Comcast is best known for being a bunch of dicks, but look how nice this online chat analyst was to me today! And it’s not too shabby they have an online chat option. I’m not trying to spend all day on the phone with India.
Hallowhine
I love Halloween, and this is strange for a few reasons. For one, Halloween proceeds All Hallow’s Day on Nov 1st, a holy day of obligation on which I used to have to go to church when I was younger. For another, it’s the most flawless excuse of a day for people to act not only foolish but kind of destructive and disturbing. And I hate mischief when I’m not the one causing it.
What’s more, every year the holiday is, at the very least, not what I expect it to be. I don’t have plans this year because it seems that no matter what I decide I’m going to do, it always turns out wrong. This weekend I’m going to let fun find me (note: i’ll give nips as treats if you come hang out with me!) but right now, I thought it’d be fun to look back on some past Halloween fails.
1992 - I put together an adorable ballerina costume only to have it covered up by a bulky winter coat when it inexplicably blizzards on October 31st.
1993 - My Jasmine outfit (silky pj’s and pointy slippers) is outshone by all the other commercial Jasmine costumes that have fake exposed midriffs. My so-called kindergarten “Best Friend” actually makes fun of me. I cry.
1996 - My mother doesn’t know how to apply eyeliner or wigs, so me as Cleopatra turns out looking more like me as a transvestite. Meanwhile, my little brother and sister win a neighborhood costume contest, dressed as Harry Potter and Marilyn Monroe, respectively. I just stand by and watch.
1997 - My mom borrows a friend’s daughter’s old costume ( :[ ) so I can trick or treat as an Indian princess at the hospital where she works. I’m in 4th grade by this time, so I’m old enough to be mortified.
1998 - I go as a hippie, and an elderly neighbor refers to me as an Indian princess.
2001 - I don’t think I trick-or-treated this year, but the highlight is my 6th grade sister taking way-too-sexy pictures of her dressed as a witch in our living room. I guess she didn’t realize that if she took them on the family camera the whole family would see them once they were developed.
2006 - I’m a pirate. An elderly woman in Beacon Hill refers to me as a “sexy lady.” Please. Listen, grandma, if that’s a costume I wear it every day.
2007 - The night before Halloween, my suite receives one of the biggest alcohol violations Emerson College has ever seen. We aren’t really in such a party mood that night. Don’t get me wrong, we still get wasted (me as a Greek goddess).
2008 - I’m working at a flower shop at this point, so I spend my workday crafting a beautiful crown of flowers to wear as part of my fairy costume. The costume is great; unfortunately, my friend getting his teeth knocked out at a party in Allston is not.
2009 - Can-can dancer. Which I suppose was just an excuse to wear fishnets and way too much makeup. If not Halloween, when? (…never. The answer should have been never.)
With a track record like this, I sort of don’t even want to know what this year will bring. If my life were a reality show, this would be the cue for the “next time on…” to pop up with clips of outrageous happenings. But you know what? If by some chance I happen to be coherent this All Hallow’s Eve, I’ll get some of it on video. Film does way more justice than an unemployed writing major’s words.
The fragrance store I work at hosts bachelorette parties sometimes, and while I’d prefer penis straws and male strippers to custom blending perfume before I get married, I guess it’s a pretty nice idea anyway. In the back of the store, I found this remnant of one such party.
It’s a novelty napkin, created specifically for bachelorette parties, and it is festively printed with a cocktail and the words “Last Night Out.” Which is about the most depressing thing I’ve ever seen in my whole entire life (and remember I grew up with a sister who couldn’t differentiate ‘p’ and ‘b’ and would write ‘but’ as ‘put’ on a consistent basis).
Last Night Out? It sounds like the title of a buddy comedy that takes place the eve before someone is to be executed. There isn’t anything else they could mean by printing this besides the fact once married, women are only homebodies. Homebodies who, apparently, never see alcohol once they tie the knot. This thing looks like it was thought up in the 1850s by someone with a very forward-thinking eye for design (how did they know black and pink would be the sexiest of colors in a couple hundred years?)
While the napkin in itself is sad, let’s not forget that this lady’s big Last Night Out was spent blending fragrances and sipping chardonnay. Classy, to be sure, but if this woman really believes this to be her final opportunity to hang out all wastey with her friends, shouldn’t she be somewhere else? Somewhere along the lines of 20% less classy than Gypsy Bar, for example. Somewhere, dare I say, where they don’t even use napkins.
When it comes time for a bachelorette party to be thrown for me (future maid of honor, take note), I want a gigantic banner that reads “TAMEST NIGHT I’LL HAVE IN THE NEXT 10 YEARS, BECAUSE MY HUSBAND AND I ARE SWINGERS/ALCOHOLICS/GONNA RIP SHIT UP.”
of mice and minges
Jessie and I have a brand new third roommate as of Sunday. His name is John Jacob and he’s a real pain in my ass already, for no other real reason except he’s a mouse, and rodents aren’t my favorite. Also he tried to eat my popcorn, and I was like, I’m pretty sure I labeled that with my name, you dick. Just watch, he probably won’t put the seat down either.
Today I was talking to my sister on the phone.
Claire: What’s new with you?
Me: Well -
Claire: Guess what I’m going as for Halloween?
Me: …what.
Claire: My whole sorority is going as solo cups. There’s 12 of us.
Me: Hmm. Now I can guess how a normal person would make that costume, but how are you guys going to make it really slutty?
Claire: Right? We were worried about that too. We bought tiny red tube dresses and glued white felt to the top, and spray painted SOLO down the sides. And they look amazing.
Me: Yep. That’ll do it.
I look forward to early November, when I can begin work on my parents’ Christmas present: side by side framed photos of their two daughters - Claire as a slutty jungle juice holder, and me wearing a white sheet over my head with eye holes cut out.
Cleaning House
I spent the better part of today trying to rearrange the furniture in my bedroom. Mostly because I didn’t have anything else to do, but also because I’m so sure there’s somehow I could make my space so it will better lend itself to my daily productivity and sanity. After four hours and countless scraping damage done to my floor, I still haven’t found it. What I need is a team of those men and ladies from all of HGTV and TLC to come and figure this out for me, using a budget of no more than $30. It sounds tricky, but it’s their damn job, and so I’d like to speak to someone about requesting this.
Also tricky (and by tricky I mean just foolish) is the fact that I continue to think home decor is truly responsible for my lack of energy and consistently cluttered brain. I would use my time to think up ways I can achieve immediate riches and fame, but it’s so hard when all I can consider is how much easier it would be if I had a desk (preferably from Pottery Barn) on which to do all this brainstorming.
The view from the afternoon.
Stuff Pittsburghers Like →
I may have mentioned it before, but here’s the official link to Stuff Pittsburghers Like. Created by a high school classmate of mine, this take on Stuff White People Like is not only hilarious, but spot on. I direct all of my friends who haven’t been to Pgh to this site, because it contains basically everything you’ll ever need to know about my hometown (i.e. mullets and sandwiches with fries). Check it aht.
I post this not only for those who have yet to experience its terrificness (you go Minogue), but also because my next project is an epic lip sync to this very song. Expect the video out within the next few days (depending on when Timbaland has the most free time).
1,000 Ways To Die
No, it’s not an emo post! Just watching Spike TV and enjoying some memories: once, on a first date, I watched two hours of this disturbing show, trying not to puke up my lobster and mussels. Bizarre? Yes. But as they say, “it got me here…” didn’t it.
