reason why i hate myspace #865:

like tom selleck, but different!

The Great Jalapeno Disaster of '08.

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.

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!!)

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!

dear everyone who drives a smart car,


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

my best,
Lewis

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.