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Tuesday, January 2nd, 2007
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6:24 pm - Moving House
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I've changed my LJ screen name from this (teriyakillamas) over to amega001.
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(comment on this)
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| Wednesday, January 19th, 2005
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11:47 am - Righto: a Memorandum
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I have gotten tired of mirroring my real blog on this, but if anyone knows a way I can thread that blog through this one so as to avoid the annoying making everyone click over there (you are all so torture), could I be let know?
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(4 comments | comment on this)
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| Wednesday, December 1st, 2004
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12:22 pm - Stefan Ur-Kel, we hardly knew ye.
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| Monday, November 29th, 2004
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8:03 pm - Half my face is coated in petroleum jelly.
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Being that I'm sick with what the doctors over at the Death Center believe is an upper respiratory infection, I have been blowing my nose non-stop for a week. Since last Sunday (for future reference, today is a Monday). This is a lot of snot to have been residing in my head, particularly considering it's only just begun really loosening up in the last couple days (and the cough is only JUST beginning to subside).
The immediate, and expected, result of all this congestion is my nose is chapped. Though this is partially due to varying quality of tisses (I recommend the Puffs with lotion - they aren't lying when they say "For a nose in need, there's Puffs indeed"), it is also due to the fact I have killed four boxes of tissue, 2.5 Pocket Packs of Kleenex, and one roll of toilet paper that started out soft and felt like I was grinding my face off by the end. More or less the bottom half of my face is chapped beyond all reason now, so today when I was at Winn-Dixie getting my prescription from the Death Center filled, I went and bought a couple more boxes of tissue and a small jar of petroleum jelly, which is now gently soothing and helping repair my nose, the skin around it, and my lips, which are overly dry from having to breathe through my mouth. I look like the victim of the cumshot from hell.
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(comment on this)
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| Thursday, November 18th, 2004
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11:13 am - Boobies!
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| Monday, November 15th, 2004
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5:01 pm - Cue Dueling Banjos: The Lamest Race Against Time
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Chapter One: Preparation
Friday I was greeted with this at about 7 p.m.: "Annie, Neko backed out, wanna go camping tomorrow?"
"Um, sure, Blake."
"Well, get dressed, we're going to Walmart."
That was more or less the suprise beginning of a two day expedition that turned into the singularly best, most entertaining weekend I've had in months. We went to Walmart, and stocked up on "Supplies", the main of which consisted of tortillas, water bottles, and then later, vodka. We went to the party that took place this weekend, which was the usual alcohol-soaked celebration of hedonism, and I stumbled home. About 8 hours later, I woke up, needing to prepare to go camping. With the hangover of my life. That is the first time I have ever vomited in the morning. When water upsets your stomach, it's a bad, bad sign. I packed and stumbled over to Mallet, and was greeted by a fuckin' Daisy Fresh Kenneth and David, both of whom had been sleeping, soberly the previous evening. Blake and I are no where near that intelligent.
I hauled my ass up the stairs to floor three, where we finished packing and rousted an equally-hungover Blake from the depths of his room. Blake and I just stared at the full bottle of vodka like it was evil, a traitor to us, and that which had made us all we were that day. We trundled down to the car and when Blake turned it on, the bass reached us both with the same effect sunlight has on vampires. "TURN IT DOWN, TURN IT DOWN!" sums it up. Our salvation lay in Krystal, cheap fast food for drunks with charmingly small chicken sandwiches I would at one time or another like to try when I'm not in so much pain that the sum total of their value to me lies in the alcohol-absorbing protein they have to offer.
Chapter Two: Bringing the Funk
We got on the road, and astonishingly enough, found the place with a minimum of trouble, though we were thoroughly amused by Kenneth's swerving all over the road. I'm fairly sure driver's ed in Alabama takes place in a bumper cars arena. But he did get us there. Sometimes that boy suprises you. Sometimes he don't. David and I got the canoes to the drop point while Blake and Kenneth took care of the car situation, Kenneth commenting on how happy he was that everything was just. . . . WORKING.
Chapter Three: Wanna Go Swimming
Kenneth and David, respectively a boy scout and an Eagle Scout taught we the Citified Greenhorns how to get our canoe into the water, which once again. . . . WORKED. 50 feet later, Blake and I were treated to the sight of the two with experience crashing sideways into a log and proceeding to flip a canoe that is theoretically "Really damn hard" to turn over. Not 50 feet from the drop point. Kenneth screamed "Git our shee-it!" and while I'm thinking "Okey dokey," I glanced over to see the other half of my canoe raising his camera to capture the moment for what it was. Blake and I were forced to rescue their now water logged stuff, down to the bread, which we saved just because we were cocky. Kenneth, meantime, performs what I like to think of as the Redneck Double Turn Dive to save the canoe as meanwhile, David THROWS HIS OAR away in his fear of drowning. Thats right, just flung that shit.
We found a sandbar and camped what we figured was probably about 200 yards down from the drop point. Not even a quarter mile on an 11-mile expedition. Whoo boy. We found firewood, and got the two Mighty Swimmers into some dry clothes, though everything was at least damp (you try loading one canoe with two canoe's worth of sodden shit and keeping everything dry). Our boy scouts started a fire, and then it dawned on us. They had had our food, so that which wasn't wrapped airtight had just gone for a swim in the Cahaba, a river that was once so polluted that no life existed in it. They had to restock it by hand. And this was what we had to eat.
Chapter Four: "Dude. Fuck it, let's go bowling."
No, we didn't just say screw this camping trip and go bowling, though for Blake and I, it was a near thing. Instead, we figured that the heat of cooking would probably kill whatever bacteria was in the Cahaba Burgers, and if we got food poisoning, well, Blake and I had been figuring on puking out of the side of the canoe anyways. The Results: Quite gritty.
An interesting thing about camping is that your sense of time completely goes away. The sun at this time of year sinks at around 6 p.m., and David and Kenneth were in bed by 9 p.m., which might as well be midnight, camping time. Blake and I were up another few hours making general asses of ourselves. It is worth noting that watching someone pee on the fire, while entertaining and really quite interesting looking (it makes a great noise), does not endear you to your camping buddies the next morning.
Chapter Five: Just Around the River Bend!
The next morning we arose from being frozen to death by the wind (Kenneth didn’t have tents and didn’t tell us till we got there because he was afraid we’d back out. Holy hell it was cold). David and Kenneth went to go find the Oar of Mystery which David had flung away the day before (sadly, unsuccessfully) while I attempted to cook in the Ghetto Frying Pan of All Time: the remains of a disposable grill attached to a bent wire coat hanger. It turned out to be ill-spent effort and in the end we had Bacon with some cheese wrapped in tortillas. Apparently tortillas are the ultimate camp food.
We got our boats in the water and proceeded on. Kenneth at one point sang a song about catching possums in a sack, and later told us he was not southern enough to give us a good Yee-Haw. Not that southern my ass. We saw a few animals, including an otter, the Wild Beagle of the Cahaba, a Sandhill Crane, a stick “bear”, stick “Deer”, and stick “Beaver”. We also crashed headlong into a “Beaver Dam” at one point (which may or may not have just been a big fucking pile of sticks). We arrived so Team DK (David and Kennet) could switch oarsmen, and it is at this point disaster struck. Blake decided he wanted to be a cowboy, and so pulled what he refers to as a “Rough and Tumble Cop on the Edge” leap into a canoe. And flipped us over.
It’s really hard to haul yourself out of freezing cold water and thigh deep sand while you’re laughing your ass off, but we managed, and pulled our shit out of the river before it went a-floating downstream. The only loss in the crash was my cell phone, which I must now go replace. I’m not overly upset, but fairly well-on annoyed. I, in my sorrow at the loss of my phone, along with all my numbers, and the ability to efficiently communicate home, crept forward into the water until it came up to about my lower calves, and then remembered in a dramatic moment, that this sand SINKS. The water line was suddenly at my chest. Damn I am an idiot sometimes.
We “raced” the last mile to the pickup point, which Blake and I lost, but then, we weren’t really racing. Blake and I didn’t win, hence we were not really racing. Just practice. We hauled our boats out of the water and dragged our asses back to civilization. Well, back to Tuscaloosa, which is almost as good.
Conclusion
A few things I learned:
- There is little as funny as watching know it alls fuck up.
- Peeing in the woods takes skill.
- I can learn how to do really complex things with boats in ten minutes if the situation calls for it.
- Being an amateur and fucking up is even funnier than watching the know-it-alls.
- Whether it’s an animal or an “animal,” it still is neat to see
- Swimming in November actually isn’t that bad, if you live in Alabama.
- Sand gets all over EVERYTHING
- I’d make a good pirate captain.
The title is courtesy of Blake.
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Friday, November 12th, 2004
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6:29 pm - My Spring Schedule, for all who care
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If you people would read my REAL blog, you would already know this.
Monday-Wednesday-Friday:
Introduction to Journalism: 9 - 9:50 am
Public Speaking: 10 - 10:50 am
Honors English Literature II: 1 - 1:50 pm
Tuesday-Thursday:
Spanish Advanced Grammar and Composition: 2 - 3:15 pm
Survey of Art II (Renaissance Art): 3:30 - 4:45 pm.
GOD that rocks. I don't have to even be UP til noon on Tuesdays or Thursdays. Thank you, Registrar in the School of Communications, for being competent!
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6:23 pm - Napoleon Dynamite
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So I finally saw Napoleon Dynamite. This is the movie for anyone who was any form of social reject in high school, about a guy who looks like the bastard child of Beavis and Butthead, from Idaho. I saw this at the Ferg last night at 11:30, and was thoroughly amused, and about shrieked with laughter during the last scene. Go Napoleon, go Napoleon.
I also "got" the poster for the movie. And when I say "got" I mean "took". They had the movie pooster up inside the Ferg in a case, with a cheap wooden frame hinged door and a clear plastic cover, designed to look like a matinee thing. Basic encased bulletin board. I wanted the poster, so a friend of mine and I, failing to be able to pick the lock, took the door off the hinges, carefully took down the poster, replaced the tacks and then reinstalled the door onto the wall, making sure it worked and everything. The poster is now hanging in my friend Blake's room, getting some exposure before I move it in here (though I'm not sure if I will or not, but I do have a space for it). I love my new poster.
Pedro for President!
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| Monday, November 1st, 2004
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11:24 pm - Look what I found.
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Michael Moore's Blog (all quotes I take will be directly copied and pasted from this blog - I ain't editng, people). That's right people, I found the personal blog of one of the biggest propagandists and hatemongerers in this country. I have a few select beefs with Michael Moore. Firstly is that he always looks like hell. A person trying to seem credible to the common man, I admit can look the part. But that does not mean that someone who presents himself as a self taught political science expert and whose films represent one of the opinions of this country needs to look like a frumpy tub of lard in a flannel shirt with a big mouth on top of it. It does not take much effort to look as though you have bathed.
Evidence of Moore's appearance in what is very obviously a public forum:
It is reasonably to assume from my attack on everything from Mr. Moore's appearance to his films that I harbor a dislike for him. I do consider this partially in reflection of his personality and his hatred of conservative ideaology, which I feel has it's place in the world. Here is a sample from his blog:
"Bush now comes on the screen. His shirt is soaked with sweat. It is most days. Have you noticed this? Yes, we are men, and yes, we sweat, but man, this guy is drenched. I feel bad for him. He is not really up to the job of executioner (although it seemed so easy with his death row rat-a-tat-tat back in Texas).
Even though he himself doesn't have to pull the trigger, he knows what his actions have wrought and he sweats the sweat of a man in deep fear that he has doomed not only himself but countless Americans. Men who tell lies sweat like that. Men who cheat sweat like that. But in order to sweat like that you have to have a conscience, an active conscience, a present conscience, a voice that is always there to tell you that you are in violation of some greater law and order. Mr. Bush, his conscience still with him, and his shirt still wet, a thousand Americans now dead for no good reason other than they were willing to trust their commander-in-chief and promised to do whatever was necessary to protect you and me. I honor each and every one of the 1,000 for that, I grieve for them and their families, and I pray that Mr. Bush lies in a bed tonight, his sheets drenched not with sweat but with tears for those young men and women whom he consigned to their deaths."
The next couple paragraphs are addressed to Mr. Moore. I'm from Texas. Referring to the death row "rat-a-tat-tat" insults and alienates not only me, but a large population of my state. Guilty men do sweat, but then again, so do men with a body fat count higher than the number of hairs on their ass.
You are a bigot. You are so obsessively anti-Conservative that you cannot muster a single good word to say about the president, and whether you voted for him or not, whether you think he's executing everything well or not, whether you believe in him or not, Bush is not a bad man. I voted for Kerry (contrary to a number of my friends). I am a relatively liberal Independent. But that doesn't mean I cannot appreciate and accept the ideology of a conservative as necessary. They are the yin to our yang, the ones that keep us from driving us into the ground out of the need to feed the hungry, just as we the more liberal keep them from letting everyone starve to death. They are necessary to all our existence, and yours in particular. The Republican Party, whether you love them or hate them, keep you in business, and in that $60 million you broke at the box office. A number of my friends, and my mother and father voted Bush, and I didn't, despite being from his state and everything.
Michael Moore, your blatant inability to come across in any matter, to try and change the system by working with it, shines through your careless prose and the kind of writing that leaves my friends and I wondering if you even proofread it before posting it. Let's take for instance, this:
"I’m on the plane back to Florida for one more show there tomorrow night. I’m getting up at 7am to phone in live to the Howard Stern show. Howard and I resolved long ago that no matter what the Democratic candidate was doing, the two of us were somehow, single-handedly, going to toss Bush out on the curb."
This is a published document on your official website. Reread that. A few things before I get into actual content - it's 7 a.m., and if there are two people involved, one cannot "single handedly" overthrow anything. Lastly, and this is more or less my closing argument in my belief in your utter incompetence, you say that "No matter what the Democratic candidate was doing, the two of us were somehow, single-handedly, going to toss Bush out on the curb." Ignoring what the programming community would refer to as a "syntax error," you basically stated there that Kerry could be joining the priests in raping altar boys and you'd still back him over Bush. That is out and out insane. It's also the kind of half-assed, careless writing that I feel mirrors your filmmaking and sends my friends, conservative and liberal alike, into heaves of laughter.
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1:19 am - Fly fly fly, little bird.
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Last night I went to a party and witnessed my innocence, what little of it was left, take its leave of me and go scampering out the window. Not to say I'm a different person or anything, but I done gone and crossed a whole new barrier. How is that you ask? Well, my friends, here is a brief reenactment of last night:
Annie, our heroine, meets on the hallowed battle grounds to combat Alcohol, the bitter enemy. Six or seven "victories" later, our heroine also meets two bisexual guys. Hello, guys, how are you? Why, I'm fine and dandy. ( TMI ALERT: THIS IS THE PART PEOPLE WHO DO NOT WANT THIS MUCH INFORMATION DON'T WANT TO READ )
Wow, that was interesting. Sadly though, it ruined one of my favourite pairs of stockings, so I am really seriously in mourning. Beautiful white thigh highs, destroyed. Covered in runs and black vampire makeup. I mourn.
My innocence, what little of it is left, is nearly to the bottom of the barrel. I don't think I have a problem with that. I'm still me. Just, one more line crossed.
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Saturday, October 30th, 2004
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1:16 pm - And they're off!
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My brother has tickets to the Breeder's Cup, and it makes me want to cry. This is like me getting tickets to the Cowboys at the Super Bowl and leaving him at home. This is one of those races I one day hoped to ride, and win, much less see. I'll get there one day.
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| Sunday, October 24th, 2004
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1:46 pm - Dios Mio! La Fiesta Ha Salido Mal!
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Last night as I was searching for something to do, I ended up, as I often do, at Mallet Assembly. The geek dorm throws some pretty decent parties, and I stumbled on one last night. It was a good party, relaxing, with many double whiskey and cokes to be had, and I enjoyed myself. Actually made a couple friends, met some people, listened to some weird music from the '80s. Talked to an interesting guy for awhile. Then it happened. The cops showed up. Goddammit. This is where my story of what had been a fairly standard weekend evening goes downhill.
When the cops showed up, we moved everything upstairs, and ended up more or less hiding out in the dorm rooms like Jews trying to avoid the SS. Hear a noise, shut the fuck up. Is there any evidence? Get that shit out of here. When our position was secured, I actually looked around and who I was stuck with, and in the corner there we huddled a rather large guy who seemed scared and depressed. And hell bent on carving new and interesting things into his arm. Cut to the inner workings of my brain: "OH MY GOD DUDE, THIS IS NOT WHAT WE NEED RIGHT NOW." So, as seemingly one of the only people in this room vaguely concerned that if the cops show up, the last image we want to present is a drunk, depressed kid with an open vein, I begin to try to talk him down. 20 minutes of talking later, it dawns on me this kid doesn't want to be helped, so I give up, and not 5 minutes later, I glance over to an eyeful of Destructo putting out a cigarette on his inner arm, a look of utter bliss on his face. Utterly resolute, our heroine basically ignores him and ABSOLUTELY DOES NOT point out that she has a three inch switchblade on her.
So, I started talking to a girl in spanish, and though I was previously unaware it held this power, according to the girl's boyfriend, our speaking spanish had caused him girlfriend to throw up. See the power of learning languages, children? 15 minutes later, Spanish-Speaking Girl and I and her friend decide that if some shit was gonna go down, it wouldn't take 45 minutes to happen. We bailed out. It may not be brave or whatever, but I'd rather have been written a ticket for minor in consumption of alcohol than be in that room at that moment. I came home, and in the process, accidentally popped my knee. Dammit.
I'm currently hungover and hungry, but extremely relieved nothing really bad happened. The last thing my family needs is me getting arrested 3 states over.
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(comment on this)
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| Thursday, October 21st, 2004
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12:49 pm - Lookit! They're related!
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| Wednesday, October 20th, 2004
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4:48 pm - Remember Ambition? No you don't....
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In the course of human events, it becomes necessary to get your shit done. However, this is college, and as I'm sure many of my brethren can attest, the concept of ambition is a vague one by midterms. I have discovered that in college my computer use has gone even further up, along with the quotient of my brethren. My studying has dropped in accordance with the difficulty of my classes. Observe:
My Midterm Grades/Study Time:
Cultural Anthropology: 104/2 hours
English Literature: 90/2 hours
Mass Communications: 96/5 minutes before the test started because I forgot about it
Math: 100/30 minutes
Spanish doesn't have one.
All told, that is 275 minutes of studying. That is probably more than many I attend school with, but far less than I have spent on, say, IMing Matt about the R. Kelley Sex Tape. This figure shrinks, and is actually degrading, considering the amount of time I spend online in class. I am now pan-slacking. It now takes 5 minutes of internal dialogue to eat dinner or take a shower. My alarm went off yesterday, I sat up, looked at it, and considered for ten minutes whether or not it was a good idea to get up or not. I then turned it off, and rolled over to sleep for the ensuing three hours. My compatriots in arms are not much better. I have a friend whom I sit next to in Mass Communications who will IM me from three inches away if he needs something. Renee IMs me from two doors over. It might be honestly less effort to just scream into the hallway, but that would involve interpersonal communication.
Remember ambition? Remember that stuff that drove me through 4 years of IB, soul-crushing amounts of work? Remember that? Yeah, it's only a figment of the past now.
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(4 comments | comment on this)
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| Friday, October 15th, 2004
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2:27 pm - Another Soul Destroyed,,,,
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LatinaRastaQueen: *claws out her eyes*
LatinaRastaQueen wants to send file C:\Documents and Settings\Ann Angello\My Documents\download\latinarastaqueen\milkshake.wmv.
LatinaRastaQueen: this is outright disturbing
deflating donkey: one a good or bad way?
deflating donkey: in*
LatinaRastaQueen: bad
LatinaRastaQueen: im blind
deflating donkey: i might have to watch this tomorrow then
deflating donkey: to ensure i sleep
deflating donkey received C:\Documents and Settings\Ann Angello\My Documents\download\latinarastaqueen\milkshake.wmv.
LatinaRastaQueen: LatinaRastaQueen: AHHHHH
LatinaRastaQueen: OMFG I'M BLIND
terpscomefirst: O.o
LatinaRastaQueen: LatinaRastaQueen: *claws out her eyes&
terpscomefirst: she works hard for the money
terpscomefirst: I just wanna know who paid her to do that
deflating donkey: LatinaRastaQueen: OMFG
LatinaRastaQueen: what?
deflating donkey: WHY
deflating donkey: IM GOING TOHAVE AN UCLER
LatinaRastaQueen: it gets worse
deflating donkey: I KNOWW
LatinaRastaQueen: oh god
deflating donkey: OH CRIST IM SICK C
deflating donkey is away at 1:16:33 AM.
LatinaRastaQueen: i may never drink another milkshake
Auto response from deflating donkey: CHINGADA MADRE ANN
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| Monday, October 11th, 2004
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3:34 pm - Christopher Reeve Dies, Millions Rejoice
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Alabama -
Actor/Paralyzed Douchebag Christopher Reeve died yesterday at the age of 52. Once beloved for his role as Superman, since his injury, he has turned into a whiny advocate for a cause he had previously no interest. Heralded as an asshole by experts, thousands screamed "PWNED" at the thought of never again having to read about yet another of the whiny bitch's books in stores soon. He died of complications from an infection caused by a bedsore. He leaves behind his wife, Dana, and thousands of relieved former fans.
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(2 comments | comment on this)
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| Monday, October 4th, 2004
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6:01 pm - I line 'em up, Matt keeps knockin' 'em outta the park: Eurphemism of the Week.
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LatinaRastaQueen: the mealy mouthed bitch
sidereal shift: god that's funny
sidereal shift: imagine, if you will, WHO-lays in his bedroom doing the five-knuckle shuffle to a copy Newsweek.
LatinaRastaQueen: hehe
LatinaRastaQueen: you use all the best euphemisms
sidereal shift: hah, glad you like 'em
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(3 comments | comment on this)
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| Saturday, October 2nd, 2004
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7:26 pm - Japanese Goths are Always Funny
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| Friday, October 1st, 2004
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2:16 am - A Post I Wrote this Morning
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I'm sitting in my Cultural Anthropology class, an awesome class with very little practical use but a great deal of merit on its own. In this class we study such interesting things as bilateral descent structures and incest. But I love this class for a different reason. This class is invariably Stick Figure Theatre. But one of the best things of all in relation to this class is my professor. After he states some point he considers vital, he says in a voice that would have done Mrs. Buntyn proud for depth "Intriguing." I love that, because in reality, the most intrigued person in the room is probably him. I can dig it, but I wasn't sure that merited an "Intriguing," Professor Krause.
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(comment on this)
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| Tuesday, September 28th, 2004
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12:32 pm - My checklist. Damn, I can't undo some of those?
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(X) been drunk
(X) smoked pot
(X) kissed a member of the opposite sex
(X) done a whole lot more than just kiss a member of the opposite sex
(X) kissed a member of the same sex
(X) done a whole lot more than just kiss a member of the same sex
( ) crashed a friend’s car
( ) been to Japan
(X) ridden in a taxi
(X) been in love
(X) been dumped
(X) shoplifted
( ) been fired
(X) been in a fist fight
(X) snuck out of my parent’s house
(X) ever had a crush on someone of the same sex
(X) ever dated someone of the same sex
(X) had feelings for someone who didnt have them back
( ) been arrested
( ) spent time in jail
(X) made out with a stranger
(X) stole something from my job
( ) celebrated new years in times square
( ) gone on a blind date (if you don't count internet chatting)
( ) stood up a date
( ) been stood up by a date
(X) lied to a friend
(x) had a crush on a teacher
(X) been to Mardi Gras
(X) earned beads the hard way at mardi gras
( ) been to Europe
(X) skipped school
( ) slept with a co-worker
(X) cut myself on purpose
( ) been married
( ) gotten divorced
( ) had children
( ) seen someone die
( ) been to Africa
(X) had a crush on one of my Live Journal friends
( ) Slapped someone I loved
( ) Driven over 400 miles to attend a show/festival/fetish ball
( ) Attended some kind of fetish event
( ) Been to Canada
(X) Been to Mexico
(X) Been stopped by customs
(X) Been on a plane
(X) Seen the Rocky Horror Picture Show
(X) Thrown up in a bar
(X) Gotten kicked out of a bar
(X) Purposely set a part of myself on fire
(X) Eaten Sushi
( ) Been snowboarding
(X) Met someone in person from the internet
(X) Been moshing at a concert
(X) Had real feelings for someone you knew only online
(X) Taken partially nude/nude photos of yourself
(X) Had someone else take nude pictures of yourself
(X) been in an abusive relationship
( ) been pregnant or got someone pregnant
( ) lost a child
(X) gone to college
( ) graduated college
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