bring a sweater; it gets cold in my brain this time of year

not on rex manning day

Sun, 29 Apr 2007 13:03:54 GMT

So, my cat just snarled at me, and I decided that was a good enough reason to write an entry. Actually, it seems more likely that he got his upper lip stuck on his tooth as he turned his head to look at me. We'll call it "snarlesque."

New addition to my Boston: Journey of Discovery list (ok, that list isn't real--but it could be)--Newbury Comics. Not that Newbury Comics isn't hella famous already, but I always avoided it because I thought it was the place where super-emo kids went to buy overpriced cds and useless figurines from canceled tv shows. Turns out it's actually the place where super-emo kids go to buy reasonably-priced cds. . .and useless figurines from canceled tv shows (those Nightmare Before Christmas dolls just need a good home. Think of them as Pound Puppies for the maladjusted youth). I was there for a radio thing yesterday--the countdown of the top 50 British alternative albums of ALL TIME (as if that wasn't enough to get me all a-flutter). I mostly sat in a chair for four hours, looking slightly bored, and convincing people to enter to win a trip to a music festival that I want to go to, but am not allowed to win. How much did I want to punch the dude that said, "I can't go on a (free, free, FREE!!) trip to England. I run a website, and it takes all my time." Yeah, that World of Warcraft spoiler blog you run from your fat mom's basement is way more important than an all-expense paid trip to Reading, England. If I were nicer, I would give him the benefit of the doubt--maybe he thought it was Reading, MA--but I'm not nice, and that guy was a tool.

Next week I'll be moving to my new apartment, where the rent is cheap(ish), and the room is slightly larger than the shoebox that I currently call home. Malden, sweet Malden, here I come.

it's a kind of magic

Tue, 06 Feb 2007 01:17:07 GMT

A dream in three acts, as promised to Dom.

So, last night I had this totally wacky (and completely fictional) dream about pop music and laser shows.

Act One

(Maria stands in the astronomy exhibit in the Science, awaiting entrance to the 5:30 presentation of "Laser Magic" She busies herself by calculating her weight on Jupiter and singing "Space Oddity")

Maria (singing): Ground control to Major Tom. . .

(Suddenly, Dom approaches, followed by Dr. B and Drew)

Maria (still singing, beautifully, I might add): . . .tell my wife I love her very much (adding her own back-up). . .she knooooooowwws. . .

Dr. B: What are you doing down here, Maria? Aren't you supposed to be in the box office assisting people with parking? What if someone lost his ticket? What if they have forgotten their membership card and need a chaser ticket? My God, woman, have you no sense of decency?

Dom: C'mon, man, you just gotta go with the flow, kid. Plus you have, like, six other cashiers down there.

Maria: Yeah, and I felt that in order to do the very best job possible, I needed to be informed about all the shows we offer here at the Science.

Drew: I'm going home and going to bed.

Maria: Dude, it's, like, 5:30.

Drew: Werd.

Maria: The Milky Way exhibit looks like a giant sneeze.

Dr. B: Oh, man, that is a giant sneeze. (On the radio) Box Office to Unicco, there is a Code Booger in the Milky Way exhibit.

Maria (to Dom): Now's our chance to get away. Celine Dion waits for no man!

Act Two

(Dom and Maria, having escaped the clutches of Dr. B settle in to watch "Laser Magic")

Maria: This show is lame. Shania Twain is stupid. You can't sing country if you come from Canada. Alls she knows about are moose and mounties and maple leafs.

Dom: Dude, she's totally hawt, though. I would wreck her.

Maria: You're gross.

Laser Kids Chorus: Shhhhhhh!

Maria: Shhh yourself! Who gets high to watch a laser show featuring Matchbox 20? Amateurs.

Laser Kids Chorus: We are angry! Matchbox 20 is totally hardcore!

(A fight ensues. Dom and Maria must fight off the angry and incredibly lame Laser Kids)

Act Three

(Celine Dion arrives to break up the fight)

Maria: Dude, it's Celine Dion.

Dom: Man, she can't fight. What a pansy.

(Celine Dion proceeds to kick everyone's ass while singing "My Heart Will Go On" A capella).

Dom: Man, Celine Dion totally just kicked my ass.

Maria: Not mine, for I truly believe in "Laser Magic."

End.

Sat, 03 Feb 2007 07:47:34 GMT

So, I've been thinking. Thinking and talking and wallowing and thinking and thinking and thinking some more. It is an exhausting life that I lead. And the conclusion I've reached. . .

I wish that I were magic.

Seriously. I wish I had magical powers. Because, see, reality is a pain in the ass. I consider myself a person of better-than-average intelligence, and, as such, I see how the world works. In fact, as one who holds a specialized degree in the study of how the world has worked for decades, nay centuries (millennia, even), I have a pretty solid understanding of patterns and connections and cycles. Especially cycles. Things ebb and flow, and usually just end up exactly the same way that they were before.

Which brings me to my one true desire. At least, for today anyway. Magical powers would serve as such a fantastic distraction from life's harsh truths. Don't like that cardboard box down by the frozen river in which you are living? Poof! It's a palace. Feel like you've found the logical / scientific explanation for something? Bam! A pixie tromps out of the forest and blows some pixie dust in your eye. Feel like you have inappropriate feelings for one or more cast member of the Harry Potter series? Pow! Age of consent is 16 (Ok, to be fair, that's British law and not magic, but if you involve a wand of some sort; well, I'll let you take it from there).

In all honesty, sometimes you just wish life wasn't exactly what it actually is. And having the ability to improve it without the aid of any tools featured on Oprah would make it slightly more satisfying.

it could have been my password, but probably wasn't

Thu, 01 Feb 2007 22:30:28 GMT

So, I, like most in the Bay State have something to say about the ridiculous events of January 31st, 2007:

They were right. We cannot match wits with our measly 3 dimensions to their 5000. And that's why the Lite Brite Moonenites shut down this fair (and fearful) city.

Also, how can you close a river that is frozen? It seems like an incredible waste of time to me. But then, isn't that the point?

I made a pie. It was more like pudding with crust, because I had less than the required amount of eggs necessary to keep the filling thick and pie-filling-esque, but it tasted yummy. I figure that at this point, there's really no dignified way out of this situation, so I'll roll with the punches, and, in return, everyone is rewarded with delicious baked goods.

'Cause that's how I roll.

call me gob

Fri, 26 Jan 2007 06:29:42 GMT

So, today at work I got to train on a Segway. For those not hip to technology, Segways are those motorized scooter thingies that move according to the balance of your body, i.e., you lean forward, and it goes, and the more you lean the faster it goes (up to 12 mph on it's highest setting, even though the Science will only let us use the setting that goes up to 6 mph). I have to admit, I was apprehensive, since I can look at a copier, and it will break, not to mention the time I caught my computer on fire at work. Technology and I are not the closest of bosom buddies. I mean, I always just thought it was because I was a girl, but, to quote the Segway training video, "Technology is not magic." So, that really explains it all. If you have superpowers inexplicable to modern science like I do, you are automatically at odds with technology.

After watching the training video, I felt ready to, at the very least, not put a baby on the Segway handlebars. Riding it, on the other hand, was going to be an adventure. I should pause here to mention that most of the video was actually explaining, via a series of safety don'ts, that Segways are totally useless anywhere that's not a flat, wide, open space that has no foliage, potholes, and is never mopped, so it's a good thing I'll only be using it at the Science. Nevertheless, it is my responsibility as a responsible-type person to do all that my job requires, and so I mounted it (that's what she said).

And it was actually fun. Sadly, my antics were cut short by a fire alarm. Then Drew ran into me, because he could not dismount his without it rolling backwards. I tried to roll away, but the pressure was too great. No one saw it though.

Don't worry; the Science didn't burn down either. Someone was just smoking in the bathroom.

Also, I got a job at the Radio. My very first second job. It was a pretty good day.

unexpected guests

Thu, 18 Jan 2007 13:51:31 GMT

So, it's cold here. So cold, in fact, that I went to pour out a Coke that had been sitting in my car for some time and nothing came out. Nothing came out, not because the can was empty, but because the contents were frozen. FROZEN! Plus, oil is expensive, and I keep blowing fuses when I try to turn on my space heater. I am not amused. Dry skin and wind chills and frozen Cokes that I didn't originally purchase that way do not amuse me. What does amuse me, though, is cracking the ice that forms over puddles before anyone else gets to it. That is kinda fun, mostly because it comes with noise, and it's a socially-acceptable way to break something.

And so, time goes on here in the Great White North. Things at work are good; I just got a promotion that involves mo' money and probably mo' problems. I do get my very own password (top two choices at this point are "butts" and "mariaisawesome," all one word), and it looks good on my resume for when I finally decide to become a real person. Plus it's one step closer to becoming the head of all science. Tonight, the Science is throwing a fancy-dress party, which I will be attending mostly for the free food, and also because I get to wear something shiny.

In the meantime, I'm going to take April (who arrived last night after confusion at the airport) to get some breakfast cannoli(s) and then shove her onto the commuter rail to Providence. She's my first official visitor, and I had to deliver the bad news that nothing is open around here past 9 o'clock, except bars that you have to walk to, and it's too friggin cold for that. Oh well, we ate way too much and watched TLC specials about babies born with two heads (that's what she said). And I kicked up the heat to 68, since it was a special occasion.

season premiere

Thu, 09 Nov 2006 21:13:32 GMT

So, here I am. I mean, I've been here all along, I just haven't said much for a while.

I keep thinking of all this thought-provoking, deep musings that will surely serve as my return to the blogosphere, but, well, I've forgotten all the things I think, so there. I have to start somewhere.

I'm settled into my new Northeast routine, consisting mostly of science, DVR, and (much much much) too frequent visits to Starbucks. In the preceding weeks, however, I have accomplished a myriad of tasks.

--I kicked everyone's ass at lasertag, for I am a mother-fuckin' sniper.
--I have met the Boston version of Paul, and we haved vowed to cause mischief together.
--I've started drinking beer and coffee.
--I have not put away my laundry in quite some time.
--I have attended a protest here in Liberalton, Liberalchusetts.
--I saw Uma freakin' Thurman at work.

Oh yeah, and I've made friends, and my life is pretty awesome, and I'm not at all sorry I came here, despite reservations regarding uncomfortable relations with a certain Irish demographic.

Plus, one of the conditions upon which you can return tickets at the Museum of Science is war. It's right there in the computer along with "missed show" and "snow emergency." I find that incredibly amusing.

giving the roaming gnome a run for his money

Tue, 08 Aug 2006 04:01:19 GMT

So, my journey around the greater Boston area continues (now that it has cooled off). I had passed the Anthropologie near Copley two or three times (or more, as we circled and circled and circled the SAME BLOCK looking for parking the other night), so today I decided to go check out that part of town. When I got to the store, I very quickly remembered that I can't afford to shop there, so I went next door to Starbucks instead.

Funny sidebar about my trip to Starbucks: Next to me while I waited for my drink were two fratty dudes and a bitchy-looking blonde that kept giving me the evil eye. One of them got mad, because the barista accidentally called out "Danielle" instead of "Daniel" when Mr. Fratastic's drink was ready. I don't know what he got all pissy for; he was the one who ordered the Tangerine Frappacino. I would have thought it was for a chick too. Be a man. Drink some lumber-flavored coffee for goodness sake.

Anyway, I went to Prudential Center and found. . .more shopping. This city is going to be hard on my wallet. Everyone warned me about how expensive it was to live here, which I already knew. I mean, it's no Natchitoches. The thing is, though, it's not really that individual items are all that pricey; it's just everything costs money. I went up to the Skywalk (or something to that effect) in Prudential Tower, and they wanted 10 bucks for me to walk around the 50th floor of a building (not the top floor, mind you) and look out the window. I just turned around and went downstairs. All the interesting stuff happens on the streets anyway.

Prudential Center is essentially just another spot for the tourists. There's nothing particularly classy about it, even though it tries hard. The best part was the Swarovski Crystal store. Actually, the store wasn't the cool thing--that it was next to the Yankee Candle Factory was the cool thing. When I walked by, I imagined some pudgy bleach-blonde middle class woman buying a crystal unicorn, or some other useless knick-knack, because she heard that they were fashionable on E! and then walking next door to buy an Apple Pie candle to put next to it on her mantle.

As I walked to Cambridge later (I didn't feel like scrounging for money for a token), I passed a cab line outside a hotel, and I thought briefly about taking one over to MIT, not because I'm lazy or anything, but because I'm afraid of cabs. I always fear looking stupid while doing something that lots of people do on a regular basis. That got me thinking about overcoming fears and working on the "me." Well, not really thinking about the "me," but doing things that I normally shy away from, etc.

Fears to Overcome:
--Hailing cabs
--Ordering my own drinks at bars
--The Kenmore T-stop
--Specters of skanks
--Looking at a map while in plain view of people
--Snakes on a plane
--Failure, rejection, the unknown, life, the universe, and everything

too indie for indie

Mon, 07 Aug 2006 04:29:42 GMT

So, I went to Salem today. And I made it out alive. I mean, what with all the slaying of the cattle and poxing newborn babies and what-not. Guess all the residents' witch-hunting skills have now been poured into selling overpriced tarot cards to the tourists.

I had fun though. I just woke up this morning, and thought, I'd like to visit a place with great American historical significance, and boom! Forty-five minutes later I was on a train (no a/c. Seriously, what is with these Northerners?). I walked around, ate some overpriced spaghetti, visited the House of Seven Gables, walked out on the pier, you know, the usual. My cell phone rang during the tour of Seven Gables, and I felt like that disruptive kid in class, but whatever. Tour guides in the U. S. don't really take their jobs seriously anyway. I was reminded of that today, and why I don't take tours in the first place. It's not that she wasn't knowledgeable about the house and its history, but it was a well-rehearsed speech at a summer job, not a passion or life-long career. I've listened to those headphone-thingies that had more personality than this girl. Oh well, I'm sure that I would get tired of it too, day in, day out. I mean, history's not that great. It couldn't keep me in school, so I should stop complaining.

I took the ferry back to Boston--my first time in North Atlantic waters. The sound was choppy; not at all like cruising through the Gulf, and it was windy and chilly, but in a good way. The best part was the forty-ish woman with (I kid you not), bleached hair (roots showing), teased bangs, and partial cornrows. I was so aghast that I pretended to be fooling with my camera and took a picture of her. I hope it comes out, so I can share her with the world.

Anyway, speaking of pictures, I finally posted my pics from my Krazie Reunion at Baylor. Go here:
http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/mariatortilla82/album?.dir=88bdre2&.src=ph&store=&prodid=&.done=http%3a//photos.yahoo.com/ph//my_photos

I know there's a better way to get there, but cut and paste for now, and I will figure it out later. There are some karaoke pics there too.

On the agenda for the week:
I'm a traveler, not a tourist.

like a hot topic santa claus

Sat, 05 Aug 2006 16:06:56 GMT

So, I've been pretty useless for the last couple of days. Mostly because it's been like, 100 degrees here. And I've been spending all my time in the basement watching "Six Feet Under." (haha, "Six Feet Under while I'm six feet under) And anytime I would try to leave the basement, I would just get sweaty. And that would make me want to go back to the basement.

Mostly I've just been going back and forth between here and Cambridge, and watching alot of tv. I got that job at the Museum of Science, though. They told me I could start whenever I wanted, but I decided to wait until I get all my stuff up here. It's true--this is a material world and I am a material girl, and I miss my stuff. Mostly my BSG Season 1 (Watch the new season 3 promo on Youtube. You won't be sorry!).

I'm actually feeling a little antisocial anyway. Well, not so much antisocial as missing my regular hang-outs in BR. I know, it sounds lame, but I admit it. I miss the hipsters with their haircuts and outfits, because, well, I'm one of them. And I picked the most inconvenient time to fly back to LA. I didn't allow myself any free Wednesdays or Thursdays, and Sam's band is playing the day before I have to go to a wedding in Charlotte. Sure, Baton Rouge is a soul-sucking black hole, but I am craving a sense of normalcy.

On the agenda:
Birthdays, Birthdays, Birthdays! Woot.

made-up words

Tue, 01 Aug 2006 03:00:35 GMT

So, there's not a whole lot I can say about this weekend. It can be summed up pretty much as follows:

I was so drunk I called something a Frappatini.

Whoa.

Yeah, I definitely have that new-girl-in-town invicible syndrome shit going on. I expect it will wear off soon, but I'm enjoying it while it lasts. I just find it amazing how at home I feel here already. Today, a tourist asked me for directions. And I gave them to her! And they were right! I was so worried about everything before I got here, and also really scared about leaving my comfort zone (i. e. my grandparents), but I couldn't, you know, turn myself into an 8-year-old girl again. I just don't have that kind of power. But, I guess all the pre-worrying paid off, because I have been surprising unstressed here.

I'm sure that will wear off too.

Stephanie and I tried to stalk a bartender tonight, but to no avail. Ah well. Another day.

I have my rockin' hot Museum of Science interview tomorrow. It's a good thing it will be like 900 degrees so that I'll be really sweaty when I get there.

take the good with the bad, and the bad with the wine

Fri, 28 Jul 2006 21:15:32 GMT

So, first of all I got a job interview. I was sitting on my tiny bed in my tiny room by the tiny window (which allows a not-so-tiny amount of sunlight through). I was hot, my computer was hot--I'm surprised it or I didn't spontaneously combust. The heat made me lazy, and everything started innocently enough with my playing Text Twist. But then, I started switching around the letters in every word I saw everywhere, so I decided I should do something worthwhile for a bit (not to say that building my vocabulary isn't worthwhile, but still), and I went a-jobsearching.

Cover Letters. I hate them. I've said this before.

Anyway, there was an ad for a low-paying low-expectation part-time job at the Museum of Science that didn't require a cover letter, so, for shits and giggles, and to make myself feel better for actually sending out a resume, I applied. An hour later, some dude called me for an interview.

Two things: a) The mutual desperation between the Museum of Science and me was palpable, and b) I hope I don't have to know anything about science to work there. Because I don't.

This led me to feel very accomplished, and I rewarded myself by going shopping. Then, Stephanie called, and it was off to CBC for drinking, dinner, debauchery, and d-cute bartenders. Which led to my sleeping on a semi-grungy futon at MIT, dreaming that all her suitemates were coming in to talk to me at various points in the evening. At least later, Dominic Monaghan made a sans Evangeline Lilly appearance there too. Sadly, nothing dirty came of it.

Which led me to roll my stinky self back to Malden around noon, spend the rest of the day doing laundry and watching Wonderfalls special features, and uncovering heretofore forgotten relationship memorabilia. How's that for a plot-twist, M. Night Shamalamadingdong. I thought I knew where all (b/c there were so few) the remnants were--you know, safely stowed away so as not to cause the gut-wrenching pain. I was wrong. Oh well.

It won't kill my good mood.

Wed, 26 Jul 2006 23:44:40 GMT

So, it's back. That good ole job hunting anxiety that wrenches your guts into a throbbing sack of icky. . .ok, enough. I hate looking for jobs. Basically, I just hate jobs. If only I were independently wealthy because I invented something really useful that everyone has but takes for granted like liquid paper or socks. And really, the job hunting wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have to write cover letters. It's like pre-job punishment.

Ok, the good news is I have a place to live now, which is awesome. The room is cute and purple with a huge closet to support my fashion addiction. Now, if I only had a steady income to support my fashion addiction.

Well, that's all for now.

pretentious bullshit

Mon, 24 Jul 2006 03:28:21 GMT

So, the good news first. I have a new friend in Boston.

The bad news. I have a new "friend" in Boston.

This is going to take longer than I thought.

Someone I know once described the way gifted kids deal with emotional stress in a way that seemed both enlightening and all too familiar to me. They have their problems, right, and they sit down with some sort of trained professional, explaining, I feel x, y, and z because of these reasons, and I read this article on the internet explaining these symptoms and this disorder, and I know I have that, and this is how I should deal with it, etc, etc, etc. But, in the end, they can't seem to figure out why they can't make all the shitty feelings go away. As if being self-aware should make dealing with emotional stress that much easier. So the story goes. I feel this because of, well, I know why, and I know it will take time. More importantly, as a keenly self-aware young adult, I allow myself a certain amout of destructive behavior, which I know will not replace hurt feelings with permanent joy, but will at least make me feel better for a little while, even if I only end up feeling worse later. A sort of bad behavior permission slip or get out of jail free card. Still, nothing seems to be changing. Worse still, I have accepted everything, and I know the right things to say--the things I should say, the apologies I should make. But I don't mean them. Not yet, at least. Because, really, how do you kill hope when you're trained to believe in it?

Or maybe I'm just talking out of my ass.

I did, however, find an apartment that I love love love. An hour and 87 T-stops later than planned, I saw exactly what I had been hoping for. And, as for more observations about Boston--I see the most interesting people everywhere I go. Sure, every place has interesting people, but I have never really had the opportunity to interact with them. People here seem fearless. I don't mean that everyone talks to me everywhere that I go, but I feel fewer eyes of judgment on me than before. It makes me walk a little taller and gives me a (perhaps misguided) sense of fearlessness as well. I just feel like this place is a good fit. At least, I do now. In the summer. Without all the soul-sucking winter grayness. Or so I've been told.

maria's triumphant return to blogging

Sat, 22 Jul 2006 22:54:38 GMT

So, I'm back. I'm sure you all missed my internet alter-ego immensely. In an effort to keep my peeps informed while not running up an outrageous cell phone bill, I have decided to throw caution (well, really laziness and apathy) to the wind and pick up the old blogging. . .something. . .again. I now have two blogs, no waiting--livejournal or xanga (whichever you prefer, dear reader, as the posts will most likely be exactly the same on each one).

Well, I'm in Boston. After two years of planning, and about two months of freaking out and second-guessing, I finally made it. My first day here was a sweltering 95 degrees, and I express now my staunch disapproval for that kind of weather. Part of the grand master plan was to become an East Coast Girl and never sweat again. Luckily for me, a tropical storm followed me up here; although, I must note, the impact of Beryl was considerably less stressful than the tropical weather in my former abode.

I'm staying with my friend Tanner in an old house with lots of secret passages and stairwells and. . .A BASEMENT! Those who know me well know that I have always wanted to live in a house with a basement. Add some magic to this place, and I'm practically a Weasley (another dream of mine. . .). His roommates are cool. I'm taking a look at a permanent-type living area on Sunday--an apartment with two girls who love West Wing enough to have a cat named C.J. They sound cool, so I hope their apartment is cool also. Job hunting has begun. I've sent out a few resumes, but will probably try to find part time work while I keep looking because a) I like money, and b) sitting around all day doing nothing gets pretty boring. So, I'm sorry to say, I may not have closed the chapter on my retail life just yet.

Finally, the city. The city. Is. Awesome. I walked around town for hours a few days ago, just trying to take it all in. I was overwhelmed, sullen, homesick, killing time until Stephanie got off work, and I walked across the Charles into Cambridge. I stopped about midway across the bridge, turned and looked at the cityscape, and BAM! I live here now, and my life is gonna be awesome.

"i miss my friends" or "you can't judge a book by his clash tshirt"

Tue, 10 Jan 2006 04:15:25 GMT

So, I just got back from a weekend overstuffed with matrimonial bliss. Hardened by years of experience, I don't cry much during the ceremonies anymore. Unless they are on television and set to a particularly heart-wrenching Deathcab for Cutie song. This one was no exception, mostly because I kept giggling at the thought of a live-feed projection of a stained glass window (thanks, Banta). Later on at the reception, however, I caught Kourtney crying. Since I didn't think the dj was so horrid that tears were appropriate, I asked what was wrong. "I just haven't had this much fun in such a long time," she said. Shit. Good thing I always wear waterproof mascara.

I've been thinking about posers alot lately, mostly because I kinda feel like one most of the time. Besides my knack for memorizing countless movie lines and imdb facts, what do I really have to offer? Do I really have the right to judge someone tall, dark, and emo for yelling out "Vagina Power" at a totally inappropriate moment? So, ok, I do alright with movies and tv, but, let's face facts here: I poached alot of my music from the OC, and I get my reading selections from Rory's Bookclub on the Gilmore Girls website. I am not cool.

The thing about my friends, though, is that they already know that. They don't ask me dumb questions about why I dropped out of school, or dig too deeply when I offer up a new song or band. They just thank me for bringing sweet tea from Waco and encourage my creativity, which, I promise, is at least 87% my own. And they miss me. And I miss them (and don't think I just mean the ones from Baylor).

So I did what I do, like Roger Rabbit down the Soul Train line, or the Footloose line dance for the entire duration of the song (as an homage to a missed Thursday), and if those things aren't cool, then I don't know what is.

just a small town girl

Tue, 27 Dec 2005 07:04:31 GMT

Christmas in a (chest)nut (roasting on an open fire)shell.

--My dad bought me a Baylor santa hat from the Brookshire's in Flint, Texas. It's really too bad we have a dress code at work.
--Ikea is a strange and magical land. Although, I think that the Swedes may need to reconsider their child labor laws. We Americans don't let our 14-year-olds be paid minimum wage to load unassembled furniture into the backs of pick-up trucks. (Insert racist comment concerning immigrants and Texas here).
--That was a joke. Up there.
--Johnny Damon, wtf?
--There are seriously, like, 8 Christmas songs, and they have thus ended up on the rotation of every single retail store cd in the land.

My visitations with family have zapped me of most of my wit. I need a few days to recover.

add this to your tivo

Mon, 19 Dec 2005 05:12:05 GMT

I like that in this day and age, gender plays no significant role in PBS casting strategies.

My LiveJournal Sitcom
wishiwasmatilda's mom (PBS, 1:00): wishiwasmatilda (Ursula Andress) thinks hallowedge (Carmen Electra) has a Brooklyn accent. In the next town over, eventuallyemily (Stephen Baldwin) borrows money from hollabackgirl5 (Keanu Reeves)'s boss. That same day, raebecca (Tatyana Ali) accidentally throws away simowilkins (Don Knotts)'s toilet. At the same time, notabiography (Vincent Price) can't find cositalreadyis (John Stamos)'s hairspray canister and pretends it was never missing. That weekend, captain_sam (Jim Henson) marries redheadedelf (Denis Leary)'s aunt. Zany antics follow.
What's Your LiveJournal Sitcom? (by rfreebern)

My LiveJournal Sitcom

wishiwasmatilda's mom (PBS, 1:00): wishiwasmatilda (Ursula Andress) thinks hallowedge (Carmen Electra) has a Brooklyn accent. In the next town over, eventuallyemily (Stephen Baldwin) borrows money from hollabackgirl5 (Keanu Reeves)'s boss. That same day, raebecca (Tatyana Ali) accidentally throws away simowilkins (Don Knotts)'s toilet. At the same time, notabiography (Vincent Price) can't find cositalreadyis (John Stamos)'s hairspray canister and pretends it was never missing. That weekend, captain_sam (Jim Henson) marries redheadedelf (Denis Leary)'s aunt. Zany antics follow.

What's Your LiveJournal Sitcom? (by rfreebern)

all the news you need to know

Tue, 22 Nov 2005 04:59:38 GMT

So.

In entertainment: Harry Potter. Awesome. As expected. I have to admit I'm feeling a little guilty about seeing (or thinking I was seeing) part of Harry's butt before he got in the bathtub. In fact, I'm feeling guilty that I watched the bathtub scene at all. Must seek professional help. Also, "Walk the Line" was a worthwhile endeavor. Watching Joaquin Phoenix self-destruct is always a box-office draw.

In sports: Penn State? Seriously? Also, I would have to disagree with everyone who believes Tom Brady is the best quarterback in the league. I don't feel anyone who slept with Tara Reid can be the best anything in the anything, unless it's skankiest skank in the STD clinic, but they would inevitably be beaten by, well, Tara Reid herself.

In business: Ugh. The mall is wack. Wiggity wack. I have decided no one can be rude in my presence ever again, or a swift kick to the nethers will be in order.

In politics: This dude at Chimes looked like George W. Bush. It wasn't him, though.

In lifestyles: I'm tired. I'm reading a good book. I'm glad my family is coming, and that I got to talk to Rebecca today.

Classifieds: Boat for sale. Will take your imaginary money for this imaginary product.

Happy Pre-turkey Festivities to All!

have love, will travel

Tue, 15 Nov 2005 03:08:11 GMT

So, I was driving away from Citiplace, all high on life after purchasing my tickets to "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire," when, suddenly, I was transported by Tom Petty's "Learning to Fly" into a Cameron Crowe-esque fantasy of my perfect post-modern roadtrip. I don't think that boys should get to hog all the Kerouacian fun, especially since girl-trips are grossly misrepresented by "Crossroads." Already I've had my share of highway fun. First was the time I was snowed in (!) in Dallas (!) in March (!) and wound up driving through Jackson, Mississippi about nine times, only to find out that the Scenic Whatever-the-hell Parkway that was supposed to take us to Memphis was merely a dirt road, and we missed our opportunity to overpay for tickets to Graceland. Then was the trip to Kentucky which included harassing other motorists with homemade signs and, in the absence of Laura's radio, making up stories and speaking with outrageous British accents for the last two hours of the drive home. Finally, the ultimate of ultimate of roadtrips--24 hours straight across the west to California, culminating in a shared moment with one Mr. Dominic Monaghan.

Sadly, in the midst of my fantasies, the batteries in my cd player died thirty seconds into Human League's "Don't You Want Me," and I remembered that I was on Lee, driving back to my Baton Rouge apartment in its loud ass neighborhood, that I work at the Limited, and that, with exorbitant gas prices and the fact that I hit an armadillo two weeks ago, I cannot afford to take a road trip to Houston, let alone anywhere cool.

Nevertheless, the day will come when I throw off my chains of retail oppression and head for the open road, because Canada has not yet experienced the joy that is me.

The good news for now is that I'm slowly but surely recovering from my bout with bird flu, Rory is supposed to stop acting like a jerk tomorrow night (you better not fake me out, WB), Wednesday is karaoke, Thursday I have to skip 80s night (ok, that's not good news), but Friday I get to see my favorite British jailbait. Oh yeah, they are selling "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" tickets, too. Then comes the chaos that is Thanksgiving. Tomorrow, I buy a turkey, after that the world. . .

Tue, 08 Nov 2005 16:40:58 GMT

So, I was happy to see insomniatic posts from other people for a change. I think I was still awake then anyway. Oh well.

Abcfamily is skipping episodes of Gilmore Girls. FX used to do that with Buffy. I would be watching the newest season, minding my own business, and then, whoops, all of a sudden 14 really important things would happen in an episode that they wouldn't air. Once they skipped over the musical. I threw my shoe at the tv.

Hmmm, what's new:

--My job sucks.
--I bought some really sparkly shoes.
--I'm a facebook reject.
--I spent 45 minutes in the Taco Bell line last night. I tried to amuse the other patrons with renditions of Blink 182's "Dammit," and Weezer's "El Scorcho" at the top of my lungs, but I'm not sure anyone was truly appreciating my musical stylings. Maybe next time I will bring out the big guns: Bon Jovi, Journey. They will be putty in my hands.
--I miss being a nerd. I mean, I still am, but I used to be embarassingly devoted to LOTR. I miss my Baylor posse. And Common Grounds.

"They all seemed concerned because they couldn't remember what the Entwives even looked like. I mean, I would assume that they probably looked alot like Ents, as opposed to, like, tigers."
--Billy Boyd

ugh

Sat, 05 Nov 2005 08:06:42 GMT

So, ugh. No, see, it's just that. . .argh.

Someone please tell me that one day, someday, somewhere in the not-so-distant future, I will cease to be this socially inept. Seriously. Because it is past the point of being cute and funny, and there's no television audience erupting in canned laughter when I start relaying a story about the time that Eddie and I (and others) put maxi-pads on this guy's tree because we didn't like him, and we didn't have any toilet paper. I want to die. Right now.

I want that thing. You know, that thing when I can say whatever I want (non-menstruation related, of course), and not give a rat's ass what anyone thinks. Or go to a party and not have to cling to the two people that I know there.

I'm never leaving the house again. I will eat only Campbell's soup and order DVD box sets over the internet. I already have a cat. I'm one step ahead of the game.

It's because the answer is 42, and I can't do math.

Wed, 02 Nov 2005 04:47:10 GMT

So, remember that time I had a livejournal?

It looked pretty cool from what I could tell. I mean, full of wit and insight; a beacon of something good so that people could see through a bad storm (or metaphor).

I'm tired. I have no skills after working for what seemed like 24 hours straight. It wasn't; but it felt like it.

Other things I remember:
--Kelly's birthday, even though it was Saturday, and I haven't called her yet.
--Back when "Alias" was a really good show before Jennifer Garner got all pregnant and some idiot made the decision to take Sark off the regular cast.
--My social security number. No, you can't have it. But I'll never forget it after 10+ years of filling out forms.

Sun, 23 Oct 2005 08:36:06 GMT

So, here are the ten things to think about when you have consumed much liquor (in no particular order, since, who's got the brain cells for that?)

1. How Battlestar Galactica is a cool show, and you wish you had the first season dvds to watch as you sober up.
2. How much you miss your friends who live far away.
3. How you have to get up and sell pants tomorrow.
4. How The Limited sold over 300 pairs of pants today (that's alot).
5. How you should really be asleep at 3:30 in the morning.
6. How happy you are that the Tigers won.
7. How sad you are that the Bears and the Astros lost.
8. How no one even cares about Chicago (except people who like Chicago).
9. How you can't really say much of anything, because people will see it.
10. How you shouldn't post when you've been drinking, yet you do it anyway.

I'm getting some water; hopefully I won't have a massive hangover tomorrow when I have to listen to Limited disco for 5 hours. I'm hoping that the new cd for the store isn't techno Christmas songs, because I seriously may go on a mall-wide rampage.

I worked 10 hours today. That's what's with the mood. Underneath, I'm a big ball o' sunshine.

another brick in the wall

Sat, 15 Oct 2005 05:06:26 GMT

So, the problem with this form of communication is this. . .I want to share what's on my mind with alls yous peeps; however I must choose my words carefully. Because, it's not exactly secret, you know?

Don't be alarmed. I'm just saying this in general; it's not pointed at anyone. Suffice to say I had this dream last night. Y'all ever have one of those where everything that's been on your mind, big or small, for the past howeverlong gets cramped into one uberdream. Yeah, I had one. And now I'm in a pickle. And everyone knows how I feel about pickles.

And, by the way, everyone is getting merchandise from Limited/Express/Bath and Body Works/Victoria's Secret for Christmas, since apparently I'm not allowed to leave the mall until January, and those stores give me a discount. The discount, I'm sad to say, is not that good. But I can't feel my feet, so I'm thinking that using them to get to another store is out of the question.

The bright side--mmmmm, paycheck will keep my power on and my belly full.