Oh, a curb

I hit a curb today and got a flat tire. The real tragedy was that I was meeting everyone for dinner after Nonfiction III and was subsequently hungry as fuck. I was rounding around a corner of a square onto Bay Street when two large tourists stepped out right in front of my car. I stopped and turned a little, hit the curb, and heard a pop. I don't actually know what happened. A valet from a hotel across the street ran up to my car and I rolled down my window.

"You got a flat tire?" He wasn't asking me, but he raised his voice at the end of the sentence enough.

"Are you serious?"

"You hit that curb?" So I pulled into East Bay Inn, called AAA, and got really angry. The whole ordeal took close to two hours and also decided to happen on the one day in May in Savannah when it decided to get cold and I had to stand outside in said cold while my tire was changed. I instantly thought the tire-changer was cute until:

Tire-changer: Whoa, how old are you?

Me: 21.

Tire-changer: Oh man, I thought you were like 17.

Everyone thinks I look 15!!! This is a great improvement, really.

Also the last Goblin Manor party occurred on Saturday. Theoretically it was bittersweet but it was actually so fucking fun.

Choice PIXXX:

GoblinManor4Ever

Friends and AC

Look at these friends!!!:

A BOBCAT KITTEN AND A FAWN.

COLEMAN AND BEN AND CHARLIE.

DASH AND CHASE AND BRIAN AND JON PENN.

Also on Monday NPR's All Songs Considered streamed an Animal Collective show in DC. Some people (Ben) don't want to listen to it because of possible spoilers, but may I just say it was . . . amazing? They played Banshee Beat, the first Animal Collective song I ever heard. If I heard that live myself, I would probably cry. Especially the way they played it. This is where you can hear it:

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=103811402

Besides making me feel so happy, it made me infinitely more excited to see them in June. I didn't think it was possible to be more excited than I already am for it but AC is just full of surprises you know!

Also also might be making a breakthrough on that license plate business. Details when I get them. Adam Davies (novelist/professor/sucker) made a bet with me that there are regular, personal license plates that don't begin with an A or a B. Oh how it would sting to lose a bet to one of your undergrads. 

Watergate Pt. II

O.K. you heard it here first: I am about to blow this shit out of the water.

Recently I have noticed an alarming trend with license plates. I know it seems like any trend with license plates can't be all that alarming, but this is too much. I started noticing that every Georgia license plate I've seen (Chatham County and otherwise) that is a personal vehicle that does not begin with numbers either begins with an A or a B.

Not included:

The aforementioned plates that begin with numbers

City/state vehicles

Disabled plates + any other specialized plates

That sounds like a lot of exclusions but really, it's not. Back to the issue at hand, why do all of these plates begin with an A or a B? Why not any other letter? Why do other states have a complete range of letters?

Well I went to the DMV. Yeah, I did. I stood in line with all of the angrys in order to find out. And what did I find?

"What?! I don't know! What are you even talking about?"

"I mean personal vehicle plates in Georgia. All beginning with A and B."

"You don't have any other business here?"

"No."

"Next in line please."

That was my conversation at the DMV.

My next plan of attack was via the telephone where I might come off as less crazy. I called the state department of motor vehicles, which directed me to several other offices. I ended up calling all the DMVs in the county and I either got referred to another office or got the response of, "I don't know." Until I got this response:

"Oh, we're not authorized to discuss that information."

Oh. We're not authorized to discuss that information. I see. I see. What information? Why wouldn't they, people who work in the office of the DMV, not be authorized to discuss it?

I need to find out. Maybe there is a vast statewide (nationwide? worldwide?) conspiracy that I am on the brink of uncovering. Maybe this is the start of the sequel to All The President's Men. All I know is, I'm determined. If for anything to prevent me from obsessively scanning over license plates while I drive.

I wish I were friends with Sting right now

This has always really bothered me. In the song "Don't Stand So Close To Me" by The Police there is a lyric that goes:

Her friends are so jealous

You know how bad girls get

Does he mean Bad Girls? As in "Bad girls, you know how they get." Or does he mean, "You know when girls get jealous, it gets bad." Lately I've been thinking it's the latter but growing up I always thought it was the former.

I think about this a lot. If I ever meet Sting, I will ask him this. 

Also, unrelated, but am I the only one who thinks that swine flu just kind of seems like flu flu? The name sounds much worse, as I, like most people I'm sure, would not want to contract any illness with the word "swine" in it. But from what I've read (which is not a lot) it's bad for kids and old people and people with weak immune systems and has "flu-like symptoms." Is that because it's, how do I put this, the flu? I don't know. If I die from SWINE FLU everyone can make fun of me during my funeral's after party (not during the funeral, though, that's just in bad taste).

Office Life + Cherry Pie

One interesting thing about working at Savannah Magazine is that it's my introduction into office life. The set-up reminds me of a cross between The Office and 13 Going on 30 (underrated). There are unfinished pages tacked on the walls along with pages from past issues and different, current magazines filled with flags and circles. I also have to keep all of my projects and information about the rest of the year's issues under lockdown to avoid leaking information to the magazine's competition. A little more high stakes than I had expected.
I have my own cute little office space, complete with desk, computer, and highly-complicated phone. I hate this phone. Cell phones don't work in the building, as it is hurricane proof (ha!) so I have no choice but to use my office phone. It's cute because I have my own extension, but the novelty ends there. I have to dial a million different numbers to dial out of the office, a million more to dial out of state, and if I pause between digits for too long the phone automatically calls whatever extension the numbers I've already dialed make up, meaning I call some random person in the office (of 300+ people) and either have an awkward exchange or hang up (I go for the latter, usually and unfortunately). My editor suggested I personalize my desk, but that feels too awkward. Instead I've sort of adopted my drawers as something akin to my high school locker: filled with Diet Coke along with earphones and maybe some M&M's sometimes.
I'm currently working on two articles right now, one really dry and one actually very interesting (at least the research is). I'm basically going to have a Fat Cat resume after this internship is over.
In other news, I had probably my best visual-based critique yesterday, magically in 3D Design. It was for our second project, which was to make a food product out of clay. When they had my professor, Ben made a frog, Allie made matzo, and Chase made a box of Oreos (which Coleman disappointingly tried to eat during a Goblin party a couple of years ago). I made cherry pie. The fact that I hate cherry pie was an advantage as I wasn't overcome with hunger every time I worked on it. Although it did cause me to have Warrant's "Cherry Pie" stuck in my head for the past two weeks or so. I made a whole pie with a slice cut out, and then a slice with a scoop of ice cream:




The project went over really well. For the first time in a non-writing critique, I did not want to kill myself and not only that I, wait for it, was actually proud of my work. Sounds silly, but it was worth something.
I also enjoyed celebrating 4/20 last night with Allie, Ben, Jon Penn, and Dash along with Charlie and Calvin (Charlie's favorite holiday happens to be 4/20) and lots of snacks and Tetris Attack. I have the scratches (Calvin) and red eyes (not blinking during video gaming + other factors) to show for last night's activities.

robots and tears and missed connections

I'm in 3D Design right now. Our first project was to make a kinetic toy entirely out of paper. I made a robot.

His hands and feet move and he stands on his own. It took approximately a million hours but I feel good about it.

Charlie, Robot, Me.

In other news, a missed connection was put out for me. This happened last year but this time it's not a "hey you're cute," one.

Sad

It says:
animal collective bumpter sticker - w4w (downtown sav)

hey i saw you a few weeks ago in a white car around wright square. you were crying. i remember thinking you had a weird bumper sticker but couldnt remember it. i saw you again yesterday, i think on bull street and i made it a point to look at your car's bumper stickers and remembered it was an animal collective one i was thinking of. anyway i've never seen anyone crying so hard like that in their car and it really stuck with me and who ever you are i hope things are better for you now then when i first saw you. try and keep your chin up and remember even if you feel really alone you arent.

In case you hadn't guessed, I drive a white car with an Animal Collective bumper sticker. And I do cry in my car moderately often because I kind of forget that people can see in. If this isn't proof that I am just sad, sad, sad then I don't know what is.

recent successes

I started my internship at Savannah Magazine. It's cool; I get my own cubicle/desk/computer/phone extension/email/official signature line. It's all very office-y and official. It's a good mix of fun and boring and I appreciate that Annabelle, the managing editor whom I'm interning for, wants me to get real experience, not just get coffee for people. 

I always submit stuff to The New Yorker, usually poetry because they accept it unsolicited and via e-mail. And I always get rejected a few weeks later. This cycle happens every few months. My logic is that the worst that can happen is they not publish me, which is what happens anyway. I always get the same rejection e-mail that's along of the lines of, "Thank you for submitting, unfortunately . . ." etc etc. But Wednesday I got a different e-mail. It caught my eye first because it was a Re: e-mail when usually it's a new e-mail with a subject something like "Your Recent New Yorker Submission." When I opened it, I re-read it about a million times. Not only did they use my name ("Elizabeth, . . ."), but it wasn't the standard rejection e-mail. It said that my poetry was accepted for the first tier of submissions, that they enjoyed reading my work, look forward to hearing from me in the future, and that they would let me know if my work would be accepted for publication. In my mind, The New Yorker is the tippy top of publication (mostly because David Sedaris is a frequent contributor), so the fact that they even typed my name nearly made me scream. 

There's a few reasons that this is awesome. There's the obvious reason: it's the goddamned New Yorker. Then there's the fact that I recently did not get into SCAD's student literary journal, Artemis. My professor assured me that it was because my work is too vulgar/funny/real/good, which I appreciate hearing, but when the New Yorker takes note of some of the same work I submitted to Artemis, it makes me feel a million times better (and also is a "fuck you" to Artemis).  Then there's also the fact that I personally have felt over the past few months my poetry has hit a new plane. That sounds pretty artsy, I know, but it's true. It's probably due in part to the overwhelming despair that has taken over my life the past few months, but I know it also has to do with my maturation as a writer. And finally, all of the work I submitted to the New Yorker is about (some more directly than others) my relationship/breakup with Robert. There's that idea that if those pieces get published it would be a sort of personal triumph, but even more than that it's comforting to know that through everything I was able to create these little pieces that people, from friends to classmates to professors to editors at the New Yorker, have been able to identify with, appreciate, and (on some level) enjoy.

I knew it

"Better to have loved and lost/Than never to have loved at all," is a line from a poem so overused it has transcended itself to phrase-status, which automatically lends itself to Cliche. That being said, for as long as I can remember knowing that phrase (I first remember reading it somewhere when I was 7) I have thought it was absolutely, completely false.

A million people have told me the phrase is true and a million more will continue to tell me. Most people tell me this along with the guarantee that "someday" I will learn. And I realize I am young with less life experience than people who believe in that saying. But I still maintain my original standpoint that to have loved and lost will always be completely worse than never loving at all. After Robert, after Professor Fucker, after Conor, after etc etc etc, I feel that my belief only gets stronger and stronger. So there.

[sand]traps

Some people like sand. Most people don't notice when the ground is particularly sandy or grainy for whatever reason. Most people don't have much of an opinion on sand at all because why should they?

When I was a baby/toddler/kid I would vomit instantly if I touched sand or salt or anything similar, be it with hands or feet. Over time I've learned to control the insta-vomit, but I still have to avoid it. I've been to the beach. Besides the heat and salt water and overall boredom that I feel comes with a beach trip, there is the sand. Usually if I walk on sand now, I can sort of prep myself mentally and gingerly walk and just feel extremely sick. Being older I'm never really in a situation where I have to be on a beach. Although now, of course, I'm in enrolled in the required (for writing, mind you) course of 3D Design, which includes a mandatory field trip to Tybee Island to participate in SCAD's Sand Arts Festival. How does one explain to a teacher that they can't go on a mandatory beach field trip because if they touch sand they throw up? Or should I say, how does one explain this without sounding like a lying jackass?

Today a terrible thing happened. My Nonfiction III class was moved to Wallin Hall. I've had one class there before during the winter of freshman year. When it was cold. When I didn't wear sandals. As it is now springtime I wore sandals today, really cute ones, too. I got to Wallin Hall, expecting class as usual. But when I stepped out of the car, my foot sunk.

I don't know what makes me sicker in these situations: the sand or the dread that comes along with knowing vomit is imminent - not only imminent, but imminent when you're already a minute late for class and will inevitably be made later. I tried to walk as carefully as I could through the parking lot, which suddenly looked fucking huge, but naturally I still got sand in my shoes. The wave of sickness and the nearly uncontrollable need to kick my feet came over me and by the time I walked into class (last one in), red-faced and with a sour throat all I could say was, "The parking lot is full of sand." Luckily my professor was already in the know about my situation and though everyone laughed, I put my stuff down as fast as possible and ran (on my tiptoes so as not to clank down the hall) to the bathroom and just threw up. And throwing up is terrible; the watering of the eyes, the clenching of your abdomen. I felt sick all of the rest of class and could barely pay attention, though we luckily watched a movie. Of course my professor still called on me for something and I was so focused on keeping my stomach settled and trying to keep the feeling of graininess out of my head that I couldn't answer his question with anything besides "I'm trying not to throw up."

I hate throwing up, but there are certain situations that are better than others. When I'm hungover or have food poisoning, I at least feel productive by throwing up. But because of sand? Sand? It's just stupid and useless, a really good way to ruin my class period and the rest of my day.

recent

Coleman, Goblin Manor, High Life, and hot dogs

Jon bought me a beautiful headdress in Istanbul

Coleman and Charlie cuddle time!

River Street on St. Patrick's Day

Giving Charlie a belly rub

really germany?

Really?
http://www.spiegel.de/international/zeitgeist/0,1518,612684,00.html

reasons charlie = me

Over the past few weeks I have discovered that Charlie is basically me, in the form of a male cat.

- Charlie is always ready for sleep. I have long thought my mutant power was the ability sleep at any time in any location and I think Charlie shares this power. I know this seems like average cat behavior but here's an example to illustrate what I'm talking about: yesterday a fly was in my room. Charlie saw it. He was laying on my bed and when the fly flew by him he lifted his paw to swat at it. He missed (the fly was about a yard above him) and fell back. He fell asleep like this within a minute, on his back, one paw extended.
- Charlie likes to cuddle and hold hands. It's almost impossible for me to lay down in my bed without Charlie coming up to snuggle down next to me. He usually ends up sleeping next to me, facing me, head on my pillow, with at least one paw extended out and on me. Also, if I have an open palm, he'll put his little paw into it.
- Charlie is security-conscious. If I leave during the day, when I come back he's on my chair. But if I leave at night, he's always under the bed when I come back. When I walk into my room, he meows from under the bed. If I don't answer him, he stays there but if I do, he comes out.
- Charlie might have OCD. I take medication for my OCD so that I am not constantly shaving my legs but I still have symptoms that come up. Charlie's food is in a dual container, with food on one side and water on the other. Instead of doing that, though, I just put food in both sides and put his water in a separate bowl. Charlie will not start eating the food out of the right side until every piece of food is eaten from the left side. I watch him do this again and again and even tested it by putting a couple of pieces of food in the empty left side. He saw them, stopped eating from the right side, ate the pieces on the left, and then continued on the right.
- Charlie does not have a keen sense of space and distance. Anyone who has seen me park knows that I am not great in judging distance and space. This is evidenced by me parking within inches of the car in front of me, with about 10 feet between my car and the car behind me. I am also bad at judging when it's appropriate to cross the street (in a car or on foot) because I can never quite seem to tell how far away a car is. Charlie seems to be unable to tell where the bed ends and the floor begins. He has fallen off of the bed twice (that I know of) and I nightly have to catch him from rolling off. This always happens in his attempt to get comfortable, which involves rolling over and over again.
- Charlie likes Animal Collective. I play a lot of music in my room that Charlie does not respond to whatsoever. The one artist he does respond to, though, is Animal Collective. The first time he did this I thought it was a fluke. I played a live version of Brother Sport and each time Avey Tare whooped, Charlie sort of squeaked/meowed/whooped back. I played it again and he did it again. When I play Animal Collective or Panda Bear he almost always makes a noise back at the song. So far his favorites seem to be Brother Sport and Bros. Maybe he identifies with brotherly songs?

And just an image to leave you with: this is a picture I took the other morning of Charlie. His face was about three inches from mine. This is what I wake up to almost every morning.

things I hate in porn

I love porn. Most people know this about me: friends, acquaintances, classmates, professors. I somehow mention to bring it up whenever I can because it's really a great thing. And a truly great thing about porn is there is something for everyone. A single bit of porn, whether it's a full-length movie, an online video clip, a picture, a story, etc usually tries to incorporate more than one element. Example, why have a naked girl giving a naked guy a blowjob when you can go ahead and have a girl in a schoolgirl uniform giving a blowjob to a guy in a suit? There you've got the original goodness of a blowjob with some teacher-student fantasy thrown in for good measure. And really, a porn film is not that different from a standard film. It's hard to find a movie that is completely without fail strictly one genre: a horror movie without any comedy, a comedy without any poignancy, things like that. So it only makes sense that a porn film incorporates more than one genre, it's just that a genre of porn isn't quite the same as a genre of standard film. No matter the plot (if there is one), your average run-of-the-mill heterosexual porn film will almost always contain: oral, vaginal, and anal sex along with a lesbian scene (if the movie knows what it's doing).
I watch a lot of porn. That and everything else being said, watching a lot of porn comes with stumbling across things I don't like nestled in something larger that I do like. I know these elements aren't just there for the hell of it; they do something for somebody. Just not me.
In no particular order, here are some things I hate coming across when trying to enjoy porn:
- Heel sucking. I really don't mind shoe licking. It's not the greatest thing ever, but it doesn't take me out of the moment. What does take me out of the moment is heel sucking. I understand the phallicness of a stiletto heel seems hard to pass up, but when I see this (almost exclusively in lesbian scenes) it just kind of grosses me out. It's a heel, so you know it's not that sanitary. And it's pointy, which just seems dangerous and much more gag-inducing than a penis. It's just kind of gross.
- Giant fucking (usually plastic) shoes. Having sex with shoes on is not unheard of. In porn it can actually be hot (a cheerleader still wearing sneakers comes to mind). But those are only certain situations. In other situations, most situations, having sex while wearing giant, ugly, painful shoes just does not make sense. Wearing them at all hardly makes any sense, but having sex with them on? That's just stupid and implausible, really.
- The wearer of a strapon moaning in pleasure from the strapon getting sucked. This used to just be really confusing to me. I wasn't sure how a strapon worked and I assumed there must something hidden on the other side that, when there is pressure from the attached dildo being sucked, provides pleasure. And maybe that is true on some level, in that the pressure can be pleasureful for the wearer. But it's not a blowjob. It's a strapon, not a penis. Seeing it get sucked might be hot, and yeah sure maybe you moan a little or whatever because of the hotness. But moaning and thrashing around as if it was actual oral sex instead of oral sex performed on a piece of plastic attached to you? Stupid.
- Holding onto a neck during a blowjob.This is an element that I've seen come up in both straight and gay porn and always bothers me. Granted, I know that a good number of people think it's hot, especially since it's usually accompanied with rough sex. But having personally been on the chokee's end, seeing it just reminds me of how shitty it feels to have a hand around your throat while you're extremely preoccupied with a penis going down said throat already.

That's all I can think of right now. I'm sure I'll think of more some other time, but I've done enough damage for one post.

PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN

BECAUSE THIS DUDE IS PREZ:














but in all seriousness, I'm in love.

this was strange

I was turning the corner in Wal-Mart today and ran my cart into another woman's cart. I do this a lot as I am generally not the most coordinated person, especially when trying to navigate a place devoid of space and time with a giant metal contraption. I said, "Oh, I'm so sorry!" and she said, "That's okay!" As we passed each other she held out a $10 bill and said, "Here you go." I knew I had a ten in my wallet and, though I hadn't opened my purse, assumed it had fallen out. I said, "Oh, thanks, did I drop this?" and she just looked at me and said, "No, but I can tell you are a child of Jesus." This really caught me off guard. I said, "What?" and she just nodded knowingly and said, "God bless," and walked away. I checked the bill for drugs or disease-ridden needles but it appears to be a bona-fide $10 bill. I felt a little guilty at first, since I am most definitely not a "child of Jesus" or blessed by God, but it's not like I ever said I was. I was just doin' my thing, trying to get cat litter for Charlie. It's not going to get me to find God all of the sudden, but at least now I have $20 instead of ten.

we're fucked

This giant stingray was caught in Thailand:

Stats:
771 pounds
7 ft long
7 ft wide
10 ft long tail
What this tells me is that no human on the planet could possibly survive a rumble with this thing. So when glaciers melt and everything floods these guys will pretty much rule the planet. I hope I'm dead by then.
In other news, March 12th is the last day of Winter Quarter 2009. Fucking thank god. This has possibly been my worst quarter ever. Not that everything will magically change during Spring Quarter, but at least all of this bullshit will be behind me (kind of).

MEET CHARLIE

I met him while volunteering at the Humane Society. I started going everyday just to see him so last week I did everyone a favor and adopted him.
He's super chill. His tail is mangled and he has a little piece of one of his ears missing back from his hardknock life days on the streets. He is obviously a lover, not a fighter. One of the best parts about him is that when I play certain Animal Collective songs loudly, he meows back to Avey Tare's whoops. We're soulmates.

take it to the MAX

I mostly like this because it looks like the 1950s version of people in the future:

look at this chandelier made of gummi bears

seriously, just fucking look at it:

stuff michael jackson is auctioning off

includes:






FUCK. I WANT IT ALL.

Being sad would be much easier if I weren't intelligent. Intelligence fucks up sadness with other layers, mostly (for me) of guilt and self-loathing. But if I were more stupid, less self aware then I wouldn't have any of the guilt or self-loathing; so maybe easier isn't the right word. Pure would be better. If I were stupid I could be purely, plainly sad. But as it turns out, I cannot be sad without being followed by the guilt-ridden fact that some people are worse off than me. It's nearly impossible for me to not counter any sadness I feel with an immediate reminder of other situations. Dropped my keys on my foot? At least I'm getting an education. Textbook got lost in the mail? At least I've never been raped. Got pulled over for crying so hard I swerved between lanes? At least my mom is awesome. Got fired? At least I have plenty of clean clothes and shoes. Best friends out of the country for a few months? At least I don't have credit card debt. Fainted and got a black eye? At least I'm not a drug addict. A child says I'm ugly? At least I know how to read. Was in love with a boyfriend who didn't love me back and subsequently moved 1,000+ miles away seemingly without warning or any emotion? At least I'm not starving to death.
All of those things have happened to me, nonstop, since the very first day of 2009. They've all been bad, ranging from frustration to nearly crippling despair but its pretty hard to nurse these ranges of terrible along with the sense that they're not that terrible.
It's not hard to hate something you don't understand, and I will be the first to admit that I do not understand myself. I'm not a complete mystery; there are certain things that I do know and I actually like some of them, but there's enough dark matter to scare me into hating myself. It's the easy way out. But with all of that unhappiness and loneliness and guilt there's only so much I can handle at any given time.
My life will get worse than this. That's easy for me to imagine. It will get better than this, too, though that's harder for me to see. I've cried a lot. But I have to get through it, and by myself, no matter how badly I want to drag him into with me. What other choice do I have? It's just another shitty turn my life has suddenly taken and I just have to deal with it. But this is the kind of situation feminists point to. It will make me sadder. It will give me more writing material. And it will be one more item to take off the "At least" list to add to my guilt.

happy birthday to a bffl

my mom is so cool

I just received this e-mail from my mom. The hippest mom ever.

Subject: gotta love You Tube!

WILCO & Fleet Foxes!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RmZfV6tqbTU

--
"Knit on, with confidence and hope through all crises."
Elizabeth Zimmermann 1910-1999


that knitting quote automatically goes on every e-mail she sends out. just in case I forget she's my mom when she sends me e-mails like this.

recently seen on church signs

tybee island, georgia:

"A lifetime on your knees gives you steady footing."

savannah, georgia:

"Forbidden fruits make the best jams."

I am in love

I wrote this

http://www.scaddistrict.com/?p=1234

my girls video

New Animal Collective:


Scary pink mouths! Flying Doritos! Panda Bear and Geologist and Avey Tare!!

To all of my boys in France:

It's my birthday

I'm 21.


That's the first drink I bought myself. It's a mango martini. I couldn't order it with a straight face. But it was reallyyyyyy good.

CHRISTMAS MIRACLE

The new Animal Collective album has leaked. Several people have asked me what I've gotten for Christmas...and nothing else comes to mind. Who gave this to me? The fates? Some dude off the Animal Collective message board? Yes and yes. Some songs I already heard, either live at Pitchfork, bootlegs, or leaked tracks. But nothing, NOTHING beats it all together, in all of its produced glory.
I pretty much gave up on Christmas back when I was 8 or 9, when I found out Santa Claus wasn't real. But I see now that perhaps Christmas is worth celebrating after all...

caught in the act

There's one red light camera in all of Savannah, and it CAUGHT ME. And then sent a letter to my mom containing the proof.

thanksgiving

my boyfriend woke me up early to drink coffee and watch the macy's thanksgiving day parade with him. although it was way too early and the parade is dumb and his house is always really cold, it was very sweet and it made me happy.
and then we got to go to funk junction and have delicious, delicious food! (I made potatoes and pumpkin pie)
allie made the turkey, undoubtedly the best turkey I've ever had:

OBAMA

THIS DUDE JUST BECAME OUR NEW PREZ:



I have been very unhappy lately, but now I am SO happy.

art school has taught me

that jon wolfe and I are very talented. dedicated to coleman scott engle:

PITCHFORK

This weekend, Ben and I:


Went to the Pitchfork Music Festival at Union Park in Chicago. It was AWESOME.
We saw many bands, including:
The Ruby Suns:


Spiritualized (Jason Pierce is the sexiest heroin addict ever):


Cut Copy:


And...the main draw for us...
ANIMAL
COLLECTIVE






They were awesome. They only played for an hour, as the park closed at 10. But what a fucking hourrrrrrr. They mostly played new stuff, which was all really incredible (a relief, I thought). Also, Panda Bear, Avey Tare, and Geologist all looked GOOD, even with Avey Tare's hat.

We also saw Caribou and Fleet Foxes and Spoon and The Hold Steady and lots of other good bands. But mostly it was Animal Collective. FUCK THEY WERE GOOD.

I wrote 1/3 of this

http://www.scaddistrict.com/?p=451

PSA

If a guy you're interested in/dating/whatever does not want to get with you, and even though you are very self conscious can't think of a real reason why he wouldn't, and at the same time is unusually chummy with the professor who taught the class where you met the guy...
THEY'RE FUCKING.

End of story.

coleman and I are taking an online class together

everyone in this class hates us.

cover song roundup

guys these are some of my favorite cover songs that I am going to share with you.

1. Paint It Black
Original by The Rolling Stones:
The Rolling Stones - Paint It Black

Cover by Marie Laforêt:
Marie Laforêt - Paint It Black


2. Fantasy
Original by Mariah Carey:
Mariah Carey - Fantasy

Cover by Final Fantasy:
Final Fantasy - Fantasy (Live)


3. Hey Jude
Original by The Beatles:
The Beatles - Hey Jude

Cover by Mutato Muzika Orchestra:
Mutato Muzika Orchestra - Hey Jude


4. Ruby Tuesday
Original by The Rolling Stones:
The Rolling Stones - Ruby Tuesday

Cover by Franco Battiato:
Franco Battiato - Ruby Tuesday


5. Golden Slumbers
Original by The Beatles:
The Beatles - Golden Slumbers

Cover by Ben Folds:
Ben Folds - Golden Slumbers


6. Melt With You
Original by Modern English:
Modern English - Melt With You

Cover by Nouvelle Vague:
Nouvelle Vague - Melt With You


7. Baker Street
Original by Gerry Rafferty:
Gerry Rafferty - Baker Street

Cover by Foo Fighters:
Foo Fighters - Baker Street


8. Peach, Plum, Pear
Original by Joanna Newsom:
Joanna Newsom - Peach, Plum, Pear

Cover by Final Fantasy:
Final Fantasy - Peach, Plum, Pear


9. Handle with Care
Original by The Traveling Wilburys:
The Traveling Wilburys - Handle with Care

Cover by Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins with Ben Gibbard, M. Ward, and Conor Oberst:
Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins - Handle with Care (with Ben Gibbard, M. Ward, and Conor Oberst)


10. Owner of a Lonely Heart
Original by Yes:
Yes - Owner of a Lonely Heart

Cover by Grizzly Bear:
Grizzly Bear - Owner of a Lonely Heart


11. Kokomo
Original by The Beach Boys:
The Beach Boys - Kokomo

Cover by The Muppets:
The Muppets - Kokomo


12. All The Young Dudes
Original by Mott the Hoople:
Mott the Hoople - All The Young Dudes

Cover by World Party:
World Party - All The Young Dudes


13. Wildwood Flower
Original by June Carter Cash:
June Carter Cash - Wildwood Flower

Cover by Reese Witherspoon:
Reese Witherspoon - Wildwood Flower


14. Where Did Our Love Go?
Original by Diana Ross and the Supremes:
Diana Ross and the Supremes - Where Did Our Love Go?

Cover by Soft Cell:
Soft Cell - Where Did Our Love Go?


15. Earth Angel
Original by The Penguins:
The Penguins - Earth Angel

Cover by Death Cab for Cutie:
Death Cab for Cutie - Earth Angel


16. All is Full of Love
Original by Bjork:
Bjork - All is Full of Love

Cover by Death Cab for Cutie:
Death Cab for Cutie - All is Full of Love


17. Running Up That Hill
Original by Kate Bush:
Kate Bush - Running Up That Hill

Cover by Placebo:
Placebo - Running Up That Hill


18. If You Leave
Original by OMD:
OMD - If You Leave

Cover by Nada Surf:
Nada Surf - If You Leave


19. Here Comes the Sun
Original by The Beatles:
The Beatles - Here Comes the Sun

Cover by Paul Simon and George Harrison:
Paul Simon and George Harrison - Here Comes the Sun (Live)


20. Bridges and Balloons
Original by Joanna Newsom:
Joanna Newsom - Bridges and Balloons

Cover by The Decemberists:

The Decemberists - Bridges and Balloons


21. Age of Consent
Original by New Order:
New Order - Age of Consent

Cover by Kevin Drew:
Kevin Drew - Age of Consent


OK BYEEEE

Good afternoon

I think my favorite part about orange tic tacs are that they are very sneaky. I say this because they are advertised as a "mint." Granted, spearmint, freshmint, and wintergreen tic tacs should be regarded as "mints" because that is what they are. You know, I would go the extra step and say that cinnamon is also regarded as a "mint" because it is a popular gum flavor and is also a flavor of toothpaste. Citrus twist I believe is a "mint" because they are lemony and limey and I feel as though lemon-lime flavor is typically regarded as "fresh" which is a word that also goes with "mint." Also none of the above flavors are very delicious. Tasty, but not very delicious. Orange tic tacs are not "mints." In no world is orange regarded as "mint." You might try to use my citrus twist argument against my orange argument, but think about it. While orange is accept as a citrus fruit, what does one tend to think of when they think of citrus? That's right. Lemons. In second place would be lime. Orange might be third but that doesn't matter because who cares about third place. Even though it's incorrect, I'm perfectly willing to go with tic tac's marketing campaign of portraying orange tic tacs as "mints." This is because I can eat lots and lots of orange tic tacs without eating lots and lots of candy. I'm just enjoying many "mints."
Also orange tic tacs are very delicious so.

Guys I had this plan but it didn't work

I never get hungover. This led me to believe that getting highly intoxicated hours before my flight home for Christmas break would be no problem, no sir. I even thought, hey maybe I'll still be kind of drunk, maybe I'll have fun on the plane. No.

I woke up at 9:30 panicked because I hadn't done a whole lot in the way of packing and my flight was at 11:15. I stumbled around a lot partially blind because I had slept with my contacts in and it took me a while to remember this. I called a cab and was out of the room by 10, but found a SCAD bus right outside my door. I forgot about that cab. Uh oh well. Anyway it was one of those school bus ones and was, you know, considerably bumpy. Oftentimes I have a slight issue with motion sickness. It usually doesn't kick in until I'm still after moving for a long time, but this time, oh...this time was different. I threw up in my hand. I have never done that before. I didn't think people actually did that. A gigantic woman who was hitching a ride to the airport via her friend our bus driver was sitting next to me. I tapped her on her shoulder and when she saw me, pale, glassy-eyed, with vomit seeping through my fingers she screamed. Not only did she scream but she jumped away from me and towards the trash can at the front of the bus, which she threw at me. She spent the rest of the ride sitting on the steps at the front of the bus and I got the seat to myself.
I got to the airport, waited in line for security for 30 minutes, and was the last one on the plane. I felt really shitty and called the flight attendant and asked where the bathroom was. She told me and asked me if I was okay. I smiled at her because I was afraid if I opened my mouth to lie to her I would just cover her in vomit. I hung out in the bathroom, reading all the little signs and waiting to throw up, but I never did. I started to feel better and the flight was only 45 minutes so I figured I'd probably be fine until I landed in North Carolina. So I sat back down and about five minutes later there was a rush of heat in my throat and I grabbed that little white baggy in the seat in front of me and threw up BIG TIME. I don't know what I was throwing up. At this point all I had consumed over the last 16 hours was Arbor Mist. I assumed I was throwing up in the bag I was holding, but as it turns out the bag had folded in on itself and I was actually throwing up on myself. And when I mean throwing up on myself, I'm really not exaggerating in the least.
Things I threw up on:
My shoes
My legs
My skirt
My jacket
My shirt
My bra
My hair
My chin
The general mouth area
Luckily the plane was so loud no one heard me and the two guys sitting next to me were sleeping. When I realized I had not thrown up in the bag and all over myself, however, I knew I pretty much had to get help, so I called for the flight attendant again. This super nice guy came up to me. God I felt bad for him.
FLIGHT MAN: Hey, hon! What's u...OH. OH OKAY. HOLD ON HONEY.
I didn't say a word, I just sat there covered in my own vomit, my eye makeup from the night before smeared down my face, looking generally pathetic. Of course once the flight attendant reacted this way, it made the group of people around me turn to stare. And I just stared at them back, because what the fuck. The flight attendants came and helped me clean myself up and gave me ginger ale and offered to help me walk through the airport. Once I landed in Charlotte, I had to buy all new clothes to replace my vomity ones and in turn appeared to look obsessed with the state of North Carolina.

Good trip!

tonight i went to taco bell with coleman

taco bell guy: so how long have you been dating?
me: about a year.
taco bell guy: about a year? are you going to go on that engaged and underaged show?

other possible answers coleman and I thought of:
"about seventeen years, okay?"
"um this is our first date."
or just make out.

welcome back to savannah

so this afternoon my mom and I went to wal-mart after I moved into weston to pick up some extra stuff. this is what happened when I was in the cosmetics aisle:

A random guy holding a plastic bag (probably filled with ether and roofies) walks in front of me and says, "Hello" and keeps walking. I think this is weird.
Guy turns the corner but a few seconds later comes back down the aisle.
Guy: Excuse me, what is your name?
Me: Why?
Guy: You're pretty, that's all.
Me: Oh.
Guy: I'm oirjgfd(I couldn't tell what he said...maybe John?) (and he held out his hand)
Me: Hi (I shook it)
Guy: Listen, can I give you my number and maybe take you out sometime or something?
Me: Oh, uh, I'm 19 (he looked way older)
Guy: How old?
Me: 19.
Guy: Well I'm 18.
Me: Oh, okay, well I guess so.
Guy: Can we go someplace alone so I can give you the number?
Me: What?
Guy: Can we go someplace else?
Me: No...
Guy: Oh okay

So he wanted to get me alone in a dark corner of wal-mart to rape and murder me, right? OK good

meet my bff ralph

I had to study this card today on "Greeters' Etiquette." I never realized saying HI WELCOME TO RALPH LAUREN WE HAVE A LOT OF GREAT SALES TODAY FEEL FREE TO ASK ME ANYTHING AND I WILL ALSO SCRATCH YOUR BACK AND MAKE YOU SOME TEA WHILE YOU SHOP was so important.
Here is what the front of the Greeters' Etiquette Card says:
G - Greet every customer (individually or as a group)
R - Reinforce the welcome with a smile!
E - Educate the customer with the greeter card (ensure that each customer is handed the greeter card and understand the offer)
E - Educate the customer about our promotions (make sure the customer understands the promotion for the day/week)
T - Talk to the customer about the layout of the store (direct them to the zone that they have asked a question about or may be interested
The best part is the back of the card, with lists of shit I'm supposed to say to people:
Greet with energy and personality and personalize your greeting to make every customer feel welcome!
* Come in! It's a great day to shop!
* Welcome! Isn't it a beautiful day?
* Come in out of the heat/cold! It's cool/warm in here!
* Come in! We've got a lot of great products inside!
* Welcome! Have fun looking around!
* Hello! I see you already have our card - have you used one before? (if customer has current greeter card in hand)
* Hi! I see you're a Ralph Lauren fan! (if customer is wearing product)
* What a beautiful baby/girl/boy! (if customer has child with them)
* Did you have a question? How can I help?
So there is no way I will ever say any of that shit to anyone, ever. I would never say COME IN because they are already IN once I greet them. I can't tell if someone is wearing Ralph Lauren unless their shirt has a giant fucking polo player on it. No one comes in already holding the shit I'm about to shove at them. And I would never compliment someone on their child because I hate children and that child will probably jump up and down on our model bed and be, in general, a little piece of shit. Although I am tempted to literally say "heatslashcold" and "coolslashwarm" or compliment someone on their beautiful 17 year old child. But basically, I am never saying any of that. Ever.

why spam is delicious

From: "achemponp david"
Subject: Please reply

Dear Friend,
I'm Prince KOFFI ACHEMPONG, the son
of his royal highness NANA
ACHEMPONG of
the Ashante Kingdom in Ghana.
As part of our royalty, our royal
family is entitle to some % of the
total
gold mined in the Ashante kingdom,
in view of this, I have in stock
280kg of
alluvia gold dust and I’m looking
for a buyer.
Please contact me if you are
interested in my offer.
On received of your response will
forward to you the full information
and
the FCO.
please my number is 00233245819111
Regards,
Prince Achempong.