Posts published during November, 2002

November 29, 2002

A Note From the Road

Am writing to you on location in flourescently lit
Golden Corral office, Rocky Mount, Va.
To my left is a 12 by 42 inch pane of greasy glass.
bad checks and time cards line the sill.

To my right is a tile wall, not unlike that seen in the Hännihouse
ladie’s room. There are some keys dangling from a makeshift
hook, and an inch-thick stack of food receipts lies on a clipboard.

Shining down on me from about 9 feet above is the
aforementioned fluorescent light panel. Behind me I hear
the buzzing of some sort of food processing contraption.

Yes this is the life. The I’m-On-Thanksgiving-Break
kind of life. Pass the pie.

Angelface and I had a whirlwind trip to our nation’s capital
earlier this week. We went to the smithsonian, saw a capitols
game, saw a wizards game (Michael Jordan was super neat.
as angel says “we were so close we could see the sweat on
his bald head.”) We even did a little nightlifing.

We met smug in alexandria one night and caroused a bit
at an irish pub called Murphys. The obvious highlight of
the night was when the singer, Pat Carrol serenaded Angel
with a West Virginia Version of the John Denver Classic,
“country roads”

And then we were back in Rocky Mount. Turkey dinner was
unique – I dined with about 60 people who were all somehow
related to angel’s stepmom, but who for the life of me, I don’t
remember seeing or hearing anything about – ever.

It was fun though. Miss Frith – she was something else.
Miss Frith is 90 years-old, has white hair, bright eyes
and skin so soft it could rival a newborns’. Angelface
said he’d send her home with some cookies, which delighted
the woman to no end. She explained she ate cookies
every single night before bed.

Miss Frith is my hero.

In other news,
I’m so surprised no one has commented on this, but it
seems I have named my new web site
“the cockroach with cheese”.
At least that’s what fernando, the butcher in back
said that’s what “la cuca racha con quesa” means.

Of course, now I know that nobody ever reads
this crap. Either that or the entire H䮮ihouse fanbase –
like its illustrious author – is completely, utterly, hopelessly,
ignorant of the spanish language.

Oy, yoi yoi and adios amigos.

0 comments

November 24, 2002

Daddy’s Girl

Whew! I accomplished three great things today:
1. ate two delicous powdered donuts
2. fixed comments here at Hännihouse (please feel free to use)
3. finished La Cuca Racha Con Quesa
the *hottest* page ever seen

Am feeling like a Creative Genius. Like father,
like daughter me thinks. heh.

So I’m sort of on break. I’m here at the B&M h䮮ihouse,
because i am an outstanding RA who has the unfortunate duty
of serving on break rotation. It was exciting last night.
First the electronic doors started randomely shutting on and off.
Then some kid with wild hair called. He said he lost his keys
in the shower.

Why would you have your keys in the shower? especially
since no one is even on campus?

Apparently the keys in question fell down the drain.
Eh, at least he didn’t drop the soap.

and actually, i was being facetious about yesterday’s excitement.
It was actually quite nice and boring.

yes, am off to do some super secret Christmas tinkering.
Ciao bambinos. – leave comments, you know you want to!

0 comments

November 20, 2002

Excuse Me While I Blow the Smoke From My Fingers

Whew, have been webpagering for about 9 hours straight now.
I have bitten off all my nails, and am feeling v. thin, because had
to eat quick, thin foods today. i.e. soup, grilled cheese sammie.

Am doing a fiesta theme for my summer conferences web page.

I will call it La Cuca Racha Con Quesa

It’s sort of inspired by Trading Spaces, although I have to admit I’ve
missed the last 4 new episodes, and haven’t watched the reruns for
more than a week now. This is pretty shocking for me, but I’m not sad.

Don’t worry though, I haven’t forsaken my t.v. entirely. I am really into
the new making of the band. This season P.Diddy finds kids from the
ghetto to rap about thug life and such. I mean, honestly, while I am
a huge fan of the original making of the band, it was getting a little stale.
O-Town can only go so far.

I find it ironic that O-Town’s latest album is called “O2″, because O-Town
needs new life breathed into them hardcore. I’m a huge fan. I used to
watch the concert DVD fornightly, and even bought the O-Town calendar
instead of the Dawsons (which I now regret). However, my O-Town
poster has recently been moved to a new place of honor at h䮮ihouse -
it has been moved to the throne room. The porcelain throne room.

This placement creeps angelface out. He thinks the O-Town boys
stare at him while he’s doing his business. One night in retaliation
angel took a big black marker and drew Harry Potter glasses,
and frenchie mustaches on O-Town to make them less intimidating.

I gotta get away from this computer now. Till next.

0 comments

November 18, 2002

The Latent Athlete

I got the funniest email from CG Dad yesterday. Will excerpt it here:

Dear Ms Hanni,

It’s just too tempting to harp upon your latest dilemma for me. I can no longer resist.
I suspect that the best quips have come and gone…
I suspect that there resides in you a hidden aspect that has been repressed very deeply.

That you are blessed with the gift of being a world class athlete.
I know, this sounds crazy but hear me out.

Now, as you probably learned in Psy 101 aspects of personality that are repressed
often try to come out on their own
in spite of the suppression of them, sometimes sideways.

Remember when Tommy tricked you into riding a bicycle to Big Lake?
You were a bit miffed after you got back home and your body roared out in pain.

What it was really saying to you was “YES! This is what I was meant for! I am an Olympian!”

It is quite easy to misinterpret this. When we suppress something we often do it to an extreme
and deny it in the face of all the reality.
You probably misinterpreted your body crying out in ecstasy.
You probably thought it was crying out in agony as the two reactions are almost the same.

More likely it was simple denial on your part.
Perhaps your body is no longer willing to allow you to suppress its own potential.
It is acting out against your denial that you are a gifted athlete by manifesting the reactions
that the bodies of all great and even lesser athletes experience.

Athletes foot, or in your case, athlete’s boob, is merely the start
of a possibly long war between your body and your ego.
Hopefully it won’t get to the extreme of your hair all falling
out in an effort by your body
to streamline itself for competition swimming.

Be careful that you don’t get athletes lips…

I would advise you to do a serious personal search into your unconscious to find yourself.
I wish you well but I find it incumbent upon myself that I warn you
that there are dire consequences for suppression of who you really are.

Sincerely,
Dr. Cornbreath

0 comments

November 16, 2002

I Will Always Love Perr

As it’s getting to be around the holidays, I find myself missing home.
I miss Mom. I miss CG Dad, Spank, and rock star brother
I miss snow. I miss mountains. I miss the freaks who hang out at my fav.
coffee shop, and i miss the oily layer on top of the coffee I drink at that coffee shop.

I came across this poem the other day. I think I wrote it when I was like 17.
Thought I’d share it here. It’s about me and Perr Baby, my precious kitten,
god rest her soul. She lived to be about 11, and died of leukemia shortly
before I wrote this poem. It’s a tribute.

“Patches”
An Adorable milk – stained
Mouth.
Calls to her girl.
Girl glances up.
Her Freckles dance across her Tigerlilly face.
The sun laughs.
Her Spoiled
Kitten.
Flops over.

Dirt under her nails and
Strawberries in palm.
Girl reflects in the garden shelter.
The boy she loves.
He smiles
Like Green gumby.
With Curly Hair,
And Enchanting accent.

She sings love songs in the bathtub.
And Joni Mitchell on the lawn
With her fender accoustic.
A Long – legged spider travels
over Girl’s rainbow toes.
She’s indifferent.
While some have apples,
She has stars.
On her cheeks.
And in her eyes.
In her hair.

“Lovely idea Perr baby.”
Girl says to her heart. Cat.
Then Stretches out for
A nap with the rhubarb

1 comments

November 12, 2002

OMG, Am Blogging Consecutively!

I saw Pirate Pete on my way back from class this eve.
He was wearing his black swashbuckling t shirt, as usual.
He has dyed his carrot-colored mop of curly hair fire engine red.
And I thought, if your hair is orange, why would you go red?

But I can’t dis it, cause red is the greatest. Lookee at my
red hair from the summer. Aren’t me and Nolie cuties, or what?

In other news, have a group project due this week. I only have one
this semester, so I should be happy, but it’s for that freakin comm class.
You know, the one that made me go AAAAAAAAA. The scream that
was heard across Hännihouse. The scream that screwed up my HTML
formatting.

My teacher, we’ll call her (EWL- Go To Hell) is *sadistic*. From an outsiders perspective
she may seem very nice. She dresses in nice blouses and slacks, keeps her
nails painted red or pink (no chips either!), and she has these nice blonde highlights.
She smiles a lot, and I’ve noticed she has this one crooked tooth.

But she is eeeeeviiiiillll. Okay, so we have three ball-breaking tests this semester
- oh the third one is a cummulative final. In addition we have two detailed case
studies to write up. We have to create a “porfolio”, an annotated bibliography,
a research paper, a group project, and attendance is taken at every, excrutiating
three-hour class. Oh and the group project, well it’s 45 minutes long, we must use
multiple visuals and a present an activity. We’ll prepare a group paper that fairly explains
our entire presentation. We even have to prepare a needs statement.

Yes, I have to tell EWL-Go To Hell why the hell students in our class need to listen to our
presentation. Frankly I don’t care if anybody shows up. I guess the main thing is, they need to
listen to our presentation, cause we get participation points for showing up to class – just like
in elementary school.

I’m afraid to skip class. I’m afraid if I don’t show up EWL-Go To Hell will find out, and
become so enraged that she’ll have no choice but to morph into her true form: a bonefide,
fire-breathing dragon.

Fear of death is actually pretty good motivation to go to class… speaking of which, am
off to group meeting torture. Ta!

0 comments

November 11, 2002

Paaaaty Wa

Today was just another manic monday oh, oh.
I woke at 8:15, joltingly, as the sound of cathedral bells
fairly assaulted my eardrums. Why can’t I have a normal
alarm clock, with a normal digital “unnngh, unnnghing”
to wake me from my slumber? Why I gots to be all
classy-like with my alarm clock settings?

dizzam

Well one thing’s for sure, no more cathedral bells for me.
Tonight i’m setting it to “chimes,” so there!

I’m really happy lately. I think it’s cause vacation is, at long -
f*ing – last almost here. This year I’m going to eat turkey with
angelface and his country-people relatives. Apparently like 60 of
these people are going to gather at the Golden Corall on the 28th,
and chomp down on some buffet vittles. Then they’ll drink some
moonshine, square dance, and shoot some guns.

Well, maybe they won’t square dance.

In any event, I have requested that angel prepare onion rings and
french toast royale in my honor. You know it’s love when your
sweetie makes you deserts and stinky veggies.

Am also really excited about Spankin’s 18th birthday on Nov. 18th.
How’s this for ghetto? I totally wrapped sis’s bday present in the
pharmacy bag that my antifungal cream came in this morning.
Apparently you can get athletes foot on your boobs. The doctor
told me it’s actually quite common, so I shouldn’t feel like a freak.

I think the dr. lied. Fungus on your betty-and-wilmas can’t be normal.

As you can tell, I’m real concerned. Yeah… not really.

0 comments

November 7, 2002

TGIFY

Thank
God
It’s
Frozen
Yogurt

Am just enjoying an overpriced, overrated cup of
freshen’s “orange dream” frozen yogurt. While it
is no substitute for Macado’s Island Eruption, …

imagine three mounds of mint chip icecream sitting a top brownies
almost as good as mom makes. The concoction is smothered in the darkest,
thickest, dirtiest hot fudge ever imagined. Thick ribbons of creamy,
homemade whipped cream envelopes sizeable chunks of
crisp, refreshing york pepermint patty. The fudge is hot, the icecream
cold. mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm *licks lips in delicious anticipation*

So, where was I? Does it matter? Probably not. I apologize for the
uninspired postings. Am still angry at blogger, and am psychologically
punishing them by not blogging… of course, to a logical person that
makes no sense. Hrmph.

Well, welcome to Hännihouse, where there’s
always a battle going on in my head between someone who is mildly
eccentric, and someone who is wildy eccentric.

Oh, alumni schmoozing went well. I have an invite to tour AOL, and will
head up to D.C. with angelface during thanksgiving break. Will be meeting
lots of fancy corporate professionals. Maybe if i’m real cute, and wag my
tail a lot, then they’ll keep me. *fingers crossed*

In related news, it looks like my sister Spank has aquired a new four-legged
friend. His name is “Woody”, and he is a Pug.

CG Dad’s take on the name, God bless him:
why would you name your pet after an erection?

Who names a Pug “woody?” anyway? It’s much too rugged for a cute,
sniffling, squishy pup. Instead, I will call him Prince Ferdinand.
Prince Ferdinand wears a little white sweater that mom purchased
at the local pet store.

I can’t wait to go home and frolic with Ferdinand, and then eat Mom’s
Chinese. I’m so sick of the swill at owens. Today I ate “pizza macaroni”
for lunch. That is a fancy name for leftovers with a few greasy pieces
of peperoni as a topper.

I used to think I was having heartattacks every day, but then I realized it’s just
the food here.

Oh that reminds me. It’s dinner time. Adieu*

0 comments

November 2, 2002

Game Day

Today is the Tech game against Pittsburg.
Of course we are going to win, but the anticipation is lovely.

Am currently extremely nervous – not about Pitt
but about the “tailgate” I will be attending before the game.
I was introduced to an alumni dude at the beginning of
the semester via email. I haven’t really met him though.
Today he’s here with his friends for the game, and my
presence has been requested at Top of the Stairs.

Am sure to dress very hokie-esque with VT shirt
layered over a maroon long sleeve deal. I think Alumni
would like the hokie dress.

Am making Smug Ellie go with me for the alumni junx.
Hope she doesn’t still have pink hair from Halloween.
She was kelly F*ing Osbourne -

Great costume, don’t you think? Our friend Beth K, unbenownst
to us was also K. Osbourne. Lots of F words flew between
Smug and Beth K that night – it was all in good fun.

Nobody got that I was hildi from trading spaces, and i shuddered
in horror. Wondered if people thought my gawdy walmart pearls
and plastic strappy shoes were my fashion statement. Oh, yes
I had hildi’s bad hair part too … but only girls would notice that
sort of thing anyway.

Well must quit rambling and prep for the alumni meeting – ugh
why am i so fabulous?