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3.29.2002
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everybody was eggshell walking...doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo.
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3.27.2002
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daniel: this isn't fair. i mean, it's nice that god "passed over" all of the jewish homes when he was smiting egyptians, but c'mon: that was 3,500 years ago. what have you done for me lately? shit, shit, shit ... why didn't i buy matzoh last night when i had the chance? i'm fucking starving over here.
me: not believing in god helps alleviate hunger during times of ritualistic disruptions of normal eating patterns, i've found.
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3.26.2002
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mom: blog babe of the week? what the hell is a 'blog'? and just what is a 'blog babe' anyway? is that supposed to be some kind of compliment? are you sure you really want to be a 'blog babe of the week', dana? it doesn't sound like a good idea to me. you should be more careful on the internet. there are weird people on there and you can't trust them.
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3.20.2002
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if you make any of your more important life decisions between 2am and 5am, i suggest you reconsider that decision after a big fucking cup of coffee later that day. nobody is completely sane at 4:30 in the morning. not even you and especially not me.
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3.19.2002
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today's theme: hand jobs (brought to you courtesy of 'rushmore')
dear max,
i am sorry to say that i have secretly found out that mr. blume is having an affair with miss cross. my first suspicions came when i saw them frenching in front of her house, and then i knew for sure when they went skinny-dipping in mr. blume's swimming pool, giving each other hand jobs while you were taking a nap on the front porch.
why am i telling you this now? because you're such a good friend.
take care, pal.
fondly,
dirk calloway
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3.13.2002
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sxsw 2002 photos
i am the walking definition of tired. the only thing i want to say before i go pass out in the comforts of my own bed is that i enjoyed meeting eugene mirman more than i would enjoy meeting god. mmm, salami.
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3.7.2002
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good morning, dana
roommate: (something on the news prompts her to start talking about children...this comment isn't coming from left field.) so do you want children?
me: um...i think i'd make a good mother, but i think most of the people who would make excellent parents don't become parents and the people who would make crap parents have like 13 babies.
roommate: yeah, i agree. you'd make a great mom, i think.
me: if i have kids, maybe i'll adopt some one-year-olds so as to avoid the breakable baby phase as well as to avoid pushing small humans out of my bogina front-fanny.
...
me: (quickly changing the subject, realizing i've clearly stepped over some sort of sacred "do not discuss genitals with the roommate" boundaries.) so hey, you can really see my freckles now!
roommate: (who is, incidentally, african american.) yeah, soon you'll be giving me a run for the money.
me: right, and when that day comes, you need to pull me aside and be all like, "yo, what's up something-about-mary?"
sometimes good morning conversation is better than breakfast. and other times it's best to just stuff your mouth with a damn muffin and start your day in silence.
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3.5.2002
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yesterday morning on the metro i saw a person almost fall over when the train started to move and i wondered to myself, "am i the kind of person who laughs out loud when i see another person fall down?"
last night on the metro i saw a person really fall over when the train started to move and i felt it bubbling inside me and it took more strength than even mr. universe must possess to repress the potential outburst that was forming in my gut. i looked up, unable to prevent the tiniest smirk from forming on my lips and met eyes with a drunk man who was clearly experiencing the same form of repression as i was.
i am quite comfortable with the fact that while yes, i am the kind of person who laughs when another person falls down, i have enough sense to seem as though i'm not.
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3.4.2002
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there are lots of different kinds of pork products, and i've never really been a huge fan of any of them. as a kid, i had bacon phases where i'd only like very cripsy bacon and/or bacon bits then pass into a more soggy barely-cooked bacon phase and sometimes i'd even slip into a hatred for all -things bacon-related period. i never, ever liked sausage. sausage patties? no thank you. sausage links? forget about it. ground up sausage on pizza? only if you tricked me into believing it was hamburger and you smothered it in mozzarella and even then it wasn't so great. sometimes i would enjoy a bit of canadian bacon or fried breakfast ham or ham with pineapple for easter dinner, but usually i opted for the non-pork options. then there was the 9 year span of vegetarianism where i chose not to eat meat of any variety and during that chunk of time i didn't even like the fake pork products, excepting the veggie bacon, which looks so fake but adds a little something extra, some pizazz maybe, to a veggie cheeseburger.
so now i'm trying to explain or at least internally understand even if i can't put it into words what my current craving for sausage is all about. to say that i am craving sausage hardly explains my current need/want/desire to eat a sausage patty. i want to smother it in maple syrup and wash it down with chocolate milk. i want to cut it into bite-size pieces and stab it with my fork and then stab a bit of scrambled egg and eat them together in one bite. i want nothing more than to devour one, maybe two, or dare i say even three patties of wonderful sausage.
luckily, it won't take one bite of sausage to make this craving go away - simply one whiff of the vile pork product will make me cringe and run away, completey grossed out. i know i hate sausage, i just wish i could convince my body that it hates it too.
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3.1.2002
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this morning one of the high school kids who rides my bus looked directly at me and started singing, "the bitches are free 'cuz the crack costs money." i suspect that pretty much set the tone for the rest of my entire weekend right there.
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