..I had no idea.
This is what I wrote*:
Hi Santa, it's me, [miss.chief]. I live with [dr.claw] now, don't get lost!
This year I am hoping to get a real camera. If that's too expensive I'd really like a "toy" Holga camera, preferably in a bright color. And the 'starter kit' too.
I would also be excited to get books, money, a gift certificate so I can buy some new pants, a new bra, a vacation to somewhere interesting, a home-made card, candy, beer, a haircut, a warm sweater, RAM for my mexican laptop, a high-five, new socks, tights, a new winter jacket, fancy expensive non-milk chocolate, a kitten or two, a new kitchen table and chairs, Jenga, Clue (but not if the sexy lady is on the box)**, pickled lemons or a shopping spree at a used book store.
Oh, and can you please get [dr.claw] some new slippers?
Thank you! I hope you don't think you have to get me all of these things; one or two is enough for me.
Have a good day!
[miss.c]
so dr.claw had a look at my letter.
then he took a pen and drew circles around certain words. and then probably started winking at me or doing hip thrusts or something.
why?
see for yourself:
Hi Santa, it's me, [miss.chief]. I live with [dr.claw] now, don't get lost!
This year I am hoping to get a real camera. If that's too expensive I'd really like a "toy" Holga camera, preferably in a bright color. And the 'starter kit' too.
I would also be excited to get books, money, a gift certificate so I can buy some new pants, a new bra, a vacation to somewhere interesting, a home-made card, candy, beer, a haircut, a warm sweater, RAM for my mexican laptop, a high-five, new socks, tights, a new winter jacket, fancy expensive non-milk chocolate, a kitten or two, a new kitchen table and chairs, Jenga, Clue (but not if the sexy lady is on the box)**, pickled lemons or a shopping spree at a used book store.
Oh, and can you please get [dr.claw] some new slippers?
Thank you! I hope you don't think you have to get me all of these things; one or two is enough for me.
Have a good day!
[miss.c]
yeah.
so there you have it.
merry christmas?
*FYI: I don't normally write real live letters to santa, but all the kids were doing it and I didn't want to feel left out.
**well I can't find a picture of the box I've been seeing everywhere but it's basically all this sexy half undressed woman on the front. Is there even a sexy lady in the game? I refuse to pay money for it.
Friday, December 11
Thursday, December 10
write about yourself
I am jealous of people who have a journal.
Sure, I have a blog that I write in every day, but it's not the same.
That feeling of holding something in your hands, filled with secrets and memorabilia...it's different. It's way more special.
And the thing is, it's not for a lack of trying. I'm just a terrible journal user. I have like 35 little moleskine/bamboo/regular cardboard notebooks around. I usually have at least one with me at all times so I can jot down random thoughts. I just can't commit to one.
And I'm too embarrassed to write in one in public.
And I'm too afraid that somebody will find it and learn all my secrets, so I always write in them the way I write on here; I write as though somebody is going to read it.
It's not for me, it's for the person who digs it out of a steamer trunk full of old furs and black and white photographs they find in their grandma's attic.
Also, I have old journals and diaries from past lives. I always used them when I was unhappy, and they are terrible to look through because you can smell the depression through the "it'll get better"s and the "it's only temporary"s and the "my job is ok"s. You can see the breakups a mile away. You can tell I was dying inside a little bit. And yet I still wrote as though somebody was going to go through my stuff and read it at any moment.
Worst of all, even though I'm an imaginative silly person, my diaries are boring. I never let myself be creative.
That's why I'm so haphazard with my journalling now. It fits my lifestyle better than the DATE EVENT FEELINGS type journal. I have no dates in the books and I write on any page. I draw stupid pictures and write down conversations I hear.
It works. ANd they're fun to look at.
Maybe that's just how my mind is.
But I still envy those neat tidy journals other people keep.
So do you keep a journal? What's it like?
Sure, I have a blog that I write in every day, but it's not the same.
That feeling of holding something in your hands, filled with secrets and memorabilia...it's different. It's way more special.
And the thing is, it's not for a lack of trying. I'm just a terrible journal user. I have like 35 little moleskine/bamboo/regular cardboard notebooks around. I usually have at least one with me at all times so I can jot down random thoughts. I just can't commit to one.
And I'm too embarrassed to write in one in public.
And I'm too afraid that somebody will find it and learn all my secrets, so I always write in them the way I write on here; I write as though somebody is going to read it.
It's not for me, it's for the person who digs it out of a steamer trunk full of old furs and black and white photographs they find in their grandma's attic.
Also, I have old journals and diaries from past lives. I always used them when I was unhappy, and they are terrible to look through because you can smell the depression through the "it'll get better"s and the "it's only temporary"s and the "my job is ok"s. You can see the breakups a mile away. You can tell I was dying inside a little bit. And yet I still wrote as though somebody was going to go through my stuff and read it at any moment.
Worst of all, even though I'm an imaginative silly person, my diaries are boring. I never let myself be creative.
That's why I'm so haphazard with my journalling now. It fits my lifestyle better than the DATE EVENT FEELINGS type journal. I have no dates in the books and I write on any page. I draw stupid pictures and write down conversations I hear.
It works. ANd they're fun to look at.
Maybe that's just how my mind is.
But I still envy those neat tidy journals other people keep.
So do you keep a journal? What's it like?
Tuesday, December 8
yet another 'why I hate your blog'
I've noticed a huuuuge amount of woman bashing going on in blog land lately.
And the craziest part is that it's mainly girl-bloggers that I read!
Dudes. Seriously. Cut it out.
Sweeping remarks on how girls hate sports or love shoes and hair product are not winning you any favors over here. Stop quoting Cosmo magazine and stressing the importance of eye liner when you're out on the all important first date. OMG if he doesn't ask you on a second date you might as well kill yourself! You'd better demean yourself and have perky breasts when you're 30 or else nobody will love you!
I've been tempted to unsubscribe to three of you recently because of it.
Get this through your retarded brainwashed skulls: There is nothing wrong with being feminist.
Feminist does not mean "MAN HATING BUTCH"
You can love yourself and participate in society without being a vapid sexualized tart with no brains who totally loves shopping and junk!
Have some respect for yourself and women everywhere. Think about what you say before you post.
______________
While I'm back on the topic of things I don't like reading about, here's another:
anti-veganism.
It's so hot right now, to mock vegans. And it's so hilarious to say things like "I'm a carnivore and vegans are unhealthy, LOL stupid vegans, they're so stupid and self-riteous and stupid."
You know what? Maybe some are but once again you are making sweeping generalizations about a huge group of people. I happen to admire the vegans I know for their commitment to animal rights causes.
I'm a vegetarian. Is that funny to you? Is it "totally lame" that I don't like eating dead bodies? Have you ever asked yourself why you feel that way about vegans and vegetarians? Because I bet you can't come up with a solid reason other than "they're different".
It's not funny. Cut it out.
(no idea who this guy is)
p.s. to all my vegan/vegetarian brethern - you may need this over the holidays:
(click to make it hard. BIG. I MEAN BIG. MAKE IT BIG)
he's as bad as I am **NOW WITH MORE DR.CLAW**
Not only was I cold as ice yesterday, Dr.Claw was too!
At the library he was looking at the movies beside a woman and her small child. The woman was deeply engrossed in finding the perfect movie, while her child was saying "UP UP UP" and pointing.
The woman was all "not now, let's find a movie and then I'll pick you up"
...turns out the child was pointing to the Pixar movie UP.
Dr.Claw noticed, said thanks to the kid, and took the movie!
Talk about heartless.
(just kidding, yo. but seriously, that's harsh)
___________
okay so the good doctor was up all night, "working" and he decided to write me a "surprise guest post" on a sheet of paper about this event.
here we go:
Surprise Guest Blogger: The Long Arm of the Claw
I enjoy the library. Most people use it for books but I prefer to have my own collection of books on the fireplace mantel. I usually use the library to rent DVDs. Hey they are free and you can order almost anything (as long as you're willing to wait 3 months to get it).
Yesterday I was at the library looking at movies and there was a grandma and granddaughter checking out the collection of available DVDs beside me. The 2 year old kept telling her grandma "Up, up, up" but granny was too busy looking at the geriatric ward porn collection (Richard Gere and Antonio Banderas movies!)
"Up, up, up," continued the little girl.
"I'll pick you up in a minute dear," replied granny.
"Up, up, up"
Geez, give the kid some attention, I thought.
Then I saw it. The movie "Up" was on the shelf directly in front of grandma. I was number 212 on the wait list for this (yes, I am too cheap to pay to rent it) and as I stared at the movie I realized the little girl was not reaching for her grandma, she was reaching for "Up"!
"Up, up, up"
Alright, I had enough. I politely asked granny to excuse my reach and picked "Up" off the shelf. With "Up" in my hand and the little girl smiling at me I gave her a smile and a wink and walked away.
As I signed out the movie I had noticed that the little girl had stopped saying "up". You're welcome grandma.
Another random act of kindness. I'm a giver.
Dr. Claw
At the library he was looking at the movies beside a woman and her small child. The woman was deeply engrossed in finding the perfect movie, while her child was saying "UP UP UP" and pointing.
The woman was all "not now, let's find a movie and then I'll pick you up"
...turns out the child was pointing to the Pixar movie UP.
Dr.Claw noticed, said thanks to the kid, and took the movie!
Talk about heartless.
(just kidding, yo. but seriously, that's harsh)
___________
okay so the good doctor was up all night, "working" and he decided to write me a "surprise guest post" on a sheet of paper about this event.
here we go:
Surprise Guest Blogger: The Long Arm of the Claw
I enjoy the library. Most people use it for books but I prefer to have my own collection of books on the fireplace mantel. I usually use the library to rent DVDs. Hey they are free and you can order almost anything (as long as you're willing to wait 3 months to get it).
Yesterday I was at the library looking at movies and there was a grandma and granddaughter checking out the collection of available DVDs beside me. The 2 year old kept telling her grandma "Up, up, up" but granny was too busy looking at the geriatric ward porn collection (Richard Gere and Antonio Banderas movies!)
"Up, up, up," continued the little girl.
"I'll pick you up in a minute dear," replied granny.
"Up, up, up"
Geez, give the kid some attention, I thought.
Then I saw it. The movie "Up" was on the shelf directly in front of grandma. I was number 212 on the wait list for this (yes, I am too cheap to pay to rent it) and as I stared at the movie I realized the little girl was not reaching for her grandma, she was reaching for "Up"!
"Up, up, up"
Alright, I had enough. I politely asked granny to excuse my reach and picked "Up" off the shelf. With "Up" in my hand and the little girl smiling at me I gave her a smile and a wink and walked away.
As I signed out the movie I had noticed that the little girl had stopped saying "up". You're welcome grandma.
Another random act of kindness. I'm a giver.
Dr. Claw
Monday, December 7
some things I didn't do today at the bus stop
1. offer to tell two blind people what busses were pulling up
2. leap out of the way of a man in a wheelchair when he wanted to shove his way past me
3. listen to a hustler's speech about how i could save 50 cents if i bought bus tickets from him
4. tell the blind man that water was dripping on his dog
5. tell the blind couple that they were in the wheelchair man's way
6. acknowledge the (late) bus driver
7. care
Sometimes I am cold as ice.
But I did laugh when the bus driver yelled at an old man for not covering his mouth when he coughed. That made my day.
2. leap out of the way of a man in a wheelchair when he wanted to shove his way past me
3. listen to a hustler's speech about how i could save 50 cents if i bought bus tickets from him
4. tell the blind man that water was dripping on his dog
5. tell the blind couple that they were in the wheelchair man's way
6. acknowledge the (late) bus driver
7. care
Sometimes I am cold as ice.
But I did laugh when the bus driver yelled at an old man for not covering his mouth when he coughed. That made my day.
dead worms guest post
well, you guys. go here.
i wrote about dead worms.
and lana is cool.
one time, she mailed me a t-shirt that says no birds allowed on it. to my house.
that's right, she has my home address!
and i think i told her my real name too.
for the rest of you who got on board with my idea of doing guest posts throughout december, don't worry, i'm working on them!
i wrote about dead worms.
and lana is cool.
one time, she mailed me a t-shirt that says no birds allowed on it. to my house.
that's right, she has my home address!
and i think i told her my real name too.
for the rest of you who got on board with my idea of doing guest posts throughout december, don't worry, i'm working on them!
Sunday, December 6
as i was lying in bed last night...
I heard a sound.
Police sirens in my quiet neighborhood? Fire trucks too?
I was tired and tried to ignore them and go to sleep.
But then I heard the semi-truck horns.
According to dr.claw I ran out of the bedroom shouting "the trucks are here! the trucks are here!" in my pajamas, flailing my winter jacket around and putting my boots on, whereas I remember calmly telling him "i'm going to look at the trucks" as I went out the door.
Believe whichever one of us you want.
It was windy out. That cold, winter-type wind. My thigh-length jacked whipped around my body and I pulled the hood up over my head. And I ran.
I full-out sprinted to the main street of our neighborhood.
I could hear cheering and horns in the distance.
I felt like I was six years old, running to watch the parade.
I ran through the gas station parking lot and joined the rest of the people; mostly families with small children who waved at every single truck. There are more than 80 of them every year, covered in christmas decorations.
It's a little redneck, but it's a lot awesome.
I mean, what's the best part of a parade?
When the fire truck blows its horn, right?
What's the coolest part about driving down the highway?
Getting truckers to blow their horn, maybe if you're mentally disabled? I don't know.
Anyway it was awesome.
I didn't get any pictures as I was a little unprepared (Like...you know, in my pajamas running down the street) but last year I took this video.
my favorite one is at 3:47
Police sirens in my quiet neighborhood? Fire trucks too?
I was tired and tried to ignore them and go to sleep.
But then I heard the semi-truck horns.
According to dr.claw I ran out of the bedroom shouting "the trucks are here! the trucks are here!" in my pajamas, flailing my winter jacket around and putting my boots on, whereas I remember calmly telling him "i'm going to look at the trucks" as I went out the door.
Believe whichever one of us you want.
It was windy out. That cold, winter-type wind. My thigh-length jacked whipped around my body and I pulled the hood up over my head. And I ran.
I full-out sprinted to the main street of our neighborhood.
I could hear cheering and horns in the distance.
I felt like I was six years old, running to watch the parade.
I ran through the gas station parking lot and joined the rest of the people; mostly families with small children who waved at every single truck. There are more than 80 of them every year, covered in christmas decorations.
It's a little redneck, but it's a lot awesome.
I mean, what's the best part of a parade?
When the fire truck blows its horn, right?
What's the coolest part about driving down the highway?
Getting truckers to blow their horn, maybe if you're mentally disabled? I don't know.
Anyway it was awesome.
I didn't get any pictures as I was a little unprepared (Like...you know, in my pajamas running down the street) but last year I took this video.
my favorite one is at 3:47
Friday, December 4
chronicals of a self-foot shooter: my day in complaints.
I always dig my own grave.
I make my bed and lie in it.
I lie down with the dogs.
Today was one of those days where everything goes wrong. AND IT WAS ALL MY FAULT! I have nobody to blame but MEEEE.
Why?
Why oh why do I do this to myself?
Let's start at the beginning. Last night...hmm...no, wait. It all started like seven weeks ago when I first decided to leave writing a paper to the last minute.
Ah yes, the old "I work better under pressure" procrastination strategy.
Anyway, fade to last night. The scene was something like this.
Me: oh dear, i sure wish this paper was done
Dr.Claw: yeah, i wanted to buy us some wine, but...
Me: OKAY IM DONE! (lying)
So, eleventy bajillion glasses of wine later and yeah. It was bed time.
No worries, I thought,I'll just get up early and finish it in the morning.
Yeah. I did.
5:00am - I hungoveredly rolled out of bed. Literally. Rolled. And I made coffee, and I felt disgusting, but I pulled myself together and finished the thing.
9:00 - I made it to school, all the way to the computer lab, and remembered that it costs ten cents per page.
So I got out my wallet and noticed that I had ZERO CENTS.
NOOOOOO!
I had forgotten to bring any money!
(This also meant no lunch for me.)
As I tried to figure out what to do, I noticed I had an old printer card in my backpack. I tried it out and it had exactly the amount of money I needed on it to print the thing.
So I did, with ten minutes to go before the class started.
I sat at the computer, and decided that maybe I should give one last look at the paper outline, you know, just to be sure.
Yeah, you know, the outline I hadn't looked at for weeks before I started writing the thing.
The one I probably should have looked at a hundred times and actually read once or twice and you know, followed the instructions.
Oh. No.
I looked at it. And it turns out I wrote the paper on the wrong thing. It was like a scene out of a (kind of lame) nightmare. My stomach dropped and tears came to my eyes.
Anyway I thought and thought, and I realized all was not lost. It wasn't technically due until 4 in the afternoon, so I could attend all the classes and still have 2 hours left to fix the mess I had gotten myself into and somehow magically turn it into a masterpiece.
Except...I just spent my last money on printing the wrong paper!
Oh, woe was me. To the max.
So I played my damsel in distress card and called Dr.Claw who laughed at me and then agreed to drive the 20 minutes to my school to bring me three dollars so I could print everything I needed.
9:30 - Relieved but still worried because I wasn't sure if I could pull it off, I went to class.
10:30 - during my hour break I ran to the library and did some frantic research, eventually finding something that fit into the basic framework of the paper I already had, which was good.
Then, just as I was getting into the whole 'writing an emergency paper at a hectic pace while simultaneously pulling my hair out' flow it was time to go to my next class.
11:30 - I packed up all my biznasss and went to class.
Which was unmistakably absent one professor.
We were all "WHAT THE EFF?" because we were supposed to receive our take-home final exam. So we waited and waited, because WHAT THE EFF? and then a guy came in and was all "hey didn't you guys get the e-mail? there's no class today."
and we were all like "nope, didn't get it. P.S. WHY ARE YOU HERE if you got the e-mail?" and it turns out he just wanted to make sure? Anyway it was weird.
So uhm. yeah. Waste of time, much?
By then we had all been sitting there for like half of the class, and only had half an hour until an exam that like 15 of us were about to write. So we just stayed in the classroom and went over all this literature that we were about to be tested on.
I debated going back to the library to work on the paper because the deadline was absolutely looming, but
*sigh*
I hadn't studied for the exam and really needed to glean some info from the other students.
12:30 Exam time.we went to the classroom and got ready to write. Our prof came in and said we had something to do after the test, so we should stick around.
I got all huffy about it because HELLOOOOO, PAPER TO FIX! Doesn't she know I have somewhere to be?
Then the effing test consisted of phrases that were found within the stories we had to read. We had to name the story, the author, and explain why the phrase was important.
It had things like a street name, "crocodile wallet", and "putting laxatives in coffee" which, if you didn't read the story and pretty much memorize it word for word, you wouldn't know.
I was done early. I'm always finished exams quickly because I don't obsess over the things I don't know; if I don't know it, I don't know it. And I'm a fast reader. And I'm used to writing things off the top of my head. (Thanks, blog!)
So I sat there and waited for the slowpokes to finish.
Oh, hey, did I mention I was hung over all day too? And really hungry by this time?
Anyway so I waited until every single person finished their stupid exam and you know what the 'thing we had to do' was?
A freaking Christmas party!
My prof pulled a bunch of egg nog out of her purse, plastic cups and some kind of cake/bread thing. I assume it was delicious because she's from Italy and I'm racist and think Italians know everything about food for some reason.
Anyway by this time I was over the moon with anxiety, which might be an oxymoron but I'm not sure. I just wanted to get the eff out of there and finish the paper already! GEEZ!
So I marched to the front of the class and kind of rudely asked if that was all we were doing.
She said yes and I was soooo outta there. I even refused to take some cake thing with me.
Hm, now that I'm here in my story I've realized that it's sort of anticlimactic. I finished the paper, Dr.C showed up with three dollars in loonies for me, and I ran into the computer lab which had line-ups to use the computers.
But the wheelchair accessible computer did not have a line.
Yeah. I used it.
What? It was an emergency.
I stood, kind of hovering over it, because if I sat in a chair in front of it that would be official that I was using the wheelchair computer, and that would be wrong, right? I was trying to look inconspicuous even though I was the only person standing up in the entire room. Also, the desk was really low so this was even more awkward than it should have been.
So then basically I handed it in on time while Dr.Claw was waiting in the parking lot for me that whole time, and so he basically wins the best boyfriend on earth award today.
Then we went home and watched Escape From New York, which is horrible except for the chandelier car. The car made it all worth while.
SO yeah. Um. Stupid day. i'm glad it's over.
~fin~
I make my bed and lie in it.
I lie down with the dogs.
Today was one of those days where everything goes wrong. AND IT WAS ALL MY FAULT! I have nobody to blame but MEEEE.
Why?
Why oh why do I do this to myself?
Let's start at the beginning. Last night...hmm...no, wait. It all started like seven weeks ago when I first decided to leave writing a paper to the last minute.
Ah yes, the old "I work better under pressure" procrastination strategy.
Anyway, fade to last night. The scene was something like this.
Me: oh dear, i sure wish this paper was done
Dr.Claw: yeah, i wanted to buy us some wine, but...
Me: OKAY IM DONE! (lying)
So, eleventy bajillion glasses of wine later and yeah. It was bed time.
No worries, I thought,I'll just get up early and finish it in the morning.
Yeah. I did.
5:00am - I hungoveredly rolled out of bed. Literally. Rolled. And I made coffee, and I felt disgusting, but I pulled myself together and finished the thing.
9:00 - I made it to school, all the way to the computer lab, and remembered that it costs ten cents per page.
So I got out my wallet and noticed that I had ZERO CENTS.
NOOOOOO!
I had forgotten to bring any money!
(This also meant no lunch for me.)
As I tried to figure out what to do, I noticed I had an old printer card in my backpack. I tried it out and it had exactly the amount of money I needed on it to print the thing.
So I did, with ten minutes to go before the class started.
I sat at the computer, and decided that maybe I should give one last look at the paper outline, you know, just to be sure.
Yeah, you know, the outline I hadn't looked at for weeks before I started writing the thing.
The one I probably should have looked at a hundred times and actually read once or twice and you know, followed the instructions.
Oh. No.
I looked at it. And it turns out I wrote the paper on the wrong thing. It was like a scene out of a (kind of lame) nightmare. My stomach dropped and tears came to my eyes.
Anyway I thought and thought, and I realized all was not lost. It wasn't technically due until 4 in the afternoon, so I could attend all the classes and still have 2 hours left to fix the mess I had gotten myself into and somehow magically turn it into a masterpiece.
Except...I just spent my last money on printing the wrong paper!
Oh, woe was me. To the max.
So I played my damsel in distress card and called Dr.Claw who laughed at me and then agreed to drive the 20 minutes to my school to bring me three dollars so I could print everything I needed.
9:30 - Relieved but still worried because I wasn't sure if I could pull it off, I went to class.
10:30 - during my hour break I ran to the library and did some frantic research, eventually finding something that fit into the basic framework of the paper I already had, which was good.
Then, just as I was getting into the whole 'writing an emergency paper at a hectic pace while simultaneously pulling my hair out' flow it was time to go to my next class.
11:30 - I packed up all my biznasss and went to class.
Which was unmistakably absent one professor.
We were all "WHAT THE EFF?" because we were supposed to receive our take-home final exam. So we waited and waited, because WHAT THE EFF? and then a guy came in and was all "hey didn't you guys get the e-mail? there's no class today."
and we were all like "nope, didn't get it. P.S. WHY ARE YOU HERE if you got the e-mail?" and it turns out he just wanted to make sure? Anyway it was weird.
So uhm. yeah. Waste of time, much?
By then we had all been sitting there for like half of the class, and only had half an hour until an exam that like 15 of us were about to write. So we just stayed in the classroom and went over all this literature that we were about to be tested on.
I debated going back to the library to work on the paper because the deadline was absolutely looming, but
*sigh*
I hadn't studied for the exam and really needed to glean some info from the other students.
12:30 Exam time.we went to the classroom and got ready to write. Our prof came in and said we had something to do after the test, so we should stick around.
I got all huffy about it because HELLOOOOO, PAPER TO FIX! Doesn't she know I have somewhere to be?
Then the effing test consisted of phrases that were found within the stories we had to read. We had to name the story, the author, and explain why the phrase was important.
It had things like a street name, "crocodile wallet", and "putting laxatives in coffee" which, if you didn't read the story and pretty much memorize it word for word, you wouldn't know.
I was done early. I'm always finished exams quickly because I don't obsess over the things I don't know; if I don't know it, I don't know it. And I'm a fast reader. And I'm used to writing things off the top of my head. (Thanks, blog!)
So I sat there and waited for the slowpokes to finish.
Oh, hey, did I mention I was hung over all day too? And really hungry by this time?
Anyway so I waited until every single person finished their stupid exam and you know what the 'thing we had to do' was?
A freaking Christmas party!
My prof pulled a bunch of egg nog out of her purse, plastic cups and some kind of cake/bread thing. I assume it was delicious because she's from Italy and I'm racist and think Italians know everything about food for some reason.
Anyway by this time I was over the moon with anxiety, which might be an oxymoron but I'm not sure. I just wanted to get the eff out of there and finish the paper already! GEEZ!
So I marched to the front of the class and kind of rudely asked if that was all we were doing.
She said yes and I was soooo outta there. I even refused to take some cake thing with me.
Hm, now that I'm here in my story I've realized that it's sort of anticlimactic. I finished the paper, Dr.C showed up with three dollars in loonies for me, and I ran into the computer lab which had line-ups to use the computers.
But the wheelchair accessible computer did not have a line.
Yeah. I used it.
What? It was an emergency.
I stood, kind of hovering over it, because if I sat in a chair in front of it that would be official that I was using the wheelchair computer, and that would be wrong, right? I was trying to look inconspicuous even though I was the only person standing up in the entire room. Also, the desk was really low so this was even more awkward than it should have been.
So then basically I handed it in on time while Dr.Claw was waiting in the parking lot for me that whole time, and so he basically wins the best boyfriend on earth award today.
Then we went home and watched Escape From New York, which is horrible except for the chandelier car. The car made it all worth while.
SO yeah. Um. Stupid day. i'm glad it's over.
~fin~
Wednesday, December 2
december guest posts
Dear everybody:
I know I said I would write guest posts in December but I DIDNT MEAN DECEMBER FIRST.
This is what I'm dealing with: working too much, 5pg term paper, assignment, quiz, 4pg assignment, 5pg essay, 1pg assignment, final exam, 9pg paper, take home final, and another final exam.
I also have at least one tattoo appointment scheduled and a good friend coming to visit in that time...
So this is what is going on - I will write them when I have time and feel like it. If that doesn't work for you then go away.
End of discussion.
To those of you who have e-mailed me recently to remind me ... sorry if my reply was a little ... uh ... curt. I'm up to here with stress today.
I still plan on doing them all though, if my lack of schedule works for all of you.
I know I said I would write guest posts in December but I DIDNT MEAN DECEMBER FIRST.
This is what I'm dealing with: working too much, 5pg term paper, assignment, quiz, 4pg assignment, 5pg essay, 1pg assignment, final exam, 9pg paper, take home final, and another final exam.
I also have at least one tattoo appointment scheduled and a good friend coming to visit in that time...
So this is what is going on - I will write them when I have time and feel like it. If that doesn't work for you then go away.
End of discussion.
To those of you who have e-mailed me recently to remind me ... sorry if my reply was a little ... uh ... curt. I'm up to here with stress today.
I still plan on doing them all though, if my lack of schedule works for all of you.
I'm thinking of writing a book called 'tales from the bus'...
So when i was on the bus last night i was in a bad mood already due to the fact that I had a 13 hour school day...here are some highlights:
1. watching the end of a depressing movie about the aftermath of Pinochet's crazy politicide plan, where he just got the military to kill everybody, pretty much...
2. Close literary reading of a text from the 1700s in Spanish. AGAIN.
3. Narrowly avoiding eye contact with a group of people who work on the school newspaper.
4. Sitting through a high school English class, pretty much.
This was actually pretty outrageous.
We have a small-ish paper due for this class on Monday, and we had a 'writing workshop' class scheduled for yesterday. Yeah...she was all "you start with an introduction, then you develop your thesis blablablaforafuckinghour!"
really?
wow, HOW THE HELL did anybody make it to a third year class without knowing how to write a paper? I'm pretty sure everybody was on the same page as me, especially when we all had to read our titles out to the class....
yeah. we all took a turn like good little boys and girls reading out our titles.
Every boy in the class was writing about Don Juan, which was awesome.
I made my title up on the spot, while everybody else was talking, and everybody was all "wow, that's a good one" ... thank you blog for making writing easy!
Check out how I wrote it...clearly I had no idea what I was talking about.
Yes...very well planned out...riiiight
_____
Anyway when I got on the bus I had just gotten out of that mother effing four hour film class (THE LAST ONE!) and we had just watched El Crimen de Padre Amarro, which, even though it has Gael Garcia Bernal in it, was still depressing. If you can imagine.
Anyway I still had like an hour left in my journey home when a group of overly cheerful nanas got on the bus. So did their perfume.
I sat there trying to think how I would describe it, were I to write about my bus ride once again on my blog.
Sickly sweet is the cliche thing to say about perfume, right?
So I asked myself "is this 'sickly sweet' to me?"
and it wasn't.
Then I tried to come up with some kind of metaphor or simile that worked for me.
I never quite got there. I had something like
"it feels like the back of my nose is being scorched with acid that smells like fake flowers"
but that's not quite what i was smelling either. The flowers part. The rest was spot on.
I gave up because I was distracted by this conversatio...er...monologue that was going on behind me:
(picture Alicia Silverstone's voice in Clueless)
"Oh. My. God. I. Loooooove your playboy bunny purse! Excuse me? Hello? Excuse me? Excuse me? I love your...excuse me? Hello? I love your purse! I LOVE YOUR PURSE"
(I didn't turn around once to see what was going on but I assume the girl was listening to music and didn't even realize the other one was talking to her.)
"Excuse me? Excuse me? Hello?"
(Finally I guess the girl acknowledged her)
"Hi. I LOVE your playgirl...I mean playboy bunny purse. Ooops hee hee. It is SOOOOOO CUUUUUUUUTE. It's so small. One time I had a purse, but it was like a skull. Like, it was like, black? With a white skull on it? And it was so small, but like yours is cuter because mine had a skull on it, you know? But like, mine was so small but it still fit a water bottle in it? And people used to give me complements on it all the time."
I was in such a confrontational mood, what with the perfume nose assailants and everything that I think if I had been sitting closer I would have turned around and said something.
They just made every woman on that bus into a stereotype. I don't know how, but I feel like when I hear shit like that, I feel like girls are ruining my credibility as a functioning human being.
But I did nothing.
No, that's not true. I turned my music waaaaay up and listened intently to something loud and yelly. And then I felt better.
This blog is so great. Instead of fuming inwardly, and doing nothing about it I added it to my blog equivalent of a spank-bank. Filed under 'the bus' and 'things i don't like'.
and 'hate-orade' for good measure.
Take that, jerks!
1. watching the end of a depressing movie about the aftermath of Pinochet's crazy politicide plan, where he just got the military to kill everybody, pretty much...
2. Close literary reading of a text from the 1700s in Spanish. AGAIN.
3. Narrowly avoiding eye contact with a group of people who work on the school newspaper.
4. Sitting through a high school English class, pretty much.
This was actually pretty outrageous.
We have a small-ish paper due for this class on Monday, and we had a 'writing workshop' class scheduled for yesterday. Yeah...she was all "you start with an introduction, then you develop your thesis blablablaforafuckinghour!"
really?
wow, HOW THE HELL did anybody make it to a third year class without knowing how to write a paper? I'm pretty sure everybody was on the same page as me, especially when we all had to read our titles out to the class....
yeah. we all took a turn like good little boys and girls reading out our titles.
Every boy in the class was writing about Don Juan, which was awesome.
I made my title up on the spot, while everybody else was talking, and everybody was all "wow, that's a good one" ... thank you blog for making writing easy!
Check out how I wrote it...clearly I had no idea what I was talking about.
Yes...very well planned out...riiiight
_____
Anyway when I got on the bus I had just gotten out of that mother effing four hour film class (THE LAST ONE!) and we had just watched El Crimen de Padre Amarro, which, even though it has Gael Garcia Bernal in it, was still depressing. If you can imagine. Anyway I still had like an hour left in my journey home when a group of overly cheerful nanas got on the bus. So did their perfume.
I sat there trying to think how I would describe it, were I to write about my bus ride once again on my blog.
Sickly sweet is the cliche thing to say about perfume, right?
So I asked myself "is this 'sickly sweet' to me?"
and it wasn't.
Then I tried to come up with some kind of metaphor or simile that worked for me.
I never quite got there. I had something like
"it feels like the back of my nose is being scorched with acid that smells like fake flowers"
but that's not quite what i was smelling either. The flowers part. The rest was spot on.
I gave up because I was distracted by this conversatio...er...monologue that was going on behind me:
(picture Alicia Silverstone's voice in Clueless)
"Oh. My. God. I. Loooooove your playboy bunny purse! Excuse me? Hello? Excuse me? Excuse me? I love your...excuse me? Hello? I love your purse! I LOVE YOUR PURSE"
(I didn't turn around once to see what was going on but I assume the girl was listening to music and didn't even realize the other one was talking to her.)
"Excuse me? Excuse me? Hello?"
(Finally I guess the girl acknowledged her)
"Hi. I LOVE your playgirl...I mean playboy bunny purse. Ooops hee hee. It is SOOOOOO CUUUUUUUUTE. It's so small. One time I had a purse, but it was like a skull. Like, it was like, black? With a white skull on it? And it was so small, but like yours is cuter because mine had a skull on it, you know? But like, mine was so small but it still fit a water bottle in it? And people used to give me complements on it all the time."
I was in such a confrontational mood, what with the perfume nose assailants and everything that I think if I had been sitting closer I would have turned around and said something.
They just made every woman on that bus into a stereotype. I don't know how, but I feel like when I hear shit like that, I feel like girls are ruining my credibility as a functioning human being.
But I did nothing.
No, that's not true. I turned my music waaaaay up and listened intently to something loud and yelly. And then I felt better.
This blog is so great. Instead of fuming inwardly, and doing nothing about it I added it to my blog equivalent of a spank-bank. Filed under 'the bus' and 'things i don't like'.
and 'hate-orade' for good measure.
Take that, jerks!
Tuesday, December 1
Monday, November 30
rumbly tummy
Dear stomach,
okay okay I know you were really empty today but what could I do? I was in class. I couldn't just leave.
You really need to learn to relax!
All those noisy protests are going to get you nowhere. And you know what?
I'm just going to say it.
You embarrassed me on the bus.
There. It's out in the open.
That noise you made? You know the one that was supposed to be a growl of hunger? Yeah. It sounded like I farted.
And that is not cool.
You are lucky my mouth likes the taste of fudge so much or you'd be going without any dessert this evening, you big jerk!
From, your pal
Miss. Chief
okay okay I know you were really empty today but what could I do? I was in class. I couldn't just leave.
You really need to learn to relax!
All those noisy protests are going to get you nowhere. And you know what?
I'm just going to say it.
You embarrassed me on the bus.
There. It's out in the open.
That noise you made? You know the one that was supposed to be a growl of hunger? Yeah. It sounded like I farted.
And that is not cool.
You are lucky my mouth likes the taste of fudge so much or you'd be going without any dessert this evening, you big jerk!
From, your pal
Miss. Chief
Sunday, November 29
yesterday@work
I got a free beer out of somebody's locker and possibly an e-mail containing a photo of somebody`s private area (which I will never open. ever. even the thought of opening the e-mail throws acid into my mind`s eye).
I got invited to play poker.
I realized I have four tattoos I have to get soon, all from different people.
I got paid in cash so I can afford rent...yikes I'm broke, haha
The best thing about yesterday was I got to choose the next paint challenge photo.
This is really cool: the guys choose an old piece of tattoo flash, and without looking at what the other people are doing, they create a painting.
Go here to see what the first one, done based off the picture of a girl in a sombrero. (it's the shop apprentice's blog, don't be afraid. he linked to the other ones, i think)
These guys are so effing talented, it blows my mind.
For the next one I chose a really weird looking devil with one shoe on. It's awesome. I can't wait to see what they come up with.
I got invited to play poker.
I realized I have four tattoos I have to get soon, all from different people.
I got paid in cash so I can afford rent...yikes I'm broke, haha
The best thing about yesterday was I got to choose the next paint challenge photo.
This is really cool: the guys choose an old piece of tattoo flash, and without looking at what the other people are doing, they create a painting.
Go here to see what the first one, done based off the picture of a girl in a sombrero. (it's the shop apprentice's blog, don't be afraid. he linked to the other ones, i think)
These guys are so effing talented, it blows my mind.
For the next one I chose a really weird looking devil with one shoe on. It's awesome. I can't wait to see what they come up with.
Friday, November 27
been caught stealing
For some reason I was thinking about my childhood last night, and I remembered the first time I realized what stealing was.
I must have been really young. Like three or four years old. Either that or I was just an idiot who didn't pick up on things very quickly.
We were in the convenience store. I went over to the 5 cent candies and just started eating them. Why not? I wanted them, right?
They were there, right?
The containers weren't locked or anything, right?
My mom saw me stuffing my maw and said something about that being the wrong thing to do or whatever.
I didn't get what all the fuss was about until she said the 's' word: STEALING.
I remember putting two and two together. That whole 'stealing' thing we had talked about at home was applicable in every facet of my life. Who knew?
And I was doing it.
Oh. My. God. I was doing it! I was stealing!
I was horrified. I knew it was something really bad and I didn't mean to do it.
I don't know what happened after that, but I still remember the feeling. If I think too hard about that moment, I get the chilly frozen terror feeling that I still get when I'm caught doing something wrong.
It's funny the things that come back to you from childhood.
I must have been really young. Like three or four years old. Either that or I was just an idiot who didn't pick up on things very quickly.
We were in the convenience store. I went over to the 5 cent candies and just started eating them. Why not? I wanted them, right?
They were there, right?
The containers weren't locked or anything, right?
My mom saw me stuffing my maw and said something about that being the wrong thing to do or whatever.
I didn't get what all the fuss was about until she said the 's' word: STEALING.
I remember putting two and two together. That whole 'stealing' thing we had talked about at home was applicable in every facet of my life. Who knew?
And I was doing it.
Oh. My. God. I was doing it! I was stealing!
I was horrified. I knew it was something really bad and I didn't mean to do it.
I don't know what happened after that, but I still remember the feeling. If I think too hard about that moment, I get the chilly frozen terror feeling that I still get when I'm caught doing something wrong.
It's funny the things that come back to you from childhood.
did i ever show you guys my finger?
getting this tattoo was the only time i ever thought i was going to pass out. it hurt pretty bad and was over so quickly that my body didn't have time to adjust.
this entire picture is pretty sexy, but i had to cut off my face so you can't identify me.
oh, semi-anonymity. why are you so limiting?
this entire picture is pretty sexy, but i had to cut off my face so you can't identify me.
oh, semi-anonymity. why are you so limiting?
Thursday, November 26
Peach out.
Nablopomo is kind of kicking my ass!
It's hard to be interesting on days where you don't have anything interesting to say.
I think the secret to a good blog is for the writer to have a life of some kind. The writer should go out into the world and experience things with open eyes.
In my blog reading experience, blogs about going out and getting drunk all weekend are not very interesting either. Even with photos, I get bored. I think it's because those types of posts often turn into
"and then we went here and did this and we went here until this time and we did this and this the end"
Students (like me) probably aren't the best bloggers. I'm totally obsessed with all the papers I have to write and have become a complete bore in real life. Whenever I start talking about word count or topics I can see Dr.Claw getting out the suicide pill.
Seriously, did you read what I wrote yesterday? Why did you need to hear any of that? (Except the bra thing, that was kind of funny).
Anyway, oh readers of mine, I promise that once December comes around and nablopomo is over it'll be more quality and less quantity up in here again.
But I would feel silly not finishing nablopomo, seeing as there's only like five more days. No...four?
Peach*
*huh. I meant to write 'peace' but 'peach' works too. Why not.
Peach out.
It's hard to be interesting on days where you don't have anything interesting to say.
I think the secret to a good blog is for the writer to have a life of some kind. The writer should go out into the world and experience things with open eyes.
In my blog reading experience, blogs about going out and getting drunk all weekend are not very interesting either. Even with photos, I get bored. I think it's because those types of posts often turn into
"and then we went here and did this and we went here until this time and we did this and this the end"
Students (like me) probably aren't the best bloggers. I'm totally obsessed with all the papers I have to write and have become a complete bore in real life. Whenever I start talking about word count or topics I can see Dr.Claw getting out the suicide pill.
Seriously, did you read what I wrote yesterday? Why did you need to hear any of that? (Except the bra thing, that was kind of funny).
Anyway, oh readers of mine, I promise that once December comes around and nablopomo is over it'll be more quality and less quantity up in here again.
But I would feel silly not finishing nablopomo, seeing as there's only like five more days. No...four?
Peach*
*huh. I meant to write 'peace' but 'peach' works too. Why not.
Peach out.
Wednesday, November 25
no prayers
I was taking a break from writing a paper in the library and went onto facebook to waste some time.
"oh, wonderful, I have a message! I sure hope it's not another photography session advertisement." (Because my friend started a photography business and has been flooding my inbox about Christmas photos for weeks already.)
No, what a wonderful surprise! It was from my best friend from high school!
It said "I heard about [insert my 10 year old brother's name here], is your family okay?"
Um.
What.
the.
fuck.
This is facebook. People give inappropriate news, and they gossip and 'show how sorry they are' while fishing for more information. Then they change their status and say their 'prayers are with you'.
Bullshit.
Get off the computer and pray then, if you're so concerned.
... motherfucker.
Anyway so I had that heart stopping moment of "my brother is dead", because what else could it be?
I don't know if you've ever felt that, but the world stands still and goes silent. My ears were ringing. The fluorescent lights became even more yellow and bright overhead.
I blinked slowly and cleared my head...and went to my mom's facebook page to see what the hell.
This is how we communicate.
Ever since she left my step-dad I don't even know her phone number. That's right, I don't know my mom's phone number. Wanna fight about it?
(family guy reference, I don't actually want to fight).
Her facebook status told all. My ten year old brother had a seizure in the middle of the night and had to go to the hospital.
It's just so weird. My younger cousin has just recently started having seizures too, like out of nowhere.
My mom sent me a message later today. It's one of those things I need to share because it's so disturbing to me. Sorry if it's a little sad or a little personal...I'm just feeling a little alone and worried. And stuff.
Well, he came to my room at 1:00 and told me his room smelled like puke.*
I was sleepy so just patted the spot beside me and he hopped in (now Im thanking god for that chain of events).
at 2 :10 or so ifelt the bed moving jurky and thought he was having a bad dream..I reached over and rocked him a bit telling him its ok, your having a dream...his movements got stronger and wilder so i jumped up to look at him and his eyes were rollled up inhis head and he was flailing around wildly.
I tried toget his attention but he couldnt hear me. then he started gasping for air and foaming at his mouth........Im, on thephone with 911 and he stops moving AND BREATHING ...eyes rolled back. I was screaming at him NO [name] NO NONONONO and then he started slow breathing.
Ambulance arrived and they gave him oxygen and took him to the hospital. He didnt know who or where he was and was really confused. He is fine now and they are going to try to figure out why this haPPLEND. Until then..he will be sleeping with me .
*I guess the other brother he was sharing the room with was sick that night too?
She went on to say that she actually thought he was dead for a couple minutes and is having trouble getting over that feeling - that her kid was dead.
And I'm having trouble getting over it too a little bit. I'm kind of scared, even though he seems to be fine now.
mah sister added some stuff in another message
hey [chief]ster, so you know, [brother] had a seizure at 2 am and mom called me in a panic so i drove myself over there as fast as i could and the ambulance was giving him oxygen when i got there.
hes fine now, just tired i guess. mom said he was foaming from his mouth and not breathing for a few seconds but when he came to he didnt remember anything.
it was kind of funny cause when the paramedics got him in this chair to get him up the stairs, he was going out the door and he started freaking out like where am i going?? and all he was worried about was bringing his shoes haha poor little guy...
... but i guess they are booking [brother] in for cat scans and stuff like that.
it was so weird though cause [brother] usually sleeps alone but in the same room as [brother2] and [brother2] was puking so [brother] went downstairs to sleep with mom and thats how she knew he was having one. otherwise what would have happenned?? scary!
Seriously, having adopted siblings is weird because you never know what they come with, like in their genetics.
My adopted sister is allergic to EVERYTHING EVER and has eczema and athsma...but what the heck? Can epilepsy just show up? Why? What? Who? How? When? Where? Every question! WTF?
This my cute face brother who i really wish i could hug right now.
Don't tell me you're sorry or that you'll pray for my family or whatever, because I didn't write this for sympathy... Just tell me if you know anything about seizures because I'm all weirded out about it and writing things makes me feel a bit better.
Or like, maybe a joke or something would be ok too.
"oh, wonderful, I have a message! I sure hope it's not another photography session advertisement." (Because my friend started a photography business and has been flooding my inbox about Christmas photos for weeks already.)
No, what a wonderful surprise! It was from my best friend from high school!
It said "I heard about [insert my 10 year old brother's name here], is your family okay?"
Um.
What.
the.
fuck.
This is facebook. People give inappropriate news, and they gossip and 'show how sorry they are' while fishing for more information. Then they change their status and say their 'prayers are with you'.
Bullshit.
Get off the computer and pray then, if you're so concerned.
... motherfucker.
Anyway so I had that heart stopping moment of "my brother is dead", because what else could it be?
I don't know if you've ever felt that, but the world stands still and goes silent. My ears were ringing. The fluorescent lights became even more yellow and bright overhead.
I blinked slowly and cleared my head...and went to my mom's facebook page to see what the hell.
This is how we communicate.
Ever since she left my step-dad I don't even know her phone number. That's right, I don't know my mom's phone number. Wanna fight about it?
(family guy reference, I don't actually want to fight).
Her facebook status told all. My ten year old brother had a seizure in the middle of the night and had to go to the hospital.
It's just so weird. My younger cousin has just recently started having seizures too, like out of nowhere.
My mom sent me a message later today. It's one of those things I need to share because it's so disturbing to me. Sorry if it's a little sad or a little personal...I'm just feeling a little alone and worried. And stuff.
Well, he came to my room at 1:00 and told me his room smelled like puke.*
I was sleepy so just patted the spot beside me and he hopped in (now Im thanking god for that chain of events).
at 2 :10 or so ifelt the bed moving jurky and thought he was having a bad dream..I reached over and rocked him a bit telling him its ok, your having a dream...his movements got stronger and wilder so i jumped up to look at him and his eyes were rollled up inhis head and he was flailing around wildly.
I tried toget his attention but he couldnt hear me. then he started gasping for air and foaming at his mouth........Im, on thephone with 911 and he stops moving AND BREATHING ...eyes rolled back. I was screaming at him NO [name] NO NONONONO and then he started slow breathing.
Ambulance arrived and they gave him oxygen and took him to the hospital. He didnt know who or where he was and was really confused. He is fine now and they are going to try to figure out why this haPPLEND. Until then..he will be sleeping with me .
*I guess the other brother he was sharing the room with was sick that night too?
She went on to say that she actually thought he was dead for a couple minutes and is having trouble getting over that feeling - that her kid was dead.
And I'm having trouble getting over it too a little bit. I'm kind of scared, even though he seems to be fine now.
mah sister added some stuff in another message
hey [chief]ster, so you know, [brother] had a seizure at 2 am and mom called me in a panic so i drove myself over there as fast as i could and the ambulance was giving him oxygen when i got there.
hes fine now, just tired i guess. mom said he was foaming from his mouth and not breathing for a few seconds but when he came to he didnt remember anything.
it was kind of funny cause when the paramedics got him in this chair to get him up the stairs, he was going out the door and he started freaking out like where am i going?? and all he was worried about was bringing his shoes haha poor little guy...
... but i guess they are booking [brother] in for cat scans and stuff like that.
it was so weird though cause [brother] usually sleeps alone but in the same room as [brother2] and [brother2] was puking so [brother] went downstairs to sleep with mom and thats how she knew he was having one. otherwise what would have happenned?? scary!
Seriously, having adopted siblings is weird because you never know what they come with, like in their genetics.
My adopted sister is allergic to EVERYTHING EVER and has eczema and athsma...but what the heck? Can epilepsy just show up? Why? What? Who? How? When? Where? Every question! WTF?
This my cute face brother who i really wish i could hug right now.
Don't tell me you're sorry or that you'll pray for my family or whatever, because I didn't write this for sympathy... Just tell me if you know anything about seizures because I'm all weirded out about it and writing things makes me feel a bit better.
Or like, maybe a joke or something would be ok too.
My thoughts RIGHT NOW
Should I go to class?
Should I stay home and work on term papers?
Class?
Home?
Go?
Stay?
I don't want to miss too much in class.
But I want to wear sweat pants all day long.
I have to decide in the next two minutes.
Class- take the bus, be bored, be in public
Home- probably unproductively watch TV all day
But then again I can watch the simpsons on my IPod on the bus...
hmmm
I'm gonna go. And wear sweatpants.
But I suppose I should put a bra on.
You know, for the children's sake.
What does that even mean?
Who cares.
There are reese peanut butter cups on the table
Also for the children.
Dr.Claw's children.
And High School Musical 'ring pops'
in the shape of baseballs?
wtf.
Yeah, I'm gonna stop writing now and put a bra on.
Strap these babies in.
~Fin~
Should I stay home and work on term papers?
Class?
Home?
Go?
Stay?
I don't want to miss too much in class.
But I want to wear sweat pants all day long.
I have to decide in the next two minutes.
Class- take the bus, be bored, be in public
Home- probably unproductively watch TV all day
But then again I can watch the simpsons on my IPod on the bus...
hmmm
I'm gonna go. And wear sweatpants.
But I suppose I should put a bra on.
You know, for the children's sake.
What does that even mean?
Who cares.
There are reese peanut butter cups on the table
Also for the children.
Dr.Claw's children.
And High School Musical 'ring pops'
in the shape of baseballs?
wtf.
Yeah, I'm gonna stop writing now and put a bra on.
Strap these babies in.
~Fin~
Tuesday, November 24
my friend's wedding
Unfortunately I couldn't go. It was in Mexico and I'm all stuck up and hate fun vacations, and would rather stay here in rainy-town and go to class all the time.
Luckily for me, a certain social networking site has allowed me to spy on every single detail of the wedding, with a beautiful awesome fantastic friend (who may or may not read this blog) filling in the gaps for me, via telephone a couple days ago.
For example, did you know that my friend totally jumped into the hotel's pool in her wedding dress?
And then everybody went skinny dipping? At the resort? Even the parents?
Anyway I wrote this post because, as you may or may not know, I love tattoos. And now two of my favorite friends have sleeves that you all should be envious of.
For anybody who is all "omg my grandma is like 'how will your tattoo look in your wedding dress?'" or whatever, which is actually a real concern a lot of (anti-feminist?) women seem to have...anyway have a gander at these two photos. You will see that THEY LOOK BEAUTIFUL. And tell your grandma to shut up from me.
Luckily for me, a certain social networking site has allowed me to spy on every single detail of the wedding, with a beautiful awesome fantastic friend (who may or may not read this blog) filling in the gaps for me, via telephone a couple days ago.
For example, did you know that my friend totally jumped into the hotel's pool in her wedding dress?
And then everybody went skinny dipping? At the resort? Even the parents?
Anyway I wrote this post because, as you may or may not know, I love tattoos. And now two of my favorite friends have sleeves that you all should be envious of.
For anybody who is all "omg my grandma is like 'how will your tattoo look in your wedding dress?'" or whatever, which is actually a real concern a lot of (anti-feminist?) women seem to have...anyway have a gander at these two photos. You will see that THEY LOOK BEAUTIFUL. And tell your grandma to shut up from me.
Monday, November 23
letter to my finger
Dear left index finger tip,
Hey, how ya doin, little buddy?
Wow, you've had a tough couple of days, huh?
Listen. I'm really really sorry about that whole incident in the shower. I was just in such a hurry to shave my legs...looking back I can't even figure out how it happened. One minute you were fine and the next you were missing a chunk.
What were you doing in the way in the first place? Why were you even there?
At least I only shaved off part of the nail. You didn't even bleed. It was kind of funny, in retrospect.
But what this letter is really about is what happened yesterday at work. Once again, I don't really know what happened. One minute I'm folding a piece of paper and the next you are bleeding everywhere.
How did the paper slice you right under the nail?
I mean I've had paper cuts before, but UNDER THE NAIL? That's like a total freak accident.
Anyway I'm sorry about all of that.
So can you please stop hurting when I type?
Thanks a million!
Your pal,
Chiefy
Hey, how ya doin, little buddy?
Wow, you've had a tough couple of days, huh?
Listen. I'm really really sorry about that whole incident in the shower. I was just in such a hurry to shave my legs...looking back I can't even figure out how it happened. One minute you were fine and the next you were missing a chunk.
What were you doing in the way in the first place? Why were you even there?
At least I only shaved off part of the nail. You didn't even bleed. It was kind of funny, in retrospect.
But what this letter is really about is what happened yesterday at work. Once again, I don't really know what happened. One minute I'm folding a piece of paper and the next you are bleeding everywhere.
How did the paper slice you right under the nail?
I mean I've had paper cuts before, but UNDER THE NAIL? That's like a total freak accident.
Anyway I'm sorry about all of that.
So can you please stop hurting when I type?
Thanks a million!
Your pal,
Chiefy
Sunday, November 22
best job.
My job is so awesome sometimes.
My work buddies were all on holidays except for one last week, and also last week the boss had to stay home because his wife is a famous vegan cookbook writer who was on another book tour and so he had to stay home with their spoiled neurotic dog, and so it was just me and grumpasaurus. So this week they all came back with stories of spilling entire bars in Cancun and seeing juggalos in San Francisco.
I was so excited they were back!
It's awesome when I get home from work after a day like yesterday and I want to tell Dr.Claw all the funny things that happened but out of context it just seems really stupid because I'm really bad at telling stories. And I just might be the queen of the misquote. And he always wants to know why we were talking about things. Like, take this for example:
"So I asked around and apparently if you tea-bag somebody in the eye, it's called a 'Boston Tea Bag'"
Then he wanted to know how the conversation came up. Like, did I just go up to somebody and say "hey, what's this called?" or were we already talking about tea-bagging? Or did somebody else just tell me the different types of tea bagging? Why was I asking around?
And sometimes things just sound lame unless you're there. Like
"Omg, [work guy] called [the other cool tattoo shop in town] and was all 'can you put me though to [other tattoo guy]?' and we were all like, sitting there near him and burst out laughing because it sounds funny to say 'put me through'. Like, is he calling their office? And needs to be patched through? ha ha?"
But anyway I had like a million fun times yesterday and I like my job a lot.
I think a lot of people expect me to quit and get a 'real job' once I'm finished this last year of school, but I don't think I want to.
Why would I?
Where else can I swear, get free tattoos, talk about tea bagging, wear whatever I want, watch south park and get super angry at my boss in front of a client and we talk it out and end it with a high five and agreeing that we have a healthy relationship? (haha, true story from yesterday)
Sure, it's not a 'forever' type job but why do I have to quit now? When I'm still happy?
I don't.
My boss agrees.
And I'm happy!
My work buddies were all on holidays except for one last week, and also last week the boss had to stay home because his wife is a famous vegan cookbook writer who was on another book tour and so he had to stay home with their spoiled neurotic dog, and so it was just me and grumpasaurus. So this week they all came back with stories of spilling entire bars in Cancun and seeing juggalos in San Francisco.
I was so excited they were back!
It's awesome when I get home from work after a day like yesterday and I want to tell Dr.Claw all the funny things that happened but out of context it just seems really stupid because I'm really bad at telling stories. And I just might be the queen of the misquote. And he always wants to know why we were talking about things. Like, take this for example:
"So I asked around and apparently if you tea-bag somebody in the eye, it's called a 'Boston Tea Bag'"
Then he wanted to know how the conversation came up. Like, did I just go up to somebody and say "hey, what's this called?" or were we already talking about tea-bagging? Or did somebody else just tell me the different types of tea bagging? Why was I asking around?
And sometimes things just sound lame unless you're there. Like
"Omg, [work guy] called [the other cool tattoo shop in town] and was all 'can you put me though to [other tattoo guy]?' and we were all like, sitting there near him and burst out laughing because it sounds funny to say 'put me through'. Like, is he calling their office? And needs to be patched through? ha ha?"
But anyway I had like a million fun times yesterday and I like my job a lot.
I think a lot of people expect me to quit and get a 'real job' once I'm finished this last year of school, but I don't think I want to.
Why would I?
Where else can I swear, get free tattoos, talk about tea bagging, wear whatever I want, watch south park and get super angry at my boss in front of a client and we talk it out and end it with a high five and agreeing that we have a healthy relationship? (haha, true story from yesterday)
Sure, it's not a 'forever' type job but why do I have to quit now? When I'm still happy?
I don't.
My boss agrees.
And I'm happy!
Saturday, November 21
it's a better book than i thought it would be
no proper post today because I started reading Around the World in Eighty Days and can't stop.
Also because I'm boring.
Also because I'm boring.
Friday, November 20
Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters
Hah....here's my review that was apparently rejected by the school newspaper? I am assuming because they never got back to me at all.
I am giving up on them.
They expect journalism and I am all 'la dee dah' floating around, trying different styles of writing and not going with their formulas.
But at the same time, I feel like I'm more professional as far as things like "answering e-mails" and "acknowledging somebody's existence" and "not being total douche canoes" goes...
In other words FUCK THEM. And now I will go back to giving all my love to my blog readers because you guys rule. And I know you won't edit what I write into something that begins with the words "dark offerings". For real. WHY WOULD I SAY 'DARK OFFERINGS'? EVER?
On with the review!!
We all know of the Jane Austen novel Sense and Sensibility.
It’s a classic story of sisters and courtship and…some kind of love story drama …bustles and kerchiefs…okay, okay, I’ll admit it. I’ve never read it.
The truth is that I think the archaic notions of waiting to marry into money and women a-quiver with heaving bosoms are boring.
That’s why I love the Quirk Books’ new series of revamped Jane Austen books, in which Austen is listed only as a co-author.
I was first introduced to these masterful additions of monsters and gore when I was stuck in the Calgary airport for three hours.
I picked up Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Seth Grahame-Smith (and Jane Austen) at the insanely expensive bookstore. I’ll even admit that I judged the book by its cover. A pretty lady covered in blood with half of her face missing; it was love at first sight.
The flight from Calgary to Victoria is less than two hours long, and by the time we arrived my mind’s eye had borne witness to epic battles of life and un-death.*
It was exciting, and at the same time, I was subconsciously absorbing the general plot and the who’s who of the original work; the estates and carriage rides and talk of money and hand holding were there, but not at the forefront of my imagination.
I may be a bit biased. I love a good monster movie or horror story. I’m pretty sure that if they put monsters into textbooks I’m sure I’d have a GPA of 4.0; The Biology of Frankenstein, Alien Invasion at the Bay of Pigs, King Kong Does Advanced Calculus, World War II: Hitler versus Godzilla and The Culture of the Ancient Mummies would be best sellers.
Needless to say, I was entertained throughout the entire novel and finished it in only a few days. It was such an interesting, fresh and funny way of writing, and a great introduction to the world of Jane Austen which I had somehow neglected all twenty seven years of my life. When the book was over, I sighed contentedly, and gave it a prominent place on my bookshelf.
When Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters by Ben H.Winters (and Jane Austen) came out September 15th of this year, I had to have it, and fortunately received it right away as a birthday gift.
I ended up reading half of it that same day, alternating between silent appreciation of Austen’s manipulation of prose and my own disgusted exclamations of “GROSS!” courtesy of Winters.
The book is set in an alternate universe version of mid-Regency England in which one day, all of a sudden, a change occurred in bodies of water all over the planet.
Known by the protagonists as “The Alteration”, this change caused every creature of the ocean to suddenly develop into mutated, intelligent and murderous beings. Their sole purpose in life became to wreak vengeance upon human kind.
The reader follows Elinor, Marianne and Margaret Dashwood, along with their mother, to their new home on Pestilent Isle, to Sub Marine Station Beta, a dome built four miles under the ocean, and back. There are is a large amount of excitement over love affairs and secret crushes; most notably the dramatic fling and subsequent break-up between Marianne and Willoughby the dashing treasure hunter who saved her from a deadly octopus attack.
Not being a fan of romantic stories in general, I was grateful for all the breaks in the monotonous “why doesn’t he write” lamentations and the “who will marry who” drama that seemed to preoccupy the women of that time.
As a woman of the 21st century I actually find the tales of fighting zombies and sea monsters easier to relate to than the archaic courtship rituals of those times.
But in this book I can almost stand the amorous ruminations when they are given by the man-monster colonel Brandon, or by the girls, if, at the same time, they are being attacked by gigantic trained lobsters.
In this way, Ben H. Winters found a way to make a girl like me find unexpected heroes in the antiquated characters from another time.
Admittedly, Winters does go over the top sometimes, throwing everything from steampunk imagery to pirates to sea-witch curses into the already insane subplot of the sea monsters. The battles are so distracting at times that the reader has trouble keeping up with the story. But there is no denying the amount of sheer enjoyment I got out of the time I spent reading this book.
I know purists and book snobs everywhere are sneering into their lattes as they read this, but to them I would like to say that these books are for the rest of us: those who are only looking to be entertained without doing an in-depth literary study.
If you love monsters, gore, and gratuitous violence but you’re still not sure you want to read this book, I would recommend watching the ultra-cheesy trailer for Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters on YouTube first to get an idea of what you are getting yourself into.
*I was so proud of that line, haha
I am giving up on them.
They expect journalism and I am all 'la dee dah' floating around, trying different styles of writing and not going with their formulas.
But at the same time, I feel like I'm more professional as far as things like "answering e-mails" and "acknowledging somebody's existence" and "not being total douche canoes" goes...
In other words FUCK THEM. And now I will go back to giving all my love to my blog readers because you guys rule. And I know you won't edit what I write into something that begins with the words "dark offerings". For real. WHY WOULD I SAY 'DARK OFFERINGS'? EVER?
On with the review!!
We all know of the Jane Austen novel Sense and Sensibility.
It’s a classic story of sisters and courtship and…some kind of love story drama …bustles and kerchiefs…okay, okay, I’ll admit it. I’ve never read it.
The truth is that I think the archaic notions of waiting to marry into money and women a-quiver with heaving bosoms are boring.
That’s why I love the Quirk Books’ new series of revamped Jane Austen books, in which Austen is listed only as a co-author.
I was first introduced to these masterful additions of monsters and gore when I was stuck in the Calgary airport for three hours.
I picked up Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Seth Grahame-Smith (and Jane Austen) at the insanely expensive bookstore. I’ll even admit that I judged the book by its cover. A pretty lady covered in blood with half of her face missing; it was love at first sight.
The flight from Calgary to Victoria is less than two hours long, and by the time we arrived my mind’s eye had borne witness to epic battles of life and un-death.*
It was exciting, and at the same time, I was subconsciously absorbing the general plot and the who’s who of the original work; the estates and carriage rides and talk of money and hand holding were there, but not at the forefront of my imagination.
I may be a bit biased. I love a good monster movie or horror story. I’m pretty sure that if they put monsters into textbooks I’m sure I’d have a GPA of 4.0; The Biology of Frankenstein, Alien Invasion at the Bay of Pigs, King Kong Does Advanced Calculus, World War II: Hitler versus Godzilla and The Culture of the Ancient Mummies would be best sellers.
Needless to say, I was entertained throughout the entire novel and finished it in only a few days. It was such an interesting, fresh and funny way of writing, and a great introduction to the world of Jane Austen which I had somehow neglected all twenty seven years of my life. When the book was over, I sighed contentedly, and gave it a prominent place on my bookshelf.
When Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters by Ben H.Winters (and Jane Austen) came out September 15th of this year, I had to have it, and fortunately received it right away as a birthday gift.
I ended up reading half of it that same day, alternating between silent appreciation of Austen’s manipulation of prose and my own disgusted exclamations of “GROSS!” courtesy of Winters.
The book is set in an alternate universe version of mid-Regency England in which one day, all of a sudden, a change occurred in bodies of water all over the planet.
Known by the protagonists as “The Alteration”, this change caused every creature of the ocean to suddenly develop into mutated, intelligent and murderous beings. Their sole purpose in life became to wreak vengeance upon human kind.
The reader follows Elinor, Marianne and Margaret Dashwood, along with their mother, to their new home on Pestilent Isle, to Sub Marine Station Beta, a dome built four miles under the ocean, and back. There are is a large amount of excitement over love affairs and secret crushes; most notably the dramatic fling and subsequent break-up between Marianne and Willoughby the dashing treasure hunter who saved her from a deadly octopus attack.
Not being a fan of romantic stories in general, I was grateful for all the breaks in the monotonous “why doesn’t he write” lamentations and the “who will marry who” drama that seemed to preoccupy the women of that time.
As a woman of the 21st century I actually find the tales of fighting zombies and sea monsters easier to relate to than the archaic courtship rituals of those times.
But in this book I can almost stand the amorous ruminations when they are given by the man-monster colonel Brandon, or by the girls, if, at the same time, they are being attacked by gigantic trained lobsters.
In this way, Ben H. Winters found a way to make a girl like me find unexpected heroes in the antiquated characters from another time.
Admittedly, Winters does go over the top sometimes, throwing everything from steampunk imagery to pirates to sea-witch curses into the already insane subplot of the sea monsters. The battles are so distracting at times that the reader has trouble keeping up with the story. But there is no denying the amount of sheer enjoyment I got out of the time I spent reading this book.
I know purists and book snobs everywhere are sneering into their lattes as they read this, but to them I would like to say that these books are for the rest of us: those who are only looking to be entertained without doing an in-depth literary study.
If you love monsters, gore, and gratuitous violence but you’re still not sure you want to read this book, I would recommend watching the ultra-cheesy trailer for Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters on YouTube first to get an idea of what you are getting yourself into.
*I was so proud of that line, haha
you like puns?
you go here
you go here
Wednesday, November 18
dear candy...
Dear "double sour" skittles,
Wow. Could you be any less sour? Seriously? I was kind of excited to try you. And then I opened the package and saw that you were regular skittles with some kind of white grainy powder all over you I was a little put off. But I still gave you a chance.
And you let me down. Big time...until the end.
Yes. I poured the left-over powder into my hand.
I tilted my head back and poured that powder into my mouth.
OMFG IT WAS SO SOUR!
So, like, maybe just be a pal and try to disperse your sour-ness more evenly next time, huh?
Miss.Chief
__________
Dear gigantic chocolate bar from Superstore that cost $3,
Wow. You are awesome. Nice almonds! You're going to last me all week, I bet!
Thanks for being you!
Chiefy
__________
Dear candy shaped like hamburgers that Dr.Claw's kids got for their birthday or whatever,
what the hell are you? Disgusting, that's what.
Who wants to eat gummy candies shaped like french fries? Like...is there some kind of candy connoisseur niche I'm not aware of?
And do you really have to be individually wrapped in a plastic case enveloped in more plastic? Nice going, earth killers!
Consider this your eviction notice. You've lived in our cupboards for long enough. Good luck in your slimy, no-taste life.
Miss.Chief
___________
Wow. Could you be any less sour? Seriously? I was kind of excited to try you. And then I opened the package and saw that you were regular skittles with some kind of white grainy powder all over you I was a little put off. But I still gave you a chance.
And you let me down. Big time...until the end.
Yes. I poured the left-over powder into my hand.
I tilted my head back and poured that powder into my mouth.
OMFG IT WAS SO SOUR!
So, like, maybe just be a pal and try to disperse your sour-ness more evenly next time, huh?
Miss.Chief
__________
Dear gigantic chocolate bar from Superstore that cost $3,
Wow. You are awesome. Nice almonds! You're going to last me all week, I bet!
Thanks for being you!
Chiefy
__________
Dear candy shaped like hamburgers that Dr.Claw's kids got for their birthday or whatever,
what the hell are you? Disgusting, that's what.
Who wants to eat gummy candies shaped like french fries? Like...is there some kind of candy connoisseur niche I'm not aware of?
And do you really have to be individually wrapped in a plastic case enveloped in more plastic? Nice going, earth killers!
Consider this your eviction notice. You've lived in our cupboards for long enough. Good luck in your slimy, no-taste life.
Miss.Chief
___________
another bus tale
It was raining, dark and windy and my bus was late.
The little glass shelter at the bus stop was packed full of sardines who forgot their umbrellas.
I had mine and chose to stand alone under the streetlight.
Me, my umbrella and Bjork. I was trying not to feel too depressed about the awful presentation I just gave. You know, the type that the prof moves to too late at the end of class. The boring type with too much information and not enough jokes.
The type you have to deliver in your second language with your terrible accent, and it goes over the class time and some people have to leave and the rest wait impatiently for you to shut up so they can go home because it's 6:30 at night.
I stood there, in the rain and felt terrible. Talking in front of classes makes me want to die. I feel humiliated even when it goes well.
I had already taken one bus and was waiting at the second stop.
My green polka dot umbrella maybe wasn't that necessary. It was a light rain. But I had my netbook in my backpack and didn't quite trust the 'waterproof' zipper.
I was staring to the left.
This is what bus riders do, when they're waiting.
They stare to the left. Into incoming traffic.
A woman inside the bus shelter, which was to my left as well, thought I was looking at her. I pointedly stepped to the curb and looked around her.
She stepped forward and stared aggressively into my face. She was challenging me. I was exasperated, and thought to myself that I needed to get away because I was not in the right frame of mind to deal with crazies.
I took a few steps back.
Now the bus shelter was blocking my precious view of the road.
What if the bus came and I didn't see it? What if nobody else was waiting for that bus and it didn't stop at all?
I had already been waiting there fifteen minutes. They come every twenty. I couldn't afford to miss one. It was cold. The back of my neck was cold. I regretted not wearing my trademark red hooded sweater.
My nose was running but I didn't sniffle. Instead I wiped it with my jacket sleeve.
I am always paranoid that people will think I'm on drugs if I sniff too much in public.
I was standing there under my umbrella, thinking about the presentation when an arm holding a ratty old hat came into view.
Somebody was standing on the other side of my umbrella but all I could see was his begging arm and his empty hat.
He stepped into view and half shouted, half asked "CAN I HAVE TEN BUCKS?"
"no" I said, startled.
He moved on to the bus shelter, shouting things about money and begging at them. I started to laugh.
He totally made my day.
The little glass shelter at the bus stop was packed full of sardines who forgot their umbrellas.
I had mine and chose to stand alone under the streetlight.
Me, my umbrella and Bjork. I was trying not to feel too depressed about the awful presentation I just gave. You know, the type that the prof moves to too late at the end of class. The boring type with too much information and not enough jokes.
The type you have to deliver in your second language with your terrible accent, and it goes over the class time and some people have to leave and the rest wait impatiently for you to shut up so they can go home because it's 6:30 at night.
I stood there, in the rain and felt terrible. Talking in front of classes makes me want to die. I feel humiliated even when it goes well.
I had already taken one bus and was waiting at the second stop.
My green polka dot umbrella maybe wasn't that necessary. It was a light rain. But I had my netbook in my backpack and didn't quite trust the 'waterproof' zipper.
I was staring to the left.
This is what bus riders do, when they're waiting.
They stare to the left. Into incoming traffic.
A woman inside the bus shelter, which was to my left as well, thought I was looking at her. I pointedly stepped to the curb and looked around her.
She stepped forward and stared aggressively into my face. She was challenging me. I was exasperated, and thought to myself that I needed to get away because I was not in the right frame of mind to deal with crazies.
I took a few steps back.
Now the bus shelter was blocking my precious view of the road.
What if the bus came and I didn't see it? What if nobody else was waiting for that bus and it didn't stop at all?
I had already been waiting there fifteen minutes. They come every twenty. I couldn't afford to miss one. It was cold. The back of my neck was cold. I regretted not wearing my trademark red hooded sweater.
My nose was running but I didn't sniffle. Instead I wiped it with my jacket sleeve.
I am always paranoid that people will think I'm on drugs if I sniff too much in public.
I was standing there under my umbrella, thinking about the presentation when an arm holding a ratty old hat came into view.
Somebody was standing on the other side of my umbrella but all I could see was his begging arm and his empty hat.
He stepped into view and half shouted, half asked "CAN I HAVE TEN BUCKS?"
"no" I said, startled.
He moved on to the bus shelter, shouting things about money and begging at them. I started to laugh.
He totally made my day.
Tuesday, November 17
i want to do guest posts please!
I want to write guest posts.
December is going to be Chiefy does guest post month.
Seriously.
So what I need from all of you is ...
1. A little space in yer blog for me
2. A topic (but nothing *too* offensive...and I don't want to talk about sexy things)
3. A little hype so other people want me to do one.
I'm not promising I'm going to write anything well-planned out or ... like 2000 words or anything. You've been here before, you know how I roll.
If I can't get them all done in December, then we'll have to make December AND January my guest posting months.
Don't worry though guys, I'll still write junk on here too.
I just wanna write write write all day long!
So, if you want me to write something on your blog, please e-mail me
it's misschiefsblog a t g ma i l do t Com
Oh, and if you want to write something up in here in December, we can do a blog exchange thing too!
Note: if you are a crazy time fanatic and want to schedule my post for a certain time on a certain day then tough luck because I'm too busy with real life stuff to worry about blog schedules. I'll write it when I want to.
So, in conclusion, I expect an e-mail from most of you in the next two weeks with interesting and awesome topics for me to write about. DO IT!
~chiefy
December is going to be Chiefy does guest post month.
Seriously.
So what I need from all of you is ...
1. A little space in yer blog for me
2. A topic (but nothing *too* offensive...and I don't want to talk about sexy things)
3. A little hype so other people want me to do one.
I'm not promising I'm going to write anything well-planned out or ... like 2000 words or anything. You've been here before, you know how I roll.
If I can't get them all done in December, then we'll have to make December AND January my guest posting months.
Don't worry though guys, I'll still write junk on here too.
I just wanna write write write all day long!
So, if you want me to write something on your blog, please e-mail me
it's misschiefsblog a t g ma i l do t Com
Oh, and if you want to write something up in here in December, we can do a blog exchange thing too!
Note: if you are a crazy time fanatic and want to schedule my post for a certain time on a certain day then tough luck because I'm too busy with real life stuff to worry about blog schedules. I'll write it when I want to.
So, in conclusion, I expect an e-mail from most of you in the next two weeks with interesting and awesome topics for me to write about. DO IT!
~chiefy
Monday, November 16
typical
The bus was full of homeless people and blue-hairs.
It smelled like pee.
The crazy lady sitting directly beside me belched and turned to me to say excuse me, her breath stunk.
She asked me what the fleur de lis patch on my backpack meant.
"Quebec," I answered.
"My brother lived in Quebec once..." she started. It segued into her not knowing where to find a patch of the olympic rings. She has four pairs of the crappy red mittens they sell, but they make her hands sweat.
"Have fun" I said to her as she got off the bus. I don't know why.
The garbage bag full of beer cans abandoned at the front of the bus opened up, and one by one the cans crashed out.
I turned up my music and stared at the foggy window.
It smelled like pee.
The crazy lady sitting directly beside me belched and turned to me to say excuse me, her breath stunk.
She asked me what the fleur de lis patch on my backpack meant.
"Quebec," I answered.
"My brother lived in Quebec once..." she started. It segued into her not knowing where to find a patch of the olympic rings. She has four pairs of the crappy red mittens they sell, but they make her hands sweat.
"Have fun" I said to her as she got off the bus. I don't know why.
The garbage bag full of beer cans abandoned at the front of the bus opened up, and one by one the cans crashed out.
I turned up my music and stared at the foggy window.
Sunday, November 15
nothing. stupid nablopomo
huh. nablopomo kind of sucks when you have no days off and have 9438793475 papers to write, etcetera.
I could tell you about worrying and spending like 2 full days making a power point presentation about the life of Frida Kahlo but that's not interesting.
I could tell you that the deadline I set for myself for the Swallows and Daggers magazine article is today and I still need to edit it but that's boring too.
Uhh...
Today a guy at my work tried to complement me but he started it by saying
"when I first met you, I thought you were cool and pretty and intimidating, but now..."
then he kind of trailed off. and it got kind of awkward.
dr. claw is touching my boobs.
gotta go.
I could tell you about worrying and spending like 2 full days making a power point presentation about the life of Frida Kahlo but that's not interesting.
I could tell you that the deadline I set for myself for the Swallows and Daggers magazine article is today and I still need to edit it but that's boring too.
Uhh...
Today a guy at my work tried to complement me but he started it by saying
"when I first met you, I thought you were cool and pretty and intimidating, but now..."
then he kind of trailed off. and it got kind of awkward.
dr. claw is touching my boobs.
gotta go.
Saturday, November 14
300
I've written 300 posts in seven months.
That seems like a lot.
Yesterday I went into work to get my paycheck after class and unintentionally walked right into a stand off that was going on between the two tattooers working there and an unhappy client.
The client was standing at the front counter waiting for the apprentice (who mans the front counter when I'm not working usually) to get back from the art store or wherever he went. He had a 'family emergency' and needed to re-book his appointment because he had to leave town.
My boss was all "Maybe you can help this gentleman out. He has been waiting patiently."
I was in a good mood, so I was like "Sure, what's going on?"
He sized me up and then said "I want my deposit back."
There are signs up everywhere. DEPOSITS ARE NON-REFUNDABLE. We do this for a reason. Everybody has an 'emergency' when they want their money back. They cancel at the last moment and guess what? The tattooer they are booked with has usually turned actual real paying clients away because the spot was filled.
The fifty bucks ensures that at least they get some money. Contrary to popular belief, tattooers aren't big baller pimps with stacks of cash coming out their ears. Unless they sold the rights to their designs to Christian Audigier or put their shop on TV...sometimes that fifty bucks ends up being what's feeding them that week.
So anyway back to this guy.
I was mean. I know I was mean. Maybe he did have a family emergency. Maybe he really did need that fifty bucks to help him fly home. Maybe those crocodile tears were real. But I don't think so.
I said NO.
He was all "Come on, it's only fifty dollars. It's not going to break the bank here"
I said "Deposits are non refundable" and pointed to a sign.
He said "Come on, I really need it"
I said "Too bad"
He said "Give me my money back, I just put that deposit down yesterday"
I said "No. It's shop policy. No exceptions." (point to another sign)
Etcetera. For a long time. I was really trying to be firm. He was not taking no for an answer and he was not leaving. We were talking in circles. I was bored of it after a minute or two.
I wasn't even supposed to be here today!! (get it? from Clerks)
So I went to the back where my boss was tattooing, and said "what the hell do you want me to do here?"
He was like "I don't know" like, super unhelpful. He told me to ask the other guy, who said "He's already been told he can't have his deposit back so I don't know what he's still doing here"
So I went back to the front and was like "Listen, you can't have it back, but I can give you a fifty dollar gift certificate, and that way you can re-book whenever it's convenient for you"
I really tried.
He was so angry. He kept telling me to just open the cash register and give him his money back.
This is where my years of working in grocery stores and stuff bit me in the ass. If I were a true tattoo tough guy I would have said "GET THE FUCK OUT OR ... [insert bad-ass threat here]" but instead I tried to make it right.
I used "I'm sorry"s instead of "fuck off"s.
He demanded to talk to the owner.
I yelled to the back "HE WANTS TO TALK TO THE OWNER"
My boss looked up and said to him "Yeah, I'm kinda busy." and basically told him, without stopping tattooing that he was not going to leave with fifty dollars and everybody has an emergency when they want their deposit back.
"What, so you think I'm lying?" The guy said, clearly about to flip out.
"I didn't say that, all I said is that every person who wants their money back 'has an emergency'"
And on it went until he finally stormed out. He took the gift certificate, only because I practically forced him to.
I was like "thanks a lot guys, now I'm gonna get stabbed when I leave"
I felt shaky afterward, like I had been in a fight. Like, all adrenaliney and angry, but I couldn't figure out why I was so mad until my boss said something about him not listening to me because I was a girl.
He was totally cooperating with them until he saw me at the front counter.
I'm still angry about it and I wish I had asked him if he thought he could bully me into giving him the money, which, in hindsight is what he was trying to do.
Sometimes I hate looking like me. I'm short. I look young. And I am quiet, which most people interpret as meek or timid. (boss-around-able)
A couple hours after that incident I bought some of my FAVORITE BEER EVER because I needed a drink (haha). The girl behind the counter asked to see my I.D., and when I presented it, she snorted and went "Oh, sorry"
(She thought I was under 19 years old)
(I've been old enough to buy alcohol for 9 years)
(89% of the time I get carded)
(approximately)
You know? Other girls out there, do you have this problem? People don't take you seriously because you're a girl? The glass ceiling of society?
I'm still sad about it.
I need to work on being a tough guy.
That seems like a lot.
Yesterday I went into work to get my paycheck after class and unintentionally walked right into a stand off that was going on between the two tattooers working there and an unhappy client.
The client was standing at the front counter waiting for the apprentice (who mans the front counter when I'm not working usually) to get back from the art store or wherever he went. He had a 'family emergency' and needed to re-book his appointment because he had to leave town.
My boss was all "Maybe you can help this gentleman out. He has been waiting patiently."
I was in a good mood, so I was like "Sure, what's going on?"
He sized me up and then said "I want my deposit back."
There are signs up everywhere. DEPOSITS ARE NON-REFUNDABLE. We do this for a reason. Everybody has an 'emergency' when they want their money back. They cancel at the last moment and guess what? The tattooer they are booked with has usually turned actual real paying clients away because the spot was filled.
The fifty bucks ensures that at least they get some money. Contrary to popular belief, tattooers aren't big baller pimps with stacks of cash coming out their ears. Unless they sold the rights to their designs to Christian Audigier or put their shop on TV...sometimes that fifty bucks ends up being what's feeding them that week.
So anyway back to this guy.
I was mean. I know I was mean. Maybe he did have a family emergency. Maybe he really did need that fifty bucks to help him fly home. Maybe those crocodile tears were real. But I don't think so.
I said NO.
He was all "Come on, it's only fifty dollars. It's not going to break the bank here"
I said "Deposits are non refundable" and pointed to a sign.
He said "Come on, I really need it"
I said "Too bad"
He said "Give me my money back, I just put that deposit down yesterday"
I said "No. It's shop policy. No exceptions." (point to another sign)
Etcetera. For a long time. I was really trying to be firm. He was not taking no for an answer and he was not leaving. We were talking in circles. I was bored of it after a minute or two.
I wasn't even supposed to be here today!! (get it? from Clerks)
So I went to the back where my boss was tattooing, and said "what the hell do you want me to do here?"
He was like "I don't know" like, super unhelpful. He told me to ask the other guy, who said "He's already been told he can't have his deposit back so I don't know what he's still doing here"
So I went back to the front and was like "Listen, you can't have it back, but I can give you a fifty dollar gift certificate, and that way you can re-book whenever it's convenient for you"
I really tried.
He was so angry. He kept telling me to just open the cash register and give him his money back.
This is where my years of working in grocery stores and stuff bit me in the ass. If I were a true tattoo tough guy I would have said "GET THE FUCK OUT OR ... [insert bad-ass threat here]" but instead I tried to make it right.
I used "I'm sorry"s instead of "fuck off"s.
He demanded to talk to the owner.
I yelled to the back "HE WANTS TO TALK TO THE OWNER"
My boss looked up and said to him "Yeah, I'm kinda busy." and basically told him, without stopping tattooing that he was not going to leave with fifty dollars and everybody has an emergency when they want their deposit back.
"What, so you think I'm lying?" The guy said, clearly about to flip out.
"I didn't say that, all I said is that every person who wants their money back 'has an emergency'"
And on it went until he finally stormed out. He took the gift certificate, only because I practically forced him to.
I was like "thanks a lot guys, now I'm gonna get stabbed when I leave"
I felt shaky afterward, like I had been in a fight. Like, all adrenaliney and angry, but I couldn't figure out why I was so mad until my boss said something about him not listening to me because I was a girl.
He was totally cooperating with them until he saw me at the front counter.
I'm still angry about it and I wish I had asked him if he thought he could bully me into giving him the money, which, in hindsight is what he was trying to do.
Sometimes I hate looking like me. I'm short. I look young. And I am quiet, which most people interpret as meek or timid. (boss-around-able)
A couple hours after that incident I bought some of my FAVORITE BEER EVER because I needed a drink (haha). The girl behind the counter asked to see my I.D., and when I presented it, she snorted and went "Oh, sorry"
(She thought I was under 19 years old)
(I've been old enough to buy alcohol for 9 years)
(89% of the time I get carded)
(approximately)
You know? Other girls out there, do you have this problem? People don't take you seriously because you're a girl? The glass ceiling of society?
I'm still sad about it.
I need to work on being a tough guy.
Thursday, November 12
ah, who am i kidding? I *do* eat to many chocolate bars
Dr.C busted into the room, telling me that Old Navy was having a sale on "outer wear". Fifty percent off. He was wearing a new jacket that he got for like 30 bucks, and then he remembered that his friend had given him a card for 30% off stuff.
Ten minutes later we are all in the car on the way back to the mall because HELL NO i'm not missing the chance for a fancy jacket for half price or whatever, and Dr.C wanted to return the cheap jacket he got, and then instantly re-buy it with another 30% off...
what? We're frugal. Get used to it.
Twenty minutes after that the four of us were in the lineup, 3 of us who aren't asserting our new found tween independence were clutching new jackets...
Dr.Claw's 9-year-old looked up at my un-made-up face and said
"what are those red spots on your face?"
(they were zits of course because my face is behaving like I'm thirteen and wash my hair with fryer grease and some people say i eat too many chocolate bars*)
"nothing" i said quietly
but, as we all know, kids don't pick up on the "SHUT UP" tone of voice, and just asked louder "what are they? mosquito bites or something?"
he didn't know but i was all "yikes. I'm gonna wait outside", dying of embarrassment.
And then I literally waited outside.
Dr.C came out a short while later and when we read the receipt we figured out that the lady gave us the 50% off, then the 30% off and then ANOTHER 30% off!
Now, I'm no mathematician, but I'm pretty sure that's wicked sweet.
Long story short, I got this $110 peacoat for under $25.
Now when I wear my sweatpants out of the house I can still look fancy!
*
Ten minutes later we are all in the car on the way back to the mall because HELL NO i'm not missing the chance for a fancy jacket for half price or whatever, and Dr.C wanted to return the cheap jacket he got, and then instantly re-buy it with another 30% off...
what? We're frugal. Get used to it.
Twenty minutes after that the four of us were in the lineup, 3 of us who aren't asserting our new found tween independence were clutching new jackets...
Dr.Claw's 9-year-old looked up at my un-made-up face and said
"what are those red spots on your face?"
(they were zits of course because my face is behaving like I'm thirteen and wash my hair with fryer grease and some people say i eat too many chocolate bars*)
"nothing" i said quietly
but, as we all know, kids don't pick up on the "SHUT UP" tone of voice, and just asked louder "what are they? mosquito bites or something?"
he didn't know but i was all "yikes. I'm gonna wait outside", dying of embarrassment.
And then I literally waited outside.
Dr.C came out a short while later and when we read the receipt we figured out that the lady gave us the 50% off, then the 30% off and then ANOTHER 30% off!
Now, I'm no mathematician, but I'm pretty sure that's wicked sweet.
Long story short, I got this $110 peacoat for under $25.
Now when I wear my sweatpants out of the house I can still look fancy!
*
math time! (pictures, because I only have 7 minutes until I have to catch my bus)
what do you get when you take this:
and then add two weeks in mild fall temperatures?
well?
it starts with an "m"
then comes an "o"
then an "l"
"molllllllll..." can you get it?
IT'S MOLD!
and then add two weeks in mild fall temperatures?
well?
it starts with an "m"
then comes an "o"
then an "l"
"molllllllll..." can you get it?
IT'S MOLD!
Wednesday, November 11
I really hope I never have to be a soldier
It's remembrance day, up here in Canada. I think it might be "veterans day" in the USA too? Maybe?
Anyway it's that day where we are supposed to wear poppies pinned to our lapels and have a moment of silence and ... get a day off work
Poppies? You ask? Yes, because of the Flanders field poem that Lieutenant John McCrae wrote. They buried thousands of soldiers there and a bunch of poppies grew in the fertile soil...
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place: and in the sky
The larks still bravely singing fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead: Short days ago,
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved: and now we lie
In Flanders fields!
Take up our quarrel with the foe
To you, from failing hands, we throw
The torch: be yours to hold it high
If ye break faith with us who die,
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields
Composed at the battlefront on May 3, 1915
during the second battle of Ypres, Belgium
From what I can gather, approximately 55 000 people died at Ypres during WW1...that's a fuckload of people, y'all. Like...zillions.
The interesting thing is, as somebody who has never been close to experiencing any type of war or battle, and only having been exposed to images of Flanders Field like this:
I have never even thought of what it meant...what Remembrance Day meant. In school it was just a boring day where we had to have an assembly and watch soldiers put wreaths on a statue and be really quiet while some guy played a trumpet.
Now, I'm not saying I get it.
But that's the thing. I don't get it. I won't ever get it unless I am in a war myself.
This is what Flanders Field really looked like:
and the beautiful city of Ypres
Maybe to some people remembrance day is a farce. Or a glorification of soldiers and wartime measures. But I don't know.
I don't know what to say about it other than ... I can't even imagine what war is like. And I hope I never have to.
Please respect people who have seen war with their own eyes. If they're traumatized, remember that they deserve care and love because they have seen humanity at it's worst.
Eh, that's all for now. Maybe I'll write something funny later.
Tuesday, November 10
Trip to the Doctor's Office.
Okay, I don't care anymore, I'm just going to tell you. I have itchy toes.
It's not athlete's foot or any fungus.
It's not exczema maybe?
I went to the doctor's office today. I sat the prerequisite 4.5 hours in the waiting room with the 3 bored children who whine every time another person gets called who isn't them and the jovial old man with the knee replacement. There was also the family with "bites or rashes" who were from another province and didn't have their health care cards or know their numbers, and their 18 year old had to ask his mom what their address was. Oh, and the one sad girl with the mask who couldn't stop coughing and looking miserable.
I went in with a cheery disposition and a good book. I read to page 57 in Michael Ondaatje's book Divisadero and tried to breathe shallowly through my nose.
('Shallowly' is a word? wow. Will wonders never cease?)
Finally they called my name.
The nurse? Admin assistant? Anyway the woman in pink scrubs who fills out the chart came in and was all "what's wrong with you?"
I said "oh, I don't know, I have some kind of rash? or something? on my toes."
She was like "okay, well, let me just stick this thing in your ear"
So she took my ear temperature for some reason and left. I sat there for another ten minutes rehearsing my lines. I always have to know exactly the wording I'm going to use before I talk to strangers, especially when there is something important I want to communicate.
So I decided on just talking loudly and being friendly and being nonchalant about it. Which worked because I got old doctor Chan again. Mister doctor Chan is the least professional doctor I have ever met.
Last time I saw him it was for a lady issue we won't get into here, but let me just say these four words to you:
self-serve vaginal swab.
You're welcome.
Anyway so this time it was like this:
Him: Hi, do you have the swine flu?
Me: Nope!
Him: (reading chart) Ah, but you do have swine toe rash flu!
Me: ha ha ? Yeah, I don't know, it's just, like, itchy.
Him: Let's see.
(I slide off my shoes)
Him: Well...that's weird.
Me: uh?
Him: I've never seen that before. Have you been to Mexico?
Me: Uh, yeah but like...years ago. I actually looked this up on the internet and I thought it kind of looked like eczema?
Him: Ah, so you have eczema then!
Me: Well, I don't know! I just thought maybe...like...it kind of looks like...
Him: (Looking at the panther head tattoo I have on my foot)Is that tattoo new?
Me: No.
Him: Are you sure? Maybe you have the Felix the cat flu!
Me: ha...ha?...I don't know...?
Him: Bla bla bla medical things and questions
Me: Bla bla bla medical answers and questions
Him: Well, try this and this (writes things on paper)
Me: Okay, do I have to get those over the counter?
Him: Well, you know it's just medicated lotion something something about wearing sandals? or something (I spaced out for a while while he was talking)
Me: And so I just...
Him: Yeah, you know, I have no idea what's wrong with you but just try this for a couple weeks. We'll say two weeks. And then if it doesn't work then I'll refer you to a dermatologist.
Me: Two weeks. Got it.
Him: Yeah, because you know what they say about dermatology!
Me: No?
Him: The patient...uh...no, wait. Um. You get results some times but the patient... uh. Well it takes a long time. You know.
Me: Sure.
Him: Okay well, have a nice day!
Me: Yep.
Attached to the doctor's office is a tiny run-down pharmacy. Last time I was there half of the shelves were empty and from what I could see in the low flickering light of the dying fluorescent light the ceiling was caving in a bit.
I walked over there and was shocked! They had somehow changed it into a gigantic new shiny sparkly pharmacy!
I went to the counter and the woman asked me if I had ever been there before. And I had no idea if I had or not.
"Did it used to look completely different?" I asked
I came home and showered all the germs away and here I am getting ready for the day with snacks and 17 tons of homework.
Although with the rainy weather and the time-change it feels like it's bedtime when I look outside. It's 3:02pm.
Maybe I'll have a nap first.
It's not athlete's foot or any fungus.
It's not exczema maybe?
I went to the doctor's office today. I sat the prerequisite 4.5 hours in the waiting room with the 3 bored children who whine every time another person gets called who isn't them and the jovial old man with the knee replacement. There was also the family with "bites or rashes" who were from another province and didn't have their health care cards or know their numbers, and their 18 year old had to ask his mom what their address was. Oh, and the one sad girl with the mask who couldn't stop coughing and looking miserable.
I went in with a cheery disposition and a good book. I read to page 57 in Michael Ondaatje's book Divisadero and tried to breathe shallowly through my nose.
('Shallowly' is a word? wow. Will wonders never cease?)
Finally they called my name.
The nurse? Admin assistant? Anyway the woman in pink scrubs who fills out the chart came in and was all "what's wrong with you?"
I said "oh, I don't know, I have some kind of rash? or something? on my toes."
She was like "okay, well, let me just stick this thing in your ear"
So she took my ear temperature for some reason and left. I sat there for another ten minutes rehearsing my lines. I always have to know exactly the wording I'm going to use before I talk to strangers, especially when there is something important I want to communicate.
So I decided on just talking loudly and being friendly and being nonchalant about it. Which worked because I got old doctor Chan again. Mister doctor Chan is the least professional doctor I have ever met.
Last time I saw him it was for a lady issue we won't get into here, but let me just say these four words to you:
self-serve vaginal swab.
You're welcome.
Anyway so this time it was like this:
Him: Hi, do you have the swine flu?
Me: Nope!
Him: (reading chart) Ah, but you do have swine toe rash flu!
Me: ha ha ? Yeah, I don't know, it's just, like, itchy.
Him: Let's see.
(I slide off my shoes)
Him: Well...that's weird.
Me: uh?
Him: I've never seen that before. Have you been to Mexico?
Me: Uh, yeah but like...years ago. I actually looked this up on the internet and I thought it kind of looked like eczema?
Him: Ah, so you have eczema then!
Me: Well, I don't know! I just thought maybe...like...it kind of looks like...
Him: (Looking at the panther head tattoo I have on my foot)Is that tattoo new?
Me: No.
Him: Are you sure? Maybe you have the Felix the cat flu!
Me: ha...ha?...I don't know...?
Him: Bla bla bla medical things and questions
Me: Bla bla bla medical answers and questions
Him: Well, try this and this (writes things on paper)
Me: Okay, do I have to get those over the counter?
Him: Well, you know it's just medicated lotion something something about wearing sandals? or something (I spaced out for a while while he was talking)
Me: And so I just...
Him: Yeah, you know, I have no idea what's wrong with you but just try this for a couple weeks. We'll say two weeks. And then if it doesn't work then I'll refer you to a dermatologist.
Me: Two weeks. Got it.
Him: Yeah, because you know what they say about dermatology!
Me: No?
Him: The patient...uh...no, wait. Um. You get results some times but the patient... uh. Well it takes a long time. You know.
Me: Sure.
Him: Okay well, have a nice day!
Me: Yep.
Attached to the doctor's office is a tiny run-down pharmacy. Last time I was there half of the shelves were empty and from what I could see in the low flickering light of the dying fluorescent light the ceiling was caving in a bit.
I walked over there and was shocked! They had somehow changed it into a gigantic new shiny sparkly pharmacy!
I went to the counter and the woman asked me if I had ever been there before. And I had no idea if I had or not.
"Did it used to look completely different?" I asked
I came home and showered all the germs away and here I am getting ready for the day with snacks and 17 tons of homework.
Although with the rainy weather and the time-change it feels like it's bedtime when I look outside. It's 3:02pm.
Maybe I'll have a nap first.
Monday, November 9
camera anxiety
Guy at my work bought a new camera yesterday, and I spent the entire 6.5 hours I was there coveting the thing.
He bought it to be able to take nice pictures of all the tattoos he does. All the guys have portfolios but they are extremely out of date. Like four years out of date.
I kind of like it like that, because when there's that awkward moment when a client asks if their tattoo can go into the portfolio I just say
"oh, these guys never update these things!"
But anyway the new camera he got made me super jealous and I got all chatty about how I wish I had one.
He was like "what are you using now?"
and I showed him this.
and he was all "Whaaaat! I thought you had a real camera."
No, I just have this fake one.
Anyway I was all "oh, the things I could do with a fancy camera, bla bla bla" and I even started blabbing on about Holga cameras and how I like them so much.
(this is a Holga camera...with accessories?)
Guy at work was like "I have a camera you can use, but it's not digital"
So of course I was all "YES PLEASE"
but now I feel like I have to put my money where my mouth is and take amazing shots all the time or something.
Sometimes I get good ones with my little fujifilm but it's because we know each other so well...I'm afraid of the film camera. How am I supposed to know if I'm doing things right? And NO INSTANT GRATIFICATION? That's unheard of.
And what about the lenses? And the settings? I'm super excited to try it out. I love the feeling when you take a picture with an analog* camera and you can feel the satisfying "SNAP".
I'm also pretty stoked about trying things without my camera automatically adjusting the light settings for me without my permission, or deciding I need flash WHEN I DON'T WANT FLASH DAMNIT.
Anyway...YAY! This is going to rule!
*i don't know if they're actually called "analog" ... that's the opposite of digital though, right? Maybe?
_____________________
One more thing. I think I'm going to bring back the word "Chesterfield" for "couch".
My grandma says it. Isn't all that stuff your grandparents did when they were kids SOOOO COOOL now?
He bought it to be able to take nice pictures of all the tattoos he does. All the guys have portfolios but they are extremely out of date. Like four years out of date.
I kind of like it like that, because when there's that awkward moment when a client asks if their tattoo can go into the portfolio I just say
"oh, these guys never update these things!"
But anyway the new camera he got made me super jealous and I got all chatty about how I wish I had one.
He was like "what are you using now?"
and I showed him this.
and he was all "Whaaaat! I thought you had a real camera."
No, I just have this fake one.
Anyway I was all "oh, the things I could do with a fancy camera, bla bla bla" and I even started blabbing on about Holga cameras and how I like them so much.
(this is a Holga camera...with accessories?)
Guy at work was like "I have a camera you can use, but it's not digital"
So of course I was all "YES PLEASE"
but now I feel like I have to put my money where my mouth is and take amazing shots all the time or something.
Sometimes I get good ones with my little fujifilm but it's because we know each other so well...I'm afraid of the film camera. How am I supposed to know if I'm doing things right? And NO INSTANT GRATIFICATION? That's unheard of.
And what about the lenses? And the settings? I'm super excited to try it out. I love the feeling when you take a picture with an analog* camera and you can feel the satisfying "SNAP".
I'm also pretty stoked about trying things without my camera automatically adjusting the light settings for me without my permission, or deciding I need flash WHEN I DON'T WANT FLASH DAMNIT.
Anyway...YAY! This is going to rule!
*i don't know if they're actually called "analog" ... that's the opposite of digital though, right? Maybe?
_____________________
One more thing. I think I'm going to bring back the word "Chesterfield" for "couch".
My grandma says it. Isn't all that stuff your grandparents did when they were kids SOOOO COOOL now?
Sunday, November 8
What I've Learned About Being Sexy
i wrote this yesterday. no, actually i pretty much copied and pasted it.
it's a little ditty I found while doing some research about how tattoos were done in the 1850s. There's urine involved. And saliva. EWW
______
Yesterday I had one hell of a bus ride. I think it was mainly because I was all grouchy and easily annoyed because it was practically a hurricane outside and I had to stand around in it and get all wet. Especially my feet. And my arm because I was holding my umbrella more to the side I had my shoulder bag on to keep my keys and book dry.
Makes sense, no?
So I get on the bus.
Okay I guess I shouldn't really complain. I got a seat, so that's something.
But then these two LOUD VAPID WHORES got on. I know I maybe shouldn't, but I judged the hell out of them as soon as they got on the bus at the stop beside the mall. I was all "oh, great. here we go"
And I was right. There we went!
Therefore making snap judgements about people is OK! Because it was true!
It all started with how they greeted the bus driver. In a super loud voice, the first one was like "HI HOW ARE YOU?" and then walked to the back of the bus without listening to the poor guy's answer. The other girl didn't acknowledge anybody. Not even every single person sitting on the left side of the bus that she hit with her purse while walking to sit with her friend at the back.
So that was strike one and two.
Strike three came, when the one girl had her cell phone ring volume turned up to an EAR SCORCHING volume level. It was some high-pitched girly song.
And she was trying to tell her friend where she was on the phone for like two minutes. As we were driving. Like "oh, we're at the mall...going past subway...now we're at the sewing store..." all in a disturb-everybody voice.
By this time, the bus was full, with maybe ten people standing in the aisle, and it is extra aggravating when somebody is loud on a full bus for some reason.
People were starting to do that thing where they turn around and look for the loud person and frown at them, but it's all passive aggressive because they don't actually do anything, but other passengers can agree with the sentiment by rolling their eyes or sighing.
Then she said into her phone "OH, WAIT, SOME BLACK GUY JUST GOT ON THE BUS" and both her and her friend were giggling out of control.
No, it was more like yell-laughing. AHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAA!!!
Turns out the "black guy" was their friend, and he sat with them.
Here comes strike four.
She brought her camera out to show him pictures of Halloween/flirt with him in that way where she acts like he's stupid and tells him what to do a bunch and then calls him cute.
But back to the Halloween photos. Apparently, her, her friend, and another girl were all dressed "like whores" but the other girl was "too slutty".
As they looked at the pictures they shouted such things as "OH MY GOD, LOOK AT MY BEEWBS!" and "SHE IS SO SEXY! MMM" and making sex-moan noises and pretty much anything they thought other people would think was hot.
They were 20 and 22 years old and must have just discovered the power of using their body.
You know what I'm talking about ladies; Most of us go through it when we're in our teens. Suddenly you realize the amount of attention you can get just by talking about sex. All you have to do is take what Cosmo and Maxim magazine tell you to heart, and then mix in a dash of porn star, and you're every man's dream. Right?
Well unfortunately for them, they haven't discovered the second part of that equation either. That people will not respect somebody who acts that way.
Here are some other things I've learned since I've gone through that phase:
-Archetypal sexy (usually) = object.
-Most men actually do not want their girlfriend to be or act like a lesbian and are too intimidated by the thought of actually having to please two ladies at once to want a threesome.
-Dress like a whore, get treated like one
-If you act like a whore, it's probably because you have low self esteem
-Making sex noises on the bus or pretty much anywhere in public is not cool or sexy
-Brains are sexy
-Being yourself is really the best thing you can do. Being something you think others want you to be is a waste of time and effort because you will never feel fulfilled.
The end of the bus story is they got off three stops before I did and I cheered on the inside with relief but then realized they had been drowning out some lame dude who was sitting behind me telling a girl that he has "strong leg muscles" and he could "walk for twenty minutes without getting tired" on a path. Oh, and he likes trail blazing.
I preferred the girls.
it's a little ditty I found while doing some research about how tattoos were done in the 1850s. There's urine involved. And saliva. EWW
______
Yesterday I had one hell of a bus ride. I think it was mainly because I was all grouchy and easily annoyed because it was practically a hurricane outside and I had to stand around in it and get all wet. Especially my feet. And my arm because I was holding my umbrella more to the side I had my shoulder bag on to keep my keys and book dry.
Makes sense, no?
So I get on the bus.
Okay I guess I shouldn't really complain. I got a seat, so that's something.
But then these two LOUD VAPID WHORES got on. I know I maybe shouldn't, but I judged the hell out of them as soon as they got on the bus at the stop beside the mall. I was all "oh, great. here we go"
And I was right. There we went!
Therefore making snap judgements about people is OK! Because it was true!
It all started with how they greeted the bus driver. In a super loud voice, the first one was like "HI HOW ARE YOU?" and then walked to the back of the bus without listening to the poor guy's answer. The other girl didn't acknowledge anybody. Not even every single person sitting on the left side of the bus that she hit with her purse while walking to sit with her friend at the back.
So that was strike one and two.
Strike three came, when the one girl had her cell phone ring volume turned up to an EAR SCORCHING volume level. It was some high-pitched girly song.
And she was trying to tell her friend where she was on the phone for like two minutes. As we were driving. Like "oh, we're at the mall...going past subway...now we're at the sewing store..." all in a disturb-everybody voice.
By this time, the bus was full, with maybe ten people standing in the aisle, and it is extra aggravating when somebody is loud on a full bus for some reason.
People were starting to do that thing where they turn around and look for the loud person and frown at them, but it's all passive aggressive because they don't actually do anything, but other passengers can agree with the sentiment by rolling their eyes or sighing.
Then she said into her phone "OH, WAIT, SOME BLACK GUY JUST GOT ON THE BUS" and both her and her friend were giggling out of control.
No, it was more like yell-laughing. AHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAA!!!
Turns out the "black guy" was their friend, and he sat with them.
Here comes strike four.
She brought her camera out to show him pictures of Halloween/flirt with him in that way where she acts like he's stupid and tells him what to do a bunch and then calls him cute.
But back to the Halloween photos. Apparently, her, her friend, and another girl were all dressed "like whores" but the other girl was "too slutty".
As they looked at the pictures they shouted such things as "OH MY GOD, LOOK AT MY BEEWBS!" and "SHE IS SO SEXY! MMM" and making sex-moan noises and pretty much anything they thought other people would think was hot.
They were 20 and 22 years old and must have just discovered the power of using their body.
You know what I'm talking about ladies; Most of us go through it when we're in our teens. Suddenly you realize the amount of attention you can get just by talking about sex. All you have to do is take what Cosmo and Maxim magazine tell you to heart, and then mix in a dash of porn star, and you're every man's dream. Right?
Well unfortunately for them, they haven't discovered the second part of that equation either. That people will not respect somebody who acts that way.
Here are some other things I've learned since I've gone through that phase:
-Archetypal sexy (usually) = object.
-Most men actually do not want their girlfriend to be or act like a lesbian and are too intimidated by the thought of actually having to please two ladies at once to want a threesome.
-Dress like a whore, get treated like one
-If you act like a whore, it's probably because you have low self esteem
-Making sex noises on the bus or pretty much anywhere in public is not cool or sexy
-Brains are sexy
-Being yourself is really the best thing you can do. Being something you think others want you to be is a waste of time and effort because you will never feel fulfilled.
The end of the bus story is they got off three stops before I did and I cheered on the inside with relief but then realized they had been drowning out some lame dude who was sitting behind me telling a girl that he has "strong leg muscles" and he could "walk for twenty minutes without getting tired" on a path. Oh, and he likes trail blazing.
I preferred the girls.
Saturday, November 7
where i live: rain and bears. that's about it.
Ah, it's raining. SURPRISE!
NOT!
I live on vancouver island, where it always rains, unless it's so hot you have to sweat through three t-shirts in one day!
There's bears near my house right now. Not like, in my backyard or anything. I don't think!! But dr.claw was showing me pictures on his friend's website of bears at the salmon run.
You know, when salmon swim upstream for 20384329875397 days and it's amazing and sad because they are SO TIRED and all they want to do is spawn and die? and some of them get caught somewhere and die without spawning and it makes life seem so futile?
yeah that happens practically at my house. In a park.
It's beautiful, the park. Well, this island is.
Wanna see where I live? GO TO HER PHOTOS.
I'm only pimping her so much because I want to brag about how beautiful it is here. Also, she totally risked her life taking these. I don't care how much zoom your camera can do, to get the shots she got she was way too close.
Looking at those pictures, I said that she must have been so excited after getting some of those shots. It would be like carrying gold in your camera!
My favorite is the bear shaking its head.
The scariest one is the last one, when the mommy bear sees her.
Anyway bla bla bla I hope no bears get me on the way to the bus stop this rainy morning. Theeee ennnnd.
NOT!
I live on vancouver island, where it always rains, unless it's so hot you have to sweat through three t-shirts in one day!
There's bears near my house right now. Not like, in my backyard or anything. I don't think!! But dr.claw was showing me pictures on his friend's website of bears at the salmon run.
You know, when salmon swim upstream for 20384329875397 days and it's amazing and sad because they are SO TIRED and all they want to do is spawn and die? and some of them get caught somewhere and die without spawning and it makes life seem so futile?
yeah that happens practically at my house. In a park.
It's beautiful, the park. Well, this island is.
Wanna see where I live? GO TO HER PHOTOS.
I'm only pimping her so much because I want to brag about how beautiful it is here. Also, she totally risked her life taking these. I don't care how much zoom your camera can do, to get the shots she got she was way too close.
Looking at those pictures, I said that she must have been so excited after getting some of those shots. It would be like carrying gold in your camera!
My favorite is the bear shaking its head.
The scariest one is the last one, when the mommy bear sees her.
Anyway bla bla bla I hope no bears get me on the way to the bus stop this rainy morning. Theeee ennnnd.
more awesome drawings i did
See, I told you I wouldn't get around to all of you yesterday when I drew your blogs. What I didn't tell you is there was a first draft of doodles. Here are a few that I didn't show you:
This one is pretty obvious
This one is super blurry. It says "I have four kids and new t-shirts and stuff. DORK.
Now this is a two-fer. You've got ... somebody ... on the piece of toast saying "i'm on toast!" and then you've got the toast itself, holding a flag that says "master" and holding a harpoon in the other hand...
i just love this dog
j-face
and this one says "andy warhol", and is holding shopping bags (happy now? HUH?) and the other one is a girl looking into her closet, labeled "ashley", and asking what she should wear.
There are more, but I think they suck. I drew a red head in a long denim skirt (haha) and a zipbag full of bones. I drew a girl walking around with it (a martini) and somebody thinking about poo.
Know who these are? Take a guess! And now, because it's nablopomo and I feel like I'm cheating, I'm going to post this and write a real blog entry.
PEACE
This one is pretty obvious
This one is super blurry. It says "I have four kids and new t-shirts and stuff. DORK.
Now this is a two-fer. You've got ... somebody ... on the piece of toast saying "i'm on toast!" and then you've got the toast itself, holding a flag that says "master" and holding a harpoon in the other hand...
i just love this dog
j-face
and this one says "andy warhol", and is holding shopping bags (happy now? HUH?) and the other one is a girl looking into her closet, labeled "ashley", and asking what she should wear.
There are more, but I think they suck. I drew a red head in a long denim skirt (haha) and a zipbag full of bones. I drew a girl walking around with it (a martini) and somebody thinking about poo.
Know who these are? Take a guess! And now, because it's nablopomo and I feel like I'm cheating, I'm going to post this and write a real blog entry.
PEACE
Friday, November 6
open letters to jerks
Dear old man:
I know I didn't help you onto that stool beside me in the coffee shop at the University yesterday, but you know what? It is inappropriate to cough in somebody's face. You should never do it! Not even when I'm not paranoid about H1N1. I have to admit I kind of hoped you would never make it onto that stool because who were you kidding? It's too high! And you have a cane!
Anyway you made it after all, so good for you, I guess.
Regards,
Miss.Chief
________________________________
Dear six people who didn't take that exam yesterday because you have the swine flu:
YEAH RIGHT! Isn't that convenient! Getting the buzz-word sickness of the month on the day of the exam!
You know what? We all laughed when we heard you were sick.
The prof got mad at us, but we laughed. We don't believe you and we have no sympathy.
Sincerely,
Miss. Chief
________________________________
Dear guy who sat beside me in the library:
Make your computer stop talking to you. It's creepy. And I really really don't care what "bumpin'" party you are going to on the weekend. You and your friends should go outside and talk about this type of thing. Couldn't you see that I was busy doodling pictures of my blog-friends instead of reading that entire novel in spanish that, as far as I can tell, is just about a super conceited guy? Geez.
And lastly, FUCK YOU FOR COUGHING IN MY FACE! THAT WAS THE SECOND TIME THAT DAY!! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE?
Fuck you very much,
Miss.Chief
_________________________
I didn't get around to all of you, but try to guess what these are!
You're welcome. If you want me to draw a beautiful artistic picture of you, let me know. I'll totally be in the library a bunch next week... "studying"
I know I didn't help you onto that stool beside me in the coffee shop at the University yesterday, but you know what? It is inappropriate to cough in somebody's face. You should never do it! Not even when I'm not paranoid about H1N1. I have to admit I kind of hoped you would never make it onto that stool because who were you kidding? It's too high! And you have a cane!
Anyway you made it after all, so good for you, I guess.
Regards,
Miss.Chief
________________________________
Dear six people who didn't take that exam yesterday because you have the swine flu:
YEAH RIGHT! Isn't that convenient! Getting the buzz-word sickness of the month on the day of the exam!
You know what? We all laughed when we heard you were sick.
The prof got mad at us, but we laughed. We don't believe you and we have no sympathy.
Sincerely,
Miss. Chief
________________________________
Dear guy who sat beside me in the library:
Make your computer stop talking to you. It's creepy. And I really really don't care what "bumpin'" party you are going to on the weekend. You and your friends should go outside and talk about this type of thing. Couldn't you see that I was busy doodling pictures of my blog-friends instead of reading that entire novel in spanish that, as far as I can tell, is just about a super conceited guy? Geez.
And lastly, FUCK YOU FOR COUGHING IN MY FACE! THAT WAS THE SECOND TIME THAT DAY!! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE?
Fuck you very much,
Miss.Chief
_________________________
I didn't get around to all of you, but try to guess what these are!
You're welcome. If you want me to draw a beautiful artistic picture of you, let me know. I'll totally be in the library a bunch next week... "studying"
Thursday, November 5
short and to the point
this is my nablopomo post today: fuck shit goddamnit motherfucker midterm today and I'm not ready.
the end.
the end.
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