Archive 7

12.15.02

Is it possible to absolutely despise a band and then literally the next day not be able to get enough of them?? Before I went to Memphis I HATED Rage Against the Machine. Couldn't stand them. Was ready to throw my radio out the window if I heard any of their songs. But for some reason, I still can't figure out why, I love them now. Maybe it's because while in Memphis my dad had the rental car radio tuned to a country station and I HATE country "music," so I believe ANYTHING is better than country with the exception of Creed and anyone who's been on VH1 Divas Live. Anywhoozle, I always had my walkman turned up even if it was a song I hated, and I heard "Renegades of Funk" and I'm like, "Whoa. This song's actually pretty cool." And then later I heard the one--I don't know what it's called--that has the lines "now you do what they told ya" in it. And I liked that one. So now I love Rage. This wasn't a gradual thing. This happened LITERALLY overnight. I still can't figure it out and I'll probably be damned if I can.

Right now I'm trying to figure out why the hell these crackers I'm eating taste like sausage...

Damn, I'm bored.

12.13.02

Hmm... I'm too bored/sleepy/sick to update today, but I did find out which Lucy Maud Montgomery character I am. It's kinda funny that I'm Valancy, not because I'm not like her--I am--but because I just got that book. Good book, too.

"Mr Hankey, the Christmas poo ~ He loves me, I love you ~ Therefore vicariously he loves you ~ I can make a Mr Hankey too!" --Mr Hankey the Christmas Poo, from South Park

12.11.02

I'm baaaa-aaack! Miss me? ... You didn't? Well fuck you then!

I wrote some stuff down in a little book I brought to Memphis with me. Most of it doesn't have anything to actually do with Memphis, but I'm gonna relay it anyway.

Dateline--How awesome is Dateline? I love when they do, like, every other episode they'll do the essential "a common household item is a potential killer" story. And it's always the last story, like "You may have a deadly object in your home! You may be using it RIGHT NOW! You may be endangering your life at this very moment! But first: the story of the chick who had 7 kids at once, because that's infinitely more important than your impending, inevitable death."

I hate riding in airplanes. I believe there's some sort of FAA regulation that states that a screaming toddler must not be more than three seats away from you in any given direction. I had one BEHIND me, on the flight from Portland to the layover in Cincinatti. (Anyone who lives in Cincinatti, forgive me if I've spelled it wrong.) And there's an addendum to the aforesaid FAA regulation that states if there is a screaming toddler behind you he or she will kick the back of your seat no fewer than 37 times per hour. Comfort is not allowed at any time, such as legroom. Also the food--term used VERY loosely--will most likely not even resemble what it is supposed to be and will contain a maximum of .003 micrograms of actual edible content, .002 micrograms of which is in the plastic fork.

I HATE CREED!!! I was listening to 93X in Memphis and heard a song I hadn't before, but the guy sounded like Eddie Vedder so I'm like "Oooh, Pearl Jam!" and turned it up and my brother wakes up and goes "I can't believe you're listening to Creed," and I'm like "That was Creed? Goddammit I thought it was Pearl Jam!" Goddammit Creed fucking sucks. How dare they confuse me, the bastards.

93X in Memphis is EXACTLY the same as 94.7 NRK in Portland. They even have the same slogan, "The New Rock Alternative." The only differences, pretty much, are than 93X plays Creed, who SUCK DONKEY BALLS--and are NOT alternative--and there's Howard Stern in the morning who sucks the donkey balls that Creed already sucked on. These two things, along with the fact that 93X plays considerably less Nirvana than NRK, puts 93X about six or seven notches below NRK in my How-Cool-Is-This-Stationometer.

Advice of the Day: If you happen to not have sales tax in your state, if you go to another state that does have sales tax, make sure you actually remember that said other state HAS sales tax, otherwise there are probably gonna be problems. Also it would probably behoove you to remember that you are, indeed, in another state. Right now, you are most possibly in a state of confusion.

I got three new books in Memphis: "Feel This Book," by Janeane Garofalo & Ben Stiller, "The Blue Castle," by L.M. Montgomery, and "Naked," by David Sedaris, which I'm in the middle of right now. But I hate it when people ask me what a goddamned book's about before I even open it for the first time! Goddammit! What the fuck am I? Psychic?

I've been totally conditioned by the Starbucks logo. It's like, if I see a green circle with white letters, I immediately think, "Oooh, Starbucks!" Also if anyone in my immediate vicinity mentions Starbucks I always perk up (no pun intended). If I were a dog I'd be doing that thing where dogs kind of turn their ears forward and I'd also be wagging my tail quite vigorously. Oh, and I also finally got to try a goddamned hazelnut latte. It's pretty good but they didn't put enough hazelnut in there and I even asked for extra. Maybe I'll ask for triple next time.

Michael Jackson scares the shit out of me.

Quote of the Day: "I need to learn to behave myself!" --Butters from South Park

Oh, and I signed up for a new email, so you can send mail to either one, but I'd prefer it if you used the new jgarofalo one.

12.03.02

I got my hair cut the other day. It doesn't look at all how I want it to, but then again my hair never does. I swear it looks like I just stepped out of a time machine from 1986. "Crank up the Duran Duran! Where's my Tears for Fears tape?"

On a plus note--I GOT "TEN"! I GOT "TEN"! I GOT "TEN"!!! Woooohoooo!!! Okay so first we went to Wal-Mart after my haircut and I was in the CD section and they had absolutely NO semblance of order WHATSOEVER, plus all the listening stations were broken. I found one Pearl Jam CD not actually IN the PJ section but close to it, and another one--Riot Act, which I want desperately--in the T's, for Godssakes. I asked my mom if I could get it--I didn't have any money--and she said she didn't have enough money. So then we went to Fred Meyers and I was in the CD section (surprise) and they had "Ten," and I was like "Aaaghh!" because I thought that I wouldn't be able to get it, but then my mom came to get me and she was like, "how much is that," and I said "thirteen bucks," and so she got it for me. So ... yay!

Quote of the Day: "I just hit the microphone with my own forehead!" --Daria (on NRK)

I'm so ... god ... damned ... sleepy ...

I'm leaving Thursday so if I don't update tomorrow this will be the last entry for a week unless I can get to a computer in Memphis.

12.01.02

No, I'm not going to start singing lame-assed Christmas carols. If I ruled the world nobody would be allowed to sing Christmas carols until December 24th and they'd have to stop on the 26th. Any caroling before or after those two dates is punishable by death. Also anyone caught singing "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" at ANY time will be subject to excruciatingly painful torture.

I just bought the book "Me Talk Pretty One Day" by David Sedaris. It's pretty damned funny. I haven't finished it yet but so far my favorite essay is "Today's Special." And of course, like the idiot that I am, I bought it BEFORE I checked at Sam Goody's to see if they had Pearl Jam's "Ten" ... which I've been looking ALL OVER THE GODDAMN PLACE to find, and so I ventured into SG's, Waldenbooks bag in hand, and pored over the Pearl Jam section AND THEY HAD "TEN"!!!! One copy left!!! AAAAAGHHHGHGH!!!! And I'd only had 20 dollars and the book was fifteen. Oh, and I'd also bought some blank tapes so that bought me down to a dollar and a lonely nickel and a penny or two.

If I had a band I'd call it Subculture Perfect. Don't ask me how I got that name. It just popped in my head one day and I like the way it sounds.

"Can't get to heaven in your sunday best ~ The night before they were calling it a cocktail dress ~ Dress ~ Come be the first in line ~ To shake the hand of mine ~ Come be the first in line ~ To shake the hand of," --Sleater-Kinney, "All Hands on the Bad One"

11.30.02

I'm bored to tears ... well, not literally.

I'm also cold.

Guys in rock bands that are hot: Rivers Cuomo from Weezer (he's so cute in that "I got beat up on the school playground" sort of way), Brandon Boyd from Incubus, the lead guy from OK Go, that one Kurt-Cobain-lookin'-dude from the Vines, um... gods, I don't watch much MTV anymore ...

I'm still cold. Gods! Goddamn it's fucking cold down here!! Goddamn!

Joan Rivers is the devil. I hate her. Hate her. Hate her. Fucking pretentious bitch.

I'm reading "Jane Eyre" again. I need more books. I've read everything on my bookshelf at least twice.

So I'm heading down to Memphis in five days, for my grandfather's 90th birthday celebration (even though his birthday was really a few weeks ago). I HATE going to Memphis. Although I must admit that it's not nearly as bad in the winter as in the summer. Also my grandparents have about a zillion old-assed friends that I'm supposed to talk to. What the hell am I supposed to talk to an 80-year-old about? We don't have a common ground. "Uh, hey, do you like Pearl Jam?... Yeah, they do rock, don't they?" Actually ... I think I WILL do that.

I'm still COLD.

11.29.02

For some weird reason I have to take a detour on the "information superhighway" (has anybody heard that phrase since, like, 1996?) to get into my goddamned account. Anywhoozle ... um. I shoulda done this yesterday. Actually I WANTED to but couldn't get into my account. Happy (belated) Thanksgiving. I'm still recovering from the effects of the tryptophan. *falls asleep on keyboard; wakes up with neat little square-shapes imprinted on face*

[cutting sarcasm]Oh joy. Six more days until my trip to Hell Memphis. Can't wait.[/cutting sarcasm]

I am pissed off. The Strokes were on Letterman last night and I COMPLETELY forgot!! Aaaaghhh!! I LOVE the Strokes.

"Hey ~ You know they're all the same ~ You know you're doing better on your own ~ So don't buy in," --Jimmy Eat World, "The Middle"

11.26.02

A while back I mentioned a dream I'd had about PJ Harvey in which her hair was like it was back when "Is This Desire" came out and she was wearing glasses. Well I was just searching for pics of Polly on the net and came across one that looks EXACTLY like she did in my dream (although she was wearing something different):

I'd never seen this picture--or indeed any picture wherein she's wearing glasses, unless you count sunglasses--before five minutes ago.

Heh. It's not even December yet and I'm already making out my Christmas list. Mostly books and CDs right now. GODS I want that new Pearl Jam CD!!!! I WANT that!!!

*hums the Simpsons theme*

too ... bored ... to ... type ...

11.24.02

Goddammit. I can't think of what I was going to say... ah well. Brain Currently Out of Commission. Please Try Again Later.

My cat is so weird. She's been content to live outside (albeit in the garage) for twelve years; and now suddenly she wants to live inside, and we have to push her back out now. A year ago she'd barely stick her head in the door and now she runs in every time we open it. I think right now as I'm typing this she's curled up in a furry black ball on the couch. The dog's jealous of her, though: "Jeez! What the hell are you doing, petting that cat?? You KNOW I'm the cutest puppy dog in the whole wide world! Now get me a goddamn pig's ear. I'm just gonna sit here and growl enviously until you pet me instead of her."

You know what they should make? Religious cereals. Why not? Religion has infiltrated everything ELSE in our lives, why not our food as well. That'd be great. Have a cereal like "Jesus-Bits." Commercial: "Moms and dads, are you tired of your kids eating satanic and unholy cereals?" [Cut to punk-looking kids with piercings and tats and dyed-black hair and upside-down-pentagrams on their black shirts, eating cereal. A conservative-looking mother with rather a 50's-ish hairstyle is in the doorway looking annoyed.] "Well try new 'Jesus Bits'!" [Bowls of cereal disappear and new ones pop up in their place. The little bits of cereal look like--what else?--loaves and fishes. Immediately after sampling the cereal the punk-looking kids turn just as conservative and 50's-ish as their mother, who is now smiling happily.] "And it turns the milk into wine!" Fast, low disclaimer voice: "Milk turns to grape juice if you're underage." Kids: "It's holy-riffic!" Mom: "Now I can rest easy knowing my children aren't subjected to immoral cereals."

DISCLAIMER: The above fake-assed commercial was meant to be entirely sarcastic. Anyone reading this who actually HAS piercings, tats and dyed black hair should not be indignant because to me you people are pretty damned cool.

11.22.02

It is now 10:40 am and I am eating a corn dog. Make that two corn dogs. I swear, there is nothing on this earth more satisfyingly awesome than a corn dog. Okay, first of all, it's meat on a stick, which gives it bonus points from the beginning. Secondly, it's covered in that sort of ambiguously brown-on-the-outside, yellowish-on-the-inside, mystery-corn-whatever-the-hell-it-is substance. And thirdly, the words "corn dog" are just fun to say. Now the only way the corn dog could achieve true perfection is if they managed to make a rectangular one so they don't roll into the ketchup (before I want to actually dip the goddamn thing) and make the corn-part soggy.

Today on NRK they were giving away the new Pearl Jam CD. I called in but didn't get through. Dammit.

Yesterday while at the Best Website Ever (link is above) I came across a word I'd never heard before: "hubris." Or maybe I have heard it and just didn't really pay attention. Anywhoozle, I looked it up in the dictionary and it basically means extreme pride. But doesn't it kinda sound like some sort of sauce for a foreign dish? I imagine it would look something like a yellow-tinted ranch dressing, but with sort of a creamy/buttery flavor to it, sort of like a really, really mild blue cheese. And it would have little green speckle-things. Little green speckle-things are cool. And ... hmm, what would you pour hubris onto? I'd have to go with chicken.

Quote of the Day: "All of the great writers were alcoholics. Hemingway, that other guy, and that bitch who killed herself. Where are all the great pothead writers? There aren't any! 'Cause nobody wants to read a book about the most delicious Twinkie." --Dave Attell

11.21.02

*yaaaaawwwwnnn* It's only 11 am for godssakes! What do you expect me to do, dance a fucking jig? "Dance, damn you! DANCE!!!"

I'm reading "that Dante book" again. In fact that's how I found that "Best. Website. Ever." link, because I was looking for stuff on the Inferno on the 'net, and came across that site. Holy. Shit. That site is so fucking funny, I swear to god I was laughing SO hard. Try playing "Don't Make the Smug Guy's Head Explode." And read the reviews--click on--I think it says something like "Stages of Coping with a Terminal Illness" right now, then when you get to that page scroll down to the bottom and click on All Reviews. The newest ones are at the top so if you want to read them in order go to the bottom and work your way up. These reviews are different in that they don't do the basic movies/music/books etc; but rather review things like "Uses for Potatoes," "Aspects of Bowling," "Seven Deadly Sins," "Superfriends," and "Star Wars Villians."

Uber-pleasant Fact of the Day: There are around 6 million dust mites in your bed right now. Sweet dreams.

Quote of the Day: "I think with the Grammys and VMAs they should just change the title to 'Hooray for Mediocrity!'" --Janeane Garofalo (on Conan)
I think I'm gonna start calling them that.

Oh, gods. I think I'm getting a cold. I hate colds.

Did anyone watch South Park last night? Was it me or was that ... just ... weird?? I don't think I laughed once, but that may have been due to the fact that I ate too much pizza and Cheetos and drank way too much eggnog and consequently felt like I was gonna blow chunks. Ahh, there's a lovely image to conjure up in your head whilst eating your Lucky Charms. Anywhoozle, if you didn't see it the basic gist of it was, Mr Garrison is now teaching the 4th grade class, but before he does Principal Victoria lets slip the fact that if they fire him for being gay, he can sue them. So, naturally, he acts really, really gay--I mean like ultra-uber-super-gay--and gets this other, REALLY ultra-uber-super-gayer-than-Liza-and-David gay guy, named Mr Slave who for some reason wears a police hat. Anywhoozle, Mr Slave and Mr Garrison go all out (no pun intended), and one of the things Mr Garrison does is put a gerbil up Mr Slave's ass. He. Puts. A. Fucking. Gerbil. Up. Mr. Slave's. Ass. A GERBIL. The "other plotline" of the show was Lemmywink's (that's the gerbil, duh) trying to escape from Mr Slave's body. While Lemmywinks is traversing the intestinal maze, really stupid--I guess it's supposed to sound medieval or rennasance-y (or however you spell that goddamn word. I don't care, actually. That word has NO right to be so fucking hard to spell.), or something--music was playing. To skip forward to the end, Lemmywinks does escape (through Mr Slave's mouth--and for some reason there's a gyroscope somewhere in Mr Slave's body), the boys learn tolerance, the people learn that tolerance does not necessarily mean "you have to like it," and Mr Slave and Mr Garrison end up going to the tolerance camp that the kids went to (which I forgot to mention because I'm SO brilliant).

Okay, I'm just too fucking sleepy to type anymore...

11.20.02

Wow, four days of non-updates, but that's only because MY LIFE SUCKS.

More music-related shit!! "Yaaaaayyy!" you're probably saying. Or not. I don't know because I can't see you, you know. Anywhoozle ... yesterday morning whilst (isn't that a great word ... "whilst"?) listening to G&D on NRK ... they ... played ... Evenflow. E-VEN-FLOW. Greatest song OF ALL TIME. Luckily I had my "alterna-mix" tape in there--I'm recording a buncha songs I love off the radio--so I hit Record really fast, and I've been listening to it over, and over, and over, and over, and...

Gods I'm shaking! I drank coffee this morning... or afternoon ... or whatever. I NEVER drink coffee. I don't know why I did today. It's not that I hate coffee per se, it's just that, well, I draw. A lot. "So what's that got to do with coffee?" you say? Well, coffee makes my hand (hell, entire body) shake, so ... I can't draw, it comes out looking really, really weird. I have nothing against caffeine. I just can't handle too much of it. Maybe I should do what I did yesterday morning--I had some then, too, and it WAS morning--around 7:30ish--and just pour half a cup. But then again there WAS only "half a cup" in the coffee machine. Fuck, man, my head feels all dizzy-like and I'm shaking, shaking, shaking.

Yaaay, my Dreambook's back up! There was one entry in there I couldn't bear to have lost. [sings, badly]"Daaaaaa-ria!"[/sings, badly] Woo! I also added a shitload more questions so if you haven't signed the goddamn thing now would be a good time to do so.

I think I'm gonna go add some more shit to The List. Yes, that would be Things I Hate.

11.16.02

Alright, so my Dreambook's gonna be down for a while since they're having "technical difficulties." Whatthefuckever.

I uploaded some pictures of myself. Click at your own risk.

Oh, let's see. Gods I wish my dreambook weren't on the fucking fritz!! I have a few more questions I wanna add.

So I was laying in bed or whatever, seeing what was on TV and noticed TACAD was on. I've seen it several times (I think there's some sort of law that says you can't be a Janeane Garofalo fan and not have seen that movie) and I was arguing with myself (in my head) over "do I really wanna watch this again? Well ... it's a Neaney movie ... but it wasn't really all that great ... but it's a Neaney movie! ... but I've seen it before ... but it's a Neaney movie ... but my dad's probably downstairs watching TV so I won't get to watch it anyway ... but it'll probably be on again ... but for godssakes it's a fucking Neaney movie! ... but she doesn't like it which makes me feel that I shouldn't like it ... oh for godssakes that's ridiculous ... BUT IT'S A NEANEY MOVIE!!!! ...." ... After about 25 minutes of this I spontaneously combusted. So I compromised with my concience by watching half of it.

sigh ... nothing EVER happens to me... I WANNA GO TO NEW YORK!!! Every time I see NY in movies or on TV or whatever I'm like "Why not me?? Why can't I be there with all the cool alternative people???"

"Aren't you such a catch ~ What a prize ~ Got a body like a battleaxe ~ Love that perfect frown ~ Honest eyes ~ We oughtta buy you a Cadillac," --OK Go, "Get Over It"

11.14.02 (again)

Um ... I have NO fucking clue what happened to my Dreambook ... but I'm gonna keep the link up there just in case it comes back again. Even dreambook.com isn't working. I'm gonna go to one of the message boards I frequent and see what's goin' on with that goddamn thing.

11.14.02

Why the hell am I shaking so badly? I can't figure it out. I just went to check my email and had something akin to a panic attack. Almost as if I were holding a phone. I HATE phones. I'd MUCH rather email someone than call them. I'm extraordinarily paranoid about it. Anywhoozle ...

Went to the dentist again yesterday to get some more cavities filled. Maybe I should stop eating all those Nutty Bars. But while I was waiting, sitting in the dentist's chair I began to think of an incident that happened when I was seven years old. Back in 1986 when I was in second grade, I had a friend about a year younger than me named Kenny. Kenny liked me, he said, because I wasn't afraid of snakes and bugs like most girls were, and I liked to play with him because he didn't make fun of me like most boys did. I was over at his house one day--he lived down the road from me--and I think we were playing with chalk rocks when he jumped up and announced in typical six-year-old boy fashion, "Let's go down in my forest!"
"Okay," I said eagerly, dropping my chalk in the middle of drawing something typically seven-year-old girlish like a sun or a rainbow or something. He ran ahead of me and I tried to keep up. Never have I been a very fast runner. We got to the edge of the forest which to me seemed dark and--although I didn't know the word at the time--forboding. Kenny ran ahead of me and after he had almost disappeared from view called back, "Come on, hurry up!"
"I'm gonna go back," I declared to his voice. I was no more than about ten feet from the entrance to the forest. But he called back, "You can't go back. There's just more forest. I did that once, and my dad had to come and get me."
Not once did it cross my naive little second-grader mind that it was impossible for miles of trees to pop up behind me in a span of two minutes. I believed him. Hey, I was seven. Sue me. Anywhoozle, he ran ahead with a speed that would have made the Road Runner proud. What little I could see of him before he did completely disappeared in the dim light sifting through the Douglas firs.
I was alone. Left to my own devices in a forest that to me at that age could have been the size of Yellowstone National Park. Not once did I happen to look back and notice that thousands of pines had not grown up in the five minutes I had been standing there.
I decided to try to find Kenny, who at that point was about five million miles away. I hadn't yet heard of that "hug a tree" thing. So I walked along, completely paranoid about becoming fodder for the thousand or so carnivorous animals that lurked behind every tree, bush and boulder. After around a half-hour of nervously going in circles and having a mental conversation with myself that went something to the effect of "Oh, gosh, I'm gonna die here, they're never gonna find my body, I'm gonna be eaten alive by bears and mountain lions"--although I have yet to see any bears or mountain lions anywhere near where we live. Also I had a large stick so as to tear down any impassable spiderwebs that I might have encountered. I swear if you want to trap me, you don't need steel bars or burning laser beams. Just a small, no-walled box with a large spiderweb strung between each corner. Anywhoozle, I was calling out at intervals, "Kenny? Kenny, where are you?" After a while I heard footsteps. I stood still to make sure they weren't mine or that of some bloodthirsty carnivore. "Kenny? Is that you?" I called out.
"What?" came the all-purpose guy answer.
"Kenny, where are you?" I yelled.
"Over here," he called back.
"Keep yelling," I said, "I'll follow your voice." So he did and I found him, and we finally made our way out of the woods and I vowed to never trust him again. He moved away about a year later anyway.

so ... sleepy ... must ... sleep ... sleep ... good ...