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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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!
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.
Oh sweet, innocent, unwitting Tongue! I have to apologize for the way I acted tonight. After the can of pineapple and box of peas appetizer, I forced you to eat that sorry excuse for Mexican food. It's been almost 24 years, this partnership we have. And I know we've had our ups and downs. Salmon, for instance. Meatloaf, mushrooms. The list goes on, I know. But tonight, I went too far. I let my thoughts get all jumbled up in the mix.
Why I thought making a quesadilla with only beans and mozzarella was going to taste anywhere near good is really not on the table for discussion. In theory, someone (not me) could make that a fanTASTEical delight. The real question is why did I think adding a shit ton of garlic and black pepper was going to make up for the fact I have no salsa? Tongue, I don't know what to tell you. There's just no excuse or explanation for what I've done to you.
How will I ever repay you? Is there any forgiveness left in your buds? I know I don't need to remind you of our past. I know I don't need to recall memories of ketchup soaked french fries or all that pudding I ate on Sunday because of my sore throat. I'm sure you're aware of how often I order that salad you love from Corner Cafe (twice a week minimum). And I certainly don't need to rehash all those birthdays and holidays and various other special occasions that necessitate a slice of cake. Or two. And of our date night ritual, I know I only need to say those three little words: Digiorno, Cherry Garcia. I don't need to talk about these things because you already know what makes us meant for each other, what makes us work.
Next time I try to talk myself out of sliding into bed with a pudding cup to sing us to sleep to, instead, make a 'meal' out of what isn't moldy in the fridge, I'll remember this blog. I will. With you and me, pudding will always win, from now until forever.
ASU forces each art student to take a class about...stuff... before they graduate. Now up until this semester, the semester where i have to take it, the class has just been a one credit course involving you participating in an art show during the semester. you meet with the class maaaaaybe twice a semester. and basically it's all bullshit and way easy.
BUT THIS SEMESTER, although still one credit, the class meets once a week, every week, for the entire semester, and the teacher makes us write silly statements and resumes and essays. none of which i want to do, because i never want to do anything, and none of which i take seriously. because it's for one credit. and i consider myself friends with the guy who teaches it (meaning he would never actually fail me), who was a grad student here until he received his mfa last semester. now he is just "adjunct faculty".
anyway, our assignment for this week was to write an essay. topic? "what do you want to be when you grow up".
wait, what? my response? "i'm 22 you fucker!!!" jackie's response? "i'm 24 you jerk!" roommate kirsten's response? "a dinosaur!!!"
anyway, here are the essays i wrote. yes. two. one for me, and one for jackie (respectively).
I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. But I do know what I don’t want to be. And I think that’s worth just as much. Here is a short list of things I DON’T want to be. Ever. At all. Not even a little bit:
10.Thudong Monk in Bangkok 9. the 5th wife of a polygymist (4th wife is okay) 8. any insect 7. the Hardegrees 6. drug addict (recreational user does not an addict make!) 5. school librarian 4. Kirsten Rutherford 3. my mother 2. a hamburger 1. adjunct faculty at Arizona State University
So in conclusion…
don't ask me who the Hardegrees are.
My name is Jacqueline, and when I grow up I want to have twenty children of my own and a farm in the mountains in Utah. I want to be the 5th wife of a noble, well respected man who will allow me to have as many cats as I desire. If time allows, I may pursue art in the form of inked kitty paw prints on found objects and the scrap booking of important events in the lives of my children and the children of my sister wives. However, I do not believe time will allow for any of this, for I shall be too busy taking on the fulfilling tasks of laundering clothing, French braiding hair, and embroidering everyone’s initials onto their clothing. I will also be busy setting type for the church’s instructional pamphlets on how to be a good wife and live free from sin that are to be delivered to local schools and anywhere else there are pretty, young girls in need of guidance. I shall be in charge of delivering them as well, along with possibly the 4th wife, and maybe even the 3rd wife, but not with the 1st wife or the 2nd wife because pamphlet deliveries only take place on Tuesday mornings and on Tuesday mornings it will be their turn to drive the children to school because I will bring them to school on Mondays and Wednesdays.
is turning these in the WFI or the BFI?
i'm going with the latter, because i already turned them in. and i need to graduate.
oh, by the way, i dropped the chemistry class that i...NEED TO GRADUATE. so i guess i wont be graduating anyway!!
I have one email I use to give to family where they are free to send as many fwds as the inbox can handle and I am free to say "Oh really? You sent me something? I get sooo much spam in that thing I can hardly read it!" And it's worked for years. Meanwhile, I maintain the other email pristine and family free. Only mom was allowed to email me at that address until...DUN DUN DUHHHHHHHN! She gave it to my cousin!!!! Awfulosity. I opened the email and got scared, mad, and annoyed, in that order. All before becoming entirely indifferent to the actual email content, which is as follows, creatively titled hi it's joce:
Hey girl!! It’s joce,
You better put your name down for something, even if it’s something small… like a bullet.. hehehehe, or....... A Charlie brown xmas tree... I actually asked for a boyfriend, with blue eyes, and a dog that doesn’t poop in my house.. hahah! I amuse myself... . Anyways, I look forward to hearing back from you, and I hope you’re doing well, let’s go out some night!
Love you
joce
That was way back in December before Christmas. It was about not wanting to participate in the bullshit Secret Santa my family does every year. I still haven't replied. It made Christmas a little awkward. But to be in my family you have to be good at pretending, showing up without engaging in any sort of relating, and dodging questions by shoving food in your mouth. It's rude to talk with your mouthful, afterall. I'll never reply. Let's see what that does for next year's Christmas Awkward-o-meter.
In addition, I berated my mother accordingly.
Then there's the constant barrage from my father: Did you get that email I sent? I sent you a link to the article! Didn't you watch the video? No, dad, I didn't. Because my father is what I assume would be labeled a constitutionalist and an income tax protester he sends me emails from an income tax protesting email newsletter. Unfortunately, inboxes across America bounce them right into the spam folder. Burnsauce on www.861.info and LOL email clients! That's The Man for ya! To combat the sighs and groans, I gave him my real email under a solemnly sworn oath he would NEVER, EVER reveal it to another family member without my explicit permission to do so.
So, today I get this email from my father titled, Democracy?:
This quote says it all. We live in a democratic REPUBLIC! (supposedly)
"Damn democracy. It is a fraudulent term used, often by ignorant persons but no less often by intellectual fakers, to describe an infamous mixture of socialism, miscegenation, graft, confiscation of property and denial of personal rights to individuals whose virtuous principles make them offensive." Westbrook Pegler: New York Journal American, 1/25/51, entitled "Upholds Republic of U.S. Against Phony Democracy, Democracy in the U.S. Branded Meaningless"
First of all, the quote implies my father hasn't yet realized we've been entertaining an increasingly fascist administration acting under the guise of traditional American democracy for 6 years or so. That aside...MISCEGENATION? Ok, even if a majority of Americans would agree with the quote...MISCEGENATION?
I responded:
This aint the 50's dad. Them races all be mixin! Your quote is cripplingly dated. Next time, make sure the people you send these sorts of things to are also as racist as you are.
In conclusion, DON'T give your family your email address.
gemath y I keep thinking in a little while heath ledger will be like SURPRISE! and not be dead anymore like all he needed was a little sleep
whiitethrash I THINK THAT TOO like it was a joke or like a marketing scheme or a social experiment
gemath y maybe but I feel like someone will just like... water him or somehing and then he'll wake up like he's dried fruit or something everyone keeps talking about it and reading about it and wanting to talk about it and the drugs and stuff and I don't participate cause I'm just like...ohhh wait a few weeks! he'll be back stop worrying so much!
whiitethrash i'm WFIng this PS because i think we might get some hits off of "heath ledger surprise"
Nellie: I don't mean to gross you out but...I just pulled two tampons out of my body and I had no idea two tampons were inside of me. That is one deep vagina...
Sasha said I signed up for an online personals site to get a WFI out of it? well, I got one. and it's soooooooooo WFI that I can't even post about it. The internet is not for talking about personal things, I've learned.
Every day of my life is an embarrassment.
sasha edits this post to say:
i wish gem would write about the event. but she refuses to. even though that's what this entire blog is about!!!!! so for those curious it involved:
•a yahoo personals profile •really, really, REALLY funny yet mild trash talking •someone distantly involved in the situation of trash talk completely and absolutely randomly coming across the profile and seeing it! •a myspace message saying, "big secret!!"
so obviously, at some point before christmas, i swiped a little - no bigger than 3" - toy doll from pottery barn kids. and it was just this little baby, wrapped in a blue blanket, and just really, really simple. a sphere for a head with two dots for eyes, and maybe a squiggly line for hair. we're talking minimalism. i think they were charging like, $6 for it too...but whatever. the doll was black by the way. well, brown TECHNICALLY, but totally black, you know?
so, jackie takes it from me to give to her sister for christmas. BTW her sister (and entire family...) hates me because i am not a racist.
but the true fun didn't begin until jackie asked me to write something to go along with the Orlando (yes, i named him Orlando). here's what i came up with...
Dear Consumer,
Thank you for your purchase! Here at Ethnic Baby Inc. we applaud your trivial decision to adopt a non-Caucasian, and we hope baby ORLANDO will eventually become a welcomed addition to your family! As Angelina Jolie once paraphrased, “Multicultural families are the rainbows of our society.” Really though, she didn’t say anything like that at all, however it is a well publicized fact that she does have three non-Caucasian children of her own who are all acculturating well! Therefore, we at Ethnic Baby Inc. feel pretty confident that she would definitely maybe say something like that. Or at least agree with it. To an extent. Perhaps. Brad Pitt would definitely say it though. Either way, here are two quick tips chosen at random from our book, 114 Ways To Fit In Despite Your Heritage, to help you and your non-Caucasian on the road to assimilation!
#3. Starbucks! There is no quicker way to becoming a true Caucasian American than a Starbucks blended Frappuccino. Try encouraging your new non-Caucasian baby to indulge in this delightful Anglo treat!
#87. Language matters! Do not tolerate foreign slang, and do keep contractions to a minimum. The consistent use of foreign slang is a perpetual ostracizer, and as my late grandmother used to say, “Ikh lern mikh zint eynem khoydesh Yidish.”, which crudely translates to, “One who cannot be careful about contractions cannot be trusted with your money.”
Once again, we at Ethnic Baby Inc. would like to thank you for opening up your hearts and your homes to a lovely child of questionable ethnicity. Happy Kwanzaa!
Sincerely, Strom Thurmond CEO and BabyDaddy; Ethnic Baby Inc.
i wrote the whole thing too. no help from gem!!! she was extra proud of me.
in the end, i am told both Orlando and the accompanying letter were a big hit. because they are racist.
vietnam friend: did i tell you about my hospice lady she and i play uno together that is my job. i keep her company and we play games
whiitethrash: i love uno.
vietnam friend: so...i hadnt yet decided if a. she is senile b. doesnt know how to play uno or c. cheats
whiitethrash: there's an episode of home improvement where randy does hospice. randy does hospice. worst porn movie ever?
vietnam friend: haha what? im going to finish my story okay im not sure where porn fits into the mix here
whiitethrash: debbie does dallas randy does hospice.
vietnam friend: ah anyway. there really was no rhyme or reason to anything she did before she would just put cards down
whiitethrash: oh i thought we were talking about debbie hahahahaha
vietnam friend: so i was like ill roll with it, if she pauses then its my turn and ill follow the rules except last wk everytime i put a skip card or +4 card down she would ignore it but whenever she would put one down, she would be like..thats a skip or draw four and then at one pt she put a blue 7 down and then i put a blue 0 she starts drawing cards
whiitethrash: so basically you're playing uno
vietnam friend: she picks up about 4
whiitethrash: with the worlds oldest sickest
vietnam friend: and then
whiitethrash cheater.
vietnam friend: she picks up my blue 0 for about 3 seconds and then puts it back down and looks at me to go and i was like...thats my card and she said no, its mine
whiitethrash: this is the best story i am WFIing it.
vietnamfriend: i was like what i seriously almost died laughing but had to be professional?
whiite thrash: this woman sounds like a blast. is it her suggestion to play uno?
vietnam friend: yes i tried to teach her go fish once but she has rather large hands that arent particulary adept and she couldnt hold all of them
whiitethrash: play guess who!
vietnam friend: she didnt understand that if you got a card you asked for you could ask again she also didnt understand that if you didnt get the card you asked for you couldnt go again she has a really really heavy jamaican accent that i dont understand
vietnam friend: guess who would be really unfortunate for me... if you try to buy me guess who for my birthday ill kill you
for those that don't know, gmail scans your emails, and according to the words in them, places some sort of ad at the top that probably might interest you a little bit based upon the content it has come across...
friendemily: get to it friendemily: thanks whiitethrash: okay. friendemily: LIKE YOU HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO friendemily: oh i expected some backtalk friendemily: so i just prepared
whiitethrash:last night i stopped by the studio to prep stuff and it was so dark not a single light in the art building i was the only car and when i came out this drunk as shit homeless TWO OF THEM guy and girl were making out and being super creepy i was like AAH.
gemath y: ew there's this homeless couple that hangs around work and the guy is black and looks like the 'blind' black guy from office space who comes to the door to sell magazines and the woman is this white lady who is the poster for Don't Do Meth with missing teeth and scraggly red hair and her eyes bulging out and she's pin thin and always wears saggy dirty sweats and they live at the arlington st church alley and statue/monument which, btw, was where the constitution was ratified if they could see us now!!!!!! (jazz hands) and she always says 'spare a little change for a homeless pregnant woman' for 3 years or so and she's never been pregnant. ever. one day I am going to snap and yell WHERE'S THE FUCKING BABY? or USE A CONDOM!!! like anyone believes for one second something would have sex with her it's inconcievable but I've seen her and the black dude cuddling stroking each other's slouch socks and inhaling the musky scent of piss and shit from each other's bodies I feel like that's true love though cause you know her taco is a hairy muff and tom, jess' boyfriend, always says you find a man who eats hairy taco and you've found true love. so, I guess I'll stop making fun of the homeless couple now because maybe they're happier than I am they, were, in fact strolling hand in hand through the copley mall window shopping at louis vuitton and dior dare to dream.
whiitethrash: i am laughing whiitethrash: so hard whiitethrash: i am in love with it. whiitethrash: but don't say THE N WORD gemath y: I can't not say it whiitethrash: well whiitethrash: on one hand whiitethrash: i bet we get google hits whiitethrash: off of whiitethrash: "taxi cab N WORD" whiitethrash: but whiitethrash: on the other hand whiitethrash: we will get google hits off of whiitethrash: "blogs that say THE N WORD" gemath y: sooooo gemath y: either way we get hits? whiitethrash: ...win win?? gemath y: yeah gemath y: ok
edited by sasha imus to say: i really do not approve of that word. i really don't. seriously.
