Never Again

I don't intend to EVER EVER post anything like this again, but my mom was curious, and I found her a link to the goods. Apparently schtuff went DOWN a few weeks ago when I was at Target and ran into Jessica Alba, her hubby, baby, and the paparazzi .

I'm torn between whether or not I think the behavior of the paps is disgusting, or that it's something the actors/singers/etc. invite by going into the biz. Besides, there are plenty of celebrities who aren't photographed by the paps constantly - rumor has it that some people call them ahead of time to let them know where they will be. So maybe we're just the disgusting ones for buying into it?

Anyway, you'll only get this once. Love it, hate it, whatev.

This is what I had to battle with at Target just to get my damn graphing calculator:



Intellectual Inferiority and Unadulterated Glee

I've always been convinced that I am secretly a moron. I'm sure some would agree. There is proof to the contrary - decent grades, published writing, etc., but I'm still worried that I'm infinitely dumber than I think I am. Worse - that others judge me for it. I used to fear the days in high school when I'd have to hand over my essays to someone for peer reviews. On some level I intentionally brought it on myself. I wrote ridiculous things, absurd things - I once compared the plight of Ethan Frome to a doughnut that fell off of the teacher's desk right as we began the assignment. By refusing to be serious about an assignment, I could write off failure as no big deal.

It was particularly awful when I was partnered with a friend for the reviews. Friends are especially well-equipped to judge me. Negatively. I remember wincing as I saw them pick up their pen to scribble a note on the crisp white pages. I always hoped to get back something that was still pristine, devoid of any marks that would be sure to tell me I was a douche-tastic bottom-dwelling turd, unqualified to clean a toilet a the local Perkins. (Which, coincidentally, I did for awhile. On that note, men are completely disgusting. You would not believe the kinds of things they leave in urinals. Anyway...) By the time my essays were finally handed back to me, the scribbling was invariably positive, but I was still convinced the grader actually felt otherwise. I was sure they were secretly judging me. Like those ladies at church with the raised, over plucked, drawn-in orange eyebrows, poodle perms and holiday sweaters. The ones who always seemed to have three vapid children with glazed over eyes and a Labrador. Or a poodle. To match the hair, I assume.

Luckily, I don't *always* feel this way. Sometimes the world shows me that there are in fact people dumber than myself. Sometimes the world hands me a golden nugget of comedic goodness that breaks through the gloom and monotony of daily life with the white hot passion of one thousand burning suns. For me, last night was one of those times.

I should preface this by mentioning that I am still in school. I take the majority of my classes online, through a brick and mortar college that happens to have an online program attached to it. I can't say I love all of the students - they are the same people from which I intended to escape when I left* Montana for greener pastures. I'm also displeased with the quality of the education I'm paying precious shoe money for, mainly because I feel neither intellectually challenged nor engaged. I worry that I'm not learning anything.

Here is the nugget of glory that made me first smirk, then snort, then belly laugh in a sort of seizure of snorting, giggling, chuckling, tears and that silent laughter where you just shake and make zero sound. My boyfriend probably thought I was dying.

Last night a classmate said:

"I really had a hard time thinking about what 'issue' is the 'most pressing in the world.' But to get this out there - 'world' to me is the entire planet."

Oh. My. God.


Derek Zoolander goes to my school.

*ran screaming from


Let's get some choos. Let's party...

Embarrassingly enough, my shoes literally fell apart last night at dinner when I was out with some friends. My feet were fidgeting under the table and I felt a snap. After peeking at 'em, I realized the part of the thong that connects between your big and second toes had pulled out of the base of the shoe. Sigh. My boyfriend was nice enough to sneakily run out to the car and slip me an alternate pair of wedge heels under the table. Sure, I was 4 inches taller when I stood up, but oh well. My shoe issues actually started earlier this week. I found hole had developed in my favorite, and only, comfortable pair of flats. With all my ankle troubles, I really can't do heels for awhile. The loss of two pairs of shoes totally decimated my options.

I finally sucked it up and went shoe shopping today with my boyfriend. He bitched and moaned about it before we went, even jokingly offering a friend $300 to take me instead. To his credit, it's totally warranted. I spent three days shopping with a good friend over Thanksgiving and tried on over 50 pairs of shoes. Out of that, I got one pair of flats (the ones with the aforementioned hole). I'm pretty sure my feet are built for fitting into heels, but my ankle is still recovering and I really can't risk the instability. Soon, but not yet...

Anyway, to my surprise I found five pairs I liked. Four dressy enough (not super dressy) for work, and one casual pair. I'm thrilled. I've had a real shoe deficit going on for a while now.

Introducing my new babies:

These next ones are infinitely cuter in person.

That last one doesn't look like a shoe!

Oh yeah. I forgot to mention. -- I also found a purse I liked for $20.



Political Rantings

I'm not going to claim to be an expert on politics. But I have plenty of opinions.

I'm really, really tired of the way things have been going.

I'm tired of hypocrites saying that the democrats are bastards for increasing the size and scope of government and accuse them of infringing our our personal lives. You know who is infringing on my personal life? They are. They are the ones who are the infringers (my own word)!* They increase the government's control over my life while saying they stand for the exact opposite.

They tell me that I cannot choose whether or not to have a child, they tell me I cannot watch porn, they dictate what can and cannot be on my television (oh no! boobs and swearing BAD, violence and gore GOOD!), they tell me who I can love, who I can marry, what I can smoke, which (if any) god I should believe in, how I should love god (should I choose to believe him/her/it/them), they label me a communist, they fear sexuality - there are states that ban the sale of sex toys (and to steal a line from the Vagina Monologues, I have yet to hear of a mass murder committed with a vibrator). Get out of my life. How dare they.

They say they're fiscally responsible and therefore smarter than democrats when it comes to the economy, but look at the mess we're in. And how dare we bail out a large corporation. These people tout the free market, but we, the taxpayers, have to pay for the messes some companies made? Eighty five *billion* dollars. And yet we shouldn't invest a smaller amount of money into health care for the people. So that people can get basic preventative care and actually save us money - money that is currently spent on emergency room bills that could have been prevented. What's so scary about an ounce of prevention? Apparently suggesting it makes me a communist gay baby killing godless heathen.

How dare they tell me that gay couples are threatening the institution of marriage. You know what threatens marriage? All those divorces those same people are having. Not that I think people shouldn't divorce, but I'm just saying... If your own marriage is in shambles, or if you've remarried 3 times, you're probably not in a good place to be giving anyone advice. Bah.

How dare they suddenly claim to become feminists, just to tout someone with a résumé that is severely lacking. A vagina doesn't make you a feminist. It is NOT sexist to be critical of a person applying to be the backup for one hell of an important job. It IS sexist to vote against an Equal Pay Act. It IS sexist to say women aren't smart enough to make hugely important decisions about their own bodies. Their own, private bodies. Back to my point about increasing the size and scope of our government...

I'm sick of being accused of hating America. I don't see how caring about what happens in this country makes me anti-American. Apparently every parent that ever told their child they shouldn't touch a hot stove actually hated their children. Those a$$holes.

I'm sick of people being so afraid of words. I'm sick of being hated for speaking my mind. I'm sick of having my morals called into question.

If you don't like what I'm saying, ignore me. Or argue with me about my points, not my character. F*** anyone who wants to say that I'm a worthless human being. Luckily the chances are that if you read this far, then you're not one of the people I'm ranting about.

One last gripe. People who are willfully ignorant. I'm okay with it if you disagree with me. I'm not okay if you refuse to acknowledge hard facts. Or if you somehow think that being in touch with "real" people means you can't be intelligent or articulate. Being smart does not mean a person is out of touch. Or that they are elitist. I especially don't understand the people that think being smart actually makes you stupid. Understanding complex issues and using big words does not make you some out of touch moron. It doesn't mean that there aren't a ton of out of touch morons out there, but education levels and political leanings have absolutely nothing to do with that epidemic.

That's it. I'm done. I am fed up and needed to say my piece. I've spent years doing everything I can to be polite, but I just can't do it any more.

*Apparently "infringer" is not a word of my own creation. Awkward.


A week(ish) in review...

Here's the dilly, yo...

Monday I was digging the holiday vibe and dreading going back to work, so I nagged my boyfriend into leaving the house to serve as a distraction.

We went out for lunch.

While we were there, my boyfriend said, "Oh look. It's Ben Stein." I looked over and, sure enough, there the 'publican was, with a skinny blonde in tow. (I didn't bother photographing him myself, because, well, he's a 'publican. Ick.)

Ugh. Snarky (and quiet) comments (on our part) ensued. Luckily I still managed to enjoy the mabo don I had. Yum.

Tuesday I noticed that there were more signs of bananas in my apartment's courtyard.

I swear that thing is going to open up and say "FEEEED MEEEE" a la Little Shop of Horrors. Anyway, it's nice to know that, despite the smog, stuff can still grow in this city.

Wednesday* I ran out of eyeliner and ordered some new makeup. "Stray dog,"bad education, " "zero," and "orgasm" were the names of the colors. Who in the world comes up with these things?

"I think I'll name this one, 'penguin spunk'."
"Oh, excellent idea! So glamorous!"

Thursday I finally got a handle on all of my classes. I also got some very cool, free running shoes to replace my old, nasty (but still beloved) ones.

These things helped me run my fastest ever mile. Not that I'm fast at all...it was just fastER. 9:07. Not amazing in the least, but I've never been a runner-type. Never will be.

Friday was uneventful, though work was hellishly busy. We went out to dinner with some friends and I hit the gym.

Saturday (today!) was...irritating. I went to Target in West Hollywood to hunt down a TI-83 for my advanced statistics course. I got there and saw a swarm of photographers snapping away in the parking garage. They pushed past me to get into the elevator, so I gave up and used the escalator.

And there she was...

I should add that this isn't my photo. And it's not from today.

I should also add that if you see a headline along the lines of, "woman attacks Jessica Alba," you'll probably see a picture of me. One of the a$$hole photographers tripped me, and I fell towards her. Whoops. It wasn't my fault, I was totally trying to avoid the whole thing.

Unfortunately I couldn't find the calculator on my own, so a Target employee...who sounded like Hank Azaria in the Birdcage...took me around the entire store several times over to look for it.

I've noticed lately that even the straight guys in West Hollywood *sound* gay. Anyway, we kept coming back to the mass that was Jessica Alba, her paparazzi, her man, and her baby. I literally had to dodge and duck to keep from getting knocked over.

Luckily, I'm a ninja.

I finally got the calculator and rushed out when an enormous photographer (he looked to be around 7 feet tall) started an argument with the security guard.

It was weird as hell seeing all these people with backpacks, sprinting and stuffing their cameras away when Target employees came their way. My helpful Target employee was stopped by a rotund guard who said, "if you see anyone with a camera, tell them to put it away and keep it away, or I'm putting them in jail. Well, I'll arrest them, then put them in jail."


Anyway, it was a semi-eventful week, methinks. Hopefully next week will be a little less frantic.

*As far as Palin's Wednesday appearance is concerned, I am trying very hard to ignore her existence. Blech.


My apologies

I'm a) too lazy, b) too stupid, or c) both, when it comes to fixing the video size below. Deal :)

Just wait until 1:13