Nothing exciting has happened to me recently. Nothing even remotely funny or that I could possibly turn into being funny. I Googled myself and read some of my sex columns from college, which I now find remarkably un-funny, so I've lost all faith in myself to ever be funny again.
A really fat woman sat on me on the train while she tried to sit down. That's about it for any material I've got. If my left thigh was a rainbow, she woulda made Skittles. badumchaa
Friday, November 13, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
The $6 Offer Returns...
So yesterday in class my Intro to Health Ed professor reached into his pocket, grabbed his wallet and said "I'll give all the small bills in here to the person who can tell me what McGinnis argued and why" and he pulled out a FIVE and a ONE.
Ok that didn't happen, it's a complete lie, but my life is really boring these days so I thought I'd spice it up.
Ok that didn't happen, it's a complete lie, but my life is really boring these days so I thought I'd spice it up.
Monday, November 9, 2009
More!
I'm not the only one! Read this from the NYT complaint box. I came down to breakfast this morning and my mom had left it out for me with the simple note: "OMG". She knows me too well.
http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/11/06/complaint-box-public-grooming/
http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/11/06/complaint-box-public-grooming/
Thoughts from the class?
Rather than post to my online discussion section (no, I am not 'a Phoenix,' I am a ghetto wannabe Lion who takes the Easy Way Out, which as a title was taken when I wanted to create this blog), I thought I'd present some discussion topics here that have been burning through the gray crevasses of my brain.
1. When two people get married it would make sense to get on the same cell phone family plan, right? Or at least, in my case, to cut the cord and break free from my family plan that I'm still on and that my mom still pays $9.99 a month for or something (thanks Shel!). But Joe and I are on different networks and I'm sure our contracts wont end at the same time. How can we ever combine plans without one of us lurching through life for a few months on a GASP pay as you go plan? Is there a special Marriage Waiver that allows you to break a contract as long as you show a marriage license from the past three months? DOES ANYONE ELSE EVER THINK ABOUT THESE THINGS? Thoughts?
2. Why is it physically impossible to take more than 45 seconds to eat a banana or a string cheese? You can actively try to slow yourself down but seriously, time yourself, that shit's gone in under a minute. THOUGHTS?
3. A vast amount of people today seem to think it is socially acceptable to clip their nails in public? What do you think has changed in American society over the past 50 years to let this travesty occur? How can we, as a clean and considerate society, fight back against this evil breaking us apart from within?
4. Ever since seeing "Man of the House" in 1995 at the height of my JTT-lovin phase, I've always been afraid of my brakes cutting out when conveniently coasting down the hilly streets of San Francisco, like what happens to Chevy Chase's character. Why am I a cognitive fartmonger? Discuss.
5. Are crevice and crevasse the same thing? Why or why not?
Thursday, November 5, 2009
I hate dreams
Last night I had a dream that my Introduction to Health Education professor invited me over for wine and offered me $6, a five and a one, to be precise, to have sex with him. I can never go to class again.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Joe Arrives Tonight!
When I flew to San Diego to visit Joe, I was very clear that I wanted to be met at baggage claim with flowers. Because I am needy and I like pretty things and feeling loved. And I will not let Joe give up on romance before we're even married. No way Joe-say. So when Joe arrives this evening, I, being the true wannabe feminist I...wanna be...thought, why NOT meet him at baggage claim with flowers? Why can't we get equal loving treatment?
And then I thought...
But what if he gets off the plane from China and he's with an Asian woman and omigod he's clearly with her and now I have to pretend the flowers are for her even though golly woops how would I have known she'd be with him as their newfound love is a surprise!!! And then somehow I'd get punched in the face. And my life is produced by Bright Kauffman Crane.
And then I thought...
But what if he gets off the plane from China and he's with an Asian woman and omigod he's clearly with her and now I have to pretend the flowers are for her even though golly woops how would I have known she'd be with him as their newfound love is a surprise!!! And then somehow I'd get punched in the face. And my life is produced by Bright Kauffman Crane.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Bringing Awkward Back
Everyone always talks about how socially awkward they are. And yes, at times, we all are. But I think I'm more awkward than most. Take my absolute inability to make eye contact. Or maintain a conversation about something other than myself without fumbling my hands or tripping over things or accidentally falling asleep. Or not blush when my name is spoken. Or the name Allison is ever spoken. "Gah, ME, WHAT?"
After a phone conversation with Planned Parenthood reps yesterday- you know, in an attempt to make a great impression and pitch my idea for my integrative thesis project, essentially deciding the fate of my second semester in grad school- that went something like this "HI let me immediately jump into my pitch giggle giggle OH you're just a volunteer answering phones hee hee snort nervous voice OH see I just don't even know if what I want to do is possible la la oh it is SUPER DUPER giggle breathy voice haven't stopped talking at all oh, you want my NAME? Oh hee hee sorry guess I should have told you that earlier!" ...so, yes, after this phone call, I took a breather to reflect on the awkward moments of my life. Not the embarrassing ones, as there is a difference (getting a bicycle wheel thrust between your legs while walking, then having it catapult you forward, landing in a heap in front of Tech, was NOT awkward, ok? It was humiliating. People confuse awkwardness with other emotions/acts, but let me be clear, awkwardness involves your being at fault, so here the bike wheel was awkward, I guess, or the bike rider who LEFT ME IN A HEAP and rode off, but hey, I'm over it...clearly).
And I came across what stands out in my memory as social awkwardness in its purest form. To this day the upcoming memory gives me chills and makes me blush:
When I was a sophomore I was pretty much massively in love with this guy Lew. After getting a mutual friend to give him my screen name with the implication that I Want His Bod, and us engaging in two months of endless IM bantering (I'm so much better online than in life, at...everything in life), we finally met up for a vodka-infused-get-all-the-way-to-second-base rendezvous at Jen's grandmother's friend's house. Anyway, the time finally came when Lew (who was a senior, and effortlessly cool, and had millions of friends in other places and absolutely no motivation to hang out with a lame sophomore who rolled her eyes due to an astigmatism and was a big ol' whoppin' virgin) made the plans to come over to my house when my parents were out. When the car dropping him off pulled up I broke out into nervous sweats, practically soaking through my mustard-colored "Ride 'Em Cowboy" Abercrombie shirt Lauren had gotten me for HannuChristmas that seemed so adorably appropriate for this night. (Note: I wasn't planning on losing my v-card to him and did not, but I was under the impression that no guy is immune from being turned on by mustard-colored innuendo). But Abercrombie shirts are notoriously tight in the armpit so you're really asking for it. So he knocks on my door, and completely I lose my cool. I had images of racily jumping on him and wrapping my legs around his waist in the doorway, or seductively running my hands up his scrawny bod while he pulled me close. Either scenario involved a quick journey to my bedroom. Did this happen? No. I opened the door, yelled "HI! WANNA GO ON A TOUR OF MY HOUSE?" And proceeded to take him all over, with a mid-point stop in the basement. The highlight of this, and what is memorable to me as an experience of my insane awkwardness, is when I took him even further away from the bedroom to show him our cedar closet in the basement.
That's right: "Here's the cedar closet! I like, didn't know we even had it, but it keeps off-season stuff smelling good!"
I vividly remember the look on his face. The look of boredom, impatience, confusion, wanting to shoot himself, pity towards me- the look of a guy who had clearly taken valuable time out of his night with the simple expectation of being fellated and is now face to face with a rack fulla winter coats.
Soon after that we had the "and thiiiis is my bedroom!" unsexy Vanna White moment and we proceeded to very uncomfortably get to third base this time. He left that night and we never hooked up again and I'm convinced the reason he didn't fall madly in love with me is because I'll always be The Girl Who Bragged About Her Cedar Closet in his head.
The end.
After a phone conversation with Planned Parenthood reps yesterday- you know, in an attempt to make a great impression and pitch my idea for my integrative thesis project, essentially deciding the fate of my second semester in grad school- that went something like this "HI let me immediately jump into my pitch giggle giggle OH you're just a volunteer answering phones hee hee snort nervous voice OH see I just don't even know if what I want to do is possible la la oh it is SUPER DUPER giggle breathy voice haven't stopped talking at all oh, you want my NAME? Oh hee hee sorry guess I should have told you that earlier!" ...so, yes, after this phone call, I took a breather to reflect on the awkward moments of my life. Not the embarrassing ones, as there is a difference (getting a bicycle wheel thrust between your legs while walking, then having it catapult you forward, landing in a heap in front of Tech, was NOT awkward, ok? It was humiliating. People confuse awkwardness with other emotions/acts, but let me be clear, awkwardness involves your being at fault, so here the bike wheel was awkward, I guess, or the bike rider who LEFT ME IN A HEAP and rode off, but hey, I'm over it...clearly).
And I came across what stands out in my memory as social awkwardness in its purest form. To this day the upcoming memory gives me chills and makes me blush:
When I was a sophomore I was pretty much massively in love with this guy Lew. After getting a mutual friend to give him my screen name with the implication that I Want His Bod, and us engaging in two months of endless IM bantering (I'm so much better online than in life, at...everything in life), we finally met up for a vodka-infused-get-all-the-way-to-second-base rendezvous at Jen's grandmother's friend's house. Anyway, the time finally came when Lew (who was a senior, and effortlessly cool, and had millions of friends in other places and absolutely no motivation to hang out with a lame sophomore who rolled her eyes due to an astigmatism and was a big ol' whoppin' virgin) made the plans to come over to my house when my parents were out. When the car dropping him off pulled up I broke out into nervous sweats, practically soaking through my mustard-colored "Ride 'Em Cowboy" Abercrombie shirt Lauren had gotten me for HannuChristmas that seemed so adorably appropriate for this night. (Note: I wasn't planning on losing my v-card to him and did not, but I was under the impression that no guy is immune from being turned on by mustard-colored innuendo). But Abercrombie shirts are notoriously tight in the armpit so you're really asking for it. So he knocks on my door, and completely I lose my cool. I had images of racily jumping on him and wrapping my legs around his waist in the doorway, or seductively running my hands up his scrawny bod while he pulled me close. Either scenario involved a quick journey to my bedroom. Did this happen? No. I opened the door, yelled "HI! WANNA GO ON A TOUR OF MY HOUSE?" And proceeded to take him all over, with a mid-point stop in the basement. The highlight of this, and what is memorable to me as an experience of my insane awkwardness, is when I took him even further away from the bedroom to show him our cedar closet in the basement.
That's right: "Here's the cedar closet! I like, didn't know we even had it, but it keeps off-season stuff smelling good!"
I vividly remember the look on his face. The look of boredom, impatience, confusion, wanting to shoot himself, pity towards me- the look of a guy who had clearly taken valuable time out of his night with the simple expectation of being fellated and is now face to face with a rack fulla winter coats.
Soon after that we had the "and thiiiis is my bedroom!" unsexy Vanna White moment and we proceeded to very uncomfortably get to third base this time. He left that night and we never hooked up again and I'm convinced the reason he didn't fall madly in love with me is because I'll always be The Girl Who Bragged About Her Cedar Closet in his head.
The end.
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