temporary tattoos!

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...

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.

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.

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.

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,

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!!!!

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!

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

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.

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.

Sasha. Don't.

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

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

Oh shit.

Which is worse?:

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


??????

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

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


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

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


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


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


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

Comment Card

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here are some card highlights:

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

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


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

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

A SOURed Relationship.

Dear Tongue,

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.

I love you Tongue.

xoxo, M

Mandatory classes for graduation that take themselves too seriously.

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!!

DON'T give family members your email address.

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"

gemath y
ha
haha
include that part

Precautions.

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...

Remember When

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!!"

man, i wish i could be more specific...