today at work we were listening to the coolest update to the music collection EVER. that oldie but goodie "under the boardwalk" comes on... and i dunno... i guess i'm feeling ghetto fabulous.
... on a bizzle with my nizzle... foooooooo' sizzzzzzzzzle.
Monday, March 31, 2003
writing in the car
i've been holding on and on for so long
i've been waiting, waiting for you to come along
and i've been trying and trying and trying to sing you this song
but i just don't know what else could go wrong.
i've been waiting, waiting for you to come along
and i've been trying and trying and trying to sing you this song
but i just don't know what else could go wrong.
asshat?
"he was sort of an intellectual clown who sold hats by day to make his dough and wrote poetry at night to indulge his mind."
oh dear, sweet ideals. this woman found him first!! not fair!! another sweetly surprising book purchase. more on where this jaw-dropping quote came from later.
oh dear, sweet ideals. this woman found him first!! not fair!! another sweetly surprising book purchase. more on where this jaw-dropping quote came from later.
Saturday, March 29, 2003
i hate to say it...
... but what goes around comes around. blake and caner-medley got what they deserved. karma is quite teh bitch.
Thursday, March 27, 2003
days like these should come around more often... but if they did, then i guess they wouldn't be as special... so nevermind. ::cheese::
i worked from 7am-noon. my manager and i are attached to the hip now. hella good shift. worked on ordering, thinking about the new pars and deployment system, talking shmack about the asscrack that applied at the store last night and tried to follow me home after closing... ok... i need to interrupt this post to include this story:
heh.
so i'm closing with the two if the best partners in the store, and the best assistant manager. some guy comes in looking for an application. i seriously thought i met this kid at Red Robin on tuesday night, out with two of my bestest buddies... ok... i need to interrupt this interruption to include this story:
heh heh.
so matt, lindz and i decide we are gonna get dinner. this is after, mind you, i get rain checked by a boy i shouldn't even be considering seeing in the first place... ok... i need to interrupt... SIKE.
heh. you don't need to know who this boy is... you'll just yell at me. ::spits out tongue and runs away, zerberting you like no other::
so the three of us go to germantown to eat somewhere. we randomly end up at red robin because i think their burgers are rad. we know a server there, so she shows us a wondrous time. excellent evening. i miss evenings like those. no bad drama... nothing but good vibes... meat... and beer. shut up! i did not steal that big ass mug by sticking it in my hoodie. ::brags to herself about how cool her gut really is:: our server, whose name is melissa (like you care) sees one her buddies in the store, and introduces us...
cue the guy who i thought was randomly showing up at my starbux the night after trying to get a job. so i ask him. straight up... no sugar-coated chit chat about it. "you seem oddly familiar to me... where were you last night?" honestly liz, why do you not GET that people could construe an inquiry like this to be a come on??? moron. so he flirts. he's a moron. i make him pay $1.37 extra for his fucking caramel frap. sidenote: if you are a hot guy... and you come in and order a venti caramel frap... you instantly turn into an overweight old lady in the eyes of your playboy bunny barista chicas. just don't do it. right... so this idiot... he bums a cig from the assistant manager and then leaves.
... or so we think ...
after our beautiful close (out @ 10:14pm), us three super stars have our corporate ten minute break before we jet. i smoked another cig... and didn't barf this time!! wee! but sketchy non-red robin boy ruins my celebration by trying to chill with us, offering us the opportunity to "get fucking FUUUUCKED up" with him, and then proceeding to "walk me to my car."
they left me. alone. in the parking lot with this fucker. at 10:30 at night.
"so, uhhh, liz... how do you, uhh, get so good at being social??"
"i think it has a lot to do with the fact that i have no shame." (or any real sense of how NOT to get dramafied).
"yer a pretty good judge of character too, i bet."
"yeah..." (too bad i never LISTEN to what my inner voice is telling me!!!)
"so, uhh, you got a boyfriend?"
....
...........
screw you... of course i lied.
"yeah... maybe if you got one too... it would help you out with that lack of shame thing." (woulda made a good point if i wasn't LYING through my teeth).
cue back to this morning, telling my manager this story. he does this thing with his tongue and his top lip whenever he is deep in thought. this story made him enact that ritual. anywho... the shift was rad, except donkey ass guy was being a total puissant today. i think it was because i embarrassed him in front of a whole line of customers.... he was on window... i was floating... he yells "do we have any herbal tea..."
come on now...
"yes, joe... we have lots of herbal teas. this is a coffee and tea shop. starbux, you know."
"oh... see, i thought i was working at denny's... my coworkers put me in mind of that place..."
very good comeback... but then he just started acting all pissy. ugh. some boys just cannot handle getting told by a girl.
so right after work, i run home, shower, browse fubie-foo, stress myself out about tonight... and then commence operation Indoor Expo. such a good night. such a good show. everything went so well. the kids did so wonderful. i am going to miss them so much. pot luck dinner went swimmingly. parent love. staff love. guard love. love love love.
this is where i end talking about how great the day was. you see... there is really no way to explain to people what i do with my colorguard and winterguard. you will always either be too ignorant and busy to be bothered to learn about it... or you won't ever give it the recognition that it deserves. my job is hard. it involves fighting with punk ass teens, their parents, a distant and unorganized band director and a school and community who could give two shits about our little "activity." i have spent... easliy... over 2,000 hours working with the guard over the past four years... and hold everything about this sport, this school and these kids close to my heart. dawnie bears said it best with "this is me." this is who i am. it is everything i love about life. music, dance, color, passion and open interpretation.... discipline and teamwork... commitment and most of all... connecting with people and this world. it's about the deeper meaning... and it's about sharing stories.
i invited over twenty people who i consider viciously important to me to come tonight. you know how many came? 4. Maribeth was the only one not related to me. My mom and dad and brother... after four years... finally all made it to an event together. they knew i would never forgive them if they didn't. if it weren't for these people... i would have cried tonight... (well i did anyways, but because of how much i was going to miss this)... none of you made the effort. only two of you called to apologize for missing it.
if you had any idea who i was... you wouldn't have dissed me like that. i built this up to the guard and to myself. you shouldn't have said you were coming if you weren't coming. grow some balls. tell me the truth. i know this much... you will never. ever. have the opportunity to make this up to me. this was the end of an era. but i'll be damned if it's the end of guard in my life.
heh.
so i'm closing with the two if the best partners in the store, and the best assistant manager. some guy comes in looking for an application. i seriously thought i met this kid at Red Robin on tuesday night, out with two of my bestest buddies... ok... i need to interrupt this interruption to include this story:
heh heh.
so matt, lindz and i decide we are gonna get dinner. this is after, mind you, i get rain checked by a boy i shouldn't even be considering seeing in the first place... ok... i need to interrupt... SIKE.
heh. you don't need to know who this boy is... you'll just yell at me. ::spits out tongue and runs away, zerberting you like no other::
so the three of us go to germantown to eat somewhere. we randomly end up at red robin because i think their burgers are rad. we know a server there, so she shows us a wondrous time. excellent evening. i miss evenings like those. no bad drama... nothing but good vibes... meat... and beer. shut up! i did not steal that big ass mug by sticking it in my hoodie. ::brags to herself about how cool her gut really is:: our server, whose name is melissa (like you care) sees one her buddies in the store, and introduces us...
cue the guy who i thought was randomly showing up at my starbux the night after trying to get a job. so i ask him. straight up... no sugar-coated chit chat about it. "you seem oddly familiar to me... where were you last night?" honestly liz, why do you not GET that people could construe an inquiry like this to be a come on??? moron. so he flirts. he's a moron. i make him pay $1.37 extra for his fucking caramel frap. sidenote: if you are a hot guy... and you come in and order a venti caramel frap... you instantly turn into an overweight old lady in the eyes of your playboy bunny barista chicas. just don't do it. right... so this idiot... he bums a cig from the assistant manager and then leaves.
... or so we think ...
after our beautiful close (out @ 10:14pm), us three super stars have our corporate ten minute break before we jet. i smoked another cig... and didn't barf this time!! wee! but sketchy non-red robin boy ruins my celebration by trying to chill with us, offering us the opportunity to "get fucking FUUUUCKED up" with him, and then proceeding to "walk me to my car."
they left me. alone. in the parking lot with this fucker. at 10:30 at night.
"so, uhhh, liz... how do you, uhh, get so good at being social??"
"i think it has a lot to do with the fact that i have no shame." (or any real sense of how NOT to get dramafied).
"yer a pretty good judge of character too, i bet."
"yeah..." (too bad i never LISTEN to what my inner voice is telling me!!!)
"so, uhh, you got a boyfriend?"
....
...........
screw you... of course i lied.
"yeah... maybe if you got one too... it would help you out with that lack of shame thing." (woulda made a good point if i wasn't LYING through my teeth).
cue back to this morning, telling my manager this story. he does this thing with his tongue and his top lip whenever he is deep in thought. this story made him enact that ritual. anywho... the shift was rad, except donkey ass guy was being a total puissant today. i think it was because i embarrassed him in front of a whole line of customers.... he was on window... i was floating... he yells "do we have any herbal tea..."
come on now...
"yes, joe... we have lots of herbal teas. this is a coffee and tea shop. starbux, you know."
"oh... see, i thought i was working at denny's... my coworkers put me in mind of that place..."
very good comeback... but then he just started acting all pissy. ugh. some boys just cannot handle getting told by a girl.
so right after work, i run home, shower, browse fubie-foo, stress myself out about tonight... and then commence operation Indoor Expo. such a good night. such a good show. everything went so well. the kids did so wonderful. i am going to miss them so much. pot luck dinner went swimmingly. parent love. staff love. guard love. love love love.
this is where i end talking about how great the day was. you see... there is really no way to explain to people what i do with my colorguard and winterguard. you will always either be too ignorant and busy to be bothered to learn about it... or you won't ever give it the recognition that it deserves. my job is hard. it involves fighting with punk ass teens, their parents, a distant and unorganized band director and a school and community who could give two shits about our little "activity." i have spent... easliy... over 2,000 hours working with the guard over the past four years... and hold everything about this sport, this school and these kids close to my heart. dawnie bears said it best with "this is me." this is who i am. it is everything i love about life. music, dance, color, passion and open interpretation.... discipline and teamwork... commitment and most of all... connecting with people and this world. it's about the deeper meaning... and it's about sharing stories.
i invited over twenty people who i consider viciously important to me to come tonight. you know how many came? 4. Maribeth was the only one not related to me. My mom and dad and brother... after four years... finally all made it to an event together. they knew i would never forgive them if they didn't. if it weren't for these people... i would have cried tonight... (well i did anyways, but because of how much i was going to miss this)... none of you made the effort. only two of you called to apologize for missing it.
if you had any idea who i was... you wouldn't have dissed me like that. i built this up to the guard and to myself. you shouldn't have said you were coming if you weren't coming. grow some balls. tell me the truth. i know this much... you will never. ever. have the opportunity to make this up to me. this was the end of an era. but i'll be damned if it's the end of guard in my life.
mock... YEAH! ing.... YEAH! bird.......... DICK!
psykotik2k (1:32:11 AM): yer mom
AmngStarz (1:32:34 AM): oh no you didnt
psykotik2k (1:32:45 AM): werd i did
AmngStarz (1:33:06 AM): oh. my.
AmngStarz (1:33:17 AM): you are gonna get a mean fucking comment for that one, missy!
AmngStarz (1:32:34 AM): oh no you didnt
psykotik2k (1:32:45 AM): werd i did
AmngStarz (1:33:06 AM): oh. my.
AmngStarz (1:33:17 AM): you are gonna get a mean fucking comment for that one, missy!
everybuddy smokes weed... except me!
sigh...
so my mission (and yours, if you choose to accept it)... is to find myself a single, functional, non-drug using, non-alcoholic musician to date.
... aw hell, who am i kidding... i just want to find ONE, period.
so my mission (and yours, if you choose to accept it)... is to find myself a single, functional, non-drug using, non-alcoholic musician to date.
... aw hell, who am i kidding... i just want to find ONE, period.
Monday, March 24, 2003
i... am not... a finisher...
it is weird that i put that in my profile and it came up in my last post. this week marks my last season with my guard. and i don't quite know how to handle it.
i'm in a little funk about it. no fun.
maybe i'll de-stupify this later.
i'm in a little funk about it. no fun.
maybe i'll de-stupify this later.
i keep a ton of journals. maybe it would be better to call them books. because they aren't really journals... they are collections of random everythings that happen to me throughout whatever i happen to be doing, randomly. yeah, screw you too mr. grammatical underliner guy. anywho. found a rad journal that sadly, like many of its brothers... only had a few pages filled. i have this thing with beginnings. i love them. not too keen on the ending thing yet. maybe it's my preference for keeping my options open... closure scares me. it's so... definite. i like second, third, and twenty eighth chances.
... back to the point ...
so i found this book, with a beaded pattern on the cover. i remember this. joe-nell got me this for Xmas of 2001. i remember seeing it in B&N with her one night and admiring it... but saying i could never spend $14 for a beaded cover made by struggling women in India. heh. she bought it for me anyways. the first page has, written in silver ink, my handwriting, next to a sticker torn off of the back wrapping "Hand Crafted in India... SWEAT SHOP!"
then there is an entry about my sociology of gender exam. i loved that class.
but the last written page in the book is from February 14, 2002. Vagina Day. Blue ink... the thick kind from my preferred felt tip marker pen things.
I wish writing was still new.
Like love.
Challenging, exciting - requiring your upmost attention.
It always felt so urgent.
Sadly enough...
... back to the point ...
so i found this book, with a beaded pattern on the cover. i remember this. joe-nell got me this for Xmas of 2001. i remember seeing it in B&N with her one night and admiring it... but saying i could never spend $14 for a beaded cover made by struggling women in India. heh. she bought it for me anyways. the first page has, written in silver ink, my handwriting, next to a sticker torn off of the back wrapping "Hand Crafted in India... SWEAT SHOP!"
then there is an entry about my sociology of gender exam. i loved that class.
but the last written page in the book is from February 14, 2002. Vagina Day. Blue ink... the thick kind from my preferred felt tip marker pen things.
I wish writing was still new.
Like love.
Challenging, exciting - requiring your upmost attention.
It always felt so urgent.
Sadly enough...
it was.
It fades very quickly.
If love could only be one long, swift and smooth line of ink.
And life.
Thousands of neatly-bound, inviting - blank
sheets of paper.
Movies and television take care of that
feeling of urgency now.
They package and serve all of the emotions
for you.
So with very little personal involvement, one can
become a part of and an expert on love.
What is the point if you don't place a
personal investment?
It isn't yours. It's just there.
You can't change it... or mold it.
(turn to back of page)
Or make it really mean anything to you at all.
now... being the end of march 2003... how on earth do i follow an entry like that? i never cease being surprised at myself. but even moreso... i never cease being surprised at timing. i know just where this needs to go. ugh hug to justin.
Sunday, March 23, 2003
i love html. oh yes.
i farted around with the page for a bit. added some quotes, more writing, and fixed some of my format. feel free to poke around.
so it's something past 2:00 in the morning. sitting here listening to myself on badly recorded wav. files. i did not call him. i did not go to the high school punk rawk show. i did not take her to the movies. i am not in salisbury. i am not in fells point. i am not at dream celebrating her 22nd burfday on the 22nd. i am not at that smoking party. i am not hooking up with him in CP. i am not having comfort night with DQ. i am not playing rock star with doc.
cwistofur wobin thinks there is an antisocial bug going around.
well... if there is... i am on day two.
it's not like i'm depressed. i'm not unhappy. i had a mother of a week. i'm excited that it is spring break. i dunno. i guess i'm just feeling hella unmotivated. i don't want to do anything that takes effort because i have been putting forth so much of it these last couple months. so i guess i'll just go back to the pointing and clicking thing.
yeah. nite nite.
cwistofur wobin thinks there is an antisocial bug going around.
well... if there is... i am on day two.
it's not like i'm depressed. i'm not unhappy. i had a mother of a week. i'm excited that it is spring break. i dunno. i guess i'm just feeling hella unmotivated. i don't want to do anything that takes effort because i have been putting forth so much of it these last couple months. so i guess i'll just go back to the pointing and clicking thing.
yeah. nite nite.
Saturday, March 22, 2003
OMG like i am the biggest loser ever ROFL.
fell asleep last night at 8:30pm. i woke up at 11:30am.
i. missed. the. fucking. game.
i. missed. the. fucking. game.
Wednesday, March 19, 2003
Tuesday, March 18, 2003
Tell you this.
All I'm really looking for is a relationship where my girlfriend says to me, "I love you," and I don't say, "Why?"
wow. he probably won't even notice that i'm quoting him but i don't care. he knows he's a good writer... but i don't know if he knows how good that passage was.
... so much expressed from two little sentences.
and if he can express himself even half as openly and honestly in his relationships... then i have no idea why he can't understand why someone couldn't NOT love that.
damn.
... maybe it isn't a marine thing... maybe it's just a maryland thing. i tell ya... if he were here i'd be first in line to see if he's the best.
... so much expressed from two little sentences.
and if he can express himself even half as openly and honestly in his relationships... then i have no idea why he can't understand why someone couldn't NOT love that.
damn.
... maybe it isn't a marine thing... maybe it's just a maryland thing. i tell ya... if he were here i'd be first in line to see if he's the best.
Monday, March 17, 2003
grey street.
ugh. again. dave, i cannot believe you released my favorite song as your latest single. i just had that up on this page a few weeks ago... and today... because i was using my mom's car while mine is in the shop... i had no cd player to save me from the radio and heard the damn thing like 8 times today. either i have an exceptional ear for predicting singles... or god just likes to torment me.
fuck you, dave mathews.
fuck you, dave mathews.
very irish but hardly green.
representing the PROTESTANT irish this st. paddy's day.
fuck that green shit. it's all about da orange. get your facts straight you posers.
click here, and here... or here to get some background info on the history.
fuck that green shit. it's all about da orange. get your facts straight you posers.
click here, and here... or here to get some background info on the history.
purple prom king
i hung out saturday night with one of my favorite DQ's (that's drag queens because it's italicized. drama queens are just plain old DQ's).
he took me out to a musical review show called "songs for a new world." holy bananas this kid can write lyrics. jason robert brown. buying the soundtrack ASAP. oo oo, something to add to the shopping list. the show was totally inspiring and i was enthralled (usual for me whenever i see a performance of any kind). afterwards we rolled up to Friday's on the pike to visit an old coworker and indulge in a meal and a few drinks. well, my date has been involved/around the restaurant business for over 10 years now and i have learned a few things from him.
1. good bartenders squeeze the lime for you, and give you a new one every time you get a refill... and they squeeze that one too.
2. two people who eat two appetizers and then each have a soup and salad will not be able to consume their main course of the jack daniel's triple combo of chicken, shrimp and ribs. get a doggie bag. but they will indulge in a liquid dessert.
3. servers are highly recyclable. if you work one joint... you will most likely end up working at 8 others in the area too. unless yer like that one guy who sticks it out for 5yrs + (i just think he has a great sense of loyalty and dedication). then there is that whole boomerang effect that even i have fallen victim to at *bux. you think you can go out and make more money somewhere else... but end up comin home again because you know all the tricks.
4. if you wear a spiffy purple jacket... sketchy old men WILL touch you repeatedly. and hot guys from across the bar looking a little too "meatheadesque" WILL stare you down because they want to take you outside behind the dumpsters and really let you know how to take it up the butt.
5. if you drink as slowly as i do... always order shorts. because warm beer is wasted beer.
6. there will always be more guys at a bar than girls. this results in major badness. we'll call it the "inflated chicken head effect." because you are one of few girls there... you will always be approached. you are what us OA's refer to as ABD (attractive by default). so after a few weeks of this... your head gets big and you think you are hot shit. when really you are just an easy, sad ho and should wash your hair and buy jeans that fit.
7. being an inflated chicken head and referring to your good bartender by snapping your fingers and saying "hey beer girl... BEEEER GIIIRL.... por favor..." is the easiest way to get your check quickly.
he took me out to a musical review show called "songs for a new world." holy bananas this kid can write lyrics. jason robert brown. buying the soundtrack ASAP. oo oo, something to add to the shopping list. the show was totally inspiring and i was enthralled (usual for me whenever i see a performance of any kind). afterwards we rolled up to Friday's on the pike to visit an old coworker and indulge in a meal and a few drinks. well, my date has been involved/around the restaurant business for over 10 years now and i have learned a few things from him.
1. good bartenders squeeze the lime for you, and give you a new one every time you get a refill... and they squeeze that one too.
2. two people who eat two appetizers and then each have a soup and salad will not be able to consume their main course of the jack daniel's triple combo of chicken, shrimp and ribs. get a doggie bag. but they will indulge in a liquid dessert.
3. servers are highly recyclable. if you work one joint... you will most likely end up working at 8 others in the area too. unless yer like that one guy who sticks it out for 5yrs + (i just think he has a great sense of loyalty and dedication). then there is that whole boomerang effect that even i have fallen victim to at *bux. you think you can go out and make more money somewhere else... but end up comin home again because you know all the tricks.
4. if you wear a spiffy purple jacket... sketchy old men WILL touch you repeatedly. and hot guys from across the bar looking a little too "meatheadesque" WILL stare you down because they want to take you outside behind the dumpsters and really let you know how to take it up the butt.
5. if you drink as slowly as i do... always order shorts. because warm beer is wasted beer.
6. there will always be more guys at a bar than girls. this results in major badness. we'll call it the "inflated chicken head effect." because you are one of few girls there... you will always be approached. you are what us OA's refer to as ABD (attractive by default). so after a few weeks of this... your head gets big and you think you are hot shit. when really you are just an easy, sad ho and should wash your hair and buy jeans that fit.
7. being an inflated chicken head and referring to your good bartender by snapping your fingers and saying "hey beer girl... BEEEER GIIIRL.... por favor..." is the easiest way to get your check quickly.
shopping list:
if i put this up here... i won't forget to go to the store in the morning and run these errands.
to do:
drop off car at dealer
deposit checks
develop film
to buy:
index cards
air freshener for car
glue
rubber cement
listerine
black hair ties
sour cream and onion munch'ems
tri-colored pasta
gatorade
yogurt, custard stylee
fuji apples
baby carrots
toothpicks
gigantic tupperware thing to put all my fucking shoes in
liz in a bottle
black spray paint
black duct tape
Sunday, March 16, 2003
discovery!
i just openned blogger.com to update the page again when i noticed something!! a secret, codified subliminal message!!
::uses secret decoder ring::
it says "True" in the top left corner. and i don't know why. weird.
::uses secret decoder ring::
it says "True" in the top left corner. and i don't know why. weird.
Saturday, March 15, 2003
aight. all of those ideas about "that time of the month" being the basic cycle of a woman's mode of operations... yeah, total lies.
there is a bigger, more powerful system at work... trying to rule the way us ladies do business. seasonal fashion? no... although some women subscribe to that mode of operation, that is nothing in comparison to this monster. annual issues of the world's 50est sexy whatevers... not even close.
i am talking about the pheromonal cycle. this cycle laughs in the face of time, and bows to the ruling "it fucking figures" way of dumping its power over us whenever it seems least helpful and most likely to cause drama.
the rules of the game are that you go through period of unbelievable loneliness in regards to the opposite sex. i think during these periods, the pheromones make you exude some sort of undetectable stench that implants words like "prude, commitment, raging bitch, high maintenance and yeast infections" into the minds of men everywhere... subliminally convincing them to avoid any type of romantic or sexual involvement with you at all times. during these periods you cling to episodes of the real world, joe millionaire and trading spaces to fill the biological void. you are often found bitching with your girlfriends, making jokes about becoming a spinster and using the statement "men are pigs" as a sufficient answer for every question.
then... for some ungodly reason unknown to me (if anyone knows please, help me out), every blue moon or so, you have these moments of extreme pheromonal overload. it's not like with your fertility cycles when your cheeks get rosie and your tummy gets bloated to make you appear more ready for procreation... and it's not like you're horny all the time or anything... and your relative attractiveness doesn't really change. but.... without fail... a minimum of four different suitors pop into your life, all within the same short period of time.
now this isn't saying that an abundance of guys drop from the sky and ask you to be their one and only. this also isn't saying that you are suddenly caught in the middle of a love triangle or that you have more men at your heels than you know what to do with. it is saying that on one level or another... a bunch of men make an effort to get to know, include or express a desire to have you in their life. this can be plutonic or romantic... but more often then not, there are undertones of tummy-yummy feelings.
now don't get me wrong here... i'm not complaining about genuinely interested guys on any level approaching me. it is flattering and new and you have the opportunity to get to know great people.
it's just overwhelming... especially because these periods always seem to occur after long droughts. i go from having no real prospects or interests.. worrying only about getting my shit done and together, to suddenly have people vying for my attention.
i don't usually make my social or romantic life the subject of my posts... because a lot of important people in my life read this page and could construe things i write to be offensive, humiliating, rude or definitely inappropriate to share with the world wide weblog. but before you roll your eyes at me, call me a self-centered, attention seeking bitch... or before any of you guys get paranoid and think that you are one of my downpour babies and vow that you will retract any effort to get to know me... reread the post.
were you entertained? ... cause i was. never take yourself too seriously. my life is a soap opera/situational sitcom/standup comedy sketch waiting to happen.
there is a bigger, more powerful system at work... trying to rule the way us ladies do business. seasonal fashion? no... although some women subscribe to that mode of operation, that is nothing in comparison to this monster. annual issues of the world's 50est sexy whatevers... not even close.
i am talking about the pheromonal cycle. this cycle laughs in the face of time, and bows to the ruling "it fucking figures" way of dumping its power over us whenever it seems least helpful and most likely to cause drama.
the rules of the game are that you go through period of unbelievable loneliness in regards to the opposite sex. i think during these periods, the pheromones make you exude some sort of undetectable stench that implants words like "prude, commitment, raging bitch, high maintenance and yeast infections" into the minds of men everywhere... subliminally convincing them to avoid any type of romantic or sexual involvement with you at all times. during these periods you cling to episodes of the real world, joe millionaire and trading spaces to fill the biological void. you are often found bitching with your girlfriends, making jokes about becoming a spinster and using the statement "men are pigs" as a sufficient answer for every question.
then... for some ungodly reason unknown to me (if anyone knows please, help me out), every blue moon or so, you have these moments of extreme pheromonal overload. it's not like with your fertility cycles when your cheeks get rosie and your tummy gets bloated to make you appear more ready for procreation... and it's not like you're horny all the time or anything... and your relative attractiveness doesn't really change. but.... without fail... a minimum of four different suitors pop into your life, all within the same short period of time.
now this isn't saying that an abundance of guys drop from the sky and ask you to be their one and only. this also isn't saying that you are suddenly caught in the middle of a love triangle or that you have more men at your heels than you know what to do with. it is saying that on one level or another... a bunch of men make an effort to get to know, include or express a desire to have you in their life. this can be plutonic or romantic... but more often then not, there are undertones of tummy-yummy feelings.
now don't get me wrong here... i'm not complaining about genuinely interested guys on any level approaching me. it is flattering and new and you have the opportunity to get to know great people.
it's just overwhelming... especially because these periods always seem to occur after long droughts. i go from having no real prospects or interests.. worrying only about getting my shit done and together, to suddenly have people vying for my attention.
i don't usually make my social or romantic life the subject of my posts... because a lot of important people in my life read this page and could construe things i write to be offensive, humiliating, rude or definitely inappropriate to share with the world wide weblog. but before you roll your eyes at me, call me a self-centered, attention seeking bitch... or before any of you guys get paranoid and think that you are one of my downpour babies and vow that you will retract any effort to get to know me... reread the post.
were you entertained? ... cause i was. never take yourself too seriously. my life is a soap opera/situational sitcom/standup comedy sketch waiting to happen.
Friday, March 14, 2003
Thursday, March 13, 2003
Wednesday, March 12, 2003
i am totally grooving on this coyote ugly cd kinya accidentally left with me. does this make me a nerd? i only ask because i still have not seen the movie... though many tell me i should and that i have a similar plight as one of the main characters. so ummn, for anyone who has seen it... is it just a lame teenie bopper jam, or does it have enough in there to make me misty-eyed?
either way... any soundtrack with "unbelievable," by emf and "the power," by snap... it's gotta get its props.
::jigs to the devil went down to georgia::
either way... any soundtrack with "unbelievable," by emf and "the power," by snap... it's gotta get its props.
::jigs to the devil went down to georgia::
tonight i smoked my first cigarette since... valentine's day i think.
no... this is not the confession of a closet smoker, or someone who has quit 8 different times. this is a prelude to a good story by a social smoker. i just like how it gives me something to do with my hands and my mouth. anywho, i do it on occasion... usually when i end up at a party or bar, or in a circle of smokers who are just chillin... and... smokin.
so yeah, i think it was menthol... because it had a minty hint to it.
i held my second puff in and found myself spinning in that happy cig-buzz that i still brag about. the day i can get through a whole cigarette without getting a high from it will be the day i truly question my happiness. so yeah... i was buzzin and chatting with a few starfux outside the store. drove one of them home.
about halfway to her house... i started to get nauseous. like... full blown... i am going to ralph all over my steering wheel nauseous. i try to fight it and ask her about her new puppies and her upcoming move. she gets out. i pull away.
my head is spinning now and my stomach is twisted all the way up to my throat. i don't remember how i got home.
i stripped down, put on a pair of pj pants and parked the spinning on my bathroom floor.
but i couldn't throw up. i tried... but stayed there for about 30 minutes just staring at the toilet bowl. and only 7 of those minutes were spent envisioning redman on a jetski talking about his toiletbowl cleaner. "we get the brown out."
for those of you who haven't seen the chapelle show... the 23 others were probably the most painful and wretched minutes i've experienced this year.
... it was wonderful.
no... this is not the confession of a closet smoker, or someone who has quit 8 different times. this is a prelude to a good story by a social smoker. i just like how it gives me something to do with my hands and my mouth. anywho, i do it on occasion... usually when i end up at a party or bar, or in a circle of smokers who are just chillin... and... smokin.
so yeah, i think it was menthol... because it had a minty hint to it.
i held my second puff in and found myself spinning in that happy cig-buzz that i still brag about. the day i can get through a whole cigarette without getting a high from it will be the day i truly question my happiness. so yeah... i was buzzin and chatting with a few starfux outside the store. drove one of them home.
about halfway to her house... i started to get nauseous. like... full blown... i am going to ralph all over my steering wheel nauseous. i try to fight it and ask her about her new puppies and her upcoming move. she gets out. i pull away.
my head is spinning now and my stomach is twisted all the way up to my throat. i don't remember how i got home.
i stripped down, put on a pair of pj pants and parked the spinning on my bathroom floor.
but i couldn't throw up. i tried... but stayed there for about 30 minutes just staring at the toilet bowl. and only 7 of those minutes were spent envisioning redman on a jetski talking about his toiletbowl cleaner. "we get the brown out."
for those of you who haven't seen the chapelle show... the 23 others were probably the most painful and wretched minutes i've experienced this year.
... it was wonderful.
thanx, for the cig.
Monday, March 10, 2003
Sunday, March 09, 2003
maybe i spoke too soon...
sigh. why do you build me up, buttercup... just to let me down? this weekend has wiped the floor with me, and ripped me a new asshole... literally.
...at least now i have more room to stash my flag poles, rifles and sabers.
...at least now i have more room to stash my flag poles, rifles and sabers.
Friday, March 07, 2003
Wednesday, March 05, 2003
south paw!
it has been estimated that left-handers are eleven times more likely to be dyslexic than right handers.
i can't believe i didn't think of this before! no wonder i always mix up my words and letters... i am forced to do so many things backwards!! i wonder if that has anything to do with ym (haha, i so didn't do that for effect!!) clumsiness too... being that most set ups and tools are designed for right handers. it's awkward trying to use things that are designed for the other side of my body.
hmmmmn. makes SO much sense!
i can't believe i didn't think of this before! no wonder i always mix up my words and letters... i am forced to do so many things backwards!! i wonder if that has anything to do with ym (haha, i so didn't do that for effect!!) clumsiness too... being that most set ups and tools are designed for right handers. it's awkward trying to use things that are designed for the other side of my body.
hmmmmn. makes SO much sense!
Tuesday, March 04, 2003
ok. i have been thinking about this a lot over the past two days... and i think i have finally figured out how i want to respond.
as much as i always appreciate the concerned IMs and emails and shout outs full of compliments and encouraging words...
THAT WAS NOT MY INTENTION, GOAL, OR POINT AT ALL.
i was voicing my opinions on a much larger issue than my own self esteem. i was apparently too naive to realize that i could not generate a forum for actual discussion on the topic... because all i got in return were comments meant to "make me feel better" about who i am and my physical appearance. i am not concerned with who i am or my physical appearance... i thought it was a known fact that i wear my heart on my sleeve and am very comfortable with who i am. the whole point of my vent was that i feel like a majority of my fellow females aren't happy with themselves and seem to define their self worth by their physical appearance... and i want to know why. it makes me sad. it makes me think that i am a freakish minority and that maybe i missed something. and when i typed up that post... it really had gotten to me. and when i feel passionately about something... whether it be happy or sad... i am going to try and express that.
i study this stuff every day. i talk about the self and interactions with family and people and society and gobble gooble in all of my classes. an online group therapy session is the LAST thing i need.
guys, you've gotta realize that i made and update this page for purposes of my own entertainment, enjoyment and personal growth... and i like to share some of that with you all. as much as you all may think it takes guts for me to put all of this out there... it really doesn't and this page does not reflect or even begin to describe or represent even a tenth of what is going on in my life. this is my own personal portal to share SOME of my thoughts and such with the internet nerds.
so please, don't take this the wrong way... but lighten up! discuss! for those of you who know me in the flesh... you should know that i love discussing, debating and can get very emotional and heated in expressing my opinions. but come on... i am almost insulted at the way this has turned into some "let's everyone get concerned for lizzie" charade.
as much as i always appreciate the concerned IMs and emails and shout outs full of compliments and encouraging words...
THAT WAS NOT MY INTENTION, GOAL, OR POINT AT ALL.
i was voicing my opinions on a much larger issue than my own self esteem. i was apparently too naive to realize that i could not generate a forum for actual discussion on the topic... because all i got in return were comments meant to "make me feel better" about who i am and my physical appearance. i am not concerned with who i am or my physical appearance... i thought it was a known fact that i wear my heart on my sleeve and am very comfortable with who i am. the whole point of my vent was that i feel like a majority of my fellow females aren't happy with themselves and seem to define their self worth by their physical appearance... and i want to know why. it makes me sad. it makes me think that i am a freakish minority and that maybe i missed something. and when i typed up that post... it really had gotten to me. and when i feel passionately about something... whether it be happy or sad... i am going to try and express that.
i study this stuff every day. i talk about the self and interactions with family and people and society and gobble gooble in all of my classes. an online group therapy session is the LAST thing i need.
guys, you've gotta realize that i made and update this page for purposes of my own entertainment, enjoyment and personal growth... and i like to share some of that with you all. as much as you all may think it takes guts for me to put all of this out there... it really doesn't and this page does not reflect or even begin to describe or represent even a tenth of what is going on in my life. this is my own personal portal to share SOME of my thoughts and such with the internet nerds.
so please, don't take this the wrong way... but lighten up! discuss! for those of you who know me in the flesh... you should know that i love discussing, debating and can get very emotional and heated in expressing my opinions. but come on... i am almost insulted at the way this has turned into some "let's everyone get concerned for lizzie" charade.
Monday, March 03, 2003
why's
warning: this stream of consciousness post WILL be random and ill-formatted and probably contain many made up words and grammar mistakes.
so i went on a little escape this weekend. don't really think it was long enough to have a real effect of my stress level. i wish i could have stayed for a few more days. i wish i could have stayed awake more than i did. my body just needed to conk out, i s'pose. oh well, it was lovely and nice and i missed you. thanx for the hospitality and i wish i could fully describe the events but assholes read this page.
i feel like all of the girls that i know are going through a self-esteem physical appearance thing... and tonight... i'm guessing with the cycle of the moon and all... it's getting to me. i'm going to be flat out honest and blunt and to the point:
so i went on a little escape this weekend. don't really think it was long enough to have a real effect of my stress level. i wish i could have stayed for a few more days. i wish i could have stayed awake more than i did. my body just needed to conk out, i s'pose. oh well, it was lovely and nice and i missed you. thanx for the hospitality and i wish i could fully describe the events but assholes read this page.
i feel like all of the girls that i know are going through a self-esteem physical appearance thing... and tonight... i'm guessing with the cycle of the moon and all... it's getting to me. i'm going to be flat out honest and blunt and to the point:
with all these wonderful amazing women so totally hung up on how their boobs look in that shirt and how their ass looks in those jeans....
it's giving me a complex.
i cried when i looked at myself in the mirror tonight. i have never done that before. i will never do that again. i am in total shock from this and i don't know how to explain it and i am ashamed that i let all of this get to me. i am ashamed of myself- not because of the way i look- but because i have let everyone who is so obsessed with the idea get to me. i am not the kind of girl who likes to discuss fashion. i am not the kind of girl who won't eat a side of french fries because of the fucking salt content. i don't discriminate when it comes to the guys i date and their weight or fashion sense or anything like that... and i want a guy who doesn't do that sort of thing either.
but for the love of the tears welling up at the corners of my eyes why does every boy i know have to mention, out loud, in almost every social situation what girl he finds attractive, how many ways he'd like to do her, discuss if she is worthy enough to let him give her head, how big are her fucking boobs, is she cute or just sexy, demean some girl if she attempts to say anything that doesn't include a giggle or hair flip, criticize the way her pants fit, have code words and signals for when a hot girl is approaching, or add the words "but i'd still fuck her" to the end of a discussion like it's the only important aspect of her character.... WHY?!?!?!
why is my lack of social sexual life such an issue for me right now? why am i reaching a point of paranoia that i will never date anyone ever again? why does it bother me that most of my close friends right now have never known me to be in a relationship with anyone? why don't i get to enjoy those parts of life right now? why am i now so scared that the reason this void is there is my physical appearance? why do i feel like the fact that my lack of interest in becoming a size 6 is a disadvantage for me in every situation on this planet?
why does every girl i know... no matter what their body type or weight is... think that they are ugly or too fat?
and why... why... why... do i feel bad that i am not like them? why don't i care? why does calorie counting and perfect shoe shopping and gym work-out scheduling not occupy my thoughts on even a weekly basis?
i cannot believe that I FEEL BAD FOR NOT BEING OBSESSED WITH LOSING WEIGHT AND LOOKING ATTRACTIVE ALL OF THE TIME.
if there is any girl out there who sincerely doesn't care how they look all the time... or if guys give them compliments and notice their hair cuts and their manicures... or if the gap, abercombie or forever 21 is having a sale... or doesn't know the weight watchers or jenny craig diet plans... or doesn't annually go through that "i need to lose weight in time for bikini season"... please.... IM me and be my friend.
i quit with boys and i quit with girls and i just quit because everyone says i am wonderful and worthy and special and all this and that but i still... no matter what... always seem to end up alone in my room sharing close to nothing with only my computer screen and a pete yorn cd playing #11 over and over on repeat. i hate this and i hate you and i want to just fucking be happy the way i am. stop trying to make me feel bad for not looking the way you want me to and stop trying to make me join your paraniod about the way we look club. and stop asking me about or mentioning my boobies.
... so much for relaxing before bed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
