| HAY THEIR. |
[23 Mar 2007|12:30pm] |
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 okay |
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music |
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francoise hardy - comment te dire adieu |
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I completely forgot that Livejournal existed for a few months. I could say that it's because of all of the work I've been doing this semester (with the job, internship, and classes), but I think that would be a cop-out. Honestly, there's been a whole lot on my mind.
Here, let me show you.
As you can see, the predominant thought in my mind has been "how much I want the Apple iPhone," taking up more time than any other single thought, roughly 37%. Then, there are the other, also somewhat dominant thoughts in my mind such as the TV show "I Love New York" and Darfur.
The tiny, unlabelled pink section stands for actually thinking of school/assignments/the job/the internship. You know, all the professional stuff. That is how much I actually, consciously think about them.
Now, inversely, this is how much time I actually spend on them.
As you can see, the vast majority of my time is spent on that previous tiny pink section. However, you may now also conclude that my mind is rarely ever actually focused on the assignment/work at hand. Usually I'm in class thinking, "I really want the iPhone."
So why did I make pie charts rather than explain all of this thoroughly? Because not only is it aesthetically pleasing (allbeit poorly drawn) but Americans love graphics. It's a statistical fact. Go ahead, read your context-free USA Today. I won't judge.
Come on, don't be shy.
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| "Stop fuckin looking at me!" |
[29 Nov 2006|04:32pm] |
The shop I work at is "low-pressure," meaning that all I have to do is say one line to a customer who walks in and then leave them alone. To me, that doesn't sound like much, but I guess some people think that this one line is WAAAAY TOO PUSHY.
ME: Hi, if there's anything
CUSTOMER: No thanks.
ME: I can help you with
CUSTOMER: Just looking, thank you.
ME: Just let me
CUSTOMER: Just browsing!
ME: Know.
CUSTOMER: NO I AM JUST BROWSING THANK YOU.
& now i'm on campus using a greasy keyboard, and the only thing that can cheer me up right now is:
A: Suckerpunching Bill O'reilly
B: Married to the Sea comics.
The latter is possible.
You know what else is cheering me up? This ghetto-fab girl sitting near me is breaking up with her boyfriend via-Nextel. And it's tres dramatique.
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[30 Oct 2006|04:32pm] |
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the thermidors- lie to me, cry to me. |
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So I found out that the pompous blind kid from my summer COM215 seminar has a radio show in the afternoons, and his DJ name is, "Brian: The blind kid...with one eye."
No, I didn't change any of the words or punctuation. It's really, exactly, "Brian: The blind kid...with one eye." He's so pompous. What a dick.
Anyway, I'm jewing out on Halloween this year and will probably be going as Nico. But I'm not even sure; I'm not feeling up for pretentious hipster soirees this year and would much rather trade them for making a Funfetti cake.
Pretentious Hipster Soirees
OR
Funfetti Cake [2 layer Halloween themed]
you decide.
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[28 Aug 2006|07:05pm] |
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mood |
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 sleepy |
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So to de-stress before classes (!) started this semester, I made a 4-layer bittersweet chocolate pinwheel cake with dark ganache filling from scratch. After taking over 3 hours to complete, it came out preeeetty well. 4 super thin layers, really thick ganache, and a whole lot of elbow grease. And we all know that elbow grease tastes just faaaabulous.
Anyway, it looks pretty decent and it tastes very similar to a Lindt Dark Chocolate truffle.
Yeah, it's pretty great. This reminds me of one of my favorite things I baked recently:
Triforce brownies!!
In other news, I'm now safely nestled into my third year of college. How weird!! My room mates got back last night and ever since then, my room mate Meghann has been calling all of her family members non stop...but every single time she does, they're always on speakerphone. I mean, what the hell. I think, in true Meghann fashion, she must have gotten her phone mysteriously set to speaker and now is too apathetic to change it, so instead settles for all of us hearing her mediocre, "so-how-have-classes-been?" conversations, setting her phone down on her bed and screaming into it. ohmyfuckinggracious.
ALSO! I got this for free, so i stood in my pink bathroom to show it!!
[my bathroom has pretty good lighting.]
AIIGHT?
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| did you mean it? |
[17 Aug 2006|10:52pm] |
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frustrated |
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tsoaf- horses in the sky |
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This is May. She's the dog that keeps me company when I'm working at my new job at Spoiled Rotten on Elmwood Ave. I love her. She sits on my lap and plays with her George Dubya chew toy and jumps and plays and is crazywell behaved. Her bed is right behind the counter and she sleeps most of my work day. I love my new job. And Boston Terriers.
But you know what I don't love? Dog owners. Fuck them right in their dog-owning faces. I don't mean that I have a strong distaste for the casual, mellow dog owner; he's cool with me, but I really hate the crazy "I-think-dogs-should-wear-polos-and-be-carried-in-ill-suited-luggage" owners. You know the type. Anyway, the woman I work for who runs the crazy little store, another Kate [we're all pretty badass.], is NOT one of these dog owners. Sure, she holds May like a baby and calls herself May's "mommy," but May is cute and not retarded. Also, May runs around polo-less. She's all kinds of hardcore.
However, the loathesome kind of dog owner came in to the store today, preceded only by her babytalking older sister, who came into my store and, spotting dear jumpy May, said to me, "Well, I was just going to ask if you didn't mind if we bring a cute widdwe doggy in here, but I see that you have a cute widdwe doggy yourseeeeelf!" to which my boss kind of shrugged and rolled her eyes at me and said to the woman, "Yeah, just make sure you don't let it run around."
So the babytalking sister giggled and clapped and said that she just couldn't let her sister leave Buffalo without seeing Spoiled Rotten because she just has to see how cute it is and blahblahblah. She exited, brought in said dog-owning sister, and then the two looked around the store. The dog owning sister had a pomeranian, which kind of look like miniaturized evil. And rather than having it on a leash [a baby pink leash with faux diamonds and suede daisies, I might add] she carried it in her arms and narrated every item she passed to it, like she was translating it into dog. The babytalking sister also assisted in it. ["Ohhhhh Saffy look how CUUUUTE this is! It's a candle awwwww! Mmmmm Saffy, smell the candle yeeeesss!!!"]
Then, they came up to us and started grilling us on dog-owning trivia, like which restaurants allow dogs and such. And for the next, oh, 45 minutes, they discussed things like playdates, chew toys, and humping problems.
But you know what really got to me? It was when their little antichrist of a creature was sniffing at May, and the babytalking sister kept interpreting what the dogs were "saying." I fucking hate it when dog owners think that, just because they have a dog, they know what they're actually thinking.
"Awwww, she's like, 'Hi new friend! Hi new friend! Awww, i LOVE new friends!'"
"Oh, look at them, she's saying, 'Why are you sniffing me there! I don't want anything to do with THAT!'"
You know what, dog owner and babytalking accomplice? Maybe your fucking pomeranian wasn't thinking that. Maybe it was thinking something crazy in dogspeak. Maybe it was just thinking about how it has to shit or contemplating the afterlife. WHATTHEFUCKEVER. I just don't see what makes those damn pompous dog owners the lords of interpretation.
Fucking waste of life dog owners. I hate them all.
OH AND PS- I MIGHT BE IN SYRACUSE SOME TIME THIS NEXT WEEK FOR MY LAST VISIT BEFORE THE FALL SEMESTER STARTS. I WANT TO SEE YOU ALL, EXCEPT THE GAY ONES.
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[13 Jul 2006|11:15pm] |
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racism! |
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hahahahaha.
So tonight was a funny night at work. It's important that you keep reading; you will find out why.
Anyway, apparently there was this big Native American convention downtown, and since the restaurant I work at is downtown, we got all of the huge parties from it.
Though usually nights like that, where it's crazybusy, suck, tonight was amazing. And this is why.
All of the people that came in were [no way!] Native American, so the waiting list was adorable. The whole night I was calling names like, "Bear, party of four, your table is now available." or "Windsong, party of twelve, your table is ready." All of the last names were so lyrical! Those dirty savages sure are one with nature, that's for sure. That's for damn sure.
The whole night, I was trying desperately to hold myself back from asking people if they had reservations. I suggested that to one of the people I was working with, but they somehow didn't think it was as funny as I did. Which it was; it was hilarious.
Unfortunately, when I was in the kitchen and one of the servers had taken her pen back from another, I slipped calling her an indian giver. The servers laughed but were soon hushed by our manager pointing to a large man with a mohawk listed under the name "Killer" on the waiting list.
No, I'm not exaggerating.
The night was one big lol and now my feet hurt so I'm going to play with my cool dog and eat a whole box of Annie's Organic Rotini with Four Cheese Sauce.
A whole BOX, bro. I fucking swear!
Oh and PS-
hahahha it's a double negative!
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| a casual shoe worn for yachting! |
[05 Jul 2006|03:47pm] |
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 tired |
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eek!
monday&tuesday were so last minute, unsuspected, and amazing.
and now i'm back to everything i don't like.
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[11 Jun 2006|11:00am] |
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peachcake |
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A healthy chunk of the population at the restaurant I work at downtown speak spanish fluently. One of my least favorite things is when one girl gets on either side of me and talks to eachother in their crazy tongue, laughing and yelling and everything. I think that when that happens, that is the sole time when I think, "Damn, I'd really love to learn Spanish right now." You know, just to hear what they're saying. But then they walk away and I realize once again that it's a dirty, dirty language and I don't really want to sound unemployed.
Last night I had a dream where Mitch Hedburg and I were talking a few years before he ended up making a name for himself. We were sitting in some bar and he was running all of these different characters by me [the drunk guy, a crazy foreigner, an overenthusiastic slapstick character] trying to see which one I liked the best to be his trademark. Then he pretended to be really stoned and drunk and I stopped him there. Eureka! But now I can't help but thinking that he was never really stoned and drunk; that it all was merely a charade that his pale, cellulitic friend coaxed him into.
Now my birthday is officially three (3) months away. I have decided on the basics of what I would like, but here are some recent additions:
   
okay not really.
minus the last one.
but either way, those strippers are innovative! Just think of the next modifications for the clear heel. If storage is a possibility, what next?! I vote an ATM.
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[02 Jun 2006|12:52pm] |
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smoking pregnant women in bikinis.
thoughts?
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[26 May 2006|06:01pm] |
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mood |
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 shakespearean |
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music |
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Mum. nuff said. |
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Sometimes all I would like to really do is sit around and watch DVD's and pretend that there is not a world outside of which I have to work and be a part. And I just noticed that I avoided ending the sentence with a preposition which is becoming a terribly obsessive tendency of mine recently.
I am working on another script for this summer; other than a job and my dear single summer class on Visual Communications, that is my only plan. I set my aforementioned internship back one year to learn more of the skills that I will need to know this fall, so I will hopefully not be completely useless.
At the restaurant in Buffalo where I work, there's this delightfully petite black woman named Carla Wiggins who has taken me under her wing as her "lil caucasian daughta." She kind of reminds me of Grandmother Winslow, but a bit younger. She says her favorite things in the world are the Buffalo Sabres and chitlins. I really think I'm going to marry her.
Ah yes, and I have bangs.
What was great was that my [now former] hairstylist just kind of made a unilateral decision to shop off my hair when I didn't ask for it, and then blamed the weed for her hasty call. Her first stoned hair cut was worth the money, but now this is just ridiculous.
I'm going to go do lady things now, like clean and cook. But probably not cook.
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[17 Apr 2006|06:53pm] |
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niiiiiico. |
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So Buffalo State will soon be offering a Creative Writing major.
I think it'll be a lot like Def Jame Poetry, but less lyrical.
I'm giving a speech in front of about four hundred billion people on Saturday and I really don't know/care what I'm going to say.
& I wanted to come home this weekend but now I don't know if I can. But if I do, let's hang out. This invitation is open to all, unless of course I hate you.
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[21 Mar 2006|12:51pm] |
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Vincent Gallo- was. (the INDIE song!) |
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So my dad finally decided that retirement is nothing to write home about and got a job doing what he's always wanted to do: selling cars. Unfortunately, he forgot to factor in the one aspect of having a job that isn't as fun as watching a ridiculously large LCD tv all day: actually working.
I've been getting tons of frantic calls from him lately, where he talks for about 20 minutes about how hard it is to work again.
"It's like...they want me to work 50 hours this week--how do I do that?? And I don't even have my own office or anything. Kate, I have to wake up at 7am EVERY DAY. Do you know what that is like?? I didn't even know what 7 in the morning looked like until a month ago. It's really a strange part of the day."
It's like the idea of having to miss Shipmates or Blind Date every day is slowly making the man retarded. For example, the last time I went over to his apartment, he answered the door in an orange sweater and boxers, and then proceeded to play the same episodes of Jay Leno and Austin City Limits (that he has played the past 4 mandatory visits) in which the band Coldplay plays the same 3 songs, the whole time saying things like,
"Can you believe this sound system?? It's BOSE. I mean, listen to the sound on that."
and
"Look at that picture--could you believe how sharp it is?? Look at that picture."
or
"Chris Martin's really a great performer..just a great performer. You should have seen them in Darien Lake with me. He ran across the stadium!"
It's as nauseating as sitting in my fine arts class and hearing my professor say "Add the smaller objects last; it's like adding spice to the soup" every single 5 minutes, or listening to my old Egyptian hon. chem professor talk about his bladder tumors and relating everything to baking a cake or billiards.
Why am I posting this?
I just saw some double stuff Oreos in the kitchen; I'm going to indulge.
ps- spring break is going really well so far--I've seen so many great people, some of which (derek, riki, jess) I haven't seen in over a year. so balls to you, buff state.
hangout?!
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| you're ugly and meaningless! |
[31 Jan 2006|01:08pm] |
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mood |
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okay |
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What I think is great is that my old apartment got robbed twice, both of the times when I wasn't home, and nothing of mine was stolen except for a jar of change and my contact lenses.
Oh, and the guy stole a box of freezer pizzas and our orange juice. And then he ripped open a box of Pop Tarts and took one out. But he left the box with the rest of them on the counter. What a nice guy!
I really don't know what the black market value of -2.25 and -2.00 contacts are, but I'm not exactly sure that they have a high resale rate. Also, he didn't think to touch our TV or DVD players, but took the remotes for them. Why does he need remotes for a Sony DVD player/VCR combo? Does he have a friend who lost his?
So our new apartment is much bigger and cleaner and really classy. Hardwood floors throughout, stained glass, and we live above an old lady named Betty who is apparently an alcoholic and encourages us to have "a whole lot of parties!"
Also, today I faked being diabetic again because the stupid heavyset hispanic girl with a mustache and a necklace that says "Hunter" fucking gave me Dr. Pepper with my pretzel instead of Diet pepsi. Then I remembered that she was the same girl I did it to the last time, so now she either thinks that I'm severely diabetic or full of shit. Which I am.
Recently, Frank has been injecting conversations with "the medieval coin purse." By this, I mean that no matter what we're talking about, he will make the medieval coin purse relevant to the topic. When Hoots was talking about how his videogame cases (not games, but CASES) were stolen, Frank mentioned something about their value being low, adding, "It's not like in the old days where guys just walk around with leather pouches and throw them at the merchant to buy something, you know?"
For some reason, the kid is obsessed with the idea of the medieval coin purse and I don't know why. But we then decided that we should each have our own thing to inject into each conversation.
Mine is Russian space exploration, but I might change it to deep sea diving.
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| we've been spending most our lives living in a gangsta's paradise. |
[30 Nov 2005|02:31pm] |
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gangsta |
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music |
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the new pornographers- execution day |
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The neighborhood I live in is fantastic in a vandalizing, armed-robbery way.
If Tupac was still alive, we'd probably relate to eachother on a lot of things, like living in the hood and popping caps.
It's good to be back on the block.
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| UPDATE TIME. |
[06 Oct 2005|01:28am] |
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SONNY CAME HOME. |
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I really hate it when people claim, "My eye color changes with my mood!" I've never seen anyone with blue eyes and think, "Oh, she must be happy!" or see someone with hazel eyes and think to myself, "They must be anxious or pensive." Last time I checked, eyes do not contain liquid crystals so please die.
IN OTHER NEWS.
Though this is a month late, my birthday was fabulous. Christine, Meghann, and Hooter all threw me a surprise birthday party the day before my birthday and around 30 or so people showed up. I got a fancy schmancy cake (and a cheesecake from Sarah!) and an LED belt buckle and books on cake baking and cocktails and birthday cards and bakeware and shot glasses that I will use for bud vases. Oh, and a beating heart keychain from Dave. Christine even set up a "Make your own Sunday" bar at the party. It was 4th grade chic.
THEN!!! as my birthday present from Frank, I was surprised with a professional massage/spa treatment and then i was whisked away to CANADIA! [pronounced "cuh-NAY-dee-uh"], where Frank had reserved a hotel suite [complete with living room, kitchen, jacuzzi, and large tv perfect to watch family guy on] for the weekend with a view of the falls. So we went to dinner and went out and discovered something about CANADIA!
I think the nation is stuck in the mid nineties. On any given night, the streets of Ontario are teeming with people wearing hot 1990's attire: Half-top cardigans, hi-cut jeans, and leggings. Even the raptacular black people wear the huge pants that Puff Daddy wore when he was still Puff Daddy and mourning B.I.G's death in every song he released...oh wait, he still does that. Also, the music played in clubs is all 90's Canadian pop...kind of a tossed salad of De La Soul and Deeelite! with a little of Sophie B. Hawkins thrown in. It's kind of cool in a novelty sense, though. I felt like I should be wearing a short babydoll dress made out of a sunflower/plaid pattern and a Blossom hat. Then I would have been truly Canadian.
Canadians also do not eat cheddar cheese. When we passed by every restaurant, the cheese that was served with burgers, or with anything for that matter, was "Pure Coby" cheese. No, not colby. It kind of tastes like even more processed American cheese but more...Canadian.
Canada is a clean, clean place. I did not find a single piece of litter during my stay in CANADIA! It was absolutely spotless--the only thing I DID see was an Indian man wearing shiny, almost glittering jeans drop a pamphlet as he was walking, but before it could really be on the ground enough to call it "litter," a man dressed in a green uniform rushed over hurriedly and pounced on it, placing it in his bag, shaking his head, and then running back to his post. Cool!
The only thing I didn't get was that a lot of tourists stood by the falls with video cameras and taped it for a good 10 minutes...they weren't taping their family in front of the falls, just....the falls. I mean, it's water falling off a cliff, people. It's not going to change anytime soon. water falling off a cliff.
And now that i was thinking about the 1990's, I have "Sonny Came Home" in my head. What's next, "Roll to Me?!?!"
That's really all I have to say. Maybe I'll post some pictures of my apartment later, but for right now I have some random ones from my birthday extravaganza. Oh, and I keep having dreams about Jeffrey Dahmer but I'm never phased by it because he just kills boys anyway. And I'm not a boy.
 There was a window between the jacuzzi and the bed. Kinky Canadians.   that's the view. nice to wake up to.   The Canadian superstore behind me was having a special on sundresses and money orders. It's really a one stop shop.  I live with these people! hahahha
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| just to let you know.. |
[06 Sep 2005|11:43am] |
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i really have to pee but idk if i have time to before class. |
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I've been in Buffalo for almost a month now.
It's really nice and I feel better here.
My apartment is adorable and I love the people I live with.
But I still don't have the internet at my place.
So I'll post some big update when I get it. With pictures and links and stuff.
Balls to the wall, you know?
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| I'm ronery. |
[11 Jul 2005|04:12pm] |
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exhausted |
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Son, Ambulance - The Moral of Rosa, Parolee |
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I met a lot of people on the train this weekend.
+ I first sat next to a tall, blond, 38 year old gay man from Soho wearing Diesel jeans and some kind of 'designer' shirt. He told me all about his wardrobe and that he worked in fashion for 15 years. He said that Skaneatles is "tooootal wasp territory" and told me all about this 45 year old leasbian writer that he has known fondly for years and calls her Aunt Pat. He was very interesting, and 3 hours into the trip he opened his bag to reveal a black toy poodle by the name of Topper. I don't know how the dog stayed so quiet for over 3 hours in a zipped, almost airtight bag, but I would think it would be near death.
+ I had to switch cars and ended up sitting in front of a little 7 year old black girl wearing lipstick named Octavia. She started talking to me about trees and Dora the Explorer but conversation ended when the train began to pass a small island in the Hudson. I asked her what was wrong and she replied, "All the witches live there and they make rain together." I didn't know what to say so I exchanged glances with her father who was a seat behind her who just kind of laughed and shrugged in a "DON'T KNOW SHIT!" way.
+ A rather unfortunate looking large woman sat next to me on the way back and read the Us Weekly article on Jennifer Garner and Ben Affleck about 6 times. She'd always hit the shoulder of her husband, who was stuck sitting a seat in front of her, and would say, "Look out the window, that's kinda pretty!" every four seconds whenever we'd pass a stretch of water or a field.
I finally got out of work early today, for about, ohhhh the first time this entire summer, and what did I do with my extra time? I fell asleep in my work uniform watching Hogan Knows Best. I'm wicked gay.
ps- my sister's pretty awesome.
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| I'm leaving for buffalo in like 17 minutes. |
[03 Jun 2005|12:07pm] |
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 greek |
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so on Wednesday a crack addict came to my house.
actually, he was an ex-crack addict. His name was Jevonn Matthews and he is from Chicago. He said he was working to get a full time job and was selling magazine subscriptions. [Office Space, anyone?] He said he was working on his communication skills and eye contact. He told me that he needed to do this to reach the next plateau in his life.
Me: But, I don't need any magazines.
Jevonn: Oh, I know. No one wants magazines. If you wanna magazine you go to the corner store [pronounced 'coe-nah- sto']. But these are my tools. I call them the tools I have.
Me: .....Okay, but I still don't need any magazines. I'm a college student and i have no money..is there any other way I could help?
Jevonn: [defeated] ma'am, I wish there was.
Then he walked away, and out of my life forever. I almost cried because I couldn't help Jevonn reach the next plateau in his life.
ALSO!!
I recently returned from New Jersey/New Yawk. It was maximum awesome. Frank and I went on a 3 hour hike up a mountain and walked on the beach and grilled various meats and we bought rings from a russian guy on the boardwalk. Oh, and we had a big party on Sunday night for Joey Bronx's birthday. It can be summarized best as a list.
SUNDAY NIGHT.
1. Ten or so close friends arrive at beach house. Parents are not home.
2. Friends 1 and 2 bring keg. Keg is placed into bucket, which condensates greatly, spilling water onto the floor.
3. Friend 3 calls other friends to invite them over. Those other friends then invite their friends.
4. Friend 4 and I talk about Orbit gum and cereal as many other friends get very drunk.
5. Friend 3's other friends and friends of friends arrive; the population in the house triples instantly.
6. Friend 1's sister arrives unwelcomed and drinks.
7. I call Heather and then go downstairs to find that everyone is on the balcony.
8. Everyone is silent outside and I see what everyone is staring at: a man beating his wife 2 condos away.
9. Man continues to beat wife, throwing heavy objects at her.
10. Frank and friends 1-5 get weapons and jump the fence.
11. Simultaneously, unwanted sister of friend 1 calls the police, giving them Frank's address. [the dumb bitch.]
12. Frank, along with friends 1-5 rush back to the house to clean up the alcohol before the cops arrive.
13. drunk kids scatter to move the keg into the bathroom. I laugh, completely sober.
14. The cops meet unwanted sister at gate and do not even enter. By now, the friends of friends leave and only the original party guests remain.
15. by 2:30, the only people still over are very drunk friends 1, 2, and 6. 1 is upstairs while 2 does a rick james impression and 6 lays face down in the floor laughing at seemingly nothing. friends 1, 2, and 6 leave for friend 6's house so they can stay up and order a pizza.
THE END. what a crazy night.
Oh, and at a previous party, I found out that two unknown 17 year old girls came and started making out, much to the delight of the male population. Unfortunately, 8 drinks in, they revealed that they are only 14.
ME: That's sick.
JOEY BRONX: Sick, but it was hot before we found out they were so young.
ME: I mean, what would you have DONE with them? They're fourteen, dude.
JOEY BRONX: WHATEVER I CAN!!
ME: ...what do you have against pubes?
ps- I'm back to sheriffing for the summer. It's pretty hardcore.
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misskakies's journal
thirsty
