Wednesday, September 29, 2004

No time to do much of a real post now... gotta get this stupid philosophy of medical ethics case study written... (I've put this off for nearly a month.) The one cool thing about it though? While writing it, I get to refer to myself as a doctor! (Hmmm, now if only I could find a boy to "play doctor" with... I do have one ideal patient in mind, but volunteers might be accepted on a case by case basis! *Wink wink!*)


Oh, and for the record, I still rock at jewelry making!


9.29.04 - "Wait, they offer a class where you get to draw naked people? HERE?? Why is this never listed in my catalog of classes? Hell, for that class, I'd do TONS of extra credit!" ~Drew on his new found love of all things artistic

Tuesday, September 28, 2004

Boring shitty day. Still felt like poo.


Today I learned a female lobster is called a hen. Bet you didn't know that.


The Montreal Expos are moving to DC... Now all we gotta do is reclaim the Blue Jays!


9.28.04 - "I wish I had a tail." ~Jen made this declaration rather randomly and out of the blue while standing in our kitchen.

Monday, September 27, 2004

Picture if you will, the hilight event of my day: You know those commercials for pepto bismol where the people do the little "pepto dance"... You know where they cover their mouth like they're gonna puke, and cover their bottom like they're gonna have a nasty explosive event... Now picture a highly amusing, lanky guy who just ate a chewable rolaid because he "thought it might be worth a try, even if I'm not feeling bad" doing a kind of half-assed reproduction/ personal interpretation of the pepto dance. I'm telling you, this is pure comedy gold... I couldn't make this stuff up! Definitely the funniest thing I've seen in a LONG time.


Here are the mundane details: (Feel free to skip to QOTD, because we all know you don't give a damn about this part)
I got up, felt like poo, looked like ass, went to classes, got an A+ on my jewelry project, killed some time at the gym talking to Jake, who I just adore, went to boring night class where I most likely failed a quiz, came home for some law & order and some shower action, and that's pretty much the whole day.

Cubs win, and they lead the wild card race, which is spectacular.

I just came to the stunning revelation that I need to do laundry... BAD.

I'd like to think that I'll get to paint tomorrow, even though I've got a 4-5 page paper due Thursday.

I don't know why I'm telling you all of this.

9.27.04 -
Liz: "Our upstairs neighbors might not be drummers, or tap dancers, or whatever, anymore, but man, they sure do walk heavily."
Jennie: "And they have lots of sex."
Liz: "Do they really? Whoever is above me must not be getting any."
Jennie: "Yeah well, whoever is above me is getting plenty... sometimes I'll moan really loudly just to make them think I'm gettin' some too!"
I called Baltimore tonight... I woke Dave up. I'm an asshole. I'm sorry Daver!

I also had a lovely conversation with Miss Beth, who will no doubt go on to do some very important work in some political field and will never be asked about the finer points of Phaedo.

And in my immense boredom, I actually decided to listen to my TV... Imagine. You know how you always see ads on your TV for assorted things that tell you to visit a website for more information or whatever, well, after so long, curiosity got the best of me. I hope I'm not the only one who's seen the commercials for "" ...You know where there's a group of people doing something and then there's one person who's just totally out of place, and they say something about their "A.Q." and you're encouraged to go to the website to find out more. Well, For those of you not in the know, A.Q. stands for adventure quotient. It's an advertising ploy by the fine folks at Land Rover... I'm not sure how effective it is, because my personality quiz results still didn't make me want to buy a Land Rover, but it was effective enough to get me to mention it in the blog.

I have taken the quiz a couple times and gotten different results, so I'd say I'm borderline between and Aggressive Conquering Achiever, and a Passionate Investigative Pioneer. I can live with either one... I think the descriptions for both are fitting. Anyway, for those of you who are interested, you can click the link above and take the little quiz that it gives you, and find out what you are... if you're really inclined, you can let me know what you are by posting it in the comments section. (Please note that I'm still trying to get you folks to use the comments section, because basically, I need some kind of feedback that proves to me that there ARE actually people out there who are reading my ramblings.) (What can I say, I'm paranoid that I'm just writing all of this for no one's benefit other than my own... and since I'm not really benefitting, I start to wonder why I bother.) (If you really enjoy my ramblings, I fully encouraging you to pass me on to your friends and loved ones... I'm willing to be electronically shared with the masses!)

Sunday, September 26, 2004

Phil called last night... I didn't take the call. I mean we haven't gone out in weeks, he's gone back to sucking on the phone when I do talk to him, we've been playing phone tag since this whole thing started, and then that shit Friday night.... So of course I didn't take the call. I'm kinda hoping he'll get the message. (This is very much NOT my style, but this has just gotten irritating beyond belief. So much so, that I would rather be alone on my birthday than have to worry with this mess.) Anyway, momma left this morning, the Cubs lost, the Bears lost, I spent a couple hours in the jewelry lab, and went to the grocery. That pretty much brings us up to speed, not that you care.

I met some of Jennie's mom's friends, and they are some fun ladies. In fact, here's a proof-positive quote of the day!

9.26.04 - "Yeah the guy who we gave the blowjobs to.... What? My son says it's not sex!" ~ Judy (a 50-something woman in Jennie's mother's prayer group)

Saturday, September 25, 2004


This has suddenly become and issue. And by suddenly I mean that I'm writing this at 2 AM on a Saturday because I was rudely, and by that I mean RUDELY- ENOUGH- TO- CONVINCE- ME- TO- HAUL- MY- ASS- OUT- OF- BED- TO- ADDRESS- THIS- PROBLEM- WITH- A- BLOG- ENTRY, awakened by a phone call at about 1:30. What total cad committed this horrendous faux pas? Who committed such an egregious error? Yup, you guessed it... Phil.

Just so you are all aware, I'm not going to pawn this off on my mom being here for the weekend, I'd probably be just as pissed if she wasn't here and this happened. But since she is here, this error is just magnified THAT much more.

For those of you who are unaware of the rules which govern phone etiquette, please allow me to enlighten you. (Times vary by person, so I'll just write these rules up using my personally-specified times as a rough guide, please keep in mind that I'm a college student, so these times are more in keeping with my lifestyle than those of, say a housewife, or mother, father, etc.) (All times are central-standard.)

1) Weekday calls should be limited to non-sleeping hours only. This means you don't ever call before 10AM or after midnight unless you KNOW FOR A FACT that I am awake and able to coherently speak to you. Obviously emergency situations are the exception to this rule, but by emergency, you better be calling because someone is dead, hospitalized, or in jail... and since I'm a poor college kid, you better think twice before calling to wake me up for bail money... (Generally if you call me and wake me up for bail, I'll say I'm coming to get you, but I will roll over and go back to sleep, and let your ass rot in jail for the night just to spite you at that point.)

2) Weekend calling generally has a looser timeframe for the later hours, but only if contact is already established and/or expected. This means that the 10AM start time is still firmly in place (although my father regularly violates this rule on many of my hung over Saturdays, but since odds are that we don't share DNA, I will be less forgiving with you) any evening calling should be started no later than 11 PM. By this I don't mean that I don't take calls after 11, I mean that if you have not already established some form of contact by 11PM, (i.e. the first call should have been made by now, thus establishing contact) it should be assumed that I'm way cooler than you, and I'm doing something with other people who are also cooler than you. Basically, no matter what day it is, unless you are actually, physically looking at irrevocable proof I'm awake and wanting to talk to you after 11, THIS IS NOT THE TIME TO START CALLING.

3) If you're a friend who I've not spoken to in QUITE a while, and by friend, I mean someone who I have lived with, (in the same apartment/dorm/hall, etc.) someone I dated, or someone who is thoroughly convinced I will take your call at any hour, then by all means call at any hour. If I don't take your call, and/or don't return your call within 48 hours, please rethink your status. (Please note: example violator of this rule, Lauren H. whose calls I don't return for months because of her consistent violations.)

4) You may call during school or work hours, because we all know that I don't always go to class, and I don't do much of anything of any real importance at work. So if you call, and my phone rings at an inopportune moment (like if I forgot to turn my ringer off during lecture) it is solely MY responsibility, not yours. You will not be penalized for calling.

5) If I have left you a message to call me ASAP, and I've not established time stipulations in the message, you can call me back at any time. I return my phone calls promptly, and I expect the same from you, so if I have not specified that I'll be going to bed at a certain time, and you get the message that you need to return my call ASAP, you have permission to call at any time. However, if I say in the message that I'm going to bed at midnight, and you don't get my message until 2 AM, then please wait to return my call until at least 10 AM the following day.

6) Messages (text messages, voicemail messages, answering machine messages, and verbal messages taken by your roommate or your mom) should be answered promptly. Basically, I'd like a call back within roughly 36 hours to at least let me know that you got my message and that you're not ignoring me.

7) If you don't leave me a message, (voicemail, or otherwise) I am not required to call you back. Basically I'll see you called, but if you don't leave a message I will assume that it was not important enough to warrant a call back. Even if you didn't mean to call me, leave a message telling me that you didn't mean to call, so that I don't waste my minutes calling you back to find out what the hell you wanted.

8) Special occasions, like holidays, birthdays, long weekends, etc. allow for a certain amount of flexibility in the rules. So the rules will be flexed at my discretion.

9) Certain people, [and they know who they are without a doubt, and without exception, (basically my mom, Alana, Beth, Ciara, Dave, Jen, Kirsten, Kim, Scoot, Tarreck, and maybe one or two other people)] are allowed to call at any hour for any reason. I will take their call because I love them more than I love you. Sorry that's just the way it is. If you have a problem with this, it's probably because you're an ass, which is probably why your name is absent from the short list anyway.

10) Drunk-dials supercede ALL rules. Drunk-dials/drunk-text-messaging, etc. are acceptable from any person at any hour. As a lush, I must completely submit to all possibility of receiving a phone call at 4:27AM telling me that you were thinking that "Being a pirate must have been cool, even if they didn't have pancakes out on the boat... Pancakes are really good you know! Here, talk to my friend while I go over there and get some pancakes... ARRRG!" I find that the pure comedy of these phone calls and messages far outweighs any lost sleep or penalizable feelings of resentment, so by all means, CALL AWAY ON ANY DAY AT ANY TIME!

So as you can plainly see, since Phil wasn't drunk when he called, he was in clear violation of rule number 2. And since he's returning the message that I left him on Wednesday, he's also in violation of rule 6 as well. This is a problem. If he'd called back within the established 36 hour time frame, he'd have known that my mom was coming, so odds are he wouldn't have committed the fatal error of breaking rule 2 and waking me up in the process. I think I might have to castrate him, because he not only woke me up, he woke up MY MOM!

It's not as if we haven't had our problems anyway... but now he's SO done.

Dave on the other hand, sent 2 drunken text messages in the same time frame, and I love him.

Friday, September 24, 2004

Friday started off with good news. I like having good news before bedtime, it makes me sleep easier! My alarm was f-ed up again,(Boo,) so I thank goodness for that truck that woke me up at a little after 9. So I got up, went to school, got my brain & behavior test back... I was praying just to pass, but I must've known more than I thought I did because I ended up with a B! (Yeah Dave, I got a B.) (WOO HOO!) And so then it was off to Stats where I took what was possibly the easiest test EVER.... there weren't even any numbers on it! How crazy is a math test with no numbers? (CRAZY! LOVE IT!) I then ran off to the financial aid office for round five, and I finally got my meeting! And now I don't owe 11 grand, I just have to get a student loan for less than 4 grand so that I can pay rent all year. (GREAT....) 4 beats the hell out of 15 (because it would've been that 4 on top of the 11 grand from before... WHEW!) So then I went to the jewelry lab, where I fucked up my pin and mangled my hand (SONOFABITCH....) and then I went to work for a bit, got paid, (SWEET) and came home to have a nice visit with momma! (YAY) So we put in an appearance at the soccer game, which was an unfortunate loss (Poop.) and the women's volleyball game which was a win that was narrowly rescued from the crapper (YIPPEE) And the Cubs had a nice little win tonight to take the lead in the wild card race (SUPER SWEET!) An early bedtime will round out my Friday and Saturday will be spent rollin with momma, going to Dave's rock shop, sam's, target, you know.... fun stuff! Not that any of you are still reading any of this, because I know you don't care! Go ahead, say it. You know you wanna say it. "Just shut the hell up and stop bitching about your day and give me my quote of the day, you stupid cow!" WISH GRANTED!


9.25.04 - "Well, I've been living pretty much solely on alcohol, altoids, and gum." ~Matt Marek on his healthy diet.

Thursday, September 23, 2004

Today sucked. OK? It sucked. I wake up on time, but hit the snooze once, only to wake up 45 minutes later to find that my alarm did not go off again... so I missed my first class, and I decided that starting off my day with my second class was not the route to go... (you'd understand if you ever met Dr. Vic Otatti) So instead I went up to campus to try for the fourth day in a row to get a meeting with the only person who seems to know how to get the $11,000 debt off my account and get me the money that I'm due so that I can pay my rent next on the first of the month. Apparently nobody told her that most people work more than three hours a day. Yeah, I've been to the office every day this week, and I've never been able to make contact with her... Today was no exception, she was gone for the day by the time I got there at 12:20. And guess what! Tomorrow she works from 9-12... right when I've got class, and I've got a test tomorrow, so it's not like I can skip to go meet with her... SWEET! So then I went to work. Most days I enjoy my job, today was the definte exception to the rule. People did just about every concievable thing possible to piss me off. Someone must've put out a memo while I was waiting in the line, you know the one where I waited for a half an hour only to find out that the woman I needed to see wasn't there... yeah, that one. So after my excruciating time at work (where several people are lucky I lacked the genuine will to reach across the counter to crush their respective larynxes) Someone even thought it was a good thing to tell me that I looked like her grandma because I was sitting there playing cards... I was too flabberghasted at the comment itself to reach over and snap her neck. So dinner with Alana, a little TV, some ice cream, and a long talk with the Dave was the best course of action to finsh off the day.


9.24.04 - "Liz, baby, you just give me the names, I'll put out the hits, nobody will put it all together!" ~Dave (Yeah, I just outed one of my possible hitmen here, but just so you know, there are several others who have made this offer that you don't know about!)


Life is so much better when people say things to you like
"You're the best!"

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

I walked around pretty much all of today continually hearing from people who knew me, people who see me because we have classes together, people who know me from work, professors I had a couple years ago... pretty much everybody, all saying "Damn, you look exhausted." And they were all right. I did look exhausted. You wanna know why? BECAUSE I WAS EXHAUSTED. I was so exhausted that I couldn't even find the energy to insult people... I couldn't muster enough force to get the words to audibly roll off my tongue in a coherent manner. More often than not, people got a grumble, or some mangled gibberish that could only be interpreted as an insult if I were fluent in some of those gurgly languages that the pygmies speak... The fact that I couldn't even manage to verbally attack my stats professor should indicate to you just how off my game I was. The biggest insult for him that I could muster? I sat and worked the Red Eye crossword while he gave a review for the test we have on Friday... That's all. But I digress, because apparently it is customary to find the most exhausted looking person available, and heap all the work that you don't want to do upon them. At least that's how I understood things today. Sorry, I'm tired, so I'm a little whiny.


Can we talk a little bit about television? (This part could get messy, so if you want to bow out now, I'll totally understand!)

First off, I need to note my saving graces on the airwaves when the Cubs are not on have to be the old classics. By classics, I don't mean I Love Lucy or anything... I'm not 65 for Christ's sake! (Although Lucy was pretty damn funny by the standards of the day!) Anyway, my idea of the classics are shows like MASH, Cheers, Law & Order, (I generally stick pretty closely to plain ol' Law & Order as opposed to the spinoffs, although occasionally those can be intriguing,) Roseanne, you know... the greats. Aside from that, television is pretty much entirely crap. Reality shows = GARBAGE ... People, you need to go out and live life instead of sitting at home watching whiny beautiful people bitch about how rough they've got it while they live rent-free and try to win shit. ANYWAY, something about the classics that upsets me though, I was under the impression that Nick at Night was dedicated to bringing the classics to the masses. For the most part they do a good job, however I do have a small bone to pick with the fine folks at Nick at Night. It has to do with "The Fresh Prince of Bel Air." Now don't get me wrong, FPOBA is a fine show. I'd be lying if I said I didn't watch it before the Nick at Night folks decided to air it. However, NOW it is a different story. FPOBA is NOT a prime-time classic tv calibre show... at least not just yet. Given time, it might earn a certain nostalgic spot in our hearts and DESERVE to be in the prime time classics line up... THIS, however, is not that time. If I want a prime time classic comedy about a well-to-do african american family and all the hijinx their kids get into, I'll take the Cosby show any day of the week. I think I speak for many people when I say that I am fine with the Huxtables occupying that spot in my classic comedy line up for the moment. I love the Banks family of Bel Air and all, but leave them to the after school crowd. Because there's nothing like coming home after a tough day in the twelfth grade and relaxing with the Fresh Prince. Like I said, I'd be lying if I said I never watched and enjoyed Fresh Prince... however, it's not PRIME TIME material just yet... SORRY. Leave it to the REAL classics kids! ...The ones that I can safely fall asleep to at night...

Aside from the classics, I've got a few other axes to grind while I'm at it. (We've already touched upon reality TV, so I'll just let that sleeping dog lie... although I do smell a REAL RANT coming on for that one.) So aside from those, Howard Stern. Seriously? I thought he got all those FCC fines a few months ago and said he was done, that the fines were the final nail in his coffin. Am I wrong? Did my feeble brain just make this shit up? I mean really, it's not enough that people listen to this man talk about touching himself, and paying for women strip down so he can tell them if he thinks they need to have boob jobs, we have to actually SEE it on tv? Ok, fine, you can make your free speech argument, just as long as I can counter with my "I'm just REALLY glad I've got a functional remote when this shit is on TV" argument. Furthermore, celebrity tabloid news shows. Let's lose these altogether. If I REALLY want to know all the details of Courtney Cox's $12,000 skin regimen or what food Britney Spears served her guests at her surprise wedding, I'll learn to read, and I'll pick up one of those lame tabloid magazines, or if I'm really desperate, I'll seek it out online... I don't need it occupying a time slot that could be filled with something like a REAL news show, or sports, or classic TV... you know, something that will not turn my brain into macaroni salad. And we wonder why our kids are either anorexic because they wanna be like Mary Kate, or obese because they spend so much time watching this crap... Oh, and kids are scoring lower on standardized tests too? Am I the only one seeing the correlation here??? Here's a hint: TURN OFF THE TV AND GIVE LITTLE SUZIE AND TINY TIM A COPY OF MOBY DICK AND A FRISBEE!! Jesus, that way if they don't get a higher education based on actual education and learning, they'll at least have a shot based on some form of athletic prowess... I work in a NCAA Division I athletic department... believe me, you don't have to be ALL THAT SMART or ALL THAT TALENTED... (note to my athlete friends; please don't take this personally, because the fact that you're able to read this and see the humor automatically means I'm not talking about you, but you do know who I'm talking about!) [Stop, Breathe, inhale.... exhale....]

Wow... Ok, back to what has apparently turned into a rant.

Oh and I have to ask, wasn't the point of MTV2 to have a place where MTV would actually air MUSIC videos? You know at one point, the M in MTV stood for MUSIC... but MTV2 has turned into another MTV, where they air crappy shows that nobody wants to watch... This upsets me! They ruined the first MTV badly enough that when they realized their audience was starting to watch MTV2 instead because we wanted to see videos that they just spread out and violated the one bastian of pure music video hope that we had left.

As far as whole channels go though, I gotta say that few things bother me more than the spanish channels. Yeah, I support multiculturalism, and embracing your heritage and all that, but I also know that I don't live in Mexico. I don't spend ten pesos on a whole bottle of tequila, and I didn't have a sombrero on my head the last time I checked. So why do I have 5 spanish channels? GOOD FUCKING QUESTION. When spanish becomes the official language of the US, or Illinois, or even Chicago, THEN AND ONLY THEN will I be ok with this. If you're going to air television programming in a language other than english, be an equal opportunity provider. I want to see a Polish channel, and a German channel, and a Chinese channel, and a Swahili chanel... don't discriminate! Otherwise stop accusing me of discriminating when I bitch about this stuff!

There are more channels and shows that bother me, but we'll talk about those another time I think. What we need to address now are the commercials.

I'm tired of seeing Jared the subway guy. We get it. The guy used to eat babies all day, and when he switched to subway sandwiches he dropped a billion pounds or something... let me speak for the masses when I say WE'RE OVER IT!

MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE PRESENTLY ON TV I HATE HATE HATE the McDonalds ads where there is some sad sack sitting alone in a room with nothing to keep them company other than a puddle of what used to be their pride, and apparently several schizophrenically split personalities. You know the ads I'm referring to, people all alone, talking to themselves about people stealing their chicken... these are the poster children for paranoid schizophrenia. So what is McDonalds trying to say here? Eat this overpriced, crappy chicken of ours and develop organic brain diseases? Gee that's an effective ad campaign if ever I came across one.

Wow... this was quite the unintended rant... that kinda wore me out... as if I wasn't already beat! ~ I think I'm gonna go to bed now.


I think I should note that I was in the room today when one of my classmates referred to someone they knew as "A totally wretched human being." And hearing someone else utter this phrase made my heart leap with joy! It was a beautiful thing!
Today was another boring Tuesday. Then I went to the volleyball game... Remember when I said that me dressing all cute was because of a boy, and because I looked like bunk the day I saw him? Well it was at the volleyball game that I totally redeemed myself for the bad day! I looked cute! I really did. I walked in after the game was over and the first thing that Jen said to me was "Damn, you look cute!" So I win! But all of this is really quite irrelevant to the rest of you... so I'll just justify the reason for mentioning the game is because it was the source of much entertainment at the expense of a girl on the opposing team. Please allow me to illustrate. When you go see a volleyball game, you generally expect to see tall, leggy people who have no trouble jumping high enough to spike a ball over the net, right? If you look at the NIU women's volleyball player roster you might have a little inkling of why I bring this up... Yeah, there's a girl on their team who is listed as 4 feet 10 inches tall.... 4' 10" No kidding! And that's being REALLY GENEROUS because she was MAYBE 4' 7" ... I mean she was REALLY REALLY TINY. So needless to say, it was a little unexpected to see such a small person on the court, and that led to a few jokes at her expense... and quotes of the day. (And yeah, I'm gonna break the rules and quote myself, because I had a couple gems tonight)

9.21.04 - "Hey, I've got a question, that nine on her jersey, is that her number, or is that her age?" ~Liz

9.22.04 - (After a point was awarded to Loyola)
Small V-ball player on NIU team: "FUCK!"
Liz: "Hey! She just used a big-girl word!"

9.23.04 -
Mom: "You have the resources, use them!"
Liz: "I do... and I'm finally of the disposition to tap into them."
Mom: "Well it is good to tap into the resources, after all, you have like a KEG!"

Monday, September 20, 2004

Well now I know that if Ashcroft has anything to say about it, I'll have all kinds of good company!
Well on the weekend rewind, I just gotta note that during the party there was one item that was unlawfully removed from the premises.

Missing: One toilet lid cover

Description: Green terry cloth, with black and white eyes; frog shaped

Last seen with: Mr. Bret Walker; suspect should be considered armed (yeah he's got 2 arms) and generally pretty harmless.

If found please inform the authorities or contact the rightful owner of the missing item described above. Do not attempt to approach the suspect on your own, he might bite when threatened.


9.20.04 - "Yeah, I was in sixth or seventh grade and we were left to roam around in the city... so of course we went into a sex shop, and the sales people start showing us toys and stuff... I was a little kid from a little town in Michigan, I was terrified out of my mind, I had no clue what a butt plug was... hell, I'm twice as old now and I'm still not sure what a butt plug is for." ~Nate

Sunday, September 19, 2004

There isn't a whole lot to say about this weekend, other than to ask the question that I know is looming on the minds of many:

Where do we go from here?

Hopefully we can all move past the numerous problems we encountered, some of us have already come to our conclusions, others of us are just beginning to pose the question. I hope for all of our sakes that we can collectively do whatever it is that we have to do to make things better, in an effort to make them right again.

On a personal note: I'll go ahead and genuinely and openly apologize to any and all of the guests who were around for the later part of the evening when things got ugly. I accept responsibility for my share of what went down in our apartment, and I'm sorry if anyone's feelings were hurt. I assure you that at no point was it ever my intention to hurt anyone. It's unfortunate that things happened the way that they did, that misunderstandings and miscommunications led to hurt feelings, and that alcohol exacerbated the issues at hand, but I apologize for it, and say that's it... And so we all move on, looking ahead to bigger, brighter, better things.

I think we all look forward to tomorrow when the blog will hopefully return to a more lighthearted and fun affair.


Congratulations to Mark and Joe for scoring during a well-played win at the men's soccer game today.
On that same serious note...

Jen, I'm sorry for whatever happened last night. Obviously we had two very different takes on the situation, and all in all, things got blown WAY out of proportion. I know I can't undo whatever damage was apparently done, but I will openly and genuinely apologize to any and all of our guests who felt alienated or downgraded by a closed door. I honestly assure you that was not the intention. If I could have done things differently, I would. Again, I'm sorry.
Sorry to get all serious on the blog.....

I don't know where it all went wrong... I closed my bedroom door for 30 damn minutes and everything went to shit.

The party started out well, we played sink the biz and a few rounds of flippy cup, and then I apparently made the mistake of colsing my bedroom door.... (A mistake I should note was something my guests had been doing all evening...) But apparently since I was included this was a major problem. To be fair, I don't think this would be such an issue if alcohol were not involved, but it was and is, so of course people feel alienated and hurt, even when that was not the intention. At no point did I mean to offend or exclude, but the fact is that when my door was closed, it was to prevent hurting specific people's feelings rather than incite them. If anyone (Jen) had said "Hey, it's me, then I don't think it would have been a big deal, but the fact is that people were drunk, so things got unnecessarily out of hand.

I don't care about what happened. I don't care about the drama. I don't care about who left for Carol's and who was pissed off and who wasn't... I quite frankly could give a damn. I'm all about leting by-gones be by-gones. I felt like an ass for whatever part I might have played in the matter, and so I cleaned everything up to make ammends. As far as I'm concerned, it's not about who's right or wrong, or about what should have happened versus what DID happen...

That's life.

I'm over it.

I hope people aren't as pissed off in the sober light of day...

Saturday, September 18, 2004

From a relative outsider's take, I understand addiction... I understand why people become alcoholics, and I totally understand how people can become addicted to pills, or other drugs. I understand these kinds of addictions only because with what little experience I've had with pain killers, (obtained legally for legitimate reasons) and other legitimate prescriptions, I can safely say that drugs are fabulous. As are the feelings that one experiences as a result. And we all know that I love my alcohol... perhaps a little too much, but still. Being under the influence at the moment, I can safely say that I understand most addictions... the one that eludes me though is smoking.

Here's my beef with smoking... the first time that anyone ACTUALLY smokes a cigarette it is not an enjoyable experience. You and your virgin lungs go into a hacking, coughing, near-convulsing/near-vomiting state, and unless I'm mistaken, this is not a pleasant experience. This is totally unlike a normal person's first experience with drunkenness, which is actually quite pleasant... Hangovers are another story, but still at least you've got a pleasant sensation for a little while in there first.

So I guess my question is why after smoking once would someone go back to it? Why would anyone say to themself, "Hey, that hacking, coughing, near-convulsing/near-vomiting thing was REALLY GREAT! Let's give that a second run!" It just makes no sense... so who the hell keeps going back to it enough to become addicted to it? Can anyone explain this to me? Smokers?

Admittedly once you ARE addicted, it's a whole other story... so that's not what I want to know about. I want to know what it is that gets you started on that. Let me know would you? Thanks... I'm going to go back to my fuzzy little world of legitimized addiction now!

P.S. - At what point does consumption and denial of true addiction turn from not being ACTUALLY addicted to being in denial about addiction? I think we need to check into this so that I can say with all certainty that I'm not a junkie and/or a total lush.

Friday, September 17, 2004

Here's a little something for you kids to think about: There are very few things in this world that can't be improved with the addition of some kind of cheese.

-Bologna sandwich + cheese (likely american, swiss or if you're really feeling kinda crazy some muenster) = Bologna & Cheese sandwich = BETTER!

-Lunar rover + cheese (probably american, or maybe mozzarella) = A cool ride with a tasty snack! = BETTER!

-War in Iraq + a little cheddar, perhaps a dash of parmesan = A reduction in hostilities because everybody feels a little better and a little less hostile when cheese is involved... just look at Wisconsin!

Thursday, September 16, 2004

LORDY LORDY LORDY... That was not a Wednesday night. No. That was a Saturday night wearing a wig and Wednesday's name tag. Any time you wake up on Thursday and have to ask your houseguest why there is a roll of toilet paper in the kitchen, you know it's time for a story.

Somehow, with almost no effort I was convinced that going out last night was a fine idea. So after polishing off a couple bottles of white wine, we elected to go to Full Shilling for some eats and, of course, more to drink. After the numerous rounds which followed dinner, I was somehow talked into going to Carol's... For those of you unfamiliar with Carol's, please allow me to enlighten you. Carol's is a country western themed hole-in-the-wall bar, which I generally detest and avoid when possible. We ran into some fabulous Scottish fellows on the way to Carol's but we couldn't convince them to join in our fun... this is unfortunate because I definitely would have made out with one of them if they had come along... but that's neither here nor there, anyway back to the story. So we got to the quintessential dive bar known as Carol's, where a sober Alana met us and proceeded to laugh at our stupid, drunk asses. We stayed at Carol's for quite some time, drinking heavily, laughing, and talking to the four old men who were the only Carol's clientele outside of our little party. I, of course, had to talk sports... actually I was yelling sports, as the guy who I was talking to was across the bar, and being as drunk as I admittedly was, I had no real perception of appropriate conversational volume. I don't remember a whole lot after that, but I'll let you kids in on the pieced together version of events that I have managed to come up with after talking to my partners in inebriated action.

Eventually we left Carol's, caught a cab home and I apparently took a header up the stairs to the apartment... (yeah, nothing quite like a public declaration of my lack of coordination when intoxicated.) Apparently we were being quite loud out in the hall, (and by we, I mean me,) which prompted the neighbor who we share a landing with to come out and "SHHH" us. For those of you who know me, it goes without saying that I don't like to be SHHH-ed. In fact, more often than not, when I'm SHHH-ed while sober, I'll still let you know that your SHHH-ing me will not keep me quiet, and will more likely incite louder behavior... So when intoxication and lowered inhibitions take hold, you can bet that the neighbor is gonna get told off. From what I've gathered, I told the neighbor to "piss off because I pay my rent too, so since I live here, I'm gonna be as loud as I wanna be!" I might have thrown in a "I'm fourteen years old, I do what I want! You ain't my momma! I'll smack all you bitches!" just for good measure if I had more presence of mind at the time... that would have been just too perfect!

Many of you would think that arriving home after Carol's would be the end of the evening, and the story would neatly end there... if that's the case, you don't know me, and therefore you are WRONG.

At some point a pizza arrived, though I couldn't tell you what kind, where it was from, who paid for it, or if I ate any of it... I only know this because this morning there was pizza sauce on the counter, and there was a pizza box out back by our trash can. And since it was just pizza, I honestly have no idea how or why I was entrusted with a knife, but I was. (For future reference, handing a girl who is ABSOLUTELY BLITZED any sharp object intended to cut things is not a good idea.) So obviously I sliced up a couple of fingers... and apparently I even did that in rather comedic and lackadaisical fashion.

As far as I can tell, I took the next available opportunity to pretty much camp out in the bathroom... (My habit for drunken showers took hold.) I did this despite the fact that I had guests, and I definitely wouldn't let them in, so they had to settle for relieving themselves in the alley... Apologies all around for this one guys! I ended up passing out in the shower, and the only reason I woke up was because several hours later Jen knocked and informed me that she would need to shower before going in to work... (shameful.)

So I got to bed, heard my alarm and decided I was entirely too drunk to attend my first class, so I went back to sleep. My mom called at noon, and without even asking, she knew that I was VERY VERY hungover... I talked to her briefly and went back to sleep. I woke up roughly five minutes after my one o'clock class started without me, and I remembered that I had to go into work at 2:30... So I took advantage of the fact that I have medication for migraines, and definitely drugged myself up to mitigate the hangover. Fortunately my boss is only a few years removed from his own collegiate career, and since he moonlights at a Wrigleyville bar, he's a rather understanding fellow.

An entertaining night all around. Definitely the best Wednesday I've had for quite some time!

There was also a drunk dial to Dave, who I love, and who I undoubtedly drunkenly professed my love for multiple times... because I'm a very loving drunk... and if he gets on the stick, we might actually have that call posted here. It should be an entertaining time for you kids!


9.16.04 - "Well, I think I mooned half of your neighborhood." ~Alana

9.17.04 - "Well, we had to go out in the alley, and I couldn't find Alana. Turns out that she was crouched between two dumpsters and my presence gave her stage fright." ~Ben

9.18.04 - "No, no, no that was when I still had pants on!" ~Alana

9.19.04 - "Yeah, I've been there many times... so let me just say, I think it's admirable that you still managed to show up for work today. Thanks for that! I appreciate it." ~Shawn

Wednesday, September 15, 2004

It's a REALLY rare occasion that I ever quote my dad on anything, (and there's a reason for that...) but to be fair, my old man has the best phrase for a day like today. I'm what he calls a "Hurtin' turkey" which means in layman's terms that I am ill. For those of you who enjoy this phrase enough to use it, the phrase is most likened to cases of illness where the sufferer spends much of the time that he or she is conscious wishing, praying, hoping, or begging for death, because it seemse perfectly rational to trade one's life to end the suffering. Common sufferers of Hurtin' Turkey Syndrome or HTS are migraine sufferers, (especially those without medication at hand) severe hangover sufferers, most women at "that time of the month" who are suffering because their ovaries decide to play a rousing game of kick-the-uterus. (It should be noted that I am not currently suffering from any of the afforementioned ailments, so I'm left in the other-general-suffering category which is also associated with HTS.) Finding a cure for HTS is a moral imperitive for all people... in the utilitarian philosophy, a few should make small sacrifices to maximize the greater good of all, and the fact is that pretty much everyone suffers from Hurtin' Turkey Syndrome at some point in their lives... so, the sooner we find a cure-all for HTS the better off we'll all be!


When the bat people tell you you've got a kickin party going, you know you're in some serious trouble...


What was Pepto Bismol supposed to taste like before they gave it a cherry flavor?


Does anyone else feel kinda sorry for Bam Margera's parents?


Does anyone else wonder how all the kids learned to dance as well as they did at the end of Footloose if any pop music was banned? And seriously, what are those people, mormon?

I just went back and gave things a quick look, and I just realized that in the last few entries not only am I an asshole, I'm a rather egotistical asshole! My sincerest apologies! That's it, it's back to scrubby wardrobe! Sorry for any confusion that the addition of ego might have caused, I'll do my best to ammend my ways and if you see me out, please feel free to take a shot or two at my expense to assist in deflating my ego in a more expedited manner.

9.15.04 - "My nutty is stale." ~ Jennifer
"There's no such thing as a 'pretty good' alligator wrestler."
~Johnny Knoxville


Since coming to college, apparently I have spent so much time dressing like a scrub that people are utterly dumbfounded when I actually decide to take some time and put in a little effort when dressing for class. The trends seem to be as follows: freshman year was centered on jeans and tees, basically keeping things at a healthy balance between college-casual and real-world-practicality. Sophomore year saw the temporary end to any and all fashion sense. Junior year saw a continuation of the fashion-senseless trend... to be honest, I don't know what I was thinking! Actually, I do know... I wasn't thinking. I mean I go to a school almost entirely populated by women and homosexual men, so basically when getting ready for classes, I wasn't really thinking that I had to impress anyone. I also correlate the decline in fashion sense with the time spent at my job in the athletic department. Athletic department sweats were very easy to come by, and entirely too comfortable to pass up. I confess to my crimes of fashion.

So, what has inspired my transition into sudden fashion sensability? Well to be honest, it started out as just wanting to make a positive first impression on my professors...( you know how they say that the first impression is the only one that really counts, well I disagree with that, but it does admittedly have a pretty heavy weight.) So, I wear nice clothes the first couple days, and got some compliments, it's just like any other time that I'd periodically opt for nice clothing as opposed to scrubs, sweats, or jeans. Was this alone enough to prompt my sudden urge to continually get up earlier and actually REALLY DRESS for class? Of course not. Don't be silly!

So what was it? Yep, you guessed it, I've turned into a total lame-o. I am dressing nicer all because of a cute boy. Yep, that's right... I'm so lame that I have changed my wardrobe choices all because of a cute boy. (I'm shaking my head in shame because I'm turning into one of those horribly lame people that I tend to despise.) Basically, I ran into him on the one day that I decided to sleep in and go to campus looking like a scrub, and I've spent every day since in my cute clothes trying to redeem myself. (I AM ASHAMED.) The upswing is that I've been super cute and getting lots of compliments, which is really good for my ego, which has been properly inflated for the first time in a long time... despite the deflation coming at the hands of my own shameful behavior... it's a really sick cycle that I'm not entirely sure whether to attempt to escape. I mean I get complimented, I'm slowly recovering the fashion sense that I once abandoned outright like a baby girl born in Beijing, and the cuter pieces of my wardrobe are finally getting the use they so richly deserve, but at the same time I am SORELY ashamed of the fact that this all started because of a stupid boy... DAMN THEM ALL.


I need to take an opportunity to state in a more public forum that some people (Please noet that this is a PLURAL STATEMENT... PEOPLE, not A person,) are really starting to piss me off... I understand why plaigerism is such a big deal to people now... I'm not saying that I'm the most original or revolutionary thinker in the world, and I'm not saying that I've never taken someone else's idea before, but I've never been accused of plaigerism. There's a very simple reason for this: I cite people when I borrow their ideas, and when I have borrowed the ideas of others in the past, I borrow them to better explain or develop my own theories on the mater. To be frank, I could give a damn if people wanna take something I said and put it out into the world elsewhere, but dammit, I want credit where credit is due. If someone else said it, put quotes around it and say so! When are you gonna learn? Jerks.


I think it's really funny that Tiger Woods got himself a woman and has since stopped winning. Am I the only one who sees the comedy in this? It wouldn't be nearly as funny if we couldn't correlate the decline in his golf skill with the fact that he's gettin some from a swedish model... It's almost as funny as the persistence of Chuck Knoblauch's MLB career, which I can't really correlate with anything since he's sucked for a long-ass time and still manages to have a major league contract... even if it is only with the Royals. (Yeah, I'm a girl, and I know who Chuck fuckin Knoblauch is... and I know enough to know that his sucking is legendary.)


9.14.04 - "Damn you, Chuck Norris!" ~Bret (Yeah it's an old one that I never posted, but I've got nothing else for today.)

Sunday, September 12, 2004

I think it should be noted that while still drunk I think I got a poem from a boy... but I can't be 100% sure because I was too out of it to remember to hang onto it... so if you're that boy, can I please get that again?? It was very sweet of you to think of me, and I'd like to give it the sober attention that it deserves. (You know who you are!)

I will go ahead and apologize in advance for the lack of stellar humor in this post, if only because I killed some of the funnier brain cells last night by drowning them in large quantities of alcohol... I promise to make it up to you soon by training other brain cells to take over the more comedically-proficient writing of the future.

Friday was a very nice day. I got out of stats early, which means I only spent about 25 minutes in the forced-company of my horrid professor, as opposed to the normally-allotted 50 minutes... So that's a good thing. And I had lunch with Alana, and that's ALWAYS a good thing. I went into work, and found that I did in fact have a paycheck waiting, and that I didn't have to actually stay and work... so that's quality. I didn't go out on Friday night, because I knew I had to get up entirely too early to go sling flowers.

So Saturday comes and I go sling flowers for a rather enjoyable 10 hours and get some really GREAT quotes of the day, one of which will undoubtedly never be uttered in any real context ever again. So after work, both Phil and Alana wanted to go out, so I decided to go out with Alana and call Phil so he'd know where to meet up with us if he wanted to.

We started out as a large group at Sheffield's which was eventually reduced to four, and those of us who stuck around had plenty to drink there. So after numerous rounds we went to Trader Todd's where I had more to drink and somehow acquired an inflatable pink saxophone. I also fucked with the head of a girl in the midst of her bachelorette party... I am probably solely responsible for whatever cold feet she will experience on her wedding day, because I'm an evil woman who planted the seeds of doubt. (Yup, I'm still hell-bound.) We then moved on to Boar's Head where the group was whittled down to just me and Alana. Of course we were hit on by boys, some of them better than others... and by some one in a billion shot, Nate happened to pass by the window of Boar's Head where we were seated. So Nate joined us for a round or two before we all decided to call it a night at roughly 3 AM. We discussed Nate's "Man-period" and Alana kinda beat him up, and in the end we all caught a train and came back to the exposed brick shangri-la that is my apartment, had some pizza, watched half of "The Big Lebowski" and went to bed at around 5:30. (When Chris finds out that Nate slept at my place, I'll never hear the end of it.)

Despite my really high aspirations of cleaning the apartment, Sunday was spent watching excessive amounts of football, baseball, and otherwise nursing a minor hangover. And I must say that the new sheets make nursing a hangover all day a MUCH more pleasant experience.

For your sake more than my own, I'll just wrap this up and post the quotes of the day which were just spectacular.

9.11.04 - (Nate was recounting a story of a post-wedding-reception drunken party that he recently attended which was hosted by a 75 year old man named Norm.)
Nate: "Hey, Norm, where's your cat?"
Norm: "What the hell are you talking about, I don't have a cat."
Nate: "Well I was just looking for the cat that shit in my mouth while I was sleeping."

9.12.04 - "Well Norm had a sword collection, so we're a bunch of guys in our mid twenties who are really drunk and so we ask Norm if we can have a sword fight.. and then I hear a sentence that will never be uttered again by anyone. I hear my friend say 'Hey, here, hold my sword while I go tea-bag Cory!'" ~Nate (Though he only gets credit for this one because it was from his retelling of the afforementioned party.)

9.13.04 - "Hey, I like the Backstreet boys, I guarantee that if you listen to their first album you'll find yourself singin' along too!" ~ A straight male I know... I'll protect his anonymity and save him excessive ridicule at the hands of our mutual friends.

Friday, September 10, 2004

Yeah, in my opinon this deserves it's own entry:

(And here's a tip, Heineken ain't much better...
it's a step or two up only because it's German piss in a bottle.)

That's all I've got to say about that.
A pretty mundane day that ended with a trip out to Calo (A nice little Italian restaraunt and bar) instead of me actually doing my stats homework... Thanks Benny! You kids really don't wanna read about today, it was boring. (I even read a book.)


9.9.04 - "Well, my grandpa had an illegal satellite for a while, so the whole time he was recording like six movie channels twenty-four hours a day, and you know how some of them end up being the Spice Channel at night... So my dad walks out with this big bag-o-porn!" ~Alana explaining why she has certain things on tape.

9.10.04 - "You wanna go to a bar or something for a few beers? It's my treat, I'm feeling generous, you should totally take advantage!" ~Ben (This is why I will get a B in an intro stats class that I should ace with NO effort whatsoever... But Benny also promised to be generous on my birthday... Yeah, it's noted!)


Does anyone else think it's totally wrong when advertising people try to reprise a cherished character that we all knew and loved way back when, but for whatever reason they couldn't get the same person to do the voiceover work?? Examples: The Snuggle bear for Sunggle fabric softener and the talking hand for Hamburger Helper... Shouldn't there be a rule that if they cant get all the original hands on deck for this that they should just have to come up with a new character... Snuggle at least got it half right when they introduced the little porcupine guy...

Honestly the same should apply to all animated characters in general, like the lady who did all the female voices on South Park... didn't she shoot herself in the head with a rifle or something? Anyway, they should have to write out Kyle's mom, or something, (the most obvious place where the voiceover is lacking) Am I alone on this??


Another side note: Sometimes when my blog page loads, it has issues with getting the comments section loaded... it's because my comments are by Haloscan and not by blogger... so there's the occasional snafu. Anyway, should you encounter this, just reload, and if that doesn't work then try back later. I still love you.


You give me worms.

Thursday, September 09, 2004

Hey kids, remember MASH? Yeah, that game we played in 4th grade, praying we'd end up in a mansion with whichever boy we were crushing on that week... yeah, it's online. And I'm not gonna lie, I did it more than once... and in that "man-this-still-appeals-to-me-in-a-really-juvenile-way" it's still fun. I ran through twice, and ended up as Kyle Farnsworth's trophy wife, driving a rusty Honda, and on the second run I ended up with the boy I've been crushing on for a while now (And no, I'm not making it that easy on those of you not in the know, because I'm a lame-o with my school-girl crushes...) rolling in a rusty grocery cart with 5 kids... It's so much more fun when you add some funny and unappealing options to the mix. Give it a run through, and if you want, let me know what you end up with! - You know you want to!


I like cheese, maybe a little too much.


Jen and I are having a party... If you're one of the cool kids, you might garner an invitation to come over an play! We'll see!


The producers who thought Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow would be a good idea to spend MANY MILLIONS of dollars on really need their heads examined.


Boys make me crazy... REALLY REALLY CRAZY!


I'm one of Krystian's favorite people!!
(Hearing that totally made my day!)

Wednesday, September 08, 2004

Well, I went to Brain & Behavior, took some notes, felt smart, went to Stats, made fun of the professor, (which is yet another reason I'm going to hell, but more on that in a minute,) went to Metalwork & Jewelry, got an A on my first project of the semester (Because I ROCK AT JEWELRY MAKING!) And then I went to work... another slow day at the cage. Had dinner with Alana while still on the clock, and that's about it. (Those are the more mundane details of the day... so back to the part that involves me going to hell.)

Yeah, that's right, I'm going to hell... I know this has been addressed before, but it seems every day I find another reason for the good lord to damn me to hell for all eternity. This time it has to do with my statistics professor... now it should be noted that I'm taking this nonsense only to fulfill my math core credits. I have taken psych stats with Dr. Sutter, and I got an A, (no small mathematical feat,) so intro stats with this chap should end up being no sweat. It should further be noted that this fellow makes intro stats like ten times more complicated than it needs to be... illustration: He put up two versions of the same problem the other day and spent thirty minutes of a fifty minute class period lecturing on them only to inform everyone that the numbers were all just a bunch of bunk because the averages in the problems were not weighted... He could have mentioned that after five minutes, and saved all the poor little freshman plenty of time, ink, and loads of confusion. So, what does all this have with me going to hell, you ask? Well, here it is, plain and simple; it bothers me when people don't streamline things to make them as painless and simple as possible, so it kind of goes without saying that I already rather dislike this fellow. So this makes me feel like lashing out, (I'm a juvenile in that regard.) And while I might not be the finest physical specimen, and (don't get me wrong,) I generally don't criticize most others for any physical shortcomings, however, when I feel like I'm being forced to sit through all this unnecessary crap, the lashings will start in the most obvious of places. I have no doubt that they will progress to less petty and shallow things as they become known and readily available for use, but I'll start with the utterly and disgustingly obvious... The man is a tub of goo. Yeah, he's about 5'7" and a minimum of 400 lbs. He's a waddling statistic himself, (for morbid obesity...effortlessly a couple times over.) He waddles into the classroom, blathers on for his fifty minutes and never says anything that couldn't have been said in five minutes. Furthermore, he also irritates me with his self-importance. I mean, really, he's just an intro stats professor... and he's not even any good at that. THE BASTARD. So yeah, I make fun of this VERY rotund man, who I'm positive hasn't seen his manhood without the aid of a mirror for QUITE a long time. I'm an asshole, and I'm going to hell. These are the facts, they are undisputed.


I might also be going to hell for wondering about such as:
Do blind people still close their eyes when they kiss?
And if a tree falls in the middle of nowhere and nobody but a deaf person is present to observe it, does it count as making a noise?

Yeah... I repeat; I am an asshole, and I'm going to hell. These are the facts and they are undisputed.


9.8.04 -
Alana: "I don't like fruit... cherries are ok, I like cherries."
Lee: "Do you like peaches?"
Alana: "Nope."
Lee: "Uhh, you're drinking peach tea."
Alana: "Well, that's tea."
Lee: "Is it bad that I was really hoping that you were going to say that you are actually severely allergic to peaches and you're going to blow up?"

Tuesday, September 07, 2004

How many times is Kerry gonna change his campaign tagline? I mean really, I'd like a number... I think there ought to be some kind of numerical limit, likewise there should've been a number of times Ross Perrot should have been allowed to drop out and re-enter back in the day.


9.7.04 - "I'm just not gonna say anything, because I don't want to end up being quote of the day... it always makes me look bad because it's out of context!" ~Chris (kinda missing the fun concept)
I think it's absolutely perverse, the amount of money that schools and professors expect us to spend on books. So much so that if I ever become a professor, I will not require a text... and if I gotta have a text, I will find the cheapest possible book that has a bit of relevance to my course, and then proceed to say it's drivel and teach solely from overheads and such ... either that or I just wouldn't use the university bookstore to order the books... price gouging bastards! All I've gotta say is that I understand how people can be thrust into the throes of a deep depresssion after buying text books for a semester... and then just when you think you're fully recovered, they send you back in to sell them back. Yeah, getting $12.50 back for a book you spent $125.00 for just four months earlier, and only ever read one little 30 page chapter from is my idea of a sound investment and a good time! I don't know what anybody else does to books when they read, but I know that I don't do anything that should de-value it to one tenth of original price. It should also be noted that I'll only get that $12.50 back if some jackass professor decides not to change books or update editions before next semester... in which case I've got a lovely $125.00 paperweight... and I don't know how anyone else feels about all this, but if I'm paying 125 bones for a paperweight, it better be made of gold, or gem-encrusted or something. Please excuse me whilst I use the pages of my depressingly-expensive books to paper-cut my wrists, or maybe I'll impail myself on one of those sharp, brand-spankin' new cover corners.

Sunday, September 05, 2004

9.6.04 - "Hey, where are we? Looks like we're standing right on the corner of 'bum fuck' and 'you got a purty mouth!'" - My buddy Joe.

Friday, September 03, 2004

I'm 23 years of age. Young by most standards. I eat healthy, go to the gym 5 days a week (4 times is much more accurate, but I always plan on going 5) , I've cut back to 5 smokes a day and only drink on the weekends. As few as two years ago I ate pizza EVERY night, fast-food for lunch EVERY day, averaged 12 cigarettes a day, NEVER ever worked out and drank more beer than most would think humanly possible. So why is it an "all-nighter" hits me so much harder now than it did then? 36 hours was seemed like nothing when I was 21. It was so easy; sleep > work > beer > sex > work > beer > sleep. Now its sleep > work > work > sleep and I'm a friggin zombie. I've subtracted 3 entire steps (mind you the good ones) and I'm suffering worse than ever. I feel old.

OMG last time I drove back from NYC my knees began to ache badly... for no reason. I was just sitting in the damn car. no running. no jumping. no lifting. just sitting. I actually had to stop and walk around for 30 minutes before I was able to collapse back into the car and finish the drive. I think I've got a bad case of the hiv.

Oh and for the Liz:
I dumped Aaryn because of the Olympics. Chew on that for sec......
When we met she had mentioned that she was looking for a new job so I hooked her up with a job at my last place of employment. Being that i left a management position on good terms I'm able to pull favors sometimes. It was just a helpdesk job, but it was a little more money than she was currently making. I was excited for her and asked that she tell me how the first day goes. SO that evening she calls me at 6 and I explain that I'm a the gym, but will be leaving in about an hour. I offered to call her, but she had had plans and offered to call me back later. And here she makes her mistake. She called me during the men’s 400m Medley and the Men's gymnastics team comp. BAD TIMING. I offered to take her out to dinner that Wednesday so that we could talk face to face without distractions. She said no. Just no. She said that I Had asked her to call back and that she was disappointed that she took a back seat to the Olympics. I couldn't believe it. flat out no. I offered again to take her out to dinner only two nights away (mind you we had just spent the last 6 days together and I’m looking for a bit of alone time. Again she says no and we both hang up. Next time we spoke I told her I didn't feel anything between us and that I was a bit disappointed that she made such a big deal out of the situation. Of course this isn't the only foul she or I committed, but it was the proverbial straw that broke the proverbial back of the proverbial camel.

Overall I found her to be selfish and immature... it just wasn't going anywhere.

Thursday, September 02, 2004

An open apology to my few readers:

My blogging suffers when I'm busy with work or class... the rants lack their usual fire, the regular posts lose much of their humor, the alcohol consumption drops to entirely-too-low and entirely-too-infrequent levels... Please forgive my half-assed blogging. If I thought I had a larger audience, I'd probably care more and take more time to compose the entries, because as we all know, I'm not spending my time on homework. But the fact is that I generally only get comments from the people who are supposed to be regular contributors anyway, so I'm kinda lacking for motivation... of course it's kind of a catch 22 because if I were to write a little better on a consistent basis, perhaps I'd attract a larger readership. Anyway, I apologize to all of you for my lameness and incompetence. I'll go marry the next hispanic guy to hoot at me and start poppin' out babies in a feeble attempt to validate my existence.


As for Jennie's blog response to yesterday's entry, there are a few things I disagree with, but only because we have ENTIRELY DIFFERENT college experiences... Jen went to IU, a big school in a small town, and I go to LU, a small school in a huge town... I'm not saying I'm right or wrong, or the Jen is right or wrong, I'm just noting things from my own perspective and saying that there are major differences, so it's kinda like comparing apples and oranges..


Today was a good day for quotes, so I'm gonna go ahead and put a couple up today so that I don't feel like such an asshole when I get behind later on during the weekend. (Hopefully because I have drown my dirt-poor, pathetic self in rum and/or vodka.)

9.3.04 - "This is my 'Nerd Segmentation Theory' ...Your lives are just gradually progressing into nerd-osity. You will slowly watch your wonderful, social, beautiful selves be whittled down into plain, boring nerds... it's inevitable. And all I can say to you is that I hope you enjoy it!" ~Dr. Otatti's official reasoning for why nerd-appeal advertising works.

9.4.04 -
Liz: "Hey, put some shoes on, you hippie!"
Brent: "Shoes are over-rated."
Liz: "Maybe, but this establishment has a lot invested in those feet, let's protect the investment."
Brent: "Well I can just get a foot implant, or a foot transplant, or some other kind of plant."
Liz: "A nice ficus, or a palm would be lovely."
Brent: "Actually I was thinking something with pretty flowers on it would be a big hit with the ladies."

9.5.04 - (Jen had a quote that should have been QOTD, but the fact is that it's just too racy to post here, and she's probably going to hell for saying it, but she'll still get half credit for today... the other half will go to Alana with this number)
Liz: "I can actually say that my bed has never known a boy's company since I've owned it... but it's an antique, so I can't attest to anything before my time."
Alana: "haha it was a brothel bed... you're sleepin in a broken in slut bed!!"
Yeah... People LOVE gum!


People always say, "Oh, enjoy college! Those will be the best years of your life!" ... to be quite honest, I really hope those people are wrong. If the best years of my life include living on ramen noodles, and rice because you're too dirt poor to buy anything else, having to live in bad apartments with mice and/or bugs, and with people who are only tolerable on their very best of days in the toxic waste part of town because the break you get on rent is the only way you can afford the afforementioned ramen and rice, then just go ahead and shoot me now.

Now admittedly, I've had a lot of fun during my college days, I've had plenty to drink, and I've made some of the most incredible friends a girl could ever hope for, but honestly, what is it that makes these the best days of my life? The 35 page write-ups of lab experiments that keep me up at all hours of the night for weeks on end? The 15 page philosophy papers that argue the finer points of a vague theory produced by a man, now long dead and gone... only to come to the realization that the theory isn't even really applicable to current standards and practices? Yeah... Stop me when you kids get overwhelmed by all the fun! I mean I listen to my sister talk about going to work, putting in her time, and coming home to play playstation, and know that she has no homework, or other such commitments to dedicate her time to... (This is a girl who turned down Yale's graduate program.) She goes out on weekends, meets new boys, drinks with her friends, and plays with her dog... To me, I think those might be better days. Am I wrong here? Or maybe my grandparents have the better days, playing cards and golfing. I don't know, I certainly don't have it all figured out, and I'm not going to bore my slight readership while I wax philosophic about the whole thing.

But as for my college experience, I couldn't possibly even mention my days up here in my private university without saying, may the lord bless members of my family who have always been so freely giving of their funds, especially my mom who has gone WAY above and beyond to send every available penny (and even more than a few unavailable ones) my way whenever I've had the need.

If anybody knows where and when my best days are, let me know!


I don't know if I've just consistently thought this in my head, or if I've ever actually put it out there, but does anyone really know what the hell is going on on the spanish channel? (Any of the 5 or so we have here in Chicagoland?) To be quite honest, I don't think that even with a degree in spanish, or being raised speaking the language would help me with this question... I've even known my fair share of native hispanics who are VERY confused by the programming on these channels.

I think the fine folks at Telemundo figure if the Mexican national soccer team isn't playing a game that day they'll just put some skeezy lookin hoochie mama in neon spandex and a corset-top and let nature run it's course.


9.2.04 - (while discussing our financial strains)
Jen: "Hey, let's sell our eggs!"
Liz: "No thanks, it's painful, and I'm gonna need them some day."
Jen: "Oh, hmmm.... Well, you know anybody who pays for head?"

Wednesday, September 01, 2004

This is Josh... the morning after. The shoes are fabulous, aren't they? They actually go much better with the clothes from the night before, which it should be noted, are chillin in that lovely garbage bag... and they are also covered in vomit.