phonies

Today is sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
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long.

That was obnoxious!

I typed "Jack Kerouac sucks" into Google, and apparently nobody thinks he sucks. I don't really think he sucks, but it would make me feel better if somebody felt that way. Alls I know is that I had to force myself to finish On the Road and I felt guilty about not enjoying it as much as I should. And Dharma Bums, psh, I just quit. I kind of forgot what that's about. Something about traveling around with hippie-jock types and being all Eastern. UH, I don't get it. Jack Kerouac seems like he'd be really annoying to hang out with, he'd be all normal and happy and well-adjusted; Experimenting with drugs. Did Jack Kerouac fuck a lot of girls? I can't remember. I don't really know about him. Is this sacrilegious? I appreciate the stream of consciousness style, but I keep thinking he's an asshole hipster type.

I just looked him up on wikipedia, and started to feel guilty again about not liking him. He influenced a lot of people! He lived a life of heavy drinking! He liked cool things! Then I just stumbled across this:

Kerouac came to be called "the king of the beat generation," a term that he never felt comfortable with, and once observed, I'm not a beatnik, I'm a Catholic

Touché.
Douche!

Part TWO:
Mark and I went to this party/show thing last night, and there was some band making noise/experimental music or something. It was loud, it was what it was. Mark was getting into it, and kept poking me and smiling; I did not want to move to it because most everyone who was was doing it very self-consciously, like they were smarter and more arty than others, and all in on some profound secret. (fyi Mark was not one of those people) Afterwards we argued in a healthy way. I knew he would think I just didn't get it, but I did, it just wasn't that great or much of anything to me. I mean, I think I got it. Mark said they were mixing their hearts and souls together through their sounds, like it was some spiritual thing. (Guilt - I guess I don't have a soul) My closing argument was that those guys totally over planned their wardrobe to make it look like they didn't plan it, and they acted pretentious and hung out with the hottest youngest looking hipster Cobrasnake type girls afterwards. Jack Kerouac would totally be friends with these guys.

I don't know, maybe they're not that bad, and I indeed have no soul and I am unpopular.

short hair

I got my hair cut real short, short enough that I feel breezes from the fan on my neck, and short enough that people don't recognize me right away, do double takes, and must mention the fact that I cut my hair, or they think I will think they are avoiding the topic because they can't bring themselves to say anything nice. It looks good, I think. I like it, do other people like it? I've noticed that guys in general aren't looking at me as much, but certain guys look at me more. I think I now singularly appeal to guys that are INTO girls with short hair. This is fine with me, as they are probably the type to think short hair equals edgy, smart and funny, and I won't get as many hey baby honks because I look tough and not girly. In fact, the probability of getting raped has probably decreased 50% at least. I totally look like a lesbian now; a fellow short haired girl gave me a flirty smile the other night.

The night I got mine cut, Vanessa got hers cut too. She got a cute layered cool/regular/rock n roll cut. We went out to the Continental and met The Worst Asshole Tool In The World. He hit on Vanessa all night because he liked her hair, and bought us 3 rounds of drinks. He kept saying my hair looked horrible and why did I do that, why did Vanessa let me get ugly hair, and I don't appeal to many people, and that I look tough and scary. Then he gave me a full pack of Camel Lights and made fun of me for smoking them ("Why do you smoke 'man cigarettes'?" (he smoked Capris)) and asked why I drank PBR because it's disgusting. He had the haircut that all the 19 year old boys do when they're "emo" and was wearing a pink Gap hoodie and was insecure and nervous about making eye contact. It was like he was trying to be ironic, but failing miserably -- but actually I think he was trying to be ironic about being ironic, while actually being pathetic. I really feel pathetic for thinking about it. I was tired and I just sat there perfunctorily. Vanessa was trying to milk him (of course), because she didn't have much money (of course). So I talked to Nicole about how this guy is The Worst Person I Have Ever Met, and danced while sitting in the booth; the bar was so full I wasn't able to get out of my seat without having to slither through Big Curly Blond Bitch Who Tried To Steal My Cigarettes and Polo Shirt Asshole Who Kept Staring At My Cleavage In Front Of His Girlfriend. Luckily they were at least playing good music (that nobody was cool enough to appreciate). And so, it turns out hating the dude was, surprise, the most entertaining part of the bar! As I always do, I regret going to that shitty bar. Fuck free drinks. He bought Vanessa a shot before we left and said "You are disgusting." His friends all ditched him and he didn't even try to get Vanessa to come home with him.

Some drama I want to avoid.

Geez I am sorry about the last entry, Blog! It could only be described as bland, boring and purposeless. It's just so hard to think straight over here. I can't get into a groove. That sounds gross.

Why am I typing this?

Yesterday night HL had a bunch of her annoying (I can only assume) teenager friends over to (I can only assume) do a bunch of coke, while drinking Sparks at the same time (guaranteed heart attack formula). I could hear them in the kitchen while I read the Reader topless in my bedroom before bed. The Reader had a thing about local screenprinters, the printing "scene", and their work that was pretty good and cool. It ended up making me feel a bit depressed, as I looked at the screen sitting against my wall. I want to use it, but have no facilities. Well, I guess I could get it together at home, but it seems like the most annoying hassle ever. Everything would be dirty and the sink would be perpetually clogged with ink. All of my wet prints would get cat hair all over them. Then I'd have to buy a table and clamps and a light and more. It would make a lot of sense to go somewhere to screenprint, but I feel defeated already, because that requires being social enough to seek that out, like these people, who are productive enough to be featured in the Reader and who apparently have "studios" and "friends". I sat on the bed feeling pathetic. Accepting that I am just too socially inept to change my position in life, I figured I might as well accept it, and stick to things where I don't need facilities or other people, and I just lied there feeling helpless and whiny for a second, comparing myself to others. BUT(!) before it got TOO far, I turned it into RAGE and directed it towards HL!!!

See, we kicked out the crazy old roommate with a note, and I haven't had the balls or the patience or the desire, really, to face her in reality. Instead, I am working through this conflict the best and most fun way I can, which is in my head. I imagine her reading the note. She goes through the stages of denial, anger, depression, and acceptance. In my mind, her reaction is full of hurt and anger and immaturity and cluelessness about the reasons as to why, and this is so much more preferable than if we actually talked about it as "adults". This way, I am allowed to hate her comfortably from a distance. I don't run the risk of seeing her blotchy face and developing these wimpy empathic feelings and then start being nice to her by accident. I don't want to end up saying something like "Sorry we had to do this." I am not sorry. I'm GLAD she had obnoxious people over last night and I could hear them until 6am having (what I assume is) contrived conversations, all speaking and acting like characters in a book or movie, romanticizing self-destructive drug usage, in the annoying way. (the let's watch "Requiem For A Dream" way (actually, she has watched that more than once since moving in, I think)) It makes it much easier for me. We've been hiding in our bedrooms with the doors locked. Mark is out of town and I plan to go hide out there some, hang out with Smiles Davis and Shirley, maybe clean out the Crock Pot that's been molding in the fridge for months. I should take Ludwig with me.

I am full off of a salad.

I am very full and satisfied after eating my salad for lunch today. It was accompanied by a cup of water with Emergen-C residue that was stuck to the inside of the mug. In fact, I might say that I am overly satisfied by my salad. A salad is real food.

Today's trip to Jewel was eventful, because there were 4 people at the salad bar that all began the construction of a unique salad simultaneously. It made for awkward maneuvering around the ingredients, but being from the city and not as timid as considerate suburbanites, I plowed ahead and finished mine first. But I forgot to grab a fork with a folded napkin wrapped in plastic (instead I used a fork from work, and a paper towel from work). My ideal salad these days contains: lettuce, spinach, shredded carrot, 2 cherry tomatoes, green onions, 2 slices of cucumber, broccoli, chopped red onion, chickpeas, bean sprouts, red pepper flakes, light french dressing, a sprinkling of sunflower seeds, giardinera, topped with a taste of tuna. (wow! no wonder I am full!) Today at Jewel I also bought Midol because I'm bloated and cramping. Now I'm slightly floating above my desk chair.

Well, off I go to peruse other internet sites.

Nancy has gone to China.

Next week is going to seem like a year, because Nancy is in China, and she will be there all next week. While I am eating tuna at my desk and writing yelp reviews, it won't even be the afternoon in China. I will not receive any fucked up links sent personally to me, nor will I have anyone to send them to. I'm starting to get nervous already!

Tonight Gravy Train!!!! is playing at Empty Bottle, and do I have anyone that wants to go with me? No. Without my Lifestyle Partner, my lifestyle is not full.

leggings.

There's something terribly wrong with the opinions people hold these days. And one of those opinions is about LEGGINGS. The multi-purpose spandex infused kind that are available in every shade your heart desires at Target and American Apparel. They are perfect for short short skirts in summer weather, and to add that extra zing to an outfit that just doesn't seem to have enough going on.

It bothers me that some choose to view leggings as something that is acceptable to wear if and only if you are in the 80s or early 90s, and at any other time it is a dumb retro trendy trend. Then there are the leggings skeptics whom may purchase a pair of leggings and then talk about it to their friends in a tone that says, forgive me, for I am being ironic, and then, my, I do feel quite fun! Like I'm in grade school again! (a first revisiting of leggings is akin to jumping in a "Moonbounce") I have overheard conversations such as, "Are leggings actually cool these days? I don't know, I just can't do it." Today, I was reading gofugyourself (well, yeah, they are kind of square, but the writing is actually good and funny), and whoever writes it said:

...I am secretly a total trend-whore (don't tell anyone. The only thing I've been able to resist are leggings. Okay, and tiny vests. And Uggs. And formal shorts...

Ok.

Throw your shallow preconceptions out the window and allow me to demystify Leggings.

Leggings, these days, in 2007, have officially lost all irony. People, for the most part unself-consciously wear leggings, just as you would any other normal article of clothing, like tights. Yes, they are summer tights!

And, so what if they are trendy. It's not some preposterous fashion invention that makes no sense. They look good! Leggings are definitely not on the same par as Uggs, which are just, well, you know....fugs.

They may be somewhat retro, but they are quite reinvented. Walking out the door in leggings does not equal a Clarissa Explains It All wardrobe change. In these modern times, leggings are often paired with skirts instead of oversized t-shirts, with gold jewelry instead of plastic, etc.

My final point is that leggings are not hard to pull off. They look good on every body type and especially on me because I want to wear short H&M skirts and hide my thick pasty legs.

I believe people who are anti-leggings are the same pompous types that call people "hipsters" all the fucking time and still consider mullets to be ugly hipster hairdos. The same people who are afraid to dress fun or different for fear of appearing trendy, stick to bootcut jeans, and decry tapered skinny jeans as hipster asshole jeans. (skinny jeans quickly: they look cooler, are more flattering, and don't scream Casual Friday.) Who really cares anymore. The best way to describe people are as boring/fun, asshole/nice and phony/sincere. PERIOD.

The defense rests its case: My opinion is correct.

double chin

i'm trying this name on for size and stuff.

i was just looking at pictures of this weekend, oops i mean the past two days, which were full of independence day festivities, and i realized that part of the reason i love mark is that his face is puffy.

a lot of times i feel like my face is puffy, too.

i think it is awesome how in pictures, he can look bloated and insane, AND still hot. i like to kiss his double chin because it makes him slightly self conscious. but not only that, but because i love it. it's so funny and purposeless. it's not in proportion to the rest of his face and body, as the rest of him is much more slim. i don't understand how it manages to exists. it is steadfastly fighting against all odds, for no reason at all. perhaps this is why i love it. i love that everyone hates double chins, and so, i feel rebellious in loving one. i hate my own. this is starting to sound boring and fruedian, that loving his is my way of accepting myself, but isn't that what a large part of love is. i imagine slicing it off of his face with a knife and squeezing in my hands like a stress ball, rubbing my hand back and forth over the stubble, and grasping it in my sleep.

i think i may fictionalize this, and then i wouldn't be embarrassed if people read it.

pretending its the worst day of my life

i have unofficially declared today "the worst day of my life", just for fun.

i'm making audible groans of disgust and annoyance as i read my email. i looked at hl's myspace page to piss myself off. i visited thesuperficial.com before lunch. i stared at the toilet paper in the basket on the sink in the bathroom and just resigned myself to letting it demean me (if i move it, they will just move it back, what's the point).

nancy is not at work, so i have nobody to talk to about this, except for you, Blog. i kind of want to change the name of you, Blog (i don't like you current one much and was quite stupid the day i made it (sorry)), and i may change your name to The Worst Day of My Life. kind of cute? too cute? too ironic? what do you think, Blog? i'm not that depressed, really.

it's just that today i am very hungover piece of shit and am angry that this idea -- the idea of having a wednesday holiday off work to get drunk and party all day, and then continuing the work week on thursday and friday -- exists and the universe is actually allowing it to happen. it's not a dream! my thumb keeps twitching.

and, because of a wardrobe mishap (i tried to shotgun a beer, and ended up spilling half of it on my white skirt) and because i was too lazy to stop by my house for new clothes, i'm wearing mark's pants and no underwear, and the zipper doesn't stay up. there's also some dried cum residue on the inside which i noticed while i was peeing, and i can't decide whether to feel slightly disgusted or slightly horny. its both, and the two feelings go hand in hand because i am a dirty person.

quick therapy

i have anxiety about these things right now:
- that nobody will be in the book club i'm trying to start
- is there a reason people don't write me more
- am i capable of putting together a simple book club, or will this be another failed idea?
- mark being unemployed
- trapped at my job
- people responding to my myspace messages
- what i am going to do tonight
- what i am going to do on fourth of july
- getting license plates for my car
- that everyone secretly hates me
- that mark is secretly mad at me
- that maybe my throat is closing up
- the chances of getting a disease
- why do my eyes burn
- do i talk too much on the internet?
help

goodbye, june

I'm pissed that it's July and June is over. June is the best month of the whole year, and I'm feeling a bit of midsummer depression. I don't want summer to be almost half over. I want it to be summer for a whole year. I have not even sweat enough this year. It's the most depressing thing in the world working full time in the summer. AND Mark called me this morning, telling me he's getting laid off or a pay cut. If he leaves, he gets 16 weeks pay!!! I'm so jealous. 4 months of pay...without working...LUCKY. He gets to enjoy the rest of the summer, while I sit here writing a slightly bitchy email to Cracker Barrel, letting the best days of my life slip away, as we know they do, after 4th of July. I haven't even really been swimming.