"In vacant or in pensive mood..." I am: Bekah; 24; Law Student / Favorite Things: Carbs (so there!), Johnny Damon, Smiling at babies, Grilled cheese, Comfortable silence / Favorite Supreme Court Justice: Brennan / Favorite Wilson: Owen by an inch / Today's Special: Song: Elliott Smith, "Bled White"; Quote: "You know, there's like a butt-load of gangs at this school. This one gang kept wanting me to join because I'm pretty good with a bowstaff." Please love me: mmbekah@yahoo.com

 
Don't Make Me Disconnect Your Face

I consider myself to be a fairly unassuming, inoffensive person. When I go to a coffeehouse to study, I sit there quietly with my computer and my books. I do not listen to headphones with the volume so high that the entire place hears my music. I do not cough persistently or chew loudly. I do not scream inappropriate sentiments into my cell phone (I heard a woman yesterday screaming, "Oh my God, Don will never sleep with me if you're in the house! You can't come over tonight!"). But despite all of these virtues, I have managed to offend an old man in a tweed jacket so much that he made three distinct complaints to the employees of this coffeehouse. What was my crime? What was the horror of horrors that my duplicitous mind concocted? I, evil wench that I am, had the audacity to extend my computer cord a few feet away from the wall, since all of the wall tables were taken. This dastardly deed was just too much for tweed jacket man to take. He grumbled about me for a good 15 minutes, always making sure that the grumbling was within my hearing, but never directing it to me. The poor employee who had to come over and tell me about the complaint had a look in his eye that said, "This man is crazy. He's here all the time, and he makes my life hell. I don't care about the goddamn cord, but please just appease him in any way you can." I pulled the plug.

I then took the cord and proceeded to strangle tweed jacket man until his pitiful, sputtering cries for help assured me that he would never again use his unrelenting anger at the world to make innocent coffeehouse patrons and employees suffer.

posted by Bekah at 11:56 AM :: |

 
Oh, and Happy Belated Birthday...

Mixtape Marathon turned one year old yesterday! I'm getting vechlempt. And yes, birthday cards are appreciated...and expected.

posted by Bekah at 2:46 PM :: |

 
Prognosis: Stinky

A while ago, in reference to the now famous Quizno's creatures, I asked whether or not Quizno's subs are all that the creatures claim they are. I got a few responses, but my dear friend Joshie (yeah, his name is really Josh) beat them all:

Pepper bar. YES
Toasted. YES
Tasty. NO
Produces bad gas. YES

On that note, I thought I would share with you that the woman in the cubicle next to me eats nothing but a giant pile of vegetables for lunch every day (sometimes she cooks asparagus in the microwave - which smells like cat pee) and then proceeds to rip ass all afternoon long. The tooting begins at about 2pm, so I am currently about 90 minutes in.

And as a special treat, here are a few other funny bits and pieces from Joshie's emails. When you get stuff this good, you just have to share with the rest of the class:

I’m happy to hear about “J”. He sounds nice, very unlike Jay-Z or DJ Jazzy Jeff (who I have heard are both assholes).

I am surprised that you favor Owen to Luke. I am ALL LUKE, all the time.

Thanks Joshie; you're the best. Good luck with Stinky over there in your cubicle.

posted by Bekah at 2:42 PM :: |

 
Fat Tuesday Sings, and It's Over. Finally.

Mardi Gras is OVER! No more loud people from rural Ohio* with their dumb umbrella hats, matching tablecloth ponchos, and drunken "Which way to downtown?" inquiries. No more bead-snatching casualties or big sweaty men accusing me of purposefully "pressing my breasts into [their] arms" while fighting through the teeming, putrid parade route. And best of all, no more people using the public streets as trash cans, toilets, and private hotel rooms. Blech.

This whole Mardi Gras experience reminds me of something one of my friends told me in Amsterdam last summer. She said that I had a gift for "knowing when the party's over." When we all went out together, I would turn to her at a certain point in the night and say, "I think it's time to go home." She'd always vehemently disagree, and I'd end up going home alone in a cab, only to find out the next morning that she'd gone home 15 minutes later. I don't know if my intuitions are right all the time with respect to "the party" as a whole, but I do know that once I personally feel that the night is done, nothing and no one can convince me otherwise. I have to go home then and there, even if it means leaving by myself. The problem with Mardi Gras is that I got the feeling that the party was over about 5,476 times over the course of the past week and couldn't do a damn thing about it. Screw my feelings; the party can't be over until the last parade rolls on Fat Tuesday. I think that's what bothers me the most about Mardi Gras: If you live here, party attendance is simply required, and you can't go home until everyone is ready to go. Well, there's Lundi Gras, there's Mardi Gras, and then there's Get The Hell Out of Towni Gras. That's Wednesday, people. Today. So go home, you parasitic tourists! I promise that the party is finally, and most officially, over.

* No offense to people from Ohio. I'm sure some of you are very nice.

posted by Bekah at 10:26 AM :: |

 
Mardi Gras Guidelines

1. If you decide to go to a parade, you simply have to get into it. You can't stand there like one woman I saw, scowling and holding your arm up lifelessly as if to say, "You might as well just take a huge crap in my hand." That is no way to win the crew over, and, honestly, someone might eventually decide to take that crap. Port-o-Potties can be few and far between.

2. If you want something really cool, like a ceramic medallion or a little squishy football, find someone on the float who looks nice and ask them. You'd be amazed how fruitful specific requests can be.

3. If you want the pretty beads that the security guard happens to be wearing, make a pouty face and open your...eyes very wide. When he gives them to you, offer to buy him a Coke for his trouble. There is absolutely no need for the questionable behavior that the "girls gone wild" engage in.

4. Do not, I repeat, do not wear flip-flops, no matter how much you love them, or how much you enjoy your toes being free to wiggle around in the cool night air. If you still want toes in the morning, cover those suckers up.

5. Give your crappy beads to the children. Clothesline the children who try to steal the good beads from you.

6. Be nice to the old guy who sits down next to you and starts the following conversation:

Old Guy: Hey, how're you doing honey?
Me: Oh, pretty good. You?
Old Guy: Well, I'd be doing better if the doctor hadn't told me I had skin cancer.
Me: Oh, I'm...so sorry. Anyway, I should probably go...somewhere else.

7. Stop being a vegetarian, or starve. The only things to eat are corndogs and Italian sausage.

8. Learn to love Outkast's "The Way You Move," because that is the only song any of the bands will play for the duration of the holiday season. In the same vein, get the hell out of the street when a band is coming: those flag-bearers are more ruthless than the bike-riders in Amsterdam. They will not hesitate to decapitate anything in their path.

9. That smell is in fact fresh horse shit. Deal with it.

10. If there is a shooting a block away from you, and you are caught in the mass of people pushing and fleeing the scene, hide the fact that you are totally freaked out by making light of the event on your blog.

posted by Bekah at 9:24 AM :: |