no, it's not a scientific study, but i have pretty infallible proof that i have killed a vast amount of brain cells. thinking about some of the things i've done over the past few days, i realize that brain cells are not that resilient, nor are they prone to quick regeneration.
10 things my brain failed me in doing....
1) put used q-tips back in the cabinet. i know - gross. luckily i realized it as soon as i closed the cabinet door.
2) spent a good 15 minutes walking around my neighborhood yesterday morning looking for where i parked my car monday night. my decision to drive home after monday night drinking was quite possibly the worst decision i've made since the last time i chose to perm my hair.
3) ran around looking for sunglasses that were perched peacefully on top of my head.
4) put coffee creamer back in the microwave after pouring coffee this morning. because refrigerated items should always be kept in a heating device, right?
5) almost walked out of my office without my shoes yesterday. not kidding. packed up my stuff, was walking away from my desk and realized i was barefoot. wow.
6) took a wrong turn on the way to work. a wrong turn toward the place where i have worked for OVER TWO YEARS now.
7) mailed an empty envelope to wells fargo. the check for my car payment will follow shortly.
8) lost my driver's license in the depths of my dirty car for days and had to use my passport as my main form of identification.
9) set my alarm clock for 6:30 p.m. instead of a.m.
10) made a pot of coffee without actually adding coffee to the filter basket. imagine my surprise and dismay when i got out of the shower to find a nice pot of hot water ready and waiting.
oh, and i'm sure i've stepped in gum along the way. that's just the norm.
Aug 31, 2006
Aug 29, 2006
monday night drinking....
i had 2 immediate thoughts this morning when i woke up. before i was even fully awake or even had opened my eyes, actually. thought #1 - i'm going to see the dresden dolls in october!! kick ass!! thought #2 - i made out with elevator guy in the back corner of the bar last night. oh. my. dear. god. shitfuck. said thoughts were followed by some evil person whacking me in the head with a meat cleaver. oh wait, that was just the beer and wine from last night paying their final respects and leaving me with the most excruciating headache ever. seriously, had my head split open and vast amounts of white wine come pouring out, i wouldn't have been surprised.
ok, so, yes. apparently, i'm that skank who makes out with a guy at a bar. ugh. this is what happens when i get no lovin for extended periods of time. i drink too much, decide "eh, he'll do" and proceed to make out. in public. i kind of want to die. so here's the story - 2 guys at the bar last night approached amanda and i and ended up sitting with us in our booth. they work in sales for some elevator company. i don't know. nor do i care. anywho, after a while, dude next to me is like, "hey, come back here for a sec. i want to talk to you..." translation: come to the back corner of the bar where no one can see and i'm going to grope you. so, we walk back there and here's kinda how i remember things....
(after a bit of kissy stuff)
kiss, kiss, grope, grope, smacking hands away, grope, grope
me: ok, you're gonna need to stop. now.
dude: sorry, sorry. i just couldn't help it.
me: (rolling eyes) whatever. i don't even like making out in public, much less being totally groped for the world to see.
self: you tell him girl. he couldn't help it? lame ass.
dude: but no one can see us, it's fine
me: no, it's not fine. we are in a BAR. a BAR is a public place. and, you shouldn't still be trying to grope me.
dude: ok, sorry. can i get your number?
self: no! no! no! do not give him our number!
me: (inner comment to self: don't worry - you'll like this) fine. i'll give you my number if you can tell me my name.
dude: uhhhh.....
me: that's what i thought
self: you are such a bitch! i love it!
dude: wait! it starts with an A!
me: yeah, well, there are lots of names that begin with A. that's not gonna cut it.
dude: amy? no? ok, umm... angelina?
me: do i look like a fucking angelina? clearly you're just not trying.
self: tee hee hee! this is fun.
dude: april? angela? amanda?
me: getting closer. at least you guessed my friend's name. how about this - the first 3 letters are A-N-D
dude: (loooonnngggg pause during which you can almost see his drunk little brain cells struggling) andrea?
me: good job. i'm still not giving you my number.
dude: well, do you know what my name is? i bet you don't!
me: der. your name is bob.
dude: no it's not!
me: it is now.
self: i'm enjoying your drunkenness tonight. keep going.
dude: my name isn't bob!
me: fine, i'll call you otis.
self: hee hee. after the elevator company that he doesn't even work for. nice.
dude: (rolling eyes) can we just make out some more?
me: sorry otis. you kinda ruined the moment with all that groping earlier. i'm going to the restroom and then my friend and i need to go home.
self: oooh snap!
dude: (sighing) fine. you sure i can't just get your number?
me: (walking away with falsely apologetic smile) should have paid more attention and remembered my name.
the moral of the story - boys are DUMB. oh, and don't make out at a bar - it's tacky. i have to go hide my head in shame and take more advil now. damn alcohol.
ok, so, yes. apparently, i'm that skank who makes out with a guy at a bar. ugh. this is what happens when i get no lovin for extended periods of time. i drink too much, decide "eh, he'll do" and proceed to make out. in public. i kind of want to die. so here's the story - 2 guys at the bar last night approached amanda and i and ended up sitting with us in our booth. they work in sales for some elevator company. i don't know. nor do i care. anywho, after a while, dude next to me is like, "hey, come back here for a sec. i want to talk to you..." translation: come to the back corner of the bar where no one can see and i'm going to grope you. so, we walk back there and here's kinda how i remember things....
(after a bit of kissy stuff)
kiss, kiss, grope, grope, smacking hands away, grope, grope
me: ok, you're gonna need to stop. now.
dude: sorry, sorry. i just couldn't help it.
me: (rolling eyes) whatever. i don't even like making out in public, much less being totally groped for the world to see.
self: you tell him girl. he couldn't help it? lame ass.
dude: but no one can see us, it's fine
me: no, it's not fine. we are in a BAR. a BAR is a public place. and, you shouldn't still be trying to grope me.
dude: ok, sorry. can i get your number?
self: no! no! no! do not give him our number!
me: (inner comment to self: don't worry - you'll like this) fine. i'll give you my number if you can tell me my name.
dude: uhhhh.....
me: that's what i thought
self: you are such a bitch! i love it!
dude: wait! it starts with an A!
me: yeah, well, there are lots of names that begin with A. that's not gonna cut it.
dude: amy? no? ok, umm... angelina?
me: do i look like a fucking angelina? clearly you're just not trying.
self: tee hee hee! this is fun.
dude: april? angela? amanda?
me: getting closer. at least you guessed my friend's name. how about this - the first 3 letters are A-N-D
dude: (loooonnngggg pause during which you can almost see his drunk little brain cells struggling) andrea?
me: good job. i'm still not giving you my number.
dude: well, do you know what my name is? i bet you don't!
me: der. your name is bob.
dude: no it's not!
me: it is now.
self: i'm enjoying your drunkenness tonight. keep going.
dude: my name isn't bob!
me: fine, i'll call you otis.
self: hee hee. after the elevator company that he doesn't even work for. nice.
dude: (rolling eyes) can we just make out some more?
me: sorry otis. you kinda ruined the moment with all that groping earlier. i'm going to the restroom and then my friend and i need to go home.
self: oooh snap!
dude: (sighing) fine. you sure i can't just get your number?
me: (walking away with falsely apologetic smile) should have paid more attention and remembered my name.
the moral of the story - boys are DUMB. oh, and don't make out at a bar - it's tacky. i have to go hide my head in shame and take more advil now. damn alcohol.
Aug 27, 2006
the single vitruvian woman
most people (thanks, i'm sure, in large part to dan brown and the popularity of "the da vinci code") know of leondardo da vinci's drawing of the vitruvian man. the vitruvian man, based on the theories of the architect vetruvius and brought to the masses by da vinci, illustrates how the measurements of the human body are distributed by nature in many aspects. for example, elbow to wrist equals the length of your foot, from the roots of the hair to the bottom of the chin is 1/10 of you height, and the length of your armspan is equal to your height. don't believe me? go ahead and measure. i'll wait.
ok, done? great. da vinci is pretty right on with the vitruvian man and the measurements that correspond to height and other body parts. but, why is it that sometimes those theories of measurement by nature don't pan out? i have complained and joked on several occassions about my freakishly long arms. (trust me, even the lady at the gap told me they were strangely long for my body) so, i put leonardo's theory to the test. i am just about 5'3", though i like to say i'm at least 5'4" - because that really makes a difference, right? when i measured my armspan, i found, to no surprise, that it was nearly 5'6" in length, thus violating the theory that armspan equals height. shit. i got robbed!
what i think is this - i've so adapted to the single life, that my arms have also gone through the adaptation process. like creatures in the wild that evolve and change to adapt to their surroundings and environment, i have gained a good 3 inches of armspan. how does this relate to being single? let me enlighten you.
a) i can reach and effectively scratch every single, solitary spot on my back. i can do this with no pain, no weird twisting motions, no rubbing my back against walls or objects. it's cake.
b) with approximately 1 1/2 inches of extra arm length on each upper appendage, i'm just able to reach many things on shelves and in cabinets that i would need a step stool to get to had my arms been the correct length for my height.
c) i can zip, button, snap and tie any piece of clothing with a back closure. no need for anyone to help in that department. in turn, i can also remove said clothing with the greatest of ease.
d) i used to be able to hug myself and grasp my fingers behind my back. very comforting when you're sad and have no boyfriend to comfort you. unfortunately, this little trick has gone away temporarily because i seem to be getting fatter and now cannot get my fingers to touch, though it's close. i'd like to blame it on my large breasts getting in the way, but we all know what a lie that would be.
i could probably name more advantages, but you get my point. i don't need a guy around to scratch my back, tie a garment, unzip a dress, reach for the laundry detergent, or even hug me. nature has allowed me to adapt to my single environment and do these things for myself.
so, i wonder - what other adaptations will emerge over the upcoming years of singledom? will i get a pet and teach it to open beer bottles for me? will the brain cells that facilitate my longing for someone to curl up with on the couch or invite out to dinner start to dry up and die? will my emotions just start to drain out of my body, only to be replaced by a need for solitude and insignificant one night stands? maybe my need for companionship will be completely filled by self. *shudder*
adaptation of a species? the new vitruvian woman? you tell me....
ok, done? great. da vinci is pretty right on with the vitruvian man and the measurements that correspond to height and other body parts. but, why is it that sometimes those theories of measurement by nature don't pan out? i have complained and joked on several occassions about my freakishly long arms. (trust me, even the lady at the gap told me they were strangely long for my body) so, i put leonardo's theory to the test. i am just about 5'3", though i like to say i'm at least 5'4" - because that really makes a difference, right? when i measured my armspan, i found, to no surprise, that it was nearly 5'6" in length, thus violating the theory that armspan equals height. shit. i got robbed!
what i think is this - i've so adapted to the single life, that my arms have also gone through the adaptation process. like creatures in the wild that evolve and change to adapt to their surroundings and environment, i have gained a good 3 inches of armspan. how does this relate to being single? let me enlighten you.
a) i can reach and effectively scratch every single, solitary spot on my back. i can do this with no pain, no weird twisting motions, no rubbing my back against walls or objects. it's cake.
b) with approximately 1 1/2 inches of extra arm length on each upper appendage, i'm just able to reach many things on shelves and in cabinets that i would need a step stool to get to had my arms been the correct length for my height.
c) i can zip, button, snap and tie any piece of clothing with a back closure. no need for anyone to help in that department. in turn, i can also remove said clothing with the greatest of ease.
d) i used to be able to hug myself and grasp my fingers behind my back. very comforting when you're sad and have no boyfriend to comfort you. unfortunately, this little trick has gone away temporarily because i seem to be getting fatter and now cannot get my fingers to touch, though it's close. i'd like to blame it on my large breasts getting in the way, but we all know what a lie that would be.
i could probably name more advantages, but you get my point. i don't need a guy around to scratch my back, tie a garment, unzip a dress, reach for the laundry detergent, or even hug me. nature has allowed me to adapt to my single environment and do these things for myself.
so, i wonder - what other adaptations will emerge over the upcoming years of singledom? will i get a pet and teach it to open beer bottles for me? will the brain cells that facilitate my longing for someone to curl up with on the couch or invite out to dinner start to dry up and die? will my emotions just start to drain out of my body, only to be replaced by a need for solitude and insignificant one night stands? maybe my need for companionship will be completely filled by self. *shudder*
adaptation of a species? the new vitruvian woman? you tell me....
Aug 26, 2006
fish-n-flush? what?
seriously? "a whimsical potty that turns your toilet into a nautical wonderland" can be yours for a mere $450! christ.
Aug 15, 2006
carflirt 101
anyone who has spent an exhausting amount of time in his or her car knows exactly what i'm talking about. for those of you who may not, let me briefly explain the concept of carflirt (not that you can't figure it out from the title, but indulge me). driving along, you spot a hottie and proceed to make it over to his lane. if he is paying attention and takes notice of you, too, then a lot of passing and switching lanes will often take place, accompanied by lots of cool looks, some sideways glances and a few flirty smiles. it's just a fun way to pass the time when you are crawling on the interstate with no hope of getting home in a reasonable amount of time.
ok, so my favorite carflirt guy, whom i refer to as "unmarried hottie in the yellow jeep", is a guy i used to see quite often on the days when i would actually leave the office around 5:30. over the past few months, have not seen him at all, due basically to the fact that i avoid my commute like the plague and work from home whenever possible. but, in the last couple of weeks, i've now seen him twice - once when leaving the office around 5:30 (his usual commute time) and then again yesterday. yesterday was odd because i didn't leave work til 6:30, so imagine my surprise when i saw him drive up next to me and then cut me off. (totally NO need for that - traffic was actually light and moving well) i was sure it was fate. finally, the gods of love were smiling down on me, rewarding my years of single misery with my carflirt hottie. happy day!
carflirting continued for the duration of my travels on 94, with hottie looking constantly in his mirrors and even looking over and smiling at me at one point when i had to change lanes to go to my exit. got to my exit and thought he was probably gone forever. woe is me! but, i was wrong! he also took the exit and ended up next to me. he looked over a couple of times, kind of smiling, and then did a quick look again and completely started hanging back, almost as if avoiding driving next to me. he stayed a few car lengths back after that, leaving me wondering what happened. we turned opposite ways at the same intersection and the moment was gone.
i was still pondering this situation when i parked and got out of my car. i was just thinking that it was weird that he was totally playing along with the carflirt game until we were back in the city and he was right next to me. not that i expected to get a date out of this whole thing, but it was weird the way he suddenly backed off. as i opened my back door to grab my bag and computer i gasped in horror. sitting innocuously in my backseat is an infant carseat. the carseat, of course, is not actually mine, but purchased for my sister's upcoming visit with my niece, who will be a whopping 6 months old by then. do i think he saw it? yes. do i want to go hunt him down and tell him i really don't have a child? yes.
first rule of carflirt: remove all baby paraphernalia from automobile if you wish to flirt properly. seeing a carseat in your vehicle will send them driving in the opposite direction.
so over a year of playing car flirt and yesterday marked a day i was sure would go down in commuter karma as the drive of good fortune for me, but to no avail. i'm seriously thinking that next time i see him on the road i should "accidentally" rear-end him. probably wouldn't do any damage to his jeep wrangler, and whatever damage i do to my own car would be a sacrifice in the interest of my future happiness. i mean, clearly, he and i are meant to be together! (yes, that's sarcasm) still, it would make for an awfully good story when people ask us how we met....
ok, so my favorite carflirt guy, whom i refer to as "unmarried hottie in the yellow jeep", is a guy i used to see quite often on the days when i would actually leave the office around 5:30. over the past few months, have not seen him at all, due basically to the fact that i avoid my commute like the plague and work from home whenever possible. but, in the last couple of weeks, i've now seen him twice - once when leaving the office around 5:30 (his usual commute time) and then again yesterday. yesterday was odd because i didn't leave work til 6:30, so imagine my surprise when i saw him drive up next to me and then cut me off. (totally NO need for that - traffic was actually light and moving well) i was sure it was fate. finally, the gods of love were smiling down on me, rewarding my years of single misery with my carflirt hottie. happy day!
carflirting continued for the duration of my travels on 94, with hottie looking constantly in his mirrors and even looking over and smiling at me at one point when i had to change lanes to go to my exit. got to my exit and thought he was probably gone forever. woe is me! but, i was wrong! he also took the exit and ended up next to me. he looked over a couple of times, kind of smiling, and then did a quick look again and completely started hanging back, almost as if avoiding driving next to me. he stayed a few car lengths back after that, leaving me wondering what happened. we turned opposite ways at the same intersection and the moment was gone.
i was still pondering this situation when i parked and got out of my car. i was just thinking that it was weird that he was totally playing along with the carflirt game until we were back in the city and he was right next to me. not that i expected to get a date out of this whole thing, but it was weird the way he suddenly backed off. as i opened my back door to grab my bag and computer i gasped in horror. sitting innocuously in my backseat is an infant carseat. the carseat, of course, is not actually mine, but purchased for my sister's upcoming visit with my niece, who will be a whopping 6 months old by then. do i think he saw it? yes. do i want to go hunt him down and tell him i really don't have a child? yes.
first rule of carflirt: remove all baby paraphernalia from automobile if you wish to flirt properly. seeing a carseat in your vehicle will send them driving in the opposite direction.
so over a year of playing car flirt and yesterday marked a day i was sure would go down in commuter karma as the drive of good fortune for me, but to no avail. i'm seriously thinking that next time i see him on the road i should "accidentally" rear-end him. probably wouldn't do any damage to his jeep wrangler, and whatever damage i do to my own car would be a sacrifice in the interest of my future happiness. i mean, clearly, he and i are meant to be together! (yes, that's sarcasm) still, it would make for an awfully good story when people ask us how we met....
Aug 14, 2006
DIY cellulite treatment
say bye-bye to cottage cheese ass and high-priced cellulite-reducing scrubs and lotions. for those of you who brew your own coffee, you're in for a treat. rumor has it that rubbing used coffee grounds on your wobbly bits will help reduce the appearance of cellulite. i guess i know what i'm doing after my morning coffee tomorrow...
Aug 10, 2006
my own personal sandwich artist.... don't lie - you're so jealous
ok, but you so won't be jealous once you hear my story. many of you already know about a certain subway employee who tortures me with questions about my single status every single, god-forsaken time i visit the franchise in my neighborhood. i had avoided this particular location for this very reason for at least the past 6 months until the other day hunger pains and laziness got the better of me. here is how the coversation went: (please note: all of self's comments were contained to the recesses of my mind and not unleashed on said sandwich artist in the interest of humanity... well, that and i didn't want him to spit in my food)
(walking into subway and cringing at the sight of my subway guy - a tiny little indian man with an annoyingly cheery demeanor and memory like a fucking elephant)
subway guy: oh! long time no see!!!
self: oh goodie. cleary, our 6 month hiatus has not dimmed his memory one single bit. fabulous.
me: um, hi. 6 inch chicken teriyaki on wheat please.
subway guy: toasted, ok? you like your subs toasted!
self: good god. we got our sub toasted one time. ONE! what a psycho.
me: no toasted. it's fine the way it is. trust me.
subway guy: ahhh. i don't see a ring on your finger yet!! (with jovial nodding and laughter, as if we are both in on the same sick joke)
self: jump over the counter and hit him. i command you!!!
me: (to self: shut the hell up) no, no ring. i'm fine being single, remember? (with big, fake, don't-make-me-kill-you smile)
subway guy: no one likes being single! you want to get married!!! all the girls just want to get married!! you have boyfriend??
self: for the love of god, just say yes, you have a boyfriend. or lie and tell him you're a lesbian and see what kind of reaction that gets!!
me: no, no husband, no boyfriend. just me. and i'm fine with that. really. it's cool. i don't really have any desire to be tied down.
self: why are you telling subway guy this?! you don't owe him an explanation!!
subway guy(shaking head in disbelief and pity): don't worry. you will find someone. what would you like on your sub? cheese?
me: yes, provolone please. and then just lettuce, tomato and banana peppers. none of that sweet onion sauce. (insert gagging noise) and for the record, i'm not worried about finding someone. i am FINE on my own.
subway guy: no sweet onion sauce? you sure??? it's gooooood. (after seeing my look of disgust) ok, ok, no sauce. you are ok on your own. but you would be better with a husband. someone to take care of you.
self: get out now. just go. otherwise i might jump over the counter and hurt him.
me: (through gritted teeth) look, i get enough questions about why i'm single from lots of other people. i just want to come in here and get my sub and not worry about why i'm not married, ok?!
subway guy: ok. just worried about such a pretty girl with no one to take care of her.
self: christ. let's just pay and get out of here. i can't take this.
me: (smiling sweetly, trying to kill sandwich artist with kindness) right. thanks. how much?
subway guy: you want chips and drink?
me: just chips. i have water.
subway guy: but with drink it is a better deal...
me: fine, whatever. chips, drink, hook me up.
subway guy: ok, today, for you total is 6 million dollars and some change!
self: (rolling eyes) seriously....
me: here's a $20. i hope that covers it. (not amused)
subway guy: ah! your change is 13 million dollars!!
me: aces. i wish i HAD 13 million. and all i get is a sub. huh.
subway guy: ha ha! if you had 13 million dollars, you wouldn't need husband!! (continues laughing as though this is the most hilarious thing he has ever heard)
self: go to hell!!! tell him i said that!! tell him now!!
me: great. thanks. tell your wife i said hi. oops! my mistake - you don't have one!! have a fabulous day.
self: fucker.
subway guy: ha ha! good one! next time you come in, you have ring!!
self: clearly, we will NEVER be visiting this fine establishment again.
me: clearly.
(walking into subway and cringing at the sight of my subway guy - a tiny little indian man with an annoyingly cheery demeanor and memory like a fucking elephant)
subway guy: oh! long time no see!!!
self: oh goodie. cleary, our 6 month hiatus has not dimmed his memory one single bit. fabulous.
me: um, hi. 6 inch chicken teriyaki on wheat please.
subway guy: toasted, ok? you like your subs toasted!
self: good god. we got our sub toasted one time. ONE! what a psycho.
me: no toasted. it's fine the way it is. trust me.
subway guy: ahhh. i don't see a ring on your finger yet!! (with jovial nodding and laughter, as if we are both in on the same sick joke)
self: jump over the counter and hit him. i command you!!!
me: (to self: shut the hell up) no, no ring. i'm fine being single, remember? (with big, fake, don't-make-me-kill-you smile)
subway guy: no one likes being single! you want to get married!!! all the girls just want to get married!! you have boyfriend??
self: for the love of god, just say yes, you have a boyfriend. or lie and tell him you're a lesbian and see what kind of reaction that gets!!
me: no, no husband, no boyfriend. just me. and i'm fine with that. really. it's cool. i don't really have any desire to be tied down.
self: why are you telling subway guy this?! you don't owe him an explanation!!
subway guy(shaking head in disbelief and pity): don't worry. you will find someone. what would you like on your sub? cheese?
me: yes, provolone please. and then just lettuce, tomato and banana peppers. none of that sweet onion sauce. (insert gagging noise) and for the record, i'm not worried about finding someone. i am FINE on my own.
subway guy: no sweet onion sauce? you sure??? it's gooooood. (after seeing my look of disgust) ok, ok, no sauce. you are ok on your own. but you would be better with a husband. someone to take care of you.
self: get out now. just go. otherwise i might jump over the counter and hurt him.
me: (through gritted teeth) look, i get enough questions about why i'm single from lots of other people. i just want to come in here and get my sub and not worry about why i'm not married, ok?!
subway guy: ok. just worried about such a pretty girl with no one to take care of her.
self: christ. let's just pay and get out of here. i can't take this.
me: (smiling sweetly, trying to kill sandwich artist with kindness) right. thanks. how much?
subway guy: you want chips and drink?
me: just chips. i have water.
subway guy: but with drink it is a better deal...
me: fine, whatever. chips, drink, hook me up.
subway guy: ok, today, for you total is 6 million dollars and some change!
self: (rolling eyes) seriously....
me: here's a $20. i hope that covers it. (not amused)
subway guy: ah! your change is 13 million dollars!!
me: aces. i wish i HAD 13 million. and all i get is a sub. huh.
subway guy: ha ha! if you had 13 million dollars, you wouldn't need husband!! (continues laughing as though this is the most hilarious thing he has ever heard)
self: go to hell!!! tell him i said that!! tell him now!!
me: great. thanks. tell your wife i said hi. oops! my mistake - you don't have one!! have a fabulous day.
self: fucker.
subway guy: ha ha! good one! next time you come in, you have ring!!
self: clearly, we will NEVER be visiting this fine establishment again.
me: clearly.
Aug 5, 2006
Lollapalooza guidelines
there are 2 things that were clearly left off the list of prohibited items at lollapalooza. among the list of no-nos are weapons, alcohol, chairs, fireworks and explosives, large chains or spiked jewelry, and pets, along with a few other items. what they forgot to include on this list are the following:
NO CHILDREN
bringing kids to the rockfest that is lollapalooza is like taking your grandparents to bourbon street for mardi gras. come on, use some common sense. i know they tried to make lolla a bit more kid-friendly this year, designating one area for kid crap and activities, but what parent really wants to spend their day there, when there is a plethora of fantastic music being played all around them? get a friggin babysitter, people. i mean, if you really want to take your older kids and be the coolest parents in town, that's fine. please don't bring your 3 year old and expect her to sit quietly during Panic! at the Disco or Ryan Adams.
case in point: as my friends and i enjoyed the musical stylings of Jack White as lead man for the The Raconteurs, we were distracted by a child in front of us who, clearly, did not have any interest in jack or his music. her mother kept stuffing the child's earplugs back in her ears and tried to get the kid to go to daddy. daddy, who looked like he hadn't changed his look since the last time he left his trailer park in 1985, didn't really have much interest in placating his daughter. rather, he preferred to put on a stunning display of air guitar for the majority of the show. so, the kid cried, mom ended up sitting on the ground trying to keep her entertained, thus pretty much defeating the purpose of being there. i felt very sorry for the kid throughout most of the show until, that is, she looked right at me, picked her nose, and proceeded to eat what she found up there. fucking gross. take your kids home and don't come back unless you have a sitter or they are old enough to use a kleenex and appreciate the music.
NO KISSY-LICKY-DRUNKY COUPLES
i wouldn't consider Deathcab for Cutie to be a band that inspires people to make out in a mob of concert-goers, but what do i know? packed in like sardines for the final show of day 1, my friend and i witnessed one of the most annoying and pathetic public displays of affection ever. already having been shoved aside, stepped on, and groped as people pushed past us during the show, the icing on the cake was to have a couple of very tall people shove right in front of me and begin making out. stuck together as they were, and both being around 6 feet tall, my 5'3" self couldn't see shit except for the spectacle unfolding before me. it wasn't just a little peck or a drunken kiss, it was a full on licking, kissing, groping extravaganza. they blocked my view of the stage, the big screen, and caused me to stare at them in disbelief, wondering if i could just kick them and make them both fall down so at least they could make out on the ground and be out of my line of vision. they were completely wasted and falling all over the people around us as they kept going at it. finally, thank god, they relocated to annoy and piss off other Deathcab fans.
if you get to a point where you're drunk and out in public with a person you find attractive, please at least find a dark corner somewhere to make out. don't push into a crowd of people focused on the music being played and then ruin their concert experience by licking every orifice in sight of the person you're with. just go find a port-a-potty and have sex, for the love of god! i don't care what you do, just don't do it in front of me. take it somewhere else. maybe you should go visit the kiddie area. if that doesn't cure you of your desire to do your boyfriend or girlfriend in public, nothing will.
Friendly reminders:
- to all of the sweaty groupies: if your hair is drenched in sweat, please do not headbang to every single song a band plays during their allotted time. you are essentially behaving like a wet dog and the people around you are completely grossed out.
- to all of the hot men preferring to walk around shirtless: keep up the good work. you are contributing to the beauty of the festival.
NO CHILDREN
bringing kids to the rockfest that is lollapalooza is like taking your grandparents to bourbon street for mardi gras. come on, use some common sense. i know they tried to make lolla a bit more kid-friendly this year, designating one area for kid crap and activities, but what parent really wants to spend their day there, when there is a plethora of fantastic music being played all around them? get a friggin babysitter, people. i mean, if you really want to take your older kids and be the coolest parents in town, that's fine. please don't bring your 3 year old and expect her to sit quietly during Panic! at the Disco or Ryan Adams.
case in point: as my friends and i enjoyed the musical stylings of Jack White as lead man for the The Raconteurs, we were distracted by a child in front of us who, clearly, did not have any interest in jack or his music. her mother kept stuffing the child's earplugs back in her ears and tried to get the kid to go to daddy. daddy, who looked like he hadn't changed his look since the last time he left his trailer park in 1985, didn't really have much interest in placating his daughter. rather, he preferred to put on a stunning display of air guitar for the majority of the show. so, the kid cried, mom ended up sitting on the ground trying to keep her entertained, thus pretty much defeating the purpose of being there. i felt very sorry for the kid throughout most of the show until, that is, she looked right at me, picked her nose, and proceeded to eat what she found up there. fucking gross. take your kids home and don't come back unless you have a sitter or they are old enough to use a kleenex and appreciate the music.
NO KISSY-LICKY-DRUNKY COUPLES
i wouldn't consider Deathcab for Cutie to be a band that inspires people to make out in a mob of concert-goers, but what do i know? packed in like sardines for the final show of day 1, my friend and i witnessed one of the most annoying and pathetic public displays of affection ever. already having been shoved aside, stepped on, and groped as people pushed past us during the show, the icing on the cake was to have a couple of very tall people shove right in front of me and begin making out. stuck together as they were, and both being around 6 feet tall, my 5'3" self couldn't see shit except for the spectacle unfolding before me. it wasn't just a little peck or a drunken kiss, it was a full on licking, kissing, groping extravaganza. they blocked my view of the stage, the big screen, and caused me to stare at them in disbelief, wondering if i could just kick them and make them both fall down so at least they could make out on the ground and be out of my line of vision. they were completely wasted and falling all over the people around us as they kept going at it. finally, thank god, they relocated to annoy and piss off other Deathcab fans.
if you get to a point where you're drunk and out in public with a person you find attractive, please at least find a dark corner somewhere to make out. don't push into a crowd of people focused on the music being played and then ruin their concert experience by licking every orifice in sight of the person you're with. just go find a port-a-potty and have sex, for the love of god! i don't care what you do, just don't do it in front of me. take it somewhere else. maybe you should go visit the kiddie area. if that doesn't cure you of your desire to do your boyfriend or girlfriend in public, nothing will.
Friendly reminders:
- to all of the sweaty groupies: if your hair is drenched in sweat, please do not headbang to every single song a band plays during their allotted time. you are essentially behaving like a wet dog and the people around you are completely grossed out.
- to all of the hot men preferring to walk around shirtless: keep up the good work. you are contributing to the beauty of the festival.
Aug 1, 2006
amen sister!
"Only promise me one thing--
Don't take me home until I'm drunk...
Until I'm very drunk, indeed."
Holly Golightly
"Breakfast At Tiffany's"
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