Posts published during December, 2002

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Out of America

Well here I am at the Alaskan hacienda. Miss Lizzy is snoring at my feet. She has her “birdy” gripped firmly between her teeth, and she’s giving me the wild eye – the old one-eye-wide-eyed bit. Gosh this dog is the cutest ~ mayhaps will pack her in my suitcase and ship her to VA.

I’ve been home for about five days, and it’s been a whirlwind. I’ve been shopping, shopping, shopping, coffeeing with friends, playing with puppies, baking cakes and pies, wrapping, wrapping, wrapping, cleaning and camera-ing. Apparently Mom won her hot new digital camera at the company christmas party. It is a cannon power shot A40, and was begging to be used. Mom and CG Dad hadn’t even opened the cutey camera before I got home. When asked why the cannon was still in it’s packaging, CG Dad mumbled something about it won’t work with our computer.

hrrumph. That sounded like a challenge. And so, like the private investigator who cracks the case, I fiddled and fiddled till some pictures, the camera did produce. Unfortunately I don’t know if our computer has a USB port, cause I’m retarded about hardware deals. But as soon as I get some pics uploaded, I’ll be sure to post a few here at the house. Rejoice!

Awww it’s so good to be home, and being with the fam. only reinforces my weirdness; i am certainly a product of my environment.

Case in point: Mom and i are cleaning out the laundry room when Mom cries “This is my new decoration!” and pulls a six foot tall cardboard cutout of Bartles and James from a basket. Bartles and James have been decked out in holiday garland and Santa hats. Mom’s planning to tape our “The Christmas cheer starts right here” banner onto the winecooler dudes.

Today we were at the Texaco, filling the Buick with some expensive-ass gasoline (1.55/gallon for the cheap stuff!) It was a bit chilly at the pump – probably 30 degrees, and the seat warmers were definetly on and working their sweet magic on my galloots. We’re at the pump, and mom just hops right out and starts putting gas in the car. Just like that – like no shutting off the car or whatever. And I totally notice the little red warning signs indicating that engines must be turned off.

I’m like too lazy to open the door, and can’t reach to roll down the power windows without some inconvenience, so i opt for the sun roof. I can reach that button fairly easily, so i do it, and then i start screaming “mom, mom, mom.” It was like my life depended on it, I was screaming so loud. But Mom didn’t even hear me. The lady at nextdoor at pumpstation 1 kept glaring at me though.

So finally Moms notices I’m screaming my lungs out, and goes “what do you want?”, and she looks cranky. I’m still too lazy to roll down the window and talk to her normally, so I shout out the sun roof “Mom, aren’t you supposed to shut off the car while pumping gas.” And this kills me. Mom goes “I don’t care. I don’t feel like it.”

Gas pumping adjourned, car still running, Mom goes “I guess you are supposed to shut off the car… but we don’t live in the United States.”

Oh Alaskan arrogance, God Bless you!

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To: You

Merry Christmas everyone. I’m back home in AK, eating mom’s chinese, playing with meg’s pug.

have a great break y’all and visit my christmas website!

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A Letter To St. Nick

Dear Santa,

I have been a good girl.

It really wasn’t my fault what happened at eliz䢥th’s Christmas party. It was blake who spiked the punch with too much eggnog. I can’t help it if I drank 9 glasses. It was so good—smelled and tasted just like cheese.

I thought it was funny when I put enola’s bra on my head and danced the funky chicken on the entertainment center while singing `la cuca racha’. I didn’t mean to break elizabeth’s calculator and don’t know why eliz䢥th would sue me for larceny.

I don’t remember calling nick’s wife a silly goat—even though she looked like one with red eye shadow and green lipstick!

And when I threw up on brandi’s husband’s leg, it was only because I ate too much of that spaghetti.

After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my train through my neighbor’s foyer. I don’t think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a gassy turtle and have me arrested for writing bad checks!

So, Santa…here I sit in my jail cell on Christmas Eve, all heavy and smelly. And I’m really not to blame for any of this nosey stuff. Please bring me what I want the most—bail money!

Sincerely and fast yours,
Hanni (Really a nice girl!)

P.S. It’s only 2 bucks!

(click here for your own Christmas story! ~ stolen from

*yawn*, it’s about 11 am and I just rolled out of bed.
I have crust in my eyes, my breath smells like roadkill and my face is all sticky from drool.
In short, I feel grrrrrrrreat!

I spent yesterday at our staff Christmas party.
We ate at joodaloops, and for some reason I got both a bean burrito, and a side of beans.
Oh, and let’s not forget the delicious bean dip I consumed.
As you can imagine my lunch at joodaloops has turned out to be the gift that keeps on giving.
I don’t feel I need to elaborate here.

We also did a white elephant, and I got the avengers DVD, and a new music cd – pirated music of course.
Oh my goodness! I just put the CD in and it’s School House Rock!
Hell Yeah.
Conjunction junction, what’s your function?

I also won some pretty daisy-shaped stickers in the Buddy Olympics.
Buddies are pairs of staff members who do programs, etc. throughout the year.
Each team has a unique name and identity.
My team is known as “the miopic matriarchs”,
so I made little funky glasses out of old flyers, and taped them to my sweatshirt – in the spirit of the games, of course.

We ended our PMC (payne/main campbell halls) fun with a little karaokeage.
I started with a little Al Green – a tribute to my bro Nicky and Wifey, Brandi, who danced in their wedding frocks to the sultry sounds of Lets Get Together.
I sang some dixie chicks, backstreet boys, shania twain (though I loathe her), garth brooks, etc.
Everyone knows I sound like a howling dog when I sing, but i do it anyway!
At one point i was asked to duet by saying “you’re PMC’s best singer”

And I had wondered, if like a bad twighlight zone episode, I had morphed into a weird world where tone deafness = greatness.

Last night I also went to the Blacksburg ballet production of the Nutcracker.
For some reason, I forgot that it was a ballet, and was confused when it didn’t have any words.
I kept waiting, waiting, waiting for two hours for the fairies to twitter, or for the prince to pontificate.
But alas, it was just dancing.
And some funny things happened while dancing, like the nutcracker’s head popped off, and the rat kids kept falling all over each other.
All in all it wasn’t a bad show, and I def. got my ten bucks worth.

file this under: the season’s silliness

Here i am on location in the Main Campbell RA office.
It’s kind of stuffy in here, and the walls are yellowed with age.
my hands feel really dirty from touching junk in here.

I’m typing to you with this old ass keyboard on a Mac
I’ve got some Christmas tunes playing on this peicer.
Currently,Christina Aguliera is singing about mistletoe,
which is disturbing, because she is certainly no virgin mary.
I mean, I know America is a free country and a democracy
and all that, but seriously, we gotta make some rules/restrictions.

rule #1 dirty whores aren’t allowed to sing for religious holidays.

Uh oh, Iradio has now changed songs -
it’s Eazy-E, “Merry Mutha*uckin X Mas”.
Hmm it’s certainly more entertaining than Xtina’s…
but again, i’m offended

rule #2 nobody’s allowed to sing about ’tis the season to get busy

In other news, this no finals thing is alright.
I’ve been doing yoga, midnight cocoa,
webpagering, and whatever else suits my fancy.

the countdoon to AK is now 5 days,
and am really looking forward to being away from this junx.
When I get home, Rockstar brother wants me to duet
karaoke-style to Spice Girl’s 2 become 1 with him.
Not sure why it has to be Spice Girls, but why ask why.

And then Spank will introduce me formally to baby pug,
Prince Ferdinand. I spoke to him on the phone yesterday,
but he really didn’t have much to say.
Just snorted a lot.

I can relate.
Try to talking to me after a killer test,
brunch at the Trick,
or anytime this week, while my brain’s on autopilot.

*snort*

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Denoument

It’s finals, and for the first time in my life, I’m excited about it.
Call me crazy, but finals this semester rock, mostly because they
haven’t officially started, and I’m already finished with three.

Wags surprised me Friday. She left a note on my persusasion
quiz: see me after class.

It was in red pen.

I was frightened.

I went through all these scenerios.
Like, did she somehow know I skipped class Monday,
so I could go to Red Lobster?
And how did she know that?
Was it cause everyone else turned in extra credit?
Would she think I was being pompous for not doing the e.c?
Would she know I had the fish sandwhich? etc.

But actually, wags just wanted to tell me since i was doing well,
that I didn’t have to take the final and that I was getting an A.
Ai yai yai. I wanted to give Wags a big, fat, sloppy kiss, but felt
it would hinder our teacher-student relations. So I smiled instead.

Anyway, so I got exempt from one final.
I set the curve on the internet class final yesterday.
I turned in my damn final paper for linguistics, so that class is done
thank the good and gracious Lord.

That only leaves EWL – Go To Hell’s class. As you will remember,
she’s the one who caused me to do the scream that screwed up
the scrolling on this page. Well EWL – Go To Hell has redeamed herself…
*slightly*.

She announced in class today that
A: we would have a “group final”, so we could link up in threes and discuss
B: the exam would require each group member to only write one essay
C: it would be open-note
D: that means no studying required!

I felt particularly blessed by her leniency, as I was already anticipating her
exam would prompt the return of the twitch under my right eye.
Am proud to note, as of today am twitch free.

I almost screwed up relations with EWL- Go To Hell today. I called her
about taking the final early, babbling something about flight scheduling
on her phone mail.

Well, when I talked to her in class she said yes, she would work with me.
Oh, and it was so funny, she said, because when I went to hang up the phone, it
didn’t really hang up. She heard me in the background going “she’s got to let me
take it early. She’s just got to let me.”

As EWL – Go To Hell relayed the message I left on her machine,
my blood ran cold. I quickly tried to remember the context of the conversation.
Did I use any noncomplimentary words to describe her or her class?
I remembered sitting at my desk, mumbling something about bitch-teacher,
and prayed the recorder didn’t pick that little euphamism up.

But EWL seemed pretty happy, so I tried not too look too uncomfortable,
and skulked back to my desk. I was careful to avoid her gaze throughout class.

So now, as I actually have a bit of free time I am working on a new site.
It will be the electronic version of the horn/dowell newsletter Mom typically
sends out around this time.

I will call it Carol of the Dumbbells, cause the fam looks fairly idiotic.
I got this crazy idea to put the fam’s heads on gingerbread bodies.
I will post the link here at the house when it’s ready, cause it’s for friends
and family. And anyone who reads my rantings can truly be called beloved.

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Let it Snow

I feel like I just got home from a long day’s work.
The ten minute commute from my English lab office was pleasant.
The air was crisp, so much that every person I passed on the
sidewalk had cherry-colored cheeks and pink noses.
Most people kept to the tended path, where the snow had been
shoveled away. Every once in a while a maverick could be seen trudging
through the lawn areas, leaving footprints in the snowy path less traveled.

Now I’m home. Finished with my test. Finished with my presentation.
And I’m warming my hands with a cup in between – a cup of delicious
coco, that is.

Kids around here have been complaining like crazy about having to attend
class in these “blizzard conditions.” Yesterday six inches of white powder,
perfect for snowmen and angels, fell in the burg. You’ve heard a rain dance,
well from my window you could see starry-eyed students snow dancing till
the wee hours of the morning.

And every other school around here is cancelled. No classes. No tests.
No nothin. Tech is literally, the only functioning university. Some people
think we should get a break, even though we just got back from Thanksgiving
four days ago.

I don’t know what the big deal is. I prefer to traipse through the flakes on my
way to class. It’s so clean, and pure. It makes going to class seem like a dream.
It lessens the monotony. It makes me feel like I am home.

Because even thoughI have lived here in southern Virginia for nearly four years,
I can’t forget the 18 + I spent in Alaska. In the snow. Riding snowmachines.
Skating on ponds. Sledding down hills with the dog chasing, and mom watching
from the kitchen window.

I have 13 more days left in Blacksburg before I fly home for Christmas.
Yeah I have a huge paper, a project and three finals to complete in that time.
But with the snow on the ground, it doesn’t seem to matter. I’m gonna greet
the end of this semester, my second- to- last, with calmness and dignity.
I’ve got no reason to rant, cause there’s snow on the ground.
And for that, we are all the better.

Break out the streamers and confetti.
Put on your party pants and don a
cone-shaped cap.
It’s a Happy Unbirthday Party at H䮮ihouse.

I did the real deal yesterday, and I just can’t seem
to give it up. Yesterday, December 2nd, 2002, I had the
pleasure of turning 23 years old. Much fun was had as
well wishers came by to celebrate the glorious day of
my illustrious birth.

I ate a delicious marble cake, carefully prepared for me
by Betty Crocker, and Sean, the drillfield area office manager.
Angelface gave me a gameboy advance, mario kart, and pyou
pop, an english version of the 1996 japanese game pyou pyou,
which i used to spend hours in front of when I was Japanese…

atleast I thought I was Japanese after spending a year in Asia
speaking the language and slipping on shower shoes every time
I entered the loo.

Mom gave me a v. beautiful throw with beautiful garden flowers
embroidered into the pattern. She also sent me english jam,
coco, candy canes, and a birthday card with snakes on it.

The snakes are all wearing party hats and socializing with one
another in parseltongue (Harry Potter reference, I couldn’t resist!)
Anyway, the one snake has his eyebrows raised and he’s saying
“What do you mean ‘time for spankings’? He has no butt!”

Cracks me up.
But then I think, do snakes really not have butts?

Hmmmmmmm