Posts published during September, 2002

September 25, 2002

Pirate Pete

And now for a very serious issue: if one more testosterone filled meathead pounds on my door, there will be horrifying consequences of a very real sort!

Twice recently these assholes from – well wherever they’re from,( they’re not my residents) – these guys pounded on my wooden door like their life depended on it.

I thought it was the second coming of Christ or something, the way this one jerko beat down frame. It bespoke an urgency, so that even though I was on the phone having a lovely conversation with ZP, I felt compelled to swing wide the gates.

It was just this kid with a hunch back demanding I unlock his door, cause I’m the F-ing RA. I sent him away. Told him I didn’t have a key – I lied, but who really cares?

Then today another asscrack, we’ll call him Pirate Pete, beats down my door – I seriously thought it would fall off its hinges. As I opened the door, standing before me was this mutant with a bizarre goattee and flaming red hair. I see this kid every day. He wears a black t-shirt – it is black and has a skull and crossbones on the front. Actually, the bottom bones under the skull are made to look like swashbuckling swords. I see this kid on a daily basis, and he is always, always wearing that same shirt. It leads me to beleive the Pirate Pete doesn’t own more than one t.

Why was Pete interrupting the solace of my teeny res hall room? He wanted to give me a screen. Yes, a window screen. I’m thinking the same thing you are when you’re like what the hell?

Pirate Pete told me it fell off my window . The logic: it had to come from my window because I live on the left side of the building?. I just wanted to say Uh about 100 people live on the left side of the building weird ass, but thanks.

And sure enough, it didn?t come from my window. I have all four screens tightly in place thank you very much. Argh me mateys! The next person interrrupts Captain H䮮i Horribulus with stupid comments will walk the plank!

(update, the list of potential future careers now reads: pirate ship captain, spy, feng shui master, mother to challenged child, medical experiment participant, naval officer, stripper, lawyer, and taco bell employee.)

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September 22, 2002

Old Age

As I am now a distinguished Senior with many years of collegiate wisdom under my belt, I feel I must reflect. Today I went through some old papers seeing if i could filch information for this stupid case study project I’m doing. Well I didn’t have much to recycle, but I did happen upon something that made me giggle.

This little excerpt was from a letter asking permission to write a proposal. Can you beleive I had to ask permission to write a freakin’ proposal? Professors gotta quit breakin my balls. Heh.

Dear Professor Norris,
The obesity epidemic in the United States has reached frightening proportions with damning consequences…

And I’m like, did i really say ‘damning consequences?’ I’m sorry, but that’s the cheese right there. I think i wrote this around the same time i received an essay from my friend justin in new york. At that time justin was taking some english class where he had to write a five page paper on thirty seconds of his life.

I don’t remember the details, but i do remember it had to do with alcohol, doorways and the F- word. I remember I was so enamored with the fact that you could say F- in a college essay and it was okay. ~ the teacher wouldn’t even comment on the appropriateness.

So that’s probably why i put the “damning” in there, as lame as that sounds. I mean, I’m not one to throw the F around. And that’s why it’s hilarious. I am the queenbean of drama.

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September 14, 2002

Greeks and Geeks

Last night I attended my second ever Jew party. H䮮ihouse readers will probably remember last spring when Smug Ellie and I, on a whim, decided to play lesbian at one of their parties. There was no touchy-feely stuff – Smug and I just did what we always do: call each other ‘lover’ and ‘dumpling’, while chatting on the patio.

Apparently, our scandalous legacy has not been forgotten. Well, I guess good things don’t always have to come to an end.

Last night I learned so much! Who says parties and mischief can’t be educational? Last night I heard my first ever Star Wars gangsta rap. The song had a repeating loop with an angry blackman projecting into a gritty mic: “I am your faaather,” “I am your faather.” How great/nerdy is that?

And here I deviate from the talk about geeks and greeks, because I am reminded of a very special rap song I learned as a youngun. When we were little Mom used to take us to Shalom Christian Bookstore, and allow us kids to pick out any tape we want. (Yeah, this was in the age of dinosaurs – before you had things like CDs.) Anyway, my 10 year-old-self selected the tape in the shiny orange wrapper called “O. T. Raps.”

And I still remember the chorus with fondness: OT raps, just doin’ those OT raps. OT raps, Old Testament Raps.

And now back to Star Wars … Last night I also learned that there is Star Wars techno – but that figures. Techno is nerdy. I’m sorry SORM – I know you love it. But I just can’t get into that obscure, repition of electronic screeching. Give me a good rock song with a hard-ass chorus anyday – or at least a gangsta rap about Ewoks and the Force.

Finally, I was pleased to see Larry in a new light. Last night I saw Larry “who let the jew out” Leventhall, not merely as my computer-programming friend, but as a frat brother. In loyalty to his AEPI peeps, he traded in his wrinkled cargo shorts and faded t-shirt for something very hip.

Lare broke out something far cooler than I have ever seen him wear. Laste night he wore cargo pants and a shirt that read “Mountain Jew”, mocking the Mountain Dew logo. The back of his shirt read: “Do the jew.” Mad props for bringing the crazyness, Lare.

And now, as I am sitting in my underwear with a towel on my head, dear H䮮ihouse readers, I must bid you adieu. Adieu, Adieu to you and you and you…

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September 8, 2002

Brunch Member

I love brunch. And now for your reading pleasure, a hännihouse haiku dedicated to my favorite meal time. I call it, Ode to Brunch. Enjoy!

Ode to Brunch:
Sunday brunch is yummy.
Whether eggs, bacon,or toast
that junk is all good

I had brunch with ZP today. We each ate the usual: I chomped down a mountain of grease-drenched hashbrowns, while ZP went for the big drink and biscuits. We had a lovely conversation – mostly about blogging material, boxing and nipple piercings.

The place was pretty dead, except for the group of skanky looking frat-boy types sitting next to the h䮮ihouse table. There was probably four of ‘em in oversized t’s and cargo shorts visiting over their plates of scrambled eggs and pancakes. I didn’t pay much attention, but was sure to keep my voice lowered when talking about such controversal subjects as the aforementioned nip. piercing.

some things,after all, are just not polite to say in public.

And then it happened… during a brief break in ZP and I’s heated discussion, from the frat boy table I heard, dude do you shave your balls? I sat stunned for 2.5 seconds. Then i started chortling – it was all very polite chortling. You know, I kept the noise down to a minimum and was careful not to shake my shoulders too much.

But then they did it again.

frat boy 1: dude, do you really shave your balls?
frat boy 2 (nonchalantly): yeah man

At this point I excused myself from the table and made a beeline for the tray return. All the while I trying to be polite and not snort too loudly. But the fact is when someone’s talking about shaving their business at brunch, well you can’t help but laugh.

And I did laugh. I laughed like it was my job. I laughed like I was gettin paid, baby.

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September 5, 2002

Lady Killer, Part II

Oh god, the ants keep coming back. I think they are caffeine addicts, cause they won’t stay off my coffee maker. That’s cool. I like to turn on the pot and then flick them onto the burning plate. They melt.

ZP tried to cheer me about the whole incident. He said, “just think, you have an antfarm. A free antfarm.”

Oh no he di’int. He abused my favorite four-letter word. “Free” is henceforth only to be used in conjunction with good things like, free icecream, free socks, free crab boil. And it will be so, because I, the Queen of Free declare it so.

In response to ZP’s comment about the ant farm, I had only this to say: Well ZP, I’m pretty sure I could get gonnoreah for free too. – but I don’t think i need to go there.

no definetly not going to gonnoreah-ville.

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September 1, 2002

Lady Killer

The first bloody masacre of 2002 occured on august 20th. I, Hanibal Hänni, tyrant of southwest Virginia did not rest until they were utterly destroyed. I killed them all – big, small, young old, infants, whatever. I didn’t care. In fact I delighted at their misfortune – I smiled with evil glee during the hostile take-over – i thoroughlly enjoyed watching them writhe, and ball up fetus-like in excruciating pain. I killed them all… I killed those bastard ants that have the misfortune of living in my room.

Yeah, forgive me for ever complaining about cockroaches in Megg. I’d take those buggers anyday, if only I could be rid of the ant infestation in Payne.

Yeah Payne is all fancy schmancy with it’s AC and crap, but like the ants here are HORRIBLE. They are all teeny-tiny and red, and they are EVERYWHERE. I think i saw my first ant here about one week into move-in. At that point it was no big deal. A teeny ant here, a teeny ant there. Then one day, I noticed the little flakes of food I left on Boris and Paulo’s fish tanks were gone every night. The ant-bandits were stealing food out the mouths of my babes.

And I thought “oh no, they di’int”.

So I just sealed up Boris and Paulo’s food, and didn’t worry anymore about the bandits. – But then something terrible happened. The ants, like mold on cheese, multiplied and became fruitful. One night I noticed them crawling in and out my keyboard searching for crumbs. They were crawling into a jar of peanut butter, and started fraternizing around my vanity. Then i noticed a couple hundred hiking across my bee collection in my window sill. You just don’t mess – You don’t mess with the bee collection.

That night I went on the rampage. I took stripped down to my skivies, cranked up some punk rock and sent a bleach-soaked sponge on a search and destroy mission. Thousands fell that night, and for a day or so, hannihouse was ant free. Predictably, they came back in droves. Babyface bwicklin, with his thinking cap on, was smart enough to think to purchase raid anttraps.

Within two hours of putting those little pods of death in my room, the ants were invisible. I had finally succeeded in overthrowing their coup. And I was like I’m back baby. Don’t mess with a lady!

Today i found a couple hundred on the sink again, but a good bath of bleach seems to have decimated their ranks. I’m thinking of calling the exterminator – that or inventing a ghetto-homemade sprayer thing and sending bleach into the floorboards.

Watch out ants – the lady-killer is out, and she’s got yo’ ass in check!