I think the title says it all, but I want to reiterate: I HATE HIPSTERS.
Scene: Salon-themed hipster bar next to a "Nathan's Original Hot Dogs".
I can't even begin to describe the parade of individuals I witnessed. I, of course, roll in wearing the ubiquitous "i'mgoingoutandgoingtohaveawildnight!!" black dress. Upon entering the bar, I immediately realize that perhaps I should have done one of several things: a) not blown dry my hair..instead, let my hair embrace its more lion-mane quality, b) worn my jumper, and perhaps, a skull & bone button up shirt, c) gotten a modified bob, and worn my glasses or d) shaved my head, and come in with overalls, stiletto heels and a page-boy cap. To say I looked out of place was probably an understatement.
To me, hipster used to mean "counter-culture". In fact, back home in New Orleans I used to consider myself a hipster because I wasn't a debutante, I wore glasses, I wrote my own plays as a child, and on weekends I used to work the front desk at my parents guest house. All of these things were counter to the normal culture of children and teenagers in New Orleans, so therefore, I was a hipster. Once I moved to New York, I realized, my definition of hipster was vastly different from the one I had conceived of since childhood. In New York, all the hipsters were counter-culture in the same exact way: guys who dress like British School Boys, too much eye-liner, tight t-shirts and vests -- girls who wear skull outfits, suspenders, adidas soccer cleats and one earring. I can't understand how these people don't realize the hipocracy of their existence. Oooohhh..you wear vests..let me tell you something: if everyone wears vests just like you, you are as mainstream as the girls with polos and longchamps that you probably hate on unmercilessly.
I want to re-define the term hipster. I think hipsters are people who work obscene hours, live in crackdens, just want to survive, and just do things that make them happy, even if that includes just staying in and reading instead of going to a bar that masquerades itself as a "former massage spa" or "former salon" . To me, THESE people are the true hipsters. Show me a slightly out-of shape accountant who is picking up his take out thai food to go home and watch the discovery channel on a thurs night, and I will show you a hipster.
I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this entry....if I don't end it now, I may start going on a rant about my normal topics of rage: florida, my job, the new york city dating scene, and homeless people who proposition me.
And with that, I leave you.
Read more
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
I'm out of ideas
But sometimes when I am bored, I re-read the emails my parents send me. I will call this a "Best Of" Dennis and Joanne emails. I also find it better, when reading emails from my father, to imagine Christopher Walken reading them aloud. Note: I have inserted comments where appropriate
"Layne
for some reason watching the movie about "Miriam" (L: What my father meant here was the Devil Wears Prada -- we all know that the main character's name is actually named "Miranda", but I think that was lost in translation) and hearing you talk of
your experiences at work and in New York---made me laugh about how different we are down here and what the speed of life must be in NY.. I think they would hospitalize me for some type of "lethargy" that is un-explainable. in the diagnostic manual.
I think that once we do visit you---or you visit us there will be such a "cultural lag" that we will have to work on communicative styles. (as if we don't have to already) hot down here-----muggy-----Gatlinburg --very cool in the mountains Dollywood -- kind of cute and friendly---sort of like Deliverance----duh dun a dun dunt don (L: I think this is meant to be the banjo theme song -- oh, and as an aside, one particularly low Christmas Evening, my family watched Deliverance together)-- not exactly the banjo playing --but you get the point--love ya Dad"
Let's contrast this email style with the sort of email from my mother:
"DO YOU NEED TO GET YOUR HAIR DONE? HAVE YOU BEEN GOING TO CHURCH? YOUR FATHER HAS STARTED WRITING FICTION, HE WROTE SOME SORT OF POEM ABOUT THE TICK-TOCK OF DEATH, SO I SLEPT IN YOUR ROOM LAST NIGHT. I BAKED A CAKE AND MADE LEMONADE, AND NO ONE CLEANED THE DISHES. GO FIGURE. XOXO MOM" Read more
"Layne
for some reason watching the movie about "Miriam" (L: What my father meant here was the Devil Wears Prada -- we all know that the main character's name is actually named "Miranda", but I think that was lost in translation) and hearing you talk of
your experiences at work and in New York---made me laugh about how different we are down here and what the speed of life must be in NY.. I think they would hospitalize me for some type of "lethargy" that is un-explainable. in the diagnostic manual.
I think that once we do visit you---or you visit us there will be such a "cultural lag" that we will have to work on communicative styles. (as if we don't have to already) hot down here-----muggy-----Gatlinburg --very cool in the mountains Dollywood -- kind of cute and friendly---sort of like Deliverance----duh dun a dun dunt don (L: I think this is meant to be the banjo theme song -- oh, and as an aside, one particularly low Christmas Evening, my family watched Deliverance together)-- not exactly the banjo playing --but you get the point--love ya Dad"
Let's contrast this email style with the sort of email from my mother:
"DO YOU NEED TO GET YOUR HAIR DONE? HAVE YOU BEEN GOING TO CHURCH? YOUR FATHER HAS STARTED WRITING FICTION, HE WROTE SOME SORT OF POEM ABOUT THE TICK-TOCK OF DEATH, SO I SLEPT IN YOUR ROOM LAST NIGHT. I BAKED A CAKE AND MADE LEMONADE, AND NO ONE CLEANED THE DISHES. GO FIGURE. XOXO MOM" Read more
Sunday, September 23, 2007
"You shouldn't quit your day job"
Today, I discuss a particular breed of New York Man: The "Entrepreneur".
Last night at "Ubiquitous Ibanker meets B&T Bar X", I was chatting with one of my friends, when all of the sudden I notice a gentleman caller has sidled up next to my chair. I go through my mental checklist: Brown Hair? Check. Taller than me? Check. Employed? Well, if he's at a bar, and purchasing his own beverages, he must have *some* money, so, for all intents and purposes that's a check. That is when I spot it. Gentleman Caller is wearing a black graphic tee with a:
You Got it. He was wearing a graphic tee with a Koala bear on it. It was like the entire bar went silent with a screech upon my noticing this tee shirt. I had a visceral reaction, and I screamed, "WHAT ARE YOU WEARING??????" Joe Gentleman Caller breaks out in a wide smile, and says, "You like it?? It's from my new graphic t-shirt design company!" I stood there silent with a horrifyed look on my face for a couple of minutes. I remembered that this is New York, and I am a single 23 yr old living in a crackden in spanish harlem -- I probably shouldn't be looking a gift horse in the mouth. So, I decide I shall continue talking to Koala Joe. I asked him what the name of his company was -- he tells me, "It's Rare Unlimited". I continue to have a horrified look on my face -- I figured that if you're going to have a company that sells graphic tees of cuddly animals, the name was going to be at least a tad bit ironic -- something like "Ghostface Gangsta Killaz Bearz" or something. Koala Joe obviously picked up on my skepticism and continued to smile, "you see, it's like an oxymoron..like, oxymorons are two words that are sort of different, so like how can something be rare, but also unlimited, you know?" As he was telling me this, I thought to myself, "thank you, Koala Joe, for telling me what an oxymoron is -- I only studied English Literature, and Literature of the British Empire in college..I must have just *missed* the lesson on oxymorons", but then i remembered: single, 23, crackden, SpaHa -- so I told him, "That's witty", and I turned around and chugged the rest of my drink.
At this point, I am slightly intoxicated, so I figure, maybe I can turn these lemons to lemonade. "Hey Koala Bear" I yell, "What is your advertisement strategy?" Another look of pleased legitimacy. He comes close to me, as if he is about to impart the secret to business..."Myspace. And the best part? It's free." (Shots appear at the table, and Layne takes one), "KOALA BEAR", i slur, "I think your tshirt would be better with a smaller bear, perhaps in the corner, perhaps like a polo?" Koala Joe's look of legitimacy turns to anger. "Why wouldn't someone buy a tshirt w/a large Koala bear on it -- it's cute, its cuddly, it attracts the ladies, it's great." I'm Silent. "Also, I'm not trying to be polo...this shirt is golden." I continue to be silent whilst sipping my drink. Finally Koala Joe gets so worked up that he tells me, "Honey, you shouldn't quit your day job." and he walked away.
Another successful evening out in New York. Read more
Last night at "Ubiquitous Ibanker meets B&T Bar X", I was chatting with one of my friends, when all of the sudden I notice a gentleman caller has sidled up next to my chair. I go through my mental checklist: Brown Hair? Check. Taller than me? Check. Employed? Well, if he's at a bar, and purchasing his own beverages, he must have *some* money, so, for all intents and purposes that's a check. That is when I spot it. Gentleman Caller is wearing a black graphic tee with a:
You Got it. He was wearing a graphic tee with a Koala bear on it. It was like the entire bar went silent with a screech upon my noticing this tee shirt. I had a visceral reaction, and I screamed, "WHAT ARE YOU WEARING??????" Joe Gentleman Caller breaks out in a wide smile, and says, "You like it?? It's from my new graphic t-shirt design company!" I stood there silent with a horrifyed look on my face for a couple of minutes. I remembered that this is New York, and I am a single 23 yr old living in a crackden in spanish harlem -- I probably shouldn't be looking a gift horse in the mouth. So, I decide I shall continue talking to Koala Joe. I asked him what the name of his company was -- he tells me, "It's Rare Unlimited". I continue to have a horrified look on my face -- I figured that if you're going to have a company that sells graphic tees of cuddly animals, the name was going to be at least a tad bit ironic -- something like "Ghostface Gangsta Killaz Bearz" or something. Koala Joe obviously picked up on my skepticism and continued to smile, "you see, it's like an oxymoron..like, oxymorons are two words that are sort of different, so like how can something be rare, but also unlimited, you know?" As he was telling me this, I thought to myself, "thank you, Koala Joe, for telling me what an oxymoron is -- I only studied English Literature, and Literature of the British Empire in college..I must have just *missed* the lesson on oxymorons", but then i remembered: single, 23, crackden, SpaHa -- so I told him, "That's witty", and I turned around and chugged the rest of my drink.
At this point, I am slightly intoxicated, so I figure, maybe I can turn these lemons to lemonade. "Hey Koala Bear" I yell, "What is your advertisement strategy?" Another look of pleased legitimacy. He comes close to me, as if he is about to impart the secret to business..."Myspace. And the best part? It's free." (Shots appear at the table, and Layne takes one), "KOALA BEAR", i slur, "I think your tshirt would be better with a smaller bear, perhaps in the corner, perhaps like a polo?" Koala Joe's look of legitimacy turns to anger. "Why wouldn't someone buy a tshirt w/a large Koala bear on it -- it's cute, its cuddly, it attracts the ladies, it's great." I'm Silent. "Also, I'm not trying to be polo...this shirt is golden." I continue to be silent whilst sipping my drink. Finally Koala Joe gets so worked up that he tells me, "Honey, you shouldn't quit your day job." and he walked away.
Another successful evening out in New York. Read more
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Another Night Out
C'est 3am, and I am back from another unfulfilling night in the NYCDS (new york city dating scene). I did, however, meet the love of my life. He was a cab driver, he was nice to me, and he told me he thought I wasn't very drunk. In New York, this equates to love at first sight. In college/abroad, love at first sight meant a tall geeky awkward guy with brown hair and glasses....but sometimes, I suppose, you have to manage expectations. So, in short, if anyone has Nadim the cab driver's phone number, please let me know.
In other news, I went to go get my post-drinking slice of cheese pizza, and the man said, "everytime you come here, you get the same thing, so many times, by yourself..." I yelled something about living far uptown, in a studio...but i've decided I will never be going to Zesty Pizza again. Read more
In other news, I went to go get my post-drinking slice of cheese pizza, and the man said, "everytime you come here, you get the same thing, so many times, by yourself..." I yelled something about living far uptown, in a studio...but i've decided I will never be going to Zesty Pizza again. Read more
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Just another day at the ol' office
*Names have been changed to protect the identity of catgirl*
Cat Girl: what is the perfume that you're wearing
Cat Girl: what, I can't ask
Lil Layne: its from the 99 cent rack at duane reade
Cat Girl: really
Cat Girl: do u need help with anything
Cat Girl: hello layne
Cat Girl: what are u working on
Cat Girl: hey do u need help]
Cat Girl: meow
Cat Girl: frisky
Cat Girl: meoooooooooow Read more
Cat Girl: what is the perfume that you're wearing
Cat Girl: what, I can't ask
Lil Layne: its from the 99 cent rack at duane reade
Cat Girl: really
Cat Girl: do u need help with anything
Cat Girl: hello layne
Cat Girl: what are u working on
Cat Girl: hey do u need help]
Cat Girl: meow
Cat Girl: frisky
Cat Girl: meoooooooooow Read more
Sunday, September 09, 2007
"You have kind eyes..."
The above phrase was recently said to me by a schizophrenic man who apparently wished to court me. I bring this up as introduction to my newest crisis of identity: What is it about me that says to the weak, the awkward, the mentally ill, the homeless and the unemployed, "I am approachable, and if you wink at me whilst simultaneously spitting on the ground, or scratching yourself, I am going to say, 'Bring it, you tiger'." I am really at a loss.
This phenomenon did not start upon my relocation to New York. I first noticed my ability to attract a....how do you say...unsavory clientele when I lived in Edinburgh. I specifically remembering one homeless man asking me for my phone number as I was walking back from a bar. I, in a moment of sheer cheekiness, gave it to him to see if he, the homeless man begging on the street, was going to whip out his cell phone to program it in (he did). I was also morbidly curious to see where said homeless beggar was going to take his lady out on the town, but, unfortunately for all, I guess at some point the homeless man begging on the streets had second thoughts about ME, the girl WITH a home, money, and employment opportunities, and he never called. It was a bit of an ego crushing moment.
Last fall, I had a similar experience. I was standing on some East Village street corner trying to inebriatedly hail a cab. I had been standing there for a good 20 minutes with my hand up (no cabs stopping) when I heard a human voice yelling, "BEEP BEEP". As I turned, I noticed I had hailed SOMETHING. Down the street came Joe Homeless Man, pushing a grocery cart. I started contemplating accepting a ride in his KMart Chariot, just to see if Joe Homeless Man was going to push me 90 or so blocks uptown. I then remembered that the last time I engaged a homeless beggar due to morbid curiosity, I ended up alone on a Sat. Night waiting for a phone call, sans date, so I opted against it. I told the man, "I would, normally, it is just that it is a bit chilly out, and I already have a cold, but, do have a good night." Joe Homeless Man then told me, "that's a shame, because i'd sure like to take you home." ("What home", I asked myself, but that is neither here nor there.)
Here's my rhetorical question that I don't expect you, my 2 readers, to actually answer: If it were Paris Hilton, rather than Layne Hilton, who had been in those situations --- would the homeless people have propositioned them? I don't think so.
I think my new experiment is going to be, when faced with a crazy homeless person who wants to date me, can I somehow out-crazy them so they are like "oh jesus...this one's more than I bargained for", and then back away from me. I think if I successfully do this like 2 or three times, I will be branded, and, perhaps, left alone. I mean, I have enough examples of crazy in my life (see below), that I think I could pull it off. I'l llet you, the 2 readers, know how it goes. Read more
This phenomenon did not start upon my relocation to New York. I first noticed my ability to attract a....how do you say...unsavory clientele when I lived in Edinburgh. I specifically remembering one homeless man asking me for my phone number as I was walking back from a bar. I, in a moment of sheer cheekiness, gave it to him to see if he, the homeless man begging on the street, was going to whip out his cell phone to program it in (he did). I was also morbidly curious to see where said homeless beggar was going to take his lady out on the town, but, unfortunately for all, I guess at some point the homeless man begging on the streets had second thoughts about ME, the girl WITH a home, money, and employment opportunities, and he never called. It was a bit of an ego crushing moment.
Last fall, I had a similar experience. I was standing on some East Village street corner trying to inebriatedly hail a cab. I had been standing there for a good 20 minutes with my hand up (no cabs stopping) when I heard a human voice yelling, "BEEP BEEP". As I turned, I noticed I had hailed SOMETHING. Down the street came Joe Homeless Man, pushing a grocery cart. I started contemplating accepting a ride in his KMart Chariot, just to see if Joe Homeless Man was going to push me 90 or so blocks uptown. I then remembered that the last time I engaged a homeless beggar due to morbid curiosity, I ended up alone on a Sat. Night waiting for a phone call, sans date, so I opted against it. I told the man, "I would, normally, it is just that it is a bit chilly out, and I already have a cold, but, do have a good night." Joe Homeless Man then told me, "that's a shame, because i'd sure like to take you home." ("What home", I asked myself, but that is neither here nor there.)
Here's my rhetorical question that I don't expect you, my 2 readers, to actually answer: If it were Paris Hilton, rather than Layne Hilton, who had been in those situations --- would the homeless people have propositioned them? I don't think so.
I think my new experiment is going to be, when faced with a crazy homeless person who wants to date me, can I somehow out-crazy them so they are like "oh jesus...this one's more than I bargained for", and then back away from me. I think if I successfully do this like 2 or three times, I will be branded, and, perhaps, left alone. I mean, I have enough examples of crazy in my life (see below), that I think I could pull it off. I'l llet you, the 2 readers, know how it goes. Read more
Thursday, September 06, 2007
LSAT Logical Reasoning Question
The above provides the strongest support for which of the following conclusions:
(A) - Sometimes people leave somewhat creepy presents at others' desks just to say "Hello".
(B) - Speaking generally, only children are not socially well adjusted.
(C) - Mount Holyoke wasn't the only place with freakshows.
(D) - Something about me attracts those referenced in (c).
(E) - Layne's Cat says "Meow!".
I had to post it for those who didn't believe me.
Read more
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
The Flight Home
I should have recognized the trip wasn't going to go well when I inadvertently made a joke that could have been perceived as slightly racist. A man walks into the plane, wearing a really remarkable Juicy Couture sweat jump ensemble. He is putting his suitcase away when he turned to me and said, "It don't fit, it just don't fit" in a joking manner. I, without even batting an eye or thinking about it, responded with, "If the glove don't fit…you must acquit." I was greeted with silence, an the man abruptly sat down. Later, he put his seat back ALL THE WAY, thus leaving me with no leg room. Folks, I have learned that it is still not okay to make an OJ Simpson joke. I thought that particular period of political incorrectness ended around the start of the Michael Jackson trial…I was wrong.
After settling in my seat, I finally notice my companions in aisle 22 for the next two hours. They appeared to be a couple, as I quickly spotted their Zales Jeweler knockoff wedding bands. The Husband looked like he had tried to be an extra elf on the set of Lord of the Rings WAY too many times: Long uncombed blonde hair, coupled with what appeared to be tunic made of second hand fabrics. He also wore gloves the ENTIRE flight. His wife was a petite girl who looked like she was 12—no joke. I notice this is going to devolve into an uncomfortable situation for me, their 3rd wheel, when they begin to nuzzle noses with one another.
The woman on my right had an ENTIRE aisle to herself. When we were all boarding the plane, this particular woman took out her cell phone and called her father. The following is an excerpt of their conversation:
Woman: Daddy, oh Daddy, I just wanted to call you to tell you I love you so much, it might be the last time I can tell you that (begins to cry, Layne is starting to think the woman who is in her late 40’s might be calling a sick father in the hospital or something), Daddy, oh god, I’m so scared, I mean…there are so many plane crashes, :::cries louder, Layne comes to realize this woman is a)unstable and b) under the belief we are going to die:::: the lord is my Shepard, remember I said that as my last words, cause I just have this feeling…I had this dream we were going to die..and my dreams are always true…oh I love you, tell mom I love her too…if I make it I’ll see you in 4 hours…but I probably won’t…so I love you
:::hangs up the phone, cries for a while, then asks the people in the full row in front of her if anyone wants to come sit next to her to keep her company..Not surprisingly, No one responds to her.
45 minutes into the flight I have realized the man in front of me will continue to recline his seat until we have to land. Coupled with the fact that the elfin and his lady-bride have escalated to rubbing each others appendages; the 2 open seats next to Crazy aren’t starting to look so bad.
I walk over and I sit down.
Crazy: What are you doing?
Layne: I am sitting here…more room and space and such…
Crazy: What’s wrong with your seat?
Layne: :::stammers, doesn’t know how to verbalize, “I don’t want to watch the long haired one get off while his underage wife pets his gloves”…so I try to tell the truth and end the resolve the situation with grace:::: I have a proclivity for blood clots, and if I don’t have enough room for my legs, I could die.
Crazy: :::stares at me, probably wondering whether she should bestow her psychic knowledge that I’m going to die anyways in our impending crash—a premonition she probably received when she was having a binge on illegal codeine or something, instead, she meekly shakes her head and I sit.
I decide to pull out my ipod for in-flight entertainment. Looks like Crazy brought something too…only I realize she has brought a puzzle of Old Macdonald’s Farm. I’m listening to the second chorus of “Santa that’s my only wish this year” Britney Spears style with my eyes closed trying to get a nap..when I feel someone petting my leg. I look down, and Crazy is on all fours looking for something with a minature flashlight (we’re talking, size of your pinkie miniature) attached to a set of rubber duckie, troll, and teddie bear key chains.
Layne: What are did you lose? :::”aside from your IQ, EQ, Verbal Reasoning, Quantitative Skills and Pride”, I think to myself::::
Crazy: Oh, I just lost this piece of my puzzle..I think it was the one with the dog on it :::Did Old MacDonald have a Dog on his farm?::::::
Layne: Oh, that’s a shame :::Layne puts back on earphones and hopes that premonition she had about the plane crash comes to fruition soon::::
Crazy sits up on the floor, hits her head on the tray table, and the rest of the puzzle pieces go flying.
Crazy: Can you help me pick these up?
Layne::::::right now God, right now…send the lightning bold to hit this plane and all of its cursed travelers RIGHT NOW, Layne closes her eyes and waits for the crack of the bolt, it doesn’t come:::: I’m….okay, I guess I can help
I get on all 4’s in manner of Old MacDonald’s Dog himself, and search for puzzle pieces. I finally realize that people are staring, and maybe going to associate me with this woman, so I get up and go to the back of the plane. I stand there for about 20 minutes, and then I finally go back down the aisle, and reclaim my spot next to the couple in my row, who are now spooning with one another as best they can--given the special limitations of the seat construction.
I put on my music loudly and I fall asleep for a while (Since I hadn’t slept for 2 days straight). I am awoken by an announcement telling everyone to put away their electronic equipment. I look over and I notice Crazy is putting her puzzle away. I think someone should have probably told her puzzles from toys r us don’t constitute electronic equipment, and that she could continue to piece together the scarecrow’s body...
Aside: I'm at the hotel Mr Paul just walked in and didn't acknoweldge my presence. Strike 2 old man, one more diss and you're out.
Well, that's all I have time for. Until Next Time... Read more
After settling in my seat, I finally notice my companions in aisle 22 for the next two hours. They appeared to be a couple, as I quickly spotted their Zales Jeweler knockoff wedding bands. The Husband looked like he had tried to be an extra elf on the set of Lord of the Rings WAY too many times: Long uncombed blonde hair, coupled with what appeared to be tunic made of second hand fabrics. He also wore gloves the ENTIRE flight. His wife was a petite girl who looked like she was 12—no joke. I notice this is going to devolve into an uncomfortable situation for me, their 3rd wheel, when they begin to nuzzle noses with one another.
The woman on my right had an ENTIRE aisle to herself. When we were all boarding the plane, this particular woman took out her cell phone and called her father. The following is an excerpt of their conversation:
Woman: Daddy, oh Daddy, I just wanted to call you to tell you I love you so much, it might be the last time I can tell you that (begins to cry, Layne is starting to think the woman who is in her late 40’s might be calling a sick father in the hospital or something), Daddy, oh god, I’m so scared, I mean…there are so many plane crashes, :::cries louder, Layne comes to realize this woman is a)unstable and b) under the belief we are going to die:::: the lord is my Shepard, remember I said that as my last words, cause I just have this feeling…I had this dream we were going to die..and my dreams are always true…oh I love you, tell mom I love her too…if I make it I’ll see you in 4 hours…but I probably won’t…so I love you
:::hangs up the phone, cries for a while, then asks the people in the full row in front of her if anyone wants to come sit next to her to keep her company..Not surprisingly, No one responds to her.
45 minutes into the flight I have realized the man in front of me will continue to recline his seat until we have to land. Coupled with the fact that the elfin and his lady-bride have escalated to rubbing each others appendages; the 2 open seats next to Crazy aren’t starting to look so bad.
I walk over and I sit down.
Crazy: What are you doing?
Layne: I am sitting here…more room and space and such…
Crazy: What’s wrong with your seat?
Layne: :::stammers, doesn’t know how to verbalize, “I don’t want to watch the long haired one get off while his underage wife pets his gloves”…so I try to tell the truth and end the resolve the situation with grace:::: I have a proclivity for blood clots, and if I don’t have enough room for my legs, I could die.
Crazy: :::stares at me, probably wondering whether she should bestow her psychic knowledge that I’m going to die anyways in our impending crash—a premonition she probably received when she was having a binge on illegal codeine or something, instead, she meekly shakes her head and I sit.
I decide to pull out my ipod for in-flight entertainment. Looks like Crazy brought something too…only I realize she has brought a puzzle of Old Macdonald’s Farm. I’m listening to the second chorus of “Santa that’s my only wish this year” Britney Spears style with my eyes closed trying to get a nap..when I feel someone petting my leg. I look down, and Crazy is on all fours looking for something with a minature flashlight (we’re talking, size of your pinkie miniature) attached to a set of rubber duckie, troll, and teddie bear key chains.
Layne: What are did you lose? :::”aside from your IQ, EQ, Verbal Reasoning, Quantitative Skills and Pride”, I think to myself::::
Crazy: Oh, I just lost this piece of my puzzle..I think it was the one with the dog on it :::Did Old MacDonald have a Dog on his farm?::::::
Layne: Oh, that’s a shame :::Layne puts back on earphones and hopes that premonition she had about the plane crash comes to fruition soon::::
Crazy sits up on the floor, hits her head on the tray table, and the rest of the puzzle pieces go flying.
Crazy: Can you help me pick these up?
Layne::::::right now God, right now…send the lightning bold to hit this plane and all of its cursed travelers RIGHT NOW, Layne closes her eyes and waits for the crack of the bolt, it doesn’t come:::: I’m….okay, I guess I can help
I get on all 4’s in manner of Old MacDonald’s Dog himself, and search for puzzle pieces. I finally realize that people are staring, and maybe going to associate me with this woman, so I get up and go to the back of the plane. I stand there for about 20 minutes, and then I finally go back down the aisle, and reclaim my spot next to the couple in my row, who are now spooning with one another as best they can--given the special limitations of the seat construction.
I put on my music loudly and I fall asleep for a while (Since I hadn’t slept for 2 days straight). I am awoken by an announcement telling everyone to put away their electronic equipment. I look over and I notice Crazy is putting her puzzle away. I think someone should have probably told her puzzles from toys r us don’t constitute electronic equipment, and that she could continue to piece together the scarecrow’s body...
Aside: I'm at the hotel Mr Paul just walked in and didn't acknoweldge my presence. Strike 2 old man, one more diss and you're out.
Well, that's all I have time for. Until Next Time... Read more
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Food, Glorious Food.
Today friends, I tell you about my adventure with the Welfare System of America.
When Mother and Father were displaced by Katrina to Western MA, they realized that they had 1-no income and 2-no money. So they, like any hardworking American would, decided to file for unemployment and welfare benefits. Seeing as how they were branded with the scarlet K--they had no problem getting these sorts of benefits.
Joanne and Dennis left 4 days ago, and decided (probably against their better judgment), that rather than waste the money left over from their food stamps, they should give it to their over-indulged only child in the midst of finals. The following is a true and accurate account of what occurred on Monday Night.
::Layne pulls into a Super Stop and Shop in Holyoke, MA. She decided it was probably a better idea to go someplace where no one affiliated with Mount Holyoke College would be likely to shop. She removes her extra large pearl earrings and stuffs them in her jacket, as to look more "the part", and walks in. She takes note of the the self-check out machines, she decides this would be her best option as to make an un-noticed escape with no one to question her, she is relieved.:::
:::Layne immediately decides to purchase imported goods. Why buy cheap items when she could buy shortbread cookies made in Scotland, little crackers made in France, and mangos imported from south America. She also decides to buy soy crisps, expensive cereal, expensive organic granola bars, and the like. No one is going to see what she purchases anyways.:::
:::Layne proceeds to the self check out lane when she realizes...it doesn't exist. She had hallucinated it in her "food stamp shopping" fury. She becomes panicked. She pushes her cart around the store in manner of the psychotic female protagonist from the Charlotte Perkins Gilman short story, "the yellow wallpaper"...eager check out clerks ask her if she needs help, she doesn't answer---she just runs away and attempts to find solitude in the rice and mexican food aisle:::
:::Layne is about to give up. Maybe she should just leave the car there and walk out without anyone taking notice. That's when her eye accidentally falls on a Zatarain's New Orleans Style Jambolaya Box. She realizes, "I'm a refugee, damnitt!" and regains her nerve. She walks to checkout with a newfound confidence. She realizes if someone questions her, she will a) remind them of New Orleans and b) take the moral high road and tell them her mother is bedridden:::
:::The Clerk proceeds to scan her goods when Layne realizes, "A bed-ridden woman would not request soy crisps or cadburys chocolate with her limited meager assortment of foodstamps"..Maybe they won't notice she is swiping a card that says MASSACHUSETTS AID instead of VISA GOLD PLATINUM..she swipes and the games begin...:::
Layne: Um, nothing is happening with the screen
Clerk: What did you press?
Layne: No, i mean, i pressed the one i was supposed to press, but yeah, it um didn't work ::Getting panicked...the jig is up::
Clerk: I understand that, but which button was it
Layne: ::covering her mouth and coughing simultaneously::: Um, foodstamps
Clerk: What did you say?
Layne: :::coughing louder and covering mouth more::: Foodstamps
Clerk: ::over loudspeaker:: I need the manager on aisle five
::Layne breaks out into a cold sweat. Was it the coach wallet that gave it away? Maybe the blonde highlights? She starts eyeing her quickest get-away path:::
Manager: Now what seems to be the problem?? the machine not working? you wanted to press the EBT?? Here let me fix that ::Fixes machine, Layne swipes, no problem, Layne enters the code, gets her receipt and runs out of there as soon as possible:: Read more
When Mother and Father were displaced by Katrina to Western MA, they realized that they had 1-no income and 2-no money. So they, like any hardworking American would, decided to file for unemployment and welfare benefits. Seeing as how they were branded with the scarlet K--they had no problem getting these sorts of benefits.
Joanne and Dennis left 4 days ago, and decided (probably against their better judgment), that rather than waste the money left over from their food stamps, they should give it to their over-indulged only child in the midst of finals. The following is a true and accurate account of what occurred on Monday Night.
::Layne pulls into a Super Stop and Shop in Holyoke, MA. She decided it was probably a better idea to go someplace where no one affiliated with Mount Holyoke College would be likely to shop. She removes her extra large pearl earrings and stuffs them in her jacket, as to look more "the part", and walks in. She takes note of the the self-check out machines, she decides this would be her best option as to make an un-noticed escape with no one to question her, she is relieved.:::
:::Layne immediately decides to purchase imported goods. Why buy cheap items when she could buy shortbread cookies made in Scotland, little crackers made in France, and mangos imported from south America. She also decides to buy soy crisps, expensive cereal, expensive organic granola bars, and the like. No one is going to see what she purchases anyways.:::
:::Layne proceeds to the self check out lane when she realizes...it doesn't exist. She had hallucinated it in her "food stamp shopping" fury. She becomes panicked. She pushes her cart around the store in manner of the psychotic female protagonist from the Charlotte Perkins Gilman short story, "the yellow wallpaper"...eager check out clerks ask her if she needs help, she doesn't answer---she just runs away and attempts to find solitude in the rice and mexican food aisle:::
:::Layne is about to give up. Maybe she should just leave the car there and walk out without anyone taking notice. That's when her eye accidentally falls on a Zatarain's New Orleans Style Jambolaya Box. She realizes, "I'm a refugee, damnitt!" and regains her nerve. She walks to checkout with a newfound confidence. She realizes if someone questions her, she will a) remind them of New Orleans and b) take the moral high road and tell them her mother is bedridden:::
:::The Clerk proceeds to scan her goods when Layne realizes, "A bed-ridden woman would not request soy crisps or cadburys chocolate with her limited meager assortment of foodstamps"..Maybe they won't notice she is swiping a card that says MASSACHUSETTS AID instead of VISA GOLD PLATINUM..she swipes and the games begin...:::
Layne: Um, nothing is happening with the screen
Clerk: What did you press?
Layne: No, i mean, i pressed the one i was supposed to press, but yeah, it um didn't work ::Getting panicked...the jig is up::
Clerk: I understand that, but which button was it
Layne: ::covering her mouth and coughing simultaneously::: Um, foodstamps
Clerk: What did you say?
Layne: :::coughing louder and covering mouth more::: Foodstamps
Clerk: ::over loudspeaker:: I need the manager on aisle five
::Layne breaks out into a cold sweat. Was it the coach wallet that gave it away? Maybe the blonde highlights? She starts eyeing her quickest get-away path:::
Manager: Now what seems to be the problem?? the machine not working? you wanted to press the EBT?? Here let me fix that ::Fixes machine, Layne swipes, no problem, Layne enters the code, gets her receipt and runs out of there as soon as possible:: Read more
Sunday, December 04, 2005
This post is long over-due.
You know you've been waiting for it...so here it goes.
BBC Pride and Prejudice VS. Keira Knightley Pride and Prejudice
First of all, I'm just going to preface this by saying I am an EXTREME BBC Colin Firth/6 hour/P&P fanatic. Like a--I watch it when i'm going to sleep sometimes, when I come home drunk I put it in and sing along to the music and I signed up for 18th/19th century dance solely because I want to reenact the Darcy/EB Ball Scene at Netherfield--extreme fanatic. So OBV, i'm one of those tricky demographics who will be sure to pay the money to see the money, while maybe not actually enjoying the film itself because there is no wet white t-shirt bit w/c.firth. That having been said, I found the film quite delightful.
First of all the new Darcy is an absolute dreamboat. I mean, maybe i'm not the most discriminating judge of "Dreamboats" as I may have once sent Stephen Hawking a valentines e-gram asking him to be mine...but that's neither here nor there. The new Darcy was tortured, tall, dark, British--I loved it. To top it all off...he's not the age of my father, which was perhaps a downfall for Colin Firth. However, I must admit I was upset that he didn't jump into his lake in a white shirt though..that was always a favorite of mine.
K. Knightley was also quite good. I thought she would be too pretty--but luckily for us, she's only pretty with blonde hair. Her smile continues to irritate me, but I could look past it for these 2 1/2 hours. She and the actor who played Darcy had really good chemistry, methinks, and that added greatly to the film.
Biggest Pet Peeve: Wickham, WTF? Wickham's character is meant to make you want to meet him in the back of an alleyway when no ones watching, NOT ask you to come back to the record studio to sing the 6th refrain of MMMBOP. SERIOUSLY, this guy was TROLL. Long hair never looks good on men, specifically not men with blonde hair and ESPECIALLY not British Men. AND WHAT WAS WITH THAT MUSTACHE? He looked like an out of work porn star. Bad acting choice on that one.
Secondly, COLONEL FITZWILLIAM, WTF? He was also grotesque. Aside from his age (circa 84), he didn't seem fun, and I always got the sneaking suspicion that he was waiting for the Director to yell "CUT" so he could go back to the food trailer and get seconds on Fish and Chips.
Okay, well, that's about all I have time for, so I hope you've enjoyed.
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