Preppy is the New Hipster

I am not trying to rub it in I promise, but yeah it was that awesome.

Beck. Surprize concert. 150 people. Midnight. Black Cat. Halloween. Wigs.

Well by the way I am feeling right now, I wouldn't say I am the fittest, but I certainly did survive. In fact I did more than survive, I may have found my soul (I didn't even drink the Bi-o(sp??). More to come on bi-jo, whiksy for breakfast, lasers and slovenian carpenters.

I am going camping this weekend, and I know its really ridiculous, but I am totally nervous. I cannot remember the last time I went camping, what shoes do I bring, do I bring shampoo, what is the weather going to be like. I think it is clear that I am probably way too obcessive compulsive for this. Breathe Laura.

Even if my ulcer speeds up its munching of the lining of my stomach because of camping induced stress, I know it will be worth it!

which is to say that I understand its necessity, but I am deeply offended by its presence in my life.

I love the way that when spanish speaking people tell me, "necesitas practicar" it sounds a little bit stern, and like they are basically saying. No, you really do suck at speaking spanish.

I just tried talking to clients in spanish-not the best idea to make me sound like a competitent paralegal. I think I should get the rest of the day off.

I saw it happening before my very eyes yesterday evening. The discussion last night was fasinating, politics and prose was packed with the who's who is northwest dc intellectual thought. I really enjoyed what professor Dawkins had to say, but in my quest to understand and process my own spiritual understanding and viewpoint more questions are only leading to more questions and not answers. Like Dawkins I find religious fundamentalism highly destructive in many aspects of the public and private, at the same time I also am vehementally opposed to those with no tolerance for others beliefs(even if I think those beliefs are stupid), or athelistic fundamentalists. Perhaps there is no answer. I could ask God I suppose.

The quote below is supposed to express the opinion of an author that I am going to see speak today. I might be falling into the pit of atheism. It know it just seems like such a waste of time to be against something, but I have a negative attitude so maybe it is a good fit!

"Religion ... has certain ideas at the heart of it which we call sacred or holy or whatever. What it means is, 'Here is an idea or a notion that you're not allowed to say anything bad about; you're just not. Why not? - because you're not. If someone votes for a party that you don't agree with, you're free to argue about it as much as you like; everybody will have an argument but nobody feels aggrieved by it. ... But on the other hand, if somebody says 'I mustn't move a light switch on a Saturday', you say 'I respect that.'"

With the recent news of my less than stellar LSAT score (don’t worry I do plan to take it again) I have been given the freedom of daydreaming again. A good daydream can be as good as Sunday morning sex, and these daydreams no exception. My mind floats around from I am thinking about traveling, about Europe, about Paris, about Buenos Aires, about Vienna. I am an intercontinental daydreamer with a visa to everywhere. I think that if I put off law school for another year, I can save enough money to take a long extended trip. Living out of a rucksack, not worrying about missing my train, sounds like it is just what I need.
Another thing I need is a Partner in Crime(PIC)-Someone who wants an adventure, someone who is not going to complain about food options, someone who is not afraid to mispronounce something in a foreign tongue. It can be a male or female, I generally prefer the company of males, I guess it would be ideal if we were sleeping together, rooms with one bed instead of two and that sort of thing. Maybe in an open relationship fashion would be the most ideal. I wouldn’t be opposed to a woman either, meeting intriguing and handsome and mysterious men…hmmm.

Yeah. So I know everyone is waiting for the day that moblie phones to become passe. Its seems that day is upon us dear friends. Home phones are now hotter than Beck in leather pants. Actually-I am just trying to make lemoncello out of fried lemons. Translation-my cell phone only works when plugged into its charger.

I am headed up to the city of brotherly love this weekend to visit one of my favorites-Jakers! Needless to say I am quite pumped.
Lets hope I dont get drunk, talk about MPC(who used to live in philly) and bang on the door of his old apartment, demanding to understand why he dropped the ball in such a serious fashion. I dont think I will, I have got better things to do and better people with whom to spend my time.

...and this is certainly a prime example. So throughout high school, I was always letting my brother borrow money from me. He used these funds for various recreational activities. Well over the years he built up a tab of approximately 500 dollars. If you knew him in high school and his first two years of college, you will understand this is not an exageration. Contemporaneously to this period of lending, I borrowed a couple of John's CD.

Understand that never once have I insisted to be paid back, never asked for interest. We are family and I believe certain things need not be acted on, such as the collection of old debts. So I am outraged by the fact that John cannot even burn me a cd these days without bringing up the cds that I borrowed from him. I mean John-lets be reasonable. Who do you think will be sending your children to college?

Like any proud american, I spent mine in front of the television with some atkins-friendly take-out (greek salad). Dave and I rediscovered what might be the best(or according to Dave the only reality tv show that represents reality) show on Television, COPS. While flipping between the METS and a lame food network show about polenta- we settled in on cops.

Court TV-my new favorite channel-took us on the beat with these serious police officers and their serious high and tight hair cuts from Jacksonville, to Maui to Pierce County, Washington State. Though I did my best to resist making this night of family time in front of the TV into an anthropological study I just couldnt resist myself.

I learned a number of things, which I will share in list form(good syntax and writing my blog at work just dont go together):

1-Almost everyone in this country smokes crack and/meth.

2-High and tight hair cuts are hot(the new faux-hawk,perhaps?) and I want to date guy with an H&T cut-police style, not military style

3-If you are high and tell the cops that you have HIV they will leave you alone

4-While a DARE t-shirt qualifies as hipster and therefore lame. However, a COPS t-shirt is cool to wear because you really like the show. A Shit Happens! t-shirt is even better

5-COPS probably get laid more than I do

6-Donald is right when he says to stay away from his bitch of a wife when she is on the rag

7-Cops will not help retrieve your stolen money if you were using it to buy crack.

8-Some people like to lift weights when on meth

9-According to Deputy Enrique Allazarras when everyone goes to jail, "everyone wins"

10-also-the combination of balasmic vinegar, beets, beet juice, pistachios and peanuts butter is the new fall Gazpacho-it will be called Nut-Beeters and Vinegar-look for it at your local American contemporary restaurants.

I ate beef jerky for breakfast. I feel pretty good about it. It was a little gross I guess, but I didnt eat any protein yesterday.

I have a big weak spot for older men, one man in particular really floats my boat. Bill Murray, or as the Rza calls him Bill-mother-fuckin-Murray. God I love him. I don't even want to tell you how many times I pretended to be Scarlett Johanneson curled up in a hotel in Tokyo with him holding my foot.

Back in the days when heroin seems like the next, most logical step and showering was never logical, I still managed to find some good things in life. One of those good things came directly out of one of the worse ideas of the century.

I think my obsession (obsession is too strong a word-but I am going for emphasis) with heroin came from a lot of different places. Perhaps I was obsessed with the idea of doing heroin because I was afraid of it. Some of the ways of doing it were so obviously more dangerous than sticking a straw up your nose or eating any partially identified substance.

I did think heroin chic was ultra chic. Those years of my life, even though I was constantly surrounded by people, can only be characterized as lonely, so I thought HC would really match my mood.

I liked the idea of pushing the envelope-color me progressive! Since, I had no real creative outlets, like this blog, so if I was going to be pushing the envelope it was surely going to be with something so typical, like drugs.

It could have been a combination of things, but if I was a betting girl it was probably just some form of low self-esteem, mixed in with rebellion from authority and a mild dash taste for danger.
I never did heroin. Ultimately I was a total chicken. I did, however think about it a lot and as a result watched Requiem for Dream more times than I care to share. And though I didn’t pick up a drug habit, but I did start to like the Kronos Quartet who were responsible for most(?) of the score in the film. I am going to see them next Sunday. I think I’ll leave the needles at home though.

I am an emotional masochist.

and I dont think I am going to replace it.

I went to the gym last night, I am liking the 9-10 shift alot, but on one of the big TV they were playing VH1-Skinniest celebrities. This to me is totally fucked. Like has everyone lost their mind. First doesnt vh1 know that kids with highly maliable brains watch this show and think hey- Carson Daly is cool why dont I stop eating so I can be more like him. And what about Results taking responsibility for helping their members achieve healthy lifestyles. I mean fuck. I know that lots of poofs have a weak spot in the heart for lindsay lohan and the like, but Results have a little dignity.

While we are on the topic of the gym-I went to a spinning class before work this morning and it rocked. Pearl Jam motivated me all the way up the fictional "hill".

This one man I know is running around the city, claiming to be a southern jew with a mustache. In fact he is really only half of one of these things. If you meet anyone that fits this description my suggestion is to run like hell in the other direction.

So yesterday, I saw the much anticipated Jesus Camp. I recommend that everyone go see it ASAP. I know you are all smart and I expect you to see it, so I will spare you my analysis at least for now. I will tell you this, the movie made me want to get pregnant and get an abortion just to spite these freaky evangelicals.

So I received this email from one of my friends who frequently makes cameos on my P is the new H. Please feel free to post any thought or suggetions as to what has happened. Also I can tell you that this is totally a true story bc I witnessed the evidence.

I woke up this morning to 3 startling observations:
1.) a broken glass on my desk, with shards of glass on the carpet
2.) a new ITunes playlist of one song, titled {/
3.) a wet sock next to the shards of glass, which presumably I used to soakup the water
4.) a few small drops of dried blood in my bedSince then, I have examined EVERY part of my body and for the life of mecould not find a single cut.

Which leads me to a few possibilities:
1,) I stole the virginity of an unidentified female and she promptly leftafter I passed out, dunking one of my socks in a glass of water and thenbreaking the glass on her way out.
2.) An injured bird flew into my window, dribbled blood on the bed, stoleone of my socks to use as a nest, then the sock dropped from its beak andfell in the water, which prompted the bird to unsuccessfully try and fish itout
3.)I broke the glass because I was drunk and tired, took off my sock toclean up the spill, then while sleeping I bled from one of my orifices, notexcluding an ear or an eyeball

Unfortunately, my brain is still in CT. Oh well. I did see Old Crow Medicine Show and I did fall in love with all things southern, including dancing on broken glass and the sweet sound of bluegrass on a wednesday night.

So like any delusional hopeless romantic, I have had my fair share of crushes on fictional characters before, but none has become so developed so greatly as the one I have on Michael Bluthe. It is serious, and I think might become a problem, if it hasn’t already. I don’t know what it is about Michael perhaps it is his twisted concept of family values or his ability to wear corduroy pants all year round. I’m not sure what it is, but it has come to the point now where I don’t need a boyfriend because I have season 1 and 2 of Arrested Development to fall asleep with every night.

I am sitting here feeling selfish(Shocker! I know), but I realize that I have been a total beast for the past couple of months, years, no decades, but I really would like to thank everyone who helped me through the trials of an overachieving underachiever.

More Specifically:

Thanks to m&d for the comfortable house to stay while I took the test, thanks to c&j for making me laugh, no crack up on my study breaks, thank to tweaks for letting me crash at her parents pad and really being good about no peer pressure, thanks to mere for keep the vision of the dirty martini fresh in my mind and letting me bitch all I want to, thanks to mo for the smoke breaks, thanks to peter for not having loud sex at home the week before the test, thanks to JP for the encouragement, thanks to dave for dancing like a squid, thanks to spam for not being offended that I haven’t seen her apt yet, and I will asap, thanks to paul for the email, thanks to will for referring me to testmasters, thanks to stu and dkny for being smart, and the pear, thanks to the pear for being shaped like a woman.

You guys really rock.

Spam, I know what it is. In addition to being a nickname for my friend(who occasionally goes by p-diddy) and my late-grandfathers favorite story about the Korean war, next to the one about him driving a beer truck. Spam is the collection of shitty emails that you don't want, sent to you by some pervert or marketing meathead in a pathetic attempt to try to get your attention when you are reading your email. Recently, my beloved Google has created a spam box and automatically sends the unwelcome emails into their own little box so I can then go in and delete them. I think it is nice of them. However, there is something about Google that is not so nice in regards to Spam.

I am cool with the fact that google reads my email and pulls out catch phrases and generally will direct me to some new interesting fact or shopping website that I did not know about. I believe Snip-its is what this is called. I am not modest, so I am not worried about privacy violations. However, they also read my spam box and pull out little snipits from there. That little blue line is filled with the most repulsive suggestions for eating a meal with Spam. Like today, Spam Primavera, or yesterday Spam Salad. It's f-ing gross to think about Spam, nevermind think of its mixed in with vegatables or pasta. Perhaps it is my own offensive bourgeoisie mentality that is being mind-raped every time I see the newest spam recipe to hit the screen. I guess the idea of bringing spam into a typically boring american middle class diet where carbs are enemies to keep close and vegatables are a necessity, offends me and most likely others.

Get it together google, I mean I know you just got one rubbed out by the washington post business section this morning, but please, no more spam recipes.