Posts published during April, 2002

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April 30, 2002

Ma’s Message

Mom emailed yesterday. She wrote that Spanky (my sis) is working at the greenhouse, The Boy (my bro) is finished with finals, and the dogrun in the backyard has now become “the proverbial swamp sponge” and is filled with poo.

Yes, she made a point to mention that the dog shit in the backyard is thawing.

I love Mom.

Mom also related that her and Creative-Genius-Dad (step dad) had been away on a counselling weekend. My parents love counselling. Therapy is like a hobby for them – CG Dad even has therapy friends – people he sees at his “group” meeting every week. Mom hates group, but she does enjoy unravelling the mysteries of her childhood with her shrink, of which she has an abundance.

Dad does this thing every so often – it’s called “weekend intensive” – which is a nice way of saying 72 hours of lovey-dovey, lets-cry-about-our-pain group therapy. I’m not sure what happens at these things, but CG Dad comes back with these crazy revelations about the state of God, love and rotini pasta. Ma joined him for one of his beloved weekend sessions, and although she wouldn’t give details, she did say she’d rather have been doing something more worthwhile – something like scratching her ass.

Well actually, mom would never say anything like she’d rather be scratching her ass. She is a lady. I added that last part.

Also, Mom forwarded some emails from Gpa entitled “Don’t worry yet”, and “Mother Fixer”. Apparently Gma was in the hospital, cause they thought she had a heart attack. But actually, Gma just had really bad “acid reflux”, which really is a polite way of saying Gma had perilous gas.

I know how Gma must be feeling – I get that same “acid reflux” every once in a while – mostly after dining at Dietrick.

It’s a dangerous game to eat a place with both “die” and “trick” in the name.

File this under: Mother Fixer sounds like Mother F-er – my family’s funny!

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April 28, 2002

Whimsical Weekend

Question: How many artsy fartsy coffee-house kids can you fit in a one bedroom apartment on a Friday night?

Friday was the Back Alley Dirt Fashion Show, and it was incredible. At this party there were kids with afros and dreadlocks, kids with precarious piercings, kids with faces slashed with black charcoal. At this party there were kids spinning vinyl Michael Jackson on the turn table, and kids spinning in stilleto heels atop orange milk crates.

One girl danced with the wall, the floor, and anybody she could get her hands on. (This included me, and Smug Ell!) This girl’s black and white dress could make J-Lo blush, with it’s open back and deep cuts on the sides. Many times during the night this scandalous frock threatened to reveal the contents of it’s model, as the redheaded whirling dervish flailed her way about the apartment. The flight of the carrot-top bumble bee has been voyeristically documented by friends, and will be available online soon for your viewing pleasure.

The CT showed up to photograph models in torrid embraces, and models moving like go-go dancers under red wall hangings. And SORM showed up to do some photographs for the IHOH. Witness for yourself the mayhem at the BADFS friday night! (Please note, the toilet photo was a featured attraction at the event, and was posted in a prominent location. Consequently, I became known as “that girl in the toilet photo.” I feel almost famous.)

In addition to the craziness of Friday night, I also had a v. unique experience Saturday when I attended the BYOM (Bring Your Own Meat) BBQ. I ended up spending an evening with the Smug One eating grilled hot dogs, and discussing such topics as fly fishing, child birth, revolution, and the virtues of dating girls from Christian Schools. I met lots of fascinating/ uncomfortably strange people including a male nurse with pierced nipples and a tattoo that read, “Punk Rock Forever,” and a guy who farted a tribute to Tech Tow.

I am not making any of this stuff up.

The hottest point of the evening came, quite literally, when a kid singed his eyelashes off. Although we had eaten earlier in the evening, this kid, we will call him “Maku,” decided to restart the old grill at about midnight. When the coals didn’t get hot enough to cook his bananas and corn, Maku decided to douse the grill with lighting fluid. Then, peering over the grill, Maku lit a match. Flames sprung up, like a fiery fountain, and singed Maku’s eyelashes off.

Maku confided, it was no big deal. He had burned the hair off his body before. Apparently on Easter there was an incident and Maku’s arm hair melted.

Again, I am not making any of this stuff up. Honest.

File this under: the most bizarre two days of 2001

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April 24, 2002

This is my brain. This is my brain on Dawsons.

So I watched the Dawson’s 100th episode today. As usual, after watching an episode of my favorite drama, I became nostalgic and introspective. I know it’s just TV, but those kids really get to me. And it’s always been that way. This is geeky, but the whole Dawson-Joey back and forth bit, well when I was in high school I went through the same thing with this boy. And he used to watch the show too, so we would talk about how our little puppy love relationship mirrored the stuff we watched on the show.

Of course, we never thought it was puppy love. To us it was the be all, end all. We were soulmates. We were tragic. We were going to be together forever. We thought we were a lot of things, but really we were just kids – kids who were completely, hopelessly, and undeniably naive. And it’s a little sad, because you grow up and you forget how magical it was to stay up until dawn to watch the sunrise … or watch a show together. God bless you creators of Dawsons creek.

And this is what Dawson’s does to me. I’m a warm, mushy pile of sentimentality.

I remember last year, I was watching this episode at like 3 am on a school night. It was about this girl o’ding on ecstacy, and about how the kids of the Creek would never be the same again. I literally didn’t sleep at all that night. It was quite pathetic actually. I mean, I had the lights all out. The campus was silent, and I’m sitting in my room sobbing hysterically, mourning the loss of a TV character I didn’t like that much in the first place. All truth be told, I still miss that character.

oh god, I can’t beleive I wrote this out for you guys, but this is really how I feel right now. You probably came for something funny about vomit, nudity, or Canadians. Sorry to disappoint. Am in the throes of post-dawsons creek viewing. And am a huge geek.

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April 22, 2002

Back Alley Trash Fashion

I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I totally left M&M’s on my dirty floor in hopes that my friend would eat them. Yeah, SORM came by and taught me how to catch food by tossing it in my mouth. In the process of learning, about 20 mini M’s fell on the carpet of iniquity, the floor of terror. SORM kept eating them anyway. I told SORM to leave them on the floor, I had an idea for a social experiement.

I planned on calling M䴴, (who is famous for eating sticky things from the ground), under the guise that I wanted him to meet boris. I figured he would inevitably see the mini’s, like tiny jewels, and consume them with the utmost haste.

I was going to make M䴴 eat the M&M’s, but finally I just got disgusted and swept up. It was a great idea though.

In other news, Aaron and I have decided to start a Moulin Rouge Club, not to be confused with club moulin rouge. Aaron will be President, since he has the most paraphanelia – 2 cds, the dvd, and one poster. I will be VP, and our friend Josh will be Director of Music.

Josh is already planning a broadway musical where he will play Christian, and an unknown actress will play Satine. Aaron will be the director, and will wear black and shuffle papers, and get stressed out. If we can get Ewan back to play Christian (no offense Josh), I will be the costume designer. I would like to measure his inseam, and perhaps get a little sneaky peaky at his “huge talent.”

In further, and VERY VERY EXCITING news, I will be modelling this hot little, mess dress for a friend this weekend at XYZ.

The list of future careers now reads: model for trendy back alley events, Feng Shui master, mother to challenged child, professional medical experiement, naval officer, stripper, lawyer, and taco bell employee

Tomorrow will have photoshoot, where the models will be splayed out near garbage cans, and have blood dripping from their mouths. It’s a little bit dirty, and very, very hot. You must all attend. Friday (April 26), 9:30 at XYZ.

Uh oh, it’s bachelor time. Love that show. It’s fun to see how the dude likes to make out with every girl.

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April 20, 2002

Come on Barbie, Let’s Go Party

I have a few announcements to make:

First, I am naked! And not only am I wearing just my birthday suit, but also it is a clean birthday suit. I’m off to spend the evening with the Asians in my life, so I must get clean and fabulous. You know those kids always look like fashionistas, and I gotta try to blend. In the illustrious words of Hino, my filipino brotha, “deez nutz gotta look hot!”

Second, I would like to introduce you to the latest addition to my 414 O’haughnessy family. Today I welcome Boris Badanoff to the family Horn. Boris’s namesake is the russian spy from rocky and bullwinkle. Boris,however, is not a russian spy, but is actually a gorgeous red-finned betta. I think he and Paulo will get a long fine – as long as they are in seperate tanks; since they are fighting fish, if i put them together, they may make tasty treats of each other. I’m not a big advocate of canabalism, even if it is just fish-canabalism.

Third, I would like to announce that although I had suspicions, still, i cannot confirm nor deny the homosexuality of the ex-canadian-boyfriend. We chatted via MSN today for the first time in about two years. It was strange, but admittadely it was good to reminsce about the good times.

I told him I remembered when I caught him cheating, and how was the little tart anyway?

He told me he remembered the story about how I got a bean stuck up my nose when I was five

Anyway, as it is always difficult to address issues of sex and sexuality with those whom we have been romantically linked, I couldn’t ask point blank: “so you like backdoor sex?” That would be wrong. However, during a conversation on fashion, I mentioned Aaron (of Aaron and Ricky fame) did my eyebrows. he who shall remain unnamed made some sort of homophobic comment. Now, this does not negate the possibility that he is gay, but he is not open about it yet.

Gee, hope he doesn’t read this. He would probably hate me again.

Fourth, Meg is preparing for the prom at this very moment. I’m so excited I can hardly take it! Yes, she’s already been to one prom, so this is nothing new. Yes, she is taking her loser drop-out boyfriend. Yes, Eliz beleives if it has not happened already, she will lose her virginity. Oh and I guess she will probably attend some post prom party under the bridge where kegs will be the order of the evening. And then she will get busted by the cops. Then Mom’s heart will break. Consequently Mom will lose touch with reality, and will begin communicating with the MotherShip via our kitchen toaster. Wait, why was I excited about Meg’s prom, again?

Alright darlings, it’s saturday night and I need to go put on my party pants. Until next we meet, ciao!

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April 17, 2002

Just Breathe

I can finally breathe. I’m taking these big, full, breathy gulps of morning air. It’s almost cool in my 12X14 cubby, because I’ve got my fan on full, and the sun hasn’t hit my window yet. It’s almost like meditation. Yes, but I can’t close my eyes and visualize Buddha, as that would render me incapable of writing this blog.

I’d like to open my door – increase the cool air’s circulation, but I’m sitting in my underwear. While they are incredibly cute (hot pink, string bikini type), I’m not sure that the Honeys would appreciate seeing the spread of my tushy this early in the morn.

Why am I breathing? For the first time in a very long time, I have absolutely no work to do – at least for the moment. Homework in all my classes is finished, and I’m in the process of completing some mammoth projects – mostly the Center for Wireless Telecommunications web page, and the recruitment folder for Mr. Mussolini, the wood science man. Both projects are coming along, and will be completely finished in less than two weeks. This is a great feeling folks.

So what does one do when they have free time? I really don’t know. Maybe I should read a book (for fun), or teach myself to dance the Fandango. Maybe I should email an old friend, flip some pancakes, plan a trip to London, or do summersaults down my 100 ft. stretch of hallway.

Maybe I should buy a cat, a dog, a mudskipper. I really want a Mudskipper. I’ve wanted one ever since I saw the cute, slimy things in Ripley’s Aquarium in Gatlinburg.

Maybe I should plant a garden, buy a tiara, end this blog.

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April 12, 2002

Priceless

Oh man, has anybody else seen the greyhound commercial where the couple at eating at a Japanese restaurant? There is this greyhound dressed in a little chefs outfit and he is grilling their dinner and talking to the couple. Just one question: how is a greyhound somehow Japanese? And how does he cut those onions if he doesn’t have oposable thumbs?

So this is how my day has gone so far. I wake up at 4 am to see S.K. Dad off. On my way to the ladies, i notice someone has left me a little greeting on my erase board. It says something to the effect of “I lick penis.” Nice. I erase said message.

At 6 am I set my alarm clock to go off at 9:50, because have a group meeting at 10 (On a friday no less! SUCKS!) So the alarm clock goes off, and I curse my group for a while, and then trudge over to upperquad, only to find that my group members are MIA. I curse my group members again.

On my way back from the imagined meeting a service vehicle nearly runs me over, and curiously, the doors are locked. (I don’t have my passport to let me in.)

I finally get back to my room and check my alarm clock. Yeah, it says 10:30, but then I check my computer. It definetly says 9:30. I turned on Fox and Jenny Jones was on. Jenny Jones comes on at 9.

Moral of this story: I should’ve stayed in bed.

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April 11, 2002

Breakin the Law

So, my brother called me “geek nuts” today, and I think I might deserve it.

I have been playing Bejeweled for two hours straight – not because I like Bejeweled that much, but just because I can. Or more likely even, just because i’m too lazy to find the tv remote. In fact, it is taking a tremendous amount of strength to sit upright in this chair. *suddenly falls over*

In the news, SORM has revamped his blog. Is charming really. I like it so much, I am forcing sorm to build me one. Sorm tells me he is hesitant – he doesn’t know if he should hook me up with the bloggage. Apparently there is some upkeep required on the new and improved blog, and sorm doesn’t want to become my web bitch.

Note to sorm: you are already said web bitch. Cheers!

Speaking of “Cheers”, it has recently come to my attention that there are those in the online community who wish to use this saying with wild abandanon. I’ll be honest, I ganked it from smug ellie, who has been using “cheers” for quite some time. Because Smug Ell is the originator, and I am Smug Ell’s lover, I have certain rights to the phrase, and may use it at will.

However, there are those who may not be counted as Smug Ell’s beloveds, and are therefore unauthorized to salute with “cheers.” Although this is highly frowned upon, a random member of the IM community, recently cried “cheers!” in her profile. This chicabonita blatently stole from the smug one’s profile, which was evident, as stealergirl had the same copycat green lettering and arial font that Ellie uses in hers. In a word, I am “disgusted.”

In another word, I am really hungry. S.K. Dad has spent the day galavanting around the river, and has yet to return home. Have been waiting to with S.K., because he heads back to A.K. tomorrow.

File this under: Only Joodaloops can save me now!

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April 7, 2002

Sometime Sunday

Do you know why the nomadic hunters, the Pardis, wish to align themselves with the Hindu majority in India? Do you know how the majority came to be constructed in the wake of partitioned India?

Do you care at all?

Not even a little?

Not even a tiny bit?

Yeah, me either. Unfortunately, I have to turn in a paper on this very topic. Ain’t I the lucky one? So this is what I have been doing all weekend; contemplating the state of Indian affairs. I have such a glamorous and thrilling life.

As you, my faithful blog readers know – the whole two of you – S.K. Dad will be here tonight! Am v. excited. Perhaps tomorrow we will traipse through the cascades, and spend a few lazy hours fishing the James River. Wow, it sort of feels like summer all the sudden. Only three more weeks of classes!

Summer time

and the livin’s easy.

it seems that I have been presenting Serial Killer Dad to be some sort of freaky psycho. Zackypants tells me he’s afraid to speak to Dad, lest he experience some unforseen wrath. I just want to let you kids know that dad is v. nice, and decidely not scary. This is a funny story about S.K. Dad: one time we went bowling, and I can’t remember why, but Dad stuck his hand in the floor panels of the alley – you know the panels where the ball shoots through on it’s way to the return? Well, this ball came flying through, and dad broke his finger.

Dad was laughing. It was actually pretty funny, except blood was spraying everywhere, making a little picasso scene on bowl-o-ramas shiny floor. Step Mom was being a little loud, yelling “you stupid german bastard!” repeatedly at the top of her booming lungs.

Also, S.K. Dad sleeps in a nightgown. Granted, it’s a men’s nightgown, but it’s a nightgown nonetheless. How scary is that?

file this under: Badass daddy and his cute little nighty

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April 5, 2002

The Land Before Time

This morning I am a Grogosaurus.

It is 9 am and despite my many hours of sleep, I am groggy. I thought a shower would wake me up. So I walked toward my usual shower nook – the right back. However, before entering said shower, I was sure to stop at the shower nextdoor to make adjustments.

You see, my shower is permanently set to thermonuclear.

What do I mean by this? Well, the water in the showers gets so hot that you are forced to dance around going “ooh, ouch, oh!” for fear of having your skin burned off. People emerge from these showers looking like broiled tomatoes and the main ingredient at lobsterfest. In short, it aint pretty.

The only way to combat the thermonucleosity is to turn the nextdoor shower on freezing cold. For some reason, if the neighboring shower is set to cold, my shower has a bit of cold water too. Why does this happen? It’s just another college mystery. I don’t ask questions, I just know it works.

So I walked into the showers wearing my little Grogosaurus pink bathing cap, (and you thought bathing caps were only for old women), and sleepily turned the neighboring shower to “glacial ice storm”, not paying attention to the fact that the showerhead was pointed directly at my toweled body. Suddenly, by virtue of early morning baptism with v cold water, Grogosaurus Rex became Frostasauraus Rex. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Finally, despite the shenanigans, I did get a shower in. And it was good. But am still v. groggy. And am still wearing nerdy looking shower cap. I think I have to come to terms that I may never fully wake up.

File this under: Friday Morning Madness

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