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(no subject)

Feb. 7th, 2007 | 11:18 pm

Foregoing a fetish cocktail party to stay home and play with writing excercises, I end up writing vocab smut. Vocab smut. I fantasize about sand and polysyllables. Clearly, I will die alone with cats. And as I hate cats, that is saying something.

In other news, I am being made to impersonate a ninja in this Saturday's ninja/pirate party. A pirate disguised as a ninja, but still. I explained that I mix with ninjas like my star char mixes with earth signs to no avail. Possibly I will strangle Zorikh.

And I am drinking Australian amontillado. Which considering my ignorance of amontillado may be either simply terrible or exactly as it's meant to be. But GAVIN and Poe are impacting my Wednesday night indulgence.

If I tell my life to get a grip, will it do it for me?

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arrr-men

Dec. 13th, 2006 | 09:24 pm

Barnes & Noble stocks the Pirates Periodical (and, yes, there is a Pirates Periodical) under Spirituality. I feel this is a Sign of Great Things to Come. This will be better than the Jedi religion in Australia.

That is all.

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award-winning question of all time

Sep. 28th, 2006 | 12:05 pm
mood: shockedastounded

*Ring!*

Me: NYU Registration. How can I help you?

Student: I haven't been going to my classes. Is that a problem?

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(no subject)

Sep. 20th, 2006 | 09:50 am

Z: Anne, we need you in fatigues for Wednesday's photo shoot. Go buy some.

Me: OK, but don't make me buy a costume for the next one.

Z: (quite taken aback) But...these are things you can wear every day.

Am amused.

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back to school

Sep. 7th, 2006 | 01:04 pm

Classes start tonight! So excited. Yay, Super Grammar!

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post-pilgrimage

Sep. 6th, 2006 | 09:58 am
mood: tiredblearly, but positive

Am back. Am alive. Trip was good. Black Rock Desert is amazingly gorgeous. I would gladly go camp there when there's no massive event going on. (Lisa, start packing.) But massive events are good, too. I would spend the mornings building a costume and the time afterwards wandering around in finery and seeing what befell. Ended up watching Fight Club, taking a pole dancing class, climbing the giant, tippy pendulum of death, cheering for the motorized muffins, riding in the topless bike parade, listening to several really good bands that never would announce their names, marching with the Brazilian drumline, helping to tear down the info booth (power tools!), setting a new lifetime record for most days without shower, dancing until the last timber of the Man fell, thinking deep thoughts as the temple burned, thinking, "My fucking gods, that's a lot of fire," as the Belgian Waffle burned, considering the possibility that performing aerial trapeze suspended from a giant mechanical venus flytrap might be the proof and culmination of a full and glorious life, and spending a lot of time out on the rim of the city with the peace and sun or the stars in a sort of semi-retreat.

Saw almost nothing of anyone I knew. Never did find Diana. Fortuitously did see Basil's fire conclave performance (yay!), but very little of Basil for purposes of hanging out. More of the other Bostonians, actually. And of random, fun new people: Fritz, the mad German painter-psychic-DJ-actor-Indian sausage vendor; Monica, The Friendliest Person in the World; Tom, the drunken bar tender of whom I inquired, "So can you not trust a sober bar tender the same way you can't trust a skinny cook?" and whom I totally heard using this line later without attribution; Michael, who gave me an excellent idea for a cocoa casino theme camp; Al, the Georgian English professor who was generally both chill and cool; and Green-Haired San Franciscan, who told me I reminded him of a hairy gay man. Granted, this last might have been because I was in fact covered in hair at the time. See, the goodness of the trip did not extend to the return journey, I ended up spending 13.5 hours in the car to accomplish a normally 2-hour drive to the airport (naturally missing my flight), and it seems hacking off mass quantities of hair is sort of becoming my stock reaction to interminible automotive incarceration. The good news is...it's in remission. Actually, the better good news is that provided I manage to some sort of rest and reduce the current level of haggardness, the hair has the potential to look more cutely Sinead-ish and less chemo-y. Further good related to the travel debacle -- 1) people at the office seem determined to believe or pretend to believe I was really sick, 2) used airport's business center to straighten out all my registration woes after NYU rescinded its promise to let me out of work for an early class (am now registered for this crazy comp lit course, Intersections of Poetics and Cultural Theory: An Intensive in Joyce and Beckett), 3) bought Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell from the airport book shop and am quite entertained so far. The bad, of course, is: 1) entire fucking day in the car, 2) entire day and night in the airport, 3) all happy peaceful refreshment of days in the desert rather eclipsed right now by grimy exhaustion of sitting in the office knowing I have lost time just when life is getting more, not less, busy. Also, other things are weird now which might be less wierd if I were just rested and un-cranky.

But I will be going back. Oh, yes. Going back and doing things right. None of this getting in late on Thursday and leaving in the mad crush of cars on Monday. Full-out, full-time, real-camp burning next year. Bwa-ha.

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(no subject)

Aug. 28th, 2006 | 11:36 am

Have totally hit a new low in office life. As loud, obnoxious tests are being run on the fire alarm system, the mysterious higher power that controls such things has cranked the air conditioning so very thigh that I am forced to linger over stuffing registration calendars into interdepartmental envelopes, drawing what warmth I can from their freshly Xeroxed pages.

Meanwhile, two people are out today in this, the Week of Forbidden Illness. I had better not hear a word about Thursday and Friday.

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(no subject)

Aug. 25th, 2006 | 09:07 am
mood: happywell

Yesterday I trekked out to campus (the 2 is my new least train) to get my student ID card and my MMR booster. And my tuition is paid as of last week. I am so official and not-able-to-be-kicked-out now. Yay! Going back to school! I'm excited for the motivation to swing my brain back into Clever Thinking Mode after its very long stint in Manic Random Firing Mode. So all is well, even if my ID photo makes me look like a chipmunk, See, that was random firing.

After the academic loose ends tie-up I headed to Jolie and Zorikh's (can I mention again how much I HATE the 2?) for a DoomMaidens photo shoot. Had fun posing with chainlink and graffiti. Need to aquire an intimidating length of chain; punk and cermonional daggers are odd together. Punks and ninjas are odd together too, but, hey, we're an eclectic posse.

You know what is not as cool as either legitimate academic standing or wrestle posse photos? Using a cell phone for an alarm clock and forgetting it's set on vibrate. I had plans for this morning, damn it.

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i seriously begin to fear leaving this city

Aug. 21st, 2006 | 09:11 am

So the family reunion in Pennslyvania could have gone better. It was great to see everyone, of course (all immediate, nuclear Maases in one place at the same time (all of two hours) for the the first time in two years!), but I have had fewer weekends more fraught. First, the train breaking down, the extensive waiting for a new engine to be attached, and the truly disheartening revelation that once we were moving again, we still had to detour around this section of track that maintenance crews had ripped up. Presumably, had we been on time in the first place, they would not have ripped up the track YET. Ended up quite late with Dad miserable about having to do station pick-up duyt after his bed time. Then there was the hotel, which was terrible but not so terrible that anyone would have cared if only Mom had felt less guilty about booking it and bemoaned and apologized less. Also we managed to get lost en route to every single place we drove. Every time. I believe there is an evil Vibe of Harrisburg at work; I got horribly lost the last time I was in the area as well. And considering that this is the bit of PA containing Intercourse and other smuttily named towns, I'm not sure whether it's more appropriate to quip, "Oh well, getting there's half the fun," or "I demand satisfaction!" One of the other towns is named Blue Ball, so perhaps the latter.

And the weekend's masterpiece of inconvenience was my forgetting my purse at the restaurant Saturday and thereby losing my money, phone, train tickets, and all forms of ID. The place closed before we realized the problem, opened after I had to catch my train back in the morning, and was located several towns over from our hotel, in the opposite direction my parents had to drive to get home. There was an elaborate plan in which I would get the train only to the Town of the Restaurant and get Lisa's locally located friend to drive me on the purse pick-up mission, but Amtrak asked for ID for the first time since ever I have dealt with them, and Mom and Dand ended up driving me. And I ended up getting the train 4 1/2 hours later than the one I had intended. I am getting downright fucking superstitious about my long distance travelling luck. I've already gotten a message from U.S. Airways saying my flight out to Nevada next week's been pushed back, and there's another message telling me to call regarding schedule changes to my return flight lurking on my phone. Am rather afraid to call.

Anyway, whining aside, the good bits of the trip: the family, Mom briinging me homemade zuchinni bread, Lisa bringing me good organinc beer, Skip loving his birthday present (but then how hard is it to please a 9-year-old with a video game?), the Hershey factory (well, Skip loved it; it was a little frightening, in my opinion), getting my photo taken with a hedgehog garden ornament so that all might exclaim over our striking resemblance, excellent Amish food in quantity, and my awesome new hat. Seriously, Amish farmers' markets turn out to be the place to acquire really quality leather cowboy hats for little money. And why would I need a black leather cowboy hat? Just because it's awesome, really.

[ETA: Scratch that. I have just discovered the Gothabilly movement on Tribe. Clearly, the hat was a foresightful purchase.]

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(no subject)

Aug. 16th, 2006 | 09:14 am

I feel like I ought to be all behind in news since my last post, but nothing really specific has been going on. Last Wednesday, the DoomMaidens met with Ed of heroinewrestling, and all agreed it would mutually beneficial to work together. It turns out the way heroinewrestling works is that every girl gets a superheroine and a supervillianess character to play, which will be developed with the company and are sometimes based on fan requests. So I shall be amassing new personas in addition to the ridiculous punk rock one. And the truly wack bit is that upon development of a character, Ed sends away to his seamstress in China for a way old-school spandex suit. The resulting aesthetic is, well, intensely spandex-y. All this is on hold, however, until after Pennsic and Burning Man.

The weekend turned out to be far more entertaining than expected as Basil called Saturday morning and decreed, "YOU ARE MEETING ME AT THE HUMANWINE CONCERT TONIGHT!" Which I could not do what with having plans to meet Courtney and Carter at the hookah bar (was first one there, bar was empty, bartender decided was good idea to hit on me, danced to Arabic pop music, now get free wine in addition to free baklava), but we all met up after the concert and proceeded to discover the most amazingly posh late-night bordello diner in the city. Hung out on Sunday, too, doing nothing in particular, and ended up at another bordello bar, less posh and possibly more haunted. Felt a trend developing, but then made next stop at a wannabe-Australian jazz bar, which might have been trying for bordello-y judging by the bead-covered seance lamp but wasn't quite sure how to do it judging by the stuffed and mounted deer's head. Always fun.

Otherwise, I've generally been planning to get tons of useful stuff done and, oh-so typically, lazing about and accomplishing a quarter of it. WILL get the damn costume done before Burning Man. WILL. And I did just reserve my airport-to-desert transportation, which turned out to be affordable for a change. That, at least, rocks.

And another thing thing I have managed to successfully, if less affordably, complete is all of my fall shopping. I was lured into a fabulous store where everything is five times more than I can afford by a "Sale" sign meaning that everything was temporarily only three times out of range. Then proceeded to my eternal shopping nemesis, Rugby, where I'd been waiting for certain things to go on sale. Found they were instead now sold out. Ended up paying more to have items shipped from the Charlottesville store. Managed to translate fall wardrobe acquisition into the purchase of four shirts. They're really fantastic shirts, though. Also a completly impractical punky skirt because of this at-the-mercy-of-the-80's thing I'm curently doing. Belatedly recalled I was going to be thrifty so that I might be able to replace disgusting apartment carpet within the month. Then recalled I have not yet cashed in my commuter's compensation at work. Crazy cushy union perks. Bwa-ha!

Have been doing a fairly good job of going to the gym lately. Am planning to skip tonight so as to brew beer and rearrange all the furniture in my room. Figure slinging about 6-gallon fermenters and structurally unsound dressers counts as a workout. Wonder what happened to the pronouns in this paragraph? Killed them. Killed them all.

Yeah, and I didn't have anything to report. Well, actually, I didn't; I just blather readily.

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