pretending to care since 1977

Saturday, June 28, 2003

How Could This Happen? 

I have discovered a few things about myself this weekend:

1. I am actually really really good at calculus.
2. I will never be able to pay a bill on time to save my life.
3. I don't have to like my family.
4. I am in love with my kitten. No, for reals.
5. According to this article, I am totally going to have twins someday.

Tuesday, June 24, 2003

Basements and Screened-In Porches 

I am really starting to resent California. Even though I have lived here on and off for the last 15 years, I am really beginning to wonder what makes me stay, aside from the frozen yogurt and the love of my life. I mean, the amount of rent I pay for the shit-box I live in should be incentive enough to get the hell out of Dodge, right?

I miss the Mid-West. Enormously. I want White Castle and Six Flags. I want 4th of July neighborhood parades and legal fireworks. I want neighbors who actually acknowledge your presence when you pass them as you are getting your mail. I want teenagers with mullets who are wearing them with all sincerity and not just trying to be retro or funny. But most of all, I want fireflies.

I mean really, California, is that to much to ask? Can't I have fireflies illuminating the night instead of the DEAD BEES strewn across my walkway?

Sunday, June 22, 2003

Instead of Calculus Homework 

vb73: but i guess people with tourettes do that
vb73: so where is the better half??
betty: in the other room
betty: being a dork
vb73: lol why is that
betty: bc he is walking around with the kitty under his shirt pretending like he is pregnant with a kitty
betty: and it is distracting
betty: and that's why he doesn't want to make dinner
betty: bc "if you were pregnant with a kitty you would be lazy and tired too"
vb73: well it seems to me that it is pretty important work
betty: i guess
vd73: kinda like me walking around with my hulk hands and saying "HULK SMASH ROAR"
vb73: and then punching walls
betty: yeah pretty much the same thing
vb73: my wife doesn't think it is as important as i do
betty: well, she OBVIOUSLY doesn't get it
betty: okay he just smacked me in the head with a bag of tortillas
vb73: girls...never figure you out
betty: this is out of control
vb73: he was feeding you...
betty: hmm
betty: is that what he was doing?
vb73: you must have asked for dinner or something
vb73: "making dinner" ..." smacking you with chips" ...same thing
betty: yeah. that must be it
betty: wait, not tortilla CHIPS
vb73: ahhhh
betty: a bag with like 20 of them in there
vb73: ok yeah...that would be annoying
betty: would i be whining if it was a bag of chips?
vb73: good point

Friday, June 20, 2003

Live at Five 

So I was at the liquor store today. Yes, again. As I was huffing incense at the counter I noticed something peculiar, there were a couple of headshots taped above the counter. I think maybe the reason why I didn't notice them outright was because I used to live in L.A. and oh, I don't know THEY ARE FUCKING EVERYWHERE so maybe I just block them out of my visual field reflexively.

One was of Tiger Woods. No big deal. He plays golf around here, although I am confused as to why he was shopping at my liquor store. I mean pretty much just me and Alex and a tweaker guy on a bike with a dog in the front basket really shop there. It wasn't really a headshot either, just a picture of him golfing. Actually there were two pictures of him.

Now the third picture hanging up there was of a local anchor woman. I laughed to myself as I saw the name because her first initial is K and her last name is Hunt. Get it? Okay, so it's not that funny. I kind of chuckled to myself anyway as I gathered my 6 dollar bottle of Suave shampoo and took another glance back at the picture, realizing that she had signed it.

My chuckle faded to a scowl. Not only did she sign it, but she scrawled, "Keep up the good work, guys!"

Now why the fuck would she write that? What does she know?

Yeah, guys, keep up the good work of "accidentally" short-changing me like every other day and making me feel like a piece of shit when I pay for my morning banana with pennies. And for hitting on me in front of my boyfriend.

Way to fucking go.

Wednesday, June 18, 2003

Tampons and A Forty of Mickeys 

I am wondering if our horrible habit of grocery shopping at the liquor store is going to catch up with us someday.

But really, doesn't buying watermelon and hummus once a week cancel out the daily meals of hot dogs for lunch and macaroni and cheese for dinner?

We are so rotten. Literally.

Tuesday, June 17, 2003

Picked To Live In a Loft 

Saturday night was very emotional for me.

Every so often, I get really broke and have to whore myself out on the weekend so I can get enough money together to pay my internet cable bill and not pay my car payment. And by whoring myself out I mean baby-sitting.

Umm. I am 26. And I still baby-sit. I don't mind really, it's kind of nice to get all maternal every few weeks and watch cable all night on a big screen television. What I have an issue with is the fact that I have been baby-sitting for this couple for almost 3 years and they still pay me five bucks an hour. It's my own damn fault, I was the one who set that low, low price back in '00 when I was pressured to tell them how much I charged and spazzed out and blurted that my fee would be what I now realize is what my own baby-sitter charged my parents in '84. I fucked up, but I thought, hey, this is a nice favor to them and I am sure they will make it up to you eventually.

Well, let's just say they haven't. And in addition to this, the kid is now mildly obsessive compulsive and freaked the fuck out when we didn't exit the restaurant through the same door we entered. I now have a mini-Jack-fucking-Nicholson as my charge. This in turn made me a little sad; contemplating how hard it might be if I had a child like that. And how heartbroken I would be when I gave him up for adoption.

I finally get the kid to bed after 2 more incidents involving my apparent lack of precision and order. I settled in to watch the new episodes of the Real World: Paris. It sucked ass, to put it mildly. I felt slightly lame as I fondly recalled the first season of the Real World, faithfully watching it every Thursday while my best friend and I baby-sat her nephew and snuck out to smoke cigarettes during the commercials. We used to always tell him we had to "check on something outside" and he fell for it every time. Dummy.

I marveled at how retarded the people are that they picked for this season and how annoying it is that they just act like big sluts and man-whores. You know, I am all for televised promiscuity, but not if it involves jocks in white baseball hats. How I longed for the days of Julie and Andre in New York. I even missed “You are so gay and you hosted The Grind” Eric.

I sat there and wondered if I could make that show any better. Wondered if my fondness of guinea pigs and PBS would make for some better TV. Wondered if when I “stopped being polite and started getting real” it would involve my infamous breaking of telephones and liberal use of the word “cunt”. And then it hit me. Oh my God, did it hit me so hard that I almost threw up.

I am too old to be on the Real World.

Thursday, June 12, 2003

My Third Post In a Row With the Word 'Fill' In the Title 

When I was a kid, my parents used to haul my sister and I down to Florida every February to visit my grandparents. It was always so thick and warm outside as we played on the beach with horseshoe crabs and biked around wearing matching Esprit outfits. The memories of eating thresher shark and taking pictures of crocodiles are slowly fading, but I can still faintly smell the waffles we ate for breakfast every morning as we sat on the wicker furniture on the porch and watched the old folks golf.

However, the memory of my sister and I going to a touristy t-shirt shop to pick out a custom made graphic to be ironed on any colored shirt we wanted will forever be burned in my brain. Meg chose a beautiful rainbow with a dove flying across it, with the quote:

"If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If it doesn't, it never was."

The one I chose:

"I'm so broke, I can't even pay attention"

And it totally had a picture of a hobo on it with flies buzzing around his head.

Wednesday, June 11, 2003

Open Until Filled 

I want my former Physiological Psychology professor to be my dad. He is so nice and funny and he swears more than I do. He smokes a pipe, too. He also lived in Antarctica and thinks my boyfriend is cool.

Even though I think he thinks I am kind of hot, I am still going to ask him if he wants the job.

Because I am so firing my real dad. He sucks.

Tuesday, June 10, 2003

My Skull And The Pain That Fills It 

I just have a question to throw out there regarding the Michelob Ultra Light that my band was served last night as payment. I mean, I know the goal is to serve the cheapest beer possible to us, but who the hell drinks that crap? And what genius at Michelob thought that Ultra Light would be a good idea? Obviously not someone who HAS EVER TRIED IT.


Conversations Are Being Had 

Me: Promise me that you won't delete this journal, okay?
Me: Umm...okay!
Me: No. Seriously. you are so out of control. This is, like, your 5th journal in a year already.
Me: Umm...yeah, okay. I won't.
Me: Fuck you. You are such a liar. You said that last time. This is going to be just like when you signed up at the gym three different times and never went. Or how you've seen eight different therapists in the past few years and never go back after the third visit because the doctor "sneezed weird" or some crap.
Me: Isn't it kind of cute that i do this, though? I'm quirky and unpredictable. Just like Meg Ryan.
Me: No, it isn't cute. It's annoying.
Me: Oh.

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