I totally had a Liz Lemon moment this morning, leading me to believe that I am, in fact, Liz Lemon!! I was wearing some fake glasses (don’t worry about it, I werk it!) while walking to my car just as the sun breached the horizon. My travels in delirium were so early that I saw a couple of fools in shambles on their shameful stumble (hayyy, alliteration!) home from a night/morning of debauchery. Now that’s early, son! So this morning while on my way to do some breadwinning, if you will, I strategically (and intentionally, okay!) assumed a nerdy front so fools like the one in question wouldn’t bother me. I expected all bums in my path to saunter aside in their merry inebriation and direct their blurred attentions elsewhere. But, hey, they can’t all be socially perspective, right?
This bum turned a corner and spotted me with his madcap eyes. Letting his thoughts be known, he hollered, “Hey Glasses!” I panicked as I flashbacked to my middle school days of sporting braces, glasses, and an overall unkempt look. Throwback? If only. Bedraggled androgyny was my signature look until college… sigh. Nevertheless, I thought in that startling moment that my plan to muddle through my day as a hopeless curmudgeon would be foiled! Quite the opposite, in fact!! The bum continued, “Haaay, Glasses! Lookinnn gooooood!” TWIST, I dare say! “Boys don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses?” Well, the neighborhood hobo begs to differ! Thank you, Sir, for throwing your support—albeit questionable—behind a pair of thick rimmed glasses that are just tryin to hide some shifty eyes from society.
10/13/2010
9/26/2010
Affliction of a different sort
This week at work there was a skittle situation that quite frankly, and possibly irrationally, really pissed me off. I brought a bag of skittles to work for a healthy and nutritional breakfast, snack, and lunch. Naturally, by 8:30AM I was already a handful of skittles in for the day. One of my co-workers ambled his way over to my cube, and booooooyyyyy does he amble! This troll treads like ah wildebeest! I heard his flat-footed, tree trunk legs coming. Is that rude? I digress… this fraggle rock muppet meandered over to my cube and had the NERVE without any regard for social tact to ask for some skittles. Now, I’m a generous person so of course I said yes. Had I known that this joker would wildly misinterpret my generosity as a license to help himself to my livelihood (Yeah.) then you betta believe I would have shut that down the hot second I saw his beady eyes dilate with gluttony!
So ignorant to all social etiquette (among other things…), my work friend stampeded over to my cube every half hour to ask an irrelevant and dumb question so that he can—without hesitation, nor permission!—spearhead his greedy paws into MY bag of skittles and shove a liberal amount of skittles into his salivating, mouth-breathing trap. Listennnn, I’m no communal candy dispenser; what’s mine is NOT yours… It’s mine, son! The greedy fool had me twisted. To correct this defamation of my character, I reacted the best way I could: childishly and, most definitely, selfishly. My plan of attack for the following day: tell the skittle-binging troll that I had taken the skittles home and then forgotten to bring them in to work the next morning. Now, of course I brought the skittles home—I needed to round out my day with a nutritional dinner. And, let’s just say, at this point if my apartment was on fire, I would first reach for the bag of skittles. I was NOT going to forget the candy the next morning. But his ignorance was my bliss!
When I arrived at work in the morning, I heard the swelling sound of flat-footed excitement. The voracious trick didn't even wait for me to get my ish together! When he failed to find the bag in its usual spot (happily situated within an arm’s reach of my keyboard), a panicked realization swept his pudgy face. I let him dangle on the edge of devastation for a few glorious seconds as he busted open my file cabinets (rude.) and checked the trash for its remains. Breaking the anticipation, I told him the truth—and by truth, I mean a lie. His mooching skittles days were ovahhh! The lie was put into play and his gourmandism was fantastically thwarted. Owing to my esurient nature, I had to sneak my skittles, stashed away in my purse, and anticipate the little guy’s heavy and forlorn footsteps for the rest of the day! It’s no sweat off my back but I’m not one to be ashamed of my malnutrition, nor stifle its cravings. What's worse, my skittles supply was seriously depleted! Nevertheless, being the good person that I am, I tried to lift my friend’s crushed spirits by saying, “Maybe next time I have skittles...” Yeah, buddy, next time you try to snatch my food with your chubby little fingers maybe I’ll cuuuut you! Fool.
So ignorant to all social etiquette (among other things…), my work friend stampeded over to my cube every half hour to ask an irrelevant and dumb question so that he can—without hesitation, nor permission!—spearhead his greedy paws into MY bag of skittles and shove a liberal amount of skittles into his salivating, mouth-breathing trap. Listennnn, I’m no communal candy dispenser; what’s mine is NOT yours… It’s mine, son! The greedy fool had me twisted. To correct this defamation of my character, I reacted the best way I could: childishly and, most definitely, selfishly. My plan of attack for the following day: tell the skittle-binging troll that I had taken the skittles home and then forgotten to bring them in to work the next morning. Now, of course I brought the skittles home—I needed to round out my day with a nutritional dinner. And, let’s just say, at this point if my apartment was on fire, I would first reach for the bag of skittles. I was NOT going to forget the candy the next morning. But his ignorance was my bliss!
When I arrived at work in the morning, I heard the swelling sound of flat-footed excitement. The voracious trick didn't even wait for me to get my ish together! When he failed to find the bag in its usual spot (happily situated within an arm’s reach of my keyboard), a panicked realization swept his pudgy face. I let him dangle on the edge of devastation for a few glorious seconds as he busted open my file cabinets (rude.) and checked the trash for its remains. Breaking the anticipation, I told him the truth—and by truth, I mean a lie. His mooching skittles days were ovahhh! The lie was put into play and his gourmandism was fantastically thwarted. Owing to my esurient nature, I had to sneak my skittles, stashed away in my purse, and anticipate the little guy’s heavy and forlorn footsteps for the rest of the day! It’s no sweat off my back but I’m not one to be ashamed of my malnutrition, nor stifle its cravings. What's worse, my skittles supply was seriously depleted! Nevertheless, being the good person that I am, I tried to lift my friend’s crushed spirits by saying, “Maybe next time I have skittles...” Yeah, buddy, next time you try to snatch my food with your chubby little fingers maybe I’ll cuuuut you! Fool.
9/25/2010
A personal aspersion
I have finally christened my new job, wiping out in front of my co-workers. Falling while walking up the stairs hurt my ego more than bruises on my legs. It was an undeniable face plant—my panicked (and delayed.) reflex to snatch the railing went in vain. I could blame my lazy stride on the early hour of the morning but I’m placing the blame on my dang flip-flops! I knew exposing my feet to the world would only end in shame!
9/23/2010
"Please state your name to introduce yourself to the group"
My last name is Control. No, my first name ain’t baby. It’s Sarah… Ms. Hinton if ya nasty.
Keeping the details light, I have attended several meetings (with the same people—give or take a couple of goons) in which introductions and the always-popular icebreakers are relied on to pierce the juggernaut of awkward silence. In these meetings, announcing a fun fact seems to be a prevalent choice among the sundry of icebreakers. Now, my concern is not why we’re continuing to introduce ourselves to one another. I’m more concerned about the number of freaking fun facts I need to conjure up for this shiz! It’s twisted. I didn’t realize in the job requirements it stated that a valued employee kept a fun fact in her back pocket. Yeesh, I’m not that fun. What’s worse, I don’t want these jokers knowing this much about me! I gotta keep dem quirks locked down, okayyyy. We’re acquaintances… Let’s keep it that way!
Keeping the details light, I have attended several meetings (with the same people—give or take a couple of goons) in which introductions and the always-popular icebreakers are relied on to pierce the juggernaut of awkward silence. In these meetings, announcing a fun fact seems to be a prevalent choice among the sundry of icebreakers. Now, my concern is not why we’re continuing to introduce ourselves to one another. I’m more concerned about the number of freaking fun facts I need to conjure up for this shiz! It’s twisted. I didn’t realize in the job requirements it stated that a valued employee kept a fun fact in her back pocket. Yeesh, I’m not that fun. What’s worse, I don’t want these jokers knowing this much about me! I gotta keep dem quirks locked down, okayyyy. We’re acquaintances… Let’s keep it that way!
Irony be damned!
To all the hipsters riding bikes in absurdly tight jorts and oversized faux-glasses: If ya don’t get out of my way while I’m trying to drive, I WILL hit you and knock the irony right out ya skinny ass AND your ridiculous mode of transportation. Ya heard?
Move, Betch! Get out the way.
Move, Betch! Get out the way.
7/25/2010
Dream big or go home
...I'll chose the latter, thank youuuu!
Okay, nerdz. I could contribute my absence to some serious brisk hustlin, but you know I like to sashay leisurely. To be honest—and, I hear that honesty is the best policy—I have spent these past few days, weeks, okay, MONTHS (twist my arm!) completely and unequivocally dedicated to misanthropic lounging. Not even this thing called my “career” can get in my way! In fact, since I reside in a cubical all. day. long. I find that this actually works well with the solipsism that my inexorably antisocial laziness finds so delicious. Perhaps I have found my dream job.
Okay, nerdz. I could contribute my absence to some serious brisk hustlin, but you know I like to sashay leisurely. To be honest—and, I hear that honesty is the best policy—I have spent these past few days, weeks, okay, MONTHS (twist my arm!) completely and unequivocally dedicated to misanthropic lounging. Not even this thing called my “career” can get in my way! In fact, since I reside in a cubical all. day. long. I find that this actually works well with the solipsism that my inexorably antisocial laziness finds so delicious. Perhaps I have found my dream job.
5/08/2010
YASSSSSSS
I ended my college career the same way it started: late to class. (In part because my belt loop caught on the door as I entered the classroom… So awkward! I had to stand in the doorway to wiggle out of an improbable situation.) On my way to class though, a giant bug nearly flew into my mouth and interrupted my hustle. And so, I learned my most important lesson at college: walk with your mouth closed. Mouth breathers nevahhh win! Truth.
My feelings, as I head into exams and the uncharted space—quite possibly a black hole—that is my future: “Betch, I got this.” Watch out!
My feelings, as I head into exams and the uncharted space—quite possibly a black hole—that is my future: “Betch, I got this.” Watch out!
3/03/2010
Humanitarian strides
Gay marriage was legalized in D.C. today. Let’s hope this critical, symbolic motion for equality in civil and fundamental rights makes its way to Virginia.
2/27/2010
2/18/2010
Dumb luck
“Used to rock a throwback, ballin’ on the corner
Now I rock a Teller suit, lookin’ like a owner”
YASSSSS. I have never been so happy with mediocrity! This is what the French must feel like… SNAP! After a week’s delirium of forecasting danggg cash flow statements and working capital (which uhhh I’ll level with you… I don’t even know what that is.), I pulled off an unexceptional and ephemeral presentation. And though you may not know it yet, it was indeed an incredible accomplishment—one in which could only be achieved by a stars aligning type of luck and (finally, those prayers of mine were answered) no flop sweat. Huzzah!
I’m not sure if this thing of beauty—yes, beauty—is a turning point in my educational career (Better late than never?! My ass! I needed this shiz yearssss ago!) or a misstep in my inevitable decline to complete social ineptitude… Ahem, I think we all know the answer to that.
I rarely settle in life. But this— Oh man… this one, I’ll graciously concede.
Now I rock a Teller suit, lookin’ like a owner”
YASSSSS. I have never been so happy with mediocrity! This is what the French must feel like… SNAP! After a week’s delirium of forecasting danggg cash flow statements and working capital (which uhhh I’ll level with you… I don’t even know what that is.), I pulled off an unexceptional and ephemeral presentation. And though you may not know it yet, it was indeed an incredible accomplishment—one in which could only be achieved by a stars aligning type of luck and (finally, those prayers of mine were answered) no flop sweat. Huzzah!
I’m not sure if this thing of beauty—yes, beauty—is a turning point in my educational career (Better late than never?! My ass! I needed this shiz yearssss ago!) or a misstep in my inevitable decline to complete social ineptitude… Ahem, I think we all know the answer to that.
I rarely settle in life. But this— Oh man… this one, I’ll graciously concede.
2/12/2010
Big Date
This Sunday is Valentine’s Day, or as I like to call it, just another day. To celebrate this sham (!!) of a holiday, I will happily be taking myself out to a nice dinner and a show. No expenses spared!
2/07/2010
The theory of tolerance: the teenager edition
A few weeks ago, I returned to Boston to finish my last semester at college. At the airport, a young freshman, faultlessly mesmerized by my sage and charm, formed an impetuous bond to me. A bond comprised of a most irritating adhesive.
Despite snide retorts and plenty of attitude, I couldn’t kick the boy scout (... Figuratively speaking, of course...). So I resolved on the fact that I could save money and share a cab with him back to campus. Hey, that IRA isn’t going to build itself! Amiright?? Ay ohhhh!
But I digress.
In the cab, the conversation was as contrived as the boy-child was vapid. What’s worse, within the Ambien prescribed conversation, he tried to shame me for not recognizing the name of a football player. ~BLASPHEMY!~ … Please! Allow me verbalize the palpable side-eye judgment I threw his way...
Despite snide retorts and plenty of attitude, I couldn’t kick the boy scout (... Figuratively speaking, of course...). So I resolved on the fact that I could save money and share a cab with him back to campus. Hey, that IRA isn’t going to build itself! Amiright?? Ay ohhhh!
But I digress.
In the cab, the conversation was as contrived as the boy-child was vapid. What’s worse, within the Ambien prescribed conversation, he tried to shame me for not recognizing the name of a football player. ~BLASPHEMY!~ … Please! Allow me verbalize the palpable side-eye judgment I threw his way...
Teenager, with candid disdain: “How do you NOT know who that is? Where have you been?? I can’t bel—”
Me, always with perspicacity and eloquence: “Where have I been?! Where have YOU been?! What about 1988, 1989, and 1990… Oh that’s right, you weren’t alive!! Respect your elders, fool!”
Me, always with perspicacity and eloquence: “Where have I been?! Where have YOU been?! What about 1988, 1989, and 1990… Oh that’s right, you weren’t alive!! Respect your elders, fool!”
Damn kids these days.
1/08/2010
"Cruising" sans T-Pain
Crumpled in bed watching back-to-back episodes of Spongebob, I feel obligated to make something of this day (considering I’ve allowed the past few to rest idly in between my self-made imprints upon my bed). Perhaps this lackadaisical nature—though consistent with my general lifestyle, feels a bit amplified at present—is due to the effects of that dang cruise! Let me explain…
The cruise was outrageously corny (which no doubt I will elaborate on later) and filled with 6,000 people. The two things I hate most: misdirected campiness and people. That being said… The cruise was all you can eat!!! Words cannot do justice to the experience; the prepaid buffet for every meal was simply phenomenal. Needless to say, I ate my feelings.
Now I’d like to expand on the level of cheesy entertainment forced upon me while trapped on the boat. At the height of it all was the performance by a Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons tribute band. Yes, such a thing exists. Four middle-aged nerds dressed in tuxedos over purple shirts with two buttons undone to convince the audience they had a debonair swagger. But I’m no fool! In front of a bedazzled purple curtain, they danced like choreographed crackheads. They bounced, shook and wiggled all with a maniac smile that glistened from their own self-obsession. In between the contrived renditions, the group tried to entertain with awkward anecdotes of which the relevancy was lost on me. One member in an overworked jovial tone spoke about his frustrations with the dating scene. How difficult it was for him to find the “right woman” … Eesh, based on all the glitter and purple, I can solve that problem!
One dance after another, including a flippant—and therefore all the more horrifying—provocative dance for a memaw, weakened my constitution as I sought solace in the imminent end. Finally the group, after completing their seemingly endless set list, stood at the front of the stage bowing, clapping (for themselves…) and waving. As the applause died a slow and painful death, the group continued to stand on stage with their eager positions and toothy smiles. They were awaiting an encore!! The nerve! Once an uncomfortable silence swept the theater, some idiot in the back squeaked, “Encore?” To no one’s surprise—or delight—the tribute band snatched back their microphones and regained the bounce in their step… It was a poor man’s Vegas show.
I’m sorry but I’m just too classy for that shiz.
The cruise was outrageously corny (which no doubt I will elaborate on later) and filled with 6,000 people. The two things I hate most: misdirected campiness and people. That being said… The cruise was all you can eat!!! Words cannot do justice to the experience; the prepaid buffet for every meal was simply phenomenal. Needless to say, I ate my feelings.
Now I’d like to expand on the level of cheesy entertainment forced upon me while trapped on the boat. At the height of it all was the performance by a Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons tribute band. Yes, such a thing exists. Four middle-aged nerds dressed in tuxedos over purple shirts with two buttons undone to convince the audience they had a debonair swagger. But I’m no fool! In front of a bedazzled purple curtain, they danced like choreographed crackheads. They bounced, shook and wiggled all with a maniac smile that glistened from their own self-obsession. In between the contrived renditions, the group tried to entertain with awkward anecdotes of which the relevancy was lost on me. One member in an overworked jovial tone spoke about his frustrations with the dating scene. How difficult it was for him to find the “right woman” … Eesh, based on all the glitter and purple, I can solve that problem!
One dance after another, including a flippant—and therefore all the more horrifying—provocative dance for a memaw, weakened my constitution as I sought solace in the imminent end. Finally the group, after completing their seemingly endless set list, stood at the front of the stage bowing, clapping (for themselves…) and waving. As the applause died a slow and painful death, the group continued to stand on stage with their eager positions and toothy smiles. They were awaiting an encore!! The nerve! Once an uncomfortable silence swept the theater, some idiot in the back squeaked, “Encore?” To no one’s surprise—or delight—the tribute band snatched back their microphones and regained the bounce in their step… It was a poor man’s Vegas show.
I’m sorry but I’m just too classy for that shiz.
12/25/2009
Shorts and sandals of the nefarious sort
Tomorrow morning I will embark on a new and unexpected adventure: a family-friendly cruise. I will spend a week on a Disney crackpot vessel that encourages—nay, thrives off of the cheesy, corny lifestyles of Americans. I would describe myself to a complete stranger and without the need of this contextual support as the antithesis of a cruise. Yes, I’m pale and cynical for a reason! That being said, it will be nice to spend some time with my family as we all burn together and seek shade under an artificial palm tree. Ah, family bonding. If I survive this, I can survive anything!
It's the thought that counts
To prove to you all that I’m no Scrooge, I would like to say, quite politically incorrect and therefore all the more trendy, Merry Christmas, fools!
No apologies, only acceptance
Ok sooo bitterness is definitely the worst feeling evahhhh! Clearly, even after a year, I still can’t accept the incompetence of the unsuitable, unprofessionalllllllll French education system. Ugh, there I go again! There’s a strong likelihood that I’m going to be one of those cynical, old women with a wacky style and a flare for the peculiar.
12/14/2009
I mean this in the most offensive way possible...
May this day forever go down in history as my last day of French, the language of hypocritical, mediocre FOOLS whose breath reeks of allllllll the shiz they push past their jagged, unhygienic teeth and thin, nicotine-splintered lips. Yes, I said it! And I’d say it in French, too! But I don’t feel like translating… So eff that!
9/20/2009
Bad timing
It has come to my attention that I have a low, perhaps almost non-existent, tolerance for loitering in respect to group projects. It’s painful enough to be forced to interact with people, but to waste my time with trivial small talk and verbose tangents?! That’s where I shut it DOWN. Don’t ramble on about shiz I don’t need to know. We’re not friends. We’re not even acquaintances. We’re simply group members, nothing more. Once this project is done, I will pretend I don’t know you. If we cross in passing, I will whip out my cell phone and check my email. Yeah, that’s how I roll. Suck it! So, why prolong a meeting for an hour when it could have been done in 20 minutes? You’re not investing your time into a future friendship. Efficiency is how I do. Get at it!
Rant ovahhhhhh!
Rant ovahhhhhh!
9/15/2009
Struck gold
Owing to the old woman within, I have yet to fully understand this Twitter phenomenon. Don’t get me wrong, self-indulgence and vanity are two of my favorite qualities. But the reason behind this narcissistic trend does not concern me. What troubles me—deeply, in fact—are the conversations between two Twitterers (Tweeters? Twatters? Twats? …Eh). I can’t decipher the curious, albeit inane, conversations between these egotistical, infamous freak-shows. Think about it, the only thing that separates these conceited fame hoes from professional circus freaks is a questionable white powdered line. But I digress… I don’t understand Twitter!! Just look at this tweet/twat/twit from the always humble and gracious Diddy, aka Puff Daddy, aka Sean Combs:
"RT @UncleRUSH: We are here for a short time, the ones who smile the most are the winners, be happy and smile alot"
Wise words, Diddy. But what the heck does RT mean?? Is Diddy passing some knowledge on to Uncle Rush or is it the other way around?? Ugh! Technology these days… But, thanks to a few gems Twitter is tolerable, perhaps even entertaining. John Mayer flaunts his witty humor with comments like,
"It's Fashion Week in NYC. Where are all the Talbot's models hanging out?"
I can’t hate on that! Perhaps because I grew up rockin the Talbots look, hmmmm. Best yet, Jessica Simpson showcases her brilliance with this harrowing tale about her dog:
"My heart is broken because a coyote took my precious Daisy right in front of our eyes. HORROR!"
A coyote?! What in the hell kind of Looney Tunes shiz is that? She even posted a reward, in which no doubt (!) the Roadrunner will be interested. Greedy betch!
"RT @UncleRUSH: We are here for a short time, the ones who smile the most are the winners, be happy and smile alot"
Wise words, Diddy. But what the heck does RT mean?? Is Diddy passing some knowledge on to Uncle Rush or is it the other way around?? Ugh! Technology these days… But, thanks to a few gems Twitter is tolerable, perhaps even entertaining. John Mayer flaunts his witty humor with comments like,
"It's Fashion Week in NYC. Where are all the Talbot's models hanging out?"
I can’t hate on that! Perhaps because I grew up rockin the Talbots look, hmmmm. Best yet, Jessica Simpson showcases her brilliance with this harrowing tale about her dog:
"My heart is broken because a coyote took my precious Daisy right in front of our eyes. HORROR!"
A coyote?! What in the hell kind of Looney Tunes shiz is that? She even posted a reward, in which no doubt (!) the Roadrunner will be interested. Greedy betch!
9/12/2009
HAGS
I spent the day willingly standing in the front lines of Activities Day, which turns out is the warm hued light igniting the night for the buzzing college populace. With no shelter to take, I depended on my hoodrat appearance as my only defense. Normally, I like to have more in my misanthrope arsenal when I venture into society. Yet… Bombarded by the enemy—the friendly, outgoing folk—and interrogated, I sacrificed words of superficiality and knew of no escape. Faint acquaintances lightly strolled through what was my nightmare. They approached me as a kind gesture—I did not see it as such. Forceful and hollow felt the conversations, each party desperately searching for a follow-up question to fan the conversation flames. No, I don’t care about what classes you’re taking! Oh you had a good summer, did you?? Are you sure it wasn’t just ok? No? So, it was good? Ok. So glad we clarified that. Now I can sleep at night.
Recognize this: I don’t care about dumb shiz!
Recognize this: I don’t care about dumb shiz!
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