inappropriate ramblings and anecdotes.

cleopatra, comin atcha.

2009-10-12T19:22:00.000-07:00

i want to stop neglecting this blog. i feel some sort of inexplicable obligation to pollute the internet with my nonsense ramblings. alas, work eats up an ungodly amount of my time, so i will probably not fulfill this desire. but i will make a more active effort.

cody and i got a kitten a few weeks ago. (if you are just tuning in, cody is my boyfriend with whom i live in atlanta.) despite repeatedly tossing around the idea and lurking on pet adoption websites and the petco kitten window, i was slightly hesitant because cats live a long time, and i didn't think i was ready for that type of commitment. but then our neighbor said someone he worked with was giving kittens away, and i rarely say no to free anything, so we picked her up the next day.

her name is cleo, because she is a bad bitch, like cleopatra. we thought about naming her oprah, but she will never be big enough to live up that name. she likes to climb up our legs, which is not such an issue when one is wearing pants, but is rather painful when one is not. she seems to think plucking her off and setting her back on the ground is simply part of the challenge. as a result, i look like a cutter.

that feather is connected to a string, which is connected to a wand. she drags it all over the apartment and often puts it in her food dish. she also makes it a point to play with it right next to our feet, even though there are more spacious locations available. this is clearly a calculated decision that allows her to "accidentally" miss her feather and attack our appendages instead.

beauty school drop-out.

2009-09-14T14:24:00.000-07:00

i keep thinking about going back to school... and consequently about how much i still would rather not.

it's not that i'm opposed to learning. i am so down with knowledge. but i'm not down with spending a lot of time and money to earn a degree simply for the sake of having one. and i'm even less down with the possibility of earning a degree, not being able to find a job related to said degree and still working a waitressing job to pay for life.

i can't say that i am unbothered by the fact that people i graduated from high school with are nearing the completion of college while i'm still struggling to get it all together. but a gameplan for my life will surely appear before me somehow, like this mysterious footprint on the wall (presumably mine), which i have just noticed.

i'm not my perspective.

2009-09-01T16:10:00.000-07:00

feeling this unreasonable urge to talk to myself on the internet for the first time in a long time.

i love living in atlanta. people are nice and my apartment is big (and still looking a little sparse). i started working at a sports bar type place (not hooters. but i would kind of rather wear orange hot pants to work than kakhis), so hopefully i will be making lots of cash money once the football season is in full swing and then be able to flush out my crib.

unfortunately, i have not yet met any notable members of the hip-hop community, but i'm sure it's merely a matter of time until i will be smoking blunts with lil wayne in his condo.

in order to steal my neighbor's internet i have to balance my computer on my narrow windowsill and even then, i sometimes cannot receive a signal. but it's working particularly well this evening, so i have been stationed here for an amount of time i would rather not specify to take advantage of the connection/waste time on my day off. there are some squirrels that live in the tree behind my apartment, and earlier i glanced to the side of my computer to find one of those adorable motherfuckers sitting about six inches away from me on the other side of my window. as you may or may not know, i love squirrels more than pretty much any living creature with or without fur, so having one approach me in this fashion was basically a dream come true. he didn't stick around very long, but when he was back up in his tree he was rapidly swinging his tail around in a circular movement, which i'm sure means, "i really felt we connected, human, and i will come see you again." how exciting!

unorganized ramblings.

2009-07-23T13:57:00.001-07:00

i think i have discovered a new mental condition which sets in when one is approximately nineteen years old and leads its victim to take great joy in events and activities revered by the elderly (early bird specials, crocheting, going to bed at 9 o'clock, grandma sweaters, vegetable gardening, so and so forth). about a year into the onset of the condition, physical manifestations of being elderly start to develop. these symptoms include: forgetfulness, exhaustion, and waking up at 2:30 AM to go pee. i hope once the medical community recognizes this as an actual diagnosis, they call it Proft Syndrome.

i'm trying to teach myself how to knit. i am impossibly terrible at it. it's so hard! my mom has been trying to help me, but she does not understand the concept of demonstrations with explanations, so when i ask her a question, she simply takes the knitting needles out of my hand and takes over. then when i continue to struggle and need further clarification she just yells in her german accent, "look! it's so easy! i don't know what your problem is." and i don't either. crocheting is so much easier.

i'm moving to atlanta on monday. it's sort of unbelievable. but i have always loved the atl, and i'm really excited about it. i keep thinking about how much i'm going to miss my dog, which is sort of dumb because my parents only live an hour and a half away.

something i despise more than almost anything is pretentiousness. there are lots of things and people i would classify as "pretentious," but i don't really have time for that. the group most often slapped with the pretentious label is the hipsters, which is a term that i don't think anyone really has a good grasp of because it's not very definite and people love to overuse it. sort like the term "emo" in 2003.

my personal vision of a hipster is this: a young man or woman who defines him or herself by the often douchey music, clothing and accessories he or she chooses to enjoy. there is not a problem in wearing clothes purchased at, say, american apparel and listening to obscure, pitchfork-approved bands. the issue is believing to be superior because of these things. because quality as a human being is not determined by how deep your v-neck is.

everyone is entitled to personal preference. this is america. you can like what you like, but you don't have to be an asshole about it.

there is something, however, that i have to be an asshole about: the ironic moustache.
(to demonstrate, here is a total stranger whose image comes up when you google search "ironic moustache.")

i fail to see why anyone with the ability to grow facial hair under the age of 35 would choose to put this above his lip. do you want to look like a child molester? i mean, who is laughing at this joke? i don't think the general public sees humor in ruining an otherwise perfectly attractive face. maybe it's funny for, like, the first week. but after that, the joke is clearly on the wearer. because no one will want to have sex with you.

must sleep.

2009-07-05T20:43:00.000-07:00

doing this thing again where i overestimate my control over the universe. am under the impresion that there is an appropriate amount of worry i need to generate in order for me to get what i want. i think this is probably a sign of insanity, thinking that the universe only takes your requests seriously if you cry about it just right.

to counter my crazy, i am trying to be relaxed by letting the chips fall as they may, but it's rather difficult to suppress feeling overwhelmed and frustrated.

on a brighter, unrelated note, i have been attempting to grow a vegetable garden, and today i ate the first of my cucumbers! which was quite tasty, in case you were wondering.

wheelchair jimmy, we need to talk.

2009-07-02T06:51:00.001-07:00

this is the overdue video for "best i ever had:"

1. this was directed by my former main squeeze, kanye west. i would just like to say i expect more of you, good sir.

2. i was asked to be in this video but declined after bras were banned from the set.

3. they really put those degrassi acting skills to use there, didn't they?

i do not like to move it.

2009-06-24T17:09:00.000-07:00

i dislike a lot of things. like when people ask, "are you having fun yet?" in situations when you are clearly nowhere close to having a good time. and the fact that i have to go to court tomorrow for a very minor rear-ending incident, in which i happened to be the car doing the rear-ending and someone in the other vehicle insisted upon leaving the scene of the accident in an ambulance. i am quite nauseous about this. mostly because i hate being in trouble. i do not like to be reprimanded, and i typically carry about my business in a manner that prevents me from having to face consequences for what can be considered irresponsible behavior. so, this is pretty much making me want to vomit.

anyway, i am really not naturally inclined to lead a healthy lifestyle. it's not that i dislike being healthy. it's just that i do like junk food, and i do not particularly enjoy sweating. i am down with vegetables and enjoy their flavor whilst eating them, but i would almost always rather be eating something fried. deep fried vegetables are probably my favorite. since i am aware of the shortcomings of my habits, i have recently made an effort to be healthier. i stopped drinking diet soda because i thought the artificial sweeteners were causing my headaches, but i actually still get headaches all the time. so it seems that i gave up my beloved pepsi one for nothing. and because i don't drink diet soda anymore, i only have, like, one regular soda a day because i fear the calories.

i know what you're thinking, "good for you, stephanie." but i'm really not so convinced that passing on the carbonated beverages has really made such a difference in the state of my health.
and really, research on the negative effects of artificial sweeteners are somewhat inconclusive. yes, they are nasty chemicals, but if the body can handle it, then so be it. and by "so be it," i mean, "let me drink it."

even more remarkably, i have started to exercise in the form of jogging most nights a week. i have kept this up for about two months and noticed... nothing. i am not overweight. i don't really have major complaints about my body's appearance and am actually pretty grateful for what i have. but i really thought my ass would look a little more like beyonce's if i ran around my neighborhood listening to her on a regular basis. this assumption was false. and let me tell you something, i have never understood the appeal of strenuous exercise; it feels like dying. people who say they enjoy it are liars. these are delusions they feed themselves to keep them motivated during their quest for fitness. even beyonce says she hates exercising and only does it to stay hot.

this is quite understandable. i could totally see myself living in this state of mind, except for one thing: I LOOK, FEEL, AND WEIGH EXACTLY THE SAME.

exercise, what is it good for? absolutely nothing, if you are going to stay stagnant at a hundred and something pounds and find no joy in it whatsoever no matter how many times you circle your housing development. say it again, y'all.

maybe some day i will find a form of aerobic exercise i find fun. until that day, it is too hot outside for me to go running until after it's dark out, and by that time i would really rather just retire to watching other people lose weight on quality television programming such as oxygen's dance your ass off (or dancing with the fat people).

my money is on this little chola:

may the best dancer lose, you guys.

20.

2009-06-16T18:54:00.000-07:00

as of yesterday, i am twenty years old. this is very awkward for me.

for the past few years, i have consistently felt like i was growing into more of a person i could be comfortable with. because for the majority of the time i spent attending post falls middle and high schools, someone -- humility, first of all -- should have delivered me a punch in the face. although i am now far less social and drunk, i am also less of a shitbag.
the past few weeks i have been feeling unlike myself. just... totally uninspired and swaggerless, if you will. this is one of my least favorite feelings. i hope it doesn't have anything to do with aging.

another issue i am having is being able to determine when it's appropriate to be offended. this typically happens at work when people i hardly know want to talk to me about my breasts. the most awkward of these discussions occuring when an old man sitting across from the table i was clearing off said to me, "i bet all the girls envy you." this was met by a clueless smile, as i had no fucking clue what this guy was talking about. until i remembered that i am merely attached to a set of knockers. i then had to smile and laugh while this guy told me about how his daughter developed early but peaked too soon and never got a full-fledged rack like mine.

i'm sure that he was harmless. yet i would certainly never dream of having this conversation with a complete stranger. but i feel like if i had said, "could you, sir pervert, please not discuss those with me or think about them, in general," the consensus would be that i was being some kind of uptight prude.

there are situations when the objectification of women is more acceptable than others. when they are posing for men's magazines or even working at hooters, i can understand the urge to reduce this person to nothing more than body parts. i am not opposed to women presenting themselves as sex objects. if you are self-aware enough to know that's what you're doing, then i fondly say, "get it, gurl!" but i am working at a fucking barbecue restaurant, wearing jeans and a t-shirt that are in no way overtly sexual, and i do not want you to pay attention to my tits. i can't put them away because i am fairly petite, and there is just nowhere to hide them.

this, to me, seems like an entirely rational way to feel. yet when sarah palin gets all uppity on the today show and every other media outlet because david letterman makes a joke about her 14-year-old daughter getting knocked up at a yankee's game, i feel like she's sort of overreacting. and i just don't want to be sarah palin.

there's always gonna be another mountain.

2009-06-04T19:07:00.001-07:00

i cry about almost anything that be can be considered as remotely touching. it's embarrassing and i think somewhat unexpected because i tend to be such an asshole. i am an asshole with heart, okay.

while i am not necessarily ashamed of my emotionality, i am certainly not proud. i have recently reached a new low, which consists of getting teary-eyed every time i hear "the climb" by miley cyrus. needless to say, i hate myself.

on another note, the lonely island is not funny. i saw "jizz in my pants" when it premiered, and was not really that amused, except for the justin timberlake cameo. a few days ago, i finally got tired of not understanding why everyone was "ON A BOAT," (after months, seriously) so i watched that video too. the only time i cracked a smile is when andy samberg used the term "flippy-floppies." this could simply be attributed to the fact that he is an adorable jew, and i would definitely hit it.

also not funny: "like a boss."

clearly, i am too refined for this type of humor.

(haha.)

whatever it takes, pt. 2.

2009-05-30T16:41:00.000-07:00

so, i hate to go on and on about this. but i have a personality defect that causes me to become rather obsessive about things that i like. right now i am obsessed with house and wheelchair jimmy.

i am going to go as far as to say that wheelchair jimmy is beginning to fill the space left in my heart when kanye west started sucking.

here is the lyric that sealed the deal for me: "i ain't on the fence about it. i ain't mister feeny."

because, ladies and gentlemen, that is a boy meets world reference in a rap song.

whatever it takes.

2009-05-24T19:39:00.000-07:00

in the earlier part of this decade, the canadians bestowed a tv gem to the inhabitants of the north american continent (well, the english-speaking ones, at least) called degrassi: the next generation. it was a soap opera starring middle schoolers. it was awesome. it's tagline was "degrassi: it goes there."

and it honestly did cover an impressive range of territory: homosexuality, self-injury, eating disorders, cocaine addiction, etc. one of the places it went, among many (obviously), was a school shooting, which was the result of excessive bullying of this weirdo who was dating and also abusing the overweight girl that everyone liked. the target was jimmy brooks, or wheelchair jimmy, and it left him paralyzed from the waist down (including his boner, as we learned in a later episode).

here are two really shitty clips to refresh or introduce those who are unfamiliar with the incredible poignancy of this series. the first the scene is the epic moment where ricky, the abusive, armed psycho shoots jimmy. the second is a scene in which jimmy's best friend (douche), spinner, admits that he was the reason that ricky shot him. the terrible synchronization of voices and mouths truly gives the second clip a little something extra.

i stopped watching the show a few years ago. around the time when spinner was trying to deflower the hot christian and manny was showing her tits all over the place.

when i think about it, i can recall wheelchair jimmy wanting to pursue a music career in real life, but i naturally thought this was never going to happen. well, i was wrong. wheelchair jimmy is a rapper now, going by the moniker of drake, which is not his real name (aubrey graham). wheelchair jimmy would have been a better stage name. drake seems a little random, kind of like his successful rap career.

he has, like, eight different collaborations with lil wayne. one of which is entitled "every girl," the chorus to which is, "i wish i could fuck every girl in the world." this is coming from WHEELCHAIR JIMMY out of toronto, CANADA. i can't even count how many times i have heard this boy say the word "pussy" at this point in my life. but his star is on the rise, and i bet i will hear him say it countless times more.

what i'm trying to say is: good for you, jimmy brooks, for getting out of your wheelchair and canada and melodramatic television and into the pants of what sounds like a plethora of women.

please consider.

2009-05-21T14:00:00.000-07:00

sometimes when i neglect my blog for a while, i feel like the follow-up entry should be extra special, which just causes me to delay posting even further. i'm not sure why i feel this type of pressure, since my readership consists of about.. no one.

i recently had an eye appointment. to put this in perspective, i would much rather go to the dentist (except for now, because i know i need to have my wisdom teeth removed, but i am too much of a pussy to want this to happen). i started realizing i was going blind when i was about ten. people always seemed to be able to read things that i could not. in order to avoid having to wear glasses, i faked having adequate vision for quite some time. then at school they had a mandatory eye exam, and the jig was up. my mother accompanied me to the eye-doctor and they asked me to read the smallest line i could see clearly, and i replied with something along the lines of, "E." and i've worn contacts ever since.

a few years later i got some back-up glasses, reserved for mornings and nights and those unfortunate times i forgot to order contacts before running out. i have kept the same pair since i was, like, fourteen. maybe fifteen. i know the prescription is off, but compared to my natural blindness, it is still pretty clear. the only reason i am interested in getting a new pair is because one of the ear hangers (official title) has been broken off and super-glued back on twice, and that is no way to live.

after making the doctor flip back and forth between lenses more times than he probably would have liked to, he gave me a new prescription. i feel like the different lens options are trick questions, or he knows which lens is supposed to be clearer, and i am going to choose the wrong one. i honestly get a hint of test anxiety before eye exams. maybe i have this issue because i am not one for subtlety. apparently my prescription has changed considerably over the past year. i hope this trend does not continue.

after browsing over the selection, there was only one frame i really had feelings for. i put it on, and the "optician," as she referred to herself several times said, "those are cute... but they're a little big." and i said, "i know, that is why they are cute." she went on to tell me that because of the magnification of my prescription, i could wind up with having some rather thick lenses in these bad boys. then she attempted to sucker me into choosing a smaller frame, but the heart knows what it wants. i hardly even wear my glasses, anyway, and if i'm going to wear them, i am going to like the grandfatherly frame on my face. even if my lenses are going to be half an inch thick, which i pray is an exaggeration.

this (sort of) brings me to a point i am meaning to make: it is so fucking annoying when people wear glasses for decorative purposes. i, first of all, do not understand the appeal to wearing glasses without a prescription. does it make the wearer feel smarter? does it simply serve to add to your hipster street cred? i just don't know.

but ultimately, poor vision is a handicap. would you wear a prosthetic hand over your already perfectly normal, functioning hand? no. well, maybe. but that would be considered to be in poor taste. don't get me wrong: i am totally down with stylish eyewear, okay? just like i support realisitic looking prosthetics, but when you slap those non-functional glasses on your face, it's a) retarded and b) a little disrespectful.

a little late.

2009-04-30T18:50:00.000-07:00

today my mom and i were driving home from lowe's, and it was hot, so my mother suggested we stop to purchase cold coffee drinks. after obnoxiously slurping down her frappucino, the following conversation occured.

mom: i feel like edward.
me: ... who is edward?
mom: edward. his hands and lips are always cold.
me: (after a solid moment) oh my god. you're talking about edward cullen, a fictional vampire douchebag from twilight.

so, my mom and brother (who swears he is not a homosexual) have been super into this shit lately. and because they had both finished the books, they rented the movie. a vampire lovestory written by a mormon sounds pretty retarded to me, and despite testimonials of probably dozens of people, i have had no desire to read these books.

now that i have watched about 45 minutes of the unintentionally hilarious movie, i am so glad i went with my instinct. because even if the book is far better, as i have been assured by many, i can sum up my feelings about this argument with the age old saying, "you can't polish a turd."

a few things.

2009-04-26T13:41:00.000-07:00

there are some topics i feel i must talk about. they vary in levels of importance.

1. why is the popularity of maxi-dresses soaring? i do not understand. they are ugly on about 96 percent of the population. really, unless you are a pregnant nicole richie, you should probably steer clear.

2. i got boobs when i was probably ten or eleven. they were nothing to write hugh hefner about, but they were bigger than the sets other girls my age were sporting. they did not slow in their growth until i was close to finishing high school. unfortunately, the rest of my body stopped growing when i was twelve, leaving me with a (not quite) 5'2'' frame to lug around my extra-full fun bags. so, shopping for bras is typically a demoralizing process. mostly because i think several brands tend to vanity size, to give ladies of more modest bust the impression that their cup size is larger than it is, which is pretty silly and inconvenient for some of us who have a hard enough time even finding a 34DD, only to spew out at the sides. if i were to find a bra that was able to sufficiently cover my assets, it would undoubtedly be ugly. like, "my grandma's hand-me-down" ugly.

but a few days ago i made a life-changing discovery while at dillard's. i was casually perusing the intimates section when i picked up an attractive bra and realized that the entire rack consisted of bras for C-cups and greater. the brand is lunaire (with a collection called "whimsy"), and it's not any more expensive than most department store brands but definitely better looking. if you or someone you know has a supersized rack, pass the word along.

3. my dog totally just held his puke until i opened the door to let him out. how thoughtful.

4. i am once again unsure of what to do with my life. i really thought i wanted to major in journalism and then apply that degree to a career that involved writing. but i am inclied to feel like i don't really need to go to school for that. i should just be able to get a job and work my way up. and i am worried about job security and lack of income because even employed journalists tend to make moderate wages. i don't really see myself living an extravagant lifestyle, but i would like to feel secure and be able to afford having babies at some point down the road. i'm sure it's possible, but journalism so competitive and i know the work itself would be stressful. i just don't know if i'll be able to take it as far as i'm picturing it in my head. i would certainly not want to write for a local newspaper forever.

because of this i have thrust myself back into quarter-life crisis mode. i have been considering switching my final career destination to somewhere in the medical field. because a)i find it intersting and b)people are always getting sick, which is conducive to employment. ideally, i would like to be a medical examiner because i wouldn't need to have a bedside manner. but you have to be a doctor in order to medically examine the deceased, and i am really not that committed. this is why i am seriously thinking about becoming a nurse.

it feels like selling out. but i think it might just be a sign of maturation. i really have no idea what i'm doing. lolz.

just being hypocritical.

2009-04-10T13:33:00.000-07:00

i have a lot of internal dialogue. it would be a monologue, but i am a gemini. so i really do just have a lot of back and forth in my own head. typically over lots of unimportant things. a recurring topic is how much i love/hate the internet.

i care about the internet very much. it makes life so god damn convenient all the time. and you can download things illegally, therefore saving money and the environment because you don't have to burn those fossil fuels to get to the movie theater or wherever it is that people buy music. the internet can give directions, and recipes and teach you do a variety of activities, like crocheting or giving blow jobs.

so, let me make it clear, i do not want to give up the internet. but i definitely think the internet has caused some damage to society or at least my faith in it.

first of all, if you ever needed reassurance that much of the population is of shockingly low intelligence, visit yahoo answers or read the user comments on news articles. it's depressing.

while the internet obviously offers a wealth of information, i am beginning to realize that this is not always a good thing. for example, i had a doctor's appointment today. i was asking her questions and twice they directly contradicted with what i had read on the world wide web. so now i don't know if i should a)assume this doctor does not know what she is talking about or b)stop believing everything i read on seemingly credible websites offering health-related information.

my most pressing internal battle involving the internet concerns personal/social networking websites. i totally have a myspace (...and a facebook that i never update so it doesn't count as existing), and i am definitely writing a fucking blog right now, which in intself concerns me. myspace has been extraordinarily useful in allowing me to keep in touch with far away people, while also allowing me to remember what they look like in different settings (by themsevles, at parties, during summer, at christmas etc) and keep up with their current interests and state of mind. all of this i like.

but here's what i don't: all of these sites -- myspace, facebook, twitter... especially twitter -- are so self-indulgent. once again, i recognize that i am writing a blog, and i am a self-absorbed asshole myself. this is essentially the whole crux of my internal dialogue. but have we, as human beings, always been this voyeuristic and eager to portray ourselves for others? were we just waiting for the appropriate medium to enable us?

i can't really say that it's a good thing to have these tools to attempt to manipulate the way that people see you in real life. because you are not your myspace profile. and you are not cooler because you list abstract bands in your music section. nor are you a photographer just because you have a nice camera, and having a myspace music profile does not make you talented. i am not writing this angrily but factually.

self-obsession is really something that should be frowned upon not encouraged. the internet has clearly made delusions of grandeur remarkably easier to develop and maintain, which is a fairly toxic side effect of the greatness that is the world wide web.

but srsly.

2009-03-22T17:33:00.000-07:00

a few weeks prior to the election i had a dream that barack obama was attempting to feed me roofies. what i'm realizing now is that it's really important to listen to your subconscious cues. i know no one really likes to hear political wank because it's everywhere. but i had another dream last night that i tried to break a bottle over nancy pelosi's head, so maybe it's a sign that i just need to voice my frustrations in a blog that no one reads.

when obama was telling the world that he was change we could believe in, i was not expecting him to fix everything in a short period of time or maybe even ever. but i was kind of expecting him to select a treasury secretary who -- oh, i don't know -- paid his taxes. or make good on the promise of transparency by putting a 1,000+ page bill on the internet for the public to read before having congress vote on it, not after it's already become law. or at least allowing congress sufficient time to read this monster before having to vote on it. or after months of campaigning against pork spending in bills, to actually veto a bill filled with 8,000 of these projects instead of signing it and saying, "this is the last time you're going to get away with this, respresentatives. do you hear me?"

after the stimulus bill first passed, i kept hearing obama say things like, "why wouldn't we replace the federal fleet with hybrid cars?" well, at this very moment in time, that is totally not a fucking priority.

another issue that i am often contemplating is that there is not a lot of accountablity among the government, which is frightening considering how much power they really have. several of these incredibly people regulating the amount of money people give to the government DON'T PAY THEIR OWN TAXES AND DON'T FACE ANY LEGAL REPURCUSSIONS, which is very upsetting to me. but also, nobody will take any fucking responsibility for any type of major fuck up. like chris dodd singing "i didn't have anything to do with those millions of dollars in bonuses given to AIG assholes" one day and then changing his tune to "actually, i sort of did," the next. and yes, i know that president bush did not leave office with anything close to a surplus, but these billions and billions and billions of dollars that are being spent now are not being signed off by bush.

and i don't really fully understand how these people are going to fix a crisis laregely related to people living beyond their financial means by placing the nation into such a staggering level of debt. and i also don't understand how the government can ignore that most economists are not impressed by this plan. but i go to a community college, so what do i know.

a blog about t-pain.

2009-03-08T19:36:00.001-07:00

there is a person in popular culture who i think about quite often because i find his prominence and influence to be somewhat puzzling. his name is t-pain. of course that's not his real name, which is faheem rasheed najm, which is of islamic origin because t-pain is muslim. which is kind of funny, even though it probably shouldn't be.

but t-pain's faith is not what brings me here today.

first of all, i am very impressed by this man's ability to have completely infiltrated the rap and r&b market without anybody caring that he is really quite limited in his talents. every song he is involved with sounds exactly the same, and in my conservative estimations, he has collaborated with every artist who has been on BET at any time within the last two years. i am sure he is paid a large sum of money for his work and know he is very prolific. i would say that he could very comfortably retire right now, at the age of 23.* and i politely request that he consider this plan of action.

because i think t-pain has reached the maximum number of auto-tuned songs about drinking and fucking girls (who may or may not be strippers) in or around cars or after telling them about your car anyone should produce within a lifetime. seriously. and he has only been doing this professionally for a few years. what's even stranger about t-pain's appeal is that i kind of doubt any of his lyrical content is based in fact.

here's why:

i have kind of a hard time believing women are dying to rip their panties off for this man, if you see what i'm getting at. (that's subtle for, "t-pain is unattractive.") which in a way, makes me even more impressed that he has been able to make such a successful living by singing songs about scoring all of these shawties, if you will. this is why i feel like "chopped and screwed" is the only song based on his personal experiences. i totally believe that he has been led on by ladies aplenty who just wanted him to buy them drinks but did not want to go back to the crib to get down to business.

but enough is enough. please stop making music. i will buy you a drank.

*i cannot believe this man is not even a full four years older than me and so ridiculously well accomplished. it's giving me a complex.

update: weather.com knows what it's talking about.

2009-03-01T10:56:00.000-08:00

it is snowing.

and i'm not just talking sprinkled baby flakes. there is a blanket of snow covering lawns and roofs in my neighborhood, and the rate of precipitation has not slowed. i feel like i woke up in northern idaho.

needless to say, i want to kill myself. but this is obviously indicative of the rapture being near, so i guess i'll just wait it out.

weather.com is a mockery.

2009-02-27T09:00:00.000-08:00

i compulsively check the weather forecast. and not exclusively for phenix city, alabama, where i reside. last night when i came home from work at 12:30, i made my internet rounds, which included weather.com. and that is when i saw this:

at initial discovery, i thought i was perhaps hallucinating, but it has not been adjusted since. so let's examine sunday, march 1.

snow showers? OH HALE NAW.

constant struggle.

2009-02-16T10:11:00.000-08:00

i used to revel in my ability to say something terribly mean/accurate/sometimes funny about nearly anyone at any given moment. then i realized that this trait is a top qualifier for being a fucking bitch. when you put it that way ("fucking bitch"), it doesn't sound as remotely flattering as "bitingly witty" or whatever i thought myself to be. so, upon realizing that my negative comments were not conducive to anyone's well-being, i have been working hard to not be so critical of others. except for celebrities. celebrities always have and always will be fair game.

i have mellowed out a ton over the last two or so years. this might be because i keep to myself much more than i used to. unfortunately, being an asshole is like riding a bike and because i am now around people 24/7, it is becoming a lot harder to not talk shit. the asshole in me blames this on the sheer stupidity of other people, but i know that there will always be people with objectionable qualities among the general public, and my fuming about it will not make them go away. i know this. really, the ultimate obstacle in not being mean is the ability to not chime in when someone else opens the the flood gates for the sizing up of others, especially when the potential for unfavorable comments about the given topic are aplenty.

i know that this behind-the-back spouting of negativity is entirely futile, and it must come to an end. if you want to wear inappropriate clothing for your body type or lie compulsively or whatever, that is totally your prerogative, as bobby brown and britney spears would say. and it is not, contrary to intuitive reflex, my place to undermine anyone's choices or experiences. i don't even know why i think i am so qualified for this position in the first place.

but chris brown (who falls under the celebrity clause) i will probably never get over the fact that you sent rihanna to the emergency room. simply inexcusable, young man.

mia giving birth on stage.

2009-02-09T09:43:00.000-08:00

and being fucking adorable while doing so.

p.s. kanye, your hair is ridiculous. not in a good way.

being an addict sucks.

2009-02-07T19:36:00.000-08:00

i have previously discussed my addiction to pepsi one. people seem to find this to be a laughable exaggeration, but i promise you. i am an addict. from what i've gathered from a selection of television programs, once you're an alcoholic, you are always an alcoholic. and that is how i feel about my pepsi addiction.

i had been clean for about two months, but i started working at this stupid call center, where vending machines are taunting me at every corner, and i must consume caffeine to prevent me from falling asleep at the wheel on my drive home and suddenly i have relapsed. the vending machines at work don't even sell pepsi products. i have resumed my habit with stand-ins, typically dr. pepper, mostly because i thought i was strong enough to indulge in my habit in moderation, which now that i'm thinking about it, was pretty silly. self-discipline has never, ever, ever been a strong point for me.

i have not succumbed to my urges today or yesterday, but i have been thinking about how delicious a caffeinated, carbonated, artificially colored/flavored beverage would be about fifteen times every hour. i am not making progress.

my main motivation to stop drinking pepsi one 3 times a day was because i thought it would relieve my headaches, but i happen to still be getting those, so i really just don't know if the withdrawals are worth it.

in other news, i really hate school right now. and i think i am becoming more of an asshole again. i blame this on feeling constricted and unsatisfied with my current standing in life. i may appear unusually negative from here on out until further notice.

and in more other news, the ray charles biography ray was on tv today, which prompted me to search him on wikipedia. i am really too hung up on the fact that he had 12 children by 10 different women to care about anything else about him. can you imagine a female in the public eye who could remain respected if she had 12 children by 10 different fathers? (the answer is "no.") if ray charles had been a woman, he would have been chastised more than that single lady who just had the octuplets to add onto her six previous children. i do not understand gender-based standards. ladies are always getting the short end of the stick. that movie in general was pretty depressing for womankind. ray charles did not know how to treat his woman way over town who was good to him.

but he did have some bitchin' tunes and there is a sign i pass on i-85 that says, "we're glad georgia's on your mind!" that always makes me smile, so i guess it is unfair to be hostile toward the (dead) man.

so, um.

2009-01-24T19:21:00.001-08:00

as you may or may not know, i have been unemployed for roughly seven months. at the start of this period, i was very desperately seeking work, then i got hired at tj maxx, made the mistake of telling them that i was going to need to be in germany over christmas, (because honesty is the best policy...) at which point they swiftly unhired me, and i decided i did not want to deal with this bullshit until 2009.

so, i finally got hired at a call center a few days ago and have already been reprimanded for my skirt length. now i am working 40 hours a week, my shift running from 3-midnight and going to school full time, the whipped topping on my shit pile. but i must persevere. mostly because i have been lazy enough for a long time. and because i have, like, negative dollars to my name.

i am going to be twenty this year. i realize that it's january 24th, which is a pretty random date to be considering my birthday, which is on june 15th, but this has for some reason just dawned on me and is sort of freaking me out. i need to get some shit done in that decade.

winning the lottery, for example, is at the top of my list.

i also hope to finally have my destined meeting with a rapper during this time in my life because i might not care anymore when i'm in my thirties, as i will be far too refined to keep up with rap music at that point.

i wonder if i will start to look older in my twenties, and if people will stop asking me if i'm still in high school. recently there have been a few occasions where i have been asked if i'm married, which is very confusing to me because i associate marriage with old age, but i suppose one only has to be 18. i also find it rather strange when i am posed this question since i am never with anyone who could possibly be a contender for a husband-type position, and i do not wear a wedding ring.

what's up, dream come true?

2009-01-18T10:19:00.000-08:00

when i was a child, i watched dirty dancing, like, literally once a day. i was creepy and obsessed with a) dancing like jennifer grey or "baby," if you will and b) patrick swayze.

you can imagine my utter shock and delight at the discovery of this, the dirty dancing official workout:

i'm not really sure what sort of statistics they used to be able to proclaim dirty dancing as "the number one movie of all time!" but this kind of ridiculousness makes me fall more in love.

i only have one question: do they teach you how to do the legendary lift?

the perks of having a non-native english speaking parent.

2009-01-16T13:37:00.000-08:00

i strolled into my living room to find my mom watching a show on the ever compelling lifetime network that featured a very blonde, very white trash woman discussing how she needed a manicure. and another woman wearing a very age-inappropriate, too-short denim skirt, who upon walking into the house sarcastically offered the fat man on the couch another beer.

me: what is this?
mom: wife swamp.

hate that i love you.

2009-01-12T10:15:00.000-08:00

whoever is in control of rihanna's career is some kind of genius. she has steadily been benefitting from the same album for over a year and a half now. last summer she released a "deluxe" version of good girl gone bad with a whopping three new songs, all of which were released as singles, "take a bow" (the poor man's "irreplaceable"), "disturbia" (the catchiest song with the most nonsensical lyrics about being some sort of paranoid schizophrenic i have ever heard) and "if i never see your face again" (a mediocre song she did with maroon 5 that i have never listened to in its entirety).

then, at the end of november, she released "rehab" as a single. this was on the very first edition of the album. it has been at the disposal of the millions of people who bought/illegally downloaded that shit in 2007 for a minute. (this actually means that it's been around for a very long time. not a minute. i don't really get it. but i like to say it.) and still, somehow, it is getting a shit ton of rotation. even i for some reason like better now that it's a single. it is my jam, if you will. how is she doing this?

something else i don't understand about "rehab" is the video. it features a pantless rihanna awkwardly interacting with justin timberlake, whose appearance in the video is pretty unnecessary, even if he did write it. his only lines are, "now ladies gimme that.." and "uh, now gimme that." arguably, not the most vital parts of the song. and i just don't understand how being out in the desert on a car or in a trailer in a variety of outfits -- none of which involve pants, even though some of them should -- with the man you are pining for really correlates to having a post-break up meltdown. i mean, he's still there in the desert with her, and they are fondling each other on the hood of a car, so what is the problem? other than the whole thing being rather cringe-inducing.

here is the video. in case someone can explain to me the deeper meaning of it all:

i am pretty inspirational.

2009-01-06T15:03:00.000-08:00

first, i would just like to share this incredibly sexy picture of my nearly 20-pound cat. just look at this stud:

i hate it when my attention is drawn to how terrible all the foods i love are for my body. i'm no dummy. i always know that when i am eating potato chips and tostitos salsa con queso, i am not really receiving any nutritional benefits, but when dr. oz is on oprah listing the five ingredients to avoid and the majority of them make up, like, everything that tastes good to me, it is really annoying. I JUST WANT TO LIVE, okay? with my refined sugars and high fructose corn syrup. maybe some day i will be able to afford to be one of those pretentious whole foods nazis. but i just can't help that i love processed foods. just like amy winehouse can't really help it that she is addicted to crack.

despite my unapologetic love for these substances of questionable nutritional value, i fear that someday this will all catch up with me and i will not only be large and in charge, but plagued by various health issues. i do not, however, see myself setting aside the flamin' hot cheetos within the foreseeable future. i hate this condition where i can acknowledge that there is obviously a problem, but i don't care enough to do anything about it. it is such a naggy feeling. like i have to justify to myself why i am entitled to be eating things with enriched flour.

another annoyance in life is girls with low self-esteem. i can let it slide if you are 11-16, because you are probably kind of ugly at this point in time (well, i was.) and you are just constantly thinking stupid, selfish, unnecessarily dramatic things about every aspect of your life. so go ahead, hate the way you look. you will realize how dumb you were during this age eventually. as a general rule, however, i feel like it's sort of disrespectful to constantly nitpick your appearance when you are anatomically normal and your body performs all of its required functions with ease. because there are people who are less fortunate and have, like, five faces with no eyes or mermaid legs. those afflictions, my friends, are things you can legitimately feel bad about.

people (typically in the media) like to say that the media's portrayal of women has set unrealistic expectations for what is considered beautiful. i won't dispute this claim. but i don't really think this is the media's fault. they only show what people want to see, and people want to see attractive people with nice bodies. women who get down on themselves for not looking as good as a victoria's secret model when clothed only in underwear should consider the following:

1)those women have been genetically blessed to be more attractive than everybody else. that is why they are paid millions of dollars for hanging out in their bras.

2)they photoshop those pictures, anyway. and while i'm sure that giselle bundchen looks pretty good naked in real life, she probably looks even better after those photos are edited.

3)those girls probably never get to eat carbs and have to exercise all the time. that sounds like such a fucking drag. i would say that if you are eating pasta and are not on a grueling workout schedule, you don't really have a right to complain about not having the trimmest of physiques. am i rite?

so, sure, one could argue that the portrayal of women in various types of media is unrealistic in comparison to what women actually look like. but for women to feel bad about themselves because they don't look like these women is just stupid. take a look around, i'm sure there is someone fatter/uglier than you in the real world. and i'm sure that there will always be someone skinnier/prettier. but more importantly, perhaps we should just be comfortable with the face and shape that was provided to us and focus on being grateful for all the nice things our bodies do for us on a constant basis.

amen.

Things I recall from my trip to Germany

2009-01-04T12:27:00.000-08:00

There was this family that sat in front of us on the plane, and the mother and father were both german, yet their two children appeared to only speak English. I did not understand this. They were kind of obnoxious, but fucking adorable. I spent approximately twenty minutes making faces at this two-and-a-half-year-old child when he would stick his head above the seat to look at me. He seemed very entertained by this. But then a few hours into the flight his mood shifted, and he just cried loudly while we crossed the Atlantic. While in a restaurant with my family in Erlangen about a week later, I once again caught the attention of a toddler-aged boy who found it rather amusing to make eye contact with me, hide, then reappear and laugh joyously when i smiled at him. I am a big hit with the preschool fellas.

My uncles Michael and Peter picked us up from the airport. We got to the car and Michael promptly handed my father a beer. My mother inquired whether there were laws in germany about drinking in your car. He seemed shocked at this nonsense idea and said no. My mother explained that in America, this is not allowed. To which Michael replied, “Everything is not allowed in America."

I was under the impression that all Europeans hate Americans, but they actually pretty openly borrow from American culture. For example, slogans of soaps and banks and whatnot are often in English. And on MTV Germany, they play classic American television shows such as Parental Control and A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila, using only German subtitles. While American television may bring the trashy, german television is all about the cheesy. Hannah Montana is on prime-time television and I'm pretty sure Miley Cyrus is going to take over the world.

Within my first few days there, my cousin took me to two bars. One was called Paunchy Cats (I don’t know what it is with germans and English names for things). I don’t know what the other one was called. Consuming alcohol in establishments erected for this purpose is expensive. I think I would rather get shitfaced at home and then go to one of these places. Or just not.

Most people in germany are pretty slender. But those who are noticeably overweight do not give a fuck. There was this one heavier girl in particular who danced like she was auditioning for the Elizabeth Berkley masterpiece Showgirls, which was just mildly entertaining until she took off her jacket to reveal a top that can best be described as a one-piece bathing suit. It did not provide her chest area with the coverage it needed. A few men seemed to like this and paid her much attention. So the fact that my cousin and her friends (and myself. Cough.) mocked her dance moves endlessly throughout the night probably wouldn’t have even bothered her had she realized this was happening. You go, girl.

The night definitely increased in its level of enjoyment as people became more intoxicated and started dancing more freely. The drunkest dancer of them was my cousin’s friend who was, in fact, completely sober. I loved her. However, watching people grind to such well-known party tunes as “Killing in the Name” by Rage Against the Machine or “Rape Me” by Nirvana is somewhat off-putting.

I have a question: Do people really meet persons of romantic interest in bars? These seems impossible. Drunk strangers, men in particular, have a tendency to be slightly repulsive, I have found. I was sober one night in this club that was probably filled beyond capacity (causing me to repeatedly ponder how fucked we all would be if there was a fire) and people were somewhat unpleasant and sweaty. Men kept unnecessarily touching me in passing. If people my cousin did not introduce me to attempted to speak to me, I just told them that I didn’t speak any German and they thankfully did not speak English well. One boy attempted to hold a conversation by asking me why I was here, and I told him I was there for vacation. He then said, “You are here for work?” and I said, “No. Vacation. The opposite of work.” And he said, “Vacation is the same as ‘holiday?’” and I said yes. I could tell he was trying really hard to uncover whatever English phrases he could remember, making this all the more awkward. I glanced around to find my cousin, who upon taking in the situation simply steered me away. I think if I was this courageous young man, I would have killed myself.

There were far too many people on the verge of making love in this club. One girl was completely gone at the time she first entered my view (I could tell because she was dancing while simultaneously and obliviously dumping her beer behind her head) and several hours later she was pretty literally eating/having her face eaten by a boy I am not sure if she was previously acquainted with. But I am sure that it was fucking gross to watch. It went on for far too long. I’m not so sure if I am cut out for drinking in public.

On a completely unrelated note, light switches in germany are sometimes located on the outside of rooms, especially bathrooms. So whenever excreting waste, I am paranoid that some immature soul is going to flip the switch at a most inconvenient time. On new years eve, while extremely and embarrassingly intoxicated, I accidentally turned off the light on some poor girl using the bathroom, leaving her in complete darkness. Proof that I sometimes worry about things that could actually happen to people.

I am now tired and therefore finished discussing my trip. Trust that the rest of my journey was alright. Although, I am fairly happy to be in my normal surroundings again.

you only get one shot.

2008-12-17T18:04:00.000-08:00

people always tell you: "don't smoke cigarettes or crack. they will cause addiction and the latter will likely lead to homelessness/whitney houston-like insanity." but nobody ever says to you (except that sometimes they do), "don't drink pepsi one. it will cause addiction and the most persistent migraines known to man." well, i am giving this piece of advice to you and myself in writing because i need constant reminders. i was totally in recovery, not depending on the sweet chemical taste or the caffeine fix, and then i had some stressful times, and i fell back into the three a day habit, and for a few days now, i have had a headache that ibuprofen simply will not remedy. but the most fucked up part is that i am still drinking pepsi one. this must end... tonight.

tomorrow evening i'm going to germany. this is where i spent the majority of my childhood, and i haven't seen it since i turned twelve, so i guess i am excited. but i am also slightly apprehensive. i fear my german will not be as fluent as it was when it was my primary language, and everyone will ridicule me for it. because germans are assholes. i'm pretty sure that's where i get it from... my heritage. i also am not looking forward to a nine-hour plane ride. but it won't be with american airlines, so i think i can expect some snacks and movies and things that make planes more enjoyable.

i hope the two weeks go by quickly. mostly because i am all about time passing swiftly for the next few months. i hope i have a nice time. i intend to drink publicly at every opportunity, so this should help.

PS i am going to be in the atlanta airport. please, forces of the universe, let me see someone more famous than beth ditto.

this is not what i asked for.

2008-12-13T19:35:00.000-08:00

when i was making my way back to the south, i had a two hour layover in portland. i was pretty fucking despondent upon landing because i had to get up several hours prior to the crack of dawn but primarily because of a handsome young lad unfortunately located in spokane. upon landing, i discovered my next flight was delayed for an hour, which could have potentially fucked my other connection to get to atlanta, which was now scheduled to depart about 10 minutes after my delayed flight landed. so, i was forced to sit in the terminal, miserable, tired and anxious, for about three hours.

as time passed, the gate area filled up, and this group of loud, dirty, douchey-looking hipsters sat in the row across from me. because they were not using library voices, i could overhear their conversations with ease. they talked about guitars and basketball and how they hoped their luggage was now going to make it onto the plane since they were late, but the flight was delayed. and how much it would suck to have to wear these boots in miami, their final destination, for a week if it didn't. and what to tell your doctor to get certain prescription medications, like ambien and xanax. i also watched them play on the walking escalator things you find in airports. the entire duration of my waiting period i kept thinking, "you people are obnoxious," and, "the chubby girl looks oddly familiar." then i got on the plane, seated far away from any of these people, and continued to soak in my misery.

today i was doing my daily celebrity gossip browsing and saw the following:

that is beth ditto. she is the singer in a group called the gossip, who i have read about on lots of occasions but never actually listened to. i'm pretty sure the only reason i am at all familiar with them is because beth ditto usually does things like this:

i for some reason thought that the gossip were british. but i think that's just because people actually care about them in england. so, when i saw that orange-haired girl this morning, i immediately thought, "she looks just like that person whose obnoxiousness kept me distracted from my depression at the pdx airport," and moved on. but i kept thinking about it today, so i did a little bit of investigating to find out that a) beth ditto is from arkansas, not england. b) she was voted the coolest person in rock by nme magazine c) the gossip is based in portland, oregon and d) they performed at some art thing in miami at the beginning of december.

underwhelming conclusion: i finally saw (someone who is considered) a celebrity (by some people) up close in an airport and didn't even realize it or give a shit.

obviously, i have been robbed. why wasn't it a famous rapper in atlanta, like i have been politely requesting for the last two and a half years? or kim kardashian? or just someone i would have instantly recognized and wanted to take a picture with, huh? this would have without a doubt made me feel better at the time. now i am left feeling empty and cheated because that was probably my only "get to see a celebrity at an airport" card, and i accidentally used it up on this bitch. it's not even a cool fucking story.

fuck my life.

it's like i don't even know who i am anymore.

2008-12-09T17:44:00.000-08:00

throughout the rise in popularity of leggings and tights i have firmly preached one truth and that is that they are not pants. if you wouldn't wear whatever is covering your upper half without the leggings because it would leave your buttock-area inappropriately exposed, then you should not be wearing it without pants. real, certified pants with pockets. this was my personal standard, and i felt that everyone else on the planet should abide by it as well because i know best. mary-kate olsen could evoke something more positive than a "girl, please," from me when she temporarily quit pants for black tights.

but a few days ago, i broke my rule. i left the house in a plaid shirt that covered my ass in its entirety, yet could not be considered socially acceptable for non-prostitutes without the tights i paired with it. i was walking a thin line, i realize. since this, i have been ardently defending myself to myself and others, even when they have not reproached me. it was strangely liberating, not wearing pants. and comfortable. and i want to do it again. but i feel like this would make me a sell-out. at least i am not wearing uggs (yet).

another issue i am currently dealing with is that i am growing to tolerate, maybe even kind of like katy perry. "i kissed a girl" was catchy, but too obnoxious to like. i don't know if i hated it because a) it trivialized homosexuality, b) every drunk girl has kissed one of her own and probably didn't mind it, so why write a song about this fact of life and pretend to be bold, katy perry? or c) because every time it came on the radio when i was in the presence of my mother, i feared she would ask, "have you ever kissed a girl, stephanie?," and i would not be able to lie convincingly enough in my response. now that it's not being forced into my ears eight times daily, it doesn't seem so awful. and should i happen to be in the presence of the current katy perry single, "hot n cold" (ugh.) i will totally bop along to that shit. it cannot be helped.

i also frequently feel the urge to be doing domestic things, such as baking or crafty activties. and instead of working on my final projects, the due dates to which are approaching rapidly, i am simply pretending they do not exist.

forever young.

2008-12-06T16:13:00.000-08:00

i am super into baby pictures. any baby pictures, really. this should not really come as a surprise because i am interested in baby anythings. like these mindblowingly adorable orange kittens i saw today up for adoption. when i am a responsible adult who is not afraid of commitment, the first thing i will do is get a kitten to call my own and name it something really witty/badass/original. but i digress. i really want to talk about these old pictures i found recently. i know my parents care for me, and i suppose you could say i have turned out alright, but i do question some of their parenting decisions.

here i am, about a year old, drinking beer:
this type of behavior helps to explain why i look a tiny bit shitfaced in so many photographs of my toddler times. like these:

this next picture seems normal to the untrained eye. i still have the frames to those glasses i'm wearing and still plan on filling them with my prescription. but let me draw your attention to my sweater.
it's sort of hard to tell in this version. but it appears to read "ethnic heart romance." i'm pretty sure it was purchased in germany, yet this is no excuse because a)my mother should have spoken enough english to know better and b)my american father definitely knew better. also, who decided to put that text on a child's sweater in the first place. or anyone's sweater, really?

the most troubling photographic discovery i found was one of me on fasching, which is sort of like mardi gras, when i was seven years old. i remember that my costume was "punk rocker" but it looks a little more like "baby prostitute." does it not?

2008-12-03T11:19:00.000-08:00

i have flown with a lot of different airlines. i have had negative experiences with most of them, but sometimes the airline itself cannot be blamed when the weather is really at fault. even though i realize this, i am generally convinced all airlines are out to fuck me.

most recently i flew with american airlines, who i would not recommend. i don't really know anything about them, but they seem a little low budget. this would not be an issue at all if that's what i had expected. but the price i paid for the ticket did not lead me to believe this was the motel 6 of the air travel world. usually on long flights they try to meet your entertainment needs by showing an in-flight movie or once i was on a plane that had tv screens in the backs of all the seats and you could watch three hours of project runway on bravo and just enjoy your life, despite being on an airplane. they also usually give you some peanuts or crackers or pretzels for free. american airlines does not provide any of these services. and their planes are fucking tiny and uncomfortable.

they also make you pay to check your baggage, which i understood when it was making up for profits lost while gas was $6859 barrel, but now that it's significantly lower, they could probably get rid of this fee. i'm even more sure they could get rid of this fee because my flight to spokane was operated by american airlines all the way up to my last transfer in portland, when it swtiched to horizon, so i had to pay twenty bucks or something to check my bag. my flight back to the ATL started out with the 50-minute horizon flight to portland (on which they serve free snacks! by the way), and then turned into american airlines. when i checked my luggage in spokane, with horizon, nobody prompted me to give them my money. confused, i said to the horizon employee, "i don't have to pay for this?" to which he replied, "no." even though american airlines was going to be carrying my shit for about five times they amount of time horizon was. fuck american airlines, i say.

anyway, this is irreverent and funny, yet not lacking in message:

See more Jack Black videos at Funny or Die

my main squeeze.

2008-11-16T08:20:00.000-08:00

i used to judge people who dressed up their dogs. i would pretend to ask these pet owners, "why are you doing that to this poor animal?" now i know. because forcing your dogs to wear human clothes is fun!

i felt the urge to outfit my dogs on numerous occasions, but i fought it by telling myself, "stephanie, you are not that person." but i also used to genuinely believe i had a type b personality. obviously i don't always know myself as well as i think i do.

so, here's my dog woody looking like a fly son of a bitch (pun not really intended).

i wish his eye glowed like that in person.

like that old, kind of sexist showtune goes..

2008-11-14T17:20:00.000-08:00

i enjoy being a girl.

except for when my uterus feels like it's trying to separate itself from my body.

thanks, menstruation!

loving, as always.

2008-11-12T18:18:00.000-08:00

my brother: what is this movie called?
my mother: the good german.
my dad, glancing at my german mother: ...it's a fairy tale.

still waiting for an ATL sequel, to be honest.

2008-11-12T13:07:00.000-08:00

i woke up after receiving not nearly enough sleep. i am a solid seven hours minimum kind of girl. if this condition is not met, i am automatically programmed to be miserable until i can complete a nap, which i have at this point and incidentally feel much better. one of the many times i was unnecessarily awakened throughout the night can be attributed to dewey, my cat, lover and friend, making this awful hacking noise that only signals one thing: hairball. it was approximately 4:17 AM, but i can tell you that upon realizing what was about to take place at the end of my bed, i thought loudly, "OH, HELL NAW!" and like one swift motherfucker, i scooped up dewey and escorted him outside in a matter of seconds. crisis averted.

i straightened my hair yesterday, so when i woke up i did not look, as my father sometimes puts it, "like medusa." this allowed me to sleep for an extra half an hour in lieu of showering. probably one of the best decisions i've ever made.

i like to plan ahead, and because i know that on days i am tired, there is a chance i will find time to sleep in my car in the school parking lot, which usually results in dry contacts for the rest of the day. in anticipation of this chain of events i wore my glasses, but you can't wear glasses when you are applying eye make-up. i am pretty adept at this process as i have been doing it for centuries (..not quite), yet i somehow managed to stab myself in the eye about three different times. so, i was not really feeling this wednesday morning. but then, on my drive to school, i hit EVERY SINGLE red light. when i was born, god or whatever gives you magical powers said, "let this girl be able to avoid 90 percent of all red lights, usually by staring at them really hard to keep them green." but i was definitely off today because i was so tired. so i couldn't focus my precious energy on the traffic lights. it took me ridiculously long to get to school.

the bright side (i am quite the optimist) is that because it took me so long, i got to listed to "live your life" by t.i. featuring rihanna like 85030 times. i remember when i first heard it i thought, "is this really sampling that numa numa shit from several years ago?" and that was it. i could not get past the beginning bars. i refused to take it seriously. but i am an idiot because it is totally my jam and revolutionizing my life.

there is some incongruity in the message of the lyrics, because in the verses t.i. sort of implies that money isn't everything and you need to get your priorities straight, but in the chorus rihanna is all, "you're gonna be a shining star. in fancy clothes and faaaancy caa-aars" and "i'm a pay-pah chay-sah." (that is rihannian for "paper chaser." we all know she is not the best at pronouncing things accurately. she did turn umbrella into four syllables.) but whatever, i can totally still relate.

and, honestly, who can't identify with lyrics like, "i pray for patience, but they make me want to melt they face away?" (this is basically the story of my life.) and who hasn't dealt with people who "said they sold yay and no,they couldn't get work on labor day?" i certainly have. but i most poignantly connect to the description of being "articulate, but still i'll grab a nigga by the collah quick."

so live your life, ayyyyyyy ayyy ayyyyy.

i do not endorse true blood.

2008-11-09T15:25:00.000-08:00

i was haphazardly trying to find something to watch, and i noticed there was a true blood marathon on hbo. i knew the following: it's about vampires, and anna paquin is on it. in an effort to learn more, i decided to rest the remote. i cannot say i was necessarily enthralled by the show's premise of vampires struggling to be accepted by society in louisiana. but it's an hbo show, so people kept having sex and nothing else was on. therefore i stayed tuned.

i continued to watch for three hours, attempting to discern my feelings about the show. i wanted to like it, but it was just too fucking weird. like, at one point anna paquin got the shit kicked out of her and had to consume her vampire-friend's blood to survive. so he (the vampire) bit a chunk out of his wrist, and she sucked on it for a long time in a way one might suck on another male appendage. so, that was awkward to watch.

a few episodes later, anna paquin's womanizing brother drank a whole vile of vampire blood, resulting in the word's most unrelenting erection. i knew it was time for me to move on when he announced something along the lines of, "i feel like i have gout of the dick."

that was definitely the deal breaker. but a minor, yet persistent issue i had with the show was that anna paquin's character is named "sookie," which is so incredibly unpleasant to my ears. it invokes an inexplicable hatred in me, sort of like drew barrymore. i wish it was pronounced like "soupy," but it isn't. and until this changes, i don't want to hear it. ever.

fuck that shit.

2008-11-05T16:46:00.000-08:00

sometimes people say things to me regarding myself that make me wonder which of the following scenarios is occuring 1) people are intrepreting me all wrong or 2) i am severely lacking in self-awareness. because people make declarations about me that sort of baffle me, like once a stranger in an elevator told me i "seem like a really happy person" at a point when this was definitely not applicable. more recent cases have been "i thought you were a hardcore emo chick" (um, what?) or today's, "you put on your stripper boots!" (for the record, they are black, non-patent, flat, below the knee boots. and while i occasionally may dabble in sporting dresses that are perhaps dangerously close to hovering at the labia, today was not one of them.) in summary, i frequently appear to be really happy, annoyingly depressed, and kind of easy.

i recently had an epiphany where i determined that it would probably just be in my best interest to major in journalism because it's been a career-path i keep coming back to, and i sort of want to be gloria steinem. or chuck klosterman. or carrie bradshaw. but then today i met with my adviser and realized there is no way i can happily attend this school for another semester, let alone three, before transferring. this triggered a familiar freakout centering around my inability to make and execute plans for my life.

but it's cool because i know i'm going to stumble into a large sum of money soon, which i will use to buy a nice little house someplace pleasant. then i am going to have a garden and learn about things i care about and maybe go on some philanthropic adventures. i am also going to be stoned all the time again. i will have you over for dinner.

2008-11-03T12:30:00.000-08:00

i never know how to feel about beyonce. i love her pretty much any time i associate her with jay-z. it warms my heart to think about how they did "bonnie and clyde '03" and in 2008, it really does appear that nothing and no one will ever come between them.

beyonce is at her best when she is spiteful and a little vindictive (see: "ring the alarm," "irreplaceable") or when she was in destiny's child. most other times she is kind of annoying (see: dreamgirls, interviews, l'oreal commercials). also, her upcoming album is entitled i am... sasha fierce, and i honestly can't comprehend how the people at her record label allowed her to do this.

for some bizarre reason, two singles and videos were released simultaneously for this album. one is a terribly unoriginal and sappy ballad called, "if i were a boy," which i hate so much i don't even want to think about it. the other is the much better "single ladies (put a ring on it)," which sends a clear message to fellas that if you and your lady break up, you have no right to be angry when another man wants to hit it. because if you liked it then you should have put a ring on it.

just like i know that "ring the alarm" was created solely to ensure that no woman will ever go near jay-z as long as beyonce lives, i like to think this song is the reason they got married. i imagine beyonce was like, "hey jigga man, i'm working on this new song. wanna hear it?" of course he obliged. upon completion of the song, he asked, "b, you trying to tell me something?" and she probably said, "i don't know, jay. but remember how pissed i got in the 'ring the alarm' video and how fast i got a new boyfriend in 'irreplaceable'?" and the rest is history.

as a song, "single ladies" is pretty beyonce-like, but the video is... a surprising choice. my initial reaction was literally, "haha... what?" however, i have since watched it an estimated seventeen times and never fail to be greatly entertained by it. although i still don't fully -- or partially -- understand the robotic hand. he didn't put a ring on it, so she cut it off?

i'm a mouse, duh.

2008-11-01T07:14:00.000-07:00

yesterday was halloween, which i don't care about. i'm not just saying that because i am socially challenged at this point in my life. even when i was in high school i never dressed up. (except for when i had a slutty halloween party my senior year. lolz.) i attribute my indifference to halloween to not being able to come up with sweet-ass, original costume ideas yet not wanting to wear something mediocre.

while i usually don't feel the need to personally involve myself with halloween, there is nothing i love more than the sight of a cute baby in a costume. (is this sounding a little a pedo? i assure you it's not.) my neighbors' baby was dressed as a lion, a costume i too once donned as a wee one. another adorable child was a fucking dragon. i'm pretty sure i could hear my ovaries firing off eggs to be fertilized.

on an unrelated note, i used to be totally into remembering my dreams. i would say i'm pretty good at making these recollections. however, i am wishing i could lose this ability because my good to bad dream ratio has consistently been shifting in favor of the negatives. two nights ago i had one where i was in this house with no lights, which was apparently mine, and there was a man who was in an excruciating amount of pain and a baby with a bleeding wound. they were both screaming loudly and it was my responsibility to find the man's painkillers and some gauze to bandage the baby with since we were in my house. i was frantically rummaging through all of these messy, unorganized cupboards in the dark, while the man and baby were screaming and crying and screaming, but all i could find were useless medicines and two passports belonging to my family members.

then last night i had a nice dream where some strange woman told me she liked my eyebrows. so i would say my dream cycle was off to a good start. naturally, this experience was short-lived, as i had this other very realistic, untheatrical dream that was so fucking unpleasant, it caused me to wake up, and i had to be all, "stephanie, check yo self. it's 4 AM and this did not just happen."

like this.

2008-10-29T19:36:00.001-07:00

there is a pregnant woman in my biology class, and today she was saying that she has been having the worst cravings for mcdonald's french fries, but the company supports things that she doesn't agree with, so she doesn't eat there. i was thinking something along the lines of violating animal rights or shitty food quality. but then she said that they contributed money to gay and lesbian organizations, and she would not give them her patronage "for the future of my children." to which i should have said, "yeah, because all of those homosexuals wanting equal rights are such an imminent danger to your family, you dumb bitch." but who wants to fight a pregnant lady?

luckily, my biology professor is this wonderful sudanese man who is rather soft-spoken and has an adorable accent. i was so enamored by him i could not be fully outraged by her ridiculousness. my professor sports a lot of creative outfits, especially for someone who is about sixty years old. today, for example, he was wearing a collared shirt under a multi-color striped beige sweater. over the sweater he had a similarly colored beige blazer with a tiny brown plaid pattern and a matching newsboy cap. he was wearing gray slacks and, to complete the ensemble, brown/beige NIKE DUNKS. i told him i liked his outfit. in response to which he raised his arms, did a spin and said, "thank you, thank you!"

and i died.

i should be studying for my biology test. but i have my priorities.

2008-10-26T16:13:00.000-07:00

first, here is an open letter to kanye west:

dear yeezy,

i have loved you since i was fourteen. that's five years of dedication, which is a lot for someone a)so young and b)so fickle. i love you because you dropped out of college and are living the dream. and because, despite that bloated ego of yours, you have a lot of talent. and because you used to have soul. now you have these weird-ass drum tracks and auto-tune.

i stuck with you through a lot of bullshit. for example, pretty much half of the songs on graduation. and all those pictures of nearly naked skanks on your blog. but like hannah montana preaches, "nobody's perfect," or so i said to myself.

but i have had enough. i have to break up with you because you have really been losing your touch lately. with every new song that surfaces from your upcoming album, i tell myself, "keep an open mind. you can learn to love this shit." but i can't. and i don't want to. because when you really love someone, it should come instinctively.

when you first wanted to rap everyone was all, "you can't rap, youz a producer." and you showed them wrong. and i guess now you are trying to show everyone you're a singer. but... is it really singing when it's auto-tuned?

so, i wish you the best of luck. i hope you understand, and maybe we can still be friends.

yours,
Stephanie

second:

the new object of my affection, and kanye's replacement, is girl talk aka greg gillis. i remember sort of casually listening to a song here and there a year or two ago and thinking it was cool but not really investigating any futher. a few nights ago i downloaded the entire girl talk discography and lost my shit. WHY DIDN'T ANYBODY BOTHER TO TELL ME THAT I NEEDED THIS IN MY LIFE?!! i sort of want to punch any friend of mine who was aware of girl talk's existence and didn't make this recommendation.

who knew it was possible to sample both neutral milk hotel and that song that goes, "i need a dime that's top of the line. cute face, little waist and a big behind" within seconds of each other and make it sound fucking awesome? greg gillis did. or who would dare to couple someone rapping about "getting some head" with sinead o'connor's "nothing compares 2 u?" i think you know the answer.

he even somehow manages to utilize avril lavigne's "girlfriend" in a way that is not entirely annoying.

i am going to be mrs. girl talk. i'm sure of it. and we won't even have to hire a dj for the reception!

samantha brown must die.

2008-10-24T13:22:00.000-07:00

every time passport to (some place awesome) with samantha brown is on my beloved travel channel, i think to myself, "why is this bitch living my life?"

she is barely tolerable most of the time. she is perpetually awkward and makes the lamest jokes. i've seen her consume alcohol in several episodes, and not even this appears to allow her to relax. and yet she somehow convinced people to give her the opportunity to go see all sorts of wonderful places, while meeting interesting people and eating good food.

i would make a much better travel show host than samantha brown. passport to (whatever the season's theme is) with stephanie proft. sounds like an improvement from the original, right?

everybody cares.

2008-10-23T18:31:00.000-07:00

i projectile vomited all over my room last night. i am sort of a chronic oversharer, so i will not divulge details. except that the last thing i ate was lasagna and it was everywhere. today was spent trying to convince my body not to throw up again. it worked, but i still feel pretty barfy.

a somewhat related question: why have celebrities taken it upon themselves to ensure that young people are encouraged to vote? it's not that i disagree with the sentiment that the youth should be active in choosing its representation. i just think it's worrisome if ludacris or jessica alba was the primary motivation to get you to fill out that voter's registration card.

and why do these frivolous celebrities feel they are qualified to give political endorsements? i would bet kanye declared scarlett johansson as his favorite white girl because she is hot, not because she openly endorses barack obama. because i don't think anyone actually gives two shits about her political views, and i think the same goes for virtually every other celebrity who has given his or her endorsement, which is typically for obama (because everyone knows that conservatives do not possess the necessary shining personalities or talent to become famous.. jay kay!!).

i am so glad that elections only happen every four years; i could not possibly stand this fuckery if it occured at smaller intervals. i actually wish this election would just be overwith. i think there is really only so much that can be said about either of the tickets, and we have reached a point where no new arguments are being made. people are just rehashing the same issues, and i think most people having these arguments are fairly set in their opinions, which makes the discussions completely useless and annoying.

finally, liberals and socialists are not offended by being called "a liberal" and/or "socialist." so it is ineffective to use these terms as intended insults.

i need this in my life.

2008-10-19T13:50:00.001-07:00

i'm going to germany for the first time since i was twelve this christmas. i am very excited. i happent to stem from the best part of germany, bavaria. more specifically, i was born in a town called lichtenfels, which is world renowned for being the "german basket city." (fun fact: lichtenfels is actually not that well-known, even among germans.) i think this is reason enough to justify that bavaria is the best region of the country. but if it isn't, i will argue that we speak with the cutest of all the german dialects. it might actually be the only cute german dialect, upon further thought. i would equate it to the american southerner's accent. not so much because bavaria is located in the southern portion of germany, but because it sounds adorably unrefined.

so anyway, i really want someone to get me this dirndl:
(excuse her face, please.)

to celebrate my bavarian heritage on special occasions. or to wear around my house on a daily basis while i bake apfelstrudel and serve overflowing beer mugs to a very fortunate and appreciative man. whichever occurs first.

gross.

2008-10-14T15:40:00.000-07:00

i have a few really obvious defects that are a part of my character and being somewhat obsessive is certainly one of them. sometimes my preoccupations are directed at people i will probably never meet (kanye west, ridiculous celebrities), but other times they are concerned with horrifying yet highly unlikely possibilities. for example, when i was fourteen, i found out that honda is manufacturing robots, and there is chance that these machines could become a part of our society. naturally, i started considering what would happen if these bitches malfunction and kill and/or sabotage their owners, and for a good three years i was regularly haunted by the prospect of evil robots. i am sort of over it, at this point. but i still don't feel like i ever need to see that will smith movie that is basically an enactment of this fear.

as the saying goes, out with the old semi-irrational fear, in with the new. i recently was made aware of a bodily phenomenon known as a "prolapse," which is best described, i guess, as an event where certain organs that should remain on the inside of your body, fall out of place and then suddenly become visible to outside viewers. i think the most terrifying and well-known kinds of prolapses are those of the anus and uterus. YOUR ASSHOLE AND VAGINA , ladies, CAN TURN THEMSELVES INSIDE OUT.

i know it sounds scary, but wait till curiosity gets the better (or worst, i'd say) of you, and you decide to google for pictures. i know i am prone to speak in hyperbole, but it is seriously the most fucking horrifying thing i have ever laid eyes upon and makes me want to die. the worst one was a picture of a man whose anus prolapsed while he was doing some heavy weightlifting. and i cannot get it out of my head. all day i've been having visions of these godawful pictures, praying that my anus and vagina stay strong and never let anything fall out of there, other than the usual things.

what is most shocking is that you never really hear about this shit, but i'd say it's far more terrifying than cancer or aids, which you hear about all the time. i think we need to invest more in cultivating prolapse awareness and how to prevent it. because no one should ever have to see, let alone experience something so incredibly disgusting.

i hope this does not happen again.

2008-10-08T10:02:00.000-07:00

i don't think that i'm what people would describe as "approachable." i'm not sure why. i think it may have something to do with the fact that i have a condition best described as "bitch face," where i look sort of smug and/or irritable at all times unless i am smiling. no one has ever told me this directly, but i have been accused of smirking at times i didn't even realize i was doing it, and my mother often tells me to "stop making that face" when my face just naturally falls that way.

today i got out of class fifteen minutes early, and i was sitting on a bench waiting for my next class, minding my own business. and this complete stranger mumbles something at me. to which i replied, "huh?" and the following conversation ensued.

boy: you cold?
me: not really.. it's just raining.
boy: what's your name?
me: stephanie. what's yours?
boy: ta-mumble.
me: what is it?
boy: ta-mumble.
me: oh.
boy: mumble mumble.
me: what was that?
boy: do you stay round here.. in phenix city?
me: like, do i live here? yeah.
boy: (not even looking in my general direction) mumble mumble.
me: (assuming this was not an important comment or even meant for me, did not reply)

a few moments later.

boy: (this time at me) mumble mumble boyfriend?
me: do i have a boyfriend?
boy: yeah.
me: no.
boy: can i get yo number to call you sometime. take you out?
me: uhhh... sure.

i then proceeded to give him my digits because i could not bring myself to say no. although i was pretty baffled at the request, considering how awful our interaction was going. he asked me if i would call or text him sometime. i said i might, but i won't. this young man and i do not have a future. i can tell. mostly because i can't understand a damn word he says. also, because i asked him for his name twice, and i still don't know what comes after the first syllable and at this point, can't really ask again. oh, and because it was literally one of the most uncomfortable conversations of my life.

please do not call me, ta-mumble. please do not call.

debbie downer.

2008-10-07T15:58:00.000-07:00

so, the election is less than a month away. i'm not even excited to vote at all anymore. partially because i live in alabama, which is very much a red state so my vote matters even less than others. but moreso, i am not even remotely stoked about either of the candidates at this point. i don't really think that obama is the beacon of integrity he is being painted as, but i fundamentally disagree with john mccain on a variety of topics. and i would shit if palin made it to the white house as the first female vice president, for a vast array of reasons.

i am starting to wonder how much of this economic crisis is just being perpetuated by fear mongering. it almost seems like a self-fulfilling prophecy at this point. i obviously realize that there are legitimate fears and problems, but the stock market correlates so much with the confidence of investors. i don't think it helps for increasing amounts of bleak predictions to be put into rotation by the media. or maybe i am just being naive, and we really are in a terrible global crisis. i am just deluding myself as a coping mechanism. either way, i am still having a hard time attempting to subdue my inner panic.

something else that has become increasingly irritating to me the more i think about it are those stupid fucking totes that say things like, "i am not a plastic bag" or "save the planet" or something else proving the carrier's moral superiority. don't get me wrong. i think it's wonderful to avoid plastic and love trees. the environment is not my number one concern, but i've never thought of being wasteful as an attractive quality. my issue with these bags is that they are primarily not grocery bags. they are sold in stores that don't even sell groceries. those reuseable cloth bags they do sell at grocery stores cost, like, a dollar, which seems extremely reasonable for something you use to carry your food purchases from the store to your house while being considerate of planet earth. the bags in question cost considerably more.

the thing is that when people buy these eco-friendly seeming bags, they really should be using them as a substitute to something that is damaging to the environment. otherwise the self-righteous proclaimation on the item itself just seems a little silly, not to mention douchey. my bet is that most people use their "tree hugger" tote to carry things such as a wallet, cell phone, lip balm (organic, i bet), gum, maybe some tampons, etc. when was the last time you saw a person with a home carry these items in a plastic bag? probably never. because women tend to contain these essentials in something called a purse, which is typically reusable and not made of plastic bags.

so use your non-plastic bag (that was probably produced by little vietnamese girls for 60 cents an hour) to carry your goddamned groceries and not personal items. because it makes you look like an asshole.

i would like to marry this song.

2008-10-03T10:10:00.000-07:00

perfection.

this culminates in an overshare, i'm sure.

2008-09-30T15:38:00.000-07:00

i have been having headaches more frequently recently than i have in a long time. they are awful, and i hate them. i started experiencing them when i was about seven, and my mom took me to the doctor, where they connected a lot of wires to my head and did various tests and suggested i check my vision and stay away from chocolate, as i appeared to be allergic. at that point my vision was fine, and i have never noticed any correlation between my migraines and chocolate consumption. anyway, i don't really worry about the headaches because if it was a brain tumor or something, i'm sure that after twelve years this would have become a serious issue.

while the headaches are old news, during the past week or i've had about three nosebleeds, which is the same amount i have had during my entire lifetime until now. it is freaking me out a little. but i have no intention of visiting a doctor about this. mostly because webmd told me that nosebleeds are usually not so serious.

my most exciting nosebleed experience happened earlier when i was sitting on my bed, and something caused me to let out a chuckle, which forced some air out through my nose, which also also happened to spray blood spatter all over my pillow. pretty awesome.

so warm.

2008-09-29T13:05:00.000-07:00

the weather is one of my favorite things to complain about. when i lived in idaho, i complained about the ridiculous cold. when i lived in portland, i hated the incessant suicide-inducing gray and wetness. now that i'm in the south, i have dealt surprisingly well with the most obvious unpleasant condition, humidity, (oh, and hurricanes and tornadoes) but am becoming increasingly annoyed by the fact that it is still almost ninety degrees at the end of september.

doesn't the weather know that i have recently acquired several cardigans/jacket-type items that cannot be worn at such high temperatures? i find it pretty inconsiderate.

but, in an effort to not be such a negative nancy, i shall not complain about the warmth because i promise that i would take sunny and warm over cold, gray, and shitty (i'm looking at you, portland) any day. well, maybe not literally any day. the occasional rainy day does have a certain charm. however, i think that a pool or lake in my backyard would make me far more appreciative of the fact that it's so summery for nearly half the year. if someone could hook that up, i would let you swim in the aforementioned body of water with me, guaranteed.

dinner conversation.

2008-09-26T16:13:00.001-07:00

yesterday at dinner i was sitting in front of my food waiting for my mother and brother to be done preparing their plates and anticipating my mother's prayer she usually delivers before the meal. she noticed i hadn't started eating.

mom: (excitedly) oh, you want me to say grace?
me: well, i was sort of expecting it since you say it every night. but i would feel fine eating my food without it.
mom: i can't believe you said that.. (pause)
dear heavenly father, please save stephanie from an eternity in hell.

my anaconda don't want none.

2008-09-25T15:37:00.000-07:00

so, i read the book of laughter and forgetting, which is by milan kundera. and in one of the stories he talks about how people are becoming more and more inclined to think of themselves as writers because "everyone has trouble accepting the fact that he will disappear unheard of and unnoticed in an indifferent universe, and everyone wants to make himself into a universe of words before it's too late. once the writer in every individual comes to life (and that time is not far off), we are in for an age of universal deafness and lack of understanding."

he was obviously foreshadowing the blogging phenomenon. after reading that little quote i began to feel even more vain about rambling on the internet than i had to begin with. that and the idea of milan kundera being pissed off in the afterlife, partially on my account, kept me far away from this shit.

but i don't really think that anybody is paying attention, and i bought a real journal for my ~feelings~, which i think will prevent me from composing unnecessary diatribes about my dissatisfaction with life and posting them on the internet.

enough with the justifications, i just really want to comment on this:

kim kardashian is one hot bitch, whose claim to fame is her gravity-defying ass. honestly, it is mindblowing. she also had that sex tape with ray j (aka brandy's brother), but it was so much more boring than it should have been, so i don't even really want to acknowledge it. in recent interviews, little kimmie (that's what i call her) has said that she is tired of people constantly making remarks about her ass, which is totally understandable.

SO WHY WOULD YOU GO ONTO THE SHITFEST KNOWN AS DANCING WITH THE STARS AND PERFORM TO "BABY GOT BACK?"

whatevz.

2008-08-09T17:04:00.000-07:00

today i had an epiphany of sorts. while i was sitting in my backyard, enjoying the sunshine that was not accompanied by smothering humidity, i thought to myself, "this will probably be the only time for the rest of your life you can (kind of) afford to not have a job and live with your parents without seeming like a complete fucking loser."

because i'm fairly certain if this were happening to me at the age of 27, it would certainly be regarded as far more pathetic than it is now. and so upon making this realization, i decided that maybe i should not feel as bad about my current situation as i have been and be grateful that i even have the opportunity to live in my parent's house, which is so much nicer than any apartment befitting of my price range, for free.

it's totally fine that my life has not exactly exceeded my expectations thus far. i assure you, internet, when the stars align for me, and i figure out what to do with myself (in various capacities) it will be infinitely sweeter than if i had known right off the bat. i mean, i wouldn't want to peak too soon, anyway. that's boring.

so there.

ain't no tuition for having no ambition.

2008-08-03T19:39:00.000-07:00

i am inexplicably completely exhausted. i passed out at eight thirty for about an hour and upon waking up i felt like i had been hit by a bus. i don't know why my body is trying to shut itself down as my day consisted of getting up at 11:30, eating pancakes, showering, putting on shorts that definitely fall under "loungewear," going to wal-mart with my brother to go school supply shopping (which was, incidentally, fairly draining mentally. it was so crowded and unorganized. and the list of supplies was quite elaborate, requiring far more materials than any sixth grader would ever actually use on a regular basis), and taking my dog for a walk. none of those activities really involve a lot of exertion, so why am i struggling so desperately to maintain consciousness?

in other news, i had yet another dream about the olsen twins last night, and i have been thinking extensively about how i can convince kanye west to let me carry one of his children. i had been thinking that i didn't want to mutilate my lady parts in that way for another decade or so, but if i could have his kid, i would be willing to move that date up significantly. i'm not saying i'm a gold digger, but that would be some pretty hefty child support, and i bet when you're pregnant with a famous rapper's baby, people aren't constantly asking you if you've finally found employment or a major you are willing to committ to.

that's what you get.

2008-08-02T11:30:00.000-07:00

upon making myself a grilled cheese sandwhich, i went to the refrigerator intending to retrieve some complementary ranch dressing for my sandwhich, but after the actual action of opening the refrigerator door, i completely forgot what i was looking for. so i stood there gazing at the various chilled items and pondered out loud, "what am i looking for?"

at which point my father walked into the kitchen and jokingly said, "i don't know. but you're just standing there looking at the refrigerator, like in life. just standing there.. looking." he was definitely kidding, and i'm not even sure if he knows, but it's definitely kind of true.

laundry sucks.

2008-07-30T17:32:00.000-07:00

for the past year i have hated doing laundry. i cannot recall this process bothering me before i moved to portland, so i assumed my newfound distaste was linked to the fact that in order to prevent all of my lighter-colored clothing from turning gray, i had to spend five dollars for two loads of washing and drying in my shady apartment complex's laundry facility. sometimes people would for some unknown, infuriating reason open my washer or dryer mid-cycle and then not restart it, severely inconveniencing me by delaying my finishing time. this, also, was a definite factor in my hatred of doing laundry.

now i live with my parents, where doing laundry is free, and i still despise it, so i now know that my disdain runs deeper than the pacfic tower laundry facilities. i have lived here for over six weeks and have done laundry one and a half times. (the half occured when i first arrived and was a tiny load, which is very much out of my laundry-hoarding character.) my cue for laundry is when i run out of underwear. i very much enjoy buying new underwear, so i have a lot of it. this allows the intervals between washings to be rather extensive. but today was the day i opened my underwear drawer and removed the last pair, so i am now forced to separate my large pile of clothing and fire up the washer and dryer once more.

not all of the attire i throw onto the pile of what becomes laundry is actually dirty. sometimes i pluck an item from its hanger, and then decide it's not what i want to cover my body with that day, so into the hamper it is tossed. or there are those rare times i wear something without spilling on myself like a fucking two-year-old, leaving it in perfectably acceptable condition to be worn again, yet when i disrobe for the evening, i wind up lazily throwing it in the general direction of my hamper.

so then, when the inevitable day comes when i run out of clean underwear, i must sort through the pile, smelling shirts and looking for visible stains in order to determine what is really in need of cleansing. and i think my hatred of laundry in actuality stems from this process.

i know what you're thinking, internet, "why don't you just put clean clothes back into your closet instead of misplacing them into the hamper?" i have thought about this too. i am trying to visualize myself doing this right now, and it just feels so unnatural. like i would lose so much time in my everyday life just sorting and hanging up clothes. sure, it might simplify the process on the day i run ouf clean underwear, but i would experience a small dose of the irritability i feel on laundry day on a daily basis. and i can't have every one of my precious days be affected in this way. i just can't. i am already emotionally fragile enough as it is.

oh, shit.

2008-07-27T09:47:00.001-07:00

i have been fully awake for less than an hour and have already made two earth-shattering realizations.

1. the internet is killing my ability to read real books. i used to be able to read an entire book in one sitting. it was not a problem. i even enjoyed it. now i usually think about taking a nap after every three pages and have to coax myself into finishing chapters.

today i read two articles about how reading online affects literacy, and basically, reading online is better than not reading at all, but it doesn't compare to the deep, linear reading of a book and does no favors for the attention span.

overall, this is very depressing news to me. because i love the internet so fucking much. it has been a great source of comfort to me within the last few years, as my life continues to deviate from my expectations. but i also love the ability to read books in a timely manner.

this is such a dilemma. perhaps if i force myself to read books regularly for extended periods of time, i will regain my once natural reading ability, while still being able to waste away countless hours on the internet. yes, i think that will be my plan for now.

2. i am guessing it is highly probably for me to spend a very large portion of my adult life half-drunk, watching csi on dvd with my cat.

i fucking love babies.

2008-07-24T20:46:00.000-07:00

i am not one of those crazy girls that has a very definite life plan that includes an age by which she wants to be married and how many children she wants to have of each gender with preselected names. in fact, i don't know if i ever want to be married, but i have decided within the last twenty minutes that i would really like to have a baby.

as a female, the idea of motherhood and carrying life should probably seem like the most natural thing in the world to me. it doesn't. when i imagine something living (or nonliving, for that matter) in my uterus for nine months, i am, simply put, genuinely creeped out. i've seen newborns. they don't even really look human. the idea of pushing one of those out of my body is sort of repulsive, actually. but new mothers always love their children, probably because they schlepped them around for so long that they are a) just thankful to not have it inside of them and b) you can't hate your own newborn baby, people will in turn hate you. and once they get a little older they become considerably more cute, kind of like kittens.

in the distant future, when i have my shit together mentally and fiscally and have found a fly, reliable fellow who matches or exceeds my level of coolness, i am going to proposition this fellow to create one of the top ten (at least!) coolest babies in the world. gwen stefani's spawn, kingston, ranks in at number one right now, just for reference. but my baby is probably going to blow that cute little shit out of the water.

how do i know my baby is going to be so fucking cool? i will tell you. i am a connoisseur of cute babies, and i can say without being biased, that i was off-the-charts adorable from my birth to approximately six years of age. (it definitely went downhill from there, but i think within the last year or two i've started to make a comeback.) i also happen to look exactly like my mother, who happens to look identical to her mother, which leads me to believe that my genetics will shine through in the making of this baby.

my partner in baby creation and i are going to make great parenting choices and our cool baby will not only be one adorable, well-dressed motherfucker, it will also be a baby that only cries for a damned good reason.

when it learns how to talk, i will record it singing along to top 40 hits and put these videos on youtube for others to partake in the awesomeness of my child. like the "my humps" baby, only even more incredible.

get it, gurl!

2008-07-21T15:46:00.000-07:00

i have applied to 10-15 different places, and i only need one job. so you would assume that the odds are in my favor. but you would be sorely mistaken. because these kinds of logistics do not apply to the art of job hunting.

and while my life is still a toilet, at least things are looking up for one of my favorite crazies, second only to amy winehouse, britney spears.

here she is at an autism benefit:

do you see what is going on in that picture? she is standing next to two clean, sane-looking people, and she does not look out of place!

a vast improvement from this:

i'm a slut.

2008-07-19T20:08:00.000-07:00

my family had dinner guests this evening. the couple that came over brought their son, who was seven or eight years old and seated next to me. he was not impressed by my mother's schnitzel, and the way he periodically panted made me believe he was definitely going to throw up on his plate. he didn't. but his behavior inspired the mothers to discuss the eating habits of their children, and the following dialogue occurred.

mom: "stephanie is easy. she always ate everything and still does."
dad: "stephanie, mom just said you were easy."
me: "well, you know what that means.."

(AWKWARD MOMENT, ALL AROUND.)

mom: "she's just like her dad."

why don't job applications fill themselves out, huh?

2008-07-16T15:44:00.000-07:00

i wish someone i could just have a chance to tell employers how perfect of an employee i am.

my reasoning:

1. i'm poor and recognize that i am too unqualified to work jobs that make lots of money, so no matter how atrocious the job is, i will complete it out of sheer desperation for income.

2. i hate being reprimanded, which is my primary motivation for meeting expectations at work. i will never be late. i will never simply fail to show up for a shift, because i don't like it when people are made at me. also, i'm poor and need all of the hours i am given.

3. i hate being new at jobs so much, i would work at a job i completely detested simply to avoid having to find another one. so, no worries about me jumping ship shortly after time, energy and money have been wasted in order to train me.

oh, the south.

2008-07-12T21:12:00.000-07:00

today i went to a columbus catfish game. the catfish play baseball. i kind of thought they sucked. my very limited understanding of baseball may have something to do with this. apparently they have been on a winning streak. the game itself was incredibly boring, but my fellow spectators were not. in fact, they were fascinating and caused me to raise several important questions.

the most pressing one being, "why do parents still give their children bowl cuts?" i just cannot grasp it. there was one child in particular that was totally fucking adorable, but his stupid bowl cut made me hate him. are these the kind of emotions parents want their kids to evoke in others? if i had to guess, i would settle with "no." bowl cuts ruin children.

while the bowl cuts were unsettling, the most disturbing hair belonged to another little boy. this child was sporting big, blonde curly hair that was tapered into a rat tail in the back. the effect could best be described as a coonskin cap (a la davy crockett) made of hair. i could not peal my eyes away from it.

until i looked a few rows down and saw a young man with a string of spitty mucus dangling an estimated six inches from his mouth. then he sucked it back up. it got even worse when some of it stuck to his chin. after some careful examination i realized this person was mentally challenged, at which point i was actually somewhat relieved. but even after i was able to rationalize the spit dangle, the remnants were still on his chin, and no matter how much i attempted to telepathically convince the men he was with to give him a tissue to wipe it off, they only paid attention to the game. eventually, the spitter noticed his face was still dripping and resorted to cleaning himself with his t-shirt. which, given the circumstances, was not such an awful decision.

i could eat my whole damn house.

2008-07-10T15:51:00.000-07:00

i had a dream about the olsen twins last night. this is the second time i can remember this happening. i'm sure it's some kind of sign. probably that i am going to be a billionaire.

tomorrow i have to go to my new institution of higher learning to register for classes and shit. i am a fairly self-assured person, but i really can't think of anything that makes me feel more insecure than college. not because i don't think that i can handle it (because i'm obviously a genius, so that's never really been a problem), but i feel like there is so much pressure to choose a path for my future, and i'm just not ready for it... okay, society?

there are people who say to me, in an effort to provide support, "oh, it doesn't really matter what you major in. most employers will just appreciate the fact that you have a degree." this is not comforting in the least. because i want to have an education i can put to use, and i want my major and future career to have a correlation. i do not want to spend thousands of dollars earning a degree as an english lit major to become the manager of a home depot. i am looking for something with a little more meaning.

i wish that all i wanted in my life was to get married and pop out babies. it's not necessarily that these aspirations are any less admirable than seemingly more glorious goals. it's just that if my ambition was to lead a so-called simple life of marriage and children, at least i would know what i wanted and when i had achieved it.

a miraculous day.

2008-07-08T22:40:00.000-07:00

today, my mother told me that my hair looked good. at first i thought she was being cruel as usual because my mother finds something to criticize about my appearance every single day, and my hair is a common target. Other frequent complaints are directed at my choice of attire and make-up (or lack thereof).

the greatest part of her compliment was that my hair looked exactly like it has every day for the last, oh, i don't know.. two months.

my family recently got two dogs, buckwild and woody. (my family is pure class, by the way.) i have never really had a dog before, and i can honestly say that i still love my ferocious cat, dewey, a thousand times more. the cuter, smaller of our dogs, woody, refuses to cuddle with anyone for more than three minutes unless you take advantage of him while he's sleeping. this always seems a little inappropriate, like date rape. sometimes when he's laying down, i like to lay next to him to stroke his velvety fur, and he will get up and walk ten feet away from me, only to lie down again. depending on how resilient i am feeling, i choose to follow him despite his blatant rejection of my love. i figure that i will eventually wear him down. he can't run forever.

i think i would prefer dogs if they purred. when i pet my cat, and he wants to say, "you are petting me, and i love you for it," he makes the most delightful purring sound. but when i'm petting of my dogs, even the one who lets me, i have no way of knowing if they are really appreciating my caresses.

better late than never.

2008-07-07T17:21:00.000-07:00

i really wish that i had written about my journey across the country as it was happening, because i really feel that it was an experience i should have documented. i have a really shitty memory (thanks, chronic marijuana usage) so now many of the hilarious details have already left me. but i will attempt to recall as much as possible. or maybe i will just make things up because nobody will read this and after enough time i probably won't be able to distinguish the embelishments from the facts.

we left my grandparents' in cameron park, ca way too early in the morning. our first destination was salt lake city, which turned out to be something like a 12 hour drive. We had already been driving for several hours and were somewhere in nevada when my father purchased an up-to-date atlas. he found our location on a map and then started flipping many pages to look at a map of our destination. at the sight of all of this page flipping i grew extremely anxious and said, "oh god. can we really be that far away?" my father saw this as an opportunity to ridicule me since the maps of the states were in alphabetical order and the number of page flips did not correlate to distance in miles, just distance in the alphabet.

we finally got to salt lake city. we were staying in a hotel in the outskirts. we were hungry. we tried to find a restaurant. we settled on chili's, which turned out to be THE hippest place for mormons to be at six o'clock on a monday night. at one point i looked over at the table next to us to see a man clipping his fingernails. i am pretty sure that's some kind of health code violation. one of the hostesses looked exactly like this girl i went to high school with, which made me extremely uncomfortable. it was not her, but it was still weird. upon concluding our meal at chili's we decided to explore the mormon mecca and went to temple square.

most of the mormons i have met are very nice. this can likely be attributed to brain washing. so, we walk into temple square and are greeted by a young chinese woman who asks if we want to take a tour that starts in three minutes. my father and i agreed. the other tour guide was another young woman, and she was from hawaii. we stood around making small talk, telling each other where we from etc. then the chinese girl turned to my father and inquired about our relationship, asking, "you guys are... friends?" i do not know if child brides are common in the mormon church. i quickly responded with a disturbed, "no. he's my dad." which only made everyone feel more awkward.

the tour commenced. i'm not sure why i was not expecting this, but the tour was littered with information that clearly was meant to convert non-mormons into mormons. the two tour guides talked a little more about themselves, explaining that they were on a mission and would return to their homes when it was over, hopefully to find righteous men to get married to and start families with. i swear i am not making this up. and she definitely used the term "rightous men." while she said this she also gave a hopeful look to the ceiling, as if she was asking god to help her with this quest. i wonder how many times a day this happens. i cringed.

the next notable moment of the tour occured when we were able to visit a 12-foot jesus statue in room painted to look like the universe. they asked us to please be reverent as they played a narration about jesus. i wasn't really listening. but i did turn to my dad and ask, "is this creepy?" because sometimes i don't know if i just get uncomfortable in religious settings because i am on my way to hell or if they are genuinely unsettling. he also found it creepy. i concluded this section of the tour by taking a picture with jesus. i might frame it and hang it above my bed.

the rest of the tour was pretty boring. we went to the first ever mormon church, where the tour guides sang us a song and forced us to fill out notecards reviewing the tour. i didn't want to offend so i just said it was interesting and the girls were nice. it asked for my name and contact information which i was extremely reluctant to give. we then went back to our hotel and slept.

the following day's destination was colorado springs. to get there we had to drive through wyoming. nobody lives there. nobody. it also features the exact same landscape all along the interstate. at one point i got really excited because i thought i saw a bison, but my father informed me it was just a cow. such a bummer.

we had dinner at my dad's friends' house. they have had two children since the last time i saw them. their son kissed me twice, unexpectedly and uninvited. it would have been rather inappropriate had he not been six.

at our hotel room, my father and i discussed politics. we don't really agree on anything in that spectrum. i admitted my socialist leanings, and he looked at me with disappointment while telling me to hold on to my german citizenship. maybe i will.

the next stop on our great journey was fort riley, kansas. we were going to stay with some guy my dad met at his sergeant major's training and had served with in Iraq, but his family had some kind of function to attend, so we went over to some other family's house for a few hours. i am lucky my dad is so popular. we arrived at the other family's house before they were there. and as we were sitting on their front porch, hoping that we were, in fact, even sitting on the correct porch, i realized that i really had to poop. i also realized that it was rather windy. i asked my father if this part of kansas experienced tornadoes, and he told me he didn't know. i then commented that my car could use some rain to wash away all of the dead insect remnants that covered its front. i would later regret these comments.

my dad's friends finally arrived. i quickly entered their bathroom to move my bowels. while i was doing so i noticed that there were several different locks on the door. i found this strange. some more people arrived at the house and as we were all sitting around, we heard what seemed to be a siren. it did not sound promising. the tv was turned on to reveal that the area was under a tornado watch. i asked what this meant, exactly, and was told it just meant to be aware and if the siren went off again, we should probably go sit in the bunker, which was also the bathroom, which is why there were so many peculiar locks on the door. the siren sounded again, and i proceeded to piss my pants. not really. but i was shaking a lot. but that could have been because it was really cold in their house. i was definitely frightened. so, we all got in the bunker.

i think there was a total of eight humans, one golden retriever and a guinea pig. it was snug. we stayed there for about an hour or so, and then it passed. i am still amazed that on the one day of my life i happened to spend in kansas, the weather decided to cause a tornado to hit about a mile away from where i was staying. i was elated to leave kansas the next morning.

our drive to fort campell, kentucky was rather uneventful, as was our stay there. a major highlight was listening to the nelly/lynyrd skynyrd mash-up of "country grammar" the entire time we were in the vicinity of st. louis. this was obviously inspired by the fact that nelly utters the line "i'm from the lou and i'm proud." it was also awesome because the version of the song samples "sweet home alabama," our final destination. i find it very strange that my father enjoys nelly because any rap i ever want to listen to is not acceptable. but i will take what i can get.

then the next and final day of our travels was supposed to include a stop in Nashville, but after we got off the freeway and realized that the country music hall of fame would cost fifteen dollars per person to attend, we decided to just go home. this decison was also largely affected by the fact that my dad becomes easily outraged when driving in city traffic, and i do not enjoy all of the yelling. so we drove home to alabama instead, which was really just as well.