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IT'S means "it is" and ITS is the possessive form of "it."
I know we're all human, and most "it's/its" screw-ups are honest mistakes, not the result of having skipped a crucial grammar lesson in the fourth grade. However, I've noticed that quite a few intelligent people, and even some members of the media, don't understand the difference between the two. Please use them correctly! Smart people lose credibility when they refuse to take the time to follow basic rules of grammar.
And don't even get me started on affect/effect. If you're over 12, there's no excuse for not knowing the difference between the two. If you're a college graduate, your degree should be taken away from you and you should be beaten over the head repeatedly with a dictionary.
As you were.
11-28-2002 9:30 PM - comments (0)
I had the worst hangover of my life this morning. I really thought I was going to die. The delusions I was experiencing were abysmal. Now I remember why I drastically cut down my alcohol intake a few weeks ago.
Every one of the above sentences is weirdly short. I'm not in a terse mood, really. I'm lonely for Michael, full from a day-long eating adventure, tired from last night, embarassed about last night (though we saw half of the graduating class of 1999 at the bar last night and Christie, Doug and I had a fairly intellectual conversation about needs and wants in the car until 4:30 a.m.) and actually tired of running over everyone I see in Vice City. I know I can't stop talking about the game, but it's amazing. Random acts of bloody violence, beautiful cars, bazookas and tanks, all set to an '80s beat? Yeah, I'm more than obsessed.
Speaking of obsessed, I discovered the most amazing, sexy, beautiful perfume yesterday--Addict by Dior. I immediately had my mother tell my aunt it would make a nice Christmas or birthday present. All day I kept smelling the part of my arm where I had sprayed it. It's the insanely perfect scent for me, I have decided. I have mixed feelings about its name; on the one hand, addiction to love or sex isn't so bad, right? But I think most people think of a junkie with copious track marks when they hear the word "addict," which is gross. I can't stop being drawn to perfumes with intense names, I guess.
This isn't exactly relevant, but when I was in Journalism 306, the class from hell, I always wanted to do a story on obsession (not addiction). I never got anything done on it because I secretly believed no one in a town the size of Columbia would be that screwy or interesting. I think I have a real prejudice against small towns. I'm not sure I'm entirely committed to proving myself wrong, either.
11-28-2002 9:13 PM - comments (0)
Not one, but two ex-boyfriends e-mailed today. I'm starting to feel back at home here in Spring. (Not to mention every morning I wake up remembering bits and pieces of the six years I lived here full-time, causing me to forget I've been gone for nearly four years.) Ted, I'm feeling embarassed that a seasoned journalist and talented writer such as yourself has stumbled upon this ridiculous little website. Regardless, I'll call you tonight and we'll reminisce about Byron "The alternate spelling to my name appropriately comes up 'brainwashing' in spellcheck" Rushing and my days as an emotional wreck in high school, although I prefer being called a firecracker. It sounds so much nicer.
I guess comparing Hanif Kureishi's Intimacy with The Black Album for my post-colonial lit class is just as good as comparing The Black Album with Trainspotting. Barnes and Noble, which apparently ate the Bookstop on Kuykendahl and 1960 in a fit of rage, had every other Irvine Welsh novel but the one I needed. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what they call predictable.
11-26-2002 2:01 PM - comments (0)
I haven't posted since Wednesday. I feel useless and my lips are chapped.
I think I'm going to try some new fad diet that will leave me penniless and dejected. There's nothing like the feeling of setting impossible goals for yourself, only to find you can't even make it one day without giving in to whatever it is you were trying to avoid.
I watched five hours of television today, and the highlight was an episode of Murder She Wrote featuring some Amish people. Yes, yes, I know. Also, it's only 3:20 p.m. What the Jesus?
I've been wearing my dead grandmother's pink muumuu all day, though I really don't think it's a muumuu. I think it's just a frilly nightgown. Regardless, it seemed to go well with the Amish-themed Murder She Wrote viewing.
So sorry, Avril. YM called you on your declarations of punkness. The reporter took several jabs at your supposed ability as a performer. Strangely (or not), Rolling Stone practically needed new panties and a tranquilizer after getting so excited over your hipness. Anyone find this a bit odd?
It's good to know I'm not the only one who has linked morality with one's treatment of squirrels.
I got to drive in my dad's new Audi. It's an intense car, and I intend upon stealing it when he's not looking.
Oh, and the view is lovely from McShasta.
11-25-2002 1:30 PM - comments (0)
*I am a font freak. For the last four years, I've favored the Futura family. I'm starting to see it used in trendy ads and magazines, and when I notice it, I always make an annoying comment about how I'm the one who discovered it.
*I took the Seattle Times' copy editing exam today. It consisted of three parts: a grammar/mechanics section, an editing section in which I edited and trimmed three stories and wrote headlines for them, and a section in which I had to identify some national and international public figures. I had one shining moment, which actually wasn't all that shining: for an article about celebrities having to copyright their DNA so they wouldn't be cloned (don't ask me), my kicker (short, punchy headline) was "A star is cloned" (I had a nice subhed, or deck, to go with it). Not nearly as good as "Some like to trot," but let's face it, that's going to be hard to beat.
*It was very hard to resist using "Attack of the clones" or "Double trouble" for the aforementioned story.
*I hate packing to go home. Worse than packing, however, is unpacking.
*I've gotten a lot of feedback about my "songs with the best ending" question, but I still want more. IM your picks to me at red cherry bomb.
11-20-2002 8:59 PM - comments (0)
maybe he meant versailles, missouri?
Nothing like realizing your opinion of someone wasn't totally off-base:
"I saw Jonah 'I'm so progressive I'm a women's studies major and I'm moving to Nice. Have you heard of Nice? It's in France.' McIntire. He was wearing overalls. Apparently Nice wasn't progressive enough for him so he moved back to mid-Missouri."
-From And Then Some
11-19-2002 5:29 PM - comments (0)
I got to see Michael's wedding photographer robot, Lewis, in action at a wedding reception this weekend. I was amazed at how it navigated the room and could actually find people to take pictures ot job interview, and though my gushing praise won't help him with the interviewers, maybe this will. What am I saying? I'd hire him in a second after this. Now if only I could get my stories (in a different capacity, of course) on CNN...
11-19-2002 9:43 AM - comments (0)
I feel terrible that I'm the last one to thank Washington University professor Ron Cytron for his generous Macaroni Grill dessert-buying last night (by the way, I chose a piece of particularly sinful chocolate cake that was too big to fit in a to-go box). You really made our night, Dr. Cytron. Moved by your act of kindness, I suggested paying it forward, to which Michael responded, "The buck stops here." (Coincidentally, so demonstrates the necessary failure of communism and libertarianism in one fell swoop.)
It was a bit weird to be introduced to Mr. Minutia Press as ouranophobe. This online journal has taken on gigantic proportions, connecting me and my thoughts to faraway people in what some would call an unnatural manner. I've heard much criticism of the Internet, mainly from old people who haven't figured out how to set up Outlook Express and thus deem letter-writing as the superior means of communication. Such ignorant critics like to conjure up images of young people whose eyes are glued to the computer screen, are seduced by wanton technology and unable to procure a date to prom or sustain otherwise healthy relationships.
I say that's rubbish. If it weren't for the Internet and the dawn of the blogging age, I would have missed out on some truly rewarding online and real-life friendships. (And there's the small issue of a large piece of chocolate cake to consider in the Internet's defense.)
11-18-2002 9:38 PM - comments (0)
I GIVE AWAY THE ENDING TO HARRY POTTER AND THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS. DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE PLANNING ON SEEING THE MOVIE.
I'm not obsessed with Harry Potter (like some very cool people), but I have to say I was enchanted by The Chamber of Secrets. The movies (and books, I presume) have a remarkable ability to make anyone feel like an awestruck kid, wishing we were all wizards. I was also terrified during a few scenes, especially the one with all of the spiders (Christie, why didn't you warn me??). However, I have some criticism of a very specific element of the movie:
I HATE HARRY POTTER.
Yes, I said it. I hate Harry Potter. While the actors who play Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore, McGonagle, Snape and Hagrid are animated and, oh, I don't know, able to vary their facial expressions, Daniel Radcliffe is painful to watch. So painful that I kept grabbing Michael's arm and complaining about it. He has two expressions: wide-eyed surprise (a la Elijah Wood's turn at Frodo in Lord of the Rings), and goofy happiness. His acting is boringly wooden; he was, as David pointed out, upstaged in every scene he was in.
Furthermore, why do people think he's such a great wizard? HE IS UNABLE TO DO ANYTHING ON HIS OWN. Get information from Drake? Use Hermione's spell. Be rescued from spiders? The damn flying car makes that possible. Figure out about the baskilisk and where he resides? Hermione again. Defeat the baskilisk? Yeah, that would be a sword and phoenix, courtesy of Dumbledore. When he kills the baskilisk, even that's an accident--he was pinned down and only shoved the sword in the right place by pure luck. The rest of the time when he was fighting it, he was swinging wildly and missing each time.
I vote that the next installment of the series be named Harry Potter's Friends Do All The Work and He Gets All The Credit, That Annoying Little Bastard.
P.S. Also, I think this movie should have been called Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secret, because there was only one secret in the chamber, the baskilisk. Am I right?
11-17-2002 11:28 AM - comments (0)
Christie, Kaity, Melissa, Jenny, some smelly boys (sorry, Christie!) and I saw Mo Rocca Thursday night. I normally favor Steven Colbert, but Mo was really funny. He was dressed in overalls and his hair had grown all shaggy. Half of the time, I couldn't tell if he were being serious. He showed us what he turned in to The Daily Show as his audition tape, and it involved him tracking down as many presidential and vice-presidential homes and graves he could find. Then he said he edited porn for Natural 10 magazine, a softcore publication that focuses on women with naturally big breasts. I honestly thought the whole thing was a joke, but he was dead serious. He also graduated from Harvard, although that didn't surprise me.
It was interesting to get a firsthand account of how the hapless subjects are found and interviewed on The Daily Show. I've always been curious to know if the interviewees realize they're being made fun of; Mo said most do, and he's never gotten any complaints after one of his segments has aired. Sometime during the Q&A session (a guy smartly asked, "So why are you here, anyway? What do you want from us?" Mo had nothing to promote, he said, but himself), some girl in the back asked, "How do you sleep at night?" Mo seemed taken aback by the question, and she rephrased it: "Your lack of ethics...how you make fun of people..." If I had been him, I would have responded with a smart-ass answer, but he was very professional and repeated what he had said earlier about the subjects understanding the kind of show The Daily Show is. I wonder why the girl wasted $2 to see Mo Rocca when she clearly had never seen the show.
Some highlights:
*I got to bring my almond/amaretto chocolate shake from Applause into Stotler Lounge
*Sam Babalola, some MSA bigwig and one of the MTV.com guys who competed in the step show with the Road Rules people last season, didn't even notice
*Mo's interview with the crazy Cats guy
*Mo's thank you tape to Mike Piazza for agreeing to be interviewed
*Mo's grabbing of a porn star's breasts while she was talking and acting like she didn't notice
*Me asking Mo (on behalf of the girls) if he had a girlfriend
*Mo responding with, "I'm involved in, er, some extracurricular activities (I suspect he's gay, but that's another story). Why? Do you want to apply? Is there a notary public in the room? You have to fill the forms out in triplicate, you know."
11-16-2002 9:54 AM - comments (0)
I had a dream this morning that involved:
1. My Jane Austen professor bringing us pineapple and ham pizza and lots of big bowls that had extra onions, peppers, etc. for us to cut ourselves to top the pizza.
2. My mother (who was somehow Carmen from Guiding Light) bringing me boxes and boxes of Spring 2003 Comme des Garcons dresses, suits, hats, shoes, purses, slips and lingerie. I tried on everything, favoring black and white pencil leg pants and a gauzy peach wrap.
3. Me being in the front of Saks wearing the clothes, but every time I went in the store, someone would point to me and tell me to leave because I was only wearing the gauzy peach wrap and no pants.
4. Me somehow being 5'11".
I really, really like dreams that center around yummy pizza and clothing I'll never be able to purchase and a body type I'll never be able to achieve. Maybe next time I'll dream about yogurt, Gaultier and my own 5'4" body.
11-14-2002 9:20 AM - comments (0)
I know it's silly to be excited (because soon my life will be filled with job interviews), but I was selected from a pool of applicants to interview with a newspaper chain head this week. I'm not sure if this opportunity is what I'm looking for, but I figure it's better to have a lot of choices when I graduate than none.
11-13-2002 9:48 AM - comments (0)
...you're obsessed with the way songs end. Especially mesmerizing is Supergrass' "Nothing More's Gonna Get in My Way," starting at 2 minutes, 20 seconds. I'll compile a list soon, so please, send me your favorites.
11-11-2002 9:20 PM - comments (0)
Kureishi's The Black Album is by far the most coherent, cohesive piece of work we've read in English 328. The main character, Shahid, struggles with his cultural identity (should he go the way of Muslim extremism or New Wave sexual liberation? Such choices), a common theme in post-colonial literature. Interestingly enough, these struggles often involve detached, unfeeling characters whose moral conviction is shaky at best.
I'm really attracted to unemotional characters; think The Great Gatsby's Nick, various characters in Heller and Hemingway novels, but mainly Raskolnikov in Crime and Punishment. It's escapism at its weirdest for me. Sometimes I can't relate to the characters at all--to the point where I feel like screaming at them, "Feel and act!"--but other times I eerily relate to their pervasive sense of emptiness. My petulant side finds sick relief in these powerful foils, but sometimes I wonder if the relief is actually coming from my own covert emotional deficiency.
And I promised I'd keep this site light and airy. You should have known better.
11-11-2002 8:31 PM - comments (0)
"May J. Lo. and B. Af. both be limited to soap commercials by the end of the decade."
-Chase "#@*& the N.R.A. and pass the Wild Turkey" McCown
11-11-2002 5:31 PM - comments (0)
good old-fashioned american fun
I used to tease Jen about going to Wal-Mart with Eric just to hang out. There really is nothing to do in Spring, to her credit. But last night Michael and I were feeling cooped up, so we got the melt and fries deal at Steak 'n Shake (I looked longingly at his patty melt. I could almost taste the red meat...), then decided to spend some quality time at Wal-Mart.
Michael had to steer me away from the colorfully wrapped snoballs and unbelievably cheap pies, so I steered him into girls' underwear and diapers. He then steered me into boys' robes and Christmas tins. We made our way to the karaoke machine and did Sifl and Olly impressions (I tried to sell him some legless dogs, a la Precious Roy) and attempted to sing Cher's "Believe." I finally located a keyboard and taught Michael to play "Heart and Soul." The grimaces on the faces of the graveyard employees were enough for me to know it was a success. We used camcorders on each other (who knew I needed to have my eyebrows waxed again so quickly?), then he ran away and I ran all around the store trying to catch him. We were cracking up so much I thought we would fall over.
But the fun did not end there. No. We headed over to the women's clothing section, where we proceeded to make fun of every item for sale ("Now this lovely number is for the woman who likes both vests and flannel shirts, but doesn't like the hassle of buying each individually. See how the vest is sewn to the shirt? See the intricate stitching of the cat on top of the bird feeder?"). It got a lot worse when we found the light denim drawstring/elastic waistbanded jeans ("For the woman who's living in 1988") and the plus-size stuff. I feel really bad for women who have to wear size 26 and 28, but I think there should be a law against women over 250 pounds wearing stretch denim. Actually, anyone over about 115 pounds should avoid anything with the word "stretch" in the description.
The funniest thing about the plus-size stuff was that it was all made by a brand called Faded Glory. When Michael and I noticed this, we nearly fell on the floor laughing. We could just hear the ads: "You may have been thin once, but now your glory has faded. No need for exercise or good eating habits; our clothes grow with your enormous thighs." Extremely immature, but a wonderful evening nonetheless.
11-11-2002 10:18 AM - comments (0)
I woke up this morning, after nightmares of Alan Wright and bodies being hacked to pieces, with lymph nodes the size of golf balls. Or at least those little cherry tomatoes no one likes because when you bite into them, they squirt everyone within a 10-foot radius.
I guess I'll just do what I always do when I get sick: overdose on cold medicine and vitamins and sleep the day away. It could be worse.
11-08-2002 9:07 AM - comments (0)
Okay, that was interesting!
Status: No longer entrenched in emotional breakdown. Thanks for the e-mails, instant messages, calls, drawings, etc. I am very grateful to know people like you. Expect compensation shortly.
So I'm a little messed up. I like to think of it as an endearing messed up. Especially when my mascara runs down my face and the result is a liquidy black Fu Manchu mustache gone horribly wrong (has a Fu Manchu mustache ever gone right?).
I think I need to be reintroduced to a personal journal. You know, the kind no one reads because it's where all your private thoughts go. Then this site can just be Crazy Headquarters where I post my artwork, haiku and maddening/enlightening/ridiculous conversations. Fantasy is separated from reality, as it should be.
11-07-2002 10:29 PM - comments (0)
I'm sorry if I offended anyone with that last post. I am removing it not because I think what I said was wrong, but because I might not have worded it in a way that was considerate and inclusive to my readers. I'm also a bit of a sensitive person, so when I'm called bad names, I cry. I can defend my beliefs until I'm blue in the face, but one silly or hurtful word can have a ridiculous effect on me. I know it's weak, and I despise that when I'm attacked I become really sad. I never want to be the kind of person who backs down from opposition and I want to be able to take constructive criticism well, but if I don't think it's constructive, I act kind of silly. I hate when I do this. I say something that people perceive as harsh, and I'm not mature enough to handle the response I should have predicted. In that way I am an idiot, I think.
Yeah, I'm a big dumb baby. Comments will be back up. (I'm not that much of a baby).
You know what? I'm not done writing. Maybe I wouldn't have freaked out as much had I not received an e-mail a few weeks ago that said I was incredibly shallow, and that the e-mail writer wished she hadn't have wasted even two minutes reading my worthless site. I didn't write back because I wanted to demonstrate that I was the better person, or at the very least that what she said to me didn't hurt me. I think she must have said it to hurt me; it wasn't as if she made a suggestion for how I could be a better person. I probably would have taken such a suggestion to heart.
Then a few days later, another person e-mailed me to tell me that my being accepted into the graduate-level magazine writing course was bogus and that it wasn't because I was a good writer--because I wasn't--but because of mere scheduling strategies the university employs during registration times. Maybe this guy was right. I just didn't understand why he was telling me. I never professed to be another Hemingway. I guess I just really appreciated the professor's compliment, which now I have to doubt the legitimacy of. It was just something--a little thing--that made me happy. It made me happy to be alive. I'm sorry if I ever come off sounding like I think I'm some really intelligent person, because I don't think I am. Maybe if I were a good writer I could explain myself better and none of you would ever have to tell me how much I suck or how I don't deserve happiness or how stupid I am or whatever it is you think of me.
I know what I should be thinking: the e-mails were sent anonymously. It's easy to be cruel when you don't have to show your face. And I know the vast majority of comments and e-mails I've gotten have been really nice. It doesn't make sense to dwell on the negative when there's so much positive. I'm just not a very strong person. I have lapses of insecurity like everyone else does; I suppose for a long time I just hid it better. As I write this, I wonder if it will make me cringe tomorrow morning when I reread it. Probably.
I'm sick of the way I am. I'm sick of being so sensitive. I'm sick of my overindulgent emotional side. I'm sick of being irrational. I'm sick of putting myself out there every day and having to worry that someone will hate me because of it. I'm going to start cultivating my rational side; I'm sure I must have one, contrary to all of the bullshit I write about on this site. For some obvious reasons, I need to take a few days off from writing. I want to be able to stand up for myself, but I want to start doing it for the right reasons. I don't have any good reasons right now.
11-07-2002 1:15 PM - comments (0)
Cold outside/warm inside heartache music:
1. "Faces in Disguise" - Sunny Day Real Estate
2. "All is Full of Love" - Bjork
3. "Optimistic" - Radiohead
4. "If There is a God (Acoustic)" - Smashing Pumpkins
5. "And So it Goes" - Billy Joel
6. "80 Windows" - Nada Surf
7. "On a High" - Duncan Sheik
8. "Whenever You See Fit" - Modest Mouse/764-HERO
9. "Just Another Day Without You" - Jon Secada
10. "Falling for You" - Weezer
11. "Think (Let Tomorrow Be)" - Sebadoh
12. "Snibe" - Sunny Day Real Estate
13. "I'll Remember" - Madonna
14. "Take Me Somewhere Nice" - Mogwai
11-05-2002 10:34 AM - comments (0)
also, i've arm-wrestled him. really.
Houston Chronicle columnist Ken Hoffman is my hero.
"Last week, I saw a political ad that said call so-and-so 'and ask him why he's against Texas families.'So I called the allegedly anti-family candidate. A campaign worker answered the phone.
'Hi, I just saw a TV commercial and I was told to call this number. Is he really against Texas families? I mean, is he going to close schools or take puppy dogs away from children, is he? I don't think I could vote for somebody like that.'
The campaign worker said, and rather testily, 'You just saw a negative ad from (the other guy). He's desperate so he's making false accusations. We've asked him to withdraw that ad, but he won't. It's a total lie; (my guy) is for families, and he's for business. It's (the other guy) who is bad for Texas families. It's a negative ad. Just ignore it. He should be ashamed of himself.'
Which raised the question, 'Does your candidate have any negative ads on TV?'
She said, 'Well, we do some comparative advertising.'
Ah, now I get it. When it's the other guy, it's negative advertising. When it's your guy, it's comparative advertising.
Both Republicans and Democrats are guilty. I swear, I'm going to write in the Whig Party on Election Day."
11-04-2002 12:33 PM - comments (0)
1. I'm practically high on Dayquil Geltabs and Cherry Coke. Nice feeling.
2. As seen on MSN.com: "Will You Vote Online Someday? New technology could save elections ... or ruin them." I couldn't have said it more melodramatically if I tried.
3. Some slickster Hispanic advertising guys from Bernstein-Rein lectured during Cross-Cultural class. Wal-Mart is their big-time client. I had to fight the urge to ask if they were aware that Wal-Mart hires young Hispanic workers to work in their sweatshops to bring us those low-cost products in that "family-friendly" environment. I did manage to squeeze in an inquiry about the infamous Zorro smiley face. "So, do you get a favorable response from the Hispanic market with that campaign?" Nervous look, agitated demeanor. "Uh, we don't actually use the Zorro smiley face in that particular market." Necessary pause to regain composure. "What sex do you think the smiley face is? The beauty of it is that it can be white, Hispanic, Asian-American, black...It embodies all races and genders." Nice try, suckah. Don't peddle your propaganda here. I ain't buying, and neither should you if you care about "your people."
4. Somehow the issue of family and loyalty came up in our Hispanic market discussion. "Hispanics are by far very loyal consumers and have strong family ties," said dude bragged. Did I miss the meeting where we crackers decided that we didn't care about loyalty or family? Guess I'll be saving a lot of money on Christmas presents this year.
5. Status on newfound Dixie Chicks obsession: frightening.
6. Cleared up a lot with the boy this weekend. I think I can be a little less scared of the future. Also had a divine time with the delicately endearing Punch-Drunk Love. Reaffirms my crush on Adam Sandler. Reaffirms love for the boy (who reminded me a lot of Barry, but not as weird).
7. Did I mention I felt high as a kite?
11-04-2002 12:12 PM - comments (0)
I don't know. Avril Lavigne just seems so angry at that girl who dumped the Sk8ter Boi. She's mad that girl said "see ya later, boy." Because really, he became a really awesome punk rocker, probably from the coolest, trendiest punk rock band there is, Sum 41 (who are the Ramones? I said punk rock, not oldies).
But Avril, you got your man. You got that awesome Sk8ter Boi and now you rock each other's world, so shouldn't you be happy that little snobby high school girl gave him up? Oh, I see. You're worried he still likes that snobby girl. That explains the smug feel of the song. After all, it sounds like she still has a thing for him. Plus, you look like a retarded monkey. Odds are that girl doesn't.
But I guess I'm a little confused about timing. See, aren't you still 17 or something? So that snobby girl had time to reject Sk8ter Boi, get involved with someone else, have a baby, all while Sk8ter Boi was on his way to fame and then met you? You kids grow up fast in Canada, eh?
11-04-2002 9:11 AM - comments (0)
Contrary to what you might have read on my site a few weeks ago, I do not talk about sex obsessively. In fact, talking about sex obsessively drives me crazy. You know who I'm talking about, those girls who think they're being sexy because they have like 10 words in their vocabularies that all pertain to sex.
You know what I think? When girls go out of their way to let boys know loudly and obviously that they think about sex, all it says to the rest of the world is, "Hey. I've never had sex and I probably won't be for a long, long time. So really, I'm not as sexy as a girl who might be a little shyer talking about it."
Talking about it in moderation is fine. But come on...we get it. You like to talk about sex. Really, it's not so much rebellious as it is damned annoying.
11-03-2002 10:35 AM - comments (0)
Microserfs by Douglas Coupland is the best book ever. No, really. Ever. You know I'm not the type to exaggerate just to get a point across. I don't suffer from the boy-who-cried-wolf syndrome.
11-02-2002 12:57 PM - comments (0)
Show some love to my very Voxy friend, Justin Marciniak. He's stegolicious. I just made that word up. It's a cross between Stegosaurus (because he has spiky hair) and delicious, which I would have no real way of knowing, don't worry.
listening to: "Fall into Line" - Sahara Hotnights
11-02-2002 12:45 PM - comments (0)
I find it only a little strange and frustrating that hot, intelligent guys only hit on me when I have a boyfriend. Only a little because that is my life, and I have gotten used to its weird twists of fate and irony. I must be more attractive when I'm taken (but how did he know that? Do I radiate or something? Oh right. I do).
But the thing is, I came home last night after that whole thing with that guy Jeff and all I could think about was Michael. Because if I were at a party or in a class or anywhere where he was nearby, I'd desperately want to meet and flirt with him. He'd be the only one I saw in the room. Probably because he's the hottest, most intelligent guy I happen to know. Plus Nelly wanted his robot to come to his birthday party, and that's just the coolest thing in the world. But I guess I wouldn't have known that if I hadn't met him. Okay, stop criticizing my little story. I'm just crazy about Michael. The end.
11-02-2002 9:30 AM - comments (0)
Because everyone seems obsessed with googlizing (and I've already done mine), I decided to googlize some of the people I know. It turns out Michael Dixon is responsible for holding up a Dollar General and Wendy's (why he couldn't have stolen me a Frosty I'll never know). But Christie's said:
christie andersen is a music writer for echo
See, the thing is, she really was! It's no fun when they tell the truth.