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Tales of a Post-Grad Nothing

Friday, May 25, 2007

You Complete Me

Right now, it's 2AM and my neighbor is sitting on his back porch by himself getting wasted and singing made-up sea shanties in a pirate voice. Sometimes I think I hate Richmond and other times I think it's my soul mate.


Wednesday, May 23, 2007

All Things Go

Oh man, it's been forever since I "be blowin this bitch to pieces."* There have been some fairly radical changes going down at Post-Grad Nothing headquarters. A couple of months ago, I went to Chicago for a whirlwind weekend of eating fancy-schmancy encased meats and treasure hunting and hanging out with my friend Steve (whose fun-ness quotient can be summed up just by showing you this picture:

He has to wear those shades since his future's so bright. I also met this lady of this site's fame . She is even more fun than the Viking horns would imply).

Back in January, going from Breakupsville, VA to Badassington, IL was almost as good as licking raw meat off of Gideon Yago's bare chest. IT WAS THAT GOOD. All I did that trip was eat and drink and laugh my guts out in that crazy, gushy kind of way that you laugh when you have needed something fantastic to smile about for a very long time and then all of a sudden you have it and laughter simply comes pouring forth in maniacal bucketfuls. That kind of laughter. It was nothing short of medicinal and when I returned to emotionally complicated Richmond, I had an amazingly awful day and decided right then and there that it was time to turn to my city of birth, look it straight in the eye, and finally say something that's been a long time coming: I think we should start seeing other people.

Since then, I've been very consumed with finding a subletter for my apartment (you know, in case Richmond and I decide after a summer fling that we really can work out our differences after all), finding a place in Chicago, and convincing my mother that a single woman moving to a new city alone doesn't necessarily mean she's going to be raped. Minus the last one, those tasks have been eerily easy. I merely mentioned the Chicago idea to a friend who just happened to know someone from New Zealand moving to Virginia for the summer?!?!?! and at the very last minute, I found a dog-friendly room in a three-story house for super cheap in the northern part of the Windy City. My future roommates (who are the most Midwestern people I've ever seen in my life, over-sized white t-shirts, running shoes, friendly dispositions, and all) chose me over some other Depaul U student even though the other girl could stay longer. Being chosen over someone else because "I don't know, you just seemed awesomer"...they said the word 'awesomer'...being chosen by someone who uses the word 'awesomer' feels like being elected Prom Queen of Chicago.

All seemed to be going great, so last week I high-tailed it out to Chicago to finalize my living arrangements and make sure that Illinois and I would be ok for a casual summer hook-up situation. As I was heading to the subway to go back to VA, it hit me. Oh my god, you are about to move to a town you know nothing about just for the hell of it. I started to have a freak-out moment and when I looked up at the sky in a very cliched God, what am I doing with my life? move, I saw this standing above me:

Ok, that's a giant billboard of Bob Barker encouraging me to "Get Fixed." If that's not a direct sign from God that I'm in the right place at the right time, I don't know what is.

I move in two to three weeks. I am both nervous and excited.


* I heard the most giant black man I've ever seen use that phrase on the New York subway once. In retrospect, that's probably not the best place to be throwing out that phrase. He was talking about his girlfriend's cell phone and when he said it, I kind of fell in awesomely awful love with he and his ghettofabulous girlfriend who had gold fingernails the size of my head. I'm hoping that phrase has the same effect here.

Sunday, May 20, 2007

I'm a little disappointed that this article wasn't titled "Chez Maxnifique." Nobody understands the beauty of a well-placed pun anymore. The terrorists have truly won.

Sunday, May 13, 2007

The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of

Right this second I'm sitting in my favorite cafe/bookstore/wine bar in Richmond minding what I once heard a middle school kid refer to as "my biznasty," and in walked seven dudes, all of whom have glasses, books, and well-kept facial hair. At least two are wearing corduroy jackets and one just mentioned something about being in a band. It feels like I received a last minute invite to the most awesome beard party on earth. This is the kind of thing that I dream about happening but never actually does and now that it really is happening, I'm kind of creeped out that maybe God has ripped a page directly out of my mental book of fantasies and maybe a polar bear fighting a shark fighting a velociraptor will walk in next. Dreams: They really can come true.


Saturday, May 12, 2007

Life Imitating Art

Last night I saw Zodiac which is approximately 8 million hours long, features a lot more furtive looks and hand-wringing than murdering, and doesn't even have the common courtesy to include a scene where Jake Gyllenhaal has to walk somewhere shirtless through the rain. If you drag audiences through 2.5 hours of film that contains more paper shuffling and suspenseful music than actual plot movement, you're officially obligated to have your hottest actor perform at least one topless rain scene. That's, like, in the Bible or something.

On a somewhat unrelated note, I wanted to include a picture of Jake Gyllenhaal lookin all hot with this post, but then I accidentally stumbled upon this unfortunate small-concerned-head-in-a-big-homeless-man-coat photo:

along with these Brokeback Mountain-themed Sims and all of my girl parts died. WHO'S THE KILLER NOW?

Thursday, May 10, 2007

A List of Things I Considered Buying Today But Didn't Since I Only Have $72.34 to My Name

This, this (in messenger bag form), this but mainly because I was lured to the model's quizzical expression, this but mainly because I was lured in by the model's hottitude, and this. When I showed my mother that last one, she just looked at me and asked, "Are you stupid? I mean, tell me honestly." It was only in failed attempts to explain how the great thing about that shirt is you can wear it to any bar in any corner of the world and know within seconds who understands your awesomely awful sense of humor that I realized just how valid that question actually is.

Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Testament to My Immaturity

After reading this story, all I could think of was ha ha, Fort Dix.

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

"If You Like Boats, You Will Love This"

Today I found this. I feel like that yacht, if it exists at all, is probably anchored in Rape River. Bon voyage.


Monday, May 07, 2007

I'm It!

A few weeks ago, I got tagged by this site, but honestly I've been too busy doing very important things like acting unforgivably awkward and watching embarrassingly bad movies (including this and this*) to write self-indulgent rants to a creepily anonymous internet community. That being said, here are the five reasons I blog** although it's really only two reasons and three Kimmy Gibbler quotes I pulled from my niece's Full House DVDs followed by some ill-placed footnotes. I'm exhausted and have a wicked cold. Cheers.

Reason #1. I started this site because I moved to a foreign country and wanted a way to keep in contact with people that, you know, spoke my native language and didn't hate me for not knowing ridiculous things like "There will be a strike at least four days a week" and "never ever rely on mass transit to get you anywhere." I wanted to tell my 5 or so friends back home about what was going on in France in a way that didn't inundate their inboxes***, so I started writing things down on the internet. Then I started getting random e-mails from random strangers. I sincerely love getting random e-mail from strangers. Here's a chart that shows exactly how much I love e-mail from random strangers:

Click for larger view

#2. I hate making friends. I'm really bad at it, mainly because I get all nervous and sweaty-like, thinking I'm probably saying all of the wrong things to the potential new friend (PNF). As a result, I actually do wind up saying all the wrong things to the PNF (example here) and more often than not go home feeling like this. (On a sidenote, I think there's probably a special place in hell for people who compare their social awkwardness to crying kids found on child poverty web sites). I have this web site so I can cling to the awesome friends I already have and hopefully won't have to bother with the awkward process of making new ones. As my grandmother says, "I just don't care for that now."

#3. This weekend I'm going to the landfill with my pop to shoot rats.
#4. Ham again? I've been eating your lunch for three days DJ and it's been ham. Did your dad hit a pig with his car?
#5. D.J., they wear lipstick! They can call me anything they want!

Tags: To steal a line from Brandon, "memes come here to die."

* Just before I watched this movie, I leaned over to my bad movie watching buddy and said "All I want to see is someone explode and an assload of worms pour out." Dreams can come true people.

** The word 'blog' should never be used as a verb. I feel like if you commit that crime enough times, society should throw you to a den of rabid bears, no questions asked. Other words that also shouldn't be used as verbs include "summer," "bone," and "concept." You might want to write that down...you know, as bear protection.

*** Why isn't the word 'inbox' used more often as a euphemism for the vagina? Or is it and I'm just behind on my euphemisms? Also whatever happened to Don Rickles? Is that guy dead or what?

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

Thank God Someone Is On the Case

Thanks New York Times.