Archive | November, 2006

two truths and a lie

30 Nov

One of the following paragraphs is a joke and the other two are news reports. can you tell which is which?

A man walks into a bar with a giraffe and they proceed to get blitzed. The giraffe drinks so much it passes out on the floor. The man gets up and heads for the door to leave when the bartender yells, “Hey! You can’t leave that lyin’ there!” The drunk replies, “That’s not a lion! It’s a giraffe.”

Woman Jailed For Injecting Nephew With Heroin
A suburban Detroit woman who admitted injecting heroin into her 12-year-old nephew and giving him and her 15-year-old niece heroin and cocaine was sentenced to eight years in prison.

Birth Control Breakthrough
British researchers are working on a project that could put a smile on the faces of a lot of women. That’s because it’s a contraceptive pill for men.

procrastinating has reached a new level.

Parkside’s Phenomenal Phood

30 Nov

Story time: The lovely Sunny eggs, Princess Party Bus, and I decided to bike over to Parkside for dinner tonight. Once I got the approval for Matt’s bike, we arrived to find to our amazement that Parksaide had a theme for tonight: Around the World. We ate food from italy to china to mexico to greece. Basically between the three of us there were about 24 plates. Its hard to stack that many plates on three trays, thats like 8 plates a tray not even including silverware and the numerous glasses we had. Some guy that works at Parkside saw us trying to stack our plates and told us to be careful and try not to spill any of it. Princess Party Bus picks up her tray just fine. Sunny eggs is finishing off the fondue. I just finished telling the guy to not worry because we will be very careful. I then proceed to pick up my tray and start walking. Within the first few steps my plates fall. oh the Irony. Anyway it was hilarious. good luck studying
love, peace and froyo

P.S. i now know how to make fondue

in case anyone’s procrastinating

30 Nov

hey yall

yall…where has ellen wroe been??Wierd.

ANyway, tonight from6-7 in the student studentcenter is the wsa’s last meeting. thats where i’ll be. thats where sunny eggs will be. cool people. cool topics. free food. if anyone is interested, see youthere!

big haired ghandi

ps I AM SOO STOKED: the rabbi is started a new group/program where every sunday morning we go to skid row and work with a local community center/charity there. Soo cool, anyone else down?

NICKNAME and other events in my life

30 Nov

so i officially have a nickname. Sunny Eggs and i were biking along campus and stumbled upon a party bus. the bus was named “Princess Alexandra” i believe that this was a sign. i am now officially known as Princess Party Bus.

i also would like to comment that i have not showered since saturday morning. this is no record of mine but i am disgusting. i just thought you all should know this.

i also really wanted to post on the blog so i am just rambling


Love you all

Princess Party Bus

new bands make me happy

29 Nov

In my quest to become a Fray groupie for the concert on thursday (aaaaaaaaahhhh im so excited!) I have stumbled upon a band that I’m newly obsessed with, and felt that if I didn’t share them with you, my dear friends, I would be doing this world a great disservice. They are called Augustana. They are amazing. If you only listen to one of their songs, download Boston. It’s crazy good if you’re into piano riffs (are they called that?) and dispatch-like music.

Today I sat through my last culture through film movie, and I actually stayed awake the entire time, which is a huge achievement, especially since the entire movie was in Chinese. I’ve learned a lot this semester…

Yesterday I had one of the most awkwardly tense moments of my life. I was standing in the hall with a bunch of guys and girls who live there with me, when a girl who I recognized but don’t know walked by. She lives at the end of the hall, but isn’t very social with the other people hall. She was visibly upset, and one of the girls stopped her to ask what was wrong. She screamed “my brother just got hit by a car and died” and then ran off. No one knew what to say or how to react. We all just kinda dissipated into our rooms to try to chew over this information in our head, until someone informed the RA so that she could talk to her. It’s one of those things that there is absolutely no acceptable response to and I learned there is one more thing tht I have no idea how to deal with. I understand this story isn’t particularly funny. I’m sorry.

I have officially finished 8 papers in two days, and my solo-bistango celebration in my room last night was to die for. Follow that with the most intense Veronica Mars EVER (she stabbed him with a unicorn!!), meeting new people in peace + fro yo’s hallway, and I had a satisfactory evening.

Gonna go nap pre in-class essay.
–Awkwardly Tan Aristotle

if i commited murder and just called it active euthanasia i would be doing humanity a favor by ridding the world of this mans existance.

28 Nov

Why i get off thinking about my philosophy t.a.’s death:

1. If squeaky boots were a crime, he’d be the poster boy of the green mile.Dear god, either pick up your goddamn feet when you walk, wear shoes that are ear-friendly, or just fuck shoes and wear socks. Your noise insults me as a person capable of hearing sounds. Seriouslyl-its ike holding a pile of shit underneath a persons nose for an from 10-11 every tuesday morning.

2. Every example he gives is a child molestation scenario.and its getting a little creepy. I wonder why thats constantly on his mind…im going to google him, see if any sexual predetor whatnot pops up…

3. He is condescending to a) people who go to USC and b) freshman who own computers. Since HE didnt go to USC( “because I am too poor, not everybody has the families you guys do”) unti now (grad school) and is getting his way paid, he thinks US going to USC is a waste of money. because only grad students are allowed to have acsess to cool facilities, apperantly. what a douche. Also, as freshman, we shouldn’t have laptops already. or at least not nice ones. we are soo gosh darn spoiled!

4.He talks smack about the professor, and then tries to correct the guy….okay, t.a, listen up..but not too much or your boots will burst your eardrums:the professor is brilliant, he’s a phiosopher, he fucking thinks for a living.What haave YOU accomplished? You can’t count your parents being ashamed of you as an accomplishment. Oldest man to benifit from orthodontics? Dungeons and dragons war lord?Maybe i dont want to know….child molestation my ass…..

5. You bitch and moan about anything and everything within your TA duties. Dude…this is a job for you. you get paid. you get to go to grad school. stop whining and accept the fact that yes you are going to get emails and no, the blonde girl in the 3rd row won’t sleep with you.

Ayyy, douchebag supreme.

Big haired ghandi

27 Nov

here is my rant:
I HATE GIRLS!! so who do i look to as friends? boys of course.
i love you all though but thats beside the point.

anyway, the girls that live down my hall are awkward and foreign. therefore i choose to spend my time in the prescence of other creatures, the business floor guys. This consists of many groups of guys: there are the DTD Frat boys and then their posers, Dylan the innocent surfer, Condom boy and his friends (by the way check out their rooms they decorated for christmas), weird but nice guy Anthony, and finally the two 6 foot 8 giants. I enjoy hanging out with all of these groups. They do funny things. Like tonight they decided to just start throwing knives at a sign, weird shit i know but fun cuz its spontaneous.

Back to my point, these guys and i have developed interesting relationships.
with the DTD boys, they are my brothers. they bully me, tackle me etc. however it has gotten to far. the name calling and insulting of how i am a guy is unacceptable and i don’t know how to make them stop. i am a girl and proud of it. i dress like one. Although i dont enjoy hanging out with girls, i am still one. I have been referred to by them as “Man Jew” or don’t sit next to her cuz she will butt rape her. According to condom boy, they say shit behind my back. I am now taking a vow to travel down the boys hall as little as possible and rarely ever hang out there.

Help me out when you can

Love, peace and froyo

Finals Brain Hits

27 Nov

So I think I’ve officially reached the point of no return in paper writing. The one problem: it is only Monday on the first week of finals week and I officially have to write like 238094238 more papers. On the bright side, I’ve completed 5 papers in one night. How? I don’t know. My fingers kept typing, but my brain has completely shut off, and Alex has asked me three times tonight if I am on a stimulant commonly known as CRACK because I keep babbling nonsense words. I think this has to do with the combination of 4 cookies I snarfed at the house + writing 4 papers + speaking to ex boyfriend for the first time in approximately a long time. I’m pretty sure I’m babbling psychological bull to him, talking about discovering oneself and stuff like that, but at this point, as my brain has taken a vacation, i’m at peace with my bull discussion decision. This is my first blog, and I can’t decide on a nickname, so its possible that I test out a few here before settling on my final glorious nickname.

Other memorable points of the evening: During deliveries today we had to announce the All-Row barbecue going on at our house on wednesday. When I talked about it at a frat house some random guy said “only if you’re going to be there.” Because I’m awkward I made some random guffaw noise and ran away, murmuring something about hating boys. I then made a note that I am unequivocally awkward and damn proud of it. But seriously, how do you respond to something like that? “Oh hey big boy, I’ll be there just for you.” Gross. There is no graceful response to a jokingly said come on. I think mine was the best choice.

-Awkwardly Tan Aristotle


27 Nov

We didn’t skip it, we RE-INVENTED it. La Cena de Lunes de la Noche. Con Queso.

So maybe they’ll send us to standards, but we’re just doing what we do.

We are women of action. When they build the water pipe down from Alaska, we will smash it.

We stick it to the man. And to that man who tried to steal our identities by getting our credit card numbers for “protecting the environment.” Nice try, buster. We are soo onto you. You are soooo charred.



27 Nov

Here we are again.

In the Pit of Shit. The Mole Hole. The Dreary Dungeon. The Closterphobic Coop. The Crap Shack. The Giz Jet. The Hut that smells like Muts. The Jitterbox Litterbox. The Drippy Crippy.

So.Stoked. The night is young ladies, the night has yet to begun.

Blog Bris

27 Nov

First, some background information.

So you know how when you are walking along a path on campus or down a hallway and there is someone walking towards you who you don’t really know or you don’t know if they remember you so you have to decide whether or not to say hi first or if you wait to see if they say hi to you and then when you make that decision you have to figure out the whole eye contact timing so you’re not just staring at them until they’re close enough to greet but so you’re also not obviously awkwardly avoiding eye contact? Well sometimes that is all just too much for me, so I pretend that the sun is in my eyes and that I can’t see them. Well, one day I explained this to Emily who (after explaining to me that this trick doesn’t work if you are inside or if it is night time) gave me the name Sunny Eyes. I misheard her and thought that she had named me Sunny Eggs, which actually doesn’t make sense, but in the context of the whole story, it pretty much sums me up.

Now onto the real point.

To officiate the dawning of the spectacular mastermind that has invaded and will soon dominate blogspot, we need to hold a naming ceremony for all of the contributors. It can be an initiation of sorts, but perhaps replacing the creepy white robes with creamy white FroYo. But first, everyone needs a name. Emily is already Big Haired Ghandi for obvious reasons (with her curly hair and striking resemblance to Ghandi when she makes her freeeaky face and her general Ghandi-ness) and I am Sunny Eggs.

Everyone else, BE NAMED!

* Sunny Eggs * (formerly known as S.A.L.L.)

on aderol post talking with thomas free write didnt re read not really meant to rea just my rant.meh. i am on a serious silly about now.

26 Nov

pulling and pushing, it sloshes. the thoughts, the air, the convection cycle of the ideas that circulates amoung us. Its transient and dull, mysteriuos and obvious, like the air we breath, like the lashes covering the light
from entereing our eyes.
who knows? one day we’ll shed. that hair. upon our lens and head towards the light and behead the king and make headway into truth and see the beauty in the hedge on the side of a beaten gravel path, hammered by the caloused hands of hidding men behind a chink in the brick back ally walls. they are there, perephrial and kneeling and shaking and cold and happy. Because they are the fallen and the only place to look is up. But they hide. from who? From you, the HE the hatted heretic guised under a cross and a blissfull,ignorant grin.The headmaster: he is us, the white of our skin, the skin on our knees, the kneading of the bead we injust, the injustice of our privilage; we are who we give thanks to; we are who we are, and, that, like a golden gaultlet of bittersweet aged wine, is theatric; for we are all playing a role behind a mask,lips puckered to the brim of fask, navigating to nowhere in a cross-eyed stupor ,room spinning and we twirl.we are washed in the woozy which mix fact and absurd into one venti egnogg blend at starbucks, allowing us to savor the smell of the roasted bean without stopping to think of the sweat of the man who hold the hand who picked the bean in the blistering sun for a penny and then collapsed; under the same shinning star under which goldens our skin on themountain of Olympus. But here we are: City of lost angeles? The city of the lost, the city of the confused, the place to sit, sit , sit and think and not stand and move and change. the city of complecency and the city of fog and haze and burns the eyes, the shaded eyes under the lashes, the lashes which mask the sun, the sun which scalds the skin and brings truth. Is there truth in the burn? is that the hearsh reality? must there be a headmaster? must homogeneity be beauty? Realize:differnce is beauty, and then, the city will move;

but for now, progression is regression, and hell is the downstairs library in a 50,000$ dormatory. Hell? Is hell in the mind or can unhapiness be in ones enviornment? The enviornment, Ravage and rape the enviornment of its nutrients, aide progression towards happiness and health and having hail turn to hamburgers and rain to roast beef and ice to imacs and tsunamis to certanty, certanty in the way things are moving. To move, to sit, to stand, to kneel and pray:whichever direction youre moving has a point, but all of the points are on the circumference of one circle, so it doesnt matter. Take a leap. Outside our circle. Into what isn’t known, into the galaxy where ideas are thrown, into that space before you hit that wall. That wall when the mind can’t go further, the mind that turns the blind eye towards the working cowering beneath, the wall which reminds me of my limited capabilities and the rest. the rest, the rest is a test….

… i must confess ,i need to distress, i cannot rest with this in the air: we have heirs who are no closer to anwsering these questions than me, yet their worth is dispersed to the masses during masses and in classes and mothers tell thier kids in the thrice used bath of brave men who run fast. but if you think as fast and the nuerons in the mind, then what is point of being physically divine? where is the physical translation from the strength of the brain to how much wear the body can strain? This preoccupation: my limited body, the wall of my mind;the lashes which shadow my eyes, the suns which gives erotic pleasure and sinful pain; the virture of balance and sustainibilty which is unattainable and, to me, the only thing worth seeking. I want to balance. I want to give what i have because thats what i have ,to give what i know to those who dont, and loan what i own to those who count the pennies on the ground- not for luck but for the sound of the clink they make in the wishing well, and they squeeze their eyes praying grandmother well, avioding hell on sundays by drinking the blood of a man who existed but died with his blood leaking from within to the outside, a metaphor for all of our internal sins. And i am his kin;you are his kin, but why is he unique?last time i checked crucifixtion was a repeat offense of the roman men, who set wrong into justice by annihilating sin though killing the people who embodied the bad, thus stopping the symptoms-which i admit were mad- but they still exist within all of us, for we are fouled, we are not just. we are constructed to be sheep of a shepard who resist the notion we are here alone; thus we baaa’ we have a reason, we have a purpose, we have a reality, our reality, but is it a dream? you and me and i and us and her and it and pronouns alike, we share a reality, and thus shoudl be treated equally under this regime of the human experiance. Except if youre Ze- that is, if you have no gender; Except if you black like the night and the Other and the dark and lurk in the ally and under the coffin’s hood, tempting the carass to come back up like jesus did.sultry african temptress: you don’t share my reality. and animal, you dont share my reality you cannot reason. And tree and bush and ocean you all cannot think like i think. But sun, which lets me live and glow and rash and burn, surley you are the logical equator for which you shine upon me and the african and the deaf and the devine. you are devine, i feel in my spine, you make me grow and you make me whine, and i squirm in your heat and shiver when your gone, ebcause then it is black, and viod of the security shawl. because i feel you on my skin, you are real to me, and real to my kin. you were real to jesus, and real to the shepard, the black man, and the lepard, could not refute this idea of your omnipotence, for the sky is illuminated under your existance. all i know is that your truth is your tradition, and your relentless work, which comes routiney and in my socially constructed smirk i know that is why i find comfort in you and your stars and the bed that i wake up too; confort is in what i already know. they are points on the circle, the chart that measured my grow on the door of the powder blue laudry room. because my bodily limitations will only let me get soo high; then the wall hit, and i think i knw why. nothing special outside of the human eperiance will happen to me; i will think no thought that didnt predocess me. and in this way, plato was right; we are all carbon copies in our individual flights. the oiginal is one form in teh sky; we are shadows of eachother, and as time passes by, i see the uniquesness burning down like the ash on a cigareete and the ash on the knees of the man whose skin is so beautifull and ebony but since white is wonderful that ash disappears under the ruleof dove beauty adds and ms britney spears. so i wish, just for once, the social constructs would lessen, or i could just go, as a ghost above the stary night, not back into time or into the future, or on a cloud, niether in silence nor out loud, just released from the human i am, the bear of a body for which i tend could be left behind on this clump called eath and i would understand what i search. but i cannot not find the water if i do not know i want a well; i need to narrow the question which i am looking for. Eyelashes: curl or fall when i blink; let the sun in my eyes, so i can think. let the sun in my eyes and sweat out of my skin and i will seep myself outward instead of taking things in. because that is the ironic metaphor for which i must thrive: i live as i exhale and survive as i die; to make each moment as if i were just a thought and then my limitation will be off like a cough in the middle of winter outside in the cold, and here i am again, in this blunderous world. why help others, thats what he asked. help them for the same reason why i fast and whithold myself a potential good to remember that comodoties are shoulds and not needs, and goods can be concived in ideas rather than products and plastic; thus, good can be found in the cities, and found in the hoods, and found in china and also in milan and through the turtles eyes and bird in the pond, for in the ecosystem we all function as one, and if i am out of sync then it will tumble and crumble below. do i do because i feel responsible or do i do because it is my deuty or do i do because i like to, or do i do because i define myself by the impact i have and i have a feeling that is the most rightous ripple i can throw in teh pond. Because i want to be the best i can be, i take my highest virtues, and extend them freely, and try to do as much as can, to enact those virtues turning hard rocks into sand and hatred into grains embedded into the ground, trampeled on by feet on which virtous mind stand. To take the chiseled rock of this social contruct and run amuck with things i have thunk and spray graffitti all over its face, repainting it with a different take. is my different better or is it better to me? objectivity is starring me right in the face, or is is subjective, is there just one race, the human race, or do the colors matter, is the racism true, are the leaves of a flower, is the tradition of hate and cholorphyll one in the same and in time they are still and never wil change as hard as i try, and thats just the food chain. i need to know why why , why are these things searing my mind, why cant i jsut leave them behing and i want to find, the object, the truth, but i suppose, that is just uncooth.
big haired ghandi-on crack

Side Note

26 Nov

Tom Wyatt is Absurd.



26 Nov

Eating studying debating.
We’re in hell.
Hell is delicious.

Sarah lerman got sent to standards for having sex on the dance floor.
no, that was portner.

wheres the lubs?
its on the floor.
Its sugar free so portner can have it. shes diabetic.

sarahs dropping. Sosority…we already had the pills.
intheory there is nothing holding
holding her there.

brice. I just dont like girls.
I don’t know. i dont know where id live next year.
Live with safety?

JP has a very nice house.

I dont have an opinion. Have and opinon? I do. Sarah-stay. Sarah dont leae. dreaming means.
Dreaming means…dreaming Means. It means not caring about the destination and just doing. it means remembering the past but forgetting it at once, and diving. Deep. and Question and live and breathe and sweat and cry and yelp and scream and smile and leap and leap and leap and question once more. And feel

feeling makes it worth it. Does it make you feel? Stay sarah.

John Tucker Must Die

26 Nov

We were all in the shit pit that is Lerman’s dorm wanting to watch the movie. we spent a half an hour trying to figure out how to watch the movie and then ultimatley decided to watch it on Lerman’s computer. The best part about this night is when the line came up in the movie that would become our new slogan. “SLUT IN TRUCK” will live on forever. Osias and I watched the movie just to get to that point in the movie and then we replayed the scene and then stopped watching the movie. i needed to get cheered up and it was the best way to do it. JOHN TUCKER MUST DIE is an amazing movie and i know that i have watched it like so many times that i can’t even remember. “SLUT IN TRUCK” will always be our line and is the epitome of everything that we are about. it is funny and also completley random and we all know that we want to be the slut in the truck at one point in our lives so that we can scream “SLUT IN TRUCK”.


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