Wish you were here

13 months

2008-11-07T16:07:00.008-05:00

Thirteen months. Five seasons, none of which resemble fall in the slightest. Four jobs...and unemployment. One Christmas in Florida, one road trip to Canada, seven pairs of new shoes. One cat, then two cats, then one cat. Four thousand photos taken. Two Halloweens of debauchery, several new hair colours, a ridiculous number of interviews, LOTS of fishnets. One brief foray into photoshop tutoring. Three extended vacations to Lexington. Six friends engaged. Fourteen books read. Three parking tickets. Two car repairs. One zoo membership, two haircuts, one little black dress. A new love of roller derby and cadavers adopted. Five concerts attended. Far too much caffeine and stress; not enough substance. Only one drunken mishap.

Consider yourself updated.

Define 'missing'

2007-09-11T16:34:00.001-04:00

I'm sitting in a coffee shop in Philly. I'm the girl who doesn't match and occasionally bobs her head to inaudible music. With blue shoes, red nails, a shiny laptop and a huge vanilla latte. Now you know. My boyfriend also knows where I am. My parents know where I am. The strangers next to me know where I am. That guy in the wheelchair that almost rolled me over on the way here knows where I am. In fact, the only people who can't find me are the Philadelphia police, who believe me to currently be missing. Join me in a ehhhhhhhh? I honestly don't mind if the police can't find me. In fact, I think I prefer it that way. Call me crazy. They phoned my cell to ask where I was. Again....ehhhhhh? And then....and THEN, when I phone back to clear up the mess the only person in the entire department that is involved with my case (REALLY? Only one guy?!?!?) has left early for the day. Sooooooo, I shall remain "missing" for one more day.

And so, Detective Dodson, of the Philadelphia metro police, I am, fortunately, not missing...and I'm on to you. This is all just some elaborate porn scam, isn't it? Those always find me. I don't know how. Still, it's amusing...mildly. Therefore I will not complain. Unless it's not a porn scam and you're just a dumbass...then I shall complain, oh yes, I shall complain.

12 miles from greatness

2007-05-21T23:48:00.000-04:00

I don't want to be doing what I'm doing. I don't want to waste my days making plans. I don't want to be more absorbed with the future than the present. I don't want to be living the life I'm living or working the job I'm working. I don't want to be obsessed with a budget and I don't ever want to set foot in another grocery. I don't want to be the bubble girl. I don't want to keep making excuses. I don't want to be sick anymore, I don't want to limit my coffee intake, I don't want to pay for dentist visits and unnecessary blood work. I don't want to be twelve miles from the city I love. Twelve miles from greatness.

I've always been twelve miles from greatness.

2007-04-24T21:23:00.000-04:00

I'm about to take a rather serious leap of faith. So new to me. I've taken risks before, that's different. Risks are based on extenuating circumstances and luck, defying personal limitations and alcohol tolerance. This is based on something entirely wavering. Trust. And faith. And another human being. I've never been much of a believer sooooo it's safe to say I'm freaking out. It's not attractive (but I hide it well.)

highlights of the week

2007-04-16T23:31:00.003-04:00

-Photoshoot with Brenda-the friendly and flirtatious transvestite. New experience for me. I shall add it to my resume.

-Asked out by a Starbucks employee. (Starbucks, I know. Don't key my car!) Obviously I had to turn him down, but it's still nice to get every once in a while. I just hope this doesn't effect the discount he's been giving me.

-Made friends with a six year old rocker named Jake. When he came in wearing Chucks I knew I was in luck. He plays in a rock and roll band with three girls from his class. He can't tie his shoes but he can play electric guitar. C'mon. Now that's gotta strike someone, anyone, as odd. I can't be the only one. I didn't even take up piano lessons until I was ten, and I sucked. This kid's past the lessons stage and into the full-blown rocker bit. Crazy. Seriously! Crazy. Children shall surpass us any day now. We'll be wiping their asses but they'll be dictating politics.

2006-12-19T23:56:00.000-05:00

I miss the summer of beatboxing to Matisyahu while intoxicated and lost at 4am. The summer of unemployment, bellydancing, coffee dates. The summer we brought back the French press and MarioKart. Roadtrips and camping and Bonnaroo. The summer I gracefully tripped on my ass in front of an entire bar. The summer of water gun fights at Shilito. I miss Lexington, The Dame, Common Grounds, Rakadu. But mostly, I miss the friends that made it the summer it was...the summer of hippies, coffee and good music.

MIA

2006-12-06T22:30:00.000-05:00

Been gone for a while. Sortof got a life. Go figure! A life I pretty much hate...well, all save the boy...and the location...and the roommate, so basically all I really hate is the job, and were I working less than fifty-five hours a week it might not be so bad, but I do hate it. But I miss posting. So hopefully I can pick up where I left off. Maybe.

2006-08-13T00:30:00.000-04:00

I don't want to rely on you to make me happy.
But you do.
I hope you know that.

Ugh

2006-06-25T21:01:00.002-04:00

I feel as though it's been raining incessantly for months. Pouring down worries and stressors and drama that prolonged unemployment has weakened me for. My immunity to frustration is startlingly low. I want to destroy something every time I post another resume to some craptacular website that promises results. I want to scream at the mention of cover letters. They expect me to chose a city, a salary, health benefits, sectors. Nonprofit , corporation, relocation, waking up at 6 am thirty years down the line to realize I have no clue where my twenties went. It's like Trainspotting without the heroin. But it'd be a whole lot cooler if there was.

Life

2006-04-05T01:53:00.001-04:00

You return from a few days in sunny Santa Fe, slightly sunburnt, sore from hiking. Thirteen hours in transit across three timezones. The irritating screams of teething toddlers, the kind that are predisposed to kick seat backs and throw cheerios, still lingering in your mind. You'd expect a certain sense of relief upon returning to a quiet home, but you're more realistic than that.

And just as you're pulling the plug on optimism's last vegetable breath, bracing yourself for flatline...you find your roomie dressed as Courtney Love: The Crackwhore Phase, traipsing about the house in a boys size 12 button down, no pants and enough black eyeshadow to refinish a Hummer. Smashed plates grace the kitchen floor, the shower is filled with candles and knives, roses are ripped of their petals and strewn around the house in patterns you'd liken more to Escher than accident.

And for a moment, life is good. Your friends are the most interesting in the world. You can fly to locales just for a weekend at a moment's notice. You have no reason to set an alarm, no responsibilities. No one utters commonplace trivialities or plays pop music. The unexpected becomes the norm and spontaneity is intrinsic. Life is good. Fleeting, but good. But your life, your life is bloody fantastic!

2006-03-29T00:29:00.000-05:00

I think that should heaven exist, it is finite, based upon universal standards. But if hell exists, and I'd be more prone to believe it does...well, at least more so than heaven, it's bound to be relative to the individual.

My coffeemaker broke this morning. My very own personal hell.

Obviously, that is excluding Dante's presupposition of a tiered hell. Should that be the case, we have, as follows:

First circle, watching a movie directed by no-talent hacks, second, paying to see a movie directed by no-talent hacks...when you're ungainfully self-employed[read::unemployed.] Third, running into acquaintances from high school that feel the need to ask if I remember EVERY individual in our graduating class. There's about a 2% chance I remember anyone from high school. Fourth, three country music channels on the radio and only one classic rock, fifth, people asking me what I plan on doing with my future and why I don't have a job because my brother has no problem finding a job and neither do my friends, sixth, getting roped into uninteresting conversations with even more uninteresting people...in crowded bars...because no amount of alcohol can make you more interesting. Attractive, maybe. Interesting, no hope. Seventh, the grocery. Eight, being hit on...in the grocery. Ninth...now, NOW, we have no coffee.

Because Trivial Pursuit rules my life decisions

2006-03-25T01:10:00.001-05:00

I’ve decided to reread Edith Hamilton’s Mythology, despite the intense pangs of bone-crushing hatred that arise from memories of the first reading. But I’ve come to realize that much of what I despised in high school can be attributed to teenage dispassion and sheer stupidity. Yes, I said it. I was stupid. Let’s not dwell.

I couldn’t stand Steinbeck, I found Salinger to be insipid and infuriating, algebra was beneath me, Camus made no sense. And now. Now I lament the fact that Salinger wrote no more than four novels. I’ve read everything written by Camus and moved on to his contemporaries. I work quadratic equations in my free time. And as for Steinbeck….well, still not a fan. Can you blame me?

So I’m hoping this time around I’ll gain more from Hamilton, because I can’t avoid mythology for the rest of my life. And as soon as I find I know next to nothing about something it pops up all over the Trivial Pursuit board…like that ENTIRE category on sports. Seriously, if you thrive on the sports questions, what’s the chance you know anything about the Hindenburg explosion or the number of times Eva Braun attempted suicide? I just don’t get it. But back to point. There’s a good chance I’ll actually enjoy it if you factor in the number of things I once hated but now enjoy…like green beans…and cubism.

p.s. The house guest has left us. And not once, Not. Bloody. Once. did he brush his teeth. I knew you were curious.

Torture

2006-03-20T19:53:00.000-05:00

Nine days with a blind, underage, Japanese house guest. He hasn't brushed his teeth once since arriving. He tape records Dre and I singing in the car and listens in on our phone conversations. He wakes up at five am. He's more dependent than a child.

I fear he's going to return to conservative Japan spouting words that would make Solomon blush. From the crowds of pissed off fans at this weekend's UK game to that episode of Sex and the City he chose to watch which, awkwardly enough, featured the longest orgasm known to man. Hell, I might as well have a naked lady tattooed on my forearm for the amount of expletives that pass unnoticed from my mouth. I'd make a terrible role model.

But...it hasn't been all bad...save that bout with horseback riding. For that I wish I'd never been born.

2006-02-15T17:15:00.000-05:00

Janis Joplin keeps telling me to find somebody to love.

It's a good thing she's already dead.

2006-02-04T23:23:00.000-05:00

The whole concept of 'rock bottom' is a crock. It's an abyss.

And that's my two cents for the day.

Noir inspired Friday night

2006-01-28T17:22:00.001-05:00

On the agenda for 2006

2006-01-15T22:48:00.001-05:00

(In no particular order)

-Eradicate 'pop' music...because I like a challenge.
-Release my vengeful, yet not unwarranted, wrath upon the IRS-pyrotechnics may be involved
-Finish my Nobel Prize winning novel
-Start my Nobel Prize winning novel
-Boycott all films that will leave me begging for two hours of my life back
-Do not mix my alcohol...surprisingly, I never remember this one
-Decide the path the rest of my life will take...and then follow another path completely
-Fight the battle of boredom
-Do not slip into a minor Polanski obsessed phase (which I feel coming on)
-Find a job. Preferably one that doesn't mind pierced, coffee fiends with waning social skills, rotating hair colours, the inability to bullshit and an uncanny ability to whoop anyone's ass at Trivial Pursuit
-More math....that's right Kristi...I said it. More math. (Twice.)

Stellar year? Possibly. I predict I shall be done by St. Patrick's Day. Any takers?

At this moment...

2006-01-06T22:39:00.000-05:00

...I'm doped up on cough syrup. Beginning to feel as though my entire life has been one long succession of drugs. Cough syrup being the least of my favourites.
...An online therapist is approaching me for counseling. Does this seem slightly off to anyone else? I mean, wtf?! Do you just assume every personality you meet online is mentally unstable? On Yahoo....maybe. AIM, maybe just 79%. Online universities were absurd enough...but therapy? Really???
...Iggy Pop is nightclubbing.
...the Christmas tree is still up, still lit and shall remain that way until next Christmas, barring any sudden moves for graduate school, Johnny Depp's proposal or joining the circus
...I need coffee...and a good book...or maybe just Mother Jones
...my nails are white, mostly because no one likes it
...I'm plotting a photoshoot with coffee mugs....mmmmmm

2006-01-04T17:43:00.000-05:00

Everyone in New York wears Converse.

Everyone!

It's brilliant.

Fairytales

2005-12-18T02:04:00.000-05:00

Once upon a time there was a girl who had once met the Dalai Lama. She had lunched weekly with a US Senator and served as nanny to a family in Kaiserslautern, Germany. She had packed up and moved to Japan for a year of confusion, travel and the occassional all night binge with country singers. She met Rob Schneider along the crowded streets of Madrid. She founded a collegiate group dedicated to the International Criminal Court. She was a dancer and a pianist. She picked up a language...or two, studied politics and international relations, devoted herelf to coffee, Salinger and travel itineraries. She was motivated, dedicated, connected. She was interesting. Once.

I feel as though that stage of my life is all over now. Save the coffee...there shall always be coffee.

2005-12-01T23:41:00.000-05:00

My body went to hell and forgot to kill me off first.

How thoughtful. A totalled car AND mono.

This has turned into one stellar Thanksgiving holiday!

Maybe for Christmas someone can shoot me in the foot and light my library on fire. Huh? Huh? Any takers? I'm open to other suggestions...head trauma sounds nice. Or maybe eviction....yeah, eviction. That's the way to go. I'm carless and jobless, might as well be homeless.

Or maybe just health insurance...that'd be nice.

You, with your beadly little cement eyes

2005-11-27T07:47:00.000-05:00

5:45 am. I had a dream about applejuice. I woke up to the sound of gunshots. And for the record, applejuice and gunshots, not the ideal way to be jostled from sleep. Someone calls the police. The whole family, clad in pajamas, heads outside...because the first thing you should always do when shots are fired is head outside to see what's going on. Intelligence factor ZERO. No one was hurt, unless you consider a cement yard cherub a someone, which for all practical purposes I do not. The real loser, however, was my car. My pretty, economical, dark green Hyundai. That baby's dead. Apparently someone is not a Phish fan. Nor are they fans of cement yard cherubs, now decapitated...but I can't say I blame them for that one.

Services are pending an insurance investigation.

I'll say 'never' as often as I like

2005-11-16T23:29:00.000-05:00

May I never forgive my "soul mate" for shooting me in the groin, treating me with home remedies and holding me hostage.

May I never read tabloid magazines.

May I never carry on a conversation with an AIM Bot, join a dating site or attend mass on television.

May I never watch a soap opera and never miss an opportunity to criticize those that do.

May I never deny the love for executive transvestites.

May I never listen to Kenny G or John Tesh.

May I never date a conservative....at least not again.

May I never stop wearing argyle socks, ballet flats and sweaters too long for me.

May I never lose the desire to create, regardless of the form.

May I never rely upon a budget, welfare or the death of relatives.

2005-11-09T23:11:00.000-05:00

I drink V8 from the carton. A corner of my living room is draped in aluminum foil...still. I've been listening to Arabic Pop...and it needs to stop. I vacuum at least three times a week but I rarely take the time to make my bed. I have class in an abandoned tobacco warehouse. I'm always thinking about my next photograph. My dog has a jacket that makes her look like Marilyn Monroe on her wedding day. I have too many bad days. I want out of the US...again. I'm afraid to donate blood. I get weak just typing that. I burn far too much incense for one person. I still think having a prairie dog as a pet is pretty fucked up. I miss giving tours of the Capitol Building and riding the Senate metro. I have no plans for tomorrow. None! I'm awaiting my wealthy benefactor. I get discouraged when the art students wear normal clothes. No one takes chances anymore. I want to take a chance. I wore a diamond tiara to the horse races...but that doesn't really count. I scribble notes relentlessly, especially in the margins of poli-sci textbooks, mostly bitter and polysyllabic. I'm still unemployed, and it's pissing me off. I think I'm qualified to take mugshots at the county jail...somebody's got to do it, and I'm willing.

Silly girls...

2005-11-03T17:40:00.000-05:00

...Halloween isn't an excuse to wear fishnets.

You don't need an excuse.

Wear them everyday. With Converse, with heels, with winter coats and scarves, with vintage concert tees...with anything other than rhinestone hot pants!

Escalating

2005-10-30T21:51:00.000-05:00

I have a stalker.

A reall life stalker.

It started innocently enough. Just a friendly older man initiating conversation and noticing when I'd changed my hair, despite the fact that the people closest to me were oblivious to any change. Got a little weird when he followed me out of the coffeeshop, but I chalked it up to coincidence. Weirder still when he tapped me on the shoulder mid-conversation and walked off. Slightly juvenile for a man over the age of fifty. But why does that not surprise me? Hit breaking point when he ran up in front of me and took my picture, twice, then proceeded to follow me around downtown taking candid photos of yours truly looking freaked out.

It's times like these I praise Allah my brother is paid by the government to kick men in the balls.

You think I'm a fascist pig

2005-10-24T22:26:00.000-04:00

Reason number one Rivers Cuomo should've rethought the Ivy League education:

"I don't want to be a chump...."

Who says 'chump'?

Reason it makes him sexier than hell...and believe me, hell is very, VERY sexy:

Who says 'chump'?

2005-10-19T21:19:00.000-04:00

I put a gun to my roommate's head and force her to dress and act according to my will. Then I suck in other friends through the power of persuasion. Does this make me a god yet?

I told my father I was taking photos of my friends in the bathtub...he then asked if they were starting an amateur porn site. I didn't respond. But now that I think about it, making that extra leap into softcore porn might not be such a bad idea. Watered-down erotica photography...any thoughts? Good move?

Saturday morning Kristi and I went out on a photo excursion to Keeneland. Good times, effin' cold, lots of short men named Jesus and weird smells. I think I'm going back this Saturday.

The rest of last week is just a blur. I have Rob to blame/thank for that fact. Never have I slept so little in one week. So little, in fact, that my eye hasn't stopped twitching yet. It's hot...trust me.

My kind of day

2005-10-11T01:09:00.000-04:00

Another deliciously gray day in a string of three. The kind that can only be classified as "indie" because, by most standards, it defies categorical classification. Slight breeze, jacket optional, frequent drizzle. All in all, the kind of day in which you're permitted to maintain a typical facial expression (No Smile) without attracting attempts at cheer from passersby.

The kind of day you spend buying a super kitsch retro lamp which will ultimately serve as subject matter for many a photograph. Or learning about the history of photography from the 4th century on and cutting your roommate's hair because you've acquired a multitude of semi-talents including cosmotology, belittling bookstore employees when they assume Evelyn Waugh is female, and advanced roman numeral mathematics, all the while excelling at nothing of importance. Still unemployed.

The kind of day when coffee should be on tap and your scarf should be as ostentatious as humanly possible. James Brown should be played at top volume and the foosball table moved outdoors, preferably close to a busy intersection.

I am...

2005-10-06T16:34:00.000-04:00

...wasting an afternoon in the backyard
...still stealing my neighbour's wireless access
...listening to Seu Jorge...on repeat
...photoshopping...somebody put an end to this
...smoking...no, seriously...I singed my shirt sleeve on leftover candles from last night's shoot
...such a helpless reject
...in dire need of water

I am determined to make Dre a star

2005-10-01T22:43:00.000-04:00

Thursday evening I forced Dre into her senior prom dress, my fishnets and Converse. Wait...in retrospect, 'forced' isn't the right word. She was far too excited to hop into that "pretty pink dress" for a good two hours. All in all, the neighbors and my parents both are ready to call Eastern State...but that's okay. Normal people rarely exude creativity, or wear fishnets with a prom dress...and that's entirely too unfortunate.

The highlight, when Kristi unexpectedly showed up to the house to find a punk prom queen in the stairwell.

Open letter...

2005-09-25T21:16:00.000-04:00

...to the lady in my belly dancing class that insists on asking for intense workouts and increased abdominal undulations for practice....yeah, you...in your obnoxious red skirt with all the bells

Ma'am,

I admire your interest in extracurricular activities, however, if you've been in the same intermediate class for two years now, maybe you are beyond improvement. Maybe you've toped off at some stagnant level you'll never escape. I'm pretty sure that's the case. For the love of Allah, don't make us suffer for your plateau. I'm sorry you can't touch your toes or open your ribcage enough to control the upper to lower undulations without moving your hips. I'm sorry if the piston is too advanced for you and corkscrew turns aren't your thing. But why, dear god, WHY, must you ask for more ab work? You're not even trying. I watched you...and by 'watched' I mean 'gave the death stare'. If you really want a more intense workout, for god's sake, make the jump to an advanced performance class already and leave us be.

Cause if you don't stop soon, I shall kick your ass. Well, that is, once I regain full range movement of my arms and legs and my abs don't spasm every twenty minutes, leaving me curled in a ball of the floor. A very real threat. There will be suffering, oh yes...and not just the abs.

Boredom pays...in small, miserly doses

2005-09-21T18:38:00.000-04:00

I sold a print! I sold a print! I sold a print!

Wait. I'm not done gloating yet...I sold a print! (Best if read in a sing-song voice, but your call.)

Okay, now I'm done.

Clarification: Not the first print to be sold, but the first of the shots I'm willing to admit are mine. Oh, and the highest price tag to date.

Yesterday's daily intake

2005-09-19T10:50:00.000-04:00

26 pages of Mother Jones

2 hours Monty Python and the Holy Grail

2 cups of coffee and 32 oz. of water...for dinner

1 microwave explosion...quite possibly the highlight of my day

3 hours in the print lab developing photos from 2000

4 consecutive hours of NPR...my roommate hates me, I just know it

7 hours of sleep

0 naps...I still manage to surprise myself

All in all, BOREDOM. BEYOND. BELIEF.

That job as body shot girl at Avio's is starting to look tempting. No, no...it started to look tempting weeks ago. Now it's just a viable option.

Mad Hatter

2005-09-13T21:22:00.002-04:00

There's a store on Main Street no one ever enters. A store with an odd theme and a funny name. A senile shopkeeper and a billion hats. Vintage bowlers, neon fedoras, sailor caps and Derby kitsch. Logically, there must be a clientele in order for the shop to have survived this long, yet no one mentions the store. No one glances in, references the odd shop window or even questions it's existence. An apparent anomaly. Survives despite neglect, receives continual neglect out of habit. To walk in would break some unspoken rule.

But Dre and I did. A rather Breakfast at Tiffany's day. And I've got to say, it is now my mission to make sure every last soul that walks the streets of Lexington ventures into that shop even if just to shake the hand of the crazy old man dedicated enough to own and run a hat store.

The aftermath:

2005-09-12T17:56:00.000-04:00

The best people to talk to in this town are the employees at Speedway...no joke. We had a concise, interesting conversation about Tibetan prayer wheels over the course of a checkout. I even managed to laugh.

'Impressive' isn't the right word, but it's the first word that comes to mind.

The worst people to talk to in this town are the employees at AAA. If I could spit on them I would. If the Japanese could spit on them...well, they wouldn't. But if they knew what was good for them...they would. Spent twenty minutes convincing some lady my 440,000 yen were authentic, which she vehemently denied. Brief desire to smack her. Urge controlled. She called the central office to inquire about the exchange of yen. Claimed that 10,000 bills were not acceptable as they didn't register with the AAA website. She wasn't having any of what I was saying. She said they didn't make 10,000 Chinese yen bills. I said, "Well of course not...they don't make any Chinese yen...they use YUAN you -expletive optional- moron." (Not all may have been loud enough to hear...but I think she got my point.) I absolutely hate when people try to make me feel like the incompetent idiot...because honestly, embarrassment is only embarrassing if you deem it so, and I didn't...besides, I knew I was right. Oh how I love to prove smug, uptight employed women wrong.

The bills were clearly labeled in larger-than-necessary-for-the-poor-of-sight print and in English with 'Japanese Yen.' Who hires these people?

Better question...why am I still unemployed?

Redneck fest

2005-09-09T12:11:00.000-04:00

Burning question of the day: What does one wear to a country concert? I'm afraid walking into a crowd of rednecks without either cowboy boots or a hat might single me out as a Yankee...that or resemble those dreams where you go to school naked, and I'm not quite prepared for that.

Yes people, I, the biggest slanderer of the country "music" genre, am about to embark on a road trip to Cincy for Rascal Flatts. I think this speaks highly of my friendship qualities. Masochistic enough to subject myself to four hours of suicide-inducing lyrics for the sake of a friend's happiness.

If I die tonight I shall be canonized.

Just don't tell the authorities I'm no longer Catholic, might lessen my chances.

Not in Kansas anymore

2005-09-06T11:08:00.000-04:00

Last night I followed my nightly Japan routine - smoke on the front porch with iPod in tow, followed by a walk around the neighborhood. Only this time a friend called. (Who knew I had friends?) A vaguely Wizard of Oz moment...definitely not in Japan anymore.

2005-09-04T13:57:00.000-04:00

Am I correct in assuming that Katrina was the ruin of the House of the Rising Sun?

It's just a piece of paper

2005-08-28T22:24:00.000-04:00

My dream school just ranked number eight in the top ten priciest private colleges. $31,500 a year.

And now I'm off to rethink my life options.

In the moment

2005-08-27T17:17:00.001-04:00

My brother is running around the house screaming, "I wanna be a dance commander." I think I'll stay out of his way....at least he's got ambitions.

The dog just bit through a battery. We shall see the side effects/death soon enough. Masochistic canine.

My father has hired me to organize our basement. All that crap they've been hoarding for years, refusing to toss, is now my responsibility. I donated three bags full of romance novels and "literature" entitled, 'Daily Inspirational Quotes for the Purpose Driven' and 'How to Write a Love Letter.'

Apparently they're letting all types of ass monkeys publish these days. Yeah, well I've got a novella...wanna publish that? It's like fodder for amoeba, lowest level of the literature food chain, but you let that other guy slip through the cracks, so maybe there's hope for me yet.

Kentucky

2005-08-23T18:18:00.001-04:00

Shell casings cover the floor of my car, I take pictures of myself in a cowboy hat, two weeks out of the year my brother drives a Camaro, the other fifty weeks it's hoisted up on cinder blocks, my friends say "y'all" and I made out with a country singer.

Does this mean I fit in?

2005-08-20T19:53:00.000-04:00

Today, undeniably the hottest day of the summer. Today, the day the air conditioning quite thespian-like took it's last breath. Today, quite possibly the day that I will die of heat exhaustion.

p.s. If you were a jerk back in high school, I'm not going to sleep with you now, despite years to rectify your behaviour. Call it kharma, retribution, revenge, but basically, you're still a jerk. I see that. You may have fooled the others...but they're all idiots.

2005-08-18T03:09:00.000-04:00

Politics are so much better when there's sex involved.

Learn Chinese

2005-08-14T22:11:00.000-04:00

My daily fortune cookie reading: "You have a deep appreciation of the arts and music."

A) I fail to see how that fits under the categoroy of fortune
B) I'm supposed to base my personality upon a craftily folded stale cookie reading? What if I don't like the arts?
C) Confucious lies.

2005-08-14T02:04:00.001-04:00

Sometimes the right combo of eyeliner and mascara turns my eyes into a replica of the fantastically creepy Siamese cats from Lady and the Tramp...and it's not so cool. I enjoy finding pairs of shoes or old clothes in my closet I don't remember purchasing...I pretend they were free and I didn't waste that money on something I'd wear once and then forget having for another two years or so when really, I should have saved and actually bought myself some health insurance...because fire prone individuals require health insurance. I have exactly 281 books on my bookshelves, not including years of college textbooks, the occasional Anatomy text stolen from high school and, sadly, a few of my brothers discarded textbooks. (It's a disease.) I wear sweaters around the house because I'm not used to air-conditioning...and now I'm craving winter. I will be twenty-three and a half in eight days. I feel as though I'm living in the past.

What Lexington lacks

2005-08-08T21:56:00.000-04:00

Saw a man on the street today wearing a tiny black vest and silk boxers, nothing more. He was across from St. Joseph's Hospital, and as far as I can tell, he was screaming and flipping off each car as it passed by. It surprised me that I didn't find his actions inappropriate in the least, but rather, that he actually lives, or works...if flipping off cars at busy intersections is considered work, in Lexington. We don't have insane characters in Lexington. Clinically insane, yes. Comically insane, never. Sad really.

2005-08-05T09:47:00.000-04:00

My grade school was demolished earlier this year. The school where I spent eight years of my life with Sr. Janelle the nun from hell and that one nun whose name I can't remember but who always took her prosthetic leg off during class, allowing it to stand freely while we were meant to pay attention to something other than a plastic leg free standing in the middle of the classroom. Eight years of Friday masses, plaid uniforms, wasted religion classes. All that is gone. They rebuilt the school to resemble a strip mall. Okay...maybe that wasn't the intention, but it's hideous. I bet they don't even have nuns teaching anymore.

Who are these people that are destroying my past?

Excess

2005-07-31T17:00:00.002-04:00

Five computers and one laptop...that's one for every member of the family including the dog with one leftover for those guests we never entertain because the guest room is a stockpile of old clothes, pepto bismol colored paint, a vacuum cleaner that hasn't worked anytime in the past five years and vintage costumes from that time in third grade I danced in a remake of Fiddler on the Roof. Why god, why?

Three guitars. Really just an excuse to keep dust off the carpet. I'm getting there....but very, very slowly.

Seven tv sets, four of which are in the basement. One hooked up to PS2, one for old school Nintendo, one for N64 and one that just adds to the ambiance. I want to gouge out the screen and insides and make it into a fishbowl...at least then it'd be getting some use.

Two doghouses for one dog - she doesn't use either. Multiple copies of the same shit movies on vhs AND dvd. Six pairs of scissors in one drawer, most of which are held together with a fashionable duct tape/red string combo. More cameras than I can count (but really I'm okay with that,) photos from grade school in bathrooms, kitchen drawers and on windowsills, fake flowers in every room, paint samples, carpet swatches, slippers just for the dog to chew. In short...an abundance of crap that makes me question how these people have managed not to drown yet.

Initial Shocks

2005-07-30T01:04:00.000-04:00

Five minutes into the American Airlines flight from Tokyo to Chicago two stewardesses began bitching about some passenger in first class that didn't speak English. Nice. The woman behind began blabbing in a voice ten decibels above normal speech about inane articles in the shite magazine provided. I usually prefer to read my articles, especially if they're craptacular entertainment issues on the breakup of some Hollywood couple I probably haven't even heard of. Immigration procedure at O'Hare, two sections, residents and visitors. Five million people in the visitor line, most with connecting flights. About five in the resident lines...yes, that's right. I said lines, plural. WTF? Some burly cop starts yelling at a guy that, again, doesn't speak English, because he forgot to hand over the airport pen provided for customs forms. Are they really more concerned with material possessions (pens...which isn't much of a possession) than safety? And when, in the course of this past year I've been absent, did it become a federal law that every person who walks about the country must speak this language? I missed that memo.

Wasn't a good start to the homecoming, but it's good to be back...in a way. I no longer have to cook for myself, waste eight hours a day at a desk or bow as I enter stores, but I have to be careful about what I say. I've grown used to yelling out obscenities whenever I desired, as I knew no one understood. Now, I'm just that girl that bows when entering stores, avoids eye contact and yells "fuck" when the record store doesn't carry any Mingus.

Much has changed...just can't seem to delineate outside change from personal change.

What you and I have been through

2005-07-19T23:33:00.000-04:00

They say you learn something new every day. Now, I’m not sure who ‘they’ really is. For all practical purposes they could be the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world, and we’re gonna go with that. So…in counting the big black and blue X’s adorning my calendar, I have been in the ninth ring of Japan for 349 days. That’s 349 new pearls of wisdom, 349 reasons I should be more intelligent than when I started…

*Disclaimer: none are necessarily true, most are biased, politically incorrect, bullshit…Japan is fallible.

1. Shanghai is the syphilitic whore of the orient
2. Otskara sama desu is the Japanese catch-all phrase…much like ‘Prego’ and ‘vale’ 1001 uses….really
3. Croatia does not exist, it is a figment of my imagination. All those natives…made up, one big conspiracy theory
4. An unnamed Japanese source who sits very close to me believes the Chinese walk like monkeys…and we wonder why hostility exists. I was under the impression we all derived from the same species, so...
5. The sun is red
6. Killing and eating whales is no different than eating beef (I'm not sure I buy that)
7. The average desk chair travels 8 miles a year
8. Jared, that annoying Subway spokesman, would make a great Presidential write-in
9. I am terribly underrepresented within the realm of the Google search
10. If you interrupt terrible grammar and orthographic mistakes with sexual diseases, no one will notice your shortcomings
11. Los del Rio ‘sang’ the Macarena…this is why capital punishment still exists
12. The word ‘hotness’ is not utilized enough in the English language
13. No one can definitively tell me whether Russia fits within the realm of Asia or Europe
14. Same note. Central America - Is that technically North America or South?
15. Toyotomi Hideyoshi built Osaka Castle in 1583 - and I didn’t even have to look that up.
16. Children’s games can go awry very quickly
17. The quack of a duck doesn't echo because...
18. National Geographic claims there are 220 countries in the world, whereas the U.S. officially recognizes 196 countries. This proves NG can't count.
19. Finding watered-down porn in your email inbox doesn't make your day...oddly
20. Hello Kitty will one day rule the world...and my pink-fearing self cowers in terror

And that is nowhere near 349, I'm sparing you.

If you've made it this far, note that I'm off for a few days in Tokyo before heading home. The next time I post I'll be stateside, jet-lagged, drowning in Dr. Pepper and, hopefully, toasted...though not on Dr. Pepper.

Reflections on a week

2005-07-15T02:18:00.000-04:00

Monday, Tuesday: The worst day of my life, followed by a day worse than the worst day of my life.

Wednesday: Flowers from anonymous. Bit creepy, but who am I to complain? Other than someone who complains a lot.

Thursday: Last class with my Takeno third graders. They made me cards and drew disproportionate pictures of my head. It was cute. Five minutes later I made a student cry. That Teacher of the Year award is mine...I can feel it. Last English conversation class with the townees. Wasted ten minutes pronouncing Leonardo DiCaprio. Most stuck with DiCrapio...and I'm okay with that. Was asked to write out three wishes. Was asked to then read my three wishes, at which point I realized the phrase 'financial massacre' was beyond the linguistic means of my students as sarcasm is not appreciated.

(Blonde? Really? You wanna piss me off?)

Friday: Last class with my Kawai fourth grade. They played Eidel Weiss on the recorder, I pretended to enjoy, realized I may actually miss these kids after all. Wasted fifteen minutes contemplating where Kentucky went wrong raising Tom Cruise. Another ten wondering how he's still in business. Spent two hours at the post office, where I learned that the postal system here is more antiquated than non-fluoride toothpaste. It should consider itself cursed, and now I'm out 33,800 yen for one box. Holy Fuck!

Inebriated Anatidae

2005-07-11T02:36:00.000-04:00

There's a song on replay in my mind. A song so old the words have eroded and all that remains is an image. A rain streaked, shell of my childhood and roadtrip antics...an image of a drunk duck decapitated on his wedding day. I was a fucked up child. Certainly doesn't inspire much hope for la futura. And then I found 10,000 yen on the ground.

No...seriously, I did. In a puddle along a deserted street. Thoughts of turning it over to someone crossed my mind...but I don't know how to do that in Japanese. I can barely order a drink in Japanese, and that's a staple. So I'm keeping it, for the time being at least. Until my conscience weighs down upon me and I toss out the soggy paper wad.

2005-07-08T03:25:00.000-04:00

I need to get drunk.

Ping Pong Failure

2005-07-07T02:09:00.000-04:00

I’m dying to dub someone ‘Dr. Ted Nugent.’ I like to be cold when I sleep. I have an unhealthy love for George Peppard. I once decided to call all strangers ‘Jack’ in the manner of Sinatra. No one found it amusing. Maybe I’ll just call everyone ‘Darling’ like Audrey Hepburn. I hated Vanilla Sky. My house smells of mold and incense. I’ve been known to dislike people for mispronouncing one word. I’m far too critical. I’m craving reruns of MST3K. I’d like to work on a cruise ship for a year. Sometimes I forget the places I’ve been and the things I’ve done - it’s how I keep my life interesting. This is how I categorize my faults, of which there are many. I’ve decided I have far too many shoes for one person with only two feet. I leave Japan in two weeks and four days. One of my eyes is larger than the other…I think. My students think it’s funny I can touch my toes without bending my knees…they’re easily entertained. I'm drinking Coke for breakfast. I’ve listened to the Mosquito Song by QOTSA twelve times all ready today. I’m still a ping pong failure. Oh yeah, and I do NOT have anime eyes.

Darwinism of intelligence

2005-07-05T22:57:00.000-04:00

Social Darwinism is a crock! There...I said it. Not only will it take centuries to weed out the intellectually deficient, but who will direct our porn? We rely upon Tarantino's last rate interns to fail miserably in Hollywood and resort to entertaining the masses without the artistic details, intense dialogue and wardrobe. If everyone was raised with a decent amount of common sense and intelligence, who would dance in our strip clubs? Strippers aren't just born. It takes a lot of dead-beat, abusive fathers missing years of ballet recitals before one decides to hug a pole as a career.

I think my point is that no matter how much they piss me off sometimes, when they're gone, when Darwin himself has risen from the dead and instigated another strain of plague which only preys upon the few that make left-hand turns from the right-hand lane, which discredit the existence of Croatia, which fight to the death their 'ideals' of conservatism, country music and the NRA as it's own political party, I'll miss them. Or, at least I'll miss having someone to make me feel more intelligent by comparison...besides, I don't intend to pump my own gas forever.

2005-07-04T01:47:00.000-04:00

That whole "form follows function" theory really flies out the window when you consider the existence of gingerbread houses.

I never could read maps

2005-07-01T03:03:00.000-04:00

I thought I had something to say, but now I'm not so sure. Just like I thought I'd have done more with my life by this point, but the experiences are fading and the opportunities waning. Thought I'd have figured things out, decided what is it I want out of life, been handed a direct route, but I'm more lost than when I began.

Destined to be directionally challenged.

Robert Frost was fucking delusional in my opinion, to narrow the plethora of options in existence down to a mere two. Jackass!

2005-06-29T01:29:00.000-04:00

The Japanese make much tighter paperclips than Americans.

I like that. Seriously, you never have to double clip....or staple.

And that's all I like.

Pete and Repeat

2005-06-28T01:53:00.000-04:00

What's on repeat:

The Slackers - Wasted Days
The Dandy Warhols - You Were the Last High...but pretty much for the sole reason of mentioning whores
English Beat - Mirror in the Bathroom
The White Stripes - The Hardest Button to Button
Hepcat - Beautiful
The Distillers - Hall of Mirrors
Mark Lanegan - Wedding Dress
Tom Waits - Little Drop of Poison
Spoon - The Fitted Shirt
Weezer - This is Such a Pity
Mountain Goats - No Children
Death from Above 1979 - Sexy Results
The Skatalites - James Bond Theme...dude...highly entertaining

Yeah, way too much time on the hands.

Got ten little witches?

2005-06-24T03:31:00.000-04:00

I'll tell you where to stick 'em.

I don't mind singing. I like singing. But I hate solos. I HATE solos. I especially hate solos to songs that couldn't even pass as mere Mother Gooseries due to lame content and high pitch. Seriously, five octaves above normal voice...I don't think so.

The teacher caught on I wasn't digging the paranormal chanting/singing about ten little witches flying in the sky, so he chimed in. Intuitive...not enough. Did it help? No. Instead of asking the students to sing, which I think they could handle, I get a Village People reject to serve as backup to the worst children's song ever written.

Is this what I had in mind for my future? On the stage, performing to a group of twelve year old boys, leather clad dropout backing me up and serving as comic relief to the all too serious nature of an English lesson revolving around witches?

Actually...yes.

Lauren...

2005-06-22T02:52:00.000-04:00

...has a headache.
...wants to gouge her own eyes out.
...is contemplating the demise of her supervisor.
...just now realizes how lame talking about ones self in third person can be
...misses her brother, her dog and Dr. Pepper...in reverse order
...can't take any more fucking rain or she's going to torture and slaughter everyone in her periphery...and that's pretty crazy for a self-proclaimed pacifist
...was probably lying to herself when she assumed pacifism

I'm an idiot

2005-06-19T23:19:00.000-04:00

I just realized I was fanning myself with a card that reads, "Lauren 'Hoagie, Give me a Bud Light Bitch' Hoagland." Glad none of my coworkers actually speak English.

Oh wait. The principal speaks English. Wanna guess where he sits?

That would be a big desk directly across from me with nothing inhibiting a direct view.

Nice. Thanks M. You rock!

My ancient Pentax ZX10 has more fun on the weekends than I do. Que triste!

Kyoto

2005-06-16T02:40:00.000-04:00

Four days of humidity, photography threatening rain, hangovers, bouts of "Bonzai!!," temples, shrines, Buddhas, taking the wrong city bus despite the fact that the map is 'terribly easy to follow' and not enough coffee. But it was all worth it when that creepy sixty yr. old man stuck his email address down my bra...or when Andrea and...and that....damn! I promised I wouldn't tell. Ah well. The highlights in pixels:

Iwatayama Monkey Park

Omikuji in the rain outside Sanjusangen-do

Kinkaku-ji

Idiots Guide to Making Your Students Cry

2005-06-09T22:38:00.000-04:00

...and not just like a few measly droplets that could be a byproduct of allergies. Serious tears that force the shoulders to heave and the head to droop close enough to the floor to kick like a soccer ball.

1. Have your first grade students draw a picture on standard white paper…preferably recycled, but clearly not a requirement for all the Amazon destroying fuckwits

2. Ask each student to display their picture at the front of the classroom, show to the teacher, then ask (in broken English, naturally), “What’s this?”

3. At this point, the ‘teacher’ will respond with any variation of the following:
a. “That, my dear, looks like a black and white conversion of Warhol’s soup cans. Now what is it really?”
b. “It’s a….a……um…steroids?”
c. “Beats the fuck outta me.”
d. “Viking Man? Who the fuck is Viking Man?”

Right around this time you’ll notice a few heads drop, pictures fall to the floor and chins begin to quiver. It’s no long before they're fated to burst into an all out sobfest. Congratulations! If you find this isn’t challenging enough, move on to our complimentary step four, how to emasculate your JTE in front of thirty-six students.

4. When you do manage to decipher a concrete image from the abstract shit your students have ‘drawn’ it’s preferable to respond with a simple, “It’s a ___.” However, if the image exists singularly in time and space, such as Japan, or the sun, answer with proper English, despite the fact that your JTE will correct you by exclaiming, “It’s a sun…It’s a Japan. Use a.” Oh, I’m sorry. I was under the impression I spoke English. Woah...my bad. In that case, I guess the sun really is red and wasting countless billions of dollars on advertising which utilizes a man dressed as a lychee is a fantastic idea and raw horse meat is the best food In. The. World…or, in A world if you don't believe in Croatia.

5. Feel free to quote Wayne’s World: “A gun rack. What am I gonna do with a gun rack? I don’t even own A gun, let alone many guns, that would necessitate an entire gun rack. What am I gonna do...with a gun rack?”

The name game

2005-06-07T19:51:00.000-04:00

I distinctly remember as a child my father raving about the house yelling ,”Jesus H. Christ!”…most often after my brother had spewed chocolate milk all over the new white hall carpet or punched his third hole in the drywall with his head upon jumping incessantly on the bed mimicking American Gladiators despite being told 27.34 remainder 5 times, “Go to bed all ready.“ My mother also found this expression useful, though more often in my presence when asked to do something out of her realm, like teach me to change a tire because god knows one day it’ll happen and I’ll be stranded in the middle of the desert with nothing but a twelve disc cd changer and bendy Gumbi figurines adorning the dashboard for slightly humorous and vintage ambiance to keep me company while I’m forced to rely upon AAA, or to settle orthographical debates on ’desert’ vs. ’dessert’, though she could never quite agree on the middle initial, exclaiming instead, “Jesus M. Christ, Lauren, who do you think I am?” This leads me to believe that Jesus’ middle name was never adequately documented. Terrible advertising on his part. How do you know you’re taking his name in vain if one can never be too sure of the specifics? They could have been blasphemizing that twelve-year old Mexican immigrant down the street that spoke five words of English, slapped me with licorice laces and wore socks on his hands, because really, what is the purpose of socks when you don’t possess shoes? Sheer entertainment I imagine. But back to topic…that whole thou shalt not take the name of the lord, thy god, in vain commandment is terribly vague. I blame Charlton Heston. Well, really, that’s just one more reason to blame Heston…like you need yet another…but I do. I do need another reason. And I want someone to clarify the middle initial, or better yet, middle name, of Jesus.

On top of that, I would also like a life. Is that possible?

And in case you’re wondering, I don’t take the lord’s name in vain. I prefer to yell, “Sweet Jesus” which I’m fairly sure is a colorful, hard-shelled candy somewhere, and, therefore, in no way related to any religious figure whatsoever. Unless they started out selling Easter candy, and then I wish they’d explain to me how the resurrection elicited chocolate bunnies larger than my spleen, if not through pagan beliefs.

And if you still doubt me, note that all of my ’lords’ and ’gods’ are lowercase, which means you can send me hate mail at Idontgiveaflyingfuck@yahoo.com.

Depreciation

2005-06-06T20:38:00.000-04:00

There are currently more pills in my system than the FDA allows. But I still have a headache. Maybe one more would do the trick?

Yesterday a student asked me how much my house cost. I'm never fond of answering financial questions...espcially ones like, "are you rich?" and "how much money is in your wallet?" because there are no safe answers to questions like these. I usually laugh them off, but this time, I answered with a simple, "Not as much as my college education, little buddy. And that's wrong. At least the house has appreciated to almost double it's initial value, whereas the college degree continues to shrink to minimal worth. Something's wrong with this picture."

He didn't understand.

I think I like it better that way.

2005-06-06T00:58:00.000-04:00

Fifth is a hard word to say.

So is twelfth.

Who came up with this stuff?

Day of firsts

2005-06-03T03:29:00.000-04:00

First time anyone has ever stirred coffee for me using their finger. Hot coffee. Her finger. In my coffee. Is this a new thing? Because I'm not sure I can give up coffee altogether. Tell me that's not normal.

First time I've had to teach my students to pronounce "mountain momma." Nice.

First time I've sung in front of anyone...since I was eleven, that is. Me singing is bad enough. Me singing with a sinus infection, a song two octaves above anything resembling reasonability, to a song I've never heard before - yes, great fun was had by all....and then some.

Also managed to incur another Fruit Basket injury. FYI: don't wear a skirt to play with children. And don't trust your supervisor when she tells you seaweed on an open wound is beneficial, because really, it just stings like hell and turns your blood green, and really, she just wants me dead. I'm on to her. We will have words....oh yes.

2005-06-01T00:13:00.000-04:00

The school has been playing Enya at top volume over the loud speakers for the past two hours.

I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. One more sorry Celtic chant and I'll scream...again.

2005-05-28T11:40:00.000-04:00

Japanese women kick serious ass...when their stilletos aren't stuck in sidewalk grates.

An open letter to the Gentleman Sending Me Soft-Core Porn as if Written by a Kindergartner Via Email

2005-05-27T04:16:00.000-04:00

Dear Gentleman Sending Me Soft-Core Porn as if Written by a Kindergartner Via Email,

Wow…just wow! You have read my mind. I have always wanted to be seduced by a five year old, ever since I was, ironically, five years old myself. Return to innocence, ignorance, all that. And this couldn’t have come at a better time…the middle of my work day is the perfect time for random strangers to send me porn, so that I may read while being interrupted by the twelve year old boy that likes to tug on my shirt daily and offer a ‘nice to meet you’, even though I see him every day, and have oddly enough, never met him.

I especially love that you throw in my name, randomly, as if to reiterate that you are, in fact, stalking me, in the area, and in route to my house to watch me sleep through the tiny cracks in my walls which are really just imitation plaster sure to crumble at the next onslaught of typhoons. That’s good. Really good, even. An impact. However, the rest of your writing could be improved. I’d like to recite a paragraph, if you don’t mind.

“we can do slowly dont be in hurry. u told u have to go inside soon, i said ok then u go now. want to stay with me and enjoy with me more. then i hold u cuddle with u . kiss u r cheeks lips nose, eyes ears nose. now u slowly take off ur shirt. and u take me too. now i can see u r bra. now i am kissing u r chest too. now u r soft breast become hard. it is trying to come out from the bra. so i want to make it free. i take of ur bra now. now my hand running on u r smooth stomach. before i come down u take off u r pant and now my hand touch u. u lift ur hip and feel the current shock spread all ur body now. u told i am shy so pls close ur eyes. so i close my eye. u stand now. then u ask me to open my eyes. when i open i see 1st u r pussy is it clean shaved and shining in the moon light. it make me feel happy. wow it is wonder Honey. it make me great mood too.”

First, your characters are poorly developed. I'm pretty sure the collective whole of Lifetime Television tops the depths of your actors. What are the driving factors behind the lives of ‘us’? Our motivation. Are you the pool boy who has shamelessly flirted all summer and I the restless, young girl of the house willing to do anything to defy her parents? Are you the older professor seduced by my puerile charms and curiosity despite the illegal nature of a relationship? Are you the boy next door that has tried endlessly to find his way into my heart and will have to simply settle for my bedroom? This, I feel, deserves some revision. I mean, even low budget porn has some semblance of a plot. Grammar, however, spot on my newfound friend, spot on.

Now, I imagine you’re the kind of guy the ladies flock to, and I don’t want to criticize your style, but some girls might find offense in your usage of the word ‘clit’ seven times. Or your premature assumptions and misogynistic behavior. But you know what? Screw them! You have far too much intrinsic novelty to settle for someone who won’t respect you for the failed Harlequin romance novelist that you are. The uneducated, cavity riddled, baggy pants-wearing, two-dollars-to-your-name, living-above-the-garage-from-your-mother, son of a plumber that you are.

I’m not for one minute going to accept this as a final draft, or even, accept it as a proposal of some sort.
A) You can do better.
B) Why do I feel as though you’ve seen me naked?
C) I'm starting to feel like a cracked-out whore.
D) Why do you increasingly resemble every guy I’ve ever dated?

I’m not so sure you will understand these words I’m about to say, but WE HAVE NOT, NOR WILL WE EVER, SLEEP TOGETHER.

So…call me sometime. I’m available for long-term torture.

Lauren

Dangerous minds of first year English students

2005-05-26T01:00:00.000-04:00

Recap of question and answer session in my third hour English class.

Do you have a boyfriend?
You're serious? That's the first question? Fine, no. I don't.

Why not?
Were not going to go there. I don't ask why you don't brush your teeth or cook your food. So shut it.

Do you have any pets?
Besides the brother?

What are your favorite Japanese foods?
HAHA.

Do you prefer sun or rain?
Uh, fog.

You should watch Japanese television programs.
I don't get it. Where's the question?

What kind of boys do you like?
Illiterate, racist fuckwits that send me watered-down porn via email. Or, blue eyed guitar players. (That's the way to piss off a classroom full of brown eyed twelve-year old boys.)

Can you speak Japanese?
Scoshi.
Shabete kudasai. (Speak, please.)
Fuck off...er, gomen. Ohayo gozaimasu. Densha wa doko desu ka? Watashi wa Lauren desu. Watashi wa ni jun san sie desu. (I never said I spoke well.)

What can you speak besides English and Japanese?
Ha, you said I speak Japanese. Spanish, minimal French, waning Russian.
Shabete, kudasai.
Hola. Oida mi trabajo con una passion que solo el diablo puede entender en su oida del Dios, aunque no creo que existe un dios, pero no vos importe, pero sois estupidos, y me alegre que puedo os decirlo en frente de la clase, porque nadie entiende nada.

Je vraiment ne peux pas parler français, je feins juste. Mais vous ne savez pas cela.Que vous attendez-vous à ce que je dise ? J'ai un mal de tête.

Когда я сказал я смогло поговорить русского я лежал. (Actually, this is all I have memorized in Russian. Language tapes suck!)

What's your favourite town?
In Japan?
Anywhere.
Kaiserslautern, Germany. (Did they expect to understand. They negate the existence of Croatia, like they've heard of ANYWHERE other than Japan.)

What surprised you most about Japan?
How much I hate it. New question.

2005-05-24T01:40:00.000-04:00

Her shoes and pant legs soaked up sheets of rain like a Brawny commercial. She ran to ward off the shivers, ran from the intrusive rain, ran to the protection of the carport - a carport that had been without something to shelter for far too long. She smoked her friend down to the filter, remaining drops clinging to her eyelashes, obscuring the grizzly afternoon sky. The senile, familiar sky. Her mascara trickled, mimicking the converging streams lazily decorating the window panes. Colin Hay played a private concert through the crackling headphones as she thought about measuring intelligence in ounces or watts. Thought about the bath she'd take and the letters left to write. Wondered how much wine was left. Wondered why things were so much simpler before an education.

2005-05-23T20:13:00.000-04:00

Somehow I just know, this used to be me.

Old gym shirt

2005-05-19T02:39:00.000-04:00

I have an addiction that forces me to take pictures of my t-shirt collection...oh, and buy t-shirts. Summer is my least favorite season. When I was little I pulled out my own eyelashes in hopes of finally seeing a wish come true. I was also in the gifted program. Disconnect much? At night I can hear my neighbours taking baths together and not only is it unacceptable behavior past the age of four, it makes me cringe. I want to spend next Christmas with orphans in Vietnam. I am, quite possibly, the worst ping pong player I've ever met. Which in fact doesn't really make me a player at all, but a failure. Senior year my best friend poured a glass of water down my dress at the prom. My mother once complimented my eyes, and in doing so, validated all those that came before and were tossed out as blatant lies or idle flattery.

I received a thank you card from Locks of Love last week...only three years after donating my hair. That's some kind of record!! My parents will believe anything I tell them, not because I'm a great liar (I'm not) but rather, because they are completely naive when it comes to all things pertaining to me. I keep my pointe shoes in a box in my closet at home, awaiting my return, when they will be dusted off and put back for another four years of disuse. My father thought I'd make a great pitcher, for the world was devoid of left-handed pitchers back in the eighties. I despie the fact that I can't wear jeans to work. The majority of my friends from home all have jobs that somehow sound more professional than mine, but at the same time, sound terribly boring. I don't ever want to surrender my personality to some job on the basis of necessity.

Pervading numbers

2005-05-18T03:01:00.000-04:00

1st train in a day of public transportation
27 minute ride
1080 yen ticket
1 man yellow diesel car
comfortably seats 30
43 crammed in
16 female
19 visibly wearing watches, all 19 right handed
7 in t-shirts
6 of said t-shirts are in English (Engrish)
3 more passengers are wearing Playboy shirts, which I now deem international waters
1 guy on crutches
8 wearing Converse (1 wearing what looks to be knock-offs)
6 pairs of stillettos (to reiterate, of only 16 females-not a good ratio)
21 passengers caught in staring crossfire
13 sleepers (largely, I hypothesize, to avoid the guilt complex that comes with not politely moving over to allow others to sit beside you)
5 sleeping hunched forward
7 sleeping fallen to the side
1 sleeping so far to the side she's drooling on her neighbor (but I think he's her husband)
17 suits, but only 13 with briefcases
9 listening to music
1 bopping to the music (me) (Did I just say 'bopping'?)
222 of 4219 songs played on the iPod, though many skipped as clearly so not fall under the category of suitable 'train' tracks (no pun intended.....seriously....I don't do puns)
arrive platform 2
depart platform 3
arrive platform 7
depart platform 6
160 yen ticket
1more stop
arrive platform 2
walk 10 minutes

All for ONE fucking meeting.

Turn around and do it all again.

2005-05-17T01:39:00.000-04:00

So there's one chicken foot, chillin' on the rim of the ramen. The photo's a little dark, but if you were to zoom in you'd see the individual toenails. Yeah, you're secretly thanking me it's a shitty photo. The best was the shot of Zoe being strangled by the leg. Too bad that one didn't come out...but trust me, it was highly entertaining.

2005-05-16T21:33:00.000-04:00

So, do you remember Chrissy from Three's Company?

2005-05-13T01:54:00.000-04:00

How to pass sixteen hours on an overnight train full of Chinese strangers:
a)Hand the Swiss guy a copy of Cosmo to read aloud to five native English speakers
b)Proposition some girl into buying a package of chicken feet just so you can photograph individual legs in awkward positions throughout the train compartment
c)Flick off the guy who keeps staring at you while you're 'sleeping.'
d)Decide whose bottle of nondescript janky alcohol tastes the worse by mixing with flat Sprite.

Should you ever find yourself in said position, I've made your day...now haven't !?

My conversation class paid me again last night. I'm under the impression they love to throw money my way. If only they were smaller bills I'd feel like a regular stripper...and not one of the trashy ones that negotiates backdoor deals behind the curtain in the VIP room - a good one, headliner even, with her name in lights and shitty backup dancers to disguise her waning choreographical skills and thinning hair. I just need a catchy name and I'll be in business.

My little China girl

2005-05-11T01:41:00.000-04:00

Along the Great Wall in Beijing.

Seizure-inducing lights lining the Nanjing-Lu District of Shanghai.

A woman and her alley in Suzhou.

Guard outside the Forbidden City in Beijing.

Trip recap:

There is very little in China that isn't red. Just an observation.

In 2001 the Chinese Psychiatric Association no longer classified homosexuality as a mental disorder.....yeah...I don't know what to think either.

I think I had my picture taken with half of China - that's right - half a billion people served . I'm like my own veggie-friendly McDonalds.

Don't trust a city Lonely Planet deems the "Whore of the Orient." Because you know they meant to write "Syphillitic whore of the Orient"...and that's something you can only understand if you've seen Shanghai.

More lovely China photos here.

2005-05-10T02:47:00.000-04:00

Reason number two hundred and forty-three (through nine) why Lauren wants out of Japan.

By the time you read this I'll be basking in Communism

2005-04-27T02:07:00.000-04:00

A life in lyrics: (props if you can figure them all out…I’m still working on that one...oh, and if you make it to the end)

“I want to be someone else or I’ll explode, floating upon the surface for the birds.”

“This is the story of the boys who loved you, love you now and loved you then. Some were sweet and some were cold and snuffed you. And some just lay around in bed. And some, they crumbled you straight to your knees, did it cruel, did it tenderly.”

"Bat your eyes girl. Be otherworldly. Count your blessings. Seduce a stranger."

"I'll tell you who I am. Just another stupid American."

“Entre caricias, levidad y sabor, echo, sonrisa, realidad y dolor.”

“Fallen woman in dancing costume.”

"I’ve given all I can, it’s not enough, I’ve given all I can but we’re still on the payroll.”

"What's puzzling you is just the nature of my game."

“For a minute there I lost myself.”

"I’d love to change the world, but I don’t know what to do, so I’ll leave it up to you.”

"Unfolding enveloping missiles of soul, recall senses sadly. Mirage like soft blue like lanterns below, to light the way gladly."

“Everybody seems to think I’m lazy. I don’t mind, I think they’re crazy.”

"Everybody thought that she was boring, so they never listened anyway.Nobody was really saying anything of interest, she fell asleep. She was into s&m and Bible studies. Not everyone’s cup of tea."

"Is this really living sometimes it's hard to tell. Or is this a kind of gentler hell."

"I wanna live life, never be cruel, I wanna live life, be good to you. I wanna fly, never come down, and live my life, and have friends around."

"All of the beautiful colors are very very meaningful, gray is my favorite color. I felt so symbolic yesterday. If i knew Picasso, I would buy myself a gray guitar and play."

"And I’m feeling so bohemian like you."

"Sometimes I give myself the creeps. Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me. It all keeps adding up. I think I'm cracking up."

"Bonita la paz, bonita la vida bonito volver a nacer cada dia bonita la verdad cuando no suena a mentira bonita la amistad, bonita la risa bonita la gente cuando hay calidad bonita la gente cuando que no se arrepiente que gana y que pierde, que habla y no miente bonita le gente."

"Will you make it in the end, through all the twists and bends? Will you fulfil your dreams - not as easy as it seems."

"We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year. Running over the same old ground, what have we found, same old fears."

And now....I'm off for China. Ciao.

Far be it from me to keep you waiting Scott

2005-04-26T00:24:00.002-04:00

The latest installments:

I went for a walk today around lunch time, largely to avoid being hassled into actually eating, but also to leave my desk for once and enjoy the weather that is bound to turn shitty soon enough. Technically, I think I'm prohibited from leaving the building during work hours, unless to attend an elementary visit. But I'm not really caring anymore. Imagine that...me...apathetic. Anyway, it felt completely awkward. Unknown. To a degree it is...or at least, was. Like having a mid-day orthodontist appointment in grade school and your mother being to preoccupied with errands to actually return you to school afterward. So she either drops you off at home to save herself a twenty minute drive back to that horrid center of brainwashing known as Catholic school or you accompany her on various errands until you can stand it no more, proceed to bitch and moan, piss her off, and she finally gives in to pleas to be dropped off at home. And it's weird. Walking around, free, like a convict having just completeld a prison sentence. I'm not used to experiencing afternoons on the outside during the week. The roads are empty. Not isolated empty. Just less frequented empty. There's a stillness that hangs in the air, with no one around to break that balance other than yourself. You almost dare not move. It's like a premature escape. Granted, it's practically equivalent to a weekend afternoon...but still, there's just something about that typically off-limits period of day that makes your day seem like a series of stolen, puerile segments.

2005-04-25T01:41:00.000-04:00

Butler's Lambda Chi Alpha chapter has it's own Flickr account. What is this world coming to?

There, out of my system. Now I shall retract every negative, cynical, blasphemous comment ever made about Japan. Friday night my supervisor drove me to what I can only assume is the technological weighstation servicing alien visitors. The motherload of all that is technologically advanced and superfluous to existence. But I bought into it...and I bought a new camera. And it's love. The customer service rep. gave me a 40% discount because her father is the principal of my school. Yes, it pays to know people. I'm just now figuring this out. She also threw in a tripod and 1GB memory card for free. Did I say love? Not strong enough.

Orgasmic. Yeah...yeah that's better.

Starting off red

2005-04-22T02:52:00.000-04:00

They're just...so damn photographable. Too bad the little fuckers broke the camera. I'm off to buy a new one (aka sign over my highly underrated left arm as collateral.) Yeah...mixed emotions.

High Fidelity style

2005-04-19T20:48:00.000-04:00

Top 5 Hangovers of All Time

1. Cadiz, Spain: 72 hour hangover after a night of Carnavale binge drinking, varied illegal substances…which I purchased on the steps of a national cathedral (irony) and stealing hats off the heads of passersby. Largely provides the rationale behind my restraining order on rum and coke. Snuck onto a train for the ride back to Sevilla, managed to get sick all over the guy next to me, who was quickly replaced by another ignorant passenger…whom Brandon managed to tarnish as well. Ah…always smart sitting two alcoholics across from one another. Returned to my room only to get smacked by my senora, aka Hitler, and find her son traipsing about the apartment in women’s underwear. I’m pretty sure that all happened. Hamilton can back me up here.

2. 22nd birthday, Indy: Travis thought it’d be a good idea to force a keg down my throat, and I didn’t seem to mind. Same night I fell down a flight of stairs (pre-inebriation, I should add), offended a Norwegian exchange student and spent a good hour raving about Ken Kesey to Lyndsey, who, to this day, is probably frightened of the consequences One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest will have upon her sanity.

3. Shot for shot with Matt, DC: Matt wanted me to talk, which requires copious amounts of alcohol apparently. When the vodka ran low he switched to water, and I continued to finish the bottle, because I’m an alcoholic. I have this theory that people like to get me drunk so I’ll tell all kinds of incriminating stories I’d never dare release sober. That was the night I likened Laura to Conan the Barbarian. But she’s not. Laura, you can drink out of the faucet anytime…you’re not a Neanderthal…at least, not completely.

4. Hall and Oates, Vegas: The night of free alcohol, provided by the drummer of Hall and Oates. A jerk, if I might add. I don’t remember most of it, other than toppling over in the middle of the casino, flirting with a man at least three times my age, and wondering how in the hell this guy still had any claim to fame left in him. Should you ever find yourself in a similar situation, do not, and I repeat, DO NOT, divulge to your friends (while, invariably, in another drunken state) any details of said night, for they will find it humorous to publicize your antics with ridiculous amounts of Hall and Oates lyrics in magnetic poetry across the fridge…which your parents will read. Thank you, Rob.

5. Tie. 5a. Valentine’s Dance, Dayton, OH: If I may say so myself, I make one damn fine drunken date. Arrogant, obnoxious, klutzy. Stellar. No other words to describe it. Although, I can build my own beer-a-mid, and for that I know you are envious. Again, I managed to fall down, breaking my heels and ripping a large hole in my knee cap…that was nice to wake up to. Several drunk dials were made. To whom, I can’t recall. I spent most of the night blacked out…but still able to drink. Liz, if you ever need a date again, maybe you’ll think twice before you ask me.

5b. Vodka and red wine time, Lex, KY: Friends shouldn’t let friends drink from a bottle of vodka. Especially after they’ve finished a bottle of red wine, that is, after returning from Marika’s. Yeah….thanks, guys. That was fun. I’m convinced that left to my own devices, I would most certainly drink myself into the stages of alcohol poisoning, and succumb to a disorderly death. Fortunately I did not die. But I did wake up utterly sick two hours later, managed to drive myself to work and put in a good six hours of bitching, before succumbing to the hangover of the century, and food poisoning. A trip to the doctor was in order. A bottle of Excedrin was downed in the span of 24 hours, and my mother’s brand new carpet was ruined. She will never forgive me.

Have some sympathy

2005-04-15T02:51:00.000-04:00

As much as I love Dream On…and I do (I can even play the first four chords…envy me) and as unequivocally hot as Joe Perry may be, and always will be, and I mean DAMN, he’s hot…the Rolling Stones will always top Aerosmith.

I watched with glee
While your kings and queens
Fought for ten decades
For the gods they madeI shouted out,
Who killed the kennedys?
When after all
It was you and me
Let me please introduce myself
I’m a man of wealth and taste
And I laid traps for troubadours
Who get killed before they reached bombay
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name,
But what’s puzzling you
Is the nature of my game.

Just as every cop is a criminal
And all the sinners saints
As heads is tails
Just call me lucifer’cause
I’m in need of some restraint
So if you meet me
Have some courtesy
Have some sympathy,
and some taste
Use all your well-learned politesse
Or I’ll lay your soul to waste.

My fate...

2005-04-14T00:50:00.000-04:00

Email from the uncle:

"Remember, Condi Rice was once just an intern at the State Department and now she runs the place!"

Remember, Monica Lewinski was once just an intern at the White House and now she designs purses to make up for the fact that she's an untouchable, social outcast with bad fashion and the mentality of an Eastern State escapee.

I'll take my chances.

Besides, the State Department's ugly.

How not to advertise

2005-04-13T19:46:00.000-04:00

"New Books by Nicholas Sparks, Jane Fonda, Dean Koontz and more"

Yeah, I'm clicking away.

Barnes and Noble...you are dead to me.

Chasing sheep

2005-04-13T02:56:00.000-04:00

"Sitting on the sofa drinking whiskey, blown on softly by the air conditioner like a dandelion seed wafted along on a pleasant breeze. I stared at the electric wall clock. As long as I stared at the clock, at least the world remained in motion. Not a very consequential world, but in motion noetheless. And as long as I knew the world was still in motion, I knew I existed. Not a very consequential existence, but an existence nonetheless. It struck me as wanting that someone should confirm his own existence only by the hands of an electric wall clock. There had to be more cognitive means of confirmation. But try as I mght, nothing less facile came to mind." - Murakami

I haven't changed

2005-04-12T01:05:00.000-04:00

I still watch cartoons. I still sport vintage t-shirts and shredded jeans. I still jump at the sound of the doorbell, stupidly check the mailbox everyday, avoid social situations. I still deny the existence of Iowa as a separate state. I still don't get physics. I still wear my hair in pigtails.

I haven't changed.

I'm the same girl that refused to smile for portraits done by anyone other than her father. I'm the same girl that cringed in haunted houses. I'm the same girl that played in the rain, tap danced across the linoleum, prank called strangers, put on piano concerts for her family. I'm the same girl that drank from the carton and licked knives. I'm the same girl that dyed her hair fire-engine red on a whim.

I haven't changed.

I still hate wearing dresses. I still get weak at the sight of blood. I still drink too much, make a fool of myself, throw parties when the parents are out of town, set things on fire. I'm still anal about organization. I still slack on my work. I still rat on my brother and bite my nails. I still don't know who framed Roger Rabbit.

I haven't changed.

I'm the same girl I was at eighteen. The same girl I was at six. I just cuss more.

Memo to all coworkers

2005-04-10T19:40:00.000-04:00

Sake is not an admissible lunch beverage.

We do not belong to some rendition of a diminished capacity Nazi regime. Whistles are not required for bowing. Bowing isn’t even required. Get over it. I make more money than you AND I don’t pay taxes. I’m not bowing.

There will be no more playing “Let’s get the American drunk and bombard her with shoddy English questions about food she’ll never eat because it still has a pulse and lies bleeding on her plate while she convulses.”

I will not tolerate questions about my piercing. That’s what the first eight months were for. The last four months are dedicated to my continual quest for a suitable hiding spot within the school.

NO I WILL NOT SHOW YOU MY NAVEL!

Roren Hogurando is not my name. Hey…you know what? Not even close!!! Try again.

If you see me open the Lonely Planet guide to Japan at my desk, don’t assume I’m doing some light reading. Ask if you can help me. You, undoubtedly, won’t be able to do jackshit, but the offer might be nice.

I won’t hold your baby for a photograph…especially if I’m the only one in it…please keep this in mind. Unless, of course, you’re fully aware of the consequences that your child will suffer irreparable damage and require more than affordable long term therapy.

“Bye Bye” is not Japanese.

Ask me to juggle AND DIE!

Wearing the same pair of pants two days in a row IS acceptable. Three days, debatable. Four….WHAT? Do you not own pants? Let them breathe.

I like to be informed at least thirty seconds in advance prior to giving speeches…especially when they’re in Japanese. I don’t know…maybe I’m funny that way, and probably the only person in the world…but bear with me.

Giggidy giggidy giggidy

2005-04-07T00:59:00.000-04:00

Auctioner: Our first item is a pair of panties confiscated from a prostitute.
Quagmire: Fifty bucks.
Auctioner: She had nine STDs.
Quagmire: Forty-five bucks.
Auctioner: And when we caught her she wet herself.
Quagmire: Fifty bucks.

I think the principal just looked up my skirt

2005-04-06T01:20:00.000-04:00

So......no one's dead (yet.) If it's not the rain, it's the earthquakes. If not the earthquakes then the green tea. If not the green tea it's the gall of JPII dying before my mother had a chance to make it to the Vatican. I tried to tell her his blessing transcends the physical, from my experience to hers....but she doesn't buy it. Right now I have them climbing the largest active volcano in Japan with the help of two of my least English speaking conversation students. Yes, yes I like where this is going.

My slow descent into alcoholism

2005-03-31T01:11:00.000-05:00

One bottle of wine down while scrubbing years of age from the house.
(Cutting hair while intoxicated...rarely a good idea. Remind me of that more often.)
Five hours until the parents arrive.
Ten hours until I want to stab myself in the largest artery possible.
Two days until one, or both, of them is dead. That's my estimate. Wanna take bets?

Anywho...I'll be taking off work until Wednesday. And I can't leave you empty-handed...or, um, minded. So here's a brief sampling of a few of my favorite black and whites...either for the image itself or the moment it attempts to capture.

48 hours w/o internet access...

2005-03-30T00:31:00.000-05:00

...makes Lauren a VERY pissed off, irritable, pseudo-maniacal, waste of primordial juice.

Day 2:

8:32 - Dre calls to remind me I owe China a bribe of 100USD. How do I always manage to find myself in compromising positions with communist regimes?

9:01 - Half an hour gone. That pair of scissors looks sharp enough to...

9:20 - The science teacher is shaving at his desk. I find that irritating. Wait a minute. I find EVERYTHING irritating. And YES, I'm YELLING!!!

9:43 - Looking for an explanation as to why I deserve this punishment. "You want an explanation? GOD. IS. PISSED!" Anything can be answered with a Family Guy quote.

10:22 - There are eight paper shredders in this office. Eight! I counted. Who needs eight paper shredders, other than the US Government? At present, they're all being used. Hey-let's set fire to the Amazon while we're at it.

10:27 - Hand creeping towards the rusty scissors....just about there...

11:03 - MacGuyver would know how to escape this situation.

11:32 - Self-hypnosis is possible with extreme overplay of Radiohead. Try it.

11:34 - KILL ME!

KILL ME!!

KILL ME!!!!!

11:42 - Reading the JET Handbook. Starting to think it would have been more beneficial to read in the beginning, rather than the end.

11:46 - "Each neighborhood has a designated area where citizens can gather when a natural disaster causes fire or disrupts the gas, power and water supply."*

*Unless you're a failed American and then you shall be subjected to a week without gas and two without hot water. Rite of initiation. You understand.

P.S. I do not count as a natural disaster...despite the number of fires I may start.

12:37 - ::putting glasses on::

::taking glasses off::

::putting glasses on::

No, no difference.

12:41 - How dues dust accumulate beneath the bed?

1:02 - The hottest ring of Hell would be more entertaining than this.

1:47 - New Record! 17 consecutive games of Spider Solitaire.

2:00 - I need coffee!

2:01 - Revision: I need vodka!

2:15 - Two hours left. Six episodes of Family Guy? Another nap? Stab myself repeatedly in the jugular so as to diminish the internet cravings and rising insanity?

2:16 - D. All of the above.

2:18 - There's a vegetarian restaurant in Bangkok called "Cabbages and Condoms."

2:23 It's back! It's back! And now you can suffer my unbearable experience. Abridged, that is.

Incongruous

2005-03-25T01:46:00.000-05:00

I warn you: This post goes nowhere, like the little man above.

I still confuse the names of my father's nine brothers and sisters. Occasionally I call them by the nicknames by dad coined for them back in the day when ripped up grey sweats were the height of fashion. So...classy nicknames.

When drunk I make it a habit to rave about Ken Kesey to disinterested English majors, stick my tongue out far more than appropriate (especially for pictures,) offend foreign exchange students by labeling their homeland an EU defector, and fall down flights of stairs.

I want fluoride in my tap water....put it back Japan, PUT IT BACK!

Yesterday I taught my third grade students, as photographed below, to high-five. Not that it requires formal English training, but this I know.

A man in the 7-11 this morning wouldn't keep his eyes off me, trailing my every move with a disdainful look. What can you do in those kinds of situations? Other than cuss at yourself to make up for the fact that you can't walk up to him and tell him to fuck off. So now, not only does he think I'm a despicable foreigner, but a despicable schizoid foreigner who not only talks to herself, but yells and lets slide a string of obscenities, occassionally rolling her eyes and shaking her head in anger... all. at. herself., while buying coffee in the 7-11.

Once I was forced to play the role of an Amish phone sex operator for a Spanish presentation. Yeah....yeah, clearly I was absent when choosing roles AND writing the script. They don't even have an Amish population in Spain...who thought of that crap?

Kids in the hall

2005-03-24T19:59:00.000-05:00

Earthquake in Japan Kills 1, Injures 381

2005-03-21T18:58:00.000-05:00

Make that 382. Being true to my ungraceful nature, I stepped on shattered glass and dishes from the initial quake....and now I'm limping.

I love my life.

But I'm okay.