Wednesday, December 31, 2008
10. "I think — I'll have my staff get to you. It's condominiums where — I'll have them get to you." —John McCain after being asked how many houses he and his wife, Cindy, own, interview with Politico, Las Cruces, N.M., Aug. 20, 2008
9. "As Putin rears his head and comes into the air space of the United States of America, where– where do they go? It's Alaska. It's just right over the border." —Sarah Palin, explaining why Alaska's proximity to Russia gives her foreign policy experience, interview with CBS's Katie Couric, Sept. 24, 2008
8. "Stand up, Chuck, let 'em see ya." —Joe Biden, to Missouri state Sen. Chuck Graham, who is in a wheelchair, Columbia, Missouri, Sept. 12, 2008
7. "They're in charge of the U.S. Senate so if they want to they can really get in there with the senators and make a lot of good policy changes that will make life better for Brandon and his family and his classroom." —Sarah Palin, getting the vice president's constitutional role wrong after being asked by a third grader what the vice president does, interview with NBC affiliate KUSA in Colorado, Oct. 21, 2008
6. "When I was in college, we used to take a popcorn popper, because that was the only thing they would let us use in the dorm, and we would fry squirrels in a popcorn popper in the dorm room." —Mick Huckabee, interview on MSNBC's "Morning Joe," Jan. 16, 2008
5. "I'll be long gone before some smart person ever figures out what happened inside this Oval Office." —President George W. Bush, in an interview with the Jerusalem Post, Washington, D.C., May 12, 2008
4. "So what?" –President Bush, responding to a an ABC News correspondent who pointed out that Al Qaeda wasn't a threat in Iraq until after the U.S. invaded, Dec. 14, 2008
3. “Our economy, I think, is still — the fundamentals of our economy are strong.” —John McCain, Jacksonville, Fla., Sept. 15, 2008
2. "I've now been in 57 states — I think one left to go." —Barack Obama, at a campaign event in Beaverton, Oregon, May 9, 2008
1. "All of 'em, any of 'em that have been in front of me over all these years." ―Palin, unable to name a single newspaper or magazine she reads, interview with Katie Couric, CBS News, Sept. 30, 2008
5. Sarah Palin's $150,000 wardrobe. Who's folksy now, huh??
4. Ted Stevens' felony convictions. My mum was just overjoyed when he was found guilty of "accepting and concealing tens of thousands of dollars in free home renovations and other gifts from an oil field services company."
3. Lip-synching during the opening ceremonies of the Beijing Olympics. Because the actual singer was not adorable enough to show her face.
2. John Edwards' extramarital affair. And while his wife was in remission from breast cancer, too! That's just a slap in the face.
1. Eliot Spitzer's involvement with a $1000-an-hour call girl and a high-priced prostitution ring.
President Bush, who dodged the shoe thrown at him by an Iraqi journalist with amazing dexterity.
Best Political Impersonation:
Without a doubt, the winner is Tina Fey's impersonation of Sarah Palin. But you probably knew that already.
News Stories of the Year:
10. The Chinese earthquake in Sichuan Province in May. Thousands of children were killed because of inadequate building precautions for their classrooms. It's sad commentary of China's situation, that they are developing so fast in some areas but can't build safe buildings in others.
9. Russia-Georgia War in August. Violence is depressing.
8. Hillary Clinton. Even though she didn't win, she came closer than any other American woman to becoming the presidential nominee of a major political party, and inspired millions of women across the country.
7. Sarah Palin. Maybe I'm biased, but I think she's a brainless idiot. The folksy hockey mom from Alaska took the country by storm and gave comedians everywhere a lot to talk about.
6. The Olympics. Despite initial conflict between protesters and torch-bearers over China's human-rights policy, I think the Olympics was a success. Michael Phelps kicked ass, too.
5. The November terrorist attacks in Mumbai, India. Ten coordinated attacks killed at least 173 people and injured over 300. I hate when people kill each other. I really do.
4. The Chinese melamine scandal. Melamine, when added to food, increases the protein count, which allows manufacturers to water down milk without being detected. Hundreds of babies were hospitalized, and some died. Is the profit really worth it? It's sickening.
3. The passage of Prop 8, a California ballot proposition that changed the state constitution to restrict the definition of marriage to a union between a man and a woman and eliminated the right of same-sex couples to marry. Although I am straight, I live in San Francisco and am aware of the horrible unfairness of this law. It PISSES ME OFF that this could have passed.
2. Our economic recession. Due to the loose monetary policies and low interest rate of the Federal Reserve, we are in a financial crisis. I'm pretty scared, and it doesn't help that I don't really understand how an economy works.
1. Barack Obama. The first African-American to be elected President of the United States, a fresh democrat for the Oval Office, a great public speaker, and a national icon. I was so proud when Obama won the election; I felt like America had a chance to recreate itself and move forward. Maybe the rest of the world will stop hating us.
Hottest Body of the Year:
Michael Phelps. Seriously. Just look at his abs.
Event That Most Makes Me Want To Move To Canada:
The fatal trampling of a Wal-Mart employee by crazed Black Friday shoppers. If that's not the most disgusting for of consumerism, I don't know what is.
My Favorite New Cookbook:
Vegan with a Vengeance, by Isa Chandra Moskowitz. Vegan cooking with punk-rock feel.
Zoe in 2008:
10. I started junior year, with four AP classes and a whole lotta homework. But it's going pretty well.
9. I smoked my first cigarette and did not see the attraction.
8. I was in The Crucible, the school play.
7. I had my second boyfriend. I also got dumped for the first time.
6. I went to see Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds at the Warfield, which is to date the best concert I have ever attended. I fell in love with Mr. Cave and am currently obsessed with his music.
5. I got a hookah for my birthday. My sweet sixteenth birthday.
4. I lost weight.
3. I befriended a squadron of birds in my back yard.
2. I started seeing a new therapist.
1. I went vegan! And I feel great.
HAPPY NEW YEAR.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
It was my first time getting a spa treatment, and my mum warned me that the mud bath was not for everybody. It was indeed a weird sensation to lower myself into the tub of hot muck. (The "mud" is not actually wet dirt - it's like wet peat or mulch, which is much earthier than regular mud.) But after the initial discomfort of sitting in a squelchy (and funny-smelling) substance, I started to enjoy it. The attendant gave me a facial, and she even put those little slices of cucumber over my eyes! I've always wanted to do that. Unfortunately, halfway through my bath, my nose started to itch. The mud was so thick that I couldn't extract my arm to scratch it.
After I rinsed off, I took a bubbling mineral bath of naturally heated spring water and lavender oils. Oh man, did that feel good. Then, I moved on to the steam room. This, too, was heated naturally by hot water. You sit in this tiny room with air so heavy with moisture you can barely breath. The attendants give you ice water so that you don't dehydrate from sweating so much. There are these little windows in case you overheat and need emergency fresh air. I sweated so much, my nose and chin were dripping, and my pores were in ecstacy.
I dried off and lay down on one of the beds. A woman came in and wrapped me up in a big blanket. It was very snug and cozy, so I took a nap. I was awakened by another woman who said she was my masseuse. Is that how you spell it? I'm not sure. Anyway, I told her that my feet were off-limits due to their level of ticklishness. It was a lovely massage. I carry a lot of tension in my back, neck, and shoulders, so it was nice to release some of that.
About Attila, since you're probably reading this wondering, Who's Attila the Honey??? and try to figure out what that has to do with spas. Well, it has nothing to do with spas. When my neighbor died, her house went on the market. Because of the economy and an outrageously high asking price, it stayed for sale for a while. But in the last month, a couple moved in from Orange County. Their adult daughter started renting out the downstairs unit. She owns a cat, a beautiful black cat with white paws. Attila enjoys coming into our yard to chase birds. She tries to sneak into our house when we're not looking, and has succeeded twice. She is an attention-whore and loves to have her tummy rubbed while she grumbles and purrs and closes her eyes. She is such a sweetie. I always wanted a cat, but my mum doesn't want one. This is the closest I've ever come to owning a furry animal. My dad and I were debating how she got her name. Did she stalk birds with the same power as the great Hun? No, I told him, her full name is probably Attila the Honey, or Attila the Hon for short.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Totally Sweet Gifts:
-gift card to Amoeba Music, one of the greatest stores on earth
-a one-year subscription to MAD Magazine
-two Beatles CDs (Hard Day's Night and The White Album), so I have almost completed my Beatles collection (I think I just need Meet The Beatles)
-Forbidden Knowledge, a book of "101 things not everyone should know how to do", including stage a coup, count cards, walk on hot coals, perform an exorcism, make moonshine, start a riot, become a porn star, and more...
-fuzzy plaid flanel PJ bottoms (toasty and cozy!!!)
- giant book of New York Times Sunday crosswords
-DVD of Pixar Studios' short films
-socks (I know these are usually considered very lame gifts, but I love socks. Especially if they are colorful, striped, fuzzy, have bunnies on them, or all of the above)
-cold hard cash, dough, moolah, cha-ching, money
"What were they thinking?!" Gifts:
-a mobile (sure, it's pretty, but come on... a mobile?)
-a nightlight (again, very cute, but not really a good gift for me)
-a rather tacky bracelet (I'll probably wear it anyway... hopefully it doesn't break as soon as I put it on)
-variety pack of pistachioes, peanut brittle, and dried apricots
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Oh, and I stole this from thumbsUpsmile's kickass blog.
The next time you stand up in front of a group of people, you'll say:
I Wish It Would Rain (The Temptations)
[Yup, that's me. Life of the party.]
Your favorite thing to say when drunk is:
Paranoid (Black Sabbath)
[Hah! Paranoid that the cops will come and bust me for underage drinking.]
Your message to the world:
Drive My Car (The Beatles)
[You heard me, drive that car! Now! At least, until I get my license.]
Your deepest secret:
Gran's For Tea (The View)
[I obviously kill old grandmothers and make them into tea. DELICIOUS tea.]
Your innermost desire:
300 M.P.H. Torrential Outpour Blues (The White Stripes)
[Geez, I seem to have a thing for rain, don't I?]
Somewhere in your wedding vows, you'll include:
Your Sweet Six Six Six (H.I.M.)
[Well isn't that nice... I'll always be your dear, sweet, maniacle 666]
On your deathbed, you'll whisper:
Muirshin Durkin (The Pogues)
[Some Irish-sounding mumbo jumbo that I will mumble in senility, causing everyone surrounding my deathbed to scratch their heads and look at each other questioningly.]
Your friends say behind your back:
Paulina (No Doubt)
[No doubt they've mistaken me for some slut named Paulina. Some friends they are.]
You say behind your friends' backs:
Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!! (Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds)
[This makes no sense at all. Since when were my friends reanimated corpses brought back to life by Jesus? And where are they digging to? China?]
When you wake up in the morning, you mutter:
Textbook (We Are Scientists)
[Either I've been having nightmares involving homework, or I've just figured out why my mattress is so goddam lumpy.]
If you found yourself lost on a desert island, you'd yell:
This Scene Is Dead (We Are Scientists)
[I guess that makes sense. If I'm the only person on the island, I think that scene could be classified as dead. Wow, two We Are Scientists songs in a row. That rarely happens, with all my music.]
Right now, your feelings are:
Son Of A Gun (Nirvana)
[... I don't get it.]
What's your excuse for posting this:
Before I Forget (Slipknot)
[I gotta post it. In case it slips my mind tomorrow.]
Your life's soundtrack:
[Oooooohh... lady of mystery.]
The day you fall in love will be the day that:
Rip Her To Shreds (Blondie)
[Oh dear! Well, at least I'll know when I fall in love, because pieces of flesh will start detaching themselves from my body. I'll be on the lookout.]
You scream during sex:
I Feel Better All Over (Johnny Cash)
[Oh, this is too perfect. No explanation required.]
What do people assume when they first look at you?
Doginabag (The Fratellis)
[Hmph. A dog in a bag, eh? I guess that could be interpreted as a bag full of bitchiness. Or the carcass of a dog in a sack. I was not aware that I gave off such bad vibes. Or bad smells.]
What will be a big challenge in life for you?
Saturday Night (Kaiser Chiefs)
[Shit! Do you know how many of those I'm going to have to endure for the rest of my life?? Unless I luck out and the challenge ends up being something along the lines of "getting the party started on Saturday night". Because you all know my middle name is partystarter.]
Are you a good boyfriend/girlfriend?
Soul Meets Body (Death Cab For Cutie)
[... I'll take that as a yes.]
Do you have a secret admirer?
[Yes. The entire population of California secretly admires me. I knew it!]
Will you ever become maniacally depressed in your life?
Smile Like You Mean It (The Killers)
[I think that's a yes, because my therapist will have to keep telling me to smile like I mean it.]
How will you die?
With A Little Help From My Friends (The Beatles)
[What?!?! I'm so not hanging out with them anymore.]
Is someone trying to kill you?
The Surrey With The Fringe On Top (Oklahoma!)
[They're out there in the darkness... waiting... seated in that little surrey with the fringe on top. They're going to run me over the next chance they get.]
What's for dinner tonight?
Nymphetamine Fix (Cradle of Filth)
[Yummy, my favorite!!]
Your farewell message to the readers of this:
Know Your Rights (The Clash)
[How fitting. And true. Know your rights, as there will be a quiz next week.]
Friday, December 19, 2008
I am currently sixteen years old, a teenager in full bloom, at the height of my youth. I am both wise and invincible, at least in my mind. My mind and body are strong. My face is unwrinkled, my wit is sharp, and my joints don't hurt. Death, though imminent, seems a long way off.
By the way, that's not me. That model is waaaaaaaaaay prettier than me. The picture just demonstrates my vision of rebellious, young, fresh, and immortal.
But old age, quite possibly one of my greatest fears in life, is lying in wait. The idea of being bedridden, in pain, senile, and alone absolutely terrifies me. The knowledge that someday, my body will fail and frustrate me makes me pretty depressed. I don't want to go senile, but to be aware of my crumbling body seems even worse. Imagine the anger and frustration at one's body for not allowing one to walk, talk, and function. Think of the weariness, the monotony, the chore of staying alive.
I know I have a long way to go until I am elderly, but I fear it nonetheless. I want to remain youthful and invincible. To quote The Who (in the song My Generation), "I hope I die before I get old."
Saturday, December 13, 2008
The series follows Lyra Belacqua, and later her companion Will Parry, through magical worlds united by Dust - extraordinary particles with profound properties and the ability to connect whole universes. Imagine an adventure involving armored talking bears, gyptians, witches, prophecies, angels, soul-eating Specters, dragonfly riders, war, and love.
Powerful, enchanting, well-written, gripping, beautiful, you name it. These books are dynamite. So get your ass off the computer and go read them. You won't regret it. If, for some reason, you do regret it, you ought to go play in traffic.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Monday, December 1, 2008
Glitter and Glam Rock Name: Kitty Rouge
Rap Name: Sista Valentine
Apparently I also live in the snowy mountains of Kamchatka, and my diet consists mostly of daisies, rocks, and beer. I have a covered wicker basket; I can throw hot death; I have propellors; I can walk on air; I have a sequined jumpsuit. I can puke bricks, too.
Pirate Name: Dagger Sharp Tooth
Villain Name: Flarelove the Evil
Western Name: Dancing Hanson
Mob Name: The Harpoon
Red-hot Lover Name: Lickable Warm-Ankles
Horse Name: Dashin' Gumball
Superhero Name: X-prowler
Ninja Name: Gisaku Sawamura-san
Vampire Name: Angelica Darkblade
Hippie Name: Oceana Holder
Goth Name: Devil's Plaything
Anagram of my Full Name: I'm zoneless, new rogue gem
Sunday, November 30, 2008
But today, I ate roasted butternut squash and stir-fried collard greens. And I liked it. What is this world coming to?!
Next thing you know, I'll be craving beans and mushrooms and avocadoes. (shiver)
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
anserine - 1) of or like a goose 2) stupid; foolish
blitz - a sudden, overwhelming, or destructive attack
conk - 1) [Brit.] the nose 2) the head 3) a blow on the head
dindle - to tingle or vibrate, as with or from a loud sound
eupeptic - 1) of or having normal digestion 2) healthy and happy; cheerful
flab - sagging, flaccid flesh
gnu - a large African antelope
hoopla - great excitement; bustle
izzard - the letter Z
jowl - the fleshy hanging part under the lower jaw
kolo - a Serbian folk dance performed by a group in a circle
lubber - a big, slow, clumsy person
mump - 1) to mumble; mutter 2) [old slang] a) to beg b) to cheat
naif - a naive person
omnipotent - having unlimited power or authority
pickle - an awkward or difficult situation; plight
quintillion - the number represented by 1 followed by 18 zeros
rutabaga - a turniplike plant with a large, yellow, edible root
squid - (so much fun to say; try it!) a long, slender, carnivorous cephalopod with eight arms and two long tentacles
tiglon - the offspring of a male tiger and a female lion (note: not a liger)
uxorious - dotingly or irrationally fond of or submissive to one's wife
vox - voice
willy-willy - 1) a severe tropical cyclone 2) a whirlwind over a desert
xyster - a surgical instrument for scraping bones
yoicks - [Brit.] a cry used for urging on the hounds in fox hunting
Zoe - [Greek, lit. "life"] a feminine name
Friday, November 14, 2008
Anyway, after many sleepless nights involving the juggling of rehearsal and mountains of homework, the play opened yesterday. It was probably a good idea to have opening night on a Thursday, because not very many people came. Which was fine by me, because it was not our best performance. Their was a general monotony in the air, and some of the cues were sluggish, and part of the set fell down. I mean, what kind of shit idea was it to make the set out of styrofoam and prop it up against wooden posts?! The new tech guy sort of sucks.
But today, we had a full house. It was great! There's something about the presence of an audience that electrifies a cast. There's also some added pressure, because there were more people to witness out potential failure. Except there was no failure. The play was crisp and clean, and the set stayed in place. The choir (if I may say so myself) was at its spooky best. My only complaint of the night was that the audience, although large and enthusiastic, was extremely giggle-y. And Crucible is not a funny play. In case you aren't familiar with this play by Arthur Miller, it is a serious and tragic drama set during the hysteria of the Salem witch trials. It is a somber portrait of fear and how our actions are affected by it. There are accusations, crazy breakdowns, deranged young women, injustices, and nooses. I don't really find the whole idea of people being hanged for witchcraft to be very humorous. I guess the audience did...
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
He's in the school play with me, and the whole cast knows what's going on. People are giving me shit for this and saying that I shouldn't go out with him because he's a freakin freshman. I'm pretty sure they talk about it when I'm not there.
So my dilemma is, should I still go out with him? I know age is just a number, but I'm torn.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
In other news, I watched Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory last night. Or is it Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? I can never remember. Anyway, it was the remake with Johnny Depp. I freaking love that man. I don't care if he's old enough to be my dad, he's foxy as fuck.
Right now I'm looking at the garden. Due to the torrential rains of the past two days, the plants are vibrantly green. It's so cold, though. It's so cold that the birds won't come out. I miss them and their cute little chattering. I put out a pine cone with peanut butter and birdseed, which they love, but I haven't seen them at all today. Their absence makes me feel a bit depressed and lonely.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
I have holes in the toes of my tights, and they are driving me crazy. I mean, these are a perfectly great pair of stockings, except for the fact that my big toes stick out. They're getting all cold and lonely out there. I also have holes in the thighs because when I swing my metal lunch box past my leg it rips the fabric. Ever since my dad stepped on the poor lunch pail, it's had this sharp corner. I keep forgetting to hold my lunch box away from my body, so I've got gashes on all my tights in exactly the same place.
My mom is making my Halloween costume right now. I was planning on making it, but she got really excited so I thought I would let her do it. She really loves sewing projects. I guess I'll humor her. Anyway, it's turning out really cute. (I'm going as a French Kiss, in case you didn't read my previous post.)
In other recent news, my friends and I have decided to go man-hunting. That sounds a wee bit savage, doesn't it? Okay, how's this: we're going on a quest for potential boyfriend material. Or perhaps just a casual hookup. I'm not feeling to picky either way right now. Wish me luck in this endeavor.
I've got to go finish my US History outline now.
Monday, October 20, 2008
I pulled my damp clothes out of the washing machine and tossed them into the hamper. The woman next to me was watching her clothes spin through the soapy water, muttering something about “death to germs”. I lugged my clothing over to the dryers on the opposite wall. The only free dryer was situated next to a large man with a buzz cut. He had the unfortunate figure of one who used to be lean fifty years earlier and had since acquired bulges of fat around his neck and gut. He nodded to me in a friendly sort of way and I caught a glimpse of his “Vietnam Veterans Who Support the Squashing of Iraq” T-shirt. My hand nonchalantly moved to cover the anti-war pins on my jacket. I’m really scared of pro-war people. I feel like they’re going to attack me and I won’t be able to do anything about it, since I’m so peaceful. So I turned away from the Fat Man, hoping that he wouldn’t sit on me or something.
I opened the dryer door. What the hell. How come every time I manage to nab one of these machines there are always someone else’s clothes inside? I straightened up and looked around the Wishy Washy Wash to see if anyone was looking for his underwear. It was pretty late, and there weren’t many people. An old lady in the corner was prodding the buttons on a washing machine, apparently unaware that you had to insert change. The Germaphobe was still staring intently at her swirling laundry as though she were watching a riveting ball game. A very thin man with very thick spectacles was reading a book of philosophy while his clothes dried. His eyebrows were frozen in perpetually pretentious arches. Judging from the way he glanced up every few seconds to see if anybody was looking at him, I suspected that he was reading the book merely to appear intelligent. It wasn’t working. He probably didn’t know a thing about epistemology and metaphysics, the pompous bastard. A Mexican guy wearing an apron was sitting by the door as his whites went through their rinse cycle. Who the hell wears aprons to the Laundromat? From the fishy smell I detected when I brushed past him, along with the blob of rice lurking around the midsection of his apron, I deduced that he was a sushi chef. It’s rather odd that there are so many Mexican sushi chefs. I see them all the time and wonder where all the Japanese cooks have gone.
No one in the Wishy Washy Wash seemed to be looking for misplaced articles of clothing, so I figured it was okay to take the clothes out. I reached in, but my hand came in contact with something firm, something that felt strangely like… “A FREAKIN’ BODY!!!! OH MY GOD THERE’S SOMEONE IN MY DRYER!!!” Everyone rushed over, then froze and stared in silence at the figure curled up in the cramped space. The silence was broken by the MSC, who said, “Vaca santa… él está muerto.” I later learned that it meant, “Holy cow… he is dead.”
“Okay. Nobody panic,” I squeaked in a panicked voice.
Everyone panicked. Germaphobe trembled and whimpered. She was probably thinking about the sanitary hazards of being in the vicinity of a corpse. I was tempted to tell her about all the wriggly bacteria that infest the body postmortem, and how they fly through the air, and how they were probably already crawling on her. But I didn’t. Under normal circumstances, I would, but I wasn’t really in the mood to lie to strangers on that particular occasion. Anyway, the MSC was jabbering away in Spanish, and I had no idea what he was talking about. The Veteran, of course, was trying to determine the best plan of action. The Philosopher was wringing his hands while he wondered aloud where souls go when a body dies. Or is there a soul at all? Or is the existence of soul merely a figment of humanity’s desire… never mind. Back to the story. The Old Lady finally had the sense to do something productive.
“Oh dear. We should call for help, of course, don’t you think? Yes, I agree. I’ll call 911.” She turned to me and said, “Goodness me, what’s the number for 911? I’m always forgetting silly things like that. I must be getting old.”
“911,” I told her. I resisted the urge to say, “Yeah, you are old. That would explain why your face is having a wrinkle party.” Of course, I didn’t say it. It’s not very nice to say things like that to a person’s face.
Old Lady was on the phone with the emergency dispatcher. I caught phrases such as “horrible” and “traumatizing” and “murder”. When she hung up, I said, “Look, I’m sure there’s a perfectly plausible reason this guy is in a dryer. You really shouldn’t jump to conclusions like that.”
“It could be a conspiracy! A government cover-up!” cried the Veteran. The others joined in.
“Is he really dead, or is it the existential belief in pure corruption? I think, therefore I am!!”
“The germs! The germs! He’s infected! Infected, I say!!”
What a bunch of loonies. They could brainstorm their ridiculous theories all they wanted. I was going to take a look inside the dryer. I popped my head in. The guy was scruffy and he smelled sort of bad. I looked a little closer, and then I noticed something in his mouth. I pulled it out. Weird…
“Hey guys, look at what I found! There was a sock in his mouth!”
“Oh, that is so unhygienic!” exclaimed Germaphobe with a shudder.
“Right… Well, why would this guy have a sock in his--
There was a loud cough. And it came from within the dryer. And then a gruff voice said, “Wow! You guys saved my life. Thanks!”
Veteran screamed like a girl, “A talking dead guy!”
“No, no, I’m alive,” said the live man, as he stepped out of the dryer. “I’m also a hobo.” I guess that would explain the funny smell.
“Well how did you get in there? I mean, what happened?” Germaphobe politely asked, as she backed slowly away from him and vigorously scrubbed hand sanitizer on.
“So I’m a hobo,” said the hobo, “and it’s been really chilly these days. So I came in here to get warm. Since there were no customers here, I decided to climb into a dryer to get extra toasty. But someone forgot a sock in there. Now, I love the smell of fresh laundry. I mean, who doesn’t? But I really miss it because, being a hobo and all, I don’t do laundry any more. So I was lying there next to the lone sock, and I just had to give it a sniff. It was amazing! But I sniffed it so hard I accidently sucked it into my mouth and got it stuck in my throat. Don’t ask me how. So I choked on the sock and passed out, and then you guys pulled it out and saved my life!”
Meanwhile, Old Lady was staring at the sock. “Why, bless your soul. I think this is my sock! I came here yesterday and then when I got home, I had thirteen socks instead of fourteen. Now isn’t that a coincidence!”
“Well,” said the hobo, “I guess you can have it back then. You might want to wash it again, because I also haven’t brushed my teeth in a while…”
He was interrupted by the scream of police sirens as three cop cars pulled up to the Wishy Washy Wash. “Oh my God! I forgot about the police! We called to report a gruesome murder, remember? Now what are we going to do?! There is no murder. We’ll be arrested for making a false call!” cried the MSC in perfect English.
“Wait. You can speak English?”
“Yeah. I like to use Spanish, though, because my rapid Spanish speech tends to cause some confusion among my fellow human beings and it’s rather fun to watch. BUT THE COPS ARE COMING! We must escape this Laundromat!”
“I’m terribly sorry about this,” I told the hobo, “but we need you to put the sock back in your mouth and get back into the dryer, or we’ll get arrested for making a false emergency call. And I’m too young to go to jail. There are so many things I still need to do with my life, like go skydiving.”
“Sure thing,” said the very kind hobo, “While I choke myself on the sock again, you guys can run away out the back door.”
So we did. The hobo crammed the sock into his mouth and climbed into the dryer. I closed the door behind him. We ran out the back door a second before the police barged in. We all scampered away from the Wishy Washy Wash, giggling with excitement.“Oh bother,” sighed Old Lady, once we were far away enough to stop running, “I rather wanted my sock back.”
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Right... so... the debate.
I was struck by the contrast between the candidates.
While Senator Obama spoke with poise, directed his words toward his opponent, and listened respectfully, Senator McCain was quite fidgety, like he had to pee Really bad. I also noticed that when he wasn't speaking, he was making odd faces at the camera, combinations of grimaces and pained grins and weird eyebrow movements. It was kind of freaking me out.
I just changed my mind about writing a record of the whole debate. I'm not really in the mood for that sort of thing. Go watch it on Youtube or something, because I just remembered that I'm four days behind on my precalculus homework. Sucks to be me.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
MY HALLOWEEN COSTUME!!!
This year... I am going to be...
A FRENCH KISS.
Meaning I'm going to dress up as a Hershey's Kiss and wear a beret and say things like "Oui, oui" and "Oohlala".
... I thought it was a brilliant idea.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
To make a long story short, I was writing an essay for English on factory farming and I did some research... it was repulsive. I really have no desire to eat dairy or eggs any more.
I've been wanting to make the leap from vegetarian to vegan for a while, but I didn't think I could survive without cheese. Then I found out about rennet, and I felt like throwing up. So I think I'm ready to go cheese-free.
I'm still going to eat honey, though. At least for now. Bees aren't factory farmed like cows and chickens, as far as I know. Well, if they are let me know and I'll stop eating honey immediately.
Anyhoo, I would greatly appreciate your moral support while I attempt this dietary experiment.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Sunday, September 21, 2008
My mum forwarded me an email from her friend, and it made me giggle:We may have thought we wanted a woman on a national political ticket,
but the joke has really been on us, hasn't it? Are you as sick in your
stomach as I am at the thought of Sarah Palin as ?
Since Palin gave her speech accepting the Republican nomination for
the Vice Presidency, 's campaign has raised over $10 million
dollars. Some of you may already be supporting the Obama
campaign financially; others of you may still be a little honked off
over the primaries. None of you, however, can be happy with Palin's
selection, especially on her positions on women's issues. So, if you
feel you can't support the Obama campaign financially, may I suggest
the following fiendishly brilliant alternative?
Make a donation to Planned Parenthood. In Sarah Palin's name. And
here's the good part: when you make a donation to PP in her name,
they'll send her a card telling her that the donation has been made in
Here's the link to the Planned Parenthood website to make a
donation in honor the Sarah Palin:
You'll need to fill in the address to let PP know where to send the
"in Sarah Palin's honor" card. I suggest you use the address for
McCain campaign headquarters, which is:
Saturday, September 20, 2008
There's Mr. Cave up there.
Anyway, what a KICKASS show!!!
After being fortified with Blondie's pizza,
we strolled through the dark, seedy streets to the theater. There were a lot of bums hanging out, plus a handful of scalpers. When we arrived, we found ourselves engulfed in a sea of what my dad would call "hipsters" who were queuing up outside the theater.
We were inspected and frisked before we could go in. I hate being frisked at concerts, because I am so incredibly ticklish that I end up emitting some giggling squeak, which only enhances the security guards' suspicions that I am either totally high or totally crazy. But last night I got through it without any problems. Upon entering, we encountered the hand-stampers who check your ID and give you a stamp that allows you to purchase alcohol. A bored-looking woman was saying, "Honey, get yer hand stamped so you can get yer booze." I told her, "Thank you very much, but I'm only sixteen years old." "Oops," she said, and went back to stamping more hands.
This was my first time ever being inside the Warfield. You see, I've only been to a handful of concerts in my lifetime. But the Warfield was amazing. Right when you walk in, there are framed pictures of people who have played there, everyone from Bjork to Iggy Pop. The interior has not changed much, according to my dad. It used to be a fancy movie theater, and it still has the grand staircase, the balconies, and gold detail on the ceiling.
The show started with Red Sparowes, a post-rock, soundscape-influenced experimental band from Los Angeles. They are mostly instrumental, which is nice. Nothing ruins a perfectly good song like a sucky voice. I would call their music dreamy and powerful, like perhaps the music that would play in the background of an epic slow-motion battle scene. Plenty of swinging rhythms from the drum mingle with the pedal steel guitar, and the finished product is beautiful. It was also tight that they had a screen behind them with images of Chairman Mao and water and beetles and other random shit like that. Overall, I liked them.
During the break between Red Sparowes and Nick Cave, I went down to the lobby to people-watch. My dad had predicted there would be a crowd of exclusively hip people in black clothes. He was wrong. There were those "hipsters" in their dark, Victorian-era clothes and lace-up boots and fedoras. Love the fashion. Love love love it! (It's the sort of thing I would love to wear out and about, but I can't because I guarantee everyone at school will think I'm a freak.) They smoked cigarettes and drank straight liquor and chatted while I eyed their wicked cool tattoos with envy. But there were also "normal" people. I saw middle-aged couples in jeans and knit sweaters. I even saw a little kid, probably the only person there younger than me, holding her mother's hand.
I left the lobby to sit down before the main attraction started. The Warfield has standing room downstairs and balcony seating upstairs. Although standing is probably more fun because you get to be up close and personal to the band and mosh and dance and all that other fun stuff, I was happy in my comfy chair as I looked down at all the beer-swigging people below who were probably getting sore feet.
Then they went on. It was epic! We were screaming like there was no tomorrow as the Bad Seeds strolled nonchalantly on stage and picked up their instruments. There was a pause. Then Nick Cave himself strode on to greet the roaring crowd. Even from a distance, there was no mistaking that skull-like face with sunken eyes and slicked-back dark hair. Mr. Cave was looking dramatically spiffy in his suit. He is incredibly thin. He picked up the mike and said hello in that characteristically low, gravelly, amazing voice and then got right down to business.
OH MY GOD. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds are a great band to watch live. Their songs are often dark and depressing (and involve killing beautiful women), so I was half-expecting some sort of dark, somber performance. But no, on stage the band attacked each song with powerful energy and sometimes hilarious intensity. Nick Cave would do crazy dance moves and jumps and he kept knocking down the microphone stand in his excitement. Most of the songs were done differently than I was used to hearing them. "Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!!" was the only song that sounded the same as on the album, and it was fucking awesome! Some other songs that stood out were:
- "Today's Lesson" - performed with head-bobbing force
- "We Call Upon the Author" - a wildly and violently executed song of religious questioning that had the audience head banging furiously
- "More News From Nowhere" - a catchy song that rolled and swelled through the theater
- "Red Right Hand" - amazing song about a murderous dude. The Bad Seeds slowed it down, which only added to its supreme spookiness. Then Nick Cave jammed on the organ with his right hand, which made me laugh
- "Deanna" - always sounded like some song from the fifties on the album, but in concert it was sharp. Loved the way Mr. Cave growled in his primal voice "Ohhh, Dee Ann Na!!!"
- "God is in the House" - completely sarcastic song regarding God. Mr. Cave plunked himself down at the keyboard and sang, then messed up, then apologized, saying he hadn't played that song in a long time. But not a soul in the audience gave a damn, and we cheered anyway.
- "Stagger Lee" - swaggering performance by Nick Cave to tell the story of Stagger Lee, possibly the most badass guy ever. Mr. Cave's version of the old bluesy folk song was filled with profanity and performed with great gusto. The crowd was loving the lines, "Yeah, I'm Stagger Lee and you better get down on your knees/And suck my dick, because if you don't you're gonna be dead"/Said Stagger Lee/Billy dropped down and slobbered on his head/And Stag filled him full of lead" especially when Mr. Cave strutted to the edge of the stage and started executing some savage hip thrusts.
Yes. It was a great concert. A great concert performed by a great band.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
This is my debut of myself doing the RiffRaff kick. Check it out. It's a little intense, so prepare yourself for my kick-ass kicking dance moves.
"The Time Warp" from Rocky Horror Picture Show, as performed by Zoe and Kyra.
Monday, September 1, 2008
I start off the day with AP Chinese. Now I am half Chinese and half German, but I am the only person in my entire class whose veins contain any non-Asian blood. It's ridiculous. I don't even like Chinese that much. I'm only taking it because my Chinese mother (who can't speak a word of Chinese herself, I guess she wants me to keep the heritage alive and kicking) insisted on it. Sometimes it feels like the whole class is against me, because I'm that dumb white devil in the back of the room. Not pleasant.
Anyhoo, then I go downstairs to English. This is my first year taking an elective English, and I chose Comedy and Satire. Quite possibly the best decision I've made in a long time! I am the freakin' bomb in that class, probably because I'm so damn witty and sarcastic. The only downside was that we had to read Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut, which I found pretentious and pretty pointless. The good news is, we're moving on to Candide by Voltaire (which is, by the way, hilarious and fun to read).
After that I have AP Chemistry. Again, I am the only one with any Caucasian blood, and it's kind of awkward. It's not a bad class, though. My teacher, Dr. Marten, is a monotoned, bespectacled, professorly-type guy. He spent the first day presenting us with his "Life in a Box", which is basically a box full of his credentials and diplomas and pictures of him with Bill Nye the Science Guy.
Then I have to rush downstairs to APUSH, or AP United States History. If you are wondering why I am taking so many APs, I don't have an answer for you. I was going to take four (the fourth being AP Psychology) but I decided that more than three might kill me. My teacher Mr. Schwartz is a very nervous guy. He talks nervously and wears gloves all the time (except when passing out papers) and has an awkward sort of giggle. But he's great. He's one of those teachers who is passionate about what he does. If you are ever fortunate enough to have a teacher like this, savor it. The downside of this class is the homework load. In fact, right after I finish this post I have to get back to outlining a section about the colonization of New England.
After lunch I have Drama. Even though I've already fulfilled my Visual and Performing Arts requirements needed for graduation, I'm taking this class because I love acting. Speaking of acting, the cast list for the fall play is coming out in three or four days. We're doing The Crucible. Now that I've done my auditions and call-backs, all I can do is cross my fingers and hope that I get a the role of Mary Warren. I am in love with the character and I want this more than anything in the world right now, but there's nothing I can do except wait. Wish me luck.
Lastly, but not leastly, I have Pre-Calculus. Even though I signed up for Ms. K, a very stupid but extremely nice teacher, I got shoved into the class of Mr. Hunt, otherwise known as Mr. Cunt. Pardon my French, please. I had him for Geometry and he basically ruined my life. I was so pissed off at getting him again that I stormed into the counseling office with a letter from my parents, begging to be moved out. I even supplied a letter from my therapist saying that since I have ADD, I should be transferred to a learning environment that would be more beneficial to my mental health. Because seriously, he's an asshole. And guess what?! They're going to move me out!!!! Hallelujah!!!!
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
I have chosen to ignore the fact that the lifestyle of piracy was unglamorous, and have instead focused on the romanticized version. Who cares if pirates ate poorly, died young, and rarely became crazy wealthy? Imagine the pure freedom of sailing under your own flag, a kindred spirit united with the sea and no one else!
One of the most famous female pirates was Anne Bonny. I have deep admiration for her. In the Bahamas, she met and had an affair with the pirate John "Calico Jack" Rackham. In order to join his crew (according to pirate codes, women were not allowed on board) she disguised herself as a man. She took part in combat and was generally an all-around badass. According to legend, when one of her fellow pirates discovered her gender, she stabbed him in the heart. You go girl.
I rather fancy that I could be just as cool or cooler. Even though I'm not very brave and I don't believe in violence, I like to think that I would be great at pillaging, stealing, looting, tricking, stabbing, shooting, mast-climbing, cutlass-brandishing, sea shanty-singing, and various other "Arrrrrrghhh"-worthy things.
I know it sounds dumb. I really do. I just feel that this is the kind of experience I might have had in a previous life. The mere idea of piracy brings forth thoughts of daring and jubilant adventure. When I watch "Pirates of the Caribbean", I can't help but cheer during the battle scenes and wish that I could be there swashbuckling, instead of just watching a movie on my couch.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
"People don't change. For example, I'm gonna keep on repeating 'people don't change.'" - Gregory House
Okay. First of all, I love House. The bitchy, antisocial doctor is a supremely unlikable character, but I adore him anyway. With September drawing near, I'm getting that feeling of excitement in the pit of my stomach. No, it's not lupus. It's season 5 of House!
After the crazy season 4 finale (involving a bus crash, a trip into House's memory, and Cuddy in a slutty schoolgirl outfit) which ended with the death of the beloved Cutthroat Bitch Amber, I'm dying to find out what happens next. I can predict that there will be a huge rift between House and Wilson. After all, if House hadn't been out at Sharrie's getting shitfaced, Amber wouldn't have had to go pick him up, and she never would have been on the bus. Wilson probably has good reason for being pissed at his friend. Fortunately for me, since I can't imagine a rift between House and his only friend, Hugh Laurie has hinted at an uncharacteristically un-House-y reconciliation. Yay!
I'm also rooting for House to finally get it on with Cuddy, as I am a little tired of their unspoken sexual tension. And lastly, I am looking forward to the usual combination of wacky medical cases and jerkishness that is one of my favorite shows.
Friday, August 15, 2008
- Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia - fear of the number 666
- Pogonophobia - fear of beards
- Vestiphobia - fear of clothing (... so do they run around naked?)
- Oneirogmophobia - fear of wet dreams
- Panophobia - fear of everything (that's quite unfortunate)
- Alliumphobia - fear of garlic
- Pentheraphobia - fear of one's mother-in-law
- Lutraphobia - fear of otters
- Phagophobia - fear of eating or swallowing (how do they stay alive?)
- Xanthophobia - fear of the color yellow
- Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia - fear of long words
- Phobophobia - fear of phobias
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
This is my lovely snake Dottie Spottie, Dottie for short. She lives in my dining room. Isn't she cute?
When I was little, I always wanted a dog or a cat. Something furry and warm to keep me company. (I also used to want a pet unicorn, but that's a different story.) My parents insisted that the responsibility of a fuzzy animal was too much, and they got me a snake as consolation.
My first snake, Spottie Dottie, was black and white: a beautiful combination in corn snakes. I called her Spottie for short. She had been with us less than a year when she began to develop a stomach problem. An eating disorder. Bulimia, if you will. She couldn't hold down her meals, and she died shortly after. That was about ten years ago, but even now I can recall that I was inconsolable.
Thankfully, my Dottie has been with us since I was in elementary school, and should still be alive when I am in college. I love her. Those of you who have a fear or dislike of all things snaky should seriously reconsider. It is a common misconception that snakes are wet and slimy. In fact, their scales are cool and smooth to the touch. Dottie is neither venomous nor aggressive; in her whole life she has nipped me once, and only because she was hungry and impatient for her dinner.
I like to take her out and play with her, just like any other pet owner might. She enjoys crawling around and exploring the world around her. Because she is cold-blooded and gets heat from her surroundings, she likes slithering on people, particularly people with warm necks. It tickles like a bitch, if you are as ticklish as I am, but I let her do it anyway because I adore her so much. She seems to almost have a personality, a playful, childlike curiosity that makes her want to go up my sleeves.
So you've met Dottie. She's very pleased to meet you, too.
Monday, August 4, 2008
The Blood Centers of the Pacific 10 Reasons to Donate Blood:
- Blood transfusions save lives.
- There's no substitute for human blood.
- Every three seconds, someone needs a blood transfusion.
- About 60 percent of the population are eligible to donate blood, yet less than five percent do.
- A pint of blood, separated in to components, can help up to three people.
- You'll make your community a safer place.
- Fulfills your desire to "give back" to the community.
- You'll receive a mini physical (blood pressure, temperature, iron level).
- You'll learn your blood type.
- It's safe, simple and it saves lives.
The best part is, they give you a coupon for one pint of Baskin Robbins ice cream in return for your one pint of donated blood. Delicious.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Happily married with children.
Well la-dee-da. I Sincerely hope this is how it will end up, because life seems awfully lonely without someone to be there for you. My husband will be wonderful and extremely handsome. We will have sex on a regular basis, which is probably the cause of our long-standing marriage. The kids will be my pride and joy. Every time I go to a parent-teacher conference, I will hear about how delightful and intelligent my children are. We will raise them well and when we are old and wrinkled, they will take diligent care of us.
Psshhhh. In my dreams.
Happily divorced with children.
If I married some inconsiderate fuck-face because I think I love him, then find out years later (after we've had kids) that he is a lying, cheating bastard, I would kick him out of the house and live my life happily ever after without him. I get to live the single life. I get to see my kids, but I only have to take care of them half the time! Sounds acceptable...
I totally hope this isn't me. Single moms have it tough. It would be even tougher if i was a single teenage mom. A drunken night of partying, and BAM, I'm going to school in maternity clothes. That would suck so much.
Single and free.
Seriously contemplating this. No worries, and no commitment. I like it.
I highly doubt this is a smart choice, seeing as I am inept at cooking, cleaning, and general housewifery.
I'm leaning towards novels, as opposed to newspaper reporting, because I prefer to make things up. For that very reason, I don't think I would last long at my reporting job. When the article about killer saucepans gets printed on the front page, I'll be fired before you can say... well, before you can say anything.
Oh god. I would not set foot in any building designed by me. That's a disaster waiting to happen.
[See Architect, Above]
This sounds like my ideal lifestyle. You get paid to pretend. Although I would rather act for film, theater is quite respectable, too. I think this is one of the only careers I have honestly considered. Unfortunately, the mathematical probability of my success in this industry are microscopically low.
Such a high paying job! Why does it have to be one that I have no interest in, why?!
I don't actually want to do this, because I lack the dedication and physical strength required. What I would really like to be able to do is kick in doors with my steel-toed boots, run into the room with my gun pointed, then either yell, "Clear!" if it's empty or arrest the son of a bitch, like they do on TV.
Fuck it. I think I'll just aspire to be a bartender. Or a stripper. Or both.