Phil's suggestions on how I should deal with my love life, helpfully illustrated by a story in which he pretended one of his friends was dead in order to gracefully get out of a relationship.
The Trouble with My Stove Is that it only has two temperatures, and they are "off" and "the face of the sun." 5:39 PM Comments
Saturday, March 29, 2003
From A Pitchfork Thread About Oberlin "everyone who goes to oberlin i think is bipolar and good in bed." 10:54 PM Comments
What I Like You know that part in that one Silver Jews song where he's all, "And then the rent became whiskey, whiskey, and then my life became risky, risky"?
Strip Bar! One of my friends is in town for Spring Break, and she had mentioned that she wanted to go to a strip bar, so Phil and I of course volunteered our strip club going services.
She wanted to go on Wednesday, and I was going to watch a movie with a bunch of my friends earlier in the night, so I rounded up Jill, Dan and Little Sam and made them come with us. So basically, it was two straightish girls, two gayboys, a straightboy who obviously felt very awkward about the whole deal, and me.
I am so all about helping the straight girls discover their love of boobies. I like to think of it as giving back the community.
We went to Signatures, on 13th St. It was actually a pretty decent strip club. I'm not like, a strip club connoisseur or anything, but it was better than the couple of places I'd been in Cleveland. There were a couple of real scary boob jobs, but by and large the girls were really cute. And they had really cute clothes! Me and the straight girls were all like, "Oh my god, look at those stockings! They're adorable! And those shoes! Uh, we're checking out clothes in a strip bar. Bad us."
The straight girls and I also did these shots that come in test tubes. The waitress puts the test tube in between her breasts, climbs on your lap, and then you pull it out with your mouth, flip it up and chug it while she fellates the other end of the test tube. This is possibly the best shot taking technique ever. While the waitress was getting off of me she made some comment like, "Whoa, that's a lot of boob there." That's right, the waitress at the strip club said I have big boobs.
The one problem I have in strip bars is that I never know whether or not to make eye contact with the strippers. It's like, "You're topless, you have on stilettos, you just did a back flip and suspended yourself upside down from a pole, um, yes, I'm staring at you." But I always feel kind of creepy when they catch me looking. Despite the fact that it's, you know, a strip club. It's not like I'm there for the drinks.
Then my friend from school and I ended up getting really drunk and staying up all night talking, and I literally did not sleep at all on Thursday, and then I went to work and worked from 5 pm until 2:15 am. It was incredibly painful.
Thursday day I was a total dirty fratboy on a dirty soccer team. I was like, "Who needs clothes when there are sweatpants?" I seriously considered wearing my sweatpants and tank top to work, but then didn't because I walk to work, and that would involve being seen in public in sweatpants, and I probably would have had to put some underwear on just for professionalism's sake. And the tank top/sweatpants ensemble is no good if you have to wear a bra.
I was totally going to blog about this yesterday, but my internet service was down from like, 2:30 pm until sometime before I got back from work. Comcast sucks. 12:26 AM Comments
Friday, March 28, 2003
I Just Went to the Lesbian Bar, and Boy, Are My Inner Thighs Sore Cause I was riding a mechanical bull!
Yeah, that's right, I was riding a mechanical bull at the dyke bar. It turns out that riding a mechanical bull makes your inner thighs really sore. It makes your wrist really sore, too. The first time I rode it I got into this rhythm with it and stayed on for a really long time, but the second time I lost my balance and fell off after like, two seconds. Possibly because my inner thighs were like, "No more of this! No more!"
My friend had his digital camera, so he claims he will burn me a cd with pictures of me on the mechanical bull. If this happens, you can rest assured there will be many mechanical bullriding pictures.
Also, where are all the hot dykes in Philly, yo? Cause there were like, two in that bar, and they were obviously a couple. I know there are hot dykes around my age, I see them places. I kind of want to follow them and see where they go, but then I would be a creepy stalker.
Also, I'm really horrible at picking up girls. I don't know what to do! I just kind of stare at them and then look away when they look at me and am just generally weird and creepy. I'm crap at picking guys up, too, but guys tend to approach me, whereas girls think I'm straight. Or, you know, just don't find me attractive. 11:59 PM Comments
Tuesday, March 25, 2003
Ow, pt. 2 I think I may be getting an ear infection.
My plan is to ignore it until I can no longer stand the pain, and then run whimpering to the emergency room. Perhaps it is not really an ear infection, and will go away.
Also, who the hell gets ear infections in their fucking 20s? I hadn't had one since I was like, 8, and then I got two of them while in college. I don't even have a cold right now, there's no reason for this. 11:46 PM Comments
Spring! In the air! I got out of work at 1:15 pm today, because I'd been working really long shifts and thus only needed to work 5 hours today. It was great walking home in the sunshine, I had this great cutting class feeling. I felt incredibly good, way better than anyone who was up drinking with her friends until 3 am and then woke up at 7:15 had any right to feel.
I went home, looked at the internet for a little bit, ate some vegan mac and cheese. (The name of which, is, I swear to god, "Mac and Chreese.") I went out on my porch for a while, and there were a hell of a lot of pigeons getting it on out there.
Dear President Bush, Fuck You Dear President Bush,
I graduated last May with a 3.75 GPA from one of the top 25 small liberal arts schools in the nation. I have a double major in Creative Writing and Computer Science, and I'm a woman looking for work in the Tech Industry. Where's my fucking job at, President Bush? Remember Clinton? Yeah, I had a summer internship that paid more than my job does now when Clinton was president.
Did one of those 16 year-old Iraqi kids steal my job? Is that why we're bombing them? Once we've eradicated evil in the world, will I have a job that pays my fucking rent? Or do you just like killing children? Half that country's under 14, that's what you're doing. What exactly were they going to do to us, again, that we had to bomb the shit out of their country? Cause I really don't remember hearing that we were in any danger. Oh wait, I forgot, they're evil.
What's the plan after we've bombed the shit out of all the evil countries? The Axis of Bad? The Axis of Naughty? The Axis of Funny Weird, Not Funny Ha-Ha?
Oh, and what exactly are we going to do after we bomb the shit out of them? Do we really have a plan, there? Cause like, I know you totally know a whole lot about their history and culture and shit. I know you've been staying up at night reading real big thick books about it, figuring out what we're going to do with the five fucking 14 year olds who are going to be left after we've bombed the shit out of their country.
I know it's hard to be you and all. I mean, you weren't actually elected, and, as I mentioned, a lot of us either don't have jobs or have shitty jobs. And I know that it's not nice to point that out, when you're busy figuring out what color terror level we're having tomorrow and who we're going to bomb next and whether the French Ambassador who looked at you funny looked at you funny cause he was evil or just cause he was feeling gassy from some bad Brie.
But, seriously, could you just like, stop bombing the shit out of people for no reason and work on getting me a decent job? I mean, it was fun and all, but I really need some new pants because I've lost all this weight, and I can't afford to buy new pants and it's kind of depressing. Plus like, half my friends don't have jobs and it's nice that they're all unemployed, because they get to hang out together all the time, but it makes them kind of sad and nervous and stuff. If you could just like, get rid of this new new economy, and take us back to the old new economy, I would really appreciate it.
Luv, Cyn
PS. Thanks for the $200 dollars you gave me back on my taxes back in 2001! 5:23 PM Comments
What I want to know is, where's the Terror Sex? We're at Code Orange, or Code Red, or Code Orangish Red or some shit. We're bombing the hell out of well, everybody. George W. Bush is saying we're going to be at war for as long as it takes for his junta to take over, or something like that. I'm feeling the terror, where's the sex? Is there like, a terror sex listserv or something I can get on? I'm a SCUD missile of LUV, baby!
(Life in the Pink: Now with 110% more sexual frustration!) 4:23 PM Comments
Armpits Are the Crotches of the Upper Body The weird thing about shaving your armpits is that it makes them so crotch-like. I mean, if you go by the definition: "The angle or region of the angle formed by the junction of two parts or members, such as two branches or legs," they are crotches.
Some girls have really sexy armpit hair. It's all dark and furry and it makes them look all womanly and grown-up. My armpit hair is too blonde and it just makes me look dirty. So I shave it and have weird crotch-pits. 2:23 PM Comments
Hot Damn, I'm So Fucking Glam This morning while I was waiting for the coffee to be ready, I poured the day old coffee from the pot into the cup of two day old coffee on the table, microwaved it for two minutes and drank it.
I also cut the mold off of some Armenian String Cheese and ate it. Some of the string cheese fell in my bra, but I fished it out and ate that, too. 2:19 PM Comments
So Much Rage, So Little Me Oh god, I hate everything. 12:16 AM Comments
Monday, March 17, 2003
Police State? What? Wait, you say the government is both taking massively unpopular military action, and raising the "terror alert level" for no discernable reason? Why, that's not suspicious at all! They're totally not trying to scare us into submission. Not our government.
The thing that gets to me is that pretty much everyone I know is just like, "Terror alert level? You mean that thing where the government tells us to be scared so they can do whatever they want? That's total bullshit." And yet, we all seem pretty damned unconcerned that the government is just blatantly lying to us. Hello, that shit's fucked up.
And don't even get me started on goddamned Freedom Fries. 11:47 PM Comments
How Much Do I Love this Get Your War On? A whole fucking lot, that's how much.
(You know, the Get Your War on guy went to my school. And judging from this picture of him I saw in the paper, he's pretty cute.) 10:11 PM Comments
Maybe It's the Full Moon I'm having one of those days where I'm grinding my teeth and lashing my tail and I want to smoke 2 packs of cigarettes and drink Jack Daniels straight from the bottle and fuck standing up. 10:10 PM Comments
Sunday, March 16, 2003
I Am Completely Obsessed With This Picture
I have it as my wall paper, and it's just so weird and fascinating. Like, what's up with that girl's thighs? They're strangely lumpy and somehow both freakish and kind of attractive. Same thing with her stomach. And what the hell is up with her weird little mittens? And how much do I need a hat like the one she's wearing? (A whole freakin lot.)
Also, the position she's in is pretty much totally impossible.
And how weird is the whole "Miss Chummy Bunny" thing? Really. "Chummy." What the hell does that mean? 6:51 PM Comments
Saturday, March 15, 2003
Attention The staff here at Life in the Pink are proud to announce we now have a tagline: "You think that you want dong, but I know you want wet cunt."
It's from the Gravy Train song "You Made Me Gay." "If you make your mama cry I'll give you some of my St. Ides", from the Gravy Train song "Sippin' on 40s" was a close runner up.
And no, this is not a blatant attempt to be nominated for the "Biggest Potty Mouth" Anti-Bloggie. Or any other Anti-Bloggie. Not at all. 10:05 PM Comments
Fooling Around with My Links Please excuse my ugliness. (But then, you always do.)
Update: I think this is how it's going to look for the next little bit. Not sure how I feel about it.
Does anyone know how to make my links change color once they've been visited in my blogroll? 5:11 PM Comments
It's a Wonder I Don't Bite More Often Today I had to be at work at 6 AM.
It was all I could do not to call everyone I know and scream, "I'm awake and you're asleep and I hate you!" 3:48 PM Comments
Pirates are the New Monkeys "Think about it: A monkey puts on clothes, and it's funny. A monkey gives you the finger, pulls out a gun, eats his own shit, it's funny. Pirates can do all that, and more. Pirates are very easy to adapt to humor."
Company If you want to go to the Demolition Doll Rods show with me tonight, you should email me in the next hour or so.
I don't have an extra ticket or anything, I just want company. 8:16 PM Comments
Monday, March 10, 2003
I'm Not Sure How I Feel About This The other day Jill and I happened to have the following conversation in front of the computer guy at work:
Jill: There's a porn called "Dude, Where's My Spooge?" Me: Oh my god, that's awesome! Is it gay porn? Jill: Yeah. Me: I would so totally watch that! Computer Guy: You would watch gay porn? Me: Uh, yeah. Jill: Gay porn is funny.
Then the other day when I was around, Jill was talking to the computer guy and my name came up. And the computer guy was like, "Dude that chick is crazy. (pause) Do you really watch gay porn?"
Apparently I am now associated with gay porn in the computer guy's mind. I can't say that I'm not, well, amused and proud.
Also, I can't wait until he finds out that I dig chicks. That shit's going to totally break his fragile little mind. 1:06 AM Comments
Weekend! So, I actually got Saturday and Sunday off for the first time in the last five months, and this is what I did:
Emily came and visited.
I went to a party at Saint Joe's College. (And unlike that time I went to a Penn Party, I didn't get into any fights! In fact, I had a good time.)
Went shopping on South Street. I got the following CDs: The Mountain Goats - Tallahassee, Imperial Teen - On, Cadallaca - Self Titled.
Went out to a gay bar with Jill, Dan (who needs to update his blog), and Jill's boy Mike. And Em and Phil, of course. But you can just add "And Em and Phil" to all of these things. Oh, and then they showed me Invader Zim, which I liked. I enjoy the little robot dog thing a lot. I want one. Phil, can I have a crazy robot dog?
Went to the art museum. It was "Pay what you wish" day. I wished to pay a dollar.
The Problem with Words The problem with the verb disarming, meaning: 1. To lay down arms. 2. To reduce or abolish armed forces.
is that it's also the adjective disarming, meaning: 1. Capable of allaying suspicion or hostility and inspiring confidence; "a disarming smile" 2. capable of allaying hostility.
So, in my mind the word "disarming" conjures up visions of charming P.G. Wodehouse heroines, who almost always have disarming smiles or manners.
Which means when I see headlines like, "Saddam is Disarming" I go, "Not particularly. Hee hee hee."
It's a "The peasants are revolting" kind of deal. 6:41 PM Comments
Thursday, March 06, 2003
I Hate (Certain Aspects of) My Job I'm looking through the Philly Weekly this morning, and I'm all, "Oh, they're playing The Big Lebowski for free this Monday. Oh, I can't go, I'm working. Oh, The Demolition Doll Rods are playing. Can't go, I'm working. LadyFest Philly is in a couple of weeks. Working again."
I'm so incredibly sick of working nights and weekends. When they hired me, they said I'd be working occasional nights and weekends until they hired someone who would just do nights. And now it turns out they're not even going to hire a night person. And now I work every Sunday, I work Friday and Saturday two thirds of the time, and I work two to three nights a week. And sometimes my days off aren't together. (I just redid the schedule so that two thirds of the time they are.) I just redid the schedule so that we never go from working nights to working days, because when we do nights we have to stay until 3 am, and it's just impossible to come in the next say at 9 am. But that means that even when we get two days off in a row, we get off at 2 am on say, Thursday, and then have to be back at 9 am on Sunday. Or, more likely, at midnight on Saturday. Which means I never get to leave town, I never get to go see my friends, I never have enough time to do anything. And if I try to get time off, it means more work for the other two people who do my job, so I feel like a total asshole.
I feel kind of like a spoiled brat complaining, because at least I have a job and I get to have pink hair and my co-workers are really nice and I like the stuff I do, mostly. But I'm sick of not being able to have a life. I want to be able to go to shows and see my friends. I can never do anything because of this job, and I hate it. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I HATE IT. I can't plan anything in advance, I never get to leave town, god knows I can't buy any fucking airline tickets because I never know my fucking schedule more than a week ahead of time, if that, and on top of everything even if I did try to leave town to see my friends I'd only have 33 fucking hours off in the rare event that I got something resembling a weekend off.
Plus, I can barely afford to cover my expenses with what I'm getting paid. And I'm always tired and I feel physically sick half the time. I don't know what the hell I'm going to do, but I fucking hate this. I HATE IT. HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE. 5:12 PM Comments
Wednesday, March 05, 2003
I Need a New Look So I'm going through one of those phases where I just feel a kind of diffused hatred towards every piece of clothing I own.
Unfortunately, I'm also going through a phase where I have no money.
This has all lead to a huge pile of clothing that I keep planning to "do something with". Like, maybe if I cut them up and sew them back together and bedazzle them or something it will make them cool.
Of course, what will probably happen is that they'll sit in the corner of my room forever. Some of this "clothing I should do something with" has been to three different states with me. And have I done anything with it? No.
Plus my roommate has been going through his clothes, which means that now I have clothing that he no longer wants sitting in the pile as well as clothing I no longer want.
Jill is my super-cool coworker who I haven't mentioned due to not blogging about my job. I think we frighten everyone when we actually get to work together, because we get all goofy and crazy. But then again, I'm always goofy and crazy, so people are probably used to it by now. At least I haven't threatened to kick anyone's ass at work lately. 3:51 PM Comments
Tuesday, March 04, 2003
Meh I am tired and wish someone would pet my head.
Also, please do not fight in my comments. I don't like it. 7:38 PM Comments
Cat Scratch Fever I hear a certain DJ Muffie will be having a radio show from 4 pm to 6 pm on Tuesday. (Today!)
That is what I hear. I would listen, if I were you. 1:42 AM Comments
Monday, March 03, 2003
How My Roommate and I Enable Each Other We go, "It's really cold out. Let's sit around and watch DVDs and eat ice cream and drink and smoke cigarettes instead of going out and/or being productive."
The problem is that it is really cold out, and sitting around and smoking and drinking and eating ice cream and watching DVDs is the best thing in the world. 7:35 PM Comments
Sunday, March 02, 2003
Big Pimping I have to pimp out the blogs of two people I met through blogwhore who weren't judges or fellow whores.
First of all, there was William Ted, the most fabulous peanutty peanut of them all. (By the way, William Ted, now that it's over can you tell me which of these I was?) He is funny and great, and he likes haircuts, which is good because lord knows that's all I talk about now. His new site is all shiny and pretty and it moves. I likes it.
Secondly, we have the Brantastic Branulous Bran. I totally dig her site. It's all pretty and you can skin it and stuff. It's clear that the girl has some mad web design skills, and I am warning her now that I will most likely be emailing her like, every ten minutes if I ever make the move over to moveable type. Plus, her writing is awesome and she posts what are seriously the cutest stories ever about her daughter. I've been reading all these really great blogs by women with small children lately, and it needs to stop because it's making me reconsider my anti-child stance. I'm all "Awwww! But they're such cute little munchkins!" But then I read about them like, peeing on things and I'm like, "Awwww! They're such cute little munchkins who other people have to clean." 6:16 PM Comments
Barettes
I realize that things have been insanely haircentric around here lately, but with hair like this, can you blame me?
Seriously, couldn't you just eat me with a spoon? I got those barettes at CVS. It was $3 for 6 of them. That's only 50 cents a barette!
Obviously, I need to quit my job and devote myself to being cute full time. 5:50 PM Comments
Saturday, March 01, 2003
My Last Blogwhore Post (till Blogwhore 3) Blogwhore is over. Chris won.
Girl totally deserves it. She's funny, sexy, and totally brings it with the photoshop mud wrestling. If you haven't already checked her out, you should.
(You should also check out Liz, who was in the final three with us. Another rocking chica)
I have to say, I'm glad it's over. Between posting constantly about myself, taking about a million digicam pics of myself (I take about ten shitty pictures for everyone I actually post), and just generally being obsessed with me for the last month or so, I'm kind of sick of myself. How do you people stand me? I'm all "Wah, wah, look at me, I'm so cute and funny!" Fuck that noise. 5:30 AM Comments
