Monthly Archive for June, 2001

Page 2 of 12

hotwired

i am an office trollOn My Lunch Break I Listened To:

Flesh for Lulu
Luscious Jackson (why? I don’t know?)
James
The Rachels
Tortoise

Night in the Life Of:

I shit you not people, you are dealing with a grade-A idiot.

Last night I am calmly watching the daily show, eating dinner (cereal and corona, Sig other has decided I have overactive testosterone) and cleaning my ears. Even I get waxy buildup. Apparently something Jon said must have stricken me as funny, because I inadvertantly RAMMED THE QTIP INTO MY BRAIN. While this will seem amusing by next week, I was writhing in pain last night. I thought I had punctured my eardrum, and I have a vicious earache today. Ow. Being stupid hurts.

Living’s Easy

It’s hot out, and I am a summertime girl. Break out the uneven cutoffs so old your pockets hang out. Break out the addicting scent of sunscreen. (it’s like crack for your nose! okay, maybe that’s just me) Break out the slurpees and sweatbugs. I love me some summer.

Unfortunately, I get to spend my summer (I still think of it as vacation…joke’s on me) inside. In an office. Gathering the pallor of a “Magic: the Gathering” pro. Good effing god. I need real sunlight, people. Not this flourescent crap. I am wilting already. Come July, I’ll just be in pain.

It hasn’t been decided yet whether Sig Other and I are going to play Hip in NYC this weekend or not. But if we don’t, it’s beachtime, dammit.

Time to quit the office job maybe. I’ll give it another little while. Cause, if I’m not here, who’s going to take over the coveted position of office airhead?

Exactly.

PS Two funny things:

–Some fathers are going all out to earn their daughters a VIP package to meet and greet *N’SYNC.
The fathers are playing a giant round of musical chairs that began at 7 a.m. this morning. Two fathers and their lucky daughters will win the chance to hang out with the band.

–New “interactive television” devices that combine the flexibility of the Internet with TV’s narcotic allure will deliver entertainment at the cost of personal privacy, according to a report released on Tuesday.

All my Daddy ever does for me is call up people and threaten to sue them for rear-ending his daughter, and tell good poop jokes. Musical chairs might be beneath him

TV’s “narcotic allure.” Just like sunscreen.

lady cab driver

Today was a random one. I went in to work late cos I wanted to get a few extra hours of sleep. Comp time rocks. I ended up bleeding it for all it was worth. I got to go to the post office to check my PO Box and send off a few very over due packages. The Post Office is a grand place. People get rather antsy there, but they dont realize what a great and amazing place the post office is. I still am mezmorized about how it works and how shit gets to different places at different speeds. I’d love to ship myself somewhere in a glass box with a good supply of lactaid free chocolate milk and some Lucky Charms cereal. Someday, I’ll have my Charlie and the Chocolate Factory adventure.

Then I went to work. It is a good week cos the pseudo boss is on vacation. It’s weird cos I have a real boss who doesnt reside in the same building. But i get all the cool stuff to put up from the Mtk Manager of DC101 and the Program Dir. So they are in turn the “bosses” – But technically they arent, so I really work for myself. Very cool in the long run. So basically the day was anticipating the dinner we had after work. It was a very informal dinner. I wasnt even sure what it was for. But I went only wanting to leave early to see the premeire of AI that we were doing. I did break away as I would have normally from the part and ventured to see it with a few work friends. One of the girls who came with us has the softest skin ever. I wonder what it is. She’s older than me too. I am thinking it’s the lack of drugs factor. But who knows. Why is it all those E-totin’ folk just look ghastly. Maybe drugs make you age. Remember when Perry Farrell got off herioin? Remember Keith Richards. Interesting. I still miss those drugs. Fucking great times. But if i see another fucking glow stick….arg…… Anyways. Soft skin, cool girl. What else can I say. I think that’s about it. Oh yeah, she’s a webmaster too. Heh. I am sick of thinking about “is she my type?!” But during the day I did get to talk to my old friend from college #4 We are going to get together this summer to record some great music. Transistor Theory will rock once again. And that dude from Vitesse will be joining us to make it complete. I am mega excited. Maybe even an OM/Darla Records release is in store.

So AI was actually pretty good. There were lots of scenes that were cliche Kubrick. Which were great. Some great angles and great colors and interesting theme. The problem came in the end when Speilberg got some creativity to him. It ended up looking like ET meets Star Wars with a Teddy Ruxpin. Fucking lame. I laughed out loud a few times. I wasnt the only one. This movie was pretty decent until the last 45mins. What a shame. It had some problems. Yes it did. I wonder what the reviews will say. I bet it dies. And dies quickly. Rock and roll is dead. But I still get a little teary eyed when I hear that Bruce Springsteen song from Jerry McGuire. What a sap i am. SAP! Ha! Whan an “Elle” word. Elle as an adjective. Interesting.

yesiamtalking2u: hiya. smooth picture on moc.

this scented life

Smells Like Hillbilly In Here.

Iknow it’s a cute thread but the “Word Association” game on the O-M BB’s is slowly driving me insane. I don’t know why. 8 billion, indeed.

My ADD is acting up.

Thursday night; Old 97s. It’s kind of like Merle Haggard, Elvis, Green Day, and the Backstreet Boys had a bastardous (is that a word? I didn’t think so) love orgy in Texas. They should stick more country, though. It’s where their skills lie. Besides, too much pop makes my skin itch.

Anyways, Old 97s were indeed mulletriffic and put on a quality, energetic show. (Even if they didn’t play NINETEEN and VICTORIA, they still played DOREEN. Doreen is SUCH the quality redneck song.)

Also, Rhett Miller’s head flops around like a Muppet. He must get migraines.

Friday night I played hearts with my brother and father because ye olde electricity was out all around NOVA. Saturday, Sig Other and I traveled to Baltimore for an O’s game and a little drinky-poo with the Baltimore Real World. And, the new Baltimore roommate has 90210 hair.

Homie Does Indeed Play Dat.

For your pleasure and mine; A Poem by (ahem) Jewel:

I Say to You Idols
I say to you idols
of carefully studied
disillusionment

And you worshipers
who find beauty
in only fallen things

that the greatest
Grace
we can aspire to
is the strength
to see the wounded
walk with the forgotten
and pull ourselves
from the screaming
blood of our losses
to fight on
undaunted
all the more

Wow. Wow wow wow. Gah. Wow. PV High School Lit Mag, watch out. San Dimas High School Football Rules!

I’d Die Without You.

Songs I am thinking of right now, because they are retro! And I should listen to them more. Right now, though, the air is musicless. That’s sucks: When you Come Back to Me (Cohen Version), Martin Gore; Die Without You, PM Dawn; Anna Begins, Counting Crows; Mercy Street, Peter Gabriel; Blood Makes Noise, Suzanne Vega; and House of Pain.

I’d Be Lying if I Said I Didn’t Have Designs On You.

I have decided that if I was in high school in the dirty south in the 1950s and 1960s, I would have had an unbearable crush on someone like my father.

When my father was a young boy, he was friends with all the other poor young boys in his neighborhood, kids with names like Billy Joe. My father was one of few Protestants, and went to Lutheran school. Since the Lutheran school didn’t have any sports teams, my father the athlete (more on this in another post) had to play basketball for Sacred Heart. And whenever he got up to the line to shoot a freethrow, he would cross his heart, just like the Catholic kids.

I don’t know why, I’ve heard this story a million times, but it gets me every time. I guess I’m a sucker for sweetness.

And The Curtain Closes.

Anyone have good stories to share?

The next time I am in some wild orgy involving famous nuclear physicists in leather panties somewhere in Fairbanks, you’ll be the first to know.

PS Mat took this picture at the March O97s concert. It’s not from last night. It is a groovy picture of mullets. So please suck Mat because he is such a talented photographer. And, he has what some people like to call “connections.” He is almost a radio personality! Wow. Anyway, M, have fun on your trip. Be rambunctious. Also, I dig the BW photo from a few posts ago. Can I blatantly steal it?