the 100th post.

So there should be something phenominal to talk about right? Usually for a hundreth episode a television series does some interesting theme like Scrubs doing an episode based on the Wizard of Oz. Well, I'm talented but not that talented and unfortunatly nothing of worth has happened as of late other than my apartment cooling down. School life is just boring, I apologize.

I'll be back though. Something has got to pop up at one point.

The Homesickness Essay

images of home.



a few friends.











and here is LaBella and BabySister.


end scene.

Count Down to Day One.

My first class of my last year starts in 7.5 hours. I'm not excited or dredding it, instead i am staying up late and watching DVD's alone in my big empty apartment. My roommate moved out today after simply smelling cigerette smoke on my clothes and while part of me is more than pleased the other part of me finds myself repulsive. She knew me for less than 6 hours so I have truly honed my repulsive nature into something very potent. I'm sure my enemies would be very happy to hear all of this.

I've decided though, that instead of dwelling on folks that are obsessive about their dislike of me, (which was never my style anyway,) I will instead focus on pushing everyone I know and could possible like away from me in as violent a manner as possible. This is much more the way I like to play things and my success rate is quite high. Fuck-um. Fuck all of them.

Tomorrow I will sit in the cramped studio and wax bullshit with folks that will pretend to care about my semester abroad. Then I will fain interest in my new professor and then proceed to fuck off and make the work I've been meaning to. Wet, Lather, Rinse, Repeat. By the end of it I will come out with a degree and a shit load of debt. Then it's on to grad school.

Enough bitching though - I'm stoked about

Weeds

, I'm even more stoked about traveling more then being here this semester, and I'm looking forward to the couple grand coming in from the bank so that I may pay a bill or two. Things don't look up or seem bad, they go on regardless.

Back Online: The First Pittsburgh Essay.

The new apartment is spectacular and the fact that my roomate is never here is even more amazing. I have this huge place all to myself and it makes me feel like, in a way, I never left Berlin. The people on the floor are nice and I've even been able to see a few folks I am friendly with so it has been an easy transition.

The only rut was the internet - but with the help of talented neighbors I am back online doing my thing and watching the first season of Weeds on DVD simutaniously.

There is nothing really more to say about this experience, other then I have been able to exercise my house repair skills which always make me feel self-sufficent.

Time for coffee and a smoke.

Send Off.

Fuck the promised Photo Essay.
Instead, keep this image in mind:

Me with five amazing friends and a few drunks from the bar standing tall and tipsy whilst screaming Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of our lungs at Winston's Cafe in Chesapeake.

I don't think I've ever had a better 'last night outing/party' in any town in the world.

This evening was originally filled with drama and panic. The A/C in the house is still broken, (keep in mind it is very humid here folks,) and the man who came today to fix it saw me in nothing but a towel. Next, the only functioning A/C unit in the house leaked on some of my most precious books in my library - things I had brought home from Europe and a children's book from my childhood that I still hold near and dear on top of other things. Then came Father with his pissy attitude and computer problems, then Brother #1 with his unfunny sense of humor, and finally Mother who was just tired and 'not in the mood'. During all of this I did manage to grab a relaxing lunch in with an old friend, but by 8:30pm EST I was in no mood for anyone and everyone could certainly sense this in my voice.

As I leaned over the bathtub ringing out another soaked rag from underneath my leaky A/C I couldn't help but think that I would end the MotherFucker who dialed my house digits one more time. I mean I still needed to finish packing... (!!!)

The problem was, I needed to return things to people, CD's a dress, books, etc... And I shouldn't be rude to some of the only people in the world who put up with me and my bullshit. So I made stressed phone calls while stuffing more towels under the window frame and attempted to pull myself together before my ride showed up, (this girl has traveled much for having never in her life owned a car. I'm not proud of this.)

Winston's Cafe was the spot at around 9:00pm this evening, and at first with only a vodka tonic in front of me I was red at the idea of singing during their Thursday Karaoke Night. After two more beers though, it was 'Criminal' by Fiona Apple. I stood there laughing most of the time and grasping my friend's hand like a vise. After another beer, it was a group of us singing Radiohead's 'Creep.' Then for the finale, Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody' with the whole bar, (including our waiter,) belting at the top of our lungs. It's really was one of those nights you don't want to forget.

And now I am sitting in my cramped attic on the mattress left for me on the floor. The dripping from the A/C has stopped for now and the house sleeps. I've just finished packing and am delaying the dragging of Suitcase #4 down the stairs seeing as it might wake the dog. Instead, I think I will catch a nap before I'm rudely awakened and shoved into my father's Tahoe.

I will leave you with one picture taken the first week I was in town. It's of one of my dearest friends dancing with her little sister while listening to the jazz music channel on Cox Cable, (yeah, we think the name is funny too.)

Yes Please, Virginia.

It's not the most exciting Commonwealth amongst the four in the Union, but it is my birth place and childhood residence. I can't help but miss it everytime I leave. Dear old Viringia...

Sic Semper Tyrannis!

Thus to Tyrants!

Well tomorrow bright and early I will have loaded everything into the back of the Tahoe and be on my way to the next best Commonwealth. I do think though that I should be more excited about returning to Pittsburgh, but I'm just not.

Tomorrow, I'm moving in here with a sophomore I've never met from the Music dept. Fun Times.

I'm not trying to complain, I'm just ornry - like a five year old that hasn't had a nap.

Photo Essay to follow.

Don't Raise Your Voice At Me.

With seven husbands and eight marriges Lana Turner is an example to live by. Here she is testifying at her daughters murder trial after Little Lana (Cheryl Crane) stabbed Turner's lover Johnny Stompanato.

After witnessing a small explosion in Newport News I have decided that I will never get married. Mind you I have been dreaming of that magical day when I make that promise to 'love - honor - and cherish' forever since I was young enough to daydream, but yesterday I was swiftly disillusioned. Last night, I did not want to be in that small apartment sitting in the other room while my best friend and her guy had a screaming match in the bathroom. It doesn't matter what they were arguing about, it isn't any of my business anyway. I just felt like a toddler trapped in a house I couldn't escape. The reality is, she was my ride.

My parents have never fought like that within earshot of their three children, so I missed out on how to cope with mommy and daddy fights. The highlight of the experience is her guy coming into the room I was waiting/hiding in with a red face and bugged eyes looking down at me and attempting to pull me into the 'discussion' with questions that tried to garner him sympathy.

My friend, her friend, and I finally got ready and went to TheClub. While She finished putting on make-up and venting to her tag-a-long idiot of a married friend, (it's an epidemic btw - everyone is getting married between the ages of 18 and 24 in Hampton Roads) and I hit the bar with the fury of every scorned or abandoned woman in the history of the world. With so many people flooding TheClub and having to deal with greeting assholes I haven't seen in ages and will never see after this night, I needed to be as lubricated as possible.

Two beers, three different shots, and two mixed drinks later, (not in that order,) I was dancing on a stage with bars and mirrors like an asshole. I hate that I do that, but who doesn't when they are wasted.

In the end, I still think it is better that I put all men off with asshole-like dancing and drunken hugs then to deal with a Tuesday Night Fight like the one I witnessed. Let me keep all my male friends, and may I never commit to one of them as more then just friends. Cheers! To Spinsterhood at Twenty-One!

bullshitpost.

Your results:
You are Hulk

Hulk 90% Spider-Man 80% Green Lantern 80% Iron Man 75% Catwoman 75% Supergirl 70% The Flash 70% Wonder Woman 60% Superman 50% Batman 40% Robin 35%

You are a wanderer with amazing strength.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz



i'm so lonesome i could cry.

Fuck UnHappiness

Who could be unhappy when sitting on a couch watching the sweetest little girl spin round and round in a Chucky Cheese hat? Her fair blond curls are bouncing around underneath the little blue hat and they glow making a sweet golden aura around her porcelain complexion.

If I had a child I wouldn't want a guy in the picture. Easier said then done I am sure, but today sort of validated my claim. Although, I would want a son.

Go to bed with this:



Apologize to all of your Genevieve's.

P.S. I'm so hungover I would die if I had the energy.

the Virginian Sunday Morning.

With the last three seasons left unseen I am amusing myself for the rest of the weekend, (i.e. today) with a show that uses lines like: "I am not that big a candy ass! Everybody loves guns!!" I was a bad fan of the show and didn't watch really any of the third, fourth, or fifth seasons being the victim of insufficient cable channels in college. At least this go around I get to listen to commentaries.

Saturday night was good old drunken fun up until I discovered my Designated Driver in the bathroom in a really horrible state. I babysat and communicated with her significant other as to how to find the party until He was there to help me get Her in his jeep. I feel awful since she had to leave the brand new car she bought that same day parked on the street a good drive away from where she lives.
I remember as He guided Her to the car, I ran over to Her vehicle, and grabbed everything she needed for work the next day as well as snagged all the CD cases I could find and threw them in the trunk. (It’s a safe neighborhood but not that safe.)

Otherwise I mingled and got to see people that I hadn't seen in a long time as well as chain-smoked my way into a whole. Feeling my chest tighten up this morning really makes me consider quitting. But then I would have to wear my glasses again in order to continue this faux art intellectual look I have going on – or start wearing more pretentious clothes from thrift stores.

Other than this news, I have just learned this morning of the tragedy in Amsterdam. I feel really bad that I laughed when my mother told me...