I hate being crazy. Okay, I love it usually... but I hate hate hate it when I'm waiting for... say... Christmas presents. Yeah... Christmas presents... and I want to find out if I'm getting any and I can't peek and I have to wait wait wait and I wanna present! But what if there aren't any presents? What if Santa doesn't exist, or maybe he does, but he's not going to visit because I haven't been good enough? WHAT OF THAT???
Hello again.
Let's not worry about Christmas. It's just a metaphor.
Let's talk about Halloween! I think (think think) I'm going to be a skater witch. Youtube it. I just need a gang... anyone into it? And the use of a skateboard. Although, if I was badass enough, I'd steal a skateboard like the chick in the film.
I also watched Ghostbusters the other day and had a real hankering for a ghostbusters uniform. That could definately be reused. What other costume ideas? Hmm... well, neither of mine are very skanky and I may be breaking some sort of rule that way. But busting makes me feel good! And skater witches are hot just cause they're so badass and don't follow the rules. I dunno. What are you kids going to be for halloween? Should we start throwing out suggestions? I know part of the fun is the suprise of a great costume... but F that! I have very few readers and we'll keep it hush hush. Right guys?
Oooh - maybe I could go as a Magic 8 Ball!
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Who would win in a fight to the death - Oprah Winfrey or Martha Stewart?
Slick blonde hair covers the woman's features in the cell beside her.
Oprah sighs and continues to wait, hoping it's not who she thinks. The woman
moves for the first time, coughing and spitting out something that looks like
congealed blood. She comes to, shaking the hair out of her face.
"Martha?" Oprah whispers.
The woman is in an obvious daze and doesn't seem to register her words.
"Martha Steeeewart!" Oprah enunciates, as if introducing a guest.
Martha looks and a hoarse laugh escapes her throat.
"He's finally got us." she croaks.
"It couldn't last forever," Oprah smiles back.
"How long have you been up?"
"A couple hours. You look like hell."
"You haven't had 3 hours of make up, yourself."
A sharp metallic thud interrupts the chatter as soft footsteps enter the corridor.
"You have a debt to pay." The newcomer announces, "Are you ready?"
"Yes." The women echo and follow him to a noisy, pitch black arena. They're
separated to opposite ends and a blinding blue light changes the rowdy crowd to
silent spectators.
"Finally." The deep voice seems to come from inside the mind of every creature and
humanoid.
"Centuries ago you came to this planet as refugees and criminals. You've lived many
lives and have at times sought to redeem your sins. Did you think you could earn
my forgiveness? Did you think the KING OF PLUTO would soften with time?! You know
the tradition. Justice for one, freedom for the other. Decide your fate. Only one will
live."
A buzzer rings, the crowd roars and Oprah pushes the muscles of her human body
to the limit, sprinting across the dirt as Martha grabs a nearby chain and swings it
overhead. Winfrey dives, kicking Stewart's legs out from under her. The women
grapple on the ground, chain wrapping around them. It's like a black and white
cookie gone bad. Muscles shaking, sweat pouring out as each woman takes turns
pinning the other as hair rips from skulls, eyes from sockets, breasts from bras.
Oprah lands on top and manages to maneuver the chain around Martha's throat,
pulling tight. "My sister," she sobs, tears mixing with blood as the life fades from
her opponent. A sudden, sharp pain registers in Winfrey's side, but like jogging
cramps, she ignores it until she's sure Stewart dead.
Oprah falls back and removes an embedded shiv. Medics assist her, joking "Always
bet on black!" Oprah wretches at the bad joke and her brutality, but is relieved she will live to host
another day and no longer have to hide from Pluto's violent ruler.
Back home, Winfrey discovers the "Shiv" Stewart stuck in her actually contains
genetic material that results in a Martha clone 9 months later. And that's a
good thing. Because they were ACTUAL sisters, on Pluto, those many centuries
ago... and had tag teamed the Queen Mom who'd died after a rather violent orgasm.
So... that's how/why that all happened.
Oprah sighs and continues to wait, hoping it's not who she thinks. The woman
moves for the first time, coughing and spitting out something that looks like
congealed blood. She comes to, shaking the hair out of her face.
"Martha?" Oprah whispers.
The woman is in an obvious daze and doesn't seem to register her words.
"Martha Steeeewart!" Oprah enunciates, as if introducing a guest.
Martha looks and a hoarse laugh escapes her throat.
"He's finally got us." she croaks.
"It couldn't last forever," Oprah smiles back.
"How long have you been up?"
"A couple hours. You look like hell."
"You haven't had 3 hours of make up, yourself."
A sharp metallic thud interrupts the chatter as soft footsteps enter the corridor.
"You have a debt to pay." The newcomer announces, "Are you ready?"
"Yes." The women echo and follow him to a noisy, pitch black arena. They're
separated to opposite ends and a blinding blue light changes the rowdy crowd to
silent spectators.
"Finally." The deep voice seems to come from inside the mind of every creature and
humanoid.
"Centuries ago you came to this planet as refugees and criminals. You've lived many
lives and have at times sought to redeem your sins. Did you think you could earn
my forgiveness? Did you think the KING OF PLUTO would soften with time?! You know
the tradition. Justice for one, freedom for the other. Decide your fate. Only one will
live."
A buzzer rings, the crowd roars and Oprah pushes the muscles of her human body
to the limit, sprinting across the dirt as Martha grabs a nearby chain and swings it
overhead. Winfrey dives, kicking Stewart's legs out from under her. The women
grapple on the ground, chain wrapping around them. It's like a black and white
cookie gone bad. Muscles shaking, sweat pouring out as each woman takes turns
pinning the other as hair rips from skulls, eyes from sockets, breasts from bras.
Oprah lands on top and manages to maneuver the chain around Martha's throat,
pulling tight. "My sister," she sobs, tears mixing with blood as the life fades from
her opponent. A sudden, sharp pain registers in Winfrey's side, but like jogging
cramps, she ignores it until she's sure Stewart dead.
Oprah falls back and removes an embedded shiv. Medics assist her, joking "Always
bet on black!" Oprah wretches at the bad joke and her brutality, but is relieved she will live to host
another day and no longer have to hide from Pluto's violent ruler.
Back home, Winfrey discovers the "Shiv" Stewart stuck in her actually contains
genetic material that results in a Martha clone 9 months later. And that's a
good thing. Because they were ACTUAL sisters, on Pluto, those many centuries
ago... and had tag teamed the Queen Mom who'd died after a rather violent orgasm.
So... that's how/why that all happened.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Pre School Jitters - Philosophy with Hilary Duff
Another sleepy, too excited to sleep, but will sleep soon and grog it up in the morning post. (Note to self: buy instant coffee. Yesssss.)
My first day of classes are tomorrow... I'm getting excited. I'm prattling non-stop in my head after getting the course outline for General Studies (It's the foundations of "western thought" - philosophy type stuff). Oh geez. I need to sleep. My brain is aching to chew on the meaning of life. It starts tomorrow. Am I ready? Both fuck yes, and hell no. But mostly fuck yes.
Deep Thoughts
I watched a chick flick today called "Raise Your Voice" and yes, it was awful. Just tripe. Worst chick flick ever, I want it to die. It's like a Hilary Duff song. I CAN'T HANDLE IT. Anyway. Horrible.
However, during my constant mocking of the film, I got in a slightly philosophical debate with my friend Asha. This douche-bag loser who likes Hilary comforts her by saying "Artists experience pain differently" like an artists pain was more meaningful, or something. And I yelled at the TV a little. Then Asha AGREED with the movie, and I had to think about it awhile, but I suppose she's right. It was just the acting that threw me off Asha, and it's certainly not to say anyone's pain's more meaningful, but different is just too strong of a word. Duh. Anyway. That's pretty deep. But, don't watch the movie.
Don't.
Unless you like Hilary Duff, then you'll probably like it. I just don't like her. She reminds me of savage garden in the way that I feel like I'm naturally and instinctually her enemy. She just bristles my fur.
Right. I'm getting out my stupid now so I can be smart tomorrow. Stop judging me blog. I've missed you. I had to write something. HI READERS! Yowza! Magic 8 Ball is in my car and giving me puppy dog eyes every time I sit beside him. Have a question?
My first day of classes are tomorrow... I'm getting excited. I'm prattling non-stop in my head after getting the course outline for General Studies (It's the foundations of "western thought" - philosophy type stuff). Oh geez. I need to sleep. My brain is aching to chew on the meaning of life. It starts tomorrow. Am I ready? Both fuck yes, and hell no. But mostly fuck yes.
Deep Thoughts
I watched a chick flick today called "Raise Your Voice" and yes, it was awful. Just tripe. Worst chick flick ever, I want it to die. It's like a Hilary Duff song. I CAN'T HANDLE IT. Anyway. Horrible.
However, during my constant mocking of the film, I got in a slightly philosophical debate with my friend Asha. This douche-bag loser who likes Hilary comforts her by saying "Artists experience pain differently" like an artists pain was more meaningful, or something. And I yelled at the TV a little. Then Asha AGREED with the movie, and I had to think about it awhile, but I suppose she's right. It was just the acting that threw me off Asha, and it's certainly not to say anyone's pain's more meaningful, but different is just too strong of a word. Duh. Anyway. That's pretty deep. But, don't watch the movie.
Don't.
Unless you like Hilary Duff, then you'll probably like it. I just don't like her. She reminds me of savage garden in the way that I feel like I'm naturally and instinctually her enemy. She just bristles my fur.
Right. I'm getting out my stupid now so I can be smart tomorrow. Stop judging me blog. I've missed you. I had to write something. HI READERS! Yowza! Magic 8 Ball is in my car and giving me puppy dog eyes every time I sit beside him. Have a question?
Monday, August 31, 2009
Hi, sorry.
It's been too long my little friend. Life is crazy and wild and transitional and stuff. I haven't been in front of a computer a lot. I'm coming back... I am. I'll write to you, I promise. I'm sorry. We'll talk about all sorts of things. Aaaaalllllll kinds of things. Topics like "Let's Get a Job!" and "Ask the Magic 8 Ball! Gets Married!" aaaanndd "Shoes: Foot Prisons?" You know. The issues. Right now I'm laying on my old twin bed in my new room... life, I say. I feel like a kid in this little bed. It's my bed. I love it. Transition is close to being complete. So sleepy.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Aliens?
I was 12 when it happened. An innocent 4-H tobbogan party. Crisp, white snow hidden under the black veil of night. By the time I saw the jump it was too late. I hit hard and landed very strangely on my back. I could barely walk and sat indoors in extreme pain until it was time to go home. My back killed me for 2 days. I wondered if I did permanent damage. The third morning, I was miraculously better. But... there was a strange mark on my spine. I'd never noticed it before. It's still there to this day.
Flash forward 14 years. For the past month I've had a pimple shaped bump on my back, directly over the spine. It doesn't change size. It hasn't turned into a pimple. Putting medication on it has done nothing.
Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
Why me, aliens? And, do i ever get to meet you? What's up with this new bump? Is it a tiny alien baby that's only now starting to grow? When will it hatch?
Flash forward 14 years. For the past month I've had a pimple shaped bump on my back, directly over the spine. It doesn't change size. It hasn't turned into a pimple. Putting medication on it has done nothing.
Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
Why me, aliens? And, do i ever get to meet you? What's up with this new bump? Is it a tiny alien baby that's only now starting to grow? When will it hatch?
Monday, August 17, 2009
Let's Talk About Text Pt 3
My darling Lindsay sent me this blopic.
"Textual Attraction" -Discuss
Sometimes I think that a guy is really cool, so I give him my number and he then shatters my dreams by either A) Texting me before calling me which is not ok. B) Using contractions and text lingo, or whatever the fuck it's called. Spell the fucking word. Take the time. I will not date someone who wants to know if "ur going out 2nite'' for the same reason I will not get my hair cut at a place called "Scizzor Banditz", it's not funny, it's not cute, cut the shit, C) Uses a :) or a ;( or a fucking :P. The father of my children will NEVER have ended a conversation with a sideways face. End of story.
Wow – you said a lot there Lindsay
Okay – let’s ABC this.
A) Wait – guys CALL you? What? FUCK! You have some standards lady! Maybe I should get me some. Standards.
B) SHUDDER. Yes. The only people who are allowed to text me like that are my parents because texting a sentence is a ½ hour process for them. I prefer they don’t text at all. But, INSTANT turnoff for dudes… unless they’re just being annoying-cute. Then it’s annoying. But forgivable.
C) Okay, I’m bad for the faces. I do it. I sideface. Because sometimes an emoticon can change the whole “feel” of a text. Don’t overdo it though. I sideface 1 in 20 texts? I dunno. More to people who sideface me, anyway. I will never father your children.
Also, I will also probably side face you in a lot of texts from now on in an attempt to be cute and annoying ;) Puke.
D) To add to this discussion… what about jerk faces who are good texters? Why is proper grammar and the ability to string a sentence together such a turn on?? A good back and forth can drive me insane. What? You’re a no good bum? I don’t care. Text me you dreamboat!
E) I think this might constitute as “whoring” but sometimes I dream of starting a sexting business where I charge people $1.25 per sext message. That way maybe I’d get to sext a little more and I like money. But then I’d have to prevent myself from yelling at bad texters. Man, life is a trick. And if I can't get people to sext me for free, I don't know how I'll get them to pay for the priviledge. Ughhh.
Okay. Good talk. Really like how I made myself look like a pathetic hobag. Good. You needed to know.
Heart your face Lindsay. Most of the rest of you as well.
"Textual Attraction" -Discuss
Sometimes I think that a guy is really cool, so I give him my number and he then shatters my dreams by either A) Texting me before calling me which is not ok. B) Using contractions and text lingo, or whatever the fuck it's called. Spell the fucking word. Take the time. I will not date someone who wants to know if "ur going out 2nite'' for the same reason I will not get my hair cut at a place called "Scizzor Banditz", it's not funny, it's not cute, cut the shit, C) Uses a :) or a ;( or a fucking :P. The father of my children will NEVER have ended a conversation with a sideways face. End of story.
Wow – you said a lot there Lindsay
Okay – let’s ABC this.
A) Wait – guys CALL you? What? FUCK! You have some standards lady! Maybe I should get me some. Standards.
B) SHUDDER. Yes. The only people who are allowed to text me like that are my parents because texting a sentence is a ½ hour process for them. I prefer they don’t text at all. But, INSTANT turnoff for dudes… unless they’re just being annoying-cute. Then it’s annoying. But forgivable.
C) Okay, I’m bad for the faces. I do it. I sideface. Because sometimes an emoticon can change the whole “feel” of a text. Don’t overdo it though. I sideface 1 in 20 texts? I dunno. More to people who sideface me, anyway. I will never father your children.
Also, I will also probably side face you in a lot of texts from now on in an attempt to be cute and annoying ;) Puke.
D) To add to this discussion… what about jerk faces who are good texters? Why is proper grammar and the ability to string a sentence together such a turn on?? A good back and forth can drive me insane. What? You’re a no good bum? I don’t care. Text me you dreamboat!
E) I think this might constitute as “whoring” but sometimes I dream of starting a sexting business where I charge people $1.25 per sext message. That way maybe I’d get to sext a little more and I like money. But then I’d have to prevent myself from yelling at bad texters. Man, life is a trick. And if I can't get people to sext me for free, I don't know how I'll get them to pay for the priviledge. Ughhh.
Okay. Good talk. Really like how I made myself look like a pathetic hobag. Good. You needed to know.
Heart your face Lindsay. Most of the rest of you as well.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
NYC Friday #1
Noon wake up - dang! We miss our complimentary muffin and coffee breakfast! Such is life, let's explore!! The first place we hit is Cheap Jack's Vintage Clothing. Cheap Jack is having a sale! Up to 70% off! Walk in and find racks and racks of clothing from the 20's to the 90's. Funky dresses, killer hats, shoes, accessories... I'm immediately drawn to the disco shirt area (I've owned several in my life and am now down to one very sad disco shirt) - but alas!! The "discount" prices still put my beloved shirts at 80 bucks or more... not happening! But, still fun to look through. I wonder into the basement to find Jeff in the Men's clothing area. Cheap Jack's is seriously filled to the brim with the sweetest clothes... velour, polyester, jean, leather, ?? ... gah! We play lots of dress up and "look at this!" Jeff buys a couple of sweet t-shirts (pin-up tennis girl and Weezer)(which are a reasonable 20 bucks a pop) I wave goodbye to my beautiful disco shirts and we hit the town again. Next stop is Papaya Dog, where Jeff grabs a Philly Cheese Steak and Papaya Drink. I settle for a "Wizard" ice cream - as the name implies, it's magical, with nuts and chocolate and magic. We sit on the steps of the New York Library to eat and people watch. I'm actually really into pigeon watching as well. There's a really decrepit one that's hanging around us. I chase him. He's not really into it. Seen worse.
We hail a NYC cab to the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) it's free day after 3:30, but we're early, so we walk down to Central Park.
Central Park is absolutely beautiful. Lush, peaceful. I see a turtle, we pass a kid's fair and walk up to this little wood shelter where you can sign out games. Jeff and I choose checkers and I play THE FIRST GAME OF CHECKERS IN MY LIFE. I lose brutally. Round 2 we tie. Checkers is fun though! Good stuff. It's starting to rain and MoMA's free, so we pack up and head out. Animals here are so sophisticated. On our way we pass a dog who's a foot from a squirrel and neither of them take any concern. Come on dog!! What are you doing?? Squirrel! Wake up! What is going on?!
We get to MoMA and there's people everywhere on the street, 4 across, around the whole block. We find the entrance and discover we're not the only ones in on this "free day" thing, so we have to line up as well. Walk around the block again to find the end of the line. We pass the American Folk Art Museum when we're walking that ALSO has free Friday at 5:30 - with live music! Hmm? Then I hop out of line to grab a drink at the vendor. I see Hawaiian punch - OMG! I get really flustered and excited and buy it and find Jeff and he says "Oh, not Tahiti treat." SHIT! That's right! That's the special good one. The Hawaiian punch is pretty lame, I pout and swig it down. We get museum tix and make our way through the swarm. No backpacks allowed, so I fold mine funny and pretend it's a modern art purse thing. Totally fool them. Get in and the art is pretty strange. I actually am frustrated by a lot of it. I can't see the talent, my emotions aren't provoked... I dunno. It's kinda lame-o. Plus, it's soooo busy. One cool thing we see is this Japanese artist's mom's house frame and everything she ever owned laid out. It's supposed to showcase the "waste not" attitude of that gen and was pretty cool to see. The museum is 4 levels and huge, so we bust through each and get out. I apologize to Jeff.
It's pouring rain, so we seek shelter at the front of this church to rest our feet. The rain inspires us to check out the other museum.
The Museum of Folk Art is cool! Especially after the MoMA madness. It's pretty empty and peaceful. There's kaleidoscope inspired quilts, wood sculptures of alien monsters, crazy water colour paintings of kids fighting evil adults... I dig it. A lot.
The band begins to play downstairs and we catch their set. Jessie Murphy in The Woods, not a folk band (suprisingly), but an Indie trio of girls who pull out different funky instruments for every song it seems. My two favorite tunes feature horses - one, inspired by a Derby horse that broke both front legs coming in second, and another about being excited to be a horse again (reincarnation style, methinks.) The band ends, it's still raining and my hooves and head are sore, so we hail a cab back to the hotel.
Pain killers and beer. I'm good to go again! We grab dinner on our way to the Upright Citizen's Brigade (A sketch comedy institution/bar) Hubbard brings his slice of pizza into the sushi place I'm magnetically drawn to. I indulge in the form of avacado peanut and veggie tempura rolls.
At UCB Theater we line up, confusion involving tickets and bathrooms, line up again, get in, front row seats! Wee! The show is called "Backyard Brawl" 2 hilarious sketch groups, Bleak!Comedy and TheStraightMen battle it out through 6 sketches, looking for audience votes to win their way back next week. It's hosted by another couple of comedy groups, Sidecar and M.A.D. who perform also.
I laugh a lot... till I cry at one point during M.A.D.'s "Moist" sketch... (you'll hear me using this word a lot more frequently now) The show's only 5 bucks - and there's comedy here 7 nights a week, so if you're in NYC - GO! (Did I mention one of the founders is my beloved Amy Poehler?) Upright Citizens Brigade also has lots of comedy classes you can take, which Jeff and I dream of as part of the NY life we are creating.
Show's out and we stop by a recommended bar "Stout" for a drink. A big black bouncer comes out singing, so I'm pretty sure it'll be a fun place. I stroll in non-chalantly, then realize Jeff isn't with me and find him getting IDed outside. The bouncers call me a cradle robber! How old do I look?? Old enough, baby. Okay, where am I? Yes. So I grab a Manhattan, Hubbard, a Wild Horse Double Stout and we sit in a non busy section and chill. The bar's pretty cool, but there's not much to do, so we finish drinks and wander home, peeking into Irish pubs along the way.
2:30am, back at the hotel, beer and karaoke googling. Duece Bigalo, European Gigalo is the bedtime story. Hey! APW tomorrow! YES! To say I heart New York is an extreme understatement at this point. Great first full day.
We hail a NYC cab to the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) it's free day after 3:30, but we're early, so we walk down to Central Park.
Central Park is absolutely beautiful. Lush, peaceful. I see a turtle, we pass a kid's fair and walk up to this little wood shelter where you can sign out games. Jeff and I choose checkers and I play THE FIRST GAME OF CHECKERS IN MY LIFE. I lose brutally. Round 2 we tie. Checkers is fun though! Good stuff. It's starting to rain and MoMA's free, so we pack up and head out. Animals here are so sophisticated. On our way we pass a dog who's a foot from a squirrel and neither of them take any concern. Come on dog!! What are you doing?? Squirrel! Wake up! What is going on?!
We get to MoMA and there's people everywhere on the street, 4 across, around the whole block. We find the entrance and discover we're not the only ones in on this "free day" thing, so we have to line up as well. Walk around the block again to find the end of the line. We pass the American Folk Art Museum when we're walking that ALSO has free Friday at 5:30 - with live music! Hmm? Then I hop out of line to grab a drink at the vendor. I see Hawaiian punch - OMG! I get really flustered and excited and buy it and find Jeff and he says "Oh, not Tahiti treat." SHIT! That's right! That's the special good one. The Hawaiian punch is pretty lame, I pout and swig it down. We get museum tix and make our way through the swarm. No backpacks allowed, so I fold mine funny and pretend it's a modern art purse thing. Totally fool them. Get in and the art is pretty strange. I actually am frustrated by a lot of it. I can't see the talent, my emotions aren't provoked... I dunno. It's kinda lame-o. Plus, it's soooo busy. One cool thing we see is this Japanese artist's mom's house frame and everything she ever owned laid out. It's supposed to showcase the "waste not" attitude of that gen and was pretty cool to see. The museum is 4 levels and huge, so we bust through each and get out. I apologize to Jeff.
It's pouring rain, so we seek shelter at the front of this church to rest our feet. The rain inspires us to check out the other museum.
The Museum of Folk Art is cool! Especially after the MoMA madness. It's pretty empty and peaceful. There's kaleidoscope inspired quilts, wood sculptures of alien monsters, crazy water colour paintings of kids fighting evil adults... I dig it. A lot.
The band begins to play downstairs and we catch their set. Jessie Murphy in The Woods, not a folk band (suprisingly), but an Indie trio of girls who pull out different funky instruments for every song it seems. My two favorite tunes feature horses - one, inspired by a Derby horse that broke both front legs coming in second, and another about being excited to be a horse again (reincarnation style, methinks.) The band ends, it's still raining and my hooves and head are sore, so we hail a cab back to the hotel.
Pain killers and beer. I'm good to go again! We grab dinner on our way to the Upright Citizen's Brigade (A sketch comedy institution/bar) Hubbard brings his slice of pizza into the sushi place I'm magnetically drawn to. I indulge in the form of avacado peanut and veggie tempura rolls.
At UCB Theater we line up, confusion involving tickets and bathrooms, line up again, get in, front row seats! Wee! The show is called "Backyard Brawl" 2 hilarious sketch groups, Bleak!Comedy and TheStraightMen battle it out through 6 sketches, looking for audience votes to win their way back next week. It's hosted by another couple of comedy groups, Sidecar and M.A.D. who perform also.
I laugh a lot... till I cry at one point during M.A.D.'s "Moist" sketch... (you'll hear me using this word a lot more frequently now) The show's only 5 bucks - and there's comedy here 7 nights a week, so if you're in NYC - GO! (Did I mention one of the founders is my beloved Amy Poehler?) Upright Citizens Brigade also has lots of comedy classes you can take, which Jeff and I dream of as part of the NY life we are creating.
Show's out and we stop by a recommended bar "Stout" for a drink. A big black bouncer comes out singing, so I'm pretty sure it'll be a fun place. I stroll in non-chalantly, then realize Jeff isn't with me and find him getting IDed outside. The bouncers call me a cradle robber! How old do I look?? Old enough, baby. Okay, where am I? Yes. So I grab a Manhattan, Hubbard, a Wild Horse Double Stout and we sit in a non busy section and chill. The bar's pretty cool, but there's not much to do, so we finish drinks and wander home, peeking into Irish pubs along the way.
2:30am, back at the hotel, beer and karaoke googling. Duece Bigalo, European Gigalo is the bedtime story. Hey! APW tomorrow! YES! To say I heart New York is an extreme understatement at this point. Great first full day.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
blip blop bloop blog
My delicious friend Chelsea Rauch - WHO I GET TO SEE TONIGHT!!! Gave me some helpful blopic suggestions. Asha too... maybe.
So
1) It was a hilar email. I may discuss further points later, but let's talk about this one.
*I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.
YES! PLEASE! Someone - destroy my computer history and my journal - please god my journal, when I die. Facebook will also need to be destroyed. AND NO LOOKING JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE CURIOUS. I only want people to love dead Anne. I DO take steps to periodically destroy portions of my misadventures and twisted thoughts, but it's up to you too! I really need to come up with a buddy system for this sort of thing. Also! Readers! If you're interested in a momento from my death, send your requests! I've already let Chelsea know that I'm leaving her a kitten... even though I don't own a kitten, I want her to go pick up a free one to remember me by. (Perhaps you could name it Baxter?)
2) 101 had people over!! I wasn't informed of this!! How DARE they!! Josh was sick yesterday! Sick people shouldn't have parties. They are sneaky and we will confront them tonight. Also, I love bats. Sorry! But I do.
3) The daily puppy is so wicked rad! I usually adore it - yesterday's was a little dirty, I'll give you that. But I'm usually pro puppy. I looked for a daily kitten and there was none. I tried to make my own daily kitten link, but it didn't work. :( Sorry my friend! Only puppies for now!
4) Okay - Backstreet Boys vs. NSync. Well... I was too cool to listen to either when I was a rock n roll child... but, I will say Justin Timberlake with his curly hair was quite appealing... I also thought JC was tasty. BSB, I liked well... no one really. And I'd also pick NSync in a fight, since they have 5 members to BSB's 4. So... even though I never listened to either... I still get their songs in my head sometimes. I don't know. Any of YOU have thoughts on the "bands"?
So
1) It was a hilar email. I may discuss further points later, but let's talk about this one.
*I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.
YES! PLEASE! Someone - destroy my computer history and my journal - please god my journal, when I die. Facebook will also need to be destroyed. AND NO LOOKING JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE CURIOUS. I only want people to love dead Anne. I DO take steps to periodically destroy portions of my misadventures and twisted thoughts, but it's up to you too! I really need to come up with a buddy system for this sort of thing. Also! Readers! If you're interested in a momento from my death, send your requests! I've already let Chelsea know that I'm leaving her a kitten... even though I don't own a kitten, I want her to go pick up a free one to remember me by. (Perhaps you could name it Baxter?)
2) 101 had people over!! I wasn't informed of this!! How DARE they!! Josh was sick yesterday! Sick people shouldn't have parties. They are sneaky and we will confront them tonight. Also, I love bats. Sorry! But I do.
3) The daily puppy is so wicked rad! I usually adore it - yesterday's was a little dirty, I'll give you that. But I'm usually pro puppy. I looked for a daily kitten and there was none. I tried to make my own daily kitten link, but it didn't work. :( Sorry my friend! Only puppies for now!
4) Okay - Backstreet Boys vs. NSync. Well... I was too cool to listen to either when I was a rock n roll child... but, I will say Justin Timberlake with his curly hair was quite appealing... I also thought JC was tasty. BSB, I liked well... no one really. And I'd also pick NSync in a fight, since they have 5 members to BSB's 4. So... even though I never listened to either... I still get their songs in my head sometimes. I don't know. Any of YOU have thoughts on the "bands"?
Shoot!
I forgot my little travel journal at home for the second day, so I won't be writing about my trip. Any blopic suggestions?
Monday, August 10, 2009
Blog News.
K... My blog is going to get a little vacation journaly for awhile, so I'm going to try to mix it up with random gaymo posts in between. K? Sorry. I didn't intend for this to become a "Dear Diary" thing when I started. Just random shiz. I'm so NYC crazy right now it doesn't even matta though. It's all I'm going to think about for awhile. Except... I should probably think about work. WORK. Hahaha! 10 more days of it and I'm gone!!
Monday, August 3, 2009
NYC Thursday #1
My last flog blog ends just before we land in Dallas. The next flight I'm window seat and pretty obsessed with staring outside. The gay flight attendent, Jasper, didn't serve us (instead we got Gladys)I listened to Norm MacDonald on Jeff's Ipod (Tex Hooper - hilar) and yadda yadda yadda - Now we're in New York!!!
Hopped our first Taxi and settled into a wicked room. Nicer than internet pics, super clean, Midtown Manhattan... seriously... boner hotel. But who gives a fuck about the hotel!? Let's hit the streets.
We wonder out and get a black and white cookie each from the first shop we walk into. Yes. The cookies are AWESOME! Even people walking on the street were like - HEY! Black and White cookie! Oh the love!
We end up in Chelsea, a lot of people are trying to get me to thread my eyebrows. Best deal - 3 bucks! But I had them waxed before my vacation. Damn my vanity! Cookies are done - maybe something a little more substantial? We grab pizza and Jeff gets some sort of funky concotion from this little place. I can't BELIEVE how good mine tastes. Love the view too - gaydar is beeping like crazy! Do a little stoop sitting, then grab beersky's from Whole Foods Market. Jeff picks Brooklyn Beer and I buy very overpriced Gonzo Imperial Porter. A tall dark and handsome stares at me awkwardly until I offer to show him my ID. This pleases him, then he jokes about how my birthday must fall on Thanksgiving some years, for the sake of pleasant banter I play along and pretend I'm American. After hitting a second liquor store for chamagne, we head home, I choke down 1 disgusting Gonzo beer, Jeff has a tasty Brookyln Beer and we crash HARD. Wake up at Midnight and wonder through Times Square, sit on the steps of the US postal building, walk by Madison Square Gardens and get back around 2amish? I dunno. More sleep.
Hopped our first Taxi and settled into a wicked room. Nicer than internet pics, super clean, Midtown Manhattan... seriously... boner hotel. But who gives a fuck about the hotel!? Let's hit the streets.
We wonder out and get a black and white cookie each from the first shop we walk into. Yes. The cookies are AWESOME! Even people walking on the street were like - HEY! Black and White cookie! Oh the love!
We end up in Chelsea, a lot of people are trying to get me to thread my eyebrows. Best deal - 3 bucks! But I had them waxed before my vacation. Damn my vanity! Cookies are done - maybe something a little more substantial? We grab pizza and Jeff gets some sort of funky concotion from this little place. I can't BELIEVE how good mine tastes. Love the view too - gaydar is beeping like crazy! Do a little stoop sitting, then grab beersky's from Whole Foods Market. Jeff picks Brooklyn Beer and I buy very overpriced Gonzo Imperial Porter. A tall dark and handsome stares at me awkwardly until I offer to show him my ID. This pleases him, then he jokes about how my birthday must fall on Thanksgiving some years, for the sake of pleasant banter I play along and pretend I'm American. After hitting a second liquor store for chamagne, we head home, I choke down 1 disgusting Gonzo beer, Jeff has a tasty Brookyln Beer and we crash HARD. Wake up at Midnight and wonder through Times Square, sit on the steps of the US postal building, walk by Madison Square Gardens and get back around 2amish? I dunno. More sleep.
Friday, July 31, 2009
FLOG!!
Flogging!!
4:45am Jeff and I arrive at the Calgary Airport, sleepy and excited. Let the line-ups begin!
5:15 After realizing I'd lied while answering multiple "Do you have any fruits or vegetables?" Very serious questionaires, I reluctantly throw away the fruit cup and package of spitz I had stored in my purse. I'm tired and will give you whatever you want as long as we can get through.
5:31 This lineup's long. Where are we? US Customs or something? I don't know. It's GD early. We see the end of the line and Jeff gives me a Jeffy "How do I get this guy's job?" as he side thumb points to Larry, ruler of the great line.
Larry's gig is to look for green lights to blink on and direct people to them. He wears a full uniform.
5:37 We've made it to the front, the green light blinks and Jeff heads to ol' friendly booth number 10. I'm next and Larry directs me to the booth of bitter dreams, number 13. I walk up, relieved to have gotten through and flash the young officer, Derk, a friendly smile.
"Passport and boarding pass" he demands.
I happily pull out my travel document case and Derk snarls his command again.
I'm flustered and have already passed Derk everything I have in the time he had to bark at me the second time.
He picks through the 4 pieces of paper I give him and scolds me like a mongrel dog who just shat on his shoe and is too dumb to know why that was so wrong.
"We have signs that say have your passport and boarding pass ready"
What do you want me to do, DerK? I thought they were. They were in my hand. I didn't read the signs.
"I'm sorry" I respond. Derk interogates me
WHY ARE YOU GOING
"I'm going on vacation!"
WHERE
"New York!"
WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE?
"I'm going on vacation!"
WHAT, SPECIFICALLY, ARE YOU DOING THERE?
Derk is being a douchey jerk, so I start listing all of the fun plans I have. He snaps a few more questions and then it's over as quickly as it began. He dismisses me and the light blinks green for his next victim.
5:45
Metal detector! This goes incredibly smoothly. I even wore my rings through it accidently and it didn't beep.
5:55 Jeff and I find our gate and head to get breakie. We settle for Harvey's Breakfast Sandwiches. The grease has stained through a bag and wrapper by the time I sit down with it. My god, it is wonderful. I am so hungry. Nom nom nom.
6:15 Jeff is gone venturing and I'm semi sleeping in my chair. I'm daydreaming about bombs and planes and all the things you're not allowed to say at the airport and I overhear 2 middle-aged, well dressed gentlemen across from me. This is what I hear.
"Are you the sexy terrorist, or is somebody else the sexy terrorist?"
"I'm the sexy terrorist."
I kinda hope that's what they said. Only if they were joking though, which they clearly would be. Neither was sexy.
7:00 We're on the plane!! Jeff and I talk about homosexual travel companions, friends and landing plans. I want to make Manhattans, I don't know what they are. But I know they have alcohol and I will need several after all of this silly flying.
7:10
"You will squish the baby. You will kill the baby." Marlene says in a strict voice, with undertones of disbelief. Marlene is
the head flight attendant and she means business. No buckling babies into your seatbelt, row 12.
She looks a little like a brunette Stiffler's mom. The other main attendant is also a brunette. Jeff names her Darlene.
I'm not even going to give Blondie a name. She's practically invisible. Maybe she's catering to "Business Class"
7:15 The plane takes off and I'm asleep. Planes have that effect on me. Also, being extremely tired.
8:20 I wake! Jeff's sleeping, I spy on his watch to check the time, strictly for flogging purposes. Yay! Marlene and Darlene are serving refreshments. I order a gingerale... the champagne of gingers. Canada Dry. Marlene is making me want to own a Stewardess outfit.
I finish my bevy and patiently sit with the garbage, wanting more of that sleep stuff. The woman in front of me is reading a BUST magazine. Jealous! I want it. I wish I could read hers.
8:35 Darlene takes my garbage, but I fumble slightly and she gets a little grabby. Hrmm. I'd pegged her as the quiet one.
8:45 BUST girl is reading an Amy Poehler article - jealous! I will snooze,..
?:?? I'm awake again. Darlene and I are having it out. Hey - she started it back there with the garbage grab.
I retaliate by asking her for a beverage when the cart isn't right beside me. Darlene strikes back subtley by bringing me a diet pepsi, rather than diet coke. I forgive her, because I need another favour - the time. I try to make eye contact to ask if I can turn on my phone to check it but Darlene knows I'm a pain in the ass and she's not taking the bait. I trap her in the hall on her next pass with a verbal inquisition.
Darlene denies my request. The world is timeless. I stare out the plane and daydream about boarding along the clouds like that
kid bear on tailspin... remember? Well, it was cool regardless.
10:00 Jeff's awake! He tells me the time. He AGREES with Darlene about the phone. Pshh.
4:45am Jeff and I arrive at the Calgary Airport, sleepy and excited. Let the line-ups begin!
5:15 After realizing I'd lied while answering multiple "Do you have any fruits or vegetables?" Very serious questionaires, I reluctantly throw away the fruit cup and package of spitz I had stored in my purse. I'm tired and will give you whatever you want as long as we can get through.
5:31 This lineup's long. Where are we? US Customs or something? I don't know. It's GD early. We see the end of the line and Jeff gives me a Jeffy "How do I get this guy's job?" as he side thumb points to Larry, ruler of the great line.
Larry's gig is to look for green lights to blink on and direct people to them. He wears a full uniform.
5:37 We've made it to the front, the green light blinks and Jeff heads to ol' friendly booth number 10. I'm next and Larry directs me to the booth of bitter dreams, number 13. I walk up, relieved to have gotten through and flash the young officer, Derk, a friendly smile.
"Passport and boarding pass" he demands.
I happily pull out my travel document case and Derk snarls his command again.
I'm flustered and have already passed Derk everything I have in the time he had to bark at me the second time.
He picks through the 4 pieces of paper I give him and scolds me like a mongrel dog who just shat on his shoe and is too dumb to know why that was so wrong.
"We have signs that say have your passport and boarding pass ready"
What do you want me to do, DerK? I thought they were. They were in my hand. I didn't read the signs.
"I'm sorry" I respond. Derk interogates me
WHY ARE YOU GOING
"I'm going on vacation!"
WHERE
"New York!"
WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE?
"I'm going on vacation!"
WHAT, SPECIFICALLY, ARE YOU DOING THERE?
Derk is being a douchey jerk, so I start listing all of the fun plans I have. He snaps a few more questions and then it's over as quickly as it began. He dismisses me and the light blinks green for his next victim.
5:45
Metal detector! This goes incredibly smoothly. I even wore my rings through it accidently and it didn't beep.
5:55 Jeff and I find our gate and head to get breakie. We settle for Harvey's Breakfast Sandwiches. The grease has stained through a bag and wrapper by the time I sit down with it. My god, it is wonderful. I am so hungry. Nom nom nom.
6:15 Jeff is gone venturing and I'm semi sleeping in my chair. I'm daydreaming about bombs and planes and all the things you're not allowed to say at the airport and I overhear 2 middle-aged, well dressed gentlemen across from me. This is what I hear.
"Are you the sexy terrorist, or is somebody else the sexy terrorist?"
"I'm the sexy terrorist."
I kinda hope that's what they said. Only if they were joking though, which they clearly would be. Neither was sexy.
7:00 We're on the plane!! Jeff and I talk about homosexual travel companions, friends and landing plans. I want to make Manhattans, I don't know what they are. But I know they have alcohol and I will need several after all of this silly flying.
7:10
"You will squish the baby. You will kill the baby." Marlene says in a strict voice, with undertones of disbelief. Marlene is
the head flight attendant and she means business. No buckling babies into your seatbelt, row 12.
She looks a little like a brunette Stiffler's mom. The other main attendant is also a brunette. Jeff names her Darlene.
I'm not even going to give Blondie a name. She's practically invisible. Maybe she's catering to "Business Class"
7:15 The plane takes off and I'm asleep. Planes have that effect on me. Also, being extremely tired.
8:20 I wake! Jeff's sleeping, I spy on his watch to check the time, strictly for flogging purposes. Yay! Marlene and Darlene are serving refreshments. I order a gingerale... the champagne of gingers. Canada Dry. Marlene is making me want to own a Stewardess outfit.
I finish my bevy and patiently sit with the garbage, wanting more of that sleep stuff. The woman in front of me is reading a BUST magazine. Jealous! I want it. I wish I could read hers.
8:35 Darlene takes my garbage, but I fumble slightly and she gets a little grabby. Hrmm. I'd pegged her as the quiet one.
8:45 BUST girl is reading an Amy Poehler article - jealous! I will snooze,..
?:?? I'm awake again. Darlene and I are having it out. Hey - she started it back there with the garbage grab.
I retaliate by asking her for a beverage when the cart isn't right beside me. Darlene strikes back subtley by bringing me a diet pepsi, rather than diet coke. I forgive her, because I need another favour - the time. I try to make eye contact to ask if I can turn on my phone to check it but Darlene knows I'm a pain in the ass and she's not taking the bait. I trap her in the hall on her next pass with a verbal inquisition.
Darlene denies my request. The world is timeless. I stare out the plane and daydream about boarding along the clouds like that
kid bear on tailspin... remember? Well, it was cool regardless.
10:00 Jeff's awake! He tells me the time. He AGREES with Darlene about the phone. Pshh.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Pre Flight Insomnia Post
Lawd I'm tired. I've been up for many days it seems... but it's actually just a combination of many short nap sleeps and the lack of quality zzz time in the weeks leading up to tonight. I have reached the "silly sleepy excited not going to sleep" place. It is mellow and funny and sometimes likes to run and jump. And sleepy. Haha. I've been at this phase for awhile. Basically it rotates between excitement and extreme fatigue. Really cool. Kinda annoying. I really don't mind... it's just the inevitable crash that HAS to happen that makes me sad. Worse comes to worse, Friday morning is sleepinable. Yes, sleepinable's a word. Shut up. Sorry, apparently I'm irritable. Aghhh. Haha - And I CAN'T whine about it because Hubbard's had way less sleep and way more work than me and STILL HASN'T PACKED!! HAHAHA! Oh, man. Anyway... funny stuff. Good lord I'm retarded right now. And a little vulgar. In my word usage. Should stop blogging. P.S. I'm quite jacked to do my first FLOG too. I really enjoy the idea of blogging through the sky. It almost sparkles. Okay! Shower time! That will totally trick me into thinking it's time to wake up. At least I'll smell better. Yack!
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Ask the Magic 8 Ball!
The 8 Ball is comin out.
Hey 8 Ball.
Q1: You ready to do this?
A1: It is certain.
Q2: Secret question I ask in my head?
A2: Cannot predict now
Comment: Yeah. That's life for ya. Hmmm.
Q3: Will Grant be able to magically fix my engine?
A3: It is decidedly so!
Comment: Wouldn't that be awesome??!? Oh Magic 8 Ball... don't get my hopes up so high.
UPDATE: I CALLED MY MECHANIC!!! They're replacing like 4 things in my engine and are working hard!! This is good! They are going to fix my engine!!! Ahhh!! If all goes well I should be getting a call at the end of the day. Wow. WOW. I love you Delburne Service Centre.
Hey 8 Ball.
Q1: You ready to do this?
A1: It is certain.
Q2: Secret question I ask in my head?
A2: Cannot predict now
Comment: Yeah. That's life for ya. Hmmm.
Q3: Will Grant be able to magically fix my engine?
A3: It is decidedly so!
Comment: Wouldn't that be awesome??!? Oh Magic 8 Ball... don't get my hopes up so high.
UPDATE: I CALLED MY MECHANIC!!! They're replacing like 4 things in my engine and are working hard!! This is good! They are going to fix my engine!!! Ahhh!! If all goes well I should be getting a call at the end of the day. Wow. WOW. I love you Delburne Service Centre.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Welcome to the Beer Olympics, The Year 2009.
Righ’ love, shall I tell you abou’ the Beer Olympics, then? I talked in an accent all night. I’m typing in one now. You probably can’t notice so I’ll stop.
I’ve been privileged to attend many glorious gong shows in my young life. The Beer Olympics was no exception. I feel like I drank a lot of beer, so the following is an approximation of what happened.
Saturday Night.
10ish pm
After powernapping, my date Asha and I journey the few blocks to her highschool chum, Blaine’s house. I’m greeted by Mike, a loud boisterous roommate, but am quickly distracted by mass spandex. The first (and only) spandex clad girl I notice is Heather. She’s the type of girl I instantly fall for, dawning a pink 80’s style bodysuit, sparkly spandex tights and a drawn on moustache. Her friend Jen is dressed normally, but if you’re friends with Heather, you’re obviously a good time. Oh? We need 4 to a team? Jen and Heather are recruited to join England (me and Asha). Done.
10:05
A swarm of yellow and black spandex clad Jamaican wrestlers pour out of the house, looking to compete. The case of beer in my hand is practically pulling me into the kitchen so we can start the party. I oblige, pull out beer and proceed downstairs to a basement converted to a full out pub for beer curling.
10:27
I shouldn’t blame the Jamaicans for not being able to curl. They just don’t have proper facilities at home. Team England took them in an embarrassing 50-0 loss. Unfortunately, winning at drinking games is a poor way to get drunk. The Spanish and the Mexicans are now waiting for a go. They all look magnificent. Asha and I leave the second half of our team to take on challengers and head outside to check out more of the action. I pass flamboyant Brazilians and green fatigued Cubans on my way to the campfire.
10:59
The 2 Steves at the campfire challenge us to Beer Pong. I cheat and pour extra beer into our cups. Asha and I forfeit the first game so we can drink the Steves' beer as well. Feeling good. Feeling obnoxious and English. Swearing too much. Rematch? Yes.
11:42
Asha’s younger brother Dex shows up with his posse (Team Ireland) as we finish our second game. Yes, we won. Yes, there is much rejoicing.
11:48 - ???
*Asha comes and goes, leaving me to babysit brother, friends and fire. I force booze, drugs and cigarettes upon them with flourish. Dex is being responsible, but is nursing a beer, so I let him slide. His friends John and Spencer seemed to be open to my bad influence – so I get them messed up. Asha brings us potato chips, there is much rejoicing.
*I meet a young fellow named Adam. Adam seems off put by the massive amount of spandex wearing men around him, I am off put by his attitude and write him off as a square. A short while later Adam is knocking apart the firepit and pouring Frisbees full of gasoline on it. Okay, maybe he’s not a square, but I’m still not impressed. He is making me sober up and act like a mom as I rebuild the fire pit. Asha shoots me a look and I decide to stop acting responsible and move elsewhere.
*I wonder away from the newly rebuilt and raging fire and speak briefly with members of team Spain. I say briefly, because they don’t actually speak English. “No habla espanol,” I say, followed by, “Me yamma Anne.” I then run into the house and am greeted by fresh pineapple chunks being sliced and served. I love them so much. I am one with the pineapple chunks. The flavours are making love to my taste buds.
1:?? – 4:?? The evening is topped off with a Team England reunion, more beer curling, beer darts, some sort of card game? Did that actually happen? Beerboarding (which is similar to shotski) and wishing we could adventure to Heritage Park but being trapped inside as it was pouring rain. I end up crashing on a recliner, drunk texting myself to sleep. Moved to upstairs in the morning to have one of the longest and greatest pees of my life and move to a proper couch.
Other random memories
*Gayfest with Jamaicans and Cubans professing their love for roommate Mike for long periods of time.
*Asha wrestling
*No one knowing what a Bonspiel was. (And calling themselves fans of curling!!)
*Getting a sharpee tattoo which said “Do You Know Y?” (very profound)
*People being shocked when I talked in a non-English accent
*Drinking beer from a chip bowl
*Using flattery to get free PC Dry beer after ours ran out. "Ooh - is that PC beer? Is it good?"
*Texting myself "There are 2 types of men in this world, those who'll wear spandex jumpsuits..."
* Not losing a single event, other than our original Beer Pong forfeit.
I’ve been privileged to attend many glorious gong shows in my young life. The Beer Olympics was no exception. I feel like I drank a lot of beer, so the following is an approximation of what happened.
Saturday Night.
10ish pm
After powernapping, my date Asha and I journey the few blocks to her highschool chum, Blaine’s house. I’m greeted by Mike, a loud boisterous roommate, but am quickly distracted by mass spandex. The first (and only) spandex clad girl I notice is Heather. She’s the type of girl I instantly fall for, dawning a pink 80’s style bodysuit, sparkly spandex tights and a drawn on moustache. Her friend Jen is dressed normally, but if you’re friends with Heather, you’re obviously a good time. Oh? We need 4 to a team? Jen and Heather are recruited to join England (me and Asha). Done.
10:05
A swarm of yellow and black spandex clad Jamaican wrestlers pour out of the house, looking to compete. The case of beer in my hand is practically pulling me into the kitchen so we can start the party. I oblige, pull out beer and proceed downstairs to a basement converted to a full out pub for beer curling.
10:27
I shouldn’t blame the Jamaicans for not being able to curl. They just don’t have proper facilities at home. Team England took them in an embarrassing 50-0 loss. Unfortunately, winning at drinking games is a poor way to get drunk. The Spanish and the Mexicans are now waiting for a go. They all look magnificent. Asha and I leave the second half of our team to take on challengers and head outside to check out more of the action. I pass flamboyant Brazilians and green fatigued Cubans on my way to the campfire.
10:59
The 2 Steves at the campfire challenge us to Beer Pong. I cheat and pour extra beer into our cups. Asha and I forfeit the first game so we can drink the Steves' beer as well. Feeling good. Feeling obnoxious and English. Swearing too much. Rematch? Yes.
11:42
Asha’s younger brother Dex shows up with his posse (Team Ireland) as we finish our second game. Yes, we won. Yes, there is much rejoicing.
11:48 - ???
*Asha comes and goes, leaving me to babysit brother, friends and fire. I force booze, drugs and cigarettes upon them with flourish. Dex is being responsible, but is nursing a beer, so I let him slide. His friends John and Spencer seemed to be open to my bad influence – so I get them messed up. Asha brings us potato chips, there is much rejoicing.
*I meet a young fellow named Adam. Adam seems off put by the massive amount of spandex wearing men around him, I am off put by his attitude and write him off as a square. A short while later Adam is knocking apart the firepit and pouring Frisbees full of gasoline on it. Okay, maybe he’s not a square, but I’m still not impressed. He is making me sober up and act like a mom as I rebuild the fire pit. Asha shoots me a look and I decide to stop acting responsible and move elsewhere.
*I wonder away from the newly rebuilt and raging fire and speak briefly with members of team Spain. I say briefly, because they don’t actually speak English. “No habla espanol,” I say, followed by, “Me yamma Anne.” I then run into the house and am greeted by fresh pineapple chunks being sliced and served. I love them so much. I am one with the pineapple chunks. The flavours are making love to my taste buds.
1:?? – 4:?? The evening is topped off with a Team England reunion, more beer curling, beer darts, some sort of card game? Did that actually happen? Beerboarding (which is similar to shotski) and wishing we could adventure to Heritage Park but being trapped inside as it was pouring rain. I end up crashing on a recliner, drunk texting myself to sleep. Moved to upstairs in the morning to have one of the longest and greatest pees of my life and move to a proper couch.
Other random memories
*Gayfest with Jamaicans and Cubans professing their love for roommate Mike for long periods of time.
*Asha wrestling
*No one knowing what a Bonspiel was. (And calling themselves fans of curling!!)
*Getting a sharpee tattoo which said “Do You Know Y?” (very profound)
*People being shocked when I talked in a non-English accent
*Drinking beer from a chip bowl
*Using flattery to get free PC Dry beer after ours ran out. "Ooh - is that PC beer? Is it good?"
*Texting myself "There are 2 types of men in this world, those who'll wear spandex jumpsuits..."
* Not losing a single event, other than our original Beer Pong forfeit.
Friday, July 24, 2009
RRRARARARAR Therapy! Let's talk it out with Baxter!
WHERE IS MELLOW ANNE??? MELLOW ANNE! I NEED YOU! HELP ME! I'M STRESS BALLS!
Advice from my father:
Anne, if you're worried about something there are only 2 options. Either you can do something about it. Or you can't.
If you can do something about it, do it.
If you can't, you have to let it go. If you can take a lesson from it, do that.
There is no point in worrying.
I guess you're right, Dad advice in my head. But right now I have to wait to see if my car engine is going to be repairable, or, the more likely situation, it isn't. Then I guess I have to get a car. Will definately have to get a PT job when I get to Calgary and apply for student loans asap. Before I leave on vacation fo sho. Okay. So I just need to get my life together a little bit and I can stop these awful feelings. And be mellow again. I'm so much better that way. Don't you think?
Advice from my father:
Anne, if you're worried about something there are only 2 options. Either you can do something about it. Or you can't.
If you can do something about it, do it.
If you can't, you have to let it go. If you can take a lesson from it, do that.
There is no point in worrying.
I guess you're right, Dad advice in my head. But right now I have to wait to see if my car engine is going to be repairable, or, the more likely situation, it isn't. Then I guess I have to get a car. Will definately have to get a PT job when I get to Calgary and apply for student loans asap. Before I leave on vacation fo sho. Okay. So I just need to get my life together a little bit and I can stop these awful feelings. And be mellow again. I'm so much better that way. Don't you think?
Freutag Ya, Mine Auto, Nicht.
Gutenmorg,
Ya, is Freutag! Ich can't really sprechin zee deutsch, so I'll stop now.
What's up my peeps? I just found out my motor on my car is dead. Dead. My car. MY CAR. Fack!!! What am I going to do?
Mom: "Oh, you can just rent a car!"
Me: "I'm not going to rent a car, mom"
NOT HELPFUL. This is what I want to hear,
Mom: "Don't worry Anne, we'll buy you a new car. No worries!"
Me: "THANK YOU! Was that so hard??"
Mom: "Not at all. I don't know why I didn't buy you a new car earlier!"
Me: "No shit, mom. Gawd!"
WHY CAN'T I HAVE MAGICAL POWERS!!?!?!
Ya, is Freutag! Ich can't really sprechin zee deutsch, so I'll stop now.
What's up my peeps? I just found out my motor on my car is dead. Dead. My car. MY CAR. Fack!!! What am I going to do?
Mom: "Oh, you can just rent a car!"
Me: "I'm not going to rent a car, mom"
NOT HELPFUL. This is what I want to hear,
Mom: "Don't worry Anne, we'll buy you a new car. No worries!"
Me: "THANK YOU! Was that so hard??"
Mom: "Not at all. I don't know why I didn't buy you a new car earlier!"
Me: "No shit, mom. Gawd!"
WHY CAN'T I HAVE MAGICAL POWERS!!?!?!
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Paper Bag Bunny Story
Gertrude’s eyes shifted back and forth as she collected garbage under her paper lunch bag bunny body. The others would be here soon… she didn’t want them to know of her dirty habit… or any of her dirty habits for that matter. She settled on top of a couple of ketchup packs and a pop can as Lola, Wilfred and Maybelline hopped onto Anne’s desk where Gertrude lived.
Lola’s piercings screamed “badass punk.” Gertrude didn’t get it. She only had her belly button pierced, she thought it showed off her naked bunny body quite well. Wilfred was decked in a full green tuxedo, body filled out by the large bottle of water he held underneath… his fangs shone sexily in the light. Maybelline’s sweet polka-dot skirt and disposition made her make-up come off as “classy” rather than whoreish. “She thinks she’s sooo much better than me,” Gertrude thought sourly. “But I need these bunnies. Every last one of them.”
“Thanks for coming,” Gertrude started, as she splayed her rabbit body across the desk, garbage tumbling out from underneath. She blushed and continued through grease stained lips,
“We have a common enemy here my paper bag bunny friends. Sue Blair comes and collects garbage here every day. We must stop her.”
Lola rolled her eyes, “Who the fuck cares about fuckin’ garbage?” she spat in a fake English accent.
“Who cares about garbage?!” Gertrude spat back, quickly gathering a new pile under her. “Who cares about garbage?! You do know some humans would consider US garbage, don’t you? How long do you think a paper bag bunny’s life span is?!? One week? Two!? A year? WE will become garbage soon! We must stand up for ourselves and every other piece of so called “trash” in this place!!”
“She has a point” Wilfred chimed in.
“No one would consider us garbage.” Maybelline said sweetly, twisting nervously in her skirt.
“You better believe they would,” Gertrude was adamant.
“What’s the plan?” Wilfred asked
“We must get to Sue Blair’s office and jump her in the morning.”
Eventually all the bunnies agreed.
**************************************************
The next morning, Sue Blair strolled through the doors of accounting. The last thing she saw was bits of garbage being thrown at her from every direction. Then, blackness.
She awoke in the janitors closet, bound with an extension cord.
“We’ve been watching you, Sue,” Wilfred started, his crudely drawn fangs never looking more intimidating.
Sue moaned through her gag. Eyes wide with fear and confusion.
“We know all abou' your fuckin’ garbage collectin'” Lola hopped up to join in,
“We aren’t going to be tossed away without a fight.” Maybelline added.
“YEAH!” Gertrude yelled, a little too loudly.
“Shut your ‘ore mouth!” Lola snapped,
“I’m not a WHORE!” Gertrude retorted, fumbling with her belly button ring and blinking back tears as mascara began to bleed out her overdone eyes. She turned her now wild expression at Sue.
“You have to stop collecting garbage.” Gertrude stated calmly.
The bunnies left the closet and quietly found their way back to the creative and promotions departments without being detected. Sue was later found by Anthony, the Engineer and said nothing of the incident. Sue stopped collecting garbage until bags were overflowing and she was fired. On her last day of work, she found the bunnies and ripped each one to shreds. The bunny shreds floated down her throat and choked her to death. Sue’s ghost and the bunny ghosts eventually forgave each other.
Let’s all forgive someone today before it’s too late…
*** Make Your Own Paper Bag Bunny! ***
Get a paper lunch bag
Turn it upside down
Draw a face on the flap, with the bottom part of the mouth just underneath the flap.
Decorate (Don't forget a fluffy tail on the back!)
Cut out 2 ears and tape them on.
Enjoy.
Lola’s piercings screamed “badass punk.” Gertrude didn’t get it. She only had her belly button pierced, she thought it showed off her naked bunny body quite well. Wilfred was decked in a full green tuxedo, body filled out by the large bottle of water he held underneath… his fangs shone sexily in the light. Maybelline’s sweet polka-dot skirt and disposition made her make-up come off as “classy” rather than whoreish. “She thinks she’s sooo much better than me,” Gertrude thought sourly. “But I need these bunnies. Every last one of them.”
“Thanks for coming,” Gertrude started, as she splayed her rabbit body across the desk, garbage tumbling out from underneath. She blushed and continued through grease stained lips,
“We have a common enemy here my paper bag bunny friends. Sue Blair comes and collects garbage here every day. We must stop her.”
Lola rolled her eyes, “Who the fuck cares about fuckin’ garbage?” she spat in a fake English accent.
“Who cares about garbage?!” Gertrude spat back, quickly gathering a new pile under her. “Who cares about garbage?! You do know some humans would consider US garbage, don’t you? How long do you think a paper bag bunny’s life span is?!? One week? Two!? A year? WE will become garbage soon! We must stand up for ourselves and every other piece of so called “trash” in this place!!”
“She has a point” Wilfred chimed in.
“No one would consider us garbage.” Maybelline said sweetly, twisting nervously in her skirt.
“You better believe they would,” Gertrude was adamant.
“What’s the plan?” Wilfred asked
“We must get to Sue Blair’s office and jump her in the morning.”
Eventually all the bunnies agreed.
**************************************************
The next morning, Sue Blair strolled through the doors of accounting. The last thing she saw was bits of garbage being thrown at her from every direction. Then, blackness.
She awoke in the janitors closet, bound with an extension cord.
“We’ve been watching you, Sue,” Wilfred started, his crudely drawn fangs never looking more intimidating.
Sue moaned through her gag. Eyes wide with fear and confusion.
“We know all abou' your fuckin’ garbage collectin'” Lola hopped up to join in,
“We aren’t going to be tossed away without a fight.” Maybelline added.
“YEAH!” Gertrude yelled, a little too loudly.
“Shut your ‘ore mouth!” Lola snapped,
“I’m not a WHORE!” Gertrude retorted, fumbling with her belly button ring and blinking back tears as mascara began to bleed out her overdone eyes. She turned her now wild expression at Sue.
“You have to stop collecting garbage.” Gertrude stated calmly.
The bunnies left the closet and quietly found their way back to the creative and promotions departments without being detected. Sue was later found by Anthony, the Engineer and said nothing of the incident. Sue stopped collecting garbage until bags were overflowing and she was fired. On her last day of work, she found the bunnies and ripped each one to shreds. The bunny shreds floated down her throat and choked her to death. Sue’s ghost and the bunny ghosts eventually forgave each other.
Let’s all forgive someone today before it’s too late…
*** Make Your Own Paper Bag Bunny! ***
Get a paper lunch bag
Turn it upside down
Draw a face on the flap, with the bottom part of the mouth just underneath the flap.
Decorate (Don't forget a fluffy tail on the back!)
Cut out 2 ears and tape them on.
Enjoy.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Book Club!
Hai,
I'd like to quickly transcribe an excerpt from a book I just finished called "My Horizontal Life, A Collection of One Night Stands" By Chelsea Handler. This little portion really hit home with me. If you've ever drank with me, you'll know why. A thank you to the great Chelsea Rauch for the lend.
"It was Valentines Day and I had spent the day in bed with my life partner, Ketel One. The two of us watched a romantic movie marathon on TBS Superstation that made me wonder how people who write romantic comedies can sleep at night.
At some point during almost every romantic comedy, the female lead suddenly trips and falls, stumbling helplessly over something ridiculous like a leaf, and then some Matthew McConaughey type either whips around the corner just in the nick of time to save her or is clumsily pulled down along with her. That event predictably leads to the magical moment of their first kiss. Please. I fall all the time. You know who comes and gets me? The bouncer."
I'd like to quickly transcribe an excerpt from a book I just finished called "My Horizontal Life, A Collection of One Night Stands" By Chelsea Handler. This little portion really hit home with me. If you've ever drank with me, you'll know why. A thank you to the great Chelsea Rauch for the lend.
"It was Valentines Day and I had spent the day in bed with my life partner, Ketel One. The two of us watched a romantic movie marathon on TBS Superstation that made me wonder how people who write romantic comedies can sleep at night.
At some point during almost every romantic comedy, the female lead suddenly trips and falls, stumbling helplessly over something ridiculous like a leaf, and then some Matthew McConaughey type either whips around the corner just in the nick of time to save her or is clumsily pulled down along with her. That event predictably leads to the magical moment of their first kiss. Please. I fall all the time. You know who comes and gets me? The bouncer."
Friday, July 17, 2009
It's bout bloggin' time!!!
I'm so sorry my beautiful and classy readers. Apologies to my ugly, offensive readers as well. I've really dropped the ball this past while. Forgive me?
No? Well fine. I guess I'll have to earn back your love, one post at a time. Hey, that rhymed. So did that. That didn't. Moving on...
Let's get back in motion with a little 8ball Wisdom
Dear Magic 8 Ball
Q1: How awesome am I?
A1: Cannot Predict Now.
Comment: I know... you're probably thinking "You're awesomeness increases every day, Anne... it's so hard to tell how awesome you are each minute because your coolness is exponential." You are such a fucking suck up, 8 Ball.
Q2: Will I go deaf if I continue to abuse Q-tips?
A2: Better not tell you now.
Comment: What??
Q3: Will I ever win the 649 jackpot?
A3: Very doubtful.
Comment: :( I won my first 649 prize yesterday - a big $5 dolla! I thought I was on my way...
Okee dokie... In other news I made several paperbag bunny puppets today. Mine's named Gertrude. She gives off whoreish vibes and likes to hide garbage. I may feature her and her other bunny friends in a story soon. If you'd like? Do you guys like the stories? I'll ask the 8 Ball.
BONUS
Q4: Do my readers enjoy my stories?
A4: Yes! Definately!
Comment: Good! That's good.
No? Well fine. I guess I'll have to earn back your love, one post at a time. Hey, that rhymed. So did that. That didn't. Moving on...
Let's get back in motion with a little 8ball Wisdom
Dear Magic 8 Ball
Q1: How awesome am I?
A1: Cannot Predict Now.
Comment: I know... you're probably thinking "You're awesomeness increases every day, Anne... it's so hard to tell how awesome you are each minute because your coolness is exponential." You are such a fucking suck up, 8 Ball.
Q2: Will I go deaf if I continue to abuse Q-tips?
A2: Better not tell you now.
Comment: What??
Q3: Will I ever win the 649 jackpot?
A3: Very doubtful.
Comment: :( I won my first 649 prize yesterday - a big $5 dolla! I thought I was on my way...
Okee dokie... In other news I made several paperbag bunny puppets today. Mine's named Gertrude. She gives off whoreish vibes and likes to hide garbage. I may feature her and her other bunny friends in a story soon. If you'd like? Do you guys like the stories? I'll ask the 8 Ball.
BONUS
Q4: Do my readers enjoy my stories?
A4: Yes! Definately!
Comment: Good! That's good.
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