Sat, Oct. 16th, 2004, 12:09 am
I love those "I am hurting you for your own good" moments.
They warm my cockles.
Today I washed my sheets for the first time since moving back to Simmons for the 2004/2005 academic year.
I moved in September 13th.
My sheets were real gross.
Or rather...my comforter and blankets were kinda groddy as I gave up sleeping in my sheets when I found out that my new college issue mattress was made out of concrete and pieces of limestone strategically placed to support pressure points throughout the sleeping collegiate body so that the sleeper awakes refreshed and desperate for a chiropractor. In order to solve this problem I began sleeping on top of my sleeping bag and comforter, covering myself with a few fleece blankets for warmth - this seemed like a much better solution than walking the 15 feet to Bed Bath and Beyond and spending the 10 dollars to get a foam mattress pad - that is until I realized that everytime I had to wash my comforter I had to spend at least 5 dollars drying it.
In economic terms I guess my solution really wasn't all that smart.
Quicky poll: Do any of you people use a top sheet?
I never do, which my roommate says is really fucked up.
In the process of blanket washing I also managed to dust, vacuum, and make an effort at trying to scrape the torquoise paint off of the floor from my last art project (and by effort I mean I made the most pathetic attempt imaginable).
After my general need to nest subsided I made a giant poster of graduate schools I am planning on applying to and all the necessary requirements and general shizzit I have to do to get my ass in the door of a PhD program. I would take a picture of this anal-retentive masterpiece and post it but unfortunately due to reformatting issues I am now without Dreamweaver and thus without a way to upload pictures to my pathetic webspace on the Simmons College server.
If anyone can help a brother out and send a copy of Dreamweaver Ultra Dev for the Crapintosh to me I would be your best friend and reciprocate with one of my bad ass mixed tapes which will surely include Lindsay Lohan videos interspersed (namely the one for "Rumours" where she gets all Brittney and dances in a Moulin Rouge-esque cage of red metal...grrrr).
In other news...there is a grossly disproportionate ratio of carrots to celery in my Campbell's Select Chunky Chicken Noodle Soup bowl (too many carrots, not enough celery...or chicken and noddles for that matter) leading me to believe that carrots are much cheaper/easier to procure. Cheap ass Campbell's soup bastards. I hate you all.
I have no more clean underwear.
Nothing. Not even a single pair of white cotton skivvies to my name as I have procrastinated ever so long over the issue of doing laundry that now I haven't got a single piece of Vickie's goodness with which to swath my unmentionable regions with.
Thus, as the result of my inability to unite myself with the powers of detergent and fabric softener, today I begin an experiment.
Today, for the first time that I can recall, I am consciously walking around without underwear.
That's right...I AM COMMANDO!
Going commando is an odd thing if you're not used to it...I am plagued, nay paralyzed, with the paranoia that someone knows - that somehow the act of not wearing underwear has changed my manner of walking and talking, my way of positioning myself in lines, the way I wear my hair - I am paranoid that all these things are betraying the fact that I Krysta Betit of Boston, MA am sitting in the student union, lulled by the conversation of the masses ENTIRELY UNDERWEARLESS!
In other news...I am quitting coffee for a few weeks. My photo professor has convinced me that the reason that I am tired is that I am overcaffieneated and that if I can just quit for a while then when I start back up my usual caffeine high will be back in full force.
It has been 2 days and I have drank lots of snapple.
It's already getting old.
I like sammitches.
This is why I frequent Subway often, for the purposes of buying sammitches and eating them in a safe, sterile environment whilst being stared at by the scary tattoo-ed/multiply pierced boys who work there.
Once, while walking through the local mall, the mothership commented on a girl who passed by with many tattoos and piercings - one of those home grown variety goths who hates their small town existance and thus rebels in any bodily fashion with self-inflicted pain and bad dye jobs.
Comment being: Jesus christ, that girl looks like a pin cushion! How the fuck does she think she's ever going to get a job?
Apparently there is a source of income for these sad outcasts and sullen individuals...source being of course, The Way of the Sub.
Somewhat related topic: why it pays to make eye contact.
As I said before I prefer to frequent Subway when trying to quench my sammitch needs and tonight was to be no exception. Typically when I go in I bounce my hair about a bit and try to look cute and interesting in hopes of getting one of the sammitch artistes to not charge me for the double meat and cheese I usually order on my steak and cheese sub.
Tonight I spent too much time being snarky and giggling with friends and thus was charged an extra 2 dollars for my extra meat and cheese.
I now have 4.68 in my bank account which must last me until Friday.
Moral of the story: always make eye contact, always bounce hair.
Thu, Sep. 30th, 2004, 11:12 pm
can someone please tell me what a Pennin-chula is?!
Unrest has overwhemled me to the point that silence is uncomfortable...kinda chafy like undies that don't fit properly...
I would like to say that in my 6-month absence from entertaining you my adoring masses, that I at least kept up on all my friend-listed journals and giggled silently from the back corner of the livejournal room, shielding my face while I picked my nose and flicked my boogies into the ethos, the loner and loser of the class...
but that would be a hardcore farce as for the past six months I have done little outside the realm of those activities which can only be deemed "self-depreciative" or "self-destructive."
The short version:
I woke up after a blithering summer of drug and alcohol induced confusion, a summer of living with my fabulous uncles, to the harsh and bitter realization that I was a senior and that I was gonna have to do some hardcore growing up pronto. I got single, moved in with Tiggy and Stardust, and started using phrases such as "hardcore" and "pronto" regularly (really those aren't phrases, those are words, but for the sake of preservation might I throw a wee little I DON'T CARE into the mix).
I am now sitting in our sweet ass common room, downloading Dar Williams like a fiend and thinking about what I could possibly post to welcome my ass back to the blogging world...
Sadly, I've got nothing.
I'll be back soon with something better.
Tue, Feb. 24th, 2004, 11:28 am
For those of who read this crapola regularly - you're probably wondering where my last post of hotness complete with new license scan has gone.
Explanation: I went to Union College this weekend to visit best friend crazy_ashley
who kindly pointed out, via observant roommate, that all my personal info, including my address and social security number is on my license. Rather than blur this info out I threw myself into a panic-y tailspin and deleted the entire entry.
Sorry about that. I'm a tad neurotic.
In other news, I have been taking an unannounced break from the LJ - it's a busy time being midterm and all. Go easy on and my pathetic attempts to win your love.
Tue, Feb. 17th, 2004, 10:01 am
Contrary to what my lack of posting has indicated, I did not die on my 21st birthday.
I've just been really busy.
Don't think of it as disapointment, think of it as added anticipation for when I finally do get around to posting something worthwhile.
Fri, Feb. 6th, 2004, 03:55 pm
ashley kaila: my friends actually read your livejournal from time to time
ashley kaila: it's creepy
Ms Pirate Pants: I haven't posted many funny things lately.
Ms Pirate Pants: I have been so swamped with women's studies angst I forgot how to be entertaining.
ashley kaila: you just forget that your misery is others' joy
Ms Pirate Pants: My sephora eyeliner is immune to eye makeup remover.
Ms Pirate Pants: how's that for misery?
ashley kaila: yeah, you've already tried that one on me
Ms Pirate Pants: you're on the ball.
Today I walked into work for my 11-7:30 shift and was immediately greeted by the confused stares of several managers, they bade me tremelous greetings as I groggily dragged my ass down to the break room in order to don my vest of retail hotness and put my lunch in the fridge. I had 5 minutes to kill, so I idly perused the schedule, wondering when I had to work next week, when, much to my horror, I realized that I was on even on the schedule for today - but instead TOMORROW!
This is not the first time I have done this, this dire mixing up of my own schedule.
I have to say, it is getting out of hand.
All week I thought I was so lucky, oh a whole weekend off, a whole weekend to be lazy with Mr. Matt and do a bit of skiing! Oh hurrah for me! All my dreams squashed because once again, instead of photocopying the schedule and taping it to my wall, I decided to write it down in my notebook and then promptly screw it up royally.
I should have seen this coming though. This is god's punishment for backing out of the New York trip and thus freeing up my day, all hope of going skiing now shattered, unless one of my amiable co-workers (or rather, one of three I was able to call as everyone else is already on the fucking schedule) decides that taking my shift is the right thing to do, thus alleviating me from retail hell on a Saturday afternoon.
I imagine that one day this whole thing will be terribly amusing, but at the moment it is positively devastating. I am so aggravated with myself - not only for looking like a complete jackass once AGAIN in front of management, but also for the giant snag this has put in my weekend plans.
I am not normally such a whiner, but honestly, it's only the second week and I'm already disjointed. #$&%*^@!!!