"The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone when you're uncool."
To begin...
Your Penis Name is: Beefy McManstick
Get your own Penis Name
BEAUTIFUL!
Ok, my last couple entries have just been quick rants... a little off-kilter... but, I'm back to my traditional style tonight.
So... today was semi-eventful in bunches of weird ways...
See, I actually enjoy updating my journal when amusing things happen. Ummm... but, I'm never short about it. You should know this. It's why I hide things behind LJ-cuts, and you have the choice of reading. Brevity is not a strong suit.
---------------------------------------------------------
EVENT 1:
The weirdness all started in my private math tutoring lesson today. This woman that I've been working with has had her crazy side super-sized. Now, granted, you must realize that I get paid $20.00/hour off the record when I private tutor... so, I'd do just about anything they want, short of being a love-slave. BUT, I just did not sign up to be a psychiatrist. This woman loves using me as a means to spout all her problems. I guess I shouldn't complain, but 3 hours of listening to it is a little much... even if I do walk away with 60 bucks. Really, all I want to do is just teach the woman math.
Anyway... VERY brief back-story: This woman (or should I say "her husband"?) is loaded. He's a lawyer, and she's the spoiled wife. He's an old sugar daddy, and she's a pretty young thing. They have a little boy, too. And, can I just add that the rock on her finger proves all of this? Ok... so, that's just the brief overview of her life story that I've come to know. THIS is where it starts getting funny...
SOOOOOOOO... today, before we've even whipped out the calculator, she starts up with, "Do you live a good life? I mean, do you consider yourself religious?" Now, I may sit and listen to her issues all she wants, but my policy is to let her know as little as possible about me and remain completely neutral about everything. So, all my responses are entirely irrelevant, because they are the classic unbiased non-answer answers. Well, after I dodged that question, she continues with... "Well, see the thing is that my husband doesn't give me attention, so I seek it elsewhere."
DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNN!!!! Yes folks, she proceeded to tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth about the AFFAIR that she's having on the side of her marriage. Apparently, her boyfriend's wife ("although he's separated from her," she added) called her last night and bullied her into having lunch with her today... threatening to ruin her marriage, because she's had a PI following her husband.
So, they met, and she told me all the amusing details about the meeting, but I won't draw out this post any longer than it's already going to be.
Then, then, then... as if I wasn't amused enough already, she asked me "Have you ever messed around with a married man, or cheated with anyone?" Christ, woman! She has some nerve, huh? Hahahaha. I really just had to laugh about it. I guess maybe I appear to be the "home-wrecking" type. Ehhh... it's probably the huge boobs. Have I mentioned yet that she has a fascination with the enormity of them? Oh yes... she told me so! Hah!
So, this went on for 3 hours - all the assorted (and "sordid") details... amidst a few math problems here and there. OH YEAH... I'm forgetting one other incredibly amusing part. At one point, she was talking, and she mentioned that she works somewhere 2 nights a week. And then, she goes (and I quote,) "But, I won't tell you where!" Uhhhhh... but, the thing is, I looked at her purse and it's definitely embroidered with a bunch of Playboy bunnies. I totally know she has to be like a stripper somewhere. At the end of the session, she noticed my tattoo and was asking me a bunch of questions about it. And then, she said, "Boy, you're just all boobs and tattoo, aren't you?" Yes lady, that's exactly what I'm about. Those are the sole elements of my existence. Except, you left out my ass. Did you happen to notice it? Most other people do!
This woman is going to provide me with stories for a long time. It's only the beginning of the semester, and if things keep up, I'll see her at least twice a week for 2 hours at a time for the next 3 months. I'll be able to write a novel based on her by December. See... and it's easy for me to talk about on here, simply because she's this mystery woman that none of you know.
---------------------------------------------------------
EVENT 2:
Five minutes after Cultural Anthropology was supposed to start today, I was definitely the only loser from our group actually in class. There are supposed to be 4 of us theatre dorks in the class, but we never manage to show up all at the same time. So, my Liberian instructor (of which some of you may have seen Krista write about in her journal) left the room for a minute, before coming back and actually starting class. And, this is the point (while he was out of the room) at which I stood up and walked out. Hahaha. To hell if I was going to sit in there by myself without my homies to amuse me.
Plus, my notes in that class are always so irrelevant, anyway. You know it's a good day in class when your notes at the end read "Public Ass Anus Job Skills." Ok... so, this possibly warrants explanation, but it's almost more amusing to just leave it at that and let you ponder. Tee hee. Maybe that's my check to see who's actually read all this bullshit. You should definitely ask me about it sometime if you haven't heard the whole story, because it's great!
Plus, we write poetry in that class now - ummm, but just back and forth to each other. Krista posted about it in her journal last week, but it's worth re-posting here for those of you that haven't had the honor of reading it.
From Krista's journal:
"...A few of you may remember the tradition of the add on poem that theatre majors do together in non-major classes... say... ohhh Math classes with that crazy Tarwater lady....OR Anthro with Ndama.. ala Jiggy, Danny Boy, and myself. (And it's worth mentioning that Ndama has a problem speaking our language... and spelling it... and writing it on the board... and erasing it from the board, so what's UP on the board is ANYONE's guess most of the time.)"
Where o' where has my sanity gone?
Where oh where can it be?
Can't understand a Ndamn word he says
And on the board is "anus," I see
He asks me question
I have not a clue
Haven't been this confused
Since I tried eating glue
When can we discuss
Prostitution again?
Public ass anus job skills
Go hand in hand
Pure prostitution vs.
Applied prostitution -
Sex for all...
Is the only solution!!
Faminous Africa needs
More lubed jimmy hats
Polygamous tribal men
Must be smooth cats
Oh Danny Boy
And Jiggy Marie
I've tried, but I can't
Nap in Anthropology!
Yes indeed
I know what you mean
Even if I tried to sleep here
I'll probably have bad dreams
Please finish the words
Because right now all I see
Is the phrase "research anal"(-yst)
On the board for you and me
I try to understand
But I'm afraid I'll get it wrong
Did he just say something about
"The problem with my... bong"?
My friends, I've got it
I know what we need
A plate of Ted Polk pork
And a bowl full of weed
He he he he he he [Side note: Isn't Daniel poetic?]
Oh please, oh please
I need a sedative
Each and every day
He gets more repetitive
From now on you'll see me
With a bottle in class
Not full of water but
Something stronger to knock me on my ass
A shot, a hit
Some kind of hallucinogen
I'll need them all
To sit through this class again
So I'm with Jiggy
Even though it's crass
Salute to Liberians
With a little from my flask
Why, oh why, don't I
Live in Tibet?
Apparently there I could have
All the men I can get!
...See, now why on earth did I want to be in class without my fellow hooligans to amuse me? I hope none of you actually showed up after I left, but I doubt it. As I said, it was already about 5 minutes after when I cut out.
P.S. Krista: I picked up a copy of the assignment for you in class on Tuesday. I'll drop it in your mailbox at school sometime tomorrow. The written portion is supposed to be finished by Tuesday, so we can meet with our groups in class (just 2 groups, alphabetically divided... so, you're in a group with Danny Boy.) Then, Thursday is the day we actually present in class and turn in the paper.
P.P.S. C to the Red: I'm buying the books for class tomorrow. Don't forget about the assignment. We need to figure something out for getting it done.
[Side note: This is a test for fun, to see if you've been paying attention... What are the names of the grumpy old men who sit in the theatre box on the Muppet Show and spout criticism. I know you remember this, you eidetic Lemon Lymanhead. If I remember, you have to.]
Also... on my Smith-Corona Galaxis Deluxe I type,"Here's a theory for you to disregard completely. Music, you know -- true music -- not just rock 'n' roll -- it chooses you. It lives in your car, or alone, listening to your headphones -- you know, with the vast, scenic bridges and angelic choirs in your brain. You know, it's a place apart from the vast, benign lap of America."
---------------------------------------------------------
EVENT 3:
Well, frankly... I've already written far too much, and Mr. Sandman has come knocking on my door, so this will be my last event for the day, even though there were plenty other occurrences. Basically, I had the biggest ditz moment of my week tonight, when I lost my car key outside of Esch. Luckily, Mary picked it up and turned it in, but that didn't help when I had to get home tonight, since every office is closed up. Hah... but, I batted my eyes and had campus police breaking into every possible office to look for it. Unfortunately, no go. They think it's probably locked up in someone's desk. I'm just going to have to wait for morning. But, that was a lot of stress I wasn't expecting. Brush it off. Just brush it off and laugh about it.
So, Aaron gets to be my hero for the week. I stuck around during the light hang, and then he took me home, since I couldn't get in my car. And, he's going to be my bigger hero in the morning when he wakes up early to pick me back up and take me back to school to harass the various offices and find my key. See... I need my car to be able to drive to work by 9:00 AM. Soooo, that hadn't been what I planned for the evening, but I made the best of it, nevertheless. And, Sara and I did have fun ogling the boys tonight.
Anyway... Aaron considered asking for sexual favors as repayment. But, we settled on an assortment of baked goods, such as cookies and brownies, instead. Hmmm... you try balancing the scale on that one. But, I shall abide... I'll have to do that after work tomorrow. Ummm... bake, that is. Not do Aaron. Hahaha.
---------------------------------------------------------
FINAL THOUGHT:
Last weekend, we decided that Vicoli is going to teach me how to spin, so I can be a hot DJ bitch! And this week, Sara and I decided to be a DUO of hot DJ bitchES. Let me be the first to introduce you to:
...DJ Sick and DJ Ill...
"Spread the Disease"
Hahaha. We're currently accepting membership into our gang of groupies... the Canker Sores. Please join us in "spreading the disease." You know you want to. Plus, you know the perks of being a groupie!
Ok... I've exceeded all acceptable limits of nonsense posting and the morning is looming. So, I'm going to catch a few hours of sleep now. Goodnight, and all that jazz...
---------------------------------------------------------
"You just popped in the Kanye West "Get Right for the Summer" workout tape. And ladies, if you follow these instructions exactly, you might bear to pull you a rapper, a NBA player, man -- at least a dude with a car. So first of all, we gonna work on the stomach. Nobody wants a little tight ass.
1 and 2 and 3 and 4, and get them sit ups right, and tuck your tummy tight, and do your crunches like this. Give head, stop, breathe, get up, check your weave. Don't drop the blunt and disrespect the weed. Pick up your son and don't disrespect your seed. It's a party tonight, and ooh she's so excited. Tell me who's invited: you, your friends and my dick. What's scary to me is Henny makes girls look like Halle Berry to me. So excuse me miss, I forgot your name, thank you, God bless you, good night, I came... I came... I came.
It's been a week without me, and she feel weak without me. She wanna talk it out, but ain't nothin' to talk about. Lest she talkin' about freakin' out, then maybe we can work it out. Work it out (come on.) Work it out now. Maybe we can work it out (come on, come on.)
Oh girl, your silhouette make me wanna light a cigarette. My name Kanye from the Jigga set, Twista said get it wet. Ooh girl, your breath is harsh. Cover your mouth up like you got Sars. Off them tracks, yea I bought them cars. Still killa a nigga on 16 bars. We ain't sweatin' to the oldies. We jukin' to a cold beat. Maybe one day, girl, we can bone. So you can brag to all your homies now, but I still mess with a big girl. If you ain't fit girl, I'll hit girl. 1, and you brought 2 friends, ok. 3 more now hop in the Benz. Four door, do you know the difference between a 5, 6, 7, 8? All the mocha lattes. You gotta do Pilates. You gotta pop this tape in before you start back dating. Hustlers, gangstas, all us ballas.
It's been a week without me, and she feel weak without me. She wanna talk it out, but ain't nothin' to talk about. Lest she talkin' about freakin' out, then maybe we can work it out. Work it out (come on.) Work it out now. Maybe we can work it out (come on, come on.)"
--- Kanye West ---
Your Penis Name is: Beefy McManstick
Get your own Penis Name
BEAUTIFUL!
Ok, my last couple entries have just been quick rants... a little off-kilter... but, I'm back to my traditional style tonight.
So... today was semi-eventful in bunches of weird ways...
See, I actually enjoy updating my journal when amusing things happen. Ummm... but, I'm never short about it. You should know this. It's why I hide things behind LJ-cuts, and you have the choice of reading. Brevity is not a strong suit.
---------------------------------------------------------
EVENT 1:
The weirdness all started in my private math tutoring lesson today. This woman that I've been working with has had her crazy side super-sized. Now, granted, you must realize that I get paid $20.00/hour off the record when I private tutor... so, I'd do just about anything they want, short of being a love-slave. BUT, I just did not sign up to be a psychiatrist. This woman loves using me as a means to spout all her problems. I guess I shouldn't complain, but 3 hours of listening to it is a little much... even if I do walk away with 60 bucks. Really, all I want to do is just teach the woman math.
Anyway... VERY brief back-story: This woman (or should I say "her husband"?) is loaded. He's a lawyer, and she's the spoiled wife. He's an old sugar daddy, and she's a pretty young thing. They have a little boy, too. And, can I just add that the rock on her finger proves all of this? Ok... so, that's just the brief overview of her life story that I've come to know. THIS is where it starts getting funny...
SOOOOOOOO... today, before we've even whipped out the calculator, she starts up with, "Do you live a good life? I mean, do you consider yourself religious?" Now, I may sit and listen to her issues all she wants, but my policy is to let her know as little as possible about me and remain completely neutral about everything. So, all my responses are entirely irrelevant, because they are the classic unbiased non-answer answers. Well, after I dodged that question, she continues with... "Well, see the thing is that my husband doesn't give me attention, so I seek it elsewhere."
DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNN!!!! Yes folks, she proceeded to tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth about the AFFAIR that she's having on the side of her marriage. Apparently, her boyfriend's wife ("although he's separated from her," she added) called her last night and bullied her into having lunch with her today... threatening to ruin her marriage, because she's had a PI following her husband.
So, they met, and she told me all the amusing details about the meeting, but I won't draw out this post any longer than it's already going to be.
Then, then, then... as if I wasn't amused enough already, she asked me "Have you ever messed around with a married man, or cheated with anyone?" Christ, woman! She has some nerve, huh? Hahahaha. I really just had to laugh about it. I guess maybe I appear to be the "home-wrecking" type. Ehhh... it's probably the huge boobs. Have I mentioned yet that she has a fascination with the enormity of them? Oh yes... she told me so! Hah!
So, this went on for 3 hours - all the assorted (and "sordid") details... amidst a few math problems here and there. OH YEAH... I'm forgetting one other incredibly amusing part. At one point, she was talking, and she mentioned that she works somewhere 2 nights a week. And then, she goes (and I quote,) "But, I won't tell you where!" Uhhhhh... but, the thing is, I looked at her purse and it's definitely embroidered with a bunch of Playboy bunnies. I totally know she has to be like a stripper somewhere. At the end of the session, she noticed my tattoo and was asking me a bunch of questions about it. And then, she said, "Boy, you're just all boobs and tattoo, aren't you?" Yes lady, that's exactly what I'm about. Those are the sole elements of my existence. Except, you left out my ass. Did you happen to notice it? Most other people do!
This woman is going to provide me with stories for a long time. It's only the beginning of the semester, and if things keep up, I'll see her at least twice a week for 2 hours at a time for the next 3 months. I'll be able to write a novel based on her by December. See... and it's easy for me to talk about on here, simply because she's this mystery woman that none of you know.
---------------------------------------------------------
EVENT 2:
Five minutes after Cultural Anthropology was supposed to start today, I was definitely the only loser from our group actually in class. There are supposed to be 4 of us theatre dorks in the class, but we never manage to show up all at the same time. So, my Liberian instructor (of which some of you may have seen Krista write about in her journal) left the room for a minute, before coming back and actually starting class. And, this is the point (while he was out of the room) at which I stood up and walked out. Hahaha. To hell if I was going to sit in there by myself without my homies to amuse me.
Plus, my notes in that class are always so irrelevant, anyway. You know it's a good day in class when your notes at the end read "Public Ass Anus Job Skills." Ok... so, this possibly warrants explanation, but it's almost more amusing to just leave it at that and let you ponder. Tee hee. Maybe that's my check to see who's actually read all this bullshit. You should definitely ask me about it sometime if you haven't heard the whole story, because it's great!
Plus, we write poetry in that class now - ummm, but just back and forth to each other. Krista posted about it in her journal last week, but it's worth re-posting here for those of you that haven't had the honor of reading it.
From Krista's journal:
"...A few of you may remember the tradition of the add on poem that theatre majors do together in non-major classes... say... ohhh Math classes with that crazy Tarwater lady....OR Anthro with Ndama.. ala Jiggy, Danny Boy, and myself. (And it's worth mentioning that Ndama has a problem speaking our language... and spelling it... and writing it on the board... and erasing it from the board, so what's UP on the board is ANYONE's guess most of the time.)"
Where o' where has my sanity gone?
Where oh where can it be?
Can't understand a Ndamn word he says
And on the board is "anus," I see
He asks me question
I have not a clue
Haven't been this confused
Since I tried eating glue
When can we discuss
Prostitution again?
Public ass anus job skills
Go hand in hand
Pure prostitution vs.
Applied prostitution -
Sex for all...
Is the only solution!!
Faminous Africa needs
More lubed jimmy hats
Polygamous tribal men
Must be smooth cats
Oh Danny Boy
And Jiggy Marie
I've tried, but I can't
Nap in Anthropology!
Yes indeed
I know what you mean
Even if I tried to sleep here
I'll probably have bad dreams
Please finish the words
Because right now all I see
Is the phrase "research anal"(-yst)
On the board for you and me
I try to understand
But I'm afraid I'll get it wrong
Did he just say something about
"The problem with my... bong"?
My friends, I've got it
I know what we need
A plate of Ted Polk pork
And a bowl full of weed
He he he he he he [Side note: Isn't Daniel poetic?]
Oh please, oh please
I need a sedative
Each and every day
He gets more repetitive
From now on you'll see me
With a bottle in class
Not full of water but
Something stronger to knock me on my ass
A shot, a hit
Some kind of hallucinogen
I'll need them all
To sit through this class again
So I'm with Jiggy
Even though it's crass
Salute to Liberians
With a little from my flask
Why, oh why, don't I
Live in Tibet?
Apparently there I could have
All the men I can get!
...See, now why on earth did I want to be in class without my fellow hooligans to amuse me? I hope none of you actually showed up after I left, but I doubt it. As I said, it was already about 5 minutes after when I cut out.
P.S. Krista: I picked up a copy of the assignment for you in class on Tuesday. I'll drop it in your mailbox at school sometime tomorrow. The written portion is supposed to be finished by Tuesday, so we can meet with our groups in class (just 2 groups, alphabetically divided... so, you're in a group with Danny Boy.) Then, Thursday is the day we actually present in class and turn in the paper.
P.P.S. C to the Red: I'm buying the books for class tomorrow. Don't forget about the assignment. We need to figure something out for getting it done.
[Side note: This is a test for fun, to see if you've been paying attention... What are the names of the grumpy old men who sit in the theatre box on the Muppet Show and spout criticism. I know you remember this, you eidetic Lemon Lymanhead. If I remember, you have to.]
Also... on my Smith-Corona Galaxis Deluxe I type,"Here's a theory for you to disregard completely. Music, you know -- true music -- not just rock 'n' roll -- it chooses you. It lives in your car, or alone, listening to your headphones -- you know, with the vast, scenic bridges and angelic choirs in your brain. You know, it's a place apart from the vast, benign lap of America."
---------------------------------------------------------
EVENT 3:
Well, frankly... I've already written far too much, and Mr. Sandman has come knocking on my door, so this will be my last event for the day, even though there were plenty other occurrences. Basically, I had the biggest ditz moment of my week tonight, when I lost my car key outside of Esch. Luckily, Mary picked it up and turned it in, but that didn't help when I had to get home tonight, since every office is closed up. Hah... but, I batted my eyes and had campus police breaking into every possible office to look for it. Unfortunately, no go. They think it's probably locked up in someone's desk. I'm just going to have to wait for morning. But, that was a lot of stress I wasn't expecting. Brush it off. Just brush it off and laugh about it.
So, Aaron gets to be my hero for the week. I stuck around during the light hang, and then he took me home, since I couldn't get in my car. And, he's going to be my bigger hero in the morning when he wakes up early to pick me back up and take me back to school to harass the various offices and find my key. See... I need my car to be able to drive to work by 9:00 AM. Soooo, that hadn't been what I planned for the evening, but I made the best of it, nevertheless. And, Sara and I did have fun ogling the boys tonight.
Anyway... Aaron considered asking for sexual favors as repayment. But, we settled on an assortment of baked goods, such as cookies and brownies, instead. Hmmm... you try balancing the scale on that one. But, I shall abide... I'll have to do that after work tomorrow. Ummm... bake, that is. Not do Aaron. Hahaha.
---------------------------------------------------------
FINAL THOUGHT:
Last weekend, we decided that Vicoli is going to teach me how to spin, so I can be a hot DJ bitch! And this week, Sara and I decided to be a DUO of hot DJ bitchES. Let me be the first to introduce you to:
...DJ Sick and DJ Ill...
"Spread the Disease"
Hahaha. We're currently accepting membership into our gang of groupies... the Canker Sores. Please join us in "spreading the disease." You know you want to. Plus, you know the perks of being a groupie!
Ok... I've exceeded all acceptable limits of nonsense posting and the morning is looming. So, I'm going to catch a few hours of sleep now. Goodnight, and all that jazz...
---------------------------------------------------------
"You just popped in the Kanye West "Get Right for the Summer" workout tape. And ladies, if you follow these instructions exactly, you might bear to pull you a rapper, a NBA player, man -- at least a dude with a car. So first of all, we gonna work on the stomach. Nobody wants a little tight ass.
1 and 2 and 3 and 4, and get them sit ups right, and tuck your tummy tight, and do your crunches like this. Give head, stop, breathe, get up, check your weave. Don't drop the blunt and disrespect the weed. Pick up your son and don't disrespect your seed. It's a party tonight, and ooh she's so excited. Tell me who's invited: you, your friends and my dick. What's scary to me is Henny makes girls look like Halle Berry to me. So excuse me miss, I forgot your name, thank you, God bless you, good night, I came... I came... I came.
It's been a week without me, and she feel weak without me. She wanna talk it out, but ain't nothin' to talk about. Lest she talkin' about freakin' out, then maybe we can work it out. Work it out (come on.) Work it out now. Maybe we can work it out (come on, come on.)
Oh girl, your silhouette make me wanna light a cigarette. My name Kanye from the Jigga set, Twista said get it wet. Ooh girl, your breath is harsh. Cover your mouth up like you got Sars. Off them tracks, yea I bought them cars. Still killa a nigga on 16 bars. We ain't sweatin' to the oldies. We jukin' to a cold beat. Maybe one day, girl, we can bone. So you can brag to all your homies now, but I still mess with a big girl. If you ain't fit girl, I'll hit girl. 1, and you brought 2 friends, ok. 3 more now hop in the Benz. Four door, do you know the difference between a 5, 6, 7, 8? All the mocha lattes. You gotta do Pilates. You gotta pop this tape in before you start back dating. Hustlers, gangstas, all us ballas.
It's been a week without me, and she feel weak without me. She wanna talk it out, but ain't nothin' to talk about. Lest she talkin' about freakin' out, then maybe we can work it out. Work it out (come on.) Work it out now. Maybe we can work it out (come on, come on.)"
--- Kanye West ---