I don't want to cause no fuss, but can I buy your magic bus?

I'm going to have to revoke the tirade I went on the other day about eating pungent foods in public because the hummus with pita I have with me right now is starting to emit odors.
It's not even garlic hummus, freakin' hummus.

College students think they're so special.

The sad thing is, college kids aren't going to be offended by this because they know it's true.

Something about airplanes...

I'm nearly deaf because the guy on the couch across the hall is snoring really loudly and disturbing my blogging creativity, forcing me to turn the sound on my headphones up to full volume.
I feel like people who snore shouldn't be allowed to sleep in public.
Actually, I feel like people in general shouldn't be allowed to sleep in public unless it's on a moving vehicle of some sort but folk who snore are just being jerks.
If you know you snore, then bring some Breathe-Right strips with you or a pillow to shove over your face, something so you're not being an asshole by cutting into the concentration of the people actually trying to accomplish school work in the middle of the day.
And if you aren't aware of your snoring problem... perhaps I can bring it to light for you by kicking you in the side and asking you to relocate because I'm trying to get things done and the sounds of your closed throat and congested sinuses really isn't doing it for me.

What do you make of this?

















Awww, that's cute.

I hope his increasing volume and panting is a signal that he's suffocating and soon I will no longer have to deal with him.

Black Session

toothpastefordinner.com

The guy next to me just peeled a hardboiled egg.
Then he peeled another one.

I wish there were a system where I could send out memos to every person in the world, bringing to light the unwritten common courtesy rule that states no person should ever eat smelly foods such as garlic, tuna or HARDBOILED EGGS in a public place filled with people.
If nobody is around... maybe. As long as there is a window open or it's a large space that would allow the smell to dissipate quickly with no offense to anyone entering the room later.

So, for those who may be concerned, I just just looked up "decroded/decroaded" and it is not a word.
Not a word; slang.
Now we know.


toothpastefordinner.com

Looking at the random livejournal picture generator in public is dangerous so I prefer to just browse the archives.
Of which I've seen a thousand times but still enjoy.

Ah hahaha, I am so sad.

I got so city girl on you.

Ah, back in school.

There's a group of college-age children sitting across from me.
There's a girl experiencing some sort of sickness, nervous breakdown or some sort of personal drama that is causing her to be all sad and angsty.
There's her boyfriend; I know he is her boyfriend because she has her head on his lap and he's stroking her back, speaking in a disgusting baby voice that I'm sure he thinks it's comforting and saying things like, "Do you need any water? Are you tired? Do you want some juice? Are you sure you're all right? Do you want get you something to eat?"
The boyfriend and the girlfriend have basically the same haircut except his is yellow-blond like mustard and hers is crunchy-leaf brown with mustard yellow highlights.
We also have the third wheel, he keeps trying to strike up conversation with the couple but is failing miserably and always reduces himself to sitting on the end staring in the opposite direction.
"Can't you see I'm enabling the over dramatic and ridiculous behavior of my girlfriend?! Damn it, Kevin. Go sit over there."

The guy across from me has been staring at me since I sat down. He's giving me the same look Dave the Cafe Guy gives every woman who unwittingly places herself next to him.
It's a predatory look, but it's the look of a predator who hasn't eaten in an extremely long amount of time because his hunting skills are poor so he is dying of starvation and is willing to eat every piece of trash that he finds on the street.
It's hunger. It's an emaciated mountain lion look.
This is the book he's pretending to read.

A while ago, the boyfriend left with his razor scooter to go get food and the girlfriend fell asleep under her sparkling, electric-green blanket that looks like a bathroom rug and the third wheel fell asleep on the floor.
The girlfriend kicked her bookbag that was sitting on the end of the couch in her sleep and it came crashing to the floor with a loud thump.
The crashing noise startled the girlfriend and she woke up violently, making a sort of snorting-inhaling-grunting-gasping noise that made me accidentally "lol" to myself.
Luckily, she was too delirious to notice what I had done and just rolled over and went back to sleep.
Then, a large group of Asian tourists came through the room and more than one of them stopped to take picture of the two sleeping.

When the boyfriend returned, he yelled at the third wheel--after careful eavesdropping of their conversation I have discovered his name is Pedro--for allowing the girlfriend to roll over on her stomach because, wouldn't you know it? She's pregnant.
That's nice; I'm glad I have the privilege of witnessing the future of America panning out right here in front of me.

If nothing else, college is allowing my people-watching to flourish and is giving me a head start toward a degree in modern social anthropology.

What's the point of leaving your room if you're just going to sleep in Smith Hall all day anyway?

I Musici

toothpastefordinner.com

I don't know what made my neighbors think that it was all right to start running heavy machinery--such as jack hammers--at 8 o'clock in the morning but some people were still at home and some people were too ridiculous to go to bed before 2 am so some people were still asleep.
Thanks, neighbors. Thanks a bunch. I am the victim. Pity me as much as I pity myself.
When I left, they were standing around a large man-made hole in the sidewalk, staring down into it and yelling at each other with their arms up in the air.

I finished my annotated bibliography--with much difficulty, I might add--for my Hurricane Katrina/collapse of New Orleans paper.
This paper comes, of course, directly after I finished the 15 minute-long presentation on the genocide in Rwanda.
That's... nice.
The thesis statement has no substance and almost makes no sense. I think this paper will eventually turn into a personal vendetta against the government if I'm not careful.
I refuse to be the Carrotarian in the class.
(My God, inside jokes with myself rule.)

Toothpaste for Dinner college-related literature helps me get through the worst of my days.
I'm in Seattle's Best, checking on how the guy is getting along in his efforts to seduce women that are smarter than him.
He's not here today, I'm a bit disappointed.


toothpastefordinner.com

I love lecture classes.

In my archaeology lecture last term, there was a girl that always sat two rows in front of me, knitted underneath the table (which is cool with me, if she thinks she can get by on not taking notes then congratulations to her for taking her hobby to school with her), would raise her hand and ask what she thought were intelligent questions and then pull out an apple and eat it REALLY LOUDLY.
She was two rows in front of me, facing the opposite direction and I was still able to hear that obnoxious crunching and slurping noise.
I'm fairly certain that I've blog-complained about her before but I just can't get over how she could possibly think that people would want to hear her listen to her smacking on an apple.
She was basically making out with it.

I think you need ice water...

I don't understand this new thing with taking pictures of cats making "hilarious" faces, or sitting in various different poses, or playing with unusual things and then putting ridiculous captions like, "Anorexia Kitty says, 'But I already ate once this week!'" or, "I'm in your pot... shedding on your oatmeal." (my personal favorite).
Nobody cares about your cat except you and your cat, "creative" caption or not.








Jessica and I took the dog and the camera out for a long walk today.


This was just one part of a large and repulsively adorable Valentine's Day display in somebody's front yard in upper Alameda. The photo doesn't capture the large, light-up cross nailed to the side of the house and the inflatable hearts bordering the lawn.


Jessica and I looking introspective... Banana Republic style.


I don't recall this picture but apparently I wasn't too happy about it.


Jess and I decided to get down and dirty in the outdoors and take some nature glamor shots.
This is my Red Berries Seductive Angst look.


This is my Elegant Caress Of Red Berries look.


This isn't from today but I found it in my Photobucket library and thought some would appreciate it.
Michelle and I put the stickers from the Volkswagen ads in magazines to good use--by ruining produce.
My mom said the orange looked like Michelle. I laughed for a long, long time.

There is no moral precept that does not have something inconvenient about it.

Last night, Michelle and I decided to watch Spirited Away.
This photo is from the beginning of the movie when the father smells food and starts running up and down the dirt street to find the source.
We just couldn't understand why it was necessary for the animators to make it seem like the dad is running toward a camera... as the camera is directly aimed at his crotch.
And why the zipper? The zipper signals more than just a fleeting thought about how the "camera" should transition.

I'm in a computer lab in Cramer, waiting for 11:30 to come around so I can hurry up and fail my anthropology midterm and go home.
I wouldn't be as worried about this midterm if she had given us a clear outline of what she wanted. I have no idea if I studied the correct definitions; unlike the archaeologly class, I'm semi-less than fantastic in this subject.
(But only semi less.)

Tomorrow I'm going to spend my hard-earned money on a laptop.
Just in time, last night I was screwing around on my zip drive deleting things I thought I didn't need.
When a folder is empty and it hasn't been touched since 2003, wouldn't you assume it was useless?
Well, now my computer won't even turn on.
Well, I am an idiot.
Poor computer, I talk so much trash about it but it hung in there for a long, long time. I must admit, I'm a bit sentimental over throwing it away; it didn't deserve to die in such a way.
That aside, new laptop, woo!

I hang around in Seattle's Best for the hour and half break I have in between classes.
I choose Seattle's Best over Starbucks because even though it's now owned by Starbucks, I am in denile about actually contributing to the growth of the coffee conglomerate.
In my mind, if you can't see the logo then you're not helping the cause.
(Every time somebody buys a latte from Starbucks, somewhere in the world a hipster falls down dead.)
If there were a Peet's on campus I would definitely go there; I've been hanging around the one near my house at least three times a week as of late.
But this story is not about coffee places! It's about the guy in the coffee place.
Every day I got to Seattle's Best I see the same guy sitting in the same chair with the same book and and the same hat. I'm not judging, I've worn these shoes five days in a row.
He's always waiting patiently for a woman to sit down. They're all the same, early to mid-twenties, reasonably dressed and carrying a book of some sort.
He surveys the woman while she sits down, waits a few minutes for her to get situated and then asks her about her reading material or remarks on the subject in what he assumes to be a witty and charming way.
He allows them to speak for a little while, cuts in about him being a pre-med student and rambles on for forty minutes about being a vegetarian and the complications with eating too much fish and so on and so forth.

He feeds every girl the same story. I've been watching him and no matter what the subject matter is, he will somehow relate it back to him being a vegetarian.

I feel like I should warn these girls about what they're getting into before they sit down.
Is it my duty to give them the heads up that they're going to be bored to death for the next hour if they choose the open chair next to this guy?

And he's obviously not getting any with his conversation because all of them laugh in that pity laugh sort of way, say something about having to be somewhere and then leave him alone to think about how much he just loves being a vegetarian and how freaking cool he is.

It's 11:20, I suppose I should head on upstairs and meet my maker.

Don't make me live for my Friday nights, drinking eight pints and getting in fights.

READ THIS:

"IM-Speak" Infiltrating Classrooms

I thought I might shine light on this glimpse into the future of America.
Does it not scare you?
It certainly frightens me; print is DEAD.

Though, I do find it amusing that teachers are calling it "techno spellings."

"Lost" starts tonight.
Let's hope it's not as disappointing as the first half of the season.
















Le sigh.

Every time you close your eyes...

I have to explain the dream I had this morning before I take off to class because I know the few who belong to the super cool club and actually read this will appreciate it, whether some of them were in the dream or not.

I went to a grocery store and walked up to one of the fruit stands sitting in the middle of the floor, like grocery stores always have.
All of my band friends (including Allison! Ah haha.) were gathered around the stand, which didn't have any fruit on it but the makings of a party.
Then Rachel announces that some of her friends from Austria are coming and one of them came up and introduced herself. She was really cool; it was pretty cool.
Then Scary Spice showed up and wanted to get into the party as well. She made it a point to shake everybody's hand and make sure that we all knew who she was. She wasn't dressed like a skank this time but her hair remained the same.
So, we were just standing around talking and eventually we were herded to a clothing section of the grocery store. But the clothing section of the store was actually the underpants and purse section. Every rack was devoted to underpants and purses made of all different shapes, colors and fabrics.
Renee wasn't picking out clothes as everybody else quickly started doing and I'm wondered why but decided not to press it. Later, somebody told me that we were picking out the underpants for her and she couldn't choose her own. After I was informed, I quickly started looking for Renee-esque things. Then Debra came up to me, pointed to some panties and asked if they were Renee's color.
"Renee's more a of purple, blue, dark green, brown sort of person." I said... with an educated air as if I know everybody's colors.
Then Renee came up to me and told me that somebody told her she couldn't pick out her own velvet underwear. Apparently, the person informed her that she will love them but they will stick to her and start chafing if she picks out her own. This was indeed a problem because there was a plethora of velvet underpants to choose from and you could tell Renee wanted to pick some out herself.
Eventually the shopping party ended and everybody was well-stocked. We filed out into the main store and everybody was to get Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream. Unfortunately, I had already had Ben and Jerry's with Rachel earlier that day (true story) but somehow I ended up with a cone of chocolate chip cookie dough in my hand anyway. This was upsetting but it was free ice cream and who was I to argue it?
We returned to our fruit stand, which was now covered with all sorts of toppings and more ice cream. Caitlin asked me if I wanted just plain vanilla on top of my other cone but I refused and said one scoop is enough, thank you.
Then another of Rachel's friends showed up and introduced herself. We chatted about the underpants I bought for Renee and ate our ice cream, as if it were just another party that somebody had thrown.

Bizarre.
I had this right after I got up to eat some Tums because apparently, nobody should ever have chips with salsa and sour cream right before they go to bed.
The Tums helped, though; no need to be alarmed.

Step from the road to the sea to the sky.

I finished my first canvas collage tonight.
Many nights of, "Sorry, guys, I can't go out. I have to stay home and clip magazines..." have finally payed off.
I don't really know how to critique it; this my first collage done on such a large scale.
Unless you count the freshman year homages to actors that resemble frat boys and all things Seventeen magazine. Ah, that was the beginning of an addiction that I may never kick.
I wasn't expecting to turn out a masterpiece on the very first try and I do love looking at this one for extended periods of time so in the end, I think it turned out quite nicely.

The parents went to LA for five days and borrowed my camera for the trip.
When they get back I'll take a picture and post le chef-d'oeuvre for your (but mostly my own) viewing pleasure.

Yes, the parents went to California and left Michelle and I to fend for ourselves.
Two weeks ago they went to Seattle for a weekend and somehow we ran out of eggs, milk, butter and clean dishes all within the first day.
By Sunday, I was using the same spoon over and over again and just washing it between uses.
A glimpse into the future, I think. When I told my dad he said, "That sounds about right. Eventually you'll splurge and go to Goodwill to buy another spoon and maybe a fork but that's further down the road."

No dishes for me, I'm all about the plastic Tupperware.

Scare your son, scare your daughter.

toothpastefordinner.com
Somebody is always having a--what would appear to be--"existential crisis" in the coffee shop. It doesn't matter what time of day I go, somebody's life is presumably starting to resemble a Greek tragedy and somebody else is always there to talk them through it.

"I don't know why he does it! He just won't pick up his dirty laundry and put it in the hamper. I've tried so many times to tell him but then I start to think that maybe it's me. Maybe I'm the one making him not put his laundry in the hamper. Then I start to think, how many people have I done this to in my life? How many times have I pushed people so far that they won't put their laundry in the hamper? Am I that terrible? TELL ME!"
"No, you're so great. Really, you're great. It's not you. You have your life and your priorities figured out. You don't need to change. It's him. He's needs to think about his priorities..."


toothpastefordinner.com

Seriously, take it outside.

I've already pre-ordered my copy of you know what.
Whatever. I'm still cool. Shut up, you guys.