I was checking my bank account today because I essentially decided yesterday that I would buy an iPod with store credit rather than buy a new pair of headphones.
I clearly see the logic is flawed and that just because my headphones broke that it doesn't mean buying an iPod would be saving money overall.
It makes sense when you desperately want an iPod and any sort of rationalization makes sense. Also, despite the fact that I'll probably be paying more money for the iPod than if I bought it outright, but unfortunately I just don't have the money.
While perusing my bank account I noticed that I had a deposit supposedly from my father's old job. Before he changed jobs, and when I was still in college, I would have an automatic deposit into my bank account that was a little bit like an allowance.
Okay, so I guess it totally was an allowance.
I've been expecting money from the bank because I was able to have my bank semi-credit card that really isn't one but is helping me build my credit history. So I was supposed to be getting my $95 back from the bank.
That's exactly how much money the deposit was.
So now I'm wondering, maybe the bank is just calling it a deposit from my dad's company for some reason? Right?
The most important question is: if it is really from my dad's former employer, do I have to give it back? Do I have to tell them? I mean it could just really be their mistake, right? Just my luck I'll be hauled off to prison.
Hi Girls!
They don't have strippers in prison do they?
Monday, January 31, 2005
Friday, January 28, 2005
heavy headed morning
Friday morning? Long. Long. Long.
For some reason I decided after happy hour with my new program crew to go home and meet up with Shortie while we proceed to hang out and drink. Usually? This isn't so bad because it involves a variety of rather weak alcoholic beverages. Beer. Sometimes the hard lemonade thrown in.
Last night? Bourbon.
Why? Because I love The Bourbon. Especially with ginger ale and it's pretty awesome for cold weather.
Not good. Clearly drinking The Bourbon leads to drunkeness rather than buzzed. Though it was a really happy fuzzy semi-drunk. Not full out. We were cackling like a bunch of idiots. I actually don't remember the last time I was the stupid happy drunk. Good times.
Stretch, the insomniac then decides to call.
At 2:35 in the morning.
"Did I wake you up?"
"Well...kind of. Why are you calling so late?"
"Is it late?" Which is pretty much common response when Stretch calls late at night. I know you know how late it is.
So with talking to Stretch for a bit, because she was raring for a chat, and the Bourbon, and a 3am bedtime, it was rather painful to wake up this morning to go to work. I always set my TV as my alarm and Suddenly Susan was on much too early this morning. Shut it, Brooke Shields! There is a reason your show was 'suddenly' cancelled. It fucking sucked.
My actions are slow and I'm waiting for the day to end.
Fucking Fridays.
For some reason I decided after happy hour with my new program crew to go home and meet up with Shortie while we proceed to hang out and drink. Usually? This isn't so bad because it involves a variety of rather weak alcoholic beverages. Beer. Sometimes the hard lemonade thrown in.
Last night? Bourbon.
Why? Because I love The Bourbon. Especially with ginger ale and it's pretty awesome for cold weather.
Not good. Clearly drinking The Bourbon leads to drunkeness rather than buzzed. Though it was a really happy fuzzy semi-drunk. Not full out. We were cackling like a bunch of idiots. I actually don't remember the last time I was the stupid happy drunk. Good times.
Stretch, the insomniac then decides to call.
At 2:35 in the morning.
"Did I wake you up?"
"Well...kind of. Why are you calling so late?"
"Is it late?" Which is pretty much common response when Stretch calls late at night. I know you know how late it is.
So with talking to Stretch for a bit, because she was raring for a chat, and the Bourbon, and a 3am bedtime, it was rather painful to wake up this morning to go to work. I always set my TV as my alarm and Suddenly Susan was on much too early this morning. Shut it, Brooke Shields! There is a reason your show was 'suddenly' cancelled. It fucking sucked.
My actions are slow and I'm waiting for the day to end.
Fucking Fridays.
stretch what now?
I received a phone call from stretch tonight.
"What's going on Stretch???"
Stretch wasn't too excited that I had nicknamed her, though I do have to say that she's less pissed than I expected. Stretch is partly named stretch because she's taller than me and I'm 5'11" so...yeah, she's pretty fucking tall. But boys? She's also pretty fucking hot.
Stretch is going to kill me.
I'm not worried though because she's been promising to visit for months and I am actually still carrying the shit that she couldn't pack because she packed too late.
We've ALL fucking been there before.
That's a whole different story for me. I could outfit a house with the amount of shit that I've left behind over the years.
Cute Boy Watch 2005: There are no cute boys around lately. Bastards. Though there is a boy, and I almost do really mean just a boy, in my program who is hitting on the new girl. Doesn't he realize that it's bad to dip the pen in the company ink.
Especially if you have to work on class projects for at least the rest of the semeser if not the next year afterwards.
Hormones never did mean much in terms of making decisions.
"What's going on Stretch???"
Stretch wasn't too excited that I had nicknamed her, though I do have to say that she's less pissed than I expected. Stretch is partly named stretch because she's taller than me and I'm 5'11" so...yeah, she's pretty fucking tall. But boys? She's also pretty fucking hot.
Stretch is going to kill me.
I'm not worried though because she's been promising to visit for months and I am actually still carrying the shit that she couldn't pack because she packed too late.
We've ALL fucking been there before.
That's a whole different story for me. I could outfit a house with the amount of shit that I've left behind over the years.
Cute Boy Watch 2005: There are no cute boys around lately. Bastards. Though there is a boy, and I almost do really mean just a boy, in my program who is hitting on the new girl. Doesn't he realize that it's bad to dip the pen in the company ink.
Especially if you have to work on class projects for at least the rest of the semeser if not the next year afterwards.
Hormones never did mean much in terms of making decisions.
Thursday, January 27, 2005
hate the cabbie AND the game
The DC taxi system is a complete clusterfuck.
As I was waiting an inordinate amount of time today at the bus stop for the actual bus, I watched as some people were trying to hail a cab because the bus was taking too long. Two people, standing close to each other, were attempting to hail a cab. Despite the fact that it was on a major street, we're just not in prime taxi land. If I try and hail a cab by my work I can get 5 vying for my attention. A cab finally stopped and the dude hopped in first, and then the cabbie started to talk with the woman left behind. I knew at this point he was asking where she was heading and trying to convince her to get in the cab as well. I could see the apprehension on her face, but ultimately she hopped into the cab.
In no other city would this be normal. In the instance this morning I guess it wasn't that bad, but in general, especially if you're in a hurry, you don't want your cabbie stopping every few moments asking a person on the side where they're going. Especially if they might be dropped off before you, forcing the cab ride to be longer. I mean really. Who does that?
The first time this happened I was completely taken off guard and alarmed. Sitting in the back I was all, "what the fuck is he doing?" The person told him an address and hopped in. I don't know what it is, but there is something about this stranger hopping into the backseat with you that just makes it awkward. You get used to it, but it's stupid that you have to.
One of my friends, Francophile, was visiting Stretch and I in DC from NYC, back when we used to be roomies and before Stretch left town for higher pursuits, and we were on our second evening of drinking and partying. The previous evening of drinking strong, strong homemade appletinis previous to going out had resulted in our own hat-trick of the evening. After a fortifying brunch of burgers and straight-up coke we were fully recovered and enjoying our second evening out until we even closed the bars. We went to the awesome late-night pizza slize place a few shops over because F decided she was hungry after our night of drinking and dancing. Clearly. The munchies. So decided the largest slice of pizza in history for $3 was the best plan. We each bought a slice and hailed a cab, all piling into the back like sardines with our pizza, trying to be all discrete in eating them. Don't want to piss the cabbie off by actually eating! in his cab.
We were barely heading towards our destination when the cabbie pulled over because he saw a guy along the side of the road, and F started protesting loudly. F was all, "Excuse me. Excuse me! What are you doing???!!!!" Stretch and I explained that this is just something they do here, and she was indignant, "They would NEVER do this in New York! I can't believe he's pulling over for someone else! This would just, never, do this in New York!!" As Stretch and I tried to shush her so as not to piss the cabbie off, because that is a big no-no, the dude hopped into the cab. Clearly, we were drunk, and F, if not all of us was a little belligerent.
Of course he turned around and smiled at us, probably happy to be in a cab with at least two hotties. So he introduces himself while F to my right rolls her eyes and snorts and Stretch to my left is all, "Yeah, hi! How's it going?" because Stretch couldn't be mean to a nice stranger if she tried. Well, actually, she does have quite the kick, but not usually when she's schmammered. Stretch is chatty and starts asking him questions about his job, and he works in the government and then she asks his name to which he replies Song. And this is where I don't change names, because I couldn't even come up with better examples. So Stretch does this funny little squeal thing next to me and is all, "Oh, I know someone named Singh [pronounced sing]" Which of course he thinks stretch is mocking him, and in a defeatist, annoyed way is all, "Ha. Ha. Sing. Song. Funny. Real. Funny." So I have to jump to Stretch's defense, and I'm all, "No. No. Seriously. He's her boss. She talks about him all the time. She's not making fun of you. She's not even that witty to be making fun of you like that!" He seems somewhat appeased.
At this point F has decided that she's done with the pizza and doesn't want to see it anymore and belligerently, because there is no other real way to describe it, trying to get rid of it. Both Stretch and I are trying to take it away from her, but she's decided that Song should be taking it. She's shoving it at him, "take it. Take it. Take it!" And the dear, sweet Song takes it from her. He's like, "what am I supposed to do with this?" F thinks she's being generous and is all, "You can finish it! I don't want it anymore." We finally arrive at our house and we're trying to figure out how much we owe the cabbie and Song keeps on insisting that he'll pay for us and Stretch and I feel bad and are trying to pay and F is forcefully whispering, "Just get out of the cab! Let him pay!" So we all pile out thanking Song profusely and trying to take the slice back, at which point he has two because in-between Stretch had decided she was done with hers too, and didn't want to see it, and he's just like, "No. It's fine, I'll get rid of it." So we all pile up the stairs with F pointing out that if a guy wants to pay we should just let him pay. We saw the light to her theory.
I realize at this point that this interchange might seem a little bitchy, but it was fucking hilarious. I totally remembered this incident watching the cabbie this morning and chuckled to myself.
Now this pal system of pickups might not make it seem like that much of a clusterfuck. The biggest reason for the clusterfuck is that cabbies can and I've found often will fuck you over for your fares. DC has a 'Zone' system of charging rather than a meter in the front. You can go 5 miles but if you pass 3 particular streets that might be zones you're going to end up paying at least $9. It's such a rip-off. Cabbies usually cross these streets or take a longer way to the destination so that they can charge you extra. Now, those who support this system say you can argue with the cabbie. Which is true, and sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't. But what about tourists? They don't know any better. And why should we have to live with a system that makes you have to fight the cabbie about prices? And the fact that the cheapest fare is $5.50. Even if you drove a 2 blocks? Give me a meter fare system any day. Whenever I visit a city, even New York which is traditionally more expensive, how much cheaper it is to take a cab with a meter.
I hate the fucking cab system here.
As I was waiting an inordinate amount of time today at the bus stop for the actual bus, I watched as some people were trying to hail a cab because the bus was taking too long. Two people, standing close to each other, were attempting to hail a cab. Despite the fact that it was on a major street, we're just not in prime taxi land. If I try and hail a cab by my work I can get 5 vying for my attention. A cab finally stopped and the dude hopped in first, and then the cabbie started to talk with the woman left behind. I knew at this point he was asking where she was heading and trying to convince her to get in the cab as well. I could see the apprehension on her face, but ultimately she hopped into the cab.
In no other city would this be normal. In the instance this morning I guess it wasn't that bad, but in general, especially if you're in a hurry, you don't want your cabbie stopping every few moments asking a person on the side where they're going. Especially if they might be dropped off before you, forcing the cab ride to be longer. I mean really. Who does that?
The first time this happened I was completely taken off guard and alarmed. Sitting in the back I was all, "what the fuck is he doing?" The person told him an address and hopped in. I don't know what it is, but there is something about this stranger hopping into the backseat with you that just makes it awkward. You get used to it, but it's stupid that you have to.
One of my friends, Francophile, was visiting Stretch and I in DC from NYC, back when we used to be roomies and before Stretch left town for higher pursuits, and we were on our second evening of drinking and partying. The previous evening of drinking strong, strong homemade appletinis previous to going out had resulted in our own hat-trick of the evening. After a fortifying brunch of burgers and straight-up coke we were fully recovered and enjoying our second evening out until we even closed the bars. We went to the awesome late-night pizza slize place a few shops over because F decided she was hungry after our night of drinking and dancing. Clearly. The munchies. So decided the largest slice of pizza in history for $3 was the best plan. We each bought a slice and hailed a cab, all piling into the back like sardines with our pizza, trying to be all discrete in eating them. Don't want to piss the cabbie off by actually eating! in his cab.
We were barely heading towards our destination when the cabbie pulled over because he saw a guy along the side of the road, and F started protesting loudly. F was all, "Excuse me. Excuse me! What are you doing???!!!!" Stretch and I explained that this is just something they do here, and she was indignant, "They would NEVER do this in New York! I can't believe he's pulling over for someone else! This would just, never, do this in New York!!" As Stretch and I tried to shush her so as not to piss the cabbie off, because that is a big no-no, the dude hopped into the cab. Clearly, we were drunk, and F, if not all of us was a little belligerent.
Of course he turned around and smiled at us, probably happy to be in a cab with at least two hotties. So he introduces himself while F to my right rolls her eyes and snorts and Stretch to my left is all, "Yeah, hi! How's it going?" because Stretch couldn't be mean to a nice stranger if she tried. Well, actually, she does have quite the kick, but not usually when she's schmammered. Stretch is chatty and starts asking him questions about his job, and he works in the government and then she asks his name to which he replies Song. And this is where I don't change names, because I couldn't even come up with better examples. So Stretch does this funny little squeal thing next to me and is all, "Oh, I know someone named Singh [pronounced sing]" Which of course he thinks stretch is mocking him, and in a defeatist, annoyed way is all, "Ha. Ha. Sing. Song. Funny. Real. Funny." So I have to jump to Stretch's defense, and I'm all, "No. No. Seriously. He's her boss. She talks about him all the time. She's not making fun of you. She's not even that witty to be making fun of you like that!" He seems somewhat appeased.
At this point F has decided that she's done with the pizza and doesn't want to see it anymore and belligerently, because there is no other real way to describe it, trying to get rid of it. Both Stretch and I are trying to take it away from her, but she's decided that Song should be taking it. She's shoving it at him, "take it. Take it. Take it!" And the dear, sweet Song takes it from her. He's like, "what am I supposed to do with this?" F thinks she's being generous and is all, "You can finish it! I don't want it anymore." We finally arrive at our house and we're trying to figure out how much we owe the cabbie and Song keeps on insisting that he'll pay for us and Stretch and I feel bad and are trying to pay and F is forcefully whispering, "Just get out of the cab! Let him pay!" So we all pile out thanking Song profusely and trying to take the slice back, at which point he has two because in-between Stretch had decided she was done with hers too, and didn't want to see it, and he's just like, "No. It's fine, I'll get rid of it." So we all pile up the stairs with F pointing out that if a guy wants to pay we should just let him pay. We saw the light to her theory.
I realize at this point that this interchange might seem a little bitchy, but it was fucking hilarious. I totally remembered this incident watching the cabbie this morning and chuckled to myself.
Now this pal system of pickups might not make it seem like that much of a clusterfuck. The biggest reason for the clusterfuck is that cabbies can and I've found often will fuck you over for your fares. DC has a 'Zone' system of charging rather than a meter in the front. You can go 5 miles but if you pass 3 particular streets that might be zones you're going to end up paying at least $9. It's such a rip-off. Cabbies usually cross these streets or take a longer way to the destination so that they can charge you extra. Now, those who support this system say you can argue with the cabbie. Which is true, and sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't. But what about tourists? They don't know any better. And why should we have to live with a system that makes you have to fight the cabbie about prices? And the fact that the cheapest fare is $5.50. Even if you drove a 2 blocks? Give me a meter fare system any day. Whenever I visit a city, even New York which is traditionally more expensive, how much cheaper it is to take a cab with a meter.
I hate the fucking cab system here.
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
watching, reading, and talking at the same time.
Harry S. Truman famously said that he was incapable of walking and chewing gum at the same time. During one of the hours of the four hour extravaganza premiere of 24 this season the bitchy boss lady, playing type by the same actress who played the bitchy boss lady on La Femme Nikita, said to one of her minions that she expected her to walk and chew gum at the same time when said minion was complaining about everything she was supposed to do.
Walking and chewing gum at the same time? Easy. Sorry, Mr. Dead Former President.
The problem I'm having is watching, reading, comprehending said text, and carrying on a conversation at the same time.
Let me back track a little. There has been of course a multitude of technology that has been good to television. TiVo particularly being one, which I cannot afford. I would kill to have TiVo. I also don't have a VCR that records. When I say that most people look at me in shock, and ask, "Are you sure?" Yeah, like I have been all over that looking for the stupid record button like an ant at a picnic, fuckers! It's been passed on from my great-uncle to my mother, to well, me. All I needed was VHS capability for the tapes I'd bought over the years so they wouldn't be obsolete.
This fact may need to change because the new season of the L Word is gearing up, and I just don't think that I can wait again for almost a full year to watch the episodes again. My sister's friend taped the season and sent them to her on tape, and she doesn't even have a VCR. I gave my sister money when I visited last summer so she would mail them to me so I could catch up on the episodes that I missed as I jumped on the L Word train much too late. Shockingly, I haven't seen the tapes yet. I also haven't seen the money again yet. My sister now has digital cable and Showtime, and still no VCR, so there will most definitely not be any tapes of the new season. I really digress this time.
The other less fabulous but free technology available if you've bought your TV in the last decade is the closed-captioning running across the bottom of your screen when the TV is on mute. Which is rather helpful and a pain. Especially when I’ll have the TV on mute when I’m trying convince myself I’m really studying and reading and I’ll find myself 15 minutes later still reading the closed-captioning.
Here’s the thing. As much as I love to read, and I mean I read multiple hours a day about TV as well, I can’t say I’m not obsessed with TV. Watching TV is my easy entertainment break while studying, and it’s my easy escape from stress and a long day. Plus? Some shows totally make me laugh out loud which is always a good thing. This would seemingly be not much of a problem, other than of course, losing some serious studying time once in awhile. Okay. Sometimes. Okay, okay. Often. I have at least one show an evening I have a weakness for, plus the Golden Girls repeats. Just can’t enough of them.
The second part of this predicament is that many of my closest friends do not live nearby and so when they call I need to pick up the phone and talk to them. Okay, need is a strong word because obviously I do enjoy speaking with them, and it’s rude to leave the television blaring in the background if someone calls. There are a few key shows where I do ask people to call back later such as Desperate Housewives usually, most often The OC, and my 10pm Showtime shows. Except, really, who the fuck watches Huff? Abso-fricken-lutely no one! I watch bad shows sometimes, but even I couldn’t latch on to that one, and I’m totally Showtime’s bitch. I fully admit to that.
Most often I will put my TV on mute and start chit-chatting with my friends. Except if CBF calls and then we usually watch the shows together snarking with running commentary and overall just enjoying ourselves. I mean it’s often the closest we can get to actually hanging out. Usually though I turn the TV to mute, and so the closed-captioning with pop up at the bottom and I’ll try and watch, read, and more importantly process what I’m reading whilst talking or listening to my friend on the phone. It is really bloody difficult though. It’s like those mass-emails you get where there are mind tricks and you’re supposed to read the word ‘red’ but it’s written in green and you want to say green. It’s really difficult to read and talk at the same exact time.
Most often my friends are able to tell, especially Stretch, who is going to kill me for using that nickname for her, but I was watching a Golden Girls repeat this morning and it’s just going to stick for the moment. Stretch will usually totally call me out on it, “Karen, are you reading your TV again!” I of course vehemently deny it and will stop reading a few moments to concentrate and will sometimes go back to reading before she totally fucking calls me out on it again.
Last night my friend called me during Scrubs which I think is fucking fabulous and which most of my friends think is annoying, and Colin Farrell was guesting, because he is friends with Zach Braff, what??? And of course who is a total Dirty! Hottie! Definitely a walking disease but so fucking bad-boy hot. I knew though if I told my friend to call me back later she would have totally flipped out, and probably retired me from the wedding which wouldn’t have been so horrible but…I put the TV on mute. I was desperately trying to keep up with the quick dialogue and storylines and I totally missed a piece of juicy gossip from my friend and suddenly I was all, “He did WHAT to your sister?” After that I had to read for a minute, take a minute break, read for a minute. It was actually the best I had ever done so far. Okay. That might be because I really only read the ending monologue by Zach Braff. At least there was juicy gossip involved and it had been a little while since we had chit-chatted. The last time we were both hung-over so it wasn’t that great of a conversation.
Friend: “My head hurts. I feel awful.” Me: “Yeah my stomach feels like shit and I feel woozy.” Friend: “Yeah? I think I’m going to order Chinese tonight.” Me: “Awesome. Me too.”
Why can’t I be able to watch, read, comprehend, AND carry on a conversation at the same time?
Those are multi-tasking skills Mr. Dead Former President. Sorry. Though I guess it’s applicable to the incumbent as well.
My friends are never going to fucking call me again, are they?
Walking and chewing gum at the same time? Easy. Sorry, Mr. Dead Former President.
The problem I'm having is watching, reading, comprehending said text, and carrying on a conversation at the same time.
Let me back track a little. There has been of course a multitude of technology that has been good to television. TiVo particularly being one, which I cannot afford. I would kill to have TiVo. I also don't have a VCR that records. When I say that most people look at me in shock, and ask, "Are you sure?" Yeah, like I have been all over that looking for the stupid record button like an ant at a picnic, fuckers! It's been passed on from my great-uncle to my mother, to well, me. All I needed was VHS capability for the tapes I'd bought over the years so they wouldn't be obsolete.
This fact may need to change because the new season of the L Word is gearing up, and I just don't think that I can wait again for almost a full year to watch the episodes again. My sister's friend taped the season and sent them to her on tape, and she doesn't even have a VCR. I gave my sister money when I visited last summer so she would mail them to me so I could catch up on the episodes that I missed as I jumped on the L Word train much too late. Shockingly, I haven't seen the tapes yet. I also haven't seen the money again yet. My sister now has digital cable and Showtime, and still no VCR, so there will most definitely not be any tapes of the new season. I really digress this time.
The other less fabulous but free technology available if you've bought your TV in the last decade is the closed-captioning running across the bottom of your screen when the TV is on mute. Which is rather helpful and a pain. Especially when I’ll have the TV on mute when I’m trying convince myself I’m really studying and reading and I’ll find myself 15 minutes later still reading the closed-captioning.
Here’s the thing. As much as I love to read, and I mean I read multiple hours a day about TV as well, I can’t say I’m not obsessed with TV. Watching TV is my easy entertainment break while studying, and it’s my easy escape from stress and a long day. Plus? Some shows totally make me laugh out loud which is always a good thing. This would seemingly be not much of a problem, other than of course, losing some serious studying time once in awhile. Okay. Sometimes. Okay, okay. Often. I have at least one show an evening I have a weakness for, plus the Golden Girls repeats. Just can’t enough of them.
The second part of this predicament is that many of my closest friends do not live nearby and so when they call I need to pick up the phone and talk to them. Okay, need is a strong word because obviously I do enjoy speaking with them, and it’s rude to leave the television blaring in the background if someone calls. There are a few key shows where I do ask people to call back later such as Desperate Housewives usually, most often The OC, and my 10pm Showtime shows. Except, really, who the fuck watches Huff? Abso-fricken-lutely no one! I watch bad shows sometimes, but even I couldn’t latch on to that one, and I’m totally Showtime’s bitch. I fully admit to that.
Most often I will put my TV on mute and start chit-chatting with my friends. Except if CBF calls and then we usually watch the shows together snarking with running commentary and overall just enjoying ourselves. I mean it’s often the closest we can get to actually hanging out. Usually though I turn the TV to mute, and so the closed-captioning with pop up at the bottom and I’ll try and watch, read, and more importantly process what I’m reading whilst talking or listening to my friend on the phone. It is really bloody difficult though. It’s like those mass-emails you get where there are mind tricks and you’re supposed to read the word ‘red’ but it’s written in green and you want to say green. It’s really difficult to read and talk at the same exact time.
Most often my friends are able to tell, especially Stretch, who is going to kill me for using that nickname for her, but I was watching a Golden Girls repeat this morning and it’s just going to stick for the moment. Stretch will usually totally call me out on it, “Karen, are you reading your TV again!” I of course vehemently deny it and will stop reading a few moments to concentrate and will sometimes go back to reading before she totally fucking calls me out on it again.
Last night my friend called me during Scrubs which I think is fucking fabulous and which most of my friends think is annoying, and Colin Farrell was guesting, because he is friends with Zach Braff, what??? And of course who is a total Dirty! Hottie! Definitely a walking disease but so fucking bad-boy hot. I knew though if I told my friend to call me back later she would have totally flipped out, and probably retired me from the wedding which wouldn’t have been so horrible but…I put the TV on mute. I was desperately trying to keep up with the quick dialogue and storylines and I totally missed a piece of juicy gossip from my friend and suddenly I was all, “He did WHAT to your sister?” After that I had to read for a minute, take a minute break, read for a minute. It was actually the best I had ever done so far. Okay. That might be because I really only read the ending monologue by Zach Braff. At least there was juicy gossip involved and it had been a little while since we had chit-chatted. The last time we were both hung-over so it wasn’t that great of a conversation.
Friend: “My head hurts. I feel awful.” Me: “Yeah my stomach feels like shit and I feel woozy.” Friend: “Yeah? I think I’m going to order Chinese tonight.” Me: “Awesome. Me too.”
Why can’t I be able to watch, read, comprehend, AND carry on a conversation at the same time?
Those are multi-tasking skills Mr. Dead Former President. Sorry. Though I guess it’s applicable to the incumbent as well.
My friends are never going to fucking call me again, are they?
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
cute boy watch 2005
It's starting to get serious people.
As I was walking by his door last night he was leaving and taking out the garbage.
Hot Neighbour Update: He's tall. Major plus. I really think he may be cute. Unfortunately, I was looking down somewhat as I was walking by and then I didn't want to be totally obvious. The back of him is really cute, though the hair seems to need some working on, and I swear I had a very positive side glance in his direction. One day. One. Day! Though with his constant walking around half-naked I think he might be quite the exhibitionist. Dirty! Awesome.
There is also this cute boy at my bus stop that I tend to see on a semi-regular basis when I'm running late to work. I know the reason I think he is cute is because he looks like this major crush from college. I mean I was obsessed with the boy. He is a perfect example of what my 'type' is. If having a type is really a thing. A mixture of Colin Hanks a la first season"Roswell" and Adam Brody. Cute, lanky, pretty adrodynous-y boys. Love 'em.
I digress. College Crush was so cute, and had the waspiest name in history. Ever. I mean all three names. It was ridiculous. Anyway, he looked to sort of be a mix between the two with these sometimes cute wire-rimmed glasses as well. Not particularly tall, but you know. Take what you can get. He lived in my dorm junior year on the first floor and so I totally stalked him. One time I went down to the first floor to check out his white-board to see if his full name was there, plus what his extension was so I could find out his full name. My borderline roommate just cackled and continued smoking her cig. But then, that's what she did. And then of course there was the directory we had so I could find out where he was from. You know. Instead of actually talking to him.
Senior year I was lamenting to my friend about my crush on him and she had gone abroad with him to Vietnam and was just like, dude, he's a pretty boring individual and he's really into Asian girls. So you know, I was really out of that race. No pun intended. Plus, I do need some sort of personality in my boys. Which again may explain my constant flux towards first being in love with my gay best-friends. And really? Gay boys in general. Most of the time my friends have to quiz me if I like a boy whether he's gay or not. I love the gay boys.
Bus boy, who I saw for the first time in quite some time yesterday, which may be due in part to the fact that I've been on time lately, again totally reminded me of CC. Though he's taller and less lanky than CC, which are good things, but his face is less pretty. It's weird though how similar they do look, especially with BB's almost identical wire-rimmed glasses.
I kept on checking him out on the bus this morning as he sat down across from me. Have to spend the time somehow on the longest bus ride ever. And the longest wait for a bus ever. I could go on about the awful, awful bus line, but I'll spare the details for a day when I'm really angry about it.
Oh. And of course he has an iPod the little bitch. I'm still pissed I am in no way going to be able to afford one before I'm done with the wedding in May. If anyone asks me to be in their wedding again I am going to finally have the courage to say no! They should have a Just Say No! campaign for weddings.
As I was walking by his door last night he was leaving and taking out the garbage.
Hot Neighbour Update: He's tall. Major plus. I really think he may be cute. Unfortunately, I was looking down somewhat as I was walking by and then I didn't want to be totally obvious. The back of him is really cute, though the hair seems to need some working on, and I swear I had a very positive side glance in his direction. One day. One. Day! Though with his constant walking around half-naked I think he might be quite the exhibitionist. Dirty! Awesome.
There is also this cute boy at my bus stop that I tend to see on a semi-regular basis when I'm running late to work. I know the reason I think he is cute is because he looks like this major crush from college. I mean I was obsessed with the boy. He is a perfect example of what my 'type' is. If having a type is really a thing. A mixture of Colin Hanks a la first season"Roswell" and Adam Brody. Cute, lanky, pretty adrodynous-y boys. Love 'em.
I digress. College Crush was so cute, and had the waspiest name in history. Ever. I mean all three names. It was ridiculous. Anyway, he looked to sort of be a mix between the two with these sometimes cute wire-rimmed glasses as well. Not particularly tall, but you know. Take what you can get. He lived in my dorm junior year on the first floor and so I totally stalked him. One time I went down to the first floor to check out his white-board to see if his full name was there, plus what his extension was so I could find out his full name. My borderline roommate just cackled and continued smoking her cig. But then, that's what she did. And then of course there was the directory we had so I could find out where he was from. You know. Instead of actually talking to him.
Senior year I was lamenting to my friend about my crush on him and she had gone abroad with him to Vietnam and was just like, dude, he's a pretty boring individual and he's really into Asian girls. So you know, I was really out of that race. No pun intended. Plus, I do need some sort of personality in my boys. Which again may explain my constant flux towards first being in love with my gay best-friends. And really? Gay boys in general. Most of the time my friends have to quiz me if I like a boy whether he's gay or not. I love the gay boys.
Bus boy, who I saw for the first time in quite some time yesterday, which may be due in part to the fact that I've been on time lately, again totally reminded me of CC. Though he's taller and less lanky than CC, which are good things, but his face is less pretty. It's weird though how similar they do look, especially with BB's almost identical wire-rimmed glasses.
I kept on checking him out on the bus this morning as he sat down across from me. Have to spend the time somehow on the longest bus ride ever. And the longest wait for a bus ever. I could go on about the awful, awful bus line, but I'll spare the details for a day when I'm really angry about it.
Oh. And of course he has an iPod the little bitch. I'm still pissed I am in no way going to be able to afford one before I'm done with the wedding in May. If anyone asks me to be in their wedding again I am going to finally have the courage to say no! They should have a Just Say No! campaign for weddings.
Monday, January 24, 2005
karen has a weakness for the strippers.
Lets just say that Friday evening ended up with me drunk-dialing my mother because no one else was answering their phone at 2:30 in the morning the bastards. I do believe it also hurt that my mother's name begins with a G, and so was pretty much in the middle of my phone book. I tried my regulars first and no one answered the phone. The next day I called my sister and she was all, I'm sick and you woke me up with your phone call and I was too sick to pick up the phone. Then she was all, "why would you ever drunk-dial Mama?"
Yeah, no answer for that one.
Disclaimer: for my friends who read this blog, and despite the fact names are changed to protect the identies, please do not mention this posting to other joint friends who may indeed tell the girlfriend of included person, or even approach cohort for he may become pissed. Essentially read it, enjoy it, and let it die or talk to me about it.
Friday night started out innocently enough. Crazy Boy's co-workers band was going to be playing at the local dive bar. It was the first time they were playing in quite some time and they were releasing their new CD. I wasn't even positive I wanted to attend. I was still watching I Love the 90s and Best Week Ever whilst getting ready to go out, and obviously pre-drinking. I mean there is already a cover to get in the dive and no one then wants to pay for expensive drinks, right? Budget living people. Budget. Living.
Well, I finally finished my pre-drinking and was rocking a pretty positive buzz and found the local dive fucking packed. I have never seen it so packed before, you couldn't move much less get anywhere. I finally found CB with a few other cohorts I wasn't expecting, including Tripod, Hunter and his Underage Girlfriend. Unbenknownst to me, because I'd already been drinking and working the buzz like rent was due that night, Tripod was schmammered and as soon as I saw them, they were all like, "Dude, let's get out of here!" I was a little confused seeing as I just paid fucking 7 dollars for the cover and I had just gotten there, plus the fact that I had only brought my ID and 7 dollars, and well they wanted to go to one of the neighbourhood strip clubs and I didn't think I had money for the cover charge, or you know a drink. Crazy Boy, who was in a good mood and was excited to see my face was okay was all, here's $5 for the cover and let's go!
We pushed past the sweaty throngs, and seriously, I was there long enough to order a glass of water at the bar where we were standing and drink half of it. What a waste of $7. So we hussle across the street to Good Guys, which like seriously, being from the West, is supposed to be an electronics store. When I first moved into the neighbourhood I was totally confused why it wasn't the same type of building and there were no windows. Then I was confused that it would be a restaurant with no windows. It took me like a year to figure it out. By someone telling me.
This wasn't my first foray into the stripping arts. The first time had been about a year ago, and I was actually really suprised that they get totally naked. Butt naked. But no lap dances thank goodness. I think that would be too much for me. It's a damn good law people. Though...perhaps not so good for the strippers. And discovering that going with non-skeezy guys isn't that bad. The wait staff in terms of men are really, really nice to you. Though my friend/aquaintance was all you need to go up and tip, and I finally gained the liquid courage, because is there really any other kind, and made her go up to me. The stripper danced for my friend first and my friend was all put it in, and the stripper was like you don't want me to dance for you, and I just hoofed it out of there. I did realize though, and this is totally random. Strippers smell really, really, really good. I have this extreme sense of smell for some reason, am obsessed with perfume, and cologne on men, and I was so tempted to be like, what the hell are you slathering on yourself? Overall left though with a fun experience.
Luckily no cover. Though the bouncer gave us serious eyes in comparing the IDs which may have been because Underage was, you know, Underage. She must have just turned 21 if even that. Junior in college people. So we're directed to a table, and after my strip bar experience CB and I were all we should go together sometime and we were both all, Woooh! we finally made it. Woohing like we made a request for a song on TRL. CB's girlfriend? Wouldn't be so excited. The place was your normal, classy, neighbourhood strip club. The wait staff provided free popcorn. Which you know, makes you drink more for the mandatory drinks you need to buy.
Underage had a friend who was working and who came over to chit-chat with us, talking partly about her stripping experience. She was wearing this pleather, or rubber/leather outfit with this fuck me boots on that were well, porn stripper boots. CB kept pinching them because they were taller than Julia Roberts' boots in "Pretty Woman" and at some point I did too. I don't know. I can't explain people. She was very charming though, and very willing to answer questions. FYI, the reason they are able to dance and whatnot in those fucking high ass porn heels is because the main part is high too, so supposedly? Not so hard. I would fall. Let's be honest. I would also be 7 feet tall, so yeah, not so much.
Also? I asked about what strippers thought of girls going up, like if they cared or not, and she took it to mean in a sexual way, which I of course really can't fault her for, and she was all, no most girls are bisexual and she was like there is this one girl who all the guy love and think she's really hot and sexual, and totally a lesbian. I was like, okay. Wasn't totally answering my question, but probably was what I drunkenly asked. And? She said she makes $250 a night in tips during the week.
So the night wears on, Tripod leaves after 10 minutes, but not without sharing his dollar bills yo,' because he's so drunk, then Hunter and Underage leave too. So it's just CB and me, which, you know, is usually how it is. So then the friend is stripping at the station in front of us, and CB is all you gotta tip her, and I was like noooo, and he was all fucking do it karen, and so I do. She's all laughing and like, did your friends' put you up to this? I was just like, uhh, no?? And so does do her little dance thing and I again flinch and close my eyes when she gyrates in, despite the fact that I'm riding this buzz straight to schmammeredville. Am reminded at that point again how good strippers smell. Seriously. Does anyone know? And CB and I continue to drink with his money, which was awesome.
Finally at like 2:15 CB and I decide to leave. I think mostly out of monetary reasons. And so we're leaving and on the end stage there is this one stripper dancing who we had seen previously on our stage, and not to be mean but the strippers were decent looking but nothing to be like damn she's fucking hot except for this one stripper who was the hottest. Anyway, so she's stripping on the end stage and CB is all, let's watch her again! I was game. CB goes up to tip her, and this is the priceless moment, and she waves her finger no and points her finger at me and crucks her finger in the come here look. CB gets this wicked enthusiastic little boy on Christmas look on his face and yells, "She wants you Karen! Come over!" Which you know, I have to. So I go over and am going to just give her the dollar and walk away and she's all, "Stay right there!" and proceeds to do this dance and whip off her shirt and throw it around my neck and play with it, and in my dazed/embarassed state was just like, woah. It was pretty funny. So CB and I sit down for a second and are asked what we want to drink, we say nothing we just want to see her for a sec, and they leave us alone. We drunkenly decide to tip her again and she's finishing and is all, "I'll come over!" and of course CB was all about that, and so we sit down and are told by the bouncer to order something, so instead? We bounce. CB was laughing outside, well we both drunkenly were, and was all, that's the hottest thing I've seen all night.
So we're both excited and bouncing around, talking like we've been drinking Red Bulls all night. CB departs to Tripod's for the night and I flounce home. This is where the drunken-dialing comes in. I don't know. Though my mom thought it was very entertaining and laughed about my stories at the strip club.
Thank god for that.
She then was all, you're slurring, go inside and go to sleep. Saturday was a little painful, but overall worth it. Seriously though, who fucking drunk dials their mother? Next time I just need to decide not to talk to someone if no one is picking up. The damn 3 hour time difference for my mother killed me.
Good times. Gay men and strippers love karen. My social life rocks.
Hot Neighbour Watch 2005: I've seen his face now. And I think, and that really is a very strong think, he has a hot face too. His blinds were open yesterday and a little Saturday, and so I think he might be a student of some sort.
Naked Neighbour Watch 2005: CB and his girlfriend were over yesterday and had the primo seat to say that they saw him naked. Fuckers took my place on the couch. I could have seen his awesome chest again.
Yeah, no answer for that one.
Disclaimer: for my friends who read this blog, and despite the fact names are changed to protect the identies, please do not mention this posting to other joint friends who may indeed tell the girlfriend of included person, or even approach cohort for he may become pissed. Essentially read it, enjoy it, and let it die or talk to me about it.
Friday night started out innocently enough. Crazy Boy's co-workers band was going to be playing at the local dive bar. It was the first time they were playing in quite some time and they were releasing their new CD. I wasn't even positive I wanted to attend. I was still watching I Love the 90s and Best Week Ever whilst getting ready to go out, and obviously pre-drinking. I mean there is already a cover to get in the dive and no one then wants to pay for expensive drinks, right? Budget living people. Budget. Living.
Well, I finally finished my pre-drinking and was rocking a pretty positive buzz and found the local dive fucking packed. I have never seen it so packed before, you couldn't move much less get anywhere. I finally found CB with a few other cohorts I wasn't expecting, including Tripod, Hunter and his Underage Girlfriend. Unbenknownst to me, because I'd already been drinking and working the buzz like rent was due that night, Tripod was schmammered and as soon as I saw them, they were all like, "Dude, let's get out of here!" I was a little confused seeing as I just paid fucking 7 dollars for the cover and I had just gotten there, plus the fact that I had only brought my ID and 7 dollars, and well they wanted to go to one of the neighbourhood strip clubs and I didn't think I had money for the cover charge, or you know a drink. Crazy Boy, who was in a good mood and was excited to see my face was okay was all, here's $5 for the cover and let's go!
We pushed past the sweaty throngs, and seriously, I was there long enough to order a glass of water at the bar where we were standing and drink half of it. What a waste of $7. So we hussle across the street to Good Guys, which like seriously, being from the West, is supposed to be an electronics store. When I first moved into the neighbourhood I was totally confused why it wasn't the same type of building and there were no windows. Then I was confused that it would be a restaurant with no windows. It took me like a year to figure it out. By someone telling me.
This wasn't my first foray into the stripping arts. The first time had been about a year ago, and I was actually really suprised that they get totally naked. Butt naked. But no lap dances thank goodness. I think that would be too much for me. It's a damn good law people. Though...perhaps not so good for the strippers. And discovering that going with non-skeezy guys isn't that bad. The wait staff in terms of men are really, really nice to you. Though my friend/aquaintance was all you need to go up and tip, and I finally gained the liquid courage, because is there really any other kind, and made her go up to me. The stripper danced for my friend first and my friend was all put it in, and the stripper was like you don't want me to dance for you, and I just hoofed it out of there. I did realize though, and this is totally random. Strippers smell really, really, really good. I have this extreme sense of smell for some reason, am obsessed with perfume, and cologne on men, and I was so tempted to be like, what the hell are you slathering on yourself? Overall left though with a fun experience.
Luckily no cover. Though the bouncer gave us serious eyes in comparing the IDs which may have been because Underage was, you know, Underage. She must have just turned 21 if even that. Junior in college people. So we're directed to a table, and after my strip bar experience CB and I were all we should go together sometime and we were both all, Woooh! we finally made it. Woohing like we made a request for a song on TRL. CB's girlfriend? Wouldn't be so excited. The place was your normal, classy, neighbourhood strip club. The wait staff provided free popcorn. Which you know, makes you drink more for the mandatory drinks you need to buy.
Underage had a friend who was working and who came over to chit-chat with us, talking partly about her stripping experience. She was wearing this pleather, or rubber/leather outfit with this fuck me boots on that were well, porn stripper boots. CB kept pinching them because they were taller than Julia Roberts' boots in "Pretty Woman" and at some point I did too. I don't know. I can't explain people. She was very charming though, and very willing to answer questions. FYI, the reason they are able to dance and whatnot in those fucking high ass porn heels is because the main part is high too, so supposedly? Not so hard. I would fall. Let's be honest. I would also be 7 feet tall, so yeah, not so much.
Also? I asked about what strippers thought of girls going up, like if they cared or not, and she took it to mean in a sexual way, which I of course really can't fault her for, and she was all, no most girls are bisexual and she was like there is this one girl who all the guy love and think she's really hot and sexual, and totally a lesbian. I was like, okay. Wasn't totally answering my question, but probably was what I drunkenly asked. And? She said she makes $250 a night in tips during the week.
So the night wears on, Tripod leaves after 10 minutes, but not without sharing his dollar bills yo,' because he's so drunk, then Hunter and Underage leave too. So it's just CB and me, which, you know, is usually how it is. So then the friend is stripping at the station in front of us, and CB is all you gotta tip her, and I was like noooo, and he was all fucking do it karen, and so I do. She's all laughing and like, did your friends' put you up to this? I was just like, uhh, no?? And so does do her little dance thing and I again flinch and close my eyes when she gyrates in, despite the fact that I'm riding this buzz straight to schmammeredville. Am reminded at that point again how good strippers smell. Seriously. Does anyone know? And CB and I continue to drink with his money, which was awesome.
Finally at like 2:15 CB and I decide to leave. I think mostly out of monetary reasons. And so we're leaving and on the end stage there is this one stripper dancing who we had seen previously on our stage, and not to be mean but the strippers were decent looking but nothing to be like damn she's fucking hot except for this one stripper who was the hottest. Anyway, so she's stripping on the end stage and CB is all, let's watch her again! I was game. CB goes up to tip her, and this is the priceless moment, and she waves her finger no and points her finger at me and crucks her finger in the come here look. CB gets this wicked enthusiastic little boy on Christmas look on his face and yells, "She wants you Karen! Come over!" Which you know, I have to. So I go over and am going to just give her the dollar and walk away and she's all, "Stay right there!" and proceeds to do this dance and whip off her shirt and throw it around my neck and play with it, and in my dazed/embarassed state was just like, woah. It was pretty funny. So CB and I sit down for a second and are asked what we want to drink, we say nothing we just want to see her for a sec, and they leave us alone. We drunkenly decide to tip her again and she's finishing and is all, "I'll come over!" and of course CB was all about that, and so we sit down and are told by the bouncer to order something, so instead? We bounce. CB was laughing outside, well we both drunkenly were, and was all, that's the hottest thing I've seen all night.
So we're both excited and bouncing around, talking like we've been drinking Red Bulls all night. CB departs to Tripod's for the night and I flounce home. This is where the drunken-dialing comes in. I don't know. Though my mom thought it was very entertaining and laughed about my stories at the strip club.
Thank god for that.
She then was all, you're slurring, go inside and go to sleep. Saturday was a little painful, but overall worth it. Seriously though, who fucking drunk dials their mother? Next time I just need to decide not to talk to someone if no one is picking up. The damn 3 hour time difference for my mother killed me.
Good times. Gay men and strippers love karen. My social life rocks.
Hot Neighbour Watch 2005: I've seen his face now. And I think, and that really is a very strong think, he has a hot face too. His blinds were open yesterday and a little Saturday, and so I think he might be a student of some sort.
Naked Neighbour Watch 2005: CB and his girlfriend were over yesterday and had the primo seat to say that they saw him naked. Fuckers took my place on the couch. I could have seen his awesome chest again.
Friday, January 21, 2005
i never ever do these things
I will read, but never actually complete these question forms. Never. I do love to read them though.
In college I had a much, much, longer one that I always would print out and give to my secret snowflake so I had an idea of what to buy. Freshman year I traded with this girl who was a slut and I had a jock she fucked afterwards, which you know could have been his final present, and I got the boy with the best voice in the best a cappella group. They were like the most popular frat seeing as we were Greek free, thank god, and most of them lived in my dorm. Sigh. He was so cute. Plus, totally fucking talented. AND he totally filled out the entire form despite the fact that it was like 10 pages of questions. Then at the end said I was his best secret snowflake ever and gave me a hug. He was a senior at the time, so we're talking the best over all four years. Without the aid of alcohol either. My birthday was afterwards and my roommate asked him to sing Happy Birthday to me which was pretty cool but also pretty mortifying seeing as I'm not quite sure what she said to him to make him come up. Did she mention I had a crush on him? Wouldn't put it past her.
The last time I tried that tactic the chick didn't even fill it out. I mean hello, I know that it's a lot of questions, but get into the game bitch! So I didn't even do that the last year, and I was totally jipped my last year. Which is an entirely new entry, but it involved too many knives, and already opened tic-tacs.
I digress. Caren said I should do it, and not that I do what people tell me to do, but it's a fucking slow Friday at work.
Or I'm trying to avoid doing mundane work. Same thing. Right?
So I guess I'm breaking my ban of not filling these things out. Caren, you should feel honoured. Though I still hate doing it, and I might not even finish it.
I should totally go into advertising.
Three Names You Go By:
Karen
Kar
Kar Bear
Three Screen Names You Have:
Hmm...I'd rather not say.
Three Things You Like About Yourself:
Face...even post accident
Laugh
Teeth...I can't even explain how obsessed I am with teeth
Three Things You Dislike About Yourself:
Yeah. I think we self-critique enough not to try and find 3 things in particular and have them saved for posterity online.
Three Parts of Your Heritage:
German
Irish
Prussian
Three Things That Scare You:
That I will fail in grad school.
My sister's depression.
Losing my teeth...no, I know. I'm that obsessed/Family members dying.
Three of Your Everyday Essentials:
Music, and more fucking music.
Reading Television Without Pity, EW online, TV Guide Online, People Online, and more.
Talking to Cute Best Friend (CBF).
Three Things You're Wearing Right Now:
Kick-ass pink euro sneakers.
My fallback watch, now that my favorite one was ruined in the car accident.
Buttery slash tan coloured cords. Hard to describe the color.
Three of Your Favorite Bands/Artists:
This is a painful, horribly difficult question to answer. And I'll try and limit a little. But in no way constitutes a real list.
Elliott Smith
ATB/Zero 7
Iron and Wine/Death Cab for Cutie
Three of Your Favorite Songs at Present:
Again, painful question.
"Makes me Wanna Die" Tricky
"Dragostea Din Tei" O-Zone
"Twilight" Elliott Smith
Three New Things You Want to Try in the Next 12 Months:
Bungee Jumping
Brazilian Wax...I don't know, don't question. Who are you to judge!!
Not being so fucking snarky, and judgemental about people before I get to even talk to them. I mean southern sorority girls can be nice sometimes, right?
Three Things You Want in a Relationship (Love is Given):
Personality that includes lots of humor and snarkiness.
Cuddler slash massager.
Someone who knows the importance to my staying alive by using the technique of not blowing. Sudden death from air in the vagina? I think not!! Plus you know, overall pleasure, not just staying alive.
Two Truths and a Lie:
I love twat.
I went through a kleptomania stage and was caught.
I've lied about being in a tornado.
Three Physical Things in a Love Interest That Appeal to Me:
Teeth...yeah. I know. I know. It's weird.
Pretty, adrodgynous boys.
Hair. It has to look good and right. No long hair.
Three Things You Just Can't Do:
Tie wet shoelaces. Brr.
Juggle.
Climb fences. I keep on worrying one day that I'll be running from the cops for one of the stupid stunts or situations I find myself in and I won't be able to climb the fence. Usually when one of these situations arise I'll nix the idea because I won't be able to jump out if we need to immediately.
Three of Your Favorite Hobbies:
Reading
Talking/gossiping with friends.
Puttering around the internet...I need real hobbies don't I?
Three Things You Want to Do Badly Right Now:
Get a little bit crazy slash drunk.
Hang out with CBF.
Be done with grad school, and actually be working my dream job.
Three Careers Your Considering:
Journalist.
Media guru for GLAAD.
Entertainment whore writer.
Three Places You Want to Go on Vacation:
Chicago/New Orleans
Phuket, Thailand
Canary Islands
Three Kids Names:
Yeah. No. Not having kids, so I don't have any names.
Three Things You Want to Do Before You Die:
Live in Europe again.
Work my dream job at GLAAD.
Write a book.
Three People Who Have to Take This Quiz Now:
Jane
Nicole...because I know she's looking for something to do.
Alexandra...because...well, does anyone else read my blog except you 3?
In college I had a much, much, longer one that I always would print out and give to my secret snowflake so I had an idea of what to buy. Freshman year I traded with this girl who was a slut and I had a jock she fucked afterwards, which you know could have been his final present, and I got the boy with the best voice in the best a cappella group. They were like the most popular frat seeing as we were Greek free, thank god, and most of them lived in my dorm. Sigh. He was so cute. Plus, totally fucking talented. AND he totally filled out the entire form despite the fact that it was like 10 pages of questions. Then at the end said I was his best secret snowflake ever and gave me a hug. He was a senior at the time, so we're talking the best over all four years. Without the aid of alcohol either. My birthday was afterwards and my roommate asked him to sing Happy Birthday to me which was pretty cool but also pretty mortifying seeing as I'm not quite sure what she said to him to make him come up. Did she mention I had a crush on him? Wouldn't put it past her.
The last time I tried that tactic the chick didn't even fill it out. I mean hello, I know that it's a lot of questions, but get into the game bitch! So I didn't even do that the last year, and I was totally jipped my last year. Which is an entirely new entry, but it involved too many knives, and already opened tic-tacs.
I digress. Caren said I should do it, and not that I do what people tell me to do, but it's a fucking slow Friday at work.
Or I'm trying to avoid doing mundane work. Same thing. Right?
So I guess I'm breaking my ban of not filling these things out. Caren, you should feel honoured. Though I still hate doing it, and I might not even finish it.
I should totally go into advertising.
Three Names You Go By:
Karen
Kar
Kar Bear
Three Screen Names You Have:
Hmm...I'd rather not say.
Three Things You Like About Yourself:
Face...even post accident
Laugh
Teeth...I can't even explain how obsessed I am with teeth
Three Things You Dislike About Yourself:
Yeah. I think we self-critique enough not to try and find 3 things in particular and have them saved for posterity online.
Three Parts of Your Heritage:
German
Irish
Prussian
Three Things That Scare You:
That I will fail in grad school.
My sister's depression.
Losing my teeth...no, I know. I'm that obsessed/Family members dying.
Three of Your Everyday Essentials:
Music, and more fucking music.
Reading Television Without Pity, EW online, TV Guide Online, People Online, and more.
Talking to Cute Best Friend (CBF).
Three Things You're Wearing Right Now:
Kick-ass pink euro sneakers.
My fallback watch, now that my favorite one was ruined in the car accident.
Buttery slash tan coloured cords. Hard to describe the color.
Three of Your Favorite Bands/Artists:
This is a painful, horribly difficult question to answer. And I'll try and limit a little. But in no way constitutes a real list.
Elliott Smith
ATB/Zero 7
Iron and Wine/Death Cab for Cutie
Three of Your Favorite Songs at Present:
Again, painful question.
"Makes me Wanna Die" Tricky
"Dragostea Din Tei" O-Zone
"Twilight" Elliott Smith
Three New Things You Want to Try in the Next 12 Months:
Bungee Jumping
Brazilian Wax...I don't know, don't question. Who are you to judge!!
Not being so fucking snarky, and judgemental about people before I get to even talk to them. I mean southern sorority girls can be nice sometimes, right?
Three Things You Want in a Relationship (Love is Given):
Personality that includes lots of humor and snarkiness.
Cuddler slash massager.
Someone who knows the importance to my staying alive by using the technique of not blowing. Sudden death from air in the vagina? I think not!! Plus you know, overall pleasure, not just staying alive.
Two Truths and a Lie:
I love twat.
I went through a kleptomania stage and was caught.
I've lied about being in a tornado.
Three Physical Things in a Love Interest That Appeal to Me:
Teeth...yeah. I know. I know. It's weird.
Pretty, adrodgynous boys.
Hair. It has to look good and right. No long hair.
Three Things You Just Can't Do:
Tie wet shoelaces. Brr.
Juggle.
Climb fences. I keep on worrying one day that I'll be running from the cops for one of the stupid stunts or situations I find myself in and I won't be able to climb the fence. Usually when one of these situations arise I'll nix the idea because I won't be able to jump out if we need to immediately.
Three of Your Favorite Hobbies:
Reading
Talking/gossiping with friends.
Puttering around the internet...I need real hobbies don't I?
Three Things You Want to Do Badly Right Now:
Get a little bit crazy slash drunk.
Hang out with CBF.
Be done with grad school, and actually be working my dream job.
Three Careers Your Considering:
Journalist.
Media guru for GLAAD.
Entertainment whore writer.
Three Places You Want to Go on Vacation:
Chicago/New Orleans
Phuket, Thailand
Canary Islands
Three Kids Names:
Yeah. No. Not having kids, so I don't have any names.
Three Things You Want to Do Before You Die:
Live in Europe again.
Work my dream job at GLAAD.
Write a book.
Three People Who Have to Take This Quiz Now:
Jane
Nicole...because I know she's looking for something to do.
Alexandra...because...well, does anyone else read my blog except you 3?
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
My Worst Nightmare.
Fucking Hilary Duff is currently in my city. I hate her. My antipathy has abated a wee bit, but it's a little something extra that she's actually within a few mile radius of me right now. She's so fucking ostentatious.
"So like you guys, it's like totally snowing right now!! How cool is that? And like, I'm totally important right now! How pretty is inauguration going to be in the snow. Squee!!!!! I rocked the stage last night!! Did you hear me you guys?? And like you guys, I seriously did rock, my voice is like so not reedy, and like I totally don't need my sister's back-up vocals anymore! I can really sing. Didn't you see all those people cheering me? And god, you guys? My little sequin jacket and rolled up jeans? Weren't they totally appropriate for introducing the First Lady? It was awesome! Inauguration is the coolest! Though, you guys? I like, totally forgot to tell Ms. First Lady, what's her first name again? That like, I totally don't eat eggs! Because like I don't know if it means you're killing the ph...how like do say that word much less spell it? You know, like a baby that hasn't been born yet? And that's like abortion you guys! And it's so serious. I mean I can't believe I didn't tell her about it!?! Maybe like I can send her an email or something. I just can't believe how important I am. I can't wait until Haylie stops riding my coat-tails! So, like you guys? Are there some really awesome shops in the national mall? And, can we have some veal already?"
Shut It, Hilary!
"So like you guys, it's like totally snowing right now!! How cool is that? And like, I'm totally important right now! How pretty is inauguration going to be in the snow. Squee!!!!! I rocked the stage last night!! Did you hear me you guys?? And like you guys, I seriously did rock, my voice is like so not reedy, and like I totally don't need my sister's back-up vocals anymore! I can really sing. Didn't you see all those people cheering me? And god, you guys? My little sequin jacket and rolled up jeans? Weren't they totally appropriate for introducing the First Lady? It was awesome! Inauguration is the coolest! Though, you guys? I like, totally forgot to tell Ms. First Lady, what's her first name again? That like, I totally don't eat eggs! Because like I don't know if it means you're killing the ph...how like do say that word much less spell it? You know, like a baby that hasn't been born yet? And that's like abortion you guys! And it's so serious. I mean I can't believe I didn't tell her about it!?! Maybe like I can send her an email or something. I just can't believe how important I am. I can't wait until Haylie stops riding my coat-tails! So, like you guys? Are there some really awesome shops in the national mall? And, can we have some veal already?"
Shut It, Hilary!
Monday, January 17, 2005
Being a Nosy Neighbour
First step. Stay home recovering from whatever you will for a few days. Essentially sanctioning yourself in your apartment.
Second. Have your blinds open so you can spy through your neighbour's window that is at a kitty corner angle to catch your presumed, potential good looking neighbour wandering around his apartment. Said neighbour presumed to be attractive due to the fact that you've only seen his chest, with a towel wrapped around his waist from the shower. Said chest? Very nice. The face can make or brake it though.
Third. Also wonder from the glimpses through open blinds what an attractively furnished apartment he has with an actual world globe (seriously I last saw one in the eigth grade), framed photos and a large cactus. Of course leading to wondering what I can actually do with my apartment to make it seem like it is really furnished. Final decision? I have got to get some fucking wall hangings and art. That's what is killing it right now I've decided. Walls are just too bare.
Fourth. Wonder what fucking abnormal disorder your neighbour has that he needs to constantly fucking shower annoying you in said apartment with the water noise. I mean it's really fucking loud and bothersome. I need to either turn my tv up higher when he showers or listen more closely on the phone. This wouldn't be a problem if he showered once a day. This is a necessity, and you know, makes him clean. As far as I know we are scabies free in this apartment building. Back of Real World Philly. My neighbour takes at LEAST two showers a day. And always one late at night, which during the school week, whatever, but when I'm trying to get as much sleep as possible, the noise totallly serves as annoying gnat noise. During these past few days locked in my aparment I've noticed that it is sometimes multiple times a day. He's already taken two showers today and I know that he's going to take another one later. I know we don't need to pay for water, but come on MAN! save the water or something.
And I haven't had the opportunity to see him semi-clothed again lately. I think I just missed the opportunity as well because he just shut his blinds. Shite.
Second. Have your blinds open so you can spy through your neighbour's window that is at a kitty corner angle to catch your presumed, potential good looking neighbour wandering around his apartment. Said neighbour presumed to be attractive due to the fact that you've only seen his chest, with a towel wrapped around his waist from the shower. Said chest? Very nice. The face can make or brake it though.
Third. Also wonder from the glimpses through open blinds what an attractively furnished apartment he has with an actual world globe (seriously I last saw one in the eigth grade), framed photos and a large cactus. Of course leading to wondering what I can actually do with my apartment to make it seem like it is really furnished. Final decision? I have got to get some fucking wall hangings and art. That's what is killing it right now I've decided. Walls are just too bare.
Fourth. Wonder what fucking abnormal disorder your neighbour has that he needs to constantly fucking shower annoying you in said apartment with the water noise. I mean it's really fucking loud and bothersome. I need to either turn my tv up higher when he showers or listen more closely on the phone. This wouldn't be a problem if he showered once a day. This is a necessity, and you know, makes him clean. As far as I know we are scabies free in this apartment building. Back of Real World Philly. My neighbour takes at LEAST two showers a day. And always one late at night, which during the school week, whatever, but when I'm trying to get as much sleep as possible, the noise totallly serves as annoying gnat noise. During these past few days locked in my aparment I've noticed that it is sometimes multiple times a day. He's already taken two showers today and I know that he's going to take another one later. I know we don't need to pay for water, but come on MAN! save the water or something.
And I haven't had the opportunity to see him semi-clothed again lately. I think I just missed the opportunity as well because he just shut his blinds. Shite.
Sunday, January 16, 2005
What are the chances?
After talking about Goldie's lips in the movie that it is now on basic cable on USA. And seriously girl, I can relate to the pain that would be your lips if they were actually cosmetically altered to that size. I haven't seen the movie in quite some time. Good stuff, though it does remind me that the author of the book actually died from plastic surgery. Something she mocked in the book. Tragic.
My face is back to size for the most part though my muscles are still stiff and now I'm worrying about the potential scars that will show up on my face from the scratches. I scar very easily. I'm just a gentle little flower.
The other funny part about talking to my sister is that on the night of my accident she text messaged me that she wanted me to make her a soothing piano cd or something for her to listen to when studying. Then when she called she asked if I was bored at home. Clearly I answered no. I mean hello, television for hours with cable. I think not. Especially since the new semester is just roaring to go soon. She then joked that she was going to joke about me now having the time to make the CD. I was all, I don't have any of the music in my apartment so I can't. So I totally called her out on her actually joking but being serious that I should burn her CDs during my recovery. I love her.
Sigh. It's been a Golden Girls free weekend, well, except for yesterday and then I couldn't even finish the episode because I was meeting friends for brunch. Including said friend who was driving the car. He was all, oh you look great. And so I turned to my friend and was all, whip out your fucking phone and she passed it around and everyone had the proper response of oooh slash ewww.
Guilt is a fucking magical tool. If my friend is talking about the tiniest scratch on his nose that is no bigger than a pimple and a "burn" that is smaller than a mole, guilt needs to be involved.
My face is back to size for the most part though my muscles are still stiff and now I'm worrying about the potential scars that will show up on my face from the scratches. I scar very easily. I'm just a gentle little flower.
The other funny part about talking to my sister is that on the night of my accident she text messaged me that she wanted me to make her a soothing piano cd or something for her to listen to when studying. Then when she called she asked if I was bored at home. Clearly I answered no. I mean hello, television for hours with cable. I think not. Especially since the new semester is just roaring to go soon. She then joked that she was going to joke about me now having the time to make the CD. I was all, I don't have any of the music in my apartment so I can't. So I totally called her out on her actually joking but being serious that I should burn her CDs during my recovery. I love her.
Sigh. It's been a Golden Girls free weekend, well, except for yesterday and then I couldn't even finish the episode because I was meeting friends for brunch. Including said friend who was driving the car. He was all, oh you look great. And so I turned to my friend and was all, whip out your fucking phone and she passed it around and everyone had the proper response of oooh slash ewww.
Guilt is a fucking magical tool. If my friend is talking about the tiniest scratch on his nose that is no bigger than a pimple and a "burn" that is smaller than a mole, guilt needs to be involved.
Saturday, January 15, 2005
The first thing that comes to mind are intelligence tests
I found out today after my sister decided to call and check up on me that one of the first things she thought of was that she had wished she had given me an intelligence test previous to the accident and then after I my head decided to smack a beat on the dashboard of the car.
I kind of agree. Though she was adamant over Christmas that she couldn't give me one because it was against the rules. So then I started to worry that the smack might have an effect on my brain, but I presume it is too early to tell so far. Then she asked me if I was suffering from PTSD. I was all what do you mean, and she was like Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. I was like don't you mean disorder, and she was all, never correct a person studying psychology and it's now referred to as syndrome.
Gotta love the psychoanalysis.
My eye is pretty much opening which is a good sign, but now I'm worried that the multitude of scratches on my face will become permanent. I scar very, very easily. And as I was telling my friend, my face is a good feature.
At least I still have my fabulous teeth.
I kind of agree. Though she was adamant over Christmas that she couldn't give me one because it was against the rules. So then I started to worry that the smack might have an effect on my brain, but I presume it is too early to tell so far. Then she asked me if I was suffering from PTSD. I was all what do you mean, and she was like Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. I was like don't you mean disorder, and she was all, never correct a person studying psychology and it's now referred to as syndrome.
Gotta love the psychoanalysis.
My eye is pretty much opening which is a good sign, but now I'm worried that the multitude of scratches on my face will become permanent. I scar very, very easily. And as I was telling my friend, my face is a good feature.
At least I still have my fabulous teeth.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
It's kind of hard to be funny...
when I can't see out of my right eye and my lip is bigger than Goldie Hawn's in "First Wives Club." Can anyone really believe that Sarah Jessica Parker was thought to be beautiful and a 'second' wife in that movie? Clearly previous to Sex and the City.
Right. My face. I was in a car accident and let me just say that I'm glad that my face and head seem to be the only injuries, and more importantly that my teeth and nose are fine. I know, the teeth thing. The cop looked at me when I was giving my statement like what the fuck drug is she on? I look like those freakishly bloated people on all of those reality surgery shoes. I can open my eye a little now so it is indeed getting better.
But at least I had my Golden Girls today to make me feel better, and really they always do. And I had the treat of actually watching an episode where it had the full intro song which is another treat. The small things in life I tell you. And they are on again now and making me smile. No joke ever does get too old.
Sunglasses have become a huge commodity for myself. Clearly it is okay for me to wear my sunglasses at night now. I'm trying not to freak people out in the street. I know how it is, you don't want to stare but then at the same time you can't help but look and I know that I look like shit. My friend who was nice enough to stay with me last night and I was waiting with her at the bus stop today tried to take a photo with her camera. We were upset though that it just didn't catch the details. Though, I mean do you really want to save that photo? Well maybe. You know for those days that you're all, I feel like I look like shit, and then you can look at the photo and be all, THERE I look like shit.
So other good news is that due to the presidential broo ha ha on Thursday I won't start classes for another week as classes are cancelled for the day. Though I do have mandatory orientation into the program on Tuesday where I am a little worried about meeting people with my face in this state. We'll see, maybe I can think of a fucking awesome story to tell. I fought off an entire bunch of ho's who threw beer in my weave, or you know I could be totally cribbing that from the third cycle of America's Next Top Model. I don't think the people in the program would be aware of that though.
New OC tonight. Peter Gallagher is showing off his musical talents. What more could a girl want? It's the small things in life right now.
Right. My face. I was in a car accident and let me just say that I'm glad that my face and head seem to be the only injuries, and more importantly that my teeth and nose are fine. I know, the teeth thing. The cop looked at me when I was giving my statement like what the fuck drug is she on? I look like those freakishly bloated people on all of those reality surgery shoes. I can open my eye a little now so it is indeed getting better.
But at least I had my Golden Girls today to make me feel better, and really they always do. And I had the treat of actually watching an episode where it had the full intro song which is another treat. The small things in life I tell you. And they are on again now and making me smile. No joke ever does get too old.
Sunglasses have become a huge commodity for myself. Clearly it is okay for me to wear my sunglasses at night now. I'm trying not to freak people out in the street. I know how it is, you don't want to stare but then at the same time you can't help but look and I know that I look like shit. My friend who was nice enough to stay with me last night and I was waiting with her at the bus stop today tried to take a photo with her camera. We were upset though that it just didn't catch the details. Though, I mean do you really want to save that photo? Well maybe. You know for those days that you're all, I feel like I look like shit, and then you can look at the photo and be all, THERE I look like shit.
So other good news is that due to the presidential broo ha ha on Thursday I won't start classes for another week as classes are cancelled for the day. Though I do have mandatory orientation into the program on Tuesday where I am a little worried about meeting people with my face in this state. We'll see, maybe I can think of a fucking awesome story to tell. I fought off an entire bunch of ho's who threw beer in my weave, or you know I could be totally cribbing that from the third cycle of America's Next Top Model. I don't think the people in the program would be aware of that though.
New OC tonight. Peter Gallagher is showing off his musical talents. What more could a girl want? It's the small things in life right now.
Monday, January 03, 2005
Incestuous Innuendos!
First. I was on the phone with my sister having already arrived in Germany and awaiting her arrival. I casually mentioned the blog and she didn't react. I then directly inquired about what she thought. Her response? "Yeah. I was just going to move past and ignore that. Why would you have a diary on the internet? Why would anyone give a shit about what you write?" I tried to point out I wasn't really being narcissitic but it was a way for me to keep in touch with my friends and whatever.
Second. My sister then said I shouldn't ever write anything. At all. About. Her. It would embarass her. What if one of her friends randomly found my blog and connected it to her. She didn't want to be embarassed. I know. I pointed out that she was the one being narcissitic thinking I was going to write about her. Final word? Nothing. Ever. About. Her.
Third. Insomnia plus boredom plus jet-lag meant that she then went online to see my blog and that it wasn't necessarily what she had presumed. Her newest catchphrase, and my dear sister I love it, "Are you going to put his on your blog?" She in fact titled this very entry.
My brother is weird. He's 10, and my sister keeps saying that it's because boys are more immature. I don't know if that is indeed the entire reason, but it could be the majority. I mean he's had these cloth blankets since he was born and called them Lappis. He has like five of them. He constantly sucks on them. I mean like seriously sucks on them to point where they are wet all around. And usually they smell before my step-mother changes them. We love him, but we've had these interesting interactions. I digress.
Let's just say two years ago my sister was in our awesome bathtub which I had thought about posting previously after I took my bath a few days ago. It's massive and has jets that you can turn on and shit. My parents bathroom is probably the best room in the house. It's also like the size of my studio, and replace the crappy parkay with heated marble. So my step-mother was in there and my sister noticed my brother slyly looking at her and she realized that her bubbles were disappearing rapidly and suddenly felt very naked. He then mentions, of course his attempt at subtlety, "I can get in there with you [karen's sister]." Back then? Cute. Now? Worrisome. And scary.
This holiday season has for some reason provided my sister with a set look of horror to what we have had to endure.
My sister's face first appeared when I was sitting slash lying on the couch massaging my sister's shoulders sitting on the floor in front of me. My brother was sitting on the other end of the couch and my sister wanted gummis. Clearly, because this season has been brought to you by crack. Even my cereal is crack. It's seriously fucking amazing. We both didn't want to move and were trying to force my brother to do the dirty work and get them. For no reason whatsoever my brother fritzed out and was popping his pelvis in my sister's face waving it about like he was trying out for a touret's version of Grease! and mumbling who the fuck knows. He then ran off and my sister slowly turned her head to me with a look of horror and a quiver in her voice while saying, "That was the most traumatizing incidence of a pelvis being shoved in my face! His pelvis is this big!" Essentially cupping her hands together. We both burst out in fits of nervous laughter. Please keep your thoughts other pelvis experiences to yourself.
My face appeared when at a later incident I was sitting on the couch and my brother was behind me standing and leaning on the back of the couch and I was turned around talking to my sister, most likely about what candy to bring into the room. I know. It's a routine people. For no reason my brother suddenly goes into high gear and pretends to unzip his pants in my face no more than 10 inches away and is jiggling it and pretending to pee on me. I have no idea of the horror I might have expressed and my sister and I tried very, very hard not to laugh and encourage the fucking weird behavior. Luckily she had a door to hide behind.
He has also been prone to fake whip out his penis or just lift his pajama pants or long underwear really high and stare at his penis. My sister swore that tonight while we were playing Uno that he was going to whip it out. She then berated him, and attempted to get my father to say something. Seeing was we think someone should be talking to him about the birds and the bees. My father's response? "You can be arressted if you do that in public you know." Yeah. Really discouraging.
Then while I was carrying him on my hip or I was giving him a hug he leaned back and tried to open mouth kiss me. I dodged and weaved and put him down as quickly as I could. My sister reports that he's been humping her. We have horn dog for a brother.
The funniest incident was just yesterday. My sister bought "Agent Cody Banks" for my brother for Christmas as I'm sure it was cheap at K-Mart and he finally watched it. I hate Hilary Duff. Like White Hot Burning Flames Hate. Though that's actually gotten better so I thought I would hate the movie. Minimal Hilary Duff, and I hate to say it, has a few cute lines. At the end there is of course the long awaited kiss between The Duff and the annoying Frankie Muniz, which was awful. SO Fake! So my sister and I are all, "That was awful!" My sister is then all, "They didn't even kiss on the mouth! I could've given [brother] a better kiss. I'll show you!" And of course I'm like, "NO. No. That's fine. I saw it. They missed lips. I don't think we should do that with[brother]." He would clearly take it the wrong way. So then he's all jazzed and says, "Yes. First I will kiss you, and then I will kiss Karen and then you two will kiss and we'll then all be able to see what it looks like!" My sister and I share twin expressions of horror and quickly wet blanket that idea faster than a drunk co-ed can drop her skirt.
And not only that, but courtesy of my sister come the Incestuous Innuendos!
1. Picture It. We're watching this awfully cheesy video by the winner of the first winner of the German version of Pop Idol/American Idol. We love him. Hate the new video. It just doesn't compliment his mediocre skills or looks. There is this girl in the video who is his love interest. At the VERY end he shares an awful, awful kiss with her that is very chaste. This from a country that takes the pixels out of bare-chested women in videos. And removes the edits of Eamon's "Fuck You" song that my brother can sing along to. My sister's first response? "I've given [brother] worse kisses!" We both realize how bad that sounds and burst into laughter. I feel like I now detect a trend.
2. My sister begging me to massage her lower back a mere short hour ago. My father had been in previously and given her a quick 30 second massage. She's begging and I'm begging off as I'm contently reading. She says, "What if I crawl into bed with you and you find all the spots Papa did!"
3. My sister again. "You mean when you did [brother]?" This when I was asking her about weird incidents with my brother.
There are more but it's late, and there are too many for this post. I'll update.
The shops open again tomorrow. Hallelujah!!
Second. My sister then said I shouldn't ever write anything. At all. About. Her. It would embarass her. What if one of her friends randomly found my blog and connected it to her. She didn't want to be embarassed. I know. I pointed out that she was the one being narcissitic thinking I was going to write about her. Final word? Nothing. Ever. About. Her.
Third. Insomnia plus boredom plus jet-lag meant that she then went online to see my blog and that it wasn't necessarily what she had presumed. Her newest catchphrase, and my dear sister I love it, "Are you going to put his on your blog?" She in fact titled this very entry.
My brother is weird. He's 10, and my sister keeps saying that it's because boys are more immature. I don't know if that is indeed the entire reason, but it could be the majority. I mean he's had these cloth blankets since he was born and called them Lappis. He has like five of them. He constantly sucks on them. I mean like seriously sucks on them to point where they are wet all around. And usually they smell before my step-mother changes them. We love him, but we've had these interesting interactions. I digress.
Let's just say two years ago my sister was in our awesome bathtub which I had thought about posting previously after I took my bath a few days ago. It's massive and has jets that you can turn on and shit. My parents bathroom is probably the best room in the house. It's also like the size of my studio, and replace the crappy parkay with heated marble. So my step-mother was in there and my sister noticed my brother slyly looking at her and she realized that her bubbles were disappearing rapidly and suddenly felt very naked. He then mentions, of course his attempt at subtlety, "I can get in there with you [karen's sister]." Back then? Cute. Now? Worrisome. And scary.
This holiday season has for some reason provided my sister with a set look of horror to what we have had to endure.
My sister's face first appeared when I was sitting slash lying on the couch massaging my sister's shoulders sitting on the floor in front of me. My brother was sitting on the other end of the couch and my sister wanted gummis. Clearly, because this season has been brought to you by crack. Even my cereal is crack. It's seriously fucking amazing. We both didn't want to move and were trying to force my brother to do the dirty work and get them. For no reason whatsoever my brother fritzed out and was popping his pelvis in my sister's face waving it about like he was trying out for a touret's version of Grease! and mumbling who the fuck knows. He then ran off and my sister slowly turned her head to me with a look of horror and a quiver in her voice while saying, "That was the most traumatizing incidence of a pelvis being shoved in my face! His pelvis is this big!" Essentially cupping her hands together. We both burst out in fits of nervous laughter. Please keep your thoughts other pelvis experiences to yourself.
My face appeared when at a later incident I was sitting on the couch and my brother was behind me standing and leaning on the back of the couch and I was turned around talking to my sister, most likely about what candy to bring into the room. I know. It's a routine people. For no reason my brother suddenly goes into high gear and pretends to unzip his pants in my face no more than 10 inches away and is jiggling it and pretending to pee on me. I have no idea of the horror I might have expressed and my sister and I tried very, very hard not to laugh and encourage the fucking weird behavior. Luckily she had a door to hide behind.
He has also been prone to fake whip out his penis or just lift his pajama pants or long underwear really high and stare at his penis. My sister swore that tonight while we were playing Uno that he was going to whip it out. She then berated him, and attempted to get my father to say something. Seeing was we think someone should be talking to him about the birds and the bees. My father's response? "You can be arressted if you do that in public you know." Yeah. Really discouraging.
Then while I was carrying him on my hip or I was giving him a hug he leaned back and tried to open mouth kiss me. I dodged and weaved and put him down as quickly as I could. My sister reports that he's been humping her. We have horn dog for a brother.
The funniest incident was just yesterday. My sister bought "Agent Cody Banks" for my brother for Christmas as I'm sure it was cheap at K-Mart and he finally watched it. I hate Hilary Duff. Like White Hot Burning Flames Hate. Though that's actually gotten better so I thought I would hate the movie. Minimal Hilary Duff, and I hate to say it, has a few cute lines. At the end there is of course the long awaited kiss between The Duff and the annoying Frankie Muniz, which was awful. SO Fake! So my sister and I are all, "That was awful!" My sister is then all, "They didn't even kiss on the mouth! I could've given [brother] a better kiss. I'll show you!" And of course I'm like, "NO. No. That's fine. I saw it. They missed lips. I don't think we should do that with[brother]." He would clearly take it the wrong way. So then he's all jazzed and says, "Yes. First I will kiss you, and then I will kiss Karen and then you two will kiss and we'll then all be able to see what it looks like!" My sister and I share twin expressions of horror and quickly wet blanket that idea faster than a drunk co-ed can drop her skirt.
And not only that, but courtesy of my sister come the Incestuous Innuendos!
1. Picture It. We're watching this awfully cheesy video by the winner of the first winner of the German version of Pop Idol/American Idol. We love him. Hate the new video. It just doesn't compliment his mediocre skills or looks. There is this girl in the video who is his love interest. At the VERY end he shares an awful, awful kiss with her that is very chaste. This from a country that takes the pixels out of bare-chested women in videos. And removes the edits of Eamon's "Fuck You" song that my brother can sing along to. My sister's first response? "I've given [brother] worse kisses!" We both realize how bad that sounds and burst into laughter. I feel like I now detect a trend.
2. My sister begging me to massage her lower back a mere short hour ago. My father had been in previously and given her a quick 30 second massage. She's begging and I'm begging off as I'm contently reading. She says, "What if I crawl into bed with you and you find all the spots Papa did!"
3. My sister again. "You mean when you did [brother]?" This when I was asking her about weird incidents with my brother.
There are more but it's late, and there are too many for this post. I'll update.
The shops open again tomorrow. Hallelujah!!
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