Sunday, January 25, 2009

routine disruption

i think i finally pinpointed one of the contributing factors to my super elevated stress level. i read an article about skin care a couple of weeks ago that said the biggest complexion mistake people make is to wash their face before they wash/condition their hair. now if there's one thing i'm about it's skin maintenance. the logic of the article was irrefutable. shampoos/conditioners typically contain certain essential oils that mess up the ph of your skin and lead to, dare i say it, complexion defection.

so i've been trying to remember to wash my hair first, then face. sadly, for me, changing a routine is really difficult. especially one that i have militantly stuck with for YEARS. face-hair-body. wash exactly in that order. don't ask me why. i've been able to remember the new routine, but i think it is triggering a stress reaction that leaves me vaguely unsettled for the rest of the day.

hope you're enjoying my (now) daily superficial postings. i think i've been inspired by the superhuman blogging efforts of others. also, feel free to comment away. it makes me feel good.

back to work.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

neighborhood crime watch update

unfortunately, the person who got car jacked at my apartment building was NOT the twenty year old ****** College frat boy/luxury automobile driver who was not only eye-fucking me in the elevator yesterday morning, but apparently does not have the ability to park in less than two parking spaces at a time.

i am also, mostly out of necessity, gradually overcoming my fear of leaving my apartment after the sun goes down.

Friday, January 23, 2009

she don't lie, she don't lie, she don't lie...

i woke up this morning in a agonizing pain. which was a continuation of the pain i was in all day yesterday until went to sleep, consisting of cramps and a borderline migraine headache. this pain interfered with my day to the point that i had to go directly home after class yesterday, rather than work on thesis as planned. so instead i went home and read about the state of the political science discipline. a sad state indeed.

this morning after i finally forced myself to get out of bed and into my car and straight away i'm bombarded with eric clapton getting down, down on the ground. i could deal with this. thank god it's one of clapton's more winning commentaries on pain and addiction and not some "you look wonderful tonight" shit.

quite tragically, for my mood and my ears, the sadistic bastards at the radio station decide to follow vintage clapton with the fucking eagles. and not just any old eagles, but the peaceful easy feeling eagles. which started me thinking about peaceful easy feelings. all they are is the calm before the storm. lulling soul and mind into a false sense of security before something truly fucked happens. being someone that lives in a perpetual state of apprehension (otherwise known as generalized social anxiety disorder with a twist of ocd), i am constantly overwhelmed with the feeling that something really bad is about to happen while simultaneously trying to control every possible detail so that it doesn't. looking back however, the times when something bad has happened were at the times when i felt good about things. it's a vicious self-perpetuating cycle that doesn't appreciate being mocked by the eagles first thing in the morning.

and what now then....

it's true that everything follows something else and usually there's no way to know what that will be. the other night i had a really terrible dream. in the dream i was flying somewhere, amsterdam i think, with my best friend thomas. we got all the way to the boarding gate and i realized that he hadn't checked my huge suitcase like he was supposed to. i yelled at him for being so stupid and then had to run all the way back across this massive airport to check the bag getting lost along the way and by the time i got back to the gate, the plane was taking off with thomas on it because he refused to go with me to check the bag. but then, as i watched, the plane exploded. i didn't really sleep much the rest of the night.

i called thomas the next day and related the dream to him, to which he responded that it was really ungrateful of me not to be thanking him right now for saving my life in the dream. and also that the joke was on me because in the dream i was stuck in this miserable existence known as life, while he got to move on to the next thing.

none of this made me feel any better. and i went on about how sad i was because in the dream he was dead. to which he responded that he had taken out an insurance policy worth millions and named me as a beneficiary, but i didn't get to see that part of the dream because i woke up too soon.

thanks, thomas.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

a town without pity

living in the city with the highest violent crime rate in the country really hasn't ever bothered me. never felt unsafe. most likely this is due to the fact that i don't watch the local news. tune in once, and you realize that someone gets shot/stabbed/violently robbed roughly every 2.376 minutes. personally, however, i have merely (though repetitively) encountered/lewdly spoken to by lots o' crackheads, holla'd at by gangstas in crown vics, and had my car broken into at a garage named "parking can be fun" of all things. the most disturbing thing i ever saw was when the police almost shot someone in the parking lot across the street from where i live, although i have to say that the scariest part about it was the fact that it took the ambulances like thirty minutes to arrive despite the fact that this happened less than five minutes from a major medical district. the news crew made it in less than ten.

i gotta say that i like where i live. always have. however, two people have been robbed at gunpoint in my parking lot in the last day or so. apparently this is an offshoot of a city wide crime acceleration. that's right...we're havin' a crime-wave, ya'll...

anyone who folows this blog is well aware of my socialist leanings. i can totally get down with the idea that property IS theft. that said, i really can't afford to have the very minimal amount of property i do have taken from me. it isn't for personal's to facilitate my basic daily needs. i need my car to get to school. i need my money to eat.

i blame the recent increase in crime in my backyard on two things. the disintegrated economy and the fact that we're located near a very small, very private, very rich liberal arts college. lately i have noticed an increase in the number of luxury automobiles driven by frat boys parked in the lot adjacent to my buiding. hey guys, maybe if you didn't feel the need to flash your (parent's) wealth in a city crippled by grinding poverty and the lingering effects of institutional racism with your jags (yes, there are two jaguars in my lot displaying ****** College parking decals) and bmw's, i wouldn't be afraid to leave my apartment after dark.

i actually don't have a problem with these kids getting robbed. they don't deserve what they have and they definitely don't have any respect for, well, anything other than their own economic status. i think a crash course in economic reality is well deserved. and i don't blame the people doing the robbing. if anything, it reminds me of how shameful of a society we live in that people are left with the perception that there is no other alternative.

just please don't rob me.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

one night in paris

is my favorite celebrity sex tape. unless you've been living in a cave, under a rock, or possibly on gilligan's island without the professor, you've at least heard about it. if you haven't actually seen it for yourself... run, don't walk to the nearest adult store. get a copy and watch immediately. then read the rest of this blog entry.

there's nothing not entertaining about this film. the shaky cinematography. the ambient lighting. it all allows for total insight the vacuous character of an overexposed socialite fucking her way towards oblivion. and rick salomon. oh, rick salomon. either so hard up for cash or so much of a narcissist that he would market a tape that made him look like the worst lay ever. as if being married to post-90210 shannon dorherty wasn't penance enough to make up for any previous wrongs one might have committed.

i mean, seriously. even the night vision couldn't hide the bored look in paris' chemically dilated eyes. and right as the magic was happening (or in the middle of it happening), to be truthful it wasn't very magical but the middle of the action(?) paris is all like "i have to go" and if memory serves, she gets up and leaves. priceless. oh, and for the record, she knew the camera was there. no doubt about it. anyone familiar with her red carpet style could easily tell that she was totally working it.

the reason i bring all this up isn't to engage in superficial smut discussions. it is because the other day a blurb popped up on OMG entitled "Paris Hilton: 'I've Only Ever Done it With a Couple of People' " that's right. setting the record straight. but that's not all. paris then proceeds to enlighten us as to her philosophy regarding sex and exactly why she's 'only ever done it with a couple (of hundred) people.' and it goes a little something like this:

"I think it's important to play hard to get," she said. "Nobody wants the fake Prada bag -- they want the brand new bag that no one can get and is the most expensive."

seriously. you can't make shit like this up. oh you may be the most expensive, but there ain't nothin' brand new about you. however, props for your ambitious personal marketing scheme. too bad everyone and their mother has already seen the inside of your bag.

but let's not lose sight of the greater message. after all, faithful readers, this blog is nothing if not the brand new prada bag.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

mouth of the south

happy new year, y'all...
last night my best friend, my sister, her husband, and myself begrudgingly ushered in the new year by watching dick clark's rockin' new year's eve celebration. it was, in fact, the most UNROCKIN' event ever. truly, the promise ring wearing jonas brothers are the antithesis of rock. take my advice boys, there's gonna come a time (probably sooner than later) when your fifteen minutes are up and you won't be able to get laid if you paid for it. your new year's resolution should be to take advantage of your undeserved fame and start fucking as many groupies as possible. like right now.

also performing were fall out boy (aka the band that ashely simpson's sexually ambivalent, tapered jean wearing husband is in), a couple of justin timberlake wannabes whose names weren't even worth committing to memory, and lionel ritchie. oh, and viewers were treated to not one, but TWO painful performances by the pussycat dolls. sorry ladies, but if i wanted to see that kinda show i'd skip the pretense and go to the strip club.

but i digress. the actual point of this blog is not an indictment of the demise of rock and roll, but to address the sad portrait of the south painted by kelly pickler, who was sort of the co-host of the "celebration" along with ryan seacrest. someone (you know who you are) told me that there are stereotypes about people from all localities, the difference in the south is that the stereotypes are true. kelly pickler illustrated the truth of this assessment to the nth degree.

i had no idea who kelly pickler even was before last night. i would have much preferred, and i think the rest of the country can agree with me on this, to keep it that way. i thought she was from dancing with the stars, but apparently she was on american idol like a million years ago.

she seemed drunk for most of the broadcast. we were pretty sure she was slurring her words, but it could have just been her meth-head/trailor trash accent. she also had eyes like tammy faye and squealed like pig everytime she talked to a happily in love couple. i'm not sure what was with the emphasis on couples, but that was the least of my worries.

even ryan seacrest was making fun of her. after one particularily inane commentary on pickler's part, he was all like "that's 100% blond charm right there, folks." we were laughing hysterically, when he proceeded to make a slur about north carolina, where i am from and apparently pickler was spawned. back the fuck up, mr. seacrest. just because this beauty school drop-out is acting foolish on national television doesn't mean that everyone in the state is reprehensable. we're adopting a position of total deniability so far as pickler is concerned.

i would like to end my blog with something positive about the south. as humbuggish as i am about the holiday season (christmas in particular), i love new year's day. it is the day when i get to have my favorite meal of the year: black-eyed peas (for luck), collard greens (for wealth), and hog jowls (for heatlh). that's right. hog jowl. for those of you that have never enjoyed hog jowl, it is kind of like bacon, but better. way better. this is the only day of the year that i eat it and it is always a treat. even watching kelly pickler shame an entire region couldn't ruin that one for me.

before i go, a special new year shout out to my sister susannah who gave me the best christmas present EVER. the first season of bh90210. i only wish we could watch it together...
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