| Buh-bye -- sort of. |
[Jul. 19th, 2004|12:26 pm] |
So I'm kind of phasing out my LiveJournal. Instead, I'm going to write stuff on a blog, which can be accessed at http://dracukon.blogspot.com. I like writing about topical issues, like politics and culture, and I feel like the stuff I write here detailing my experiences is kind of pointless, because virtually no one reads it and anyone who would read it is probably with me when whatever I'm writing about happens. So even though my commentary on non-me-related subjects probably won't be of any more interest, at least it has the potential to have wider appeal.
Or something.
I dunno.
It's all just an experiment.
We'll see. |
|
|
| Post-holiday stress. |
[Jul. 6th, 2004|12:17 pm] |
Well, I'm not really stressed, and having my first day back at work be a Tuesday is quite nice, but waking up at 7am still sucks.
Had a decent weekend; on Friday, got yummy bento box dinner with Borisovna at Funayama (hooray for shumai!), then we went out for drinks at a couple of places. First was Boxer, where I had a great chocolatey coconutty cocktail and B & I saw more black lesbian couples than we've ever seen in our lives, and then we went over to Duplex where I got mercilessly gypped with a near-virgin-yet-$10 frozen pina colada. (Don't go there. Ever.) Tasti D followed (of course), where I munched on carob chips, aka ambrosia, all the way to Union Square.
On Saturday, I went back to Heaven with Marlen and had a good time. Long Islands (or Long Beaches, if that teeny bit of cranberry really does it for you) are the only way to go to lose your sobriety in the shortest period of time -- there, anyway. Sorry, Grey Goose and cranberry...maybe when I make you myself. I paid a lot of attention to this kid Drew's tonsils towards the end of the night, and that was fun. Got his #, called last night, though nothing is expected. I don't consider clubs for much else beyond saliva exchange. I'd wanted to hit up Avalon on Sunday, but I was tired from the night before, so I decided to save it and go some other time. Marlen & I were offered comp admission to Heaven next week, so even though it's kind of tacky to go there 3 weeks in a row, I might do it anyway cuz I'm a kissing slut and can't control myself. So much for reinventing myself as a born-again Christian.
Monday = nothing; I'm an unpatriotic dud. Oh well.
And now I'm back at LDI, snacking on Z1's yummy blueberry cheesecake kakziz, waiting for lunch so I can blow this popsicle joint, if only temporarily. Oh, I also need to return a pair of old-man shorts I got at Mexx when my brain stopped functioning properly.
Last remark: does it ever seem that when people of yore pop up out of the blue to say hi, there seems more to be an agenda to antagonize (whether conscious or not) than a genuine desire to reconnect? Maybe I just need to be better at picking the people I know in the first place to prevent irritating experiences later on. |
|
|
| Homosexuality: taste the rainbow. |
[Jun. 30th, 2004|11:00 am] |
Great weekend!
Went into the city Saturday afternoon to see Fahrenheit 9/11 with the rents; entertaining, if extremely one-sided (not an original thought, I'm aware, but worth repeating). I wish Moore were't such a schlub, if only because I prefer that people I watch on large screens be height-weight proportionate and well-groomed. I want a Stepford Moore. After the movie, I split from mommy and daddy and wandered around for a bit until I met Robby for dinner at Agave, a great Southwestern/Mexican restaurant on 7th Ave So. We indulged in the cheese fondue, I got a great steak and mushroom quesidilla and then we got the molten center chocolate cake with banana ice cream. All in all a very fatisfying--um, I mean satisfying dinner. Oh yea, and the company wasn't bad either...I got to see Roberford before he left for his two-year European expedition, which he's enjoying at this very moment as I sit here at work full of jealously and Oatmeal Crunch cereal.
Anyway, after dinner, I went over to Big Cup and sat around reading New York and drinking a toffee coffee (really good) as long as I could, simultaneously fending off the advances of an older blond guy who kept talking to me. I was supposed to go out to Heaven with this kid I knew, but his ID got fucked up and he didn't want to risk coming into the city to not get in, so I wound up going myself. As it turns out, I had a lot of fun; after having an interesting conversation with a 30something who runs an escort service, the vodka & cranberry kicked in and I started dancing with this group of 3 guys and 3 girls because one of the guys was cute. One girl was really fun in particular, and I danced with her almost the whole night, even after her other friends left. At that point, a few other guys came over and danced with us, and the girl (I think her name was Rachel) stole one of their hats, and drunken revelrous merriment was had by all. I also got to kiss a cutie, but the details surrounding that will remain in my private head journal.
Sunday, I handed out CD's for gay.com at the pride parade for $15/hour -- ie, I flirted with sexy boys (and lesbians), got to walk in the parade, and gave out free stuff for money. Good job much? I also got a free light blue tanktop that says gay.com on it, though whether not I'd actually wear such a thing ever again remains to be seen. (Maybe Halloween? Maybe not.) I met a cute guy named Nick who handed out the CD's with me -- he's an int'l student from Germany (he's half German, half Polish, with a hot accent) who spent the year here studying business or something at one of the CUNY's. Various interesting things that happened: (1) I was within two feet of Carson Kressley and I think also Kyan Douglas (from Queer Eye), who were stopped at a red light in their little convertible in the West West Village after the parade; (2) me and Nick met the powers that be at gay.com (the president and the founder, I think) also after the parade, and they gave us their email addresses because we looked cute in their tshirts; (3) I saw none other than Murrow Academy gym teacher Theresa Crivelli at the parade, thus confirming her previously somewhat ambiguous sexual orientation status; and (4) I got hit on by more older Southeast Asian men then I've ever been hit on before.
In other words, all in all, an extremely successful event. |
|
|
| Interoffice memo to a colleague. |
[Jun. 25th, 2004|09:25 am] |
Dear Homoyama:
This morning, I was faced with an unfortunate circumstance. To elaborate, at Atlantic Avenue, a young man wearing a large black tshirt, Old Navy blue jeans from 1763 and navy blue Skecher/fugly snekkers entered the train. I was standing by the door through which he entered, and he proceeded to stand in front of me and grip the bar near my head. The result of this action was that he was standing a foot and a half away from the bar, his arm fully extended to maintain balance.
Unfortunately, this young man had never heard of deodorant, or showers, and his intense B.O. effluvium soon enveloped my being. I was forced to remain in this position for the next 20 minutes until I debarked at Union Square, as wave after wave of nostril-invading stench hit me like a gaggle of rotting dwarfs.
In conclusion, I must insist that you eradicate this problem of fucking retards not knowing by the time they hit their 20’s about coating their stank, because if you do not, I have no other option but to eviscerate these cocksuckers with my housekeys. You have been warned.
Thank you.
~mw |
|
|
| TGI.fucking.F |
[Jun. 17th, 2004|10:32 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  ditzy | ] |
| [ | music |
| | In Your Eyes - Peter Gabriel | ] |
I posted a rant on the NYC craigslist, which I present for your enjoyment below; it'll also be available until 6/27 here:
In keeping with the tradition of bitching about why the MTA sucks dick, I'd like to present my own rendition in my first ever rants & raves posting. Most of the following has occurred on the Q line, which I use 2x daily to get to and from work in the city from southern Brooklyn. So:
(1) Clipping your nails on the train is UNACCEPTABLE. For real. It's not that it's viscerally disgusting, like picking a pus-laden wart, but that sound is just so not something I want to be hearing after a long, crappy day at work. Besides, those little nail bits are clearly landing somewhere, and I'd rather not be blinded by pieces of your body if I can help it.
(2) If you're sweaty and disgusting, DON'T SIT NEXT TO ME. I swear, the trains are filled with stylish, attractive, well scented and clean people, and NONE of them ever sit next to me. I always get the homeless people, drunken people, deranged people, foul-smelling people, etc. This morning, I had the pleasure of sitting next to someone who seemed weirdly stunted (though I'm not about to make fun of a handicap) besides being covered in a sheen of sweat. I had to contort my body into a freakish mime position to avoid having my bare flesh touch hers, and it really sucked. When she got off and someone took her place, the new occupant had to sit forward on the edge of the seat because there was a BUTT-SHAPED LINE OF SWEAT (curving inwards at the middle) on it. The sweat-avoider giggled to her friend next to her that she had to do this, but it was totally not amusing.
(3) If you're wearing a bag, pack or whatever else slung over your shoulder whilst standing in the car, MAKE SURE YOUR SHIT ISN'T BANGING INTO MY HEAD. I swear, the number of people who callously disregard the fact that their huge shit is grinding into my face the entire train ride is stunning. I can't just come out and tell you to move to the 90% empty rest of the car so your fake Louis bag isn't caressing my cheek, and the fact that I angrily push back into you every time you push into me clearly isn't getting the message across. Perhaps I should just knock you back onto the platform at the next stop...?
(4) Stop staring at me. Yes, I see you -- you're the most obvious, least stealthy person currently living in New York. I realize that I'm gorgeous, but please, contain yourself and/or buy a pair of really dark sunglasses so your beady little pupils are't poring into my soul so conspicuously. If you keep it up, you'll soon be experiencing firsthand a particularly grotesque scene from Kill Bill 2 (which I won't divulge in case you CL peeps haven't seen it).
(5) Taking pictures of yourself over and over again with your camera phone is NOT ALLOWED. Christ, gimme a fucking break. The expression of forced ennui on your stupid face is a clear enough indicator that you're bored; do you really need to entertain the entire car with constant camera sounds as you repeatedly photograph yourself? I realize that updating your picture on Friendster every other day increases the chance you'll score with the ladies, but come on.
(6) When the temperature of a subway station pushes 100 degrees, THE MTA SHOULD DO SOMETHING. Standing in the Union Square station every day after having gone to the gym and showered is really a torturous experience. The fresh layer of shower melts off almost immediately, and I feel the perspiration bubbling out from under my skin. Usually the train comes soon enough that I can remain refreshed in its air conditioned depths, but when it doesn't, thoughts of tracking down and brutally killing whoever decided not to put worthwhile ventilation in the stations are not far from being realized. The best thing is when, every once in a while, you happen to get into a car where the a/c is broken, and you have to endure the tropical atmosphere until you can switch to another one. I think I suffocated in one of those once and was only brought back to life when an elderly Korean woman used my chest as a trampoline to be the first one out of the car at Canal St.
Anyway, I think that's it for now, though much more is sure to crop up in the future. I hope my unrestrained fury has made you all feel better about your daily commutes, and the next time you encounter a psychopathic, morbidly obese homeless person whose backpack is knocking you in the head, just slit his throat with a CD edge, and think of me while you do it.
**
As everyone probably knows by now, I dropped my cell phone into a toilet (the left bathroom in Funayama, if you must know) like a moron over a week ago and I'm still waiting to get it back. The Motorola repair process takes one hundred years, apparently, so I won't have my phone for another one to two weeks. All I know is that AT&T had better get ready to offer me mad credit if they expect me to wait this long. (Yes, I lied and said that the phone just stopped working...so sue me.)
Bert was in town today for a Sotheby's thing, so after that ended she met up with me and Moorg and we got dinner at a totally awesome pan-Asian place called Cafe Asean; I got (and highly recommend) the laksa lemak, which was seafood (shrimp, squid and scallops) and egg noodles in a spicy coconut soup. Entertainment was provided by the lunatic woman eating with her equally addled husband at the next table; several times throughout the latter part of their meal, she fell asleep/became unconscious for minutes on end, her head hanging perilously close to her plate. Much nervous laughter was had by all. Afterwards we got coffee at a cute little coffee shop called Joe on Waverly Place (named Best Coffee Bar by New York). After Bertie left, me and Yonga traipsed through the bizarrely pouring/not pouring rain to get the B, where we enjoyed a nice ride home.
As the subject line states, I'm really glad tomorrow is Friday. Not that my week has been so bad; on the contrary, it flew by. I'm just glad it's over. I didn't go out at all last weekend due to the crappy weather (right), so assuming the sky doesn't fall on my head Saturday, I'm going to try to go out...maybe Heaven...? This kid Marlin I met at Avalon who I've been talking to for a while might go with me, but we shall see. Tomorrow I may meet up with Will, if I decide to forgive him for making me walk out of my way on Wednesday to visit him at Banana when he wasn't there...the jury's still out on that one. |
|
|
| LiveJournaling at work. |
[Jun. 8th, 2004|09:23 am] |
I've been ordered by Maryana and Tom to stop working because I have more pages done than they do, so I'm going to write a new entry instead. I had a good time with an old friend from junior high school last night, Robyn -- I met her after she finished a class she's taking at CUNY (anthro of something or other) and we got dinner. I took her to Artepasta, where I had my birthday this year, a cute Italian place on Greenwich Ave off 7th Ave So (which seems to be the location of all my favorite restaurants). Next time you're there, try the chicken Europe (pronounced, according to my waiter, 'yurohpa'), cuz it's good. Anyway, she and I caught up, gossiped about where all our loserish and not-so-loserish JHS friends wound up, compared OCDs, etc., and it was fun.
The only bad part was the fact that I'm still a big train retard, as the following story will illustrate: so it's about 10pm, and we're not sure if the B -- formerly the Q express -- is still running (since the express used to stop at 9:30). So we go into the 4th St. station and ask the guy in the booth, and he says that it runs until midnight. This seems odd, but we believed him without checking with anyone else, and go into the station, only to be told by someone else already down there that the B stops at 9:30. Thanks so much, informative and helpful train booth COCKFACE. I couldn't think of a viable transfer solution in the downtown direction, so we decided to take the F/V uptown to 34th, then transfer to the regular Q (local) there, and take that back into Brooklyn. Luckily, an F came pretty quickly, and we got onto that; unfortunately, however, when we got to 34th St, the conductor didn't announce the Q as being one of the connections, so I got nervous that it wasn't stopping there for some reason and made us stay on until Times Square, at which point I realized that the conductor was just braindead and we should've gotten off anyway. We switched back to a downtown F at 42nd St, which also came pretty quickly (thank God), got off at Penn, and then finally got on a Q. The whole runaround only took about 15-20min, but that's 15-20min I could've been at home watching Law & Order or masturbating, and instead I was stuck in the 100 degree stankfactory known as the subway system.
Fuck you, Peter S. Kalikow, MTA Chairman. I'll see you in hell. |
|
|
| Oops. |
[Jun. 6th, 2004|02:25 am] |
| [ | music |
| | Tonight - Smashing Pumpkins | ] |
I forgot to mention like the most important thing ever, i.e., that me love Will long time -- if I hadn't been walking back to the train along 7th Ave. from his apt at that particular time at night, I wouldn't have found ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY DOLLARS just lying on the street for my greedy hands to grab. Isn't life grand?
Also, my gay 2xist pima cotten tshirt that I wear to bed feels like a layer of velvet armor. |
|
|
| Songs to have sex to. |
[Jun. 6th, 2004|02:10 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  dorky | ] |
| [ | music |
| | I Want All of You - The Verve Pipe | ] |
See current music as perfect example. When Brian Vander Ark repeats "I am in love with you" over and over at the end, I get goosebumps. Dunno why, there's just something really sensual about it. Another recommendation is Armin van Buuren's Burned With Desire, but the original, not any hyperkinetic remixes.
So Wednesday was funny. While me and Maryana were devouring our Chop't salad lunches in Union Square park, some guy came over to us and offered us a free pass to a Stepford Wives screening at the Lincoln Center theater on 68th later that evening. We took it and invited Julia and her BeeEff to join us; they said yes, so we agreed to meet there later that evening. Maryana and I split up after work because she went right there and I went to the gym for a quick cardio workout first. The trouble started on my way up to the theater after the gym; I walked for about half a mile underground trying to get to the red line from 14th and 6th, and by the time I finally got there, the effects of the cool shower had worn off and I was sweating through my Sisley. I waited on line with Maryana, Julia, Lev, and their friend Ron, and right when we get to the front of the line, they stop letting people in just a few heads in front of us and say that the theater is full. To make up for it, though, they gave us free passes to see any movie that night it, which seemed to make up for it. We went inside to see what was playing and agreed to see Raising Helen. To fully illustrate the torture that followed, I present an excerpt of a reader's review I wrote for the New York Times:
We figured it would be your typical cutesy romantic comedy; silly at worst, clever and even intermittently sparkling at best. Unfortunately, we were dead wrong. The two hours I sat through this movie were two of the worst hours of my life. I could rant and rave about the insane simplification and stereotyping of the characters and their problems, the absurdity and clichéed nature of the script, or the sweet but entirely mediocre Kate Hudson. Instead, I'll direct your attention to a two-second joke that I think typifies the entire movie: after ascending a flight of stairs to see Pastor Dan (played boringly, as usual, by John Corbett), Helen (Hudson) makes a completely random pratfall and lands on her face, only to pick herself up and continue on with the movie, which, indeed, was similarly stupid and arbitrary. I really do have to stress that this isn't even guilty pleasure viewing, like _Serendipity_ or _Who's Got Mail_ or something -- it's bottom of the barrel dreck, to be avoided at all costs.
So yea. That was the movie. And afterwards, it took me about two hours to get back to my house due to me and Maryana going to a logistically stupid train station, having to transfer and waiting -- a lot -- each time, and then my having to wait for a stupid fucking 49 for 15 minutes before it didn't show up. As the kicker, God had me walk halfway across the Sheepshead Bay bridge before letting me realize that the entire surface, from start to finish, was covered in gigantic, half dollar-sized waterbugs. Thanks so much, hon, I appreciate it.
Had a good time last night; met up with Will and his aviator glasses and we ate at Funoyama, which has yet to disappoint (awesome bento boxes). We walked around a little, got coffee at the local friendly 'Bux and then talked on his stoop for a while. He's majorly into Molly Shannon impressions, and I'm still trying to decide if it's cute or skurry. Any thoughts? |
|
|
| Cover animosity. |
[May. 30th, 2004|01:16 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  awake | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Open Arms - Journey | ] |
Why are people so loath to accept covers of older songs by "classic" artists? Case in point: Sheryl Crow's cover of Cat Stevens' The First Cut Is The Deepest. I totally <3 Cat Stevens -- Wild World and Oh Very Young are two of my favorite songs -- but I like Crow's cover, and might even like it better than Cat's version. What can I say? Just because something is a cover doesn't necessarily mean it's inferior. So everyone needs to stop bitching. Thanks. (Also, in this case, my preference might relate to the fact that in general I like female artists more than male ones, but whether or not I'm biased is irrelevant. IRRELEVANT!)
I want to see The Day After Tomorrow even though the reviews were totally half and half, with one half saying that the effects make the film worthwhile and the other half saying that it's too stupid to be saved by the effects. I don't care. I wanna see it anyway.
My first week of work ended on Friday. It was pretty good, up until the last 5 minutes, when Maryana's and my boss told us that we couldn't IM to each other or anyone else during work. I don't know what's going to happen with that, because using AIM was one of the major saving graces of the job, which is pretty boring otherwise. I can still bullshit around on the internet without chatting, but I really wanna. *tear* I might have to just keep doing it and risk getting yelled at (I assume they wouldn't fire me...). I guess we'll have to see what happens next week. If I really can't, I'll just have to take my anger out on the elliptical and become anorexic (though I might've done that already).
I love Chop'd. Check it out -- 17th St. b/t Broadway and 5th. Get the Cobb or grilled Asian salad, they're awesome.
Unless someone takes me out tonight, I'm going to order in, because my parents are eating by themselves uptown somewhere. I was thinking of getting from Sahara, everyone's favorite Turkish eatery on Coney Island Avenue. I just wanna get something a little more original than Italian or Chinese. Feel free to post any further suggestions.
I think that's it. Now I'm going to sit back and enjoy the musical stylings of Journey. |
|
|
| They say that a hero will save us... |
[May. 23rd, 2004|07:48 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  busy | ] |
| [ | music |
| | I Don't Want You - Wide Life | ] |
I want to see the new Jet Li movie -- Hero -- that's coming out in July. Same director as Crouching Tiger, produced by Uma-obsessed Quentin T., and it looks to have the special effects and style characteristic of both. Check out the trailer at apple.com/trailer, it looks hot. Who wants to come?
Work begins tomorrow, so this is the last day I had for lazing around. It wasn't bad; Nikki and the kids (Kyle, Emily and Daniel for the record) came down from L.I. to fotz around and go to Astroland in Coney Island. Emily turned 5 on Thursday so it was a little birthday outing for her and Kyle and Daniel (8 and 4) got to reap the rewards. I had a senior citizen dinner at like 4:30 of Nathan's hot dogs and 800lbs of french fries (so fucking good), which I helped get down with a Twix ice cream bar and another 800lbs of Haagen-Dazs (umlauts to be inserted later) strawberry ice cream. I have to admit, I never consider myself a fan of strawberry ice cream, and probably never will, but whenever I eat it, I'm amazed by how delicious it is. Good job, strawberries.
So yea, speaking of work, I decided to take the job with Leadership Directories, Inc. -- www.leadershipdirectories.com -- that will place me squarely downtown at 16th and 5th Monday through Friday, 9 to 5. It pays pretty well (enough for me to buy you a drink, baby, so take me up on that offer), I get to work with this kind of funny girl I'm friends with (Maryana Lykakhoboobsky, you may've heard of her), there's a Crunch a few blocks away I can utilize daily after work, etc.
** 3 hours pass **
Sorry, I wasn't finished writing and I had to go watch TV. I can't believe they killed off Adrianna on Sopranos...I mean, I totally can believe it, and expected it, but it really sucks, because Drea de Matteo is awesome. And I wonder who Johnny is gonna kill on the finale, because I can't believe no one else is going to die now that Tony disrespected him like that. God I love HBO.
Ummmm...I dunno. I thought I had other stuff to blabber, but maybe not. Or maybe I forgot it. I have a bad memory like that. I need to go get ready stuff for tomorrow, so...see ya. |
|
|
| Lazy Sunday. |
[May. 16th, 2004|04:56 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | accomplished | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Love Like This - Faith Evans | ] |
The School's Fucking Over Smoothie:
3 scoops, raspberry sorbet
1 pear
4 ice cubes
1 cup, Looza apricot nectar
1/2 cup, Tropicana Pure Premium grapefruit juice
1/2 cup, apple juice
Put ingredients into blender and press Blend. For a smoother smoothie, press Liquefy. Drink and enjoy. As you start getting grades from the little SSOL demon, 1/2 cup of Grey Goose vodka may be added per disappointing grade to make the smoothie an even more luscious experience.
BACK. IN. THA. HOOD. |
|
|
| People who are suckfaces. |
[May. 3rd, 2004|05:21 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  blank | ] |
| [ | music |
| | One Day in Your Life - Anastacia | ] |
Today's complaints:
• So I call RadioShack yesterday and ask them if they have 6-to-6 pin FireWire cables, a super-common item that any normal computer or tech store should have. As expected, the salesgirl says yes, so today, I wander over there in the rain after Surfasses & Nuts, only to discover a 6-to-4 pin FireWire cable, which is used for digital video cameras and stuff (I need the other kind for my iPod). When I see this, I'm like, yo, salesbitch, you don't have any 6-to-6 pin cables? And he's all, no, those don't exist, you need an adapter, let me get it for you, to which I reply, nuh-uh, clothesline him, and walk out of the store. First of all, it does exist, and it costs $19, many, many dollars less than the $31.99 crap cable they had, not to mention the cost of whatever adapter the salesman would throw in my face. I hate you, RadioShack.
• As I was approaching the curb on 110th, a large teenager wearing a t-shirt so long it was essentially a dress nearly sideswiped me in a mad dash for his girlfriend as she descended into the station, talking on her phone and shaking her mad jelly.
• My math prof has lots of big red pimples all over his face, which I only noticed today for the first time because I'd never gone up to speak to him in person before. I thought they were going to explode and get pus all up in my grill.
• I never told Britt the Evangelina Nonis story, so I retold it for her and now I'm all pissed off at her big fat crackhead ass again. Stupid cunt.
On the brighter side of things, I'm falling in love with Chopin's Nocturnes, which are amazing -- make sure to check out no. 2 in E flat if you download any.*
*This message has been brought to you by the nerdy, classical music-enjoying side of Matt. Enjoy it while it lasts, because Stacie Orrico is next on the playlist. |
|
|
| I got this feeling down deep in my soul that I just can't lose... |
[May. 2nd, 2004|04:41 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  calm | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Stuck On You - 3T | ] |
Who would've thought that a dance cover of a Lionel Richie song could be SO GOOD?
Read my review of Laws of Attraction published in the Spec. Ignore the choppy sentences -- my editor did that because he's a suckhead.
Fun stuff yesterday. Went down to Cafe Torrino for Jule's baathday with Maryonna and got to hang out with a plethora of weirdos, freaks and nerds. Jizz playin, Jonas was the only real retard there. Well...ok, I'll shut up. After dining on a lovely chicken florentina (spinach and mozzarella melted onto chickum breasties), some present-opening occurred in Lev's trunk, and then the parties de-partied...erm, departed. Afterwards, me and MaryGanglia went to Go, which was merely decent. Just when it was supposed to be getting hotter, it cleared out (like around 1:30-2). It was weird. I guess it's not such a hot spot anymore...either that, or me and Mar are so repulsive we managed to make everyone want to leave. *tear*
I need to read the last fucking chapter of Russell and I've procrastinated doing it for the last two days...but once I write this, I'll really be out of excuses. I also need to do the godawful Surfaces & Knots HW later, which is going to ravage my soul. I hate you, Ilya Kofman, Russian or not.
I got nice jeans yesterday from A|X, and you can see them if you look at the newly updated picture page (woo-hoo!), which has pics from my bday in February, from last night, and from a bunch of random other times. Go here.
Guess that's it. |
|
|
| Digesting dinner. |
[Apr. 20th, 2004|08:27 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | complacent | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Open Your Eyes - DJ Encore feat. Engelina | ] |
So.
Friday night nothing really happened...me, Aparna and Navi had wanted to go out, for for a variety of reasons, it just didn't work out. (I'd go into more detail, but I don't even remember.) Instead, we postponed our outing to Saturday night, and amazingly, we actually followed through. (Well, me and Aparna did -- Navi kinda, um, died early on.) First, me and Navi had a minor pregame with some rum and Coke, and then while I was finishing getting ready, Navi went off to her boyfr--erm, I mean Jason's room and smoked up a little. This was a bad idea, as we later realized, because the combination of alcohol and pot made dear Nav slightly paranoid and she was convinced before Aparna and I convinced her back that she had been drugged with a roofie or something. (Does that really happen anymore?) She got better fairly quickly, but still felt like going back, so after meeting Andrew, Ajay and Noreen at Nussbaum dorm and seeing that a party I'd heard about had been canceled, we escorted her to McBain.
Afterwards we walked over to Cannon's, which wasn't exactly my scene, so I went over to Saint's to see if there were any hotties there. Unfortunately, there was only a weird guy in his 40s who kept staring at me, and wound up following me into 1020, which is where we went to next. It wasn't bad...relaxed and unpretentious, but not sports-y and pub-y like Cannon's. This is where the majority of drinking occurred. (Also had a drink at Saint's, which got downed in about 1 minute flat.)
At this point, me, Aparna and Andrew were pretty drunk, and we stumbled back to McBain like a bunch of retards. At some point, I forget when, I got a call from Will, and...well, needless to say, we were both highly intoxicated, and like, yea. Fun times. Needless to say, I didn't get to sleep till like, 5:30, and since my alarm didn't go off, I wound up getting up at 1:30 on Sunday and stumbling around for a few hours as the vodka wore off. Love getting drunk!
Random suckfaces:
• impolite people
• postal workers
• sour people
• crapheads
Oh, and I chose housing -- 1109 Schapiro = residence for 1st semester next year. Woo-hoo! Now I need to finish up my justice paper so I can get the majority of this week's work out of my face. I'll still have to edit it and shit (it's due Thursday) but at least I won't have to be working on it for 6 hours straight anymore. |
|
|
| Umbrage. |
[Apr. 19th, 2004|01:37 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  horny | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Angel - Massive Attack | ] |
What's up with "straight-acting" guys who diss guys who act flamboyant? As someone who happens to like guys to be a little girlier than I am because it's cute, I'm offended on their behalf when these repressed morons use words like "fag" in pathetic attempts to somehow elevate themselves to a higher order of homosexual. Ugh. AS SOMEONE WHO SCORES A 4 ON THE STRAIGHT-ACTING SCALE (10 = ignited queen), I LIKE GUYS > 6.
Eat that.
More about my weekend tomorrow. |
|
|
| A dilatory entry. |
[Apr. 16th, 2004|02:45 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  good | ] |
| [ | music |
| | What's Your Fantasy (Remix) - Ludacris | ] |
So like, what the hell is up with things costing way more than they're worth? Maybe with all my experience as an American consumer I shouldn't be surprised by this sort of thing anymore, but I was at Duane Reade earlier and I noticed that the Renu No-Rub contact shit cost THREE TIMES as much as the Duane Reade generic brand, despite their being the exact same saline crap in the exact same bottle, the singular difference being the word "Renu" on one and "Duane Reade" on the other. Usually the price disparity isn't so insane, but I guess it just goes to show which companies are really intent on cheating consumers to their last dime. I can't wait to become a part of one of those companies so I can be on the receiving end of that shit. Damn.
(I also hate that buying three things at a drug store winds up costing $48, but that's too obvious to point out. Goddamn drug stores.)
In other, less whiney news, me, Mao and Mao had a fun time last night. First I met up with Mao #1 around Times Square to see a Spec screening of Laws of Attraction, with Julianne Moore and Pierce Brosnan. It was silly, but the actors had chemistry (and J. M. is adorable), so I was entertained. For more, you'll have to read my review, to be published in the Spec on Friday, 4/30. (You can also search the archive for other stuff I've written, because I don't think I've mentioned on here that I've gotten a bunch of other film reviews and op-eds printed as well. [I'm da bomb.])
Afterwards, we walked down to 34th St., took the F down to 1st Ave., and walked over to Cube 63 on Clinton St. where we were to meet Maryana for some sushum. Unfortunately, as the graceless clods that we are, we didn't make reservations, and were thus unable to insert sushums into our mouths. Instead, we went a few doors over to a place called AKA, which has a small, southwestern-oriented menu. It was okay, nothing special...for some reason, I got the dregs of the chicken in my taco, whereas M&L got the premium white meat. I think it's because the waiter was straight (unlike in most other places we go to, where I flirt with the waiters and get free Cristal and such). Jaykay.
Après ça, we wanted to do something (it was about 10pm) but didn't know what to do. We looked into going to Plaid (formerly Spa), but decided we wouldn't be able to get in with our fakes (or lack thereof, that damn Laura), so we wound up at Detention (Stonewall). And, for the first time ever, it wasn't even my idea! We went with the intention of showing off our vocal talents with the karaoke, but wound up dancing the whole time, which was a lot of fun (really good music). We left around 2:30 and took a wonderfully quick cab ride back to skewl. After shaking our asses for quite a while, bed = amazing.
And that's that!
Today I'm gonna try to get some regular work done so I can start working on papers and such tomorrow and Sunday. I had to wake up at 12:30 to get an adequate amount of sleep (i.e., because I'm lazy) so I didn't get any real head start, but tomorrow I'll get up earlier. I swear. Really. I'm not kidding. Shut up. |
|
|
| Blah. |
[Apr. 8th, 2004|08:02 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  bitchy | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Joni Mitchell : Blue | ] |
I'm feeling lethargic and mildly depressed for no reason...I think it's the weather. Plus I'm hungry. I decided not go downtown with Maryana and Laura because they want to see the new Jim Carrey movie and I hate him, and I don't want to go all the way down there just to go to a different theater to see a different movie...I can do that up here and not travel in the rain. That's how I rationalize staying alone, anyway. I want to see Hellboy, but I don't have any male friends, so of course seeing something like that requires going by myself or waiting for it to come out in video if going alone makes me feel too pathetic. I also haven't gotten any in way too long because I'm just not trying...I certainly could if I wanted, considering how much better I look now than I did at the beginning of the semester. (That ain't just ego, I gained control of my pec muscles the other day cuz I'm such hot shit.) Anyway I think that's enough of this bullshit...plans just got changed and I'm going to Radio Perfecto with Maryana and Laura, and maybe Aparna and Navi, so I feel a little better. Wow, this is an annoyingly long, boring paragraph. (Sorry.) |
|
|
| Optical illusions. |
[Apr. 6th, 2004|05:05 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  tired | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Machay, Pepper, & Colton Ford: Signed Sealed & Delivered (Rosario Vocal Mix) | ] |
I hate butch dykes, because I always think they're cute twinks. Then when I realize what they actually are, I get all creeped out.
Trying to swing back into the LJ frame of mind...more later, now it's time for an activity in which I've been engaging with increased frequency lately: NAPTIME! |
|
|
| Poem. |
[Mar. 19th, 2004|11:17 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  apathetic | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Voorbij - Marco Borsato | ] |
I'm not generally one for poetry, especially modern poetry, but I saw this in the latest issue of the Atlantic Monthly (my new favorite magazine) and I thought it was poignant and intelligent.
Seesaws
by Samuel Hazo
The bigger the tomb, the smaller the man.
The weaker the case, the thicker the brief.
The deeper the pain, the older the wound.
The graver the loss, the drier the tears.
The truer the shot, the slower the aim.
The quicker the kiss, the sweeter the taste.
The broader the crime, the vaguer the guilt.
The louder the price, the cheaper the ring.
The steeper the climb, the sheerer the slide.
The higher the odds, the shrewder the bet.
The rarer the chance, the blinder the risk.
The colder the snow, the greener the spring.
The braver the bull, the wiser the cape.
The shorter the joke, the surer the laugh.
The sadder the tale, the dearer the joy.
The longer you live, the fewer your years.
Spring break's almost over, and I've probably been the least active this past week as I've ever been (in terms of doing absolutely nothing pretty much each and every day). That's okay, though, because it's what I intended to do, and my tired brain thanks me for it. Tomorrow afternoon I'm going into Long Island for my nephew's 8th birthday, so that should be fun, and Sunday I head back to school. And no, I didn't read the Marx, because I HATE HIM. |
|
|
| Blah. |
[Mar. 13th, 2004|10:35 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  bored | ] |
| [ | music |
| | New Order feat. Aquagen: Confusion (Pump Reconstruction Mix) | ] |
Haven't been feeling the LJ vibe lately.
Lump's benign -- go me.
Various things came and went...birthday night, super-stressful midterms, blabbity blah. Spring break's upon us, thank God, and I slept 14h yesterday to make up for last week. Now, after having gotten up at 2:30, it's 10:45, and I'm tired already. I need to slip into a nice 10h/night rhythm, methinks.
That's it, I guess. After the break I'm starting my boyfriend search. Yeah, it's gonna result in hookups, but whaddaya gonna do. |
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
| |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
kingarchon's journal