whoa whoa whoa-wa!

Guess fucking effing (trying to clean up my language for Marc's holy night) what? A new Forever 21 has opened in Coronado Mall!! Woooooooo!! (Oh no. Is this what it feels like to be one of the older ladies going crazy for Sex and the City in the midst of 20-somethings? OH WELL! Too excited to care!!!)

This calls for a high school themed celebration. Clueless viewing party tomorrow night?!

Plusies, I have a 65 dol dol gift card for F21 and no duh obvies am going to spend it right now. We're going bar hopping tonight for Jay's 30th bday and I need to look cuter! NO, CUTER!! NOOOOO CUUUUTTTTEEERRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!

complete lack of control

Good news and bad news! The library sale put me in a pretty good mood. I parallel parked like a pro, ran into a friendquaintance (the guitarist for the build which definitely counts as small town celebrity sighting) and purchased an Asimov book I've never heard of before which all resulted in general good moodiness.

And now I'm sort of totally ruined (at least for the next 15 minutes until I can calm myself down or at the very least internalize my humiliation which will eventually lead to some sort of heart disease in the future I am sure) because I slipped on a wet strawberry in front of all those nerds reading the onion at this coffee house. Great. Thanks for helping me up, NO ONE. Thanks for staring while I lay spread eagle on the floor with a mashed strawberry stuck to my flip flop, EVERYONE. I'm boycotting humankind today. Bah.

Maybe I will take photos of my library sale treasures later today. I only got 8 or 9 books, no magazines and no tapes or records. There was a general theme of women studies in my purchases this month and obviously I bought a paperback biography of Willie Nelson called WILLIE!

You'd think that this would be on the wall of every humdrum college dorm wall along with the animal house poster, einstein sticking out his tongue, einstein riding a bike, kramer portrait, and bob marley and/or che guevera nonsense but it's not.

That picture makes me feel somewhat better. Fucking coffee house yuppies. Here's to the rest of my day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GIRL TALK: pet peeves

Let's talk about sex, baybee! Let's talk about you and me! Let's talk about ...

PET PEEVES.

In the general interest of not sounding like a spoilt child crying for more pie, I have to say I'm not complaining about my 1st world problems, rather I am making fun of myself for even having "pet peeves" (ew, what an awful cutesy phrase, anyhow) in the first place :)

I have been dating the same guy (FOR THE MOST PART) for the last 7 and 1/2 years! We basically have an imaginary 2nd grader now. His name is Nico. Nico Aurelius. He's pleased to meet you.

ANYWAY!

I have been with the same person for about 3/4 of the last decade and obviously some things he does gets on my nerves. And by some I mean most. And by most I mean I am usually angry at him at any given moment. (Mostly kidding). What I mean to say is that we tend to take out our grumpiness about outside circumstances on the very special person in our life, whether that be our boyfriend, mother, or whoeva and I think that is the basis of most "Pet Peeves." Other than that, it is very strange to think about our neurotic issues. It's like an acceptable mental disorder. It's also a quick way to define somebody :) "Oh, you mean the G la fille who doesn't like loud cell phone speakers! I know who you mean!"

P.S. My pet peeves are flicking fingernails together, bicyclists smarmy attitudes and slouching. Boo!!!!! What are yours?!

wow wow wow, underage baby

'parently I was hitting on a 19 year old from Hellay all night. And he told me I was "acting responsible for a 22 year old."

"Really, 19 year old baby?"

Because, I've been a responsible 22 year old for the past three years, why the eff are you at an older kids' party???? Huhhhh?!?!?!

And then after I told him his bedtime story and walked home, I realized I left my house keys in Rajen's car and had to call my mom to let me into my apartment. This is while I reek of nefarious substances from the wonderful band practice house party. Somebody kill me.

UPDATE: Wonderful. I love waking up to see I blogged in my sleep. I turned off the bold type and caps lock so it didn't seem like I was type-yelling at you, or myself for that matter. Also, I love how I call myself responsible one sentence before explaining how I lost my house keys. Hahahaha ... um, yikes. Not good. Well, hmmm ... maybe one day I will be able to laugh about this. Not today though. Today I will laugh about some funny, sad social tragedy that I went through in High School. P.E. memories, you never fail to amuse me :) TRAVEL TRIP posts continue later today!! Yay!

oy vey!

Happy Hanukkah, guys! This is the first year I'm celebrating it.

allons-y!

The last post brought back the nostalgia waves for me. I loved using those "Let's make like a [noun] and [verb/pun]" on my younger sibs and I think, at the time, in the 90's, it wasn't as embarrassing as it sounds (actually it was, but in comparison to my extra large Save the Otters tee-shirt, the puns were the least of my problems). ANYWAY, enjoy these "let's make like a ..." jokes I found. I posted a related pic before the noun so you can try to guess what the joke is before you read it. :)

Let's make like a ...

tree and leave.

Let's make like an ...

atom and split.

Let's make like a ...

bee and buzz off.

Let's make like a ... bowel and move. Obviously, did not want to include a pic.

Let's make like a ...

banana and split.

Let's make like a ...

strawberry and jam! (Also useful for band practice.)

Let's make like a ...

fetus and head out. (You'd better count your lucky fucking stars I didn't post one of the many, many images of live stretched out birthing vaginas that google images had to offer. WHY DID I NOT TURN ON SAFE SEARCH!?!?)

Let's make like a ...

bakery truck and haul buns. CUTE FAINT!

Let's make like the ...

Red Sea and part. (Both Jews and Christians can participate in this one! Right? Quick, theology student, research this statement!)

Let's make like a ...

nut and bolt.

Let's make like a ...

jacket and zip.

Let's make like a ...

prom dress and take-off. HAHAHAHAHA!

Let's make like a ...

hat and go on ahead. Awwww! BTW, that's a Caps For Sale illustration :)

Let's make like ...

Levi's and fade away (funny, but sort of depressing, too. Kinda reminds me that it's better to burn out than fade away. Sads.)

And here's the rebuttal:
Let's make like a ...

tie and hang around some more.

This post was totally ...

a most reasonable way to spend friday

The pink glasses are the physical embodiment of a bourgeoisie dilemma (Quick! Sociology student, interpret what I mean and let me know if it's true!) On one hand, I realize that I am a 25 year old adult who could have raised 12 kids by now, reads the Times, wears comfortable socks for poor circulation, and at this point, pink glasses are a costume I wear to feel youthful. And of course, I am not young anymore. I've switched over to Lite Sour Cream™ ages ago, after all.

But, then again ...

Fuck it. It's my fucking life. And I want to wear pink glasses whether they belong on a neon purple unicorn or not. I'll deal with the repercussions of acting my age when I turn 30. Problem solved. P.S. The tits are still growing. Of course, this implies that the rest of the body is still growing (EEP!), but I will pretend it's just my lovely hips and chest that are the sole benefactors of my beer and cheese diet.

Cheapo rose wine and the wii. Not the most ingenious combination, but we get points for drinking it out of High Life bottles.

I just think it's more polite when a cat tucks his arms under himself. Hrumpf!

Do we look like a couple? Do we look like a couple who you'd be afraid to talk to? Unless you can endlessly chat about Gn'R, you'd best be afraid.

It's not nice to piss on a lawyer's office, but it's a pleasant reminder that anything you touch in public has most likely been pissed on. Note to self: buy more gloves.

Guess how long it took me to convince them to model for me? Literally nanoseconds. The rose was kicking in about then.

It's rather odd how many fights the boys avoid by being with a sweetheart such as myself. I'm being excessively cocky - let me stop this playlist (mid-90s east coast rap) and switch over to nick drake. Phew!

This was my plastic bag floating in the wind object that night. 'It's ... it's ... so ... cryptic ... sign of ... our ... times ... just ... breathe.' Yikes. My iPhoto is filled with this glittery leaf. If I could have only captured the moment Marc and Jay both spilled their drinks on me. No, nah, let's let that moment become swept away in the currents of forgotten memory.

ANYWAY! THAT WAS FRIDAY.

Early on Saturday morning, Marc went off to Jewish Temple™ and I raced off to the Library book sale. Walked and took the bus! This deserves a round of applause, I think. Especially seeing as I was still drunk from the night before. I'm burning the candle at both ends, hm? Worrisome.

OH WELLSIES! LOOK AT THE PRETTY LEAVES!

This is all on Columbia. Did you know Columbia the school and Colombia the country are spelled differently. I should write a Did You Know book for toddlers.

I bought a Tofu cookbook, soft cover textbook called Flesh and Fantasy, it's about who slept with whom in 1940s Hollywood, and large picture book on London.

Oh, right!

Bum Piss tunnel is now Day Glo Rainbow Acid Trip tunnel. It still reeks of bum piss.

Around this time, I got solicited by a prostitute-seeker. I'm all for new experiences, so this was muy interesting, but I refused.

The walk home was damp, overcast and very untypical Albuquerque. I wish you were there.