absence makes the heart go yonder

listen dan, it's been a long time since you posted anything on me (like 37 days, even) and i'm starting to wonder if you even carea about me anymore. i have feelings too, you know, and needs, and contrary to what everybody's been telling you, i'm not going to just sit around and wait for you to come back to me, extra-large hat in hand, and act like nothing ever happened. the fact is that you gave up on us, not me. and frankly, i don't want to hear excuses about finals, or holidays, or the strange virus you picked up from tramping around on new year's.

get over yourself and come back to me, because i haven't given up. and if you're man enough to admit you were wrong, i'll be blog enough to take you back. this time. everybody deserves a second chance, even a jerk like you. plus you're just too damn sexy not to have in my life. play your cards right, and maybe you can be a blogger with benefits. just promise not to fuck up anymore and treat me with a little respect, ok? i deserve it.

love (begrudgingly),
your blog

all i ask is that you stop kidding yourselves

alright, listen up morons. (smart people, you can go read a book or something) i know it's hard to wrap your gucci-obsessed reptile brains around the concept, but calories equal fat and starbucks drinks are fucking loaded with the little buggers. a venti nonfat caramel macchiato is packing something like 350, so good job sticking to your no-diet diet, suckas.

i found this in a fast food nation-inspired quiz about your favorite retail food joints (cosi, dunkin, da bux). how well did you pay attention to the previous paragraph?

4. Which grande (16 oz.) Starbucks drink has the fewest calories?

a. Frappuccino Blended Coffee with whipped cream

b. Frappuccino Blended Crème

c. Chai Tea Latte

d. Caramel Macchiato

e. Cappuccino

(answer at the bottom, i'm sure you're fairly tingly with anticipation)

on another, but equally annoying, note: starbucks customers, i'm not your damn mother. pick up after yourselves. word on the street is that you jerks are supposed to be adults.




and now, for the grand(e) reveal:

a. Frappuccino Blended Coffee with whipped cream
(420 to 550 calories)
b. Frappuccino Blended Crème
(490 to 580 calories)
c. Chai Tea Latte
(290 calories)
d. Caramel Macchiato
(310 calories)
the winner! e. Cappuccino even, if made with whole milk
(150 calories)

there, now quit bothering me (and stop talking about how "tall" is a "small". i fucking know).

nanowrimo, take five-ish

it's that magical time of year again, when my eyes are too big for my...talent, i guess. november equals national novel writing month, which for me usually equals grandiose ambitions followed by very little in the way of follow-through. the idea is to write 50,000 words in 30 days.

i've been trying since my junior year of college, and the best i ever did was 10,000 (actually 9,874--huzzah for rounding!) and that was two years ago. last year, being back in school, i was quickly distracted by things like papers and other unimportant things (thanksgiving? whatever). but not this time! no sir, i have a secret weapon this year, and it's called: cheating.

that's right. this summer, i started writing a story and got about half of a notebook into it before school started again and robbed me of my mojo/free time/will to live. so, since i still have all that other junk to do this november (trip to see cecilia, turkeyday, homework, real work, trivia night, etc.), i've decided that it's not really unethical to use a story i've already started. since i have to type it anyway, it's practically like writing it (take that, ethics!). anyway, shut up, it's my story and my month!

p.s. write your own novel! go to the website and check it out. the more the merrier!

master of mixology

no, not booze for once (though i'm pretty unstoppable with that too; see: green crush). music actually. to me, crafting mixtapes (or ipod playlists, if you're into that whole thing) is like the fine art of collage. or scrapbooking. or fanfiction. it's all about rearranging other people's hard work into kick-ass arrangements that say something about you, not those sell-outs who actually produced the stuff.

i like to make mixes that fit my attitude towards my own life. one of the downsides of this approach is that they don't always stay relevant since, well, things change. still, if the mix really works, it should come together to form a solid, delicious whole that is more than the sum of its parts (not unlike jell-o), and the timeliness issue shouldn't be a problem. that being said, some songs really (really) don't age well, and it can be hard to figure out if "jenny was a friend of mine" is still going to be rock-tacular when i'm an adult (p.s. i'm not yet).

so, if you're like me (you're probably not) and you love a good cliche (you probably don't), then you think making a mix cd/playlist/tape for your significant whatever is good old fashioned fun (and you probably already left my blog). for reals though: it's mostly personal, it takes a not-insignificant amount of time, and it can--if done properly--give her important relationship information. what info you provide, however, depends on the mix. you can tell her about yourself, your influences and tastes, what you're listening to at the moment, or what songs you want to have sex to the next time she's in town. on the other hand, you can show her that you've been paying attention every time she says she loves a song (to really step it up, find other songs by the same band, or similar bands. but oh man, stay away from covers), or that you remember what songs she played during sex the last time. or you can do themes. they're kind of cheesy, but as in most things, the line between romance and cheese is a very fine one. and it takes practice to stay on the right side of it.

caveat mixtor: you can very easily ruin a song you love by putting in a mix for a girl who dumps your cheesy ass. especially if you really dug her. shit, music is wicked evocative, that's the whole point of it, and when you go and associate it with some painful happenings, kiss it goodbye. for a while anyway. what's the getting-over-a-breakup rule? half the length of the relationship? yeah, that sounds good. don't listen to tainted music until half the length of the relationship has passed since the breakup. got it?

p.s. mixes are fun for other things too, like working out ("rump shaker," etc.) and parties ("rump shaker," etc.) and getting blazed ("the ocean," etc.)! haha, yeah right, loser. they're also awesome for a night alone with a bottle of makers' mark and singing along/dancing on the bed. not that i would know. my only playlists are titled "kicking ass" and "making it with chicks".

finally, some fucking validation

"Too cool for school: You are a certifiable indie god. You know which bands are breaking up before the rest of us simpletons have to read about it in Filter or on Pitchfork."

this just in, cnn says i kick total ass, which i guess means that my indie cred has already been sacrificed to the gaping maw of time warner-aol. nuts. maybe they'll pay me if i use my indie superpowers (goofy hair! cool t-shirts! pointless knowledge!) for the benefit of mankind. sadly, when the troglodytes at cnn are telling you you're cool, it's time to burn your closet and donate your ipod to charity (doctors without borders, not tunes!). seriously, it's worse than when your mom says it. fucking miles o'brien.

oh hell

here i've been in washington for a month now, and i can't help but feel that i have astonishingly little to show for it. not that that's anything new, mind you. i have very little to show for all of my 25(!) years on this funktified orb i call home. sometimes (not often, i admit) it's enough to actually get me down--much like spending hours complaining about the rain and then, when the sun finally decides to shine, i am forced (by my sense of responsiblity! thanks mom.) to spend 8 hours at work and 3 at class. this 9-5 stuff is for the birds.

quick aside about class, then back to whingeing:
so, i think it's pretty clear that i am young at heart. but in my wednesday night class, i am the oldest person in the room (not counting ms. marjorie "i met alexandra pelosi once...once!" kline). also, i am the only one in grad school, where i learned how to "contribute to class discussion" and "talk out of my ass about things like tim russert's eyebrows" still, despite my prodigious verbalizin' skillz, i don't know how long i can go on carrying the damn class. speak up, undergrads! i'm not even getting a grade and i'm kicking your early-twenties asses up and down the aisles in class participation. while solving the crossword. and looking mighty fine. and composing haiku in my head.

here's one:
longest summer days
in class, a waste of beer time
maybe bratwursts too

whingeing:
that actually cheered me up quite a bit. i also realized that the creative parts of my brain are working overtime (two novel ideas in a month? unprecedented!) and what really has me down is my lack of actually getting writing done.

and i was all set to complain about having nothing to blog about except the oh-so-uninteresting life of an off-the-hill intern. i have to "work on the website" this week since our legislative agenda is on hold til after the 4th recess. and nobody told me that the newsletter deadline was monday this week (dude, i had a lecture. i can't be held responsible). also the website just got hacked by a teletubby, so there goes any hope of being productive today. i didn't get a picture of the teletubby itself (it had some good news about noo noo) but a little while later, they hacked us again. this time to endorse firefox (my favorite browser!) and decry microsoft.













if the movie hackers taught me anything, it's that every wired-in misanthrope either looks like jonny lee miller or angelina jolie and they fly through the internets on virtual skateboards. also, they're probably jerks who dress like they're on acid. so, thanks, hacker, for pointing out our vulnerability. now run along, you're probably late to algebra class.