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Tales of a Post-Grad Nothing

Monday, April 21, 2008

Deal Breaker

Someone asked me today if I were an animal and I knew that I would be turned into something edible, would I rather be a McDonald's hamburger or a meat hat? I'm not sure I could be friends with someone who said hamburger.

Friday, April 11, 2008

There Aren't A Lot of Things That Make Me Speechless

This one does.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Tell Me Honestly

Is there anything sadder in this world than a toe ring on a grown-ass woman? Yesterday I saw a toe ring sandwiched between a callous and a rhinestone-studded flip flop, just riding the subway all casual-like. All I could do was look at the tribal symbol-inscribed thing like it was a homicide scene, shake my head silently, and think What the hell happened here?

Wednesday, April 09, 2008

No Title Necessary



"Couch, sometimes you alone are the target audience."
~My friend Steve

Tuesday, April 08, 2008

Record Breaker

Internet - let me teeeeeeelllllllll you, this weekend was what my friend James:



would describe as "a star-spangled rocket of awesome." On Friday I had a "fancy date," which was badass because I got to put on a dress a friend once described as "very boob-centric" and head out to a restaurant where waiters in piratey pants continually circle the room offering

SIXTEEN KINDS OF MEAT ALL SERVED ON SWORDS.


There are not enough programming tricks in the world to emphasize how thrilling that is. Several of the aforementioned meats are also wrapped in bacon. I don't have to tell you how excited meat wrapped in other meat served on a weapon makes me. I'm not sure if you have ever had the meat-meat-sword combo plate, but if you haven't it's what I would imagine riding a rainbow feels like...only you can eat this rainbow...and it tastes like bacon making love to a steak.

Saturday there were bliss cakes and dog beaches and laptop orchestras and Ba'hai temples to be seen and afterwards, in the words of Biggie "my whole crew was loungin.*" The weekend was absolutely perfect and while spending the afternoon out in the sunshine, watching my dog awkwardly sniff other dogs and then immediately turn and run away like Oh me? I was over here the whole time totally not sniffing your ass at all, it occurred to me that it had been a while since I did anything head-turningly awkward. At least a week. No! More than a week! Probably about 10 days. Did you see those words? 10 FULL DAYS OF SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE BEHAVIOR, MAYBE MORE BECAUSE I GOT SO EXCITED AT DAY 8 THAT I KIND OF LOST COUNT.

That is a record. Hell, if I can make it ten full days without turning red in public or palm-sweating through a pair of mittens, I can probably also make it rain chocolate eclairs or stop time with my mind. I was already feeling like this when my nephew:



called with the perfect way to end an already perfect weekend - free tickets to see Vampire Weekend.

If there's one thing Indecent Proposal has taught me, it's that doing it on a big pile of money is probably pretty hot and there's no such thing as free. Ever. My nephew is a ticket broker and in exchange for two free tickets to a sold-out show, I'd have to sell five more. No big deal. That's why God made Craigslist. I listed the tickets, they sold in less than an hour, and Boomtown baby, we were ready to roll. All I had to do was meet some dude 30 minutes before the show, trade the tickets for some dolla-dolla billz, and enjoy an evening of V-neck sweater-filled rock. What I didn't count on was the barrage of questions this guy had. How long had I been a scalper? How much money did I usually make? What kind of office hours do I hold? Could he get REM tickets in May? It was incessant and the more I tried to explain that I really don't scalp tickets for a living, the more questions he asked. When the deal was over, he tied up the transaction by asking "What other shady things do you do? Do you have heroin(e) in your pocket too?" "No," I said, letting out an exasperated sigh. "I keep that stuff hidden...in a balloon...neatly tucked in my asshole."

And just like that the record was broken.










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* although due to our middle class backgrounds, we were not "celebrate every day no more public housin." Sorry Notorious.

Friday, April 04, 2008

Confession

Sometimes I see things like this and wonder how my life would be different if I had spent more of my 6th year of life learning awesome things instead of devising new ways to give myself nosebleeds so I wouldn't have to go to Brownie meetings.

Thursday, April 03, 2008

It Was Bound to Happen Eventually

Today I gave a homeless man $1 just because I was impressed by his manners. And with that I've officially morphed into my mother. Who needs a cardigan from Talbots? More specifically, is there anyone here who doesn't need a cardigan from Talbots? I didn't think so.

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Project Badass Part V: Have Faith

I'm back! After a whirlwind three weeks that included winning an award, traveling 800 miles to claim it, then returning to Chicago only to immediately total my car and kick off what's bound to be a very long and torrid relationship with an auto insurance agent named Christine, I'm actually beginning to settle back into my otherwise uneventful life of eating ice cream and telling the dog she's pretty*. One of the biggest changes that's happened in the past few months is that I started seeing this dude who seems to fit my description of the Ultimate Dating Champion:

* Cooks: Check
* Dances: Check
* Can fight with nunchucks: Check
* Owns and plays the keytar: Check
* Described himself apropos of nothing on our first date as "a guy who's into engineering and punk rock and X-men:" Check times a million oh my god swoooooooon
* Looked me directly in the eye and said "You are fantastic" after I played him Blue 38 by this group: Check

Basically, we can skip everything above the last one. Nunchuck knowledge or not, any time you play a song whose chorus involves the words "finger" and "doodyhole" and your date doesn't immediately walk out, you can pack things up. You've found yourself a winner.

The dating thing - scratch that - the trusting thing is exciting and terrifying at the same time. When the boyfriend of 9 years split, I felt like this enormous part of me somehow rotted and fell off. Not the part that loves, the part that knows that as painful as the ending of the last thing was, it was worth it. The whole damn thing. And opening up all over again is also worth it, even if everyone involved gives it their all and it still shatters into 1 million painful shards, leaving both parties with a box full of pictures they can't look at and CDs that make them viscerally ill. Even then, maybe especially then, the whole thing was worth it. I don't know what you call that part, faith? If so, it's not faith in a new person as much as faith in the grander scheme - that even the tiniest step towards peacefully letting go and leaping blindly into an unknown future is more powerful than all of the epic break-ups in all of the world. That kind of faith is bigger than any boy.

So while the new guy does make me giggle and blush every time he says things like "I would like to take you on a date to the museum of surgery and medical oddity," a huge part of my recent happiness is just knowing that I'm still able to turn pink and laugh wildly, having no idea how this adventure will turn out.








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* Ok fine, not just pretty, beautiful. Like a beautiful, furry-footed princess**.
** I only call her a furry-footed princess sometimes***.
*** That sometimes is more frequent than I would like to admit.

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