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How Not To Pick Up Women, Part Duex.

2009-03-13T08:35:00.003-04:00

Yes, it's time for another installment of Harlot Fevah's "How *not* to pick up women". I realized that my first post about this subject really shouldn't have been the only one. It's selfish, and you may stand to learn more if it's a continuous topic.

You may be shocked to know, that not all men try to pick up women solely at bars. Oh no, my friends. It happens wherever you look. Wherever there is mingling of the sexes, you will find bold men trying to pick up less-than-eager women. And for some reason, I seem to attract all the crazies in Boston, which is why it's fairly easy for me to make a list of things NOT to do.

This lesson today, will focus on "T" etiquette. For those of you who haven't had the extreme privilege of taking the T, just know that it's a magical world of drunken college kids, the smell of urine, people bumping into you and many "oops-how-did-my-hand-get-there?" type situations.

1.) When a woman has her iPod in and is just kind of staring off into space, this isn't an invitation to touch her in any way. It really isn't. I don't care what you may have to say or ask, it really is just a pain in the ass, and we don't like to put up with it 99% of the time.

Example: I was listening to my music, holding onto the pole for balance when out of nowhere I felt someone touch the top of my hand. Thinking it was just due to the shuffle of people on the train, I payed no mind. When it continued to happen, I turned around to see what I would have first assumed, as a normal-looking man. As soon as I had turned around he asked me: "Where did you get that scar from?" and instead of saying "Well sir who I don't know, I received this scar in 4th grade when I tried to take a strawberry out of a friend's lunchbox and she scratched the top of my hand...forever reminding me that my love of food exceeds friendship.", I decided the best response would be: "Sir, I have no qualms about kicking you in the balls if you touch me again."

2.) If you do happen to break the rules and try to start up a conversation with someone who's clearly not wanting to be talkative, don't persist if said woman is reluctant to conversation or touch. It's really not ok. If you get the shrug off, or threat of ball-kicking, you should consider yourself warned and back away with what dignity you have left.

Example: No more than 3 minutes after Mr. It-Puts-The-Lotion-On-It's-Skin touched my hand, and I made my threat, I felt something brush my hair. Once again, praying to some higher power, I wanted to believe that this was due to the rush of people on the train. But no, I turn to find the same man petting my hair, as if I were a prize pony needing a good combing. My mistake, I didn't realize the equation "touch me again = ball-kick" was so sophisticated, that a simple psycho couldn't understand. And to make matters even worse, this was followed up with a "Do you dye your hair? It's so beautiful." Stop it. Really. It's just too much for my little woman mind to handle. Fortunately, I was able to make my way to the other side of the train before murdering this man. Getting arrested on the T for assault probably won't help me out at all.

3.) Don't tell a woman that you are an ex-marine in the hopes her ears will prick up and her eyes will glimmer, when you clearly are at least 40 pounds overweight. It looks like you may have trouble picking up a suitcase, let alone lifting weights. It's not something to really be proud of, and we're not impressed.

4.) When the train is coming to a stop and the woman you've feebly been trying to talk to goes to get off, don't use the line "You're leaving already? Damn, I didn't get a chance to get your number." That will merit you a hearty laugh in the face, followed by a quick exit into the crowd, never to be seen again.

To sum up: In what world is it ok to touch a stranger? Certainly not mine. In what world is it ok to constantly bug a stranger by touching them and asking retahded questions? Again, not mine. But, maybe you could find women that like this...I certainly haven't come across any recently, or ever, for that matter.

In a phrase, "what about me says approachable?!". Hope you jotted down some notes for use in the future and ladies -- watch out when riding the T...you never know what idiocy may occur.

How Not To Pick Up Women.

2008-12-30T08:46:00.003-05:00

Granted, being at a townie bar -- you can't expect much of anything...manners, in particular. Actually, the only thing you CAN come to expect, is that 311 or DMB will be played at some point on the jukebox. So, this is partially my fault for being sucked into such a haneous place. But I can't help it, the people-watching is phenomenal. It's wicked addicting.

Guys? I know that there are MILLIONS of things you're dying to know about us ladies. And no worries, I'm here to help out with a few things that may, in return, help you. I know, I know, I'm too nice. Maybe one day in the future, you can return the favor by letting us ladies know why you're such retards sometimes.

But enough of the slander, let's get down to some main points on: How NOT to pick up women.

1.) Don't compliment a woman on something (in my case, tattoos) then, when you think she is out of earshot, follow it up with "She also has a killer rack...but I didn't want to say that to her face cause I think she could kick my ass." .... Just because I'm in the bathroom doesn't mean I'm in the Fortress of Solitude. It's a wooden door. I can hear you. Assholes.

*And yes, I have a nice rack...and YES, I could kick your ass. Just wanted to clear that right up.*

2.) When a group of women are sitting at a table, and the bar is getting crowded...don't take that as an excuse to stand within a 2 inch radius, ass facing us. It's not cool or sexy, it's just fucking gross.

3.) Please, for the love of God, DON'T continuously tell me that Hootie and the Blowfish are the best band that has ever existed on Earth. Sure, I fall victim every once and a while to "Hold My Hand" when there's not a whole lot on the radio, but really? The BEST band ever? I highly doubt that. And the "census" you took at the bar, stating that 80% of the people in there LOVES H & the Blowfish? Bullshit. I found at least 10-15 people who breathlessly said they'd rather kill their mother than listen to it.

3A.) To follow up on #3, and I use this phrase a lot in my life...What about me says 'approachable'?!?!? Seriously, I don't understand why men think it's ok to come up and stand within 1 inch of my face or even worse, touch me. I don't even liked to be touched by people I know most of the time, let alone drunken strangers. Give me my space. Don't grab my hand and serenade me with your Hootie and the Blowfish's "Let her Cry" and attempt to brush the side of my face with your beer (and god knows what else) covered hand...you're asking for a punch in the eye.

4.) Don't spill your beer halfway down my back, then tell me I'm a crazy bitch because I didn't react "nicely". Who the fuck is getting half a beer spilt on them and saying "Thank you sir, may I have another?" For christ sakes, be a gentleman and get me a fucking towel or napkin.

For now, these are the best tips I can offer you. Unless you're looking for a woman who is void of intelligence and has been living under a rock for the past century...then I would suggest doing any of those things. Cheers.

Put on your Sunday best!

2008-11-18T09:44:00.002-05:00

That's right, I am going to Church this Sunday.

I'll give you time to get back into your chair and have your breathing return to normal.

Now, I am not a religious person -- I'm sure many of you can attest to that. And I took a religious studies course in college, I know what this Catholicism is all about...But to be perfectly frank, it's bullshit. At least to me it is. I'm sorry if I'm offending anyone who's completely "Gung-Ho!" about Jesus. And this is far more offensive than my blog about Crocs, yet someone still felt the need to comment about how much they hate me because of my views on those hideous things. So I'm sure someone will post about how I'm going to burn in Hell and God will spit on my carcass, and all that jazz. Boo fucking hoo, cry me a river, build me a bridge and get over it.

Believe it or not, I'm going for my Grammy. My little 84-year-old, speaks-with-an-English-accent-even-though-she-grew-up-in-Danvers-Massachusetts, Grammy. She goes to Mass god only knows how many times during the week. I remember when I was a kid, whenever we spent the weekend at my Grammy's house, she would make us go to church. At the time, I had no idea what was going on, I was just grateful for the fact that she kept candy in her purse which she would continuously feed to me throughout the Mass so I would shut up. Clearly, none of what was actually going on during Mass sunk into my brain, but it was a nice effort. Also, I ended up going to the local Unitarian church in my hometown with my former friend, where they would make us sit in a circle and have us pass a little candle and "share our feelings". Excuse me? This was like another planet to me. Even at the age of 12, I wasn't falling for that shit. Take your little candle, and your crunchy granola, and your "I love the world" attitude and get the fuck out of my face.

To be perfectly honest, I can't remember the last time I've set foot in an actual church. The last time I was around anything spiritual was at my Uncle Danny's burial, and even then, the Priest who was giving the reading looked at me and knew that I didn't belong there. Part of that was because of all the visible tattoos...the other, the fact that while everyone was reciting "Our Father", I was staring at the group of geese who happened to be much more interesting at the time. Suppressing the urge to honk during that solemn time was one of the best challenges I've ever had.

But anyways, the reason I'm going to church for my Grammy, is that she's winning an award. The first of it's kind apparently, for doing good deeds and being awesome in general. But the best part about all this, is the fact that it's being presented to her by...the fucking Cardinal. Yup. Cardinal Sean P. O' Malley will be presenting my Grammy this award. And it's not it's own ceremony...it is during the Sunday Mass. I don't know exactly why I find this so humorous...but I totally do. It just seems ironic that I've loathed the Catholic church for YEARS, and now the one fucking time I'm going...the damn Cardinal will be there. I keep having this feeling that I'm going to set one foot in this church in South Boston and burn right there on site. I also have to think about what I'm going to wear. At first, I wanted to wear a cute little black dress, with fishnets and my high heels. If I'm going to go to church and not fit in, why not go all the way with it! But after some careful consideration...and my father's other worldly advice, I've decided I should probably cover up the tattoos and wear something...more tasteful. Gross.

So if you hear about some crazy, ranting, lunatic here in Boston this Sunday, it's only me -- starting a riot at church. No big deal. LONG LIVE THE GAYS!

Good. Morning.

2008-11-11T09:20:00.004-05:00

My father's house is old. Not like "That's awesome that you have an olive green fridge from the 70s" old. I'm talking like 1700-1800's old. The kind of old where a lot of the house's insulation is still in the form of horse-hair. Well, this is an open invitation to some of the wonderful wildlife that inhabits North Andover. Mainly, the North American Grey Squirrel.

Now, my father has tried numerous way of ousting these annoying little beasts, but nothing seems to work.

Led Zeppelin at warp 10 volume in the attic from our old 50lb 80s boom box? Nothing. Guess they aren't really into taking that Stairway to Heaven.

That machine that emits a high-pitch frequency that pets and humans can't hear, but little critters will and vacate the premises shortly after? Not so much. They figured out that if you chew through the wires, it will shut off.

I won't even get into the "mothball" stage. Gross.

So, now that the weather is getting colder, the small family of squirrels have decided to pack it on in, into our house. And it seems, that their favorite thing to do, is to create little tunnels through the walls...creating what I can only assume, is a mini-rendition of the movie The Labyrinth. I bet there's even one squirrel with spandex pants, a flowing white shirt and hair to die for. Now all of this would be ok...if it weren't for the fact that they're next step in the "Big Dig" was in my room.

I can usually sleep through most things. I will soon be sleeping next to a man who could wake the dead with his snoring...and if I get a head start on him, I can sleep through it. So I didn't wake up to the sound of a squirrel scratching its way through my walls. I did however, wake up to the sound of things being knocked off my bureau. Thankfully, my cat Chainsaw felt the need to protect me (or so I thought), so she had taken the liberty of vaulting off the day bed, onto my bureau in the corner. What she didn't realize, is that the surface of my bureau is slippery. So after sliding into a few items and knocking them off, she stabled herself and continued to stare in the direction of the faint scratching.

I assumed that she would hang out there for a while, so I just laid back down. After about a minute or so, I heard some scratching behind my head. So there was not only 1 annoying rat...but 2 in my fucking walls. Chainsaw, with the awesome hearing she possesses, realized this and proceeded to jump off the bureau, run across the room, jump on my bed and then (add insult to injury) decided to use my chest/rib cage as a human trampoline to get to the next scratching sound.

So thanks, Chainsaw. Thanks for half knocking the wind out of me and waking me up to such a glorious Veteran's Day. It was like I got my own parade of idiocy. I don't know exactly what in your tiny brain made you think you could actually GET to the squirrels, but it was a nice effort regardless.

Oy.

Check The Date.

2008-11-06T08:49:00.004-05:00

It's November 6th, assholes.

Who the fuck said it was ok to start playing Christmas music on 2 of my favorite radio stations?! I don't even understand how it's possible. I was just driving to work, minding my own business, when I turn to WROR, 105.7 and I hear Burl Ives' rendition of "Holly Jolly Christmas". Go fuck yourselves 105.7. So then, I switch the channel to WODS 103.3 (Oldies, for those of you who would like to mock) and I hear Elvis' "Blue Christmas". I literally almost drove my car into the ditch in the median of 93. I would rather have gotten into a horrible disfiguring car wreck than come to terms with the fact that Christmas music was already being played 24 hours a day on 2 radio stations. And the scarier thing? More stations will follow suit pretty soon. Soon, all I'll have to listen to is the pathetic thing I call a "cd collection" (consisting of a few Disney cds and 3 cds Deck-Her has made for me in the past 3 years. Because nothing quiet says class as driving 90mph singing "Hakuna Matata" or Usher's "Yeah").

Now, I've come to accept the fact that Christmas candy and decorations are displayed at malls and convenience stores around the country in about mid-September. And I'm somewhat ok with that. I just walk on by pretending like it's not happening. Denial may just be a river in Egypt for me. But just because these stores are insane, shouldn't mean that I should have to be forced into listening to "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" and "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" and all that bullshit 2 FUCKING MONTHS before the actual holiday. It's just plain torture.

So I'll apologize to the Christmas lovers out there (ahem cough cough Miss Mary Smack wheeze cough) because I know some people are excited to listen to these songs and get in the spirit of the holidays and all that shit. But for me, I plan on finishing my fucking Halloween candy, congratulating my father for finding a gravy boat to use at Thanksgiving that keeps the gravy warm with a tea light that sits underneath it and listening to Emerson's 88.9 independent radio on my way to work, so I don't go postal this year. Or at least...not too early.

New & Improved Massacre Stats

2008-10-15T15:03:00.006-04:00

Ok, so as some of you may have noticed, last years Regionals I wrote a blog in regards to Eastern Regionals in OHIOOOOOOOO. I only felt it was fair to update my blog with newer stats. I will start by copying and pasting some of the same questions from last year with updated answers...

*Number of games played: 4

*Amount of time it took for our room to look like a bomb went off: About 5 minutes, seeing as there was no dresser to put clothes in, only kitchen cabinets.

*Number of Jello shots consumed in 1 evening: NONE! We had no time between games to go out drinking (even though the damn hotel offered FREE BEER!!)

*Number of times Claire D. Way pushed Fevah out of her chair: NONE! Holy crap, that doesn't seem right now that I look back...

*Number of times the Massacre actually went out into the light of day: This time, we actually had to go outside to get to the venue...so many -- but it was well worth it

*Amazing quotes from QSand: STILL too many to count

*Number of times hotel staff were told off by Fevah: 0, the hotel staff were AMAZING!! Especially the lady who shuttled us to the grocery store and waited in the parking lot while we ran around like it was Supermarket Sweep. They even turned a blind eye as Buse and I brought glass into the pool/hot tub area. Big no no.

*Number of times Lady E was worn: THANK GOD, STILL ZERO!

*Fried food consumed: I can't even begin to tell you how many fried cheese curds our team as a whole ate that weekend. Soooo good. Other than that, we had some minor issues finding regular food in the immediate area.... ("Is this just fucking tomato paste? I don't even care, I'm eating it with a fork...")

Now, let's add some NEW stats, shall we?

*Number of times we watched the Lawrence Welk Show skit on SNL: Roughly? 30. With my by myself!

*Number of times we referenced that SNL skit during the weekend?: 358,675,579,478 times.

*Number of times the phrase "This room looks like diarrhea." was said: 4

*Number of times we said "OHIOOOOOO", even though we were in Madison: approximately 68

*Number of times Philzie asked our room who was playing "Frankie Crack Corn" when in reality, it was a Bach cell phone ring: 1

*Voices lost from screaming ALL weekend: 15 team members, 2 managers, 10 family members/friends/Sig. O's, and whoever the fuck was in the Coliseum while we played any of our games. Hells yeah.

*Bruises on Breaker from telling us to call off the jam: 1 on each hip.

*Snacks given away to random strangers by Q, even though I drunkly wanted those fucking cheetos: a few bags.

*Strip clubs visited: 1...VISIONS! Thank god for amateur night.

*Drunken phone messages from Fevah to Spite: 1, and there only needed to be one.

*Number of awk interviews done by me and Claire: 1

*Number of times Buse used the "awkward as an upsidedown turtle" gesture while on the track: 1

*Drunken conversations with Racer McChase-Her about our love for the phrase "JK JK, BUT NOT JK, OK A LITTLE JK.": 1

*Injuries sustained by Feevs on a toilet paper dispenser in the bathroom of the strip club: 1 cut shoulder. NBD.

*Variety of songs made up by Buse/Claire/Feevs & Q with the words "Tootie Tinwhistle" involved: at least 5

Once again, I know there are SO many things I'm forgetting and maybe I'll continue adding on if I have the chance. Madison was fucking incredible, and I've never been prouder of being a part of the Massacre. Sadly, that tourney did mark my last games with the team and I can only DREAM that I will have something that awesome if I start to play with ACDG.

I will say, that it was definitely NOT the same without my Twinsie...she was sorely missed by our whole team, but mostly me! Thank god Poppa Feevs was there to deal with my crazy. I HEART YOU BOSTON!!!!

And isn't it ironic.

2008-09-22T09:14:00.002-04:00

I meant to write about this last week but totally spaced.

As I was driving into work, I saw a giant black Escalade with 2 bumper stickers on the back:

1.) A McCain/Palin supporter sticker

2.) A Life is Good sticker. You know the one I'm talking about...the creepy smiling guy with hair that oddly looks like a fucking beret.

Does anyone else but me find that to be completely hypocritical?...or am I just so far into my own little fucked up world, that it's just me. How...HOW is it possible that those 2 things could EVER be on the same plane of existence?! I'll answer you -- they don't. The idea that life could ever be good with those fucktards in office is beyond belief. It's disturbing enough that John McCain actually believes that Palin could be the President if something should happen (please see: John McCain's interview on 60 Minutes for that gem), but what makes things even more unfathomable:

Karl fucking Rove doesn't think Palin's a suitable candidate.

WHAT.

You've got to be kidding me. Honestly, someone please take a pen and jab it repeatedly into my eardrums. This just isn't funny anymore. When Karl idiot-stick Rove thinks someone is a bad egg...we're fucked.

And so ends my rant on this for now, but the idea that this driver truly believes that he can have these bumper stickers living side-by-side makes me think that we should really worry about this election. No one is safe. Happy Monday!

2008-09-10T12:33:00.005-04:00

Believe me, I already know I'm the biggest slacker on the face of this planet. And I up until recently remembered that I had this blog -- and could enter into it ALL the frustrations of my day-to-day life which I know you're all dying to hear about. And can I just say: I thought for some odd reason that I only had a limited amount of people reading this blog...but apparently not. I got a few hate comments/messages from random strangers in regards to my Crocs blog post which I guess surprised me for 2 reasons:

1.) People other than my friends read this?

2.) People still actually LIKE Crocs?! Gimme a fucking break.

So anyways, I thought that now that I have moved back to my hometown of lovely ol' North Andover...I have a lot more time to observe stupid shit. From neighbors who mow their lawn numerous times a day (even up until 10:30pm), to children being walked past my house with those kid leash things on, to observations I make on my commute to work everyday. This morning was one of those mornings where I think people must have got some unsaid memo to try and run me off the road for no particular reason. I saw not one...not two...but three fucking morons reading books in their cars while driving in traffic. HOW IS THIS ACCEPTABLE?! One of whom I will go into more detail because reading his book wasn't the only thing that was wrong with him.

First off, this was a middle-aged man, the kind who looked like they were into Star Wars LARP-ing BIG-TIME. For those of you non-sword kids, this stands for "Live Action Role Play"...I know that, I'm dating a sword kid. Deal with it. He was balding, overweight and had big ol' coke bottle glasses. Secondly, he was driving a white Honda Civic. Now, normally, I don't have a problem with this. My mother drives one...but this was a little different. Not too many men have Hello Kitty and other pink frilly stickers ALL over the windows. I even checked to see if there was a car seat in the back....nothing. I decided to try and just focus on the drive and not think about the guy behind me who perplexed me so. This proved to be rather difficult though, as he almost slammed into the back of my car almost every time I came to a stop. Which, as most of you know, is inevitable on 93 South in rush hour traffic. So I changed lanes, hoping to get away from the psycho that, as far as I was concerned, shouldn't have a driver's license at all let alone a fucking book in his hand as he drove.

About 20 minutes later, he magically reappears...BEHIND MY CAR AGAIN. I must have done something really crappy to deserve this morning of retardation (did I mention I was on the way to a dentist appointment to get 2 cavities filled? No...well, it just added to my misery). I seriously just don't get how people pass driver's tests. It's not possible to me that this man is capable of operating a vehicle of any kind, let alone one that he may or may not have a child riding with him due to all the creepy ass stickers.

And as most of you may know, I am moving to LA in the fall. So it's not like my mood about driving is going to get better. I'm moving from the county's 2nd worst road-rage drivers (Boston) to the 1st (Los Angeles). If there is a God, let him or her help me. Cause I'm going to need all the good Karma I can get. That's all for now. I'm hungry and my Novocaine is finally starting to wear down...maybe it's the drugs that make me so insane. But I doubt it.

Survey's can pass some time.

2008-02-06T09:05:00.000-05:00

I apologize for the survey -- but I'm just so fucking bored.

1. Who was your FIRST prom date? Well, I went to about 40 (except my own senior prom, go figure). I think my first "real prom date" was Adrian -- I was a sophomore and he was a junior. And I have about a million pictures of us standing by Michelle's pool, both of us with dyed black hair and me in my S&M shoes and Adrian in his penny loafers. He was a wonderful date and even rubbed my feet afterwards in the limo on the way to Beverly Beach. Yeah, that sounds right. And yes, I probably remember too much of that night.

2. Do you still talk to your FIRST love? Crazy Train? All the time! We're stuck together, for better or worse.

3. What was your FIRST alcoholic drink? Besides just random drinks throughout high school, I really remember being WASTED when Jenna and I drank some fucking moonshine shit and then went out. I still have scars from rolling/falling down a hill to the jagged rocks below (thanks Jenna). Fun times!

4. What was your FIRST job? The "cool" place to work in high school was none other, than Dunkin Donuts. It was me, Jenna, Kelley, Amanda, Oi, Adrian, Michelle, Allie, Alan, Talita -- the whole bunch. That place (at first) was just fucking awesome to work at. Then, over the years (once Laura and Tom left...and my favorite twin truck drivers, Rob & Leroy, got new routes), it just sucked.

5. What was your FIRST car? <3<3<3<3>

6. Who was the FIRST person to text you today? Today? No one. No one loves me enough to text me at 9am -- Melody texted me yesterday though.

7. Who is the FIRST person you thought of this morning? My dad and whether or not he has murdered my sister yet.

8. Who was your first grade teacher? Mrs. Lathrop (why the fuck do I know that. I guess that's one of the only things I do remember -- besides the fact that for a few minutes I wondered why we HAD to breathe air...that didn't last too long).

9. Where did you go on your FIRST ride on an airplane? Probably to Florida with my family. Have to admit, I loved the damn Dumbo Ride at Disney

10. Who was your FIRST best friend and are you still friends with them? Amanda and Astra, and no.

11. Who was your FIRST kiss? I hate remembering this sometimes, but Brandon, in Michelle Boucher's driveway. And if you're thinking: "Like, David Allen Boucher, from Bedtime Magic 106.7?" you'd be correct. He was her uncle - creepy. At the kiss was wicked awk from what I remember.

12. Where was your FIRST sleep over? Probably over at Astra's house, we'd always hang out in the basement and play the game "Labyrinth" or "Guess Who?" -- perfect.

13. Who was the FIRST person you talked to today? Chainsaw, she always waits for the alarm clock to go off, so when I move an inch she'll wedge herself underneath me. Then I get cranky and whine at her. "Chaaaaaaaainsaaaaaaaw noooooooooooooooooooooa!!"

14. Whose wedding were you in the FIRST time? Now, I've been to many a-wedding in my lifetime already (worked at a country club), but I think the first wedding I was actually IN was Spite's as the flower girl!! Yessssss

15. What was the FIRST thing you did this morning? Went into the living room to prove to myself that I A.) forgot to turn the heat down before bed the night before and B.) I left my dinner plate on the couch (btw, this was all at 3am when I couldn't sleep because I was thinking about it so much)

16. What was the FIRST concert you ever went to? Sadly, that answer would be Jimmy Buffett. My father took me and Amanda one year when we were like 11. And we were almost killed by some crazy drunken man once inside Greatwoods -- or The Tweeter Center, whatever. The first concert I went to that I actually bought myself tickets for was (wait for it.....) N*SYNC!! haha I'm a loser.

17. FIRST tattoo or piercing? I got my ears pierced when I was around 8. Then I let them close cause they would get infected too easily (oh and I got a stud stuck INSIDE my ear tissue and had to go to the ER, wicked fun). My first tattoo is my blue star on my foot. Amanda, Jenna, Denise and I all have the same design, but different colors on our feet.

18. FIRST foreign country you went to? This is going to sound retarded. But my father and I went to Canada...to go on our vacation to Mexico. We booked a trip through a Canadian travel agency so it was cheaper. So I got to visit 2 countries within 2 days. Not a whole lot going on in Canada though.

19. FIRST movie you remember seeing in the theater? Beauty and the Beast -- yeah, that's right. I said it. And I loved Chip.

20. When was your FIRST detention? God, this is hard. I know it must have been in middle school...but I don't remember when or what for. I know I got one in high school when I threw a desk at our Spanish teacher. That was totally worth it.

Where did this fucking grape come from?!

2008-01-24T10:28:00.000-05:00

Ok -- I know, I know. I've definitely been slacking in the whole "blog department". But there's really not a whole lot that's been blog worthy!

But that changed today.

Let's set the scene: Me. My work cubical. Carlo - my work husband. Ron - one of our techs.

Now, a few months back, we received a plate of holiday cookies/brownies/fudge/etc. from Forest City, the company that pretty much owns the land our building is located on. They do this every year as a common courtesy, but this year the plate the actual goodies were on was super nice.

Cut to the present. Ron's wife made a shit-ton of cookies/brownies/fudge/etc. and had him bring them into work. The plate that the goodies came on has been free of goodies for quite some time -- so it was perfect! We decided to just use that plate to put the newly brought in goodies on.

As Ron picked up the plate, we noticed that there was a sticker on the bottom of the plate with a hand written note on it. The note said the following:

"Please Note: Many of these items contain nuts due to the fact they were all processed the same way."

Umm. What. Are you kidding me? I mean, I would hope anyone with a serious nut allergy would automatically know not to eat certain things....but the warning was on the BOTTOM OF THE PLATE. Were we supposed to turn the plate over, thereby dumping all those precious cookies on to the floor, so we could know the dangers that awaited us?!

After I got over the initial shock of how ridiculous that seemed, I turned around in my chair to finish up some work and tell this tale to whoever would listen. About 3 minutes later, Ron comes back into my office to reveal to me what was UNDERNEATH the hand written sticker-note.

"Not for food use. Decorative use only."

Words cannot desribe the anguish I am feeling in regards to this matter. SERIOUSLY!? You've GOT to be shitting me. How is it possible that someone could be so retarded?! They must have known that warning was there, it was fucking PRINTED onto the plate. They decided it was best to just stick a fuckign sticker over it and hope for the best! God damn Forest City.

And as if things couldn't get more ridiculous -- THEY DID.

As I rolled my chair back to my desk, I heard this little squish sound. I looked down to see I had run over a grape. A singular, purple grape. There are NO other grapes in this office today, or any day in the past 3 years I've been here. What the fuck is happening today, can someone please tell me? Kthnxbai.

Nature: 1, Fevah: 0

2007-12-18T10:16:00.000-05:00

This is one of those times of year where you think you can get away with being totally graceful on ice and snow.

But you would be so wrong in thinking such a thing.

I couldn't be more painfully aware of how clutzy and ungraceful I am at this very moment. As I sit here at my office desk, wishing this day would be over, (so I could get my hair done by one of my favorite people on earth, Trixie, and so I can get closer to the hour that I pick up Crazy Train from the airport) I am reminded at how retarded I am when it comes to winter weather.

Melody and I had just finished a wonderful dinner at Panera (if I could inject an IV of their broccoli cheddar soup into me, I would) and we had to stop off at my dad's house to switch over my laundry before we went to the Loop for some xmas shopping. Yes, I may hate xmas, but I can still fucking shop for it.

And as I got out of the car, listening to Melody talk about her finals the next day and the vast superiority that penguins have over whales, I failed to realize the giant patch of black ice directly underneath me. And as I fell, I could only imagine that this was the day I was expecting. 2 months of no derby and no physical strain, and I'm about to fuck that all up with one stupid ass fall. I landed directly onto my right knee (upon which I started cursing as if there were no tomorrow) as well as planted my right hand into a snowbank. And after the initial pain of the knee-smashing subsided, I realized that it was almost worst to have a mitten full of snow.

Melody then bravely picked me up off the ground and carried me into the house. But as we were walking up the stairs to the porch, we both realized that even though the driveway was filled with black ice, and the porch steps still had snow covering them...the BBQ grill was immaculate. Can you imagine that? In WHAT world would a person think "Hmm...well fuck the walkways, as long as I have my grill, that should be good enough."

The answer is: My Father. The man who would watch his own daughter slip and fall into PERIL, but make a cheeseburger with ease. I mean, god love the man, but sometimes I wonder. I now have my knee bandaged and ready for the world, but it's a constant reminder that I suck at nature.

I can only wait to see what this new year brings me. Oh goody.

Shame.

2007-12-13T13:53:00.000-05:00

I've come to realize the most awkward encounter there is on this Earth.

It's not meeting your possible in-laws for the first time. It's not meeting your husband's mistress. It's not with your boss after you've done something horribly wrong. It's not with your friend after you've been in a huge fight. It's not with a parent after you've messed up something big. It's not even with a Coach or Captain when you fuck up on the track.

The most awkward, almost uncomfortable encounter there is?

The moments spent as you are trying to get something out of the vending machine, while the vending machine guy is there to refill them.

Yes, you heard me right. To me, there is nothing more uncomfortable than standing at the vending machine, trying to decide what snack (or snackS) you want, as the man who is waiting to refill said machine is standing right there next to you.

Watching you. Judging you.

It's a feeling that you can't explain or even really understand. You feel completely guilty for taking what seems rightfully his. Should you show off and get a healthy granola bar? Or should you just stop and say "Who am I kidding?" and grab a candy bar loaded with chocolate and peanuts and goodness of all kinds. Then what happens if you wanted a drink? Do you go for the double purchase? Or do you try to save face and come back when you think he has finished refilling the machines? These are life's questions, my friends.

Unfortunately, I don't have any answers. It's one of those things where you pray to God you got it right and won't regret it later on down the road. It's a moment that will make you stronger than you could have ever imagined. And as you press the "B5" buttons, you can rejoice in the fact that even if it was the wrong choice, it was YOUR choice. And that, is a Christmas miracle in itself.

Target can be fun sometimes...

2007-12-10T13:32:00.000-05:00

Why is it that people who work in retail stores automatically hate me?

I understand it's a busy holiday season. But it's not like I'm that much more of a bitch than most people. Sure, I can BE a bitch if pushed to it -- but it's not like I go walking into a store looking for an argument. I always say "Hi, how are you?" when I get to the register and politely turn down whatever express card they want me to take part in. So why is it that I get shit on by these people who are usually uglier and older than me? I should be doing the shitting, my friends.

Take for example, the lady at the Target Greatland that Tootsie and I happened to visit this past Saturday. After I put my card into that machine that sucked it in, I realized that the screen wasn't changing. I said something to the 60ish woman at the register, to which she IMMEDIATELY replied with "What did you do?!". Now, granted...I am a very unlucky/clutzy person. If you have a drink with no top, I will spill it. If there is debris on the ground, I will trip over it. If there is a machine that will eat my debit card, so be it. But, I calmly said back "I didn't do anything, I just put the card in."

After about 3 minutes of this woman beating the machine to try to get my card out and repeating "What did you do?! What did you do?!" (to where I am getting angrier and angrier with my repeated phrase of "I just put the card in, I just put the card in."), Tootsie and I started to smell smoke. And it seemed, that it was coming from that same machine...my card still within it's clutches. At that point, I looked at Tootsie and said "If my card is melting right now, I am going to be FUCKING pissed." I then understood that there was nothing "nice" left between me and this woman, and it would be an all-out war if she uttered the phrase "What did you do?!" one more time.

Now there were 3 clerks, a security man and about 3 or 4 disgruntled customers all surrounding the machine with my card stuck in it. They were talking about the horrendous smell it was making, and should they call someone, are people ok. Blah blah blah, cut to me getting more and more frustrated with the fact that this old bat is still doing nothing useful to return the card to it's rightful owner -- ME. I knew, in all my frustration, that this was still a ridiculously funny moment, so I couldn't help but join in when Tootsie started laughing.

FINALLY, a kid walked over and took apart the machine in about a minute flat. But as he was opening the machine, the woman continued to be a douche bag, but changed up her phrase just a smidge to "She did something to it." I finally lost my nerve and looked right at her and screamed:

"I DIDN'T FUCKING DO ANYTHING, I JUST PUT THE CARD IN THE MACHINE AND YOU CAN STOP FUCKING BLAMING ME FOR YOUR FUCKED UP MACHINES, THANKS."

The woman and the kid both jumped and looked at me like I was going to pull out a knife and slit their throats. I grabbed my receipt and my non-melted card (thank jesus) from the woman and as if the interaction couldn't get any more rediculous, she had the audacity to say "Have a nice day" to me. As this was coming out of her mouth, I cut her off to scream at her "MERRY CHRISTMAS" turned around and said (in what I thought was quiet, but later I found it was not so quiet) "Fucking bitch."

Thus ends one of my MANY examples of why I hate shopping. I try to be nice, I try to be courteous -- and this is what I get. Bullshit. So if anyone has any interest in seeing a scene, come shopping with me -- it'll be a hoot.

Bah Humbug.

2007-10-11T14:00:00.000-04:00

Ok.

So clearly, I have been slacking in the area of bloggyness. But that doesn't mean that I've disappeared -- hells no. I've just been busy jeez. But fear not! I'm back and filled with plenty-o-rage to blog about. And it's my favorite time of year when it comes to rage: Christmas.

Since WHEN is it ok to play non-stop sappy fucking movies on EVERY channel?! I'm so sick of cryfests over retarded movies (especially those ABC Family Originals...you know what I'm talking about).

I'm tired of people who put antlers on the roof of their car, or wreaths that light up on the grill of their SUV and think it's ok. Let me tell you something -- it's not ok. No. Not by a long shot. Do you really think its worth it to do that shit? That perhaps Santa or Jesus might favor you over others because you're so filled with Christmas spirit that you have to decorate your fucking vehicle to prove it? Gimme a break.

I also don't get the whole reasoning behind playing 24 hours of Christmas music on half of the radio stations here in Massachusetts -- which started in EARLY NOVEMBER. Is this really necessary? I now have to give up some of my cruisin' music to bullshit Dean Martin singing "Here Comes Santa Claus"? I don't believe it. This whole world has gone insane.

The only saving grace about the holidays is the fact that I now can drown my sorrows, pain and aggravation in bottles of Chardonnay with the rest of my dysfunctional family. Whoopee. I mean, the fact that I have to spend time with a family that hates me is a little bit of a downer -- but I mean, with the right consumption of liquor, any family gathering feels ok.

"Oh....you got another tattoo..." turns into "HEY! Awesome tattoo! I wish I could pull this stick out of my ass and get one as well!"

"Oh, you're not going back to school? I mean, my Alina got a perfect SAT score and is now at MIT with a 3.9 GPA." turns into "It is so great you are doing what you want to do as a PERFECTLY CAPABLE ADULT."

"Roller Derby? That seems....interesting." turns into "I wish I could just come out of the closet already and live my life MY way."

Don't get me wrong, sometimes I can have a lot of fun at these functions (it's so easy to fuck with a hardcore Irish Catholic family sometimes). But overall, I wish that my holidays could be spent in the comforts of my apartment, watching Ugly Betty and eating leftovers. There's nothing magical about Christmas for me and I doubt that I can ever enjoy it as much as some of my friends/family do. It's just how I was built -- and Bah fucking Humbug to those of you who are out to change my ways.

Merry effin' Christmas.

Sonofabitch.

2007-10-09T16:53:00.000-04:00

Just when I started getting used to a life sans appendix, I read this motherfucker:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21153898/

"Appendix may be useful afterall! Scientists may have found appendix’s purpose!"

ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? My incisions hurt just THINKING about the fact that my seemingly useless organ now has a fucking purpose.

Who do you think you are Associated Press?! How DARE you make a mockery of my 3 day-stay at the Jesus-Freak St. Elizabeth's Hospital (because it was closest to my apt -- it was either death or live with crazy Catholics for 3 days...some say it's the same choice now that I think about it....) They had excellent ice chips!

Well good luck to the rest of you that have an appendix -- hope that that it doesn't want to depart from your body because apparently, it serves some kind of purpose now. Fuckers.

You're Kidding Me.

2007-09-19T10:29:00.000-04:00

It's one of those work days where you know that nothing is really going to get done. I mean, every once and a while you stop gchatting and pick up some papers and look like you're doing work -- but really, you're thinking about the weekend and where your ruffle butt panties are and 'crap! is my uniform balled up on the floor all wrinkly? Or is it hung up?'

That being said, I'm at work emailing back and forth with what seems like the dumbest woman in creation. Here is a bit of the exchanges.

Her: "I need a setup for a conference room."

Me: "Ok, what room do you have and what setup do you need, what date/time, and how many people?"

Her: "Tables everywhere. 9/27 5-9pm."

Me: "Ok, so classroom set up? How many people are attending?"

Her: "Do you have table cloths? Do you have round tables?"

Me: "No, you would need to order through the BWH Catering for round tables with table cloths. Let me know if you would rather order these tables, if not, let me know how many people are atteding your meeting so I can have the guys set up enough chairs."

Now, it's not going to be all that surprising when you learn the actual name of this woman.

Princess Welcome.

Oh yes, you heard me right. Some man and woman honestly thought that this would be a suitable name for a child. And not only is the name funny in itself, what's MORE funny, is that whenever I receive and email from this person, it comes in labeled "Welcome, Princess" which makes me feel like I'm being greeted for a special occasion. But no. I'm just opening up a new email enraging me with some stupid ass question.

So this prompted me to google other stupid names and I found this article:

This from The Associated Press:

Sports fan names newborn son ESPN

BILOXI, Miss. - Leann Real promised her husband, an avid sports fan, that if they ever had a son he'd get to pick the name. ESPN Montana Real was born this week at Biloxi Regional Medical Center. Rusty Real, of D'Iberville, chose ESPN (pronounced Espen) after the sports network and Montana after football legend Joe Montana.

Seriously? Seriously. This shit needs to end.

The Biggest Loser.

2007-09-12T09:53:00.000-04:00

I believe that I am the biggest loser for watching this show and thanking God (that I don't believe in) that I don't weigh that much --- yet.

Don't get me wrong, I love the show and what it stands for. And I fully repsect anyone who is willing to be on national television wearing a sports bra and spandex capris. There are definitely parts of the show that make me feel like more of a fat kid -- oh, like how the trainers are 80 lbs a piece soaking wet. Oh, and how they show the amount and different kinds of food each contestant eats in any given week and I

But my favorite part of this show is what I do to justify myself. What I do to justify me eating that bowl of Corn Pops. I watch these people literally bust their asses in a gym EVERYDAY for, what I can only assume 4-6 hours a day, and I think: Well, if these people can work out that much for that many hours a day...the least I can do is work out during the commercial break. Yes, that's right. According to my skewed view on life, me doing push-ups and crunches for a 5-6 minute commercial break every 15 minutes is equal to these contestants working out for, lets say, 25 hours a week.

These people lose up to 30 pounds in 1 week -- I lose almost nothing and reward myself with a popsicle.

Totally the same.

Crocs

2007-09-10T16:39:00.000-04:00

I hate them.

I hate them on children.

I hate them on adults.

I hate them on EVERYONE.

Seriously, fuck you crocs. You're not good for anything.

Here's a picture of a BRIDE wearing crocs.

NOT OK.

This is just sad.

STOP IT.

YOU'RE A GROWN ASS MAN.

Ummm....

NO NO NO NO NO.

Cruelty to animals...

Make it stop.

As you can see, I could go on forever in my hatred towards this ridiculous shoes. If you own a pair....don't bother trying to be my friend

Just please. For my sanity, don't buy these ugly piece of shit. Ever.

A Night at Hampton Beach.

2007-09-04T12:49:00.000-04:00

Truly magical.

I'll never quite understand the inner workings of Hampton Beach. Sure, there was a time where I enjoyed going up there and driving around in circles for hours hoping to be one of the coolest kids on the block. But now, all I can see is the hundreds of teeny boppers wearing shorts that are way too short, shirts that are way too tight and supremely inappropriate shoes (INCLUDING, Crocs. I fucking hate those pieces of shit shoes). I can't imagine ever looking like that.

As I was there Saturday night with my mother, her friend and her coworker I found myself in a plethora of meatheadedness. I felt like every time I turned around, there was some guy with spiked hair in too-tight jeans and a polo (popped up collar) shirt looking at me. I'm not sure if it's because they thought I was attractive or simply because I just looked out of place -- I'm willing to bet the latter. But NOTHING was as ridiculous as the guy I happened to sit next to at the Lewis Black show. It was this 20s something guy that looked as if he was almost a full-blown sword kid. At first, he made just random small talk which I happily returned -- because you have to sit so damn close to people, that I don't like pissing off my neighbors. And after a few drinks I didn't mind his rambling so much...but there was 1 comment that just literally made me laugh outloud.

"Are you like, a Bettie Page look-a-like?"

What gave it away? My long black hair? My red lipstick I was wearing? The whip I happened to have in my purse? Wait...no, that didn't happen. In a way, I am obviously flattered. But it just makes me laugh that this guy just randomly said that. Even my mom was like "Ummm. What?" And don't get me wrong, I'm glad I have a better look to me now as opposed to middle/high school/post high school where I happened to go through numerous trends (all of which were bad) and numerous hair colors (all of which were HIDEOUS).

I guess this post just stems back to the whole "Guys are up my butt when I don't want them to be" post. I will state yet once again (adding a key adjective by Maims): "I already have a boyfriend -- an abusive one at that. And his name is Roller Derby."

P.S. - Fall is here basically, and that means APPLE PICKINZ at Collidahs -- watch out Lunenberg folk, the Pissahs are coming!

Magic!

2007-08-29T08:50:00.001-04:00

I believe that my boobs have the power to heal. Let me explain...

So all day yesterday at work I kept getting pinched on my side and I couldn't figure out what it was. I thought at first that it was my chair, but no. Then I thought some weirdo was doing it, like he was hiding under my desk, but no. So I went to the bathroom and found that the wire in my bra had ripped through the fabric and was poking into my side. Pain the ass. I hate buying new bras, it takes forever. The rest of my day was spent trying to push the wire back in every few hours to stop the annoying pinching.

I went to dinner at my dads after work to survey what had been taken and presented my list of DVDs that I could remember us owning. (P.S. - My dad's house was robbed for anyone that didn't already know) And I kept on pushing the annoying wire back in over and over again.

I got home, and changed into my pjs (not even thinking about the bra). I always sleep with a bra on, because Tyra Banks says your boobs (if big enough) will get all saggy after years of sleeping with no bra -- and no thanks to that! So I fell asleep with the broken bra on, because I couldn't be bothered with getting up, changing my bra, then going back to bed.

I woke up this morning, did my usual routine -- contacts, brushing teeth, make up, etc. When I went to put my work clothes on, I took off my shirt and realized that "Oh yeah, gotta change my bra cause that annoying wire.". I looked down at the bra and I realized that the wire was no longer sticking out....in fact, the hole that the wire had ripped in order to poke through WASN'T EVEN THERE ANYMORE.

Now, I am currently in a state somewhere between shock, confusion and awe. How the fuck did this happen? Do my boobs possess the magic to heal bras? Did I get up in the middle of the night and go to the store to buy an exact replica of this bra and put it on in that sleepwalking/sleepbrabuying state?

Or?....is it the magic of Ohioooooo? I guess I'll never know.

Caution: Extreme Boredom may lead to annoying surveys...

2007-08-23T13:28:00.000-04:00

I apologize in advance, I don't do surveys. But I am so god damn bored!!!

1. Where is the last place you held hands? Yesterday during practice, Deck is my BIATCH!
2. If you were drafted into a war, would you survive? I would probably end up shooting myself in the foot by accident.
3. Do you sleep with the TV on? Hells no.
4. Have you ever drank milk straight out of the carton? Abso-fucking-lutely.
5. Have you ever won a spelling bee? No, but I won a contest in 1st grade where you have to color in the American Flag -- still have my trophy.
6. What is your longest fight with one of your friends? Going on 2 months now!
7. Are you a fast typer? What? I was typing so fast I didn't get the questions. And, anyone can be a fast typer -- the question SHOULD be, are you good at typing fast with no spelling errors? Anyone can be like "skajraiweuthglaeuhgluwrhglauehglauieth -- whoa dude, I just typed that SO FUCKING FAST."
8. Are you afraid of the dark? Only if Voldemorts in the bed with me.
9. Do you like someone right now? Ya, your mom.
10. What ended your last relationship? Me -- having the awesome talent of fucking other dudes. NBD.
12. Do you knock on wood? Yes, and if there isn't any around, I knock on my head! And P.S. I'm scratching my head right now wondering where question 11 went.
13. Are you drinking anything right now? Water, from my OHIOOOOOOOOOOO mug. Not really, but I wish I had my mug.
14. Do you think you're smart? Duh.
15. Have you ever been in love? Yes...booooo
16. Do you miss someone right now? Chainsaw!!! And some derby girls, I haven't seen them in 12 hours.
17. What do you want for Christmas? A KEEPON!! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3g-yrjh58ms
18. Do you know the muffin man? No, but I do know the muff man...ew. that was gross, I don't know him.
20. Do you remember your 1st crush? Yes! (Guess question #19 wasn't important either)
21. Have you ever flown a kite? What are you a communist?! Who HASN'T flown a kite?!
22. When was the last time that you went swimming and where? I honestly don't remember, thats sad -- I think last summer?
23. Do you consider yourself successful? Oh ya -- I'm famous and all.
24. How many people are on your contact list of your cell phone? I have NO ide, maybe around 75?
25. Have you ever asked for a horse? Horse? No. Pony? Definitely.
26. Plans for 2MORROW? Um trying to not kill myself with the horrendous spelling of "tomorrow". No but really going to the PRD bout to route on my fantastic Burnin' Helen!!
27. What did you do this past weekend? OOOOOOOOOOHIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
28. Miss being at school right now? Not. At. All.
29. When's the last time you told someone you loved them? This morning, talking to Burnin' Helen
30. Do you want to be single? Actually, yeah!
32. Who's your hero? Samuel Bert, google it, you'll know why.
33. Have you ever been suspended or expelled from school? Suspended for 1/2 a day. Yessssss...I'm a bad ass!
34. What are you looking forward to? The next time the Pissahs play
35. If you could be stranded with one person for 24 hours, who would it be? Well I know who it wouldn't be. David Hasslehoff. Probably Spite, cause we're such dickwagons together that it would be a fun 24 hours. OH WAIT. We were stranded together for 120 hours! Yessssssssss!
38. Can you handle the truth? Unless the truth is why there are so many questions missing from this survey, then no.
39. Do you like green eggs and ham?? I might have been inclined to say "yes", if you didn't push me with that extra question mark... so the answer is NO.
40. What 3 things do you always bring with you to places? My pachach, cell phone, sarcasm
41. Any cool scars? I have one on top of my right hand from where a girl scratched me when I tried to steal a strawberry out of her lunch box (3rd grade). Appendix scars are pretty cool now too. So, yes -- I have many awesome scars that I'm proud of!
42. Are you missing in action??? Get the fuck out of my life, asswagon.
44. What's your deepest secret? I saw Riverdance when I was 12.
45. How often do you talk on the phone? At work? A lot. Regular life? Not a whoooole lot.
46. Do you believe in love? Eh, I guess.
47. Is there something you want that you can't have? Um, who doesn't?
49. When was your last time you cried? Hmm...about 3 weeks ago?
50. Who did you last hug? Claire D. Way -- we missed each other.
51. Do you get along with your family? Immediate family, my 2 aunts and my Grammy -- the rest can go to hell.
52. Where is your phone? On my desk!
53. What was the last thing you ate? Kit Kat bar. I'm not ashamed!
54. Favorite color? Gimme a break. And I'm not just saying that cause my last answer was a Kit Kat Bar...I mean seriously, this question is retarded.
55. Last movie you saw? Hairspray with Momma Feevs -- she was embarrassed when I started dancing in the theater.
56. What song are you listening to? Theme from Edward Scissorhands (listening to Beethoven.com -- it makes me not want to kill people at work)
57. What do you want? A real vacation!
58. Favorite car? Just got a brand new Nissan Versa, that's pretty up there.
59. What T.V. show are you watchin? Um, I'm at work. How dare you insinuate that I would not be doing something professional...oh wait. Doing a survey. Hmph.
60. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? Momma Feevs about how we're going to see Lewis Black Labor Day weekend!!! I'll get in on that. (I even got her to say "Like ya do!") <3

Important Massacre Stats

2007-08-21T12:35:00.000-04:00

Number of games played: 1

Number of portraits of the drunken Twin Riot: 1

Amount of time it took for our room to look like a bomb went off: 10 minutes

Number of Jello shots consumed in 1 evening: at least 40

Number of times Claire D. Way pushed Fevah out of her chair: 2

Number of age bets Fevah won: 1 ("He's lying...he's still 12.")

Number of times the Massacre actually went out into the light of day: 4

Amazing quotes from QSand: too many to count

Number of times hotel staff were told off by Fevah: 2

Number of times Lady E was worn: 0

Number of times Spite insulted Fevah but followed up with an "OHIOOOOOO!!": 34,589

Time spent at Fame's Breakfast Diner: approximately 5 hours

Fried food consumed: Enough to make a large elephant puke

Blankets stolen from Spite: 1, on numerous occasions

Number of times we almost vomited from watching a certain Philly player making out with her husband: 1

Number of times the announcers mentioned Quidditch from Harry Potter: 1

Number of injuries received while on the plane: 2 (Buse's head and Fevah's tooth after eating the animal crackers provided)

Number of actual Riots in Columbus: 1 (Twin Riot not included)

Number of beers brought into Battelle Hall in Spite's messenger bag: 16

Number of awkward moments while riding in the elevator: Everytime we took an elevator.

The following list is in regards to phrases that were spoken, and how many times:

"D-wagon": 987,658

"What the WTF": 4,587

"OHIOOOOOOOOOOOOO": Not enough times for it to get old.

"I'll get in on that": Not nearly enough times.

"No really guys, I'm not mad!": 5 (all from Q Sand when Spite and I kept coming to the room either drunk or just loud and obnoxious)

"You know what's great? 2 percocets and a beer.": 1

"GET IN THE GAME, ASS WAGON!!": 1

"Are these your pants or my pants?" "Mine." "....are these your socks or my socks?" "I think mine...": 1

I'm sure there are many MANY things that I have obviously left out because besides getting our asses beat by 5 measly points in overtime against Detroit -- I had a fucking phenomenal time in Ohio. Don't get me wrong, I'm psyched to be home, but the Massacre definitely had a doozy of a time this weekend.

You just flat-tired me!

2007-08-14T09:24:00.000-04:00

This annoys me.

As I was walking into work this morning, I noticed that one of the many nerdy researchers was so close behind me -- it was like he was actively trying to get up my ass. So I open the first door and hold it for him (which isn't hard because he's so damn close to me) and as I open the second door to get into the actual lobby, he fucking steps on the back of my foot.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Are you THAT excited to get into work that you are willing to fucking trample anyone in your way?! Gimme a break. Honestly. And not even an apology! In reaction to all this, I just stopped walking abruptly and this moron ran into me completely -- That's how close he was STILL. I turned around and say "Excuse you, asshole." (which was probably lost on him cause there are maybe 7 people in the building that speak English fluently). He gave me this wicked scared look and literally ran to the elevator. What a bitchbag.

What the WTF?

2007-08-09T10:49:00.000-04:00

Why is it that guys come out of the woodwork when you least expect it?

In the last 2 weeks, I had 1 guy at the grocery store check out aisle try to start up a conversation which then lead to him wanting to go out with me and THEN (this is my favorite)...2 guys who I showed my apt to in the hunt for roomies (who both declined the room)asked me out on dates. One to the symphony, the other just out for a romantic dinner. Sorry, I have a boyfriend....and his name is Roller Derby.

But honestly, it's not that these things don't interest me -- you all know how much I love food and classical music. I'm just not in the mood to get into yet another relationship. Commitment? No thanks. I have enough of that, move on.

Ohio is slowly creeping up and that means...I have to fucking pack! As long as I don't get put through the bomb detecting machine again, I should be ok. Aaaaaaaaaand I get to watch Spite on drugs -- I'll have to buy a disposable camera for that shit. I also will have to come up with a repertoire of songs to lull her into relaxation if said drugs don't have a full effect. Suggetions are welcome.

I'm a walking & talking science project.

2007-08-07T09:36:00.000-04:00

After coming home from the Bus Stop Pub (where I had the bejesus scared out of me thanks to Dire Straights and his "Sultans of Swing"), I had to hop in the shower due to yet another smelly, sweaty, humid Pissah practice.

As I was looking in the mirror (as all girls do before they get into the shower), I looked at the smallest of the 3 incisions from my appendix surgery and realized it hadn't fully scarred over yet. In fact, it looked like the scab was about ready to fall off. So I picked at it, like a retahd and felt something prick me -- not like a needle or anything as sharp, but it was definitely the edge of something. I then proceeded to pull a piece of clear plasticy string out of the incision. It comes to my attention that maybe, just maybe, my stitches are still in the incisions from my surgery well over a month ago.

I thought that I had received dissolvable stitches. And even though I was a little curious as to why my incisions were still red, I just assumed that these things took time. I also thought, that if I needed to go back to get stitches out -- that they would be black. So I can only assume at this point that my body (as finicky as it is) instead of rejecting these dissolvable stitches and breaking them down (like it's supposed to), it has welcomed them with open cells and they are now residing in my body forever. I'm considering finding a way to take them out myself -- orrrrrr I could just call my PCP and ask if she can take them out. Probably the latter, seeign as I would probably try to cut my other incisions open with a nail clipper or something similar and get gangreen and die. That's my luck!

Also...

2007-08-06T14:48:00.000-04:00

**Update on car findings**

I forgot to mention that I also found my autographed picture of Bob Villa that I got for my birthday from my friend Denise a few years ago.

Oh Bob Villa....you're so dreamy.

Lots of Shtuff.

2007-08-02T15:39:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was the day I ended up cleaning out my Saturn in order to drop it off to the Dealership without them saying 'Hey, I don't want all this crap!'

Here is what came from this (all of which were in LARGE black trash bags):

-2 bags of trash
-1 bag of clothes (including 4 pairs of derby socks I thought I lost, part of my Massacre uni, 3 sweaters, 1 pair of pants, 2 scarves, a hat, a pair of gloves, etc.)
-3 car jacks (why would I only have 1? That's ordinary.)
-my music stand and music bag
-2 bags of completely random items, some of which I would like to keep, others I'm not even going to take a wild guess as to how they got there.

*Some of these items include: 2 bobbleheads - a cat and a frog that has Amanda's picture in it, a VHS copy of Return of the Jedi, a 1986 North Andover Yearbook (I was 2 in 1986 by the way...), NUMEROUS pictures from my high school graduation and the party that followed, a employee handbook from Dunkin Donuts from 5 years ago, a framed picture of Jeff King aka Sully tha Gully sitting on another mans lap (the idea behind this I later realized was they were both in wearing camoflauge clothes, Jeff was wearing a coat, while the other guy was wearing pants....they were the "Upper" and "Lower" GI for Halloween...yeah I know), my early high school marching band jacket -- which conveniently folded into itself to form a little pouch, 6 balls of yarn with 2 sets of knitting needles, a number of notes that had been left on my windsheild at one point, and about $5.78 in change.

There were plenty more things, but honestly...2 whole bags?! What the hell.

My resolution is to keep this new car clean -- well, as clean as I can. As I dropped the Saturn off this morning, I felt almost remorse -- it's been a pretty good car. And I'll definitely miss it sometimes, but I am on to bigger and better things.

But I do LOOOOOOOVE my new car. Pictures to come of me in it. Maims will officially be the first passenger in my new car tomorrow, and she'll have a camera. Yayyeeeee!

Come to me, Michael Bublé.

2007-07-31T11:29:00.000-04:00

Now, hear me out.

You may think he has an asshole name. You may think he's lame cause he's been covering some of Frank's old songs. You may think that I'm a 45 year old woman because I love him.

But I love him.

There's no stopping my love for the Bublé. He's adorable and can sing his ass off. I would literally kill anyone that would hurt my Bublé.

I will find a way to meet him and make him love me back dammit. You just wait.

In other news!! MINI-GOLF AND BBQ THIS FRIDAY WITH THE PISSAHS! Yayyeeee!! Anything to see Deck and Shattered fight about who is the better athlete -- even if it is just mini-golf. Aaaaaand I finally get to see Collidah after, what seems like, 4 years. Can't wait!!!!!

The Shit Show.

2007-07-26T09:45:00.000-04:00

That's what it has turned into lately. The shit show. It's at a point where if I say something "out of line" (even if not on purpose) it turns into a frenzy and I get scolded. Now -- if someone else says some as equally inappropriate, it's like nothing ever happened (i.e. - "Cause we actually come to practice.") And the pushing never ends. I understand we're at a certain level -- but for Christ's sake! It's not the god damn Olympics. I can't wait for September.

Going out with the Deck-Hers tonight to see Shakespeare in the Park -- YAYYEE! I'm excited for lawn chairs and thai food. My friend Paul is in the show, so it should be quite entertaining! I think what I'm most excited about, is bringing my lawn chair onto the T. I can't wait to hit some mofos in the face with that thing.

I hate the guy that works across the hall. Sometimes I think I could get to like him -- but then he does something so fucking retarded, that I'm automatically forced to change my mind. He's too effin HAPPY. This is BOSTON, get over yourself and get with the program! Anger and bitterness are your new best friends -- get to know them well.

I also am sick of people. People that I thought I knew, but obviously don't.

Don't you just hate the Shit Show?

Wicked Ahhhtsy.

2007-07-24T10:47:00.001-04:00

I thought that maybe this year's birthday would be ruined with something. And I was surprised to find out that the day went much better than expected. Between all my teammates, friends and family wishing me well and the ice cream spree at work and the rainy Red Sox game with my dad, I had a pretty awesome day.

I also had an awesome weekend. I spend all Friday evening/night with Jenna, Melody, Jake, Emily and Greg in Hogwarts Square (Harvard Sq), anxiously awaiting the release of the 7th and final Harry Potter book. It was definitely heartbreaking to think that this is the last time I'll be around crazy HP fans (except for movies - but not the same). We had a fantastic time, getting followed by a crazy girl, giving her the slip, waiting at Unos for an eternity. Getting Butterbeer and Polyjuice Potion -- which was rather disappointing, but I guess that's not all that surprising when you expect Butterbeer to taste like melted down Wether's candy. Around 1:30am, I had my book in hand and went home to read a few chapters before passing out. I've since finished the book, but I won't ruin anything in case people are still reading it. But I definitely liked it.

Saturday, the Massacre took a trip down to NY to scrimmage against the Gotham Girls. After nearly being killed by a toll booth, we made it there and were amped to play. This is when I realized that Quick Sandy had actually written me a birthday poem:

A Birthday Poem for Harlot Fevah

Fevah is awesome,

Her back is not.

I helped her put pants on once,

It was pretty hot.

She always makes me laugh,

She's really fucking funny.

I scared her for life,

The Halloween Faster was a bunny.

I like the ladies,

She likes dudes.

But that doesn't stop her,

From screaming, "SHOW ME YA BOOBS!"

I heart Harlot Fevah

I heart her a lot.

I helped her put pants on once,

It was pretty hot.

I HEART Q SAND TIMES A MILLION KAJILLION. It made my day go by that much smoother. I can't really think of what else to write about. So the end.

Seriously?

2007-07-19T09:04:00.000-04:00

So, I'm leaving work yesterday (already in a shitty mood) and I think, "Thank God. Today is over."

I get into the elevator and press 4, cause I'll be DAMNED if I'm walking up 4 flights of stairs. And I hear the door open, and me -- being a nice person (hahaha) -- I hold the elevator in case this person wants to get in as well. This guy, maybe a few years older than me, gets into the elevator. I give him a half-assed smile, one that should make any man melt god dammit. And he looks at me, looks at the elevator panel with the buttons and says:

"Press Five."

Not a "Can you please press 5?". Not even a FUCKING please.

I turned around and looked at him and said "You're kidding me, right?" to which he gave me this looks as if to say "I have no idea why you're being a bitch to me right now." So I turned around and kicked every button on the panel. He then started muttering under his breath so I turned and stared at him the entire way up to the 4th floor. The elevator finally makes it to the 4th floor and I walk out with a certain glee about me. I turned and flipped off the guy and then I thanked the stars that I still have my Saturn with dent resistant doors as I kicked the living shit out it.

Happy fucking birthday to me.

But...Harry Potter 7 comes out TOMORROW. Hells yes.

Should have posted this first....

2007-07-17T16:32:00.000-04:00

What the hell.

2007-07-17T16:01:00.000-04:00

Why am I doing this?

Like I need another distraction from work or anything else. I already HAVE a freakin blog!! I guess I just felt left out of the blogspot gang. Collidah, Maims, Natae....this is for you guys!

Now, I will keep my myspace blog for longer, more in depth posts. BUT, I would like to use this as a "Holy mother of god, why is the world like this?" kind of thing.

EXAMPLE:

Why is it, that when you go to a self-check out isle at the super marker, one of the following people is in front of you?

-A couple that has absolutely NO IDEA how this works

-A person that has an entire cart of groceries ready to scan -- hey asshole, it for only a FEW ITMS!

-A person with a million and one coupons. Hey, guess what? No one cares that you've wasted most of your life cutting out these damn things so you only have to pay like $3.67 -- it's not worth it

-Someone that puts an item on the weigh station, then automatically picks up the bag so the following message sounds: "Item removed from bagging area. Replace item and continue scanning."

And if it's not that, then its someone who is UP YOUR ASS behind you waiting to get to the machine you're at. Wait your damn turn and get the fuck away from me! I usually never give these retards the chance, because I give them a look as if to say "If you come any closer, this pretty little tattooed foot is going right up your ass."

I am a bitter angry woman. Make sure to look back at the rest of my ramblings and aggravations!