Thursday, April 27, 2006

That was before I learned to swear


When I was in high school, my worst subject was English. Also math. But English I hated on a personal level--all the literature we were forced to read pissed me off extraordinarily for some reason. I also hated my teachers. I found them smug and hateful.
In 12th grade I took one semester of a class where we had to read "Man and his Symbols", which still triggers boiling rage. This is how much patience I have for bullshit pseudoscience: . We also read, and were supposed to perform, "Waiting for Godot", which I find profoundly irritating. I know! Smart people like these things! But I am not that smart, so I don't.
The play only has two parts. (Spoiler: Neither of them is Godot.) So two students would act for a while, then the two more would tag in. Somehow I was either absent or stubborn on that day. Since I remember it, obviously, stubborn. And I didn't take my turn. So, to make up for it, I had to come after school to perform "The Lesson" with another kid who had been legitimately absent.
Are you familiar with this play? There are again only two real parts. A tutor and a pupil, and the tutor hates the pupil by the end. By the end (Spoiler: the tutor kills the pupil in a scene of barely-disguised sexual violence!) the guy is shouting and yelling at her.
I took the role of teacher, and Pete took the role of student. In retrospect I should have read it through before choosing, because the tutor has this line (while stabbing):
"That'll teach you, bitch!"
When the time came for me to speak this line, I gagged on it, and skipped the word. I was young! My teacher was there! I couldn't do it!
Afterward, Pete was mad, as he thought maybe our grade would be lowered because I failed to swear.

And so I am not much for absurdist plays. And now I can say that Beckett, Ionesco, and that fucking Godot are all bitches.

Monday, April 24, 2006

Comin' back from Cali

Dude. Do not come back to Logan at 5 AM. There are no taxis. There is no train. It is cold. It is raining. It sucks ass.

California, on the other hand, is mild and sunny and beachtastic. Too bad I was born with new england tattooed on my butt.

I managed to sneak around Santa Cruz without running into my former co-worker. I told my sister "She's a vegan, and she drives a car that runs on vegetable oil," and she was like "yeah, her and everyone else in town." Yes yes. I know what the town is like. If it weren't for the ocean breeze mixing with the patchouli and feet, it would smell like my own home town. Also, we were there on the twentieth of April, so, you know, there was that smell as well.

We have these friends who are moving to Asheville, NC, which means when we visit our family and friends, we will be hitting the neo-hippie trifecta. Like medieval pilgrims visiting Rome, Jerusalem, and Santiago. Maybe we get some kind of holy dispensation from Phish for it, I don't know. I feel like I should get something, though, for eating vegan cookies. Do you know, vegan cookies have no butter in them? Not even a little butter. They play a dirty game, those vegans.

Monday, April 10, 2006


did you know you can get podcasts with tivo?

Of course you did. You are not an idiot like me.

But I am delighted! Podcasts all the time! On the Tivo!

Tuesday, April 04, 2006


So at CVS they have a new display of these fancy expensive hair products. There are two varieties to choose from. One for "fine" hair and one for "thick" hair. They're both meant for curly hair. The line is called "curl conscious". Here's what the boxes have on them.

In case I have bollocksed up the pictures again, the 'fine' hair trio says:
Nordic Angel
English Rose
Wispy Waif
Botticelli Muse
Baby Doll
Belle du Jour

The 'thick' hair boxes say:
Hot Mama
Kinky Chick
Wild Child

I...don't even know what to think. My mind...she is blown.

Tuesday impersonates Monday

This morning I woke up late from a dream in which I was running to escape a vengeful ghost (wtf?). I realized that both of my pairs of pants were dirty (it is hard for me to buy pants that fit, ok?). I thought I would wear a skirt. I knew it was cold and rainy, so in order to wear a skirt I needed a pair of tights. I found only navy blue (no go) and grey, which, with a black skirt just made me look like I got dressed in the dark. I ended up wearing the dirty pants from yesterday (my volunteer night--they have baby boogers and fingerpaint on them. yes!) I showed up late for work, and without my pass, so I had to sign in and knock on the door, and now I'm trapped here for the day, unless I want to get stuck out there again.
Woo! Go Tuesday!

I should really do laundry more often, and possibly buy more pants. Yesterday I went into the one store that has pants my size but everything there is like sixty bucks and I am a super cheap bastard. Whenever I express pants-buying frustration to my friends, they always exclaim, "The Gap has 'long' pants!" or something like that. Here is Gap's idiot-ass idea of 'long' on me:

Damn you, pants!