April 20th makes me feel like such a boring school marmy old person. I smoked a bit in high school and rarely in college then gave it up because a) it sparked panic attacks and b) I'm a judgy wudgerson and I think pot smoking becomes pretty lame and "I don't have my shit togetherish" after 21. But ask me about binge drinking! Wahoo!
Anyway, 4/20 just brings out a few things on society: poser behavior in people who smoke twice a year but think they have street cred when they talk about "celebrating the holiday," my bitchiness towards people who actually have fun in life, people who need to grow up and get jobs and stop smoking and take obscene pride in feeling productive one day of the year, oh and my smug bitchiness.
Today on facebook we had choice tidbits from:
1. Very obvious typical pothead who did nothing after high school posts "Happy 420!" I smile sadly. He is very pathetic.
2. Guy I met once who is 23 and so into 420 he CHANGED HIS PROFILE PICTURE to marijuana. Laugh smugly and think "Get over it!"
3. A recent new mom posts, wishing all a happy 420. YOU'RE A MOTHER NOW. TIME TO GIVE UP ALL THE THINGS YOU ONCE ENJOYED. LIKE POT. (Clearly, I've already given up the things I most enjoy, and I don't even have kids!)
I just...I get that I've snapped and become the least fun person imaginable. I really get it. And I can't exactly pinpoint when. College graduation? Getting engaged? Moving back home and turning into my mother? MY VERY BIRTH? But all that aside, I can't help waving my cane, adjusting my hearing aid and tearing out my overzealous, sprouting ear hair in exasperation at the damn kids who wont grow up.
Theeeee end.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Sisterly Love
Now if you know me at all you know I laugh at nearly anything- especially if it a) isn't actually funny, b) is inappropriate c) is highly offensive or d) is a situation where people fall down. The fatter the person, the funnier the fall.
Every time I run (yes, run. I have a crazy fear of missing my train on Thursdays even though I allow myself 45 minutes for a 12 minute bus ride) by the second floor office nook at school, I have to stop, take a moment, and giggle like a hyena. Because Kuwana Bullock's name is on the door. And WITHOUT FAIL, whenever I see that name plate, I immediately think of Sandra's African American sister and all the fun they must have together. I imagine them on a reality show where they just live like the Kardashians and drink together and get leg waxes and talk about boys. I mean hey this could be totally real- Sandra's mom is apparently German, like born in Germany, so perhaps she has a black sister. So I just went to People.com because I reaaaally don't want to once again rehearse my presentation for tomorrow, and I see the a headline announcing that Sandra's sister is aware of Sandra's whereabouts and that they are fine and Sandra just needs time, bla bla. And my first thought? Aw, Kuwana! Always there for Sandra! I wish I had a sister like Kuwana.
Yeah.
Every time I run (yes, run. I have a crazy fear of missing my train on Thursdays even though I allow myself 45 minutes for a 12 minute bus ride) by the second floor office nook at school, I have to stop, take a moment, and giggle like a hyena. Because Kuwana Bullock's name is on the door. And WITHOUT FAIL, whenever I see that name plate, I immediately think of Sandra's African American sister and all the fun they must have together. I imagine them on a reality show where they just live like the Kardashians and drink together and get leg waxes and talk about boys. I mean hey this could be totally real- Sandra's mom is apparently German, like born in Germany, so perhaps she has a black sister. So I just went to People.com because I reaaaally don't want to once again rehearse my presentation for tomorrow, and I see the a headline announcing that Sandra's sister is aware of Sandra's whereabouts and that they are fine and Sandra just needs time, bla bla. And my first thought? Aw, Kuwana! Always there for Sandra! I wish I had a sister like Kuwana.
Yeah.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Did I Grow?!?!
Seriously! Because all of my short sleeve shirts from last year aren't as long as I recall. And I've lost weight since then, so it's not a tightness-ride-up issue. This would imply that I've grown in my torso, and not, you know, the all important leg area, which would really be a happy occasion no longer having to hem my PAJAMA PANTS but hey, I'll take what I can get.
OR I've been doing weight lifting entirely wrong and I've bulked up my shoulders instead of slimmed them down and this in effect makes my shirts ride up. For someone so insufferably vain I surprisingly haven't looked at myself in the mirror closely in awhile, so this could be entirely possible. Like how I noticed recently that even though I dyed my hair brown December 30 it is now blonde again and I freaked out like "How long has this been?!!"
THESE ARE THE PROBLEMS I FACE. THESE ARE THE DAYS OF OUR LIVES.
OR I've been doing weight lifting entirely wrong and I've bulked up my shoulders instead of slimmed them down and this in effect makes my shirts ride up. For someone so insufferably vain I surprisingly haven't looked at myself in the mirror closely in awhile, so this could be entirely possible. Like how I noticed recently that even though I dyed my hair brown December 30 it is now blonde again and I freaked out like "How long has this been?!!"
THESE ARE THE PROBLEMS I FACE. THESE ARE THE DAYS OF OUR LIVES.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Hands up, baby hands up, water drips down dripping dripping drips down dripping dripping
Today I spent a solid 5 minutes feverishly tearing my room apart looking for my towel. Only to discover it was on my head. Time I will never, ever get back...anyway
I have a serious bone to pick with a) the people in charge of paper towel placement in public restrooms and b) the giant bumblebee climbing the inside of my window at present. There's not much I can do about either, but the paper towels make for a better story, so here goes:
WHAT THE FUCK?! I understand I'm smaller than the average human, but anyone who isn't a legal giant (haha...imagine having to legalize your giant status, poor Hagrid...God I'm a dork) has to lift their arm up at a 90 degree angle to reach for the paper towels. What happens then? Oh. Water drips down your arms. Sometimes, in a rush, a lot of water drips down. Pours, even. Because I might be physically incapable of properly washing my hands, BUT that's neither here nor there.
This is more of a problem in the winter, when long sleeves are involved, and then the sleeves are soaked for a good hour after (and NO I refuse to roll up my sleeves. Sometimes they wont roll, like button downs. Or puffy jackets. OKAY?). Now I can just use said paper towel to dry off my arm, but I'll still bitch and moan about it. Because at an institution of higher learning- cough cough Teachers College cough- someone should have been smart enough to kindly instruct paper towel dispenser installers to EASE UP on the height. The end.
I have a serious bone to pick with a) the people in charge of paper towel placement in public restrooms and b) the giant bumblebee climbing the inside of my window at present. There's not much I can do about either, but the paper towels make for a better story, so here goes:
WHAT THE FUCK?! I understand I'm smaller than the average human, but anyone who isn't a legal giant (haha...imagine having to legalize your giant status, poor Hagrid...God I'm a dork) has to lift their arm up at a 90 degree angle to reach for the paper towels. What happens then? Oh. Water drips down your arms. Sometimes, in a rush, a lot of water drips down. Pours, even. Because I might be physically incapable of properly washing my hands, BUT that's neither here nor there.
This is more of a problem in the winter, when long sleeves are involved, and then the sleeves are soaked for a good hour after (and NO I refuse to roll up my sleeves. Sometimes they wont roll, like button downs. Or puffy jackets. OKAY?). Now I can just use said paper towel to dry off my arm, but I'll still bitch and moan about it. Because at an institution of higher learning- cough cough Teachers College cough- someone should have been smart enough to kindly instruct paper towel dispenser installers to EASE UP on the height. The end.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
Update x2
In I Am Charlotte Simmons lots of things annoy me and make me want to throw the book at the wall or just stop reading it, which I can't, because I'm OCD and also because despite how much I hate it I do sort of wonder what will happen to ALL THESE ABHORRENT PEOPLE. Brief examples of things I hate (uh oh, dissertation sneak peak!): Wolfe's constant use of the words hide, brute, fannies, cretin, rhinal cavity, solar plexus, etc etc. But nothing bothers me more than when he describes sex with the noise "rut rut rut." Who does Tom Wolfe have sex with? The Little Engine That Could?
God that drives me nuts. Like makes my arm hairs shoot up and my nostrils flare and make me want to throw a pizza in Mr. Wolfe's face.
I have to go pierce myself with forks now to refocus.
God that drives me nuts. Like makes my arm hairs shoot up and my nostrils flare and make me want to throw a pizza in Mr. Wolfe's face.
I have to go pierce myself with forks now to refocus.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Update
Dear 3 Readers,
My apologies for my absence of late. I've been furiously outlining my dissertation, whose working title is "The Reasons Every Copy of I Am Charlotte Simmons by Tom Wolfe Should Be Burned"
How I will relate this to Health Ed, I am not sure.
Also, I'll write more if people comment. When there are no comments I am once again aware that only Maddie and occasionally Kati and once a month Holly read my blog. And this makes me asad.
My apologies for my absence of late. I've been furiously outlining my dissertation, whose working title is "The Reasons Every Copy of I Am Charlotte Simmons by Tom Wolfe Should Be Burned"
How I will relate this to Health Ed, I am not sure.
Also, I'll write more if people comment. When there are no comments I am once again aware that only Maddie and occasionally Kati and once a month Holly read my blog. And this makes me asad.
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