If all history specials had been made this way, I would have paid more attention during my two years of AP US History.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
zapatos calientes y tamales calientes
After a long, long, LONG week that I was happy to see the end of, I decided to reward myself with some new shoes. I bought 2 new pairs last week, but my love tank still was not full.
I arrived at DSW still in my bank lady attire, which apparently looks expensive, because one of the salespeople, Halil, came up to me and asked if I make a lot of money. I went "HA!" and said I have two part time jobs but remain below the poverty line. He then offered me a job because he said I have a "good eye for shoes" and that he can tell that I "think outside the box." I went "HA!" and we had a good laugh.
After giving Halil my contact information so that I could join their savings club (I think that's why I gave him all my information...), he said he's going to look into getting a job at my bank. He's also a substitute teacher at my former high school and middle school. For some reason this creeped me out a little.
Halil did inspire me to use my "good eye" to find a crazy pair of shoes because I was in the mood to throw down for a pair of crazy shoes. I spent some time looking around, taking care to "think outside of the box," and I found these:
I arrived at DSW still in my bank lady attire, which apparently looks expensive, because one of the salespeople, Halil, came up to me and asked if I make a lot of money. I went "HA!" and said I have two part time jobs but remain below the poverty line. He then offered me a job because he said I have a "good eye for shoes" and that he can tell that I "think outside the box." I went "HA!" and we had a good laugh.
After giving Halil my contact information so that I could join their savings club (I think that's why I gave him all my information...), he said he's going to look into getting a job at my bank. He's also a substitute teacher at my former high school and middle school. For some reason this creeped me out a little.
Halil did inspire me to use my "good eye" to find a crazy pair of shoes because I was in the mood to throw down for a pair of crazy shoes. I spent some time looking around, taking care to "think outside of the box," and I found these:
But I got them in black.
I feel like a hot little tamale in them.
Yes, these shoes make me feel like a plate of steamed Mexican food.
I feel like a hot little tamale in them.
Yes, these shoes make me feel like a plate of steamed Mexican food.
Abbey Road Time Lapse
During the day.
Secrets...
I was looking at an old blog of mine that I abandoned in October (one that was even more self-indulgent and personal than this one. Ha!) and I found a list of things I wanted to remind myself to write about. Problem is, I don't have any idea now what I had to say about any of this stuff. I don't even know what most of it refers to. I should start adding footnotes to my lists. But I'll probably forget.
The secret list:
-sigur ros
-nyc
-fear in brooklyn
-accordions on the L
-beyonce
-malden future
-hunting puffins
-education vs gothabilly
Why did I feel the urge to discuss beyonce? Or the hunting of puffins? And what does education have to do with gothabilly, and why are they in conflict?
This will keep me up all night!
I also found this:
"after seeing craig ferguson at wilbur on saturday night i'm so very attracted to him. who care's that he's 24 years older than me...i can't control my carnal desires. fergie's on my list."
oh, yes...that I remember...
The secret list:
-sigur ros
-nyc
-fear in brooklyn
-accordions on the L
-beyonce
-malden future
-hunting puffins
-education vs gothabilly
Why did I feel the urge to discuss beyonce? Or the hunting of puffins? And what does education have to do with gothabilly, and why are they in conflict?
This will keep me up all night!
I also found this:
"after seeing craig ferguson at wilbur on saturday night i'm so very attracted to him. who care's that he's 24 years older than me...i can't control my carnal desires. fergie's on my list."
oh, yes...that I remember...
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
A trend I can sure as hell follow with my head held high high high
(Lisa Lutz, author of The Spellman series, and Julie Powell, author of Julie & Julia)
I've been reading a lot lately. I have an addiction to compulsively buying books. A compulsive addition. An addicting compulsion? Asante sana squash banana.
Tonight I visited ye olde B&N and traded a fat $20 for 3 more books. Two were from the bargain aisle, hence my most excellent savings. I've had really great luck at the bargain aisle/table/bin/box/corner (or whatever incarnation in which it may be.) If you dig, you will find.
My best bargain buy was The Spellman Files by Lisa Lutz (pictured up there.) B&N had a $1 table (!!!!!!) at their store in Hadley, MA and I was on it like a cat on cucumber. Like my cat on cucumber. I think I have the only cat in the world who prefers a crisp and juicy cucumber over a hot and bloody piece of steak. True story.
The book was $1 plus tax but thanks to my excluuuusive membership to the store, I got it for a slick 98 cents. Wow!
Anyways, this is almost completely irrelevant to this post's intended subject.
The Spellman Files was one of the best books I've read in the last few years, as was it's sequel, The Spellman Curse. I am sweating out the last few weeks until Revenge of the Spellmans comes out in March.
So off topic!!!!! Thinking about that damn cucumber-eating cat has completely distracted me.
I'll make it quick before I get lost again.
Lisa Lutz described herself as a chronic underachiever and permanent temp. Julie Powell, whose book is being turned into a movie starring Meryl Streep described herself in this same manner. Perma-temps, a little too miserable and unable to commit to any visible path. They were working to live but not really living.
Not really living...until...they wrote hit novels!
So you see, my problems are solved. This trend of somewhat-underachieving women who work dead-end jobs until their fingers gnarl and their high heels are ground to stubs becoming successful authors is a bandwagon I plan to jump onto.
Now now now, I'm not an underachiever. I achieve really hard. So effing hard my fingers are gnarling. But I'm great at the temp thing. That's all I've ever really done. In fact, I was hired for a second part-time job this very day! So even though I'm not in my desired industry and my career prospects are dead in the water, according to Lutz and Powell, I'm on the right track.
(another prospective temp job all aspiring writers should consider...)
(...cough cough, Flight of the Conchords...)
Hooray for inspiration!
Temp-4-ever.
Tonight I visited ye olde B&N and traded a fat $20 for 3 more books. Two were from the bargain aisle, hence my most excellent savings. I've had really great luck at the bargain aisle/table/bin/box/corner (or whatever incarnation in which it may be.) If you dig, you will find.
My best bargain buy was The Spellman Files by Lisa Lutz (pictured up there.) B&N had a $1 table (!!!!!!) at their store in Hadley, MA and I was on it like a cat on cucumber. Like my cat on cucumber. I think I have the only cat in the world who prefers a crisp and juicy cucumber over a hot and bloody piece of steak. True story.
The book was $1 plus tax but thanks to my excluuuusive membership to the store, I got it for a slick 98 cents. Wow!
Anyways, this is almost completely irrelevant to this post's intended subject.
The Spellman Files was one of the best books I've read in the last few years, as was it's sequel, The Spellman Curse. I am sweating out the last few weeks until Revenge of the Spellmans comes out in March.
So off topic!!!!! Thinking about that damn cucumber-eating cat has completely distracted me.
I'll make it quick before I get lost again.
Lisa Lutz described herself as a chronic underachiever and permanent temp. Julie Powell, whose book is being turned into a movie starring Meryl Streep described herself in this same manner. Perma-temps, a little too miserable and unable to commit to any visible path. They were working to live but not really living.
Not really living...until...they wrote hit novels!
So you see, my problems are solved. This trend of somewhat-underachieving women who work dead-end jobs until their fingers gnarl and their high heels are ground to stubs becoming successful authors is a bandwagon I plan to jump onto.
Now now now, I'm not an underachiever. I achieve really hard. So effing hard my fingers are gnarling. But I'm great at the temp thing. That's all I've ever really done. In fact, I was hired for a second part-time job this very day! So even though I'm not in my desired industry and my career prospects are dead in the water, according to Lutz and Powell, I'm on the right track.
(another prospective temp job all aspiring writers should consider...)
(...cough cough, Flight of the Conchords...)
Hooray for inspiration!
Temp-4-ever.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Animal Collective: YAY
I've been a fan of Animal Collective and their weird hypno-pop for a few years now, though I admit to having lost track of them within the last year. That was until their video for My Girls appeared.
Give it some time...it starts off slow but it's such a great song. It makes me think of Disney World and pineapples and red shoes and green leaves and lemonade in shorts.
The whole album, Merriweather Post Pavilion, is great. Great for road trips and trips home from work (it's therapeutic to yell "Whoooo!" along with the chorus to My Girls.)
And isn't it nice to hear a happy song that's all about a dad wanting nothing more than to be able to provide "four walls and adobe slabs" to shelter his girls? It makes my heart throb in a very sweet way.
Chester French. Yay or Nay?
I can't decide what I think about these guys. I'm going to make a list:
Pros:
*undeniably adorable
*Harvard grads (pfft, but whatever...)
*I've always appreciated musical duos (see: white stripes, mates of state)
*local boys
*super catchy
*violent video (i like being surprised)
Cons:
*I just can't decide whether I really like them
I think that, in the spirit of being open-minded, fair, balanced, knowledgeable, yellow, downtown, equal, curvy, mellon...I should listen to another song by them. It isn't fair to judge a band based on only one song, right?
This verdict will require more contemplation and more tracks.
Oh, I just thought of another con.
*One member of band in question [see: Max] was married to Peaches Geldof. Said member is now divorced from Peaches Geldof. But she's a pretty big con.
Nothing I con more than trust fund tarts who spend their days doing blow and divorcing rather than working and appreciating.
Okay, okay, so I'm bitter. I don't want to spend my days doing blow...but I wouldn't mind the trust fund or the Chester French.
A Renewed Effort!
As the days wear on, my career prospects get bleaker and bleaker. Or perhaps just further off course...publishing is going under and nobody need's a new writer, so I will recommit myself to this blog because being a bank teller only exercises half of my brain.
It exercises the half that is horribly under developed. Calculating and cash handling all day has literally given me head pains. The deep recesses of my cerebellum are throbbing in ways previously unknown to me.
I'm trying to think of it like exercising. The more times you get on that treadmill or lift that iron, the easier it will become and the less you'll feel like a cripple the next day. If I keep exercising my math head, my math head will get stronger and be able to run farther.
So, uhh...right right right. I'm going to do this thing more. Do it a lot more. I've been many places since my last post and I want to rip them apart and/or give them flowers. I'll make a list to remind myself:
*Big City: Brighton Ave., Allson
An alternative to the 80 minute wait you face at Sunset Tap on a Saturday Night. Less food, less beer, but more tables and toilets. What more can a gal ask for?
*Sanctuary: State St., Boston
I am by no means a nightclub person. Is that even the right term? Clubs. Hip joint. Hot Spot. Hot steamy room that charges you $5 to walk in the door, $3 to hang up your coat and $7 for a sip of vodka tonic. Maybe I started my foray into the land of the nightclubcrawlers at the wrong place. Maybe conceptual clubs aren't my thing. Three floors, the bottom is "hell" and the top is "heaven". All I know is that after walking from Beacon Hill to Sanctuary in a new pair of patent brown t-strap heels (meow), stomping down a flight of stairs to hang my coat in hell and then the two story ascent to heaven was painful enough to challenge one of Dante's circles. My blisters be damned.
*6B Lounge: Beacon St., Boston
Adjacent to Emmet's Pub, this place was just...blah. Dark and moody interior with some really excellent seating options in the windows jutting out onto the street, but the service was terrible and the food is your basic pub fare with a Beacon Hill price tag. Will any member of my 20 person party return? Not likely. We reserved a large table to fit our swollen crowd only to find upon arrival that the doorman had given it to another 20 member party who he mistook for ours. We were too hungry and determined to get drunk to bother finding another place that could fit us, so we parked it on their comfortable leather lounge seats and helped ourselves to a bounty of $5 drafts (none of which were comped despite the lounge's inconvenient faux pas, and the host's subsequent rudeness).
Tomorrow after my shift at the mine I'm going to Harvard with my brother to hear a lecture by Jonah Lehrer, author of Proust Was a Neuroscientist and How We Decide. Aside from wanting to skip down the halls of Harvard and pretend I'm a serious intellectual for a few hours, I have a secret motive for attending this lecture. Here are some hints:
Science
Poetry
Dr. Zhivago
Replacing a book of poems entitled "Lara" for the more appropriate title of "Sarah" ("r" is meant to be rolled and the first syllable grossly elongated. Think "saaaaaarrrraah")
To bed!
It exercises the half that is horribly under developed. Calculating and cash handling all day has literally given me head pains. The deep recesses of my cerebellum are throbbing in ways previously unknown to me.
I'm trying to think of it like exercising. The more times you get on that treadmill or lift that iron, the easier it will become and the less you'll feel like a cripple the next day. If I keep exercising my math head, my math head will get stronger and be able to run farther.
So, uhh...right right right. I'm going to do this thing more. Do it a lot more. I've been many places since my last post and I want to rip them apart and/or give them flowers. I'll make a list to remind myself:
*Big City: Brighton Ave., Allson
An alternative to the 80 minute wait you face at Sunset Tap on a Saturday Night. Less food, less beer, but more tables and toilets. What more can a gal ask for?
*Sanctuary: State St., Boston
I am by no means a nightclub person. Is that even the right term? Clubs. Hip joint. Hot Spot. Hot steamy room that charges you $5 to walk in the door, $3 to hang up your coat and $7 for a sip of vodka tonic. Maybe I started my foray into the land of the nightclubcrawlers at the wrong place. Maybe conceptual clubs aren't my thing. Three floors, the bottom is "hell" and the top is "heaven". All I know is that after walking from Beacon Hill to Sanctuary in a new pair of patent brown t-strap heels (meow), stomping down a flight of stairs to hang my coat in hell and then the two story ascent to heaven was painful enough to challenge one of Dante's circles. My blisters be damned.
*6B Lounge: Beacon St., Boston
Adjacent to Emmet's Pub, this place was just...blah. Dark and moody interior with some really excellent seating options in the windows jutting out onto the street, but the service was terrible and the food is your basic pub fare with a Beacon Hill price tag. Will any member of my 20 person party return? Not likely. We reserved a large table to fit our swollen crowd only to find upon arrival that the doorman had given it to another 20 member party who he mistook for ours. We were too hungry and determined to get drunk to bother finding another place that could fit us, so we parked it on their comfortable leather lounge seats and helped ourselves to a bounty of $5 drafts (none of which were comped despite the lounge's inconvenient faux pas, and the host's subsequent rudeness).
Tomorrow after my shift at the mine I'm going to Harvard with my brother to hear a lecture by Jonah Lehrer, author of Proust Was a Neuroscientist and How We Decide. Aside from wanting to skip down the halls of Harvard and pretend I'm a serious intellectual for a few hours, I have a secret motive for attending this lecture. Here are some hints:
Science
Poetry
Dr. Zhivago
Replacing a book of poems entitled "Lara" for the more appropriate title of "Sarah" ("r" is meant to be rolled and the first syllable grossly elongated. Think "saaaaaarrrraah")
To bed!
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