the only thing worse
than bad memories
is no memories at all..
[dismemberment plan]
2.28.2005
How To Get Food Poisoning.
In an unprecedented streak of non-productivity and sheer laziness, I (1) stopped wearing bras and (2) have let the stack of dirty dishes pile up to an alarming height. I suppose it's only going to be a matter of time until (1) my boobs start sagging to the point at which they're brushing against my kneecaps and (2) I get salmonella, but (1) I'm enjoying the pre-sag freedom and (2) I'm coming up with so many creative (re: ghetto) surfaces to eat upon that it's getting hard to stop. I also can't stop numbering things.
The past few days, I confess with no shame that I have eaten food from the following receptacles:
used Chinese food takeout containers,
plastic tofu tubs,
the lids on Chinese food takeout containers,
the lids on Chinese food takeout containers, turned upside down,
a butter tray,
a used plastic sushi container, with green fake paper grass,
used cup noodle cups,
a recently vacated Philadelphia cream cheese tub, carefully scraped clean,
my Abnormal Psychology textbook,
a layer of plastic grocery bags,
my miniature Hello Kitty coffee pot,
a coffee can
The list sadly goes on further, beyond my wildest, trashiest imagination. I was this close to pouring cereal directly into a carton of milk and then directly dumping the mixture into my mouth.
My favorite, however, was realizing that I was up at 3am, eating Special K out of a 1 cup measuring cup and then immediately following it with a scoop of ice cream (Edy's Fudge Tracks: "vanilla light ice cream with swirls of fudge and chunks of peanut butter cups") eaten out of the matching 1/2 cup plastic measuring cup with my suitemate's now terribly bent-necked teaspoon.
Listened to the two Strokes albums about five times each (while sitting in front of the computer)
Ate disgusting Chinese food leftovers (while sitting in front of the computer)
Ate two Hersheys bars (while sitting in front of the computer)
Sat in front of the computer
Took a 2.5 hour long shower after which I spent the next four hours wearing nothing but panties and huge pink fluffy earmuffs, while sitting in front of the computer
Alternate names for this post:
The most inane post ever
I spend too much time sitting in front of the computer
What I did Saturday instead of unwrapping my textbook and studying for my midterm on Monday
Why I hope to die a swift and painless death instead of living another day of this miserable, boring life
I am glad my roommate no longer lives here because I'd probably freak her out with my terrible habits and partial nudity
I am also glad my mom doesn't read this shit (to my knowledge)
I am still sitting in front of the computer wearing nothing but panties and big pink earmuffs
That's all for now. I have to take off these pink fluffy earmuffs, turn off The Strokes, and get ready to go to a party where I will no doubt meet lots of 40+ year old gay intellectuals who will judge me because I am wearing white gogo boots and am not a sexy homosexual male.
I would be lying if I said that for the past three nights in a row, I didn't have dreams about falling in love with a naked girl. I did. Not the same naked girl. Three different naked girls. But not in that stupid horrible drunken way that college girls like to make out and touch tits in the basement of the frat house, after which they both wake up with "lesbo whorez lol" written on their foreheads with black Sharpie markers, but in a soft, sweet, loving way.
I don't think I'm neccessarily considering girls as a romantic option right now (sorry ladies), well, beyond the subconsciousness I guess, but I think my problem is just that my options are running low amongst the male portion of the population, which leaves me feeling sad and undesireable.
A revelation that came upon me last night: "Oh, it's not that he is bored with me, it's just that HE'S NOT ATTRACTED TO ME AT ALL."
If I were in a space capsule right now, I'd take a last tasteless bite of my freeze-dried astronaut ice cream, pop the emergency red pill, and push the eject button, launching my half-conscious and defeated body into the black starry abyss, waiting for the pressure to eat away at my suit, and instantaneously turn my body inside out, disappearing in a wink of flesh and blood.
You Know That Bridge Between Consciousness/Unconsciousness?
I had just had this horrifying nightmare where four of my front teeth had loosened in their sockets and were dangling by long nerve ending strings, while I frantically tried to screw them back into my head to no avail. Dangling and swaying in the wind, my teeth had to be stuffed into my mouth with my lips bulging like a fish as a last resort.
I awoke with a start at around 11 in the morning, with one of those weird sleep-to-awake twitches, to what I thought was the sound of my mom or dad knocking on my door, even though I'm at school and my parents are a state away.
Then I had the following strange train of thought:
-- Awww, Mom and Dad, you're still both watching over me, from up there in heaven.
-- Wait. In heaven?? I'm not religious!!!
-- Wait. What? MY PARENTS AREN'T DEAD!!!!
Then my alarm clock rang, and mere seconds later my cell phone rang, and then mere seconds after THAT, one of my suitemates burned something in the kitchen and made the fire alarm go off.
I feel really pathetic today. Like really, really pathetic.
Woke up too late for my first class, got a call from a friend with a very thick British accent inviting me to a party down in Brooklyn. What I THOUGHT I heard was "Call me a little after 4:00 and make your way down here."
It was a little after 2:30 in the afternoon then and I took a shower and got ready excruciatingly slowly. 4:00 came around and I gave him a call asking him how to get there, because the last time I was down in Brooklyn I was fucked up beyond all reason. No answer. Left him a message. 4:45 I call him again, leave another message saying. "Uh, maybe I misunderstood you, I think I'm a little confused... :("
A little after 5:00, when I am holding my phone in my hand and staring at the screen, it vibrates and it's British accent guy. He says, "Oh.. The party started last night and just ended now (5 at night). I'm going to sleep now."
I guess I was too busy sitting slackjawed and drooling over the way he pronounced his words so prettily and British-ly that I fucked up the "translation" and had missed the entire damn party. Well damn.
I was all dressed up anyway, so I walked over to this little Irish bar that I'd recently frequented. I was a little worried about going over there at 6pm, since it was probably pretty early still, but figured since I'd met the two regular bartenders there already, that they'd be cool with me hanging out. Wrong. I get there and it's some ugly dude with a bad grease job in his hair and an overbite.
He sends me home, and I stop first at the Starbucks (yeah I know, shut up) at the corner of where I live. I grabbed a soy latte and a $6.00 cookie for comfort, and sat in the corner facing out of the storefront windows. It was dark out, but I could see that some dark figure with shifty eyes was staring at me from the phone booth five feet away from the windows, pretending to have a phone conversation. I don't know man, I've never held onto a phone receiver for fifteen fucking minutes WITHOUT MOVING MY DAMN MOUTH. Idiot.
Anyway, two uniformed 20-somethings, one girl and one guy, came up and sat at the table adjacent to me. I'm flipping through a crumpled, grease-stained Employment Options section of a newspaper that I found on the floor, where someone had overzealously licked their nasty-ass thumb to turn to the next page (big translucent, coffee-colored thumb print in the same spot on each page), when the two idiots next to me start rambling really loudly about how pathetic they would feel if they went out by themselves.
"Yeah I couldn't go to a movie by myself." "Word? I mean you don't talk to people at the movies anyway." "Nah man, I do that all the time, talk through the whole movie. Plus I'd just feel weird." "I mean not as weird as like if you went out to eat by yourself, though. That's just sad." "Yeah I'd feel fucking pathetic. I'm not that big of a loser."
Then apparently they caught sight of me, sitting all by my lonesome, with my eyes wide and my sad little mouth covered in cookie crumbs with chocolate smeared on my cheek. I turned away to look at the dirty newspaper again, but they tried to include me in their conversation.
"So you like movies? What kind of music do you listen to?" Instead of sitting there chumming it up with these boneheads, I lamely said, "Uh, I'm going to leave now."
I grabbed the rest of my cold soy latte and chatted it up with the desk boy in the lobby. While telling him my long string of woes, I took a swig of my latte and choked, nearly coughing about a gallon of steamed soy milk all over him. Sensing that this night was not going to get any better, really, I made my leave, and here I sit, typing with my spirits lower than low.
I guess this could all get better in the next half hour, when I rock out with the rockstar formerly known as Steve motherfucking Burns. (::brag::)
I'm out. If I'm not back in 24 hours, call the police, I've drowned myself in a gutter. Tell my mom I love her.
More?
Speaking of my horrible mom, she called me early last night asking me if I had gotten any chocolates for Valentine's Day.
I had been meaning to post this conversation I had with my mom about two weeks ago, while driving home from the mall.
Patreesha: ... and I was looking around at this coffee store for Kona and the store owner had his cat there. And it was so cute! It was following me around and rubbing against my leg the whole time. I wish I had a cat.. Mom: You change panty that day? P: .. .. WHAT? Mom: You change panty? You know.. fishy smell? P: EW MOM EW MOM EW!!! Mom: What is mean "Ew?" Cat like panty fish smell -- P: -- STOP THE CAR I'M GETTING OUT.
Tonight was my first evening on the job as a receptionist at a mental health institute. I'm getting paid a little bit more than what Jack's paying me at my other job doing tons of other crazy shit (e.g. collections, billing, payments, tax reports). So this new job should be a breeze, right?
Shit, no! I don't know if I'm going to last another fucking week at this crazy place.
The "institute" is a shitty rented-out floor in an office building that's currently undergoing major renovations. There's no floors, just brown paper duct taped down flat where there should be carpet. The furniture and "artwork" that they have up makes me feel like I'm walking around a Crazy Joe's discount furniture warehouse, where EVERYTHING! MUST! GO!
Everyone who works in administration is a woman. Everyone. There is not one male in administration. This is a drastic, drastic change from my other job in which everyone is male, and they all act like they haven't seen a vagina in thirty years.
Besides the administration at my new job, there are buttloads of therapists. They are all crazy. They are all. Fucking. Crazy. I can't tell them apart from the patients (the "loonies," we call them) because they're all flying off the fucking handle every goddamn second. The therapists are a healthy mix of males/females, but all of them men are gay. All of them!!!
So I'm working at a place filled with moderately to extremely old ladies (think thick red sweaters with Scottie dog appliques paired with stretchy black velvet stirrup pants; also, Hush puppies) and sexy homos (they are bald and crazy). If I were to wear my legendary white boots and even more legendary plaid skirt, I would probably get either tsk-tsk'ed ("That hussy!") or sent home to change, and no boners.
The place is also filled with yogurt covered raisins and chocolate covered pretzels, which I immediately stuffed into my enormous, fat, gelatinous face.
Homos, women, and refined sugar EVERYWHERE.
Is this my own personal $10/hr hell or what?
Fuck this -- anyone know any places looking to hire bartenders?
This list is constantly updated because I am a loser and love the internet and my faceless internet audience.
Good: I found a large rat at PetCo, fell in love, and immediately named her Beyonce.
Bad: Went back the next day, and she was SOLD.
Translation: Someone out there hates me and wants me to die a lonely life -- and has MY pet rat in a shitty cage somewhere, where it is burrowing under sawdust and its own feces.
Good: I got the job!!!
Bad: I'm working Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, AND SATURDAY! WITH LOTS OF CRAZY WOMEN (re: I can't dress like a slut there)!!! IN ADDITION TO WORKING AT MY OTHER JOB (re: Where I dress like a slut most of the time)!!!!
Translation: More money to spend on hideous shoes and general debauchery! Less time to eat, sleep, and fuck. And study. (e.g. life slipping away even more quickly. Thanks.)
Good: I can spend hours playing the same Libertines song over and over until I go blind, but
Bad: I find myself physically unwilling and unable to take the seven seconds to replace the empty cardboard toilet paper tube with a new fresh roll. On the floor you stay, then.
Translation: Cottage cheese is a wonderful meal to be eaten with a small spoon AND A BUCKET OF RAGE. (I am only bitter because I was once a very happy person, much like a puppy or a child with Down Syndrome. Pineapple is a delicious addition.)
Good: Riding the Staten Island ferry back and forth twice in a row with nice and very pretty people named Burgess.
Bad: Angry bathroom attendants and underage drinking.
Translation: Happy birthday, Kevin.
Good: I lost four pounds.
Bad: Consumed cheap, disgusting beer two nights ago; consumed overpriced, moderately pleasant beer on a ferry last night. Waiting for the tragic results.
Translation: My mom gave me a roll of Rolaids for my 20th birthday because she's afraid that I fart too much in my sleep (true story).
Good: Self-proclaimed big-headed Aquariuses (I feel the need to point out that I am not an astrology asshole) with funny websites, a firm grasp on grammar skills, guitars, and a love of rocking out. Also, sensitive nipples.
Bad: Self-loathing and social loafing, smelling rotting garbage. Also, losing limbs and replacing them with poorly-fitted prosthetics. Diaper rash.
Translation: I have a ten page paper due in roughly 23 hours, and I am trying to hold back a panic attack by typing meaningless bullshit. Also, it is true -- my boobs DID grow markedly larger about three days ago, and are still currently maintaining said larger size. Happy birthday to me! And happy birthday to you, too. Yes.
Good: Low density carbohydrates include broccoli, cauliflower, and spinach.
Bad: High density carbohydrates include pasta, rice, and bread.
Translation: Fuck it, I'm going to be a fat shit. Fuck you, fuck your mom, and fuck you again.
Good: Someone calling me beautiful... And he wasn't a homeless guy.
Bad: Homeless people setting shopping carts on fire.
Translation: The MTA should fuel the trains on the excrement and bones of the homeless. Also, my friends and loved ones beat me. Please send help.
Wish for a swift, painless death. Starting.......... NOW.
[Peek-a-Foo]