Friday, May 25, 2007

Carousel of Progress: Beverage Bottles, Google Empire, Transportation, Interns


It's been a fantastic week for Progress. I'm now [sorta] employed, I journeyed to Pathmark for groceries [and stepped directly into a lagoon of tomato sauce, facilitating a somewhat sensual experience between my foot and the cleaning-man's mop], replaced my gapingly-holed Chuck Taylors with brand-new-[sized-too-small] Chuck Taylors [the ten minutes allotted for this errand did not provide for additional store visits to hunt down proper size, whatever, my feet'll shrink or my shoes'll grow, it takes two to tango], got my hair did [Visa's especially excited about that], and....yes...!!!...although the globe is warming, my room is cooling because...

(!!!)

Roommate-Ryan, who coincidentally happened to read my blog for the first time this week, removed those soul-stifling bars from my window, AND, before I was able to jump out, filled said window with my AIR CONDITIONER! Ryan's the best roommate ever, besides Zoey. And me, 'cause last summer, I installed THREE air conditioners in Lo and I's apartment, inspiring Lo to comment: "You're such a lesbian today!" That's right. But now that I'm the girly one in my lesbo-ation-ship, I've got no time/strength for such things. I have to do my hair, etc. Anyway, enough about me. Go Ryan!

a power of butterfly must be the aptitude to fly

So, re: hair? On my first visit to DRAMATICS NYC [also'd be a good name for Nation on Saturday Nights], I thought "Hm, my stylist's name is TRAFFIC? That's weird. Maybe his parents were drunk, or Nascar fans, or both." But this time, my stylist's name was ZONE and his assistant's name: ENERGY. Today, at my new job, I commented to the girl-who-was-training-me: "Everyone who works here has a porn star name!" [E.G., Denver, Rod, Asia, Javier.] Then I said to myself: "Riese, you're not in your room anymore, shut up, weirdo!" She laughed/agreed though. Because I was funny/right. Not really/kinda.

Anyhow I wanna go to hairstyling school so I can get a job at DRAMATICS NYC and change my name to TOXIC.

Onto installment TWO of The Auto-Win Carousel of Progress: Winter-Fresh Edition. I don't know what I'm talking about anymore. Like I ever did. I mean, it's getting worse. My brain is tired 'cause I woke up at 6 A.M. to go to work. That's right, WORK. Did I mention that already? Obvs I'm not cut out for this "working" thing, I'm never going to work again ever. Over it. Totes tiring. What am I talking about? Right: the wheel. You know what though? That was a good one, yeah? The wheel? That was a fucking amazing idea, the wheel.



BEVERAGE CONTAINERS:


W/O: The New Poland Spring Bottle Caps...
Are accidents waiting to happen. Not even waiting, really. Rather: "actively exploding all over my bag/bed/floor/what-have-you." Has happened approx. 100 times since the cap's introduction, including this morning, when, as you know, I was on my way to my JOB. I didn't have time to check the front bag-pocket for damages--and, fast forward to several hours later: I reached into aforementioned pocket for emergency tampon to find it'd taken on the form of a dead jellyfish, if jellyfish were made out of cotton and not jelly. Why change a good thing, Poland Springs? You had the right idea by bottling water, which's a classic choice, so you had to compensate by inventing a new kind of cap? Seriously, what?!! I'd like to sit it on that meeting, which probs went like this: Hey, this is nice how I can suck water out of this bottle like a baby suckling his mother's breast. Let's change it because we hate women.

W/: Screw-Caps for Wine Bottles
Because I can't possibly go a single post w/o mentioning the Olive Garden this week: we had this wine called Lambrusco--probs sells at Pathmark for about $4.99/bottle. It had a screw cap, but this was back in '00, before screw caps were hip, so we were trained to cover the "opening" process [which in all other instances involved a flourish of "wine key" and a rare opportunity to demonstrate hand-eye coordination or really any useful brain activity whatsoever] with our napkin1 to hide the cheap-wine-giveaway suggested by the screw cap. I'm glad this stigma is gone, and now there's nothing embarrassing about ordering Lambrusco at The Olive Garden, except that you're at The Olive Garden.

I prefer 'em and love their proliferation: easier to store in crowded refrigerators, easier to tote and easier to open and subsequently hide if one is drinking in a place where one is not supposed to be drinking, e.g. work [not my new job that I started today, obvs, but other jobs I clearly no longer have for whatever reason], and doesn't require purchase of ghetto wine opener which breaks on first usage. Much like my heart.



THE RAPIDLY EXPANDING GOOGLE.COM EMPIRE:

W/O: [certain elements of] Gmail
Sometimes, in an attempt to prove a point about why I couldn't have Barbies or go to the cool-kids party, my Mom'd say: "Marie, if all your friends jumped off a bridge, would you?" And I was like, "Um, obviously. Why would I want to be alive if all my friends had just jumped off a bridge?" So, I got gmail. I even suggest gmail to my friends, and then shun them if they don't join up [except you, dear Haviland, and your adorable AOL]. But for reals, it drives me crazy that I can't put mail into good old fashioned FOLDERS. Labels? Wha?! I've never enjoyed labels much. Some of my least favorite include: top/bottom [re: lesbian sexual assignment, apparently for life], "artsy," bisexual, bi-curious, slut, JAP, slacker. I don't need my "Hav" label to indicate which emails are from Haviland--that much's apparent by her email address in the "FROM" field, yeah? Seriously: do you know anyone who's like "Thank G-d for those labels, totes helps me organize my life. Vigilant about the labels. I can see clearly now the rain is gone." This's what I want, and it's what I had on yahoo/hotmail/other retarded email servers: my inbox is just for emails I've gotta respond to. I'd like folders for the rest of it, and I don't wanna "archive" everything I've responded to, which'd be Gmail's solution. I tried indicating emails-needing-response with "stars," but then they slip out of top-spots and my starred emails end up being people I never really intended to respond to, like random dudes I met on J-Date in 2004. That's not a hypothetical. Also I label my emails anyhow, just cause I trust Google blindly, like I'm that douchebag and Google's jumping off the bridge, and I'm like, wait up! wait for me!

W/: Google Reader

I love Google Reader for what it truly is:"Google Reader helps you keep up with it all by organizing and managing all the content you're interested in. Instead of continuously checking your favorite sites for updates, you can let Google Reader do it for you. From news sites to your friends' blogs, Google Reader helps you keep up-to-date with all the online information that matters most to you."

I love Google Reader for what it is accidentally: Say, hypothetically, that one's girlfriend compulsively erases her blog posts at a rate so rapid it'd be hard to keep up if one wasn't informed of each posting more-or-less immediately: well, luckily, it's all stored in the Google Reader cache. Every last redacted word. Holla!

I've refrained from lauding the glory of Google-Reader on this blog because: 1. Google is evil, T.B. read all about it, they're spying on us, etc. [I use "google is evil" and "Al Queda" in this post. And "DRAMATICS NYC." And "porn." P.S., I hate George W. Bush and I love Rosie O'Donnell.] 2. I suspect that when people read this on G-Reader, it doesn't show up on my site-meter. But I'm abandoning pride at the gate, kids.

I actively monitor about 75 blogs right now, a feat only possible with the help of my third favorite site (GMail and this blog being first and second, respectively) on the internet, Google Reader, a site I would make sweet, gentle (and occasionally rough) love to were it physically possible (Don’t even get me started on what I would do to GMail, and as for my own site, well, let's just say it does just fine.)
-Amish, NYC blogger and a member of my social web back at the ol' alma matter, University of Michigan.



TRANSPORTATION

W/O- AIRPLANES:
Absolutely everything about travel-by-plane is resolutely unpleasant. I know planes've got advantages: e.g., they move super-fast, which's especially important for overseas travel, as no-one wants to spend their vay-cay on an ocean liner. [Except cruise -ers, obvs, like me, but then there are people who get seasick, like Haviland, which's why she took sea-sick medicine and then started hallucinating: Everything's just so--BRIGHT!]

It's not the "flying" part that I despise, it'd be fun to learn fly a jet or go-go-gadget copter. But large commercial airliners are floating torture chambers: we're willingly strapped to Gravitron -esque "seats," we wait like Patient Robots for the moment we're permitted to recline half-an-inch, relish this moment...and then, for anywhere between 30-500 minutes, we experience unpleasant physical sensations like fresh-oxygen deprivation and virus transfusion (transmitted via little devil robo-tit fans) and THEN! THEN!, the half-inch recline is snapped mercilessly from our hands [often by a tired/hungover flight attendant while we are literally unconscious, which's like someone waking you up by whapping you on the ass and screaming MAKE ME SOME COFFEE WOMAN! not that anyone ever did that to me every single morning ever], like a stork bending to snatch up a chortling child. Then you land--which's when you're pretty certain you're about to die--and are spit out into a huge building that smells like rotten festering dehydrated humans. Sorta. Just thinking about it makes me want to throw up in a paper bag. That's why I take trains from New York to Wisconsin. Also because I'm afraid of Al Queda.


W/- LEXUS (I want to make this plural, but how? LEXI? LEXUSES?):
Once upon a time, I bought myself a car. Before you run away with any Riese-was-wealthy? ideas: Lexuses, moreso than other brands, maintain value, and I knew I needed to sell my car within a year of purchase 'cause I planned on being a part of it in New York, New York post-graduation. I wanted to maximize my return, like a year-long car rental?

Anyhow: driving it was like dancing! I'd never liked driving really, it was fine, got me from here to there. I thought shiny expensive cars were just shinier than other cars, and somehow grinned with bling-teeth-money-tongue-cash-tingle, I didn't realize it was almost like a different kind of car. Like, totes AS ADVERTISED. When I was really sad, which I was often then [the heart breaks into small pieces, etc.?], I'd drive it around Ann Arbor for hours, singing along to Fiona Apple: Cause I do know whats good for me, and I've done what I could for you, [imagine me pounding dashboard with I-Am-Woman triumphance] and you're not benefiting, and yet I'm sitting, singing again SING SING again! [almost yelling now, getting very upset] How can I deal with this, if he won't get with this? Am I gonna heal from this, he won't admit to it... Or I'd just park it in the parking lot of my elementary school, Eberwhite, and take a nap with the air conditioner or heater still on. Depending on the season.

The Lexus was white. It was so not-me. So entirely thoroughly not me, it was like floating through life in a stolen spaceship, which sometimes happens to be exactly what you need.

Even those of you w/o several seasons of Star Trek in your brain's back-log have certainly wished [out loud, probs] to be teleported. I usually declare this particular desire while sitting in someone's apartment or house late at night, imagining my own commute home: bus, cab, car, train, whatevs--anything besides the only other tolerable commute I've experienced, which's "falling asleep and having A Parent lift me and deposit me instantly into my bed, a.k.a. falling asleep and having A Parent lift me, deposit my body into a car, drive me home, and carry me to bed," which hasn't happened since the late 80's.

But if there were teleportation, I could import Unpaid Interns from all over the globe. Especially now that I've got an actual job, time's tight. A.K could flow my paper, Lozo could blow on my hands, Razia could stick it to those mofos and unintentionally practice precognition, Moonkiller could tote my things because she invented the totem pole, Mercury obvs is doing my hair and "word verification" was the cleverest thing EVER for number #1, M could recite Run DMC's It's Tricky which is no small thing, the spaz's ass is black man's kryptonite [making us quite a planet], kate'll let me use her hair products and can count words in her head, and carlytron wouldn't even need to be teleported, she totes lives here, could take a cross-town bus to perform a skit, a game, whatevs. And I need carlytron because we gotta bring The Truth About Stacey and Mallory and the Trouble with Twins to the screen ASAP.

And lk coulda written this post, if she'd wanted to, then I coulda been that black [dirty] angel, yeah, tooth to nail and [perfectly] translating [vain] words [are what sticks to the real]...crawling underground, lifting the phone [could hear our] voice, no black mark [upon their foreheads], yeah, yeah, environmental transformation. That's some translation, ghostwriter.



1: Also known as the "tail," required to be on our persons at all time, lest someone place a scalding hot lasanga plate into our hands. Once I was delivering lasanga to a table and I handed it to the server and said: 'do you have a tail?' and he said, No, I don't need it, and proceeded to handle 5,000 degree plates with his bare hands. I decided he was my hero, and now I can do the same thing. I was an excellent expo for this reason.

29 comments:

Mercury said...

First comment! I haven't claimed that honor in a while... you're too damn popular lately.

Hondas are like that, with the value, but instead of buy for $45,000, sell for $40,000, or however it is you do it with a lexus, it's more like buy it for $28,000, sell it for $24,000, or whatever... don't quote me on those figures, I don't track how cars depreciate... why am I attempting to discuss this intelligently? really? why?!

I remember when I had an internet girlfriend (haha, yeah, I was that pathetic once) who lived in Canada and we would occasionally badger my ex to build us a teleportation machine. What was weird about this was that she and I were born on the same day, and he was born the day before... that's an irrelevant kind of weird.

and when I went to boarding school, i totes wished I could teleport home after classes. But I wouldn't even get home before Id' have to start travelling back, even if I could afford to fly home & back in one night. hmm.

I wonder if somewhere some nerd in a laboratory is researching teleportation. I hope so.

Daniel said...

I am sure your trip is interesting and yes,It's been a fantastic week for Progress. you are now [sorta]-employed. my friend on EbonyFriends.com and I feel happy for you.
Good Luck!

lk said...

... so yeah, a quick [tangential tension induced] pre-morrow observation:

[BLUEphotoPENCILED]CAPTION [mos-def transgressing into the decolletage -- holla! -- area here] reads

"me [inadvertent cowboy boot-to-the-head] and my air conditioner"

i'll get into queue in the morn [PST] and comment on the soon to be non "un-really-edited" version, yeah?

rough outline [of future possibilities]:

i. foot and mop sensuality
ii. a guy named FLANNEL
iii. squirrel induced sleep deprivation
iv. screw tops and screwing
v. Google Reader revolutionizes Alzheimeir's therapies
vi. turbulence, S&M and born-again delusions
vii. W/[friend's borrowed]Benz
viii. a ghostwriter hyperlink i [previously] restrained myself from adding

so yeah, i totes wouldashouldacoulda written the post -- future [cause the future's really progressive] solution: IOU a sick day

sors about the square bracket binge -- a bit AD[B]D this late/early

lk said...

re: your friend Daniel's revelations [WTF?]

DISCLAIMER: this comment is rated PC-15 ... i recuse myself

hmmm, first J-Date now EbonyFriends.com? you are one crazy-ass-really-really-pale-abyssinian-jew! i am sure your "trip" is quite interesting -- did i miss a footnote or something?

MoonKiller said...

So, I'm your youngest fan, that makes me feel special. And as for my drinking habits I used to drop my dummy in my rentals wine when I was still in nappies so I'm pretty much a born alcoholic.

Forget teleportation, what everyone needs is a Bernard's Watch. Doubt any of you Yanks have seen it but it's a programme about this kid called Bernard who has a watch and it can stop time but like just for him. It's awesome. My homies and I have full on conversations about what we would do with it because we are that sad/cool.

Anonymous said...

i read "me and my HAIR conditioner" instead of "me and my air conditioner". freud without sex? schräg!

goneundercover said...

you're really on a roll with the posts lately!!
ps teleportation is possible! although not for humans yet (or depending on your preferred level of paranoia, maybe they just haven't told us!)
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/3576594.stm

haviland said...

Riese, I have to say you look really pretty in that picture! :) Since I haven't seen you in about 3 years I have to rely on photobooth...

oy vey!

riese said...

mercury: I know, I was just thinking the other day how now when it says "one new comment" in my gmail inbox, my first thought is no longer: "oh! I wonder what Rachel who remains the only blog not fed by google reader that I still read has to say about this!" It's "I wonder who it is? Hmmm..."

Oh and it was a deal Lexus. Like, 1999 ES300 or something. $19500, total steal. It was the best deal anyone's ever gotten on anything ever, or something. But I'm biased because we were in love, the Lexus and I.

I think I'm not in my own time zone. I'm not certain exactly where I am, but it seems my daily rythyms are more in sync with another country or coast.

internet girlfriends are awesome.

when i searched for a teleporting photo, it turned out that people are researching it, and it's gonna happen. but i knew about that before then, i now realize, as my memory's been jogged by stephanie here in the comments....did you (stephanie) send me a link ages ago, or did i link to it on your blog? I can't remember. Anyhow, yay, we're all gonna be molecules. We are all made of stars. either 1. told me about this research,

lk, I'm totes AD[B]D, right? Yeah. You do me better than me. One day I inspire to do you half as good as you do you, or something.

ghostwriter was an amazing show. what do kids watch now? blues clues?

did you see t.b.'s note on the old blog?

Re: trip footnote, nope. V. confused too, but cool anyhow, I'd link and find out who you are Daniel but instead right now I am going to finish writing this comment, in which I will also add that Haviland I love you and moonkiller please send watch to me, thank you, and yeah, and ayaya

riese said...

ha, daniel is a spammer in disguise. gotcha. I don't need an ebony date, fool. I gots me a girlfriend, and she's not "ebony," but at least 100 shades darker than me. Cuz I'm a white ass Jew.

M said...

I would like to add that the boundless excitement of teleporting light particle “properties” was ranked as one of 2006’s top 100 scientific breakthroughs. I wish I could reference a specific number, but my copy of the article was confiscated by the British Virgin Islands Customs Dept. for reasons still unknown to me. Suffice to say, I was notably more impressed with last year’s other 99 scientific breakthroughs. Teleporting a light particle is like killing Schrödinger’s cat. I’m just saying, don’t put “Teleport” in the title of your article if I’m still going to have to suffer through two flight connections to get to my cousin’s catholic military wedding in Alabama this summer. Like, it’s already bad enough.

Quantum computing is severely overrated. If it’s not going to help me get Kelly Clarkson tickets this summer, then what’s the point?

carlytron said...

baby-sitters club and ghostwriter? you and i would've gotten along really well in high school.

true story! the one time my parents went out of town and left me behind during high school i threw a big party. except it was a let's-watch-ghostwriter-and-eat-food party. no drugs or alcohol. just a ghostwriter marathon. a few years later they started airing it again on Noggin and i totes recorded it.

anyway. i've actually really been wanting to write some films/tv shows/whatever lately, so ... yeah ... that could happen? anythng that allows me to get out of my parents' house on a more frequent basis (and there's some final draft in it for you as well).

Crystal said...

Your mention of aeroplanes (airplanes) made me break out into a cold sweat. I'm a hater. I could talk about my dislike for aeroplanes day in and day out.

I'm ok with the aircraft and the flights themselves, you know, because I really need them for work.
But what I don't need - maladjusted flight attendants, the monopolistic airline companies and their bullshit frequent flyer schemes, misplaced luggage, john travolta, delayed flights, bad food and coffee, CD theivery, screaming kids, and the captain kangaroos who think it's OK to bounce down the runway. It's not. Then the hosties who lecture you over the PA system for reading a book whilst they do their safety demo.

I'll stop myself now, this comment could go on for a while.

kate said...

I blame the Baby-Sitters Club on the fact that a veeeery long two years of my youth were spent in leggings and hats. Stace did me wrong, "my character has been written by a middle aged women in the early 80's" - perhaps that might have have been a helpful entry for me to reflect upon in the sitters diary...

riese said...

M, they were probably scared that you were going to teleport a shoe-bomb if you read about it, because they usually can't read good themselves, those people, and got scared, that maybe one of the other 99 included shoe bombs, or whathaveyou. This's 1984, etc. But yeah, light? whatevs. I want human bodies. Here--there. Finit.

Carly: Obvs I would've loved that party. Almost as much as the drug and drink free party we had in high school for the specific purpose of teaching ourselves the dance routines from "Newsies." Noggin/The N is the greatest channel ever. It almost makes me want to figure out how my teevee works....but I don't think I get cable in my room anyhow. Hm. I oughta look into this. I miss South of Nowhere. Is it on again? Don't tell me. I can't handle the truth.

We're gonna write some shit that The N is gonna be re-running in 10 years, forshure.

Crystal: Thank you for hating with me. Your comment gave me a hot sweat, and illustrated some of the key points I overlooked with supreme accuracy. I've yet to get a frequent flier reward myself. It seems you have to fly ten million miles to earn a trip from Michigan to Ohio. Didja know that J.Travolta is a homo? I don't care for him. Scientology, etc. That being said, I always liked Quantus (sp?) best because they didn't over book, so I could usually lie out across several seats, which made it slightly easier.

Kate: Claudia's outfits were amazing. On the cover of the first BSC book, which I obvs still own, she's wearing like, checker-printed leggings and an oversized yellow sweatshirt. Cuz she's an "artist."

carlytron said...

re: Claudia ... it's lovely that those books featured a blind artist, because that's the only way to explain her wardrobe.

my favorite part of any BSC book was the first chapter, because I was usually able to skim through the parts with the descriptions of the girls. claudia's "almond eyes," etc. it was like, the same in every book and never got any less creepy. maybe that's why i'm gay ... maybe i've finally found my root!

p.s. south of nowhere isn't back on yet, do not fret.

p.p.s. i spent several weeks learning the dance to nsync's "bye bye bye" which will be up on my site hopefully tonight or at the very least, soon. the post was taken down so i could finish it, it will be back!

stef said...

hi, i was in your neighbourhood tonight, or i think it was sort of near where you live, except i don't really know. i think you live somewhere near the red line in harlem and i was at a house party on 147th st. that is a ridiculous place for anybody to live and it's a ridiculous place to have a party and invite people who live in brooklyn, and i'm probably ridiculous for going.. anyway the point is, i was in harlem at like 4 am and i live very very far away from harlem and i wished for teleportation. teleportation did not happen (but i did end up getting dropped off in the meatpacking district at 5 am, did you know there are still tranny hookers there? for real! that made me so happy, like finding out an animal you thought was endangered is actually thriving in some remote jungle).

my parents had a lexus, a super nice one. they let me drive it sometimes. driving it was TOTALLY like dancing, until i got in an accident and paying for all those beautiful expensive parts sort of brought my dance party to a screeching halt. there is a down side.

omfg babysitters club... i'm loving this. i loved the special edition ones where they would all go on a trip or something (there was one where they went on a trip to new york city; i don't remember a lot of others) and they would all write a chapter and you knew who was who because claudia couldn't spell. to say nothing of the babysitter's little sister books.. <3<3<3

yeah it's 6 am, i haven't slept yet and i'm blog commenting. rad.

Crystal said...

I don't recommend frequent flyer schemes. They are useless.

I signed up to a frequent flyer program that gave me 1 point per $1 spent on my credit card. So I kept maxing my card out to save points. After 3 years of high interest and mega debt, I got a trip to Adelaide - a city that is just as useless as the frequent flyer scheme itself.

To add; the credit card looks exactly the same as the frequent flyer membership card, so I'm always whipping out the wrong one to pay for stuff = consistently looking like a twat when the wrong card inevitably declines.

I had no idea John Travolta is gay. But I know he wants to name his next kid Qantas, which is naff. Qantas always bump me up to business class, so they win.

So yeah. Here's to aeroplane hating.

Razia said...

I just read your last two posts with the biggest hangover humanly possible, it was a struggle and borderline painful but worth it, as usual. I understand your love for your car bc I share the same sort of relationship with my own.

The idea of teleportation freaks me out, call me crazy but being deconstructed to a million molecoles to be reconstructed somewhere a million miles away just doesn't go down well. I'm also afraid of this happening http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f17k3fuYa9E (I can't hyperlink for shit)

stef said...

wow i'm CREEPY at 6 am. i didn't mean to be like IM IN UR NEIGHBORHOODZ STALKIN UR BLOG; i just meant to point out that harlem may as well be its own planet. and teleportation would probably be run by the mta and it would probably be similarly miserable.

The Spaz said...

You know I can totally relate to being all 'take charge/fix everything lesbian' in some relationships and then being 'girlie girlie/please help me live because I'm so helpless' in others.

I only step up to the plate if nobody else will. I suck eh?

green said...

you totally hyphenated 'no one'. please, let us go out for drinks. let us become drunk on said drinks. let us force TB to tell us her life story for the 80th [or 1st] time.

riese said...

omg i just wrote a comment that got deleted, I'm gonna kill myself.

riese said...

ok I'm writing it again for the THIRD TIME. Someone, who may or may not have the initials "HPS," closed my window both times. It's okay though, she didn't mean to. I love her anyhow. Also, Heather is wearing really cool shorts right now. They are plotting a trip to Tasti-D-Lite. lesbians. TB's writing a musical, it's gonna have a pony and be awesome. Hav just did a song from it. They're talking about vegan cookies.

riese said...

ok so stef:
1. you are not a stalker
2. if you were, that'd be just fine, because i think it shows dedication and bravery and a real belief in the cause.
3. I actually live a bit south of there, and no one should ever make anyone go from a Harlem to a Brooklyn. It's just too much. I've done it. I used to do it every Sunday night when I lived in Brooklyn and watched "The L Word" in Warlem with Talainy.

I never got in an accident with the Lexus, though I did get a speeding ticket. I got in an accident with all my other cars though. I started paying attention to my driving, which I hadn't really done before. Because I was like, I can't hurt my baby. However, my car insurance was like, 400 a month.

Carlytron: totes homeric epithets for YA novels...I read the Gossip Girl cannon while on a brief delusion that my goal in life was to become a ghostwriter, and do things like people do to Ann M. Martin books. And they did the same thing. I guess it's for people who pick it up in the middle of the series. Also I did a routine to "material girl." I talked about it in my top ten flannel blog, because the girls in the lip sync routine wore flannels and jeans and baseball caps and the boys dressed as obvs...girls.


green: i just read your comment, LOLed, read it again, LOLed, read it again, LOLed, read it out loud to Haviland, LOLed, and then read it again. LOLed. when are we getting this drink?
It's cause I'm saying it in this cute voice. I can't figure out how to communicate that without a hyphen. Like a baby saying "no-one." Imagine that. Like very punctuated. I'm stoned.

crystal:
I signed up for a frequent flier program where I payed Chase bank 29.95 a year to earn miles and didn't ever get to go anywhere. I don't know what I did wrong, but it made me feel bad. Like, why me? So I canceled it. So now I was like "no way, losers. I'm not gonna pay for that anymore." I guess what I'm saying is I paid for nothing, which's not an unusual thing for me. Hm. I should see if I can fly to White Plains.

razia: i used to kiss cars on the street that looked like my car. that's how much i missed it. now i miss it less, because there's been more time, and time heals my pain. just slightly.

spaz, i'm totes just like you and then it's A-OK. It's a paradox, and paradoxes are hot.

Abby said...

I just got back home after flying to my home town to visit with my friends at the writers festival (I used to work on the ubud writers festival (www.ubudwritersfestival.com)) and see my Mum. When we were landing in Auckland I had my hands gripped around the arm rest holding my breath as I usually do, the plane did that bumpity bump thing, and the older woman next to me said (in a very posh voice); "I have always thought flying was the height of presumption." Which I thought sounded beautifully profound.
As far as I'm concerned, if they can get those things in the air they can figure out teleporting...

carlytron said...

my lip synch routines involved cargo pants and fleece tech vests for real. the videos will make their way to youtube some time this week. that flannel post cracked my shit up and totally reminded me of the BSC once again. i don't know if it was the movie (I haven't watched it in a while) or if it was on an episode of the tv show, but the girls had like, a party for their dads? for father's day? and they wore sundresses and did some dance and it was not only creepy buy really weird too. and creepy. and i think kristy was still wearing flannel?

just to get you totally stoked, here is the first scene of our first BSC movie (the first movie featured our lovable kids in high school, having a sleepover to reminisce about all of their memories; the second movie told the tale of what happened when they all went off to college). anyway, scene:

Kristy is in her room getting dressed (music and credits over this). Tucks t-shirt into boxer shorts under jeans, puts on flannel shirt, puts on baseball cap. Says “good morning” to Sarah Michelle Gellar "Cruel Intentions" poster. Hears a horn outside, rolls up poster quickly.

Mercury said...

I used to fly a lot a lot, and I was like 12, and getting credit card offers in the mail all the time, because I looked like a business professional to the companies who were looking at how often I flew. Really I was just the victim of divorce.

My dad was like, obsessed with frequent flier miles. It was his goal in life to have the most ever, or something. Like, he would buy a car IF theyd' take his frequent flier card. Yeah.

I only ever read like 4 of those babysitters club books. One I did read had a character named Dawn and an underground tunnel, though, I remember that. I never read any nancy drews or anything eiter.

Anyway.

carlytron said...

oh, and FYI: i just spent like, over an hour setting up google reader. this is totally, totally, totally your fault. totally.