now i'm at the track meet. it's making me tired.
kirsten 11:50: there is a track meet?
11:50: yeah some all day meet. i'm subbing for a teacher who is working at it. so many running mexicans!
kirsten: what did they steel[sic]???
11:51: this shit is boring.

my priorities are right where they should be

2009-04-23T10:00:00.000-07:00

i had a decent march/april money-wise.

despite not actually having a job, i managed to get one paycheck in the mail from the last time i actually got called in to work. i sold a couple paintings, a couple screen prints, house sat for a weekend, and finished up work on some commissioned items for a wedding.

i had some bank, yo!

and then i spent it all on 2nd row kelly clarkson tickets!

now i have to scour the house for change so i can buy some scratchers and make my money back!

more birthdays

2009-04-20T19:59:00.000-07:00

Again, another reason why I'm "sorta gay".

2009-04-20T10:59:00.001-07:00

a facebook suggestion:

birthdays

2009-04-19T14:39:00.001-07:00

caroline: are you celebrating the year of your birth?

me: yeah, i'm at danny's with kirsten!

caroline: careful, that bitch is CRAZY.

stuck in traffic

2009-04-18T17:55:00.000-07:00

me: where are you?

kirsten: i've been stuck in traffic for hours. i am not even out of phoenix.

me: people who get into car accidents are so inconsiderate.

kirsten: i've been saying that for years.

me: i'm looking it up online. it happened an hour and a half ago - it must be a big deal if it hasn't been cleared yet...

kirsten: there better be five people and a cop dead!

sasha: bad karma!

kirsten: i'm joking. but srsly...

scabs

2009-04-16T23:58:00.000-07:00

adam lambert

2009-04-15T20:43:00.000-07:00

WFI for Hospitals = Making an overnight stay enjoyable.

2009-04-11T19:59:00.000-07:00

It's saturday night. No one wants to hang out. There's nothing to do. TV was repeats this week. No one is online.

I want to go back to the hospital.

cheating at quizzes

2009-04-11T18:14:00.000-07:00

Facebook/Real Life humiliation: is there a difference?

2009-04-10T20:40:00.000-07:00

I made a Facebook event in order to ~~beg~~ ask some friends to hang out with me on my birthday. Humiliation = WFI.

Please ignore the fact that none of my friends are coming, and just remember Ellie.

I love cellulitis.

2009-04-08T12:25:00.001-07:00

So, I'm finally doing it. I'm finally contributing to the blog Sasha has monopolized during her unemployment while I've been partaking in more ~~lucrative~~ ludicrous endeavors...What do I mean by that? Oh, liiiiiiiike all the WFI worthy things that I can't write about because of that whole "the internet is not for talking about personal things" lesson I learned. I'm just not ready to reveal my constant personal failure to the world like Sasha does on a regular basis.

So, I've been doing this thing...riding my bike for the past year, which I've previously mentioned. And doing this other thing...reading about bikes via a local message board for a few months which I have not yet mentioned. I don't know how this fact has managed to escape a blog post so far, as my mere presence on that board is ripe with WFIs. I read every thread and every post and grow more acutely aware of the ways in which it is entirely inappropriate that I post there. But the truths of it are:

1. I know how to ride a bike, a basic requirement.
2. I do ride just about every day.
3. It moves way faster than any other board I currently post on, therefore is nearly endless entertainment--especially when getting lost in a google-induced clicking vortex trying to figure out whatall bikey things they're talking about.
4. I only joined an internet message board about bikes cause I wanted to make friends. If that's not a WFI, then I don't know what this blog stands for anymore.

Why I felt the fervent need to find some bike friends, I'm not sure. I have friends. My friends have bikes. However, in true my friends fashion, they don't mix bikes (or physical activity beyond croquet/badminton/frisbee) and friendship. But the ride to and from work was getting boring and lonely and here on this board were people that rode their bikes for no reason at all! In groups!! To hang out!!! And I found that interesting. So, as soon as another new girl signed up for the board after me, I asked her to go for a ride. Now, if I were Sasha, you could *insert lesbian joke here* but I'm not Sasha. You can tell by the coherence of my blogging.

This other new-to-the-forum girl and I decided we'd ride on Sunday. Sunday is brunch day. We'd have brunch and then bike! And we'd invite other people. It was an intensely unusual experience for me that first Brunch and Bike, but I persevered beyond my awkwardness and various incapabilities and kept going. In the following weeks, I started to remember people's names and minor facts about their lives. And when I see them on other days that aren't Sundays, we say hi to each other. I'm even friends with some of them on facebook. I can't quite say this all means we're friends, but it's a damn good start! So, I like the Brunch and Bike thing. It's good fun.

This most recent Sunday, I hosted the brunch part at my house. This was by far the largest gathering (lots of new people) and perhaps the most productive when it comes to food contributions. Everyone brought something really awesome and helped cook or clean and it was, with the amazing weather and not having to leave my house initially, altogether, my favorite gathering so far. We rode out through Roslindale to Stonybrook Reservation. No one had ever been there, including me, but we found it and rode through the paved trails in the woods. It was really beautiful and there were some stupid hills, but for the most part it was very rideable and fun. I wanted to go to Turtle Pond, so we headed down the hill to find it. And we did! This is the WFI.

As we approached a small pond, I was unaware it was, in fact, Turtle Pond, our destination. I was second to last in our line with one person quite a bit behind me. This is where things get fuzzy. I know I looked behind me to see who was there. I know I noticed the pond. I just don't remember when I looked forward or what I saw because things just happened so fast. I imagine as people started to slow, with no one calling a stop, it forced the bikes out of line, moving more left and aligning horizontally into the road. With one kid moving in front of me to avoid hitting someone else, the only one calling "STOP!" and my only warning to brake hard, I screamed a bit like "MIIIIKEARARGHUHHHGHH!" as I collided from behind with his left side. We both flipped over, a tangled mess of limbs, bikes, and blood.

Everyone was super great after that and, note to self, always crash with other people. They will move your bike, help clean your wound, give you bandaids, offer good advice, and somehow make you not feel like an asshole who just ruined everyone's good time. Mike was hurt as well, but he was wayyyyy more cool about it. I had involuntary shakes and was nauseous. I didn't cry though!!! That is a first. We sat around on the dock in the sun for a while, socializing.

We went home when it started to get colder. My ride was a little stiff, but I wasn't too worried. I figured I'd scab up, no big deal, and take unreasonably long to heal completely like always.

The rest of Sunday was fine. Monday was a lazy, rainy day, but scabbing over well. Tuesday, I resumed regularly scheduled activities: bike to gym, train, shower, go to work. The shower softened the scab on my hand so that it split open and began to ooze again. No worries, I thought. I put a bandage over it, a glove, and gave the first facial of the day. WORST. FUCKING. IDEA. Water got inside my glove and under the bandage = SEARING, BURNING, STINGING PAIN! I replaced the bandaid, new glove and I toughed it out and waxed a few people. On a break, I knew I had to clean the oozy scab. WORST FUCKING IDEA. I swabbed it with alcohol = SEARING, BURNING, STINGING PAIN! I replaced a bandage and waxed my next client, a surgeon. Before we started her facial, I had her peek at the wound which had grown increasingly pink and hot and began spreading a pink line up my wrist along my vein. She said it was nothing and maybe make an appointment with my PCP and get an antibiotic. I was still worried, so I canceled the rest of my facials, moved my waxes earlier, and went to the emergency room right from work.

I checked in, showed the nurse the wound and sat down for what I imagined would be hours judging by the fact it was 1. an emergency room and 2,3. there was a heroin overdose and a broken hand waiting before me. But, surprise! I was called almost as soon as I sat down and expedited straight to the second waiting area. Broken Hand was right behind me and I was still called before her again AND people who were there before me. Total wait time at the emergency room: approx. 20 minutes. I started to think I had some serious business going on. A doctor came in,
looked at it for a minute and asked a few questions and then informed me I have cellulits, I'd be getting an IV of antibiotics and staying overnight in observation, and should be released in the morning. WTF WTF WTF!!! Should? Should be released?! WTF does that mean? Oh, well, if the infection worsens, or spreads deeper into your wrist or nerve endings, or you have an adverse reaction to the antibiotics.... ENOUGH. That's enough, I told him. Get me the IV. Then I was told someone would come in to talk to me about being part of a study and someone else would come in to start the IV. The IV happened first, so I had to sit around with shit sticking out of the top of my left hand next to vials of my blood. This is either gross or cool. I can't decide. I eventually agreed to be part of the study and waaaaaaaaaaaaited. And waaaaaaaaaaaaaited. I tried to focus on the magazine article I was reading but couldn't help glancing at the blood vials. What do they do with them?! Where is my blood now? Hopefully in a lab somewhere making really cute blood babies...

This is where a whole host of of BFIs start happening. A man came with a wheelchair to wheel me up to the observation floor. Apparently, a skin infection on my wrist meant I was not allowed to walk. I laughed the whole way and he made fun of me the whooooole way. Then I met my nurse who was totally rad. She gave me pajamas and footie socks, set me up with the tv, and asked me if I was hungry. I said yes and imagined what I would want. I thought turkey sandwich and frozen yogurt would be awesome. She says, "How about a turkey sandwich?" "YES." "And maybe I can get you some frozen yogurt. Is that ok?" "I was just thinking those two items would be my dream meal, so yes. Yes, that is ok." Moments later she was back with a bag full of turkey sandwich, apple juice, apple sauce, ice cream (no froyo, oh well), and graham crackers. I fucking LOVE the hospital. Then I watched CABLE! Fuck yeah! I watched a creepy show about pageants on TLC. Then the nurse practitioner came in and checked me out, asked me if I was in pain and do I want a percocet for the SEARING, BURNING, STINGING PAIN? Uh, YEAH! Moments, later I was on percocet, scooping ice cream with my graham crackers watching Sex and the City.

When I finally got the IV started, it was instant relief. Before the whole bag was
finished, the red streak had calmed down. I was just about to fall asleep when I was moved to a private room with a really nice view and some more apple sauce. The hospital was like a mix between a luxury condo, a hotel, and a spa. I loved every second. I got a new IV bag every four hours for one hour each which means I had to wake up 4 times, but it was all very nice percocet sleep, so I can't say I minded.

I called my mom at 5:30am when I woke up to tell her I was in the hospital and freak her out. Mission accomplished. In the morning, a doctor came in, said I was all better, that I shouldn't go to work, that I can't do any facials and breakfast should be in any moment. It was all bittersweet news. All of that was good. I'm going to live! I don't have to work! But I had to go home!! Nooooooo! After watching some Rachel Ray and some Martha, pancakes, oj, and cheerios with a banana, I signed some papers and reluctantly got dressed.

The only thing to do with my time today was get wicked good food and lay in bed all day watching American Idol and writing this blog, taking 4 pills (2 rotten egg tasting ones, and 2 sour milk tasting ones) every 4 hours. That's my participation in the study. I have to keep a diary about if I have diarrhea or not too. I have to do this for 7 days and then I get $50. Wish me luck!!!

I can't say I loved having cellulitis. But I can't say I didn't love it either. Oh. Who am I kidding?

craigslist

2009-04-07T22:31:00.000-07:00

twitter

2009-04-06T13:29:00.000-07:00

more omegle

2009-04-03T00:14:00.000-07:00

also, i introduced my brother to omegle, and this was his first conversation:

(btw, he is "you", dumbass)

omegle.com; or, Kevin, i found your new favorite site!

2009-04-02T22:41:00.000-07:00

text message

2009-04-02T20:00:00.000-07:00

cari: I basically met your clone, except is blonde, and plays in a band. you guys would be best friends.

me: but i hate myself.

cari: hahaha?

craigslist

2009-04-02T11:41:00.000-07:00

Today I Took A Nap

2009-03-29T18:12:00.000-07:00

i am unemployed. i am not in school. i live with my parents. i am wearing the clothes i wore yesterday.

and i took a nap.

i feel more worthless than i did before.

napping = wfi.

(by the way, i tag things as "college dropout", but i, in fact, did graduate from college. not even a community college. a real university! which, apparently, was a WFI, because everything has been downhill since...)

Lesbian Fail; Or, Reason #18, Why I'm Sorta Gay...

2009-03-27T10:09:00.000-07:00

I went to a gay bar last week, and while I did have a conversation that began with, "So what do you do?" and ended with "Let's exchange numbers!", it was very ungay and therefor this WFI is about my experience at the same gay bar TONIGHT.

So, we begin with my friend who shall be known as RK, because I promised her I wouldn't tell anyone what happened (even though there are about ten witnesses - more on that as the story progresses), so, we shall use made up initials.

RK and her boyfriend recently broke up. And RK is very, very upset about it. Especially because she has always thought of herself as independent and not the type to actually crave a relationship, or to be hurt by one. She is one of those girls that never, ever, ever talks about boys, and will have a boyfriend for months and not even mention him, and none of her friends even know about it. In fact, I never even knew she had a boyfriend at all! Ever! In her life! Let alone the many that were discussed over 10 beers (1 mine, 9 hers) last night.

Anyway, immediately following the breakup, RK picked up a few seasons of the L-Word and decided that she is/can/will be gay! We began discussing the show, because yes, I've seen entire seasons of the L-Word (Reason #16 maybe??). These conversations became more and more like a competition; who is gayer and who wants to prove it! Normally, this is a competition I would win sans any effort whatsoever. I have shoebox after shoebox filled with sports cards in my closet (Reason #15) so don't even try to out lesbian me. But anyway, I agreed that the next time she was in town, we would spend a night out at a gay bar making out with girls and doing some serious man hating. And yes, we were under the impression that at a gay bar, one is swarmed by members of the same sex looking for a hook up.

Well, the night had arrived. I pick up RK and we drive to the only bar I know of; the bar I ended up at the week before (perhaps I will transcribe that story another time). It's karaoke night. If anything there should be some killer people watching going on, right? No. Unfortunately there are only about twenty people in the bar. None of them are attractive, and none of them are unique/crazy/trashy enough to warrant any sort of whispering and giggling. Oh well. We assume it's early, and all the hot chicks are on their way. We drink some beers (me 1, her 3 [plus two margaritas from earlier]) and we smoke some cigarettes. We are slightly manhandled by a dude out on the patio. A totally straight dude. A complete bro who had no idea he was in a gay bar. None. After laughing at his incompetence for a moment, we brush it off and dub it a minor mishap in a our quest for gayness.

We return to the inside bar to finish our beers. As we are sitting on some stools, reading the lyrics to the amazing song** that is scrolling across the flatscreen, we are approached by another man.

Man: Hey, are you two gay?

We were completely caught off guard. RK and I had not discussed what to do if this question were asked of us. We panicked. We froze like fish sticks. We looked at each other. We shrugged, we mumbled, we asked him to define the word "gay". We eventually settled on "We're thinking about it?". Inflection included.

Man: Yeah I didn't think you were gay. I'm not gay either, I am just here with some gay friends.

Pause.

RK: Wait...why didn't you think we were gay? What isn't gay about us??
Man: You just don't look gay.
RK: What do you mean I don't look gay?? I look so gay! I'm at a gay bar! I'm wearing a tank top! It's sheer!
Me: People think I'm gay all the time! I'm even wearing a sweater tonight! [Let's be honest, I wasn't dressed any differently than usual, except I had on a sweater, and not a sweatshirt...]

RK and I quickly headed to the bathroom, where we admired ourselves in the full size mirror, before we left the bar to meet up with a friend who was in town.

Me: Well I think you look totally gay.
RK: Thank you! I like your sweater.

End Gay Bar Scene. Begin Scene With Straight Dudes In House.

We arrive at the bro house to meet up with D, a high school friend who is in from New York for a mere 36 hours. Also present, S, N, K, Ma, Mi, Dy, Da, P, and someone I think I'm forgetting but that probably isn't important. Immediately upon our arrival we ask the boys if we look gay. They don't understand the question and tell us to make out. We describe the previous events of the evening and I repeatedly point to my sweater and say, "sweater!!!!!!", as RK keeps telling them how she is so, so, so gay.

Flash forward an hour we are deciding to leave. The live reggae jams have come out, and we've had enough of the sausage fest. After all, we're lesbians, right? We go in search of D, find him sitting on a stool by himself in a room adjacent to the kitchen, and walk in to say our goodbyes. RK is in front of me and leans down to give him a hug. I notice the hug is taking a little long. Then I notice some back rubbing, followed by the words "just go for it". I remove myself from the room.

A wild, 20 minute make out session ensues. Heavy breathing, loud, loud, loud sighs, rolling on the floor, and smashing against the wall can all be heard. Clearly there was dry humping. Oh, and when I said "heard" I also meant "seen", because there is a giant window shared between the kitchen and this back room. And naturally, all in attendance stand around to watch. RK and D are oblivious to this.

RK stops the making out for a second. Did she finally notice the audience?? Oh, no, she didn't. Instead she just had something to tell D:

I don't think I'm gay.

They make out more.

D: You're bi.

Eventually Da, a huge, sweaty, red faced drunk guy that I've despised since the 8th grade, comes barreling into the kitchen. Apparently this whole time he hadn't noticed he was by himself in the living room... He tells us he thinks D went home because he hasn't seen him in a while. He makes eye contact with no one and goes galumphing into the back room where his presence immediately puts an end to any romancing (how could it not...). RK and D notice their audience, exit the room into the kitchen, RK hugs all the other boys goodbye (I think they felt cheated), and we go home.

In the car RK tells me she is so embarrassed, and even more sexual frustrated than she had been in the beginning of the night. I tell her that I cannot believe she began to sex up D while I was standing right behind her. "You were in the room?????", she asks me, astonished. I WAS IN THE FUCKING ROOM, HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW THIS??? She profusely apologizes and finally gets the chance to check her phone for the text message I had sent her during the Great ~~Make Out of March~~ Dry Hump of the Century.

you are so not gay.

RK: Want to go to San Francisco's Pride?

**(youtube comments are priceless)

I went to a strip club.

2009-03-22T11:30:00.000-07:00

well, abby had her bachelorette party. which was planned out by someone who wasn't me. which is how we ended up at the strip club.

i had never been to a strip club, nor have i ever wanted to go. in fact, my only experience involving a stripper was at a high school friend's birthday party; he was the least expensive stripped in all of tucson's yellowpages. can you even imagine??? and go figure, he needed a ride home afterward (i have no idea how he got there in the first place). giving the stripper a ride home was not something any of us were willing to do. what we were willing to do however, was call him a cab and shove him out the door to wait for it.

anyway.

so who else was on the guest list for the evening's events? oh, just one of abby's friends who has only been drunk once in her life, loves to embroider, and has a 5 month old baby at home (she left early), and abby's friend J, with whom i went to high school (i used to go up to her locker when she had it open, stick my arm in, and pull everything out of it and onto the floor, and then walk away, if that tells you anything about our relationship). oh, J's friend that none of knew was also in attendance. my point here is that the obvious "we're here cuz it's a wild and crazy bachelorette party" visual was not attainable. we were, instead, a small group of girls, at the strip club.

in my attempt to avoid the strip club altogether, i figured we should stop at the meet rack (be sure to read aaron a's review). ( quick facts about the meet rack: a man who calls himself "god" runs it; they brand people with an image of god's face (50 cents off drinks for life!); there is a room filled with sex equipment (swings, chairs, cuffs etc); this room is also filled with pictures of people engaging in sex on the equipment; AA members get free drinks for life; God has a gold and diamond ring shaped like a penis that he wears proudly.) so obviously, i thought the bar would be weird and exciting enough to get me out of the strip club adventure...but it turns out, the other girls were just too creeped out by the vibrating dildos on the bar to even order a second round.

it was strip club time.

the bachelorette, drunk, but not wasted, partook in an onstage strip show. motorboating, simulated oral sex, rubbing and grinding with not one, not two, but three strippers, including one with braces, who she later tracked down for a little private lap dance. there was some legit, cute strippers, i wont lie. so i was a little annoyed that she preferred the beat chicks. but of course, the hottest girl in the club wasn't even a stripper. she was a waitress. clearly though, none of this actually matters because i was not about to, and now i never, ever will, partake in any sort of lap dance. really though, motorboating?? i'll just keep ordering beers.

so, in the end, the best part about the strip club? how my reeboks looked in the black light. the worst part about the strip club? how my sneakers felt covered in a stripper's spilled red bull.

2009-03-22T01:38:00.000-07:00

2009-03-18T18:33:00.000-07:00

2009-03-13T21:06:00.000-07:00

a legit wfi

2009-03-11T23:46:00.001-07:00

You think you're soooo good at blogging cause you know how to post a screencap.

2009-03-11T23:35:00.000-07:00

If you think the rolleyes thing is funny, it's not.

Any real internetress would know you should just :rolleyes: for comedic effect.

Shouldn't you be screenPRINTING instead of screencapping?

g2g
I have work tomorrow.
You know, the place where I make money.
Jealous?

RE: Gem's previous entry

2009-03-11T23:08:00.000-07:00

well, obviously, changing the color scheme of the blog was apparently a WFI, as my one time partner in crime has now quit the blog!

i feel like a rejected spouse. i was only changing the blog colors so i could GET A LITTLE ATTENTION AROUND HERE. yeesh. i just wanted a little, "leave it alone, i'll fix it! i'll make it pretty!" but noooooo. i get an "i quit".

fewer syllables i guess.

i also got laid off and spent every last penny i had (both literally, as in, in the bank, and figuratively, as in, credit cards!) on getting everything i need to screen print from home. we'll see how that goes, as i fall further and further into debt. and thus, i shall become proof that finances and depression are directly related.

edited only 22 minutes later to add:

(i knew she'd be back...)

Seacrest out.

2009-03-11T19:16:00.000-07:00

I refuse to participate in a blog this horrifyingly ugly.

Goodbye.

a-team application

2009-03-10T00:23:00.001-07:00

2009-03-07T12:55:00.000-08:00

i sent chris a gift on facebook and then...!!!:

2009-03-03T19:36:00.000-08:00

ellie, you're a jackass!

2009-03-03T15:56:00.000-08:00

I already mentioned how Nellie is getting married, but I have just been informed that my friend Abby, whom I've been hanging out with on a regular basis since I was about 4, is also getting married.

Ugh! This needs to stop!

Also, I kinda have to plan her bridal shower. WFI or what?!?!?! (I'm thinking, hot wings and ranch...)

2009-02-23T17:45:00.000-08:00

2009-02-23T17:07:00.000-08:00

love and marriage.

2009-02-23T16:46:00.000-08:00

me: So, Nellie just got engaged and is getting married probably in September.
my mom: But she is so young! [she's my age btw]
me: Well, whatever.
my mom: So how does that make you feel?
me: Like I'm 24, live with my parents and can't keep a job.

cat...nap?

2009-02-22T13:54:00.001-08:00

job hunt: back on.

2009-02-18T16:13:00.000-08:00

after a mildly successful experience as a substitute teacher (I actually will have only gone to work 29 times since my hire date back in October [but it was the end of October!!!]. but before you criticize me, my track record isn't even that bad!! considering thanksgiving break, christmas break, my whole "i'm in israel" thing, and my affinity for recreational drug use, i don't think i did thaaaat badly), i am now left without a job. if there is one thing republicans are good at, it's cutting education funding (amirite??). oh, arizona, you silly goose; welcome to your own personal WFI!

i guess it's time to work on that screen play i keep telling Gem and Christopher i'm writing.

craig's list

2009-02-16T21:08:00.000-08:00

Google Search

2009-02-15T12:06:00.000-08:00

While checking our fucking amazing and mind blowing reader stats (7 readers a day?? 5 of them are me, but who are the other two?!?!) - I noticed we got a hit off Google (I think it's hilarious that I just linked to Google BTW. Anyone else? Other two??). The search was for "best fucking idea".

We were the second site listed.

So obviously, Google either sucks, or is totally in on the joke.

"WFI that, cuz I'll really do it" - Gem

2009-02-14T16:55:00.000-08:00

2009-02-14T14:35:00.000-08:00

2.14.09

2009-02-14T13:39:00.000-08:00

2009-02-08T20:31:00.001-08:00

AIM

2009-02-07T17:56:00.001-08:00

Yeesh.

2009-02-06T22:08:00.000-08:00

2009-02-03T20:28:00.000-08:00

Ellie J

2009-01-27T18:17:00.000-08:00

Text messages my friend Ellie doesn't respond to:

•ellliiieeeee! i miss you let's hang out!
•wanna get baked?? drinks??
•hello?? are you alive??

Text messages my friend Ellie does respond to:

•danity kane is coming to phx!!!
•aubrey from danity kane is so gross now
•wtf is evan rachel wood's problem?!?!

e-mails i sent my mother from israel while on my birthright trip.

2009-01-18T07:46:00.000-08:00

1/7/09
okay sooo i think my phone works here but of course i cant seem to make outgoing calls but i can check my email from it. so yeah. im on a bus to haifa right now. i made some friends at the airport. but everyone seems like, pretty jewy. there are some cool guys though. its pretty early to tell though. our group is small, only 35. the food is good. and our guard is suuuper handsome. we are supposed to get like, 8 soldiers joining us but they may all get called to gaza. i hope we get some though. nathan and i are going to try and score some drugs today. bye!!

1/8/09
i just hiked golan. or rather, for three hours i took frequent breaks and breathed heavily while tearing my pants and getting sunburned. same thing. im an indoor girl.

1/8/09
back to the kibbutz for a dinner or hummus and vegetables. i am at fat camp. jewish fat camp. anyway. then we went to what we were told were hot springs you can swim in. but really it was more like a turkish bath house that reaked of sulphr and chest hair - whatever that smells like - i did not go in.

1/9/09
yesterday we hung out in tel aviv. today we ride camels, go to the bedouin tents and at 4am tomorrow we hike masada, followed by a nature hike and then the dead sea. i hope i sprain my ankle so i dont have to do any of those things.

1/12/09
i survived the bedouin tent experience, aka sleeping in a sleeping bag on a rug in a tent with 40 other people and three bathroom stalls; in my memoirs this chapter will be called 'reasons why i didnt join the peace corps'.

The Real Rules

2009-01-01T15:36:00.001-08:00

Actually, what I said was:

1. Be fun.
2. Don't ruin my days off.
3. Don't annoy me by not wanting to do anything.

She hasn't fucked up yet.

(O HAI JORDAN!)

Back in Boston; or, Hello Jordan!

2009-01-01T15:19:00.000-08:00

i came back to boston to hang out with gem before i get shipped off to israel for a ten day "excursion" through my holy land; war? what war?!

gem was sure to give me some ground rules before i even arrived. i'm a terrible listener and have never been one for "specifics", so here is what i imagine gem's rules were:

1. don't fucking make me miserable
2. don't complain about anything ever
~~3. don't be a bitch~~

and of course that last rule is crossed off because she doesn't think that's possible. or rather, i should say she WOULDN'T think that's possible since this is my imagined list of her rules. since i wasn't listening.

2008-12-12T12:19:00.000-08:00

an open letter to

2008-11-20T21:12:00.000-08:00

Dear "Real Teacher",

Hello, it's me, "The Substitute". No, we've never actually met, but I've heard a lot about you and I have played with everything in the top drawer of your desk. I've also learned that the password to your computer isn't "worksucks", "iamsobored", "happyhour", "nsync" or "ilikecats". Honestly, the first four were more about me than about you, but I was really shocked that the one about cats didn't work. I'm going to keep trying to crack it though, because you didn't leave me any lesson plans and I dismissed the kids shortly after taking attendance, but I don't get paid unless I stay until 3.

You're an asshole, "Real Teacher".

Sincerely,
Your Sub

i have so many posts to...well, post

2008-11-11T21:24:00.000-08:00

but no desire to write them out.

every day is a wfi for me since i began substitute teaching.

basically, kevin, you were right.

if only i had a copy of the note i left the kindergarten teacher of the class i subbed for on halloween... i believe it read something like this:

"re: your lesson plans; non functional. no one listens to me. i don't know why because i'm bigger than they are. i will never come back. ps, holy cow."

Halloween '08

2008-10-11T23:18:00.000-07:00

vietnamese friend:
i will be a graduated cylinder at some point in my life
i swear it
i would wear a cylinder with a graduation cap
tell me that is not the most genius idea ever

whiitethrash:
oh wow
yeah
also
you found a way to make halloween
not fun

a conversation with Rose via text message

2008-09-20T12:46:00.000-07:00

Rose: Hi stinkie. My 5th grade teacher just asked to be my friend on facebook. what the F U C K

Lewis: HAHAHA who???

R: Miss Smith!! Or...Linda. Whatever.

L: Oh man, so random.

R: Yeah. A part of me just died inside.

L: Well maybe it's a nice thing?? You were a special favorite!

R: She only has ten friends that include [classmate], [classmate], [classmate], [classmate] and me.

L: Oh, god. I love this.

OMG!

2008-09-18T10:22:00.000-07:00

Sandra Bullock movie weekend on ABC family!!!

letters of rec update

2008-09-07T13:44:00.000-07:00

i got my letter of rec from professor x.

the letter included a sentence along the lines of "i recommend Lewis for the position of substitute teacher", and then some typos.

i replied with:

dear x

typos? oh, and thanks for the inclusion of the words "substitute teacher" so that i can't use this to apply for any other "credible" positions.

-s

WFI - Dad the Lawyer

2008-08-25T15:48:00.000-07:00

My dad got a speeding ticket on his way back from the casino the other night.

He is going to fight it because he thinks it was malicious. And because he has a radar detector in his car and it didn't go off, so he believes the officer is making everything up.

I am siding with the officer.

Anyway, my dad has been buying law books. Law dictionaries, law for dummies, and, the book he is most wild about, some piece of shit by Alan Dershowitz.

He doesn't read the books though. They just sit on the table.

Oh well.

So I asked a professor for a letter of rec...

2008-08-18T18:08:00.000-07:00

Either way though, she agreed to write it for me. Especially after I reminded her that I wasn't applying for a TEACHING position, but rather a SUBSTITUTE teaching position.

"Oh, well you're totally good at wielding power!" She said.

New Summer Games

2008-08-09T11:46:00.000-07:00

whiitethrash
the othe rday we were so bored
sarah wanted to play the benadryl game
where we each take a benedryl and see who can stay awake the longest
hahaha
i said no.

jenni
hahaha
oh shit that sounds like my friend
but it's the nyquil game
and she plays it every day, by herself

house sitting.

2008-07-26T11:11:00.001-07:00

On July 5th, my parents took off for Florida. A relative had died recently and my mom was the lucky one put in charge of doing all sorts of estate things; shipping furniture, renting out the apartment, selling the car etc. "10 days!" They told me. "Ten days and we'll be back!"

Well, it is now July 26th. And they are not home. Do you see that empty spot on the couch? That has been my life for the last 21 days. Me and those guys. Just us. 21 days. And counting.

There is no WFI here. I am not allergic to dogs.

Having a good summer.

2008-07-25T20:16:00.000-07:00

gemath y: just watched asian porn
gemath y: thought of you
gemath y: hope you're having a good summer

vietnamese babies.

2008-07-25T11:46:00.000-07:00

Vietnamesefriend:
im an aunt!
for some reason i really dont like the word aunt
it sounds too much like an old antique that sits in the attic

whiitethrash:
what's her name?
tha?
the?
tho?

Vietnamesefriend:
grace

whiitethrash:
thy?
oh.
hahaha
how racist of me!

Vietnamesefriend:
asshole

whiitethrash:
i take it all back!

Vietnamesefriend:
my dads name is tho
asshole

whiitethrash:
i dont know about you
but i'm laughing pretty hard over here.

Miss America 2009

2008-07-17T22:28:00.000-07:00

Here I come!

friend says wha?

2008-07-08T21:31:00.000-07:00

whiitethrash
you know about nathan right?
my friend nathan?
he's like my male sarah
i never understand
and i have never understood
a damn fucking word that comes out of his mouth on the telephone.
so when we make plans
i'm never positive what they are
or if i am picking him up
or if he is picking me up
or if it's something i even want to do
or is even legal!
i just kinda go over to his house and hit the bong.

gemath y:
and?

whiitethrash
well, to buy time
until i hear what the next move is
and then i usually say i dont want to do that
and he is always like, but you just said you would
and i have no idea, obviously.
i am telling you this because i just ignored his phone call
because i dont want any surprises tonight.

suicide note.

2008-07-04T12:27:00.000-07:00

gemath y
aw
my cat just ran up
swatted me on my feet
and then ran and hid under the bed
then poked her head around the corner of the room and slowly tip toed to the hallway
and then took off running
it was hilarious
actually.
this is sad
I am telling cat stories.
if I kill myself today
this conversation should be considered my note.
whiite thrash
hahaha
...wfi!

a bad egg. a very, very bad egg.

2008-06-24T19:59:00.000-07:00

Dear Kevin,

RE: Your wall post on my Facebook

It was a BFI overall. However my response was a WFI, as it has left me regretful. You know that Seinfeld episode where George comes up with the "jerk store" comeback long after the insult, and then tries to recreate an opportunity to use it? It's like that. I would love to get fired all over again.

See, I have been working for this restaurant (a chain throughout Arizona) since the first week in January. I always preferred serving breakfast and lunch as opposed to dinner or cocktailing because I would rather go to work at 5am and be done at 2, then go to work at 4 and be done at 11. Or whatever. I like getting up early, and even more than that, I absolutely love having an excuse as to why I can't go out at night. You see, "Oh, I'd love to but I have to be up at 4 for work tomorrow! Oh shoot!" is not only easier [read: less embarrassing] to say to your alcoholic friends, but they also mock you less than with other ~~truths~~ made up excuses like, "Oh I'm not a big drinker...", or "But there's a Degrassi marathon on tonight!", or, the worst, "But they're rerunning Lisa Ling produced documentaries on PBS all evening! You remember Lisa Ling, right? She used to be on The View, that show with Barbara Walters and all those kooky women! I mean, I totally hate Elisabeth as much as the next Liberal Jew, but Rosie really brought that show alive, and I'm a huge Whoopi fan. No, I know neither of them were on the show when Lisa was but still - no thanks, I don't drink, but that's nice of you to offer. No, really, I'm driving anyway. What? You don't even know my mom. Okay, I mean, just one. Is this a double? What does that even mean - oh it doesn't have more alcohol? Are you sure? Really? Okay...But just this one..."... So, when I moved from Tempe back to Tucson to live with my parents - which is a whole separate WFI for another day - I decided to try my hand at transferring from the Scottsdale location to one of three Tucson locations.

I loved where I worked in Scottsdale. Not only was everyone awesome in their own way, but everyone there knew how important their job was: not at all important!!! The restaurant was a transition place for these servers; people were working there in order to get somewhere else. Saving up to travel, paying for college, buying pot (important!), opening up a private practice, etc. etc. etc. They didn't live to be waiters, they waited to live!!!!! ...Not to mention I was well respected and appreciated and people laughed at my jokes there... But this Tucson location! Oh Tucson! With your recovering meth addicts, ex cons, strippers, and community college drop outs. I mean, not that I hold anything against people who are recovering addicts - I mean, good for you! Awesome! Ex cons getting their life back in order? Great! High schoolers - hey, make money money! But...zero aspirations?? Shit! With the exception of a few servers, barely anyone talked to me and when they did they were telling me what I was doing wrong and how I needed to "smile more, SERIOUSLY, IT'S A BIG DEAL", or "walk faster or you'll never make it in this business!" or "blahblahblahstupidblah". Give me a fucking break... I used the wrong size kids cup once and had a serious talking to - that began with "what the hell are you doing!!?" - in the kitchen about it. This place was a nightmare. And I was planning to quit in a couple days anyway.

But the incident! I knew something was wrong when the
manager, a big man with a goatee who looked like he should be running a nightclub and not a family breakfast restaurant, was standing outside talking to one of my customers as they were leaving. Customers that left a shitty tip... I had no idea what the problem could be though. This man had been on my back constantly for my "lack of smiling", so I figured maybe she said something about that. [The irony behind that is that I would often go up to my table and joke around about how the manager doesn't think I smile enough and warn them about how if I looked crazy it was his fault! It was a home run of a joke!] Turns out, that wasn't the problem...

What this ~~bitch of a lady~~ harpie was saying was that she heard me tell another table that the restaurant was a "Shit hole" and how I couldn't wait to get out of there.

WOAH WOAH WOAH. Is that lady a mind reader or WHAT!!1 But seriously...

Why would I say that to a table??? Why wouldn't the table I said that to tell the manager?? This lady is just a tattle tale! But even worse, she is a maker-upper of things to tattle!!

I was taken out to the back parking lot where the manager proceeded to cuss at me and pull the little man's complex on me. "THIS IS MY FUCKING RESTAURANT HOW DARE YOU FUCKING SAY THAT. BLAHBLAH CURSING CURSING I AM UGLY BLAHBLAH TALK DOWN TO YOU TALK DOWN TO YOU. I CAN FIRE YOUR ASS WHENEVER. I OWN YOU BLAHBLAH." And all I could say back was... "But I didn't say that?!" or... "Yeah but still, I didn't say that?!" Seriously, with the inflection of a question. It was just such a ridiculous accusation. This woman had no reason to lie, he kept telling me. And I kept telling him that maybe she wasn't lying, but she definitely misheard me, or misread my lips or something because that is just out of the question! He didn't care. My argument about how I don't even use the word "shit hole" didn't go over well either. Which is true! But the REAL truth was that I was talking to an Indian guy I knew in high school who randomly came in and his name, seriously, from afar, when coming out of one's mouth, could be confused for the words "shit" and "hole"! I AM NOT KIDDING.

I should have walked out right there. That is what I regret the most. I should have called him a fucking loser, told him his restaurant was a shit hole, and gone home right there; after all we were in the rear parking lot. My car was twenty feet away. But I thought that that would all look quite silly when I had to walk back to restaurant and go inside to the front register to get my keys. And then come back a couple hours later at 2pm to get my paycheck. Things just didn't work in my favor in that regard. Then after I went back inside and WENT BACK TO WORK I thought...why am I not throwing a fit? I should have yelled at that man, gone back inside and made sure he was scolding me in front of customers. Or perhaps said something to which he would respond with "YOU'RE FIRED GET OUT NOW" and then gone back to a table, and told them that I had just been fired for saying something I didn't say, and point at the manager, who would inevitably be watching me with fiery eyes, and let them know that he had just cussed me out and yelled at me for something I didn't even do and that I was sorry I wouldn't finish up taking care of them and to please tip their server! That would have stuck it to the man! "See that guy? With the bad earrings and spiky hair?? He just fired me cuz some old harpie told him I called this place a shit hole! Can you believe that? A SHIT HOLE. Hey, also, he used to be in prison for dealing firearms and drugs! FUCKING GUNS AND DRUGS. SHIT HOLE SHIT HOLE!"

But I didn't. And I'm left wishing for one more shot at the establishment. At that man. It would have made a much bigger statement than the "no call no show" I pulled over the weekend.

So, the BFI = I don't ever have to go back. The WFI = I didn't stand up for myself and I let a man get away with treating me like shit.

But at least I have my paycheck. [And I didn't declare my tips for that day...!]

Job hunting soon omg byob bbq bff lolz!!111!!!!,

Lewis

WFI: hotlinking!

2008-06-20T20:45:00.001-07:00

I've been riding my bike.

2008-06-14T16:52:00.000-07:00

For two weeks, I've taken the Southwest Corridor to work. I really like riding my bike and all the fears I had surrounding riding in the city are gone. It takes between 15 and 20 minutes to get to work, which is much faster than the train. On very hot days, riding is a cool breeze. At night, it keeps me from the temptation of taking a cab home. So, riding my bike: BFI.

I've gotten so used to the speed of getting around. A ten minute walk takes 2 or 3 minutes on the bike. So, after my 8 am doctor's appointment (you can guess the kind...) and trying to fit 40 minutes of cardio intensity into 30 minutes at the gym, I got ready like lightning and hopped on my bike like the wind. I always follow traffic laws. I haven't done a lot of research on biking rules or anything, but when in doubt, I always imagine I am a car and think, WWJD? If he was driving a car, that is. But on Thursday, I was running late to work.

Consider this map for a moment: MAP See where it says Newbury St? Find Berkeley St. Now Find Commonwealth Ave.

So, I ALWAYS ride down Berkeley (a one-way), take a right on Comm Ave, and another right onto Arlington (a one-way), so I can get onto the sidewalk in front of the former Ritz, which is now The Taj, and park my bike in front of work. This is the way Jesus driving a car would go. But you know, I notice a lot of people riding up Newbury St. the wrong way as a short cut. I know this is wrong. I know. But, A LOT of people do it. Every day, a lot of people break the law and I see them and they look like nice, happy people. So, the day I was going to be late to work, I decided, I would be less like Jesus and more like nice, happy people and go the wrong way up Newbury St, a one-way street. This is where the BFI becomes the WFI.

After about two car lengths of breaking the law, a woman I'd guess is in her early 40's, stepped out from between two cars to cross the street and just so happened to be right in front of me. I screamed, "WHOA" and swerved to miss her. Due to her inaction, we collided and I fell directly on my knee and ankle, ripping my jeans, scraping my knee, and spraining my ankle. When I looked over, she was on the ground as well. Before I could say, "Are you ok?" she started yelling at me. "Just WHAT were YOU doing riding the WRONG way down a ONE WAY street?!!?" I just stared at her, shocked, and said, "What were you doing not in a crosswalk." She didn't say anything. I noticed the rip in my jeans and the blood as I got up. I said, "We are both wrong. Leave it at that. I'm sorry. I have to go to work now." And started walking off in a daze. She followed me yelling YOU SHOULD GET A TICKET!!! In an unusual coincidence, there happened to be a motorcade of state troopers on the block at that moment. A mustachioed, aviator wearing cliche of a trooper walked up to me and asked if a car hit me. I said no, a lady walked in front of me and I fell. He seemed satisfied with that until whatshername huffed and puffed her way over and said to him, "She was going the wrong way down a one way street!!! I think she should get a ticket!" She was seeking justice, that's for sure, straight from the law enforcement themselves. The officer looked at me, the bike, me again and back at her and shrugged, "It's not a very fast bike." "Don't you think she should get a ticket?!" Then he snapped into action, "You know. You're not supposed to do that, you know. It's not a fast bike and you're not a messenger, but if you were going fast, you could really hurt someone." "Oh, I know. I'm sorry." "Don't you think she should get a ticket?!" The woman wouldn't let it go. He just looked at her and deadpanned, "Are you alright." It was not as lost on me as it was on her. She began to answer with her voice all quivery, "Oh, I'm fine. I'm a little shooken up is all. I'll feel this tomorrow." To which the officer answered with a, "Wellp." And we all walked away from each other.

So, I ruined her day by doing something I wasn't supposed to do. She ruined my day by doing the same. We were even. It was all pretty shitty though. Especially the swelling and bruises on my foot and the oozing road rash on my knee. My friend couldn't come get me from work cause his car was broken. Waiting for a minivan cab took an hour and a half and cost me five extra dollars. Nothing good came from being less like Jesus.

Halfway through my first client, I realized I also lost my phone in the ordeal. So, goodbye all those phone numbers I had but rarely used! I'm currently trying to track down the person who found it and is calling a bunch of people. They can keep the phone. I just want my numbers. Seems like the person who found it has a lot of spanish speaking friends, so my guess is one of the construction workers at Brooks Brothers found it since it happened right out front. Or maybe I left it at the gym and the cleaning ladies found it and don't want to return it. Either way, I feel disconnected and as if time does not exist. In other words, lonely.

To take care of any bad karma accrued because of the incident, I have decided to be a monthly donor to Greenpeace. Perhaps stopping to talk to those crazy solicitors on the corners of Starbucks is going to bite me in my butt, but at least I'll help save some indigenous people of the forests up in Canada from having their land clear cut by Kimberly Clark. Perhaps it's another WFI. We'll see how long it lasts.

So, anyway. I haven't been riding my bike anymore.

but mandy moore IS pretty!!!!

2008-06-09T18:19:00.000-07:00

sarah: my dad doesn't think mandy moore is pretty.
me: so?
sarah: my dad thinks I'M pretty!!! what does that say!!!!

i graduated from college and all i got was this lousy trip...

2008-06-02T20:31:00.000-07:00

So Jackie has decided to attend a university in Georgia for grad school. And, since I plan on continuing my role as "Jackie's best friend" well into the future, this is absolutely not my first grad school pick for her because now I'll obviously be making semi annual trips to...ATHENS GEORGIA!!!!... instead of, say, San Francisco or Boston, or Austin, or New York City, or god forbid, New Jersey and basically anywhere else (although I guess I'm glad she decided against that school in wisconsin, eh eh eh??).

Jackie's initial invite out to GA involved saying something along the lines of, "my parents want to know if you will come out and help me interview roommates when I move into my house" which in Jackie language means, "I don't know how to make friends. Will you please come make them for me??" And you know what? I will admit, this makes me a little nervous because not only I have had a constant revolving door of shitty friends during my own life that I have chosen for myself throughout the years, but when it comes to my very best friends and THEIR friends/boyfriends/pets* I turn into some crazy jealous beast wreck of a friend. Like woah. So I mean, obviously I will only be making friends with huge losers and people who she cannot possibly like, respect or appreciate more than she does me. LET'S BE REASONABLE, PEOPLE. (*just kidding about the pets...but the rest = HONESTY)

Now, the only really nerve wracking part of all this is that when I asked her how long I should plan to stay with her she said, "as long as you want!". Yeesh. And although I know what the correct response ISN'T - and what the WFI is (srsly? i'll stay forever! i'm clingy and you're my best friend and i never want you to become less dependent on me because i will not become any less dependent on you!!! text me pls!!!!) I don't think I know what the correct response IS and what isn't a possible WFI (staying TOO long or not staying long enough!). This decision could ruin everything!!! And I'm still working that part out. The dates wouldn't even be that important except that... When I'm done at Jackie's I'm heading out to Boston to visit Gem!! And she absolutely wants me in Boston on September 4th to attend the greatest dance party in the history of Jamaica Plain.

whiite thrash: I' ll have nothing to wear!
gemath y: I like to wear jeans and flip flops with a tshirt that I've probably worn and slept in for 3 days
gemath y: can you pull off something like that
whiite thrash: thats ALL i can pull off.

That is the WFI you will have to wait for.

reason why i hate myspace #865:

2008-05-31T23:51:00.001-07:00

like tom selleck, but different!

2008-05-28T16:57:00.001-07:00

The Great Jalapeno Disaster of '08.

2008-05-19T18:54:00.000-07:00

Friday night, I came home fired up to clean the kitchen. First, though, I wanted to eat something, but man, if I got into cooking, I'd get all sidetracked and lazy and not do a damn thing. The only solution was to eat Mary's half mini bag of jalapeño and cheddar chips.

They were good. Too spicy for me to purchase on my own, but a fun taste excursion nonetheless. I washed it down with some diet pepsi I keep at my house for when my mom visits. No one reading this knows my food habits, but chips and soda are the least likely things for me to eat, like, ever. Unless there's alcohol involved. That's just how I get down.

So, maybe it's the white trash thing to do or my chip eating inexperience, but there were those bits of chip shrapnel at the bottom of the bag and the only logical thing was to pull at the bag to create a nice crease so as to create a virtual chute to pour chip crumbs directly into my mouth, eliminating the need for a middle man/hand usage. After this, I'd get right down to cleaning the kitchen.

However. When pouring the chips into my mouth like a lazy, overweight, starved ~~lonely, single white girl~~ child, a jalapeño laden particle ambushed my poor left eye. In a panic, I began blinking because I knew the searing pain that was about to take place. Immediately after the realization that jalapeño oil was about to burn my eyeball, it did, in fact begin burning.

There are times in my life when imaginary life-threatening events take place and I am wracked with anxiety over how I will handle myself in those situations. Walking home at nighttime, for instance. Riding the train. Dreams. Will I be able to fend off a mugger? Is someone on the train planning to rape and murder me when we get off at the same stop? Would I actually RSVP yes to Pete Wentz and Ashlee Simpson's wedding*? But who knows what life actions to take to prepare oneself for pouring jalapeño chips into one's own eye?

My first action was to turn on the sink and begin throwing water at my face, blinking all the while. This helped, but with every blink, I was reminded of my contact floating around in there, jalapeño chip bit trapped underneath. Thoughts of corneal abrasions, blindness, the possible admission to whatever eye professional that I have been wearing this same pair of contacts for months...a year? longer? I don't know!!!!...began exploding in my brain. I rinsed my greasy fingers underwater and made the executive decision that soap wasn't necessary. Pshhhh, water cleans oil all the time. :rolleyes: I jabbed at my eye and fished my contact out of the water/mascara/jalapeño abyss my eye had become only to experience a second round of more intense burning. With my contact safely on a paper towel, drying to a crisp, I grabbed a small glass, filled it with water, held it to my eye, and threw my head back with all the finesse of a 20 year old on spring break doing tequila shot #10.

Oh sweet relief. My relationship with water has always been a loving, successful, and supportive friendship. Never before Friday had I needed water so much and never before then had it come through so valiantly.

With one swollen, bloodshot eye and a drippy nose, my first thought in the moment's respite following the entire ordeal: I'VE GOTTA GET PICTURES OF THIS. Battery's dead. Where's my charger? Call Mary! Use hers! Head-related injuries must cause rampant nonsensically frantic behavior.

Photo shoot over and done with, I vow to never eat those chips again. And to also close my eyes when I'm too lazy to use my hands to eat.

*The life-threatening aspect here being my eventual suicide from perpetual nausea and/or sheer embarrassment.

A short message of advice.

2008-05-19T18:47:00.000-07:00

Do not, for a moment, think that anything involving dairy will make you feel better after eating something greasy that has made you feel ill.

Last week: french toast, frites, mimosa breakfast illness followed by m&ms (a pretzel) and some ice cream.

This week: chicken ranchero quesadilla with extra picante illness followed by peanut butter and banana smoothie.

Fool me once, dairy, 12 hour sleep it off session. Fool me twice? Blog about it.

attribute specifics!!!!!! (that's an order!!)

2008-05-15T20:12:00.000-07:00

whiitethrash: you must see lars and the real girl.

vietnamesefriend: my friend just saw it the other day and said it was terribly depressing

whiitethrash: no!! it was heartwarming!

whiitethrash: your friend is autistic!

2008-05-02T22:49:00.000-07:00

dear everyone who drives a smart car,

you look like idiots and i haaaaaaaaaaaaaate you.!.!

my best,
Lewis

temporary tattoos!

2008-04-20T18:53:00.000-07:00

ah, passover week! aka, my birthday week! an entire week! well, no, but passover began on the 19th of april, as did my venture into My 24th year. Yes, i turned 23. and yes, i randomly punctuated some of those Letters. my mom demanded that i drive two hours down to my parents' house for seder. and, after telling her how much i didn't want to do that and how much it would totally ruin my birthday plans (of which i actually had none...), i succumbed. i caved. i went. and i brought a shiksa named jacqueline.

mother said the whole family would be there! and the whole other family we "celebrate" with would be there! and my parents' best friend from college and his girlfriend, neither of which i had met, would be there, and my mom really really wanted the whole family to be together and for me to meet the friends!!! yay!!!

turns out, my brother didn't get off work (which means his totally awesome girlfriend, who is also my totally awesome friend wouldn't be in attendance), my creepy uncle chose to spend the evening by himself (no loss really, but i had been telling jackie how creepy he was and i think a part of me wanted her to experience the weirdness for herself, but alas, another time...), their daughter didn't get off work, and i have met her friend, paul, and his girlfriend, fran, NUMEROUS TIMES. a ton! A SHIT TON. a lot!

thusly, dinner was me, jackie, my parents, paul and fran, and lynn and cliff from the other family.

i am the only jew jackie, a product of private catholic schooling and a right wing family, knows. so, naturally, everything was a little awkward. but i introduced her to matzo ball soup and maneschewitz wine so all was well.

i wore short sleeves by the way. remember this?? my parents had yet to see it. i was hiding it very well. but on this night, which is unlike other nights (joke for all y'all jews out there!!), i wore short sleeves.

and i showed it to my parents.

"here is my tattoo!"

WTF!!!Q!!!@#$#$WERASSE#WS#@#%R$%#T^U

they were not happy!!! i thought they would sigh and roll their eyes and figure what's done is done, and it was my 23rd birthday so they can't tell me what to do I'M FUCKING TWENTY THREE BITCHES!!! and i had a guest with me - you can't have family arguments with a guest! (jackie is well aware that my timing was NO coincidence - but she also thinks my mom was pretty drunk and my dad has a tendency to forget absolutely everything so...you know, maybe it all wasn't/won't be SUCH a big deal??).

in a panic - or maybe, MAYBE, in a moment of brilliance [read: another WORST FUCKING IDEA] -

i told them it was a new form of temporary tattooing! and it would be off within TWO WEEKS.

did i mention i am moving back into my parents' house in SIX WEEKS.

oh goodness!!!!!!

lord help us all!!!

and yes - that is a real picture of my father!!!

For Example...

2008-04-06T07:13:00.000-07:00

This post used to have a very long, terribly unfunny, overly personal story about poor communication among friends. And since the internet is not for talking about personal things, this post needed to be edited for content. Below you'll find the only good things about the previous form of the entry:

I was unhappy. So I wrote this brilliant gem of a txt: Thank you for inviting me out tonight. Unfortunately, I'm starring in a brand new hit tv show called Party Of One: The Lonely Years. Hope you can still have fun without me.

No response.

absolute truth.

2008-03-22T18:26:00.000-07:00

i made this chart today to explain why text messaging has lessened the amount of face to face confrontation while at the same time increasing the amount of hostility in a relationship. truf.

then i posted it up to the bulletin board at work. the bulletin board is where everyone stands while they text message all the people they'd rather be with.

fortunately this little creative endeavor reminded me of this site. which has always been brilliant.

also, in the last few weeks i have spent about $50 on powerball tickets.

and i have won no money. but i think tonight is the night.

2008-03-21T10:19:00.000-07:00

friend emily: i purposely tell my boss wrong names of people on hold

friend emily: so she looks stupid when she is like "hii laura its sue"

friend emily: and her name is like lisa

Being straight is so hard.

2008-03-10T11:28:00.000-07:00

While Sasha was busy getting ripped off, I was busy getting ripped on.

Last night after seeing Penelope with KT and MLE, we went to Zuzu to see Ryan dj. Last time I saw Ryan at Zuzu, there was no one there. The following time, when I didn't go, the place was full and a lot of my friends went and didn't tell me they were going. To be fair to them, we're more the type of friends who just see each other out rather than invite each other out. Still. So, I imagined last night would be a melding of the two other times and going to Zuzu would be fun. However, there was only a few people there and it was a fairly awkward time all around. Ryan's friend Jake was there. I've met him a few times and he was nice and chatty, which I also thought was nice because I don't know him very well. He was nice until I realized he was mostly drunk and when he asked 'did you guys come all the way from JP?' he wasn't really interested in a conversation, but more looking for a ride home which he made more clear later on when I said 'everyone's leaving! must be curfew' and he said 'hey I'll stay as long as you give me a ride home' and proceeded to complain about how much a cab would cost, inflating the price about $10. Then Emily actually offered a ride home to everyone, which prevented some awkwardness as I think Jake had already assumed the ride. So we, Mary + Ryan + Jake + and me and Emily of course, get in to the car and Emily, iPod music director, puts me in charge of iPod playing duties for the ride home. At one point, I chose the Kryptonite Pussy song by Yo Majesty.

Ryan said: Hey Meghan, do you feel a connection with these girls cause they're lesbians?
I said: NO. WHY.
Ryan said:
Mary said (referencing a conversation earlier that day about what I would do in art school): Yeah, something something fiber arts lolz
I said:
Ryan said:
Emily said:
Jake said:

After playing a few more gay-centric songs (Missy!), Em dropped Jake home at the rest of us at our house and I txted Emily "Does Ryan really think I'm a lesbian?" and she said "Unclear, but it did sound like it." Today, I txted Mary, "So, does Ryan really think I'm a lesbian?" thinking she would know if he did or at least have told him the fiber arts story. She responded, "No. Why would you think that? Did he say something about it? If he did, I'm sure it was a joke." So, apparently Mary wasn't in the car. After a little back and forth, she doesn't have any ideas why he would think that so I don't think she told him the art school fiber arts story and that he decided on his own that I am gaygaygay.

Once again, Sasha and I have similar lives. Why does mine seem more embarrassing?

Dear Thugs,

2008-03-09T22:38:00.000-07:00

Dear Thugs,

Yeah, you guys. You fucking, pieces of shit bitch guys. You dirty ass stupid kids who broke into my car last night while I was on the couch watching Amy Adams on SNL. You guys. You suck. Yeah, I know I left my car unlocked - but seriously - who the hell do you think you are walking up my LIGHTED driveway into my LIGHTED carport and rummaging through my smoking sexy 03 Honda Element?? And did you even hear my dog barking at you?? She is on to your scent now. You're just lucky that SNL suddenly decided to become funny again so that i was too busy to get off the couch and look out the window to check what she was barking at! So next time, because I'm pretty sure SNL will never be funny again - you better watch your backs because i have every intention of getting up and looking!

And I WILL catch you.
So now, let's discuss the things you took. Yeah, you took my ipod. But it's like, two years old. And a nano. So not only will all your thug friends that you try to sell it to think you're the biggest faggot in the world for ~~having~~ stealing a nano in the first place, but it's also valued around $25. In fact, the imported Best Of the Cardigans album that you overlooked on the dashboard was worth more than that nano. Actually, all my CDs that I had in the car were worth way more than that. And i'm a little offended that you weren't interested in them at all... And you took my old passport? Yeah, now you have my social security number - but i've already destroyed my credit so i don't think it will do you much good. And my car registration? i don't know what you're planning on doing with that, but i DO know that i'll have it replaced by tomorrow afternoon.

Although I applaud your decision to steal my caselogic zipper of cds, i will say that i am completely over that hip hop phase so i'm not even all that bummed out about it.

And lastly, just so you know, you missed out on the following:

•$180 in cash stuffed in a check presenter sitting in the center console
•dkny glasses, burberry sunglasses and christian dior sunglasses
•a really great mix cd i made in November before my disc drive broke on my laptop
•$4 in nickels and dimes in my cup holder

so....WHO SUCKS NOW??? HUH?!?!?!?! HUH?!?!?!?!

Fuck you!!!

-Sasha - but you knew that, because you have my passport.

2008: The Year of Lust LOVE!!!!

2008-03-08T19:13:00.000-08:00

gemathy:
I've decided that I want to fall in love
and I think you should too
and that should be what we do this year
I guess that's a wfi already
isn't it

whiitethrash:
sooo...should i blog that or should you...

printmaking student association!

2008-02-29T23:43:00.000-08:00

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!

Sigh.

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

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

2008-02-25T13:53:00.000-08:00

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.

Don't let mice sleep with your boyfriend.

2008-02-18T04:28:00.000-08:00

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.