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2.29.2004
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it's war-time in fatland
because tomorrow fass-herckis and i will be re-enlisting our asses in the battle of the bulge, i decided to get a new pair of running shoes. i figured if i'm going to be motivated enough to form an alliance with the treadmill and invade scary celluliteland, i'd need a fancy new pair of sneaks to get me through it.
armed with a $50 gift certificate that my mother gave me for christmas, i made my way to the westside pavilion's lady footlocker for the hookup. my style issues are a primary factor in deciding which shoes i'd buy, but i also need to know i'm not going to fuck up my feet/ankles/knees/shins as well. so i picked the only 3 styles in the store that i could actually envision wearing.
i took the 3 shoes to the counter and asked the girl working if should could tell me which pair was ideal for my particular workout needs. i said, "which shoes are best if my workouts consist primarily of walking/jogging on the treadmill and lifting weights?" she said "so you want to take weights on the track and field?" ok great...english is not her strong point. "no, i don't do heavy workouts...i usually do a few miles of speed walking on the treadmill and then lift weights." "i don't know what this is, this track mill?" "ok, it's a TREADMILL...it's a really common piece of gym equipment that you walk/jog on. is this lady footlocker? do you sell athletic apparel here? have you seriously never heard of a TREADMILL?" "i'm sorry but if you are doing some kind of funny working out, i can't help to tell you what kind of shoe is best."
i gave up. i just shook my head, asked for each of the 3 shoes in a size 8.5 and waited. she returned moments later with only one pair of shoes, "this is the only pair we have and it's a 9...everything else is too small for you."
i tried them on, they fit, i bought them, but still managed to leave feeling defeated. already. and it's not even d-day yet. here's to hoping what they say is true about losing the battle, winning the war.
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2.24.2004
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metawhores
i've been painting a wall in my kitchen. i'm painting it red. pomegranate, technically. there's been a whole lot of fucking problems with the painting of this wall, and once you start painting a wall dark red, there's really no turning back. therefore, with every new problem, i carry on. i solve the problem as best as i can and i progress to the next level of problems. it feels like progress, but sort of like the kind of progress you feel when you're picking a bloody scab. you're getting somewhere, it's true...but do you really want to be in the place you end up?
so far, the problems have been vicious...the original wicker wall-covering that i attempted to paint over began peeling off. upon removing all of said wicker wall-covering, then sanding it, and then painting a second first coat, i realized there was some thin rice paper-like crap remaining on the wall, so my second first coat began to bubble and peel as well. upon scraping off all of the rice paper-like crap in addition to the removal of most of the second first coat of paint, i applied a third first coat and finally was able to let it dry. then i applied the first second coat, which was technically the fourth coat, at least in terms of my effort. meanwhile, it's 11pm on day two of this little project, and upon inspecting the dried second coat, i realize that the paint is totally fucking uneven and splotchy. so. fucking. awesome.
ugh.
becca says this is all a metaphor relating to my life. i agree to some degree...it's a metaphor alright, but mostly just for the month of february 2004. and so here is my plea: if any of you, my dear readers, are planning to do something really fucked up and mean to me, please just go ahead and do it now before the month ends and the paint dries. this is a good idea for a few reasons, but mostly because it's really fun and very easy to kick a girl who's already down. so, bring it on, world! i dare you to make my february worse than it already is. ok? show me what you've got. sock it to me. make it count, and do it like you mean it.
i hope to spend march applying fifth, sixth, and seventh coats to even things out again.
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2.22.2004
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things i learned tonight with a little inspiration from seth boyar
1. jesus was a gay, black, jew, bottom.
2. clever is a crime.
3. to be a jewish girl, all i need to do is bitch more, fuck less, shop more, grow way more body hair, have all aforementioned body hair removed.
4. there is such a thing as too much chivas.
5. cuba's not a place, it's an illegally obtained state of mind.
6. a little paranoia is healthy, especially with regards to all matters DEA-related.
7. the rain in spain falls mainly on the jew-fro and ruins everything.
8. eight? i forget what eight was for.
thank you, oh wise one. i can finally rest at night.
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2.19.2004
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remember, cupid is just a fat cherub fairy with wings.
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2.16.2004
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i love my dead gay presidents
on this presidents day, we are honoring a bunch of religious, homophobic, racist, traditional, heterosexual, and of course dead white men. we're granted a day off because we love to give reverence to these men who built our great nation of conservative fuck-offs. on this day off, i hope everyone is watching campaign commercials for all of the (unfortunately) sub-par democratic candidates and trying to figure out how the hell one of these men is going to trump gwb in the upcoming election so that when he dies, we can celebrate him for turning the past 4 years of wrong-doing around.
and you know, come to think about it, the french really aren't so bad...i think starting today we should stop hating them so much. except the parisians. you can continue to bash them to your heart's content.
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2.9.2004
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i recently went to iowa. i got snowed in at every single destination i went to and my sister and i took some photos while trekking from point a to point b.
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2.6.2004
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luscious jackass
today a homeless man standing in front of the subway restaurant i was about to enter told me that i have a "luscious fanny" and i guess i just don't have anything to say about that.
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2.4.2004
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to the person interested in knowing how many calories s/he can burn from coughing, i say this:
either you're extremely fucking lazy and are obsessed with every little physical movement you make that you think might lead to some much needed weightloss or you're coughing way too fucking much and need to see a damn doctor because i think you might have sars. either way, learning the caloric burn from hacking up your lungs really is not your biggest concern right now so turn off your computer and go straighten yourself out.
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2.2.2004
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we need a secret handshake
the other night i was parked at a fast food place and behind me was the line for the drive-through. i was pretty sure i was never going to get out, because you just don't get in the way of hungry people and their greasy goodness. but because i am a trooper, i put the car in reverse, looked behind me and waited. not 5 seconds later i saw the passenger of the car directly behind me point at my car, turn to the driver and mouth the amazingly awesome words "she has an apple sticker...back up."
i *heart* the cult of apple. i love it, i love it, i love it.
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