Category Archives: awesome

Sister Christian, oh the time has come

So my car didn’t start this morning. I feel like that is one of those adult problems that I would have had to deal with sooner or later, but I was hoping to put it off until I had a husband or something. A rich husband who will lend me his Mercedes to drive to work. And by work I mean the manicurist. I don’t work. Not when hubs is rich. I mean, we’re so rich that I call him “hubs,” which is a disgusting word. And yes, WE’RE so rich because there was no prenup because he made it big AFTER we got married. Also, he believes in the power of love because he’s an idiot. There’s no such thing as love.

Point is: Sister Christian (my car) was being a real playa hata this morning. Drinking the Haterade. Flavor? Blue Ice-Cold Bitch.

I think it’s important to add this detail now: it’s Halloween, and my subdued-for-work costume is wearing all black, a black leather jacket, and a Dread Pirate Roberts mask. I’m pretty sure there’s nothing more pathetic than someone wearing a Dread Pirate Roberts/catburgler getup staring confusedly at her car and whimpering “Sister Christian, why?” Someone walking a dog passed me as my car sputtered and gave me a slightly amused/sympathetic look. Listen, bitch, you take your doodlepoppypoo and get out of my eye-line. Ya heeeaaard?

Anyway, I took the only course of action I could think of: I popped the hood (a miracle I even knew how to do that) and I pulled up what was probably the dipstick, but who knows. It had schmutz on it, but I’m pretty sure that’s good. I’m not sure if the level of schmutz was good, but I looked at it knowingly anyway. Everything else under the hood looked like car, so I closed it. I tried calling my parents, but they didn’t answer. WHY DO I EVEN BOTHER HAVING PARENTS IF THEY WON’T PICK UP THE PHONE? Useless. Finally, I did the only thing I could do: I turned the key in the ignition and held it there until it started. This was after about 30 seconds of sad sputtering. Awesome.

If you’ve ever been in this position, when your car finally does start, you realize that you went through a whole gamut of emotions: Panic that you’ll be late for work. Calm that there’s an actual excuse for being late to work. Anxiety that you may need to spend a lot of money on your car. Delight in thinking that you can probably take the day off (or lat least a half day). Determination in not letting a machine beat you. Relief when the car finally starts. Confusion when you wonder, “What does this meeeaaan?” And finally depression when you realize that you can go to work and still be on time, but not have enough time to stop at 7-11 for coffee. You win, Sister Christian. You hateful bitch.

I’m making up for my morning’s slow start with pure badassery, though. It’s hard to feel more badass than you do in this moment: wearing black leather and a mask and blaring Jay-Z’s “99 Problems” as you power-stomp past all your coworkers on your way to the bathroom. BLAMMO.

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So no one told you life was going to be this way (clap clap clap clap)

Four underrated ‘firsts’ between new friends:

1. The first time you catch each other’s eyes during someone else’s stupid moment. Okay, stay with me on this one, because that first sentence seems convoluted. But picture this: you and your new friend are hanging out with some third-party person, and this third person (whom I will name Jimbob) says something stupid like, “I think chocolate is dumb,” and then you and Newfriend just casually glance up into each others eyes and look away. Now I’m not talking a full-on glance, but like a MICROSCOPIC eyelid lift. Yeah, to anyone else, it seems like you just simultaneously twitched, but you know. You said it all right there. Through just a furtive eye-glance, you communicated, “Jimbob’s obviously an idiot. Also, hi! How’s it going? We should talk later.” It’s a beautiful thing. And Jimbob had no idea.

2. The first “you would!” Example: “Oh my God, I still own Backstreet Boy’s Millennium album and it’s in my car RIGHT NOW!” and then your friend laughs and says, “You would!” This not only means that you can joke about each other’s stupid interests, but you know each other well enough to not be surprised by them. Heartwarming. (Full disclosure: I don’t still own this cd, but I really wish I did.)

3. The first time you allow yourself to snort-laugh. Okay, I’m going to start this with a little background. My sister laughs like an idiot. No, not an idiot; she laughs like a donkey is raping a monkey. And those two distinct animal sounds combine into this cacophony of horror. You can pick her out of a crowd by her laugh, and she is well-known (you know, among family and friends) for her crazy guffaw. But I slowly started noticing the rest of my family’s laughter too: my mom’s whinnying, my dad’s high-pitch cackle, and my other sister’s deep-voiced “HUHhahHUHhUHUh.” So, one day I said to donkey-rape-laugh sister, “Jesus, we are a family of crazy-weird laughers.” Donkey-rape-laugh sister looked at me sagely and said, “Fuck, Lisa–all laughs are weird.” This is true. We get bogged down by hearing so many polite laughs that we forget sometimes what a fucking guffaw sounds like. It’s ugly, people. But I guess beautiful at the same time. So this moment is not commemorating the first time your new friend (or you) said something truly funny, but the first time you just let it go and slapped them in the face with your gut-busting laugh. Me personally? I sound like a snorting, wheezing Frenchman.

4. The first time one of you picks up the other’s catchphrase. Yeah, shut it. We all have catchphrases or, you know, catchwords–weird shit that we say that is more-or-less unique to our vocabulary. Now, we’re not like Homer Simpson where we have to say “d’oh” every day for twenty-something years, so our catchphrases can change very frequently (I went through a phase where I said “baller” a lot. Oh wait, I still do. But less). And one day–maybe because you’re hanging around this person a lot or maybe because they think that you’re particularly endearing, you’ll start hearing them says stupid things like “baller” a lot, and you’ll think, “Oh my God, did they get that from ME?” and then you’ll get all verklempt.

LET THE GREAT EXPERIMENT BEGIN!

I’m bored. So I thought it would be fun to write a “time capsule” post, schedule it to be published at some point in the future, and forget about it.

HEY FUTURE ME!

So what else is going on in the future? Are there flying cars? Did “Ice Cream of the Future” ever really take off outside of amusement parks? Probably not, since we’re talking months into the future, not years. But technology moves so fast nowadays that it’s really hard to tell.

Is Bruno Mars still big? I think his songs are catchy, but I’m not sure they have staying power.

I might be a little drunk right now. But it’s a classy drunk. Business drunk. Either way, it’s still safe to drive.

God, I thought this idea of writing to myself would have more…more oomph, I guess. But there’s no momentum here.

Well, future Lisa, I guess all I have to say is: Wear sunscreen more. You’re starting to wrinkle.


Cooler than Aquaman in a pool

Upon going to the second warehouse that actually has air conditioning:

Me: Oh man, it’s so much cooler over here.

Boss: Totally. Both physically and metaphorically.

Me: Well, I don’t know about metaphorically…

Boss: No, it’s true. You’ve heard of Captain America? Well, I’m Captain Cool. Where I go, it is cool.

Me: So…you don’t fly. You ARE fly.


Summer Tiiiiiiimmme

Me: You know what’s awesome about summer? You can go to the grocery store and buy a shitload of berries on the cheap.

Friend: Oh shit. GOOD ASS TIP!

Me: YEAH IT FUCKING IS. I’m, like, shotgunning blueberries. Freebasing raspberries. It’s a whole thing.

Friend: That’s tight.


I’m so full of fun that everyone should be jealous

I really don’t have much to say, so I’m just going to take a swig of this cotton candy vodka and see where life takes me.

Mmmm. It’s like a carnival in my liver.

Behold! This is my eye!

Where did that come from?!

Anyway.

So you know when you’re going to have a houseguest and you’re like, “God, I should probably clean. Or at least fold all these piles of laundry.” But then you think that there’s no point in doing it NOW, since this person is arriving in a week and that’s still plenty of time to re-mess up your place. So you wait. And then things come up and you get lazy and then all of a sudden they’re coming, like, tomorrow. And then you have to decided what’s more important: dignity or watching a couple hours of TV. What I’m saying is that I have no desire to sweep and vacuum.  Whatever, it’s just my sister anyway. And if she wants to stay with me, then she better get used to the tumbleweeds of hair that will be blowing past her while she sleeps. And then…holy crap is that a cut on my hand? When did I cut my hand? Was it when I was cutting cucumbers? Why is it just stinging now? Aaaahhhhh!

Nah, I’m good.


Spring cleaning pt. 2

What’s this? More old shit still on my computer? Why, yes! Come with me, gentle internet traveler, as we explore the depths of my old files.

Let’s start this trek down memory lane with the contents of a document entitled “Knock Knock:”

Knock knock

Jethro

Jethro ‘em down the stairs and I’ll stab them with my screwdriver

One wishes that one could ask past Lisa why. Why write this down and save it? I mean, yeah, okay, sure, it’s kind of a funny joke. I mean, yeah, I’ll probably remember it for later. Sure. But…why?

Now, dear internet tourist, we can see the picture called “badassery 2” (implying that somewhere there exists a “badassery 1”):

I'm the coolest.

I think this is pretty self-explanatory, dear people. Also, I don’t want to explain it.

Next, let’s wander into a document titled “awwwww,” which is apparently an old AIM conversation between me and my sister:

sister: u smell

me: like roses

sister: doused in pee

me: but then gently cleansed with sunshine and hugs

sister: only to be picked and farted upon by the devil

me: to then be kissed clean by angels

sister: unfortunately one of the angels had a cold sore and the roses swelled immensely in response to the deadly rose virus

me: but the rose, hearing the healing song of the mermaids, revived only to become more beautiful than ever before

sister: or so they thought, the mermaids had actually tricked the roses and sung the song of hope then fail…the roses grew more beautiful than ever before and then suddenly burst into sulfuric flames and burned until they were mere suggestions of the roses they once were

me: but then the phoenix, hearing the cry of the dying roses, was so moved by their wails, that he wept on top of their ashes and they were reborn

sister: reborn into poisonous mushrooms that when spat upon with a magic potion became, once again, a beautiful rose but was then picked by a young boy planning on giving the rose to a pretty girl but right after he said ” i picked this thinking of your face” the potion wore off and the rose was a shroom again. and the young girl slapped the boy

me: HAHAHA you brought in the shrek two scenario. you win

Adorable. And so full of that sisterly love and respect that people talk about.

Aaaaaaannnnd finally, let’s journey into the document entitled “Elp Me”. I actually remember the backstory for this one: I wrote this the day after I got really wasted for the first time (awww). I was hungover, and I was pretty sure I was going to die. In between my wailing and moaning, I knocked a glass of water onto my keyboard and some of the letters stopped working (this was the moment I had the requisite “GOD IS PUNISHING ME FOR MY DEBAUCHERY! I WILL NEVER DRINK AGAIN!” declaration, but I was 18 and lying to myself). I then opened Word and began to test out my keyboard (why did I save this? That’s between past Lisa and God):

Elp me! NOOOOOOO! It burrrrns..

Te quick brown fox jumped over te lazy do.

O OD! Tats not rit at all! Neiter is tat!

Lisa is sad. I sad. Sad sad sad.

12347890 123478 jfjfjb  vrit rit rit vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvf

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

bbbubuubbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

bbbbbbbbbbbbbbnnnmmjjjjjj

te  bbbbbbbbb

/////…,,,,;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;lllLLLlllLLliiii

At least I can spell my name lisa. Wooooo!

Tout tink o to ave alf


Spring Cleaning pt. 1

It’s still technically Spring, right? Is it too late to spring clean? Whatever–I’ve always been a late bloomer. Except my boobs. Those things popped in EARLY. Fourth grade was hard.

ANYWAY.

When I got my computer two years ago, I transferred EVERTHING from my old computer (that I had from the beginning of college to the end) to the new one. Everything. Every picture, every document, everything. So today I was bored and started going through some things. And there are hidden gems in there, man.

When I was 19 (right after Freshman year of college), I thought about starting a blog, specifically a livejournal because I’m lame like that. I never actually did, but I wrote a first post. This, friends, is that first post. Written in the summer of 2006 (and has not been edited according to actual grammar rules that I didn’t have a full grasp on then):

This is my first journaly entry thing…and probably my last. I’m just hella bored.

The humidity is insane—I have an afro. I came home from work the other day and I had a little convo with my mommy:

Her: You look different.

Me: …?

Her:…Is it sweat?

Me: I really can’t wait to send you to a home.

Sometimes I work in the floral tent now, which is funny because I don’t know anything about flowers. The first day this lady came in and asked for impatiens (this flower that I had always assumed was a pansy—but then again, I never even knew what a pansy looked like so it was really just blissful ignorance) but I thought she said “impatience” so I apparently plastered a confused look on my face.

“You don’t know a lot about flowers do you?” she asked. I shrugged, laughed, and ducked behind a fern.

Who buys ferns?

Who buys 500 dollars worth of flowers that will die at the end of the summer?

Who has 500 dollars?

I had to watch American Idol just so I had something to talk about at the “water cooler.” When I say “had to…” I mean that, you know…I didn’t mind.

There are so many wee little 16-17 year olds. “Lisa, will you scan this beer?” they ask. “Sure thing,” I say. It’s good to be useful.

The code for brussel sprouts is 4550. A lot of people buy those little bastards.

When I was driving home and singing along to Westlife (which, I believe, I rock harder to than anyone else has ever rocked to Westlife) I kept imagining me hitting a deer during a really intense head banging/arm gesture and then the deer’s leg breaking through the windshield and kicking me in the face. All thanks to Westlife.

When my sister raps, I make sure she bleeps out her swear words. She also tie-dyed some stuff with her friend today. “Sarah tie-dyed her THONG” her friend joked. I vomited in my mouth a little bit.

I had a day off yesterday, actually. I played Kingdom Hearts 2, but whenever I heard a car door slam outside, I thought it was my sister coming home, so I freaked out and turned off the TV like ten times. If she finds out I’ve been playing, she will hurt me. For serious. She kicked my nose once, I think it bled. I got her back though, I pushed her off the bed when I was playing “the floor is lava” and she got a minor concussion. Did she know we were playing at the time? That is neither here nor there.

The most exciting thing that has happened in my house in the past week is that we got binoculars that can take pictures. DUDE, I’M FREAKING OUT. I can spy on my neighbors AND take their picture. No one can escape me!


Just wait until I hit that quarter-life crisis (any day now)

Being an adult kind of sucks sometimes. I don’t think many people are going to deny that. I mean, once I just woke up and couldn’t move my neck. For no reason. Also, when I was a kid, I didn’t have a MasterCard bill to make me depressed. 

But sometimes being an adult is awesome. In my boredom (the type of boredom that isn’t interrupted by an emergency end-of-the-world teenage crisis every five minutes), I decided to make an oddly esoteric list on why being an adult is awesome:

I can watch things like this

  1. Last night I had dessert for dinner. Because I could. And for dessert, I had carrots.
  2. I actually like vegetables, so it’s not really this whole big thing to eat them.
  3. I can drive, so if I really feel like a Mounds bar at 9:00 PM, then I can go out and buy one. And yes, that scenario is way too specific to not have happened before.
  4. I did not attend high school during the era of Facebook and fancy phones that can take video. Ugh, can you imagine being a teenager and social networking? Kill me before that happens.
  5. I own MY OWN television, MY OWN rug, and MY OWN printer. You want to so much as LOOK at my television, you had better ask me. I mean, I researched what was the best television to buy in my price range and then I bought it. Talk about pride of ownership. What did I have 10 years ago? A discman I got as a present.
  6. I can drink alcohol and say things like, “Ah, yes, I prefer a merlot to a cabernet sauvignon. But to each his own,” and people might assume I know what I’m talking about.
  7. I am old enough to be flippant about things.
  8. I realized which math is actually important for real life, and I have promptly forgotten the rest.
  9. If I don’t want to go on a run or do some other physical activity with somebody, I can say something like, “Oh, sorry, I can’t. I have a bad knee,” and people accept it as fact, because when you’re old, your body falls apart.
  10. I understand hidden jokes in cartoons. Who knew that they could be so RACY?
  11. I’m just old enough that I’m not expected to know how to work every piece of technology ever. Which is awesome, since I don’t know how.
  12. I have learned the value of a dollar, and I have learned to disregard this knowledge when I go to Target.
  13. I can end lists with 13 items. Kids always stop at 10…or 100 if they’re annoying and ambitious.

Oh, Canada

I spent a fair deal of time in Canada. One might even say I lived there at one point. In so doing, I learned that Canada is a strange and sometimes awful place (accept it, Canadians; every place is awful in its own way).

I was recently speaking to one of my Canadian friends, and I learned this tidbit (I’m going to call her “Canada-Sue” even though her name is not Sue, though she is from Canada):

Me: i think i’m going to join a kickball team next
Canada-Sue: what is kickball?
Me: like baseball, but with a big red rubber ball that you kick
not a Canadian thing?
Canada Sue: called soccer-baseball here
good game!
Me: hahaha! soccer-baseball
you PEOPLE

Is there NOTHING that country can’t make weird?