Friday, November 30, 2007
I also ate the entirety of the remaining Ambrosia. And in hopefully unrelated news my pants felt tight this morning, not muffin top tight, but tighter than expected.
Yesterday a head hunter called about a job in the very department in which these young ladies work. The job seems pretty interesting, but I don't think I could successfully pretend to like them as well as I do my current coworkers. And the more I think of it, the more realize that these are the sorts of people I would work with at any investment banking firm or law office. When putting it into that perspective, I'd rather work in a place where people care less about who made your shoes and more about doing something worthwhile in life. Identity crisis semi-averted.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
An interesting article brought to my attention due to my interest in how Mitt Romney handles his religious affiliation.
Anyway, I've been watching that show Life. I have no idea why I like it so much, but I do. It is just enough different to be interesting and just enough the same to be comfortable. You should check it out.
So, not regarding anything above, I want to buy a cheap cricket bat. I mean less than 50$. For a present for my cousin, who needs to use it for zombie defense. Anyone know where I could procure an inexpensive cricket bat for display (and undead attack) use?
And on yet another topic I have been saying unintentionally odd things today:
ex #1: "Spam is very personal."
Meaning everyone likes their spam a different way. I like mine slabbed, fried in soy sauce and brown sugar, cuddled by a block of pressed rice and wrapped in delicious seaweed.
ex #2: "And that is the end of my awesome story about jicama."
I need to think before I tell stories before I tell them, rather than suddenly realizing in the middle that I am boring and ending it with "and that was my awesome story about whatever." Because I think that's kind of weird, right?
And in other completely unrelated news, China is super-bored and looking for new things to suppress: pandas.
They are banning unflattering panda imagery. I wish I had an advocate to ban unflattering pictures of me.
Final non-sequitor: every Christmas I day dream of getting a job in the private sector, holiday bonuses, commensurate pay, smart people... *sigh*. The question is will money make me happy? It will allow me to buy more awesome presents for all 3 billion people on my Christmas list. And I will certainly earn greater respect at a "better" job. But when I come home pooped from a day making other people rich, will I be happy with that- or- will I sit and think about how I *used* to come home after helping restore important social programs through the use of math and fancy spreadsheets? Baaaaaaaa! Instead of making important life decisions, I think I will stay frozen here. This will be *awesome*.
Dear Upstairs Neighbor,
While you are much preferred over my previous upstairs neighbor, I am most perplexed by your habits. It isn't that at exactly 11 om you blare your radio then get into your shower, it's that your taste in music is appalling.
Was that John Mayer follow by Nora Jones? (Worse yet the banjo-y one?) Are you a fifty year old woman? No? Are you sure?
I hope all is well up there, Mystery Boring Music Neighbor. And if you need any help with boring music for your shower party mix-tape, I think I have an Air Supply cassette in my trunk.
Wait. Seriously, is that Sarah McLaughlin? Are you sure you don't have boobs? No? Ok, ok, you're just a really boring person who likes really loud strummy strum strum strum acoustic guitar music. At eleven at night.
Feel free to blare away- I sleep with ear plugs in. It should insulate me from your mind blowingly pedestrian musical tastes. I'd take a million Lilith Fair guitar dirges over OCD dooring open & closing and the 5 am phone call arguments (At least I hope he was on the phone...)
Well I guess I will let you get back to your BNL, it's ear plug time for me.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
I know this will shock my fellow nerds, so brace yourselves: this will be my third attempt at reading Watchmen. This time I plan to actually read the whole thing, thus prying you bossy monkeys off of my back.
I know it is sacrilege, but it has never caught me; I think it is a little bit (brace very hard now) boring. And in fact the only reason I am attempting this third and final go is so that this will not happen:
You: "Oh my gosh, have you read Watchmen, it is AWESOME?!"
Me: "Oh I've tried to read it a few times..."
You: "WHAT DO YOU MEAN TRY? THERE IS NO TRY! THIS IS THE SINGLE GREATEST USE OF PAPER IN THE HISTORY OF HUMAN PAPER USE! YOU SUCK AND CANNOT PLAY OUR REIGNDEER GAMES ANY MORE!!!"
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
3 Hurt In Squirrel Attack At SJ's Evergreen School
Nature attacks pig-tailed school girls.
So I feel a little uncomfortable about my blogging of my honest feelings about family gatherings yesterday. A little grinchy and grumbly, and just a bit curmudgeonly. I don't know. I won't say that it threw me into a funk, but maybe just a little bit. Perhaps the truth is not nice and the world needs all the bullshit to continue spinning smoothly.
On the other other hand, I don't think that feminists throughout the ages busted their asses so that woman could vote and go to work, and then cruise home and do everything else too. Bah, whatever, I will shut up before digging myself a new hole to fall into.
Monday, November 26, 2007
I washed the dishes 3 times on Thanksgiving (along with help from my cousin Jessica- thanks dude, you are awesome). I also made a dessert and helped to cook the stuffing. I was happy to relieve my aunt from her kitchen slavery by helping with dishes, but I am still a bit perplexed as to how I ended up spending a large portion of my day in the kitchen (and all night the evening before) whilst the men (and lazy women) spent no time in the kitchen.
Memo to my family: you are not guests. You are family. You should offer to help with dishes and then do so.
Memo to my friends: you are guests. Offering to help with dishes is awesome and important, but I will never allow you to wash a dish. It is not your duty but you are awesome.
Memo to relatives older than my generation: not choosing to have children does not hit pause on my aging. If the kids are taking care of dishes, then the children may do so.
Men of my family: I do not take joy in cleaning up after you. Neither of us wants to do the crappy jobs, but when you refuse to do them, someone else is forced to carry your weight. If you are comfortable doing that, there will always be some sucker to do it (me), but remember that my goodwill is contingent on relationships built upon respect and nothing says "I don't respect you" quite as well as, "Here make me food! Now clean my plate."
My family is perpetually exclaiming how wrong it is that I am not married. Why should I get married? I'm already taking care of them like they're children. Raising another baby trapped in a grown man's body sounds awful and frankly I don't know how to screen for lazy. You figure out how to do that and you let me know.
Family, I hope you don't take this too hard, I still love you. I just would also like to feel appreciated and maybe have enough time to chat with you before being called in to 'set up' dessert and then do your dishes. I'm pretty sure that the few of you will read this and think that I'm kind of being a jerk and maybe over-reacting. You go right ahead and go into the kitchen and make a breakfast for 8, then do the dishes, then make dinner for 20, then do the dishes, then make dessert for 20, then do the dishes. Then you can kiss Jessica, my Auntie and my collective butts.
PS- Last time I mentioned something of this nature I got sassed for being a sexist. Well, I don't think that it is outlandish to say that the American cultural norm under which most men were raised is not acceptable to me. Men can certainly say that the same is true for women.
Wednesday I cut out of work early to finish up my Christmas shopping and sabotaged Steve by forcing him to buy gifts for himself- bwahahahahaha. I topped the night with some serious baking and a little 4400. (I just finished season two and it was quite intense!)
Thanksgiving was fun, between the gaming, the food, and the lack of present-related stress, it was an ideal holiday. We played lots of games (including Pounce!) and even my grandparents took some time to play Wii Carnival Games. I think it was my best Thanksgiving ever! Thanks Steve, Addy, & Paul for joining my crazy family for this, my most favorite holiday in which I don’t get to dress as a pirate.
Friday several of us got together and watched Donnie Darko and Darkman. Verdict:
Donnie Darko- worth watching all the way through once, but not awesome.
Darkman- classic Sam Raimi.
Paul’s couch- too slick. It is very hard to flop around as I like when there is the constant fear of sliding right off the couch. Not that I did, heavens no. I am as graceful as a cat.
Saturday I coached my robot team, had dinner with Dawn at Grinders, and then was talked into spending the evening at a Rock Band party. (Quite possibly the nerdiest day in recorded history.) Rock Band is a really fun game, although I was too shy to do anything other than sing- and even then only when cajoled. Drums involve coordinated movement of BOTH hands. Yikes!
Sunday was nothing out of the ordinary, just dinner with the family.
And while I’m on the topic of things you won’t find interesting:
I watched this awesome movie with my uncle, The Curse of The Demon. If you haven’t seen it, you should, because it is *awesome*. I don’t want to give too much away, but there’s a curse… and a demon.
Do you think that I should go to the Hollywood Erotic Boutique and tell them about the great interest in them on the web? Could that be my good deed of the year? It’s just that I’ve got one month left in the year and have not accomplished any good deeds…. Can good deeds be done at Hollywood Erotic Boutique or need all deeds accomplished on the premises be dirty?
I got two crazy ideas for things that I would like to try.
1. Write down everything I read and at least one thing about it. Then put that up on my blog.
2. Attempt to buy everything that I can from a second hand store for 6 months. Obviously some things cannot be purchased at a thrift store; socks, gifts, undies, etc., but many things can and I think it would be a cool experiment.
What do you think?
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
A Saudi judge has increased the punishment for a rape victim on the basis of two facts:
1. she was riding in a car with a man to whom she was not related
2. she alerted the media to her plight
I don't want to say this, because it is wrong and I know better; but even though I don't believe in 'an eye for an eye' style justice, I sincerely hope with every fiber of my being that the judge and every asshole who defends him is raped. I do. I absolutely hope that they are violated in the most obscene and horrible manner. I hope that they are shamed and relieved of their status. It is wrong and I don't care.
I hope that they are bought and sold like cattle, limited from being an adult, are never allowed to enjoy sex, and beaten like dogs when they stand up for themselves.
I know that this is not justice, but I do not care a bit.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Finally I park what seems like miles from the curb and threw open the door. I was parked a good foot and a quarter from the curb. I looked back and saw a giant pyramid shaped rock right next to the curb- which I had apparently not been on at all.
Rock! Why were you thwarting me and threatening my new and fancy tires?!
I re-parked ahead of the rock, grabbed my hand bag, checked my mail and went all the way to my apartment door and then suddenly realized that the last big rock-like object I parked next to was thrown through my window.
I went back out to my car and and picked up the heavy rock. I thought to myself, "What the hell am supposed to do to get rid of this rock?!"
So I went around to the back of the building and to prevent the rock from a life of crime hurled it into the dumpster. And while I feel no need to explain myself to others, I feel kind of weird about the neighbors who watched me throwing a rock away. How does one explain that you want to prevent mischief by throwing big rocks into dumpsters?
Monday, November 19, 2007
Neat article about Chinese scavenger industries and also smelly fruit. The path between Bryn Mawr and Haverford Colleges was lined in mature female ginkos. Reading about their horrible smell made me reminisce a wee bit.
My new favorite phrase is 'mature female ginkos'.
Seven Random Things List as prompted.
1. I read cookbooks for fun. I even tab them, and then rarely look at them again.
2. My least favorite thing is losing something; I am prone to fits of anger when I can’t find an object that I feel I should be able to find. I can destroy an entire room in less than ten minutes on a serious hunt for my keys or my passport.
3. I’m scared to give blood. I didn’t used to be able to, but now I can but won’t.
4. Sometimes on weekends I tell my friends that I have plans for the night and then turn off my phone and sit at home to catch up on my reading or watch tv.
5. I find it nearly impossible to break up with boyfriends. I am not afraid of conflict, but I hate disappointment. I limped through the last 3 months of my last “real” relationship (possibly scarring me for life; causing me to be terrified of additional entanglements from which I will be unable to uhm… untangle myself), and have dated people off and on for years out the sheer desire not to discuss ‘feelings’. I also hate being yelled at and will avoid it at all costs, so that certainly doesn't help.
6. I have no plans of any kind for my future. I am absolutely living in the moment and feel very uncomfortable about this. Sometimes I wonder if this is a direct reaction to familial pressure.
7. I don’t like chocolate. Or rather I think chocolate is fine, but given the choice I will choose berries or cinnamon.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Dear American Apparel,
I am tired of your perversely thin cotton t-shirts. I know that most of your clientèle would like to wear 17 shirts of varying lengths at once or conversely wander around bra-less with their thinly veiled areola on display. But I’m not Paris Hilton or a 16 year old girl with no confidence, so I would like a shirt that does not display my bellybutton and immediately get minuscule holes in it.
Additionally, I like to transfer the shirt from my body directly to the laundry hamper and shortly thereafter to the ‘washing machine’. I’m just guessing from your creepy kind of kiddy porn looking advertisements that neither your models, nor their attire, are familiar with water. Water is clear and wet and when combined with detergent will cause bad odors, grease, dirt, and mustard to disappear from cloth and many other substances. However, when I wash your shirts no matter what temperature I use or whether I machine dry them, fluff* them, or lay them flat, they always come out catawampus** in form. The hem and breast-al regions seem to be the primary areas of deformation. Let me express to you that one of the major areas of my body I would prefer not to look catawampus is my breasts.*** Perhaps you should make socks instead?
I’d like to add that I have had some of my other t-shirts since the 90’s**** and most of them are in better shape than the American Apparel t-shirts that I just purchased. In fact, I have a t-shirt that I’ve been wearing since I was 9 years old (pajama shirt, to regular shirt, to work out shirt) but it took about 15 years before you could clearly see through it without trying.
Additionally, it seems that your t-shirts are the only ones available in the continental US. How have you managed this? I am grudgingly impressed that your crappy- yet expensive- shirts have managed to dominate the indy t-shirt industry. I’m also impressed with your no sweatshop policy, though I wonder if perhaps your t-shirts would be less crappy if you used workers from a more industrious country. Americans are kind of lazy. Try Germans- I hear that they have a great work ethic.
My less than a year old tissue thin t-shirt, now replete with a minuscule peek-a-boo-I-see-Quiana-has-been-snacking hole and I have some work to do, so in closing I just want to let you know that I absolutely despise everything about you from your annoying advertisements, to your crappy product, and especially your irritating hipster/cooler-while-simultaneously-holier-than-thou attitude.
** I had always thought this was spelled ‘cattywampus’ but apparently no.
*** My breasts, while not perfectly symmetrical are absolutely not catawampus.
**** Yes, I’m perversely proud of this.
Dinosaur found with vacuum-cleaner mouth
Please note dinosaur's vacuum mouth placement in the accompanying picture.
*sigh* Sometimes it is a burden to have the mind of a 15 year old boy.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
2. I wrote a poem last night. I am so embarrassed.
Sometimes I just write a poem, and they're always terrible. Ugh.
Oh and PS- it was about poultry.
3. Recently some friends asked me when the last time I had sex was. I told them it was so long ago that I couldn't remember.
I know this may sound nuts, but I really could live without them judging me. After their declaration that women who have sex on a first date are sluts, I would rather do without their censure or praise. I know that I am 'one of the guys' but how far will my gender amnesty extend?
Saturday, November 10, 2007
This news delighted the American Ferret Association."
Ways to fight drug abuse with poo:
Throw it at dealers.
Throw it at users.
Bury drugs in it.
The poop on where to hide your old pills
Aside- Do we think that the AFA is made up of patriotic ferrets, or the people who love to live with smelly weasels?
Friday, November 09, 2007
So to YOSR I will go post haste. And by post haste I mean Sunday. I just hope there's something left when I get there.
In other news, my Great Grandmother (who recently engaged in a 6 day hunger strike, in which she refused to eat foods that weren't Tillamook Butter Pecan ice cream and consequently spent nearly 2 weeks in the hospital, suffering from anemia and a bad attitude) is apparently getting more action than I am, as the frau we hired to forcibly bathe her (yes, against her will- hence the hunger strike) found a lump in her breast.
Now Great Grandma is insisting on elective surgery to remove the lump (the size of a AA large egg- no I am not kidding) from her breast. Because living with a less smooth and luxurious bosom is more important to her than the possibility of exceeding 95 years of age.
When I declared that I can't believe that we are allowing Great Grandma to alter her knockers for cosmetic purposes my Grandma declared, "Well, they're her boobs."
Thought I, "Well, they'll be completely lumpless, there in her casket."
Now I'm wondering why Great Grandma is nervous about her - no doubt knee-length- breasts having a nice consistency, it isn't like any of the old ladies with whom she boards are gong to be all honk-honk. *I hope.*
Furthermore, I wonder if our professional bather should be paying us. Either this egg-sized lump was easy to find or said frau was offering off the menu services.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Some guy finally sued them for invasion of privacy and emotional distress. Good for him. I hope that the church doesn't win their appeal. There is a special place in hell for people who do evil in the name of the Lord.
It is just this kind of creepy and illogical fundamentalist thinking that makes me so very angry.
The whole thing makes no damn sense. Wouldn't you want more gays in the military if you were interested in them being shot?
Why would you picket a funeral of a dead soldier?
How is it even possible to be that big of an asshole? That ass must be HUGE!
These mysteries continue.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
'beluga whale penis'
'bank of america clean sweep'
'hollywood erotic boutique seattle'
'ryan gosling chubby'
2. No more fives
I have decided that I will no longer be high or low fiving. No fiving of any kind for me.
I told some guy that 'I don't five' at the terrible costume party last Saturday and he couldn't have been more shocked.
So don't try to five me, for I will leave you hanging. That's just how I am.
It turns out that you can be both disgruntled and gruntled. Yes, I looked it up:" to put in a good humor"
Example: 'were gruntled with a good meal and good conversation', W. P. Webb.
I plan to use gruntle a lot, so gird yourself. Upon finding it in the dictionary I was most gruntled!
4. I've been working on writing songs lately, and when I look at them I always worry that maybe I'm stealing tunes or lyrics without even knowing it. Is it possible that my uselessly encyclopedic memory for all things musical (and usually terrible) is surreptitiously attempting to violate intellectual property law? Bad brain!
5. These are awesome stories, and don't worry, I've got millions of them. Millions. *sigh*
Monday, November 05, 2007
Perhaps this can be the start of a 'I can't believe you've never seen that movie' movie night.
Friday night Steve had an *awesome* Day of the Dead party, at which my grandpa was representing the dead. I could picture him at the party, smoking a cigarette and drinking our expensive beer whilst grumbling, "God damned yuppies, where's the MGD?"
I had an awesome time and greatly enjoyed the liquid nitrogen ice cream and related frosty shenanigans. [Note to readers: if you want to be the coolest person at a party, bring liquid nitrogen.] We also watched the kiwi film, Black Sheep, about which I have extreme mixed feelings. Between the squeaking/eye covering and the tequila the film was a blur. A blur with lots of hilarious fake gore. Good times.
Saturday I went to a craft fair, coached my amateur robotics squad, volunteered for Citizens for Schools, and then attended 2 parties with my cousin Melanie. One party was the costume party I mentioned Friday. It was not our thing, so we cut out early to go to George's Guitar Hero party. I learned two things there:
1. Stuffed crust pizza is weird.
2. I need some practice at Guitar Hero before I attend another such event.
Melanie learned that not all of Quiana's friends are pretentious hipsters. Go team Comic Stop!
Sunday I had coffee with Steve then I practiced guitar hero with my cousin Sean for a few (try 5) hours, prepped to teach my tutoring kid about the French revolution, and watched half of the film 'KAW'. KAW=Blah.
That was my awesome weekend.
What did you guys do on your awesome weekend?
Friday, November 02, 2007
1. That's crazy, right?
2. It is crazy enough that if my cousin didn't specifically create a costume to wear to this party, I could totally bail on it, right?
3. Does that make anyone else want to go to his house and take a huge dump and not wash your hands?
I feel like I'm going to a party at Monk's. And we'll just leave that message out when I pick up my cousin for the party. "Oh Melanie, please wash your hands ok?"
Accused dentist claims breast rubs appropriate
Deputy Attorney General Jeffrey Phillips gave Lew three new complaints, including one from a 31-year-old woman who said Anderson fondled her at least six times over two years.
The above is either the best blond joke ever or her dentist was hot too.
You may file this under:
-plots for 3rd rate porn.
-the kinds of fantasies Quiana has while proofreading data.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Here are some pix:
Steve at Wendy's. As Wendy. The workers there were most tickled, but my inside pictures did not come out well.
Speed hump ahead, 20 miles per hour! That's a lot of friction.
Pictured: Steve, me as Max from Where the Wild Things Are, and Addy as a sexy pirate. Ok fine, a regular pirate.
Here you will see Angie as Britney Spears, Jess as a naughty nurse, and me.
I believe RAWWWWR is the caption for this picture!
Angie- note the amazing ink, done by yours truly.
A bosom. Now pay me the $20, Steve.
Steve after a few beverages....
Holy crap! It's my giant ass!
The trouble with tribbles.
Who's the real Max?
Here is a photo taken just minutes ago from my second story office window. They are nestled in the wisteria of the catwalk.
No doubt my striped tailed stalkers realized they had been noticed and adopted Nature's age old trick, pretending to be asleep.
I tell you that Nature is trying to stifle their opposition, starting first with public dissenters. My masked would-be assassins, 3 slumbering (or are they?!) raccoons are not the first.
Well, Nature, nice try. Just so you know, I sleep with one eye open and a loaded shotgun.