Passion

People keep saying they will be glad when the election is over. They are tired of it all.

All the arguing, the debating, the hurt feelings and rises in temper. The fevered pitch of side-taking and soap-boxing. I love it. Love it all, and will miss it when it is gone. Because no matter how vehemently you disagree with my opinion or anyone else’s, it’s a hell of a lot better than apathy.
I still believe that ultimately it won’t be political ideology of the elite but apathy of the every day people that determines the rise or ruin of our country.
So rise off your asses and vote.
🙂

Irk.

Article 1: I had someone explain to me once that the reason they had manual locks in their new car was because it was “just one more thing that will break.”

That may be, but then where would you be? Exactly where you are now. Isn’t what you’ve purchased basically broken automatic locks?

These are the things that visceral memory recalls when I am stuck in traffic at 5:45 pm, annoyed at the world.

* * *

Article 2: Is actually an article. Read it: Downsizing to 100 Square Feet of Bliss

I felt my indignation well up as I read this, wondering why Americans fail to grasp the concept of moderation. There is some middle ground between a $700k house in the Napa Valley and a 100 sq-foot doll house with a propane tank that fits a barbeque pit.

A thousand comments about “going green” and how “genius” this insanity is, how the Europeans have been “living like this for decades” (no, they have not). Then I read this comment:
I feel like I’ve heard of this before, but they called it a trailer

Thank you, “Joe” from Albuquerque.

* * *

Also, our neighbors have been having a garage sale “TODAY” for approximately 2 weeks.

Sometimes I feel like Richard Dreyfus in “What About Bob?” wandering if the world has gone mad and everyone else is just too crazy to notice.

Particle Board is Thy Mortal Enemy


Last night I ripped apart an entire Ikea dresser with my bare hands.

This One to be exact.

The drawers never stayed closed. The middle drawer decided to stop moving in or out at all several weeks ago. I know I must accept some of the blame; assembling the thing with so many leftover parts is never good. But for the most part, I blame the cheap Ikea name and the excess of particle board. Finally after months of dueling with the thing, I made my first major purchase with new job money: a new replacement dresser.

(The new one is still Ikea; I got a job, I didn’t win the lottery)

While Aaron assembled the new one, I discovered my latent talent for demolition. I got that thing down to nothing but flat boards and spare nails, and in that half hour of therapeutic bliss I knew exactly why people on home improvement shows unneccessarily sledgehammer an entire bathroom in the name of “remodel”. I’m all about having people build, assemble, and redo things for me, but good God it felt good to destroy the object of so much frustration.

New Life/Career Goal: Be able to afford real, sturdy wood furniture. Something that requires real carpentry skills to assemble and not a mini disposable European screwdriver.

It’s All About Me

The only calices I have on my entire body are the result of years of flip-flop wearing. Everywhere else is soft, pudgy, and overindulged.

I listen to your voicemails as soon as I get them. I read texts as soon as I hear the little beep. I never respond to either. It takes days. The only way you can expect to reach me is by leaving a message so cryptic the curiosity wears me thin enough to return the call before I forget I ever received it.

I have never played Scrabble.  I don’t even know how the game works. I’m told that for someone who enjoys writing and generally mocks anyone who can’t spell, this is odd.

I live for and in a constant state of anticipation of the next great love. The next hobby, the next buy. The next art. The next great movie. One of my greatest every day life pleasures is movie previews. Whoever matches music with previews is a genius. MIA’s Paper Planes made me want to see Pineapple Express (even though nothing else about the movie did).

If I could be anyone famous, I want to be Shirley Manson.

If I could meet anyone famous, it would be John Mayer. I would handcuff myself to him and swallow the key. Not as permanent as desired, but it would buy me a few hours at least.

I’m envious of people that can maintain a dark, cynical, and generally detached public persona. I would like to appear this way but my sunny disposition keeps getting in the way. I strive to be Heather Moony in Romi & Michelle’s High School Reunion.

Everything relates to pop culture. Everything. 

The Bakery Takeover

Coffee houses are out.

I could feel it creep up on me this summer, ever since that fateful day Katie and I journeyed to that erotic bakery on highway 6 for Megan’s Bachelorette. We discussed opening a bakery, living out our fat kid dreams. 
Too many episodes of Bridezillas and a secret trip or two to Town Center’s sugary little heaven, and I find other people now hanging out late night at Dessert Gallery the way they used to do at Starbucks. Honestly, I don’t know what took so long to make the jump. I don’t even like coffee all that much. Cupcakes have always been my favorite sweet, dessert, food, period.
Reasons and Theories:
1. Nothing lasts forever, all is flux, etc, etc. Coffee houses were a trend that had to die at some point.
2. Now that we all have jobs instead of class we need a place to meet and detox from stress, not meet to stress and study. And while bars are the obvious choice, the more responsibilities you have and the more your alarm clock rings at 6:30 AM, the less time you have for late nights and hangovers.
3. Ace of Cakes. Proudly pioneering the message that “baking and cake decorating is the new emo thing to do.” And I know I keep harping on Emo, but seriously folks, all those fans have to go somewhere. Have to channel that energy into something. A thousand Ben Gibbard fans don’t just disappear overnight.
Prediction: Trendy bakery explosion continued. The economy will go down the gutter, but the price of a cupcake will rise to as much as $5 before anyone bats a lash.

Early Edition: Halloween

Beyond actually dressing up for Halloween, one of my favorite pass-times is contemplating The Perfect Costume. It’s always a challenge, and frankly, many of you aren’t up to it, so I’ve provided a list of cliches to avoid this Halloween.

Top 2 Slutty Costumes:
1) Anything portrayed by the Village People, IE firemen, policemen, indians, crossing guards, 0nly with more belly fat and butt cleavage showing
2) Sarah Palin, American flag swimsuit version

Top 2 “I’m an Intellectual” Costumes:
1) Sarah Palin, business suit debate version
2) Uhm, there won’t be another. It will only be Sarah Palin. Maybe somebody will be smartass enough to say they are Tina Fey dressed as Palin, but essentially they will be the same

Top 2 Overused Emo Costumes:
1) Willy Wonka
2) The Mad Hatter
*Anything involving Tim Burton or his pet Johnny Depp is pretty much a no-go

Top 2 “I Need an Excuse to be a Douche Bag” Costumes:
1) The Joker
2) Green Man. Yes, from Always Sunny. Because you all think you are the only one who knows about it.

Top 2 Overused Animal Costumes:
1) Hot Dog Buns
2) Anything where the dog has faux arms to make it look like they are standing upright

In my personal opinion, it’s time to stop the maddness. Stop trying to trendy or kitchy or smart or a whore, and go for the classics. Be a mermaid. Dare to be a non-slutty public servant. Be something scary. Use fake blood.

*Note: there is no such thing as an un-slutty French maid. While they are in fact, classic Halloween, the sluttyness negates them from my list. Yes, even if you are referencing Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Poll: What are you going to be this Halloween? And I would say you won’t be judged to encourage responses, but who am I kidding. You will be judged. Brutally. If you chose to provide a rebuttal, the only evidence I will consider is the nature of the event to which you are wearing it.

BlogCatalog: If You Actually Read This, I’d Be More Worried

I recently joined BlogCatalog.com out of curiosity and as a way to find other blogs.

What I’ve learned in 24 hours of desperate “read my blog I’m SO fascinating” appeals veiled as friendship requests and many other mildly pathetic attempts to get attention is that BlogCatalog.com is the online equivalent of a nude beach.

Ain’t nothin but a bunch of ugly old fat men standing around feverishly discussing if and when a woman will ever show up.

Our generation really is full of people egotistical enough to that think they have something to say and no one who is humble enough to listen.

Not that I am any better.

See Related: EuroTrip Scene

Hired.

PR Account Coordinator starting Wednesday,

Medical Coverage kicks in December 1st,
Sigh of relief, half-breathed.
The trick now is to prove all the potential they see in me.

Scrawled in a Red Notebook

9/22/08– Today I decided screw being creative, I want to work for the man. The man has benefits, the man has medical coverage. The man pays twice what I get now and gives me every other Friday off. Three cheers for the man.

9/25/08– I still feel sheepish guilt when doodling my new name. Still don’t want to jinx it. Still don’t want to be “that girl”. I keep waiting for it to feel “okay”. Maybe once my new driver’s license comes in it will feel so. Until then I just feel like a star-struck sixteen year old, armed with a temporary paper driver’s license.
10/7/08– Beautiful Things:
Mediarology.com
BeneFit
Koren Zailckas’ website
Hucksters.com
10/9/08– I’ve been told when you dream about teeth falling out, you are afraid of some change in your life. Last night, an entire 1/4 of my teeth fell out connected to each other in a half-denture-like strip. This job thing is getting to me. It’s big, folks.
10/13/08Dream. Show on Chimeras on Discovery Health and watching multiple graphics on cells combining in the womb before sleeping last night lead to Borg cubes in space. Two silvery Rubik’s Cube-like spaceships opening and intertwining to form massive structures in space. Me, inside the Sears Tower, being shot out to outerspace and smashed onto the side of the Borg battleship. World ending, me escaping through cracked windows and and stealing clothes from a thrift shop to keep warm in the vacuum of space. Me forcing myself back to sleep in the morning to finish living out the beautiful insanity of it all.