amplified to rock
First of all, the
cam is working again. If you checked it yesterday, you probably saw a big black box where the picture should be. The free trial period on the new cam software ran out, and it took a while to register the software and get a serial number for it so it would work again. Of course, it's not on now because I'm at work, but the black box has been replaced by a picture, and I'm going to try to put the cam on a little more often in the future.
Thanks to some serious pestering from Matty, I'll be back on AIM in the near future, probably late at night this weekend. So if you've missed me for the past week when I haven't been on AIM (it has, indeed, been a whole week as of about 3 PM today), you can catch me on at some point this weekend.
Even though I'm not exactly regular when it comes to updating my online journal, I'm happy that JournalCon 2001 will be taking place in Chicago. I'm hoping to participate in the social events planning part. I don't know that I care about such things as round table and panel discussions about the "art of online journalling," but I think it would be fun to hang out, socialize, and drink with some fellow online journal keepers.
I'm hoping to get together with Krystyn at some point this weekend. We have some...big plans. A few people know exactly what I'm talking about...the rest of you will know soon enough. Hopefully our schedules will work out and everything will happen as planned.
Oh, and Dan? Ruby is a fine name for your iMac, don't get me wrong. The simplicity is just lovely.
Go on. You imagine Brent on a
crotch rocket. Pretty funny, isn't it?
There's actually some clever turns of phrase in that review, and I'm not just saying that to be a smart-ass. (I'm thinking of the "loquacious point-avoiding" statement here, he nails his own style on the head better than most of his critics have.) I have a complaint with the term "nipple-red," because I don't think I've ever seen RED nipples before in my life. Nipple pink, yeah. Nipple beige, okay. But if the nipples are red, I think there's something seriously wrong with them. Maybe he just wanted to use the word "nipple" in a review, and for that, I can't say that I blame him.
There's a food critic who appears on one of the news shows in Chicago who rates restaurants in terms of "bread and circuses." For "bread," I'll give Brent's review a 1.8--I can't say that I learned all that much about V-Twin or their album. But for circuses, I'll give it a 6.25. It was no Kid A review, I can't see parts of it becoming part of my semi-regular vocabulary like that "wizard's cap" bit, but yeah, I was amused. I'll be looking for Brent on his "nipple red" crotch rocket next time I drive up the Dan Ryan Expressway. Chances are, he'll be going 90 miles per hour and not wearing a helmet.
Oh, and if I had managed to get knocked up during the first week of Amplified's existence, I'd be giving birth right about now. It's been a rockin' 9 months.
(Actually, there's a few days left before the official 9-month anniversary of Amplified, but still...it doesn't always take *exactly* 9 months, you know.)
Today's the big day: I'm getting my hair cut and colored. Well, I guess it's not a *big* day, per se, as I get my hair cut and colored about once every six weeks. But I'm changing hair colors again. The people have spoken, and I'm getting my hair colored a lovely shade of burgundy-purple. I'm also going to go for a slightly different style today. Nothing elaborate, because I can't do much with my hair other than wash it and comb it. Sometimes I can use a little hair gel or styling creme, but that's about the extent of my hairstyling skills.
I am happy to hear that Scott and Tim are okay. I emailed them last night because they live in/near Seattle, and I saw the news report about that huge earthquake last night. I worry about people, even people who I don't really know aside from the fact that I read their weblogs.
I just caught the tail end of the new Outkast video on M2, and it doesn't feature animals doing human-like things like the video for "Ms. Jackson," but it still looks damn good. I'm sure they'll be playing it a gazillion times so I'll catch it again soon. (Oh, and Colin? Did you borrow my Outkast CD? It's been missing since I last went to Decatur, and you're the only person I can think of who might want to borrow it.) Now the video for "Porcelain" by Moby is playing. It's odd how I associate this song with commercials instead of with Moby. It's been used to advertise something, I know that, but I can't remember what, so I just associate it with advertising in general. Oh, shoot me now, it's that fucking Mudvayne video again. "We untalented assholes! We wear masks, play bad Limp Bizkit-inspired rock! We probably ugly, that why we wear masks!"
I like M2 way too much for my own good.
Nanette
February 2001
[Give Me Two Weeks and I'll Be Over It/Amplified to Rock]
Rating: 8.6
A good month, it was. Of course, it started out fairly badly, what with that mid-level romantic setback and all. But it got better. Markedly better.
So yeah. I started the month feeling kind of crappy. And what better way to make myself feel less crappy than by putting my profile up on the World's Greatest Indie Rock Meat Market and fielding heaps of unsolicited IMs from boys who thought my photo was cute? Attention heals all wounds. Keep that in mind.
This was a month where I experienced that fantastic joy that is drama caused by ex-boyfriends. Ray got all worked up because I kissed someone while we were still involved. And the other drama? Too stupid to merit mention. (I suppose my saying that is going to inspire yet another "Nanette is such a vile and awful person and I hate her" screed, but oh well. Nobody can be universally beloved. Someday maybe he can write an unauthorized tell-all biography of me, since he seems to know so damn much about me.)
February 2001 will be remembered as "the month in which I dated casually." I went out on dates with three different people. One of them resulted in repeated dates. Not of this kind, mind you, but they've been fun nonetheless. It will also be remembered as "the month when I drank gin," "the month when I dyed my hair scarlet," "the month where I cleaned my lovely car," and "the month in which I judged two contests, including one that had been waiting several months to be judged." I managed to pass Valentine's Day without being whiny and self-pitying! I was trying to set an example for everyone else who didn't have a significant other on February 14. I don't think it worked, but it was a valiant effort.
For a short month, it sure was eventful. I managed to pack a lot in to the last 28 days. Not bad.
Just a shout-out to my brother, whose video production "Broke-Ass Cooking" was nominated for a Phoenix Award (his school's version of the Emmys). "Broke-Ass Cooking" is funny, and it's really well-done, even though
Brian steals the damn show from me with his eating off the floor antics and his "I used to work for a pizza place" jokes.
I remember reading
Bust's
Rules For Boys way back when it first came out in the print version. It was 1996 or 1997 (or possibly as early as 1995) and I was at my friend Ken's house, sitting on the floor. I ended up reading a bunch of them out loud to him because they were so damn funny. My favorites:
Don't call me if you haven't gotten over your last girlfriend/boyfriend/mother.
Don't use the I'm-not-ready-for-a-relationship excuse. I'll think you're trying to get rid of me by relying on stale, uninspired stock-phrases. Talk it through, honestly.
Don't be afraid of falling in like with me just because I live in a different city. Long-distance romances have their advantages. Sure, it is hard to base your feelings on phone calls but look at all the fun parts of a long-distance romance: we don't have to get married, we don't have to see each other all the time, it allows complete exploitation of one's own sexual freedom and don't forget the keyword in romance: anticipation.
Don't call me a jealous freak and then act all jealous when you see me cracking up with other boyz.
Don't tell me in an exasperated tone that you have told her over and over again never to call. Here's a thought: if you hang up, she won't call back.
Don't tell me I'm cute when I am trying to be sexy. Pay attention.
...and, of course, the infamous:
Don't tell me to go down on you first if you are planning to absolutely not go down on me.
Later tonight, February in review (a la January in review). I want to make sure nothing disastrous happens on my way home. I'd hate to give the month a high score only to die in a fiery car crash on my way home from work.
A job involving sitting around doing nothing sounds like a good thing. I can read books, I can look at weblogs, I can chat on AIM or Yahoo Messenger. (I'm on Day 5 of my "no AIM" thing right now, I'm going to see how long I can go. I'm planning on at least a week.) I can write. I can do my homework.
I assure you, it's no fun. None whatsoever. All I think about is how nice it would be to not be here. Don't get me wrong, I like this job, I like this place. I'd love to be doing some work, though.
I have four appointments this evening, but the way things go around here, at least two of them won't bother showing up or cancelling. Sort of like the way my 1 PM appointment has gone. Another no-show, without a call to cancel. Bleh.
Dan Keehn, he of the 1000-character words over at everyone's favorite weblog, and I have something in common. We both update our weblogs on a ruby iMac. His is simply named "Ruby," while mine is "Surfer Rosa." Dorky coincidences like that make me smile. Also...I haven't started Infinite Jest yet, mainly because I'm under a pile of Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, and Charlotte and Anne Bronte and probably will be for the next ten weeks or so. I hate it when school gets in the way of my pleasure reading...
This summer should be better, though. Since I'm renewing my assistantship, I have to take nine credit hours. I only have three credit hours left after this semester in order to complete my degree, so I'm taking two classes just for fun. I've already decided to take Japanese, and my second choice will likely be a math class of some sort. Why math? Because I have this stupid math anxiety that is completely unfounded. I got As in high school math, I don't know why I think I'm bad at it. So I asked Ray (my favorite math major) whether he thought I should take finite math or calculus. He recommended finite math. I think calculus is way more glamorous and sexy (long story) so I may just go with the calculus and see what I can do with it. I'm taking it pass-fail anyhow, and it's not going to be a big deal if I don't whoop ass. Besides, working here in Student Development gives me easy access to our wonderful math tutors, plus, I am currently dating another one of those "math people."
So I'll probably be reading Infinite Jest this summer, in between studying calculus, learning Japanese, writing my thesis on the treatment of the governess in Victorian society as seen through the novels of Charlotte and Anne Bronte, and packing my shit up to head down to Champaign.
Time for me to go to class. I hope we get our midterms back today...
Straight outta the ACS lab, with its greasy finger-smeared monitors...why do people feel the need to wipe their greasy-ass fingers on the monitors in this lab? It's gross.
Anyhow, the shitting geese are back again. I'm pretty sure I've talked about the shitting geese before at some point, but I can't find it, so I'll tell the story again.
There's this enormous population of big-ass Canadian geese that live around here periodically, and they've just come back after being gone all winter. These geese are so large that they have no predators that I can think of, so they reproduce like crazy. They're nasty little fuckers, they make a lot of loud noise, they walk really slowly in front of moving vehicles, and their poop is the size of a small dog's. Except that small dogs don't fly and they also don't travel in flocks. The geese used to flock to the wetlands behind my former place of employment, and I'd often see them walking around the side of the building, pooping all over the sidewalk and honking like crazy.
Today I saw seven of them standing under a tree near the entrance to the main building. They were so still they looked like lawn ornaments, but everyone was avoiding them. They're obnoxious birds, they hiss and chase and peck at you if you get too close. (No, I don't know this from experience, but I've heard goose horror stories.)
I hate the fucking things.
Interesting content in other blogs, plus some recent discoveries:
Josh of Josh Blog is doing an extensive, song-by-song review of The Magnetic Fields' 69 Love Songs. He's a little over halfway through right now, and he makes quite a few interesting points. I feel like I should read what he says and then listen to the songs again.
Ally of Bitchcakes talks about the most recent edition of Am I Cool or Not and makes some interesting (and very true) points.
Interruption: GUESS WHOSE ASSISTANTSHIP HAS JUST BEEN RENEWED FOR THE SPRING/SUMMER TRIMESTER? Rawk.
Panaphobic Superhero is new, and it's a team blog from the heart of Bloomington-Normal (I picked this up from the references to David Foster Wallace and Veterans Parkway). It's somewhat similar to Champainful--there's a lot of in-jokes that outsiders just won't get--but there's also some really amusing stuff there. And if I didn't have to work until 8 on Wednesday, I'd probably go to that Death Cab for Cutie show at the Fireside Bowl. Unfortunately, Wednesday is my long day, and by the end of the day I just feel like going to sleep.
Pants! is the newest endeavor of Jody, er, Viv Skizziks, the guy who does the oft-raunchy and immature Dodongo Dislikes Smoke. It's a comic strip. It's crude. I mean, really, really crude. But it still makes me laugh. It touches that part of me that is endlessly amused by dick and fart jokes. This is probably not stuff you want to check out at work, so keep that in mind--it would be kind of hard to explain it to your boss.
I've run into Sarah a couple of times over the years. I read one of her online journals, Eleven High, regularly. She went offline for a little while, and then started a new journal, which I found one day when I was boredly looking through The Diary Registry. Then she quit that journal as well, and (so I thought) disappeared from the Internet for good. Well, it turns out she bought her own domain, and she joined the Indieblogs ring, and I went to her site to check for the code and realized that it was indeed the same Sarah.
Every so often, I stumble across Whatever, Whenever, and I always end up going on the equivalent of a binge--sitting around and reading piles of Jami's stuff. I don't know why I do this, her site is good enough (and updated often enough) that I could probably check it every other day and read one or two new things. But bingeing just feels right in this case. The condom piece really stands out this time, but you can click on anything and it's good.
It's finally quieted down a little in here, I'm going to try to read some Hemingway.
I know, everyone's tired of winter, and my complaining isn't anything new. But still...
Hellsbelle is right. Spring can get here soon. Like tomorrow. I was doing my normal weird-obsessive zoning out and watching
The Weather Channel earlier today, and I noticed that it's going to be cold all freakin' week. At least most of the nasty, dirty snow has melted. There was a persistent clump of it right in front of my parking spot, and I was really tempted to go out there with the ice chopper and chop it up so it would melt faster.
So I'm at work, and I actually have a couple of appointments today. One of them is with a student who I've worked with several times, and I always enjoy working with her. When I'm not helping people today, I'm going to make an attempt to read a bunch of A Farewell to Arms so I can get ahead with my reading. You hear that, world? I'm trying to GET AHEAD with my schoolwork. Don't be too shocked...
I've decided to try to be more conscientious about school. I'm pretty much the epitome of a slacker when it comes to schoolwork...I tend to ignore it, put it off until the last minute, and then put the least possible amount of effort into it. I'm very easily distracted, and I tend to be very excited at the beginning of a project and then lose my enthusiasm rapidly. I've been making attempts (and it's been working!) to stay off AIM and to shut down the computer and to not spend hours looking at the same websites to see if they've been updated. I haven't been on AIM since Friday afternoon, and I think that may be some sort of record for me. I think I'm going to try to stay off for a few more days, to try to get stuff done instead of chatting all the freakin' time.
I spent an hour volunteering in the library today. I'm learning some basic cataloguing stuff, working mostly with government documents on microfilm. There's three reasons for the volunteer work: first, I want to get as much experience as possible before I go away to library school. This will hopefully help me get a good assistantship. Second, I have a ton of spare time, and I might as well do something useful with it. And most importantly...I want to make sure that this is really what I want to do with my life. I'd like for this to be my last "drastic career change." I know, there's that oft-quoted statistic about how people change careers two or three times in their lifetime. Funny how I never bought that until now.
My 4 PM appointment should be here any minute...
Weekend Update:
Well, it was a big weekend full of fun and excitement. Friday, of course, was the gin-soaked mayhem that was Dan's goodbye party. I had a bottle of Tanqueray and a 2-liter of Strawberry Crush and a cute date and it was all good. I got drunk enough that there are a couple of nice-sized blank spots in my memories of the evening, but I'm told that I didn't do anything too ridiculous, so I guess that's fine. I also got drunk enough that my inhibitions were reduced enough that I managed to shove my way into the bathroom to kiss aforementioned cute date, who seemed to be taking his sweet time in getting around to making such a move. That's not a criticism, but when I want kissing action, I want it NOW. Hah! I don't know why I shoved myself into the bathroom when the hallway probably would have done just as well, but it seemed like the right thing to do.
The score:
Parties given by Dan that I have attended: 2.
Parties given by Dan that I have attended where I kissed the boy I was with for the first time: 2.
Why oh why oh why does he have to move?
Anyhow. Saturday was spent recovering. I slept on Matty's couch on Friday night, if you can call what I did sleeping. My date left at 6 AM after exclaiming "It's six in the morning!" I really should use his name, you know, make this legitimate, but he's not a fellow web person so it feels kind of weird dragging his life into the public eye. I woke up around 11ish, right after Matty left for band practice, I got dressed, went across the street to Chipotle and got a burrito, and drove home, thankfully sans hangover, but with a really bad "I haven't had any caffeine in hours" headache.
The rest of Saturday was calm and peaceful. I watched Bring It On, which was awesome. It ruled. I need to watch it again. I also watched Jesus' Son, which was good as well. The high points, of course, were the parts featuring my beloved Jack Black. I don't know what it is about Jack Black, but I like him. A lot. It's odd because I'm normally attracted to men who could be classified as "skinny bitches," and JB is no skinny bitch. But that's all beside the point.
Tonight the date from Friday (all right, his name is Tim, I think I told you that already) and I went to the Green Mill for the poetry slam. He helped me fill in some of the blanks from Friday night because he was way less drunk than I was and therefore had a better memory than I did. (For the record, Burki and Wessel threw a mop and a dishpan into the neighbors' yard after the neighbors yelled at them for playing wiffle ball in the backyard at 2 AM.) He assured me that I did not make an asshole of myself. And as long as he thought that I didn't make an asshole of myself, it's all okay. I had a good time yet again. He is not only fun, he also LIVES IN CHICAGO. Do you hear that, world? HEAR THAT?
I am dating a boy who lives in Chicago.
That's a sure sign of the apocalypse, everyone, so please be ready for the end of the world.
And guess what? Oh, this is so exciting...next Friday night, I am going to go to his apartment and we are going to RENT A MOVIE and GET SOME DINNER and sit on the couch and watch a movie! He asked me what I wanted to do and I said that I wanted to do normal stuff! Like normal people who are dating! My quest for normalcy has been fulfilled! Well, as far as my lovelife goes, my quest for normalcy has been fulfilled. The rest of my life, well...I don't know about that.
Smart-assery aside, this is all very cool. He's nice, he's normal, he's local, he likes me, he doesn't have a personal webpage where he can bitch about how awful I am after we break up* over something as petty and ridiculous as, I don't know, whatever. At least he can't break up with me over the distance or because he has a psychotic ex-girlfriend who is stalking him from afar. I am so liking this.
---
*Let this stand as my warning to all personal webpage keepers who enter romantic entanglements with other personal webpage keepers. Always, always, ALWAYS make sure that, at the beginning of the relationship when everything is wonderful and rosy and peachy-keen, ALWAYS make the promise to each other that you won't air your dirty laundry on your pages when everything goes sour. It will save you so many hassles. I've been involved with three people who keep personal webpages. With two of them, we had this little promise, and it's really been a good thing. I don't snipe at them, they don't snipe at me, none of us have to worry. I absolutely trust both of them to be men of their word and not to go back on this promise that we made. (Okay, so we've taken a few oblique, veiled shots at each other, usually right after the breakup, but it's never anything horrible and gory and hurtful. Sometimes you can't help it.) With the other, well, we take potshots at each other on a regular basis. Actually, I've quit, but he has a propensity for dragging shit out. I kick myself for not having made the promise with him, for not having the foresight to know that things wouldn't always be all hearts and flowers. I don't make my disgust public, but I do sometimes flip off the monitor when he's written something particularly annoying.
