November202009
NOPA
is ummmmmmmmmmmmmm
I had the roasted squash with sage and macadamia nuts (WHOA HO HO DAMN AMAZING)
pork chop with potatoes and brussels sprouts (it tasted just like a steak, which was half spectacular and half not)
shared some of my dad’s osso bucco with barley (fell off the bone; perfect, could have used a little more vibrant sauce)
and then had burnt orange pot au creme for dessert with candied kumquats and these delicate cinnamon ladies fingers things.
whole dinner cost like $80 who cares I’m old.
P.S.
I don’t even give a fucking SHIT.
Right now I’m listening to “As Lovers Go” by Dashboard Confessional, and I srsly forgot the feeling I get when I listen to old school emo. It’s enormous whole love. Not a whole lot better.
Full circle
Apparently I haven’t grown since I was 14. Or rather, I have, but backwards.
Found a notepad in an old box of stuff from when I was about 14.
“Concluded that trying to rush and crank out a book I’ll be ashamed of when I’m older for the sake of the pride of being young is stupid. Hubris=fall from grace. If I work hard, I might improve as much in another 3 years as I have from 3 years ago.”
Makes sense.
On the other hand, I didn’t work towards publishing any of those books, and as a result I still can’t draw. Maybe if I have a stupid unrealistic goal at least I’ll be working towards something.
NYC
HOW DID I NOT KNOW THAT TAL WAS BASED IN NYC??!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!!
They moved from Chicago?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?
okay. Want & need officially renewed. I need to be in New York City now. I need to set me some fucking time goals.
Oh my God.
Six years ago today.
Six.
Probably the most disturbing thing is that my handwriting is 100% the same.
“GAH!
Hey, I’m going to be 16 in 3 days but it really doesn’t feel any different. I don’t consider it a significant change or anything because I’ve practically been consiering myself 16 for months, but you’d figure it would be someting more meaningful than this. But instead it’s more surprising that I’m still 15 than I’m turning 16. Weird.
I’m also going to have to take my driving test TUESDAY. Good lord. Norissa came up to me today in the hall and said, “Do you have a pad?” I was like, “Uh-no” and I thought it would end there but she proceeded to elaborate: “Cuz I felt like a wetness coming into my pants so I’m worried…hopefully it was just discharge.” Um…OK freaking TOO mcuh information…
Also today I realized yet again why they say couples should not work together. THey’re very right. I wish Greg wasn’t in journalism. Because he’s a FUCKING terrible graphics editor (or at least, an impossible one to work with.) First of all, everyone was pressuring me to finish all the headers and graphics—I stayed after school twice and reded my “news” header twice…and they wanted me to fix all my graphics, headers and blah. So I had enough to do (I had done ALL the headers and 1/2 the graphics) so….well to make a long story short, he called me stupid, insulted my work and here’s the thing that drives me insane—he called me ARROGANT. Arrogant, he says…when all he does is sit around and talk shit about people like he’s the best thing in the world? And he calls ME arrogant?
Sometimes I miss the innocent me that was before Greg.
I mean, I like him but after he said that it shattered my world. I asked again when he wasn’t pissed and he said, “It’s true…but nothing can be done to fix it…so just forget it.” That is so fucked up. I just wanted to yell, “Yeah?? Me, arrogant? Me? OK—Well you know what? Fuck you. Yeah. Screw you, screw your freakin’ patronizing ego, screw your superiority complex. You ain’t as good at sax as you think—you suck. You screw up all the high notes in The Producers. If your personality wans’t the way it was, I sure as hell woudlnt’ be with you for your looks. So don’t “superior” with me—I’m not going to take that shit. So take this relationship and shove it up your ass, OK”
But of course being the bussy I am I didnt.
That comment could very well ruin this relationship. Since he said it I’ve been looking at him in a different light. Um. It’s confusing.
November192009
November162009
Capture the Flag
My account of the night is right below, but Romini’s is damn hilarious.
Tonight the SFSU Improv Nation group that Stephanie and I are a part of held a capture the flag game on campus. It was freezing and the grass was very wet. As usual, the game started out pretty slow. In the beginning, Stephanie was defense and I was offense. I was camped out by our team’s “flag” which was in fact a red and blue basketball. Did I mention that costumes were encouraged in this game? There was a girl on my team dressed as a night stand with a lamp shade on her head, a guy dressed as a chicken, a banana, and various other incredible costumes. It started off like any other game. We were young and bright eyed, out to have a good time. That was until the cold got to us. I lost a few good men out there. We were doing so well…DAMN those simple minded jailers. They were too easily distracted, too ready to let their guard down. They were distracted by the oldest trick in the book: the ol give em a show, the ol sing a long. The prisoners we had captured got set free. I’ll never forgive myself for letting the bastard that set them free walk by me…I had a feeling he was up to no good but I made the mistake of letting my team mates deal with it. If you want a job done right, yes, you have to do it yourself. Things quieted down a lot after that great loss. I hid in the bushes for quite some time staking out the grounds surrounding me, leaping at the snap of a twig, the sound of a footstep. My shoes and socks were soaked and freezing. My hands became numb but that only fueled my hatred for the other team and those on mine who took this game lightly. Eventually Stephanie was escorted back to our home camp by an enemy soldier. She had become a prisoner of war but the enemy lad wanted to strike up a deal. An exchange was made. A human exchange. Stephanie’s powers of persuasion would not end there that night.
It was growing late and our stomachs were growling. Stephanie and I carefully made it to a bush where I unscrewed my canteen of hot chocolate and we rested our weary bones. We made a lot of discoveries in that brush. We discovered that our team had all but disintegrated. We were the last ones left. Everyone of our men had been imprisoned at the enemy camp. We were on a mission to save them and nothing could stop us. We quickly came up with a plan and set out to find decoy mules to cart us into enemy territory close enough so that we could help our men make the break. After being rejected by the locals a number of times, we found a man of the law. He was taking a break and enjoying some of the local fare. Stephanie worked up the courage to ask him if he would be so kind as to escort me to enemy camp. The building behind enemy camp was locked but as we explained the situation to the uniformed man, he understood our urgency and proceeded to help us in our quest for freedom. Stephanie went on ahead and snuck back into the enemy jail to tell the prisoners of what was to come and to rally them around at just the right time. They were linked hand in hand swaying towards the door to locked building. The guards thought nothing of it. Why would they? IT was most certainly locked. Our new uniformed friend lead me to the building where we snuck into a classroom and peered at the prisoners through the blinds. IT was perfect timing. They were in front of the door. They were within arms reach. The man and I looked at each other, both knowing. IT was now or never. I had to run as fast as my uncoordinated feet could carry me through the double doors and tag my compatriots and lead them to freedom. I ran, never looking back, knowing in my heart that he was a thankless hero. I ran and as I pushed open the double doors open, I knew what it felt like to be a hero. I tagged my teammates as jaws all around were dropped and everyone for that split second was a mouth breather. We ran, we ran to freedom, all shocked and amazed at what had just happened. Yes, folks, this is a true story. This is a true story of freedom. God bless America and god bless an anonymous campus hero!!!!!!!!!!11111111111111111111111111
CAPTURE THA FLAGG
Not to be like, super full of ourselves or anything.
But.
Romini and I FUCKING ROCK. WE ARE THE BEST FUCKING CLEVEREST GIRLS ON THIS EARTH.
Ha ha! We TRUMPED Capture the Flag and completely owned it, effectively gaining celebrity status and earning us whoops hollers and cheers for all of eternity. Now we are both crafty ninjas. I couldn’t not live up to my name, right?
We didn’t know how good it would be…I thought it would probably suck ass. I hate tag. I don’t think I’d particularly like Capture the Flag. Then I found out it was campus-wide and I realized I was going to really suck at it because I had no idea where anything on campus was. I still don’t. Yet despite these conditions, we still managed to whup major ass and make the game-ending mega play of the century.
Sig added us to his team—both of us—awesomely enough. Also, the stupid but pretty girl who never amounts to anything in improv practice got picked last. Loved it. But Romini was relegated to Defense, while I got to be in Offense. I heard afterwards that all the other Defense girls sucked but that Romini got two people out and was vigilant and amazing, as I expected her to be.
I on the other hand was spending an enormous amount of time running for my fucking life. The other teams’ setup was WAY harder to penetrate than our spot, laden with foliage and hiding places. They had this enormous, wide open courtyard where they couldn’t help but see us coming and only two small channels with sparse bushes leading to the flag. Tried approaching the other team’s flag and I’d barely gotten to their side before a guy formerly dressed as a banana came at me. I swung myself under a pole and down a sheer rock face with the speed of a racing gazelle and narrowly escaped. Mountain goat skillz!
During my second go at it, I knew just sneaking in would be too risky. So I asked two normal people to escort me up there, since they were walking that direction anyway. We talked and giggled, and a guard rushed down to question us. My awesome new friends said, “WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT US FOR” really loudly as I turned my face away, and the guard freaked out and ran away, screaming, “They’re not playing! It’s Okay!” They escorted me all the way to a bush around the corner—just 20 feet from the flag. Close. Very fucking close. But alas, I rustled and another guard told them to check the sitch out. Three stood between me and the flag. There’d be no chance. I could only save myself. Right before he discovered me, I burst out and made a run for it, and got damn far, by the way.
It was probably best that I got thrown into jail, because there I met with Sig and a couple other guys. After we all got jailbroke, we concocted this plan to all storm the guards with a massive attack and try to get the ball. We were foiled halfway through our plotting. A guard spotted us and attacked, when we all had our guards down and were just talking about our plans—we all panicked and scattered, and I hid with some blonde guy under a truck….we barely missed being tagged. I didn’t breathe. I didn’t dare make a sound. I could hear the person on just the other side of the truck. If they took a step forward, two….I imagined this would be what the end would be like. The apocalypse. The holocaust. The enemy so near, my heart thudding in my chest, willing that it be quiet….and the relief when he left was deep and thorough. I had escaped. Alive to tell another story.
We did some serious fucking spy ops with Sig as we tried to go allll the way out to 19th Ave and come around campus—through forests, up walls, down shafts, through football fields, up rock faces—but someone was waiting there for us after all that! My getting tagged let Sig and blonde escape. But instead of going to prison, at this point I’d been running around so much and Romini had been alone that I asked if I could go back, so if ROmini wanted to leave, we could. But when we got there, we just decided that Romini and I should team up to be offensive.
We were bummed to find out that almost our entire team had been captured by that point minus Romini and I. Everyone else was sitting in prison. Tried calling Sig, but a guard picked up and mocked me—mocked me! The nerve! The poor smortsmanship! So I said, “Oh, you’re the ugly one, right? The ugly fat one? Fuck you, cunt!” and swore revenge.
Me and Romini tried to concoct a plan for getting over there…we thought of of pushing the other in a recycling bin, of other options—but we were tired and we weren’t going against the whole team on our own. It was all of them versus us, and our duty was to get our teammates out without getting caught, or the gig was up. Finally, we started asking people to escort us, since my plan had worked so well last time. No-one on the other team would know who Romini was (they mostly ignore her, and she’d been playing Defense the whole time so their guards on defense wouldn’t be aware of her). The plan was to have her get in disguised as a friend of a “normal” campus student and then have her break at the last minute and tag the prisoners free. But nobody would help us.
Finally, I had a lightbulb idea—the campus cops! They wouldn’t have qualms about walking us to the opposite end of campus, and guards woudln’t think at all about approaching a cop who was escorting someone who looked like they were in deep shit. So I asked one if he’d help us and explained the situation. This guy was AMAZING. The team and the flag were right on the dais in front of the Business building, which was completely locked. He one-upped us, saying that he’d unlock the doors and take Romini in the back, and she’d pop out the front door of the building and be able to untag all of us, completely surprising the guards.
They set off and I went ahead so as not to be suspicious, because everyone knew who I was. I walked right up to the prisoners and I was like, “I was tagged earlier, so I’m just coming to my rightful spot.” It was surprisingly easy..I didn’t come across any guards on my way there, and as I casually walked up to them it was hard not to be tempted to try to take it and run myself. But I knew I was there for a mission. I sat down and explained what was happening to Sig. He looked at me in disbelief. “How did you get him to do that?” I smiled coyly. “I asked him.” Then Sig made us make a long chain. There were so many prisoners that the chain was enormously long. We snaked around, playing and making sure that the guards weren’t suspicious until finally Sig shouted, “Let’s see if we can reach the door!” We snaked towards the door and just as we were about to touch it, Romini burst through the doors and tagged us.
TRIUMPH. We screamed, ran, separated, howling and punching the air. The guards’ faces were open in solemn disbelief and confusion. We were free, free at last, there was nothing they could do, and with all of us regrouped and their defenses shallow (their friends thought that we were still in prison and were scattered around campus instead of near the flag) it would be easy to win. Our teammates asked us How did we do it? We explained, and we got hugs and kisses and twirls in the air…genius. Absolutely genius.
Unfortunately, the game ended in a draw about five minutes after that. A couple of the guards from the other team needed to go home and so they said that the game should end. They were oblivious to the fact that they had chosen to do this right as one of their teammates was at our flag, stealing it. Our guards, informed seconds before that the game was ended, didn’t chase him. He ran back with the flag but then there was a massive debate….eventually it ended in a draw. It wouldn’t have if we hadn’t freed all of our soldiers. If we’d all been imprisoned when that had happened it would have been clear who had won. But instead….
We made the game a draw instead of a loss!
We’re so fucking smart.
Some people from the other team were butthurt, saying that it was illegal, unfair, uncool. One guy suggested I had lied to the cop to get him to do that. I screeched, “WHAT? I DIDN’T LIE TO HIM. I ABSOLUTELY TOLD HIM THE TRUTH, AND HE WAS KIND ENOUGH TO HELP. YOU DO NOT INSINUATE THAT I AM A LIAR.” Furiously. Kept at it. FInally he said, “Well then, the cop should be fired for letting her in because that’s against policy…!” I put my hands on my hips and glared at him straight in the eye. “You’re just bitter because I wasn’t on your team,” I said. If I had done this for HIS team, he wouldn’t be saying a word. He couldn’t argue with that and wound up conceding that point grudgingly.
Tomorrow’s practice is going to be amazing because we are going to rock and roll at improv due to our new confidence.
November132009
I'm so angsty today!
Drawing it was good therapy though. I’m not usually this obsessed with periods. I dunno.
Reblogged from LIFE IN FRAMES.
omg
I really need to message my ex boyfriend in order to hopefully get him to be on my radio show. I want him to read off convos with me…and I have a bunch of qs lined up. Only problem is I’m really terrified for the whole interaction and I have no idea how to message him. We ended pretty badly. I mean, the whole cower-and-cry thing my sophomore year @ Dan’s movie showing was uh….awkward….
Fuck.
Misguided
Hopes+Dreams+Hard Work+Effort+Sweat+Tears+Gas Money+Recording Equipment+Real Life Journalism+Final Cut Pro+Intellectualization+Reading+Writing+Speaking+Publicizing+Uploading+Anguish+A Lifetime of This American Life+18 Hours=1 Podcast
Podcast Blog Tumblarity: 4
Pencils+Paper+Tampon+6 Hours+5 Episodes of This American Life=1 Comic
Comic Blog Tumblarity: 39
Pffffffffffffffft
THE VICE GUIDE TO SAN FRANCISCO
Can I please Dislike this fucking shit??? This makes me want to commit hipster genocide
Classic fucking Vice. Research? No. Generalizations and “Feelings?” Yes. Have they spent more than 2 weeks here? Clearly not.
1.) Meters don’t run Sundays. Or holidays.
2.) Um, rent isn’t any worse than NEW YORK FUCKING CITY (or Williamsburg)
3.) Everybody hates to ride bikes.
4.) The food is pretty good but really?
5.) ARE YOU KIDDING WHO CAN MAKE IT IN SAN FRANCISCO THERE ARE NO JOBS. If your definition of “making it” is working in a boutique that sells nesting dolls OK.
6.) STOP WITH THE SAME FUCKING VOICE YOU ALWAYS USE. THOMAS FUCKING MORTON I KNOW THAT THIS IS YOU. DO YOU HAVE ONE OUNCE, ONE SINGLE OUNCE OF ORIGINALITY?????? CAN YOU NOT WRITE LIKE A NORMAL FUCKING PERSON
Greetings from never-never land. Want to stay young forever or act like you’re 21 for the duration of your pathetic existence? Are you an outsider inside your small town of 2,500 farmhands? Are you seeking exile from daily persecution due to your love of cock? Would you like to be part of an entire social movement to extinguish and gentrify a once cosmically diverse metropolis? Do you enjoy 50-degree weather in mid-July? If you answered yes to any of these questions, then we’re here to recruit you (thank you, Harvey Milk)! Come sit on the dock of the bay, leave your heart and your liver in San Francisco, and don’t forget a sweater, ’cause it’s cold out here!
The renting population in SF is around 65 percent. There are more dogs than children. Since the cost of living is so high, rent is out of control and most of us are living in hovels above Mexican gang dens and lowcost bordellos. But besides that, and despite the June gloom that always rears its foggy head, the quality of life is very high here.
Unlike a great many urban environs, in SF you don’t need or want a car. Sure it’s nice every once in a while, but parking is a bitch and superexpensive. (Meters are now active on Sundays and most holidays. Bullshit.) If you’re coming to visit, don’t rent a car because we have some of the most reliable public transit in the world. If you insist on renting anything, it should be a bike.
We’ve got culture out of our ass: art, live music, bars, and sourdough bread, to name a few. The food is second to none. There are more bars and restaurants per capita than any other city in the US. Trying to cover all the spots in SF would be like compiling all the glory holes in the Castro.
Lastly, and this is probably the biggest draw, you can be whoever you want out here. If you want to be a male-identifying dyke who runs his/her own butcher shop, go right ahead. If you want to make it as a lonely drifter with a cape, tattoos on your face, and a penchant for smelly, used hockey pads, go on with your bad self. If you want to be a buttoned-down, roofiedropping suit, well, you’re welcome, too! It’s the opposite of New York because anybody can make it here.
November102009
Precious
This seems like a really great movie and I actually want to see it very badly, but I’m terrified to. When I’ve come across really terrible child abuse scenes in other movies I’ve not really been able to take it; I get weepy and shaky for a long time. Hmph.
