Mel is officially a fun-time-happy-hour addict... and since I know about it, I feel bad when I leave her hanging with nothing to read. Since I don't have much of anything earth shattering to say, I'm going to revisit an entry from earlier this school-year which I'm not sure that she'd ever see otherwise... (It was also a favorite among others in my readership, and since I got a few e-mails about it, I'll go ahead and recycle the post for the environmentally conscious enjoyment of you kids who are reading today!)

After watching the History Channel for the last 40 straight hours I was shocked and dismayed by all of the inaccuracies they portrayed on their programming. If there’s one thing I know, and know well it’s history, since I’ve made so much it myself. When I ditched that Cadillac full of dead hookers into the Grand Canyon it was probably the single most defining moment in all of history. But since all of you ignorant louts have been corrupted by “school” and these new fangled “news papers” I’m going to have to start from the beginning.

There might be some “quack” professors out there that will disagree with me on some of the historical facts I’m going to be chucking at you, but I believe you deserve to know the truth. And anyone that disagrees with me should be stuffed full of flaming carpet samples and hurled into a crevice.

Despite what your educators have told you, history began when Jesus first came squirting into the world. Before that people just sat around, lived in burrows, threw sticks at each other and got eaten by dinosaurs. Jesus changed all of that; first he killed all of the dinosaurs by writing the bible. He simply didn’t like the dinosaur’s attitude. The bible was a very important accomplishment for Jesus.

When he wrote it he was in a Vietnamese POW camp and had to ink the first copy on Banana leaves using his own blood. Even through the adversity of being imprisoned in a bamboo tiger cage Jesus was able to finish his book, which he wrote in his native language Traditional Chinese.

The Bible was used for a lot more than just its dinosaur slaying properties. It contained the blueprints that would later allow the Canadians to build the Pyramids in Egypt and also contained many words that are used today in many prime time sitcoms such as “too” and “how”. But as incredible as it may seem that dirty smelly hippy did even more incredible things.

After Jesus grew sick of eating rice and spider eggs everyday in the POW camp he managed to somehow escape, possibly by using magic. Jesus then began to travel the world. Along the way he attracted groupies that would follow him around. Back then groupies were called disciples. Of these disciples he chose twelve to become his roadies. (Back in the 1200’s roadies were called apothecaries or something of that nature.) Now that Jesus had his following of minions they started on their world tour. They didn’t have cars trains or tricycles back in the 1570’s so they had to walk everywhere they wanted to go. They visited numerous exotic locations and islands where Jesus would perform miracles or just carve his initials into indigenous trees or people.

To fund their journeys they would sell various trinkets and gypsy charms they made along the way such as bead necklaces and Girls Gone Wild videos. As Jesus and his band of merry men traveled across the country side he began to attract more and more followers by pulling miracles out of his hat, sleeves, or pants. Once, while he was in Bolivia he came across an old woman that may or may not have been blind. With a wave of his hand and the chanting of the words, “GET YOUR VISION ON!” Jesus miraculously restored the woman’s sight just like the son of god might have done.

Another miraculous miracle type thing Jesus did in some place of no real importance was walking across water. There is a lot of speculation about this particular miracle. Some say that Jesus actually walked across a creek and nearly drown and then was saved and nursed back to health by wood elves. Those kind of people are jackasses and should be castrated and hung in a systematic fashion and then shot in an entirely unsystematic fashion. He was nursed back to health by pixies, and that’s the bottom line truth.

Once Jesus and his posse were travailing across the Oregon Trail when they found themselves in a predicament; they were running dangerously low on food. With only 12 loaves of bread to spread among hundreds of his cult followers he weaved his mystic powers once again and divided the bread among them equally. (They also ate all the children under the age of seven, but no one complained that they were still hungry. Although that may also have had something to do with Jesus walking around and saying, “EAT THIS AND BE HAPPY WITH IT OR I WILL STAB YOU IN THE GOD DAMN FACE.” Then he began slapping people around a bit for no real reason.)

One of Jesus’s final miracles was curing the leopards. Leopards had been carries of the Bubonic Plague for a great number of years prior to the 1492’s. Even though his quest typically resulted in frequent maulings that left him permanently scared and the chest, back, arms, legs and face Jesus was not deterred. He eventually managed to vaccinate each and every leopard at the Bangkok zoo.

Not everyone loved Jesus though, the Mongolians, who ruled much of Europe in 834 AD saw Jesus as a threat to their paganistic Hindu ways. They captured Jesus with the help of one of Jesus right hand cronies and made him walk the obscenely long distance from the Middle East to another area in the Middle East all the while carrying a big wooden X. Hanging people on X’s was the preferred method of execution at that time because Confucius hadn’t invented the electric chair yet. They nailed Jesus to the X using nails and then stabbed him with a stick that was shaped like a spear. Jesus eventually died on the X and the Mongolians buried him deep within the Great Pyramid and blocked the entrance with a large boulder and then sealed it with silicone caulk.

Something as trivial as death didn’t stop Jesus though. He was one rough tough SOB. He picked that boulder right up and hurled it right into space, thus creating the moon. And that is why Jesus is the President.

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Just to bring you all down from the elation that I'm sure that entry left you with, I'll give you all a quick take on the weekend:

Friday: Nonsense... nothing good to report.

Saturday: Work. And although I was supposed to go out with J-Dub and company, someone got drunk and "forgot to call" so I stayed home amd paid my bills via phone. (Fun stuff)

Sunday: Ciara and I went computer shopping... I think I'm going to have to go with a Dell on this one... and then I composed my last entry and came home in time for the Oscars. (more on the oscars in a moment) but as I watched, Mom called to tell me that she had read my last entry, and that she was sorry, that wasn't how she meant it to be taken... I understand that. (Kinda like Pat Schultz taking it totally the wrong way when I told him that something about him reminded me of a genuinely funny version of Bob Saget... I mean Pat is WAAAAY the hell cooler than Bob Saget, but he was too busy being offended to hear any of that.)

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A few words on the Academy Awards:

• Someone should've informed Hilary swank that her dress was on backwards... I know that the fashion mavens of the world loved this one, but personally it didn't do anything for me.
• Has the world run completely dry of any and all talent that Beyonce had to sing ALL of the Oscar nominated songs? ...Oh wait, we did have the OH-SO-TALENTED Antonio Banderas sing one song... Which begs the question, HAS THE WORLD RUN SO COMPLETELY DRY OF ANY AND ALL TALENT THAT BEYONCE AND ANTONIO BANDERAS SINGING ALL THE OSCAR NOMINATED SONGS? Yeah, so here's a tip for the planners of the 78th annual academy awards: You know how you guys were trying to mix it up for us this year by bringing everyone up on stage (an idea only bested in its terribleness by their other mix-it-up idea of giving out Oscars in the audience) Well, if you're going to mix it up for presentation, let's mix it up with the talent too, mmkay?
• As for the new format (which we've already concluded SUCKED) with the oscars in the audience and all the nominees on stage, I think this is a travesty. I think that if you're nominated for an Oscar, you deserve to have your face in that little televised box when you win or lose, and I think you deserve your moment in the sun. You deserve a chance to look out into the audience, at your peers, and thank people that nobody else knows... besides, even if you are busy thanking your Great Aunt Ida, they only give you 45 seconds... unless of course you're Clint Eastwood, in which case you can have all the time in the world.
• As for set decoration at this year's festivities, I heard someone describe the concept of that "spiral-o-giant-oscars" as the idea of them spiraling in ascent to the heavens... well I see it like this; if you reverse the direction of the turn, you're drilling them into the ground.
• I also heard someone say that the changes to this year's show were an effort to appeal to the MTV generation; as a member of that generation, I would like to note that the oscars haven't ever been, nor should they be altered to fit the MTV generation... That's what the MTV movie awards are for. So unless you're going to give a lifetime achievement award to Bilbo Baggins, (He was 111 at the start of Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, after all,) or an award for best kiss, then please don't bother. And as for you, MTV, you guys could use a little sprucing up yourselves! I remember when the M in MTV used to stand for music... Nowadays it's all the same re-runs of the real world XXVII and The Ashlee Simpson "I can't sing in reality, but since I've got a famous older sister you'll give me my own show" Show, or better still, My Super Sweet Sixteen, which is video taped proof that some of the richest people in this country embody every single negative stereotype that every other country has about Americans and that we deserve to be mocked on a global stage for our selfish greed and wanton disregard for others. Seriously. If you are lucky enough to catch a music video on MTV it likely means that you are an insomniac, or are trying to adjust while working a swing-shift job, because the only time there are videos on anymore is a small time slot between 3 and 4:30AM. (This is supposedly why they developed MTV2... so that they could still have a network entirely dedicated to music... well now they've managed to louse that up too... C'mon guys! I just wanna rock out!)

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I'm going to close this out with a quick little tip-of-the-hat and say that chivalry is not quite dead yet... It might be beaten to an unrecognizable pulp, lying in a coma, and surrounded by loved ones who pray for a quick end to the suffering, but there's still a heartbeat.

I was on the train today, and while there were several open seats, I chose to stand because I wasn't going all that far. A few seconds after he realized that I intended to stand, a gentleman stood up and offered me his seat. I thanked him and politely declined saying that I wasn't going too far, and he sat down again... Had he been either moderately attractive or looking as though he was gainfully employed, I might have taken him up on it and struck up conversation, but since neither was the case, I think the polite decline was enough... it's just nice to see that not all men are dead above the waist, so I thought it was important to mention.

The other day while I was headed to work, I got a phone call from my mother. She was calling to tell me that she was doing something else extremely nice for me... and when I told her she was spoiling me rotten, she matter-of-factly told me something that can only be described as a knife to my heart. (Here's how it went down:)
Liz: Mom, I can't let you do that, you're already spoiling me rotten.
Mom: I like spoiling you rotten, it's fun!
Liz: Yeah, and I think it's pretty fun being spoiled, but I can't get a guy as it is, and I have the feeling that if I was spoiled to the point of being ROTTEN it's going to be that much harder!
Mom: Well, then maybe I will spoil you just to the brink of being rotten.
Liz: That'll work.
Mom: As for getting a guy... well, you know, the rules that applied to your grandmother, and the rules that applied to me don't really apply anymore... so if you wanted to go out and get pregnant and not be married that's fine. We'd love you and the baby just the same!
Liz: MOM! Don't say that! I'm 22, I don't want to go out and get pregnant!
Mom: Well, I'm just saying that "Happily ever after" might not exist, just look at me and your father.
Liz: MOM! DON'T SAY THAT! You and dad, you were together for 20 years.
Mom: Yeah, and look at how that ended.
Liz: Well, you got me and Scoot (My brother) out of it!
Mom: Well, yes, but if I'd held out maybe someone else would've asked me to marry them, and I'd still be married and happy... I'm just saying that certain sacrifices have to be made, because "happily ever after" is a myth.

Now while I know my mom wants to encourage realism in her children, this is not the type of thing that she should say to me, an unhappily-single girl who is only 22. I have never been the type of girl who seeks a relationship to "complete me" or to fill some mysterious void in my life... I do however still hold out hope for one day getting married and having a family... or at least I did until my mom stomped on my heart and essentially told me that my dream was a stupid and unattainable myth. This in the same week that I declare that I've officially lost Dave... WOW.

I mean I might be wrong about this, but I think I've got a lot to offer a guy. Aside from the physical stuff, I enjoy sports, this means that not only could we watch sports together (both of us knowing the apropriate times to speak/be silent/celebrate, thus enhancing the sports-viewing expeirence for both parties,) and it also means that you're not going to have to sit and explain to me what it means to "box out," or what a safety, or a bootleg is. I am also VERY understanding of the "man time." Hey, if you wanna go spend time drinking and playing poker with your buddies, do it! As long as you don't lose our firstborn child and/or the deed to the house, that's all fine by me. I'm also understanding of that quiet time you need after work. I know you don't want to have a three-hour-long conversation begining the second you get one foot in the door, and if that were the case you would be the one to initiate it... you gotta have a chance to unwind, have a beer, etc. Futhermore, I actually drink beer, and I like camping, and fishing, and grilling out. This might not seem like much to some of you out there, but from what I hear, a lot of guys dig that stuff. (Not that I'd know considering it seems even my mom is aware that nobody wants to touch me with a 50 foot pole.)

So why does my mom think I'm such a hopeless case that at 22 she feels the need to tell me that my dream is a myth? It might have to do with the fact that when she was 22 she was already married... meanwhile I don't even have any decent dating prospects... but I thought she said the old rules don't apply... Oh hell, I'm not going to figure this out today, but if anyone else gets it, let me know. Thanks!

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On a lighter note, let's talk about something else that bothers me. Specifically: BREATHERS.
You all know who these people are! These are the people who constantly breathe as though their lungs are spasming, or as though they have just run a marathon, even though they have not moved from their chair in the last 45 minutes.

I'm not referring to the out of shape people (such as myself) who have just climbed 6 flights of stairs, or who have actually run for any period of time. Nor am I referring to the sick who have no choice but to breathe loudly rather than suffocate because they have what feels like a Nike sneaker lodged in their sinuses, or the girl who constantly breathes too deeply or sighs too much in a bid for attention... (Although she's annoying too!)

No, I'm talking about those people who get off the elevator and come sit next to you in a room and make you think they are going to have an asthma attack. The loud breathers...

Picture it; a dead silent room, where you quietly sit attending to your own business, and in walks a guy who sits down and wheezes in your ear for the next hour and a half... Welcome to my life.

It would seem that I am a magnet for people who don't know how to chew with their mouths closed, and these people who don't know how to breathe silently. I don't know if they just never learned how to breathe sliently, or if this loud breathing is the learned behavior, or if it is somehow ingrained into them at birth (likely something to do with amniotic fluid,) but these people need to be rounded up and re-educated... So do the open-mouth chewers!

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QOTD
2.26.05 - "Yeah, I think I'm going to have to take a mulligan on last night." ~Holly

2.27.05 - "I was gonna say, 'Did they have cars back in 1945? And if so, what were they made out of, wood?" ~Mandy

There is an ugly rumor floating around that my co-workers and I are not allowed to play cards at the cage anymore... THIS IS THE DEFINITION OF TRAGEDY! According to dictionary.com, the only non-literary definition of tragedy is as follows: A disastrous event, especially one involving distressing loss or injury to life. Yes, Tragedy has truly befallen us all.

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On a lighter note, JAY WINS PROJECT RUNWAY! (This is the one and ONLY reality show I can actually tolerate enough to watch... and even still I have some issues with it. But from what I gather Project Runway is one of those competitive reality shows that is addictive to ALL... because everyone I recommended it to ended up watching it and LOVING it... but I digress.) I was rooting for Kara Saun up until "The shoe incident" (those of you who watch the show know what I'm talking about) but to be quite honest, I am thrilled Jay won... And basically Wendy looked like the total tool that she is.

HOORAY FOR JAY!

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Back on the ongoing-daily-saga-subject of Dave, today marks the day that I am officially giving up on him. I have not talked to him, or heard from him in such a long time that I have decided to give up. I don't know what has happened, or where I went wrong. I have the sneaking suspicion it has everything to do with his chick, and some kind of perverse jealousy issue (I'm in Chicago for fuck's sake... we've been friends for like 7 years, * 3 of which we didn't even speak to each other... I'm not exactly what you'd call competition.) But, hopefully one day Dave will come to his senses, having retained some portion of my personal information and get in touch with me. Until then, I'm going to let a sleeping dog lie. It's not like me to give up on someone, but the fact is that this one is obviously not within my control... Miss ya buddy. And while I won't be calling you anymore, I hope that some day soon you'll pick up a phone and call me.

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Once again vascillating to a lighter note, tonight is senior night for the lady ramblers basketball team. Nate is coming down to the old L.U. and we're going to cheer for our favorite senior Ciara Henderson, and for our favorite trainer Chris Konior. YAAAAY!

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QOTD
2.25.05 - "You're going to have to forgive me... I just laid some pipe in there about as big around as a double-wide trailer, my ass is killin' me." ~An anonymous person telling me about an apparently massive dump.

Today was interesting. I got up, and got ready for class. I got on the el (in the same car with a homeless woman who made the whole car smell like a cage at the zoo... sad but true.) I went to Drama. I went to history. I had a meeting with my history professor, and then spent four hours in the jewelry lab working on ilicit pieces of jewelry! (We all know how much I love my time in the lab, whether it's legal or not)

And then I went to the men's volleyball game where God thought it was a good time to remind me that if I don't hurry up and mend my ways, I will be cast into the 7th circle of hell. "How did God do this?" You're asking... well, since we all know I'm a bad person, and that I make fun of others (only because I have no doubt that people make fun of me, so I'm living by the "golden rule") and this does occasionally include the physically and/or mentally handicapped. So, tonight, God sent a gaggle of people from the local Misericordia home (a home for the developmentally disabled, in case you're unfamiliar with the Misericordia organization)to sing the national anthem at the volleyball game... just as a helpful reminder for me (And Krystian, who will no doubt be joining me as he had the audacity to make fun of them while they were still in the gym,). So yeah, I am in that lowest 15% of good people for a reason. Leo thinks I need to go to confession... which caused me to wonder, what commandment am I breaking by making light of other's misfortunes? I'm not doing it in front of them (like Krystian) so it's not like I'm hurting their feelings, and like I said before, I make fun of everybody, myself included, and I have no problem with people making fun of me, so I'm not in violation of the "golden rule" which says "treat others as you wish to be treated..." So maybe I am not going to hell after all... but I consider this evening's disabled serenade a very strong sign to indicate my future destination in the afterlife.

*I also want it noted that I was not the only one fighting laughter, and that unlike others, my laughter was not directed at the singers themselves, but rather at the appropriate sign that God decided to send me regarding my eventual condemnation to hell.

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QOTD
2.23.05- "You're going straigh to hell! To hell in a handwagon" ~Mel

(I think she meant a handbasket, but who knows, this is Mel.)


2.24.05 - (We were discussing what type of drunks we were)
Shaun: "I'm a leaner!"
Liz: "I'm a repeater!"
Mel: "What does that mean? You repeat things over and over when you're drunk?"
Liz: "Yup."
J-Dub: "What am I?"
Mel: "A train wreck."

I have a great deal to say today, so let's just dive right in, shall we? (This will be done in a bulleted points format to make things more easily distinguishable and separate for the readership)

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• I realize that Chicago is a large city, and that there are many MANY video rental facilities in the greater Chicagoland area, but when 80+ students are trying to get a hold of the same movie so that they can write a paper on it in the next week or so, that movie becomes a bit of a hot comodity. Apparently my anthropology professor doesn't understand this. (We've already covered that she is a total and complete idiot... but it bears repeating.)
• If art history has taught me nothing else, I can safely say that I have learned how figures inhabit a space... this is useful knowledge. Knowledge that I can also say that I am blessed with is, I know how to MOVE through space. I have also learned that the VAST MAJORITY of people do not have knowledge of how to move through space. This includes, but is not limited to:
  

1. Walking
2. Driving
3. Getting on and off of any form of public transit (despite any crowding or complete lack thereof)
4. Picking up your feet when you walk
5. Not blocking traffic where others are walking and you have mysteriously decided to stop
6. Not stepping into the path of people who are walking or other moving objects
7. Walking significanly faster or slower than a massive traffic of people can obviously allow
8. Blocking the entrance and/or exit of escalators
9. Stalling on down-escalators when it is obvious that the person behind you is in a hurry (C'mon, gravity is working with you on this one.)
10. Walking all the way to the back of the elevator, instead of standing at the front and forcing all other passengers to navigate around you.
    

• Apparently my nose "FLAPS" when I laugh really hard... I would describe this action as a nostril flare but I am apparently wrong, as Erin Jacobs has informed me that it in fact, FLAPS. (*There is no extraneous noise which accompanies said flapping, unless you're counting the laughter of others.)
• I am in fact aware that I have not addressed any of the topics which I said I would around Christmas time, i.e. - me turning into my mother, this is a problem I hope to remedy when my computer is feeling better.
• The THEY have not had a meeting of the minds in a little while, we hope to remedy this shortly, and get back to you with any and all updates, in the meantime, we are hoping for a clever acronym to accompany the title "The THEY" - T.H.E.Y. - You might be allowed into The THEY if you are successful in coming up with a workable acronym.
• I have come to the conclusion that it is time for me to go on a diet. I realized that this year's "winter-weight-gain" has caused me to get to know my "Fatty-jeans" on a way to frequent and all-too-uncomfortable basis, and it is time to get serious about this shit! (Ladies, I know you're hearin' me!)

A specific and repeated message to David C. Hurley,

• In case you have not noticed that the phone messages have turned sour, this can only mean one thing. I am presently VERY upset.

• "Why are you upset, Liz?" you feel the need to ask... this would not only make you a dumbass, it would also mean that you are oblivious and have likely been comatose for a period of 3 months. The fact of the matter is that I have no plausible reason why I wouldn't hear from you for 3 months other than the possibilty that you are in fact comatose or dead, (in which case I would think that someone would have the presence of mind to cancel your phone service, and/or at least have the decency to call me and let me know of your untimely demise) or the alternative; that you are entirely too pussy-whipped on your girl. If it is in fact the latter, I am shocked, because you always described her as "so cool." (There were in fact times that I found myself liking her during the occasional story, in times when I did hear from my friend Dave) If this is the case, and if she does not allow you to talk to and/or have other contact with females who you were friends with (and have not ever, nor will ever date in all likelihood) for a matter of several YEARS before she ever came along, then she is, in point of fact, NOT SO COOL. I would be shocked, insulted, and personally offended if you were dating a girl with such low self esteem as to impose such restrictions on a person who she loves... because that is horse shit. But since I have no other explaination, and little other recourse, I can only hope that you are not in fact deceased, in a coma, or married to this vile beast, and that this reaches you. I only call and write because I care.
• (*If Dave's girlfriend happens to read this and she is not the vile beast I have been led to believe that she is over the last three months, then I apologize... and that means that you are either dating a corpse, a vegetable, or a serious asshole. In which case, please feel free to call me. 773-750-2903 - I get the feeling that one way or another we're going to need a chat.)

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QOTD
(with regard to J-Dub's quote of 2.19.05, it should be noted that while at work today, I made a special effort to take notice of the "Bubble butt" belonging to one Mr. Patrick Baldwin, and the following quote occurred later in the day)
2.20.05 - "Can I get a towel?" [gets a towel] "Hmm, can I get a bigger towel? Have you seen me lately?" ~Patrick Baldwin (I swear to you, these things happened on the SAME DAY!)

2.21.05/2.22.05 -
Kasia: "I was sitting over there until they started telling dead baby jokes..."
Krystian: "What's the difference between 1000 volvos and 1000 dead babies? ... I don't have 1000 volvos in my garage!"
Mike K: "What's the difference between 1000 bowling balls, and 1000 dead babies? ...I can't move 1000 bowling balls with a pitchfork!"

Ok, just so you all are aware, my computer isn't quite dead yet... in fact he's just partially dead. Bret still has it though, so don't be expecting posts with any kind of regularity just yet.

And so I leave you with your quotes:

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QOTD

2.18.05 - "It's 10:30 AM, I have a job interview at 11:15, and right now I am at the library TRYING TO SOBER UP! I ought to be executed" ~The Admiral

2.19.04
Leo: I want to shower, but I can't, all the basketball coaches are in there showering. -- Jen, you should go in there, I mean they're all naked!
Jen W.: I should! You know, I do really wanna see Patrick Baldwin's ass! He's got a serious bubble butt goin' on, I mean have you seen that thing? IT'S OUTTA CONTROL!!"

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With a name like Smuckers it has to be good!

I'm going to go ahead and use this time and place to rant a little bit about this semester. At present, I have a miserable existence. I hate ALL of my classes this semester, and I feel like I am trapped in a bad relationship. All I do anymore is go over HISTORY, HISTORY, HISTORY, and DRAMA, DRAMA DRAMA...(Leo interjects "Marsha! Marsha! Marsha!") I learn about learning, and I sit trapped in a place where I feel far smarter and otherwise superior to those in control of my situation, and yet it is impossible for me to get out.

I feel like I need to just break up with this semester and get it over with, (possibly by using the old classic "It's not you it's me" line, despite the fact that just like every other time that line is used, it really is not the person saying it that is the problem...) but that leaves me with the one big burning question: "What then? What happens then if you don't just wait it out?" ... Well, mom says I can come home and flip burgers for a living, and let's be honest, I really don't see much difference between the burger flipper who knows that the "War of the Roses" was between the York and Lancaster families in England, and it ended when King Henry VIII married a York daughter and ended the dispute, and the burger flipper who will live his or her entire life with no knowledge of these events.

So I'll ride it out. I'll get this stupid bloody degree, this piece of paper that says "HEY, look at me, I've got an overpriced education, this likely means I am either brilliantly smart and paid for it through scholarship money, or I am deep in debt, which means I will devote myself to keeping a job so that I can pay my student loan bills... Either way, you know you're getting an employee that you can count on."

Another complaint about my education: I have already told you all that I despise attendance policies, I feel smarter than my Anthropology professor, I despise getting up for my art history classes to be lectured by a professor with no concept of "making things interesting and approachable" (who possesses the added bonus of having a head shaped like a mushroom,) I don't like going to drama class where I am forced to try to decipher the lecture given in a THICK Indian accent, and listen to made up words like "Symbolical" (By the way, this instills faith in my university's English department, when they are willing to hire English professors that posses such a limited understanding of the language that they proceed to make up words... But I digress.) And to add insult to severe injury, I hate my history professor.

Here's the story: I don't like history to begin with. (I don't like reading/hearing any LONG-ASS story when I already know the ending... Sorry, I have better things to do with my time.) In addition to her weird lecturing style, her utterly bizarre testing methods, and her general overall nuttiness, (no doubt, nuttier than a Guinness-book world-record-sized pecan pie.) So in an effort to preserve my own sanity, I took a non-history book to class, and as I sat in the back, quietly reading, not disturbing anyone, I was reprimanded because I was doing something that had nothing to do with her lecturing. (It should be noted that there were several people either not in attendance, sleeping, or playing computer games on their laptops who were not singled out for reprimand, and we all know that nothing bothers me more than a double standard. And since these students were also engaging in activities that had nothing to do with their historical education, I feel I have to right this injustice, if only by ranting about it here.) Tiggles claims that she probably didn't say anything about the computer games because she was unaware they were going on... To that, I stick to the mantra of my former professors, and that judge in Duluth, Minnesota who said, "Ignorance is not an excuse!" SO THERE!

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Now that I've gotten that out of my system, I'll go ahead and say this. I apologize to you kids, my readers, my friends and family, my colleagues and coworkers for my continued grumpalumpagus-ness that has been pretty much the status quo since the inception of this semester. I have been generally miserable overall, and I have let it spill over into my interaction with all of you. I have been an incessantly-whiny asshole, I'm sorry. I'll try to do better. I can't make any promises other than "I'LL TRY! REALLY." (Please note I waited until AFTER today's rant to say I'd try to do better!)

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QOTD
2.16.04 - [Person X is pretty much the only person I can't stand to the point of STRUGGLING to feign civility.( Jen W. and person X are talking when I arrive. Person X leaves.)]
Jen W. - "Hey! What's up?"
Liz - "I just have one quick question for you. Can you honestly tell me that you find it possible to engage in an intelligent conversation with [Person X]?
Jen W. - "Well, no, but the lack of intelligence makes the conversation part easy."

2.17.05 -
Liz: "Someone should really tell Shane that with that combination of cross-hatch-patterned tie and vertical striped shirt that he looks like a fucking optical illusion!"
Leo: "I'll do that later, and when I do, I'll be sure to use those exact words! "Fucking optical illusion!"

I feel the need to tell all of you a couple of things, and since I have access to a computer at present, I am going to do just that.

1. David Christopher Hurley is officially missing. I draw the line at 10 unanswered and unreturned phone calls, 3 unreturned e-mail attempts, innumerable comments about his disappearance on this page, and one unanswered post on HIS webpage. Someone get me a team of bloodhounds, because I think Dave is encased in a block of cement, and resting at the bottom of some body of water in the greater Baltimore area. There can be no other explanation, can there?
2. (The above was deliberately done in a huge font.)
3. I now rest assured that I can find a job with little or no effort. Why, you ask? Because Loyola University it seems, will employ just about anybody who has the ability, intellectually, instinctively, or otherwise to put a shirt on, and safely manage to navigate their way to one of the campuses. I know this because my Anthropology professor lacks the common sense and intelligence that god gave a sea monkey, yet manages to hold a graduate degree and a teaching position at a somewhat "prestigious" university... Though the prestige might be dwindling if we're willing to hire characters like this one to teach the future generations... And if I can't manage to wrangle myself into a teaching position, I KNOW I could easily get a job in the student business office... Because we all know that you can be borderline-mentally-retarded and still work there. (This might just be my typical valentine's day anger being channeled into other topics and areas of my life, but I'm strangely ok with that.)

That is all. Thanks for taking the time to read.

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QOTD

2.15.05 - "Hey, I need something to suck on... And I just don't want it to be chocolate." ~Jamie

Happy Valentines day/ Singles Awareness day...

I hate this bloody, god-forsaken, hallmark holiday. Why? Because I am always single. (This is no change from any other day on which I am single, except for the fact that this is a day when we singletons are ostracized for our seemingly permanent single-hood.)

Lots has happened since the last time I posted, and every so often I find myself saying, "Man I should write all of this down, so that people have a chance to read about it... but here's just a couple of quick bullet points.

• First off, there was a suicide on the el tracks last Thursday. It was all that anyone could talk about in class on Friday. (Word to the wise: If you didn't see it, don't speculate. And certainly don't say that you wish you'd been there... You obviously don't know what you're saying if these words exit your mouth.)
• Pertaining to the afforementioned statement; there are certain things in this life that a person cannot "Un-see" ... we'll leave it at that.
• I lost my phone on Friday, got it back from a nice boy on Saturday.
• I met Beth's mom on Saturday, she is fabulous.
• Sunday I shopped, because well, despite my computer problems, I NEEDED a little retail therapy this week.

So there you have it. Congrats, you're all caught up.

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QOTD

2.12.o5 - "Cock push-ups? I can totally do two... that's more than that fat bastard Jack Black can do!" ~ Eric Spiess

2.13.05- "MMMM, this is like heaven in my mouth... not an orgasm in my mouth, because that would be a blow job!" ~ Jen W.

2.14.04 - "You're giving me a valentine? Why?Every time I see you, I'm always mean to you!" ~ Shane Davis

Posts might be few and far between here for a bit kids...

The sad fact is that I found that my computer died a sudden and quiet death yesterday. I had it turned on as usual, and when I returned to check my messages in the afternoon, I found that poor little Vinny had kicked the bucket. At first I thought it was merely the normal auto-shut-off thing that happens from time to time, but after a couple of attempts to turn it back on, I came to the sudden realization that it was far more serious. I tried re-charging the battery, I tried plugging it in and taking the battery pack off... Poor Vinny has breathed his last I'm afraid. We all knew this day had to come, we just never thought it would come so soon. I am hoping that Bret will take pity on me and Vinny and see what he can do as far as resuscitation... I've got my fingers crossed, but I'm not exactly holding out for a miracle. (Anybody got a decent notebook computer they are lookin to get rid of cheap?)

Other than that, the last few days have been filled with studies of art history, and reading plays I don't understand... Envy me.

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The best part of my day so far certainly came after lunch when we were sitting around the conference table in the Ireland room at alumni gym. Along with a couple quotes of the day, we also started up a brand new game that will surely catch on and become a favorite in offices the world over. Our version was played on the conference table with a racket ball and a rolled up magazine. I think you can infer the basics from there.

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QOTD
2.10.05 - "Stick it in my ash!" ~ Jamie making an ash wednesday joke

2.11.05 - "Who doesn't like play-doh? I'll tell you who! TERRORISTS! If you don't like play-doh, you're a terrorist!" ~Pat Schultz

Other Ash Wednesday quotes included:

- That guy's an ash hole.
- Get your head out of your ash!
- What an ash!
- Were you just checking out my ash?
- Wow. That's a nice ash!
(If you have any of your own, feel free to contribute by clicking on the "comments" area and putting in your two cents!)

We all know that I love kids. I love watching kids, I love playing with kids, I love talking to kids, I love just about anything there is to do with kids. We all know that I want a "MESS-'O-KIDS" there are however 2 things that I have to worry about. Both of these concerns stem from reality shows. (We all know I detest reality shows, but in flipping through channels, I have to stop on occasion) My concerns are basically both the same thing, just in different phases of life... Basically reality TV has shown me that if there was ever a child that ACTUALLY deserved to be beaten with a coat hanger, they generally appear on either "Super Nanny" (a show where a family has let the kids run wild for so long that the parents have lost any semblance of control, and a profesional must be brought in to assist in retaking the family) or "My Super Sweet Sixteen" (where a child, usually female, and always entirely too wealthy to be a decent human being, has a sweet sixteen party).

These shows have demonstrated that there really is no substitute for quality parenting. (Thank you mom, for not beating me senseless with a coat hanger when I was rotten to you, and for raising me well enough so that nobody else wanted to beat me with a coat hanger either.)

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Sarah gave me another reason to detest myself. I'm not going to get into it here... let's just say that I did something SO AWFUL that I really might go to hell for it, (Yes it is worse than the toothbrush thing)

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To tell you about the weekend nonsense, I fell on black ice on Thursday, (if I had been an older woman I certainly would have broken my hip) instead I managed to only bruise myself (delicate peach that I am) and strain a few muscles, including a slight case of whiplash. I have total sympathy for Carolyn.

Friday was nothing special... a couple in-class naps and some time at the gym

Saturday was quite possibly the most glorious, sunny day that February in Chicago has ever known. I, of course, spent it at work. (But I eased my sorrows with a little retail therapy at the end of the day!)

Sunday was spent lounging about, watching sports, including, but not limited to this year's uneventful, unimpressive super bowl. (Predictably, the patriots won, just like Bill Simmons and I said they would,and there were no real stand-out commercials.)

I basically spent the weekend avoiding studying for art history.

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I tried calling Dave today. No answer. No return call.

I put on my sad face.

Mom thinks he has run away and married a jealous woman who does not allow him to have contact with me anymore because I am so awesome I would steal him... Hey, at least it's a theory... lord knows I've got no better explaination coming from Dave's camp.

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As for the first meeting of the THEY, Turkey Lurky and myself have come to a new decision about the calendar year... more specifically the calendar week. Here are the need-to-know highlights.

• Weeks will now officially begin either on a Wednesday or a Friday. The final decision is left to the individual, however, the options are limited to these two days.
• Monday was instantly ruled out from inhabiting the lead off spot because Mondays suck and we all know it. You gotta have a solid hitter in your lead off spot, otherwise there's no set up for good things later in the order.
  
• Tuesday was ruled out because Tuesday has yet to establish itself as a power hitter or a day with a high profile... you gotta open with a winner and Tuesday just hasn't put in the effort that we were hoping to see.
• Wednesday is certainly a possible contender. Over the last several years Wednesday has firmly established itself as "Hump day" ... And honestly, who doesn't like to start off the week with a good hump?
• Thursday looked good on paper, but when we were looking at the overall performance, the "Thirsty Thursday" profile was just lacking that special something which seemed all too evident in the days which sandwich it... Sorry Thursday fans, maybe next season.
• Fridays are an obvious favorite with the working world because of a firmly established history, and reputation as "PAYDAY!" Now honestly folks, who wouldn't want "PAYDAY" headlining, and in the leadoff spot? This is a goodway to start off the week!
• Saturday and Sunday were both excluded from consideration for the leadoff spot for pretty much the same reason... these are considered by most to be "Lazy days" and we all know that laziness will not get you into the leadoff spot with this team. Futhermore Sunday is regared as "The lord's day" and a traditional "Day of rest" and as far as we're concerned you should not start off your week with a day of rest, because you don't need it! YOU HAVEN'T BLOODY DONE ANYTHING YET, YOU LAZY BUTT PIE! Arguably, it would seem that starting off with a day of rest would kind of ease you into the week, but we, The THEY, contend that it would be much better to start the week with a nice hump, or get hit with a PAYDAY... So this is not up for negotiation.
• Please dispose of all calendars where weeks do not begin on Wednesday or Friday, and pick up a revised calendar as soon as is humanly possible.

These are the rules. You will have to deal.

We have also decided to reintroduce and repopularize the term "Crapola" in the great American lexicon... please immediately begin using the word "Crapola" liberally in any and all apropriate instances.

On a similar note, we are recommending the use of the term "Butt pie" for people with whom you are arguing, or are generally displeased. (i.e. - "CRAPOLA! You piss me off, you're nothing but a gigantic butt pie!")

Thank you.

Sincerely, The THEY.

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If you like kitties or not, I do suggest that you view this... it is enjoyable. (Thank you Christopher.)

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And for those Napoleon Dynamite fans out there, (And I know there are a lot of you, and that the number grows every day,) here is something that you will also enjoy. (Thank you Nater-tots)

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I did send out an e-mail on pooping ettiquite, if you did not receive this e-mail and would like to, please contact me with your e-mail address (if I don't already have it) and I will send it along to you.

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2.8.05 - "So of course I made a big deal of it, and I said 'MARY! You HAVE to come over here and look at this SUBMARINE SHIT!'" ~Erin talking about a monster dump in a movie theater bathroom

2.9.05 - "I have to pee again, Liz. I think I have overactive bladder! I am 19 and I'm going to have to go on Detrol [breaks into song from Detrol commercial] 'Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go right now, gotta go gotta go gotta go!' ... I mean it only makes sense, my mom has over-active bladder... my mom peed on a horse once!" ~ Erin. (Not many people can say that they have peed on a horse, it was worth mentioning.)

I just finished a long, glorious entry for all of you, and my computer wigged out and sudenly it was gone beforeI could publish it. I'm sorry. In case you care it was a recap of Thursday through Superbowl Sunday, including the first decisions reached during the first official meeting of the THEY. I'll try to reproduce it for you in the next day or so, but since I have an art history exam tomorrow so you'll just have to wait.

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2.7.05 -
Nicole: "Liz, did you get new bed stuff?"
Liz: "No... why?"
Nicole: "Oh, well, I guess it just looks different."
Liz: "Well, it's MADE."

I spend way too much time at a gym to not be spectacularly fit. Alas, I still spend my days there, and well, as for my fitness level, we're just not even going to go there.

I hope you enjoy the pictures I posted below, I thought they were amusing/nice.

As for musement, here's something that might give you a little chuckle. (There is another version of this on Ebaum.)

This is the original Iraqi kids pic. Courtesy of Pat Schultz. In case you can't read the text, it says, "Still safer here than at Michael Jackson's!"

Here's my first attempt at editing the Iraqi Kids picture... Leo recommended the text. I know it should be skewed a bit, and it could be in a more hand-written-looking script, but I think you still get the idea.

This is Me, Jen, and Nicole getting ready to go out on the town for Jen's birthday. Damn we're hot.

Apparently my peanut butter fudge was a success of mythic proportions. People were asking about it again today. (I have a feeling there will be a return run for valentine's day... we shall have to wait and see how the bank account is looking then.)

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Crushes are no fun. At least not for me... because I am a total candy ass when it comes to crushes.

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If you've seen Napoleon Dynamite, give this quiz a try. See who you'd be! (I am a Liger... naturally. Because I am basically the coolest animal ever... bred for my skills in magic.)

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QOTD
2.4.05 - "Wow, that fudge was good! It was like an orgasm in my mouth! .... Oh, wait, I guess that didn't sound too good!" ~ Jen W.

2.5.05 - "I hate pugs, I wish a pack of wolves would run around the city and eat all the pugs!" ~Blair

2.6.05 - [upon seeing asian people on tv] "Oh, hey! It's my people! My people are on tv. What are they doing??" ~ Jen W.

Hey there again kids! Groundhog day treats were a rousing success around the gym today. If you did not get a piece of peanutbutter fudge, and you wanted some, please see Ciara Henderson or Pat Schultz. They each had 5 pieces... I'm only guessing here, but I think they liked it.

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As for the comments (all in person, as it would seem nobody decided to say anything in the comments section) I've gotten regarding the toothbrush incident, here is my public response;

1. As I said before, I am still not sorry I did it.
2. SHE WAS A HORRIBLE PERSON! (I can refer you to her former roommate if you are seeking proof beyond my word.) Note: I am, in fact, sure that she IS STILL a horrible person, but the fact that I was never what you'd call "Friends" with her kind of led me to lose touch since then, so I can only speak to past misdeeds.
   
3. For the record, I did not personally live with her (i.e. she was not my roommate). We lived in the same suite in Simpson, (so I did still have to regularly tolerate her and her foulness). This means we were next door neighbors, and we shared a bathroom.
4. There was a witness in the room when I did this to the toothbrush, so I technically had a willing accomplice. She started out as a lookout, and then took a more active observational role. The social-psychological rules of diminished culpability apply.
5. The girl who I did this to did have highly questionable hygiene habits. (Including, but not limited to showering only once a month at times. I wish this were an exaggeration, but alas it is not.) That said, this girl also didn't use her toothbrush very often. I don't know if that makes you feel any better about the whole thing.
6. Another reason that I am a horrible person (also pertaining to this same girl) requires that you be aware of the fact that she was Jewish. (I have nothing against Jewish folks! I have several Jewish friends and I don't do this kind of thing to them, nor anything that I've ever heard them say was insensitive to our difference of religion.) Anyway, while in her first semester of attending a Catholic institution she loudly and repeately announced her disdain for all-things-Christmas. Being the asshole that I am, I used this knowledge to my advantage and to her irritation by leaving my dorm room door open and blaring Christmas music for all to hear. (Even in April... Yeah, I'm a jerk.)

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Leo and I are in the process of becoming the new "They" ... As in "They say that Elvis was spotted getting a footlong hotdog while having his oil changed at a service station up in Niles." or "They say that San Diego is Latin for 'a whale vagina'"

In the future, any time you hear anyone say "Well, you know, THEY say... " please check with either myself Elizabeth [last name redacted], or Mr. Leo R. Krause and check the facts. It seems that previous "THEYs" are trying to put a lot of their crap on us. We're not having it.

As for becoming a part of the THEY, please feel free to contact me and I'll see what we, the THEY, can do for you.

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QOTD
2.3.05 - Leo (aka Turkey Lurkey) were discussing the toothbrush entry)
Leo: "You say this girl was worse than you could ever even hope to be? That's incredible!"
Liz: "It's true. She was an affront to my 15% decency... she was a horrible human being"
Leo: "No, I mean you're pretty imaginative, it's gotta be really tough to top you."

Many popular magazines and news organizations have asked "Who is Paris Hilton", but all have missed the more pressing question: What is Paris Hilton? A cross between the traditional glory hole and what most of us would consider human or maybe a being which exists between the reality we all know and one in which all forms of purity and goodness have been replaced by pop culture and cheap liquor.


*Editorial note: This post was written by Dave on 12/14/04. I have been aware of it's existence since that time. Since Dave has completely dropped off the radar in the interim, I felt that this should be posted now... as they might be his last words. (Please observe a moment of silence at this time) Thank you. ~Liz~

For the first time ever, my job has made me want to do myself serious bodily harm. I make minimum wage at this job, there's no reason that work should follow me home! Yes, that's right, my laundry work has found its way into my homelife. This evening I was actually doing other things, and I got a message on my computer regarding an athlete's laundry. He was very concerned that he had placed a personal towel in the laundry and wanted me to keep an eye out for it. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? This guy had to contact me at home for this??? This couldn't wait until I worked tomorrow afternoon? This couldn't be handled by anyone else when he happened to be in the gym next? FOR REAL??? So, for future reference, I do not care enough about anyone's laundry other than my own... and I don't even care about my laundry to contact someone at home about it. I don't even call my dry cleaner at home, and those are the best parts of my wardrobe!

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I should probably take this opportunity to say that while I do know that some of my friends (though certainly not all,) and other people in the athletic department do read the blog. I don't know who exactly, but I think it's a fairly safe assumption that the people who mention my nonsense from these entries in my presence are occasional-to-daily readers, and I make no assumptions about anyone else. Based on this info, I generally censor information to protect people's feelings, etc. But this I gotta say! (I'll leave the name out to protect his anonymity, but if the boy reads this, I'm sorry.)

So here it is. A boy told me tonight that he loves me. This is not a boy I love. This is not a boy I currently, or ever had a crush on. This is a boy I regard as a friend. Not even necessarily a close friend. In point of fact, I don't think he knows enough about me to say that he loves me. I have dated people for significant periods of time without saying, "I Love you." I have never gone on a date with this boy, nor really seen him out socially. I guess this technically makes him an acquaintance... I really hope he wasn't serious, but I put nothing past anyone anymore. He seemed fairly serious until I rebuffed the statement. Honestly I did feel bad about saying no, he didn't really love me, but the fact is that he is a nice guy who I am not interested in beyond friendship. I can't help that. This, of course, happens the day after I tell selected people about my latest crush. The timing is a little unnerving.

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I was once again reminded that I am not a good person. Today while I was leaving class, I was talking with my friend Sarah, and she reminded me about a horrible thing that I did when I was a freshman.

You're curious now, aren't you? What did Liz do? What did Liz do that makes her so horrible?

Ok, fine, I'll tell you.

There was a girl freshman year, she will remain nameless, but I assure you that if you are reading this, it's not you. And this girl was a far more despicable than even I could ever hope to be... and well, she bothered me, but I tolerated her for almost the entire first year of my college career before doing this. You've probably guessed it by now. I took her toothbrush, and I used it to scrub the toilet bowl and the scummier parts of the shower corners and drain.

Know what?

I'm still not sorry I did it either.

This is why I am a horrible person.

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I tried calling Dave again. No answer. Pretty soon I'm going to cry. For real.

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If you're on the Lakeshore campus on 2.2.05 (Groundhog day) and you are so inclined, please stop by the cage in alumni gym after 2:30 and grab a piece of double decker peanut butter fudge. Home made by me! And while I am a terrible person, I promise I didn't do anything gross to the fudge!