While cleaning out my room this summer I came across my sticker collection. I used to collect stickers like crazy. So I had a lot of stickers in this box I found. But I never stuck them on anything and I felt they were being wasted. In a moment of sheer genius I had the idea of putting said stickers all over my car. Afraid I wasn’t considering all potential consequences of putting stickers on my car, I decided to tell my mother of my plan. Of course she says to me “don’t you DARE put stickers on your car.” Well, of course now I wanted to put the stickers on even more. But, I was still feeling that there was a potential consequence being over-looked. So I told her that I would listen to reason if she had a good argument as to why I shouldn’t put stickers on my car. To this serious request for insight she responds “because that's not what stickers are for.”
And so has begun the process of stickering my car. The process is nowhere near complete. What scares me is that I started stickering about three weeks ago and it has not rained at all since I started stickering. So I’m on the edge of my seat wondering what will happen when the inevitable day comes. In the meanwhile it’s great watching peoples reactions to my car as I drive around. I’ve been getting some smiles, some thumbs up, and some other friendly glances. Glad I can provide amusement. However, I guess I can no longer use Lucille as a getaway vehicle. After that car! It’s the one with the stickers! I can’t hide. I guess there IS a consequence…
Monday, April 4, 2011
Diner Regulars
After spending the entire day yesterday alone in my empty apartment trying to be productive while having nothing in my life actually needing to get done, around 8.30 I decided it was time to venture out into the world.
I brought my camera along, but shortly after leaving my apartment realized there is barely anything photo-worthy in State College. That's when I decided I really wanted ice cream and so off to Rita's I went. Well, of course Rita's is closed for the season (the one time I'm in the mood for Rita's) so I headed to The Diner.
I walked into The Diner and there was a group of people sitting at the counter where I was hoping to sit. Luckily there was another empty counter. One of the people sitting at the first counter was a waitress and she asked if I wanted a booth and I told her I'd just sit at the counter by myself. She said "Sit with us! We're friendly people." So I sat with them.
First, they gave me free cookies from Insomnia Cookies. Then, I got more free cookies in my ice cream sundae. Then I got free hot chocolate. I kind of recognized one of the waitresses from about a year ago when I was in The Diner. I wanted to mention this but was unsure how to bring it up without sounding like a stalker. So, I said "Hey, weren't you in Barcelona?" (We conversed about this the last time we were in The Diner you see). But of course, this sounded creepy. However once I explained that I seriously wasn't a creeper this became a conversation.
Turns out, there are State College Diner regulars. They are all very nice. One of them gave me 5 cents in military money (which looks like a pog).
Anyway, moral of the story is: sometimes when you're lonely, you should go to your local diner and hang out with the diner regulars and they will be your friend.
I brought my camera along, but shortly after leaving my apartment realized there is barely anything photo-worthy in State College. That's when I decided I really wanted ice cream and so off to Rita's I went. Well, of course Rita's is closed for the season (the one time I'm in the mood for Rita's) so I headed to The Diner.
I walked into The Diner and there was a group of people sitting at the counter where I was hoping to sit. Luckily there was another empty counter. One of the people sitting at the first counter was a waitress and she asked if I wanted a booth and I told her I'd just sit at the counter by myself. She said "Sit with us! We're friendly people." So I sat with them.
First, they gave me free cookies from Insomnia Cookies. Then, I got more free cookies in my ice cream sundae. Then I got free hot chocolate. I kind of recognized one of the waitresses from about a year ago when I was in The Diner. I wanted to mention this but was unsure how to bring it up without sounding like a stalker. So, I said "Hey, weren't you in Barcelona?" (We conversed about this the last time we were in The Diner you see). But of course, this sounded creepy. However once I explained that I seriously wasn't a creeper this became a conversation.
Turns out, there are State College Diner regulars. They are all very nice. One of them gave me 5 cents in military money (which looks like a pog).
Anyway, moral of the story is: sometimes when you're lonely, you should go to your local diner and hang out with the diner regulars and they will be your friend.
And...Dead
Picture this: you're playing a game of Assassins. You plan to attack and kill your target on a Saturday night because let's face it, you have nothing better to do. So you wait in the trash chute room right next to his apartment in his apartment building...for three hours. It's 2am, he's still not home. So you give up. You leave and just as you get back home you get a text from your informant telling you that your target is on his way home. You run like the wind back to your hiding place. He comes walking down the hall and you can't wait any longer so you jump out and awkwardly kill him with the Nerf gun.
So now you feel proud of yourself. You've got your first target, you're better than people that just died right away. Now you have to get your next target. You're invincible now, you have confidence. You're in this to win this.
A few nights later around 2am you get a suspicious text from someone who is a mere acquaintance inviting you to the bar. You're no fool, you know it's your assassin, so you hide away in your apartment. But you're scared because now you know your assassin is serious, and tricky.
So now you start to get paranoid. You're place of work is only right across the street from where you live, yet you fear leaving your apartment. You're become agoraphobic, and for good reason.
A few days go by and you have to leave work, get into your friends car parked across the street, and run some errands. However, you've been informed that your assassin is in your apartment complex, stalking you. So you tell your friend to pick you up at work, thinking you can't possibly be harmed walking a mere 3 feet. Wrong. As you leave, and you run into your friends van and close the door, without any time to lock the door the door is being slid open. It's your assassin. You try to hold the door closed while screaming at the top of your lungs "DRIVE!! DRIVE GODDAMMIT!!" but alas, the driver does nothing, you are weak and thus your assassin opens the door and manages to kill you. You're dead.
The worst part of it all is as it turns out, your death was an elaborate plot carried out by one of your best friends who says the destruction of the paranoia eating away at your soul was more than he could bare to watch. So he decided to help end it all.
So now you feel proud of yourself. You've got your first target, you're better than people that just died right away. Now you have to get your next target. You're invincible now, you have confidence. You're in this to win this.
A few nights later around 2am you get a suspicious text from someone who is a mere acquaintance inviting you to the bar. You're no fool, you know it's your assassin, so you hide away in your apartment. But you're scared because now you know your assassin is serious, and tricky.
So now you start to get paranoid. You're place of work is only right across the street from where you live, yet you fear leaving your apartment. You're become agoraphobic, and for good reason.
A few days go by and you have to leave work, get into your friends car parked across the street, and run some errands. However, you've been informed that your assassin is in your apartment complex, stalking you. So you tell your friend to pick you up at work, thinking you can't possibly be harmed walking a mere 3 feet. Wrong. As you leave, and you run into your friends van and close the door, without any time to lock the door the door is being slid open. It's your assassin. You try to hold the door closed while screaming at the top of your lungs "DRIVE!! DRIVE GODDAMMIT!!" but alas, the driver does nothing, you are weak and thus your assassin opens the door and manages to kill you. You're dead.
The worst part of it all is as it turns out, your death was an elaborate plot carried out by one of your best friends who says the destruction of the paranoia eating away at your soul was more than he could bare to watch. So he decided to help end it all.
Ring My Bell
Until this morning, I never thought I wanted to get married. This was for many reasons, a few being that 1) I'm not religious and 2) so many marriages end in divorce and I think its almost more romantic to be in a committed long term relationship, that way you always know that you and the other person are in the relationship because you want to be, not because of money, paperwork, etc...
All that changed this morning when I tried on the wedding dress that my roommate brought home. I tried it on because I was just generally curious about it. And when I tried it on, I looked in the mirror and thought "wow, I so need to wear one of these for an entire day."
So that's what I'm doing right now. Sitting here, browsing the internet, in a wedding dress. Typing up a note on Facebook, in a wedding dress. Creating a marketing strategy for the board game, in a wedding dress. I debated going to work to get some coffee in the wedding dress and then decided that my boss would think I was crazy so I didn't.
Now I'm sitting here, in the wedding dress, debating my next move. I shouldn't leave the house because you know, people will think I'm insane. But I do have things to do today. So should I lounge around all day in a wedding dress or should I be productive? I'm going to cry when I have to take it off. Do I delay the tears or make it quick?
Update: Roommate has read this post. Taking off the dress...
All that changed this morning when I tried on the wedding dress that my roommate brought home. I tried it on because I was just generally curious about it. And when I tried it on, I looked in the mirror and thought "wow, I so need to wear one of these for an entire day."
So that's what I'm doing right now. Sitting here, browsing the internet, in a wedding dress. Typing up a note on Facebook, in a wedding dress. Creating a marketing strategy for the board game, in a wedding dress. I debated going to work to get some coffee in the wedding dress and then decided that my boss would think I was crazy so I didn't.
Now I'm sitting here, in the wedding dress, debating my next move. I shouldn't leave the house because you know, people will think I'm insane. But I do have things to do today. So should I lounge around all day in a wedding dress or should I be productive? I'm going to cry when I have to take it off. Do I delay the tears or make it quick?
Update: Roommate has read this post. Taking off the dress...
Quatro Crazy
After last Friday night, I resolved to stop mixing different types of alcohol. So I started out at Chumleys last night and I told myself I was going to pick one type of alcohol and stick to it. Like an idiot, the first drink I ordered was a Malibu rum type-concoction. So dumb. So so dumb, because you can't just order that wherever you go and it's not cheap or on special. But I had the opportunity to make a bad decision so of course I took it.
After Chums, we moseyed over to Pickles where we ordered pitchers of beer. Resolution out the window. After Pickles, more pitchers at Cafe. At Cafe we met up with some of Melissa's guy friends that I didn't know. We all got to talking and Melissa told me to tell the green sidewalk story. So I did, and mid-story one of the guys goes "Oh my God, that was you? Wow. It's an honor, I can't believe I'm meeting you." He shakes my hand. And then we decide it's imperative that we go back to their apartment to play Quarters. But first we have to buy beer...
Now here's where it gets impressive. I'm in a bottle shop. I can really only buy beer. I shouldn't be able to screw this up. The odds are more than in my favor that I'm going to buy beer and everything's going to be alright. But lets be real, according to the law of science or something I physically cannot make a good decision. So I decide that I should get Four Loco because 1) I've never had it before and 2) this automatically means it's on the bucket list.
Cut to playing Quarters with Four Loco. It's not pretty. It's a lot more Four Loco than I ever needed in my system. Needless to say things get crazy, cheese fries get involved, as does the movie Clerks 2 (apparently my suggestion although I've never expressed a sober affliction for the movie Clerks at all let ALONE Clerks 2). And by the end of the night I've vommed in their kitchen sink. I was mortified the next morning.
When telling this to Melissa the next day she comfortingly says"Eh, it's alright. Remember the party you had when someone peed in your cat litter box? That was them. Payback's a bitch."
After Chums, we moseyed over to Pickles where we ordered pitchers of beer. Resolution out the window. After Pickles, more pitchers at Cafe. At Cafe we met up with some of Melissa's guy friends that I didn't know. We all got to talking and Melissa told me to tell the green sidewalk story. So I did, and mid-story one of the guys goes "Oh my God, that was you? Wow. It's an honor, I can't believe I'm meeting you." He shakes my hand. And then we decide it's imperative that we go back to their apartment to play Quarters. But first we have to buy beer...
Now here's where it gets impressive. I'm in a bottle shop. I can really only buy beer. I shouldn't be able to screw this up. The odds are more than in my favor that I'm going to buy beer and everything's going to be alright. But lets be real, according to the law of science or something I physically cannot make a good decision. So I decide that I should get Four Loco because 1) I've never had it before and 2) this automatically means it's on the bucket list.
Cut to playing Quarters with Four Loco. It's not pretty. It's a lot more Four Loco than I ever needed in my system. Needless to say things get crazy, cheese fries get involved, as does the movie Clerks 2 (apparently my suggestion although I've never expressed a sober affliction for the movie Clerks at all let ALONE Clerks 2). And by the end of the night I've vommed in their kitchen sink. I was mortified the next morning.
When telling this to Melissa the next day she comfortingly says"Eh, it's alright. Remember the party you had when someone peed in your cat litter box? That was them. Payback's a bitch."
Wah Wah....
The other day, The Morning Zoo (a local radio station) was giving away Bon Jovi tickets at the BJC to the respondent who called in with the #1 answer to the eternal question "Which song gets terminally stuck in your head?"
The assistant manager Dan and I both agreed that Bon Jovi would be cool to see for free (but not for money.) So we tried calling in to win tickets.
Dan called in and gave what the radio people deemed the #8 answer of "You Gotta Be" by Desiree.
I decided that I would call in and give the be-all end-all response and win us some free Jovi tickets.
So I start calling in on my cell phone and continuously get a busy signal. I hang up and call back, get a busy signal, hang up, call back, and so on and so forth. This goes on for about a half and hour until, unbeknownst to me, I accidentally dial my mother's cell phone.
The phone starts ringing, and I think that I'm finally getting through to the station so I excitingly yell to Dan "Dan! OMG I'm getting through! We're gonna win!!! We're going to see Bon Jovi! It's gonna be awesooooommmeee!!!!!!!! I can't believe it! I'm finally getting through! It's ringing!!!!!"
A woman's voice answers the phone. "Hello?"
"Oh My God, is this The Morning Zoo?" I ask excitedly.
"This is your mother."
The assistant manager Dan and I both agreed that Bon Jovi would be cool to see for free (but not for money.) So we tried calling in to win tickets.
Dan called in and gave what the radio people deemed the #8 answer of "You Gotta Be" by Desiree.
I decided that I would call in and give the be-all end-all response and win us some free Jovi tickets.
So I start calling in on my cell phone and continuously get a busy signal. I hang up and call back, get a busy signal, hang up, call back, and so on and so forth. This goes on for about a half and hour until, unbeknownst to me, I accidentally dial my mother's cell phone.
The phone starts ringing, and I think that I'm finally getting through to the station so I excitingly yell to Dan "Dan! OMG I'm getting through! We're gonna win!!! We're going to see Bon Jovi! It's gonna be awesooooommmeee!!!!!!!! I can't believe it! I'm finally getting through! It's ringing!!!!!"
A woman's voice answers the phone. "Hello?"
"Oh My God, is this The Morning Zoo?" I ask excitedly.
"This is your mother."
Liz Phair
Last Thursday Jen and I embarked on a strenuous journey to the most hipster of places in Brooklyn (Williamsburg) to see Liz Phair (one of our favorite artists and one of the founders of alternative music.)
The venue was general admission standing room and I had hopes of arriving early for a premium spot on the floor, which I felt was imperative for me to have a good time because I'm short and the chances of me getting stuck standing behind a tall person (or taller person) were and are always about 95% likely.
Amazingly, considering Jen's and my track record, we arrived early. So early in fact, that we stood outside the venue and could hear Liz Phair and her crew testing the sound. But alas, it was very cold so we decided to find a bar and get a drink instead of standing in a non-existent line outdoors for an hour.
We walked around a few blocks and weren't having much luck finding a bar. I saw a sign outside of what looked like the abandoned home of Bilbo Baggins that said $3 Jagerbombs. "A Steal!" we thought. But as I said the place looked abandoned; there were no lights and all we saw were huge thick wooden doors that appeared to be locked shut. So we nearly walked by the bar. However, not wanting to abandon all hope of $3 drinks, I made an attempt to open the wooden doors of yore and alas, they were open and in we went.
This dive bar (appropriately named "The Cove") was the definition of hipster. The only lighting in the bar was the colored lights shining on the empty "stage." There was one guy sitting at the bar (whom we would find out is from NJ.) Aside from him, the bartender, Jen and I, the place was dead. Everything in the bar was made of wood and there was no wood that didn't sport the initials or names of a former bar patron.
We got some drinks and made NJ jokes with NJ guy for about an hour. NJ was a self-proclaimed beer snob so when Jen asserted that her Bud Light tasted weird, NJ offered his services. (This included the sniffing of the beer and his snobbish was of tasting the beer, all before proclaiming that Bud Light is just bad beer in general.)
Anyway, so we made our way to Liz Phair and we stood in the front row, right against the stage. The opening band was this band named "Cathy." We could see their set list because we were up against the stage. At one point, because we knew what song they were going to play next due to the set list, Jen suggested we yell out the name of their next song before they started to play it. We did, and the lead singer looked at us in shock and amazement and said "That's what we're going to play next!!" Hahaha.
Anyway, Liz Phair was Ah-mazing and we got her set list (which Jen stole from me, Don't you DARE lose that woman! Frame it!) When we went into the venue nothing was going on weather wise, but when we left there was two feet of snow. Good thing I drove. Yeah. We got stuck countless times; Brooklyn doesn't plow at night. And when they do plow, the sidewalks aren't considered. You need to walk to work? Walk with the swerving cars on the street.
The moral of the story is: hipster's do it in the snow, wannabe hipsters get stuck driving in the snow and ruin their brand new tires.
The venue was general admission standing room and I had hopes of arriving early for a premium spot on the floor, which I felt was imperative for me to have a good time because I'm short and the chances of me getting stuck standing behind a tall person (or taller person) were and are always about 95% likely.
Amazingly, considering Jen's and my track record, we arrived early. So early in fact, that we stood outside the venue and could hear Liz Phair and her crew testing the sound. But alas, it was very cold so we decided to find a bar and get a drink instead of standing in a non-existent line outdoors for an hour.
We walked around a few blocks and weren't having much luck finding a bar. I saw a sign outside of what looked like the abandoned home of Bilbo Baggins that said $3 Jagerbombs. "A Steal!" we thought. But as I said the place looked abandoned; there were no lights and all we saw were huge thick wooden doors that appeared to be locked shut. So we nearly walked by the bar. However, not wanting to abandon all hope of $3 drinks, I made an attempt to open the wooden doors of yore and alas, they were open and in we went.
This dive bar (appropriately named "The Cove") was the definition of hipster. The only lighting in the bar was the colored lights shining on the empty "stage." There was one guy sitting at the bar (whom we would find out is from NJ.) Aside from him, the bartender, Jen and I, the place was dead. Everything in the bar was made of wood and there was no wood that didn't sport the initials or names of a former bar patron.
We got some drinks and made NJ jokes with NJ guy for about an hour. NJ was a self-proclaimed beer snob so when Jen asserted that her Bud Light tasted weird, NJ offered his services. (This included the sniffing of the beer and his snobbish was of tasting the beer, all before proclaiming that Bud Light is just bad beer in general.)
Anyway, so we made our way to Liz Phair and we stood in the front row, right against the stage. The opening band was this band named "Cathy." We could see their set list because we were up against the stage. At one point, because we knew what song they were going to play next due to the set list, Jen suggested we yell out the name of their next song before they started to play it. We did, and the lead singer looked at us in shock and amazement and said "That's what we're going to play next!!" Hahaha.
Anyway, Liz Phair was Ah-mazing and we got her set list (which Jen stole from me, Don't you DARE lose that woman! Frame it!) When we went into the venue nothing was going on weather wise, but when we left there was two feet of snow. Good thing I drove. Yeah. We got stuck countless times; Brooklyn doesn't plow at night. And when they do plow, the sidewalks aren't considered. You need to walk to work? Walk with the swerving cars on the street.
The moral of the story is: hipster's do it in the snow, wannabe hipsters get stuck driving in the snow and ruin their brand new tires.
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