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Monday, May 21st, 2012
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11:24 am - all the dudes with the banjos, chicks with the wigs
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still mad as hell about last night's shenanigans, but w/e. i'm done! done done done. i don't need to play any politics with any of those people, and as soon as i start wondering if i said the wrong salty thing in front of the wrong person, i remember this. i like having friends, and i don't want to offend anybody i know, but seriously. (i only hope i didn't look like too much of a piss-pocket. i'm almost sure i did, and anyway these are MFAs. half of them would shrug it off the next time i made them laugh, the other half may have already chalked it up to me being Drunkerella or told themselves it was just a weird affectation.)
and, you know what? right after i posted that, i checked my email... i got a story acceptance. decently fantastic coincidence. and i'll take it, thanks.
and it's also my birthday
uptight, super-gutted, out of the frame
shook and laid on the ground like an epileptic battery man
making my moves, lettin' loose like a belt
little worse for wear, but i'm wearin' it well
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| Sunday, May 20th, 2012
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8:24 pm - happy graduation, or whatever.
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"i could've spit at hitler, that's how ugly i felt."
the same girl--known for her stories about larvae and dead horses and poignant images of women looking out of windows--just won the fiction AND nonfiction awards.
me?
didn't even place. even in the fiction, where one of the finalists' most poignant observation in her story was that, in Hawai'i, "flowers grow from ashes," which makes them more bright.
i did win the "service" award--in this case, basically a "sorry we didn't come to Prom. love, the faculty" award.
everyone wonders why i don't enter contests. BECAUSE I'M A FUCKING LOSER
the end. my birthday starts at midnight and i intend to get blackly drunk. i been in this program three years and i lose to flowers in motherfucking hawaii. seriously. i will never ever ever be a writer. i write about trashy people and rats and murder and realism and i don't write about motherfucking FLOWERS, ARE YOU SERIOUS, YES YOU ARE AND SOMEONE/EVERYONE LOVED IT OKAY.
FUCK.
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| Friday, May 18th, 2012
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5:35 pm - soy un perededor
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the actual text of my rejection letter from a journal:
Thank you for submitting your work to ****;
it doesn't serve our needs at this time.
Best Wishes,
The Editors
doesn't serve your needs? wow. that's just about the most completest douchiest way to say that possible.
said notice made even more offensive by the Microsoft Word fake-cursive font choice.
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| Sunday, May 13th, 2012
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2:13 pm - some day a real rain will come.
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| Saturday, May 12th, 2012
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4:31 am
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it's amazing how perfectly rational, sometimes even quality, people will fling themselves at something or someone that is at best vacant--a blank slate, but is most likely just a shallow puddle that looks deep.
in place of quality, people will accept--even pine for, fight for, and long for--novelty.
everything about that makes me just fucking sick.
(it might, however, explain why i don't put on whorishly fetching clothes and/or dye my hair fake red in an attempt [that i know would be successful] to get dudes, and why i would never want to talk to a dude who would only talk to me because of that. seriously, GIRL BIG SHINY BIG BOOBIES HER HAIR IS RED UGH ...?! fucking gross. cheap, trashy, fake-y everything? that's cool with you? if that's what you want, then you just go on. barf.)
((not to diss hair dye or shmexy clothing, btw, obviously. but wtf, just because i didn't put on my mating plumage to go down to the corner bar, i'm a hag? if you can't look at me and realize, in a second or two, what i look like and what i'd look like all done up, then dude, go on. man, some people are just a bundle of organs responding to every stimuli like a faint electric shock. if it ain't in your face like a shiny new toy, you just don't want it. barf me out.))
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| Sunday, May 6th, 2012
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1:26 am
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breakfast: cereal
brunch: banh mi xiu mai (vietnamese pork meatballs [with peas in them!], butter, pate, cilantro, cucumber, jalepenos and secret sauce on a french roll)
linner: 2 pork and black bean tacos, bowl of chocolate oatmeal
dinner: sausage, crawfish, potatoes, edamame, pineapple, and garlic
late night: 1 bbq shrimp, lots of french bread, brie, and bbq shrimp butter sauce
now obvi that's also way more food than any person needs. however--it is exactly what every person needs. or maybe it's just what *i* need. in any case, ohhhh yes, i needed that.
cashiering at ninja tomorrow night. bleh. but there's a free meal in it, there's that.
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| Saturday, May 5th, 2012
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11:42 am
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| Monday, April 23rd, 2012
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11:34 pm - he means SCHLONG.
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"it's not funny, but, like, i get it."
beavis and butt-head = <3
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| Sunday, April 22nd, 2012
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4:29 pm - plans!
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summer reading list, no, really, for serious
[[these are all books i have not read, and need to.]]
Battle Royale
Killing Floor
A Confederacy of Dunces (i *think* i've been here long enough to be ready now.)
No Country for Old Men
The Road
Blockade Billy
The Wind through the Keyhole
A Visit from the Good Squad
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
Middlesex
yeah, i know, heavily pulitzer, but c'mon, why not? god knows i loved The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao so much it fucking hurt. which, btw, anyone who wants to read a book, READ THAT BOOK. i know no bunch of people so perfectly suited to a book about (well, *partly* about) a down-on-his-life dude who could lament in Elvish, Klingon, and Dominican slang. and the footnotes..! best smartass/meaningful element ever.
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| Sunday, April 15th, 2012
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4:40 pm
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2:38 pm
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i can't decide if i'm a Jay in need of a Silent Bob or a Dante in need of a Randall.
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| Friday, April 13th, 2012
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2:02 pm - random complain about snowballs
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reconfirmed: snowballs are a waste of my fuckin' time.
and here i was all hot and sweaty from a needlessly sunny walk to and from the post office. i thought about heading home, but then i thought, no! i need a snowball. that's the summertime treat around here, and it's definitely summertime. the whole way there i debated flavors and combos, then i waited in line, then i got mine, and... eh. should've gotten a rootbeer float.
i didn't grow up here, that's the problem. enjoying these things appears to be at least 25% about nostalgia. i mean, yeah, it's better than the chunk-ice-and-blue-syrup sno-cones that us kids slurped down at the Fox Valley Roller Rink, but... so? it's still shave ice and sugar syrup. and if you have to add condensed milk or soft-serve ice cream to it to make it better... why not just get fuckin' ice cream? that's the good stuff.
i had intended to go snowballin' all over town this year. hit all the places. see if i could be converted. i just went to the one near my place and got a lemon-lime with condensed milk. the whole time i ate it, i kept thinking how much it reminded me of a DQ Mister Misty and how much better it would be with ice cream in it. and i *could* get it with ice cream in it. you know what it'd be then? fucking ICE CREAM.
snowballs. like many New Orleans fixations, you can't tell them that there's no fabulous intrinsic merit to the flavor. it's like me lobbying for the embrace of hotdish. just got to agree to disagree, and go buy some fudgesicles and red bean icepops. now those are summertime treats!
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| Thursday, April 12th, 2012
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6:18 pm - live from my sketchy kitchen
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i think whipped-cream vodka and orange Jell-O will make Dreamsicle(TM)-flavored Jell-O shots. yt?
oh, and obviously i'm getting ready for Prom. (just bought the Everclear, as a matter of fact.)
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| Monday, April 9th, 2012
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7:52 pm
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| Sunday, April 8th, 2012
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10:26 am - AHAHAHAHA what a story mark
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i defend my thesis tomorrow.
i only wish i was defending the defendable, like The Room.
sigh.
aaaanyway.
i really doubt i won't pass my defense. i mean, i sincerely doubt it. they couldn't possibly let me go this far then pull the rug out from under me. could they? no, they couldn't. i mean, *technically* they could. but they won't. i ran into my whole committee on friday night and they were all chill. one of them even gave me some advice at the end about answering questions. but still. everybody says i'm an idiot for freaking out, and i probably am, but it's still possible. it is.
which is why i have a hair appointment at 11 and i'm packing gym clothes to run beforehand. that way, i'll be too exhausted to worry and i'll be cute as hell. or something.
ugh, nervous.
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| Monday, March 26th, 2012
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5:51 pm - BREAKING NEWS!
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Meatloaf has a new album. it's called Hell In A Handbasket.
folks, you can't make shit like this up.
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| Sunday, March 25th, 2012
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2:34 am - this post brought to you by tallboys of High Life, the Champagne of Beers
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walking 4 blocks over to City Park to play Circle of Death with 3 fellow MFA-ers = best way possible to spend a saturday night. yes, i had texted that boy what wanted, occasionally, to put his wee-wee in my teepee, no, he didn't respond. and yes, i had cleaned the office-room and cooked and eaten Super Responsible Vegetable Pasta, but god damn, sometimes a girl's gotta shotgun a Bud Light and play Never Have I Ever. know what i'm sayin?
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| Saturday, March 24th, 2012
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10:44 pm
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dear boys,
you are not allowed to change the phone rules again. you hear me? the transition from phone calls to text messages, yes, all right--that took a little adjusting to, but boys don't want to sit on the phone, apparently, and say "um, yeah, so... how was your day?" and i get that. so, text messages. simple packets of information ranging from "feel like a movie tonight?" to "want to come over and watch a movie? ;)" and everything in-between.
i got on the text-message train, because that's where boys went. boys prefer texting. even poetic-soul boys who write long, convoluted text messages about their feelings. even bywater scuzzboys who want to be taken to waffle house. even one-day Mardi Gras boyfriends. even--i would think--boys you meet at parkview who are insistent you give them your phone number and similarly insistent that you get frisky with them after a few dates.
so, when i receive the message "where u?" or "hey, what's up?" and i respond with something like "at home. you?" or "hey, not much. you up for something tonight?"... I EXPECT AN ANSWER. IT'S JUST A TEXT MESSAGE. ANYWAY, YOU SENT ONE FIRST. NOW, RESPOND.
dimwit.
and also, what the fuck? were you taking a survey, or something? who asks what's up then doesn't want to be what's up?
any boy who has a schmancy Magic Internet Smartphone and can't follow up on his own inquiry needs to go screw. you know, someone else. if they can find somebody with shitty phone etiquette like that.
rude.
anyway i've got better shit to do. hilariously enough, i'm most miffed that i cleaned my room and wasted some fairly expensive condoms on all this horseshit.
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| Sunday, February 19th, 2012
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10:52 am - i'm still open to suggestions for defacing my uniform, btw.
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last day as a ninja.
then, another day at the new job, then mardi gras day.
the only tears in this crybaby's eyes are tears of solid joy.
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| Saturday, February 18th, 2012
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8:47 pm
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at the risk of sounding like an idiot, since when does it cost MORE to get newspapers delivered to you? i thought when you subscribed instead of buying week-to-week or day-to-day, you got a deal; i thought subscriptions were discounted at least a little from the newsstand price, or maybe just equivalent. but it's $3 a week to get the paper thrown at more doorstep vs. $2 to walk downstreet to the walgreens and just go get it?
probably it's always been that way and i'm an idiot. anyway.
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