aujourd'hui.

i have sans doubt returned to the land of hipsters. everywhere i go, i either see them or every once in a while notice their absence in polo skirts covered in golf clubs. they follow me in their over sized moldy sweaters, crusty with bong water. they pick eternally-lodged wedgies from their extremely short mom-jean shorts. they continue to never wash their hair, cultivate pseudo-mullets, mutton chops, pornstaches, and other facial atrocities. their tiny woven purses burst with hand-rolled cigarettes and matches, because nicotine is constantly needed to maintain their svelte-ness. they have awful memories and generally introduce themselves to me several times. they can be nice, obscenely annoying, or drab... similar to the rest of the non-ironic population.

ride.

things i saw on the drive to school:
-wawa
-several extremely large birds (pretty sure they were turkeys) standing on the roofs of development houses
-a badly written sign that appeared to advertise 'dental prostitutes'
-a bright pink store devoted solely to the sale of nesting dolls
-dwarf ponies
-some cows
-farms

that's it. pretty much. now i'm here, so hopefully posts will recommence. maybe some dorm room pictures.

too.

too busy to blog. vacation 'til september. i know you're all very disappointed. but i very much need time to organize my jewelry into separate muffin tins. until then, enjoys some laundry.

clumsy.

the most important shopping that i did today was for band-aids. i go through band-aids like camels go through spit. i stumble, fall, trip, nick, slice, tear, skin, scrape, scratch, blister, and bruise myself into a be-band-aided mess more often than not. so... i bought a big pack. that's right. 300+ band-aids are coming to school with me. blister band-aids, an anti-shoe-friction band-aid stick, antibiotic band-aids, cloth band-aids, plastic band-aids, latex band-aids, sport band-aids, finger band-aids, and big band-aids. scabs better run.

prunes.

the produce stand next to my place of (paid) work (the curry stand) has some serious spelling deficiencies.

examples:
-shampane mangos
-pruns are italian plums!
-new graps
-raspberrys have real sugar!
-apricots/persimons (which aren't the same fruit, incidentally)

like.

things that make me ears turn upwards as with elation:
- being told at a toy store that they haven't sold mexican jumping beans in two years because they've been bad crops (entirely serious)
- discovering that a soft fleece blanket at the house where you are babysitting is actually the ever-coveted "snuggie"
- children who look at their watches when you are babysitting them and say "ohp, 8:45, i should head to bed"
- babysitting company
- not being made fun of for bringing a stuffed animal on a weekend trip

catskills.

so by some wonderful luck, i happened to be in woodstock, ny the day after the 40th anniversary of the festival. it was a wonderful few days with a wonderful few people. he he he.

so, in honor of 40 years, here are joe cocker and john belushi. start the first one at 2 minutes, just to get a sense of it. then check out the immitation. you won't be dissapointed, oh reader of such distinguished taste.

joe.

john.

forty.

i like when my mom talks about when she was at woodstock. i get to hear about the bad food, the crazy people, tarp stealing, the wonderful but absolutely chaotic music, how her boyfriend took the bad brown acid, and the 6 mile walk from the car.

but most of all i like when on a woodstock documentary, every time they bring up acid, shrooms, weed, heroin, alcohol, peyote, anything at all, she looks at me intently and says "i had a few sips of wine, and probably not even that because i heard it was spiked with bad acid". and then my dad points jovially at a long haired hippie waif chopping onions and says "look it's mommy!"

for some reason, this makes me smile.

hmm...

would anyone else be slightly putt-off upon discovering that included in the ingredients of your lemonade are "turmeric and riboflavin for color"?

turmeric? really? i dunno, maybe it's better than yellow 5 or whatever.

emails.

email i sent to myself today at work in a fit of hunger.

"dear you,
this is the shit you need to get done.
-email [insert 11th grade english teacher] about that new postmodern novel you are pretending to read
-email [insert 12th grade class advisor] the quote from the jewish book about how jews do fucking eat chinese food on christmas and it's not something "just your family does". hopefully say something akin to "suck it. i told you so.", but nicely.
-eat a goddamn sandwich already.

me"

last.

so my last day at work was nice. i sat alone in the 6 person cubicle, read a manuscript about being a jewish single girl, researched the best-selling video game books, called the wonderful micro brewers of our nation (from juno, alaska to squareville [alright, that wasn't a place, but it was something like that], nevada), sprained my pinky (again) on the fuckin' shift button, and ate an egg sandwich.

but the best part of the day was this overheard conversation:

production dude a: it's like a sock
production lady: eww, on your ass?
production dude b: yeah, ass fuzz. it's fuckin' hot in the summer. men are hairy dudes.
production dude a: i mean, it's evolution or something, to keep our butts nice and toasty in winter, but it blows in the summer.
production lady: god, i'm so glad i'm not a guy.
.
.
.
production lady: why is it so fuckin' quiet over here?



oh the workplace. i will miss it.


maybe not.

hello.

woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. summer ale. woo.

agh.

the number of pictures that i have to post > the number of posts that i have posted

300+ > 60+

darn.

sounds.

vocalizations i use that are a-typical, especially in text messages:

hrm.
squee.
argle.
glurg.
gah.

home.

home home, it's time to be home.
nice.

so which of you, oh glorious reader, wants to know what i ate this week?
ans: shrimp, scallops, dolphin (the fish kind silly!), wahoo, salmon, and tuna
yumuyyumyuym

i bet you also want to know what i didn't eat but watched anthony bourdain (oh vassar alums) eat on the travel network, right?
ans: various bits of goat genitalia, every part of the pig imaginable, and squeasal. yes, squesal.

beach.

what one (haven't you yet learned that i can only mean myself when i say 'one'? i don't quite have the gall to own up to say 'i'.) does at the beach:
-tries to balance trashy and high-brow novels (e.g. cocktails for three [about women chatting at a swanky london bar about their romances] and memories, dreams, reflections [the autobiography of carl jung])
-itches scratchy itch bug bites
-eats her weight in scallops, shrimp, fish, succotash (look it up you ingrate!), and peaches
-tumbles in the waves
-picks sand from every corner (e.g. molars, ear corners, eyelid nooks, etc.)
-sleeps
-hugs people a lot