Jobs I Feel My Roommate Should Consider If He Quits His Overworked/Underpaid Catering Job
Chef. I bet his parents would totally pay for him to go to culinary school. And I hear you have to practice a lot for culinary school. And that your roommate gets to eat lots of yummy yummy food. This guy who's friends with my best friend Adam got married to this chick who had been to culinary school (when they were 18 and 20, respectively, but that's another story), and one time we went over to their house and sat around and got stoned and played video games and she made these totally amazing apple tart things. Mmmmmmm. Apple tarts.
MAC Make-Up Artist. First of all, I bet they get some wicked discounts. Also, it would be a totally great excuse for me to go hang out at MAC all the time. And the best part would be that he'd have to practice putting make-up on people all the time! Seriously, is there anything more fun than having someone else put make-up on you? I think not. (That noise you heard was all my lesbian cred being forcibly removed.)
Massage Therapist. Mmmmmm, massage. I once dated this guy who gave really good back rubs, and I was constantly making up lies about my back hurting so he would massage me. I'd be like, "No, I'm really stressed out, and I think I pulled something! No, higher! Okay, now lower!"
Cynthia's Houseboy.This is an unpaid internship position, but you learn a lot of useful skills, and it looks really good on your resume. Really, I swear. I write a really great letter of recomendation, too.
Girl in the Boy's Room So I appear to have caused quite a stir with my call for coed bathrooms on East/West.
Now, you have to understand that I went to a Damn Hippie College where the students in each hall voted on whether they wanted their bathroom to be coed or not. So I got used to looking in the mirror while brushing my teeth and seeing some guy using the urinal behind me about halfway through freshman year. In fact, the one time that we lived in an all girls hall with a girls bathroom, we were always getting in trouble for having boys in the bathroom.
I currently have a coed bathroom at this very moment, since my roommate is, in fact, a boy. Not to mention the fact that since my roommate and I are both fighting the good fight against the cultural tyranny that is clothing, we see each other naked quite a bit anyway.
Plus, I took a women's studies class at that Damn Hippie College, so I know that the binary system of gender is just a false dichotomy, anyway. And why bother with a falsely dichotomous bathroom systems when it means you've got to wait in line to pee?
I don't really have a problem with those big bathrooms with lots of stalls. I mean, sure, I'd be happier if they were coed, but I realize that some people have hang ups.
No, the bathrooms that I have issues with are the little one hole bathrooms in restaurants and gas stations and bars. You know the ones I'm talking about. You lock the door when you go in, and there's a toilet and a sink in the girls and a toilet, sink and urinal in the mens. Typically, there's three people waiting for the girl's room, and the boy's room is empty.
You know what I do in this situation? I use the men's room. And frequently, after I use it, several other girls follow my example. It doesn't matter that the little person on the door is wearing pants, because there's no one else in the bathroom with you! You locked the door after you! Sure, there's a urinal in there, but you can ignore it and use the toilet. (Unless you're feeling particularly frisky.) Sometimes there's not even a urinal in there.
With that in mind, I'd like to present Cyn's Guide To Using the Men's Room for Girls Who Are Sick of Waiting to Pee:
If you're in a restaurant or gas station, you can pretty much just use the men's room, because if anyone is in there, they're going to have it locked. The most trouble you're going to have here is some guy giving you a weird look when you leave the bathroom, which you should just ignore.
When you're trying to use the bathroom in a bar or club is when things get tricky. You see, not only do men pee faster than girls, but their bathrooms are designed so that two of them can pee at a time. Seriously! How unfair is that? So you can't just barge in, since you may disturb up to two urinating men.
There are three ways of dealing with this. The easiest is just to ask the first guy leaving the men's room if it's empty. Unfortunately, this is the method that works the worst, since often times someone will go in and he won't notice or something, so you'll open the door to the men's room only to note that it is not, in fact, empty.
So if you're planning to ask a guy about the men's room the best method is the second method, which is to make him actually go in there and check for you. This works best if you're cute and in a bar, as you're pretty much assured that you'll be able to get some guy to do practically anything for you under these circumstances.
The third method is the counting method. At some point, you'll be able to tell how many guys are in the men's room, possibly through methods one and two. So, after this, just add and subtract as guys enter and leave until you reach zero. Then go in, and pee away.
Obviously, I recommend doing all of this while standing in line for the ladies room. Otherwise, it could take forever, and it might be easier just to use the ladies if there's a short line. Also, if you're in a gay bar, just use the ladies. You will probably have to ask the bartender for the key to it. If you're a regular at a gay bar, they will probably just tell you where the key is after a while, so you can use this bathroom with reckless abandon.
So, there you go. Now go out, and take back the night. 3:14 PM Comments
I Am Completely Uninteresting Well, I did leave Center City today, which is practically unprecedented in my life. I took the bus and everything. I went to UPenn, where an Oberin Alum I know who works there showed me around. It's a neat campus, there are lots of cool old buildings and stuff.
Other than that, I did my laundry.
So I thought I would tell you guys this (fantastic) joke:
Q: What's 9 inches long and makes women cry all night? A: Crib dealth. 11:36 PM Comments
The Future I'm thinking of moving to Blogger Pro, since I'm very tired of not being able to publish. The advantages would be that I'd be getting Pro for both this and Naked House, since it works by user, not blog. Also, you know, I'd be able to publish and shit.
The downside is that blogger kind of sucks ass on Netscape, my preferred browser (although I guess I should download Mozilla). Also, my archives have never worked right. Ever. They always have weird mysterious problems. I don't think the Naked House archives are working even now, as we speak.
So I'm thinking of Moveable Type, which is free. And gives you a lot more control over your page, which is a definite plus. There are a lot of features that I like to imagine I would put up here if it were a little easier. However, I also hear it's incredibly complicated to set up. Which would be more of a Naked House problem, since it's hard to get eight people to do anything in a timely order, let alone anything complicated. It was a huge pain in the ass to get everyone switched from full names to nicknames, for Christ's sake. So if I did switch over to MT, it would probably just be for this blog, and everyone at Naked House would just have to suffer when Blogger was down.
What do you all use? Does anyone have like, positive Blogger Pro stories? Jason, when are you going to finish your blog tool and revolutionize my life? 1:59 AM Comments
Vanity Fair I now have a picture up at the mirror project.
I'm in my Playboy themed bathroom, wearing cat ears. The silly thing is that this is a rather normal event for me.
Also, does anyone have any advice on how to keep my camera still? No matter how hard I try, I always seem to move it slightly unless I'm actually looking through the viewfinder. Maybe I should just get a tripod or something. Because, you know, it's very important that I be able to take pictures of myself in my bathroom mirror. 1:20 AM Comments
Wednesday, November 20, 2002
No False Advertising So, I realize that everyone else probably saw the Christina Aguilera Dirrty video like, two months ago and moved on. However, I have no tv and have only recently discovered that I can spend all that time when I'm supposed to be productive at work to watch music videos on Launch.com.
All I have to say about that video is, "Damn!" That girl has some how managed to find clothes that actually make her look sluttier than she would if she were actually naked. The assless chaps! The skirt that appears to be half missing! The other skirt with the slits up the side! The red underwear!
And then there's her constantly thrusting her crotch into the camera. And her writhing around being groped by a bunch of girls in a shower. And the part where she's simulating doggy style on the dance floor. (That's my favorite part.) And the very blow-job suggestive part with the water bottle.
And then there's the part where whoever the dude is in the video randomly punches someone in a big stuffed rabbit suit. I don't know what the hell that part is about. Is it a plushie thing?
I realize that you people probably have tvs and watch these sorts of things all the time. However, I, not realizing what sorts of things are happening on MTV, was actually kind of shocked by this video. I saw it and went, "She's really not lying about that 'dirrty' thing. Girl earned that extra r."
So I now watch that video approximately five times a day. It's just necessary. 2:25 AM Comments
Conversation Me: And the worst part is, I don't even like metal. Em: Seriously. This would be so much better if it were happening on a Tweepop board. 1:57 AM Comments
Monday, November 18, 2002
You Make The Call
I've decided the only sensible thing to do is have you, the reader, decide for me. I take forever to decide what to eat in restaurants, I graduated with a double major and I can barely dress myself. If we leave this up to me, it's never going to happen. 9:27 PM Comments
At Long Last, Socio-Political Ramifications So, I said that I would finish my sexual identity crisis rant two days ago. But then everything went to hell in a handbasket and back, and who can resist a handbasket ride?
As the metalheads have so apptly demonstrated, online people tend to assume that I'm a lesbian. Possibly due to the many, many, many posts about hot girls on this site. But in real life, people assume I'm straight. Other lesbians assume I'm straight. Other femme lesbians assume I'm straight while I'm sitting in a lesbian bar and trying to flirt with them. People constantly ask my roommate and I if we're a couple. We get asked this in gay bars.
I'm not a part of the lesbian community. In fact, I think I'm more involved in the gay male community than the lesbian community. I wasn't a part of the lesbian community at my "gay mecca" college, where all the lesbians had the same butch look and bad haircut. Sometimes I see really hot butch lesbians my age buying beer in the convience store on my corner, and I want to follow them and find out where the cool lesbians hang out. I want to join their club. But I'm femme and bi, so I don't really fit the membership requirements.
But my life is a lot easier because I can pass as straight. The only times I've ever been heckled at all for being gay where when I was doing things like making out with my girlfriend on the streets of West Hollywood. I lived with horrible, racist, homophobic housemates when I was in Buffalo the summer before last, and I got away with it because I let them believe that I was straight. I'm not out at work yet, not because I think it'll be a problem, but just because I don't have to, and I don't feel like dealing with possible repercussions yet. (My big plan is either to tell them right before I need days off to see my girlfriend, in the hopes that their minds will be too blown to not give me time off, or to tell them sometime after my 3 month evaluation period is over.) I've got it easy. Even when I am walking around holding hands with my girlfriend, the general straight man reaction appears to be, "I want to sleep with them," not "I want to beat them up."
In fact, the general straight man reaction to the phrase, "I'm bi and I have a girlfriend," appears to be, "Holy shit, I've got to sleep with that." It's like "She's taken and not by me" doesn't even register in their minds. Which is why I've already figured out the line I'm going to use the next time a straight boy hits on me: "Gee, I'd love to go out with you, but I have this really bad case of lesbianism right now."
Bi chicks aren't taken seriously, and all you have to do to see why is look at the hotornot personals with the keyword bi. I've looked at maybe four, and I've already seen two that say things like, "No guys, please, I don't want to cheat on my boyfriend." So what are you planning on doing with the hot girl who emails you? Wait, let me guess: lead her on, promise sex but never put out, and never even come close to any sort of emotional attachment. Been there, dated that.
Half of the girls that I've dated have been of the, "I want to date girls, but eventually I'm going to marry a boy," school, and half of my break ups have been cause the girl I was dating just couldn't hack dating a girl. And now I'm kind of the opposite of that, in my own, "I'd fuck a guy, but I can't see it being serious," school. I've debated defining my sexuality as "bi-serious," like the opposite of bi-curious, but that still requires an long as explanation, and probably won't lead to people take me any more seriously.
I think I'm just jealous. I want to be like one of those gayboys who pops out of his mother's womb and is like, "That's the last time I'm seeing one of those!" It's bad enough that all the cool dykes automatically think I'm straight, but then they find out that I'm not a lesbian, I'm just bi, and they go, "Oh, that explains it, she's not really one of us." This is why I lie and tell people I'm a lesbian when I'm in gay bars.
I want a label. I want to be put in a neat little box in people's heads, and not only do I want them to understand it, I want them to think it's a sexy package.
Too bad my stupid cunt always has to get wet and fuck everything up. 8:10 PM Comments
Thanks To everyone who's been incredibly supportive with this whole harassment thing. Thanks to my roommate, who not only cleaned the entire house today, but also made lasagna. Thanks to the East/West boys, who always rock my world. Thanks to Smashleigh, who is another amazing dyke blogger, and whose blog I always enjoy. Thanks to Em, for calling me. And thanks to everyone who posted awesome comments.
You guys make this whole blogging thing worthwhile. Seriously, there were moments yesterday when I was like, "Why do I even bother?" And then I remembered, it's you guys. 12:10 AM Comments
Tom Riddle Can Open My Chamber of Secrets Anytime I watched the new Harry Potter movie today.
Was it just me, or is Tom Riddle fucking hot? British, slightly dorky, and evil. Just the way I like them. 12:07 AM Comments
Sunday, November 17, 2002
Sorry, Dears Well, I was going to finish my sexual identity crisis tonight. (If only it were that easy.)
But I'm having metalhead issues again, and dealing with that took up most of my night. And no, I'm not going to link to the new message board where I'm being slandered.
And yes, by "dealing with" I mean mumbling incoherent pitiful whining and revenge plots to my roommate.
Metalheads, I have this to say to you: No, I did not pretend to be davebrenner or VinnieDiesel or whoever I was supposed to be. However, whoever he is is currently pretending to be me. I'd never even been to your board until it showed up on my referral log. Which yes, I check obsessively.
You see, my darling little headbangers, there are only twenty four hours in the day. Now, I spend 8 of those sleeping, 8 working, 2 watching bad teen movies, 2 having personal crisises I have to bitch to my roommate about, 1 eating, 1 drinking, 1 talking on the phone with my girlfriend, and 1 making random craft projects. So as you see, I simply don't have the time or energy to spend pretending to be a metalhead, much less looking up metal boards on which to pretend.
So, to save us all some time and energy, I'll just say this now. Yes, you're better than me. You're straight, you eat meat, you don't do drugs. Congratulations, you're an upstanding citizen, and I'm a degenerate. You really don't have to post comments about it, because I will just erase them and it will be a waste of everyone's time. I hope that being better than me makes you happy. I'd like to pretend that I'm grown up and well balanced and perfectly fine with the fact that you appear to hate me for no reason, but the truth is that it turns me into a pathetic hysterical wreck. It makes me eat ice cream and smoke cigarettes and take pain killers above the recommended dosages. And I really hope that makes you happy, cause I'd hate to think that I was being this miserable for nothing.
Oh, and Vinnie? You "HOPE [I] GET FUCKING GAY-BASHED, CUNT!!"? What, me just getting beat up wouldn't be enough for you? It has to be a hate crime, too? Do you even understand how horrible that is, on any level? I wouldn't wish a hate crime on anyone. A horrible fisting accident, yes, but not a hate crime.
So please, I understand if you don't like me, or this page. But if you don't like it, you can just leave. I didn't ask you to come here, but I am asking you to go. 1:27 AM Comments
Saturday, November 16, 2002
My New Sexual Identity Crisis You guys . . . I think I might be . . . you know, gay.
Oh, wait, I was already gay.
I think I might be, um, less bi than I used to be.
The Girl is the first girl that I've really seriously dated. And one of the perks of seriously dating someone is that you get to have a lot of sex. Really, really great, mindblowing sex. The kind of sex where you forget how to speak English and your own name. The "Holy Shit, I didn't even think that was possible," kind of sex.
I had great sex with the guys I've dated, too. Although, I don't really like blowjobs. And I have a weird phobia about semen. I've never had boysex without a condom. You know how sometimes you read erotica about people having sex without condoms, and it describes the semen dripping out afterwards? Yeah, that makes me want to vomit. I have no problem swallowing the stuff, it's just the whole . . . dripping . . . thing squicks me the hell out. But I've thoroughly enjoyed the sex I've had with men. And I've dated a bunch of boys who gave great head, god bless 'em.
When I was dating boys, I wanted sex whenever I could have it. Now, I want sex all the time. I'll be sitting at work, doing whatever, and my brain's going, "You know what would be great? If I was sucking on some nipples right now."
I'm attracted to girls' bodies in a way I wasn't with boys. At least, I'm attracted to this girl's body in a way that I haven't been with anyone before. There's this Pulp song called F.E.E.L.I.N.G. C.A.L.L.E.D. L.O.V.E. where Jarvis Cocker sings, "but this isn't chocolate boxes and roses. It's dirtier than that, like some small animal that only comes out at night. And I see flashes of the shape of your breasts and the curve of your belly And they make me have to sit down and catch my breath." That's what it's like. I walk down the street and I think of the shape of her and I'm filled with longing. I've never felt like that before.
But haven't I also spent my whole life being conditioned to see women's bodies as sexy?
Maybe this is just because this girl is rocking my world so hard right now. Maybe this is just like all those times I've dated guys and gone, "But I like this so much, maybe I like this too much, maybe this means I'm straight."
But I haven't ever liked it this much before.
I mean, I would probably date a guy again. If he were wicked cute, and really nice, and gave really, really good head. I still find men attractive.
If I ever broke up with my girlfriend, I would probably have sex with men. I'm just not sure I would pursue it or enjoy it as much as sex with women.
If I'm a lesbian, does that mean that all the sex I've had with guys doesn't count? Because I liked that sex. And does that mean that those relationships don't count? Because those were important relationships. I've been in love with boys. I still love some of those boys.
But this girl is my ideal girly relationship come true. I mean, I totally had this fantasy girly relationship that I thought would never happen because it was my fantasy and way to good to come true, and this is it. We make out in the dressing rooms at the mall. We're cuter than a box of really cute kittens. And the sex blows my fucking mind.
Tomorrow: The socio-political ramifications of my identity crisis. 4:33 AM Comments
The Best Laid Plans I was going to go buy a strap-on tonight, but then my roommate passed out instead. 4:01 AM Comments
Friday, November 15, 2002
My New Addiction I am so in love with soy ice cream. It's got just the right texture (I hate it when you get ice cream out of the freezer and it's too hard and you have to wait and it gets all melty around the edges but it's still too hard in the center), and it's good for me! It is good for me, right? I mean, I read the nutritional info on the package, and it appears to be good for me, but it's way too tasty to be healthy. There must be a catch.
Anyway, the one problem I'm having with the particular kind of soy ice cream I got is that it's fruit sweetened, and also espresso flavored, and the espresso with vague fruit after taste is a little, well, different. Fortunately, I polished off the carton tonight, so I'm ready for soy ice cream with either real sugar or a more fruit agreeable flavor. 1:56 AM Comments
Practical Magic So, I finally got around to making all of my blogger archives work. However, this is only garanteed to be true for the next .05 seconds or so, since my blogger archives never work correctly. So I recommend you take advantage of it while you can.
Also, I really can't handle that I've been doing this for over a year. I'm looking at shit from November last year and going, "But that happened like, two weeks ago!" 1:45 AM Comments
Yes, I know I already have a fake fur hat. Two, if you count the fake fur trimmed one from the Super K kids department. However, fake fur hats, much like hats with ears, are something you can never have enough of.
Fortunately, my fake fur hat has ears, fulfilling all of my hat needs, and then some. It is possibly the Platonic Cyn Hat. (That's Platonic in the Platonic Horse sense, not in the Platonic Just Friends sense. Rest assured, I am nothing more than friends with any of my hats.) 1:26 AM Comments
The Perfect Haircut I got a haircut today. It's not a great haircut, but it's servicable. It's basically the same short bob I always get, and then wait three months until it's annoying and get it cut again. And, most importantly, it was fourteen dollars. (It was fourteen dollars because I claimed to be a student, but if you only take one life lesson away from Life in the Pink, it should be that Lying Is Good.)
Thinking about getting my haircut today, I came up with my fantasy for The Perfect Haircut.
The perfect haircut has to be done by a gay man. (Usually I get my haircut by elderly women.) I want to go into a salon, without an appointment, sit down, and have a gay man decide what I need to do with my hair. (Part of the reason I've had pretty much the same haircut since I was twelve or so, minus the regrettable period that I had half my head shaved, is that I really just have no idea what to do with it.) This haircut should be young, sassy, and stand out without being ridiculous. It should require no hair products, and a minimal amount of brushing. It should bring out amazing facial features that I was previously unaware I had. In my fantasy haircut, I leave the salon looking so good that beams of light are actually radiating from my body.
Also, my fantasy haircut would cost fourteen dollars.
Unfortunately, I feel that any real experience that came close to my Fantasy Haircut would probably cost about ten times what I spent on my haircut today. And it probably would not be ten times better than my current haircut, which is, as mentioned, perfectly servicable.
After my haircut, they put me in one of those wacky drier things that have the bowl that you pull down over your head. It was fun. I got to sit there, reading an old copy of Allure and pretending to be in a Wacky Salon Scene in a movie. 12:30 AM Comments
Wednesday, November 13, 2002
I Make My Own Fun Today I took a bunch of painkillers and played board games with a bunch of lesbians.
It turns out that I'm really good at Scattergories. (I had never played before.) My brain just spits out a lot of random shit that's semi-related, and I write it down. Example: For capitals beginning with p, I wrote down P. Cause it's the capital letter P. Get it? Get it?
Yeah, maybe it was the painkillers.
Then I came home to find the one beer in our fridge gone, and my roommate passed out on the couch. But I poked him and he seemed annoyed and pulled the blanket over his head, so I'm figuring he's okay. 10:12 PM Comments
Tuesday, November 12, 2002
I Have No Indie Cred And no one to blame but myself.
I just rented Josie and the Pussycats. For the second time.
I stand firm in my belief that it is a tragically overlooked cinamatic masterpiece. Also, bad teen movies are my kryptonite. 2:17 PM Comments
Monday, November 11, 2002
Fuzzy! My roommate Phil says I'm not allowed to have a dog. It actually forbids pets on our lease (despite the fact that everyone else in our building appears to have a dog.). Also, I would have to take care of a dog, which I probably would suck at. So, really, it's just Phil's job to tell me that I cannot get a dog for my own good. Basically, everytime we see a dog, we have the following conversation:
Me: Can we get a dog? Phil: No. Me: Thanks. Good Phil.
Sometimes, we skip the first part, and he just says, "No, we cannot get a dog," everytime I see a cute doggy and start looking wistful.
So I've started petting him, instead. His stomach is quite furry and nice, and neatly fulfills many of my doggy needs. 4:28 PM Comments
Saturday, November 09, 2002
Show and Tell Here is a picture of the marzipan vagina. Bask in its glory. 11:24 PM Comments
Friday, November 08, 2002
My Girlfriend Is The Coolest Girl On The Fucking Planet I just got a package from her containing a marzipan model of the vagina. 3:14 PM Comments
The Internet Made Me Crazy Warning: Do not read this post if you have a weak stomach or are a hypocondriac, as it may make you crazy as well.
I'd like to preface this by saying that the behavior I'm about to discribe is incredibly abnormal for me. I'm normally a reasonably calm, sane, non-overreacting person.
One day I'm reading a crafting site I like to read, when I stumble upon this thread. (Warning: Reading thread may make you crazy.) It's about pinworms, and how they're a really common intestinal parasite. Basically, there are these really tiny worms that can live up your ass and they're really easy to get and a lot of people have them and you can have them and show no symptoms. Now, I don't know about you, but I personally am not cool with having worms I don't know about living up my ass.
Now, you should bear in mind that I 1) show absolutely no symptoms of having pinworms 2) drink enough that it's a virtual miracle that my internal organs can live inside me, let alone anything that's not supposed to be there 3) have been living blissfully ignorant of pinworms prior to this.
So, I do the sensible thing, and go to several different drug stores trying to locate pin-x, the over the counter pinworm treatment. Then, after failing to locate it easily, I resort to ordering it over the internet.
Then I go into a tizzy about washing my sheets. Do I just have to wash the sheets? What about the mattress pad? And the blanket? I'm worrying about this so much that I pretty much manage to convince myself that everything in my entire apartment is covered in pinworm eggs. I'm freaking out about this. I'm having trouble going to sleep, because I'm convinced that there are worms in my ass and they're going to be crawling around while I sleep.
Finally, I decide that since I have absolutely no reason to believe that I actually have this ailment, I should just wash my sheets and take the medication and get over it.
So I do.
However, I'm still obsessed with this, as shown in the following conversation with my roommate: Roommate: Blay, blay, rimming, unhealthy. Me: Man, I bet it's really easy to get pinworms from rimming. Roommate: Yeah. (gives me look) And hepatitis. 2:39 PM Comments
Thursday, November 07, 2002
Toaster Lamp I finished making a lamp out of a toaster today. Because I had a super-groovey broken toaster, and I needed a lamp. It hasn't exploded and killed me or anything yet, which I'm taking as a good sign. Like every good toaster lamp, it has a handle. 9:49 PM Comments
Did Cyn Leave Her Apartment Today? No. No, she did not. It looked cold out there! And those four flights of stairs are just so long . . .
However, I did clean and wash many dishes. Also, I have started to convert an old toaster into a lamp. It's almost done, I just need to get a new switch for it, because the one I had bought was too small for the wire.
So tomorrow I'll have to leave my apartment for that. I also think I'm going to go to the yarn store, since I need to start making people things for Christmas. Cause I'm broke crafty, so everyone's getting homemade shit this year. I found this yarn at Walmart that's "Lion Chunky USA" brand. It's slogan is something like, "It's chunky and fast," which is far too close to my personal slogan for me to be able to argue with it. It's actually the lighter gray yarn in the kitty hat. I want to make a hat for my little brother with it, but I don't think I have enough of it left over. And nothing sucks more than getting halfway through a project and running out of yarn. (That's actually why the kitty hat is two shades of gray, but I think it turned out very serendipitously. Also, it's grey on gray, making it super indie rock.) 1:08 AM Comments
Wednesday, November 06, 2002
I Made A Hat! And it has cat ears. I know, some of you are going, "Cynthia, don't you have like, 50 hats with cat ears and horns and things? Don't you have enough hats with ears?" To which I can only reply that one can never have enough cat ears, on hats or otherwise.
Here is it close up. Admire the exquisite workmanship.
Also, giant props to my friend Cera for showing me how to make it. 12:05 AM Comments
Conversation with the Girl Her: We have a symbiotic relationship. We're like a shark and those fish that live under sharks fins. Me: Which one of us is which? Her: I'm the shark! Me: Cool. I'm the fish. Her: Wait, I want to be the fish. Maybe we're like an elephant and one of those birds that live on their backs. Me: I'm the bird. Her: Fine. You have to eat bugs. Me: I don't want to eat bugs. Her: Maybe we're like an alligator and one of those birds that lives in its mouth. Me: I'm the bird. Her: Okay. Me: This means I get to spend all day in your mouth. Her: Grrrrrrrrrrrrr. Fine. I have really sharp teeth and I can bite my enemies with them. Me: I already do that. Her: I'm your enemy? Me: No. I just love you so much that I want a piece of you inside me forever. Specifically, a piece that I gnaw off of your shoulder. 12:29 AM Comments
Monday, November 04, 2002
Rasputina My high school had all these goth kids who were incredibly attractive and took speed and ran around kissing each other and starting trouble. Rasputina is kind of like them, only if they were older and also really fucking talented musicians, but still too cool for school.
Rasputina is two goth chicks who play cello and a gothboy drummer, and they make incredible, massive music. It's hard to believe the sheer amount of sound that comes out of these three people, and the lead singer's voice struts through it all like a teenage tweeker cutting class to apply more black lipstick.
One of the best shows I've been to in a very long time. 11:50 PM Comments
Sunday, November 03, 2002
Rasputina Fucking Rocks More details sometime after I get my 5 hours of sleep and go to work. 2:21 AM Comments
Saturday, November 02, 2002
Yummy Yummy! Not only is there pie in my fridge, there's also baba ghanoush!
