Load of Bollix

I just depressed myself by looking at pictures from college, when I was tan and did cool things like go to Europe and lick Mayan ruins and worry about my future. Now I'm pale and go to Ballston and worry about my future. Not nearly as cool. http://flathat.wm.edu/March222002/opinionsstory3.shtml

The man on the metro wearing a safari hat Sir, it is 7:45 a.m., and we are in Virginia, not Kenya. Also, it is about 65 degrees, and you look like a huge douchebag. Have fun big game hunting in Farragut Square. Katie Holmes If I married a weirdo with gobs of money, I too could spend all day having no exceptional talent other than walking around in expensive clothes purchased with his money. People who call a number and say they are calling because "this number was on their caller ID" Who called you? -I don't know. Do you know what this was in reference to? -I don't know. Any idea what this might be in reference too? - I eat my own feces. Way to be. Teamwork In kindergarten, this meant that I did all the work while the members of my group learned to read, ate glue, or opened the door on Danny using the classroom bathroom. It's really not that much different now, in the adult world. Only kindergardeners get a bathroom in their classroom Odd, since they are the one

I just addressed a letter that, once posted, will travel farther than I have in the last 3 years. By the same lack of togetherness that caused me to be administratively withdrawn from an online community college class (Seriously. I know, I know. Who am I?), I never sent in my official decline letter for my master’s *programme* at the University of London. My admissions offer first came in February last year; I duly applied for a deferment, it was granted, they sent me a new acceptance letter in October. I received something a few weeks ago about living in London and quickly dismissed it as a glitch in their system. But yesterday, when I got an earnest e-mail from someone asking me if I had questions about moving to London or my programme, my stomach did a flip-flop. So tonight, I went routing through my files for my October acceptance packet. And sure enough, I never sent back the letter. This means, of course, I have to sign it and mail it immediately. In my e-mail to the earnest, fri

“Did you know you can now use federal dollars to teach abstinence education to 20-29 year olds ? Something tells me if you are a 29 year old virgin, you don’t need education. If it has come naturally to you for that long, then…yea.” -Jackie January, 2007

"Ladies, Its almost one in the morning, and I cannot sleep, which both sucks and blows, since I am exhausted and quasi-sick (where "quasi" is pronounced with the long "a" sound like those crazy Brits would say it) and NEED to be in bed, since I have to get my ass up early and go back to work tomorrow. Cut my face off. I just got back from 5 magnificent days in NYC, visiting my BFF and subsequently her fiancé since she lives with him. It was marvelous and fantastic. I'd never been to NYC (or as I call it know, "London-lite"), which is shocking, appalling, no one can believe it, blahblahblah. But I learned several things there, which I think I should share with you in my current sleepless blunderings, so here goes: 1-Life is the Subway. It's always changing or not running local stops, and no matter what the map says you should do, it really is a crap shoot and a strange man might rub up on you. You think you have it all figured out, and then you

This weekend, I joined the ranks of barefoot old men, babies, and v. small dogs in “hiking” the Billy Goat Trail in Maryland. I had originally thought this to be an accomplishment, but discovered, after talking with barefoot old men, babies, v. small dogs, and the universe, that this is not so. If you have never been to the Billy Goat Trail, it is a trail in Maryland where Washingtonians go on weekends to talk loudly about the weather on their trips to Boston and/or political candidates while violating your personal space in the great outdoors (versus the ATM line, Chick-Fil-A line, or Orange line). On this trail, while dodging bees and other white people, you will scramble over rocks with heart pounding, ponder mortality, and wonder which is more intimidating: the German baby ahead of you bounding from rock to rock like Spider Man, or the twelve shirtless douchebags behind you, gaining on you each time you scrape your knee on a boulder (Boulder?!). If you pause from cursing the Depart

Last night, Jim and I discovered the wonders of the audio pronunciation key on dictionary.com. I looked up / made the robot voice say: Douchebag (not in the dictionary) Douche, then Sphincter, spelling it “sycphintor” Jim looked up: Culinary, then Quay The end.

In the true spirit of my new favorite book, A$$hole: How I Got Rich and Happy by Not Giving a Damn About Anyone and How You Can Too , I’ve expanded my list of pet peeves. The following are not limited to an everyday Metro riding experience, but are limited to an approximately 30 minute lunch break. Men in running shorts. If I wanted to see a random stranger’s junk, I’d rent a porn. Old men in running shorts. I don’t know if there is such a thing as geriatric porn, but I hope this is as close as I’ll ever get. Men staring at me. Seriously. Go jerk off in the bathroom and be done with it. Really fat people eating. Just want to knock it from their hand and scream, “Don’t you know this is the reason why you are the way you are?!!?” Highly Inappropriate elevator conservations. When you walk into the elevator and you hear, "hips just..thrusting," its usally a bad sign. It's also a bad sign if your dog is humping your cat. He ain’t bored. When I’m bored, I don’t hump another spe

Since I have about as many pet peeves as there are stars in the sky, I suspect this will be a recurring feature on this my ragey blog. I’ll start with Metro nuisances, since it’s just so easy. Girls who carry their lunches in a Victoria’s Secret bag. Translation: “This delightfully pink bag signals that I pay too much money for underwear and WAY too much money for slutty underwear and as a result am forced to bring my lunch to work.” People who carry, nay, ROLL, those suitcases behind them on the Metro . Translation: “I am a classic middle-aged or wannabe-middle-aged DC tool who is too lazy to actually carry the weight of my work on my shoulder(s) and I enjoy taking up two stairs on the escalator.” Mr./Ms. I-won’t-sit-by-the-Metro-window-seat. Translation: “I am also a classic DC tool. I can be old and shitty, or young and shitty, or somewhere in between. Mostly I just think I’m a special snowflake who should not be forced to sit against the window, and I will roll my eyes when some ba

Same rules apply—namely, it should be made clear that this place of employment is entirely a work of fiction, and any resemblance to real persons or places of employment, living or dead or baselessly arrogant and condescending, is purely coincidental. Knocking on the faux -wood of a colleague’s cubicle like it's a door. Seriously, there isn't a door, or walls, or any privacy whatsoever. You don’t need to rub it in. Proceeding to talk to the colleague in the cubicle after knocking on the faux -wood of the colleague’s cubicle while the colleague is clearly on the phone. No excuses. None. Get a f* cking clue. Asking if “this is a one-time mistake” after following directions. When you help someone do their own job, you should show gratitude, not be a f* cker . Calling a colleague and asking them to come into your office and be witty. This is a good way to ensure that the next time the allegedly witty colleague comes into your office, they'll bring a flaming bag of dog sh*t

(This post title has nothing to do with anything. I’m feeling v. surrealist this AM) I recently put out a mass e-mail asking my friends if any of them recommended a gynecologist. The response rate is alarming, to say the least—I even got a reply from the pregnant “man”, which I quickly deleted as the idea of a pregnant “man” is seriously bizarre and off-putting and I don’t give a sod if this makes me close-minded. I’ve never seen my friends and pregnant men respond so quickly to anything I send out, and with such unintentionally amusing responses: “Why do you want a chick?” “I only like men touching me…” “My doctor has dreads and could probably score you some weed…” “I don’t want to get all psychological, but I think men doctors are gentler for “natural” reasons…” "I googled "gynecologist" to make sure I was spelling it right, and one of the top hits was a YouTube video entitled "My gynecological visit." What the fuck is wrong with the world?" (ok, this wa

"I don't really want to bum anybody out, but college is useless...I don't mean that in a bad way. I just mean that it costs too much and it takes too long, and you don't learn enough. But other than that -- it's really fun. The transition from college to life is an enormous one." "And unless you really know what you want to do, I would recommend that you don't worry about it. It doesn't matter ... just get good at it." "Whatever it is that you do, don't add to the suckiness that is out there. The world is filled with incompetence, and people doing things they don't want to be doing. Do what you want to do, and you'll get good at it, and you'll add to the discussion and the dialogue. If you do what you don't want to do, you'll be bitter and old and your parents." The above is an except from Jon Stewart, also known as the only good thing to have come out of William and Mary, from the time he came and talked to