Today was my first day of real pseudo-freedom. Classes are officially over and I wasn't on the schedule at work. Basically, the world was my oyster (minus the fact I have a big paper due thursday. I love procrastination). I realized that since I am putting off grad school for a year, I am going to need to do something to fill my time.

I've decided that my education won't just stop. I will continue learning, just without tests and papers. Over the next year, I plan to read all the books I've been meaning to, and even ones that I haven't. The same goes for movies. I also plan to get out and see more. When NOMA has an interesting exhibit, I plan to actually go see it as opposed to saying I will and putting it off until it's gone. I also am going to make a point to go see more interesting music and shows. Last December, I went with some friends to see The Vagina Monologues. It's something I wouldn't have normally done, but I am glad I did. I need to do more things like that.

Basically, in this next year I plan to make myself a more intelligent, well-rounded, culturally and socially aware person. I realize that this sounds like a new years resolution which will be forgotten within a month. But I actually plan to stick to some semblence of this resolution. I mean, what else am I going to do, party and drink all the time?

 
I was just going through my mail and found a piece of junk mail from AT&T offering legal services. Maybe it's just me, but I don't think it's wise to sign up for legal services if the incentive to do so is a free stereo.

 
Last night I went out with James. We grabbed a bite to eat at La Peniche where James didn't realize that when he ordered the meatloaf, he would be getting an entire loaf of meat.

Then we went to see Y Tu Mama Tambien at Canal Place which boiled down to softcore Mexican porn. While we were waiting for the movie to begin, we noticed that the guy sitting across the aisle from us had a tattoo on his arm, but only the letters "RY" were visible. We tried to guess what the rest of the tattoo was. The best we could come up with was that it read "I TRY" and that he probably had Macy Gray's head tattooed on his back. We can only hope.

 
I think I may have actually learned that it is not a good idea to go out drinking all night when I have work at 9 the next morning. I hate dragging myself through a whole day of work on three hours of sleep nursing a hangover.

At 4 this afternoon I came home, watched S Club 7 on tv and then crashed till 8. What am I up to now you ask? I am going out to drink. Do I have work tomorrow morning? Of course.

 
Well classes are officially over. That leaves two papers and a final and I am completely done with school. I am headed to 80's night at the Shim Sham tonight to celebrate.

Days till graduation: 23

 
It all seems to be coming together so nicely. Tomorrow is my last day of class and my last final is on May 10th. Tomorrow I am ordering my cap and gown, and I currently have half my announcements addressed. I less than a month I will officially be a college graduate. I think I have finally gotten to the point where I feel that I do deserve that diploma. I spent four years working my ass off to come out of it with a double major and a minor. And I think I actually learned a few things to boot.

I'm not getting too comfortable yet though. Whenever things seem to be going this well, someone always manages to pull the rug out from under me. I'm just waiting for my cap and gown to be missing at graduation, or my name to be missing from the roster. More likely, my computer will crash as I am printing out a final paper and all hell will break loose. Basically, I'm just waiting for tragedy to strike.

Despite that, the countdown has begun: 24 days till graduation.

 
Wylie Gustafson: rancher, roper, country singer, yodeler, sues Yahoo.

 
Reason 237: Why I Love New Orleans

Today, when I opened my front door, I was met by the faint smell of ligustrum which seems to pervade the city at this time of year and a large, hulking man in high-waders who produced a dead jumbo shrimp for my inspection. He was selling them out of the back of his truck. And none of this even phased me.

 
In honor of Billy Shakespeare's birthday, try your Shakespeare knowledge on this quiz from The Guardian. If nothing else, it's a test that actually tests for more than which muppet I am. (That probably explains why I got a 6 out of 15).

 
Decisions, Decisions

I am in a bit of a conundrum. Today my current job made me an offer to stay and not work at Semolina. Essentialy I was offered the salaried position of deli manager. This would mean more work, but also more money. I would only have to work Monday to Friday 9-5. No weekends. Plus we're closed for all major holidays. They, however, do not have benefits. Semolina on the other hand, is just waiting tables and they do have benefits. Also, it's not an everyday 9 to 5 job.

What do I want to do? I am taking a year off before I go to grad school and am not really sure what type of job I am looking for. If I take the deli manager job, it will help me save up to move when I go to grad school, possibly abroad. The waitstaff job is less stress though.

What do you think I should do? I open to any suggestions.

 
Happy Anniversary to the both of you.

 
I had an aural orgasm tonight. I went to see THEM perform for their last concert of the year. James performed beautifully at his solo. I even got goosebumps when they did "wide Open Spaces by the Dixie Chicks. I'm not sure if it was the A/C, the amazing performance or maybe it's just because of where I am in life right now.

That's right, I have four days left of class in my undergraduate career. Four days and I'm free, I'm excited . . . I'm scared. I'm slowly beginning to realize that I too, am about to be forced to explore some of my own wide open spaces. I have spent my life up to this point in the comfortable little world I call home. Now I am going to be forced to go out on my own. I have a feeling that this is going to be at once both exciting and frightening. This means that I week from now expect a total meltdown of a post.

 
I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am right now. I got all of my homework done early. As a result, I am leisurely sitting here, eating the empanadas that Ana brought me for taking her shift on Saturday. My hands are getting the keyboard all greasy as I type, and I don't even care. I am so thankful that her fiancee doesn't eat cuban food. I get all of the leftovers when her parents cook.

 
There is no way on god's green earth that this is for real.

(link via Yeah, Totally)

 
I scored a 15 out of 16 on the Female or Shemale quiz. How well can you do?

(link via Jonno)

 
I HATE BLOGGER!

 
Today, the good people at Semolia offered me a job. This means that tomorrow I get to go and quit my current job. That ought to be lots of fun. Wish me luck.

 
Semolina called me today about a job interview. I had given up all hope since they were supposed to have called almost two weeks ago. I guess that it's a good sign that they called at all though. If I'm lucky, I'll get this job and I won't have to sell my soul to the evil corporate world a la Starbucks. They do have really good beneits though.

 
Last night I went to see the latest Running With Scissors production, Hell's Belles. Unfortunately, I had to go it alone last night. As I was getting ready to leave, James called to inform me that he and Kaytie had to bail (They had a perfecly good reason to). Despite that, I did have a good time. Someone cancelled their reservations, so Jonno kindly offered me a seat in the front row. The play was hysterical as per usual for a RWS production (Richard, you don't have to be so modest all of the time).


I wish I had known that Drew was going to be there last night. I would have made a point to introduce myself.


After the show, I met some friends at the Blue Nile, which I recommend, but only for the fabulous furniture. Of course, we did have to make a little trip to Cafe Brasil to hopefully meet up with the cute boy I had given directions to earlier in the evening. Alas, he was a no show.


After being crushed at his absence (no, not really), I headed over to Gerald's where there were questions about whether the body on the sidewalk down the street even existed. After we confirmed it did, it had to be determined if it was dead or not. Sadly, it was merely a person passed out. No real excitement there. After about an hour more of video games, I too felt the need to retire, said my goodbyes, and headed home.

 
I seriously need to change my diet. I am not sure what I ate before I went to bed last night, but dear god, were my dreams fucked up.

I had a dream that we were at a friends house who lives in Canada. We were all swimming in a pond in her backyard (which she doesn't have). I kept diving to the bottom and retrieving things that looked as if they were from a shipwrecked Spanish galleon like lanterns and chests and dishes and such. Lots of things made of wrought iron. Next thing I know I am standing at the edge of the pond as it is being drained. Someone leans over and whispers to me, "There's all sorts of things buried in that pond. God knows what you'll find. And unless you're a former First Lady, you won't find it all."

Where the fuck did that last bit about the First Ladies come from. I haven't been watching the West Wing or anything. When I awoke this morning, all I could picture was Barbara Bush and Rosalynn Carter in full scuba gear diving to the bottom of a murky pond.

Just thought I would let all of you share in my insanity.

 
Here's a way to make you feel really good about yourself. At 22, I've apparently done nothing. I guess I better get started.

 
Well someone asked, so prepare to be bored:

The paper I am doing on blogging is about how the internet, and blogs in particular have become sites for 21st century non-gendered flanerie. I am even going to push the idea of global flaneries that the internet enables through a post modern idea of time-space compression.

oooh, I'm so wild, so exciting.

 
Believe it or not, I am going to make this whole blog thing work for me. I am going to do a research paper on the blog phenomenon. (I won't bore you with the details, unless you want me too).

 
Walking affirms, suspects, tries out, transgresses, respects, etc., the trajectories it "speaks." All the modalities sing a part in this chorus, changing from step to step, stepping in through proportions, sequences and intensities which vary according to the time, the path taken and the walker. These enunciatory operations are of an unlimited diversity. Michel de Certeau, "Walking in the City"


It's flashes of brilliance and beauty like this that keep me wanting to be a student. It's things like this that always remind me I should never stop learning.

 
Dear God, I was such a prolific link whore yesterday.

 
The overwhelming majority have actually involved abuse by male priests of male adolescents. While this in no way lessens the harm done to the victims, it does better identify the underlying problem. We are not dealing with priests who abuse pre-pubescent children, that's what pedophilia is, that behavior, Jenkins writes, is likely to be deeply obsessive and very hard to cure. Instead we are dealing primarily with homosexual abuse of adolescents

Not to burst anyone's bubble, but pedophilia and homosexuality are completely different phenomenons. Pedophilia is a "sexual perversion in which children are the preferred sexual object." A pedophile is a human being who is predisposed to this type of behavior. Interestingly enough, the percentage of heterosexuals who are pedohiles is actually much higher than homosexuals.

(link via Jill Matrix)

 
I stand corrected. This is the biggest piece of inane bullshit I have ever read.

(link via freakgirl)

A). She sometimes goes by Princess von Erlaheim??? Whatever.


B). She is struggling with the fame of being his girlfeind? I'm sorry but, look who she regularly hangs out with.


C). Sorry, but . . . he's gay.

 
The other night at d.b.a. I read an interesting piece of bathroom graffiti. It read "free yourself from yourself." It occured to me that might be some of the most inane bullshit I have ever encountered. Basically, it is an overly eloquent way of telling someone to end thier existence. How either depressed or fucked up does someone have to be in order to think to write that on a wall? I'm sure that they thought it was witty or profound. I guess I hadn't consumed enough alcohol to feel the same way.


And in other news . . .


Someone tell the people in Brazil to lighten up.


And in still other news. . .


Finally, an explanation for my unexplained attraction to Justin Timberlake, who has apparently been quite depressed lately.

 
As promised here are just a few tidbits from my night last night with the crazy pagan:

1. She apparently found herslef in Cedars-Siani having a conversation with Frank Sinatra as he was laying on a gurney having a heart attck.

2. At some point in her life she played soccer with Robert Smith from the Cure. And apparently kicked his ass.

3. As a child she would go on limo rides with her father in New York (despite the fact she lived in Virginia) and he would tell her how horrible homeless people are. To this day she is still scared of them.

I had four and a half hours of stories just like this. That's right four and a half hours of completely contrived bullshit. There were points where I wanted to rip off her arm and beat her into submission with it. I figured not only would she probably shut up, but would also become and urgent case at that point and we would be admitted immediately.

Unfortunately, I didn't. However, John did save all of my strung out voice mail messages just in case I need them for evidence in court.

 
This confirms what I've always thought . . .

	You are Gonzo! You're a bit loopy, and many people have trouble figuring out exactly what you're supposed to be. You take pride in your eccentricity and originality.
Take the What Muppet Are You? Quiz!

And I'm not talking about the eccentric bit. I am talking about the fact that I am blue and fuzzy and have a big nose.

 
Last night, I made my ritual pilgrimage to the Half-Moon for $1 Rolling Rocks. All the usual characters made an appearance as well. The night seem to be going fine. We now have the highest score on sex trivia, as well as second place on photo hunt. I even found then stage of alcohol consumption where I suddenly become good at Galaga.

However, at 2:00 am, my luck changed. Actually that is an understatement. My luck suddenly plummeted like a skydiving hippo. A friend called me to ask for directions on how to walk to the hospital. I, being the kind and incredibly stupid friend that I am, insisted on driving her to the hospital for her supposedly broken shoulder. Now this friend is a 4'9" compulsively lying pagan. So after attempting to explain to the nurse taking her history what a pagan was, I was treated to four and a half hours of insane and untrue stories, only to discover that she had a sprain. She was promptly given a sling and some prescriptions and now I find myself here, severly sleep deprived and having work in less than an hour.

I am going to run and shower and go to work. If you're lucky, sometime tonight I will retell some of the crazy pagan's stories. Mainly because I feel the need to burden others with her insanity.

 
Two Unrelated Religious Thoughts for the Day

1. I heard a fun new name for the Eucharist today. Instead of going to communion to receive the host, why not just go sample a Jeez-It? It definitely sounds more satisfying. If only hosts came in cheese flavor.

2. A fiend's born-again christain uncle has what everyone refers to as a "rapture closet." This is essentially a pantry stocked with food and supplies to be used only during the rapture. Seeing as how he is born again, he will be saved. The supplies are for his wife and children, the heathens that they are. I wonder if they have any Jeez-Its in there?

 
Miss Cleo, the psychic-shaman woman who can't decide if she's Jamaican or Irish is really just a catholic school girl gone bad.

(link via Jerwin)

 
I've decided to reinstate the comments feature on my webpage seeing as how my traffic has increased since I took it down. Of course, I attempted to implement this change just as blogger's system went down last night, so they looked fucked up all day.

 
Am I really in school? I am having trouble believing that I am going to get actual school credit for doing a research paper on Absolutely Fabulous.

 
I'm not quite sure what to make of the birthday card I got today. My aunt and uncle sent me a birthday card that read: "Your not over the hill yet . . . but you will be by the end of the day." They do realize I'm only 22, right? Don't you think that's rushing things a bit much?

 
My parents returned from Florida today. My weekend of decadence was far from decadent. I spent most of Easter Sunday studying (I know, how glamarous). Basically, Easter was uneventful at best. It was relaxing, but it is a holiday that seems to have lost its magic, at least for me. Unlike Christmas, it is a holiday that I just can't seem to get excited about any longer.

I can remember when Easter did hold a certain appeal though. My father and uncle used to take my cousins, my brother and myself down to Scheinik Florist on St Charles Avenue every year. They used to have a huge display window and for Easter, they would lay down the astroturf and decorate for the holidays. And among the bright greens and soft pastels would be live bunnies. We would go to see the rabbits every year without fail. Something about the display captivated me. I am not sure whether it was the anticipation of Easter or the lure a live bunny seems to have on most children that had me eagerly awaiting the trip each year.

Sadly, Scheinik has since closed its doors forever. Now it sits a vacant building, on the corner of St. Charles and Washington Avenues. The big display window out front sits there lifeless, amidst a sea of urban hustle and bustle. It seems a pretty fitting metaphor for my sentiments surrounding this holiday. I guess, like the florist shop, I have gotten caught up in reality. I really need to learn to take a break from it once in a while . I need to return to that big display window and press my face up to the glass every now and again, and ignore everything going on around me.