i don't understand
people on the atkins diet. football. the point of rotating your tires. calculus. fashion trends that utilize glitter. french.
Jan 30, 2004
fuck this weather
fuck the cold and the wind chill. fuck the snow on the ground and the ice on my car. fuck the fact that my laundry facilities are in a separate building, making me put off the task for yet another day due to not wanting to walk there. fuck my lack of determination and inability to deal with adverse conditions.
but, more importantly, fuck winter. fuck winter illnesses and snow-caused car accidents. fuck that little toe on my right foot that goes numb, and stays numb, whenever i'm in the cold for anywhere over 13 seconds. fuck hats and gloves and scarves and sweaters. fuck shivering. fuck my drafty apartment. fuck people who describe this disasterous season using the word "wonderland."
i'm pissed off, and i'm likely to stay pissed off, at least until we're no longer in the negative degrees due to windchill. weather.com says it feels like -19 degrees. MINUS NINETEEN!! but, you know what? i'm not willing to accept the (positive) single digits or teens either. i won't settle for anything less than 30 degrees, because i'm tired of THIS BULLSHIT. do you hear me? i won't stand for it any longer! something drastic is coming, you'll see. fuck this weather. fuck it right in the... weatherhole.
fuck the cold and the wind chill. fuck the snow on the ground and the ice on my car. fuck the fact that my laundry facilities are in a separate building, making me put off the task for yet another day due to not wanting to walk there. fuck my lack of determination and inability to deal with adverse conditions.
but, more importantly, fuck winter. fuck winter illnesses and snow-caused car accidents. fuck that little toe on my right foot that goes numb, and stays numb, whenever i'm in the cold for anywhere over 13 seconds. fuck hats and gloves and scarves and sweaters. fuck shivering. fuck my drafty apartment. fuck people who describe this disasterous season using the word "wonderland."
i'm pissed off, and i'm likely to stay pissed off, at least until we're no longer in the negative degrees due to windchill. weather.com says it feels like -19 degrees. MINUS NINETEEN!! but, you know what? i'm not willing to accept the (positive) single digits or teens either. i won't settle for anything less than 30 degrees, because i'm tired of THIS BULLSHIT. do you hear me? i won't stand for it any longer! something drastic is coming, you'll see. fuck this weather. fuck it right in the... weatherhole.
Jan 29, 2004
east chicago man shot dead cigarette
that's the google search i just completed, in search of the name of a man who was killed over a cigarette. last night, i was told that my friend jeremie's "best friend" had been killed over a cigarette this past month. i thought it was his friend juan, who i had hung out with on several occasions as well. not that i was such good friends with this guy juan, but my heart lurched to think that he may be dead- especially because i know how much it would have hurt jeremie to lose him.
alas, it wasn't him. i found the news articles (isn't the internet fantastic?), and was relieved to see that it was some other guy that had been shot. then i had to chastise myself. "why is it okay that this other dude is dead instead of juan? a human life is a human life!"
sound, christian logic, but i didn't buy it. human lives we know are more important than human lives we don't, yes? that's why it's always okay to kill those in iraq. right? right? sigh.
that reminds me that i need to attend an anti-war rally sometime soon. because anti-war rallies ALWAYS get things done. i know of at least 35 wars that were haulted due to a bunch of people blocking traffic. you don't know which wars i'm talking about? that's because they were haulted.
this blog entry would have been more topical a year ago, but i'm always a little behind. that's why my jeans fit so well.
that's the google search i just completed, in search of the name of a man who was killed over a cigarette. last night, i was told that my friend jeremie's "best friend" had been killed over a cigarette this past month. i thought it was his friend juan, who i had hung out with on several occasions as well. not that i was such good friends with this guy juan, but my heart lurched to think that he may be dead- especially because i know how much it would have hurt jeremie to lose him.
alas, it wasn't him. i found the news articles (isn't the internet fantastic?), and was relieved to see that it was some other guy that had been shot. then i had to chastise myself. "why is it okay that this other dude is dead instead of juan? a human life is a human life!"
sound, christian logic, but i didn't buy it. human lives we know are more important than human lives we don't, yes? that's why it's always okay to kill those in iraq. right? right? sigh.
that reminds me that i need to attend an anti-war rally sometime soon. because anti-war rallies ALWAYS get things done. i know of at least 35 wars that were haulted due to a bunch of people blocking traffic. you don't know which wars i'm talking about? that's because they were haulted.
this blog entry would have been more topical a year ago, but i'm always a little behind. that's why my jeans fit so well.
Jan 28, 2004
moldy oldies
i'm eating expired cottage cheese. it's not expired by much, but it is expired nonetheless. the cottage cheese itself won't make me sick; if i keep thinking of how it's expired, though, that will probably make me hurl. eventually. maybe not until next week or so. sometimes my brain has problems absorbing things right away.
today is my mother's 51st birthday. the bitch got old, and fast. i remember when she turned 40. she moaned, "my life is half over." to which i responded, "how long do you expect to last anyhow? i'd say it's about 2/3 over." that really made her day. always, i was the sensitive one.
i'm eating expired cottage cheese. it's not expired by much, but it is expired nonetheless. the cottage cheese itself won't make me sick; if i keep thinking of how it's expired, though, that will probably make me hurl. eventually. maybe not until next week or so. sometimes my brain has problems absorbing things right away.
today is my mother's 51st birthday. the bitch got old, and fast. i remember when she turned 40. she moaned, "my life is half over." to which i responded, "how long do you expect to last anyhow? i'd say it's about 2/3 over." that really made her day. always, i was the sensitive one.
aminals
i will never own a big dog. big dogs run around sounding like elephants and oftentimes produce enough slobber to maybe take a bath in, if you were prone to bathing in slobber. medical experts usually don't advise doing so. they also produce other things, which i will graciously leave to your imagination.
i will never own a small dog, either, because small dogs always have a needy look on their face. i knew a girl who had a dog the size of a rat; i would probably step on such a dog, and then have to dispose of the body. i hear you're not supposed to flush dogs. only fish can be flushed. fish are so convenient.
i might own a cat, an aloof cat that suggests royalty in the way it steps around my various messes and snootily lifts its tiny cat head as if to say, "for shame!" cats are independent animals; they don't need you or love you. i, however, would win a cat's heart over by giving it an ultimatum. "if you don't adore me," i would tell it sternly, "i will not change your litter box or feed you 'fancy feast.'" cats go nuts for 'fancy feast.' at least, that's what the commercials tell you.
i would not own a gerbil, because gerbils are ridiculous. i do not want a bird, because birds chirp. they are like caged wind chimes, and we all know how annoying wind chimes can be. the kind of people that own wind chimes are the kind of people that would welcome the sound of a chirping bird at six in the morning. those kind of people can shampoo my crotch. also, condition.
i might be persuaded to own a pony, but only if i could lodge it properly, like in a stable, a tool shed, or tied out by my car. you can't mistreat a pony; ponies have mad connections. i would not mistreat my pony. i would give it shoes to wear- red pumps with delicate bows on them.
i will never own a big dog. big dogs run around sounding like elephants and oftentimes produce enough slobber to maybe take a bath in, if you were prone to bathing in slobber. medical experts usually don't advise doing so. they also produce other things, which i will graciously leave to your imagination.
i will never own a small dog, either, because small dogs always have a needy look on their face. i knew a girl who had a dog the size of a rat; i would probably step on such a dog, and then have to dispose of the body. i hear you're not supposed to flush dogs. only fish can be flushed. fish are so convenient.
i might own a cat, an aloof cat that suggests royalty in the way it steps around my various messes and snootily lifts its tiny cat head as if to say, "for shame!" cats are independent animals; they don't need you or love you. i, however, would win a cat's heart over by giving it an ultimatum. "if you don't adore me," i would tell it sternly, "i will not change your litter box or feed you 'fancy feast.'" cats go nuts for 'fancy feast.' at least, that's what the commercials tell you.
i would not own a gerbil, because gerbils are ridiculous. i do not want a bird, because birds chirp. they are like caged wind chimes, and we all know how annoying wind chimes can be. the kind of people that own wind chimes are the kind of people that would welcome the sound of a chirping bird at six in the morning. those kind of people can shampoo my crotch. also, condition.
i might be persuaded to own a pony, but only if i could lodge it properly, like in a stable, a tool shed, or tied out by my car. you can't mistreat a pony; ponies have mad connections. i would not mistreat my pony. i would give it shoes to wear- red pumps with delicate bows on them.
Jan 27, 2004
breaking news: mcdonalds is *bad* for you!!
i recently finished reading "the da vinci code," which is apparently all the rage these days. "the da vinci code" uses a boring, typical plot formula to convey some rather atypical, interesting perspectives about mary magdalen, the holy grail, and leonardo da vinci. i disliked the novel and the way it was written, but everyone loves a good conspiracy. i'm no different, especially when it concerns the catholic church. damn right i'm eating meat on fridays during lent!
it's mind-boggling to imagine the research that went into "the da vinci code," although the amount of time he had to spend researching it does explain the lack of any good plot twists or development. surely, he had to fly to france and england in order to write this novel. surely, his publishing company paid for it. surely, if i ever become a big, famous writer, someone will want to fly me to france and england for research purposes.
publisher: but your novel takes place in ohio.
me: yes, but the main character's ancestors originated in paris and london. so it's crucial that i go.
publisher: you don't even mention her ancestors. or where they're from!
me: duh. that's because i haven't done the *research* yet.
anyhow, artistically speaking, i give the book one thumb up. on a scale of three thumbs.
i recently finished reading "the da vinci code," which is apparently all the rage these days. "the da vinci code" uses a boring, typical plot formula to convey some rather atypical, interesting perspectives about mary magdalen, the holy grail, and leonardo da vinci. i disliked the novel and the way it was written, but everyone loves a good conspiracy. i'm no different, especially when it concerns the catholic church. damn right i'm eating meat on fridays during lent!
it's mind-boggling to imagine the research that went into "the da vinci code," although the amount of time he had to spend researching it does explain the lack of any good plot twists or development. surely, he had to fly to france and england in order to write this novel. surely, his publishing company paid for it. surely, if i ever become a big, famous writer, someone will want to fly me to france and england for research purposes.
publisher: but your novel takes place in ohio.
me: yes, but the main character's ancestors originated in paris and london. so it's crucial that i go.
publisher: you don't even mention her ancestors. or where they're from!
me: duh. that's because i haven't done the *research* yet.
anyhow, artistically speaking, i give the book one thumb up. on a scale of three thumbs.
Jan 26, 2004
i fainted in my dream, and i could feel my heartbeat accelerating as my body rushed to meet the floor. just as i was about to hit it, my eyes flew open, and there i was in bed, a strangled *gasp* caught in my throat. i had to catch my breath, and then when i looked down, i saw i was completely naked. that startled me as well, until i realized that i always sleep in the nude... at least since i've moved out and don't have to worry about a mother or sister coming into my room in the morning to either borrow a sweater or bitch me out about something.
it's liberating. but sometimes cold.
it's liberating. but sometimes cold.
Jan 25, 2004
here's a recipe for "is it really better than sex? cake." i'm sure they serve it with "sorry to get your hopes up" milk.
Jan 24, 2004
i'm on page ten of my manifesto. if my calculations are correct, i should instead be on page forty-seven. my calculations are rarely correct, though. i once tried to calculate my age, subtracting 1980 from 2003, and came up with pi. i know for a fact that i am not pi years old. phi years old, though- that's a different possibility altogether.
chris has a fantastic beginning for a story. it really bugs me when he tries to show me up like this. the boy should stick to his own hobby- face painting, with a specialty in unicorns. also, he dabbles in bionic arm design. currently, he's got a really good "swiss army" idea- is it an arm, a bottle opener, a knife, or a toothpick? is it a poker, a jabber, a scraper, or a fan blade? oh, who can tell?!?!
my skin is disgustingly dry. damn this winter weather and the way it ravages the body. mother nature is going down. also, i've got a few bones to pick with father time, the muses, and papa smurf.
chris has a fantastic beginning for a story. it really bugs me when he tries to show me up like this. the boy should stick to his own hobby- face painting, with a specialty in unicorns. also, he dabbles in bionic arm design. currently, he's got a really good "swiss army" idea- is it an arm, a bottle opener, a knife, or a toothpick? is it a poker, a jabber, a scraper, or a fan blade? oh, who can tell?!?!
my skin is disgustingly dry. damn this winter weather and the way it ravages the body. mother nature is going down. also, i've got a few bones to pick with father time, the muses, and papa smurf.
Jan 23, 2004
it's been snowing all day. soon i leave for work and have to drive in the snow. this does not make me happy. i would take the private jet to work instead, but it's in the shop having the wet bar installed. if anybody asks, it's been in the shop for seven years, about the time i bought it.
i think i stepped on a shard of glass today. i think the shard of glass is enroute to my heart. i should probably get a few key things done before it kills me. hmm, what have i always wanted to do? run naked through the snow? shovel some snow while partially naked? clear some snow off the car while wearing a leotard and heels? no, none of those sound right. so i guess i'll just chill and watch some t.v. for a bit.
i think i stepped on a shard of glass today. i think the shard of glass is enroute to my heart. i should probably get a few key things done before it kills me. hmm, what have i always wanted to do? run naked through the snow? shovel some snow while partially naked? clear some snow off the car while wearing a leotard and heels? no, none of those sound right. so i guess i'll just chill and watch some t.v. for a bit.
i thought this article, entitled "dean: 'i have all kinds of warts'" would be a startling and heartfelt confession of one presidential candidate trying to deal with the fact that he got "all kinds of [genital] warts" from a dirty tiajuana hooker. i, of course, was let down.
you really have to watch what you say to the media. when you say, "i have all kinds of warts," you can certainly bet that people are going to think first of your genitals. i mean, that's a natural reaction, yes?
you really have to watch what you say to the media. when you say, "i have all kinds of warts," you can certainly bet that people are going to think first of your genitals. i mean, that's a natural reaction, yes?
i'm not getting along well with the english language these days. you might say that we're on the outs. it doesn't like me, and i absolutely hate it back. i'm glaring at it from over my shoulder, spitting on it as i also stomp all over it, and, worst of all, i'm throwing heavy wooden objects at it out of a helpless sense of utter frustration. i just don't know what to do with it anymore. i feel it's time for our relationship to end, but i'm too old and lazy to start courting other languages. plus, i don't necessarily think that spanish or german or chinese or french could ever possibly please me the way english used to, with its wacky spelling rules and lovable idioms. damn this feeling. damn it to hell.
i just wish we could make up. the english language and i were working together on writing a story, and i feel like i did my part by sorting out the plot- but when it came to trying to weave the words together as to make the telling of the story lyrical and beautiful, the english language let me down and went out to play pool with the boys. i tried to lock it out of the house, throwing its possessions and punctuations and dictionaries out on the lawn, but it was only a few minutes before i swore aloud and decided that i would let it back in- but compromise by still giving it the cold shoulder and using it only when necessary, such as when i was forced to order a pizza. when it came back to me, it smelled of another writer's perfume and fiction, and entire, poetic sentences were lipsticked on its collar, on the collar that i had once starched. i sobbed and heaved a bowling trophy at it, then kicked it in the proverbial you-know-what. "it's over," i screamed. "i don't need you."
it raised its eyebrows and said, "jackie, i will treat you like crap and not ever cooperate with you, and i will confuse you and hurt you and disobey you- but you will never break up with me. you are dependent on me."
not wanting to speak and prove it correct, i heaved a second bowling trophy at it and crossed my arms. they're currently still crossed, and i'm biting down on my lip so hard that i'm drawing blood. i'm waiting for something- a fucking apology, a promise to work with me and not against me, or maybe for it to get down on its knees and beg me to forgive it and allow it to help tell my tale. i'm waiting for it to say, "i have the perfect paragraph, jackie. i'm ready to commit to this if you are."
and i will hug it and say, "yay! but let's not collaborate on any more limericks, okay?"
i just wish we could make up. the english language and i were working together on writing a story, and i feel like i did my part by sorting out the plot- but when it came to trying to weave the words together as to make the telling of the story lyrical and beautiful, the english language let me down and went out to play pool with the boys. i tried to lock it out of the house, throwing its possessions and punctuations and dictionaries out on the lawn, but it was only a few minutes before i swore aloud and decided that i would let it back in- but compromise by still giving it the cold shoulder and using it only when necessary, such as when i was forced to order a pizza. when it came back to me, it smelled of another writer's perfume and fiction, and entire, poetic sentences were lipsticked on its collar, on the collar that i had once starched. i sobbed and heaved a bowling trophy at it, then kicked it in the proverbial you-know-what. "it's over," i screamed. "i don't need you."
it raised its eyebrows and said, "jackie, i will treat you like crap and not ever cooperate with you, and i will confuse you and hurt you and disobey you- but you will never break up with me. you are dependent on me."
not wanting to speak and prove it correct, i heaved a second bowling trophy at it and crossed my arms. they're currently still crossed, and i'm biting down on my lip so hard that i'm drawing blood. i'm waiting for something- a fucking apology, a promise to work with me and not against me, or maybe for it to get down on its knees and beg me to forgive it and allow it to help tell my tale. i'm waiting for it to say, "i have the perfect paragraph, jackie. i'm ready to commit to this if you are."
and i will hug it and say, "yay! but let's not collaborate on any more limericks, okay?"
Jan 22, 2004
a while ago, i subscribed to the yahoo group devoted to david sedaris. this is because i am madly in love with david sedaris, despite knowing that he's gay and it would probably never work. anyhow, for the past three months, my david sedaris group has been sending me nothing but porn links. i really don't think david sedaris would approve of this, and i'm not just saying this because none of the links are for *gay* porn. david sedaris strikes me as the kind of guy who would maybe tell humorous stories involving porn but never actually look at any himself; what with all the hours he devotes to making me laugh, i don't see how he could find the time for it. especially for the low quality sort of links these fucks have been sending me. talk about your ugly wierdos- not that i was curious enough to open any of the links, but, you know, i'm just assuming. anyhow, my point is that you should never join any online group, because eventually it's all going to come down to an inbox crammed with nasty porn links.
upon putting "david sedaris" into an anagram server, i found that the same letters spell, "a diver did ass." i suppose when you think about divers doing asses, this whole ugly mess seems a lot easier to understand. i mean, hell, i don't know. who brought this up in the first place?
upon putting "david sedaris" into an anagram server, i found that the same letters spell, "a diver did ass." i suppose when you think about divers doing asses, this whole ugly mess seems a lot easier to understand. i mean, hell, i don't know. who brought this up in the first place?
today begins the year of the monkey. did you know that those born in the year of the monkey are usually creative and intelligent? did you know that i was born in the year of the monkey?
well, i guess not even the chinese can be right all the time....
we did karaoke last night; i did a request from a man at the bar. i did it poorly, mind you, but let's remember the key point here- i'm now doing *requests.* and they're not requests that i leave and not come back.
well, i guess not even the chinese can be right all the time....
we did karaoke last night; i did a request from a man at the bar. i did it poorly, mind you, but let's remember the key point here- i'm now doing *requests.* and they're not requests that i leave and not come back.
Jan 20, 2004
stuff i'd like to learn to do, if i wasn't so lazy:
1. cook. they say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, which is bad advice if you're trying to stab someone, but probably good advice if you're trying to keep your boyfriend. i have never cooked for chris. i fear one day he's going to run off with julia child or emeril.
also, the way to JACKIE'S heart is through her stomach. and i really want to establish a better relationship with myself.
2. sew. i'd like to make my own clothes. i have no delusions that they would actually look good, these clothes that i would make, but i would feel such a sense of accomplishment to be able to say, "see this one-armed sweater without the neckhole? yeah, i made this."
3. swim better. i can swim, but i tend to swim like elaine on seinfeld dances. you know what i'm talking about.
4. perform oral surgery. i'd like to give myself a root canal. half of the reason i'm putting off my root canal is my fear and dislike of dentists. i don't fear or dislike myself; i'd be the perfect candidate to give myself a root canal!
5. speak japanese. just for fun.
1. cook. they say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, which is bad advice if you're trying to stab someone, but probably good advice if you're trying to keep your boyfriend. i have never cooked for chris. i fear one day he's going to run off with julia child or emeril.
also, the way to JACKIE'S heart is through her stomach. and i really want to establish a better relationship with myself.
2. sew. i'd like to make my own clothes. i have no delusions that they would actually look good, these clothes that i would make, but i would feel such a sense of accomplishment to be able to say, "see this one-armed sweater without the neckhole? yeah, i made this."
3. swim better. i can swim, but i tend to swim like elaine on seinfeld dances. you know what i'm talking about.
4. perform oral surgery. i'd like to give myself a root canal. half of the reason i'm putting off my root canal is my fear and dislike of dentists. i don't fear or dislike myself; i'd be the perfect candidate to give myself a root canal!
5. speak japanese. just for fun.
mikerowesoft.
a conversation w/ dr. eric today:
me: my eye's not that red anymore, and it doesn't burn so much, so should i still keep taking the eye drops?
eric: you may want to, for another week, or if it's not bothering you, maybe you shouldn't.
me: well, should i or shouldn't i?
eric: are you wearing your contacts?
me: no, i've been wearing my glasses. can i wear my contacts?
eric: you probably shouldn't for another week, but maybe if your eyes don't hurt, you can go ahead and try.
me: so should i wear my contacts or not?
eric: it's up to you.
me: and what about the drops?
eric: i don't know. take them if your eyes are bothering you, or maybe for the rest of the week, or maybe just until your eyes stop hurting.
me: okay, aren't you supposed to be the doctor here?
eric: yeah. listen, what do you want from me?
me: never mind.
i don't understand how we stay in business.
a conversation w/ dr. eric today:
me: my eye's not that red anymore, and it doesn't burn so much, so should i still keep taking the eye drops?
eric: you may want to, for another week, or if it's not bothering you, maybe you shouldn't.
me: well, should i or shouldn't i?
eric: are you wearing your contacts?
me: no, i've been wearing my glasses. can i wear my contacts?
eric: you probably shouldn't for another week, but maybe if your eyes don't hurt, you can go ahead and try.
me: so should i wear my contacts or not?
eric: it's up to you.
me: and what about the drops?
eric: i don't know. take them if your eyes are bothering you, or maybe for the rest of the week, or maybe just until your eyes stop hurting.
me: okay, aren't you supposed to be the doctor here?
eric: yeah. listen, what do you want from me?
me: never mind.
i don't understand how we stay in business.
Jan 19, 2004
today is the birthday of edgar allan poe. it's supposedly a mystery how he died; no autopsy was performed, but some people have their theories. these theories include:
Beating (1857)
Epilepsy (1875)
Dipsomania (1921)
Heart (1926)
Toxic Disorder (1970)
Hypoglycemia (1979)
Diabetes (1977)
Alcohol Dehydrogenase (1984)
Porphryia (1989)
Delerium Tremens (1992)
Rabies (1996)
Heart (1997)
Murder (1998)
Epilepsy (1999)
Carbon Monoxide Poisoning (1999)
my personal theory is that it was a bagel-related injury that, without proper medical attention, eventually killed him. this is why it's so important to eat PRE-SLICED bagels, people!
anyhow, i'm off track here. what made me mention poe was this article. here's the guts of the article:
For 56 years, someone has marked the writer's birthday by slinking into the small cemetery where Poe is buried to place French cognac and three roses on his grave in the middle of the night.
when i die, i hope that somebody marks my grave on my birthday. not someone that i knew while alive, because i'd frankly expect that (especially out of YOU), but years later, after everyone who knew me is long dead, i want some swedish man in a hooded cloak to trek to my grave and leave behind a pile of pez dispensers, a cheese wheel, and a martini glass. the martini glass should be empty; i don't want to encourage drinking among the cemetery keepers.
i guess the man doesn't have to be swedish. he could be a native of austin, tx perhaps. he could be russian or korean. i don't care. i just want the pile of pez dispensers, the cheese wheel, and the martini glass- every year. and i want anyone who steals that pile of pez dispensers, that cheese wheel, and that martini glass to befall an awful tragedy, such as having their foot crack off and float away into the sewer system. frankly, it's not nice to take things that don't belong to you, even if you really want them.
Beating (1857)
Epilepsy (1875)
Dipsomania (1921)
Heart (1926)
Toxic Disorder (1970)
Hypoglycemia (1979)
Diabetes (1977)
Alcohol Dehydrogenase (1984)
Porphryia (1989)
Delerium Tremens (1992)
Rabies (1996)
Heart (1997)
Murder (1998)
Epilepsy (1999)
Carbon Monoxide Poisoning (1999)
my personal theory is that it was a bagel-related injury that, without proper medical attention, eventually killed him. this is why it's so important to eat PRE-SLICED bagels, people!
anyhow, i'm off track here. what made me mention poe was this article. here's the guts of the article:
For 56 years, someone has marked the writer's birthday by slinking into the small cemetery where Poe is buried to place French cognac and three roses on his grave in the middle of the night.
when i die, i hope that somebody marks my grave on my birthday. not someone that i knew while alive, because i'd frankly expect that (especially out of YOU), but years later, after everyone who knew me is long dead, i want some swedish man in a hooded cloak to trek to my grave and leave behind a pile of pez dispensers, a cheese wheel, and a martini glass. the martini glass should be empty; i don't want to encourage drinking among the cemetery keepers.
i guess the man doesn't have to be swedish. he could be a native of austin, tx perhaps. he could be russian or korean. i don't care. i just want the pile of pez dispensers, the cheese wheel, and the martini glass- every year. and i want anyone who steals that pile of pez dispensers, that cheese wheel, and that martini glass to befall an awful tragedy, such as having their foot crack off and float away into the sewer system. frankly, it's not nice to take things that don't belong to you, even if you really want them.
Jan 18, 2004
my eye is red and burns. it burns, and it's red. first the flu, now this. i'm going to label this past week, "jackie gets every disease imaginable" week. by "every disease," i mean the flu and conjunctivitis. not, like, alzheimer's or something.
dan's band rocked mojoe's so hard last night that they were literally electrifying. read: dan's microphone continuously shocked him. i heard a lot of songs by them that i hadn't heard before, and they were good. even chris was impressed, and he has a heart of ice that can't easily be melted. i hear it's a congenital condition.
i have a feeling my eye will fall out of my head sometime today. that's why i'm bringing this net to work.
dan's band rocked mojoe's so hard last night that they were literally electrifying. read: dan's microphone continuously shocked him. i heard a lot of songs by them that i hadn't heard before, and they were good. even chris was impressed, and he has a heart of ice that can't easily be melted. i hear it's a congenital condition.
i have a feeling my eye will fall out of my head sometime today. that's why i'm bringing this net to work.
Jan 16, 2004
i just got an email from one of the girls chris and i met in virginia. i forgot that i'd given her my email address, but i guess i tend to do that sort of thing when i'm drunk. you know... give strange... girls... my email and phone number.... anyhow, i think it's really cool. now when chris and i go back to virginia beach in a couple of summers, we'll probably have somewhere to stay- with my new pen pal.
it's so fifth grade. but i love it!
it's so fifth grade. but i love it!
i am part of an elite group of writers known as the "egw" or, "elite group of writers." how did i become part of this historically ground-breaking group? that, i can't say. i also can't say why it is i'm not wearing pants.
i've always wanted to belong. i never belonged to anything, not volleyball or softball or yearbook or the elks. a lot of people get to be integral parts of very powerful groups. some people are president of the debate club. i personally dislike debating and will give in to about anything, even if your platform is that it's easy to make a pair of socks out of kool-aid and crackers. i can't imagine what it would be like walking around with a crumby puddle of kool-aid and crackers in my shoes- but, hey, if you say so, i'll agree. i just want you to like me.
i didn't belong in the house of representatives or the screen actors guild. i didn't belong in the express line at the grocery store or the carpool lane during rush hour. i don't belong in this low-cut blouse designed to display maximum boob-age. i never belonged in that class of '68 reunion party. but i did enjoy the cheese tray.
anyways, i digress. i now belong to something, and i call it the "egw," because that's what it's called. by me. an elite writer. this elite writer bought a lot of croissants yesterday. and today she wonders why.
i've always wanted to belong. i never belonged to anything, not volleyball or softball or yearbook or the elks. a lot of people get to be integral parts of very powerful groups. some people are president of the debate club. i personally dislike debating and will give in to about anything, even if your platform is that it's easy to make a pair of socks out of kool-aid and crackers. i can't imagine what it would be like walking around with a crumby puddle of kool-aid and crackers in my shoes- but, hey, if you say so, i'll agree. i just want you to like me.
i didn't belong in the house of representatives or the screen actors guild. i didn't belong in the express line at the grocery store or the carpool lane during rush hour. i don't belong in this low-cut blouse designed to display maximum boob-age. i never belonged in that class of '68 reunion party. but i did enjoy the cheese tray.
anyways, i digress. i now belong to something, and i call it the "egw," because that's what it's called. by me. an elite writer. this elite writer bought a lot of croissants yesterday. and today she wonders why.
Jan 15, 2004
dear monica, rachel, phoebe, chandler, joey, and ross,
today is the last day that i do absolutely nothing. this i promise, and you can rest assured that my promise will be kept. how could i ever lie to you guys, especially after all we've been through? you know my excuse, though, and it's a darn good one: i've had INFLUENZA. (sidenote: doesn't INFLUENZA sound a lot more important than plain old FLU?) i'm better now, but my cough is still alarmingly mucus-filled. (sidenote: my sister used to make fun of a kid named lucas; she called him mucus lucas.)
granted, i have done a few things this week besides watch the telly. let's see now. i've also had a lot of juice. oh! oh! oh! i did leave the house last night when chris and i saw "big fish." true, while it was just moving from in front of one screen to another, it did require putting on my coat and exchanging currency. i showered most days. no, i didn't do any reading except for right before bed; i'm reading a hardcover right now, and in my weakened state, i had trouble holding the damn thing up.
i know i haven't written anything, either, but remember: INFLUENZA. stop making me feel so bad!
i watched talk shows and cooking shows and sitcoms and movies and news broadcasts and stand up comics and travel documentaries and cartoons and game shows. what a variety! but this is all i've done. and i'm starting to feel a little bad about it.
don't worry, friends. tomorrow's a new day. and you do have my promise. who wants some juice?!?!
today is the last day that i do absolutely nothing. this i promise, and you can rest assured that my promise will be kept. how could i ever lie to you guys, especially after all we've been through? you know my excuse, though, and it's a darn good one: i've had INFLUENZA. (sidenote: doesn't INFLUENZA sound a lot more important than plain old FLU?) i'm better now, but my cough is still alarmingly mucus-filled. (sidenote: my sister used to make fun of a kid named lucas; she called him mucus lucas.)
granted, i have done a few things this week besides watch the telly. let's see now. i've also had a lot of juice. oh! oh! oh! i did leave the house last night when chris and i saw "big fish." true, while it was just moving from in front of one screen to another, it did require putting on my coat and exchanging currency. i showered most days. no, i didn't do any reading except for right before bed; i'm reading a hardcover right now, and in my weakened state, i had trouble holding the damn thing up.
i know i haven't written anything, either, but remember: INFLUENZA. stop making me feel so bad!
i watched talk shows and cooking shows and sitcoms and movies and news broadcasts and stand up comics and travel documentaries and cartoons and game shows. what a variety! but this is all i've done. and i'm starting to feel a little bad about it.
don't worry, friends. tomorrow's a new day. and you do have my promise. who wants some juice?!?!
Jan 14, 2004
i called him "Cocky McCock-A-Lot," although i couldn't explain what "cock-a-lot" meant. he was an asshole, and if i my brain hadn't been held captive by my hormones, i probably would have hated him. you know what i'm talking about. he was better than me, and i strived to be as smart as him. i didn't strive so much, though, when "beverly hills 90210" reruns were on. even star-eyed, i had priorities.
i saw him last night, finding his ocean-front house on complete accident during a freak 15 hour drive. it was hurricane season year round, he proclaimed, and his projected intelligence almost distracted me from the fact that he was wearing a dress, a knee-length floral print baby doll affair. his legs were hairier than ever, and he invited me in, but warned that i'd have to be quiet because his mother was sleeping. also, the sound of my voice hurt his ears. "what's with the dress?" i finally asked quietly when he let me into the kitchen and began to organize the artichokes.
"it has to do with the philosophy of robert mitchum," he snootily declared, and i remembered that robert mitchum had a deoderant named after him.
"i never even liked you," i whispered. "but it won't faze you too much, because i know you never even liked me, either."
his hair was wild, curly, long, entangled, and smelled of sleep and sweat. his eyes leered at me from behind his crooked nose, and as he began to slither up to me, the dress swishing around his meaty thighs, i opened my mouth over the artichokes and began to retch.
i saw him last night, finding his ocean-front house on complete accident during a freak 15 hour drive. it was hurricane season year round, he proclaimed, and his projected intelligence almost distracted me from the fact that he was wearing a dress, a knee-length floral print baby doll affair. his legs were hairier than ever, and he invited me in, but warned that i'd have to be quiet because his mother was sleeping. also, the sound of my voice hurt his ears. "what's with the dress?" i finally asked quietly when he let me into the kitchen and began to organize the artichokes.
"it has to do with the philosophy of robert mitchum," he snootily declared, and i remembered that robert mitchum had a deoderant named after him.
"i never even liked you," i whispered. "but it won't faze you too much, because i know you never even liked me, either."
his hair was wild, curly, long, entangled, and smelled of sleep and sweat. his eyes leered at me from behind his crooked nose, and as he began to slither up to me, the dress swishing around his meaty thighs, i opened my mouth over the artichokes and began to retch.
Jan 13, 2004
whenever i'm sick, i think of "fox trot." when i was younger and stayed home sick from school, i read a lot of "fox trot." i also watched a lot of cooking shows. funny that i don't think of casseroles whenever i get sick. probably a good thing, too, because enough hurling is enough hurling.
i think of "fox trot."
i think of "fox trot."
even things that are clearly not your fault are clearly your fault, through a chain of cause and effect so complex that it puts the heterotrimeric g protein to shame. how is it all your fault? baby, you were born. this whole bloody, vomit-like, smells-like-sweet-and-sour-chicken-and-old-cheese mess could have been fully avoided if only you'd have come to earth as a dust bunny or a plank of wood. don't bother saying that you're sorry; everything about you already does, from your circular posture to your ridiculous hair to the trail of toilet paper attached to your slipper. you are to blame. you were always to blame, and no matter what you do, or where you go, you will be the one that causes all the problems.
i found that in a fortune cookie.
i found that in a fortune cookie.
Jan 12, 2004
well, i'm sick. really sick. this is the first time in days i've even been able to sit up without getting dizzy, and even now i feel like keeling over. i guess it's the flu, but for the girl who doesn't have health insurance (that would be me) it really could be anything. pneumonia. SARS. a series of tumors. who can tell?
what else is new? well, this morning, i quit my new job via email.
didn't see that one coming, did you?
but i did, i quit my job. technically, i guess i'm unemployed now, but i have a feeling lenscrafters will be taking me back with open arms. i mean, i hope. here's the thing about the new job: it was awful. they gave us this condescending script to read, and while i don't have a lot of morals, i do have enough to know that performing an act for innocent people MAKES ME SICK. ooh, maybe that's why i have the flu.
also, another thing about the new job: it was cubicle city, with a 45 hour workweek (no flexibility) that would promise to leave me drained, both physically and emotionally. and i've made a decision. this time i'm serious about it, too, so don't go saying you've heard it before, blah, blah, blah: i really want to work on my writing. if i really want to work on my writing, i can't have some career-ish job holding me down.
lenscrafters, i took you for granted, you with your flexible hours, your paid time off, your easy-as-pie-no-pressure sales positions- you with your convenience and roll-out-of-bed-at-8:30-instead-of-6:30 mentality. you with your no commuting and friendly atmosphere where everybody knows your name....
my parents are going to kill me. but i guess i don't care. i'm not career oriented. i'm not a professional go-getter. i am truly wasting my degree.
but they'll learn to live with it. one day i'm going to be a success in a field that really, really matters- to me, at least. success in a career path???? that doesn't matter at all.
what else is new? well, this morning, i quit my new job via email.
didn't see that one coming, did you?
but i did, i quit my job. technically, i guess i'm unemployed now, but i have a feeling lenscrafters will be taking me back with open arms. i mean, i hope. here's the thing about the new job: it was awful. they gave us this condescending script to read, and while i don't have a lot of morals, i do have enough to know that performing an act for innocent people MAKES ME SICK. ooh, maybe that's why i have the flu.
also, another thing about the new job: it was cubicle city, with a 45 hour workweek (no flexibility) that would promise to leave me drained, both physically and emotionally. and i've made a decision. this time i'm serious about it, too, so don't go saying you've heard it before, blah, blah, blah: i really want to work on my writing. if i really want to work on my writing, i can't have some career-ish job holding me down.
lenscrafters, i took you for granted, you with your flexible hours, your paid time off, your easy-as-pie-no-pressure sales positions- you with your convenience and roll-out-of-bed-at-8:30-instead-of-6:30 mentality. you with your no commuting and friendly atmosphere where everybody knows your name....
my parents are going to kill me. but i guess i don't care. i'm not career oriented. i'm not a professional go-getter. i am truly wasting my degree.
but they'll learn to live with it. one day i'm going to be a success in a field that really, really matters- to me, at least. success in a career path???? that doesn't matter at all.
Jan 9, 2004
it's 9 days into the new year, and i think i'm ready to set some "resolutions."
1. i resolve to be positive about my career options/jobs while knowing that, really, a job is just a job, and it's no big deal what i do or do not do.
2. cut down on stinky habits. only engage in stinky habits in stinky social settings. you know what i'm talking about.
3. write my heart out.
4. try to learn as much as i can this year. improve my vocabulary. know odd and quirky facts to quote at cocktail parties. kick total ass in trivial pursuit, as opposed to jokingly answering "whoever pushed her!" to the question, "who discovered victoria falls?"
5. david livingston.
6. reeeeeelaaaax. make every day "do what you feel day." don't do the dishes so often. let the apartment be even messier. wear my clothes more than once before washing them. it's not like i sweat or spill things on myself THAT much. be lazier. thrive in laziness. except when it comes to personal pursuits such as
7. writing my heart out.
8. buy more boots and less sneakers. but combat boots. stomp around authoritatively.
9. see friends more.
10. visit carole in new york.
11. improve handwriting. my handwriting has been completely indecipherable for about six years. is it a y or a g or an i or an s? i don't know! it could be a 9, a ?, or an & for all i know.
12. don't be intimidated by anything. except monsters.
13. maintain ideal body weight. i've never been anything but skinny, but every once in a while i fear that my metabolism's going to start slowing down, causing my body to balloon out until i can't share my seat on the tilt a whirl. and i only tilt one way. down.
14. make a lot more lists.
15. but cap them all at "15."
1. i resolve to be positive about my career options/jobs while knowing that, really, a job is just a job, and it's no big deal what i do or do not do.
2. cut down on stinky habits. only engage in stinky habits in stinky social settings. you know what i'm talking about.
3. write my heart out.
4. try to learn as much as i can this year. improve my vocabulary. know odd and quirky facts to quote at cocktail parties. kick total ass in trivial pursuit, as opposed to jokingly answering "whoever pushed her!" to the question, "who discovered victoria falls?"
5. david livingston.
6. reeeeeelaaaax. make every day "do what you feel day." don't do the dishes so often. let the apartment be even messier. wear my clothes more than once before washing them. it's not like i sweat or spill things on myself THAT much. be lazier. thrive in laziness. except when it comes to personal pursuits such as
7. writing my heart out.
8. buy more boots and less sneakers. but combat boots. stomp around authoritatively.
9. see friends more.
10. visit carole in new york.
11. improve handwriting. my handwriting has been completely indecipherable for about six years. is it a y or a g or an i or an s? i don't know! it could be a 9, a ?, or an & for all i know.
12. don't be intimidated by anything. except monsters.
13. maintain ideal body weight. i've never been anything but skinny, but every once in a while i fear that my metabolism's going to start slowing down, causing my body to balloon out until i can't share my seat on the tilt a whirl. and i only tilt one way. down.
14. make a lot more lists.
15. but cap them all at "15."
Jan 7, 2004
sometimes i play little games w/ myself. like, when i first started dating chris, we went bowling. i said to myself before one of the rolls, "if i get a strike on this frame, chris and i will be together for a long time." i got a strike.
yesterday evening, i said to myself, "if i call somebody from norfolk, virginia tomorrow, then things will be okay with my new job." the second appt i set this morning was- you guessed it. mr. norfolk himself. i saw the area code and said to myself, "maybe he's from AROUND norfolk." but i asked him, and, nope, he's smack dab in norfolk.
so maybe everything will be okay....
yesterday evening, i said to myself, "if i call somebody from norfolk, virginia tomorrow, then things will be okay with my new job." the second appt i set this morning was- you guessed it. mr. norfolk himself. i saw the area code and said to myself, "maybe he's from AROUND norfolk." but i asked him, and, nope, he's smack dab in norfolk.
so maybe everything will be okay....
i'm at work now. how odd to write a blog entry at work. i'm in my cubicle, my picture of christopher set up next to my monitor, listening to the sounds of typing all around me. surely, my coworkers are all writing their blog entries, too, right?
oh, by the way, don't email me at my work email... BECAUSE I STILL DON'T HAVE AN ACCOUNT HERE! i think it's a subtle way of them telling me not to get too attached.
in other news, a lot of people think that those pictures of mars were actually taken in the nevada desert. that would explain the casino i was able to zoom in on. and here i thought martians just liked to gamble.
oh, by the way, don't email me at my work email... BECAUSE I STILL DON'T HAVE AN ACCOUNT HERE! i think it's a subtle way of them telling me not to get too attached.
in other news, a lot of people think that those pictures of mars were actually taken in the nevada desert. that would explain the casino i was able to zoom in on. and here i thought martians just liked to gamble.
Jan 6, 2004
work has me really depressed, although i really can't pinpoint why. these unpinpointed reasons are beside the reasons that i can pinpoint, which, for certain reasons, will remain unpinpointed as well.
in other news, the weather blows. with wind chill this morning, it was 20 below. 20 below!!
i found a link for "cold weather tip for pets." i consider myself to be a pet, so let's rephrase this list as it would pertain to me.
COLD WEATHER TIPS, FOR Jackie!
Oh, the weather outside is frightful! But, inside your home it's warm and so delightful! Learn how to protect your Jackie, and all other frizzy little friends by following these tips when the temperature takes a dip.
Keep your Jackie indoors! Outside, Jackie freezes and can become lost, stolen, or injured.
Which way do I go?! Never let your Jackie run around on snow or ice-especially during a snowstorm. Jackie might lose their scent in snow and ice and become lost.
Wipe off your Jackie's hands, legs, and stomach when she comes in from the snow or ice. Salt or other chemicals might make your Jackie sick if she swallows them while licking her hands. What's more, her palms are sensitive and might bleed if snow or ice covers them.
Brrrrr! If your Jackie has shaved her body hair, think about getting her a warm Jackie coat or sweater. Make sure she is protected on top and on her belly. Also her "special" areas.
Never leave your Jackie, or any other friend alone in a car in very cold weather! A car can act as a refrigerator and your Jackie could freeze. So, if you take your Jackie on a trip, make sure you and your family take her wherever you go, even if she insists on hearing the rest of that commercial, so she can "act now!"
AHHH - CHOO! Some Jackies may be sensitive to the cold because she is sick, old, or simply just the oddball (type of Jackie) she is. If your Jackie is sensitive, try not to keep her outside too long.
Let's Play! If your Jackie spends lots of time outside playing with you, make sure you and your family give her plenty of food and water to keep her hair thick and healthy all through the winter. I also recommend conditioner.
Snug as a bug! Make sure Jackie has a warm place to sleep that's off the floor and away from places where cold air might get in. They would be happy and warm in a Jackie bed or on a warm blanket. Preferably next to a dark-haired, smooth-talking man.
what great advice.
in other news, the weather blows. with wind chill this morning, it was 20 below. 20 below!!
i found a link for "cold weather tip for pets." i consider myself to be a pet, so let's rephrase this list as it would pertain to me.
COLD WEATHER TIPS, FOR Jackie!
Oh, the weather outside is frightful! But, inside your home it's warm and so delightful! Learn how to protect your Jackie, and all other frizzy little friends by following these tips when the temperature takes a dip.
Keep your Jackie indoors! Outside, Jackie freezes and can become lost, stolen, or injured.
Which way do I go?! Never let your Jackie run around on snow or ice-especially during a snowstorm. Jackie might lose their scent in snow and ice and become lost.
Wipe off your Jackie's hands, legs, and stomach when she comes in from the snow or ice. Salt or other chemicals might make your Jackie sick if she swallows them while licking her hands. What's more, her palms are sensitive and might bleed if snow or ice covers them.
Brrrrr! If your Jackie has shaved her body hair, think about getting her a warm Jackie coat or sweater. Make sure she is protected on top and on her belly. Also her "special" areas.
Never leave your Jackie, or any other friend alone in a car in very cold weather! A car can act as a refrigerator and your Jackie could freeze. So, if you take your Jackie on a trip, make sure you and your family take her wherever you go, even if she insists on hearing the rest of that commercial, so she can "act now!"
AHHH - CHOO! Some Jackies may be sensitive to the cold because she is sick, old, or simply just the oddball (type of Jackie) she is. If your Jackie is sensitive, try not to keep her outside too long.
Let's Play! If your Jackie spends lots of time outside playing with you, make sure you and your family give her plenty of food and water to keep her hair thick and healthy all through the winter. I also recommend conditioner.
Snug as a bug! Make sure Jackie has a warm place to sleep that's off the floor and away from places where cold air might get in. They would be happy and warm in a Jackie bed or on a warm blanket. Preferably next to a dark-haired, smooth-talking man.
what great advice.
Jan 5, 2004
i hate the snow.
ever since i was a young eskimo growing up in eskimoville, alaska, i've hated the snow. my eskimo daddy got me a bike for christmas once, and i was so excited that i nearly wet my eskimo pants. "when can i ride it?" i asked my daddy.
"when the snow's all gone, baby girl."
like a shmuck, i patiently waited for the snow to leave the skies and ground. the months rolled by like a certain unused bicycle would have probably rolled by, and before you knew it, it was christmas of the next year. the snow still covered the ground and fell out of the skies. i turned to my eskimo daddy with a tear stained face and two clenched fists and screamed, "i never got to use my bike!"
"wait until you see what i got you this year," he proudly cried. "ta-da! it's a wading pool!"
eskimo daddy later died of hypothermia after trying to demonstrate how much fun the wading pool could be in eskimoville, alaska. this is why i hate the snow. plus, the whole bike thing.
i start my new job today. i'm already depressed about it. i went to an orientation on saturday; they divided everyone up into three management teams. guess who wasn't on the list AT ALL?? if you guessed sammy hagar, you're right. also, me. i wasn't on the list at all, and if that isn't a bad omen for starting a new job, i don't know what is.
we'll see how it goes. i'll give it my best shot being cubicle-girl. she's sales-minded, she's professional, she has a phone with a lot of extensions- she's cubicle-girl!!
beware of all enterprises that require new clothes.
- thoreau
ever since i was a young eskimo growing up in eskimoville, alaska, i've hated the snow. my eskimo daddy got me a bike for christmas once, and i was so excited that i nearly wet my eskimo pants. "when can i ride it?" i asked my daddy.
"when the snow's all gone, baby girl."
like a shmuck, i patiently waited for the snow to leave the skies and ground. the months rolled by like a certain unused bicycle would have probably rolled by, and before you knew it, it was christmas of the next year. the snow still covered the ground and fell out of the skies. i turned to my eskimo daddy with a tear stained face and two clenched fists and screamed, "i never got to use my bike!"
"wait until you see what i got you this year," he proudly cried. "ta-da! it's a wading pool!"
eskimo daddy later died of hypothermia after trying to demonstrate how much fun the wading pool could be in eskimoville, alaska. this is why i hate the snow. plus, the whole bike thing.
i start my new job today. i'm already depressed about it. i went to an orientation on saturday; they divided everyone up into three management teams. guess who wasn't on the list AT ALL?? if you guessed sammy hagar, you're right. also, me. i wasn't on the list at all, and if that isn't a bad omen for starting a new job, i don't know what is.
we'll see how it goes. i'll give it my best shot being cubicle-girl. she's sales-minded, she's professional, she has a phone with a lot of extensions- she's cubicle-girl!!
beware of all enterprises that require new clothes.
- thoreau
Jan 3, 2004
i always confuse john madden with steve madden. i rarely confuse either of those guys with bob madden.
i bought chris the john madden football game. i thought it was the steve madden football game. i was majorly upset when i learned that the game didn't give the option to try on different shoes.
i bought chris the john madden football game. i thought it was the steve madden football game. i was majorly upset when i learned that the game didn't give the option to try on different shoes.
Jan 2, 2004
things i learned on our roadtrip to and from norfolk, virginia
norfolk's correct pronunciation is "no-fuck."
if you ever need to take a really bad piss, don't try to hold it through maryland. signs for "indian springs" and "big pool" will not make it easy.
the pennsylvania turnpike is a black hole. some never find their way out of it, but the ones that do make it will find that they've aged about forty years upon exiting.
the thing about hotels.com is that they don't necessarily tell you when your hotel is located in the ghetto.
"no-fuck" is crime-ridden, but pretty. also, it's boring, but "nice," like that girl you want to set up with your brother. the sales tax was low, but cigarettes cost about the same as chicago. i find this odd. it's virginia!! what with being a staple, i'd figure a pack of marlboros would cost the same as a half gallon of milk.
funny how a place can be both crime-ridden and boring. "no-fuck" is al capone on the couch in front of a documentary on hibernating bears.
virginia beach is awesome and hopping with parties and beach barbeques. at least that's how we would imagine it to be during peak summer months. in the winter, four out of five places are closed.
when the waterside bars in norfolk throw a new year's eve party and advertise "free buffet!" they forget to add that the "free buffet!" will only be available for 6 minutes before they clear away the food and deny that such a thing ever existed in the first place.
norfolk is home to a guy named dustin. dustin lived in chicago and moved to norfolk. dustin obviously didn't visit norfolk first before committing.
the tugboat museum is lots of fun. not.
tug huntington is not the name of a man, but a boat. if it was the name of a man, i would probably wager that "tug" was short for "tuglas."
the atlantic ocean is always happy to see you. it loves you.
it loves you so much that its gift of shrimp and clam chowder will stay with you and make your mouth water for weeks afterwards. possibly months; i'll update you in march.
if you go on a road trip with a pair of hulk hands in the backseat, you're in for an auditory treat at every bump.
done now. may add more later. hulk tired.
norfolk's correct pronunciation is "no-fuck."
if you ever need to take a really bad piss, don't try to hold it through maryland. signs for "indian springs" and "big pool" will not make it easy.
the pennsylvania turnpike is a black hole. some never find their way out of it, but the ones that do make it will find that they've aged about forty years upon exiting.
the thing about hotels.com is that they don't necessarily tell you when your hotel is located in the ghetto.
"no-fuck" is crime-ridden, but pretty. also, it's boring, but "nice," like that girl you want to set up with your brother. the sales tax was low, but cigarettes cost about the same as chicago. i find this odd. it's virginia!! what with being a staple, i'd figure a pack of marlboros would cost the same as a half gallon of milk.
funny how a place can be both crime-ridden and boring. "no-fuck" is al capone on the couch in front of a documentary on hibernating bears.
virginia beach is awesome and hopping with parties and beach barbeques. at least that's how we would imagine it to be during peak summer months. in the winter, four out of five places are closed.
when the waterside bars in norfolk throw a new year's eve party and advertise "free buffet!" they forget to add that the "free buffet!" will only be available for 6 minutes before they clear away the food and deny that such a thing ever existed in the first place.
norfolk is home to a guy named dustin. dustin lived in chicago and moved to norfolk. dustin obviously didn't visit norfolk first before committing.
the tugboat museum is lots of fun. not.
tug huntington is not the name of a man, but a boat. if it was the name of a man, i would probably wager that "tug" was short for "tuglas."
the atlantic ocean is always happy to see you. it loves you.
it loves you so much that its gift of shrimp and clam chowder will stay with you and make your mouth water for weeks afterwards. possibly months; i'll update you in march.
if you go on a road trip with a pair of hulk hands in the backseat, you're in for an auditory treat at every bump.
done now. may add more later. hulk tired.
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