So. A buddy from TJNR found this little gem.
It's called Fifty Mistakes Men Make When Having Sex.
Ive never met the author, but I don't like him.
If he wants to speak for all women and assume we all want some nerdy little pussy whipped sissy, that's fine.
I'd like to take this opportuity to post my rebuttal, for those of you that don't read the forums I frequent.
The Politics of Fucking
aka
50 Mistakes Women Make When Having Sex.
1. Assuming he can get a raging hard on when it suits you. Contrary to popular belief, men can't just flip a switch and get it up because you decided to stop being a frigid bitch. Getting it hard is your job. I suggest you figure it out.
2. Thinking that kissing needs to be this sweet romantic thing all the time. Sometimes pressing your lips against your partners mouth while you get off is the hot. It depends on the situation.
3. Leaving him responsible for your orgasm. You know what gets you off. Tell him. If you don't, it's your own fault when he's snoozing and you're all wound up.
4. Expecting him to cuddle. Men and women are wired differently. Sex makes most women want to talk and bond and all that shit. It makes men pass out. It's a biological thing. Stop fighting it, and stop holding it over his head, it's not his fault.
5. Expecting him to fall asleep with you in his arms. That shit is uncomfortable after awhile. A little snuggling isn't unreasonable, but when it's time to actually sleep? An arm draped over you should suffice.
6. Expecting him to always lay on the charm and romance. Sometimes, that's nice. Sometimes. But expecting him to be all roses and candles all the time is like expecting you to act like a pornstar all the time. If you're not willing to do that, don't expect him to switch for you.
7. Being selfish in bed. Regardless of the shit that Cosmo forces down our throats, sex is NOT just about us. Get over it.
8. Using Cosmo as a sex bible. I dont know who comes up with half that shit, but I'm pretty sure they need counseling.
9. Whining when he pushes your head down on his cock instead of stroking your hair. Know why he's pushing, skippy? Because you aren't doing it right, and have apparently ignored the other clues he's given you. Pay attention to the signals that he's sending you.
10. Not moving at all. Missionary is not an excuse to do nothing.
11. Expecting him to undress himself with any amount of grace. He's about to get some pussy. Be glad he bothered to take his pants all the way off. If it concerns you so much, undress him yourself.
12. Not shaving your legs. Im pretty bad at this myself. But if you want your guy stubble free, you better get out the razor.
13. Allowing your crotch to resemble the amazon. Yes, waxing hurts. Yes, some people don't want to go bare. Thats fine. If you like bush, great. If you have sensitive skin and can't shave, I feel for you. But for the love of Christ, trim that shit if you want him to spend any time down there.
14. Assuming that sex means a relationship. The only relationship you have is that he has now stuck his hoo hoo dilly in your cha cha. That's as far as it goes unless otherwise noted.
15. Withholding oral sex just because you're ragging. He didn't do it. Unless you want him to withhold oral sex because he's hormonal, I suggest you get some kneepads.
16. Expecting him to figure out what you like by what noise you make. Use your words. Have you ever actually heard what you sound like while you're having sex? If you heard yourself on tape, and someone asked you to explain what was causing you to make that noise, 67% of women would respond with answers like "I stubbed my toe" "I ran up the steps" or "I was putting up drywall".
17. Leaving condoms up to him. If you're sexually active and insist that he uses a condom, I suggest buying a box and keeping it by your bed. Not all men keep them on them, and it's just as much your responsibility as it is his. If you think that makes you a slut, you shouldn't be having sex anyway. Go back to Jr High.
18. Getting your undies in a bunch when he talks dirty. A little fantasy can be fun. If he treats you with respect all the time, you shouldn't be offended when he calls you his dirty little slut. When he calls you a whore and tells you to come, its his way of showing that he cares if you get off. Stop being a sissy.
19. Refusing to be spontaneous. I know this is shocking, but sometimes sex OUTSIDE of the bedroom is fun.
20. Dissing quickies because it's not some slow sensual ordeal. Sex is a dynamic thing. Theres an awesome raw energy when you only have 20 minutes but having to have someone so bad that you do it half clothed against the wall. Readjust your thinking.
21. Being too much of a pussy to tell him what is or isn't acceptable before you start bumping uglies. Be honest. If he asks if he can poke you in the butt, and you giggle and say no like it's an invitation, don't look surprised when he "accidentally" sticks his cock in your butt.
22. Expecting him to undress you. I put a bra on almost every day. I know for a fact that getting them off isn't always easy. Help a brother out.
23. Undressing in the dark. If youre shy, dim the lights, but give the man something to see. No ripping off the clothes and diving under the covers, either.
24. Refusing to get on top. Theres no reason men should have to do all the work.
25. Getting that bored look on your face. Men are more visual than women. Give him something to look at. Get on top and arch your back a little bit. Move. Do something to indicate that you 1) are not dead and 2) didn't suffer a minor stroke rendering you unable to move.
26. Expecting him to do all the touching when you're riding him. It's your body, you're used to it. Play with your tits, rub your clit, do something to make his job easier.
27. Being too afraid to guide your partner's hand when hes touching you. Don't like the way he's doing it? Gently take his hand and show him how you like it.
28. Getting into bed, getting naked, fooling around and then deciding that you just want to cuddle, then getting offended when he doesn't. Its your choice to stop, but don't look all fucking surprised when he's confused. You got him naked in your bed, what else did you think was going to happen?
29. Refusing to let him take control. So your a feminist. Big fucking deal. Letting him call the shots doesn't make you any less of one.
30. Refusing to take control. Its ok to crawl across a bed to him on all fours, push him down and crawl on top. It's not his responsibility to start things all the time.
31. Forgetting that he has a body that likes to be touched, too. Men have things like backs and shoulders and stomachs and other parts that are fun to kiss and touch. You miss a lot of good places by concentrating solely on his penis.
32. Ignoring his balls. Seriously, they are there. Kiss them, lick them, suck on them, make a relationship with them, just don't ignore them.
33. Leaving him to his own devices. Nothing is worse than a girl who gets you most of the way off and then bolts because she doesn't want to deal with the mess.
34. Launching into some speech about not being an object for sex when he tries to titty fuck you. Jesus Christ, just push them together and enjoy yourself. You get a great view.
35. Expecting him to handle you like a porcelain doll. I'd hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you're not going to break, sister. So doing it against the wall gives you a bruise on your shoulder. Look at it later and giggle at the memory.
36. Refusing to try things in the name of "making love". You're not making anything. You are naked. With another person. Making strange faces and weird noises. Stop romanticizing it.
37. Taking things way too seriously. Sex is funny. Actually it's hilarious. Somewhere along the line, someone is going to fall off of a bed, hit their head on a lighting fixture, accidentally kick a midget or trip over a goat. It's how you deal with it that really matters.
38. Throwing a bitch fit when he asks for a 3 some. Its the American dream. (I know my ex is reading this right now, so a quick interjection. One request for a 3 some is ok. Every 5 minutes, not so much. Know the difference).
39. Continuing a blow job knowing that you have god awful cotton mouth. Really. Grab a bottle of water.
40. Nails. Its one thing tracing them up and down your partners back. Its another when you snag the goods with a claw.
41. Bitching when you get jizz on you. You're having sex. That will happen. Thats the entire point of sex. Establish where he can and cant jizz and be done with it. Remember, it tightens the pores.
42. Not making any noises at all. Moan. Scream his name. Something so he knows he's the best you've had, even if he isn't.
43. Faking orgasms. Just. Don't. By faking (IF he believes you) he thinks he's doing everything right. And if he doesn't know its not working, he's not going to change it. Starting a vicious cycle of unfulfilling sex which will eventually be very damaging to his ego.
44. Not washing before sex. I know that sex is spontaneous, this is more of a general statement. If you haven't showered that day, and things smell a little...fishy...perhaps demanding oral sex is a little ridiculous of you.
45. Anything that involves inserting anything into his body that he has not specifically approved before hand. I don't care what Cosmo says, some things are simply not pleasant surprises.
46. Refusing to use oils/whipped cream/other messy but fun things because you have 541510630 count Egyptian cotton sheets that were made by hand by the only person alive capable of sewing that pattern. They'll wash.
47. Doing all of your before bed things before sex. Yes, sleeping with makeup on is bad. Now is not the time to remove it, you can do that later. And really fucking you with your hair in a ratty scrunchie with acne cream on your nose is not all its cracked up to be.
48. Cleaning up after sex. Wiping the splooge off is one thing. But changing the sheets immediately so you can get the other ones in the washer and then sanitizing everything your naked body might have possibly passed by is not the way to do it.
49. Making a big deal out of it if he loses his hard on. This is not an interrogation, or 20 questions. It happens, he's probably mortified and you are NOT helping. Refrain from using phrases like "it happens to every guy". Just move to other activities until it gets hard again, and if it doesn't, get off another way with him. He's still capable of getting you off. Mumbling "Forget it" and rolling over are not ok.
50. Asking questions right afterwards. The woman equivalent of "was it good for you?". Now is not a good time to ask "What this means". Right now, it means he probably needs to take a drink, a leak and a nap, perhaps not in that order.
That is all.
QUICK EDIT:
Ive gotten massive traffic to this page lately...check out the rest of the place while you're here!
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
I know it's been awhile since the last post.
My apologies.
Thanksgiving kind of kicked my ass all over the place.
I noticed before I left for Indiana that my car only had heat if I was going 45 miles an hour or faster. I figured, no big deal, lets get that thing flushed out, not a problem.
I called my mechanic in Indiana and explained to him the problem and he said, probably needs flushed, about $400, no big thing.
Sweet!
Man, was I wrong. It was the head gasket and intake valve and a big shitload of other things. $400 turned into $1300. Shit.
As if that wasn't enough, I ordered contacts from Pearle Vision. About $200. I never got them. I finally caved and called them, and apparently they have been backordered.
Until fucking Feburary. They apparently couldn't be bothered to pick up the phone and let me know that although I paid, I wasn't getting what I needed until next year.
Because of the car thing, that leaves me in a huge financial spot. I have insurance but I can't submit the claim for reimbursement (Which I should already have, but god forbid people communicate) until I get the order, leaving me, shock shock, about $200 in the hole.
Thankyou, Pearle Vision, for helping to ensure that making my rent is another huge ordeal.
My apologies.
Thanksgiving kind of kicked my ass all over the place.
I noticed before I left for Indiana that my car only had heat if I was going 45 miles an hour or faster. I figured, no big deal, lets get that thing flushed out, not a problem.
I called my mechanic in Indiana and explained to him the problem and he said, probably needs flushed, about $400, no big thing.
Sweet!
Man, was I wrong. It was the head gasket and intake valve and a big shitload of other things. $400 turned into $1300. Shit.
As if that wasn't enough, I ordered contacts from Pearle Vision. About $200. I never got them. I finally caved and called them, and apparently they have been backordered.
Until fucking Feburary. They apparently couldn't be bothered to pick up the phone and let me know that although I paid, I wasn't getting what I needed until next year.
Because of the car thing, that leaves me in a huge financial spot. I have insurance but I can't submit the claim for reimbursement (Which I should already have, but god forbid people communicate) until I get the order, leaving me, shock shock, about $200 in the hole.
Thankyou, Pearle Vision, for helping to ensure that making my rent is another huge ordeal.
Friday, November 03, 2006
So, I'm making a constant effort to keep this silly thing up.
For whatever reason, I still have people who feel the need to read my random thoughts and ramblings and whatever else.
So, just for you guys, I updated my links. I didn't realize how many of them were dead. Next time, get on me about that. Take a look at this guy. I got a random email from him, and thus far he seems to be pretty consistantly entertaining. Nothing extraordinary...yet.
I'm currently at work and I've gotten fuck all done, and I'm not sure why. There's no valid reason or excuse, and the only thing that I can think of is that I burnt myself out really early in the week.
Thus, I present to you what I've done today.
8:17 Show up to work (late)
8:20-8:40 Attempt to actually work
8:40-8:50 Actually work
8:50-9:20 Talk about shoes
9:20-9:45 Work
9:45-10:00 Think about working
10:00-10:15 Coffee
10:15-Now Strongly consider working
If it wasn't for the fact that I'm 61% to quota, I'd be seriously concerned. I just can't get it together.
Honestly, with their new hire packet, (name removed) should offer a coffee maker, some Nodoz, and the number to 3 reputable drug dealers who have access to uppers.
For whatever reason, I still have people who feel the need to read my random thoughts and ramblings and whatever else.
So, just for you guys, I updated my links. I didn't realize how many of them were dead. Next time, get on me about that. Take a look at this guy. I got a random email from him, and thus far he seems to be pretty consistantly entertaining. Nothing extraordinary...yet.
I'm currently at work and I've gotten fuck all done, and I'm not sure why. There's no valid reason or excuse, and the only thing that I can think of is that I burnt myself out really early in the week.
Thus, I present to you what I've done today.
8:17 Show up to work (late)
8:20-8:40 Attempt to actually work
8:40-8:50 Actually work
8:50-9:20 Talk about shoes
9:20-9:45 Work
9:45-10:00 Think about working
10:00-10:15 Coffee
10:15-Now Strongly consider working
If it wasn't for the fact that I'm 61% to quota, I'd be seriously concerned. I just can't get it together.
Honestly, with their new hire packet, (name removed) should offer a coffee maker, some Nodoz, and the number to 3 reputable drug dealers who have access to uppers.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Sorry!
Ive been busy getting it together at work.
I'm posting this on my lunch break, so this will be quick.
I am the most super excited person ever.
Because of this.
Easily amused?
Perhaps.
But this time the trip to white castle with the heterolifemate will be considerably shorter.
Ive been busy getting it together at work.
I'm posting this on my lunch break, so this will be quick.
I am the most super excited person ever.
Because of this.
Easily amused?
Perhaps.
But this time the trip to white castle with the heterolifemate will be considerably shorter.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Yea, it's been a long time.
Alot has changed since the last post.
I now live in Bensenville Illinois. I actually got a real grown up job. Shocking, considering that Im me and I pretty much thought that it would never ever happen.
Im now one of those monkies working at careerbuilder.com. Its a good feeling. Eventually, Capital one, Providian, all the rest will no longer own my soul.
Someday.
For the time being, Im starving to death and missing home something awful.
Bad Things:
Im hungry.
Im lonely.
I miss home.
Im up to my ass in credit card debt.
Good Things:
I got a job that doesn't suck or consist of selling knives door to door.
Im so much closer to my heterolifemate that its awesome. Its like the Chicagoland equivalent of living down the street from her. Its fuckin sweet.
I have an awesome apartment with air conditioning. It's huge.
In a nutshell: I work at a website that doesn't require me to have a webcam and low inhibitions, I have a nice apartment, and Im starving to death.
Life is good.
Alot has changed since the last post.
I now live in Bensenville Illinois. I actually got a real grown up job. Shocking, considering that Im me and I pretty much thought that it would never ever happen.
Im now one of those monkies working at careerbuilder.com. Its a good feeling. Eventually, Capital one, Providian, all the rest will no longer own my soul.
Someday.
For the time being, Im starving to death and missing home something awful.
Bad Things:
Im hungry.
Im lonely.
I miss home.
Im up to my ass in credit card debt.
Good Things:
I got a job that doesn't suck or consist of selling knives door to door.
Im so much closer to my heterolifemate that its awesome. Its like the Chicagoland equivalent of living down the street from her. Its fuckin sweet.
I have an awesome apartment with air conditioning. It's huge.
In a nutshell: I work at a website that doesn't require me to have a webcam and low inhibitions, I have a nice apartment, and Im starving to death.
Life is good.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Im having one of those days where my faith in humans is really starting to dwindle.
Having seen a bunch of insane protesters standing at a funeral, then seeing a murder suicide, I'm ready to throw in the towel and say fuck it.
What the fuck is wrong with people that suddenly it's ok to stand at a funeral and protest, claiming that God hates homosexuals, and dead soldiers is God's way of punishing us?
What the fuck is wrong with people that you can shoot someone in a crowded parking lot, infront of children, and then kill yourself like a big pussy?
Im just pissy today. It's been a long week, I want a bacon cheeseburger and job that doesn't make me want to kill myself.
Having seen a bunch of insane protesters standing at a funeral, then seeing a murder suicide, I'm ready to throw in the towel and say fuck it.
What the fuck is wrong with people that suddenly it's ok to stand at a funeral and protest, claiming that God hates homosexuals, and dead soldiers is God's way of punishing us?
What the fuck is wrong with people that you can shoot someone in a crowded parking lot, infront of children, and then kill yourself like a big pussy?
Im just pissy today. It's been a long week, I want a bacon cheeseburger and job that doesn't make me want to kill myself.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Perhaps I was a bit harsh in my earlier post about the internet killing romance.
Romance is alive and well, in another fine example of spam.
I like to think that this was my doing, that my words so moved the countless idiots behind their keyboards that they changed their minds. They no longer want to fuck me silly, they want to hold me and love me.
In a world of speed dating, random hookups, and myspace it's nice to know that some unknown computer nerd took the time to write out a few nice things to say to a random selection of people who would kick his ass if they ever met him.
So now I bring to you my evidence that romance is not dead.
you are an angel come to earth.
you are the most beautiful woman ive ever seen.
i love you.
i would make you very happy and always make you feel loved.
I could be very happy with this guy.
Nothing says "I love you, baby" like a random spam message with incorrect capitalization.
Romance is alive and well, in another fine example of spam.
I like to think that this was my doing, that my words so moved the countless idiots behind their keyboards that they changed their minds. They no longer want to fuck me silly, they want to hold me and love me.
In a world of speed dating, random hookups, and myspace it's nice to know that some unknown computer nerd took the time to write out a few nice things to say to a random selection of people who would kick his ass if they ever met him.
So now I bring to you my evidence that romance is not dead.
you are an angel come to earth.
you are the most beautiful woman ive ever seen.
i love you.
i would make you very happy and always make you feel loved.
I could be very happy with this guy.
Nothing says "I love you, baby" like a random spam message with incorrect capitalization.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
I know it's been awhile.
I suck like that.
I've been busy busting my ass trying (unsuccessfully thus far) to get a job.
However, a nice company in Florida wants to fly me out there in a week or two. Nice!
I feel like I've been sucked into a porn movie.
The President of North American sales is flying the recent college graduate with great jugs to a place right near the beach. Someone named Fredrico is going to pick me up at the airport, which is driving distance from my gorgeous ex boyfriend's house.
I'm pretty sure I've seen a porn with that exact same story line.
Other than that, it's the same old shit, trying to survive on the 8 hours a week at work. My parents think it would be a great idea to make me move to Indianapolis, but there is nothing for me there. And I'd rather not have to hear their constant bitching in person.
Everyone cross their fingers for me!
I'm an excited little girl. Maxson is posting again. And not soon enough.
I also waste a lot of my internet time at this site. As much as I hate celebrity gossip, Perez Hilton holds my attention. It's like reading trashy tabloids with my gay friends. I just want to hug and kiss him all over.
I suck like that.
I've been busy busting my ass trying (unsuccessfully thus far) to get a job.
However, a nice company in Florida wants to fly me out there in a week or two. Nice!
I feel like I've been sucked into a porn movie.
The President of North American sales is flying the recent college graduate with great jugs to a place right near the beach. Someone named Fredrico is going to pick me up at the airport, which is driving distance from my gorgeous ex boyfriend's house.
I'm pretty sure I've seen a porn with that exact same story line.
Other than that, it's the same old shit, trying to survive on the 8 hours a week at work. My parents think it would be a great idea to make me move to Indianapolis, but there is nothing for me there. And I'd rather not have to hear their constant bitching in person.
Everyone cross their fingers for me!
I'm an excited little girl. Maxson is posting again. And not soon enough.
I also waste a lot of my internet time at this site. As much as I hate celebrity gossip, Perez Hilton holds my attention. It's like reading trashy tabloids with my gay friends. I just want to hug and kiss him all over.
Monday, June 12, 2006
As much as I hate RIBCO... I find myself going back there June 16th (This friday for those of you without calenders).
The boys from Swizzle Tree are going to be there with Pomeroy, and then partying their asses off for their guitarist's birthday.
It's always a fun time to go hear em, and then get completely fucking tore up.
I'll be the one at the bar doing shots of Patron, trying to keep my clothes on.
The boys from Swizzle Tree are going to be there with Pomeroy, and then partying their asses off for their guitarist's birthday.
It's always a fun time to go hear em, and then get completely fucking tore up.
I'll be the one at the bar doing shots of Patron, trying to keep my clothes on.
Friday, June 09, 2006
Romance is dead and the internet killed it.
I'm almost positive.
I was clicking through my email, most of which was general bullshit from people who wanted to help me enlarge my penis, when I came across this little gem.
Subject: OMG.
you are so hot!! I want to strip you naked,
eat your pussy until you come all over my face,
stroke your black hair while you wrap your sweet mouth
around my dick, then spread you open,
push my dick into you and fuck you until we both cum.
Now, as nice as it is that people think of me, how romantic is that? I know that I'm a girl with somewhat questionable morals, but come on.
Don't I atleast deserve a first name, maybe dinner, before you start sending me random email about fucking me six ways from Sunday?
I guess that's one way to cut through the crap in relationships?
Cut straight through the shit and get down the bottom line.
And they say romance is dead.
I'm almost positive.
I was clicking through my email, most of which was general bullshit from people who wanted to help me enlarge my penis, when I came across this little gem.
Subject: OMG.
you are so hot!! I want to strip you naked,
eat your pussy until you come all over my face,
stroke your black hair while you wrap your sweet mouth
around my dick, then spread you open,
push my dick into you and fuck you until we both cum.
Now, as nice as it is that people think of me, how romantic is that? I know that I'm a girl with somewhat questionable morals, but come on.
Don't I atleast deserve a first name, maybe dinner, before you start sending me random email about fucking me six ways from Sunday?
I guess that's one way to cut through the crap in relationships?
Cut straight through the shit and get down the bottom line.
And they say romance is dead.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
So.
I graduate on Sunday.
Which is strange.
I don't feel any different.
It's like, you go to college. All the brochures tell you that you'll be financially stable right out of school. You'll get a job. You'll know what you're doing with your life!
Bullshit.
Complete. Bullshit.
I'm in this perpetual state of having no idea what the hell I'm doing. Besides living off of Ramen and wishing things were different.
I'm just having a moment.
The idea of not being able to run into my friend Brian every single spring break whether or not we plan it sucks.
Not being able to drink until dawn with my best friends.
Knowing that I have to walk farther than a half a mile if I need them.
No one who understands margarita in class day, parties that start at 7 AM, and building a boat entirely out of beer cans, staples and duct tape.
People who understand the need to run to White Castle at 3 AM.
As much as I hate the stress, the bullshit and the drama, I'm going to miss the hell out of my friends.
I already miss the ones who left, but shit.
This sucks.
Emo, I know.
I graduate on Sunday.
Which is strange.
I don't feel any different.
It's like, you go to college. All the brochures tell you that you'll be financially stable right out of school. You'll get a job. You'll know what you're doing with your life!
Bullshit.
Complete. Bullshit.
I'm in this perpetual state of having no idea what the hell I'm doing. Besides living off of Ramen and wishing things were different.
I'm just having a moment.
The idea of not being able to run into my friend Brian every single spring break whether or not we plan it sucks.
Not being able to drink until dawn with my best friends.
Knowing that I have to walk farther than a half a mile if I need them.
No one who understands margarita in class day, parties that start at 7 AM, and building a boat entirely out of beer cans, staples and duct tape.
People who understand the need to run to White Castle at 3 AM.
As much as I hate the stress, the bullshit and the drama, I'm going to miss the hell out of my friends.
I already miss the ones who left, but shit.
This sucks.
Emo, I know.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
So, I'm stalling.
I don't want to read a 500 page book called "Bureaucracy".
So I decided to play on the internets, and came up with this, which I stole from everyone's favorite Rdog.
1.YOUR PORN STAR NAME: (first pet and current street name)
Oreo Hartford (Ok. I no longer live on Hartford, but I refuse to have a number as a last name. Fuck you.)
2. YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME: (grandfather/grandmother on mother's side first name, favorite candy)
Mary Skittles
3. YOUR "FLY GIRL/GUY" NAME: (first initial of first name, first three letters of your last name)
C-Fro
4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite animal, name of high school)
Kitty Central (Shoulda specified which Highschool.)
5. YOUR OPPOSITE SEX NAME: (name of dad/mom, cell phone Company you use):
Richard Sprint
7. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (daily prescription medicine, make of car)
Ritalin Malibu
8. SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, street you grew up on):
Sue Harlowe. (I'll keep it. It's hot sounding.)
9. YOUR FASHION DESIGNER NAME: (first word you see on your left, favorite restaurant)
Pink Farraday
10. YOUR KUNG FU NAME: (favorite mineral, favorite animal)
Hematite Kitty
Heh. Now you guys get into my comments and kill some time already.
I don't want to read a 500 page book called "Bureaucracy".
So I decided to play on the internets, and came up with this, which I stole from everyone's favorite Rdog.
1.YOUR PORN STAR NAME: (first pet and current street name)
Oreo Hartford (Ok. I no longer live on Hartford, but I refuse to have a number as a last name. Fuck you.)
2. YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME: (grandfather/grandmother on mother's side first name, favorite candy)
Mary Skittles
3. YOUR "FLY GIRL/GUY" NAME: (first initial of first name, first three letters of your last name)
C-Fro
4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite animal, name of high school)
Kitty Central (Shoulda specified which Highschool.)
5. YOUR OPPOSITE SEX NAME: (name of dad/mom, cell phone Company you use):
Richard Sprint
7. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (daily prescription medicine, make of car)
Ritalin Malibu
8. SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, street you grew up on):
Sue Harlowe. (I'll keep it. It's hot sounding.)
9. YOUR FASHION DESIGNER NAME: (first word you see on your left, favorite restaurant)
Pink Farraday
10. YOUR KUNG FU NAME: (favorite mineral, favorite animal)
Hematite Kitty
Heh. Now you guys get into my comments and kill some time already.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Yea yea yea.
It's been awhile.
Instead of lying to y'all about where I've been (Hitting the books! Voulnteering with disabled minority children! Teaching Indonseian kids English from a hut!)
I've been doing the stupid things that seniors in college do. Like trying to get a job.
Getting suspended from the one I have (no fault of my own for once). And trying to avoid my landlord and all the people I owe money to. Basically, I've been trying to fix the fact that I am broke with a capital B and have no insurance anymore, which is a bad thing with my asthma. (Now is a good time to use my donate button if you are so inclined).
Here's to hoping people don't notice that I didn't pay them.
I had the worst job interview of my life.
I drove 4 hours or so both ways to meet with a man that I will refer to as Dickhead.
Dickhead doesn't even stand to shake my hand.
Fine.
After talking with him, he tells me how qualified I am, and how brilliant I would be at this job.
"However, Clarissa, I would like to keep you as an administrative assistant".
Now, if I'm qualified for a job, and you are keeping me as a secretary, there had better be a good fuckin reason.
So I nicely ask him why.
"You look like you could make a damn good cup of coffee."
So not only am I broke, I spent $100,000 to get a bachelors degree so I can have a life making assholes coffee.
It's been awhile.
Instead of lying to y'all about where I've been (Hitting the books! Voulnteering with disabled minority children! Teaching Indonseian kids English from a hut!)
I've been doing the stupid things that seniors in college do. Like trying to get a job.
Getting suspended from the one I have (no fault of my own for once). And trying to avoid my landlord and all the people I owe money to. Basically, I've been trying to fix the fact that I am broke with a capital B and have no insurance anymore, which is a bad thing with my asthma. (Now is a good time to use my donate button if you are so inclined).
Here's to hoping people don't notice that I didn't pay them.
I had the worst job interview of my life.
I drove 4 hours or so both ways to meet with a man that I will refer to as Dickhead.
Dickhead doesn't even stand to shake my hand.
Fine.
After talking with him, he tells me how qualified I am, and how brilliant I would be at this job.
"However, Clarissa, I would like to keep you as an administrative assistant".
Now, if I'm qualified for a job, and you are keeping me as a secretary, there had better be a good fuckin reason.
So I nicely ask him why.
"You look like you could make a damn good cup of coffee."
So not only am I broke, I spent $100,000 to get a bachelors degree so I can have a life making assholes coffee.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Friday, February 03, 2006
So
God smiled upon me and wrote me a check for the amount of my tuition. And life was good.
He even wrote the check with enough extra to cover my rent.
Life was super good.
So I took said check to Valley Bank and deposited it in my account, with my cosigner (who lives in Minnesota)'s signature.
Life is good, right?
The lovely people at Valley Bank yanked the entire deposit for pending purposes.
I got a shitty letter i the mail "We believe the check you deposited will not be paid for the following reasons: We are unable to verify the endorsement of a joint payee".
Well, fuckers, she lives in Minnesota, so it's going to be a little difficult now.
At the top of this nice little letter. "We are delaying the availability of $11,000 from the deposit described above. These funds will be available on the 11th business day after the day of your deposit".
11 days. I am waiting ELEVEN FUCKING DAYS for a check to clear.
Are they counting it out in pennies?
Meanwhile, I'm broke. (Like, in the negative numbers again).
Fuck you Valley Bank, fuck you a lot.
God smiled upon me and wrote me a check for the amount of my tuition. And life was good.
He even wrote the check with enough extra to cover my rent.
Life was super good.
So I took said check to Valley Bank and deposited it in my account, with my cosigner (who lives in Minnesota)'s signature.
Life is good, right?
The lovely people at Valley Bank yanked the entire deposit for pending purposes.
I got a shitty letter i the mail "We believe the check you deposited will not be paid for the following reasons: We are unable to verify the endorsement of a joint payee".
Well, fuckers, she lives in Minnesota, so it's going to be a little difficult now.
At the top of this nice little letter. "We are delaying the availability of $11,000 from the deposit described above. These funds will be available on the 11th business day after the day of your deposit".
11 days. I am waiting ELEVEN FUCKING DAYS for a check to clear.
Are they counting it out in pennies?
Meanwhile, I'm broke. (Like, in the negative numbers again).
Fuck you Valley Bank, fuck you a lot.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
It finally happened.
God finally smiled upon me.
The downstairs neighbor that nearly burnt the apartment building down, pounds on the door at 4 AM and continues to breathe despite my numerous (and polite) requests that she cease doing so immediately, is moving out.
Being the good neighbor that I am, I walked outside to make sure she was really leaving.
She comes running up to me.
"Oh my god, I'll pay you $2 for an empty beer or soda can".
Now, I've had a long few days and sometimes I'm awfully slow.
An empty can? I rarely drink anything out of cans. Thus I don't have empties around my apartment. I tell her this.
"FUCK! I've got nothing to smoke my weed out of."
I have only 2 things to say about this.
1. For $2, you can buy a FULL soda, dump it into a glass, and have it to drink for when you get cotton mouth. It even comes with a free can.
2. A soda can? You're smoking pot using an empty soda can as a makeshift bong? Have some self respect, take a teener off, and buy some decent paraphernalia. You are a disgrace to pot smokers everywhere. I'm sure if one of them wasn't too stoned to move, they'd kick her ass.
Or atleast eat all of her cheetos.
But atleast she's leaving!
I can get a good nights sleep again, and then maybe I won't be such a wench.
(A shoutout to Bligs for providing an accurate spelling of the word "paraphernalia". And a thankyou to thesuit for spelling it "Stuff".)
God finally smiled upon me.
The downstairs neighbor that nearly burnt the apartment building down, pounds on the door at 4 AM and continues to breathe despite my numerous (and polite) requests that she cease doing so immediately, is moving out.
Being the good neighbor that I am, I walked outside to make sure she was really leaving.
She comes running up to me.
"Oh my god, I'll pay you $2 for an empty beer or soda can".
Now, I've had a long few days and sometimes I'm awfully slow.
An empty can? I rarely drink anything out of cans. Thus I don't have empties around my apartment. I tell her this.
"FUCK! I've got nothing to smoke my weed out of."
I have only 2 things to say about this.
1. For $2, you can buy a FULL soda, dump it into a glass, and have it to drink for when you get cotton mouth. It even comes with a free can.
2. A soda can? You're smoking pot using an empty soda can as a makeshift bong? Have some self respect, take a teener off, and buy some decent paraphernalia. You are a disgrace to pot smokers everywhere. I'm sure if one of them wasn't too stoned to move, they'd kick her ass.
Or atleast eat all of her cheetos.
But atleast she's leaving!
I can get a good nights sleep again, and then maybe I won't be such a wench.
(A shoutout to Bligs for providing an accurate spelling of the word "paraphernalia". And a thankyou to thesuit for spelling it "Stuff".)
Monday, January 23, 2006
Fuck you, retail job.
Fuck you a lot.
I know if most people got a call from work saying "You don't have to come in all week, hours were cut",you'd do a little dance.
That lasted for 30 seconds.
Yay! No work! WOOT!
Then I remembered that I'm broke.
Shit.
Keep up production, they say.
Keep selling, they say.
Well, now we have nothing to do, so we will cut your hours.
Bastards.
A blind, retarded kid coulda seen that coming.
Fuck you a lot.
I know if most people got a call from work saying "You don't have to come in all week, hours were cut",you'd do a little dance.
That lasted for 30 seconds.
Yay! No work! WOOT!
Then I remembered that I'm broke.
Shit.
Keep up production, they say.
Keep selling, they say.
Well, now we have nothing to do, so we will cut your hours.
Bastards.
A blind, retarded kid coulda seen that coming.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Today pretty much blew goats.
I'll spare you all the stories of the negative numbers in my bank account, or the fact that one of my best friends can lean on me whenever she needs something but if I'm not in top form she acts like a huge raging bitch (she's had a bad few days too..She's sick..But not too sick to ditch me to get laid).
Instead, I'll give you the icing on the cake.
I got a speeding ticket.
I may have been going a little fast.
Fine.
After getting shit from the cop as to why the car doesn't trace back to my name (it traces back to my dad's, we have the same last name and look exactly the same)this woman starts grilling me about why my car has plates from Minnesota.
I almost told her that it was because that's where I stole it from.
Tell them what they want to hear, that's my philosophy.
She then writes me a ticket for the speeding, the taillight that some asshole broke with a beer bottle, and get this.
Not wearing my glasses while driving.
Anyone who has known me for more than say, thirty seconds, knows that I am blind without some sort of corrective lens.
I don't mean "Can't read the bottom line on the eye chart" blind.
I mean, last time I was at the eye doctor, I couldn't even find the chart.
I'm not exaggerating.
So I told a woman with a gun, and a bright light in my eye that without my glasses on I wouldn't be able to even find the car to get in it.
She then asks me what I'm doing driving.
"I wear contacts".
She stared at me for a good fifteen seconds and said "Oh. I didn't even think of that! Contacts!"
Are you fucking kidding me?
And this woman has a gun.
She then followed me about 6 blocks up, and then passed me.
On the shoulder.
Without a signal.
Speeding.
Bitch.
I'll spare you all the stories of the negative numbers in my bank account, or the fact that one of my best friends can lean on me whenever she needs something but if I'm not in top form she acts like a huge raging bitch (she's had a bad few days too..She's sick..But not too sick to ditch me to get laid).
Instead, I'll give you the icing on the cake.
I got a speeding ticket.
I may have been going a little fast.
Fine.
After getting shit from the cop as to why the car doesn't trace back to my name (it traces back to my dad's, we have the same last name and look exactly the same)this woman starts grilling me about why my car has plates from Minnesota.
I almost told her that it was because that's where I stole it from.
Tell them what they want to hear, that's my philosophy.
She then writes me a ticket for the speeding, the taillight that some asshole broke with a beer bottle, and get this.
Not wearing my glasses while driving.
Anyone who has known me for more than say, thirty seconds, knows that I am blind without some sort of corrective lens.
I don't mean "Can't read the bottom line on the eye chart" blind.
I mean, last time I was at the eye doctor, I couldn't even find the chart.
I'm not exaggerating.
So I told a woman with a gun, and a bright light in my eye that without my glasses on I wouldn't be able to even find the car to get in it.
She then asks me what I'm doing driving.
"I wear contacts".
She stared at me for a good fifteen seconds and said "Oh. I didn't even think of that! Contacts!"
Are you fucking kidding me?
And this woman has a gun.
She then followed me about 6 blocks up, and then passed me.
On the shoulder.
Without a signal.
Speeding.
Bitch.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
So
It's been awhile since I posted completely wasted.
Thanks Cassie.
I think she wanted to get me drunk and take advantage of me.(yay for hot bartenders who are gonna come play with me cause I'm her girl!)
Boo.
I think I've completely lost my mind.
I don't know what my problem is.
But I just can't let go. And that bothers me.
I've never had that problem.
"Fuck you too, asshole" has always been a big part of my vocabulary.
And I've tried.
And Tried.
And tried.
And I can't do it.
I dunno. I'm having an emo night. I saw The Heterolifemate, and I miss her so much.
Which feeds into the rest of my emo.
It's a vicious cycle.
Once I start the emo, It's like I can't stop.
Sometimes I really miss having a chin to kiss and someone to scratch my head.
It'll pass.
"Time heals all wounds".
And emo was her name-o.
It's been awhile since I posted completely wasted.
Thanks Cassie.
I think she wanted to get me drunk and take advantage of me.(yay for hot bartenders who are gonna come play with me cause I'm her girl!)
Boo.
I think I've completely lost my mind.
I don't know what my problem is.
But I just can't let go. And that bothers me.
I've never had that problem.
"Fuck you too, asshole" has always been a big part of my vocabulary.
And I've tried.
And Tried.
And tried.
And I can't do it.
I dunno. I'm having an emo night. I saw The Heterolifemate, and I miss her so much.
Which feeds into the rest of my emo.
It's a vicious cycle.
Once I start the emo, It's like I can't stop.
Sometimes I really miss having a chin to kiss and someone to scratch my head.
It'll pass.
"Time heals all wounds".
And emo was her name-o.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
It was bound to happen someday.
You fuckers finally found me.
I hit the bar with the hetero-girlfriend.
You know, sling back a few beers at Mis B Havens, go home early and go to bed.
Which was horribly derailed with one statement. "You look exactly like this one chick from this blog I read".
Shit.
"Clarissa, right?"
Shit.
"Say My Name, Bitch?"
Shit.
So I let him buy me a few beers, figure it was a fluke thing, and let it go.
I had no idea how wrong I was.
I went to go take a leak, and in the bathroom.
There's a girl sitting there.
"You look SO familiar."
Shit.
"Do you write?"
Shit.
"What's your name?"
Shit.
"Clarissa?! OH MY GOD ITS YOU. I read your stuff all the time, all my friends love you. You're like, a celebrity".
Shit.
Wash, rinse and repeat.
Twelve or so different people recognized me last night.
Out of nowhere.
So here.
Me signing my first autograph ever in my life. On a boob.
Someone sang a song to me about sex and shampoo bottles in interesting places.
I didn't have to buy a single drink.
A nod to the big irish bouncer who takes good care of me, even if he does make fun of how my tits get in the way of things.
I didn't even think anyone actually read this thing.
Shows what I know.
It was a strange colliding of my worlds.
To the 15 different people who bought me drinks last night, thankyou.
It was fun.
However, next time we need to alternate between beer and water, because I was definately totally in the bag.
If I didn't know better, I'd think some of my loyal readers were trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me.
I feel like Tucker Max...
But without the talent and good looks.
You fuckers finally found me.
I hit the bar with the hetero-girlfriend.
You know, sling back a few beers at Mis B Havens, go home early and go to bed.
Which was horribly derailed with one statement. "You look exactly like this one chick from this blog I read".
Shit.
"Clarissa, right?"
Shit.
"Say My Name, Bitch?"
Shit.
So I let him buy me a few beers, figure it was a fluke thing, and let it go.
I had no idea how wrong I was.
I went to go take a leak, and in the bathroom.
There's a girl sitting there.
"You look SO familiar."
Shit.
"Do you write?"
Shit.
"What's your name?"
Shit.
"Clarissa?! OH MY GOD ITS YOU. I read your stuff all the time, all my friends love you. You're like, a celebrity".
Shit.
Wash, rinse and repeat.
Twelve or so different people recognized me last night.
Out of nowhere.
So here.
Me signing my first autograph ever in my life. On a boob.
Someone sang a song to me about sex and shampoo bottles in interesting places.
I didn't have to buy a single drink.
A nod to the big irish bouncer who takes good care of me, even if he does make fun of how my tits get in the way of things.
I didn't even think anyone actually read this thing.
Shows what I know.
It was a strange colliding of my worlds.
To the 15 different people who bought me drinks last night, thankyou.
It was fun.
However, next time we need to alternate between beer and water, because I was definately totally in the bag.
If I didn't know better, I'd think some of my loyal readers were trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me.
I feel like Tucker Max...
But without the talent and good looks.
Monday, December 19, 2005
I know it's been awhile.
I haven't had much to say, really.
I got a B on my senior thesis thingy. Yay.
Got my heart broken into a million pieces on Thanksgiving, which is my main reason for not posting.
He still wants to be friends, and anything I would say would ruin that.
But I'm trying.
It's just not easy to switch it on and off.
I wish he wouldn't read this. He will anyway.
He never listened very well.
"Maybe sometime in the future...".
Right.
And I know there are other guys. They all try to take me out.
I don't want them. I've tried.
None of them know how many olives I like on my Subway sandwiches.
Or which side of the bed I sleep on.
Or think its funny that I'm clumsy and kiss my owies.
I wish he'd stop reading this now. Again, with the not listening.
70/30 We work it out. Someday. Before I die. Maybe.
Like a horse race.
I'd rather play poker. Better odds.
I've been sick. The Prednisone isn't helping my emotional state.
I think I stole Seriously's writing style.
He does it better.
I'll give it back to him when I'm done using it.
It's not stealing if I give it back. I'm borrowing
I think I borrowed Seriously's writing style.
Not even borrowed. Butchered.
If there's another girl she's lucky.
Stupid other girls being luckier than me.
Stupid being illegal to run them over with the car.
More than once.
Makes it hard to look like an accident.
Lucky girl won't ever squeak as good as me.
My yawn will still be the cutest.
I'm super far behind in my classes now.
Can't focus.
It'll pass.
All of it will pass.
Still waiting for it assholes.
Anytime now would be great.
I haven't had much to say, really.
I got a B on my senior thesis thingy. Yay.
Got my heart broken into a million pieces on Thanksgiving, which is my main reason for not posting.
He still wants to be friends, and anything I would say would ruin that.
But I'm trying.
It's just not easy to switch it on and off.
I wish he wouldn't read this. He will anyway.
He never listened very well.
"Maybe sometime in the future...".
Right.
And I know there are other guys. They all try to take me out.
I don't want them. I've tried.
None of them know how many olives I like on my Subway sandwiches.
Or which side of the bed I sleep on.
Or think its funny that I'm clumsy and kiss my owies.
I wish he'd stop reading this now. Again, with the not listening.
70/30 We work it out. Someday. Before I die. Maybe.
Like a horse race.
I'd rather play poker. Better odds.
I've been sick. The Prednisone isn't helping my emotional state.
I think I stole Seriously's writing style.
He does it better.
I'll give it back to him when I'm done using it.
It's not stealing if I give it back. I'm borrowing
I think I borrowed Seriously's writing style.
Not even borrowed. Butchered.
If there's another girl she's lucky.
Stupid other girls being luckier than me.
Stupid being illegal to run them over with the car.
More than once.
Makes it hard to look like an accident.
Lucky girl won't ever squeak as good as me.
My yawn will still be the cutest.
I'm super far behind in my classes now.
Can't focus.
It'll pass.
All of it will pass.
Still waiting for it assholes.
Anytime now would be great.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
I'm in the computer lab, and god damn am I annoyed.
I've been trying for over an hour to write a 2 page paper.
I can't get anything done, because some people just don't know how not to act like an asshole in public.
So, I will provide you with a quick guide.
Clare's Guide To Not Being A Huge Asshole During Finals
1. If you are in a computer lab, shut the fuck up. Seriously. Unless you are doing small group work, shut your hole. If you are doing small group work, keep it down. People are tired. We have shit to do. None of us give a shit that your boyfriend is a whore, that you got your little sister a necklace for Christmas, or that you don't know the definition of the word "Emo". Shut. The. Fuck. Up.
If it is so goddamn pressing, leave and go get a latte. Maybe someone there gives a flying shit what you have to say.
2. Turn your cell on vibrate, and don't fucking answer it in the library. Again. I have a 25-30 page paper due, and I don't give a shit that your sisters ex fiance isn't paying child support. The rest of us don't either.
3. The looks that you are getting from everyone are not because we think you're cute. If 7 people are staring at you, you are probably doing something obnoxious. Figure out what the fuck it is and fucking quit it.
4. Laughing is not acceptable. I know that your major of "buying cocaine inbetween manicures" is really pressing, however the rest of us are not having fun. We don't want to listen to anyone else having fun either.
5. No one wants your advice. If you ever tell anyone that I have to work with to "use big words during your presentation, you'll be fine" again, I will kick you right in the fucking cooter.
6. There is nothing wrong with looking like shit. I am going to get roughly 4 hours of sleep in the next 5 days. If I have pants on, I don't want to hear it from you.
7. If you have a fake major, no one wants to hear about how hard your final is. This rule doesn't apply for seminar students. But if I have to hear one more art major bitching about how they have to throw a pot (or smoke some pot, or something) while I'm up to my large white ass in empirical research about monkeys having sex, I will go to jail.
8. Don't ask people to switch computers so you can sit next to your friends. This is finals. Finding an empty computer is hard enough. I will not move so you can set up your sorority circle jerk in the library. This is not me being a bitch. This is me not wanting to move 12 articles, 200 pages of articles and data, and try to get all situated somewhere else.
More later, I have to go to class.
These dumb whores totally ruined my break.
Boo.
I've been trying for over an hour to write a 2 page paper.
I can't get anything done, because some people just don't know how not to act like an asshole in public.
So, I will provide you with a quick guide.
Clare's Guide To Not Being A Huge Asshole During Finals
1. If you are in a computer lab, shut the fuck up. Seriously. Unless you are doing small group work, shut your hole. If you are doing small group work, keep it down. People are tired. We have shit to do. None of us give a shit that your boyfriend is a whore, that you got your little sister a necklace for Christmas, or that you don't know the definition of the word "Emo". Shut. The. Fuck. Up.
If it is so goddamn pressing, leave and go get a latte. Maybe someone there gives a flying shit what you have to say.
2. Turn your cell on vibrate, and don't fucking answer it in the library. Again. I have a 25-30 page paper due, and I don't give a shit that your sisters ex fiance isn't paying child support. The rest of us don't either.
3. The looks that you are getting from everyone are not because we think you're cute. If 7 people are staring at you, you are probably doing something obnoxious. Figure out what the fuck it is and fucking quit it.
4. Laughing is not acceptable. I know that your major of "buying cocaine inbetween manicures" is really pressing, however the rest of us are not having fun. We don't want to listen to anyone else having fun either.
5. No one wants your advice. If you ever tell anyone that I have to work with to "use big words during your presentation, you'll be fine" again, I will kick you right in the fucking cooter.
6. There is nothing wrong with looking like shit. I am going to get roughly 4 hours of sleep in the next 5 days. If I have pants on, I don't want to hear it from you.
7. If you have a fake major, no one wants to hear about how hard your final is. This rule doesn't apply for seminar students. But if I have to hear one more art major bitching about how they have to throw a pot (or smoke some pot, or something) while I'm up to my large white ass in empirical research about monkeys having sex, I will go to jail.
8. Don't ask people to switch computers so you can sit next to your friends. This is finals. Finding an empty computer is hard enough. I will not move so you can set up your sorority circle jerk in the library. This is not me being a bitch. This is me not wanting to move 12 articles, 200 pages of articles and data, and try to get all situated somewhere else.
More later, I have to go to class.
These dumb whores totally ruined my break.
Boo.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
I don't have a lot to post about lately.
We had to put my doggie to sleep, so I'm really just struggling to get along right now. I'm not sure why this is fucking with me as much as it is.
I've decided that I'm going to allow myself to be miserable for awhile (it's been a pretty shitty two weeks) despite the loving advice of "stop feeling sorry for yourself".
I'm going through a thing right now, and I apologize for anyone who has to deal with me.
I miss my doggie.
Things got bad awfully fast.
She stopped eating entirely, and after taking her to the vet they couldn't find anything wrong. 4 days later they found a bunch of cancer and fluid in her lungs.
My poor baby girl.
Anyway. I'm rambling, I didn't take my Ritalin and I miss my Frankie.
We had to put my doggie to sleep, so I'm really just struggling to get along right now. I'm not sure why this is fucking with me as much as it is.
I've decided that I'm going to allow myself to be miserable for awhile (it's been a pretty shitty two weeks) despite the loving advice of "stop feeling sorry for yourself".
I'm going through a thing right now, and I apologize for anyone who has to deal with me.
I miss my doggie.Things got bad awfully fast.
She stopped eating entirely, and after taking her to the vet they couldn't find anything wrong. 4 days later they found a bunch of cancer and fluid in her lungs.
My poor baby girl.
Anyway. I'm rambling, I didn't take my Ritalin and I miss my Frankie.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
You know when your professors tell you to save everything in two places?
They neglect to tell you that it doesn't make a damn bit of difference when your old piece of shit computer wipes out 5 weeks of work on a seminar paper.
(For those of you who aren't in the Augustana bubble, a seminar paper is a senior thesis type of dealy).
5 weeks worth of work is gone.
Completely.
Utterly.
Gone.
Can't be retrieved.
I have one paragraph to show for 5 weeks of work.
I also have roughly a new 2 grand in credit card debt because I bought a new computer (I can't afford to have this happen again).
Thus, I don't feel like posting a whole hell of a lot right now, seeing as I have to catch up 5 weeks worth of work.
Please. Kill me.
Send me money.
Or at least visit some of the sites below.
They are in serious need of females like me. Whiny girls with delusional ideas of sisterhood who present themselves like cum receptacles need not apply.
He really can do no wrong.
Your #1 Source For Everything. I love this guy. Visit his site, comment, bask in the gloriousness that is him.
None More Worthless/
I need to hang out with this girl.
Got your soap box?
They neglect to tell you that it doesn't make a damn bit of difference when your old piece of shit computer wipes out 5 weeks of work on a seminar paper.
(For those of you who aren't in the Augustana bubble, a seminar paper is a senior thesis type of dealy).
5 weeks worth of work is gone.
Completely.
Utterly.
Gone.
Can't be retrieved.
I have one paragraph to show for 5 weeks of work.
I also have roughly a new 2 grand in credit card debt because I bought a new computer (I can't afford to have this happen again).
Thus, I don't feel like posting a whole hell of a lot right now, seeing as I have to catch up 5 weeks worth of work.
Please. Kill me.
Send me money.
Or at least visit some of the sites below.
They are in serious need of females like me. Whiny girls with delusional ideas of sisterhood who present themselves like cum receptacles need not apply.
He really can do no wrong.
Your #1 Source For Everything. I love this guy. Visit his site, comment, bask in the gloriousness that is him.
None More Worthless/
I need to hang out with this girl.
Got your soap box?
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
I know.
I never post.
Blah blah blah.
I'll post later today I hope.
Until then, go to TJNR, click around on some links, take a peek at the Anne Hathaway Boob Pictures, and stop whining.
I'm not sure why Anne Hathaway naked is so special, but I know like, 40 people with tennis elbow now.
I never post.
Blah blah blah.
I'll post later today I hope.
Until then, go to TJNR, click around on some links, take a peek at the Anne Hathaway Boob Pictures, and stop whining.
I'm not sure why Anne Hathaway naked is so special, but I know like, 40 people with tennis elbow now.
Friday, September 09, 2005
I am a super excited Clarissa!!
Although classes are kicking my large ass all over the place, and I'm all stressed about everything under the sun, and probably need some prescription medicine to deal with it, life is good.
My heterolifemate is coming to visit on Saturday. And you all know what that means.
Drinking. A lot of it.
I might even buy a bottle of Jack Daniels and some Chaser Hangover pills. You know, to kick the year off right.
I'm so excited. I miss my heterolifemate big bunches.
Anyway, if you're one of the people allowed to party, feel free to show up.
If you suck, you might want to stay away. I'm feeling a little frisky lately.
Now all I need is a decent recipe for jungle juice.
Let the festivities begin!
Although classes are kicking my large ass all over the place, and I'm all stressed about everything under the sun, and probably need some prescription medicine to deal with it, life is good.
My heterolifemate is coming to visit on Saturday. And you all know what that means.
Drinking. A lot of it.
I might even buy a bottle of Jack Daniels and some Chaser Hangover pills. You know, to kick the year off right.
I'm so excited. I miss my heterolifemate big bunches.
Anyway, if you're one of the people allowed to party, feel free to show up.
If you suck, you might want to stay away. I'm feeling a little frisky lately.
Now all I need is a decent recipe for jungle juice.
Let the festivities begin!
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
The first day of classes is always a weird day. You know, getting back into the swing of doing things like waking up in the morning after a bout with insomnia, dragging my ass to the gym to lose the extra weight, and trying to make myself look half decent before I venture into public, that sort of thing.
It took me until this term to realize that I've had it all wrong.
I could cut out endless hours of primping, drying, putting on makeup and shaving my legs by doing one simple, easy thing.
Becoming a feminist.
Apparently, when you join them, they hand you a membership card and a cute little outfit to go with it. No more trying to figure out what outfit I should wear.
I would be required to wear Birkenstocks with white socks, tan pants that are way too short, a brown shirt, and turquoise jewelry. Apparently, wearing a lot of brown makes one in tune with nature or something.
No hair removal is necessary, neither is makeup. And the best part, my hair care routine would be significantly shortened because apparently, all feminists at my college are required to have the same short haircut and wear it completely devoid of any styling products what so ever.
Instead of being bothered by pesky things like homework, working, paying off my debt and the like, I can concentrate on the important things in life. Like why the cafeteria doesn't have more vegan food, and why men are the cause of all that is bad in the world.
Apparently, because I'm a chick, I should be flying the ovary flag proudly and screaming at the top of my lungs about the patriarchy and why the entire world should revolve around my menstrual cycle.
Why in God's name did I have to pick up a Women's Studies Minor?
Kill me now.
It took me until this term to realize that I've had it all wrong.
I could cut out endless hours of primping, drying, putting on makeup and shaving my legs by doing one simple, easy thing.
Becoming a feminist.
Apparently, when you join them, they hand you a membership card and a cute little outfit to go with it. No more trying to figure out what outfit I should wear.
I would be required to wear Birkenstocks with white socks, tan pants that are way too short, a brown shirt, and turquoise jewelry. Apparently, wearing a lot of brown makes one in tune with nature or something.
No hair removal is necessary, neither is makeup. And the best part, my hair care routine would be significantly shortened because apparently, all feminists at my college are required to have the same short haircut and wear it completely devoid of any styling products what so ever.
Instead of being bothered by pesky things like homework, working, paying off my debt and the like, I can concentrate on the important things in life. Like why the cafeteria doesn't have more vegan food, and why men are the cause of all that is bad in the world.
Apparently, because I'm a chick, I should be flying the ovary flag proudly and screaming at the top of my lungs about the patriarchy and why the entire world should revolve around my menstrual cycle.
Why in God's name did I have to pick up a Women's Studies Minor?
Kill me now.
I hate money.
I really do.
I hate money because I don't have it. When I do get it, everyone else wants it.
It really is a sucky deal. I won playing poker the other day...$1,300.
It's already gone.
Pay the rent, get some contacts, groceries and car repair, and you're back in the hole.
Maybe communism isn't such a bad idea.
More later, I'm up to my chunky butt in homework.
I really do.
I hate money because I don't have it. When I do get it, everyone else wants it.
It really is a sucky deal. I won playing poker the other day...$1,300.
It's already gone.
Pay the rent, get some contacts, groceries and car repair, and you're back in the hole.
Maybe communism isn't such a bad idea.
More later, I'm up to my chunky butt in homework.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
The problem with losing weight is that pretty soon your pants stop fitting. So I decided to spend money I don't have in an attempt to find pants that don't fall off of my ass.
I couldn't find any pants, however, after searching through the racks at Gordmans, I found a really cute flowered bra. It's great. Pushes the twins up a little bit and together, without making me look like Pamela Lee before the reduction.
So I take my purchase, and promptly find my spot in the longest line in the history of shopping, in front of a line consisting mostly of obnoxious males and their friends.
I handed my purchase to the oldest living cashier in Iowa, who tries four or five times to scan it. Nothing. She tries to call for a price check over the intercom. "I need a price for a flowered bra, size 36 CC for this young lady". I swear to god, I thought this only happened in movies.
"What size?"
"36 CC!" at this point the man beside me looked at me, and snickered.
"What are you looking at?"
"Nothing, I just thought they were bigger than that".
This kids, is why someday you are going to find me locked in my apartment with a hundred cats and newspapers dating 20 years ago.
I couldn't find any pants, however, after searching through the racks at Gordmans, I found a really cute flowered bra. It's great. Pushes the twins up a little bit and together, without making me look like Pamela Lee before the reduction.
So I take my purchase, and promptly find my spot in the longest line in the history of shopping, in front of a line consisting mostly of obnoxious males and their friends.
I handed my purchase to the oldest living cashier in Iowa, who tries four or five times to scan it. Nothing. She tries to call for a price check over the intercom. "I need a price for a flowered bra, size 36 CC for this young lady". I swear to god, I thought this only happened in movies.
"What size?"
"36 CC!" at this point the man beside me looked at me, and snickered.
"What are you looking at?"
"Nothing, I just thought they were bigger than that".
This kids, is why someday you are going to find me locked in my apartment with a hundred cats and newspapers dating 20 years ago.
Saturday, August 13, 2005
Yea.
I know.
I was supposed to update like, 4 billion years ago.
I finally got a little bit of Chris time, so I suppose my hiatus can end.
Honestly, the reason I haven't been around is that I've been god awful busy.
Because I'm retarded.
I swore I'd never do it again, but I took an internship with kids. Little kids. Kids that are way too young for me to beat and be able to claim self defense.
For the rest of my 'summer' (if you can call it that, I've been taking classes all summer) I get to wake up at the ass crack of dawn and deal with 60, yes, 60 little brats with parents who think that their kids are the best things since sliced bread. I now get to do fun things, like stand outside and wave and cheer at the garbage man, much to the amusement of the fraternity house across the street, while wearing a pink smock and trying to sound excited about 'going potty' and reading 'Miss Moo Goes To The Zoo'.
I am 23 years old (as of yesterday), and I am spending the majority of my summer with people who think it's funny to pick their noses and wipe it on their friends.
Let me clarify.
I am 23 years old and I am spending the majority of my summer with people who are 5 and younger who think it's funny to pick their noses and wipe it on their friends.
Please, please kill me.
I know.
I was supposed to update like, 4 billion years ago.
I finally got a little bit of Chris time, so I suppose my hiatus can end.
Honestly, the reason I haven't been around is that I've been god awful busy.
Because I'm retarded.
I swore I'd never do it again, but I took an internship with kids. Little kids. Kids that are way too young for me to beat and be able to claim self defense.
For the rest of my 'summer' (if you can call it that, I've been taking classes all summer) I get to wake up at the ass crack of dawn and deal with 60, yes, 60 little brats with parents who think that their kids are the best things since sliced bread. I now get to do fun things, like stand outside and wave and cheer at the garbage man, much to the amusement of the fraternity house across the street, while wearing a pink smock and trying to sound excited about 'going potty' and reading 'Miss Moo Goes To The Zoo'.
I am 23 years old (as of yesterday), and I am spending the majority of my summer with people who think it's funny to pick their noses and wipe it on their friends.
Let me clarify.
I am 23 years old and I am spending the majority of my summer with people who are 5 and younger who think it's funny to pick their noses and wipe it on their friends.
Please, please kill me.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Sunday, June 26, 2005
Old relationships suck.
My ex boyfriends don't know the rules, apparently.
There is an unspoken rule. I date you.
You fuck me over.
We break up.
You disappear off of the face of the earth, or go die or something.
I didn't think it was a difficult concept.
So if you are an ex of mine, and have somehow progressed from books with lots of pictures to reading my blog, here's my advice.
1. Stop reading my blog. It's not good for either of us. Eventually, I am going to make a shitty comment about you, most likely regarding the size of your penis, less than stellar ability in the bedroom, or the fact that you have the IQ that rivals only that of Corky on Life Goes On, and honestly I don't want to hear you bitch and moan about it.
2. Stop hanging out with our mutual friends. They like me more. I promise. Yes. Even your best friend. He told me himself.
3. Stop calling me. I'm quickly running out of good excuses to not talk to you and eventually I'm going to have to settle with the truth. The truth being that I'd rather cram steel wool up my twat and run around the block than have to talk to you. If you had something to say you should've said it while we were together.
4. If you see me, keep walking. I can do without that awkward "How are you doing" conversation. I know you don't care, which is a good thing because I don't care either.
5. If for some reason we are within 2 feet of each other, which I will try like hell to avoid, don't even think of touching me. Don't touch my hips, my wrists, anything. Not even a hug, and god forbid you raise a hand to me in anger. You will be killed. Don't touch me. Not even a high five. I will take it as a physical threat, and my boyfriend will proceed to hit you so hard you'll be smiling out of your ass.
6. You can't fix things. Please don't try, you will only embarrass yourself and make me look like more of a bitch.
7. You will not get your black t-shirt/bottle of rum/stuffed bear you can't sleep without back. If it was so important you shouldn't have left it at my apartment.
8. Finally. Just go away. It would make life way easier for all parties involved. You won't look like an ass, and I can have fun without worrying about running in to your sorry behind.
My ex boyfriends don't know the rules, apparently.
There is an unspoken rule. I date you.
You fuck me over.
We break up.
You disappear off of the face of the earth, or go die or something.
I didn't think it was a difficult concept.
So if you are an ex of mine, and have somehow progressed from books with lots of pictures to reading my blog, here's my advice.
1. Stop reading my blog. It's not good for either of us. Eventually, I am going to make a shitty comment about you, most likely regarding the size of your penis, less than stellar ability in the bedroom, or the fact that you have the IQ that rivals only that of Corky on Life Goes On, and honestly I don't want to hear you bitch and moan about it.
2. Stop hanging out with our mutual friends. They like me more. I promise. Yes. Even your best friend. He told me himself.
3. Stop calling me. I'm quickly running out of good excuses to not talk to you and eventually I'm going to have to settle with the truth. The truth being that I'd rather cram steel wool up my twat and run around the block than have to talk to you. If you had something to say you should've said it while we were together.
4. If you see me, keep walking. I can do without that awkward "How are you doing" conversation. I know you don't care, which is a good thing because I don't care either.
5. If for some reason we are within 2 feet of each other, which I will try like hell to avoid, don't even think of touching me. Don't touch my hips, my wrists, anything. Not even a hug, and god forbid you raise a hand to me in anger. You will be killed. Don't touch me. Not even a high five. I will take it as a physical threat, and my boyfriend will proceed to hit you so hard you'll be smiling out of your ass.
6. You can't fix things. Please don't try, you will only embarrass yourself and make me look like more of a bitch.
7. You will not get your black t-shirt/bottle of rum/stuffed bear you can't sleep without back. If it was so important you shouldn't have left it at my apartment.
8. Finally. Just go away. It would make life way easier for all parties involved. You won't look like an ass, and I can have fun without worrying about running in to your sorry behind.
Monday, June 20, 2005
I haven't been posting much. Not much to say. School has been kicking my ass all over the place.
let me tell you, summer classes aren't a joke at my institution of higher learning. The worst part about it are the presentations. I hate them. And I get the most depressing topics. Like the Holocaust. I'm a pretty decent public speaker, but for the love of god. Try lightening the mood when you talk about Auschwitz. It's not possible.
There's really no good way to win over an audience when you discuss the Holocaust.
"Hey! How bout that Hitler!"
Ugh.
Suprisingly, I pulled it off. I actually started a discussion about the Holocaust with a joke. A tasteful joke, but a joke. I rock all over the place.
Random Links For Your Enjoyment
All you ever wanted to know about toliet paper
Gorilla Mask. I just can't get enough of this guy.
The After Party Of the Internets
One of my favorite people ever is back.
let me tell you, summer classes aren't a joke at my institution of higher learning. The worst part about it are the presentations. I hate them. And I get the most depressing topics. Like the Holocaust. I'm a pretty decent public speaker, but for the love of god. Try lightening the mood when you talk about Auschwitz. It's not possible.
There's really no good way to win over an audience when you discuss the Holocaust.
"Hey! How bout that Hitler!"
Ugh.
Suprisingly, I pulled it off. I actually started a discussion about the Holocaust with a joke. A tasteful joke, but a joke. I rock all over the place.
Random Links For Your Enjoyment
All you ever wanted to know about toliet paper
Gorilla Mask. I just can't get enough of this guy.
The After Party Of the Internets
One of my favorite people ever is back.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
This is going to be a short, easy post.
I have an exam tomorrow, 2 books to read, a presentation to bullshit, and a hypothesis to pull out of my ass, on top of 2 papers.
And before you give me some shit about managing my time, I just found out about all of this last night.
So shove it.
Anyway, my parents got a new doggie. A 13 month old shih tzu named Snickers. Apparently her last owner was a worthless chode, so my parents have taken her in. She has taken a liking to my dad, and to my other dog's favorite purple rat. Poor Frankie, she lost her favorite toy.
Anyway, because I have little or no content today, I leave you with a picture of a cute wittle doggie.
If anyone wants to buy me something cuddly, cute and little, be sure to let me know.
I have an exam tomorrow, 2 books to read, a presentation to bullshit, and a hypothesis to pull out of my ass, on top of 2 papers.
And before you give me some shit about managing my time, I just found out about all of this last night.
So shove it.
Anyway, my parents got a new doggie. A 13 month old shih tzu named Snickers. Apparently her last owner was a worthless chode, so my parents have taken her in. She has taken a liking to my dad, and to my other dog's favorite purple rat. Poor Frankie, she lost her favorite toy.
Anyway, because I have little or no content today, I leave you with a picture of a cute wittle doggie.
If anyone wants to buy me something cuddly, cute and little, be sure to let me know.
Friday, June 10, 2005
My social psych professor decided that he wanted to use the internets as a tool in class. I'm not entirely sure what to make of the concept quite yet. I know it would be a nice god damn mess if my academic life was crossed with my personal life.
That being said, I do have another blog. It's not fun like this one, it's not all that interesting, and it's geared more toward my academic life, and less towards porn, booze and all the other fun stuff that makes the world go round. I think I might keep it up, just for shits and giggles, so you guys don't look at me funny when I discuss what random really looks like, and the idea of subliminal priming on subjective optimization.
Here it is.Read it. Don't read it. I really don't care. If you feel the need to comment, keep it appropriate and remember that respected faculty from my college will be looking at it.
That being said, I do have another blog. It's not fun like this one, it's not all that interesting, and it's geared more toward my academic life, and less towards porn, booze and all the other fun stuff that makes the world go round. I think I might keep it up, just for shits and giggles, so you guys don't look at me funny when I discuss what random really looks like, and the idea of subliminal priming on subjective optimization.
Here it is.Read it. Don't read it. I really don't care. If you feel the need to comment, keep it appropriate and remember that respected faculty from my college will be looking at it.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
I know it's been awhile. I'm a bad blogger.
This isn't going to be a long post, I went to the dentist today and she chiseled at my precious teeth with little hammers and I kind of want to die. Even the vicodin isn't working.
It's weird around here. Sarah (the heterolifemate, for those of you that have been too drunk/stoned/stupid to pay attention for the past four fucking years) graduated. As did Karl, Adam, Missy, my evil ex roommate, and a bunch of others. So I'm doing well.
Not at all. Sarah and I decided that a good way to bond before her departure was by getting our ears peirced. I cried the entire time. When Dan said "Dont worry, you'll probably never see her again", I almost needed to be carried from the room.
I didn't think it would suck this bad, but it does. I'm up to my ass in summerschool, I miss my heterolifemate, I don't have air conditioning to speak of, and my teeth hurt.
So yea, more later.
This isn't going to be a long post, I went to the dentist today and she chiseled at my precious teeth with little hammers and I kind of want to die. Even the vicodin isn't working.
It's weird around here. Sarah (the heterolifemate, for those of you that have been too drunk/stoned/stupid to pay attention for the past four fucking years) graduated. As did Karl, Adam, Missy, my evil ex roommate, and a bunch of others. So I'm doing well.
Not at all. Sarah and I decided that a good way to bond before her departure was by getting our ears peirced. I cried the entire time. When Dan said "Dont worry, you'll probably never see her again", I almost needed to be carried from the room.
I didn't think it would suck this bad, but it does. I'm up to my ass in summerschool, I miss my heterolifemate, I don't have air conditioning to speak of, and my teeth hurt.
So yea, more later.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
It's finals. I'm far too fucked to recall the bitching party (And by bitching I mean it ended at 6:10 AM).
So until I'm not swamped with shit to do, here's another reason that my friends and I are bad people.
HLM: I stole Veleveta shells and cheese from the hungry.
HLM: I'm so going to hell.
TweekerChickQC: We are in college and broke.
TweekerChickQC: Technically we are the hungry.
HLM: Jimmy yelled at me. I was like I SPENT ALL MY MONEY ON BOOZE YOU DRANK!
HLM: He's like.... carry on...
TweekerchickQC: Gotta love his sense of responsibility.
HLM: He tries to be a good little catholic republican
TweekerChickQC: While allowing his boss to steal from the hungry.
HLM: Like I said, he's a republican.
TweekerChickQC: So if you want to be techincal about it, he's doing a great job.
So until I'm not swamped with shit to do, here's another reason that my friends and I are bad people.
HLM: I stole Veleveta shells and cheese from the hungry.
HLM: I'm so going to hell.
TweekerChickQC: We are in college and broke.
TweekerChickQC: Technically we are the hungry.
HLM: Jimmy yelled at me. I was like I SPENT ALL MY MONEY ON BOOZE YOU DRANK!
HLM: He's like.... carry on...
TweekerchickQC: Gotta love his sense of responsibility.
HLM: He tries to be a good little catholic republican
TweekerChickQC: While allowing his boss to steal from the hungry.
HLM: Like I said, he's a republican.
TweekerChickQC: So if you want to be techincal about it, he's doing a great job.
Saturday, April 30, 2005
I was listening to the radio today, for a reason that escapes me.
The travesties released by the music industry pale in comparison to what I heard.
At first I was sure that I had accidentally reprogrammed my station to one that featured 9 year old girls chanting an obnoxious rhyme.
I listened a little closer, and realized, to my horror, that it was none other than Gwen Stefani.
And it sucked.
Gwen. Sweetie. What the fuck happened?
Now, there's a lot of shitty music released every day. However, this shitty music isn't played repeatedly on the radio, TRL, or whatever music channel is cool with the kiddies these days.
You can't escape it. And that is the problem.
Tragic Kingdom wasn't the best album ever released, I'll admit that. But it's a fuckload better than this "Holla back girl".
Why? Because
1) The lyrics are written in English. I have no idea what a 'holla back girl' is, nor do I want to.
2) She sings, as opposed to chanting some incessant chorus about bananas.
3) There was actually music playing the background, opposed to what is apparently a symphony of different cell phone ring tones.
4) The bass player in No Doubt was fucking gorgeous.
At least she's still stylish and cute, right? Even if her music sucks balls?
Wrong. See her last live performance on MTV.
She apparently got dressed in the dark, or pissed off her stylist something wicked.
The only good things associated with Gwen Stefani anymore are her husband (who can still manage to cut a decent album), and the No Doubt's Greatest Hits album, which is probably the band's last ditch attempt to get some cash before they ditch her pathetic, washed up ass. Why would they ditch her, you ask me?
Listen to "Holla Back Girl" and tell me that you'd work with someone who wrote that.
Please Gwen, just stop already.
The travesties released by the music industry pale in comparison to what I heard.
At first I was sure that I had accidentally reprogrammed my station to one that featured 9 year old girls chanting an obnoxious rhyme.
I listened a little closer, and realized, to my horror, that it was none other than Gwen Stefani.
And it sucked.
Gwen. Sweetie. What the fuck happened?
Now, there's a lot of shitty music released every day. However, this shitty music isn't played repeatedly on the radio, TRL, or whatever music channel is cool with the kiddies these days.
You can't escape it. And that is the problem.
Tragic Kingdom wasn't the best album ever released, I'll admit that. But it's a fuckload better than this "Holla back girl".
Why? Because
1) The lyrics are written in English. I have no idea what a 'holla back girl' is, nor do I want to.
2) She sings, as opposed to chanting some incessant chorus about bananas.
3) There was actually music playing the background, opposed to what is apparently a symphony of different cell phone ring tones.
4) The bass player in No Doubt was fucking gorgeous.
At least she's still stylish and cute, right? Even if her music sucks balls?
Wrong. See her last live performance on MTV.
She apparently got dressed in the dark, or pissed off her stylist something wicked.
The only good things associated with Gwen Stefani anymore are her husband (who can still manage to cut a decent album), and the No Doubt's Greatest Hits album, which is probably the band's last ditch attempt to get some cash before they ditch her pathetic, washed up ass. Why would they ditch her, you ask me?
Listen to "Holla Back Girl" and tell me that you'd work with someone who wrote that.
Please Gwen, just stop already.
Saturday, April 23, 2005
Hey, I know it's been awhile.
I just wanted to say Happy Birthday to my heterolifemate.
She is getting old now.
I can't say much, or else I'll cry, but I'm really going to miss you.
No one else in the world would dream of wandering drunk at 3 AM to get cookies and milk.
No one else understands the need to drive to Joliet IL at midnight to get White Castle.
No one else finds the newscaster named "Von Hefty" nearly as amusing after 1 1/2 bottles of wine.
No one else would let you puke out my car window and laugh as hard.
No one else in the world would spend an entire day helping me drywall after a drunk friend and I fell through a wall.
No one else would cut that drywall in the Home Depot parking lot with a switchblade to fit it into my teeny tiny car.
No one else would find it funny that the pizza guy snagged a piece.
So on. So forth.
I'm gonna miss you.
Happy Birthday, you are old.
I just wanted to say Happy Birthday to my heterolifemate.
She is getting old now.
I can't say much, or else I'll cry, but I'm really going to miss you.
No one else in the world would dream of wandering drunk at 3 AM to get cookies and milk.
No one else understands the need to drive to Joliet IL at midnight to get White Castle.
No one else finds the newscaster named "Von Hefty" nearly as amusing after 1 1/2 bottles of wine.
No one else would let you puke out my car window and laugh as hard.
No one else in the world would spend an entire day helping me drywall after a drunk friend and I fell through a wall.
No one else would cut that drywall in the Home Depot parking lot with a switchblade to fit it into my teeny tiny car.
No one else would find it funny that the pizza guy snagged a piece.
So on. So forth.
I'm gonna miss you.
Happy Birthday, you are old.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Sorry it's been so long.
I was actually thinking of quitting this thing, but judging by the emails it's just not the time yet.
Anyway, a lot has been going on.
So here is the past month or two of my life, presented in list form.
1. Got broke. Sucked up for my job at GNC back. As a sales associate, none the less. I get paid $5.15 an hour to be treated like shit. I get dick for hours, and am almost literally broke. Best years of my life, my ass.
2. My electricity got shut off for awhile because my landlord is a complete tool and has yet to realize that the notices they send you in the mail asking for money are more than just suggestions. On the 27th, they are shutting off the water. That may also be the day that he is beaten within an inch of his life by an unbathed Clare.
3. I found out that I'm actually going to graduate next year, with a psych major, and a soc and women's studies minor. Yes, women's studies. Somehow, the only thing I needed to take for that as a minor was the seminar. An extra minor for taking one class? Sign me up. However, if I stop shaving my legs and start wearing broom skirts and a lot of brown, please schedule an intervention.
4. I saw Lucky Boys Confusion, again. At Iowa. They stopped letting people in it was so packed. We were some of the last to get in, and we don't even go there. Sorry, guys. The best part of the night was when I went to tell Adam that I liked his shirt. It was Iggy Pop and sorta cool, and I went to say "I like your shirt" And no sooner had I said "Hey, I just wanted to tell you..." Ashley blurts out "Your ass looks GREAT in those pants". Sexually harassing band members? You know she learned that from me.
5. I had coffee tonight with a guy who was cute when he went to school at Augie, but is now gorgeous. I almost suffered a 3rd degree latte burn because I could barely function infront of him.
6. I discovered that there is a boy in one of my classes that I can't look in the face. He is gorgeous. He gave a presentation and stood infront of my desk. Because he's amazingly sexy, I couldn't look him in the face, and instead looked straight ahead. And realized later that because he was standing ahead of me, "straight ahead" was directly at his crotch.
Now, it's where I look automatically. I can't help it.
7. I came across a secret boyfriend who decided that he would only read this if he was mentioned, so there you go Hunny Bunny.
Things seem to be going pretty well, minus the explosion I just heard outside and the fact that Chris never calls me anymore.
Oh, if anyone has any ideas on what I should be doing with my life next year, it would be peachy. Or give me a high paying job. That's always good too.
I was actually thinking of quitting this thing, but judging by the emails it's just not the time yet.
Anyway, a lot has been going on.
So here is the past month or two of my life, presented in list form.
1. Got broke. Sucked up for my job at GNC back. As a sales associate, none the less. I get paid $5.15 an hour to be treated like shit. I get dick for hours, and am almost literally broke. Best years of my life, my ass.
2. My electricity got shut off for awhile because my landlord is a complete tool and has yet to realize that the notices they send you in the mail asking for money are more than just suggestions. On the 27th, they are shutting off the water. That may also be the day that he is beaten within an inch of his life by an unbathed Clare.
3. I found out that I'm actually going to graduate next year, with a psych major, and a soc and women's studies minor. Yes, women's studies. Somehow, the only thing I needed to take for that as a minor was the seminar. An extra minor for taking one class? Sign me up. However, if I stop shaving my legs and start wearing broom skirts and a lot of brown, please schedule an intervention.
4. I saw Lucky Boys Confusion, again. At Iowa. They stopped letting people in it was so packed. We were some of the last to get in, and we don't even go there. Sorry, guys. The best part of the night was when I went to tell Adam that I liked his shirt. It was Iggy Pop and sorta cool, and I went to say "I like your shirt" And no sooner had I said "Hey, I just wanted to tell you..." Ashley blurts out "Your ass looks GREAT in those pants". Sexually harassing band members? You know she learned that from me.
5. I had coffee tonight with a guy who was cute when he went to school at Augie, but is now gorgeous. I almost suffered a 3rd degree latte burn because I could barely function infront of him.
6. I discovered that there is a boy in one of my classes that I can't look in the face. He is gorgeous. He gave a presentation and stood infront of my desk. Because he's amazingly sexy, I couldn't look him in the face, and instead looked straight ahead. And realized later that because he was standing ahead of me, "straight ahead" was directly at his crotch.
Now, it's where I look automatically. I can't help it.
7. I came across a secret boyfriend who decided that he would only read this if he was mentioned, so there you go Hunny Bunny.
Things seem to be going pretty well, minus the explosion I just heard outside and the fact that Chris never calls me anymore.
Oh, if anyone has any ideas on what I should be doing with my life next year, it would be peachy. Or give me a high paying job. That's always good too.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
It never ends.
I just want to curl up somewhere.
Funeral services to Celebrate the Life of Ronald H. "Ronnie" Weedon, 72, a resident of Pleasant Valley, Iowa, will be 10 a.m. Friday, April 15, 2005, in the Grandstands of the Mississippi Valley Fairgrounds, 2815 W. Locust St., Davenport. Burial will be in the National Cemetery, Rock Island Arsenal with military graveside rites conducted by Davenport American Legion Post #26. Visitation will be on Thursday from 3 until 8 p.m. in the Starlight Ballroom at the Fairgrounds.
Ronnie died on Monday, April 11, 2005, at his home following an accident while working on his Dirt Track Racecar.
He was born June 11, 1932, in Davenport, a son of Ronald H. and Virginia R. (Heiser) Weedon. He was united in marriage to Dolores J. "Dee" Clary on December 1, 1960, in Hannibal, Missouri.
He served in the U.S. Army during the Korean conflict.
Ronnie retired in 1995 after 37 years of service for Strieter Motor Company. He had worked in the Body and Fender Department.
He was very active in the local Dirt-Track Racing arenas and had 504-feature race wins over a seven-decade career. Ronnie was a mentor for many young racers and always had time to assist others when somebody would ask for help. Each year local driver's are asked to vote for their pick as the best racer in their respective class and the best local racer overall for the award named for Ronnie, the Weedon Award. Those receiving the once in a lifetime award receive votes from their peers, with each team getting one vote. To read more about his illustrious racing career visit www.ronnieweedon.com. He loved to race and the family time spent at the track. Besides his wife, Dee, you could always count on seeing his faithful companion at the track, his dog Gidget.
Memorials can be made to the family.
Survivors include his wife, Dee; and children, Debbie (Mrs. Ron) Lane, Davenport, Ronnie Weedon, Davenport, Rob (Sandy) Connors, East Moline, Jerry Connors, Pleasant Valley, and Ginnie (Mrs. Rick) Schumann, Davenport; and his beloved seven grandchildren and six great grandchildren.
In addition to his parents, a sister, Eleanor Boley, also preceded him in death.
Online remembrances and condolences may be expressed to the family by visiting Ronnie's obituary at the website of Halligan-McCabe-DeVries Funeral Home, www.hmdfuneralhome.com.
Published in the Quad-City Times on 4/13/2005.
He was a great guy. Took care of every single one of us, and you could always count on Gidget in the middle of the road, welcoming whoever was driving down there.
Here's to the first guy who ever told me my boyfriend was an idiot, and managed to take care of an entire Valley of people. I'll miss you.
I just want to curl up somewhere.
Funeral services to Celebrate the Life of Ronald H. "Ronnie" Weedon, 72, a resident of Pleasant Valley, Iowa, will be 10 a.m. Friday, April 15, 2005, in the Grandstands of the Mississippi Valley Fairgrounds, 2815 W. Locust St., Davenport. Burial will be in the National Cemetery, Rock Island Arsenal with military graveside rites conducted by Davenport American Legion Post #26. Visitation will be on Thursday from 3 until 8 p.m. in the Starlight Ballroom at the Fairgrounds.
Ronnie died on Monday, April 11, 2005, at his home following an accident while working on his Dirt Track Racecar.
He was born June 11, 1932, in Davenport, a son of Ronald H. and Virginia R. (Heiser) Weedon. He was united in marriage to Dolores J. "Dee" Clary on December 1, 1960, in Hannibal, Missouri.
He served in the U.S. Army during the Korean conflict.
Ronnie retired in 1995 after 37 years of service for Strieter Motor Company. He had worked in the Body and Fender Department.
He was very active in the local Dirt-Track Racing arenas and had 504-feature race wins over a seven-decade career. Ronnie was a mentor for many young racers and always had time to assist others when somebody would ask for help. Each year local driver's are asked to vote for their pick as the best racer in their respective class and the best local racer overall for the award named for Ronnie, the Weedon Award. Those receiving the once in a lifetime award receive votes from their peers, with each team getting one vote. To read more about his illustrious racing career visit www.ronnieweedon.com. He loved to race and the family time spent at the track. Besides his wife, Dee, you could always count on seeing his faithful companion at the track, his dog Gidget.
Memorials can be made to the family.
Survivors include his wife, Dee; and children, Debbie (Mrs. Ron) Lane, Davenport, Ronnie Weedon, Davenport, Rob (Sandy) Connors, East Moline, Jerry Connors, Pleasant Valley, and Ginnie (Mrs. Rick) Schumann, Davenport; and his beloved seven grandchildren and six great grandchildren.
In addition to his parents, a sister, Eleanor Boley, also preceded him in death.
Online remembrances and condolences may be expressed to the family by visiting Ronnie's obituary at the website of Halligan-McCabe-DeVries Funeral Home, www.hmdfuneralhome.com.
Published in the Quad-City Times on 4/13/2005.
He was a great guy. Took care of every single one of us, and you could always count on Gidget in the middle of the road, welcoming whoever was driving down there.
Here's to the first guy who ever told me my boyfriend was an idiot, and managed to take care of an entire Valley of people. I'll miss you.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
This one is hard to deal with. Hung out with him a few times with my sister. Really nice guy.
The guy who hit him almost hit Ashley a few miles before.
It's a fucked up world. It really is.
I'm gonna miss you, sweets.
Aaron M. Perkins
1988 - 2005
Funeral services for Aaron M. Perkins, 17, of Bettendorf, will be 1 p.m. Wednesday, April 13, at the Asbury United Methodist Church in Bettendorf. Burial will follow at Pleasant Valley Cemetery, Pleasant Valley, Iowa. The family will greet friends today from 3 to 7 p.m. at Cunnick-Collins Mortuary in Davenport. Aaron died on Friday, April 8, 2005, from injuries received in an automobile accident in Bettendorf.
Aaron Michael Perkins was born April 8, 1988, to Richard and Patricia (Vick) Perkins in Louisville, Ky. He currently was attending Pleasant Valley High School, where he was a junior, and worked as a cashier and bagger at the Middle Road Hy-Vee Food Store. His circle of friends was everything to him.
Survivors include his parents, Rick and Patti Perkins, of Bettendorf; his sister, Lauren Perkins, also of Bettendorf; maternal grandparents, Jim and Ann Vick, of Louisville, Ky.; and his paternal grandparents, Robert and Helen Perkins, of Radcliff, Ky.
A memorial fund has been established in Aaron's name at the Quad-City Bank and Trust Company, Bettendorf.
Published in the Quad-City Times on 4/12/2005.
The guy who hit him almost hit Ashley a few miles before.
It's a fucked up world. It really is.
I'm gonna miss you, sweets.
Aaron M. Perkins
1988 - 2005
Funeral services for Aaron M. Perkins, 17, of Bettendorf, will be 1 p.m. Wednesday, April 13, at the Asbury United Methodist Church in Bettendorf. Burial will follow at Pleasant Valley Cemetery, Pleasant Valley, Iowa. The family will greet friends today from 3 to 7 p.m. at Cunnick-Collins Mortuary in Davenport. Aaron died on Friday, April 8, 2005, from injuries received in an automobile accident in Bettendorf.
Aaron Michael Perkins was born April 8, 1988, to Richard and Patricia (Vick) Perkins in Louisville, Ky. He currently was attending Pleasant Valley High School, where he was a junior, and worked as a cashier and bagger at the Middle Road Hy-Vee Food Store. His circle of friends was everything to him.
Survivors include his parents, Rick and Patti Perkins, of Bettendorf; his sister, Lauren Perkins, also of Bettendorf; maternal grandparents, Jim and Ann Vick, of Louisville, Ky.; and his paternal grandparents, Robert and Helen Perkins, of Radcliff, Ky.
A memorial fund has been established in Aaron's name at the Quad-City Bank and Trust Company, Bettendorf.
Published in the Quad-City Times on 4/12/2005.
Monday, March 14, 2005
Saturday, February 26, 2005
I did it again.
Last night was great, but I just can't keep myself out of trouble.
Swizzle Tree and Lucky Boys Confusion played one hell of a fucking show, as usual. Amazing.
And all of my loyal readers owe my friend Honeyman a big thankyou. There was a moshpit, and a red headed douche bag continued to shake sweat on everyone. Fine. That's bad etiquette even for a moshpit and fucking gross, but fine. But when that douchebag came out of the pit swinging his hands and elbows everywhere and proceeded to hit my little sister in the face I lost my temper.I mean really. She's 90 pounds. And she wasn't in the pit, so there's no need for that shit. I was halfway through my swing in a punch his mother was going to feel when all the sudden I feel my arms jerked back behind me. All I really heard was "CLARE!". Somehow Honeyman, who was in front of me, was behind me, holding me from beating the everloving shit out of this smelly redhead kid, and most likely from being incarcerated. So smelly red head kid, if you are reading this, you owe that boy a thankyou. Honeyman definitely earned some cool points for catching me, I'm not sure anyone else woulda thought about it.
Even more amazing that I managed to find myself mingling with band members, as usual. Ashley had to leave early to work, and I just wasn't having it.
However, even Stubhy from LBC couldn't stop her. Which was sad.
However, I got to chill with his brother, the lead singer of Swizzle Tree, and I can say honestly that he's one of the coolest people I've had the pleasure of kicking it with in a long time.
We took a very blurry picture together
. (We were both drinking. It took both of us awhile to figure out how to work my camera phone) in which he had to stoop down because my arms were too short to get us both in the picture, and he was sweet as hell about giving me a CD. Did I mention that he's gorgeous?
You may ask yourself, how does this crazy ho get to meet everyone.
Simple.
I asked him if I could rub his head. It was shaved. He said yes, and really once you've crossed that threshold, there's no turning back.
Things I learned last night:
There is actually someone else in my school that likes scotch.
Rock stars are hot.
Indian rock stars are hotter.
I have an odd talent for meeting people.
And finally, I learned that Honeyman can fly.
Anyway. Check out Swizzle Tree and Lucky Boys Confusion, buy their music, and see their shows.
I'm gonna go ice down my bruises.
Last night was great, but I just can't keep myself out of trouble.
Swizzle Tree and Lucky Boys Confusion played one hell of a fucking show, as usual. Amazing.
And all of my loyal readers owe my friend Honeyman a big thankyou. There was a moshpit, and a red headed douche bag continued to shake sweat on everyone. Fine. That's bad etiquette even for a moshpit and fucking gross, but fine. But when that douchebag came out of the pit swinging his hands and elbows everywhere and proceeded to hit my little sister in the face I lost my temper.I mean really. She's 90 pounds. And she wasn't in the pit, so there's no need for that shit. I was halfway through my swing in a punch his mother was going to feel when all the sudden I feel my arms jerked back behind me. All I really heard was "CLARE!". Somehow Honeyman, who was in front of me, was behind me, holding me from beating the everloving shit out of this smelly redhead kid, and most likely from being incarcerated. So smelly red head kid, if you are reading this, you owe that boy a thankyou. Honeyman definitely earned some cool points for catching me, I'm not sure anyone else woulda thought about it.
Even more amazing that I managed to find myself mingling with band members, as usual. Ashley had to leave early to work, and I just wasn't having it.
However, even Stubhy from LBC couldn't stop her. Which was sad.
However, I got to chill with his brother, the lead singer of Swizzle Tree, and I can say honestly that he's one of the coolest people I've had the pleasure of kicking it with in a long time.
We took a very blurry picture together
. (We were both drinking. It took both of us awhile to figure out how to work my camera phone) in which he had to stoop down because my arms were too short to get us both in the picture, and he was sweet as hell about giving me a CD. Did I mention that he's gorgeous?You may ask yourself, how does this crazy ho get to meet everyone.
Simple.
I asked him if I could rub his head. It was shaved. He said yes, and really once you've crossed that threshold, there's no turning back.
Things I learned last night:
There is actually someone else in my school that likes scotch.
Rock stars are hot.
Indian rock stars are hotter.
I have an odd talent for meeting people.
And finally, I learned that Honeyman can fly.
Anyway. Check out Swizzle Tree and Lucky Boys Confusion, buy their music, and see their shows.
I'm gonna go ice down my bruises.
I got guilt tripped
Seriously.
(in more ways than one).
I'm drunk. Its 4:32 AM
I just saw Swizzle Tree and LBC.
Great show, hung ou twith Stuby and his hbrother, Saarang.
Then I chilled with entirely too many frat boys, including Charles and Honeyman.
My bar is now empty, but any night that involves drinking games and someone I know falling asleep in a bed with 2 girls rocks.
Details later.
Seriously.
(in more ways than one).
I'm drunk. Its 4:32 AM
I just saw Swizzle Tree and LBC.
Great show, hung ou twith Stuby and his hbrother, Saarang.
Then I chilled with entirely too many frat boys, including Charles and Honeyman.
My bar is now empty, but any night that involves drinking games and someone I know falling asleep in a bed with 2 girls rocks.
Details later.
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