the good part about working with a bunch of bona fide senior citizens is that i don't have to worry about mixing business with pleasure. i keep having this awful dream where i'm sitting in a board room, and donald trump looks at me and motions to me with his hand, telling me i'm fired.
with no due cause?!
we searched your internet cache on the computer in your office, and not only did we find adult material, but we've added up an average of approxtimately 3 hours a day spent surfing the web on company time.
but wait, i can explain; you see, my sister...
we understand that there will be a certain amount of personal correspondence per associate per day, but your ratio has become extremely skewed.
but some of the surfing was work-oriented!
lets see...ben folds tourdates...checking your personal bank account...updating some sort of online journal, and reading others'...numerous google searches for various music bands and local venues...and a daily log-in to match.com...and you say you can justify some of these to specific project codes?
well, no, but i bet there's research about how employees perform best when allotted work breaks...if you look at the hourly chart, you'll notice that most of the searching comes directly before, during and after my lunch break! i was concerned about company morale! if you give me a minute or two, i bet i can google some research for you...
yes, your daily lunch break is another topic of concern. you've been averaging about 1.75 hours per day. lunch breaks are primarily designed for associates to eat and perhaps run a quick errand. the average employee lunch break is usually about 40 minues.
mr. trump, isn't there anything i can do to salvage my position?
provide proof of all completed projects within the last two weeks.
hmmm...is unemployment collection an option?
email jermom
with no due cause?!
we searched your internet cache on the computer in your office, and not only did we find adult material, but we've added up an average of approxtimately 3 hours a day spent surfing the web on company time.
but wait, i can explain; you see, my sister...
we understand that there will be a certain amount of personal correspondence per associate per day, but your ratio has become extremely skewed.
but some of the surfing was work-oriented!
lets see...ben folds tourdates...checking your personal bank account...updating some sort of online journal, and reading others'...numerous google searches for various music bands and local venues...and a daily log-in to match.com...and you say you can justify some of these to specific project codes?
well, no, but i bet there's research about how employees perform best when allotted work breaks...if you look at the hourly chart, you'll notice that most of the searching comes directly before, during and after my lunch break! i was concerned about company morale! if you give me a minute or two, i bet i can google some research for you...
yes, your daily lunch break is another topic of concern. you've been averaging about 1.75 hours per day. lunch breaks are primarily designed for associates to eat and perhaps run a quick errand. the average employee lunch break is usually about 40 minues.
mr. trump, isn't there anything i can do to salvage my position?
provide proof of all completed projects within the last two weeks.
hmmm...is unemployment collection an option?
email jermom
posted by gijyun |
2.26.2004
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|
2:32 PM
...and the lord looketh upon me with generosity.
i was 30 minutes late to work today. but i beat some serious ass at 3 a.m. spades.
bow chicka bow-wow....and it was good. it was very good. and he gave me the home number. ironical that today is the beginning of lent, a season for scruples. i'm sure he's got a girlfriend, or is leaving the country shortly, or likes one of my friends better...
but he liked the hell out of me last night. twice. i have a geeky grin permanently attached to my mug. i'm sure things will change soon, but i must take advantage of this love hangover.
i also got a pleasant reply email from the catch today (he asked how things were going with me).
thank god for small mercies.
i was 30 minutes late to work today. but i beat some serious ass at 3 a.m. spades.
bow chicka bow-wow....and it was good. it was very good. and he gave me the home number. ironical that today is the beginning of lent, a season for scruples. i'm sure he's got a girlfriend, or is leaving the country shortly, or likes one of my friends better...
but he liked the hell out of me last night. twice. i have a geeky grin permanently attached to my mug. i'm sure things will change soon, but i must take advantage of this love hangover.
i also got a pleasant reply email from the catch today (he asked how things were going with me).
thank god for small mercies.
posted by gijyun |
2.25.2004
|
|
11:56 AM
pulp worthless crap
i'm so having one of those days where i'm convinced that i'm a total chode.
lucky for me, there are old cast members with whom i could never totally agree for the definition of "chode". i, among others, stood firm that it was the area-in-between (also commonly referred to as the "taint"). others argued that it was a "substance". i swear to crap, this one kid in maryland thought it was slang for weed (poor thing, he must've been called a chodesmoker without understanding the context. its funny cuz its true.). and then there's this, which dumbfounds me. guess we all missed the mark on that one. regardless, whatever a chode is, i am. what a tangled web we weave...
my family has taken one-too-many curve balls this past year as far as health goes. in that sense, i am worried. fortuna has it out for the lynns.
i also (indirectly) asked someone to the stereolab concert. i kinda wish i would've asked him last weekend with all his tewkool frenz (partly to have a non-electronically reciprocal conversation about the band, and partly because i'd get an immediate honest answer). i'll prolly just go by my lonesome.
enter the apocolypse.
viva la chode!
p.s. everytime i stretch, i think of the last line in kafka's metamorphisis.
i'm so having one of those days where i'm convinced that i'm a total chode.
lucky for me, there are old cast members with whom i could never totally agree for the definition of "chode". i, among others, stood firm that it was the area-in-between (also commonly referred to as the "taint"). others argued that it was a "substance". i swear to crap, this one kid in maryland thought it was slang for weed (poor thing, he must've been called a chodesmoker without understanding the context. its funny cuz its true.). and then there's this, which dumbfounds me. guess we all missed the mark on that one. regardless, whatever a chode is, i am. what a tangled web we weave...
my family has taken one-too-many curve balls this past year as far as health goes. in that sense, i am worried. fortuna has it out for the lynns.
i also (indirectly) asked someone to the stereolab concert. i kinda wish i would've asked him last weekend with all his tewkool frenz (partly to have a non-electronically reciprocal conversation about the band, and partly because i'd get an immediate honest answer). i'll prolly just go by my lonesome.
enter the apocolypse.
viva la chode!
p.s. everytime i stretch, i think of the last line in kafka's metamorphisis.
posted by gijyun |
2.24.2004
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|
12:42 PM
kick me when i'm down...
i'm not sure why i'm even wasting my time being surprised.
my exboyfriend emailed me this morning. already a shitty morning at work (re: some photos on which i spent $65, money i'll never see again), the beginning of a new week after a mildly crappy weekend, and there it was, a confirmation of my unfruitfulness sitting in my goddamn inbox.
not even my inbox-- my junk email folder, because i took his email address out so long ago. his message was short, simple, and sugary sweet (an overwhelming sensation since i've cut sweets and romance out of my diet...). i read it to jessKah, who said it was probably the sweetest thing she'd ever heard.
so of course, like a mondo fag, i start getting teary at work. not because i wish he was still here or that i wish i was there, but because it further confirms the fear that made this weekend mildly crappy: what if i never find someone who cares about me like he did that i feel the same way about?
for the first time, i wish that mister funnypants who gave me an 'f' in that stupid class in maryland had made a different sort of lasting impression on me; i remember so vividly for the moment that stupid theory about 'emotional tuperware', and being able to seal the lid on emotions during critical times. what a jackass, but a situationally relative thought.
i know that les hommes are not the preferred topic of discussion, but seeing as how carrie and john ended up so indubiously happy, and she went through all that crap and wrote a newspaper column about it, i figure i can too. no one reads this shit but me anyway.
i shouldn't have talked about it so much this weekend. how grossly, sickly ironic that several people asked me about him this weekend, and then he craps in my junk email folder. i could reply, and tell him that just about every prospect i've had since the move has either had a girlfriend they forgot to tell me about, or is leaving the country soon (i've had three guys tell me that! you can't make this shit up...can you?), or has really liked one of my friends better, or how well i've done in the advancment/boldness department, or how i've learned to introduce myself, or how optimistic i've made myself be.
with no prevailment to date.
or i could just leave it, and silently return the well wishes, and continue with l'optimism. i know that confidence is always attractive, but i'm confident in my insecurities at the moment, and no one's buying the schtick. i guess i should just cool it for a while, maybe save some booze money for l'italia, start reading regularly again, get lost in the primaries or other fascinating current events, practice my italian, volunteer, get involved, help my family, help my friends, take the dog for a walk, start looking for new places to live, take up a faith, quit smoking (again), change my eating habits, clean my car, order the dryer for the house, get up to the mountains, read some self-help shit, stop listening to such intensely melancholy music, start playing music, remember to choose life per Renton...
i also need to find someone to go to the stereolab concert with me. and get a haircut.
la vie est mon ange.
i'm not sure why i'm even wasting my time being surprised.
my exboyfriend emailed me this morning. already a shitty morning at work (re: some photos on which i spent $65, money i'll never see again), the beginning of a new week after a mildly crappy weekend, and there it was, a confirmation of my unfruitfulness sitting in my goddamn inbox.
not even my inbox-- my junk email folder, because i took his email address out so long ago. his message was short, simple, and sugary sweet (an overwhelming sensation since i've cut sweets and romance out of my diet...). i read it to jessKah, who said it was probably the sweetest thing she'd ever heard.
so of course, like a mondo fag, i start getting teary at work. not because i wish he was still here or that i wish i was there, but because it further confirms the fear that made this weekend mildly crappy: what if i never find someone who cares about me like he did that i feel the same way about?
for the first time, i wish that mister funnypants who gave me an 'f' in that stupid class in maryland had made a different sort of lasting impression on me; i remember so vividly for the moment that stupid theory about 'emotional tuperware', and being able to seal the lid on emotions during critical times. what a jackass, but a situationally relative thought.
i know that les hommes are not the preferred topic of discussion, but seeing as how carrie and john ended up so indubiously happy, and she went through all that crap and wrote a newspaper column about it, i figure i can too. no one reads this shit but me anyway.
i shouldn't have talked about it so much this weekend. how grossly, sickly ironic that several people asked me about him this weekend, and then he craps in my junk email folder. i could reply, and tell him that just about every prospect i've had since the move has either had a girlfriend they forgot to tell me about, or is leaving the country soon (i've had three guys tell me that! you can't make this shit up...can you?), or has really liked one of my friends better, or how well i've done in the advancment/boldness department, or how i've learned to introduce myself, or how optimistic i've made myself be.
with no prevailment to date.
or i could just leave it, and silently return the well wishes, and continue with l'optimism. i know that confidence is always attractive, but i'm confident in my insecurities at the moment, and no one's buying the schtick. i guess i should just cool it for a while, maybe save some booze money for l'italia, start reading regularly again, get lost in the primaries or other fascinating current events, practice my italian, volunteer, get involved, help my family, help my friends, take the dog for a walk, start looking for new places to live, take up a faith, quit smoking (again), change my eating habits, clean my car, order the dryer for the house, get up to the mountains, read some self-help shit, stop listening to such intensely melancholy music, start playing music, remember to choose life per Renton...
i also need to find someone to go to the stereolab concert with me. and get a haircut.
la vie est mon ange.
posted by gijyun |
2.23.2004
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|
1:18 PM
"your twenties are about finding your limits; your thirties are about finding a balance."
-blur's bass player alex
yeah, but i'm in my twenties and i'm really good at finding everyone else's limits.
i'm pretty good at finding a balance, if nature so calls.
or i say so, anyway, which is a load of crap because if i think my life is telling me to slow down, you can usually catch me doing about 80 mph. this whole twenties thing is so perplexing; i'm supposed to be having the best times of my life (which i am, minus the romance...), but working towards being a grown up.
i definitely have the fun part down, allbeit unhealthy, self-indulgent and mildy destructive. but geez, i don't smoke the weed anymore, and i can't even remember what ecstasy feels like (ooo, but the taste! the drip! the drip!). so, a relative amount of progress has been made.
i feel like i make paragraphs too small or too long; it has to be said that though i think one-lined paragraphs are powerful and deliverative, i know i tend to overuse them. this one can be considered roughly two and a half sentences. another sign of progress.
the dog still looks at me with sad eyes--a mother's toruture--but i know things will get better. its not even that they're not alright; its just that feeling of "when are things going to get back to normal" who's cheek i keep slapping with leather gloves (care to duel, sir?). but, all denial aside, i know the dog's eyes will change as soon as my attitude does. i don't think my attitude is the end-all-be-all of the way my dog looks at me, but i do think that her look is always constant, and its the way i interpret her looking at me that lets me know what to do.
pets are, by far, the ecological chain's most important sacrifice to mankind. er, to me, anyway. my parents always say that pets reflect their owners (though baboosh might be an exception...or maybe not?). i'm constantly told what a sweet, loving, and patient dog she is. though i know that has very little to do with me, it makes me realize how ungodly, unearthly lucky i am to have made her aquaintence. she makes me want to have a million daughters and no sons.
she was an aquirement of a freind's relationship-gone-sour (though she ended up being with the guy for four years after that...). i was always so worried that he might try to justify the dog still being his. which i don't know if i could argue, since i can't really argue that she surely belongs to me. she is openly and truly her own being; i'm just along for the ride for the low low cost of dog food and affection.
she is the #1 reason that i can be critical of myself without wanting to die.
my twenties are close to being halfway over, which doesn't bother me too much. i've really (in one way or another) enjoyed my couple of decorated decades thus far. what bothers me is that i know that somewhere in god's plan (s)he forgot to make the lifespan of animals about the same as ours. when i have my million daughers, i need the dog to be around. god, i'm getting sick just looking at her lying at my feet, listening to the sweetness chingle changle of her many many tags on her flourescent pink collar (which, btw, used to be choc full of studs that i bedazzled by my damn self. they've since fallen out; appearently, the stupid thing wasn't made to go through many many layers of nylon. c'est une mal monde!).
perhaps, well into my thirties, when she is long gone, i will be searching for the balance of her limits that i know so well, as she knows mine.
but enough sappycrap. its saturday night. super furry animals are playing at the bluebird, but i usually don't bother asking because i know the gang would say that living it up wannabe-hollywood style is more fun.
i agree. i'm in my twenties....
-blur's bass player alex
yeah, but i'm in my twenties and i'm really good at finding everyone else's limits.
i'm pretty good at finding a balance, if nature so calls.
or i say so, anyway, which is a load of crap because if i think my life is telling me to slow down, you can usually catch me doing about 80 mph. this whole twenties thing is so perplexing; i'm supposed to be having the best times of my life (which i am, minus the romance...), but working towards being a grown up.
i definitely have the fun part down, allbeit unhealthy, self-indulgent and mildy destructive. but geez, i don't smoke the weed anymore, and i can't even remember what ecstasy feels like (ooo, but the taste! the drip! the drip!). so, a relative amount of progress has been made.
i feel like i make paragraphs too small or too long; it has to be said that though i think one-lined paragraphs are powerful and deliverative, i know i tend to overuse them. this one can be considered roughly two and a half sentences. another sign of progress.
the dog still looks at me with sad eyes--a mother's toruture--but i know things will get better. its not even that they're not alright; its just that feeling of "when are things going to get back to normal" who's cheek i keep slapping with leather gloves (care to duel, sir?). but, all denial aside, i know the dog's eyes will change as soon as my attitude does. i don't think my attitude is the end-all-be-all of the way my dog looks at me, but i do think that her look is always constant, and its the way i interpret her looking at me that lets me know what to do.
pets are, by far, the ecological chain's most important sacrifice to mankind. er, to me, anyway. my parents always say that pets reflect their owners (though baboosh might be an exception...or maybe not?). i'm constantly told what a sweet, loving, and patient dog she is. though i know that has very little to do with me, it makes me realize how ungodly, unearthly lucky i am to have made her aquaintence. she makes me want to have a million daughters and no sons.
she was an aquirement of a freind's relationship-gone-sour (though she ended up being with the guy for four years after that...). i was always so worried that he might try to justify the dog still being his. which i don't know if i could argue, since i can't really argue that she surely belongs to me. she is openly and truly her own being; i'm just along for the ride for the low low cost of dog food and affection.
she is the #1 reason that i can be critical of myself without wanting to die.
my twenties are close to being halfway over, which doesn't bother me too much. i've really (in one way or another) enjoyed my couple of decorated decades thus far. what bothers me is that i know that somewhere in god's plan (s)he forgot to make the lifespan of animals about the same as ours. when i have my million daughers, i need the dog to be around. god, i'm getting sick just looking at her lying at my feet, listening to the sweetness chingle changle of her many many tags on her flourescent pink collar (which, btw, used to be choc full of studs that i bedazzled by my damn self. they've since fallen out; appearently, the stupid thing wasn't made to go through many many layers of nylon. c'est une mal monde!).
perhaps, well into my thirties, when she is long gone, i will be searching for the balance of her limits that i know so well, as she knows mine.
but enough sappycrap. its saturday night. super furry animals are playing at the bluebird, but i usually don't bother asking because i know the gang would say that living it up wannabe-hollywood style is more fun.
i agree. i'm in my twenties....
posted by gijyun |
2.21.2004
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|
7:17 PM
conversation with a christian sister
Kt says:
herro?
Anne says:
sup beyatch
Anne says:
did you read my funny email?
Kt says:
did you get my text?
Anne says:
no, my phone's ooo
Anne says:
(out of order)
Kt says:
i am reading your email now...but i
live in fear that you or libby might give what happened away!!!
Kt says:
well i have everyone and theor mother (literally - mom and gramma)) looking for you.
Anne says:
uh oh-- i must be overdrawn.
Kt says:
MAJOR!!!!!!!!
Anne says:
? like 40 bucks. i get paid tomorrow.
Kt says:
already fifty something...and some overdrawns or something
Anne says:
hold, please
Anne says:
oh crap. well, i get paid tomorrow.
Anne says:
not much else i can do about it
Kt says:
how much?
Anne says:
how much do i get paid, or how much am i overdrawn?
Kt says:
that is a funny emayo - i like the part about nachos and the concessions you will be forced to buy.
Kt says:
overdrawn
Anne says:
110
Anne says:
woopsies
Kt says:
YIKKKKEEESSSSS
Kt says:
at least i have 20.57 in my account!
Anne says:
sokay. i have some fatty boombatty paycheck coming in...
Kt says:
i get paid...next month!
Kt says:
how much is yer paycheck? is it the first one?
Anne says:
whopee. i saw's malesha last night.
Kt says:
is that why that hoe was blingin my cell phone?
Anne says:
no--it's the 2nd one. it'll be for around 850, and then i have another 400 one coming in
Anne says:
prolly
Kt says:
why two?
Kt says:
i am watching a makeover story
Anne says:
because i worked over the weekend for sara's photographer friend
Kt says:
two sisters who had breast cancer at the same time..
Kt says:
if that ever happens to us...i hope it is you and libby
Kt says:
cuz i don't need a make over
Anne says:
zzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzz wh...wha? what? oh, i'm sorry, i usually fall alseep if i'm bored or if someone is being rude.
Kt says:
or if you work
Anne says:
shut up. i have to go work now.
Kt says:
i just got off work...
Kt says:
it wasn't as bad as yesterday when i lost the class pet - a lizard!
Kt says:
well - now the school can play "where in the world is mr. lizard"
Anne says:
can you read? i just said i have to go. that doesn't mean tell me some retardedly asenine story.
Kt says:
and one time at band camp....
Anne says:
peace, nigglet.
Kt says:
dont yeeb me!!!
Kt says:
herro?
Anne says:
sup beyatch
Anne says:
did you read my funny email?
Kt says:
did you get my text?
Anne says:
no, my phone's ooo
Anne says:
(out of order)
Kt says:
i am reading your email now...but i
live in fear that you or libby might give what happened away!!!
Kt says:
well i have everyone and theor mother (literally - mom and gramma)) looking for you.
Anne says:
uh oh-- i must be overdrawn.
Kt says:
MAJOR!!!!!!!!
Anne says:
? like 40 bucks. i get paid tomorrow.
Kt says:
already fifty something...and some overdrawns or something
Anne says:
hold, please
Anne says:
oh crap. well, i get paid tomorrow.
Anne says:
not much else i can do about it
Kt says:
how much?
Anne says:
how much do i get paid, or how much am i overdrawn?
Kt says:
that is a funny emayo - i like the part about nachos and the concessions you will be forced to buy.
Kt says:
overdrawn
Anne says:
110
Anne says:
woopsies
Kt says:
YIKKKKEEESSSSS
Kt says:
at least i have 20.57 in my account!
Anne says:
sokay. i have some fatty boombatty paycheck coming in...
Kt says:
i get paid...next month!
Kt says:
how much is yer paycheck? is it the first one?
Anne says:
whopee. i saw's malesha last night.
Kt says:
is that why that hoe was blingin my cell phone?
Anne says:
no--it's the 2nd one. it'll be for around 850, and then i have another 400 one coming in
Anne says:
prolly
Kt says:
why two?
Kt says:
i am watching a makeover story
Anne says:
because i worked over the weekend for sara's photographer friend
Kt says:
two sisters who had breast cancer at the same time..
Kt says:
if that ever happens to us...i hope it is you and libby
Kt says:
cuz i don't need a make over
Anne says:
zzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzz wh...wha? what? oh, i'm sorry, i usually fall alseep if i'm bored or if someone is being rude.
Kt says:
or if you work
Anne says:
shut up. i have to go work now.
Kt says:
i just got off work...
Kt says:
it wasn't as bad as yesterday when i lost the class pet - a lizard!
Kt says:
well - now the school can play "where in the world is mr. lizard"
Anne says:
can you read? i just said i have to go. that doesn't mean tell me some retardedly asenine story.
Kt says:
and one time at band camp....
Anne says:
peace, nigglet.
Kt says:
dont yeeb me!!!
posted by gijyun |
2.19.2004
|
|
1:13 PM
Epiphany
i've decided that its important for me to be brutally honest with myself, regardless of any suspected consequence.
i've come to the conclusion that everything i've spent my life building is a lie. i'm not supposed to be what i am. i wasn't supposed to go to college for what i studies. i was absolutely not supposed to have anything to do with what i do, where i do it, or with whom (sometimes its who!) i do it...
i was supposed to have been a child star that suddenly, out of the dregs of hollywood-christmases-past, reappears with a hip haircut and gets paid comfortably to make appearances on pulp television shows to make quirky, witty remarks about other celebrities.
if anyone has any information pertaining to applying for this position, please let me know immediately. i would hate to think that my potential for becoming was further postponed.
A few of my heros de jour:
Soleil Moon Frye (punky brewster)
Candace Cameron (dj tanner)
Deborah Gibson (debbie gibson)
Danny Bonaducci (the red-headed partridge family kid-i catch his radio show every weekday morning)
Weird Al (became a star in prime adulthood, but his maturity speaks for itself)
Tracy Lords (???)
i've noticed that VHI has become particularly engorged on developing the popularity of the said television programs, including:
I love the 80's
I love the 80's (strikes back)
Where are they now?
Best week ever
Fabulous life of
One hit wonders
When so-and-so ruled the world
Storytellers
(Inside)Out
SSMR
SSTF
i would also, for the record, be completely content to participate in a Behind the Music or Driven special, and willingly give horrificly vivid recounts of the turning point when my superstar friend hit rock bottom, saw the light, and followed it all the way to millionaire heaven (subnote: i am willing to get teary-eyed for this; however, a nominal fee will be noted in the invoice. emotion sells, bitch). for this, i would prefer one of the following stars for which to recount (i understand that some of them have already had specials about them produced and released, but i wasn't in any of them. see previous subnote, bitch):
jessica simpson
britney spears
justin timberlake*
joey fatone
nick lachey*
jennifer love hewitt
sarah michelle gellar
lindsey lohann
hilary duff
ashton kutcher*
p diddy (i would affectionatley refer to him as "brother combs", cuz that's what i called him when we were little)
j. lo
celine dion (though i would have to pose as the competitive friend who really can sing better than that stupid cunt)
robert downey, jr. ********************************
*denotes celebrities with whom i would be entitled to recount stories of a torrid love affair between us that ended as a result of my turning down his proposal of marriage, and, in turn, led to the aforementioned "hitting of rock bottom".
prices for this are, naturally, expected to fluxuate with the eb and flo of the artists' current position with record and/or movie sales, though i would have to ask for a base salary that would cover living expenses for at least a year (i say a year because these things can take a lot of energy out of me, and i'll need a healthy allotment of time to regather my thoughts--i always have the clients' best interest in mind).
thank you.
p.s. the 'pede was particularly unfruitful last evening, except for a douchebag who told me that real engineers don't use AutoCAD software. what a fag! i have 12 or 13 engineers, all between the age of 40 and 65 right downstairs that will tell him otherwise!
i've decided that its important for me to be brutally honest with myself, regardless of any suspected consequence.
i've come to the conclusion that everything i've spent my life building is a lie. i'm not supposed to be what i am. i wasn't supposed to go to college for what i studies. i was absolutely not supposed to have anything to do with what i do, where i do it, or with whom (sometimes its who!) i do it...
i was supposed to have been a child star that suddenly, out of the dregs of hollywood-christmases-past, reappears with a hip haircut and gets paid comfortably to make appearances on pulp television shows to make quirky, witty remarks about other celebrities.
if anyone has any information pertaining to applying for this position, please let me know immediately. i would hate to think that my potential for becoming was further postponed.
A few of my heros de jour:
Soleil Moon Frye (punky brewster)
Candace Cameron (dj tanner)
Deborah Gibson (debbie gibson)
Danny Bonaducci (the red-headed partridge family kid-i catch his radio show every weekday morning)
Weird Al (became a star in prime adulthood, but his maturity speaks for itself)
Tracy Lords (???)
i've noticed that VHI has become particularly engorged on developing the popularity of the said television programs, including:
I love the 80's
I love the 80's (strikes back)
Where are they now?
Best week ever
Fabulous life of
One hit wonders
When so-and-so ruled the world
Storytellers
(Inside)Out
SSMR
SSTF
i would also, for the record, be completely content to participate in a Behind the Music or Driven special, and willingly give horrificly vivid recounts of the turning point when my superstar friend hit rock bottom, saw the light, and followed it all the way to millionaire heaven (subnote: i am willing to get teary-eyed for this; however, a nominal fee will be noted in the invoice. emotion sells, bitch). for this, i would prefer one of the following stars for which to recount (i understand that some of them have already had specials about them produced and released, but i wasn't in any of them. see previous subnote, bitch):
jessica simpson
britney spears
justin timberlake*
joey fatone
nick lachey*
jennifer love hewitt
sarah michelle gellar
lindsey lohann
hilary duff
ashton kutcher*
p diddy (i would affectionatley refer to him as "brother combs", cuz that's what i called him when we were little)
j. lo
celine dion (though i would have to pose as the competitive friend who really can sing better than that stupid cunt)
robert downey, jr. ********************************
*denotes celebrities with whom i would be entitled to recount stories of a torrid love affair between us that ended as a result of my turning down his proposal of marriage, and, in turn, led to the aforementioned "hitting of rock bottom".
prices for this are, naturally, expected to fluxuate with the eb and flo of the artists' current position with record and/or movie sales, though i would have to ask for a base salary that would cover living expenses for at least a year (i say a year because these things can take a lot of energy out of me, and i'll need a healthy allotment of time to regather my thoughts--i always have the clients' best interest in mind).
thank you.
p.s. the 'pede was particularly unfruitful last evening, except for a douchebag who told me that real engineers don't use AutoCAD software. what a fag! i have 12 or 13 engineers, all between the age of 40 and 65 right downstairs that will tell him otherwise!
Ode to ladies' night at STAMPEDE in Aurora, CO
its a good dirty on the floor
where two steps are staples
and chic v. chick rounders is always a good show
its where whiskey and tinis meet,
mingle...
ou le neauvaeu et la traditionne sont jolie.
where short shorts and long hair
look good
on good ol' boys who pour freely
and silver goes so far
beyond a friday night
or the academy.
where some come to dance
but most pine the drink
and "boot" is popular for both genders
you have to admire a place
where the too-old and the too-young
tush push in unison
and nelly and garth make a strange harmony
amidst the flying fists
of misunderstanings
a big place for a small town
unintended encounters are lost
to the sound of a mechanic bull
intentions of early arrivals and departures
swept under the closing time bell
and remembered with the morning alarm
no wonder this place
has survived
for so long.
its a good dirty on the floor
where two steps are staples
and chic v. chick rounders is always a good show
its where whiskey and tinis meet,
mingle...
ou le neauvaeu et la traditionne sont jolie.
where short shorts and long hair
look good
on good ol' boys who pour freely
and silver goes so far
beyond a friday night
or the academy.
where some come to dance
but most pine the drink
and "boot" is popular for both genders
you have to admire a place
where the too-old and the too-young
tush push in unison
and nelly and garth make a strange harmony
amidst the flying fists
of misunderstanings
a big place for a small town
unintended encounters are lost
to the sound of a mechanic bull
intentions of early arrivals and departures
swept under the closing time bell
and remembered with the morning alarm
no wonder this place
has survived
for so long.
posted by gijyun |
2.18.2004
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1:01 PM
so, the upside to being bipolar is, without pretense, the upside.
good days are always really good. i could even be hung over and today would be a good day (oh wait, i am hung over). it's almost like i kissed a boy last night (crap, i did that too), or like i know what i'm doing at work today (three for three ain't bad).
i hope to be leaving on a jet plane to go see sister sweetly next weekend for some kick-ass porno party or something... all's i know is that ginger lynn (no relation...i don't think, anyway; my mom still stands to reason that my dad has a reckless past...) will be there. i'll get her autograph on my boobs or something. or maybe i'll autograph her boobs; or maybe we can take a photo showing the xx-chromosomal genetic blessing that is "Lynn".
i've become really good at waiting for the light at the end of the tunnel; almost so much so that i shock myself. the bad days are, rhetorically, bad, but i think i might have mastered the art of telling myself to wait it out before pressing the panic button.
jesus, i remember middle school like a very sickly twisted dream; what a nutjob i was. i had like, no friends, except my english teacher, and i can feel the sickness just by thinking about it. it was, at that point, so large and heavy and unyielding, and had become part of my every day outfit. i can't understand how a young girl can be so misogynistic; the thoughts that i would allow myself to produce were so intensely unhealthy.
it's a wonder i survived. my 8th grade english teacher was (and still is) a bona fide nutjob as well; we're still great friends.
but shit, if it made for these good days, it was worth it. even the bad days are worth it. i've noticed that since the ex has been gone, i have the feelings again-- the good and bad ones. i don't know if they left because he was so good or so bad for me. i guess its all a matter of my PR plan for my own life; whether i choose to believe that he made me void and defunct of feeling or stabilized me in the medium is, ironically, up to me.
it hurts to think that, because i know it would really hurt his feelings if it was the former.
but why damper such a good day with the dark thoughts? there are good things--great things--going on. for instance, with no offense whatsoever to Frally, i've decided to pursue having ben folds' illegitimate children.
mom and dad will be so proud. i need to bring another cd to work...time to start the search for plane tickets.
in the words of your friend and mine:
today i didn't even have to use my AK...
i gotta say, it was a good day.
peace, nigglets.
p.s. i think that semicolons are underappreciated; i use them frequently and correctly at that.
good days are always really good. i could even be hung over and today would be a good day (oh wait, i am hung over). it's almost like i kissed a boy last night (crap, i did that too), or like i know what i'm doing at work today (three for three ain't bad).
i hope to be leaving on a jet plane to go see sister sweetly next weekend for some kick-ass porno party or something... all's i know is that ginger lynn (no relation...i don't think, anyway; my mom still stands to reason that my dad has a reckless past...) will be there. i'll get her autograph on my boobs or something. or maybe i'll autograph her boobs; or maybe we can take a photo showing the xx-chromosomal genetic blessing that is "Lynn".
i've become really good at waiting for the light at the end of the tunnel; almost so much so that i shock myself. the bad days are, rhetorically, bad, but i think i might have mastered the art of telling myself to wait it out before pressing the panic button.
jesus, i remember middle school like a very sickly twisted dream; what a nutjob i was. i had like, no friends, except my english teacher, and i can feel the sickness just by thinking about it. it was, at that point, so large and heavy and unyielding, and had become part of my every day outfit. i can't understand how a young girl can be so misogynistic; the thoughts that i would allow myself to produce were so intensely unhealthy.
it's a wonder i survived. my 8th grade english teacher was (and still is) a bona fide nutjob as well; we're still great friends.
but shit, if it made for these good days, it was worth it. even the bad days are worth it. i've noticed that since the ex has been gone, i have the feelings again-- the good and bad ones. i don't know if they left because he was so good or so bad for me. i guess its all a matter of my PR plan for my own life; whether i choose to believe that he made me void and defunct of feeling or stabilized me in the medium is, ironically, up to me.
it hurts to think that, because i know it would really hurt his feelings if it was the former.
but why damper such a good day with the dark thoughts? there are good things--great things--going on. for instance, with no offense whatsoever to Frally, i've decided to pursue having ben folds' illegitimate children.
mom and dad will be so proud. i need to bring another cd to work...time to start the search for plane tickets.
in the words of your friend and mine:
today i didn't even have to use my AK...
i gotta say, it was a good day.
peace, nigglets.
p.s. i think that semicolons are underappreciated; i use them frequently and correctly at that.
posted by gijyun |
2.17.2004
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12:55 PM
this is pretty good.
go see his whole site.
a special thanks to scott and chrissy for spreading some serious vd love. i have to admit, it was really the only phone call i got that day regarding the sentiment of the holiday.
'sokay. another qualude...
my sister said to me today that i'm too critical, and then she exclamationed me.
seriously?!? who writes emails like this??!! it's so gay!! when i read it it just makes me wanna get OUT OF MY SEAT AND DANCE!!! EXCLAMATION POINTS RULE!!!!! THEY ARE OBVIOUSLY EFFECTIVE IN COMMUNICATING EMOTION AS WELL AS DELIVERING A HEALTH DOSE OF AGITATION!!!
no offense kt, but there's a certain mystique to typing the way that you would actually talk to someone. i myself never use capitals in conversation...
i kissed a boy this weekend, whom i've kissed before, but last time it was by force (don't ask-- there was an awkward goodbye, along with the showing of the friend's boobies...i said don't ask...). this one might have been mutual, but only because i asked him to. maybe he's not a first-move kinda fella, or maybe i've become too confident in my own abilities to make things as absolutely awkward as possible. either way, i accept that he might be a sacrifice in my quest for romantic world domination.
then, of course, there was the drunken 3 am phone call to guess whom (sometimes its who!). he was overly reassuring, and said he was glad we talked. he even suggested (or, at least, agreed to my suggestion) that we talk sometime, or hang out, or whatever. but this time, as friends. i know that sounds stupid, but it makes that stomach-knotting bowling ball in my abdomen go away when i think about us being able to be open with each other. i don't think i could really talk to him (or be able to listen to him talk) about other romantic opportunities; the thought of that just makes the bowling ball multiply. but wholly, it was the first good move with boys i've made in months.
he apologized obversely for last weekend's shenanigans.
for someone who believes that communication is the key to just about anything, i sure don't have a lot of trust in it; i wish i would've made that phone call years ago. it would have saved me from a lot of self second-guessing and mini panic attacks.
also, just for shits and giggles, and also because i know that my sister is really the only other person who reads this, i should be banned from either the intranet or google, especially while at work.
ecaep, sorgen.
go see his whole site.
a special thanks to scott and chrissy for spreading some serious vd love. i have to admit, it was really the only phone call i got that day regarding the sentiment of the holiday.
'sokay. another qualude...
my sister said to me today that i'm too critical, and then she exclamationed me.
seriously?!? who writes emails like this??!! it's so gay!! when i read it it just makes me wanna get OUT OF MY SEAT AND DANCE!!! EXCLAMATION POINTS RULE!!!!! THEY ARE OBVIOUSLY EFFECTIVE IN COMMUNICATING EMOTION AS WELL AS DELIVERING A HEALTH DOSE OF AGITATION!!!
no offense kt, but there's a certain mystique to typing the way that you would actually talk to someone. i myself never use capitals in conversation...
i kissed a boy this weekend, whom i've kissed before, but last time it was by force (don't ask-- there was an awkward goodbye, along with the showing of the friend's boobies...i said don't ask...). this one might have been mutual, but only because i asked him to. maybe he's not a first-move kinda fella, or maybe i've become too confident in my own abilities to make things as absolutely awkward as possible. either way, i accept that he might be a sacrifice in my quest for romantic world domination.
then, of course, there was the drunken 3 am phone call to guess whom (sometimes its who!). he was overly reassuring, and said he was glad we talked. he even suggested (or, at least, agreed to my suggestion) that we talk sometime, or hang out, or whatever. but this time, as friends. i know that sounds stupid, but it makes that stomach-knotting bowling ball in my abdomen go away when i think about us being able to be open with each other. i don't think i could really talk to him (or be able to listen to him talk) about other romantic opportunities; the thought of that just makes the bowling ball multiply. but wholly, it was the first good move with boys i've made in months.
he apologized obversely for last weekend's shenanigans.
for someone who believes that communication is the key to just about anything, i sure don't have a lot of trust in it; i wish i would've made that phone call years ago. it would have saved me from a lot of self second-guessing and mini panic attacks.
also, just for shits and giggles, and also because i know that my sister is really the only other person who reads this, i should be banned from either the intranet or google, especially while at work.
ecaep, sorgen.
posted by gijyun |
2.16.2004
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1:49 PM
dear ben,
i know its been quite a while since we've spoken (though I've never spoken to you...ever), but i just wanted to drop you a line and let you know that things here are okay.
of course, things didn't go as i planned, but it all turned out okay, i think. i don't get thrown quite so hard when you play anymore; the memories of what really happened and imagining what could have happened are still there, still potent, but i've spent several years building up an immunity (per wesley's advice) to such distractions.
i hope that things for you are still mundanely magical, and that you get to perform every now and then. its funny, but my friend sara (without an h) really did get bored, and i constantly find myself asking where summer is.
it's not that i miss having you around, since you never were, but i missed something (something). its hard to tell these days, with the new taxes and recurring under-the-sheet experiences. my dog is still really upset, but i can't give her everything she wants. seriously, its not good for her if i do.
i suppose i owe you a partial explanation; but i ask that your reaction come without prejudice. i was very correctly criticized for writing about a boy, and i thought you would find that amusing. what's funny is that i didn't even think about it at the time. in fact, i don't think what i had begun to write about ended up anywhere near being included in the context. it's more a lack of focus, really, but i'm working on that...
also, i keep getting these 'pings'...i don't know what they are or where they came from. but they're there for sure, and i'm not really sure what kind of doctor to tell. i was hoping you might be able to shed some light. i think i remember you telling a story about something in high school that sounded familiar.
to sum up, i hope, above all, that i haven't disappointed you, and that what little faith you had in me still comfortably resides. i do hope that we can, in the future, get to know eachother a little better. i really am in good spirits; not much to worry about along the ways of maintenence an infrastructure (i'd like to think both you and i had a lot to do with that-- me more than you, but the amount you did provide attributes for the meatier portions).
again, i hope all is well, that you got your 3.6 down in time to leave, and that any melancholy hasn't hung around too much for you, and that you've been understood. if it helps during your day at all, i understood. i'd promise to call, but that would only be to hear your twang over the phone, and that's not fair to you...
luv, anne
i know its been quite a while since we've spoken (though I've never spoken to you...ever), but i just wanted to drop you a line and let you know that things here are okay.
of course, things didn't go as i planned, but it all turned out okay, i think. i don't get thrown quite so hard when you play anymore; the memories of what really happened and imagining what could have happened are still there, still potent, but i've spent several years building up an immunity (per wesley's advice) to such distractions.
i hope that things for you are still mundanely magical, and that you get to perform every now and then. its funny, but my friend sara (without an h) really did get bored, and i constantly find myself asking where summer is.
it's not that i miss having you around, since you never were, but i missed something (something). its hard to tell these days, with the new taxes and recurring under-the-sheet experiences. my dog is still really upset, but i can't give her everything she wants. seriously, its not good for her if i do.
i suppose i owe you a partial explanation; but i ask that your reaction come without prejudice. i was very correctly criticized for writing about a boy, and i thought you would find that amusing. what's funny is that i didn't even think about it at the time. in fact, i don't think what i had begun to write about ended up anywhere near being included in the context. it's more a lack of focus, really, but i'm working on that...
also, i keep getting these 'pings'...i don't know what they are or where they came from. but they're there for sure, and i'm not really sure what kind of doctor to tell. i was hoping you might be able to shed some light. i think i remember you telling a story about something in high school that sounded familiar.
to sum up, i hope, above all, that i haven't disappointed you, and that what little faith you had in me still comfortably resides. i do hope that we can, in the future, get to know eachother a little better. i really am in good spirits; not much to worry about along the ways of maintenence an infrastructure (i'd like to think both you and i had a lot to do with that-- me more than you, but the amount you did provide attributes for the meatier portions).
again, i hope all is well, that you got your 3.6 down in time to leave, and that any melancholy hasn't hung around too much for you, and that you've been understood. if it helps during your day at all, i understood. i'd promise to call, but that would only be to hear your twang over the phone, and that's not fair to you...
luv, anne
posted by gijyun |
2.11.2004
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1:01 PM
you know when you think that its okay to drink even when you tell them to slow down...
i had one of those when my gerlz and their broez were correct and the night turned me down.
its okay, what your guessing...i know that i'm pressing a tonic thats toxic to most;
but dont tell me just cuz what your thinking down from is something i'm hiding from those.
as far as pushing goes...
a phase that i'm hoping is less than the coping that comes from the morning alarm
i trust that of all things i know that the phone rings from only the truest of arms.
i need some charm...
this too shall pass. i hope... and this, too, shall collapse as a thought that i brought back from too far and though only the bar will recall,
i promise myself, that--
no, i don't mind at all.
i had one of those when my gerlz and their broez were correct and the night turned me down.
its okay, what your guessing...i know that i'm pressing a tonic thats toxic to most;
but dont tell me just cuz what your thinking down from is something i'm hiding from those.
as far as pushing goes...
a phase that i'm hoping is less than the coping that comes from the morning alarm
i trust that of all things i know that the phone rings from only the truest of arms.
i need some charm...
this too shall pass. i hope... and this, too, shall collapse as a thought that i brought back from too far and though only the bar will recall,
i promise myself, that--
no, i don't mind at all.
even though i like it when things change, i HATE IT when things change.
my new life started not too long ago, amidst the buzz of over anxious parents at a hockey tournament.
i was "working"; at this point, i was still unemployed, and the chance to make some weekend cash (and flirt with Coach Matt...read on...) was overly attractive.
ok, ok, lets go back further than that...
not too long ago (jesus, it's almost been a month already?), my step-grandmother passed away (the ONLY time, i might add, that unemployment revealed a benefit of a blank day timer). helen had been sick for weeks, but took a turn for the worse right after new years'. her sons had flown out from the east and south/west, some bringing kids, some not, to visit, cheer up, and ultimately bury their mom. those days, a surreal blur to me now, were full of lunch meat sandwiches, b-westerns (Scott Glenn in The Last Marshall--support crap films! Go here!), and numerous trips from ft. collins by my tenacious brothers. those brothers, by the way, are slowly lurking their respective ways towards manhood.
thank christ almighty.
back to the timeline.
we flew back to the east coast (all five of us plus le parents nouveau et le petit amis de mon frere), and spent nearly a week trying to hide how much fun we have with our neo-family. card games, alcohol, new glimpses of our old selves in an almost-mirror-like family, eating out, shopping and heavy duty mourning, all the while ignoring phone calls from mom (if she had any idea...).
upon our return, i went straight up to the fort, or, more affectionately referred to as "Eff Tee See", to work the weekend for some dough.
on our last day (monday, mlk's bday), i got a call on my cell phone from my dad asking for my cell phone number (explanation withheld, if you know my dad). he asked me if i was looking for a job. knowing that i had been unemployed for almost 12 weeks, i was intrigued...
do you need a job?
uh...are you serious?
yeah...rod's looking for someone.
for what?
he needs a project coordinator...y'know someone to keep track of stuff and take care of admin stuff.
is it legit?
yup.
then rod called, and saved me from the bleak personal and financial cespool my life had become.
it's amazing, what a little structure can do...while i had become generally comfortable with having no money and no job (though usually was crafty enough to find ways to go out and get plastered), i don't miss it.
its only been three weeks that i've had my job and put on my grown-up overalls usually everyday now, but there's always those little things that can knock you off a barstool...
**post edited by creator**
my new life started not too long ago, amidst the buzz of over anxious parents at a hockey tournament.
i was "working"; at this point, i was still unemployed, and the chance to make some weekend cash (and flirt with Coach Matt...read on...) was overly attractive.
ok, ok, lets go back further than that...
not too long ago (jesus, it's almost been a month already?), my step-grandmother passed away (the ONLY time, i might add, that unemployment revealed a benefit of a blank day timer). helen had been sick for weeks, but took a turn for the worse right after new years'. her sons had flown out from the east and south/west, some bringing kids, some not, to visit, cheer up, and ultimately bury their mom. those days, a surreal blur to me now, were full of lunch meat sandwiches, b-westerns (Scott Glenn in The Last Marshall--support crap films! Go here!), and numerous trips from ft. collins by my tenacious brothers. those brothers, by the way, are slowly lurking their respective ways towards manhood.
thank christ almighty.
back to the timeline.
we flew back to the east coast (all five of us plus le parents nouveau et le petit amis de mon frere), and spent nearly a week trying to hide how much fun we have with our neo-family. card games, alcohol, new glimpses of our old selves in an almost-mirror-like family, eating out, shopping and heavy duty mourning, all the while ignoring phone calls from mom (if she had any idea...).
upon our return, i went straight up to the fort, or, more affectionately referred to as "Eff Tee See", to work the weekend for some dough.
on our last day (monday, mlk's bday), i got a call on my cell phone from my dad asking for my cell phone number (explanation withheld, if you know my dad). he asked me if i was looking for a job. knowing that i had been unemployed for almost 12 weeks, i was intrigued...
do you need a job?
uh...are you serious?
yeah...rod's looking for someone.
for what?
he needs a project coordinator...y'know someone to keep track of stuff and take care of admin stuff.
is it legit?
yup.
then rod called, and saved me from the bleak personal and financial cespool my life had become.
it's amazing, what a little structure can do...while i had become generally comfortable with having no money and no job (though usually was crafty enough to find ways to go out and get plastered), i don't miss it.
its only been three weeks that i've had my job and put on my grown-up overalls usually everyday now, but there's always those little things that can knock you off a barstool...
**post edited by creator**
posted by gijyun |
2.09.2004
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6:14 PM
