Growing up is hard. Realizing that your growing OLDER is even harder. Yes, I am aware that I'm 21 and far away from the age of Geritol and Depends, but regardless, I'm almost 22. Which is ancient to the part of me that wanted to stay 18 forever. It all started the other night at Walmart. Shawn and I used to spend countless hours in the toy isle, causing trouble, running around, and playing until our little hearts were content. Now, we last about 20 minutes around the entire store before we want to go home and sleep. Employment seems to do that to a person.
Because my parents are visiting in about a half an hour, I was speed cleaning and I found an old sales receipt from Walmart, and the one from yesterday.
Here's how they stack up:
Old receipt:
3 Magazines
1 Hair Dye in an Unnatural color
1 Spiderman action figure
1 Bag Cooler Ranch Doritos
2 Gallons of Orange Juice (for drinking and tripping purposes)
1 Bottle advil
2 Packs of Gum
1 Package of Twizzlers
4 Packages of Zours
1 Box of Condoms
8 Cans of whipped cream (Hooray for whippits!)
2 Packs of Marlboro Reds
If I remember right, that night was a hell of a lot of fun. We were wandering around the isles when I stopped and looked down. After staring at me a moment, Shawn looked down, breathed in and said "Holy shit Clare, we are getting old".
Our cart contained:
2 Bottles of Old Spice body wash (buy one get one free)
1 Package Lightbulbs
1 Tube of Toothpaste
1 Bar of Lindt Excellence Dark Chocolate (which I would've hated as a kid)
1 Package of Charmin
1 Bottle Wiper Fluid
2 Bottles of Windex
3 Lean Cuisine Pizzas
2 Cases of Diet Coke
1 Can Bug Spray
3 Cookie Sheets
I don't know when this happened, but can I please go back to the time in my life where trips to walmart consisted of me buying worthless Toys, games and CDs? I want to be 18 forever, is that so much to ask?
Monday, May 31, 2004
Monday, May 24, 2004
I know I havent updated in awqhile. Im drunk as shit right now, and I decided now is a good time. So I'm keeping in all the typos and shit. Basically, I just want to say that Im going to miss everyone over the summer, Chris is hot, Im horny and loaded.
And give you all my formula for the antihangover:
Water. About 5-6 glasses. You get hungover due to deyhdration.
Vitamins. Take one multivitmain before bed, alcohol robs your body of important stuff.
Advil- for everything the former didnt deal with.
Heh. I promise. Works every time.
Ok. I go pass out and trry not to barf.
And give you all my formula for the antihangover:
Water. About 5-6 glasses. You get hungover due to deyhdration.
Vitamins. Take one multivitmain before bed, alcohol robs your body of important stuff.
Advil- for everything the former didnt deal with.
Heh. I promise. Works every time.
Ok. I go pass out and trry not to barf.
Friday, May 21, 2004
This is a quick update because I'm at work and I'm supposed to be making sure the kids or the staff aren't setting anything on fire.
I'm just chillin, at school (yes, they let me into an institution of learning), and waiting until I finally get off of work.
So check out LBC and drink a beer for me, guys.
See, now if you sent me money like you are supposed to, I wouldn't have to work a bazillion hours a week.
I'm just chillin, at school (yes, they let me into an institution of learning), and waiting until I finally get off of work.
So check out LBC and drink a beer for me, guys.
See, now if you sent me money like you are supposed to, I wouldn't have to work a bazillion hours a week.
Sorry, I haven't had much time to update, and I probably won't for a few more days. I'm working 3 double shifts in a row, then 2 regular shifts, and then FINALLY I have a day off. So, in other words from Thursday to Saturday I work 48 hours, and Sunday and Monday I work 16. Does something seem wrong with that? I thought so too.
I might need one of these by the time this is all over.
I might need one of these by the time this is all over.
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
An open letter to the lady in line in front of me at Walgreens,
I saw you pull up in your brand new Lexus (the temporary plates were a dead give away). I was the girl who pulled in beside you that you ignored. Fine. We wound up in line together. Don't think I didn't notice the Manolo Blahniks shoes, the Versace coat and the Loius Vuitton purse (from the pastel collection, even). I was the one with the same pair of Armani glasses on.
I was also the one who watched you put down 2 Red Bull energy drinks, and bitch out the cashier because they were supposedly 70 cents off. They weren't.
Yup. That's me. I was the cute little college chick in the middle of finals, who just ran out of caffeine and refined sugar. I was the one with the blue jelly bracelets up my arm, and the pissed off look on her face.
I was the one who watched you bitch at a cashier over $1.40 when your purse costs more than I make in a month. I was also the one who slammed that $1.40 down on the counter and told you to shut the fuck up.
Yup. That was me.
Here's my suggestion. You need a hobby. Apparently, you don't have enough things to do with your twelve billion dollars than torment the poor cashier at Walgreens. It was A DOLLAR FORTY. I make $6.11 an hour and even I realize, this is not a big deal.
I need you to find something more creative to do with your money.
If you can't, I need you to give it to me.
Because honestly, you kinda make me want to vomit.
Please keep your Chanel No.5 wearing, Louis Vuitton purse carrying, bleach blonde, nipped, tucked, and botox injected self the fuck out of my way.
Because like everyone else in that line today, I hate you.
Thanks for your cooperation,
The Tweeker Chick.
I saw you pull up in your brand new Lexus (the temporary plates were a dead give away). I was the girl who pulled in beside you that you ignored. Fine. We wound up in line together. Don't think I didn't notice the Manolo Blahniks shoes, the Versace coat and the Loius Vuitton purse (from the pastel collection, even). I was the one with the same pair of Armani glasses on.
I was also the one who watched you put down 2 Red Bull energy drinks, and bitch out the cashier because they were supposedly 70 cents off. They weren't.
Yup. That's me. I was the cute little college chick in the middle of finals, who just ran out of caffeine and refined sugar. I was the one with the blue jelly bracelets up my arm, and the pissed off look on her face.
I was the one who watched you bitch at a cashier over $1.40 when your purse costs more than I make in a month. I was also the one who slammed that $1.40 down on the counter and told you to shut the fuck up.
Yup. That was me.
Here's my suggestion. You need a hobby. Apparently, you don't have enough things to do with your twelve billion dollars than torment the poor cashier at Walgreens. It was A DOLLAR FORTY. I make $6.11 an hour and even I realize, this is not a big deal.
I need you to find something more creative to do with your money.
If you can't, I need you to give it to me.
Because honestly, you kinda make me want to vomit.
Please keep your Chanel No.5 wearing, Louis Vuitton purse carrying, bleach blonde, nipped, tucked, and botox injected self the fuck out of my way.
Because like everyone else in that line today, I hate you.
Thanks for your cooperation,
The Tweeker Chick.
There was one important thing I forgot to add to my last post.
Up To Code, the opening band for LBC, kicked major fucking ass.
Sadly, I don't know a lot about them.
I do know they rocked the house, and they are all pretty good looking.
And any lead singer who knows the words to all the Lucky Boys songs like I do, and is ok with singing and dancing to them next to me, is ok in my book.
Up To Code, the opening band for LBC, kicked major fucking ass.
Sadly, I don't know a lot about them.
I do know they rocked the house, and they are all pretty good looking.
And any lead singer who knows the words to all the Lucky Boys songs like I do, and is ok with singing and dancing to them next to me, is ok in my book.
Saturday, May 15, 2004
So. I just saw Lucky Boys Confusion at RIBCO.
And let me tell you. That was the best fucking show I've ever seen.
I've had their first tape forever, and I decided to tote it with me to the show, complete with a Sharpie so they could sign.
Since I'm still fucking loaded, I'm going to give you a band member by band member account of my night.
Lets go, peoples.
Kaustubh Pandav (vocals)-Go him for his ability to drink Jagermesiter. When I bugged him to sign my demo tape, he did it anyway after looking really surprised, and then told me that he wasn't trying to sign much. Oh well.
Jason Shultejann (bass)-I was right beside him all night, snapping pictures of him with my cellphone. Either he noticed and started doing outlandish shit and smiling, or I am gifted with good timing. (Photos coming later). He also leaned down to me during the set because I asked them to play Gwendolyn B Sings Sin. He smiled and said "I don't know that song" (It's only on their album, no biggie). When I later pulled out the demo tape, he cheesed like a little kid at Christmas. "I don't even have one of these!" He signed it, I told him how I started hearing about them, and on from there.
Joe Sell (guitar)-I ran into him because Jason was going "Holy shit, Joe, look at this!" about my demo tape. He was super sweet and signed it.
Adam Krier (co-vocalist, guitar)- I ran into Adam while talking to Joe about how I started listening to the band. We talked a bit about my friend Phil Beskid (who got me turned on to LBC, thanks honey), and he was sweet as hell about everything.
Ryan Fergus (drums)- Now, what to say about Ryan. I had to hunt him down a little bit, but that's fine. I was so close to the stage, I felt like he was looking at me the whole time. My friend says he was, but maybe that was just wishful thinking. I probably had something hanging out of my nose. Regardless, he is by far the sweetest guy I've met in a long time. He gave me a hug, introduced himself, and even talked to me about where I'm from, my job, where I go to school and so on. My big regret is that I didn't offer to go get a beer with him and talk more. What a doll. I just can't say enough nice things about him.
Things I accomplished tonight:
I got shitfaced drunk.
I saw my all time favorite band.
I got the signatures of my all time favorite band.
I flirted shamelessly with the drummer of my all time favorite band.
I got pictures of the asses of every member of my all time favorite band but one (Sorry Ryan, you were sitting down). (And before I get emails about how I'm a perv, I'm short. Y'all bounce around. And y'all have some nice butts).
The phrases "You are the fucking shit" And "Your really fucking cool" and "This chick is fuckin awesome" Were all used by band members, to describe me. Now, aren't you jealous?
Now my tape is posted happily by my bar, for everyone to oogle and be jealous of. My happy drunk ass is going to bed.
Guys-great show.
To all the people who were there- it was fun.
To all the people who weren't- sucks massively to be you. Pictures will be posted at a later date.
Visit here, buy their stuff, and tell them how much they fucking rock
And let me tell you. That was the best fucking show I've ever seen.
I've had their first tape forever, and I decided to tote it with me to the show, complete with a Sharpie so they could sign.
Since I'm still fucking loaded, I'm going to give you a band member by band member account of my night.
Lets go, peoples.
Kaustubh Pandav (vocals)-Go him for his ability to drink Jagermesiter. When I bugged him to sign my demo tape, he did it anyway after looking really surprised, and then told me that he wasn't trying to sign much. Oh well.
Jason Shultejann (bass)-I was right beside him all night, snapping pictures of him with my cellphone. Either he noticed and started doing outlandish shit and smiling, or I am gifted with good timing. (Photos coming later). He also leaned down to me during the set because I asked them to play Gwendolyn B Sings Sin. He smiled and said "I don't know that song" (It's only on their album, no biggie). When I later pulled out the demo tape, he cheesed like a little kid at Christmas. "I don't even have one of these!" He signed it, I told him how I started hearing about them, and on from there.
Joe Sell (guitar)-I ran into him because Jason was going "Holy shit, Joe, look at this!" about my demo tape. He was super sweet and signed it.
Adam Krier (co-vocalist, guitar)- I ran into Adam while talking to Joe about how I started listening to the band. We talked a bit about my friend Phil Beskid (who got me turned on to LBC, thanks honey), and he was sweet as hell about everything.
Ryan Fergus (drums)- Now, what to say about Ryan. I had to hunt him down a little bit, but that's fine. I was so close to the stage, I felt like he was looking at me the whole time. My friend says he was, but maybe that was just wishful thinking. I probably had something hanging out of my nose. Regardless, he is by far the sweetest guy I've met in a long time. He gave me a hug, introduced himself, and even talked to me about where I'm from, my job, where I go to school and so on. My big regret is that I didn't offer to go get a beer with him and talk more. What a doll. I just can't say enough nice things about him.
Things I accomplished tonight:
I got shitfaced drunk.
I saw my all time favorite band.
I got the signatures of my all time favorite band.
I flirted shamelessly with the drummer of my all time favorite band.
I got pictures of the asses of every member of my all time favorite band but one (Sorry Ryan, you were sitting down). (And before I get emails about how I'm a perv, I'm short. Y'all bounce around. And y'all have some nice butts).
The phrases "You are the fucking shit" And "Your really fucking cool" and "This chick is fuckin awesome" Were all used by band members, to describe me. Now, aren't you jealous?
Now my tape is posted happily by my bar, for everyone to oogle and be jealous of. My happy drunk ass is going to bed.
Guys-great show.
To all the people who were there- it was fun.
To all the people who weren't- sucks massively to be you. Pictures will be posted at a later date.
Visit here, buy their stuff, and tell them how much they fucking rock
Friday, May 14, 2004
Again, short post. Lots of shit to do today. But, tonight, I'm gonna be at RIBCO with the heterolifemate, rocking out to Lucky Boys Confusion.
I can't wait. So if you ever wanted to see The Tweeker Chick in her element, that's it. Drinking beer and rocking out to LBC.
If you haven't seen them you should. They've been one of my favorite bands since highschool, and I just can't say enough great things about their live show. So see the show, buy the album, and support my boys!
See you there!
I can't wait. So if you ever wanted to see The Tweeker Chick in her element, that's it. Drinking beer and rocking out to LBC.
If you haven't seen them you should. They've been one of my favorite bands since highschool, and I just can't say enough great things about their live show. So see the show, buy the album, and support my boys!
See you there!
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
This is a short post. I have a lot of homework to do, but I had to stop real fast and write this one out.
"BEAVERCREEK | A third person has died from injuries suffered in a Beavercreek wreck that tied up traffic for miles on Interstate 675 on Tuesday afternoon. The Montgomery County Coroner's office said Angela Broyles, 28, of Dayton, died at 8 a.m. Wednesday at Miami Valley Hospital.
She was riding in a tow truck whose other occupants, Lewis Fiste Sr., 63, and his wife, Kay Fiste, 65, both of Dayton, were killed when their vehicle crossed the median and collided with a tractor-trailer rig. The Fistes were dead at the scene. Beavercreek police said the truck driver, whom they did not identify, was treated and released at a local hospital.
Broyles had been the driver of a van being towed".
We all miss you, Angela. It's not gonna be the same without you, chickie. Give em hell up there.
"BEAVERCREEK | A third person has died from injuries suffered in a Beavercreek wreck that tied up traffic for miles on Interstate 675 on Tuesday afternoon. The Montgomery County Coroner's office said Angela Broyles, 28, of Dayton, died at 8 a.m. Wednesday at Miami Valley Hospital.
She was riding in a tow truck whose other occupants, Lewis Fiste Sr., 63, and his wife, Kay Fiste, 65, both of Dayton, were killed when their vehicle crossed the median and collided with a tractor-trailer rig. The Fistes were dead at the scene. Beavercreek police said the truck driver, whom they did not identify, was treated and released at a local hospital.
Broyles had been the driver of a van being towed".
We all miss you, Angela. It's not gonna be the same without you, chickie. Give em hell up there.
Sunday, May 09, 2004
First things first, Happy Birthday Kim.
And a quick thanks to The Ritalin Villian for linking to me.
Good news for my male readers (Both of you). I'm single again! Offically!
Well, techincally, I got dumped. Massively. For being "emotionally unavalible". He then went on to tell me that he normally dates "cute little blonde things".
Which raises a few questions and comments:
a) What the FUCK was he doing with me in the first place? I'm not cute, little or blonde. And I'm not going to cut myself off at the knees and get a dyejob.
b) I normally date hunky hot guys with high IQs...What's your point?
c) I'm emotionally available. Just not emotionally retarded. I find better things to do than blow smoke up someone else's ass.
Heh. I'm not bitter. But I do plan on telling everyone he has herpes. (I'm pretty sure he doesn't, but it sure as hell makes me feel better knowing I've screwed up his future dating escapades).
Now for the rest of you...coughChriscough...Get over here. Now.
I need to get drunk.
And a quick thanks to The Ritalin Villian for linking to me.
Good news for my male readers (Both of you). I'm single again! Offically!
Well, techincally, I got dumped. Massively. For being "emotionally unavalible". He then went on to tell me that he normally dates "cute little blonde things".
Which raises a few questions and comments:
a) What the FUCK was he doing with me in the first place? I'm not cute, little or blonde. And I'm not going to cut myself off at the knees and get a dyejob.
b) I normally date hunky hot guys with high IQs...What's your point?
c) I'm emotionally available. Just not emotionally retarded. I find better things to do than blow smoke up someone else's ass.
Heh. I'm not bitter. But I do plan on telling everyone he has herpes. (I'm pretty sure he doesn't, but it sure as hell makes me feel better knowing I've screwed up his future dating escapades).
Now for the rest of you...coughChriscough...Get over here. Now.
I need to get drunk.
Thursday, May 06, 2004
I've been watching a shitload of Kevin Smith movies, hence the addition of View Askew to my links. Pop on over there. Tell em hi, buy shit, or just waste time.
Heh. Or tell them to link to MY site.
I wonder if that works.
Heh. Or tell them to link to MY site.
I wonder if that works.
Dood.
I am now inspired to stay fat.
Just because of This Squirrel.
Hell motherfucking yea.
(If your a big fan of Atkins, Sorry about you!)
I am now inspired to stay fat.
Just because of This Squirrel.
Hell motherfucking yea.
(If your a big fan of Atkins, Sorry about you!)
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
An open letter to the guy who sits in front of me in 2 of my classes.
Dear Douchebag,
I hate you. I really do. This is a feeling that began on the first day of this term when you interrupted me and decided to put words into my mouth. Since that day it has been growing and festering and generally making me crazy. Here, I will tell you why.
1) I have spent countless hours of my life listening to you babble. You do not get paid to stand in front of the class. Remember that. If you start one more sentence with "I'd like to expand on that" I will reach around and jab a writing utensil in to your eye.
2) You don't need to understand every minute detail. If the person leading the class-you know the guy who stands up there and has his doctorate-doesn't think the point is important, it's not. Don't ask about it.
3) The rest of us don't give a damn about your comments. For example: When you felt the need to announce to the class that the limitations imposed on African American artists in the past were hypocritical and the conditions of slaves were less than desirable. Thankyou Captain Obvious. Moving on.
4) If you don't understand, you need to take it up with the instructor after class. The rest of us pride ourselves in being competent, and we don't understand why you consistently waste our time with your drivel.
5) When you do ask a question, which is entirely too often, please don't talk at the instructor through his entire response as if you are making a legitimate point. You're not.
6) Not every instructor in every institution is called "Professor". Some are called "Doctor". They earned it. It's on the syllabus.
7) Using sentences like "The ramifications of that imply that the original intent of the piece was to..." Does not make anyone, especially women, think you are smart. It makes us think you are a pretentious ass with a word a day calendar.
8) For the love of god, buy longer pants. The Mississippi only floods every four years or so, and Augustana is far enough away from it that pants about 5 inches longer shouldn't be a problem.
9) If you ever interrupt me during a debate again, I will pull your bottom lip over the back of your head. You don't understand, it's why we are debating.
10) I do not look cute when I get angry. Next time I hear you say that, your balls will have a new home resting somewhere around your large ears.
11) If you pretend to look at my face when I'm speaking, I'll pretend not to notice that you're balding (And you are).
Please take these points in to consideration, seeing as I am not the only one who feels this way and undoubtedly there is someone like you in every class room and workplace in America. In summary: You sir, are an asshat.
Sincerely,
The Tweeker Chick
Dear Douchebag,
I hate you. I really do. This is a feeling that began on the first day of this term when you interrupted me and decided to put words into my mouth. Since that day it has been growing and festering and generally making me crazy. Here, I will tell you why.
1) I have spent countless hours of my life listening to you babble. You do not get paid to stand in front of the class. Remember that. If you start one more sentence with "I'd like to expand on that" I will reach around and jab a writing utensil in to your eye.
2) You don't need to understand every minute detail. If the person leading the class-you know the guy who stands up there and has his doctorate-doesn't think the point is important, it's not. Don't ask about it.
3) The rest of us don't give a damn about your comments. For example: When you felt the need to announce to the class that the limitations imposed on African American artists in the past were hypocritical and the conditions of slaves were less than desirable. Thankyou Captain Obvious. Moving on.
4) If you don't understand, you need to take it up with the instructor after class. The rest of us pride ourselves in being competent, and we don't understand why you consistently waste our time with your drivel.
5) When you do ask a question, which is entirely too often, please don't talk at the instructor through his entire response as if you are making a legitimate point. You're not.
6) Not every instructor in every institution is called "Professor". Some are called "Doctor". They earned it. It's on the syllabus.
7) Using sentences like "The ramifications of that imply that the original intent of the piece was to..." Does not make anyone, especially women, think you are smart. It makes us think you are a pretentious ass with a word a day calendar.
8) For the love of god, buy longer pants. The Mississippi only floods every four years or so, and Augustana is far enough away from it that pants about 5 inches longer shouldn't be a problem.
9) If you ever interrupt me during a debate again, I will pull your bottom lip over the back of your head. You don't understand, it's why we are debating.
10) I do not look cute when I get angry. Next time I hear you say that, your balls will have a new home resting somewhere around your large ears.
11) If you pretend to look at my face when I'm speaking, I'll pretend not to notice that you're balding (And you are).
Please take these points in to consideration, seeing as I am not the only one who feels this way and undoubtedly there is someone like you in every class room and workplace in America. In summary: You sir, are an asshat.
Sincerely,
The Tweeker Chick
Monday, May 03, 2004
I just got finished reading Bridget Jones's Diary. Cute book. Makes me want to hurl myself off of something. This cute little thing with about as good luck in anything as me ends up with a FINE piece of lawyer ass.
Maybe if I started doing my blog like her diary, I'd wind up with some hot lawyer ass (although, scientists are ok too).
So here we go, lets see what happens.
___lbs(None of your business, have realized the secret of dieting is not weighing oneself), alcohol units 0 (just woke up), caffeine units 4 (must work on this), calories 157 (no wonder I'm fat).
It's going to be a long day. I woke up and finished reading a book of a chick who basically always winds up on top. I think I might hate her. Made some wicked good Raspberries and Cream Coffee. Threw in some sugar. And about a tablespoon of Equal cause I got it confused with non dairy creamer. Don't know what makes me think I can function in society when I can't differentiate between Equal and Creamer.
No wonder I'm single.
Mom called at 7:31, positive that I'm just destitute.
It went something like this:
Mom: Do you need money?
TweekerChick: No, I'm fine Mom.
M: Are you sure you don't want money.
TC: I'm positive. I'm fine, Mom.
M: Do you want me to send you $50?
TC: I'm fine, Mom, I don't need any money right now.
M: I think I should send you $50.
TC: I have money in the bank, Mom.
M: I really think you could use that $50.
TC: Mom, do you want to send me $50?
M: If you needed money, all you had to do was ask.
Can I really be related to these people?
(I am now sitting by my window in my underwear, waiting for my lawyer or scientist. Comeon! It's cold up in here!)
Maybe if I started doing my blog like her diary, I'd wind up with some hot lawyer ass (although, scientists are ok too).
So here we go, lets see what happens.
___lbs(None of your business, have realized the secret of dieting is not weighing oneself), alcohol units 0 (just woke up), caffeine units 4 (must work on this), calories 157 (no wonder I'm fat).
It's going to be a long day. I woke up and finished reading a book of a chick who basically always winds up on top. I think I might hate her. Made some wicked good Raspberries and Cream Coffee. Threw in some sugar. And about a tablespoon of Equal cause I got it confused with non dairy creamer. Don't know what makes me think I can function in society when I can't differentiate between Equal and Creamer.
No wonder I'm single.
Mom called at 7:31, positive that I'm just destitute.
It went something like this:
Mom: Do you need money?
TweekerChick: No, I'm fine Mom.
M: Are you sure you don't want money.
TC: I'm positive. I'm fine, Mom.
M: Do you want me to send you $50?
TC: I'm fine, Mom, I don't need any money right now.
M: I think I should send you $50.
TC: I have money in the bank, Mom.
M: I really think you could use that $50.
TC: Mom, do you want to send me $50?
M: If you needed money, all you had to do was ask.
Can I really be related to these people?
(I am now sitting by my window in my underwear, waiting for my lawyer or scientist. Comeon! It's cold up in here!)
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