1. i cannot, cannot, CAN-NOT stand this weather anymore.
2. the other thing I cannot stand is a close second, and that would be my current source of income.
3. i keep going over the years from when I graduated college until where I am now and I wonder why I didn't try harder to make something happen for myself back then.
4. that leads me to then ask why I can't do it now.
Long story short...I'm in a rut. S...O...S.
In other news that you probably don't want to read about, (but you will...because you are already here and well, this is the only 'News' that i have right now) I created that swell place to write about planning the wedding. I haven't added anything to it yet...but it's there whenever I feel so inclined.
wouldn't it be nice
Also, I'm watching Lost. I've never seen a single episode of this show, and I don't understand a word of it...but I think it's funny that A) Jack's name is "Dr. Shepard" (like, he's the original McDreamy and shit) and B) that "Mike" from Las Vegas is on here playing a total serious Dr. and he has a junior high mustache. and C) This Hurley guy totally looks and talks like this lady i work with...yup I said lady.
Okay, seriously...this show is a total bummer. I guess I can see why people watch it though. Pretty mysterious.
In regards to point 1. from above...I've found a house in Nashville which has a pretty nice climate. I will be moving soon:
ummm...yeah.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Blarg.
I can't believe tomorrow is already Monday. This weekend went by too fast. I spent most of it on the computer looking at all things wedding related. I've sent out some inquiries for vendors, so we'll see. I'd like to find a place soon so I can actually have a date, etc. Other than that, there was a "What Not To Wear" marathon on today, so...that was today.
Speaking of the wedding...I really want to have a separate space to write about the planning, the details, etc. But, I cannot think of what to call it. I'm at a loss. Hopefully something will come to me soon because I have a lot to talk about!
Other than that...
I'm tired. Goodnight.
Speaking of the wedding...I really want to have a separate space to write about the planning, the details, etc. But, I cannot think of what to call it. I'm at a loss. Hopefully something will come to me soon because I have a lot to talk about!
Other than that...
I'm tired. Goodnight.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
True Love
Okay, first of all, I have WAY too many pictures of the Spice Girls saved on my computer. Secondly, look at this picture. Thirdly, go read what the Fug Girls have to say about it because it's pretty funny. All I can say about it is that I love that Posh decided that if she was going to clutch anything, it was NOT going to be Scary Spice! and also why haven't they just built a Posh robot and programmed her to look like she's actually interested in being there? honestly, I bet it'd be a lot cheaper. But also a lot less awesome.
Dolla Dolla Bills Ya'll
Last we left off, I was hanging out with "Rude Boy" who was dressed as a skin head, until he ran off into the sunset. I pity the fool who is sitting next to that guy on the plane. What a nightmare.
Anywho, so the flight to California is a little over 4 hours. We've already been sitting on the runway for an hour before we even take off. I'm surrounded by really old people and really young babies. You'd think the babies would be the problem, but not so. The old people behind me were the kind of people who have to narrate everything and state the obvious. The two in front of me smelled like a mixture of York Peppermint Patties and nicotine but they were pretty quiet. The two behind me had no odor, but they take the cake for annoying old people. Old people on planes are seriously the worst.
Here's a little glimpse into my hour on tarmack:
Please imagine this in a very monotone old person voice.
Old guy: This is awful
Old lady: What is going on?
OG (pretending he knows what he's talking about): They should be giving us updates on the take off. That's what they should be doing.
OL: This is awwwwfuuuuul
OG: Look, that Korean plan just cut in line in front of us.
OL: This is awful.
It's like, 'really? you think this is awful? you know what is awful? listening to the sound of the two of you effing yammering back and forth and complaining about it!'
Then they start reading off all the names of the different airlines.
OG: American Airlines
OL: hmmmm.
OL: Delta
OG: hmmmm.
OG: United
OL: What?
OG: UNITED!
OL: hmmmm.
this went on until we took off. I had to save my precious battery on my Zune so I could watch back to back episodes of Always Sunny in Philadelphia and listen to my "airplane" music. I have certain albums and artists that I always listen to on the airplane. Almost always they include Illinoise by Sufjan Stevens, anything by The Get Up Kids, Interpol's Antics, a little Band of Horses, Death Cab, and then I listen to some more upbeat stuff when I feel sleepy. This time I listened to the new Lupe Fiasco (which is so good) and Smoke or Fire. I don't sleep on planes when I'm by myself. A) because I'm a freak show I and I feel like I'm going to snore, talk in my sleep, or twitch violently or something and that shit is embarrassing and B) Because I'm even more of a freak and I think someone is going to like dig through my shit when I'm sleeping. Thanks, Mom for making me a safety freak. Thanks, A lot.
Anywho, so I'm in the air and I'm thanking Jesus that I don't have a talker next to me. I have a window seat, but it doesn't matter much because this is what pretty much all of America looks like from Chicago to California:
(I almost feel guilty posting these pictures. Not because you'll be jealous of my trip or anything, but because they are so boring. But then again, I can probably come up with something witty to say about them. So here goes.)
Yup, one enorme crop circle. I literally took this one like a half hour later because I couldn't believe I'd been looking at the same boring shit for that long:
I then close the shade, buy a $5.00 sandwich because it's now like 1 p.m. cst and my stomach is eating itself, and I watch my stories for a while.
When we got closer to the West coast I opened the shade again. The scenery changed..and if at all possible, it became uglier:
I then read the entire New York Magazine I bought and it was a good pick. I mostly enjoyed the feature about the 50 reasons to love New York...even though I don't live there, it was a pretty cool idea and also a piece on the Wu-Tang Clan's new album which includes a guide to help you identify your favorite ruckus bringing mother f-ers. It's a hoot and definitely worth a gander.
My favorite fact about Method Man, besides the fact that he is the 'heart throb' of the clan:
he is "According to GZA, stoned on average “eighteen hours” a day."
So that was a good way to spend some time.
OH! Finally! We are here! Sunny...San Diego!
er...wait a minute! I forgot, the west coast is being hit with torrential rains! Just my luck!
Waaaa...Waaaa...welcome to San Diego.
Depressing.
That's about enough for now, isn't it? More at a later date.
I will now leave you with one of my favorite things about the T.V. strike:
Coney's beard.
Also, I plan on having an outlet to talk about wedding stuff, but I haven't created it yet. And no, it will not live on the knot.
Anywho, so the flight to California is a little over 4 hours. We've already been sitting on the runway for an hour before we even take off. I'm surrounded by really old people and really young babies. You'd think the babies would be the problem, but not so. The old people behind me were the kind of people who have to narrate everything and state the obvious. The two in front of me smelled like a mixture of York Peppermint Patties and nicotine but they were pretty quiet. The two behind me had no odor, but they take the cake for annoying old people. Old people on planes are seriously the worst.
Here's a little glimpse into my hour on tarmack:
Please imagine this in a very monotone old person voice.
Old guy: This is awful
Old lady: What is going on?
OG (pretending he knows what he's talking about): They should be giving us updates on the take off. That's what they should be doing.
OL: This is awwwwfuuuuul
OG: Look, that Korean plan just cut in line in front of us.
OL: This is awful.
It's like, 'really? you think this is awful? you know what is awful? listening to the sound of the two of you effing yammering back and forth and complaining about it!'
Then they start reading off all the names of the different airlines.
OG: American Airlines
OL: hmmmm.
OL: Delta
OG: hmmmm.
OG: United
OL: What?
OG: UNITED!
OL: hmmmm.
this went on until we took off. I had to save my precious battery on my Zune so I could watch back to back episodes of Always Sunny in Philadelphia and listen to my "airplane" music. I have certain albums and artists that I always listen to on the airplane. Almost always they include Illinoise by Sufjan Stevens, anything by The Get Up Kids, Interpol's Antics, a little Band of Horses, Death Cab, and then I listen to some more upbeat stuff when I feel sleepy. This time I listened to the new Lupe Fiasco (which is so good) and Smoke or Fire. I don't sleep on planes when I'm by myself. A) because I'm a freak show I and I feel like I'm going to snore, talk in my sleep, or twitch violently or something and that shit is embarrassing and B) Because I'm even more of a freak and I think someone is going to like dig through my shit when I'm sleeping. Thanks, Mom for making me a safety freak. Thanks, A lot.
Anywho, so I'm in the air and I'm thanking Jesus that I don't have a talker next to me. I have a window seat, but it doesn't matter much because this is what pretty much all of America looks like from Chicago to California:
(I almost feel guilty posting these pictures. Not because you'll be jealous of my trip or anything, but because they are so boring. But then again, I can probably come up with something witty to say about them. So here goes.)
Yup, one enorme crop circle. I literally took this one like a half hour later because I couldn't believe I'd been looking at the same boring shit for that long:
I then close the shade, buy a $5.00 sandwich because it's now like 1 p.m. cst and my stomach is eating itself, and I watch my stories for a while.
When we got closer to the West coast I opened the shade again. The scenery changed..and if at all possible, it became uglier:
I then read the entire New York Magazine I bought and it was a good pick. I mostly enjoyed the feature about the 50 reasons to love New York...even though I don't live there, it was a pretty cool idea and also a piece on the Wu-Tang Clan's new album which includes a guide to help you identify your favorite ruckus bringing mother f-ers. It's a hoot and definitely worth a gander.
My favorite fact about Method Man, besides the fact that he is the 'heart throb' of the clan:
he is "According to GZA, stoned on average “eighteen hours” a day."
So that was a good way to spend some time.
OH! Finally! We are here! Sunny...San Diego!
er...wait a minute! I forgot, the west coast is being hit with torrential rains! Just my luck!
Waaaa...Waaaa...welcome to San Diego.
Depressing.
That's about enough for now, isn't it? More at a later date.
I will now leave you with one of my favorite things about the T.V. strike:
Coney's beard.
Also, I plan on having an outlet to talk about wedding stuff, but I haven't created it yet. And no, it will not live on the knot.
Friday, January 11, 2008
1/11 (never forget)
Whatever they say about absence...I'm sure it's true.
G-mays' last night of BFF Hangz.
Frown Town.
Farewell.
G-mays' last night of BFF Hangz.
Frown Town.
Farewell.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
A Whale's....
Vagina....
That's right. I'm in San Diego. I've been here since Saturday, leaving tomorrow. I actually can't believe it's already time to go. The trip went by really fast and was pretty pleasant as far as trips that take you to math conventions go. There have been a few downs, but mostly ups.
Saturday started out with my car service being late to pick me up because the tool box driver they sent went to Target to buy digital camera at 8 in the morning and had to wait around for someone to come to the electronics department to ring him out. Seriously? Why are you telling me that? I was fine with thinking you were stuck in traffic or had to stop for gas. But you HAD to...like seriously HAAAAAAAAAD to buy a digital camera right before you picked me up? Whatever douche...could you please take 90, not the fucking Elgin O'hare just so you can give me the historical background on why it doesn't go from Elgin to O'hare. I realize your a "professional" driver, and I use the term very loosely, but I'm not retarded nor have I just moved to the northwest suburbs. I get it. NO? Fine. We're here? Great. Buh-bye.
Well, it's a good thing my flight has been delayed an hour. Wouldn't want to have missed it due to my new friend Talky McTalks A lot and his acclaimed wealth of information.
Curbside check in...it's cold. Of course there is a family of 15 foreign people in front of me and the inside looks worse. I wait. The old lady directly in front of me is going to Baltimore and obviously hasn't flown in a while. She gives the skycap her credit card and he barks at her "Don't give me your credit card! Where are you going? I.D.?" I feel bad for her. Never the less...I check in. Flight is leaving at 11:15 a.m. now.
Fucking security. Item number 1) Why the hell do HUGE groups of family think it's truly necessary to stand at the outside of the security line and wave and take pictures of their loved one until they are out of sight? Please get the eff out of the way! thanks.
Item number 2 is this:
Dear TSA lady screaming at the top of your lungs at the metal detector about how much liquid I can bring on the plane in what size bag, what articles of clothing i can be wearing, which bags need a bin, and how I have to bring my boarding pass with me through the gate,
PLEASE...shut your God forsaken mouth and deal with the fact that 99.9 percent of travelers are still, despite your incessant monotone yammering, going to fuck it up once they get there because A) the sound of your voice is so painful that they have already tuned you out B) they don't even speak English or C) much like me, they are making fun of you inside their head so much that they don't even know what words are coming out of your mouth. You are the worst. Oh, and can you please take 5 minutes to refill the stupid bins? Because I now need 4 just to get everything I have to strip off, remove from my bag and take off my feet through the x-ray machine.
Your's truly, xoxo, I hate your guts,
me.
5 hours later, I put all my clothes and my shoes on again and I make my way over to the gate. I get my sausage biscuit and my big coke and I go to the good ol' newsstand to get my gossip magazines and something odd happens. I suddenly can't bring myself to read about how Lauren 'L.C.' Conrad went from a size 2 to a size 0 and how she looks "Amazing" now. Or about Jamie Lynn Spears breeding! "What is wrong with me?" I say to myself, I LOVE celeb gossip...but for some reason, I just didn't have it in me this day. My eyes settle on a magazine that I've never read in my life. New York Magazine. it was an issue about 50 reasons to love NY. It looks good enough so I grab that and also an issue of Martha Stewart Living (I wanted to see what it was like seeing as it may be what will be sent to me now that my beloved blueprint has been put to death and as I imagined, it's old). So i spend ten bucks on something I'm about to trash in three hours and head to my gate to sit, enjoy my greasy breakfast sandwich and stare into space for an hour and a half. Then, of course, something weird happened. I met...a self proclaimed...Rude Boy. The worst.
So...I sit down at the gate and I hear from behind me "Oh, someones wearing an Against Me! jacket!" (It was a hoodie, but whatever, that's what this person called it) I ignore it, because I generally dislike people and don't want to acknowledge their presence, much the less strike up witty banter about a band I listen to. Especially at an airport at 9 in the morning. I start to unwrap my tasty sausage b. Ol' dude comes around from behind me and says:
'rude boy': Thank you for wearing that jacket!
me: Youuuuur Welcome?
'rude boy': Did you see them in Tulsa?
me (trying to figure wtf this dude is talking about): Um, no? I'm from Chicago. I've seen them here a few times though.
I then realized that the flight leaving before mine is going to Tulsa at 9:55...and it's pretty close to then, so I don't get too worried because this guy will be gone soon.
'rude boy' gives me a roll of the eyes, like I just dropped some name or something by saying I live in the city of the airport he's in. I think he's going away. He isn't.
'rude boy': yadda yadda, I just saw the Tossers, yadda yadda, (rips open his shirt) look at my Irish themed chest piece!!!! yadda, yadda, I just got out of the Navy...What else is from Chicago?
me (in disbelief that this guy is still going on): uhhhh...The Lawrence Arms? A lot of stuff. I dunno, really.
I turned to try to ignore him and eat my breakfast and the dude sure enough plopped his ADD ass right down next to me and kept going.
The next few minutes were him talking about:
Chuck Palahniuk, how he volunteered to go to Iraq 3 0r 4 times only because he wanted to smoke cigarettes and be an asshole like the guys you saw in "nam," but they never sent him, area 51, the Zombie Survival Guide, Sean of the Dead, and some other weird ass stuff. I just ate my shit and laughed at him in disbelief because he was fucking weird...like on fast forward and shit.
Then he name dropped Death By Stereo. Then I said I don't listen to them. Then he asked me about the Ska scene in Chicago...then I said I don't listen to Ska (and that no one really does anymore)...then he got flabbergasted and told me that he was a Rude Boy...and I said, "yeah...I can tell." Then he pointed out his Fred Perry polo shit and his suspenders and his flanked jeans and his combat boots and then he took his tight ass jean jacket off and showed me his half sleeve that seriously fucking said "Rude Boy." then I almost passed out cuz he smelled like B-B.O. But instead I said..."Yeah..." and started to talk about how I don't really care about Ska. THEN! Right in the middle of what I was saying, they call final boarding for his plane and dude just gets up and says "oh, gotta go" and gets on the plane. WEIRD!!!!
Rest of the day included sitting in the airport...sitting on the runway...sitting on the plane and finally getting to San Diego hours later.
Traveling sucks. Now, I have to pack and go to bed where I'll be having nightmares about having to do it all again tomorrow. Well, that and also this:
k.
That's right. I'm in San Diego. I've been here since Saturday, leaving tomorrow. I actually can't believe it's already time to go. The trip went by really fast and was pretty pleasant as far as trips that take you to math conventions go. There have been a few downs, but mostly ups.
Saturday started out with my car service being late to pick me up because the tool box driver they sent went to Target to buy digital camera at 8 in the morning and had to wait around for someone to come to the electronics department to ring him out. Seriously? Why are you telling me that? I was fine with thinking you were stuck in traffic or had to stop for gas. But you HAD to...like seriously HAAAAAAAAAD to buy a digital camera right before you picked me up? Whatever douche...could you please take 90, not the fucking Elgin O'hare just so you can give me the historical background on why it doesn't go from Elgin to O'hare. I realize your a "professional" driver, and I use the term very loosely, but I'm not retarded nor have I just moved to the northwest suburbs. I get it. NO? Fine. We're here? Great. Buh-bye.
Well, it's a good thing my flight has been delayed an hour. Wouldn't want to have missed it due to my new friend Talky McTalks A lot and his acclaimed wealth of information.
Curbside check in...it's cold. Of course there is a family of 15 foreign people in front of me and the inside looks worse. I wait. The old lady directly in front of me is going to Baltimore and obviously hasn't flown in a while. She gives the skycap her credit card and he barks at her "Don't give me your credit card! Where are you going? I.D.?" I feel bad for her. Never the less...I check in. Flight is leaving at 11:15 a.m. now.
Fucking security. Item number 1) Why the hell do HUGE groups of family think it's truly necessary to stand at the outside of the security line and wave and take pictures of their loved one until they are out of sight? Please get the eff out of the way! thanks.
Item number 2 is this:
Dear TSA lady screaming at the top of your lungs at the metal detector about how much liquid I can bring on the plane in what size bag, what articles of clothing i can be wearing, which bags need a bin, and how I have to bring my boarding pass with me through the gate,
PLEASE...shut your God forsaken mouth and deal with the fact that 99.9 percent of travelers are still, despite your incessant monotone yammering, going to fuck it up once they get there because A) the sound of your voice is so painful that they have already tuned you out B) they don't even speak English or C) much like me, they are making fun of you inside their head so much that they don't even know what words are coming out of your mouth. You are the worst. Oh, and can you please take 5 minutes to refill the stupid bins? Because I now need 4 just to get everything I have to strip off, remove from my bag and take off my feet through the x-ray machine.
Your's truly, xoxo, I hate your guts,
me.
5 hours later, I put all my clothes and my shoes on again and I make my way over to the gate. I get my sausage biscuit and my big coke and I go to the good ol' newsstand to get my gossip magazines and something odd happens. I suddenly can't bring myself to read about how Lauren 'L.C.' Conrad went from a size 2 to a size 0 and how she looks "Amazing" now. Or about Jamie Lynn Spears breeding! "What is wrong with me?" I say to myself, I LOVE celeb gossip...but for some reason, I just didn't have it in me this day. My eyes settle on a magazine that I've never read in my life. New York Magazine. it was an issue about 50 reasons to love NY. It looks good enough so I grab that and also an issue of Martha Stewart Living (I wanted to see what it was like seeing as it may be what will be sent to me now that my beloved blueprint has been put to death and as I imagined, it's old). So i spend ten bucks on something I'm about to trash in three hours and head to my gate to sit, enjoy my greasy breakfast sandwich and stare into space for an hour and a half. Then, of course, something weird happened. I met...a self proclaimed...Rude Boy. The worst.
So...I sit down at the gate and I hear from behind me "Oh, someones wearing an Against Me! jacket!" (It was a hoodie, but whatever, that's what this person called it) I ignore it, because I generally dislike people and don't want to acknowledge their presence, much the less strike up witty banter about a band I listen to. Especially at an airport at 9 in the morning. I start to unwrap my tasty sausage b. Ol' dude comes around from behind me and says:
'rude boy': Thank you for wearing that jacket!
me: Youuuuur Welcome?
'rude boy': Did you see them in Tulsa?
me (trying to figure wtf this dude is talking about): Um, no? I'm from Chicago. I've seen them here a few times though.
I then realized that the flight leaving before mine is going to Tulsa at 9:55...and it's pretty close to then, so I don't get too worried because this guy will be gone soon.
'rude boy' gives me a roll of the eyes, like I just dropped some name or something by saying I live in the city of the airport he's in. I think he's going away. He isn't.
'rude boy': yadda yadda, I just saw the Tossers, yadda yadda, (rips open his shirt) look at my Irish themed chest piece!!!! yadda, yadda, I just got out of the Navy...What else is from Chicago?
me (in disbelief that this guy is still going on): uhhhh...The Lawrence Arms? A lot of stuff. I dunno, really.
I turned to try to ignore him and eat my breakfast and the dude sure enough plopped his ADD ass right down next to me and kept going.
The next few minutes were him talking about:
Chuck Palahniuk, how he volunteered to go to Iraq 3 0r 4 times only because he wanted to smoke cigarettes and be an asshole like the guys you saw in "nam," but they never sent him, area 51, the Zombie Survival Guide, Sean of the Dead, and some other weird ass stuff. I just ate my shit and laughed at him in disbelief because he was fucking weird...like on fast forward and shit.
Then he name dropped Death By Stereo. Then I said I don't listen to them. Then he asked me about the Ska scene in Chicago...then I said I don't listen to Ska (and that no one really does anymore)...then he got flabbergasted and told me that he was a Rude Boy...and I said, "yeah...I can tell." Then he pointed out his Fred Perry polo shit and his suspenders and his flanked jeans and his combat boots and then he took his tight ass jean jacket off and showed me his half sleeve that seriously fucking said "Rude Boy." then I almost passed out cuz he smelled like B-B.O. But instead I said..."Yeah..." and started to talk about how I don't really care about Ska. THEN! Right in the middle of what I was saying, they call final boarding for his plane and dude just gets up and says "oh, gotta go" and gets on the plane. WEIRD!!!!
Rest of the day included sitting in the airport...sitting on the runway...sitting on the plane and finally getting to San Diego hours later.
Traveling sucks. Now, I have to pack and go to bed where I'll be having nightmares about having to do it all again tomorrow. Well, that and also this:
k.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
...
The phone in the EMPTY cubicle next to me keeps ringing really loud...4 rings...every minute or so...I can't turn down the ringer. The woman on the other side has called the help desk twice about it, yet it proceeds.
I think my right eardrum is now bleeding.
1 more day and I'm in San Diego
Only 3 hundred some odd days until Winter Break '08.
3:03 p.m. Edit: I just found this on someone else's Blarg. It's good. Go there. http://www.passiveaggressivenotes.com/
I think my right eardrum is now bleeding.
1 more day and I'm in San Diego
Only 3 hundred some odd days until Winter Break '08.
3:03 p.m. Edit: I just found this on someone else's Blarg. It's good. Go there. http://www.passiveaggressivenotes.com/
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
