so there’s a co-worker of mine at the restaurant who’s extremely good looking and unfathomably stupid. you want an example? oh, all right. since you asked. the other day (actually yesterday, yay obama!), we had no bussiness in the morning since everyone and their second cousin (except the poor workers they roped into the morning shift) were down on the mall to see the swearing in. so our boss, Beaver (yes, he goes by this..and if you reference the fact that his alter ego is a slang term for a poonani, he will eat your face), asks this guy, stuart, to dust the lamps. so he goes flitting around with an incredibly feminine feather duster, cleaning the lamps that everyone else is too short to reach. here’s how the following conversation with my other, much more tuned in co-workers and stuart unfolds: Sam: you look like Stuart Poppins! Shannon: haha, Stuart, you look so domestic Stuart: (pause) (puzzled look) (eyebrow raise) What does domestic mean? Sam: …………. Shannon: ………… Donna: (runs to the kitchen where we hear her hooting audibly with laughter) This is all so unfortunate. He’s pretty. He’s tall. He’s built. Yet, so, so very thick. Sigh. The person it disappoints the most is Shannon, who consequently has a crush on him. Well, not him. His rockin’ bod and muted Brad Pitt face. However, after this conversation, Shannon likens Stuart’s neurons to two football players crashing into each other and deflecting. We think she’s onto something. I also realize that I’ve used a lot of parentheses in this entry. if (you) have a (problem) with that, you can (suck) it. xoxo.
so kait inspired me to do this..we all walk around with such heavy shit on our shoulders, it’s nice to just list the things that make you happy. so here goes.
summer thunderstorms, hot shirtless men running wearing just long enough shorts, the sound of heels on marble, backwards hugs, (tripple?) orgasms, secrets, Hook, big sweatshirts, crushes, neck nuzzles, english/australian accents, surprise kisses, the smell of a camp fire, Conan O’Brien, listening to Ella Fitzgerald in a warm bath, getting on the metro during rush hour when all of the cute professionals are coming home from work, trying and failing to count the stars, watching the ocean at night in someone’s arms, 9:42 pm, singing homeless man, (live) heath ledger, my sister, hearing someone’s heart beat beneath their formalwear.
There’s a subtle backbeat to the underbelly of the city. There’s a hissing and pulling, a swooshing and glimmering. A metallic operetta that flinches, grimaces and beams as it glides its way forward. It is uneven, unprecedented and uniform. It is fleeting, ceaseless and everlasting. It does not ask questions; it is there to serve. Do shy away from this everyday phenomenon, for this is the magic of the Metro.
I just read the link Kris posted about 25 reasons “gamers” hate non-videogame players. And I mean, I can certainly see how a lot of those things would be really annoying if I was a “gamer” (I will someday not put that in quotes), but the majority of these things just seemed really hypocritical. Like the first half seemed to be all whiny like “don’t judge us!” but then the second half was “don’t do this/we hate this” whatever. But I may have had a bias, as I hate videogames. And that may have something to do with my history with videogames.
KAIT’S HISTORY WITH VIDEOGAMES
(1986-2004) I never own any kind of videogame player-thing, and only play (totally AWESOME) games on my friend Casey’s Sega when I get the chance. These are awesome games like Bubble Bobble and some kind of game where you have to maneuver a spaceship around and old school hockey. They are awesome, however, I still like reading better.
The socially inept boys I hung out with are playing MarioKart. And that’s all they’re doing.
Kait: (drives off of rainbow bridge, cannot maneuver control, gives up and sits on Tom’s bed and reads the illustrated bible stories for children he inexplicably has by his bed for the rest of the night.)
Fall 2004-Fall 2006
For the most part, I only hang out with girls, and I get to avoid the videogame conundrum.
I ask my then-boyfriend Paul what a “boss” is, and he calls his best friend Alex and is like, “GUESS WHAT KAITLIN JUST SAID!”
Me and Paul live together for the summer. This happens:
Kaitlin: (comes home from work, sees Paul playing videogames, starts jumping on the bed) I’m bored! Let’s go for a walk! Let’s have sex! Let’s make dinner together!
Paul: (eyes his videogame controller): But…I really want to finish this level…
Kaitlin: But…what? Videogames>human interaction? Does not compute.
January 2008 Winter Session
Kurt: Hey, wanna hang out today?
Kait: Sure! I was thinking we could get a group together and…
Kurt: Listen, you really need to finish Portal.
Ned: Hey, everyone’s out today. We have the place to ourselves. And I borrowed this game!
Kait: Gasp. I have the best idea! Let’s snuggle for HOURS!
Ned: (sweating nervously, controller in hands) But…I just borrowed (insert Zelda game here) and I want to beat it!
Kait: Well, maybe in like a couple hours we can snuggle?
Ned: Why don’t we just snuggle tonight! This is going to take a while.
Kait: But you love me!
Ned: Yes, and I love you all the time! I never play Zelda! We snuggle all the time!
Kait: SLEEPING ISN’T THE SAME AS SNUGGLING
Ned: WHY CAN’T YOU JUST LET ME PLAY MY VIDEOGAMES WOMAN
Anyway, I finally learned that guys need their space and their alone time and need to occasionally sit inside all day and beat a couple of levels on Zelda. I have come to terms with this. I don’t totally understand it, but I accept it. And after all, sometimes I just want to watch Jon & Kate Plus 8 marathons and try on outfits in my room. And I wouldn’t want a boyfriend giving me shit for it. But you know when it’s not okay?
It’s not okay when you invite mixed company over to “hang out” and then SNEAKILY make it into a “let’s have half of us play some lame videogame all night.” No. NO. I came over to hang out! I want to talk! I want to play a real game or something! Because even when there’s like 20 people in a room, and only four are playing video games, it always becomes about that, because the players get all huffy about people walking around and talking. Ugh. I remember talking to Sam about how there’s probably nothing more boring than watching other people play a game you have no interest in. It’s sneaky and has made me currently of the opinion that for every half hour of videogames I’m forced to watch, offending gamers should have to watch an episode of Sex and the City, Clockwork Orange style. Yeah. That’d be good.
i still maintain that good and interesting video games began and ended with SEGA. I received a SEGA on the eighth night of channukah when i was nine. For weeks, months, and until the year my dusty game system expired, i wore.that.thing.out.
and yes, i know the games that i played (Hook, Jeopardy, Echo Jr., Sonic 2, Street Fighter) might not have been the “coolest” per se, but they were FUN AS HELL.
however, i have seen the demise of such games to the rise of complicated, multi-level boy-hypnotics with titles like “world of warcraft” and “grand theft auto”, where if you win, you get to screw a prostitute.
and i understand how boys are visual, and like to see a little slutty sumthin’ sumthin’ on their tv screen, but if it’s really that important to beat all of the levels to get the inner satisfaction of watching a CARTOON have sex, then maybe you need to reevaluate some of your priorities. (get out in the sunlight and have actual sex. i promise you it will be more rewarding)
i also concur with kait about the sly secret “group hang” where it’s not actually talking or hanging out or laughing, but staring at a screen while limited numbers of people actually get to engage in the “fun”.
ok, i realize that this was a girly, bitchy entry, but i had to put it out there. play your games, guys, but not while we’re around. think of it as non-girl-appropriate porn. have fun!
so..upon the heralding of finals, which, if you haven’t yet noticed (and if not, shame on you..and also, stop smoking so much fucking pot) is NOW. which sucks. lately i’ve been getting slews of fucked up dreams about finals that go arie.
the aforemntioned title to this post was a nightmare i had LAST night about walking into my old high school to do my algebra 2 final in my hello kitty boyshorts and matching bra. not about college, or ANY of the college finals i took or have been taking..no, this one was at the B building of the Field School, where my very angry teacher/basketball coach Jeff was disappointed in my finals ensemble.
i have a very, very strange mind.
So..any of you out there in tumblrland have similar nightmares about finals? even good dreams? let’s hear em.
i would also like to note that i wrote this entire entry as my sleep meds were kicking in. not bad, eh? jolly good.