heh

In case you were wondering where my soul will be spending all eternity: Terri Schiavo's Blog. [thanks, RJ]

life update

I apologize for the lack of thrilling blog action lately. It's not so much laziness as much as perpetual drunkenness/hungoverness. I'm still holding on to the fact that I did not drink on Saturday as evidence that I am not becoming an alcoholic, much like I used to think that because I could count on one hand how many cigarettes I smoked each day I was not a real smoker. But those days are long gone, and now I'm in the restaurant business fulltime which basically translates to gluttony, alcoholism, and fucking one's coworkers. Shyness and asocial tendencies aside, I think I fit in quite well.

So anyway, I was going to simply post an email I just sent to Cute Canadian, as it pretty much sums up my life right now (except for the part about fucking the coworker, since CC doesn't need to know about that.) And because I'm lazy (and drunk.) But then I decided that each point of the email could be blog fodder for when I'm sober and/or awake, so I don't have to think about something to write about! This includes my thoughts on the popular Ithaca activity of drunk driving (as I learned tonight, not a good idea!), my shitty job prospects due to unforseen psychology superdork competitiveness, and the strikingly handsome 50-something Cornell physicist who hangs out at the restaurant all the time, tells stories about his Iraq war consipracy theories cooked up with friend Carl Sagan and riding on the back of whales off his land in Hawaii, and wants to makeout with me (among many other nubile young things around here.) All in all, I'm pretty effortlessly happy and living life, which is a lot more than I can say for my year and a half in NYC post-college. Just need to stay away from the car keys, pull some psychology connections out of my ass, and limit sexual activity to my ol' battery powered buddy.

christ is risen

Happy Easter, everyone!

P.S. I didn't consume a single drop of alcohol yesterday! (As long as we can all agree that yesterday started at 3:30 a.m....)

i'mdrunk

For some reason (laziness) I'm all about the children's books lately. Tonight I left work drunky drunk (it is very hard for me to type this right now) thanks to a special trip to "empty the dirty dish bin," my shift drink, and after hours, and came home to a party of 30-something pot heads courtesy of the dude who lives in the attic. They all passed out on the couch, but before doing so one asked me to read him a bedtime story. I immediately thought of the Velveteen Rabbit, which was one of my favorite books as a kid, until my beloved rat terrier, Bridget, chewed the hell out of it. I proceeded to read it out loud like a kindergarten teacher and now I have to go to sleep and contemplate life 'n stuff. What a beautiful story. My favorite books are officially ~1000 page Russian novels and 20 page children's stories.

i'm sick

Either the internet is contagious, or drinking so much that i can't recall the last day in which i did not consume alcohol, not sleeping more than five hours a night, and smoking more than ever have weakened the ol' immune system. I feel like I'm in college again, since which, not so coincidentally, I hadn't really been sick (shhh, don't tell my former bosses.)

why you should not fuck your hairstylist and ignore his subsequent phone calls

Now, I liked Friends as much as the next 13-year-old back in 1994. In fact, my unibrow-, acne-, and curled bangs-having self would've cut off a limb or two to look like Jennifer Aniston. But it is ten years later, and I am free of the aforementioned atrocities (well, mostly,) and I no longer feel the need to look like an early 90's sitcom star. If this random stylist had to copy a celebrity haircut, couldn't she at least have gone with the au currant MK Olsen? Freddie the Hairstylist Who Probably Doesn't Use a Computer, awkwardness and bad feelings aside, I'm coming back.

the spell continues

In response to the two questions from the peanut gallery, No and No. While I did in fact use a can of Lysol yesterday, its purpose was limited to spraying the shit out of my bedroom floor (literally, damn untrained but cute as hell beagle.) The first question requires a more complicated answer. As we learned in a previous exercise, for an approximately three-year period I was stuck in a pattern of becoming way too into guys who were not that into me, the majority of whom I later realized I didn't actually like in the first place, but got so worked up over because I wanted them to like me, and when it didn't work out I'd find another guy to not like me that much in order to make myself feel better. (Trust me, there is some way of reading that sentence such that it actually makes sense.) Anyway, I seem to have freed myself from that vicious cycle, which is all well and good, but in the process I have stumbled upon a new phenomenon. Much like the Cute Canadian Internet Boyfriend (who is still in the picture, but to what degree I have no clue,) B the Bartender is supercool and laidback most of the time (awesome) but terribly insecure/nervous/intimidated/whatever when it comes to the getting naked part (not so awesome.) Basically at work we flirt like junior high kids and he has no problem pulling me into the wine closet to make out, but at my house last night he was like a little lost puppy (one who's an awesome kisser, at least.) Sigh. Perhaps there is indeed a reason they say not to get involved with coworkers. Or maybe we just need to be drunker next time.

weekend update

I have returned to Ithaca from my weekend in New York. I had lots of fun, the beagle didn't poop in my room while I was away, and even though I spent all the money I've made here thus far and more it was very worth it.

On Saturday night I met my college crew friends for dinner at an excellent restaurant in the West Village. Overwhelmed by the presence of about 10 people I love and haven't seen in several years and hungry from forgetting to bring food on the bus ride, I got very drunk very quickly, which proved beneficial at our next stop. Hunk-O-Mania was pretty much as expected--throngs of Long Island and New Jersey's finest bachelorettes, overly beefy dudes running around in g-strings, and a performance that I'm sure is very very tame compared to what goes on at a bachelor party. Highlights included replying to "you look like you need a lap dance" with "no, no I really don't," friend Maggie very literally running away upon receiving a similar proposition, and the grand finale which featured a "performer" with a wiener the size of a Lysol can.

I crashed at Drone's apartment and spent the following morning/afternoon in bed watching television. We saw the inadvertently campy Blue Lagoon (has there ever existed a hotter human being than Brooke Shields at 15?) and Mimic, a Mira Sorvino film about giant mutant cockroaches taking over the New York City subway system. I later found my way to Perplexa's (who is leaving us to live in London near her boyfriend and make lots of money...bitch.) We reminisced about the good ol' days, particularly about our suitemates during freshman year of college. Let's just say Perplexa and I were a great match and the other two were a great match, but said matches did not match at all. Though there are stories galore, I think our year together is best summed up with the Sonic Youth Incident. In an attempt to retaliate for having to put up with all the 'NSync music and "OHMYGOD aaaaaah eeeeeh!" sorority-type shrieking, Perplexa and I (known to them as "the sad people") put my old Sony boombox on the highest volume it would go, placed it against the shared wall, turned on Sonic Youth, and covered our ears. Shortly thereafter one of the girls knocked on our door and said, "Um, like, can you guys maybe turn that down?" To which Perplexa replied, "Only if you stop giggling."

Anyway, as much as I love New York I'm very glad to be back in Ithaca. It's slow, quiet, cheap, and full of entertaining drunkards. And I still like my job! And most importantly, the aforementioned dry spell is pretty much definitely ending tonight.

libido update

Last Friday marked the two-month anniversary of the last time I got laid. As someone who figured out how to, um, make myself feel reeeal good at the age of seven, I don't know that I've ever been hornier in my life. Things have been patched up with the Cute Canadian Internet Boyfriend, but as there are no imminent plans to see him, I've been having impure thoughts on a very regular basis. I've gotten that special feeling around quite a few people lately, including a girlfriend-having law student who resembles a nerdier version of an old hookup, the cute and blatantly sexy female bartender where I work, and a very cool male bartender where I work who sounds like another old hookup (I have a bit of an obsession with male voices...weird?). Ruling out the first two for rather obvious reasons, at first I told myself that the latter would just have to remain a fun flirtation, given that I'll be spending at least a couple eight hour shifts alone with him in the basement loooounge every week. But then I realized that, oh my god, I'll be spending a couple eight hour shifts alone with him in the basement loooounge every week, and lack of self-control has been a recorded flaw of mine since my first kindergarten report card. So I'm just going to sit back and let the drama ensue or not ensue, and look forward to this coming weekend's bach...bachel...bachelorette (*gag*) party and "Hunk-O-Mania" show in New York City.

manic panic

Holy crapola, I just applied for three promising jobs in approximately 3.2 minutes. The two most related to my interests are in Boston, which is well and good except for the whole not knowing anyone in Boston aside from my ex-boyfriend's parents part. The one in New York is on the right track though not entirely up my alley but it pays well (and by "well" i mean not extremely super shitty) and full time is 35 hours a week. THIRTY FIVE LITTLE HOURS A WEEK!! I am so utterly flabbergasted by my productivity that I don't really know what to say here, other than you absolutely must read this awesome faux-article [via Midwestgrrl,] and watch this awesome video that is obviously very well known, but, well, sometimes people miss these things.

come into myspace

Many months ago, long after tiring of Friendster, I joined Myspace. I promptly received about 300 emails in one weekend from everyone and their dog's band, in addition to every man with overly gelled hair in Hoboken. But that was then, and now I am back on Myspace, with a shiny new profile including the goggle picture, and a proud mention of my new, more remote location. Though not in such droves as last time, the gentlemen are still a-callin'. Since joining several days ago, I have received a total of four friend requests:

First, from this man


Second, from his slightly less hirsute counterpart


Third, from Big Bald Man, GI Joe edition


And last but not least,


Perhaps I shouldn't have listed my body type as "body builder" in my profile? Or chosen a photo that didn't picture me holding a power sander and wearing an ill-fitting baseball cap?

a day at the mall

In the absence of constant internet access and cable television, I have to go to new levels here to keep myself entertained. Having already read several books, watched the entire first season of Law and Order on DVD, and done my laundry, today I set off with E for the Pyramid Mall, a place that is as frightening as it is awesome.

We began in the bookstore, where we saved some big buck$ by reading Teen Vogue and Elle on site, rather than paying for the whole 20 minutes it takes to absorb them at home. Then it was on to our stated purpose for being in the bookstore, the Test Aid section. We plopped down on the floor and got surprisingly involved in our GRE study books and made ourselves feel rather stupid for failing to answer simple math problems that would've been no sweat about eight years ago. We did manage to learn some new vocab words, however, by employing sophisticated memorization techniques (e.g., the big word, which I have already forgotten, that begins with "pusi-" means wimpy, like pussy!).

After all that learning we were hungry, so I sated myself with some Arby's curly fries while E had some oddly flourescent mint chip ice cream from Friendly's. Next stop was the arcade, where we joined the mom-accompanied four-year-olds and school-ditching punkish kids. They all seemed to be enthralled in their respective games, but E and I weren't there for the games, we were there for the goods. After some pathetic attempts at winning tickets with Skeeball, we found a game that guaranteed 8-10 tickets per token. With our $4 bounty of 50+ tickets each, E and I "won" some glow-in-the-dark jelly bracelets, mini metal handcuffs, and temporary tattoo belly jewels, which will most certainly earn me some extra tips tonight during my cocktail waitressing shift.

Is there any better way to spend an insanely cold Wednesday afternoon? I think not. Thanks, Pyramid Mall!

FABulous

Have I ever told you how much I adore the FAB? Yes? Well I'll say it again. The girl fuckin' rules. If you haven't already, please take a moment to read her latest post, in which she tears a regrettable old hookup of mine a new one, in a way that I could only dream of doing myself. Thank you, FAB, for defending the fairer sex and my not-so-fair blog. And now, if you'll please excuse me, I'm going to go take a dump.

blubber

Just a couple of links today... (Good god, my metabolism is going totally haywire and the second I typed "links" I wanted some sausage. And tonight I plan to order french fries for my waitressing shift dinner only because I'm dying to consume a ton of ketchup [i.e., the whole jar] and doing so with just a spoon would be gross. Also I'm dizzy and tired and nauseated all the time and I've been remembering to take my vitamins and there have unfortunately been no activities in the last two months that could've caused me to get preggers. Any medical professionals in the house?)

*Pretty soon I'm going to need one of these. [via Blacktable]

*French women don't need oversized toilets. [via Perplexa]

chile two - santiago

Tragedy has struck, folks. There is no UPN in Ithaca. Repeat, there is no UPN in Ithaca. I don't know what they have against Moesha around here, but discovering last night at 8 PM Eastern Standard Time that I was cut off from America's Next Top Model was almost too much for my fragile psyche to bear. If anyone has access to any sort of video recording device and could send me the show in the mail every week or something, please click "Gmail me!" to your right, and you will be handsomely rewarded (once I start getting paid.)

Anyway, here's the rest of the pics.


There are approximately 293,847 different bus lines in Santiago. And as far as I could tell, many of them seem to travel pretty much the same route. They also do not tend to stop or pull over to the side of the street when picking up or dropping off passengers, so you've got to get your timing right and jump on or off without getting thrown out the door and/or into oncoming traffic. It makes New York seem like a friendly little amusement park.



Nothin' like getting really drunk to take away the pain of a sunburn.


This is the corporate headquarters for Telefonica, the major phone service provider in Chile. The building is shaped like a giant cell phone.



San Cristobal is a big hill covered in cool looking trees and topped with a statue of the Virgin Mary. It is probably the most recognized tourist attraction in Santiago, as you can see by the fancy signage guiding people in it's direction. After our visit to La Virgen, my iPod mysteriously came back to life after lying dormant for over a week. Coincidence? Creo que no.

chile one - andes, viña, and valparaiso

Waitressing update: The Saf-T-Steps served me well last night, and I didn't break any glassware until AFTER closing. Boy update: Called Internet Friendboy against my better judgment, and we had a normal, pleasant conversation. Can officially stop feeling bad about that mess. And tonight is the premier of AMERICA'S NEXT TOP MODEL CYCLE FOUR!!!

More pictures:



The only thing scarier than riding a horse up a mountain on the edge of a cliff is riding a horse down a mountain on the edge of a cliff. Though when said cliffs provide such breathtaking views, it is most definitely worth the crippling fear.




Viña del Mar is a beach town a couple hours north of Santiago. It is full of cheesy theme restaurants, skeezy clowns running around trying to rip off tourists, and awesome empanadas.






Valparaiso is often mentioned in the same breath as Viña, as it is just a few miles down the coast. But the cities could not be more different. Valpo has, except for the occasional misguided architectural venture (see picture 3,) retained all of it's old school shipping town charm. The elevators going up the hills are collectively an international historical monument and full of tourist stands, but Sis and I wandered off the proverbial beaten path into the maze of brightly colored houses upon houses and, once we got over the fear of being lost forever, felt like we were going back in time.

argentina two - signs

Oh my god, you guys, I don't hate my job! Perhaps wearing two-inch heeled, uncushioned, one size too big boots for an eight hour shift was not the best judgment call, but today I got my black orthopedic "Saf-T-Step" shoes at Payless and I'm ready to roll. Anyway, here's the rest of Argencheapa.


The view from our hostel, which cost us $5 a night, and that pretty much sums it up. Note to self: when staying in a hostel invest in some quality earplugs.



Let's get political! Avenida (In)dependencia; Che Monroe.


Dove thinks that without fake boobs, you can be happy! What do you think? Truth, or LIE? (Note that Buenos Aires has the largest percentage of plastic surgeons and psychologists per capita in the world.)


I'm immature.


Really immature.