Friday, October 29, 2004

This video clip is hilarious. It's a sketch from the Dana Carvey Show (I didn't even know there was such a thing) with Stephen Colbert and Steve Carrell: Waiters who are nauseated by food. I'm linking the clip from Holy shiitake*.

It bugs me slightly that the author of that blog misspelled shiitake in an attempt, I assume, to be "punny". However, "Holy shiitake" is enough to convey the pun. I have a t-shirt that says "Holy shiitake", and the funny thing about it is that it doesn't actually say "Holy shit". And "Holy shitake" is carrying it too far because the mushroom is shiitake. Get it? Ha. ha. But I am a fan of this clip that the author of Holy shiitake* has posted.

*spelling corrected by ME!

Thursday, October 28, 2004

Since about 8:05 PM this evening, I've been trying to think of a more uncomfortable circumstance than sitting with my old-fashioned grandmother watching a very sexual opening scene of CSI: skin, petting, leather, lingerie, girls kissing girls, toys, etc. Around 8:35 she tried to top that uncomfortable moment by telling me that when she worked as an OR nurse, they used to pull vibrators out of rectums and some kind of pins out of penises all the time. I didn't know whether to throw something and leave or to send her to her room for violating codes 10:335:a and b in the "grandmother/granddaughter relationship act" defined by the landmark case of Wilson v. Wilson in 1969. It basically states that it is unlawful that a grandmother should ever say the words "vibrator" and "rectum" in the same phrase and that "penis" should never ever be uttered by a senior citizen. They should stick to acceptable euphemisms like "hoohah", "whatnot", "inspector", and "subunit". The granddaughter, on the other hand is allowed to say these things because at her age she has raging hormones, desires, and a license to say whatever she damn well pleases.

Monday, October 25, 2004

"And I’m sorry, but I’d have a hard time washing my crotch with a soap that was molded to look like a polygamous religious prophet." --Dooce

Dooce is a fellow BYU alumna, but she hasn't been a practicing Mormon in several years. She still makes me laugh like a hyena on speed, though. Just don't set your ideas of Mormons by her words.

Chemistry Boy #2 cut off his hair over the weekend. I'm secretly pissed off about it. He is sooooooooooo not as cute as he was with the long hair. I don't know what happened, but he said that when he had time he would tell me all about it. He went from chin-length shag to a respectable coiffe. I'm in denial. I don't know what to do. It's horrible...almost as horrible as the B I made on my chem test Friday.

Last night I went with some friends to see The Grudge, and while it wasn't the best movie ever, it certainly was one of the scariest. I laughed the whole time because it was better than crying. One time I was laughing and crying, but I was crying because I was laughing. This movie was in no way funny, mind you. I was just scared. Before coming home, I called my g-ma to ask her to make sure my closet doors were closed. I don't think I could have handled coming home to open closets after that movie. I also dreamt frequently of a shadow evolving into a mess of hair and then a bloody-eyed, blue-skinned dead Japanese woman. She wanted to suck the breath of life from me. I woke up because I'm just not into kissing dead Japanese women. It's just not my thing.

Monday, October 18, 2004

P30p13 w|-|0 133+5p34k |\|33d +0 g3+ 14id m0r3 0f+3|\|.

Sunday, October 17, 2004

"Hey Paul, hey Paul, hey Paul, let's have a ball."

I finally met the talented, gorgeous, charming and witty Llew this week. We spent three awesome days in Atlanta overdosing on Pixies music, chocolate, and Coca-Cola products from around the world. When we weren’t doing those things, we were sleeping, or Llew was over there reading IN THE DARK! What kind of person reads in the dark…honestly? Turn some lights on or you’ll ruin your eyes!

Being in Atlanta, I was nearly constantly depressed by the ceaseless barrage of Atlanta Braves paraphernalia. I had acute fits whenever I saw the cursive capital A on something. Llew witnessed them. She thinks I’m psycho, and that I hold on to anger too long. I bought a Braves window-cling for my car.

Thursday afternoon we were checking out this neighborhood where we had eaten the night before. We were stopped at a red light, and there were two women talking to a bum on the corner. One lady had her back to us, and she had this rip between the pockets of her jeans. It was in such a place as to let us know that she was going commando in her TIGHT jeans. But that wasn’t even the gross part. She had one of her hands in a back pocket, and she was scratching her butt. We sat at that light for at least 45 seconds, and the whole time, she was opening and closing her hand. We could see that she was causing indentations in her cheek. It was a disturbing scene forever burnt into my memory.

Everyone in Atlanta is super-humanly nice. It may have just become my favorite place in the United States. Everywhere we went, people would chat with us about whatever. They all were genuinely interested in what we had to say, and they would add their two cents. Folks are just so polite and pleasant to be around. For example, Thursday night when Llew and I were returning to the hotel from the second Pixies concert, I flew past a security guard who was trying to flag me down, and who almost threw out his hip trying to chase us down. When he caught up to the car, he politely introduced himself, told us his history, and informed us that he was going to keep watch over us that night to make sure all was safe and sound on the hotel property. I expected him to start off with a “You punks these days and your fast cars!” But no! He joked a bit about throwing out his hip.

Yes, that’s right. In order to return from a second Pixies concert, that means that we had to return from a first. We went to TWO Pixies concerts. I was only going to go to one, but I didn’t want to be left in the hotel alone on Thursday while Llewellyn and her crew were jumping up and down at the second concert. So I bought an AWESOME ticket off of a scalper for 37 bucks (face value), and I got to look deep into the eyes of each pixie, except for the drummer. His eyes were blocked by the drums. It was so fun. I also got high. Everyone around me was smoking pot. I had no choice but to breathe the air that was around me. Pot stinks and makes me want to throw up. I jumped around a little more that night. I was a little looser. Maybe if there had been pot smoking the first night, I would have actually done something more with the boy I picked up at that concert.

"I'm a bitch...It's the way that I move, the things that I do."

I'm a bitch.

Wednesday, October 06, 2004

I have a new pet peeve. Actually, it's an old pet peeve, but it's one that a lot of people have been petting lately. You see, when I'm not in class, I'm usually on campus studying. There is this room in my building that never has anybody in it, so that is where I go. It's nice and cool, it has big tables instead of desks, and it has big windows that let the light in. Basically, if I'm not in that room, I'm in class or it's past 5:00 PM, which means I'm gone, baby.

I have light-sensitive eyes, so I don't like a lot of lights to be on. I like sitting in the dark. I like watching, eating, bathing, typing on the computer...all in the dark. If I'm in a room, and someone comes in and switches a light on, they better switch it off when they leave. When I'm studying in this room, I never turn on the lights because, as I mentioned before, there are lots of big windows that let light in.

So today and yesterday and Friday and many other days, I am sitting in there reading or studying. And inevitably, someone passes by and sees me working, and they feel it their responsibility to turn on the light. Then they say something like, "You can turn the lights on!" or "You can't see without light!" or "You're going to ruin your eyes!"

OH. MY. GOODNESS. PEOPLE! I am not 5 damn years old! I KNOW that most people would have THE sun sitting next to them while reading if they could get that close. I get that it is rational to turn on the light when focusing on stuff. I understand that light makes it easier to see stuff. But guess what. I. DON'T. CARE! I am perfectly happy doing what I do. The lights, especially fluorescent lights, hurt me more than they help me. There is a reason I wear sunglasses ALL. OF. THE. TIME. I can see perfectly well by the light of the sun that is shining from 149,597,870.691 kilometers away through the classroom window. I don't need light to see the computer because guess what, genius. It's already lit up. The same thing goes for the TV. And don't EVEN try to tell me to turn on a light IN THE MORNING when I'm just getting up and taking a shower. You know what? Don't even talk to me in the morning. Just. don't.

Saturday, October 02, 2004

I'm older today. Well, I realise that everyday I'm one day older than I was the day before, and wiser because now I know not to park in that one place on campus because I'll get a ticket and that I will never go grocery shopping with g-ma again because she has to look at ev. ry. thing. But today, I can say that I'm a different age than I was yesterday. Today, I am old. And I hesitate saying how old I am now, but 10 years ago, I was a very young person in my first of many years of college.