Posts published during February, 2002

February 28, 2002

MishMash

I had the second interview today, and am troubled because I actually enjoyed it. This worries me greatly, because as I discussed earlier, the whole job hunt experience typically makes me want to pee my pants. But there was no bladder trouble today.

Yep, pants are dry – and oh man are they sexy. They are my Gwen Stephani pants – cute with huge zippers. Speaking of which, did anyone catch her on the Grammys last night? Gwen looked fabulous. I totally dig the huge hair and the wild animal print. Can this girl do anything wrong?

I want to be Gwen Stefani. She is my inspiration.

Onto other events, it is the day before Spring break and i’m v. excited. I will be going to the Smoky Mountains. In the smoky mountains I will shop profusely, and wind the evening down with a trip to DollyWood. I heard that place is the cheese. Should be good times for all.

Okay I gotta go. Time to learn about the relgions of India.

File this under: the lamest blog

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February 26, 2002

MTVision

I saw something v. interesting today, and everyone must check it out. The Osbourne Family has their own show on MTV. I watched the teaser this morning, and it looks great. I think my favorite scene has the Patriarch, the prince of darkness his ozziness himself running around outside chasing his cat. He is wearing this black t shirt with a skull on the front. He’s got on the trademark shades and he’s yelling “SHAAAAAAAAAAAAARON!”, which I assume is the name of his cat. He’s panicking and keeps tossing a some “F-ing cats” in there for variety.

You must understand, I am in no way an Ozzy Osborne fan. I probably only know one song, and I’m not particularly fond of that one. His new video, where he’s running around in the snow terrifies me. The white, symoblizing purity, directly contradicts mr. dark man. I can’t watch it. It comes on, and I switch the channel faster than you can say “that’s one scary mo-fo”.

Even though I’m not a fan of the ‘English One, I do think I’ll like his show. As you all know, I really enjoy Making of the Band, which is also a reality show on MTV. You know what would be cool? If they had an episode where Ozzy was forced to hang out with O-Town. Oh hell yes. I can see it now.

Ozzy: “I like to eat the heads off flying rodents.”

O-Town: “I like to eat cereal.”

Ozzy: “Cereal’s good too… So, people call me the Prince of Darkness”

O-Town: “Really? Prince is cool. Purple Rain rocks!”

Ozzy: “Prince? I’m not talking about that F-ing weirdo! Just for bringing that up, I’m going to eat your first born children.”

and then O-Town can do a little dance, a tribute to Ozzy. They’ll call it “Mr. Osbourne, Don’t Eat My Baby, Baby.”

Oh it’s too delicious. I should sell this junk to MTV.

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February 25, 2002

PDA is A-Okay

A few weeks ago, I updated my list of future careers to include spy. I recently went on a spy mission; I was to find examples of PDA and write about them for my soc. class. Sorm and I headed to the Midwinters Ball in search of Cinderellas with sore feet. Although this is the “semi formal” evening, girls are prancing in gowns that glitter, and guys are neatly groomed in crisp suits and dapper neckties.

I myself am wearing a winter parka and blue jeans. Sorm is wearing a winter coat as well, and a knit cap that makes his ears stick out ridiculously. All I can think is, “Who let the elves out?”

From my cushy couch, I can see a large group of Asians to my right. Some military brats with adorable girlfriends in modest gowns sit adjacent to me. A group of about 8 kids with glasses and bad hair brush past me on their way out. These girls and guys are somewhat segregated, and I imagine this group is into computers and fantasy games. Ballrooms and chivalry are not their forte, but they are trying. There are also some pompous singleton guys milling about. They are mostly members of the German Club, the event hosts.

After getting an eyeful in the epicenter of this event, I head outside into the deep, dark, night where the giddy couples, forced out by the closing of Squires, descend. This is where I see the most interesting form of PDA. Across the parking lot my eye catches on a gorgeous black and white dress. It looks like the one Julia Roberts wore to the Oscars the year she won for Erin Brockavich. This dress is fabulous, it?s very deep black, but in the night, a splinter of white shines and beckons for attention.

I notice the girl in her exquisite gown is walking with two gentlemen. All three seem to be in a playful mood, as they hop on benches and periodically push into each other. I assume this girl is with one of the guys, and that the other dude is just a friend. But as I watch a little more, I realize my assumption may be wrong. As they exit the parking area, both men draw closer to each other, until there is probably an inch between their hands. The girl, meanwhile, is lagging behind, and is definitely being ignored.

The proximity between the men leads me to believe that perhaps they are in a relationship with each other, or at least that there is some romantic tension between them. I imagine the latter, that perhaps they are straight boys who enjoy football and beer, and are having a hard time denying the curiosity.

Maybe there is inquisitiveness in the two boys that can only be cured by a good sexual romp behind bedroom doors.

… So how did I feel about the PDA I witnessed that night? I thought it was fabulous. Why be offended by kisses and caresses? No, I’m too busy being offended by bigotry, violence, intolerance and those Elimidate tv shows. In short, I cannot wrinkle my nose in disgust, but look to the cuddly couple playfully smacking each other’s rumps, and smile.

This is 007, and I’m out.

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February 21, 2002

My Life as a Working Member of Society

So it’s almost summer, and you know what that means – time to find a job! Ugh. I always get so nervous around job search time. It’s not because I don’t have a resume (I actually have like six versions), and it’s not because I don’t have any experience. I am constantly working. I took one week off last summer from serving and landscaping to be lazy and comfortable. No, it’s not that I’m too lazy to get a job. I am lazy though.

Naw, the thing is, I am naturally frightened of the whole job search process. Filling out applications, tayloring resumes, interviewing – no thank you. This whole work thing is just a crazy conspiracy to make me feel violently ill a couple times a year. Even right now, I can feel the chunks rising in my throat – yes finding a job is that intense.

I feel like I’m that Ashanti girl singing with Ja Rule. This is me to my potential employer:

I’m not always there when you call
but i’m always on time
I gave you my all
baby be mine

I don’t say “baby, be mine” to the potential employers though. That would be sketch. And while I am sketch on day to day basis, I don’t want to let employers know that my most exciting moments happen Saturday at 9, when the latest episode of Making of the Band comes on. Or how about how I went to the cafeteria on Celebrity Night dressed like Joey Potter from dawsons creek? This is sketch and is bad in the job search environment.

So I’m V. sweaty right now because I just had an interview for one of the jobs I’ve applied for recently. I think it went really well, but don’t want to discuss it in my blog, in case those interviewing individuals should search for my name on the net.

Am I paranoid? Well, I did have an airport stalker (refer to January entry entitled “What part of hell no don’t you understand?”).

file this under: that crazy job junx

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February 17, 2002

On the Road

Hello angels, I know this is supposed to be a blog about little stupid things, but I recieved a really beautiful email this morning from a friend back home that I would like to share here. Laura has been trying to make it to L.A. for the past three years. Last year, she rebuilt her old VW bug’s engine and set off across the country. She lived in her car, ate in her car (when she had food), and spent many days crying when her car would break down and she’d have to spend the $500 she didn’t have. This year, she drove her bug to LA, in hopes of the obtaining her impossible dream – breaking into acting. Her story is bittersweet.

Laura’s Story
“So as I think most of you know I went home for christmas and had a great time with my ma. I had my birthday on the 4th and then headed for LA to make it big. Well when I got into town I called my old time bud from high school. She had told me to just call her when I got into town. I had been four days on the road and was pretty ripe. Her roommates told me to come over and shower. It was greatly needed. She’s down in LA living in the huntington beach area working two jobs and just living right now. But she went to school for acting too.

So anyway I get there and she takes me out on the town the first night and its fun and all, but really a drink doesn’t taste any better when a guy flips a bottle ov! er his head then when he just pours the damn thing. I guess I’m just not taken in by all that glittzy stuff. So I’m trying to get ahold of my other friends in town as not to impose on her too long, but I can’t get ahold of anyone. She complains that she has no money, but the second night when her roommate wants to go out on the town, she’s all gung-ho to go. $7.50 for a drink seems ridiculous to me. She gets a couple. I can tell I’m not wanted in her new world that she has created for herself. The morning of the third I’m calling around like crazy trying to find a place to go but I can’t get ahold of anyone. She’s hardly speaking to me, and haven’t asked her for anything. She didn’t have to spend money on me in any way, I bought my own meals, so it can’t be that.

I’ll tell you its a sad day when one of your best friends isn’t there for you in a time of need.

So ask her whats wrong and she blows up at me about being there so I quickly pack the car and leave. So now I’m sitting! at a walmart in Valencia, which is north of LA waiting to hear from my friend casey. I left a terrible, bawling message on his answering machine. Luckily, he and his girlfriend have hearts of gold and they came and rescued me. Casey’s girlfriend Carri, said that I could split the rent with her and her roommate, and stay at their apartment till I found a place. An angel.

So I start apartment hunting but I soon find that unless you are increadibly wealthy, its impossible to find a place. We’re talking $650 for a studio. Three weeks I tried to find a place. If it hadn’t have been for my hikes in a nearby parks, Trader Joes,Casey, Carri, Jon(Casey’s roommate), and my alaskan friend Stacy, I would have lost it. I mean seriously lost it. Every time I called [my boyfriend, Michael] I’d cry. I was miserable.

And the whole acting thing seemed like a crock too. 300 dollars for headshots, 200 for prints, 400 for acting classes, 40 bucks a pop for casting workshops, which is basically where you pay to be seen by a casting director. It’s like someone thought, “how can I suck the most money out of dreamer?” So they created LA.

And LA doesn’t have much culture either from what I saw. Even their farmers market seemed more like a place to be seen and buy crappy trinkets, than a place to buy fresh produce from local farmers. Lets just say the place oozed fake. well finally I found a place with three other people for $515 a month. Heck I talked her down to that. I was supposed to move in Super Bowl Sunday, so Friday I started to look for jobs in the area, only to find nobody was hiring. If I could just get a full time job, I’d be able to cover rent, food and maybe in a month or two afford headshots. Let me tell you things were looking up.

The LA experience finally reached a head at Casey’s while I was reading an article in Backstage West about pilot season that was going on right then, but how one would never know it. Yep it was the busy season, but no one was busy. I went home to try and cook some dinner but ended crumpled up on the floor crying and ! it finally hit me- I didn’t want to be there.

So that was it.

I’d had it with the town. I missed michael, pennsylvania, theatre, culture, the east coast. I didn’t know if I could make it six more days there let alone six months, or five years. I didn’t need it. One doesn’t have to sit there forever waiting for the Cheetos commercial. I could go back to Pennsylvania, go to Philadelphia, they had alot of theatre there. And for the first time in a month, I was excited and happy as if a great weight had been lifted.

So I enjoyed my last week in LA. I went on some nice hikes and even saw a movie. I headed out Saturday morning and life was great. I love traveling, lots of time to think. The weather was great and even got to see those big cactuses that look like a guy with his arms up. I made it to El Paso that night and the only thing that had happened that day was that my #4 spark plug had flown out, but I found more in the next town. The next morning I headed for New Orleans, I figured I could make it there for Mardi Gras. I made it to Junction Texas before Bachus, my bug, took his last gasps of air in this world. First white smoke started coming out and then the oil light came on, and then the car slowed, so I stopped, called AAA and waited for a tow. I cried because I knew this was really it. The car had died.

The oil light is like the kiss of death. So a guy named Jonny showed up with his wife and kids, but AAA had given him the wrong code. He thought I needed road side asisstance, and I knew I needed a tow. Night was coming on fast and the thought of waiting another hour and a half in the dark for him to go back and get the wrecker didn’t sound like fun. He had a tow rope so he towed me an hour in the dark to his house since I didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Talk about a nerve wracking ride.

Well the family was very nice to me, they had two little kids and had just gotten a new puppy. The next day while Jonny was at work, I tried to figure out what the heck I was going to do with the car. It was too expensive to take to anyone to fix, and renting a car to tow it was too much. Sofia, that was the lady’s name, was glad to have me there since she had only been there for two weeks herself.

It slowly came out that she and Jonny weren’t married. In fact, Jonny had just separted from his wife two weeks ago, and since he didn’t know how to cook or clean, Sofia had come with her two children to live with him. She had broken down in Junction two weeks ago and that’s how she had met him. Oh yeah, she was married too, but had a restraining order on him since he used to beat her and the kids. Just your normal family.

They told me I could stay as long as I wanted, stay a month even and fix the car down there. well my answer came that night when Jonny’s old wife showed up while he was out on a call. She and her ENORMOUS friend came in and started punching sofia on the head.

Sophia screamed to me to call 911, which I started to do.

Soon the big friend came after me, trying to get the phone away . She grabbed my hair and started punching me on the floor – don’t worry, I punched her back. I got away from her and locked myself in the bathroom, but realized as the operator asked me where I was, that I really didn’t have any idea. I left the bathroom trying to find a window to look out of to see a street sign. I tried to get out the front door but the screen was locked. Sofia had run out the back and so the both came after me and wrestled the phone away from me.

You know the thing I was most upset about was that when they were trying to get the phone away I was screaming and the big one kept saying “you’re on crack aren’t you, your high.” And as you all know I never have, and never will do drugs. How dare she assume! Well, they left and I went looking for sofia. She and the kids were next door. She had been punched in the back of the head aboput four times and then had her head slammed on the counter. they had punched her little boy too.

So that’s when the little voice inside said ” Laura for Christ sakes get the hell out of here!”.

… It was two days to Pennsylvania and the only weird person I met was on Valentines night. This guy was headed for Illinois to turn him self in, and showed me pictures of his very large girlfriend in red lingerie and pictures of himself without a shirt holding knives.
I mean what do you say when someone showes you a picture like that – “nice chest hair? Gee, you look high.”

But I am now safe, back on the Snyder farm. I tell you what I started to cry when we came into Pittburgh. I don’t know where I’m going, but I don’t really care. I’m glad to be alive, to be back in a place I love, and the rest doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t. Fame, acting, I piss on it all right now. It’ll come when its supposed to, and whats the point of it if I’m some where were I’m miserable? …”

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February 16, 2002

Saturday Night Fever

Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, whores and vandals, priests and saints to the weekend edition of Hänni House. I’m glad you’re here.

Let me tell you about my morning. It all began at 7 am with my alarm clock’s cathedral chimes blaring in my face. I don’t get up at 7 am, ever. Why was I awake? Well, because it’s “Super Saturday”, the annual RA interview day.

Naming the event “Super Saturday” is RDP’s attempt at tricking staff into believing that being at work by 8 am is fun and exciting.

Tricky Tricky.

They’re not really fooling anybody though. I mean, college is about sleeping late. There’s a reason I don’t have classes before 11 am. It’s called, a) I’m lazy, and b) I’m in college. As a red blooded member of a collegiate campus, sleep is my right – and i’m damn good at excercising my rights. This up at the butt crack of dawn thing, it’s not working for me.

I suggested to a head staff member we adopt a policy of honesty, and call it what it really is, Sucky Saturday. The boss lady sort of grumbled and told me my comment was inappropriate. So? Isn’t college a good place to debate or discuss inappropriate topics? Earlier this semester, I read a waiver on my sociology syllabus saying we wouldn’t be watching anything more offensive than “R, NC-17 and X”. Pornos in class? College is the greatest.

So it’s off to Joodaloops tonight with Smug Ellie and her Prince Wills. Ansmoo is in town, and we’re meeting him for burritos and bean dip. I hope Gilberto is our waiter. One night, when it was slow, Gilberto did a little Mexican dance for us, while we waited for our food. He also likes to sing when he brings drinks. There is another waiter dude there, and I am afraid of him. He is v. stern, and doesn’t like refill my 7-ups. I hope we don’t get Angry Waiter.

Readers task: Go find some fun. It’s Saturday night!

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February 15, 2002

It’s the end of the world as we know it

Hello beloveds,

As you may have noticed, I have taken a little sabattical from blogging for the past week. In lieu of recent life-changing events, I had decided to lay off the blogging till I got some things together, and guess what? You are lucky lucky lucky lucky, cause i figured some things out, and like polyester pants, I’m back.

———————————————————————————————————————————-
What have I learned most recently? A) I am an empowered woman. A trip to the Vagina Monologues reminded me that I’m damn lucky to be a Vagina. I could relate the whole experience, but would just like to leave you with this quote from my male Hanni House fan club prez dr peej, ” I feel inadequate.”

I think I speak for every Vagina when I say women feel inadequate on a daily basis, whether in looks or in the workforce, or whatever. But i’ve learned that, in fact, by virtue of our very existence, we women are fabulous. Watch out boys. In the words of my neighbor, darling Amanda, “We are wicked bitches!”

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t hate men. They can’t help that their vaginally – impaired. And they’re awfully good at certain things. Like mowing the lawn. And scratching their nuts. Hurray for that.

B) I have learned that I have senioritis, and it’s totally cool! Forget the fact that I’m not a senior or anything. Anyway, I have been falling asleep, and failed to fully study for two tests this week. For those of you who know me, you may be thinking “did hell freeze over?”. No, hell didn’t freeze over, the world did not come to an end, and Canadians, unfortunately, are still with us.

What can I say? I’m just different. I actually thought i’d study last night for a test I had this morning at 11 am. However, about two glasses of sparkling white wine convinced me otherwise. Instead of studying, I basically watched movies and ate some candy hearts. After all, it was Black Thursday – or Valentines Day for the coupled world. Or “Deez Nutz Day”, if your name is Hino Banzon.

So A + B = I’m one lazy feminazi! And you should be one too!

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February 9, 2002

Not Down with the Sickness

Today was simply gorgeous. It was around sixty degrees. The sun was out. Kids were playing in the quad. The world was at peace. Love prevailed.

The world may have been at peace, but my stomach, however, was not. I seem to have some weird mutating cold. Yesterday I had a headache. Then by midnight it was headache and nasea. Unfortunately, I was on duty, which meant I would have to walk around the building, without spewing all over the place. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to do it. I mean, how embarrasing would it have been to call emergency housekeeping going “uhm, yes can you come clean up a body spill in the third floor? What it is it? Oh, uhm vomit. Do I know where it came from? Uhm maybe…”

So zachypants took my two o’clock round. He said he found shit in the stairwell. Boy am i glad i wasn’t there to see that. Then I would’ve definetly had to call the emergency housekeepers. I’d be like, “yes, there’s uh human excrement and puke in the stairwell.”

So today this horrible humiliating sickness has started manifesting itself in my stomache. I won’t give you details, but i will say, it’s not pretty. It’s not pretty at all.

On a more positive note, I got the job I applied for a few weeks ago. Next year I’ll be living in air-conditioned Payne Hall! That place is classy. Bet no one poos on the floor in that place.

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February 7, 2002

Now You See Me, Now You Don’t

So i’ve spent the whole day being invisible. I have this magic hat that allows me to become submicroscopic. It looks like an upturned, fuzzy, fuschia flower pot, and it blocks my peripheral vision. I beleive that if i can’t see something, then it doesn’t exist – but i only beleive this when i’m wearing my hat. When i’m not wearing my hat, i’m very concerned with things I can’t see. For example, I have been convinced for several months now that there are ghosts in my bathroom. Why the ghosts haunt the crapper, I have no idea.

In any event, I’ve been walking around with the fuschia flower pot on my head all day. And when i wear ‘the pot my vision is obscured so much that I can only see sneakers and pants. I imagine, when i have this hat on, that as I’m trudging across the drillfield, I can spy on anyone – I can’t see anyone, so they must not be able to see me.

The list of future careers now reads: spy, feng shui master, mother to challenged child, medical experiment participant, naval officer, stripper, lawyer, and taco bell employee.

This invisibility thing is all very well, considering I’m in the usual Thursday slump. I think I have a chemical imbalance which makes me predisposed to having Blue Thursdays. Last Thursday I got home from class and crawled under my quilt. I didn’t sleep. I just sort of whimpered, until my friend was kind enough to bring me a magazine with Booby Spears on the cover. She’s such a whore, but oh man, she’s got charisma like a mo-fo.

Anyhow, since it’s time for my weekly day of depression, I think i’m going to find some chocolate icecream and retire to the comforts of Must See TV. Ciao – for now.

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February 6, 2002

True Romance

As you may have noticed, I’ve given the ’sparkler a fabulous makeover. While, unfortunately, the comments section is still broken, I was able to replace the shitty looking color set with something a little more attractive. In lieu of my difficult relationship with blogspot and it’s server issues, I will be moving this blog, very soon, to filebox. The marriage has ended – but don’t worry kids – bigger and better things are yet to come.

Enough shop talk. Let’s talk about romance. ‘Tis the season after all.

I gotta tell you, nothing says romance like electric panties . Who cares about roses and chocolates, when you can vibrate in public/pubic places? Ewww.

It’s electric
boogie woogie woogie
and you can’t hold it
it’s electric
boogie woogie woogie

that one was more for the ladies, but I wouldn’t want to exclude the men. For Mr. Machismo, nothing says sexy like a big cock. What lady wouldn’t want to be woken at daybreak by this rooster? Cock-a-doodle-do.

Hot yet?

Sexy enough?

Need to go smoke a cigarette?

Then go now my child, but take the things you have learned in this blog to heart. There may be no sex in the champagne room, but you can put sex in your pants – if you’ve got a sense of romance, and a credit card.