Ashes on my tounge
A bitter taste in my mouth
My light has gone out
Monday, August 25, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Hey! Look! Listen!
I *heart* video games. Unusual, since I did not have video games growing up. Or maybe that's why I like them... the novelty hasn't worn off yet. When I was a tween, I saved up all my birthday and christmas money so I could buy a Gameboy and get the Legend of Zelda game (this was back in the mid-90's), cuz my friend had it. Well, that never came to be.
Fast forward a few years to a new town and a new friend who was playing the Legend of Zelda on the N64. I wished to partake, and my parental wouldn't let met get a Nintendo. Long story.
Fast forward a few more years and I'm in the dorms and my friend down the hall has a Game Cube, and I am indoctrinated into the cult of Resident Evil. I LOVED that game. I made my friends leave their room unlocked so I could go in there between classes and play. That's my next purchase: a GameCube so I can play Res Evil.
And a few years after that I borrowed a N64 from my gay friend Sam, and finally got to play Legend of Zelda. I made it to the castle before school and life forced itself to the top of the priority list and I never got to finish playing.
So imagine my child-like excitement when I found out Roomie owns a N64 and will bring it to the apartment for me. And even better, I won an auction on eBay last week for an original Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time game. It's like a missing piece of my life has finally fallen into place. And what have I learned from all this?
I fucking hate that fairy.
Link is the the most uncoordinated little toe rag I have ever seen. Who else falls off cliffs, bounces themselves off rock, and waves their sword in the wrong direction while zombies knaw on their backside? (Yes, I am still talking about LoZ) The boy without a fairy......... I snickered a little bit.
And I fucking HATE that fairy. Supid fairy floating around my stupid head getting in the way and saying stupid things that I already knew cuz it already told me once. Thank you Captian Obvious, Commander of Useless Information.
And that stupid princess sure gets kidnapped a lot. From what I know of the Legend of Zelda mythos (which really isn't much), and there's like half a million of these games, and Zelda gets kidnapped at least once in every game. Which really means that her guardian - Impo....Impa.... whatever the hell her name is - really, really sucks at her job. And in this glorious kingdom of Hyrule, isn't there some sort of standing army? CIA? FBI? Blackwater? There isn't a professional that can hunt her down? The fate of the heir to kingdom is left in the hands of the one weirdo semi-retarded kid? "The boy without a fairy" That's like, if Jenna Bush got kidnapped, and they sent the Kid Who Eats Paste to find her. Really?
Excuse me, I'm off to watch the end of My Big Fat Greek Wedding, and thanking God I have a small family and that I promised my mother I'd elope.
Cheers,
Alette
"If someone's trying to kill you, you try and kill 'em right back!" -Mal Reynolds, Firefly
Fast forward a few years to a new town and a new friend who was playing the Legend of Zelda on the N64. I wished to partake, and my parental wouldn't let met get a Nintendo. Long story.
Fast forward a few more years and I'm in the dorms and my friend down the hall has a Game Cube, and I am indoctrinated into the cult of Resident Evil. I LOVED that game. I made my friends leave their room unlocked so I could go in there between classes and play. That's my next purchase: a GameCube so I can play Res Evil.
And a few years after that I borrowed a N64 from my gay friend Sam, and finally got to play Legend of Zelda. I made it to the castle before school and life forced itself to the top of the priority list and I never got to finish playing.
So imagine my child-like excitement when I found out Roomie owns a N64 and will bring it to the apartment for me. And even better, I won an auction on eBay last week for an original Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time game. It's like a missing piece of my life has finally fallen into place. And what have I learned from all this?
I fucking hate that fairy.
Link is the the most uncoordinated little toe rag I have ever seen. Who else falls off cliffs, bounces themselves off rock, and waves their sword in the wrong direction while zombies knaw on their backside? (Yes, I am still talking about LoZ) The boy without a fairy......... I snickered a little bit.
And I fucking HATE that fairy. Supid fairy floating around my stupid head getting in the way and saying stupid things that I already knew cuz it already told me once. Thank you Captian Obvious, Commander of Useless Information.
And that stupid princess sure gets kidnapped a lot. From what I know of the Legend of Zelda mythos (which really isn't much), and there's like half a million of these games, and Zelda gets kidnapped at least once in every game. Which really means that her guardian - Impo....Impa.... whatever the hell her name is - really, really sucks at her job. And in this glorious kingdom of Hyrule, isn't there some sort of standing army? CIA? FBI? Blackwater? There isn't a professional that can hunt her down? The fate of the heir to kingdom is left in the hands of the one weirdo semi-retarded kid? "The boy without a fairy" That's like, if Jenna Bush got kidnapped, and they sent the Kid Who Eats Paste to find her. Really?
Excuse me, I'm off to watch the end of My Big Fat Greek Wedding, and thanking God I have a small family and that I promised my mother I'd elope.
Cheers,
Alette
"If someone's trying to kill you, you try and kill 'em right back!" -Mal Reynolds, Firefly
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Inappropriate Conversations, Pt. 1
Roomie and I had some school chums com visit recently, the Hippy and the Geek, whom we used to work with. We went out to eat at a place near the apartment, and got to sit on the rooftop patio. The food was really good, but that's not what I'm here to write about.
Later that night, back at the apartment, Roomie is sitting on the couch massacring what's left of the icecream cake. I'm making fun of her for acting like a crazy drunk person (she wasn't drunk, but that's a whole other story), I was going to start throwing things at her, since she wouldn't remember anyway.
"My roommate used to throw things at me," she says, referring to Crazy Kate.
"Didn't we see her in Bemidji, outside Keg?" Hippy asks. "Good thing Roomie stayed home."
"Yeah, CK might have started throwing things.... rocks, small children..." I smirk in the corner.
"Well, if you have to throw something heavy," Geek chimes in.
"And then kids scream, sounds like an incoming missal. Then they flail..." I'm enjoying this far too much. "Makes it easy to hit multiple targets."
"Hey now," Hippy cuts in, mock serious, "Let's not give the terrorists any ideas."
"Yeah, lob one kid, watch the whole crowd go down," I laugh.
"It's better than throwing IUD's into crowds," Hippy says. Wait.... what?! There's a moment of silence.
"That would properly combat an excess of children," I say as we laugh ourselves silly and sick.
These days we should take the treat of terrorism and IEDs seriously. But it you're already talking about kid-missles, there's no point in worrying about being politically correct.
Cheers,
Alette
Later that night, back at the apartment, Roomie is sitting on the couch massacring what's left of the icecream cake. I'm making fun of her for acting like a crazy drunk person (she wasn't drunk, but that's a whole other story), I was going to start throwing things at her, since she wouldn't remember anyway.
"My roommate used to throw things at me," she says, referring to Crazy Kate.
"Didn't we see her in Bemidji, outside Keg?" Hippy asks. "Good thing Roomie stayed home."
"Yeah, CK might have started throwing things.... rocks, small children..." I smirk in the corner.
"Well, if you have to throw something heavy," Geek chimes in.
"And then kids scream, sounds like an incoming missal. Then they flail..." I'm enjoying this far too much. "Makes it easy to hit multiple targets."
"Hey now," Hippy cuts in, mock serious, "Let's not give the terrorists any ideas."
"Yeah, lob one kid, watch the whole crowd go down," I laugh.
"It's better than throwing IUD's into crowds," Hippy says. Wait.... what?! There's a moment of silence.
"That would properly combat an excess of children," I say as we laugh ourselves silly and sick.
These days we should take the treat of terrorism and IEDs seriously. But it you're already talking about kid-missles, there's no point in worrying about being politically correct.
Cheers,
Alette
Monday, August 18, 2008
Ode to Monday
A poem - written in nonsense-pentameter, and does not rhyme.
How I do loathe you, Monday!
Your sunny disposition hides
The rabid beast within.
Oh, how you play games
With me Monday!
My alarm,
It is so very loud.
My air conditioner,
It is so very broken.
I leave the house and
My shoes don't match!
Unfortunately, this is not exaggeration.
Monday! Why didn't you tell me
There was a PTD call at 8:30 this morning.
For that matter, why didn't my boss!?
Monday, are you and hi
In it together
To drive me crazy?
Oh Monday, you herald of all things
Miserable and wrong.
There is not enough Midol
To get me through this day.
I need an anti-acid.
I need a Diet Pepsi.
I need it to be Tuesday.
Cheers,
Alette
"I never called myself a poet" -Alette
How I do loathe you, Monday!
Your sunny disposition hides
The rabid beast within.
Oh, how you play games
With me Monday!
My alarm,
It is so very loud.
My air conditioner,
It is so very broken.
I leave the house and
My shoes don't match!
Unfortunately, this is not exaggeration.
Monday! Why didn't you tell me
There was a PTD call at 8:30 this morning.
For that matter, why didn't my boss!?
Monday, are you and hi
In it together
To drive me crazy?
Oh Monday, you herald of all things
Miserable and wrong.
There is not enough Midol
To get me through this day.
I need an anti-acid.
I need a Diet Pepsi.
I need it to be Tuesday.
Cheers,
Alette
"I never called myself a poet" -Alette
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Friday, August 8, 2008
The Hearing
I have a few pet peeves in my life: political ads, people who drive too slow in the left lane, No Child Left Behind act, taxes, the price of gas....
There is only one thing I hate more than movies based on books that can't follow the source material, and that's 1-800-numbers that require you to speak into the phone in place of pushing numbers. I'm ok with punching numbers. I cannot stand the falsely happy female voice requireing me to talk to it like another human. You're a computer! I don't talk to computers! (Well..... I do sometimes, but that's completely different. I'm usually yelling)
This was totally not what I intended to blog about. Just thought I'd share. (had to call my credit card company today and change my address. FAIL USPS mail forwarding system. Unrelated, but my balance wasn't nearly as terrifying as I thought it was. Huzzah for less debt!)
I had to go to court yesterday. Well, not really. It was an appointment with a Hearing Officer at City Hall regarding parking tickets. But it sounds cooler to say "I had a court date." My third day in the Cities I woke up to discover a parking ticket on my car. Not really a parking ticket, more of a HA! You're Fucked! ticket. My tabs were outdated. Like, 5 months outdated. Said tabs had been purchased back in January when they were due, and were in the glove compartment (don't look at me like that! I was graduating.... I forgot). I immediately put them on the car, to avoid any further confusion. But the $102 ticket did not magically disappear. Damn. So Roomie and I voyaged downtown to City Hall so I could talk to someone about said ticket. Which leads to the appointment I had yesterday.
It was at 8:40 in the morning, which was good. Roomie kept me company while I waited. I fidgeted. She fidgeted. The large black man across the isle fidgeted. The TV in the corner reported death and destruction. It was all very comforting.
The doors at the end of the room slowly groaned open. Screams of the damed could be heard from within, like the Gates of Hell. The guard beckoned, and terrified, I followed. Down long, dark labyrinth tunnels, carved out of the bedrock itself, I was led deep beneath City Hall. In the darkness I was left pondering my fate. Somewhere far above me a voice intoned, "You have sinned."
Which I knew, obviously, and tried to explain. Shadowy figures loomed over me. Judge, jury and executioner, my fate was in their hands. "And the other ticket?" they asked.
Oh shit. Yeah, that one. The one I got for parking too close to the stop sign, which is a complete joke if you ask me. But I was going to pay it anyway, sooner or later. When I had a spare $20.
The shadow judges glared down at me, their voices rumbling in conference. "We can forgive you," they said, "in exchange for YOUR SOUL!"
Ok.... so not really. The hallway was short and white, and there was one dude in a cubie/office mutant, who laughed at me in amazement that I made it five months without getting a tabs citation. But that's Bemidji cops for you. He was kind enough to throw out the tabs ticket, and reduced the other ticket by half. So I walked out of the inquisition escaping a $130 fine for only $14. And I didn't even wear a low cut shirt!
Cheers,
Alette
"I have always found that mercy bears richer fruits than strict justice." -Abraham Lincoln
There is only one thing I hate more than movies based on books that can't follow the source material, and that's 1-800-numbers that require you to speak into the phone in place of pushing numbers. I'm ok with punching numbers. I cannot stand the falsely happy female voice requireing me to talk to it like another human. You're a computer! I don't talk to computers! (Well..... I do sometimes, but that's completely different. I'm usually yelling)
This was totally not what I intended to blog about. Just thought I'd share. (had to call my credit card company today and change my address. FAIL USPS mail forwarding system. Unrelated, but my balance wasn't nearly as terrifying as I thought it was. Huzzah for less debt!)
I had to go to court yesterday. Well, not really. It was an appointment with a Hearing Officer at City Hall regarding parking tickets. But it sounds cooler to say "I had a court date." My third day in the Cities I woke up to discover a parking ticket on my car. Not really a parking ticket, more of a HA! You're Fucked! ticket. My tabs were outdated. Like, 5 months outdated. Said tabs had been purchased back in January when they were due, and were in the glove compartment (don't look at me like that! I was graduating.... I forgot). I immediately put them on the car, to avoid any further confusion. But the $102 ticket did not magically disappear. Damn. So Roomie and I voyaged downtown to City Hall so I could talk to someone about said ticket. Which leads to the appointment I had yesterday.
It was at 8:40 in the morning, which was good. Roomie kept me company while I waited. I fidgeted. She fidgeted. The large black man across the isle fidgeted. The TV in the corner reported death and destruction. It was all very comforting.
The doors at the end of the room slowly groaned open. Screams of the damed could be heard from within, like the Gates of Hell. The guard beckoned, and terrified, I followed. Down long, dark labyrinth tunnels, carved out of the bedrock itself, I was led deep beneath City Hall. In the darkness I was left pondering my fate. Somewhere far above me a voice intoned, "You have sinned."
Which I knew, obviously, and tried to explain. Shadowy figures loomed over me. Judge, jury and executioner, my fate was in their hands. "And the other ticket?" they asked.
Oh shit. Yeah, that one. The one I got for parking too close to the stop sign, which is a complete joke if you ask me. But I was going to pay it anyway, sooner or later. When I had a spare $20.
The shadow judges glared down at me, their voices rumbling in conference. "We can forgive you," they said, "in exchange for YOUR SOUL!"
Ok.... so not really. The hallway was short and white, and there was one dude in a cubie/office mutant, who laughed at me in amazement that I made it five months without getting a tabs citation. But that's Bemidji cops for you. He was kind enough to throw out the tabs ticket, and reduced the other ticket by half. So I walked out of the inquisition escaping a $130 fine for only $14. And I didn't even wear a low cut shirt!
Cheers,
Alette
"I have always found that mercy bears richer fruits than strict justice." -Abraham Lincoln
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Fail Blog
I am not well acquainted with crushing defeat. I set my goals, make my plans and get to work, and at the end of the day, I usually get what I want out of life. Maybe this is because I only set my sights on things I know I can achieve and I don't dream too far out of the box. Maybe I only reach for the clouds and not the stars because when I was younger and my all-consuming dream was to be an actress and director (this is the girl who organized her cousins into mini-productions at the grandparents' house, that I wrote, complete with costumes, sets, and occasionally singing), and I was told I'm just not pretty enough to be an actress, and I should aim for something more reasonable. But that's a blog for another day.
When I was in elementary, I wanted to do Post-Secondary Enrollment in high school and take college classes then. I did, and I was the only student in my Junior class who made it into the program. Then I wanted to go to Bemidji State for graphic design. I did that too, and got a couple more emphasis on top of it. I wanted to drive a 2000 Honda Civic, with a stick shift - and I do drive it, when it's not in the shop. I wanted to live in Minneapolis, and work at a particular design firm there, and both of those things happened. I got the internship at least five of my classmates were competing for.
And here's where the crushing disappointment comes in. My boss told me Monday that my internship would not be extended into permanent employment. Through no fault of my own; I've been a fabulous employees and an asset to the company these last few months. But, Corporate is holding out on the fundage. I believe I babbled semi-coherently about this on Monday.
I am sad to be leaving. I like it here, I like the people. I like the neighborhood. I'm frustrated because I feel like I've been working my ass off all summer, and for what? I'm scared because I hate job hunting, and what happens if I can't find a job right away? I can't afford to be unemployed.
And a small part of me is excited and optimistic; this is a chance to start fresh, to go somewhere new. To have a mini-adventure. All those other emotions are drowning out the happy part right now.
I'm also happy because for some bizzare-ass reason, despite all the turmoil in my life, I'm sleeping full nights again. And I'm unhappy because my stomach is acting up and I lost my roll of Tums.
In unrelated news; this man is my hero (link here)
Cheers,
Alette
"Act as if it were impossible to fail." - Dorothea Brande
When I was in elementary, I wanted to do Post-Secondary Enrollment in high school and take college classes then. I did, and I was the only student in my Junior class who made it into the program. Then I wanted to go to Bemidji State for graphic design. I did that too, and got a couple more emphasis on top of it. I wanted to drive a 2000 Honda Civic, with a stick shift - and I do drive it, when it's not in the shop. I wanted to live in Minneapolis, and work at a particular design firm there, and both of those things happened. I got the internship at least five of my classmates were competing for.
And here's where the crushing disappointment comes in. My boss told me Monday that my internship would not be extended into permanent employment. Through no fault of my own; I've been a fabulous employees and an asset to the company these last few months. But, Corporate is holding out on the fundage. I believe I babbled semi-coherently about this on Monday.
I am sad to be leaving. I like it here, I like the people. I like the neighborhood. I'm frustrated because I feel like I've been working my ass off all summer, and for what? I'm scared because I hate job hunting, and what happens if I can't find a job right away? I can't afford to be unemployed.
And a small part of me is excited and optimistic; this is a chance to start fresh, to go somewhere new. To have a mini-adventure. All those other emotions are drowning out the happy part right now.
I'm also happy because for some bizzare-ass reason, despite all the turmoil in my life, I'm sleeping full nights again. And I'm unhappy because my stomach is acting up and I lost my roll of Tums.
In unrelated news; this man is my hero (link here)
Cheers,
Alette
"Act as if it were impossible to fail." - Dorothea Brande
Monday, August 4, 2008
*Insert Adequately Witty Title Here*
What a weekend! I was going to post about my trip to Podunk, North Minnesota to visit friends in my old college town. I was going to tell the story about the seediest damn place I've seen in a long time, and how it hurts my heart to see people take beautiful historic buildings, gut them, and turn them into a meat market thinly disguised as a bar.
I could have told the story about how I finally found and purchased a vest (I've been looking for one for months. Harder to find than you'd think), after which I crossed the mall hallway to the Borders where I met Super J and Roomie (who had just gotten her eyebrows waxed and her forehead was an angry shade of red), and before my verbal filter could be activated, I shouted out, "OH MY GOD! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE!!" Yes, people stopped and stared. And yes, I was the Asshole of the Day.
Or I could tell you about how I got so completely drunk Saturday night, I'm still recovering (no joke!) and that I couldn't tell you when I got that intoxicated last. For some reason, when I'm drunk I feel the need to call my buddy Mr. California. I'm being escorted down the sidewalk by Super J and the Modern Hippy (they've decided it's time to call it a night), screaming into my Blackberry:
"OHMYGOD!!!"
"IMISSYOU!"
"YOUSHOULDCOMEVISITME!"
"IMREALLYDRUNK!"
"IMINBEMIDJI!"
"YOUSHOULDCALLME!!!"
And later, while on the phone with another friend,
"OHMYGODJYOURDRIVINGTOOFAST!"
Super J is in reality slowly turning the corner by the apartment, but when I'm drunk the whole world turns into a funhouse. The floor moves at unexpected times, and no chair can be trusted. Oh course, I'm not wearing a seatbelt, and the centrifugal force is enough to make me fall out of the car seat. How does one fall out of the seat in a Honda Accord? How is there room to fall out of that seat? I have no idea.
But my fun story telling mood has been sullied by todays events.
My car is broken. Like, uber-broken. Again. F&$@&% car. I thought the wheel bearing was shot, since I've already replaced two of those (one in this car and one in another) and I'm well aquainted with the dull roar it makes. So my grandpa's mechanic is taking a look at it, and in the mean time I'm driving my roommates boat of a sedan.
I got the call from my grandpa with an update this morning. Not only is the wheel bearing shot, but so are the timing belts, and the water pump, and other "incidental things". It's quite possibly $1,000 broken. I am not happy.
And then......
My boss took me back into his formal office to tell me that he couldn't offer me a job when the internship is over. Not for any fault of mine, but Corporate just doesn't have any plans to hire in this office any time soon. A poor disicion on Corporates part, if you ask me. But no one is. I did not go drown myself in the toilet like I threatened. I decided to take a long lunch instead. I didn't originally intend it to be a long lunch, but I got lost trying to find the Burger King. My life is so sad.
I'm trying to be optimistic about it all. Now I have the opportunity to update my resume and a reason to redesign my webpage. I'm thinking moving away from the flowery/lavender/birdie/girly theme toward something a little more mature/bold/lavender and wine red/steampunkish..... it could turn out way cool if I do it right. It'll be a more accurate rendering of my personal flavor of design, a blending of the modern and the antique.
Farewell, I'm off to the liquor store
-Alette
"We find no real satisfaction or happiness in life without obstacles to conquer and goals to achieve." -Maxwell Maltz
I could have told the story about how I finally found and purchased a vest (I've been looking for one for months. Harder to find than you'd think), after which I crossed the mall hallway to the Borders where I met Super J and Roomie (who had just gotten her eyebrows waxed and her forehead was an angry shade of red), and before my verbal filter could be activated, I shouted out, "OH MY GOD! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE!!" Yes, people stopped and stared. And yes, I was the Asshole of the Day.
Or I could tell you about how I got so completely drunk Saturday night, I'm still recovering (no joke!) and that I couldn't tell you when I got that intoxicated last. For some reason, when I'm drunk I feel the need to call my buddy Mr. California. I'm being escorted down the sidewalk by Super J and the Modern Hippy (they've decided it's time to call it a night), screaming into my Blackberry:
"OHMYGOD!!!"
"IMISSYOU!"
"YOUSHOULDCOMEVISITME!"
"IMREALLYDRUNK!"
"IMINBEMIDJI!"
"YOUSHOULDCALLME!!!"
And later, while on the phone with another friend,
"OHMYGODJYOURDRIVINGTOOFAST!"
Super J is in reality slowly turning the corner by the apartment, but when I'm drunk the whole world turns into a funhouse. The floor moves at unexpected times, and no chair can be trusted. Oh course, I'm not wearing a seatbelt, and the centrifugal force is enough to make me fall out of the car seat. How does one fall out of the seat in a Honda Accord? How is there room to fall out of that seat? I have no idea.
But my fun story telling mood has been sullied by todays events.
My car is broken. Like, uber-broken. Again. F&$@&% car. I thought the wheel bearing was shot, since I've already replaced two of those (one in this car and one in another) and I'm well aquainted with the dull roar it makes. So my grandpa's mechanic is taking a look at it, and in the mean time I'm driving my roommates boat of a sedan.
I got the call from my grandpa with an update this morning. Not only is the wheel bearing shot, but so are the timing belts, and the water pump, and other "incidental things". It's quite possibly $1,000 broken. I am not happy.
And then......
My boss took me back into his formal office to tell me that he couldn't offer me a job when the internship is over. Not for any fault of mine, but Corporate just doesn't have any plans to hire in this office any time soon. A poor disicion on Corporates part, if you ask me. But no one is. I did not go drown myself in the toilet like I threatened. I decided to take a long lunch instead. I didn't originally intend it to be a long lunch, but I got lost trying to find the Burger King. My life is so sad.
I'm trying to be optimistic about it all. Now I have the opportunity to update my resume and a reason to redesign my webpage. I'm thinking moving away from the flowery/lavender/birdie/girly theme toward something a little more mature/bold/lavender and wine red/steampunkish..... it could turn out way cool if I do it right. It'll be a more accurate rendering of my personal flavor of design, a blending of the modern and the antique.
Farewell, I'm off to the liquor store
-Alette
"We find no real satisfaction or happiness in life without obstacles to conquer and goals to achieve." -Maxwell Maltz
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