I only taste like cheating.

http://www.mcsweeneys.net/2005/9/2moe.html

this is dedicated to elizabeth eicher. you will laugh like never before.

i forgot about adding this:
Reply to this post, and I'll tell you why I like you. Then put this in your own journal, and spread the love.
for reals.

today quickly tailbombed: I had a really nice day until about 6:30 pm, when Lynnette called at work and asked if I would please, please, please do her the biggest favor ever and take her shift tomorrow; so, now in addition to filing tomorrow i have to go to Gia as well. then I realized that i had lost my sketchbook which has two undeposited checks in it as well as some stuff i needed to study for english. then when i went to the restauant where we ate earlier to see if they had it, they didn't speak english and kept telling me that this black planner was the book i wanted, so i left and went across the street to get gas; what i forgot is that the likelyhood that you will get approached by an overy agressive panhandler is 100%. the following conversation ensued: (note that his voice is evenly belligerent throughout the exchange.)
Creepy man: hey, do you have any cash?
me (holding only a credit card, with no purse): no, sorry.
C.M.: well, my freind could really use some gas money.
me: sorry, i don't have any money.
C.M.: look we ran out of gas earlier today and it would be nice if you could help us out.
me: i don't have any cash on me. i'm sorry.
this whole time, he and his freind on the other side of my car have been inching closer as he talks.
C.M.: okay, well, do you have any spare change?
me: no.
C.M.:are you sure?
me:yes.
C.M.: well, can you check to make sure?
me (unlocking only my side of the car manually): oh, i only have three pennies in my wallet.
C.M.: can i have those?
me: okay.
C.M.: can i have one of those dollars too?
me: okay...
C.M.: do have 50 % of your idealist reality on you right now?
me: no
then i leave without getting gas.
then when i go to get gas near my house where all the homeless guys are nice and lazy and not so mean, my car dies at the gas station; it may have given its death rattle, it's being towed back to the house sometime tonight by AAA.
i declare myself pissed off.

behold, my newest goal in clowning.

"let my people go," said Joshua, as Moses.
"Okay."
"You can't just say 'okay.'"
"I can't?"
"No, the lord has hardened your heart against my demands."
"Why'd he do that?"
"I don't know, he just did. Now, let my people go."
"Nope." I crossed my arms and turned away like someone whose heart is hardened.
"Behold as I turn this stick into a snake. Now, let my people go!"
"Okay."
"You can't just say 'okay'!"
"Why? That was a pretty good trick with the stick."
"But that's not how it goes."
"Okay. No way, Moses, your people have to stay."
Joshua waved his staff in my face. "Behold, I will plague you with frogs. They will fill your house and your bedchamber and get on your stuff."
"So?"
"So that's bad. Let my people go, Pharaoh."
"I sorta like frogs."
"Dead frogs," Moses threatened. "Piles of steaming, stinking dead frogs."
"Oh, in that case, you'd better take your people and go. I have some sphinxes and stuff to build anyway."
"Dammit, Biff, that's not how it goes! I have more plagues for you."
"I want to be Moses."
"You can't."
"Why not?"
"I have the stick."
"Oh."

- christopher moore ( who should marry me, for real, yo)

Ceasefire.

Do It Washateria! fas-mart! Yay for confusing signs in North Houston!
yummy grilled vegetables. long but funny-at-some-points movies. um, other stuff too.
serious delerium. yay for maybe youth 2005 tomorrow. yay for my birthday in 12 days! yay... I was born?
boo for getting lost and serious delerium.
boo for feeling awkward at parties.
yay for realizing people are nice!
yay for mexican vanilla!
boo.
yay!

1. I'll respond with something random about you.

2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.

3. I'll pick a flavor of jello to wrestle with you in.

4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me.

5. I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you.

6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.

7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.

8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal. You MUST. It is written.

The new snobbism:

There was a time not long ago when a snob was a snob and as easy to recognize as a cock pheasant. In the days when Ward Allister was the arbiter of Newport society and when there were precisely four hundred souls in New York worth knowing and only "nobodies" lived west of the Alleghenies, snobbishness was a nice clean-cut business that made careers for otherwise unoccupied women and gave purpose to otherwise barren lives...It is customary, i believe to classify the art snobs, the literary snobs, and the musical snobs with the intellectual snobs, but it seems to me that they belong in a limbo between the emotional and the intellectual categories, with plenty of latitude to permit them to jump either way...all the way from the traditionalist or permanent value snobs to the modern or "I always keep an open mind group"... the art snob can be recognized in the home(i.e. your home) by the quick look he gives the pictures on your walls, quick but penetrating, as though he were undressing them. this is followed either by complete and obviously pained silence or by a comment such as "That's really a very pleasant little watercolor you have there."In his own house his manner is also slightly deprecating. If you admire a print on his wall, he is likely to say "I'm glad you like it. It's really not bad considering it is such a late impression."...The literary snob has not only read the book you are reading, but takes pleasure in telling you the names of all the earlier and more obscure books by the same author, and why each one was superior to the better known one that has come to your attention...It rides horses and is rare in southern California, except for Pasadena.

YAY Russel Lynes

Why, compromise and suffer.
Why compromise? And suffer!
Why compromise; and suffer
Why: compromise:: and: suffer
Why! compromise and suffer...
Why compromise? and suffer?
Why, compromise. and suffer
Why, compromise and suffer!!!
Why, compromise, and suffer.
Why; compromise, and suffer
Why. compromise. and. suffer!!

(sad face)

i can't remember if i've updated this entire summer, but i'm nearly positive that i haven't. i went to Wiscon"sin", and had a bratwurst at the union. I think if i didn't go to an art school, i would seriously consider University of Wisconsin in Madison. I bought a sketchbook there. then i came back and worked my ass off every day for two and a half weeks in order to raise funds for cca. then i spent some money in Cali"fornication"ia, lived with Eicher and Chelsea for a month, got a sunburn on the fronts of my legs only in the shape of a pair of running shorts, and one on the backs in the shape of a swimsuit. I bought a set of 24 old hardbound nancy drew books in a variety of pastel colours, and then i gave one to Chelsea to use as a sketch book cover. I met an awesome kid named Angi; she is my ultra-cool penpal from minnesota. I met a not-so-awesome kid name Jerrett; he simultaneously wants to be Frida Kahlo and is an asshole.
I went to santa cruz for a day and rented bikes with Eicher, who proceeded to severely injre certain parts of herself in a disastrous bike-riding accident. i rode to my aunt's old house and took a polaroid to prove it was still red.
i made a really amazing sculpture that i loved, and then i left it on the E-ticket check-in counter in the oakland airport. My suitcase was 29 pounds over the legal weight limit. gross (I'm leslie). a girl named rachel introduced me to the impressive line quality of wire and shadow. Chelsea and I gave a 13 year old a handful of cookie dough on the plane. I developed a crush, but canceled it due to lack of availability (them, not me). I did not get drunk; I did not slur my speech at any cute boys; I did not appear on a late night talk show. then i came back to Houston, went to Boston (i can't come up with an innuendo for this one, suggestions are welcome), fell in love with smfa, shot paintballs at a mailbox, shot pellets at boys, drew a lot, and jumped on a trampoline. once home, I went back to work, only to be completely disoriented at the idea of yoga pants and towels, and the realization that i now have three jobs. school started. i went to a going away party at a boy named daniel's house, and had to most fun ever at a party, especially teaching chelsea how to ride a bike and foil-ball. yay for parties. after reliving my summer, I'm exhausted. my eyelids weigh, like, a zillion tons.

This is what I do all day at work. Allow me to rephrase that: I get paid to do this. Someone is giving me money for sitting in a store creating crudely drawn adorable one-liners with illustrations. the first one i made was a conversation between two roasted marshmallows as they are about to be eaten. It is a love story, of course. the next was about two teeth in love concerning Spring, and the one before this one was a cupcake telling his significant other that he thinks that they should see other people.

(1 pm) two waffles: one with maple syrup, one with nutella. I decide i like the latter, and make myself another to even the score.


(4 pm) a salad; spinach, olive oil, jam, garlic, balsamic vinegar, feta. "no, i would not like some salad with that dressing."


(6 pm) another half of a waffle with nutella. glass of milk

oh shit, best ever.
best ever what(?), you may inquire.

best ever "hurrying home at 12 oh three o clock." music playlist, that's what.

what, pray tell, was on this playlist?

"I wear my sunglasses at night", by the ever stylish Cory Hart
followed by a rousing rendition of "another one bites the dust" by Queen
which came right before the deal closers themselves, Depeche Mode with "personal jesus"

this lasted me the entire drive home, and kept the joy levels high after not getting to finish Pulp Fiction(boo, no ending; yay, Pulp Fiction!) and eating cake (yay, cake!).

Your #1 Match: INFP

The Idealist You are creative with a great imagination, living in your own inner world. Open minded and accepting, you strive for harmony in your important relationships. It takes a long time for people to get to know you. You are hesitant to let people get close. But once you care for someone, you do everything you can to help them grow and develop. You would make an excellent writer, psychologist, or artist.

Your #2 Match: ENFP

The Inspirer You love being around people, and you are deeply committed to your friends. You are also unconventional, irreverant, and unimpressed by authority and rules. Incredibly perceptive, you can usually sense if someone has hidden motives. You use lots of colorful language and expressions. You're qutie the storyteller! You would make an excellent entrepreneur, politician, or journalist.

there, i completed your task, now interview me or be damned.

also, heart!

Note to anyone who was maybe considering marrying me: I make an impossibly delicious salad.
I also make an impossibly delicious bride.

1 part balsamic vinegar
1/2 part mango jam stuff
1 clove garlic
3 parts olive oil
A whole bunch of feta cheese
SPINACH!!

Everyone should marry me; I should make them salad!
I typed this all with the index finger of my right hand, know why? It's because i'm eating salad!

My sister is going to Big Bend with her school and they are staying somewhere called "PRUDE RANCH"!!!

potentially, i am the worst person ever.
potentially, i am a bitch, a huge one.
potentially, nick will never talk to me again.
potentially, i just wrote the longest text message of my life. (i lived up to my potential on this one.)

potentially, i will explain myself to him, and make things better, or at least die trying.
potentially i just actually referenced the title of a 50 cent album almost entirely un-ironically.(another success)

potentially, i am really sorry for the way i treated him( erin: 3; failure: potentially, 4)
potentially, i handled the situation really badly. (score!)
potentially, i'm really not sure of how to fix the situation.(home team!)
nick, i can only hope that you check your phone soon, and i hope your performance went well tonight.

I took the language percentage test on Andrew Broz's journal and surprise (I actually mean it though), 0% upper midwestern! I think it's because I don't say cellar or pop. 70% General American English, and 0% Dixie.

John came came over today, and while we had grand intentions of studying math, we instead fell asleep curled up together in an armchair and napped for a bit. actually, I fell asleep outside for a while before he got there. aside from the athletic strenuousness of the morning, today was an assortment of napping, albeit in varied locations. i feel nice. I took two showers before two o'clock; I also feel clean. Clean and nice, that's me in nutshell.

I think cuddling is my favorite thing to do; therefore, everyone should cuddle with me all the time.

nathan heskia is the god of pick up lines, much in the same vein as john, the god of uno. long live the swapping of pick up lines between he and i, and may they never end, even when it turns from pick up lines, to picked up lines, to marriage proposals and beyond. and when we do get married, i will potentially wash my wedding dress in windex just to make it ultra-easy for him to have the best vows ever (because that's what you do when you love someone.)

p.s. nathan, do you have a quarter? here's where you ask why.

oh man, oh man, no summarization for me today.

the dance locker room makes me feel almost as sad as everyone in the printmaking room, yet, if the dance locker room were a song, i would have it stuck in my head. every time i try to visualize any room, the dance locker room pops up instead.

i have constructed an igloo on my bed. i sleep in the manner of an eskimo in my igloo that is actually a tent that is painted to look like an igloo.

nathan is talking to me again, but only in the form of pick up lines. tomorrow i will teach him how to count shoulders. one-two-three-four.

my "grand"mother is coming tomorrow. maybe i will hide form her in my igloo.

i went to home depot tonight, my most favorite place in the world to be.

i made my sister a sign that says "Lindsay dreams of cowboys". also, ms. dennard fired my "t", but not my "r". bastard/bitchass

my polly looks at my rope letters from ceramics and asks "what do they spell?"
me:"bitchass."
polly offers a confused look and asks where the "d" fits into that.

i think my dream date would be home depot followed by sex. or tofu, whatever.

i played "i wear my sunglasses at night"; my dad sang along and then said "hey that was a good song" when i changed it. i think it's genetic. wearing sunglasses at night is my heritage, like swedish kids wearing clogs, or chinese kids having black hair, or mexican kids having webbed toes (and, if they live in the right place only a spinal cord without any other brain). but actually samantha was the only mexican with webbed toes ( that i ever saw).
i wonder if she ever got an acting job. i feel like if i called her now she would be mad at me for not calling sooner; i don't even know if she still lives in houston. she may have moved to l.a. friends are awkward when you don't see them for months, eh?

amy and i began to have our laughing match in trout today but we got scared and stopped, much to eicher's disappointment and disapproval.

britney spears is pregnant.

i am not.

dear pink and brown spray paint, why are you made of pure love?

i'm getting a tattoo of a computer keyboard on my back.
colin should get a tattoo of a beard because he can't grow one.

sleep is insipid.