Yesterday was my third Christmas by myself in the city. Of course I'd rather be in Chicago but that just wasn't possible so I made the best of it.
I'll need to come up with reasons to go on the Love Robot's roof that don't involve smoking. Maybe rooftop yoga? Yesterday morning was so peaceful- looking down fourth street and the expressway and the bay bridge and seeing nothing but the occasional car cruise freely. Christmas feels like such a non-day, especially when you spend it by yourself. No fussy dress clothing. No shuttling to relatives. No driving!
It was a lovely little day:
*I had a greasy and sweet breakfast with the LR
*Came home, finished Sean Wilsey's "Oh The Glory of it All" which was a fab memoir. The content and people were a bit infuriating at times but he did a great job writing it.
*Did a heap of laundry, started to clean up the 4-month mess in my room
*Watched an ungodly amount of VH1 "best songs of the 80's and 90's" countdowns with Sonya and Dozer. Our age difference became somewhat apparent when her nostalgia for the eighties transformed into sharp disagreement with about 70% of the poppy songs on the nineties countdown. We must have had the following conversation at least ten times:
Sonya: This song is shit!
Me: (meekly) I like this song. It totally defined the summer before high school.....
*Quite aptly matched our pineapple pizza with cheap whiskey.
I'm hoping New Years will be equally casual.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Quitting Smoking: take 3
I'm not surprised at the fact that although I graduated college two days ago, I've entered a hyper-productive frenzy. It takes me a while to ween off of manic behavior. My newest project is my third attempt at breaking up with my friend, the cigarette.
I have a genius three part plan.
Part one: attend Kaiser's smoking cessation workshop on Monday night. Get my little certificate that allows me to receive Wellbutrin at my copay price.
Part two: Wednesday afternoon physical with my doctor, get the prescription.
Part three: I'm supposed to quit ten days after starting the Wellbutrin. As a gift, the love robot was kind enough to give me a full body massage and communal bath access at the Kabuki Springs and Spa. My appointment is set for my quit day so I can be all relaxed and distracted and somewhat detoxed.
The hippie in me is a bit weirded out at taking an antidepressant (which Wellbutrin also serves as) but I know plenty of people who recommend it. While I'm sure my moods could use a little leveling out, I don't want to become a zombie. I dig the highs and lows.
Wish me luck, and forgive my upcoming bitchiness.
I have a genius three part plan.
Part one: attend Kaiser's smoking cessation workshop on Monday night. Get my little certificate that allows me to receive Wellbutrin at my copay price.
Part two: Wednesday afternoon physical with my doctor, get the prescription.
Part three: I'm supposed to quit ten days after starting the Wellbutrin. As a gift, the love robot was kind enough to give me a full body massage and communal bath access at the Kabuki Springs and Spa. My appointment is set for my quit day so I can be all relaxed and distracted and somewhat detoxed.
The hippie in me is a bit weirded out at taking an antidepressant (which Wellbutrin also serves as) but I know plenty of people who recommend it. While I'm sure my moods could use a little leveling out, I don't want to become a zombie. I dig the highs and lows.
Wish me luck, and forgive my upcoming bitchiness.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
spice up your jailbait
Last night I had the unique pleasure of seeing the Spice Girls reunion concert at the HP Pavillion. It was a unique pleasure because I'd grown accustomed to smaller venues with a moderately hipster crowd (The ungodly amount of Ben Harper shows I've seen is probably my poppiest concert experience) alas the Love Robot and I did not know what to expect, we were hoping for the 20-40 year old queer delegation to represent but instead we were surrounded by what could be a future casting call for Girls Gone Wild: Silicon Valley (Extra Silicon edition!) and initially we were quite uncomfortable.
My weirdness can be attributed to a ridiculous feeling of old ladyness and a nostalgic need to reclaim my OG-Girl Power-90's feminist background. The Love Robot's awkwardness probably had to do with the thousands of scantily clad girls half his age divided by the fact that he was there with his 22 year old girlfriend that consistently and teasingly applauded his skills at eye aversion. Don't quote me on that though, it's just a hunch.
The show was just the campiness I needed on the dawn of my college graduation, a time when I've been taking myself and my life far too seriously.
Highlights include:
A ringing in my ears that currently remains despite the fact that I wore earplugs.......check .
At least seven costume changes, all of them absolutely fabulous......check
Geri without her trademark tits or ass.......check
A crowd of girls who will leave the show with body issues because it looks as though their pop idols, sans Emma who looked normal and fabulous, survive solely on well, spices.........check.
Horribly cranked up music to mask their voices......check.
The only semi-strong voices belonging to both Melanies, a fact that has comfortingly not changed over the years.....check
At least two freakishly flexible manho backup dancers per girl........check
My early-adolescent girlcrush on Emma.......check
A condom reference that I never noticed in the lyrics to 2 become 1 (be a little bit wiser baby, put it on, put it on) .....check
Merch booths that made an absolute killing.....check
A slight awkwardness due to the fact that these girls are mothers........check
A surprising amount of lesbian innuendo........check
My weirdness can be attributed to a ridiculous feeling of old ladyness and a nostalgic need to reclaim my OG-Girl Power-90's feminist background. The Love Robot's awkwardness probably had to do with the thousands of scantily clad girls half his age divided by the fact that he was there with his 22 year old girlfriend that consistently and teasingly applauded his skills at eye aversion. Don't quote me on that though, it's just a hunch.
The show was just the campiness I needed on the dawn of my college graduation, a time when I've been taking myself and my life far too seriously.
Highlights include:
A ringing in my ears that currently remains despite the fact that I wore earplugs.......check .
At least seven costume changes, all of them absolutely fabulous......check
Geri without her trademark tits or ass.......check
A crowd of girls who will leave the show with body issues because it looks as though their pop idols, sans Emma who looked normal and fabulous, survive solely on well, spices.........check.
Horribly cranked up music to mask their voices......check.
The only semi-strong voices belonging to both Melanies, a fact that has comfortingly not changed over the years.....check
At least two freakishly flexible manho backup dancers per girl........check
My early-adolescent girlcrush on Emma.......check
A condom reference that I never noticed in the lyrics to 2 become 1 (be a little bit wiser baby, put it on, put it on) .....check
Merch booths that made an absolute killing.....check
A slight awkwardness due to the fact that these girls are mothers........check
A surprising amount of lesbian innuendo........check
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Late Night Survival Guide
While I am by no means an expert on living like a rockstar, I've been in enough antsy, drunken late-night moments of fun deprivation to know what comforts are necessary to keep the party going after last call.
1) If you are a smoker, or if your friends are smokers and you don't mind them stinking up your pad, invest in a tobacco roller, some papers, some filters and some tobacco. Bali Shag and American Spirit tobacco are good picks that go for about $5-6 for a nice sized pouch and papers, if you're broke you can find something like Drum for about $2-3. Unless you're a dirty hippie or some kind of rogue maverick, you probably think rollies are gross- but think about all the times your crew ran out of smokes and bombarded that poor bastard with a half a pack. Desperate people will smoke anything.
2) Keep something like tang or lemonade mix around as an emergency chaser/mixer. It's better than milk.
3) Running out of booze can be tragic, but most of the time it is a blessing in disguise. There's generally a good reason why stores refuse to sell alcohol after a certain hour and chances are, if you're jonesing for a bottle at 3:30, you've probably had enough. I try not to stockpile bottles because a liquor inventory of a significant amount can be wiped out in a single night and that's just a loss of cash, and usually dignity.
4) Ever have a fabulous, or mundane, night out only to head back to your place and zone out in front of the T.V. because it was the only thing around to distract you? That's just boring. Get a collection of board games, art supplies, cards, etc and be the person that suggests some kind of constructive activity. Don't push people to do something they don't want to do and don't be a nazi about the rules. Have you ever played a game of cards where cheating was encouraged?
5) Music should not be too much of an investment, but it should suit the crowd. Don't ever tell a group of drunkards to shut up and listen to the lyrics....man.... and also, don't always insist on being the DJ. Ask somebody else to commandiere your music and make a playlist, it's interesting to see what they can find and create from the songs that you're so used to. And, I hate to say it, but that experimental punk-bluegrass tribute band you so desperately want everyone to know you listen to will probably be ignored in favor of crowd pleasers like Modest Mouse or songs to the tune of "Fat Bottom Girls". Sorry man. Also, don't piss off your neighbors.
6) And finally, a PSA- if you're going to have drunk desperate dawn sex, use a fucking condom.
1) If you are a smoker, or if your friends are smokers and you don't mind them stinking up your pad, invest in a tobacco roller, some papers, some filters and some tobacco. Bali Shag and American Spirit tobacco are good picks that go for about $5-6 for a nice sized pouch and papers, if you're broke you can find something like Drum for about $2-3. Unless you're a dirty hippie or some kind of rogue maverick, you probably think rollies are gross- but think about all the times your crew ran out of smokes and bombarded that poor bastard with a half a pack. Desperate people will smoke anything.
2) Keep something like tang or lemonade mix around as an emergency chaser/mixer. It's better than milk.
3) Running out of booze can be tragic, but most of the time it is a blessing in disguise. There's generally a good reason why stores refuse to sell alcohol after a certain hour and chances are, if you're jonesing for a bottle at 3:30, you've probably had enough. I try not to stockpile bottles because a liquor inventory of a significant amount can be wiped out in a single night and that's just a loss of cash, and usually dignity.
4) Ever have a fabulous, or mundane, night out only to head back to your place and zone out in front of the T.V. because it was the only thing around to distract you? That's just boring. Get a collection of board games, art supplies, cards, etc and be the person that suggests some kind of constructive activity. Don't push people to do something they don't want to do and don't be a nazi about the rules. Have you ever played a game of cards where cheating was encouraged?
5) Music should not be too much of an investment, but it should suit the crowd. Don't ever tell a group of drunkards to shut up and listen to the lyrics....man.... and also, don't always insist on being the DJ. Ask somebody else to commandiere your music and make a playlist, it's interesting to see what they can find and create from the songs that you're so used to. And, I hate to say it, but that experimental punk-bluegrass tribute band you so desperately want everyone to know you listen to will probably be ignored in favor of crowd pleasers like Modest Mouse or songs to the tune of "Fat Bottom Girls". Sorry man. Also, don't piss off your neighbors.
6) And finally, a PSA- if you're going to have drunk desperate dawn sex, use a fucking condom.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Saturday, August 11, 2007
New Scum and Chicken John
So I've been following the '07 Mayor Campaign of one Chicken John Rinaldi and I am excited to report that he raised the $5,000 necessary to get on the ballot. In fact, I think he raised about $9,000.
Chicken has many reasons for running, none of them really involve winning. I think his big thing (and mine as well) is that our beloved city is slipping a bit too much out of our hands. Also, Newsom is practically unopposed. And that is no good. I'd rather have a candidate with a puppy-killing platform than no candidate. I should mention that Chicken John has neither endorsed nor shunned the killing of puppies.
If you're intrigued, go visit his blog. Maybe throw him a tenner. voteforchicken.com
Good luck to ya, Chicken! You've got my vote
Chicken has many reasons for running, none of them really involve winning. I think his big thing (and mine as well) is that our beloved city is slipping a bit too much out of our hands. Also, Newsom is practically unopposed. And that is no good. I'd rather have a candidate with a puppy-killing platform than no candidate. I should mention that Chicken John has neither endorsed nor shunned the killing of puppies.
If you're intrigued, go visit his blog. Maybe throw him a tenner. voteforchicken.com
Good luck to ya, Chicken! You've got my vote
Friday, August 10, 2007
Another incident in which I treat my 160K education as a joke
So the class I need to complete my Women's Studies minor (technically it is called Gender and Sexualities Studies, but apparently there is only one gender) is the exact same time as my Led Zeppelin class....and I had to make a choice.
Gender and the Media class
Patriarchy is a bitch of a word to spell
Very good chance of a professor who hails my insight and fresh opinion and puts off all major assignments until the end of the semester, only to give me a c minus for being off topic
I'd have to register my minor in admissions or wherever. Those departments scare me.
VERY good chance of me getting into a huge, annoying argument with the gals in class because I'm pro porn and think Catharine MacKinnon really does just need to get laid.
Led Zeppelin
I wouldn't have to buy any books....or CDs
Will be able to adventure into the park for some pre-class herbal jazz and not feel one bit out of place in class
Semester topics include: sex, drugs, rock and roll- divided into two sub units rockin and rollin'
Will try my best to write a paper about how 'That's The Way' is the gayest song of all time
Shake for me girl, I wanna be your backdoor man!
Who really gives a fuck about minors anyways? Besides Republican congressmen. Woah. Dated zing.
Gender and the Media class
Patriarchy is a bitch of a word to spell
Very good chance of a professor who hails my insight and fresh opinion and puts off all major assignments until the end of the semester, only to give me a c minus for being off topic
I'd have to register my minor in admissions or wherever. Those departments scare me.
VERY good chance of me getting into a huge, annoying argument with the gals in class because I'm pro porn and think Catharine MacKinnon really does just need to get laid.
Led Zeppelin
I wouldn't have to buy any books....or CDs
Will be able to adventure into the park for some pre-class herbal jazz and not feel one bit out of place in class
Semester topics include: sex, drugs, rock and roll- divided into two sub units rockin and rollin'
Will try my best to write a paper about how 'That's The Way' is the gayest song of all time
Shake for me girl, I wanna be your backdoor man!
Who really gives a fuck about minors anyways? Besides Republican congressmen. Woah. Dated zing.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
hustlin
So I'm heading home on the 22, in the back four seats that face each other in twos and twos. The double date section. I always gravitate towards that part. A group of guys get on and now it's really crowded. Dude next to me has this velvet flat board on his lap and as soon as I see a bottle cap, I get out a book because that's whatever I do when I get the feeling somebody is going to bug me with anything other than a hello.
Sure enough, he's playing the nut in the bottle cap game. His boys are way too eager to play, like this is the very thing they were hoping would happen so they could make a Kentucky Derby style killing. Dude says that ladies can play for free and he ropes in this lady across from us. She picks correctly and he gives her a dollar, then tells her that she's got to pull out a dollar to try again and double up. She's confused, says...."I'm sorry....I don't know" and I realize that she's Italian (I think) and probably visiting. He gets her to pull out another dollar.
The guy next to him puts forty on it and wins. Dude gives him two twenties, asks her to pick again really forcefully. She does. He hands her forty. Then tells her to pull out another forty. Again, she has no idea what the fuck is going on.
At this point, I have to step in. If it were anyone else, I'd let it happen. Any San Franciscan should know better by now. But she was obviously scared and confused. So while she's looking through her wallet for money, I say "Sweetheart-" she looks at me and I shake my head vigorously and say "No. Don't. Put your money away." She does and gives me a thankful nod. At this point, it's time to get off.
When I get off at McAllister, the dude and his boys also get off. Last thing I want is for these guys to follow me to my place, so I stand my ground and get ready for whatever it is they've got to give to me. Sure enough, dude steps right in front of me and his boys surround me like a goddamn pack of wolves.
Dude- What the fuck is your problem???
Me- What the fuck is YOUR problem? Girl didn't even speak English.
Dude- That aint your business.
Me- You show up, loud as shit and bothering everyone, it is my business.
Dude- Fuck you! Fucking bitch! I bet I hustled you once!
Me- Please. Like I would fall for your tired ass shit. You should think of something more original...or get a fucking job. You obviously have enough energy to assemble a crew and harass a girl on a street corner.
(at this point, I braced myself to get knocked the fuck out. He raised his hand but one of his boys took pity and said they should go)
Dude said something, I don't remember what.
Me- Look, you're gonna do what you feel you've gotta do. Normally I wouldn't have said shit but that was sleazy, even for a guy like you.
Dude- Alright, whatever. Next time you better watch your mouth.
Me- Fuck that. You've got your boys working for you. She had me looking our for her.
His boys get him to leave. They turned the corner and I went home, shaking the whole time.
Sure enough, he's playing the nut in the bottle cap game. His boys are way too eager to play, like this is the very thing they were hoping would happen so they could make a Kentucky Derby style killing. Dude says that ladies can play for free and he ropes in this lady across from us. She picks correctly and he gives her a dollar, then tells her that she's got to pull out a dollar to try again and double up. She's confused, says...."I'm sorry....I don't know" and I realize that she's Italian (I think) and probably visiting. He gets her to pull out another dollar.
The guy next to him puts forty on it and wins. Dude gives him two twenties, asks her to pick again really forcefully. She does. He hands her forty. Then tells her to pull out another forty. Again, she has no idea what the fuck is going on.
At this point, I have to step in. If it were anyone else, I'd let it happen. Any San Franciscan should know better by now. But she was obviously scared and confused. So while she's looking through her wallet for money, I say "Sweetheart-" she looks at me and I shake my head vigorously and say "No. Don't. Put your money away." She does and gives me a thankful nod. At this point, it's time to get off.
When I get off at McAllister, the dude and his boys also get off. Last thing I want is for these guys to follow me to my place, so I stand my ground and get ready for whatever it is they've got to give to me. Sure enough, dude steps right in front of me and his boys surround me like a goddamn pack of wolves.
Dude- What the fuck is your problem???
Me- What the fuck is YOUR problem? Girl didn't even speak English.
Dude- That aint your business.
Me- You show up, loud as shit and bothering everyone, it is my business.
Dude- Fuck you! Fucking bitch! I bet I hustled you once!
Me- Please. Like I would fall for your tired ass shit. You should think of something more original...or get a fucking job. You obviously have enough energy to assemble a crew and harass a girl on a street corner.
(at this point, I braced myself to get knocked the fuck out. He raised his hand but one of his boys took pity and said they should go)
Dude said something, I don't remember what.
Me- Look, you're gonna do what you feel you've gotta do. Normally I wouldn't have said shit but that was sleazy, even for a guy like you.
Dude- Alright, whatever. Next time you better watch your mouth.
Me- Fuck that. You've got your boys working for you. She had me looking our for her.
His boys get him to leave. They turned the corner and I went home, shaking the whole time.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
screw me once...screw me twice....screw me three times a lady
Is it better to be paranoid or trusting? In my hospitaliserf position, it's especially bitchy to question or deny a complaint.
Imagine the following interactions-
Guest: That hooker you set me up with stole my wallet and gave me this black eye!
Me: How am I supposed to know you just don't like it rough...did she also give you that cold sore? I bet you're going to tell me that now you can't afford to pay for the room without your "wallet", how convenient!
Guest: There's a peep hole in the shower! I could feel eyes on me last night! EYES!
Me: You loved every minute of it, ho!
Guest: I saw a mouse in my room!
Me: You must have stolen it from the restaurant! They said they were one mouse short for tonight's souffle.
You get my point.
Some French bastard came huffing and puffing downstairs last night as well as this morning to let us know that his room was not cleaned last night.
French Bastard- Eet was deesgusting! How could you (he decided to point at me for emphasis, despite the fact that I had yesterday off) let such ze thing happen! (you get the point with the accent, I'll spare you from here.)
Me- I saw a note about that from last night. I am very sorry and I will have housekeeping clean your room first thing this morning.
FB- Unacceptable! This is a disgrace! Boo hiss!
Me- Again, I apologize. Our housekeepers must have miscommunicated with one another, it is an honest mistake that very rarely happens.
FB- miscommunicate??? What do they have to communicate? ZE CLEAN ZE ROOMZ! ZAT IZ ALL ZE DO!
Nobody talks shit about my housekeepers, nobody! Motherfucker was expecting a free room, I gave him $45 off to shut his trap.....only to find out later on that his room was cleaned yesterday. The housekeepers couldn't remember if they did or they didn't, but maintenance was there yesterday evening, and sure enough, clean as a whistle.
I. Have. Been. Duped.
This isn't the first time and, as long as I stay employed at this place, it wont be the last. Apparently there are people who get off on this- going to little botique hotels, sabotaging something in their room or outright lying about something (i.e. "I asked for a 6am wakeup call! I never got one! Now I missed an important meeting and I'll never get promoted and be forced to live in middle middle class mediocrity forever! I WILL SUE YOU!") and then trying to score what they can. Travel agents, the last of a dying breed of professions (thanks internet!), are famous for this. Only they threaten us with their travel agenty powers, or lack thereof.
The thing that super duper burns my ass is that many of these people can afford our rates and then some. Frenchie, for example, is decked out in an outfit straight from the pages of esquire. I could pay for my last semester at USF with his wristwatch. So screwing over a struggling business and completely taking advantage of a trusting young lady such as myself must give him some kind of sexual pleasure. I feel used :(
Imagine the following interactions-
Guest: That hooker you set me up with stole my wallet and gave me this black eye!
Me: How am I supposed to know you just don't like it rough...did she also give you that cold sore? I bet you're going to tell me that now you can't afford to pay for the room without your "wallet", how convenient!
Guest: There's a peep hole in the shower! I could feel eyes on me last night! EYES!
Me: You loved every minute of it, ho!
Guest: I saw a mouse in my room!
Me: You must have stolen it from the restaurant! They said they were one mouse short for tonight's souffle.
You get my point.
Some French bastard came huffing and puffing downstairs last night as well as this morning to let us know that his room was not cleaned last night.
French Bastard- Eet was deesgusting! How could you (he decided to point at me for emphasis, despite the fact that I had yesterday off) let such ze thing happen! (you get the point with the accent, I'll spare you from here.)
Me- I saw a note about that from last night. I am very sorry and I will have housekeeping clean your room first thing this morning.
FB- Unacceptable! This is a disgrace! Boo hiss!
Me- Again, I apologize. Our housekeepers must have miscommunicated with one another, it is an honest mistake that very rarely happens.
FB- miscommunicate??? What do they have to communicate? ZE CLEAN ZE ROOMZ! ZAT IZ ALL ZE DO!
Nobody talks shit about my housekeepers, nobody! Motherfucker was expecting a free room, I gave him $45 off to shut his trap.....only to find out later on that his room was cleaned yesterday. The housekeepers couldn't remember if they did or they didn't, but maintenance was there yesterday evening, and sure enough, clean as a whistle.
I. Have. Been. Duped.
This isn't the first time and, as long as I stay employed at this place, it wont be the last. Apparently there are people who get off on this- going to little botique hotels, sabotaging something in their room or outright lying about something (i.e. "I asked for a 6am wakeup call! I never got one! Now I missed an important meeting and I'll never get promoted and be forced to live in middle middle class mediocrity forever! I WILL SUE YOU!") and then trying to score what they can. Travel agents, the last of a dying breed of professions (thanks internet!), are famous for this. Only they threaten us with their travel agenty powers, or lack thereof.
The thing that super duper burns my ass is that many of these people can afford our rates and then some. Frenchie, for example, is decked out in an outfit straight from the pages of esquire. I could pay for my last semester at USF with his wristwatch. So screwing over a struggling business and completely taking advantage of a trusting young lady such as myself must give him some kind of sexual pleasure. I feel used :(
Friday, April 13, 2007
Hooray!
I was bummed about not being able to afford/find time for this year's Bonnaroo, but as it turns out- Lollapalooza has most of the same people AND it's in Chicago.
Highlights include-
Ben Harper and the Innocent Criminals
Pearl Jam
Daft Punk
Patti Smith
Modest Mouse
Kings of Leon (fuck yeah!!!!!!!)
The Roots
Lupe Fiasco
TV on the Radio
Pete Yorn
Silverchair (forreal? they're still around?)
Blonde Redhead (who I'm seeing at the end of April)
Electric Six
Polyphonic Spree (how can one *not* want to witness that?)
Sean Lennon
Mickey Avalon (who I believe is the force behind thecobrasnake.com - dangerously coked out hipster kids at their hippest)
HOORAY FOR AUGUST!!
Highlights include-
Ben Harper and the Innocent Criminals
Pearl Jam
Daft Punk
Patti Smith
Modest Mouse
Kings of Leon (fuck yeah!!!!!!!)
The Roots
Lupe Fiasco
TV on the Radio
Pete Yorn
Silverchair (forreal? they're still around?)
Blonde Redhead (who I'm seeing at the end of April)
Electric Six
Polyphonic Spree (how can one *not* want to witness that?)
Sean Lennon
Mickey Avalon (who I believe is the force behind thecobrasnake.com - dangerously coked out hipster kids at their hippest)
HOORAY FOR AUGUST!!
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
I must admit, I still love the cookies...
I would say that the height of my badassery came at a somewhat early age. While it was nice to get my wild child ways out of my system, it means that my trailblazing days are far behind me and I feel far too domesticated and potty trained to restart the good fight. Is it possible that I used up my sass resevior?
At ten years old, after two dedicated years of service, I was asked to leave the Junior Girl Scouts of America.
Apparently I was insubordinate in the following ways (as it was explained to my mother, who kicked some soccermom ass upon hearing this) :
1. I dared to challenge the cookie conspiracy. I had fallen a dozen boxes short of top seller for two years in a row, depriving me of the mountain bike of my dreams. My sales tactics were inventive and aggressive- I cornered the guys at my Dad's bar every weekend and would not stop pestering them until they signed up for at least five boxes. The first year's work allowed the product to sell itself, as I came to realize that tubby Chicago biker gangs had a soft spot for thin mints and thus a crackhead/pusher relationship was formed. The girl who won first place also happened to have one of the wealthiest families in town who were notorious for doing whatever it took on their end to make their children look like model citizens (or in our case, venture capitalists). Apparently challenging this injustice (which, even then, I believed mirrored the world at large) earned me a "sore loser" badge.
2. I did not wear the standard uniform, nor did I keep it well maintained. No excuses for this one. Unless I'm allowed to blame personality (or poorness....those damn leggings and t-shirts were expensive!) To this day, I actively protest my work uniform and usually resemble a ragamuffin in an otherwise professional setting. I assume this was a part of the organization's mission to shape us into polished young ladies, or fembots.
3. I was constantly complaining and displayed a lack of scout sp!r!t. Again, this was true. I asked why we were always sewing pot holders for our moms, or making cards for the people at the old folks home, or putting on fashion shows while the boys got KNIVES! and went HIKING! and could, if the situation arose, untie buxom women from train tracks because there is no knot that they cannot tackle! What if I wanted to save buxom women? Why did I have to *be* the buxom woman whose only talent was making napkin rings out of the rope that the boyscout untied?
So I hear that times have changed and that the Girl Scouts are becoming more progressive. Their badges focus as much on athletics and academics as they do on neatness and crafts. Apparently they're doing much more volunteer work and even going out into *gasp* nature!
But I'm still bitter...
Therefore I would like to announce that I am in the planning stages of a new institution for young women. I haven't come up with a name....for the time being I'll call them the Nisi-teers.
At ten years old, after two dedicated years of service, I was asked to leave the Junior Girl Scouts of America.
Apparently I was insubordinate in the following ways (as it was explained to my mother, who kicked some soccermom ass upon hearing this) :
1. I dared to challenge the cookie conspiracy. I had fallen a dozen boxes short of top seller for two years in a row, depriving me of the mountain bike of my dreams. My sales tactics were inventive and aggressive- I cornered the guys at my Dad's bar every weekend and would not stop pestering them until they signed up for at least five boxes. The first year's work allowed the product to sell itself, as I came to realize that tubby Chicago biker gangs had a soft spot for thin mints and thus a crackhead/pusher relationship was formed. The girl who won first place also happened to have one of the wealthiest families in town who were notorious for doing whatever it took on their end to make their children look like model citizens (or in our case, venture capitalists). Apparently challenging this injustice (which, even then, I believed mirrored the world at large) earned me a "sore loser" badge.
2. I did not wear the standard uniform, nor did I keep it well maintained. No excuses for this one. Unless I'm allowed to blame personality (or poorness....those damn leggings and t-shirts were expensive!) To this day, I actively protest my work uniform and usually resemble a ragamuffin in an otherwise professional setting. I assume this was a part of the organization's mission to shape us into polished young ladies, or fembots.
3. I was constantly complaining and displayed a lack of scout sp!r!t. Again, this was true. I asked why we were always sewing pot holders for our moms, or making cards for the people at the old folks home, or putting on fashion shows while the boys got KNIVES! and went HIKING! and could, if the situation arose, untie buxom women from train tracks because there is no knot that they cannot tackle! What if I wanted to save buxom women? Why did I have to *be* the buxom woman whose only talent was making napkin rings out of the rope that the boyscout untied?
So I hear that times have changed and that the Girl Scouts are becoming more progressive. Their badges focus as much on athletics and academics as they do on neatness and crafts. Apparently they're doing much more volunteer work and even going out into *gasp* nature!
But I'm still bitter...
Therefore I would like to announce that I am in the planning stages of a new institution for young women. I haven't come up with a name....for the time being I'll call them the Nisi-teers.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Chicago- cholesterol, beer and brick
I hail from the midwest. It is a place, according to my California friends, with simple people doing simple things. It is the land of fanny packs and feathered hair, bible banging and country bumpkinisms.
While this is true of some parts, it is not indicative of the great city of Chicago or any of the great lakes states. Many people confuse the plains with the midwest, which pisses off midwesterners. Imagine if somebody said that LA and SF were inherently the same...and they described both cities as they would FRESNO.
Hopefully this map can be of some assistance. This is the US as I've grown to see it.
The truth is, Chicago is a place of sophistication and humility. We work hard, party hard, eat well, and usually have no troubles getting to work on time if we are using public transit.
This is what Chicago looks like in the summertime. The blurriness is humidity (or maybe just my shitty camera) which lingers around at night and makes you look all sweaty and horny when you're out at the clubs.
This is what a Chicago winter looks like. It is especially pretty because it is outside of my old apartment. This is actually a nice vision of snow (did you know that Californian's have one word for snow? Tahoe.) This is when it is pristine and poetry-inspiring. The next day it becomes sludgey and cumbersome and makes old men have heart attacks because they insist on shoveling their walks instead of paying the kids down the block $5 to do the job for them- now their wives are widows, the snow is still unshoveled, and the kids down the block are now stealing cars to make money.
Some chicagoans do indeed look like this,
my father is one of them.
I hope this has been a valuable lesson in domestic affairs.
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