because i shave my legs regularly despite the season. and apparently they do not!
ewww!
not even before they start wearing shorts/capri-cut pants/short skirts.
ewwwww!
for example, i jump up and down and scream "it's snowing!" when i first realize that it is. and then run around the neighborhood saying "it's snowing!" to fellow pedestrians, like they don't know.
and i build little snowmen on the rooftop deck, with my bare hands and then say "my hands are cooold!" duh!
i'm a moron!
ps... yes! it is I who is responsible for all those half-assed snow angels you see on the sidewalks of capitol hill. ME! i did it!
note to self: if i fall for the wilds of mr. doody, i absolutely must convince him to make "onward christian soldier" our song.
because it gets me all hot and bothered.
yay! for ross dress for less!
---
this is how irregular they are: my new size none-of-your-business pants say they are size 8 pants. which they are not. that is an irregularity.
yay! for ross dress for less!
---
this is how irregular they are: my new size none-of-your-business pants say they are size 8 pants. which they are not. that is an irregularity.
because at the bookstore this afternoon, some idiot who smelled of too much old lady perfume, came up behind me and said in a REALLY! LOUD! VOICE! (thereby scaring the bejesus out of me)
"honey! this is the book i told you about. it is so cool. it's about a cartographer! in venice! and i know how much you and i love venice! i mean, how cool! i like venice! you like venice! and a cartographer! when the canals of venice were opened!!!"
oh yeah, bub. it's all peachy keen. now stop scaring innocent bystanders and GET! A! HEARING! AID! and some kind of anti-dork medication.
because at the bookstore this afternoon, some idiot who smelled of too much old lady perfume, came up behind me and said in a REALLY! LOUD! VOICE! (thereby scaring the bejesus out of me)
"honey! this is the book i told you about. it is so cool. it's about a cartographer! in venice! and i know how much you and i love venice! i mean, how cool! i like venice! you like venice! and a cartographer! when the canals of venice were opened!!!"
oh yeah, bub. it's all peachy keen. now stop scaring innocent bystanders and GET! A! HEARING! AID! and some kind of anti-dork medication.
dear mrs. puffinfresh,here is a little friendly fashion advice: it is not 1985. get rid of the skorts. but if you insist on wearing skorts, at least get rid of the baret...
and i plead of you! please! please, stop encasing those pasty white sausage-like legs in black thigh-high stockings. please!
signed,
concerned citizen.
dear mrs. puffinfresh,here is a little friendly fashion advice: it is not 1985. get rid of the skorts. but if you insist on wearing skorts, at least get rid of the baret...
and i plead of you! please! please, stop encasing those pasty white sausage-like legs in black thigh-high stockings. please!
signed,
concerned citizen.
does that make anyone else feel like john travolta in saturday night fever? or is that just me?
i mean, i know his life prolly sucks... you know, he's 35 and his job consists of scanning things and (apparently) piercing himself in unusual places... but what's with the 'tude?!?
---
and now some obligatory quiz thingies:
take the which one of the trading spaces cast are you? quiz!
drama?! running off?! who ME?
yay! everyone loves pie!! ergo - everyone loves MEEeeee!!!
discover what candy you are @ stvlive.com
damn! the jig is up!
just because it's sunny outside, they think they can pretend that it's hot or something.
well, it's not, people... go home and put some pants on for christ's sake!
are there really that many people in seattle trying to cover the smell of pot?
---
ps. i am downloading pictures off my camera. aren't you all excited?
i first confronted him with a "who the fuck are you?" followed by a "where do you think you're going?" and a "oh, i don't think so!"
and then he ran out. and i ran after him. because i am so very tough... and now everyone at work is either in awe of me, or afraid of me, or both.
ahhh... just the way i like it.
Q: how many times can a girl lock herself out of her apartment in a single year?for your amusement:A: seven, apparently.
almost as hilarious as the time i had to walk down broadway to the locksmiths in december wearing only sweatpants, a tight shirt, and very cold knockers.
go on... laugh at me. i don't care. meanies.
that is dang weird!
---
also today: when i picked up my child from his summer day camp, he was covered in paper mache.
i'm gonna go hit him with a stick and see if candy comes out.
i'll keep you posted.
mm hmm. sure... "the kids". and by "the kids" he means "THE GENITALS"!
"the kids"! bah!
---
also - i need a shower and this is really funny.
is the good humor man branching out into pot or something?... hmm... a glance out my window proves he's actually selling ice cream.
hey, maybe i want ice cream.
i couldn't get the stank out of my nose for, like, five minutes! five very looooooong minutes.
and since i'm talking about gross things... i am so full of mexi-nuggets i think i'm gonna chuck.
---
also - MUFFINS!
oh, and look... there they go leaving with nobody again... bye bye medical personnel! see you on tuesday!
i'm beginning to think i live across from fight club.
fight club as seen thru screen.
and, just for fun, here is a picture of the world's tiniest bedroom:
if you look carefully, you will notice the clothes rod located above the head of the bed... yes, that's right, folks! i sleep in a closet!
jealous?
but anyway. this is inconveniencing me (you know, it is always about me)... because even though this one's free, he's sorta freaking me out. so now i'm forced to look for another yoga dude.
i'm thinking that real yoga instructors probably cost money and don't stalk you.
"good morning" i says, this morning.
"it's kinda cool today!"
yeah. thanks for the update al roker!
i am one low maintenance girlfriend... either that, or i'm a bootie call.
our coffee bar should start serving bacon!
i mean, they have coffee and chai (BLECH!), assorted pastries, and artsy-fartsy dweebies. the only thing they're lacking is pork!
ps. i am thinking i need a diaryland arch-nemesis. click here to apply.
can anyone say 1985?
DUDE! I SCORED A CROOKED UGLY END TABLE! i am so happy, i will do the dance of joy!
he has taken to plunging his sink while i'm at work... which he knows makes his clog magically appear in MY sink... ABRACADABRA! coffee grounds!
he also flushes his toilet while i am in the shower... jackhole. he knows i'm in the shower! he can hear the singing!
if i were spiteful, i'd make lots and lots of noise whenever i had a gentleman caller... oh wait. bahahahaha!
oh yeah... and don't forget!! tonight you're all winners!
this is day four of operation abstinence... and i'm barely squeaking by.
the taco bell in my neighborhood is staffed by actual mexicans! i know!! weeeirrrd!
and other weirdness?
i wrote something here last night, and i don't remember doing that at all!
hmm... this is unsettling.
thank god he shaved his legs. or else, he'd have looked ridiculous!
sleep.
yeah, i know you're thinking caffeine is supposed to keep you up. but you are wrong!
i proved my theory by drinking 5 double short americanos, then falling dead asleep... and no, not in my bed. but in the middle of the coffee house!
sweet!
and now, some random information about my morning:
last night i heard weird horsey sex sounds coming from his apartment... so, of course, i immediately turned off the CD player and put my ear to the wall.
and i shit you not! mr. ed was playing "another day in paradise"... no joke!
hahahahahaha! and it was hard not to laugh, but i did it. because the laughing might interrupt my trying-to-hear-the-sex.
i should get the academy award for not-laughing, by the way.
he ees der bus nazi.
and i wore pedestrian garb special today... black pants, black shoes, black sweater, black coat, black scarf.
go on! HIT ME! ya crazy car driving freaks!
look throoouuugh the crazy old lady. you see no crazy old lady, you hear no crazy old lady... repeat after me, "what crazy old lady? what? who? where?"
unless you like hearing stories about cats and pee, that is.
You Are A Fruitcake. I Have Proof.
brought to you by Quizilla
like you didn't already know i was a fruitcake.
but anyway, if you like big butts and you cannot lie (you othah brothahs can't de-ny) visit seattle's building department. because MY GOD! there's nothin' but bootie everywhere!
even big ol' SHELF bootie. whee!
and i have a PAIR! and they don't match anything in the apartment! and they are so ugly!! I LOVE THEM!
after the previous entry, i don't think you all quite grasp the fabulousity that is my apartment. so, hold onto your seats, people! and prepare yourself for MAGIC!
this is the crappy concrete shelf. made of gen-u-ine concrete! and glass shelves made of gen-u-ine broken entertainment center doors! class-ay!
and this is the evil, concrete-block-hole of billdom. eeew! we hate this concrete-block-hole. *hiss* *boo* *grr*
there is a puny ladder on this wall... just in case of emergency ladder-climbing. (it's decorative AND useful!)
this is the wall of crap. we house many things here, including a vcr that was found in an abandoned apartment, books (to make me look smart), and the following crap:
a bowl of rocks and the famous Mouse Lee.
(who is actually a hamster! haha!).
an ugly coffee mug filled with even more rocks.
but they are foreign rocks, so that makes them cool!
and lastly, this is a ceramic turkey-in-a-basket!
you are tres jealous, aren't you? yes, i know.
and just when you thought you saw the ugliest chairs in the world? meet "mr. blue mcfugly". mr. mcfugly ROCKS.
the official Seattle Crap Museum sofa, is so crappy, it's real, true surface cannot be shown. besides, it's kinda itchy, and this blankey is sooo fuzzy! and we love fuzzy!
i had this thing hanging upside down for about 4 months... but really, can you blame me?
and in case you haven't heard yet, the Seattle Crap Museum is very very bloody hot in the winter. and this is why.
you may remember this fabulous chair from such times as yesterday.
welcome to the wall of wood. people sometimes misinterpret the nailed-up pieces of paneling as art. but it's not. it's wood... and that trophy in the corner? i got it for being the prettiest girl in the world. or i found it on the side of the road. whatever.
the kitchen... counter space? we don't need no stinkin' counter space! we *spit* on your counter space! *pa-tewey*
and get a load of the stove! it's new! WEIRD!
here is where my child learns such words as "labia" and "pubic". see? dirty magnets aren't just fun. they're educational!
here is where i keep the ugliest dishtowel on earth... given to me by mrs. jackass. who apparently is the only person smart enough to buy me cheesy/ugly things for my birthday. hooray!
and this is the bathroom, which is not ugly. except for that weird rusty stuff around my drain. but it is home to:
anti-frizz headquarters... which also serves as the eye-drop ministry, floss depot, the chapstick bureau, and tampon central.
and just a tip - in lieu of art, just hang cardboard on the wall.
or some ugly ass scarf someone actually tried to throw away. (silly people!)
thank you for visiting the Seattle Crap Museum...
home of the world's tiniest bedroom.
or he just wanted to see my victory dance... which looks a whole lot like my rotating dna strand dance. with the words "who da man? i da man! woo!" and the inexplicable appearance of the following:
you may recognize this hand from such times as the 80's.
or guns & roses concerts.
hey, don't mock me! i know only old people go to comedy clubs... but shut up!
anyway, what was i saying? ...oh, yeah.
did you know there are advertisements displayed on the back of the bathroom stall doors now? ... what? who? why?
hey, buddy... i'm just here to pee, i don't want to buy no volkswagen!
me: (triumphantly) "pirogi!!"
aggressive russian lady: "what else?"
me: "err... i guess a spinach and mushroom piroshki?"
aggressive russian lady: "what else?"
me: "umm. that's all."
aggressive russian lady: "soup! you have soup."
me: "umm... well, i was really just going to have the other stuff."
aggressive russian lady: "no! you have borscht."
me: "uhh... okaaay."
aggressive russian lady: "and dessert. you have dessert."
me: "um, actually i don't want..."
aggressive russian lady: "you have desert."
me: "don't hit me"
do your job, you bastard!
you are a can opener! open some fucking cans! don't just make dents! you are not a can denter.
i want my refried beans, dammit!
signed,
beanless
ps. fuck you.
at least that guy that wears the dresses and the jester hat only shakes his jingle bells at me.
and by "shake" i mean "shake". and by "jingle bells" i mean "jingle bells"... it's not code or nothin.
People don't like it when their car alarms go off at 3AM, and you scream out the window:
"Just steal the friggin' car already!"
But, I do not like it when their car alarms go off at 3AM. Or at any AM. Or any PM.
So, he can kiss my LILY WHITE ASS! Hah! But first he'll have to figure out which apartment I'm in! HAH! And how to bypass the security door! HAH!
Good luck, chumpy.
Tip for the easily confused? Don't go out a different door than you entered in the strange, new grocery store.
But on the upside, I now know where to buy homemade organic dog biscuits... Yip-pee.
Bonus! I also found out where I can purchase gay porn, gay porn, and gay porn... Oh, and gay porn.
---
PS. Whenever I decide to close down my diary, I'm taking one of you with me. Which one of you would like to be the object of my allegation of harassment?
Please insert annoyance here.
Thank you very much.
DO NOT STOP WHEN I AM STANDING AT A CROSSWALK! Do you understand me? DO NOT STOP!
Maybe I don't want to cross the street right this friggin' minutee! Ever think of that, asshat? And I do not appreciate your guerilla tactics.
And I ain't wavin' at you neither. Forcer-across-the-streeter!
The bus.
And you know what the best thing about the bus is?
No, not riding in the stretchy part of the double-long bus... It's the smell of urine!
Yippee.
Also. I have renamed Lunatic's little fruity dogs "Snoopy Dogg Dogg" and "Notorious D.O.G."
Of course, I'm doing this behind Lunatic's back, so it may take a while... But after they get used to answering to their new names? They'll be the coolest fruity dogs ever!
Because he is such a catch! What with the drooling and the slurring. And that leathery skin! And the painted-on acid wash jeans! I'm swooning!
Oh, how I will mourn what could have been.
---
Go get yo' caption on!
Anyway, it should be noted that today marks the beginning of SEATTLESTRAVAGANZA! (There will be pictures!)
Which is basically Jennifer on vacation, but going into work all the damned time. But is Jennifer's lame attempt at spending time with The Child before he goes off with his damn stupid ass buttface stinky smelly hick ass father for longer than Jennifer wants.
But on the upside? There will be lots more drunken entries! YAY!
Day one: Seattlestravaganza!
Why is EVERYBODY playing Justin Timberlake's "Rock Your Body", today? Is that, like, the National Labor Day anthem or something? Did I miss the memo?
Seriously! WHY DO I HAVE TO LISTEN TO THAT SONG AGAIN? I mean, I used to like it... About 85,637 rotations ago. And now you've ruined it!
What is wrong with you gay people!?
I've heard people call my neighborhood strange...
The airport shuttle guy makes jokes about how my neighborhood is full of freaks. And Geriatric Mark tells me he has to come here to see the weirdos (not me, you doofus). And the bus drivers call my neighborhood Granola Hill ("What's not fruits and nuts, is flakes").
Now, I'll admit that, at first, I wandered around here freaking out at everything... But now? I notice nothing. Nothing is freaky. Nobody is weird. You'd have to be totally and completely naked in order for me to look twice.
Dye your hair to match your lime green (only) wardrobe? Like wearing jingle bells all up and down your pantyhose? Enjoy screaming profanities at your invisible friends? Fancy wearing a pink tutu over your Levis?
All completely normal!
But you bring in a housewife from Bellevue, with teased, frosted hair... wearing pumps with jeans and HA HA! I stare, I point, I gasp, and I fall into hysterics.
Ha ha! PUMPS!
You gotta love a city where when a coffee shop in my neighborhood floods, they send out the Eyewitness News crew.
It's all about priorities, dude.
Should we cover the war? The economy? Or THE LACK OF COFFEE? The answer is obvious, no?
I like how everything here floods when it rains a whole 2 inches in one day. Hah! Try THIRTY EIGHT, motherfuckers.
These people even cry on TV when there's a wee baby earthquake. Yes! CRYING! On TV! Ha ha ha ha ha!! I'm in a city of big whiny babies.
... And I am their queen.
Oh, how I love the fall! It's so pretty! And cool! And I have taken to waking up an hour earlier so that I can walk around a park or two before I get ready for work.
It's off to hell with you, cellulite!
Or maybe not, since I've taken to eating about 45467451 calories a day. But it is my fault the weathers perfect for hot chocolate? And soup? And steak sandwiches? And extra-foamy whole milk cappucinos? And carrot muffins? And lemon crepes? And gigantic loaves of bread?
I didn't think so.
And now for a wrap-up of the weekend!
Friday
Went with many queers, a chink, and a straight white girl for Chinese food and drinking... Was uncharacteristically responsible with alcohol! No one was flashed, no one was told "I love you, man", no one was licked (although there was an offer), and only 3 people were hugged. But did engage in all-time favorite group activity of Laughing At How Strangers Are Dressed.
Straight white girl says she will be having wet dreams about doll head boyfriend. And all agree, My Favorite Homosexual would be dangerously close to licking him.
Saturday
Woke up early to walk, walk, walk around. Was shocked that suffered no ill effects from Friday night. Chalked it up to amazingly high alcohol tolerance. Had coffee and crepes. Bought shoes. Had coffee and banana chocolate-chip muffin. Bought altoids. Ate entire pepperoni pizza.
Sunday
Had coffee and almond brioche. And lemon poundcake. And chicken salad. And huge pastrami sandwich. And fistfuls of trail mix. And vegetarian chili. And... the rest is all a blur.
Now, I hope that none of you are living vicariously through me... Because, damn! That was one grandma of a weekend!
I just got invited for a dry martini by construction workers... Damn... Only in Capitol Hill do carpenters opt for mojitos over beer.
I just found these here loverly Starbuck's coupons on my sample table... Just sittin' there. Waiting for me.
This is why I got into the design industry... The free stuff.
Now, it's peppermint mochas for everyone! Or maybe just me. ME! Hah! None for you! ME! Just ME!
MUAHAHAHAHAHA MUHAHA MUHAHAHAHA MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA MUHAHAHAHA MUAHAHAHA!
If you see this face at the table next to you at happy hour?
Don't believe whatever oblivious expression I'm giving you, because I am so listening to every stinkin' word you're saying.
PS. I am finding your problems with finding a boyfriend HI-larious, and your constant staring at my salad makes me uncomfortable. Stop it.
Ah, December... Or as I like to call it... The month Jennifer supports vagrancy in her neighborhood.
Hey, even hobos need Christmas!
And if one more Eddie-Bauer-edition-Ford-Explorer-driving cunt rag makes one more bitchy assed comment about my giving A HUMAN BEING a few dollars, I swear they'll get the business side of my middle finger.
Holy shit is it forking cold tonight! I'm surprised that my head didn't freeze off on the walk home.... Brrrrrrrrrrrr! It's so cold, my hair hurts!
:cold:
But on the up side... I did get to see the largest afro I ever did see.
See? What did I tell you... It's FORKING COLD!
I told you so.
Now if you'll excuse me... I have some very important half-assed sidewalk snow angels to make... At 11:30 at night. Woo!
This is the real reason why I love it when it snows...
It's the only time of year when I can wear my fuzzy NZ possum-hide earmuffs and not feel like a complete idiot.
Well... Actually, I still feel like an idiot... But HELLO! These are the cutest earmuffs in the world!
OK. I'm done taking pictures of myself... I'm gonna go play! Yay!
Next person who feeds me a caper, dies. Or will want to die after I make them feel REALLY REALLY guilty about making me not feel my face for days.
Also of note... It is butt ass cold in my apartment! Which may have something to do with the fact that I left my windows WIDE open while it was snowing this morning.
Hey, a girl outta be able to catch snowflakes in her own living room, right?
Guess what... Nothing smears mascara quite like a snowflake to the eyeball.
And there are LOTS of snowflakes this morning! IT'S MOTHER FREAKING SNOWING! Hooray!
And dyke fu is cancelled. So I don't have to get my ass kicked! Just frolicked... Well, my ass isn't going to get frolicked. All of me is!
Wait. Does that sound perverted?
Don't ya just love snow storms?
Now get out of my way! Because there is a gathering of people outside who like to sled down city streets inside of laundry baskets. And I think I am one of their own.
Much to my horror, last night I had to catch a connecting Metro bus at Pioneer Square... Which means I got to see:
Maybe they didn't want to get their bus pee'd on.
OK. I love puppies like nobody's business... But, do you see me go pet a dog outside on the street, and then walk into a coffee house, and then order something to eat?!?! WHERE I HAVE TO USE MY HANDS?!!
Oh, BLECH!
People are SO gross.
Eww.
Phewy.
Shh. Don't tell him, but... I'm cheating on my barista.
I didn't mean to! I was weak! He took advantage of me! He knows I have a weakness for almond croissants!
... I feel so guilty.
PS. Who lives in Seattle and wants to go see Lord of the Rings: Return of the King with me? Huh? Who? BECAUSE NOBODY WILL GO SEE IT WITH ME! And at this point, I'm willing to take a complete stranger.
PSS. Crazy stalker people need not apply.
PSSS. I know Dyke Fu, so watch it.
PSSSS. Totally not going to sleep with you afterward, buddy.
I can't believe it! It's friggin' sunny!
I'm even wearing a tank top! And sunglasses! And because it's sunny, and not just because my sunglasses are too cute!
Funny thing is... The sun's only been out, what? Seven hours? And there are already sunburned people walking around!
Ha ha! I mock you sunburned white people! I point at you with my yellow-hued, easily tanned, melanin-rich finger, and I laugh. HA HA!
The longer I live in the city, the more likely I am to be found changing my clothes in front of my living room window.
(Hello! The blinds are open, Stupid Jennifer!)
I seem to be under the misguided belief that nobody
(a) can see inside, because it's dark in here, or
(b) gives a crap.
But apparently? They can. And they do.
I was just out at a club watching white people pretend like they were Cuban...
:blink:
I haven't seen dancing that awkward and jerky since I saw April dance on America's Next Top Model.
Heehee! Please, I beg of you Caucasians... Please don't stop dancing like this. I am very amused!
Horse Face is moving out! ... I guess all the loud sex and gangsta rap finally drove him away. Muahaha! Everything is going according to plan! Muahahaa!
Err... I mean, aww... too bad.
And guess who's getting his apartment? ME! ME ME ME ME ME! Wonderful ME! I'm getting his apartment! You know, the corner apartment with 100 more square feet, and a view of Gas Works Park, and (I think) hardwood floors? Eeeeee!
I AM SO HAPPY I COULD HURL!!
Now, everyone who wants to help me move a giant 483 pound television 10 feet down the hall next month, please form an orderly line.
Your assistance will be rewarded with a warm and fuzzy feeling inside. And maybe a beer. But probably not.
Hooray! It's sunny! And springy! And gorgeous! And there are cherry blossoms and tulips and daffodils all over the place! HOW FUCKING PRETTY!
Now tell me, how can I not love a neighborhood where the apartment buildings look like this? --->
Huh? How?
And how can I not love it when half the people I run into on my way to the get coffee this morning are carrying a steaming hot bag of dog poo?
Ah! This is living!
And now, for my impersonation of a pug dog out on it's morning walk:
Pant, pant, pant, snort, snort, SNORT, pant, snort, SNORT, WHEEZE, pant, pant, WHEEZE, snort, snort, SNORT, pant, WHEEZE.
Thank you. Thank you very much!
This morning, my barista and I sang the entire chorus of Jody Watley's "I'm looking for a new love", and now it's TOTALLY STUCK IN MY HEAD. Gah!
Maybe tomorrow he can torture me with some Pebbles... That bastard.
I am so never moving out of this neighborhood ever.
Where else can I spend 2.5 hours drinking German beer, eating Greek food, talking about French movies, with an sideburned Irishman who WALKED ME HOME.
I feel so... 17.
It's not so much fun getting caught in the rain when you're carrying twenty pounds of groceries in a paper bag.
And way lesser fun to be wearing sandals at the same time.
The :scm: will be moving to a more spacious, more hardwood-floored, freshly-painted apartment down the hall on June 1st. WOO HOO! I am so excited, I can't keep from giggling like a freakishly old schoolgirl!
I've already arranged the furniture in my head, and I've ordered dinnerware that better suits an apartment with a partial view of downtown Seattle. You know, the view that you'd get if you were to press yourself up against the bedroom window and squint.
Unfortunately, my new handbag totally doesn't go with my new apartment... Must. Buy. New. Handbag.
Hmph. Apparently you can't say "fuck" in my comments anymore... Don't freak out! Get creative!
And in other news, the girl upstairs is singing! Thankfully, she can carry a tune. Totally not thankfully, it's FOLK MUSIC! Gah!!
If this continues, I'm going to have to resort to my only form of retribution... The same thing my old roommate had to endure when he sat in the living room playing his guitar and singing "Brown Eyed Girl"... Crrrrrrrrazy laughter.
It's only 8:00 in the morning, and already I've seen a guy in a dress, wearing a dozen jingle bells on his sneakers.
HA HA! Can you imagine? Who wears jingle bells?
Did you ever wonder what I do when a moderately famous actor stands next to me at a restaurant bar, and talks about how he just got back from wrapping up a film in Florida, and how much fun Dennis Quaid is at a golf tournament?
Well, pretty much I just sit there going, "OH MY GOD! FAMOUS DUDE! SITTING NEXT TO ME! OH MY GOD!! I'M GOING TO SCREAM! DON'T SCREAM! DON'T EVEN LOOK AT HIM! PRETEND YOU DON'T KNOW WHO HE IS! OH MY GOD! AAAH! HE'S FAMOUS! WHAT THE FUCK IS HIS NAME!?!? AAAAAAAAAAAAAH! FAMOUS DUDE!!! TOUCHING MY ELBOW! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
Hooray! There is internet access once again at the Seattle Crap Museum again! Let us rejoice!
*Rejoices*
Now stop rejoicing and check out the brand new view from my brand new living room window... Isn't my telephone pole view purdy? I loves it!
And now for more new apartment pros and cons:
Pro: 5th floor! Yay!
Con: Holy crap, do you know how heavy grocery bags get after the 4th floor?
Pro: Hardwood floors are pretty!
Con: Hardwood floors are slippery!
Pro: Can watch neighbors across the street, and they never catch me!
Con: Can't stop watching neighbors across the street. (STOP DOING YOGA SO CLOSE TO THE WINDOW! It is distracting! Gah!)
Ever since I moved to Seattle, I've been disoriented by the sheer volume of tall people. I mean, WHOA! What do they feed you people? You're all giants! Now, instead of being taller than 75% of the men, and 99.9% of the women, I'm only taller than about half the people. I'm even shorter than my boyfriend! Weird!
And sometimes, I'll be standing in a group of women, and all of them are MY HEIGHT or TALLER, and are in no way blood related to me, and I'll think, "Holy crap! Giants!" But I won't say that out loud, because they might get mad and squish me.
So, to better orient myself to the land of giants, I wear nuffin but big shoes... Except this morning when I went to get coffee, and it was too warm for big shoes, and discovered that I walk like a friggin' horse in flip flops*
Neigh.
Apparently, my neighbors across the street are NUDISTS and they leave their blinds wide open while they're playing Boggle... NAKED... and DUDE they're middle-aged... and NAKED... and I saw his moobs... his NAKED MOOBS... and when she lost she said "Oh oh oh oh oh" and she said that NAKED... and OH MY GOD they're sitting next to each other on the couch now! NAKED! EEEEEW! CLOSE THE BLINDS! CLOSE THE BLINDS! CLOSE THE BLINDS!
I just saw the grossest thing ever! And I'd tell you what it was but I'm too traumatized to speak of it... But suffice to say it involved two very very white people, a lounge chair, a second floor balcony, and WAY TOO MUCH NAKED FOR OUTSIDE ON THE SECOND FLOOR BALCONY IN A LOUNGE CHAIR! Blech.
This has all been significantly less amusing than the time I saw Mr. Boggle's ass. Which was yesterday.
Which leads me to ask, "why do I have to see everyone's ass?"
Yay! Rain!
I couldn't be any happier unless I was sitting in an ergonomic chair wearing pajama pants and no shoes, with internet access, no supervision, and a buttload of green tea... OH WAIT! I've got that. That's all me!
I guess I'm REALLY FUCKING HAPPY then.
Today I went to the Van Gogh to Mondrian exhibit at SAM and shot a few people The Stink Eye. (Move, dammit! Move!) Then I watched boys scream and throw fish. Then I ate several cinnamon donuts. Then I spent a few sunny hours lying at the edge of a wading pool in sweatpants. (Hi Seattle! It's cold!)
And then some guy dressed up like a viking came and ran around for a bit... What the hell kind of neighborhood is this?
It's hard to hate Seattle when you go to dinner on the beach at Alki, where it's stupidly pretty and the moon is as big as a bus... Alright already! I love you again, dammit!
Anyway! I got to hang out with my step-sister and her girlfriend, where there was singing in the car, and dishing about the boy (after they swore "WE WON'T SAY ANYTHING!"), and where I was informed that my step-father is prodding them for information on my social life... up to and including the question "Did she switch teams?"
:blink:
When the weather gets cold and drizzly in Seattle, all the really cute, big boned, white boys come out. It must be true, because a good dozen of them came out to torture me with all their big, burly, lumberjack, turtleneck-wearing, PRAISE THE LORD FOR THAT ASS! cuteness at brunch.
So I shot a couple of them The Eye and then I humped a leg or two.
HA HA HA! I kid! I didn't hump anybody's leg. But that's only because I am a bastion of self-control, because they totally deserved humping.
Last night, I bundled up the child, and went to the Woodland Park Zoo Pumpkin Prowl and followed an unsuspecting man around the spider exhibit, and the Mad Scientist show, and ... Oh alright, I followed him everywhere.
BE WARNED TALL LUMBERJACK-Y LOOKING MEN! I have no self-control, so if you look even vaguely Scandinavian, I will be all up in your grill. Or more accurately, behind your grill... Analyzing the rear.
PS. What up with the baggy pants? Knock it off, dude.
PSS. This morning, I reversed the Bonnie-Raitt disaster by dying my hair purple. I know it sounds fishy, but the local metrosexuals agree - I was born to be a purple-head.
Living one block from old-money has it's privileges. There's the nerdy schools, the low crime rate, the easy access to tofurkey. But best of all... This is a full-size candy bar kind of neighborhood! Yay!
There is Twix! Full-size Twix! In my house! Oh my God, I don't know if I can take this kind pressure! Hold me.
Despite my (FABULOUS!) costume suggestion of "emo", Turdface decided to go as Sir Poops-a-lot (pictured right). I, on the other hand, went as a liquored up mother in ill-fitting sweatpants.
I'm so HAWT.
---
This Halloween was brought to you by a thermos full of hot buttered rum, and about 10 pounds of sugar.
Note: Only in Seattle do you come home from trick-or-treating with a 1-lb bag of coffee...
I like going in to work for two hours, throwing festive holiday chocolate dipped macadamia nut shortbread cookies at everyone, calling 18 people to talk about plumbing fixtures, their schedules, and great places to visit on my road trip up the coast (Cannon Beach, apparently), and then LEAVING.
I like going to 25% off sales at travel stores to stock up on funny travel books, and scarves, and electrical converters. And then going into the local lesbian book store to buy ridiculously overpriced architectural books (Northwest Cabins! The Book!).
I like lunching, like I'm a socialite, and telling the boys in the table next to me that one of them smells REALLY GOOD (grapefruits!) and then befriending them, and finding out their holiday plans, what they bought their sister for Christmas, and WHERE did I get that cute Barbie Pink purse of mine? Because, Lord knows, I don't have enough homosexual friends.
I'm going to miss this neighborhood when I run away.
Much to my distress, my frequently-naked Boggle-playing neighbors have moved out! How could they? THOSE SELFISH BASTARDS! How am I supposed to amuse my guests now?
Everyone's favorite Jennifer-Dumper, Geriatric Mark, has generously suggested alternative entertainment:
You know it's going to be a great day when coffee finally tastes fantastic again, and your new pink purse matches your old pink turtleneck perfectly, and the view of the sunrise over the Cascades makes you stand in the middle of E. Galer Street and gawk, and on your walk to work you looked into an open window and saw a GIGANTIC picture of some guy's ass.
Ah, gayborhood. How I love you.
Take a good long look at this fountain and tell me it doesn't HURT YOUR VERY SOUL!
See it? Do you see that?
It's a child's dismembered head!! And limbs!! Floating around in a pool of water!!!!
AUGHHH!!! I NEED A SHOWER!
I don't know why Peter Buck's luggage is in my stairwell, but I HAVE HIS CELL PHONE NUMBER! And his ADDRESS! I can totally stalk Peter Buck!
Unless this is just some other non-R.E.M. founding Peter Buck guy who lives in Seattle and has bulletproof luggage... Then I'll just be stalking some dude.
I just took the final step in becoming a Seattleite... I've already got the large collection of umbrellas and the travel sized french press and an affinity for local independent business... And then, this morning? I told some guy at the coffee shop to "have a nice day!"
Huh? Who IS this person? When did it become unacceptable to part with "later, douche bag"?
I guess this means I don't have to see another pair of shants for the next year! YIPP-FUCKING-EE!!!!
Today is the 5th anniversary of my arrival in Seattle... Ah, I was but a wee 28 year old, with an overnight bag, $40 in cash, a resume, and apparently no idea that one needs more than $40 when moving to a city thousands of miles from home.
3 ways to be a pretend Seattleite:
It's been snowing for about half an hour, and I've already made two excuses to go outside and run around in it.
How come when I try to catch the snowflakes in my mouth, none go in my mouth and about 8 go in my eyeball?
(PS. What a stupid time to leave Seattle for a trip to America's Crotch! IT IS SNOWING! I will miss SNOW! Bah!)
Overheard on the bus: "If you give me $5, I'll shave my balls right here."
Jennifer thinks: "How about I give you a million dollars and you keep your pants on?"
Overheard at Seattle's Most Phallic Building: "Michael Jackson... Michael Jackson to permit issuance."
Jennifer thinks: "HA HA HA HA!"
God, I love this city... We have giant phallises (phalliae?), we have Michael Jackson, we have public ball shavers. What more can a girl possibly ask for?
Me in downtown Seattle, 8 days before Christmas and I don't want to shank anyone? The slow-walkers and stupid people were still there... And yet? No desire to shank! Something is awry!
Instead, for the first time since I first got to Seattle, I sat on a wino bench in Westlake Center and just watched all the rich men walk by with their teeny tiny pocket wives, and I gave pasty bagpipe-playing redheads money, and I eavesdropped on old ladies conversations, and watched the homosexual pigeons hit on each other.
And I sat smiling the whole time.
DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS? ... I'm that crazy smiling wino-bench lady!
This morning I saw someone picking up her dog's poop with her hands and then chucking it in the bushes. And then she looked up at me walking down the sidewalk, jumped away from the dog poop, and pretended that she wasn't just TOUCHING IT WITH HER BARE HANDS... Yeah, lady. I'm convinced.
Revolting... Amusing... I cannot decide on an emotion!
"Did you go to the show yesterday?"
"No. I'm abstaining from all things fag until next week."
PS. Happy New Year!
So you'll get the full effect, here's a little impersonation...
"Haaa haaa shuhhh huh ahhhssh huhhh huuuuh shaahsh huhhhh haaaaaa..."
Sortof like breathing - sortof like listening to someone having a particularly difficult bowel movement.
Time to go barf!
Me: (In the office until 7:00 last night) Yay! I'm going home.
Dude: How are you going to get home?
Me: ... Um. Walk?
Dude: But it's dark and scary outside!
Me: Dude. This is the gayest neighborhood in Seattle... What's the worst that could happen? Drive-by bitchslapping?
My electric bill for the first two months of 2006 is $7.32. Holy energy efficiency! Am I officially a Seattleite now? Or are they still waiting for me to learn how to recycle first?
Also, I would tell you about the busiest weekend in the history of Jennifer, where I crammed in shopping for carry-ons and electrical converters and hair accoutrements and shoes and travel underwear, (Yes. I wear underwear when I travel!) but how boring!
Even still, I did manage to fit in a few hours of getting severely dehydrated on beer and eating BACON wrapped around SCALLOPS (who knew it was possible to improve upon bacon?) at Jenifer and Mr. Jenifer's house with the world's cutest puppy, and the world's cutest people from the internets. And Phil.
HA! I kid, Phil!
Not really.
Ha! Kidding!
Or am I?
I think the title to this post just says it all. ALL IS RIGHT WITH THE WORLD! HALLELUJAH! THE STEVEN SEAGAL BLUES BAND IS COMING TO SEATTLE!
You can't make this shit up, people.
After discovering this, my similarly-minded co-worker, Twelve and I spent the rest of the day discussing Steven Seagal. And OH MY GOD, we should totally go early and get front row seats. Then Steven Seagal can SWEAT ON US. How totally awesome!
Now I will leave you with the words of Co-Worker Twelve... "This is going to be the best show EVAR! E-V-A-R! EVAR!"
The always adorable LaCroix and I made it to the Salon of Shame tonight, and promptly pee'd ourselves. Because there is not much funnier than romance novels by 13-year-old girls.
No seriously. I couldn't breathe for about 5 minutes.
Other things that made me pee my pants:
Edited to add: See it here
Do you know how hard it is figure out where the ice cream truck is when you live in my building? It always sounds like he's right down the street. EXCEPT HE'S NOT... It's like he's the Ice Cream Ninja.
WHERE IS THE TICKLY MUSIC COMING FROM!?! I can't tell! Where are you ice cream man?!? WHERE ARE YOU!?
PS. One of my favorite things about living in my building is seeing the lobby doors BURST open, and watching several homosexuals run out screaming, "ICE CREEEEEAM!!!!"
Although how they could tell he was in front of the building I will never know.
I just saw a woman in gold lamè capri pants... No seriously! I wasn't drunk or anything! I even looked several times to make sure that I was really seeing GOLD LAMÉ! CAPRI PANTS!
Was she being ironic?
Maybe she was just from Kent?
I don't know what was going on, but I think my retinas are permanently scarred... Or it's just my junior high school Winter Ball again.
The Pride March moved downtown this year, and... well... I don't know what to do with myself!
It's so quiet! On pride weekend! In Capitol Hill!
I can walk across the street without getting run over by a big aquarium filled with lesbians. I can get a cup of coffee at the corner in under 15 minutes. I can find a seat at the counter at Coastal Kitchen without having to push anyone out of the way. I don't want to stab anyone for walking too slow... ON PRIDE WEEKEND!
This is so weird.
The neighborhood kids don't have their annual big gay lemonade stand at the corner, there aren't rainbow flags all over the place, people aren't dancing up and down my street, my neighbors aren't blasting "Got To Be Real" out their window, and BY GEORGE WHERE ARE ALL THE STRAIGHT SUBURBAN COUPLES?!
That Crazy Old Screaming Lady across the street? Apparently, a crazy middle-aged screaming MAN who SOUNDS like an old lady.
Which I would know now because I can watch that fuckhead open his window, lean out, and yell down to whomever dares to walk in the parking lot 7 floors below such things as, "GET ME AN ICE TEA MOTHERFUCKER! ICE TEEEH! ICE TEEEEEEH!" or "JESSE! JESSAAY!" or whatever it is crazy people are saying these days.
How is it that his neighbors have not killed him?!? HOW?!?!! HOW???!!
But don't get me wrong. I'm not one of those people that thinks everything needs to be quiet. I know I live in a city! I expect street noise, and traffic noise, and screaming people noise, and I expect to hear crazy people yelling at strangers to bring them beverages, motherfucker. In fact, over the years I have found such behavior quite amusing.
But this guy makes me yearn for a blow dart gun... And a tranquilizer dart... And really good aim... And his unconscious, twitching, body lying on the floor of his apartment.
Last night, I went with LaCroix and a few Real Life Friends to the Salon of Shame, and laughed until my face hurt. And now that there's a sign language interpreter, it's also educational! (You never know when knowing the ASL sign for "cock ring" or "cum milkshake" will come in handy.)
And then I somehow ended up in a reggae bar with a How-To-Dance-Jamaicanly video playing on the TV... I AM SO NOT SHITTING YOU. It also had a sign on the girl's bathroom that said, "Empresses" which makes me want either stab it, or hug it. I'm not sure which one.
Somehow today, I was not hungover. I AM MAGIC!
This weekend, we went up on the roof and watched Sky Nascar.
While it was cool and all, I have to say that it's no longer impressive the 6th time you watch it. So I said, "Planes flying really close to each other... Again. Woo hoo."
Since I could not be impressed I went to SAM at SAAM, which is just like going to SAM except way smaller and you can pronounce it like this "Saaaaaaaaaam".
And then I watched a lot of Sponge Bob Squarepants and baked the best oatmeal cookies ever, in the history of oatmeal cookies... And then I might have eaten 6 of them.
And then I made smooshy noises at the :poolboy: and discovered that it is quite possible that I can get away with anything. HE REFUSES TO BE IRRITATED BY ME. Who knew this was possible?
PS. Must devise plan to test theory! Stay tuned!
After I scraped the bird poop off my shirt with a discarded Starbuck's pastry bag, I thought TIME TO BUY A LOTTERY TICKET!
Or maybe I just drove out to the Ballard Locks* and watched horny fish swim upstream
* And didn't get lost! Good luck!
This morning, Turdface and I went to the Washington Park Arboretum and sweat our faces off... Because, you know, it's real hard to sit on a bridge and feed koi.
PHEW! I get sweaty just looking at that picture! Someone pass me a towel!
We also walked through a part of the arboretum called the "New Zealand Highlands Exhibit", which was mysteriously low on "New Zealand" and "Highlands" and "Exhibiting".
We were so disappointed that we sated ourselves by driving past Broadmoor, and talking in our foo-foo shee-shee accents, and requesting a sherry and a box of SOLID GOLD UNDERPANTS!
I was just standing in line at the local Walgreens behind a guy buying four 12-packs of Magnum XL condoms.
:blink: Don't even want to know.
Or do I?
This morning, someone stopped me at the corner across from Big Bootie Ho to tell me that I'm "cute as fuck"... And we all know how cute fuck is! SUPER CUTE!
It wasn't as much fun as the time someone offered me $400* to "look" at me for 10 minutes on that very same corner, but still! How cute am I?
* I'll do the math for you - That's $2400/hour! Just to look at me! Aren't you happy I let you look at me for free?
Also, this just goes to prove that I look way cuter without direct sunlight.
I have frequently expressed my love for winter and fall and rain and snow and dreary Winnie-the-Pooh days... Because what the hell is better than running around outside in the snow and/or rain, and then coming inside and getting dry and drinking all the coffee in the whole house? NOTHING!
Now I have another reason to love it... I totally forgot to put on anti-perspirant this morning - AND GUESS WHAT? I'm anti-perspiring! So it doesn't matter! HA HA! Yay for 56 degrees!
Bean the CRAP out of them when they fall down. Also, don't believe any crying - It's all a ruse to get you to stop threatening to make them fabricate "snow boobs" for your amusement.
Ah... Amusement!
And now for more amusement... My neighbors across the way have just put up their Christmas lights...
In the shape of a banana hammock... CANNOT! STOP! CHUCKLING!
It has to be a pretty damn big deal for me to go outside in pigtails, with no makeup on - WHERE PEOPLE CAN SEE ME. You know, like - the apartment building is on fire, or snails are sliming up the place, or Ron Cribb is standing on the corner, stark ass naked.
Or snow is falling!
In which case I will run around outside catching snowflakes in my eyeball and greeting everyone in the neighborhood with a hearty, "HI!!!" and a crazy look in my eye.
A dessert lounge opened up in my neighborhood, and somehow I made it, like, A WHOLE THREE WEEKS before I went in... But I figured they were probably getting tired of me looking doe-eyed at the cakes in the front window.
So I went in and ordered the tomato soup... :blink:
The greatest thing about Seattle? ... WI-FI EVERYWHERE! Even better? WI-FI IN BARS! ... Even better than that? WI-FI IN BARS GIVING AWAY FREE COFFEE!* (And they'll put BOOZE in it for a small fee!) Dammit. I love this city.
PS. That title is misleading, I am not boozing it up! I am working! On my portfolio! Or my resume! Leave me alone, I'm almost unemployed!
PSS. This place is currently playing a cover of PHIL FUCKING COLLINS... HA HA! This is like heaven! Except with wifi.
* Promise if I tell you where I am, with the free coffee, with the booze in it, you won't come in and hog my free wi-fi?
And now for the possibly misheard:
And now, the best thing I overheard ALL YEAR:
This drink menu was READING MY MIND.
Last night I went to the Salon of Shame with Kate and a few friends, and got my ass PWNED at foosball... I don't know why I keep thinking I'm good at that. I AM A FOOSBALL POSER!
But I am a foosball poser who now knows the ASL sign for "FUCK YOU ALL!"... Be jealous.
Also I took pictures! Yay! ... Except you have to wait for those because I am a big jerk who can't even take the time to download them off her camera. Stupid jerk.
I keep going to open-houses in my neighborhood... Apparently, I like to pretend that I can afford two-bedroom condos in Capitol Hill without first making very uncomfortable changes in my lifestyle.
Like, not eating out 10 times a week and not buying $200 shoes and not having any fun ever again.
... But I saw the cutest one ever today. Like, CUTE cute. Like, cuuuuuuute. Cute enough not to have any fun ever again! ... With hardwood floors and coved ceilings and exposed brick and built-in shelves and a sold sign outside. Bastards.
Last night, I went to the Theo Chocolates factory* for a party and ate chocolate, and drank wine, and watched a few people get really drunk and dance. (These are my favorite kind of people!)
I did not get drunk enough to dance. (Hey, I had to go home on the bus. I can't be the drunk guy on the bus!)
However, I did run into One N Jenifer and met someone who did not think it at all odd that I did the Robot on my first date with Good on Paper. (He might have been on his best behavior... I was not.) In fact, she may have shown me a few of her robot moves! ... SHE'S MY NEW BEST FRIEND!
And speaking of Good on Paper, and at risk of turning this into Date Blog... Somehow, I've got 2 dates with him this weekend... What are we trying to do? Suffocate each other? (But one of them involves puppies! PUPPY DATE!) And if history is an indicator, the other probably involves me doing the worm.
Server: (While pouring a glass of Jagermeister) "This is what college tastes like now."
Trick or treating in Seattle... Where even the Halloween candy is free trade.
But our pumpkins still barf...
Last night, I went to the Seattle Spelling Bee to watch drunk people spell, with Kate, LaCroix and my friend Suki... who asked, "Why do you keep making me do geeky things?"
Because we're geeky?
I even brought along a boy! A slightly awkward, very well behaved, long suffering Jenjamin... Alone in a sea of nerdy girls... Who talked about their hair, and soap, and wrinkles, and kept saying "I KNEW HOW TO SPELL THAT!" or "I'M STUPID!" ... Or maybe it was only me doing that.
And then I showed everybody my tramp stamp. Because I can't keep my shirt on anymore... Gawd! Then on the way home? I totally ate it on the sidewalk... because if there's anything more graceful than me, it's me with four beers in me.
It's easy to be all head-over-heels lovey dovey in glove with autumn in Seattle...
Until the wind picks up and flings a leaf RIGHT INTO YOUR EYEBALL... Damn you, Seattle! Damn you!
This weekend, Turdface beaned me in the face with a snowball. So I killed him... Or at least I was going to, but he screamed, "YOU ARE SO PRETTY!" when I chased him down the street; so what's a girl to do?
I also met Jenjamin's achingly adorable 3-year old daughter, and then I ate her face off. But only after I asked her if she wanted some coffee and got her soaking wet jumping in puddles with me.
I'm a wonderful influence!
Surprise! I took that super blurry picture of the Corrupted Software New Year's 2008 Fireworks Spectacular! (from my rooftop deck) while I was SOBER... but very, very cold.
Because that's how we party in the Seattle Crap Museum... Like old ladies.
And then I went inside and watched my neighbors play double-dutch on the sidewalk. First I though, HOW CUTE! And then at 2am, I thought... I wonder what would happen if I threw a bucket of water out my window? Because MY GOD! THE OLD LADIES ARE SLEEPY!
This morning I drove my kid to his alt. school in my hybrid car-share vehicle, and stopped off for preservative-free cupcakes before heading off to work in my Gortex jacket.
All I need is Burkenstocks and camping skills, and the change to Pacific Northwest Yuppie will be complete!
(Over the din of honking cars, "WOO!" screaming pedestrians, and illegal fireworks of last night.)
"Am I stoned?!?"
"No! You're just really happy about Obama!"
Nothing says "I work in Belltown" like crazy old hobos yelling at me through my office window because he can't pee in the streets, but OH HELL YOU THINK HE WON'T STILL PEE IN THE STREETS?! He will! And in front of my office window.YOU CAN'T KEEP CRAZY OLD HOBO MAN DOWN! HE DESERVES RESPECT!
Ah! I am filled with RESPECT ... No, wait. I don't think that feeling is actually respect. I think that feeling is "yearning for hedge clippers".
You know you've moved to the Central District when you can no longer get pizza delivered. Because, OOH! My neighborhood is so scary! With its gay bars and its synagogue and its pie shop... And its (gasp!) black people.
Shudder!
You also know you've moved here when your apartment is now ENORMOUS. So enormous that the large amount of crap that used to fill every square foot of space now fills 0% of space. Observe.
Will you look at that? This living room has no personality. It's the Kristin Stewart of living rooms. Also, there is so much floor space I can hold Wii Just Dance parties in here and no one will fall over anything.
And this bedroom just wants to be alone.
Seriously. Someone needs to hire me immediately so I can get to buying more crap.
