Why the sad music when they go in or out of Inside the Actors Studio? How come?
Observation: I can never decide how I feel about Sarah Jessica Parker / Sex in the City - it's kind of annoying how Sarah Jessica Parker ALWAYS says so many times how she's nothing at all like Carrie - her bad habits, the way she thinks... I guess it's the truth though so, I dunno. She annoys me always pointing that out - she's like embarrassed by Carrie - - I'd be embarrassed by Sex and the City a little too I guess - honestly, I can never ever decide how to feel about SJP.
Now Angelina Jolie is on though and that's pretty easy - I lover her. She's crazy, she's gorgeous, she's crazy, then she decided to have a million babies. Love her. Works for me.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
Chrissy, we are like soul twins - most of the stoof (that's stuff) I was thinking of typing about, you have typed about before on your blog. Like people who work for collection agencies calling your phone. Par example.
Have you seen the documentary "Janis" - they're showing it sometimes on VH1 classic. So, I've seen it before. Mostly incredible performances, and, in the middle, an unreal awesome interview on the Dick Cavett show freaking out America - followed quickly by her attendence of her 10 yr highschool reunion - on benzendrine I'm guessing. She's very excited for the reunion on Dick Cavett. When she's actually there, in the next scene, she's trying to be the star she is, but is obviously experiencing the difference between your nostaligiac memory of how subversively awesome your difference was versus how painful wholsesale rejection actually was, and that thing about how places won't let you be nostalgiac about them when you actually return to them - the places, they're like, "ha,ha no motherfucker your memories are real and they live right here bitch."
Anyway, what's with me that I rememebred this scene and wouldn't go to bed until I saw it. I crave to see the real of the bad. oh, life.
TGIF - I'm at the acounting office this week (and next week?) and that's why nothing to give. leave coming up. Secured theater internship. Going on date this evening to beer garden with the astoria eharmony hippie.
now to change clothes.
if you read this in time - should I wear the borderline trampy black american apparrel dress? I mean I'm going to so whatever. ;)
love
Alexis
Have you seen the documentary "Janis" - they're showing it sometimes on VH1 classic. So, I've seen it before. Mostly incredible performances, and, in the middle, an unreal awesome interview on the Dick Cavett show freaking out America - followed quickly by her attendence of her 10 yr highschool reunion - on benzendrine I'm guessing. She's very excited for the reunion on Dick Cavett. When she's actually there, in the next scene, she's trying to be the star she is, but is obviously experiencing the difference between your nostaligiac memory of how subversively awesome your difference was versus how painful wholsesale rejection actually was, and that thing about how places won't let you be nostalgiac about them when you actually return to them - the places, they're like, "ha,ha no motherfucker your memories are real and they live right here bitch."
Anyway, what's with me that I rememebred this scene and wouldn't go to bed until I saw it. I crave to see the real of the bad. oh, life.
TGIF - I'm at the acounting office this week (and next week?) and that's why nothing to give. leave coming up. Secured theater internship. Going on date this evening to beer garden with the astoria eharmony hippie.
now to change clothes.
if you read this in time - should I wear the borderline trampy black american apparrel dress? I mean I'm going to so whatever. ;)
love
Alexis
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
All you need to know
is that I probably dreamed I was having sex with you last night.
Sex on the brain.
So happy KFR made it to Paris and is living on an Ile in the Seine. So jealous too. Tonight I will try to dream that I am in Paris - there'll probably be some sex too. As I fall asleep tonight, I'll think "Sex in Paris Sex in Paris'
love you
Alexis
Sex on the brain.
So happy KFR made it to Paris and is living on an Ile in the Seine. So jealous too. Tonight I will try to dream that I am in Paris - there'll probably be some sex too. As I fall asleep tonight, I'll think "Sex in Paris Sex in Paris'
love you
Alexis
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
da da da da (like trumpets!)
Who is the penguinhostage????? I predict I'll find out tonight at the Marriott.
I feel fabulous. I was most certainly not going to blog again until not in the funk of previous.
This week I have second shift reception which means I do not have to be at work til 11:00am. What is the sweetest thing? The sweetest thing is 8am to 10am in your own house. Oh it is another fucking world of great.
Updates. Robert of eharmony closed the match after my super honest answers. It was either the not wanting to talk about writing or the truth about the size of my family. I think it is funny. Much easier to be "on to the next" on the internet than in real life. The next lives in Astoria, plays the guitar, loves road trips and is a certified massage therapist but has a real job and everything too. His punctuation is having of not one flaw at all!!! My concern there is that he seems just wonderful like my last significant relationship "partner" seemed who pre-dates this blog and turned out to be something very close to certifiable. But you know the great thing? The two great things? a) Maybe he's not. And really maybe he's not -- that one was not so good at punctuation by a long shot. and b) HA! I have my own place to live that's not in much jeopardy. I am NOT MOVING IN.
Work guy continues to stink like a festering ball dug in near Hanoi. I continue to work reception and have turned my energies to perfecting seething wrath. Of the options, it is pretty good. He looks Guilty - oh it's a little bit fun, you'd see if you could be here. You don't need all the details. You should note that I really didn't mean it when I called the therapist a retard weeks back. Actually he is the light of the world and we have been spending large parts of sessions plotting how to make Workguy "wet his pants" with messages sent interoffice mail implying I'm not afraid of bringing the ol' harassment charge. I won't, but scaring him will be SO FUN. I will probably do this closer to when I LEAVE FOR THE LEAVE - yippee.
I went to a music festival over the weekend that ruled courtesy of myfriendh and her husband G bringing the most awesome connex around! I saw radiohead two nights in a row. the lightshow was so beautiful it gave me a dream about getting the most raging tattoo all over my back. Do you like that for one sentence KFR?
More later.
XO
Alexis
I feel fabulous. I was most certainly not going to blog again until not in the funk of previous.
This week I have second shift reception which means I do not have to be at work til 11:00am. What is the sweetest thing? The sweetest thing is 8am to 10am in your own house. Oh it is another fucking world of great.
Updates. Robert of eharmony closed the match after my super honest answers. It was either the not wanting to talk about writing or the truth about the size of my family. I think it is funny. Much easier to be "on to the next" on the internet than in real life. The next lives in Astoria, plays the guitar, loves road trips and is a certified massage therapist but has a real job and everything too. His punctuation is having of not one flaw at all!!! My concern there is that he seems just wonderful like my last significant relationship "partner" seemed who pre-dates this blog and turned out to be something very close to certifiable. But you know the great thing? The two great things? a) Maybe he's not. And really maybe he's not -- that one was not so good at punctuation by a long shot. and b) HA! I have my own place to live that's not in much jeopardy. I am NOT MOVING IN.
Work guy continues to stink like a festering ball dug in near Hanoi. I continue to work reception and have turned my energies to perfecting seething wrath. Of the options, it is pretty good. He looks Guilty - oh it's a little bit fun, you'd see if you could be here. You don't need all the details. You should note that I really didn't mean it when I called the therapist a retard weeks back. Actually he is the light of the world and we have been spending large parts of sessions plotting how to make Workguy "wet his pants" with messages sent interoffice mail implying I'm not afraid of bringing the ol' harassment charge. I won't, but scaring him will be SO FUN. I will probably do this closer to when I LEAVE FOR THE LEAVE - yippee.
I went to a music festival over the weekend that ruled courtesy of myfriendh and her husband G bringing the most awesome connex around! I saw radiohead two nights in a row. the lightshow was so beautiful it gave me a dream about getting the most raging tattoo all over my back. Do you like that for one sentence KFR?
More later.
XO
Alexis
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
So
(Sometime like 9th grade I once told someone, in an email, that no email or correspondence should ever begin with "so" and I've always remembered even though I don't know if anyone else thinks that or if I do for that matter)
Tonight is writing night and I am going to use it for just blogging and blogging because that is my pleasure. It looks like the leave of absence is gonna work. I need to send someone a revised ten minute play I wrote by Friday and tomorrow is out - b-day dinner for little sis. But knowing the leave is coming and is gonna be so sweet, I want to just do continuous writing here for hours and let it be self indulgent let it be about work let it be not imaginative let it be the relief of my lonely of my worried of my misused.
A long way back, when I started at the company, a lot of the blog stuff was about judging what people talked about all day, the other floaters. I was back to that today. It's weird because I also like them, a LOT. But I'm pretty much on the verge of tears (this day, today) and some days - with depleted seratonin like I have today - every commonplace comment feels like, what does Hamlet say about thousand and one daggers or something -- well they feel like dagger-ends. At around 1:45 one girl's boyfriend texted her a Michael Jackson lyric I don't remember now and didn't recognize. It was like "I want to rock you like a something" or something like that - I can't recall. But I was at the only computer and she asked me to put it in google so we could see if it was Michael Jackson. Strangely, the only website that came up to confirm with was actually some girl's myspace. She had her picture of her looking alluring enough I guess - can't say I remember what she looked like -- and this sort of general "want you sexy" quote and her interests were aperture and some other photography stuff and certain genres of music and I said "I can't stand it - everyone thinks they're unique" and this floater said "But why does that bother you?" Speaking of Hamlet, that is the question.
It does bother me though - to think of the 50 million web pages or whatever it is and the lists, the self defining -the list making as if to say "I am."
And in terms of the conversation happening around me, I don't like discussing excercise, or stores having sales, or what foods are healthy though I do it, oh do I do it. Nor do I like discussing dating eventhough I most certainly do when it comes up - it would be wrong to deny nice girls commiseration - but my pride rebels to having situations reduced to platitudes over and over again. I'll jump to make the platitude in fact. "yes--- well I don't know - the boy who likes me, I don't think of him when he's not around, and if I have sex with him I'll have to make myself to some degree - I spend a lot more thinking on the one who's not interested. It's how it goes - things'll work out." It just hurts me a little to tell things like that every time. The girls want to do this - and I guess I have a problem that I don't really want to -- they want to know about eharmony, they want to talk. I want to talk. But the talk all makes me feel like a myspace page. Because what's the sound of one hand clapping - what's the sound of three girls talking about dating in a corner office in Rockefeller Center.
Remember back in the day at Chey's house? There was some talk I could get behind. I'm an adult now, in the workforce, and the talk is not fun like it was when I was 14 - 18. I knew such brilliant kids. I was so lucky. We were unique and fabulous. In that corner office I feel like a myspace page. So much lost. I tend to think falling in love will be would be the closest thing to getting most of it back.
I hope I fall in love with this person named Robert from eharmony. We haven't gone out yet but I like his face and he's 6'2". He is a vegan - that can be his one flaw. It's not even a flaw except that he'll be extra skinny. I haven't fallen in love yet with anyone from eharmony.
I hate how I tell people that writing is one of my interests and then that means that every time we see eachother they ask me "how's writing? what are you writing about? how's writing going?" It makes me want to take a vow of silence. Do you know what I do? I shake my head back and forth in the universal symbol for no and look at my shoe. This has been happening and happening. Do they help me out? Do they say "oh... wait a sec - it's probably not easy to talk about writing - that's why it's writing." No, never..... they just look at me shaking my head until I say, "I really don't know ... I mean... would you please tell me something about you that makes me understand something about what it was like in your body and head at some time, maybe today but maybe not, and how it wasn't something small nor something fake that you think sounds "interesting" but something not exactly changing exactly but included the notion somewhere in it of changing? the glimmer of a changing feeling and changing moment - the glimmer I'm saying, the flutter, is all" I don't say that.. I try -- I wind up telling them I slept with a work guy and that's been making me a little depressed and then I see in their face that nothing like that has ever happened to them and I steer the conversation elsewhere. On the date last night - this guy takes us the greatest places - awesome rooftop bar! - poor thing - he had to tell me about other people he'd known and their awful situations. And to think I can't feel much for people who don't have any situations. But situations mean everything to me.
So when Robert sent me my short answer eharmony questions today and one of them was about what interest do I have that I'd like to share with my partner. (eharmony is just about getting over saying "partner" a lot - and also that you're too pretty for this aren't you?) I told him how it's been rough being asked about my writing like I have an answer, but that what I want is to get to know someone and get close to someone so that it wouldn't even be weird to show them some writing, imagine that? That is why I am so looking forward to him getting back to me and us going out - because I'm really glad he picked that question because I was so primed to give the totally honest answer.
I'm addicted to email. So eharmony feeds that well. I'm just addicted to being contacted and it's so lame and it's all of us. it's actually not lame. Humans are a bad model. We're messed up dude, needing contact or perishing and perishing from simple feeling so bad. There're fun things about technology don't get me wrong. You know how I feel about blackberries though.
And stuff like this: walking here... this guy beeped and beeped til he could plow through us pedestrians who had the light and the guy next to me hit his car and said fuck you while I yelled something about us having the light and indicated the light.
Just anger all the anger. When they made me they made a person with a little more anger. When I'm angry, I write on this blog, I bitch to a friend. Sometimes the friend is really positive and then I feel like, you don't understand - I am angry. I can't not be. Do you think I don't know I have a charmed incredible life? It's that I have no concept of enough. I need. I'm human. I hate my routine. I'm angry.
What IS the point of therapy - to understand the reasons you, say, feel angry? To go back to childhood and find its beginnings, the beginnings of being ignored, of being on your own, of people beeping while talking on their cell phone and plowing through when you have the light.
I dunno.
Time for a beer.
Tonight is writing night and I am going to use it for just blogging and blogging because that is my pleasure. It looks like the leave of absence is gonna work. I need to send someone a revised ten minute play I wrote by Friday and tomorrow is out - b-day dinner for little sis. But knowing the leave is coming and is gonna be so sweet, I want to just do continuous writing here for hours and let it be self indulgent let it be about work let it be not imaginative let it be the relief of my lonely of my worried of my misused.
A long way back, when I started at the company, a lot of the blog stuff was about judging what people talked about all day, the other floaters. I was back to that today. It's weird because I also like them, a LOT. But I'm pretty much on the verge of tears (this day, today) and some days - with depleted seratonin like I have today - every commonplace comment feels like, what does Hamlet say about thousand and one daggers or something -- well they feel like dagger-ends. At around 1:45 one girl's boyfriend texted her a Michael Jackson lyric I don't remember now and didn't recognize. It was like "I want to rock you like a something" or something like that - I can't recall. But I was at the only computer and she asked me to put it in google so we could see if it was Michael Jackson. Strangely, the only website that came up to confirm with was actually some girl's myspace. She had her picture of her looking alluring enough I guess - can't say I remember what she looked like -- and this sort of general "want you sexy" quote and her interests were aperture and some other photography stuff and certain genres of music and I said "I can't stand it - everyone thinks they're unique" and this floater said "But why does that bother you?" Speaking of Hamlet, that is the question.
It does bother me though - to think of the 50 million web pages or whatever it is and the lists, the self defining -the list making as if to say "I am."
And in terms of the conversation happening around me, I don't like discussing excercise, or stores having sales, or what foods are healthy though I do it, oh do I do it. Nor do I like discussing dating eventhough I most certainly do when it comes up - it would be wrong to deny nice girls commiseration - but my pride rebels to having situations reduced to platitudes over and over again. I'll jump to make the platitude in fact. "yes--- well I don't know - the boy who likes me, I don't think of him when he's not around, and if I have sex with him I'll have to make myself to some degree - I spend a lot more thinking on the one who's not interested. It's how it goes - things'll work out." It just hurts me a little to tell things like that every time. The girls want to do this - and I guess I have a problem that I don't really want to -- they want to know about eharmony, they want to talk. I want to talk. But the talk all makes me feel like a myspace page. Because what's the sound of one hand clapping - what's the sound of three girls talking about dating in a corner office in Rockefeller Center.
Remember back in the day at Chey's house? There was some talk I could get behind. I'm an adult now, in the workforce, and the talk is not fun like it was when I was 14 - 18. I knew such brilliant kids. I was so lucky. We were unique and fabulous. In that corner office I feel like a myspace page. So much lost. I tend to think falling in love will be would be the closest thing to getting most of it back.
I hope I fall in love with this person named Robert from eharmony. We haven't gone out yet but I like his face and he's 6'2". He is a vegan - that can be his one flaw. It's not even a flaw except that he'll be extra skinny. I haven't fallen in love yet with anyone from eharmony.
I hate how I tell people that writing is one of my interests and then that means that every time we see eachother they ask me "how's writing? what are you writing about? how's writing going?" It makes me want to take a vow of silence. Do you know what I do? I shake my head back and forth in the universal symbol for no and look at my shoe. This has been happening and happening. Do they help me out? Do they say "oh... wait a sec - it's probably not easy to talk about writing - that's why it's writing." No, never..... they just look at me shaking my head until I say, "I really don't know ... I mean... would you please tell me something about you that makes me understand something about what it was like in your body and head at some time, maybe today but maybe not, and how it wasn't something small nor something fake that you think sounds "interesting" but something not exactly changing exactly but included the notion somewhere in it of changing? the glimmer of a changing feeling and changing moment - the glimmer I'm saying, the flutter, is all" I don't say that.. I try -- I wind up telling them I slept with a work guy and that's been making me a little depressed and then I see in their face that nothing like that has ever happened to them and I steer the conversation elsewhere. On the date last night - this guy takes us the greatest places - awesome rooftop bar! - poor thing - he had to tell me about other people he'd known and their awful situations. And to think I can't feel much for people who don't have any situations. But situations mean everything to me.
So when Robert sent me my short answer eharmony questions today and one of them was about what interest do I have that I'd like to share with my partner. (eharmony is just about getting over saying "partner" a lot - and also that you're too pretty for this aren't you?) I told him how it's been rough being asked about my writing like I have an answer, but that what I want is to get to know someone and get close to someone so that it wouldn't even be weird to show them some writing, imagine that? That is why I am so looking forward to him getting back to me and us going out - because I'm really glad he picked that question because I was so primed to give the totally honest answer.
I'm addicted to email. So eharmony feeds that well. I'm just addicted to being contacted and it's so lame and it's all of us. it's actually not lame. Humans are a bad model. We're messed up dude, needing contact or perishing and perishing from simple feeling so bad. There're fun things about technology don't get me wrong. You know how I feel about blackberries though.
And stuff like this: walking here... this guy beeped and beeped til he could plow through us pedestrians who had the light and the guy next to me hit his car and said fuck you while I yelled something about us having the light and indicated the light.
Just anger all the anger. When they made me they made a person with a little more anger. When I'm angry, I write on this blog, I bitch to a friend. Sometimes the friend is really positive and then I feel like, you don't understand - I am angry. I can't not be. Do you think I don't know I have a charmed incredible life? It's that I have no concept of enough. I need. I'm human. I hate my routine. I'm angry.
What IS the point of therapy - to understand the reasons you, say, feel angry? To go back to childhood and find its beginnings, the beginnings of being ignored, of being on your own, of people beeping while talking on their cell phone and plowing through when you have the light.
I dunno.
Time for a beer.
hangovers make me want to write
Call me Ernest Hemmingway, Dorothy Parker, F.Scott Fitzgerald, Dylan Thomas, take your pick.
I'm considering erasing yesterday's posting because it's so self indulgent and I would defnitely edit it out of the consolidated book form of my blog that my wonderful friend K thinks it would be interesting to create. She has a friend whose blog about being proudly fat got her a book deal - in the words of Emeril, Bam. I still don't know what exactly K means in terms of this blog -- I just kept saying, "What- like take out all the spaces?" -- I think she said "Well, no. Obviously not." I think she didn't really know what form it would take to try to make it into a one-piece thing either but thought trying would be interesting.
Direct address: Publishers secretly reading my blog with avid interest: A) Disregard yesterday's babbling - I don't like that one. Of course I'm good at a lot of things that no one in the world is gonna reward me for beyond the reward of not being a drone schmendrick. B) I am extremely open to reading my blog posts aloud one after another for a charity event or whatever -- you've got the marketing team - let's get this party started. :)
Ha. Further to lovelife drama, I dunno. I confronted WG about being a dick. He admitted to it, while throwing out excuses from all corners of the sheltering sky like always. Him: "I did open your pictures by the way -- I just had to delete them becasue they filled my email account" Me: "Well, okay -- but that has nothing to do with not speaking to me or acknowledging me even in my direct presence for over a week following that." Him "You're right you're right. - - Oh you know I was away for a weekend though right?" Me: "Please don't insult my intelligence. Phones work everywhere. In the history of busy no one's ever been too busy to say 'I'm busy - thinkin of ya." Him "you're right you're right." On and on - he even offered "I'm not very upfront. I'm sorry. you're right. I'm wrong." I don't know -- I offered him the excuse that perhaps he was seeing someone else and seriously which he then said was true. Maybe it is maybe it's not because he's pathological excuse guy and that was me giving him the best one. High chance I'll have to sit in front of him on Friday at work. In that event I need one of my girls to call me. I've been generating a script in my head for the conversation for him to overhear in that event. I think I'll mostly talk about other great dates fictional or not, and ask my friend to ask about him and then i'll just say something about oh yeah--- probably not the moment to discuss it but donezo and last conversation reminded me of teaching 6th grade when you ask the kid -- how come you didn't complete this project when you know I specifically addressed your needs in creating it and they answer something about their homelife and some car accident a year ago and their blood condition and you're like, "no, but this wasn't homework, this was classwork, and this evasion excuse tactic is not serving you" except in this case I am not a teacher and the person in question is not in 6th grade, is actually a Harvard MBA. I kinda want to do that. Sorry my fantasies are so pathetic but we've discussed this -- a leave of absence is gonna be amazing and I'll re-direct the creative energies and love will steer the stars.
forcing myself to date this other guy who's very nice and takes me out and bores me to
oh more soon. gotta database.
love
Alexis
I'm considering erasing yesterday's posting because it's so self indulgent and I would defnitely edit it out of the consolidated book form of my blog that my wonderful friend K thinks it would be interesting to create. She has a friend whose blog about being proudly fat got her a book deal - in the words of Emeril, Bam. I still don't know what exactly K means in terms of this blog -- I just kept saying, "What- like take out all the spaces?" -- I think she said "Well, no. Obviously not." I think she didn't really know what form it would take to try to make it into a one-piece thing either but thought trying would be interesting.
Direct address: Publishers secretly reading my blog with avid interest: A) Disregard yesterday's babbling - I don't like that one. Of course I'm good at a lot of things that no one in the world is gonna reward me for beyond the reward of not being a drone schmendrick. B) I am extremely open to reading my blog posts aloud one after another for a charity event or whatever -- you've got the marketing team - let's get this party started. :)
Ha. Further to lovelife drama, I dunno. I confronted WG about being a dick. He admitted to it, while throwing out excuses from all corners of the sheltering sky like always. Him: "I did open your pictures by the way -- I just had to delete them becasue they filled my email account" Me: "Well, okay -- but that has nothing to do with not speaking to me or acknowledging me even in my direct presence for over a week following that." Him "You're right you're right. - - Oh you know I was away for a weekend though right?" Me: "Please don't insult my intelligence. Phones work everywhere. In the history of busy no one's ever been too busy to say 'I'm busy - thinkin of ya." Him "you're right you're right." On and on - he even offered "I'm not very upfront. I'm sorry. you're right. I'm wrong." I don't know -- I offered him the excuse that perhaps he was seeing someone else and seriously which he then said was true. Maybe it is maybe it's not because he's pathological excuse guy and that was me giving him the best one. High chance I'll have to sit in front of him on Friday at work. In that event I need one of my girls to call me. I've been generating a script in my head for the conversation for him to overhear in that event. I think I'll mostly talk about other great dates fictional or not, and ask my friend to ask about him and then i'll just say something about oh yeah--- probably not the moment to discuss it but donezo and last conversation reminded me of teaching 6th grade when you ask the kid -- how come you didn't complete this project when you know I specifically addressed your needs in creating it and they answer something about their homelife and some car accident a year ago and their blood condition and you're like, "no, but this wasn't homework, this was classwork, and this evasion excuse tactic is not serving you" except in this case I am not a teacher and the person in question is not in 6th grade, is actually a Harvard MBA. I kinda want to do that. Sorry my fantasies are so pathetic but we've discussed this -- a leave of absence is gonna be amazing and I'll re-direct the creative energies and love will steer the stars.
forcing myself to date this other guy who's very nice and takes me out and bores me to
oh more soon. gotta database.
love
Alexis
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Right
I'm doing some database thingy but let me finally finish that last post - I went to the kitchen and I never came back!
I just erased what I was writing. Let me not extemporize yet.
So, things I have been good at:
1) Singing. So long ago. You will never see me not kill at karaoke though. That is what became of that.
2) Acting. I was pretty good. Give me a scene against someone brave and I'll still be good right now. Oh and let me get a little worked up throwing a beachball back and forth between us or something first. :)
3) Verbal sections of standardized test.
4) What the fuck are those words on the GRE though? They aren't even in books. My vocabulary is diminshing all the time. And also those words were cheap shots. Nonetheless I test well. Never underestimate "haven't said b in a while" in a pinch, test-takers of the world.
5) Dancing like a hoochie. Getting low.
6) I am good with some basic salsa moves in fact. I utilize that physical understanding whenever it is time to dance. I dance from my butt and I highly recommend it. It's the best.
7) I will play defense in your pick-up soccer game. I won't let them get too much by- and I never played on a high school team and only played every other weekend at my dad's under duress when 13.
8) Being snotty with people on the phone.
9) Being snotty with people in general (maitre d' much?)
10) Explaining to peole how they're treating me wrong after the time is up on them maybe magically figuring it out themselves.
bad at?
1) well actually being snotty with people in any context besides them wanting a table before there is one available. I think it's easiest just to be nice to everyone and sometimes I even forget to be cold and bitchy to people that my dignity should prevent me being nice to. I just forget.
2) uh, the math section. Like that has to be said!
3) leaving the house in a hurry
4) choreographed dances
5) playing piano - also anything that requires patient dilligence that I wasn't already good at.
5a) besides working with certain difficult children
5b) except for the time I lose my patience with these too!
God isn't this fun. I'm so glad this is so INTERESTING TO YOU.
Please make your lists too.
I'll be back with more good. there's other things I'm good at. Oh - often generating a song to ggo woth a word that was recently said or NOT SAID I JUST THOUGHT OF THIS SONG FOR A MORE ABSTRACT REASON YOU'LL NEVER KNOW (nor I)
I just erased what I was writing. Let me not extemporize yet.
So, things I have been good at:
1) Singing. So long ago. You will never see me not kill at karaoke though. That is what became of that.
2) Acting. I was pretty good. Give me a scene against someone brave and I'll still be good right now. Oh and let me get a little worked up throwing a beachball back and forth between us or something first. :)
3) Verbal sections of standardized test.
4) What the fuck are those words on the GRE though? They aren't even in books. My vocabulary is diminshing all the time. And also those words were cheap shots. Nonetheless I test well. Never underestimate "haven't said b in a while" in a pinch, test-takers of the world.
5) Dancing like a hoochie. Getting low.
6) I am good with some basic salsa moves in fact. I utilize that physical understanding whenever it is time to dance. I dance from my butt and I highly recommend it. It's the best.
7) I will play defense in your pick-up soccer game. I won't let them get too much by- and I never played on a high school team and only played every other weekend at my dad's under duress when 13.
8) Being snotty with people on the phone.
9) Being snotty with people in general (maitre d' much?)
10) Explaining to peole how they're treating me wrong after the time is up on them maybe magically figuring it out themselves.
bad at?
1) well actually being snotty with people in any context besides them wanting a table before there is one available. I think it's easiest just to be nice to everyone and sometimes I even forget to be cold and bitchy to people that my dignity should prevent me being nice to. I just forget.
2) uh, the math section. Like that has to be said!
3) leaving the house in a hurry
4) choreographed dances
5) playing piano - also anything that requires patient dilligence that I wasn't already good at.
5a) besides working with certain difficult children
5b) except for the time I lose my patience with these too!
God isn't this fun. I'm so glad this is so INTERESTING TO YOU.
Please make your lists too.
I'll be back with more good. there's other things I'm good at. Oh - often generating a song to ggo woth a word that was recently said or NOT SAID I JUST THOUGHT OF THIS SONG FOR A MORE ABSTRACT REASON YOU'LL NEVER KNOW (nor I)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)