On my way home, my last walk home to the Hill, I saw two Uma Thurman character costumes. Poison Ivy and that chick from Pulp Fiction, with the syringe sticking out. Ha! Ivy and syringe! Then someone dressed as the teen wolf waved at me from across the street, as if we were friends. I couldn't tell who it was because they were wearing a mask.
I decided to stay in, battle a cold, and prepare for the big Move. At the video rental place, I felt as though I should've gotten Psycho, or something. But then remembered the last time I attempted to watch a scary movie on Halloween. It was the reissue of the Exorcist in the theater, and I'd never seen it before. I drove about 90 miles an hour home, went to bed with the light on, but was completely convinced that my bed was shaking. I slept maybe two hours that night, and for the next two months I'd be falling asleep then bolted awake by the moving bed. There were no earthquakes in Lewiston, so it had to have been an evil demon trying to possess me.
I left the store with When Harry Met Sally. Very Safe.
October 31, 2008
October 27, 2008
October 23, 2008
Pringles Come in a Can
It just occured to me that Pringles taste a lot like cold Burger King french fries, just crunchier.
That's right. I'm eating Pringles. I made sure to NOT accidentally get the fat-free kind made with Olestra, which causes anal leakage. It didn't actually happen, even though there is a WARNING LABEL, but it was a very stressful 24 hours of my life.
That's right. I'm eating Pringles. I made sure to NOT accidentally get the fat-free kind made with Olestra, which causes anal leakage. It didn't actually happen, even though there is a WARNING LABEL, but it was a very stressful 24 hours of my life.
October 10, 2008
Chocolate Dipping
This afternoon I had a bit of a renactment of this episode of I Love Lucy when I was posting about 900 peices of mail. I thought I'd post it... the humor really stands the test of time, I think.
October 9, 2008
October 6, 2008
Lewiston High School, Class of '02
The girls and I decided to eat massive Rosie's cheeseburgers this weekend before going out to karaoke. I'm sitting there, burger juice dripping down my arm, and I see a man who I'd met a few weeks before. Since he was new in town, I prayed there was no cheeseburger on my face, turned around and said hello to the Carhart overall-wearing man on my left, Matt. We exchanged pleasantries, but it was brief, since it's not exactly polite to carry on a conversation while holding a giant cheeseburger.
A few minutes goes by, and a man comes over to our table, and crouches next to me and introduces himself.
"Hey, so how do you know Matt?"
"Matt??" I did not see the people Matt with the Carharts came in with.
"You know, my friend Matt," he gestures.
"Ohhh. That Matt." I explain that he's a friend of a friend, who I'd met only once before, meanwhile I'm thinking, what the hell is this guy doing over here, where could this possibly be going. You see, this man, who for the purpose of this story shall remain nameless, taught at my high school. It escapes me what exactly he taught, Jobs for Maine Graduates or something along those lines in the vocational wing. His classroom might have even been attached to the school store. Anyhow, I knew of this man for two reasons- the first was that my locker was right outside his class, and he was a young, handsome new teacher; the second was that he had to leave his job because he slept with student. That's right. He's Mrs. Robinson. From what I understand, the chick was 18, not that it makes it okay.
So he's going on and on. "You look so familiar, where have I seen you before, do you work downtown, etc." I'm thinking, "Holy effing shit I can't believe this is happening." Two of the three other people at my table had no idea what was going on, the other watched in horror.
It was at this time that I decided to go big or go home. I looked him directly in the face and said, "I went to Lewiston High School." He shut right up. 'Caught with his pants down' as my mother would say. It looked like I had sucker punched him in the stomach, and I wish I was quicker at the draw with the camera on the iPhone. He proceeds to make some even more awkward conversation about the high school, finally asking me if I was proud of my Lewiston heritage. I blinked twice for emphasis (did he really just ask me that?) I said I didn't know how to answer his question, because really, nine o'clock at Rosie's was neither the time nor the place for me to explain my complex feelings of being born and raised in Lewiston, let alone in front of two Bates graduates (humble, but proud and very defensive.) Finally acknowledging his defeat, he stood up and left with a meek, "Go Blue Devils."
A few minutes goes by, and a man comes over to our table, and crouches next to me and introduces himself.
"Hey, so how do you know Matt?"
"Matt??" I did not see the people Matt with the Carharts came in with.
"You know, my friend Matt," he gestures.
"Ohhh. That Matt." I explain that he's a friend of a friend, who I'd met only once before, meanwhile I'm thinking, what the hell is this guy doing over here, where could this possibly be going. You see, this man, who for the purpose of this story shall remain nameless, taught at my high school. It escapes me what exactly he taught, Jobs for Maine Graduates or something along those lines in the vocational wing. His classroom might have even been attached to the school store. Anyhow, I knew of this man for two reasons- the first was that my locker was right outside his class, and he was a young, handsome new teacher; the second was that he had to leave his job because he slept with student. That's right. He's Mrs. Robinson. From what I understand, the chick was 18, not that it makes it okay.
So he's going on and on. "You look so familiar, where have I seen you before, do you work downtown, etc." I'm thinking, "Holy effing shit I can't believe this is happening." Two of the three other people at my table had no idea what was going on, the other watched in horror.
It was at this time that I decided to go big or go home. I looked him directly in the face and said, "I went to Lewiston High School." He shut right up. 'Caught with his pants down' as my mother would say. It looked like I had sucker punched him in the stomach, and I wish I was quicker at the draw with the camera on the iPhone. He proceeds to make some even more awkward conversation about the high school, finally asking me if I was proud of my Lewiston heritage. I blinked twice for emphasis (did he really just ask me that?) I said I didn't know how to answer his question, because really, nine o'clock at Rosie's was neither the time nor the place for me to explain my complex feelings of being born and raised in Lewiston, let alone in front of two Bates graduates (humble, but proud and very defensive.) Finally acknowledging his defeat, he stood up and left with a meek, "Go Blue Devils."
The Ancient Japanese Art of Karaoke
For the past few Saturday nights in a row, a few friends of mine and I have been going out to karaoke night at a former gay bar called the Flask Lounge. And it's amazing. I don't understand the social stigma that comes with karaoke- every time I've been to this particular night it turns into one big giant dance party. Journey, "Don't Stop Believing;" Mama's and the Papas "California Dreaming;" any number of Bruce Springsteen songs; Fleetwood Mac; someone always does You're the One I Love from the Grease soundtrack... There are a few 'regulars' who are truly karaoke masters, who shine in the spotlight, tear it up, if you will. Other times the song isn't quite the right choice or the stage presence isn't there, but that's when you talk about the next song you're doing, get a drink, use the bathroom. In fact, I'd go so far as to say karaoke has been my sex substitute as of late- singing, dancing, my heart rate goes up, I start sweating... And no babies!
I've only ever sang once at karaoke, and it was... painful for everyone involved. My own boyfriend didn't even suck up and tell me that I did okay. It was Wham's Wake Me Up Before You Go Go, which sounded good in theory, but in actuality was really difficult. In my mind, the key is to pick a song that you already know some of the words to. I've been picking out the perfect song. It has to be something that everyone knows, gets excited about, and isn't too vocally challenging, because I'm rather tone-deaf. I'm thinking it's going to be a Violent Femmes song, but my ears have been open. Once, my friend Hillary tried to convince me that I should be in an all-girl band with her and Mandy- I was like but Hilla, I don't PLAY anything. She said it's okay, you can sing, you have the look! I'll try to remember that next weekend.
Oh, and there's this guy, who gets in on all the action with his inflateable guitar. He gives the term 'air guitar' a whole new meaning...
I've only ever sang once at karaoke, and it was... painful for everyone involved. My own boyfriend didn't even suck up and tell me that I did okay. It was Wham's Wake Me Up Before You Go Go, which sounded good in theory, but in actuality was really difficult. In my mind, the key is to pick a song that you already know some of the words to. I've been picking out the perfect song. It has to be something that everyone knows, gets excited about, and isn't too vocally challenging, because I'm rather tone-deaf. I'm thinking it's going to be a Violent Femmes song, but my ears have been open. Once, my friend Hillary tried to convince me that I should be in an all-girl band with her and Mandy- I was like but Hilla, I don't PLAY anything. She said it's okay, you can sing, you have the look! I'll try to remember that next weekend.
Oh, and there's this guy, who gets in on all the action with his inflateable guitar. He gives the term 'air guitar' a whole new meaning...
September 16, 2008
September 14, 2008
Homecoming- A Night to Remember
When I found out that Space was throwing an all out Homecoming Dance, I got really, really excited. The only thing I could do to not jump out of my skin with excitement was listen to Meatloaf's 'I Would Do Anything For Love' on repeat, for an hour. I picked out my date, started shopping for a dress, and decided that this would be the end all be all of dances- to make up for all those dances gone wrong in high school. Like the time Annie ran over Renee's foot with the car. Or when I asked this college guy, and he still came, even though he was totally into someone else and I was resentful all night. OR when I went to Mandy's prom and everyone at her school thought I was her lesbian lover.
But a week before the dance, the 'date' I had picked out and just wanted to be friends, in perfect unpredictable fashion. So Mandy and I had a re-do of her prom in '03. On the big night, I went over to her place to get ready- pick out shoes, fashion elaborate updos, and inexpertly apply mascara. Two Sex and the City episodes later, we headed out in our three inch heels, ready to dance the night away.
And basicly, that's what we did! I danced, danced, danced. All the girls looked really pretty, and all the boys looked really handsome. I mean, we're not the kinds of people who exactly put on 'going out' clothes, you know? When we arrived the band formerly known as Cult Maze was getting ready to go on, and I was unbelievably happy- they were one of my favorite local bands until they broke up. They covered Feel Like Makin' Love, My Boyfriend's Back, and much to my utter delight MEATLOAF!! It was prefect. I could not stop smiling. The last time I'd felt that happy had to have been the This American Life live show, when Mates of State played. From then on the night was pretty dream-like, including photos, and even an onstage dance party started by yours truly and my Mandy. Some girl told us we were the 'hottest bitches in Portland.' I danced myself nauseous in three inch heels.
At some point, I happened to tell Mandy that I thought a boy was cute, she proceeded to tell his brother, and I spent the rest of the night coyly making eye contact from across the room. But in true high school fashion, I was too shy to actually let him come over and risk letting something happen (not even after a little liquid courage in the form of bottled PBR.)
We ended the night taking the Limo Taxi home to the Hill. I only wish I would have seen the faces of everyone milling about when the limo pulled up and we got in. There was no Red Hot 95.9, but he only charged us five bucks, which would've been less than an actual cab!
But a week before the dance, the 'date' I had picked out and just wanted to be friends, in perfect unpredictable fashion. So Mandy and I had a re-do of her prom in '03. On the big night, I went over to her place to get ready- pick out shoes, fashion elaborate updos, and inexpertly apply mascara. Two Sex and the City episodes later, we headed out in our three inch heels, ready to dance the night away.
And basicly, that's what we did! I danced, danced, danced. All the girls looked really pretty, and all the boys looked really handsome. I mean, we're not the kinds of people who exactly put on 'going out' clothes, you know? When we arrived the band formerly known as Cult Maze was getting ready to go on, and I was unbelievably happy- they were one of my favorite local bands until they broke up. They covered Feel Like Makin' Love, My Boyfriend's Back, and much to my utter delight MEATLOAF!! It was prefect. I could not stop smiling. The last time I'd felt that happy had to have been the This American Life live show, when Mates of State played. From then on the night was pretty dream-like, including photos, and even an onstage dance party started by yours truly and my Mandy. Some girl told us we were the 'hottest bitches in Portland.' I danced myself nauseous in three inch heels.
At some point, I happened to tell Mandy that I thought a boy was cute, she proceeded to tell his brother, and I spent the rest of the night coyly making eye contact from across the room. But in true high school fashion, I was too shy to actually let him come over and risk letting something happen (not even after a little liquid courage in the form of bottled PBR.)
We ended the night taking the Limo Taxi home to the Hill. I only wish I would have seen the faces of everyone milling about when the limo pulled up and we got in. There was no Red Hot 95.9, but he only charged us five bucks, which would've been less than an actual cab!
September 12, 2008
I'll take a side of truth with that coffee
Me: Good Morning
Brian: Good Morning, how's it going?
Me: S'ok. Tired, though. I stayed up late watching Gossip Girl. That show is amazing, just perfect. You just... Turn your brain off. I love it.
Brian: Yeah, I bet you were watching Sex and the City, too.
Me (not making eye contact): Yeah...
Brian: I can smell it a mile away! And then you wonder why you have problems with dudes in your life!
Me: ...(silence.)
Brian: Good Morning, how's it going?
Me: S'ok. Tired, though. I stayed up late watching Gossip Girl. That show is amazing, just perfect. You just... Turn your brain off. I love it.
Brian: Yeah, I bet you were watching Sex and the City, too.
Me (not making eye contact): Yeah...
Brian: I can smell it a mile away! And then you wonder why you have problems with dudes in your life!
Me: ...(silence.)
September 7, 2008
woody Allen: Still Got It.
I've been satisfying a lot of guilty pleasures as of late- like listening to a crapload of Beyonce, watching movies like Superbad and Pineapple Express, and putting Laguna Beach and Gossip Girl at the top of my Queue. Is it because it's been summer and this is what you're supposed to do? Like, beach all day, then Gossip Girl then margaritas on the patio? Maybe. But it's also possible that I'm trying to make up for lost pop-culture time. It's possible I crossed the line, though, when on a recent trip to Marden's, I purchased a Gossip Girls novel for three dollars.
It's now the beginning of fall (yes, I said it.) I'm going to try and stimulate myself creatively. I'm most likely moving next month, so maybe this is a good time for me to do some more productive things with my time. Actually use those brain cells! I'm excited to say that I just saw Vicky Christina Barcelona, and not only was it amazing, but it reminded me that there needs to be more zing in my life.
Maybe I'll start that novel, finally. It's time to decide how I'll keeep myself occupied this winter, and, you know, figure out what I'm doing with my life.
It's now the beginning of fall (yes, I said it.) I'm going to try and stimulate myself creatively. I'm most likely moving next month, so maybe this is a good time for me to do some more productive things with my time. Actually use those brain cells! I'm excited to say that I just saw Vicky Christina Barcelona, and not only was it amazing, but it reminded me that there needs to be more zing in my life.
Maybe I'll start that novel, finally. It's time to decide how I'll keeep myself occupied this winter, and, you know, figure out what I'm doing with my life.
September 3, 2008
September 1, 2008
Me and the iPhone Don't Care What You Think
have I mentioned I'm now the proud owner of the new iPhone? It's 6 a.m., I'm at Telethon, waiting for the percolator to warm up, the volunteers to show, the phones to ring, and all I can think to do is blog about the iPhone and how cool it is.
So far, the best use of the iPhone was this past weekend. In the car we hooked it up to the car stereo. I then YouTubed the Lazy Sunday SNL digital short and we sang along on our way to Old Orchard Beach. I can also shop online while riding the bus. Last night I used the camera to take ridiculous pictures of my coworkerspretending to be anchors on WABI TV-5, then upload and tag them on Facebook. The iPhone is incredibly self-aware; it can capitalize it's own name, and knows what kind of accent to use on 'touché.' Though I try to not let this gadget get in the way of my normal social interactions, I have on several occasions walked by my destination because my head was buried in the iPhone.
If Craig were to read this, he'd tell me I sound like I'm working for Apple. In this case, I'd have to agree. I just found out I can stream mp3s. Seriously.
So far, the best use of the iPhone was this past weekend. In the car we hooked it up to the car stereo. I then YouTubed the Lazy Sunday SNL digital short and we sang along on our way to Old Orchard Beach. I can also shop online while riding the bus. Last night I used the camera to take ridiculous pictures of my coworkerspretending to be anchors on WABI TV-5, then upload and tag them on Facebook. The iPhone is incredibly self-aware; it can capitalize it's own name, and knows what kind of accent to use on 'touché.' Though I try to not let this gadget get in the way of my normal social interactions, I have on several occasions walked by my destination because my head was buried in the iPhone.
If Craig were to read this, he'd tell me I sound like I'm working for Apple. In this case, I'd have to agree. I just found out I can stream mp3s. Seriously.
August 21, 2008
Can you hear me now?
Welcome to the world of mobile blogging! I just have to comment- sometimes there are people on my bus at 8am who stay on the phone for more than, say, 5 minutes. I can't help but wonder who on earth they're possibly having a conversation with so darn early. I mean, seriously. Most of my fellow commuters probably aren't working the kind of lucrative job that requires them to be available by phone 24/7.
I'm listening to Funeral by Arcade Fire, and it's still as good as the first time. It's more intense than doing it in a tent! (Get it?)
More to come on the most epic canoe trip of all time.
I'm listening to Funeral by Arcade Fire, and it's still as good as the first time. It's more intense than doing it in a tent! (Get it?)
More to come on the most epic canoe trip of all time.
August 13, 2008
Last night at Greendrinks, a free happy hour for people who are interested in living green, everyone was asked to disclose their green vice. Meaning, what's the most wasteful thing you do, but really can't help doing? In my personal life, I commute green and have probably the lowest carbon footprint of anyone I know. We recycle everything we can at home, and I use a travelmug that has Cruella DeVille on it. I might not Buy Local or organically all the time, but I feel that's more of an income issue than a mindset.
Anyway, when e began disclosing our dirty little ungreen secrets the were pretty similar- I love using paper towels. I get a lot of takeout. I take long showers. And I realized how much more embarrassing mine was going to be, but I couldn't think of anything else. If I'm in the bathroom, and there is no lock on the door, I run the water the whole time. It's totally neurotic and stupid, if someone is going to try and come in without knocking, they're probably not listening for running water.
Anyway, when e began disclosing our dirty little ungreen secrets the were pretty similar- I love using paper towels. I get a lot of takeout. I take long showers. And I realized how much more embarrassing mine was going to be, but I couldn't think of anything else. If I'm in the bathroom, and there is no lock on the door, I run the water the whole time. It's totally neurotic and stupid, if someone is going to try and come in without knocking, they're probably not listening for running water.
August 8, 2008
Bum Fights
Some guy beat up a drunk bum today because the drunk bum was yelling at me. I was on the corner, standing with this guy, and I'm like, 'Yo, that dude is yelling at me." Thinking he'd just tell me it was okay. But he yelled at the guy, then decked him in the face, he went down, and got kicked in the face.
It was almost as disturbing at the colostomy bag. But I guess chivalry isn't dead?
It was almost as disturbing at the colostomy bag. But I guess chivalry isn't dead?
August 7, 2008
Washington, Washington
I know most of you, my loyal readers, will have watched this George Washington animation, but it's so funny, and Darcy has been using lyrics in her Gmail chat away message for DAYS. I had to watch it again.
August 6, 2008
August 4, 2008
Indecent Exposure
Last Saturday about twenty or so of us Portlanders migrated north to an island in Harpswell called Bailey Island. Darcy was born and raised there, and her parents were gracious enough to let us invade their house, drink beer and eat lobster. It was great to get out of town for a day, and on the overcast but scenic drive over, Darcy explains that she would like to beat her skinny dipping record- most times skinny dipped in one summer. I had never taken that plunge, partially because I'd never had the chance, partially because I'm modest.
Well, a little liquid courage goes a long way. We'd been drinking, eating, playing croquet, earning weird nicknames from Darcy's nephew (you can call me, Slippery Pete.) Although it was unclear whose idea it was to head over to Land's End, which is iterally the beach at the end of the main road on the island, I took the lead once we got there. I'd say it was somewhere around 70 degrees that night, and normally, in daylight, I really only like to swim when it's almost eighty. Hot. But I took off my Chucks, my socks, my jeans, my shirt and finally my underwear until I was down to my birthday suit and ran into the water. Five of the twenty people I was with also went in, while everyone else, including one of my old boyfriends, stood on the beach with their beers and watched us get nekkid. The water was cold, but like a good Mainer should, I sucked it up until my body adjusted and it was fine.
It would've been the perfect first skinny dipping experience, with friends, under the moonlight... if the police hadn't shown up with their industrial strength FLASH LIGHTS, pointed them on us AND LINGERED.
Here is a pitcture I found on Google Maps of Land's End:
August 1, 2008
The Dean Machine
*Names have been changed so as not to embarrass anyone*
This is an email that I recieved about a month ago from a friend of mine, who we'll call "Roberta":
We are anxiously waiting for when Howard Dean shows up - it will be any minute - the other Maine Democrats are milling around our conference room like they own the place - and we're just pretending to work as though this is something that happens all the time. If I'm introduced am I supposed to say "lovely to meet you governor"? I'm more flustered about this than any first date i've ever been on. (also Amanda, just between you and me - I AM NOT WEARING ANY UNDERWEAR UNDER THIS DRESS - because while walking to work today they kept falling off - I'm deadly serious)
I then had an online chat with "Roberta" and "Josephine" about it:
Josephine: hahaha
me: i just laughed out loud at your email and had to tell my coworker because she was like, what's so funny?
Josephine: you're going to meet Dean without underwear
Roberta: it's all around very funny in here right now
neither myself or my supervisor can keep it together
Roberta: i can't look at her without cracking up
me: why is howard dean coming?
is he going to do that yell thing?
Roberta: howard dean is speaking in that performance space at like 4 and they are having their little pre-party in our conference room
Josephine: Let me point out again that you are about to meet Dean without underwear on
I hope you don't slip up and talk about it because you're really nervous.
Josephine: like, 'uh, it's nice to meet you governor underwear'
Josephine: 'uh, i mean, no underwear'
Roberta: STOP
I SERIOUSLY CAN'T KEEP IT TOGETHER
Josephine: 'uh, i mean, no just kidding I am wearing underwear i promise.'
me: okay. I checked. he's not the governor anymore
me: but he's the chair of the party, and also a dr.
Roberta: ok good, so - "hello chair man?:
Roberta: so is he dr. former governor?
Roberta: "head chair man?"
"dr head chair man"
Josephine: "hello Mr. Underpants' should be fine
Roberta: ok thanks for clarifying
Josephine: or Dr. Underpants if you prefer that
Roberta: i like that the most
me: okay. my coworker thinks it'd be pretty funny if you addressed him dr. governor chairman
i just laughed so hard i cried.
this is the second day in a row... my boss made me laugh so hard i cried yesterday too
This is an email that I recieved about a month ago from a friend of mine, who we'll call "Roberta":
We are anxiously waiting for when Howard Dean shows up - it will be any minute - the other Maine Democrats are milling around our conference room like they own the place - and we're just pretending to work as though this is something that happens all the time. If I'm introduced am I supposed to say "lovely to meet you governor"? I'm more flustered about this than any first date i've ever been on. (also Amanda, just between you and me - I AM NOT WEARING ANY UNDERWEAR UNDER THIS DRESS - because while walking to work today they kept falling off - I'm deadly serious)
I then had an online chat with "Roberta" and "Josephine" about it:
Josephine: hahaha
me: i just laughed out loud at your email and had to tell my coworker because she was like, what's so funny?
Josephine: you're going to meet Dean without underwear
Roberta: it's all around very funny in here right now
neither myself or my supervisor can keep it together
Roberta: i can't look at her without cracking up
me: why is howard dean coming?
is he going to do that yell thing?
Roberta: howard dean is speaking in that performance space at like 4 and they are having their little pre-party in our conference room
Josephine: Let me point out again that you are about to meet Dean without underwear on
I hope you don't slip up and talk about it because you're really nervous.
Josephine: like, 'uh, it's nice to meet you governor underwear'
Josephine: 'uh, i mean, no underwear'
Roberta: STOP
I SERIOUSLY CAN'T KEEP IT TOGETHER
Josephine: 'uh, i mean, no just kidding I am wearing underwear i promise.'
me: okay. I checked. he's not the governor anymore
me: but he's the chair of the party, and also a dr.
Roberta: ok good, so - "hello chair man?:
Roberta: so is he dr. former governor?
Roberta: "head chair man?"
"dr head chair man"
Josephine: "hello Mr. Underpants' should be fine
Roberta: ok thanks for clarifying
Josephine: or Dr. Underpants if you prefer that
Roberta: i like that the most
me: okay. my coworker thinks it'd be pretty funny if you addressed him dr. governor chairman
i just laughed so hard i cried.
this is the second day in a row... my boss made me laugh so hard i cried yesterday too
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