You missed when time and life shook hands and said goodbye.
When the earth folded on itself

I loved modest mouse. I almost converted a few more to my side on the long drive home from b-lo, but the marathon that is the moon and antarctica lost them halfway through. Still, the first three songs are the best I've ever heard. On the subway I've been skipping straight to "Wild packs of family dogs" because I'm like that. Lonesome Crowded West is my current favorite.

Anyway.

I went home for x-giving. It was nice, and restful and weird. I'm still nervous around my family.
Things I learned this thanksgiving:
My ten-year-old niece is a genius. Not in the "isn't my niece awesome!" hyperbole genius. she's really really smart. She wrote a short story that knocked me on my ass.
Also: she does standup.
My dad is really into Absolutely Fabulous.
My best audience would be a group of people with bad backs hopped up on darvocet.

I'm going to animate that stupid voice I do all the time. So, good luck to me with that.

Work is hard. Life is hard. That's how it is.

Guinness extra stout is extra good. I am a good person. I am a delicate flower.

Mantra-style.

I am going home tomorrow. I am not looking forward to staring at my parents for four days. I am looking forward to a long, long drive, with good music. And turkey. And mightys. Mighty, mighty, mighty. And resting. Sarah needs her "rest".

now playing:The Beach Boys-Pet Sounds

(Also-it just got really chilly in hell. Remember when I hated the beach boys? yeah. Pet Sounds is really good. It inspired question 2.)

Stolen from sarah's blog:
Go to my comments and recommend to me:
A)
1. a movie:
2. a book:
3. a musical artist, song, or album:

B) I want everyone who reads this to ask me three questions, no more, no less.

C) If you are up to it, copy and paste this into YOUR livejournal and allow your friends the same pleasure

This is what I replied with:

1. a movie: Shaolin soccer. it is the funniest movie you will ever see.
2. a book: To kill a mockingbird. it's obvious, but it's popular for a reason.
3. a musical artist, song, or album: mates of state, team boo.

who is your current crush?
Name something you were wrong about.
what's one thing you can't throw away, event though you should?


yeah-ha.

I can't stop eating hersheys kisses. I'm too embarrassed to tell you how many of those little pieces of paper have ended up in my mouth today. I think I'm going to invent a dish by mixing hersheys kisses with potato chips and lightly baking until they're mixed up and salty perfect. would that work? I bet it would.

A guy from my class just told me on im that I'm "thick in all the right places". Yowza!

My friend and I are going to start making animated shorts. We have no idea what they're going to be about, or what they will look like, but we're going to just start doing it. We're not drawing them, either. Figure that one out!

Tonight I'm going to do a thing called sleep.
Yeah!

I'm thinking about having a contest where I give my username and password to someone and they get to post on my page. Wouldn't that be the funnest contest ever?
Also, can anybody tell me the html code to post a picture? I can't remember anything past [img src=.

live from the alligator

Last night our revue class got an opporunity to open for an open mike night (should have been a big red flag) in Williamsburg, so we thought we could work out some of our scenes. (plus, a reason to go to magical Williamsburg!) Only three of us showed up, and the three of us that did aren't in any scenes together, so we just did 15 minutes of improv. Now, I've done some bad gigs. Really bad. I've done short form on a sidewalk during a street fair. I've had families walk through my scenes eating kettle corn. This was not that bad as gigs go. We got some laughs, we had great energy. It was me and the two big, burly marine-looking guys from class. We called ourselves Three-Legged Dog. We did a lot of yelling and wrestling. I felt kind of tough. But it's improv outside of an improv theater, so any coolness I feel is both temporary and imaginary.

Also? Stand up sucks. Every single person up there not only looked at their notebooks between every joke, but they all grumbled through their sets, "that got a chuckle . . . are you people even out there? that joke didn't work. I screwed that joke up. I suck." and everyone who walked out of the room (like when I stepped out to get a drink), "bye? I'm walking people already. they're walking out on me." God. Fuck off.
Just, standups, please. Don't you want to be different? At least, don't rag on us during your set. We got laughs, we broke a sweat, and we stuck around and gave you laughs you didn't deserve, so whatever.

Tonight is long rehearsal. My life is naught but show. yeah!

One of us, one of us

I apologize. I spazzed out a little yesterday. I don't think I've ever actually "talked smack" about any of my friends, I think I just get mopey and needy, which is embarassing but not offensive.

So here I am:
the good, the bad, the needy, the critical, the uninformed opinions, the fragile ego, the constant improv talk, the vague and obscure references to crushboys, the everpresent body shame, the teeming masses of self-doubt yearning to breathe free. So, you know, if you're into that, give 'er.

Welcome, DHKA enjoyers!

Cat out of bag. Can of worms? Open. I kept this secret for as long as I could, but now a whole mess of buffalo friends know what I'm thinking, feeling and bitching about from day to day. Unfortunately, I'm going to have to get a little less personal, but that's coolio. If I've ever talked smack about you on this site in this past, please know it was out of love, and out of making myself look like the better person to people who have only my word to go on. Word. Better yet, just steer clear of those archives. They're cringeworthy like the surgery channel. Or the Anna Nicole show.
Cool? Cool.


Ok, so. My life, right?

Friday-party with Gjirls. I brought white "wine" from a bodega, because I'm allergic to red. It turned out to be foul "wine product" of which I couldn't drink more than a glass, while the girls all drank velvety reds. I had half a glass of red out of jealousy and was immediately ill. We had awesome cake with naughty sayings on it. Ouija, spell casting, ipod dancing to. Fjun tjimes. The saddest part of friday: Mo and I sat in her bedroom looking at her computer for about five minutes before she logged on to the irc so we could look at it together. It's a sickness.

Saturday- Rehearsed from 12 to 5ish. The show is going to be good. We're addicted to working on it. It's kind of crazy. We show up early and work on our scenes in the hallway, then keep the room late. I end up exhausted and raspy by the end. I FUCKING LOVE IT.
Saturday night we went to Ivan's party. Todd and I talked to Ivan for a few minutes, then just talked to each other the rest of the time. It was kind of great. It was my first time in williamsburg. Astoria is, um, prettier?

Sunday- nuthin. I did molassi, which was a lot of fun. There were a lot of really good people there. I did an ok scene with a kid I'd never met. I'm feeling a lot more comfortable doing monoscenes though. I bet I would do even better if I knew the person I was working with. So, add that to the addiction pile.

If it takes shit to make bliss, well I feel pretty blissfully

I think there is a small chance I may be doing better at work. I still think everyone hates me, but that's just my deal all around. My problem is I don't think I'm used to people expecting very much from me, and it's both hard and great when someone expects more for me than I am already giving. So there's that.

I adore the insanity that is the irc. How can I love something that makes me feel so lame?

Hey, I have 2 parties to go to this weekend. I am not lame! (I can be pretty lame at parties, though. donk-style. )

My moblog is working!
Anyway.

I had a nightmare last night, again. At what age do we grow out of these things? Please tell me I'm not the only one. It was fucking brutal.

"I only listen to one band. They're called the johnny jumpstarts. They are a garage band of 14-year-olds that just formed this afternoon. One of them doesn't even play an instrument, he just bobs his head and taps his knees. We think he might become a drummer. They don't have a cd yet, they just have one song called 'wait wait, I fucked up'. It has been downloaded 120,000 times since its recording fifteen minutes ago. Just as I said that sentence the johnny jumpstarts jumped the shark. We'll keep an eye on them, but as soon as they sign a deal with sony I will eviscerate them in a sarcastic article in Spin. (Yes, SPIN, don't judge me.) I listen to music so painfully close I can hear the sound of a pen on a contract. I can hear what neighborhood in brooklyn you live in, down to the street. You are a sell out the moment I call you a sell out, and not a second before. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to roll my eyes for a while to keep from falling alseep. This world bores me."

Watch Modest Mouse on SNL this weekend. Modest Mouse: a good band with a contract.

A girl in my class has the greatest apartment ever. It's gigantic. Cavernous. Furnished frat-style. We went over to her place last night and sat around talking about sketches. We were there for two and a half hours, and we didn't get anything done. I really think less is more.
We'll figure it out. Whatevs.

Whenever I write a girl off as shallow or boring, it always turns out she has had some horrible tragedy to overcome, and that if I just spend seven minutes talking to her, she becomes wise and sweet and supportive. I'm like an idiot with the judgementals and the learning about people and the stuff and things.

Also, maybe I'm wrong, (see above, re: idiocy) but I think it's kind of shitty to write people off for being christians. I'm starting to see it on here and there. "So and so, Conservative Christian, hired for such and such." Not a critiscism of that person's actions, but an assumption of his actions based on his religion. There is a lot of justifuble anger going in that direction, but when things change that suddenly it's ok to hate someone for their religion? Isn't that still shitty? I don't know. I mean, I'm not a christian, but I was raised by them, so it's hard for me to imagine my family being forced to hide who they are and what they believe in because the left is so pissed off at their president. I don't know. I can't make informed statements about these kinds of things, I can only say what I feel. What I feel overall is :"Whatever, everybody"*.

*not an accurate description of how I feel.

I'm never really "over" anything, am I?

I'm PATHETIC!

I want attention from a cute boy. I crave sexual tension. I'm a whackjob. My new description for a crazy? Bag'o'nuts! Don't steal it, you bagonuts.

Here is my dhka article for this week. It probably wont' get published for a really long time:

We Both Know You're Not an F'ing Apple Farmer.

I am a terrible phone talker. I wish I could talk to my friends for hours the way I did when I was in high school. Over the summer of my junior year, my friend Leigh would call me an hour before Days of Our Lives and we'd talk. Then we would stay on the phone in front of the TV and watch Days of Our Lives in silence. Then we would talk through Another World, and General Hospital. What the hell do sixteen-year-olds talk about for four hours? I don't remember. I don't think I want to remember.
I'm just terrible at it now.
I think it's partially because I am a secretary, so I am on the phone all day, but not casually. I am getting information and ending the call as fast as possible. When my friends call I'm the same way.
"Hello?"
"Hey, what's up?"
"Nothing. Why did you call?"
"Um, to see what's . . . up."
"Oh. Nothing."
(Pause. This is where I realize I need a new job and I need to make up something that is 'up'.)
"Ok."
I do the best I can, but once the information is exchanged it's a struggle to stay on the line for any reason. I love my friends, and I try, but it's always a race to "see you later". (Trust me, I'm not much better in person.)

My mother taught me to be overly polite with strangers on the phone. When I call someone (and I know this is insane, believe me.), even if I know it's the person I want to speak with, I still say:
"May I please speak with so and so?"
I can't not do it and I get mocked.

It drives me insane when people call and just say:
"So-and-so?"
"No, I'm sorry. Would you like to speak with so and so?"
"Hi so and so, let's start talking about something stupid because I am rude and don't listen. What? Wait, what? This isn't so-and-so? And I just started talking to you as if you were so-and-so? Gosh, I feel stupid. Why did you make me feel so stupid? Who is this? Shame on you!"
I understand, it' fine, whatever. It just takes so much longer than it should.

Oh, and there's this thing that you have to do when you are a secretary that is adorable.
"May I ask who's calling?"
"Tell her it's her favorite apple farmer. She'll know what it means." Undeserved giggles.
Pause. Sigh. "Ok."
You know what? A receptionist is not a toy. Do you know how humiliating that is?
"Hi, um, purple-faced boss person who makes seven figures and doesn't f-around and just yelled at me? Your favorite apple farmer is here."
"Grunt! Send him in!"
I don't want to be part of your funny make-them-ups. The only way the "joke" works is if there is a person to relay the message. That's the joke: that you're making a stranger look like an asshole. And you have to say it. Sometimes your boss doesn't get it, and sometimes he thinks it's about as funny as you do. At my last job it was ok, occasionally it would be "Tell him it's his favorite brother". It was cute because he had four brothers. See? Cute. Fine. But sometimes, the tone of the day doesn't lend itself to cute, you know?
"Tell him Bill Clinton is here to see him." A-hwah-hwah.
"You bet! As soon as he's done throwing that chair through a window because the market is down, I'm going to pop right in there and tell him 'The Former Outdated Reference of the United States' is here. And he brought donuts! And a sack of diamonds! And he's riding a donkey!"
"I didn't bring donuts . . ."
"I noticed. You're not the former president, either."
"It was just a joke, lady."
"Get your hand off my ass."

At least I know you tried

I am food-soothing.
I am just beginning to get over an itchy, painful semi-internet/semi-real-life crush. (Seriously, after eight years I should just settle it down already. But I am addicted to the fantasy of a new relationship. Fantasy because I already have a relationship, and because no one else would have me.)
My sleeves are too short.
I don't have anything else to talk about.


This is a shit entry.
I am pms-ing hardcore.

So, ok.

Bad things happen, you just have to pick up and keep going, right?

Think of good things. Do your thing. Make things happen. Do your laundry, make some art. I choose not to dwell. Plus, my entire family is republican. I can't go off like everybody else calling them stupid fuckers, it wouldn't feel right.

1. This cake job is becoming kind of emotionally stressful.
2. Nivea smells good.
3. In my cast picture from my pit graduation show, i am wearing the most tense, fake smile. It is hilarious.

"Sam I know. Its all wrong. By rights we shouldnt even be here."

"But we are. Its like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones
that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were.
And sometimes you didnt want to know the end. Because how
could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the
way it was when so much bad had happened. But in the end,
its only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must
pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will
shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with
you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to
understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know
now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back
only they didnt. They kept going. Because they were holding
on to something."
"What are we holding on to, Sam?"
"That theres some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And its
worth fighting for."
The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers

I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry.

This is our Emergency

Feeling slightly less hateful today. The rent is paid. I actually feel rested.
The show is over. Our last show was pretty good. Erin came!!!! We may be working on it more in a different capacity, so keep the eyes peeled. It was pointed out to me at VU that we wore matching teeshirts. I mean, I knew it, but taken out of context, we really look like "matching teeshirt comedy". We don't do short form. I swear. It's part of a whole larger thing.

We're out of caffeine in the office. I know because I took the last one. I figure, if I'm going to get seventeen complaints about it from seventeen different people in this office who never took the time to learn my name, I might as well get the last french roast. Right? Also: I'm a bitch.

I saw a great sketch show on Friday. It was the new show from one of the first groups I saw when I came to new york. I will not link to it because I do not want anyone else that I know in real life finding this page. It's bizarrely awesome to think I'm actually friends with some of them now. The end of the show music was Float On, which I'm pretending was a dedication to me, even though I know it's just plain good end-of-show music.

I have my pit graduation class tonight. Aw. It's so weird. For everybody else in the class it's their second show ever. For me? Not so much. I really should be funnier, though, if I'm going to be all "I've been around the block" about it.