"Yes, hello, I'm calling because I'd like to exchange this life for a cooler one. I have my birth certificate, will that suffice as a receipt? I know it's been used but it's just not what the description said it would be. What's that? You want to know if this is an emergency? Uh, yeah, I'm pretty sure it is...I mean, it's my life and all. Excuse me? I am not out of line! I got this life and it did not turn out the way I expected, I believe that means I either get to return it or exchange it for one that doesn't suck...Alright...You know what? I've had about enough of your rude, condescending attitude! I want to speak to your manager!"
Worst. Customer. Service. Ever.
Really.
The people at 9-1-1 are total assholes.
Showing posts with label Randomness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Randomness. Show all posts
Monday, May 17, 2010
Friday, May 7, 2010
It's Been Too Long...
I know. I'm sorry.
What?
OHMYGODISAIDIWASSORRY!
Gah, stop yelling at me...
I've been really busy lately. I know in the past I may have used the word "busy" when I actually meant "lazy," but this time when I say "busy" I mean, I've had so little down time that my couch had to schedule an appointment with my ass in order for me to write this. If you don't believe me you can talk to my couch.
Or don't.
Whatever.
I don't care.
But I wanted to let you know that I've been busy because a lot of exciting changes (I've been abducted) and new developments (by alien zombies) have been happening in my life, which I plan to share with you (if they don't eat my brains first) as soon as I have a chance (send help).
So stay tuned for a juicy post coming to your computer soon.
In the meantime, because I know you miss me almost as much as my couch misses me, feel free to check out my Twitter feed and follow me; it's an uncensored version of Quinnterruption and a designated dumping zone for my brain. I post whatever pops into head throughout the day in 140 characters or less, but if you're easily offended by fart jokes, odd topical references and general nonsense you might not be into it, in fact, you might want to stop reading this blog altogether.
What?
OHMYGODISAIDIWASSORRY!
Gah, stop yelling at me...
I've been really busy lately. I know in the past I may have used the word "busy" when I actually meant "lazy," but this time when I say "busy" I mean, I've had so little down time that my couch had to schedule an appointment with my ass in order for me to write this. If you don't believe me you can talk to my couch.
Or don't.
Whatever.
I don't care.
But I wanted to let you know that I've been busy because a lot of exciting changes (I've been abducted) and new developments (by alien zombies) have been happening in my life, which I plan to share with you (if they don't eat my brains first) as soon as I have a chance (send help).
So stay tuned for a juicy post coming to your computer soon.
In the meantime, because I know you miss me almost as much as my couch misses me, feel free to check out my Twitter feed and follow me; it's an uncensored version of Quinnterruption and a designated dumping zone for my brain. I post whatever pops into head throughout the day in 140 characters or less, but if you're easily offended by fart jokes, odd topical references and general nonsense you might not be into it, in fact, you might want to stop reading this blog altogether.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Chin Tactics
I know, it’s been a couple days, okay, a week, since you’ve heard from me. I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’ve decided to just come out and say it: I got a job.
Cue the hallelujah chorus.
That’s all I’m going to say about that, for now. On to more pressing matters…
I’ve been thinking about chins recently and I’ve decided that you can tell a lot about someone based on their chin(s). There are many officially unofficial chin categories, which are defined below just because I want to do my part in making sure we all continue to judge each other based on appearances.
From the Official Organization of Chin Categorizations (OOCC):
Weak Chins
A Weak Chin is defined as a nonexistent chin, in which the nose and/or mouth sticks out significantly farther than the chin. People with Weak Chins can generally be seen walking around with toothpaste stains on their shirts, a common problem among those lacking sufficient chin-catching abilities. Despite assumptions that a Weak Chin would denote a weak personality, Weak Chin people have been known to have surprisingly sparkling personalities. Weak Chins are occasionally mistaken as massive overbites and often disguised with facial hair or plastic surgery. An example would be “South Park’s” Mr. Mackey or a Japanese Chin, a dog bred specifically for its weak chin which ultimately provides a better range for self-licking.
Pointy Chins
Pointy Chins are typically the result of a prominent jaw line that fails to round itself out causing the two lines to come together at a severe point. Unlike Weak Chin people, Pointy Chin people are usually the first to complain, and they look down their chin at most things, which is why evil fairytale characters are often drawn with Pointy Chins. Pointy Chins often give the face a heart-shaped appearance, or in rare cases, there are certain haircuts that give the chin a pointier appearance.
Pointy Chin Examples: Reese Witherspoon: Heart-Shape Pointy; Kate Gosselin: Bad Haircut Pointy; John Kerry: Politically Pointy.
Multiple Chins
The most commonly misunderstood fact about Multiple Chins is that only overweight people have them. This is a lie. A Multiple Chin is characterized by several overlapping rolls under the chin, which are large enough to be chins alone. Most people are capable of having Multiple Chins when they make a disgusted face; therefore it is difficult to attribute any assumed and completely false personality traits to this category.
However, it is important to clarify that while most babies have Multiple Chins, this is very different from, say, Mark Mangino’s Multiple Chins, which seem to be slowly eating his face and what remains of his former Bubble Butt Chin.
(Note: Multiple Chins can also be referred to as “Chin Cleavage” in the correct circumstances. See Hogan Knows Best and/or Brook Knows Best for examples of appropriate use of the term.)
Crinkly Chins
Although it is not very common to have a constant, naturally Crinkly Chin, I suppose it is possible in the same way it is possible for your “face to get stuck that way,” like your parents always warned. A Crinkly Chin is characterized by what would perhaps, in the kindest of interpretations, be referred to as a chin with multiple dimples. As he gets older, John Travolta is the closest human to having a naturally Crinkly Chin, which has caused some chin scientists to conclude that dimple chins can evolve into Crinkly Chins.
Based on the example pictured below, it’s safe to assume that Crinkly Chin people are extremely dynamic and creative individuals with a lot to offer the world.
Bubble Butt Chins
In order to define this category, we must dissect the terminology. First, the term “bubble butt” refers to “a large, rounded, but not fat, buttocks,” while the chin is defined as “the central forward portion of the lower jaw." When we combine the two definitions we get the definition for Bubble Butt Chin: a large, rounded, butt-like portion of the lower jaw. Bubble Butt Chin people tend to be humorous and concerned with what other people think. Jay Leno, who, according to totally legitimate anonymous sources, purchased a home on Martha’s Vineyard specifically for his chin, is a shinning example of a Bubble Butt Chin. Another example of a Bubble Butt Chin is Simon Cowell, who is constantly asking Paula Abdul if his v-neck makes his chin look fat.
Mole Chins
Made popular by fairytale witches, Mole Chins describe a chin that is dominated by a mole, or a growth resembling a mole. Now that we no longer burn witches at the stake, the chin mole has become increasingly popular in recent decades. Take Sarah Jessica Parker for example, who 
sported a big chin mole throughout the height of her career, playing Carrie on the popular HBO series Sex in the City. But just because it worked on Sex in the City doesn’t mean it will work in real life. This is a hard lesson we must all learn. SJP had her chin mole removed last summer, and now the world must find something else to stare at.
Hair Art Chins
This category is mostly specific to the male gender due to their ability to grow facial hair; however, there are many remarkable women out there with the same ability and to discount them would be unfair. Hair Art Chin people are typically, as the name would suggest, artistic, or they just have horribly unfortunate features and facial hair is their security blanket. Howie Mandel is the poster boy for Hair Art Chin people. Mandel has notoriously decorated his chin with a “flavor savor,” “chin curtains,” “circle beard,” “chin whiskers,” and “meticulous goatee.”
Those like Mandel are clearly committed to making their chins a form of expression, which has given chin theorists a new concept to study: overcompensating chin tactics.
While there are many other types of chins out there, the OOCC maintains that these are the seven main categories. It is the goal of the OOCC to awaken new insecurities about your chin and to generate chin awareness on a global scale through an arbitrary category identification system.
If you have questions or comments for the OOCC, the preferred method of communication is a message in a bottle by sea (too bad if you live in a land-locked state).
References:
Disclaimer: All information, “facts” and cited sources are completely fabricated. Duh.
Cue the hallelujah chorus.
That’s all I’m going to say about that, for now. On to more pressing matters…
I’ve been thinking about chins recently and I’ve decided that you can tell a lot about someone based on their chin(s). There are many officially unofficial chin categories, which are defined below just because I want to do my part in making sure we all continue to judge each other based on appearances.
From the Official Organization of Chin Categorizations (OOCC):
Weak Chins
A Weak Chin is defined as a nonexistent chin, in which the nose and/or mouth sticks out significantly farther than the chin. People with Weak Chins can generally be seen walking around with toothpaste stains on their shirts, a common problem among those lacking sufficient chin-catching abilities. Despite assumptions that a Weak Chin would denote a weak personality, Weak Chin people have been known to have surprisingly sparkling personalities. Weak Chins are occasionally mistaken as massive overbites and often disguised with facial hair or plastic surgery. An example would be “South Park’s” Mr. Mackey or a Japanese Chin, a dog bred specifically for its weak chin which ultimately provides a better range for self-licking.
Pointy Chins
Pointy Chins are typically the result of a prominent jaw line that fails to round itself out causing the two lines to come together at a severe point. Unlike Weak Chin people, Pointy Chin people are usually the first to complain, and they look down their chin at most things, which is why evil fairytale characters are often drawn with Pointy Chins. Pointy Chins often give the face a heart-shaped appearance, or in rare cases, there are certain haircuts that give the chin a pointier appearance.
Pointy Chin Examples: Reese Witherspoon: Heart-Shape Pointy; Kate Gosselin: Bad Haircut Pointy; John Kerry: Politically Pointy.
Multiple Chins
The most commonly misunderstood fact about Multiple Chins is that only overweight people have them. This is a lie. A Multiple Chin is characterized by several overlapping rolls under the chin, which are large enough to be chins alone. Most people are capable of having Multiple Chins when they make a disgusted face; therefore it is difficult to attribute any assumed and completely false personality traits to this category.
Crinkly Chins
Although it is not very common to have a constant, naturally Crinkly Chin, I suppose it is possible in the same way it is possible for your “face to get stuck that way,” like your parents always warned. A Crinkly Chin is characterized by what would perhaps, in the kindest of interpretations, be referred to as a chin with multiple dimples. As he gets older, John Travolta is the closest human to having a naturally Crinkly Chin, which has caused some chin scientists to conclude that dimple chins can evolve into Crinkly Chins.
Bubble Butt Chins
In order to define this category, we must dissect the terminology. First, the term “bubble butt” refers to “a large, rounded, but not fat, buttocks,” while the chin is defined as “the central forward portion of the lower jaw." When we combine the two definitions we get the definition for Bubble Butt Chin: a large, rounded, butt-like portion of the lower jaw. Bubble Butt Chin people tend to be humorous and concerned with what other people think. Jay Leno, who, according to totally legitimate anonymous sources, purchased a home on Martha’s Vineyard specifically for his chin, is a shinning example of a Bubble Butt Chin. Another example of a Bubble Butt Chin is Simon Cowell, who is constantly asking Paula Abdul if his v-neck makes his chin look fat.
Mole Chins
Made popular by fairytale witches, Mole Chins describe a chin that is dominated by a mole, or a growth resembling a mole. Now that we no longer burn witches at the stake, the chin mole has become increasingly popular in recent decades. Take Sarah Jessica Parker for example, who sported a big chin mole throughout the height of her career, playing Carrie on the popular HBO series Sex in the City. But just because it worked on Sex in the City doesn’t mean it will work in real life. This is a hard lesson we must all learn. SJP had her chin mole removed last summer, and now the world must find something else to stare at.Hair Art Chins
This category is mostly specific to the male gender due to their ability to grow facial hair; however, there are many remarkable women out there with the same ability and to discount them would be unfair. Hair Art Chin people are typically, as the name would suggest, artistic, or they just have horribly unfortunate features and facial hair is their security blanket. Howie Mandel is the poster boy for Hair Art Chin people. Mandel has notoriously decorated his chin with a “flavor savor,” “chin curtains,” “circle beard,” “chin whiskers,” and “meticulous goatee.”
While there are many other types of chins out there, the OOCC maintains that these are the seven main categories. It is the goal of the OOCC to awaken new insecurities about your chin and to generate chin awareness on a global scale through an arbitrary category identification system.
If you have questions or comments for the OOCC, the preferred method of communication is a message in a bottle by sea (too bad if you live in a land-locked state).
References:
- Tollee, Fake. Let’s Talk About Chins, Dog. OOCC Publishing, 2009.
- Chin, Sharpe. “Not By the Hair of My Chinny Chin Chin,” lecture. OOCC Conference, May, 2009.
- Andrews, Erin. Exposed Chins of the Big 12. OOCC Publishing, 2007.
- Dad, My. Lecture Series: "My Daughter Won’t Stop Making Ugly Faces." Privately Published, 1984 – 2009.
- Travolta, John. Chins: The New Scientology. Tom Cruise Publishing Centre, 2009.
- Anonymous Source to All Stars. Quoted, August, 2009.
- Witch, Glenda The Good. A Witchy Chin. Oz: Ruby Slipper Books, 2008.
- Daughtry, Chris. Bald On Top: The Art of Chin Hair. American Idol with OOCC Publishing, 2008.
Disclaimer: All information, “facts” and cited sources are completely fabricated. Duh.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Incomplete Thoughts
Words That Make My Mouth Feel Weird When I Say Them:
Are you there Dove? It’s me, Smelly…
Dove has a new line of products that focus on scent, and their new campaign makes me feel like I must naturally smell bad. But, really, why would I want every part of my body to smell the same? Not that I have anything against the smell of grapefruit and lemongrass, which is apparently an energizing scent when combined, but who wants their hair to smell the same as their armpits?
Clumsy Strikes Again
I wasn’t in any kind of rush, nor was I distracted in any sense, just trying to open the car door and get in—something I do every day. Unfortunately, it’s the “open the door” part that tricked me this time. As I grabbed the handle, my overwhelming strength (let’s just call it that) surprised me, causing the door to fling towards me and into my forehead. It was like I forgot how to get into a car, or as if I was in a fight scene from a movie only instead of someone else beating me up by opening a car door in my face, I was beating myself up (flashback: “Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself! Why are you hitting yourself, stupid? Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself!”). As soon as my forehead made contact with the door, I felt my head fall back and my eyes swell with tears. Sniffling, I jumped in the car and drove away without looking to see if anyone had witnessed my door-to-head bunt. Now I have a raised bump and a slightly discolored (bruised) forehead for which my only explanation is: I opened a door on my face. Awesome.
(p.s. – This happened directly after my trip to the eye doctor. Even awesomer.)
- Schtick
- Niche (Is it ‘neesh’ or ‘nitch’? Either way, people will judge you based on how you pronounce this stupid word.)
- Touche (It’s just “touch” with an ‘e’ but I always say it like “Olé!” and that usually makes me feel like a tool.)
- Jalapeno
- Hue
- Sauvignon
- Philanthropic (Reading it, I’m okay, but saying it in conversation makes my tongue feel like it’s doing somersaults.)
- Parfait
- Ampersand
- Ellipses (I get a lisp just looking at this word.)
- Cutlery
- Acquiesce
- Tyrotoxism (means to be poisoned by cheese, I swear I didn’t make it up.)
- Supercilious
Are you there Dove? It’s me, Smelly…
Dove has a new line of products that focus on scent, and their new campaign makes me feel like I must naturally smell bad. But, really, why would I want every part of my body to smell the same? Not that I have anything against the smell of grapefruit and lemongrass, which is apparently an energizing scent when combined, but who wants their hair to smell the same as their armpits?
Clumsy Strikes Again
I wasn’t in any kind of rush, nor was I distracted in any sense, just trying to open the car door and get in—something I do every day. Unfortunately, it’s the “open the door” part that tricked me this time. As I grabbed the handle, my overwhelming strength (let’s just call it that) surprised me, causing the door to fling towards me and into my forehead. It was like I forgot how to get into a car, or as if I was in a fight scene from a movie only instead of someone else beating me up by opening a car door in my face, I was beating myself up (flashback: “Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself! Why are you hitting yourself, stupid? Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself!”). As soon as my forehead made contact with the door, I felt my head fall back and my eyes swell with tears. Sniffling, I jumped in the car and drove away without looking to see if anyone had witnessed my door-to-head bunt. Now I have a raised bump and a slightly discolored (bruised) forehead for which my only explanation is: I opened a door on my face. Awesome.
(p.s. – This happened directly after my trip to the eye doctor. Even awesomer.)
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Character Monologue: The First Female Santa
In my Second City Comedy Writing class, one of the things I found so interesting was how we did a lot of exercises that were similar to the way improvisation is done. If you've ever been to an improv show, you know that it generally starts by asking the audience for an object, place or activity which the improvisers will then use as a prompt for creating characters and scenes. The exercise we did in class on the second day was similar to this: Create a character and monologue based on the action verb you were given. I was given the verb “carry.” Below is the first draft of what I came up with.*
Carrie – late thirties meeting with a doctor
*I promise I'll eventually stop geeking-out about my Second City experience, but for now you're just going to have to deal with it. Oh, and when I preface something by saying it's a "first draft" feel free to comment, make suggestions, critique, or whatever.
Carrie – late thirties meeting with a doctor
Hi, I’m Carrie. Thanks for seeing me on such short notice, doc. I’m just going to start at the beginning because I think you’ll get a better understanding of my reasonings that way.
I work at the mall during Christmas as Santa’s Little Helper, technically I’m an Elf, but my name tag says, “Carrie: Santa’s Little Helper” so that’s what I have to say I am. This isn't just a gig, it's an important step towards reaching my overall career goal. You see, I’m trying to start at the bottom and work my way up, but eventually, I want to be the first female Santa Claus. I mean, sure, okay, maybe there’s been some other female Santas out there that I haven’t heard about, but I know for a fact that if I were to play Santa, I’d be the first female to do it in the state of Tennessee…well, at least the first in Crockett County. And besides, I want to do this for the sake of feminism, which I'm a big believer in, especially during the holidays. I mean, I’ve got a lot of obstacles trying to keep me from achieving my goal and being a woman is just one of them—for instance, I’m Jewish, but has that stopped me from celebrating Christmas every year and working as Santa’s Little Helper? No, sir-ee! Lots of people think I just want to be a man and that’s why I’m all hung up on this female Santa thing, but it’s not true. I like being a woman just fine, which is why I’m here to see you, doc.
I know I’m paying you for your services, and I know you probably don’t understand why I want to get pregnant right now. But I’m running out of time, and you’re my last hope. You see, if I get pregnant now, I figure I’ll be about eight months along by December—pregnant ladies are generally pretty fat by then, right doc? So, if I have a nice big, round belly by December, it’s really going to improve my chances of getting to play Santa this year. I’ve tried gaining weight, but I just so happen to be naturally thin, and there’s a history of diabetes in my family, so it’s probably not a good idea anyway. And that brings me to why I'm here - I’ve decided to take an alternative route in order to fulfill my dream of becoming Crockett County’s first female Santa. Of course, yes, there are other reasons for me to do IVF. I mean, I’m nearly 40, unmarried, no prospects in sight, and menopause is practically around the corner. But with all those reasons aside—reasons you get other women pregnant for all of the time, mind you—I have even more reasons, dream-fulfilling reasons!
You see, I’ve been to other doctors and they’ve all turned me down, but my friend told me about you and so I thought I’d try to make it happen one more time. I know about what they did for that Suleman woman and she has EIGHT babies now! If I had eight babies, it would be perfect, just think—eight reindeer or elves! Come on, doc. I know it’s March and all, but in the spirit of Christmas, do you think you could shoot me up with some of that baby-making juice and help my dreams come true? I’ll even sweeten the deal by offering you a free permanent spot on the “Nice” List...
So, what do you say, doc—we got a deal?
*I promise I'll eventually stop geeking-out about my Second City experience, but for now you're just going to have to deal with it. Oh, and when I preface something by saying it's a "first draft" feel free to comment, make suggestions, critique, or whatever.
Monday, July 6, 2009
1st Draft: "Rules of Leaving"
So I feel like I've been neglecting this blog since I've been in Chicago. Don't think that this means I haven't been writing, because I have, practically non-stop. But in an effort to feel less guilty, I've decided to share some of my "works in-progress" with you. Below is a snippet of a story that just sort of jumped onto the page when I sat down to write today. I have no idea where it's going, what it's doing, or why these characters won't get out of my head...but here it is. Again, try to keep in mind that this is a first draft, and therefore completely rough and in obvious need of work--uh, so, in other words, don't judge me too harshly.
They had been living in the same place for nearly three months. For Betsy it was too long. She was ready to pick up and go at any moment, at the first mention of opportunity, but this hadn’t happened since they left the place they were for the place they are now. Chuck thought she was staying for him, trying to give him a break, but he also thought that maybe she was staying until she knew he wouldn’t leave with her.
“I feel like we just got here,” Chuck said, packing up an olive green suitcase that lay open on his cot.
“And so it be the time to depart, dearest Charles!” Betsy said. She was sitting on the balcony, which wasn’t a real balcony, according to Betsy, it was an “exaggerated windowsill,” smoking a hand-rolled cigarette.
“There’s just no sense in it. Why, in the middle of February, would we leave this beach, where it’s warm and sunny, for a place where it’s so cold your snot freezes?” Chuck asked.
“Who told you your snot would freeze? That’s sheer rubbish,” Betsy said. She was taking swigs out of the bottle of Jameson they had found in the nightstand where a Bible should’ve been and slurring between a Scottish and British accent.
“I don’t know, but I get runny noses, like, real easily, and I know it’s cold there—it’s all anyone talks about when you tell them you’re moving to Chicago,” Chuck said.
“Who did you tell?” Betsy suddenly changed her position, throwing her legs over the edge and inside as if she was going to run at Chuck.
“No, no one. I mean, I told Pete, but I had to because he’d get in trouble if the dishes weren’t done and I was gone,” Chuck said. He turned back to his packing, avoiding Betsy’s eyes which were searching him like two florescent lights, lifeless yet blindingly bright.
“You know the deal, Chuckster—don’t tell anyone where we are going or where we plan to go. I mean, what if I’d told that tattoo artist I was seeing in Atlanta that we were headed to Miami…? I’ll tell you what, he’d be beating us for the money we owe him by now,” she said.
They were staying in a hostel after Chuck made an arrangement with the management. The room wasn’t a room they gave to paying customers; it was a room off the kitchen, reserved for workers who couldn’t pay to stay.
“Shitfuck! What are we going to do about Pete? Maybe we shouldn’t go to Chicago now...maybe Nashville instead,” Betsy said, flicking her cigarette into the night.
“What’s Pete going to do? We don’t owe anyone here nothing, do we? Bets…do we?”
“You’re right. We owe nothing. Off we are as planned then!” Betsy was suddenly standing next to Chuck and staring into the tidy suitcase, which was mostly full of underwear tied-up with neon green shoelaces and hotel toiletries.
“Still haven’t learned to travel light, have you? You don’t need half of this crap,” she said.
“You’re the one that stole this shit, and almost had us put in jail for it, now you’re telling me to just leave it?” Chuck asked.
Chuck knew Betsy better than anyone. He knew how she liked her coffee, and that she really liked tea more; he knew the scar lining the crease of her nose was from a wire hanger and not a nose job; he knew her eyes were really grey and not blue; he knew her birthday was October 1st, not January 1st; he knew her hair always smelled like green apples before it always smelled like smoke; he knew that her real name was Dikranouhi before she had it legally changed to Betsy.
Chuck knew Betsy would leave without him next time. They'd been all over the East coast together, but Chuck felt like they spent most of their time leaving, and his baggage was getting heavier, harder to carry.
They sat on the floor of the studio apartment they were renting on a monthly basis in south Chicago, Chuck was leaning against the bed while Betsy sat on the floor with a map spread out between her legs. The place smelled like an ashtray and Mexican food; when the train passed the walls shook and the floor vibrated. That was Betsy’s favorite part, the shaking and vibrating.
“I love that this place never stops moving. It’s metaphorical, right Chuckster?” Betsy asked.
“Yeah, sure, I guess,” Chuck said.
“So. Where’d you get all them books from?” Betsy asked, pointing to a stack of books sitting next to Chuck’s bed. She was speaking with a hint of a New York accent this time and chewing on strands of red licorice.
“Library,” Chuck said.
“You have a library card?”
“Well, yeah, I had to get one to get the books,” Chuck said, trying to keep the defensive tone out of his voice.
“Damnit, Charles! Why not just go buy a condo on the lake while you’re at it,” Betsy said. Her hair was down, engulfing her face in black chaotic curls. Chuck always thought she looked prettiest with her hair down, but it only lasted a few seconds before she was sweeping it back again.
“It’s a library card. Pretty temporary,” Chuck said.
“We’ve been here for a month and you’re acting like we’re settled. It’s a library card now, but you know how it is...one attachment leads to another,” Betsy said, twisting her hair into a braid.
Chuck was never comfortable anywhere they went. Not because it wasn’t home, home wasn’t anywhere, but because he was always trying to keep to Betsy’s plans and rules. Buying a library card was against the rules; anything permanent, anything traceable, anything lasting was against the rules. When they first met, Chuck understood Betsy’s rules to be anything that went against other real rules—rules for living abnormally, he thought. He liked how Betsy, a woman no one would expect to have rules, actually had a list she kept and followed.
1. Don’t stand still
2. Borrowing is not stealing
3. Don’t tell anyone where you're going when you go
4. Don’t buy things that are permanent, traceable or lasting
5. Use what’s wasted
6. Move with other things that move
7. Any open place is a place to rest
8. No phone numbers
9. No extras (people, baggage, obligations, etc.)
10. No missing (people or places)
It was number six that worried Chuck. Since they’d come to Chicago, one or both of them had broken a rule on this list. Chuck was the greatest offender, everyday left him more still. Betsy recognized this in him, but she feared rule number ten more than any other which is why she hadn't really left, yet. But there were times when Chuck would wait all night for Betsy to come back to their shaking, vibrating studio just so that he could see her close her eyes and feel safe again. After the first month in Chicago, she started coming back to him less; several days would pass and Chuck would think she was gone for good, but then she would appear in her neon green shoelaces with a bag of someone's forgotten (stolen) leftovers. She never explained her absences, but she would talk about things Chuck didn't know about in a new accent, like a dog that developed a new bark after coming home from running away.
Once, Chuck asked Betsy if they could make amendments to the rules. It seemed like a reasonable request, all rules should be amendable so that they are continually applicable to the present, he thought. But Betsy told him he could make his own rules if he wanted to change hers. This is when Chuck knew that Betsy's rules were nothing more than rules for leaving, and this is when Betsy left Chuck and didn't come back, for good.
Rules of Leaving
Betsy was always just visiting. Anyone who saw her knew she wasn’t there to stay. She seemed like a perched bird, temporary, on display, and just hanging out until a loud noise made her fly away. She had a heavy bag that draped over her shoulder, carrying most of what must be her life, and her shoes looked like they had been slept in, spit on and dragged through puddles of city slop, but the laces were new and neon green. Betsy spoke with whatever accent was in her ear, this made it so that no one knew her after meeting her, except for maybe Chuck.They had been living in the same place for nearly three months. For Betsy it was too long. She was ready to pick up and go at any moment, at the first mention of opportunity, but this hadn’t happened since they left the place they were for the place they are now. Chuck thought she was staying for him, trying to give him a break, but he also thought that maybe she was staying until she knew he wouldn’t leave with her.
“I feel like we just got here,” Chuck said, packing up an olive green suitcase that lay open on his cot.
“And so it be the time to depart, dearest Charles!” Betsy said. She was sitting on the balcony, which wasn’t a real balcony, according to Betsy, it was an “exaggerated windowsill,” smoking a hand-rolled cigarette.
“There’s just no sense in it. Why, in the middle of February, would we leave this beach, where it’s warm and sunny, for a place where it’s so cold your snot freezes?” Chuck asked.
“Who told you your snot would freeze? That’s sheer rubbish,” Betsy said. She was taking swigs out of the bottle of Jameson they had found in the nightstand where a Bible should’ve been and slurring between a Scottish and British accent.
“I don’t know, but I get runny noses, like, real easily, and I know it’s cold there—it’s all anyone talks about when you tell them you’re moving to Chicago,” Chuck said.
“Who did you tell?” Betsy suddenly changed her position, throwing her legs over the edge and inside as if she was going to run at Chuck.
“No, no one. I mean, I told Pete, but I had to because he’d get in trouble if the dishes weren’t done and I was gone,” Chuck said. He turned back to his packing, avoiding Betsy’s eyes which were searching him like two florescent lights, lifeless yet blindingly bright.
“You know the deal, Chuckster—don’t tell anyone where we are going or where we plan to go. I mean, what if I’d told that tattoo artist I was seeing in Atlanta that we were headed to Miami…? I’ll tell you what, he’d be beating us for the money we owe him by now,” she said.
They were staying in a hostel after Chuck made an arrangement with the management. The room wasn’t a room they gave to paying customers; it was a room off the kitchen, reserved for workers who couldn’t pay to stay.
“Shitfuck! What are we going to do about Pete? Maybe we shouldn’t go to Chicago now...maybe Nashville instead,” Betsy said, flicking her cigarette into the night.
“What’s Pete going to do? We don’t owe anyone here nothing, do we? Bets…do we?”
“You’re right. We owe nothing. Off we are as planned then!” Betsy was suddenly standing next to Chuck and staring into the tidy suitcase, which was mostly full of underwear tied-up with neon green shoelaces and hotel toiletries.
“Still haven’t learned to travel light, have you? You don’t need half of this crap,” she said.
“You’re the one that stole this shit, and almost had us put in jail for it, now you’re telling me to just leave it?” Chuck asked.
Chuck knew Betsy better than anyone. He knew how she liked her coffee, and that she really liked tea more; he knew the scar lining the crease of her nose was from a wire hanger and not a nose job; he knew her eyes were really grey and not blue; he knew her birthday was October 1st, not January 1st; he knew her hair always smelled like green apples before it always smelled like smoke; he knew that her real name was Dikranouhi before she had it legally changed to Betsy.
Chuck knew Betsy would leave without him next time. They'd been all over the East coast together, but Chuck felt like they spent most of their time leaving, and his baggage was getting heavier, harder to carry.
They sat on the floor of the studio apartment they were renting on a monthly basis in south Chicago, Chuck was leaning against the bed while Betsy sat on the floor with a map spread out between her legs. The place smelled like an ashtray and Mexican food; when the train passed the walls shook and the floor vibrated. That was Betsy’s favorite part, the shaking and vibrating.
“I love that this place never stops moving. It’s metaphorical, right Chuckster?” Betsy asked.
“Yeah, sure, I guess,” Chuck said.
“So. Where’d you get all them books from?” Betsy asked, pointing to a stack of books sitting next to Chuck’s bed. She was speaking with a hint of a New York accent this time and chewing on strands of red licorice.
“Library,” Chuck said.
“You have a library card?”
“Well, yeah, I had to get one to get the books,” Chuck said, trying to keep the defensive tone out of his voice.
“Damnit, Charles! Why not just go buy a condo on the lake while you’re at it,” Betsy said. Her hair was down, engulfing her face in black chaotic curls. Chuck always thought she looked prettiest with her hair down, but it only lasted a few seconds before she was sweeping it back again.
“It’s a library card. Pretty temporary,” Chuck said.
“We’ve been here for a month and you’re acting like we’re settled. It’s a library card now, but you know how it is...one attachment leads to another,” Betsy said, twisting her hair into a braid.
Chuck was never comfortable anywhere they went. Not because it wasn’t home, home wasn’t anywhere, but because he was always trying to keep to Betsy’s plans and rules. Buying a library card was against the rules; anything permanent, anything traceable, anything lasting was against the rules. When they first met, Chuck understood Betsy’s rules to be anything that went against other real rules—rules for living abnormally, he thought. He liked how Betsy, a woman no one would expect to have rules, actually had a list she kept and followed.
1. Don’t stand still
2. Borrowing is not stealing
3. Don’t tell anyone where you're going when you go
4. Don’t buy things that are permanent, traceable or lasting
5. Use what’s wasted
6. Move with other things that move
7. Any open place is a place to rest
8. No phone numbers
9. No extras (people, baggage, obligations, etc.)
10. No missing (people or places)
It was number six that worried Chuck. Since they’d come to Chicago, one or both of them had broken a rule on this list. Chuck was the greatest offender, everyday left him more still. Betsy recognized this in him, but she feared rule number ten more than any other which is why she hadn't really left, yet. But there were times when Chuck would wait all night for Betsy to come back to their shaking, vibrating studio just so that he could see her close her eyes and feel safe again. After the first month in Chicago, she started coming back to him less; several days would pass and Chuck would think she was gone for good, but then she would appear in her neon green shoelaces with a bag of someone's forgotten (stolen) leftovers. She never explained her absences, but she would talk about things Chuck didn't know about in a new accent, like a dog that developed a new bark after coming home from running away.
Once, Chuck asked Betsy if they could make amendments to the rules. It seemed like a reasonable request, all rules should be amendable so that they are continually applicable to the present, he thought. But Betsy told him he could make his own rules if he wanted to change hers. This is when Chuck knew that Betsy's rules were nothing more than rules for leaving, and this is when Betsy left Chuck and didn't come back, for good.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Facebook Quizzes & Daily Horoscopes: A New Path to Self Awareness
I’ve stayed away from Facebook quizzes for many reasons, but to name a few:
1.) I’m too cool.
2.) The people who take Facebook quizzes are either 12 or 35.
3.) I don’t give a sh*t what animal you were in your past life, what color your aura is, or what dog breed you are—sorry.
But yesterday I surrendered to a quiz titled “Which celebrity would play you in a movie of your life?” I’m not sure what hooked me, but I think it was the possibility of being told that someone extremely likable, like Jennifer Aniston, or someone really hardcore, like Angelina Jolie, would play me in a movie. So I proceeded to take the quiz, which asked discerning personal questions like, “Would you go after another woman’s man?” and “Do you believe in true love?” and “How high maintenance are you on a scale of 1 to 10?”
My result was Debra Messing and this was the rationalization:
You are the class clown. Always trying to make others laugh. You have a genuiness about you that is obvious to all. You are the girl men leave their "arm trophies" for and are glad of it.
First of all, I don’t like Debra Messing. I put her in the same category as Hillary Swank: she is annoying, attractive only if you squint your eyes, and avoiding her only makes her appear more often. If you do see one of her movies it’s probably on accident because of a non-stop run on TBS, and even then you don’t really admit to actually watching the entire movie, only "parts of it." I mean, did anyone else see The Wedding Date? Enough said. But I am glad to know that I have a “genuiness” about me, that’s good, especially since I didn’t know “genuiness” was a word.
After “Which celebrity would play you in a movie of your life?” another quiz popped up called “What are you born to do?” and, given my current situation, it seemed wrong to not take this quiz. I was given seven questions—yes, just seven questions—to answer, which I assumed would then result in a solution to my ongoing question: what will I be now that I am a grown up? Here was the result:
I won’t even go into the countless spelling and punctuation errors in this quiz result—clearly the people creating these quizzes never passed an English class—but what the hell does this mean? This isn’t an answer to “what are you born to do?” I’m more lost after reading this than I was before I took the damn quiz! But at least it validates my ability to “make just about anyone like [me].” Obviously I don’t choose to utilize this skill on a regular basis, but it’s good to know that I have the ability.
I could see myself becoming addicted to Facebook quizzes the same way I used to be addicted to reading my daily horoscope. If you turn off the half of your brain that is meant for logical reasoning, then things like Facebook quizzes and horoscopes can be seen as ways to gather information about yourself; they are like insights into the future, ways to ease the pain of the unknown.
I used to read my horoscope everyday and it always ended up being true, except for when it wasn't. For instance, here is my horoscope for today, courtesy of yahoo.com:
I think I’m just going to go buy a t-shirt that says, “Everything I learned about myself I got from a Facebook quiz and my daily horoscope.” At least then people will know that I am a self-aware individual.
1.) I’m too cool.
2.) The people who take Facebook quizzes are either 12 or 35.
3.) I don’t give a sh*t what animal you were in your past life, what color your aura is, or what dog breed you are—sorry.
But yesterday I surrendered to a quiz titled “Which celebrity would play you in a movie of your life?” I’m not sure what hooked me, but I think it was the possibility of being told that someone extremely likable, like Jennifer Aniston, or someone really hardcore, like Angelina Jolie, would play me in a movie. So I proceeded to take the quiz, which asked discerning personal questions like, “Would you go after another woman’s man?” and “Do you believe in true love?” and “How high maintenance are you on a scale of 1 to 10?”
My result was Debra Messing and this was the rationalization:
You are the class clown. Always trying to make others laugh. You have a genuiness about you that is obvious to all. You are the girl men leave their "arm trophies" for and are glad of it.
First of all, I don’t like Debra Messing. I put her in the same category as Hillary Swank: she is annoying, attractive only if you squint your eyes, and avoiding her only makes her appear more often. If you do see one of her movies it’s probably on accident because of a non-stop run on TBS, and even then you don’t really admit to actually watching the entire movie, only "parts of it." I mean, did anyone else see The Wedding Date? Enough said. But I am glad to know that I have a “genuiness” about me, that’s good, especially since I didn’t know “genuiness” was a word.
After “Which celebrity would play you in a movie of your life?” another quiz popped up called “What are you born to do?” and, given my current situation, it seemed wrong to not take this quiz. I was given seven questions—yes, just seven questions—to answer, which I assumed would then result in a solution to my ongoing question: what will I be now that I am a grown up? Here was the result:
I won’t even go into the countless spelling and punctuation errors in this quiz result—clearly the people creating these quizzes never passed an English class—but what the hell does this mean? This isn’t an answer to “what are you born to do?” I’m more lost after reading this than I was before I took the damn quiz! But at least it validates my ability to “make just about anyone like [me].” Obviously I don’t choose to utilize this skill on a regular basis, but it’s good to know that I have the ability.I could see myself becoming addicted to Facebook quizzes the same way I used to be addicted to reading my daily horoscope. If you turn off the half of your brain that is meant for logical reasoning, then things like Facebook quizzes and horoscopes can be seen as ways to gather information about yourself; they are like insights into the future, ways to ease the pain of the unknown.
I used to read my horoscope everyday and it always ended up being true, except for when it wasn't. For instance, here is my horoscope for today, courtesy of yahoo.com:
Daily Extended Horoscope for June 16, 2009 (Today)Right, so I guess this means I shouldn't post today...?
Libra: 9/23 – 10/22
Weigh your words carefully, as if they were diamonds. While it might be tempting to blurt out any ol' opinion that crosses your mind, erring on the side of caution is definitely the best measure at this time. That goes double for emails and any other written communications -- right now, it's all too easy for someone to misconstrue even the simplest statement and get hot under the collar about it.
I think I’m just going to go buy a t-shirt that says, “Everything I learned about myself I got from a Facebook quiz and my daily horoscope.” At least then people will know that I am a self-aware individual.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
The Unnecessary Information Form
Please answer the questions below to the best of your knowledge, filling out each line using legible print and not that bulls%#t chicken-scratch you picked up sometime in college.
The Preliminary Questions:
I. What is your age in years, months and days? ___________
II. What is the number listed on the barcode under your refrigerator?__________
III. What is your full name as written on your Library Card? _____________________________________________________
The Questions That Come After The Preliminary Questions:
1. Please calculate your BMI (Booty Mass Indicator) using this formula: Weight / (Number of Twinkies You Can Eat) x (Number of Seconds Your Thighs and/or Arms Shake After You Stop Moving) =__________
2. Do you have a steady and reliable job? _________
- 2a. If you answered ‘No’ to the above question: Are you as worthless as that might imply?______
- 2b. If you answered ‘Yes’ to the above question, please tear up this form and throw it away, then go look in the mirror and repeat the following mantra to yourself no less than 25 times: “I am special. I am capable. I am [insert your name].” Once complete, please initial here: _______
- a. The glass is half full most of the time.
- b. The glass is half full all of the time.
- c. The glass is half empty.
- d. The glass is bone dry and I am f$%&ing thirsty!
- e. Other (please write): ____________________________________________
6. If you had one wish, what would it be? Please select from the below acceptable answers:
- a. The ability to fly
- b. The ability to be invisible
- c. The ability to read minds
- d. To be rich and famous
- e. Other (please write): ____________(note: the line is short because no one actually cares)
- Wearing “Muscle Shirts”
- Seasonal Body Odor
- Ass-Kissing/Kiss-Assing
- Nepotism in Bowling
- Stealing Bottles of Tabasco Sauce from Chipotle
9. Your weekday lunch typically consists of: (please select from the options below)
- a. Peanut Butter & Jelly
- b. Canned Soup and Toast
- c. Raw Pasta & Styrofoam
- d. Fast-Food Value Meal
- e. Other (please write): ____________________
- a. People should be judged based on their Scrabble skills. ______
- b. Little People are funny. What? They are! _________
- c. Living on Unemployment is acceptable as long as you appear productive. ______
- d. Christian Bale’s next role should be to play Rosie O’Donnell in a Lifetime biopic._______
- e. 20 percent of your life is spent filling out forms and that sucks. _______
Thank you for completing this Unnecessary Information Form. We trust that you answered all of the above questions honestly and to the best of your ability. Now you can hurry up and wait for a response, or try to busy yourself with something else in an attempt to forget that you just wasted valuable minutes of your life filling out a completely pointless form that will be used for nothing worthwhile. Please note that any of the information you provided will not be kept confidential, and will likely be mocked by anyone who has the ability to read. If this bothers you, or if you have any other questions, please direct them to the next person that hands you a form to fill out.
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