Saturday, June 28, 2008

Oy.

So, I'm going to Germany? In like, an hour and a half? Yeah. I'm not going to have a computer or a phone until I get back on Wednesday, so if you need to tell me anything or hear my melodic voice or royally chew me out or make declarations of love, you've got ninety minutes.

I think everyone I know has had a fucked up week, and I know that my last eighteen hours have been a particular shitshow. Jes and I almost fought two awful jerks, and then we had to rescue a girl who had some near Silence of the Lambs stuff go down, and there was an abundance of other boring, cliche bullshit of varying degree from varying dudes not even worth rehashing. Life was kind of a pile of garbage. I'm trying to think positively about getting off the continent for a few days, but really all I want to do is go downstairs, turn off all the lights, and wait out the weirdness like I'm in a bomb shelter.

Monday, June 16, 2008

A Strange Day, In Two Acts

ACT I

Your protagonist arrives in New Orleans, having overslept by half an hour because she forgot to turn her alarm ON after setting it and therefore missing her car, which thankfully came back to get her and got her to JFK in record time. She spends the day working a semi-deserted meeting with two strange and somewhat lecherous old men, who have, for reasons unknown, decided that she is also a lecherous old man. They send her to "go look at the most drop-dead gorgeous girl" they've ever seen, "not that you're not pretty, but come on," but also chivalrously walk over to the pharmaceutically sponsored smoothie booth for free fruity treats. They also decide that her nickname is "Killer" basically upon sight.

ACT II

Your protagonist takes a walk around the French Quarter in search of food after checking into a hotel that is entirely too fancy for someone with only a dirty American Apparel t-shirt two sizes too big and a pair of shorts that fall off as her downtime outfit. She gives up and goes to Subway. Midway through ordering a Veggie Delite from the seventeen-year-old behind the counter, she is joined by another seventeen-year-old next to her in line. He has braces.

Child: Giiiiiiiiirl, how come you ain't call me last night?
Child making my sandwich: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH.
Me: ...
Child: Girl, imma put that ass in some Rock and Republics.
Me: ALL I WANT IS A FUCKING SANDWICH.
Child: I'll get you that sandwich.
Me: That's great.
Child: You watch the game last night?
Me: What.
Child: No, seriously, you ain't call me?
Child making my food: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Child: No, see, lemme turn around and maybe you remember THIS. (Holds up his shirt so I can see his ass and swaggers around Subway like he is motherfucking Jay-Z.)
Me: I could be your mother.
Child making my food: This is a Veggie Delite, right?
Child: You a vadgetarian? That's a pussytarian sandwich.
Me: Please, please give me my sandwich.
Child making my food: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Wednesday, June 04, 2008

Another Day, Another Blog

Well hello there. I have a new blog. It won't replace this one, because this other one, the new one, it has a gimmick!

Zine for a Day.

A couple of times a week I'm gonna post scans of a four-page photocopied zine I've made on some subject. Today, for example, topic is "Boys of Summer." I know, go click it, I'm such a genius.

Monday, June 02, 2008

Parannoyed

New York is a city full of unabashed people-watchers. You would think that after nearly three years living here I’d get used to the fact that I’m going to get looked at on the street just because I’m on it, but I haven’t. I’m a people-watcher myself and still, every single time someone gives me a lingering stink eye on the subway, I’m gripped by the same fear.

Today is the day, I think to myself. It's finally happened. I’m the new Mosh Girl.
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