When Times Were Simpler

I can't wait to get away from you
Unsurprisingly you hate me too
We only communicate when we need to fight
But we are best friends...right?

You're too good at pretending you don't care
There's enough resentment in the air
Now you don't want me in the flat
When you’re home at night
But we're best friends right?

You’re Stephanie and I'm Paulette
You know what all my faces mean
And it's easy to smoke it up, forget
Everything that happened in between

Nicky’s right when he says I can't win
So I don't wanna tell you anything
I can't even think about
How you feel inside
But we are best friends, right?

I don't like the way you say my name
You're always looking for someone to blame
Now you want me to suffer just cause
You was born wide
But we are best friends right?

You’re Stephanie and I'm Paulette
You know what all my faces mean
And its easy to smoke it up, forget
Everything that happened in between

So I had love for you when I was 4
And there's no one I wanna smoke with more
Someday I'll buy the Rizla*, so you get the dro**
Cause we are best friends right, right, right, right?
Because we are best friends right?
Because we are best friends right?
"Best Friends" x Amy Winehouse

Some of you may know that my BFF? and I aren't seeing eye-to-eye anymore. Long-distance, plus different ideologies and priorities, I guess. I found her trying to shield me from life instead of supporting me when I chose to live it. Sex had always been a bone of contention with us--whenever I expressed any desire to do anything she would patronize and not listen to me, brushing off my concerns and just telling me to stay a virgin, even though she was sexually active. Ironically, in high school, she was the one who wanted to wait for marriage. When I finally had my first sexual experience, she was anything but happy for me, even though I was thrilled (and satisfied) at the outcome. That was a defining moment for me, it made me realize that we were no longer the inseparable, totally like-minded girls we'd been for the last two years of high school and first three years of college. I'm sad. I love her. But I know that we're in a different season of our lives right now. I will always appreciate our friendship, for six years she was the quintessential definition of what a best friend should be. Maybe I'm being dramatic with all of this rhetoric, but I feel like anything less would be an insult to our once ironclad bond. I wish her nothing but the happiness and love that she gave me during those beautiful years of our friendship.

The Way He Made Me Feel

I can't.

You're telling me that the King of Pop, is gone?

That my favorite artist in the entire world, is no longer with us?

I don't believe you.

My parents' generation has John Lennon. They heard it on the radio. I saw it on CNN. Fucking TMZ.

I was glued to the TV, until it flashed across the screen. Had to close my eyes. Broke down in tears. Never met the man, physically, duh. Don't give a fuck. Still numb. Cried already. Will probably cry again.

The vultures are gonna come. As if they hadn't already. Oh, are you reporting that the stress of media hounding took its toll? No shit.

Listening to Smooth Criminal as we speak. Talking heads on the news getting on my nerves.

When I'm nervous I ask myself, what would Dirty Diana do? I belted "Rock With You" just yesterday. Oh, God, "Rock With You." Cue the tears. "The Way You..." I can't even type it.

I always imagined that was the song I would fall in love to. Never told anyone that before. But I always thought that if I ever needed to know if I was in love, the song "Rock With You" would come on, and he would look into my eyes, smile, and sing along, and I'd know he was The One, because he got it.

Did you know that, Michael? You were supposed to be there when I fell in love. You will be. You said you wanted your music to make you immortal. It will. It has.

Keep looking at the screen, not really watching, still can't believe it. Next time I blast "Streetwalker" in my car, will I cry?

What the hell, Michael? Why, Michael? At the very least, you weren't supposed to die before I saw you in concert! I thought I'd be older when you went. I knew I'd cry though.

This isn't real. Two seconds of "Don't Stop til You Get Enough."

Just cried again.

Update: I saw both my mom and dad shed a tear when they thought I wasn't looking. It's real.

Issue-Laden

Ok I lied rant back on.

Worries:
-I haven't had the time (nor, if we're being honest, the inclination) to exercise in awhile. I have, however, had time to eat AND EAT and I'm afraid it will catch up with me sooner that later

-Sometimes, while reflecting about the past three years in preparation for my senior year (WHOOOO!!), I'm scared I'll make the same mistakes in terms of friendships, relationships, etc and let people treat me any kind of way and respond destructively.

-My sisters are growing up before my bespectacled eyes and I hate it. HATE HATE HATE it. Drove Little Sister to her piano lesson and while we were goofing off in the car I totally almost burst into tears because she's about to start high school and then she will probably definitely be too cool for me :-( also, Middle Sister is about to start college and I'm really scared that our personality differences will tear us apart.

-I've been feeling quite insecure lately. Inadequate, lacking, unrelatable almost; even incapable at human interaction. Like, I enjoy being alone but then I like it too much that I'm closed off so even when I want company I'm stuck on my solitary island. An island with lots of books and pretzels, but seldom other people.

-Also it's my last year to find a college boyfriend. Even though, I don't think about it as much as I used to. However, when what has been a central worry is now on the back burner compared to my other worries, I get mighty worried. At least I still have my wit.

That felt amazingly amazing to get off my chest, once again. Blogtherapy. Better than tequila.

You Won't Get It

I learned my lesson about writing about specific guys too much on here, but I started a story about the guy from the film screening and I owe you a "what happened next" post.

On Monday, I did indeed go over to his place, where we talked for a few hours on his floor. Well, I did the brunt of the talking. There was lots of flirting on both ends, no real physical contact. We texted almost all day on Tuesday, and somehow the texting turned dirty. I forget who started it, but I think we all know I'm no stranger to sexual innuendo, so I played right along. Key word: played. Well, on my end.

We were supposed to hang out again on Tuesday, but I got stuck doing stuff for the Paper and we had to cancel. Earlier today, when I asked him what he was doing later, he responded, "U." This is when I started to panic: all our flirty/textual filth had me writing checks that my ass couldn't cash, literally. I am not/was not looking for sex, but it became clear that he was and thought I was as well. I vented this to various friends, fearing that once he found out these legs were closed, he would be, as the expression goes, so over me. The response from pals I got was I shouldn't want someone who would be over me just because we wouldn't be sleeping together anyway. Point taken.

Anyway, I sort of eased into the "no sex clause" (this is all through texting still) and the answer was not a happy one. He pretty much said he was looking for sex and thought I was, too. So I asked him if that was it, are we "over" if there's no sex? He said he "wouldn't say that" but went on to, well, say it. I expressed my position, apologizing for leading him on and saying that I'd like us to hang out still but sex wouldn't be part of the equation. When I got home a half-hour later, I called him up to maybe clarify, talk it out; no answer. That was at 10:30pm. It is now past midnight.

So yeah. My worries were pretty much confirmed: I told him "no sex" and he told me "well then peace out, bitch." I guess I'm sad about what "could have" been: he hadn't given me a chance to explain that making out/rounding a base or two were still perfectly viable options.

If you're wondering why I'm making such a big deal about this, well, it's time for me to come clean: I'm still a virgin. I talk a lot of filth, but I am still quite, ahem, untried. In every sense. Not for particular religious beliefs or anything, at this point it's just because I haven't found anybody worth fucking. Yes, including you, Film Screening Guy. I didn't tell him this, and waffled on whether or not I should, but somehow I doubt that would change things if he was just out for sex to begin with.

This instance does not bolster my faith in future dating prospects and boy-kind in general: how the hell does a 20-year-old female virgin navigate within a 2009 world of men who expect and are used to regular helpings of ass? We virgs are a rare breed, after all. I'm a little annoyed right now, actually. I cleaned my room for this yahoo. I try to look for the lesson in things, like "why did this happen," and so far I can't come up with anything except for to remind me that "yes, Lucky, you are still [and will probably forever be] a virgin. Still." Thanks for the update, world.

So yeah.

Some days, hell, most days, I wish I wasn't holding my V-Card. Especially in situations like this. Even though I wouldn't have sex with Film Screening Guy after knowing him for FIVE WHOLE FUCKING DAYS. Maybe I should buy a t-shirt that says "Virgin" to alleviate any misconceptions. Internets, a) don't laugh at me. I am fragile. 2) answer me this: what could I have done differently in this situation? Shut down the dirty texting ASAP? Inform him of my virginity the first time he brought up sex in conversation? Let the Smoker deflower me last year to get it over with already? Censor myself/stop talking about sex with such exuberance so as not to send the wrong idea? I never tell people I'm a virg, never say I'm not, let people draw their own conclusions, but tell the truth if asked directly. This involves lots of conversational sidestepping and vague answers, in case you were wondering.

It may not be easy when you're sleazy but it's just as hard when you're not.

Lessoned Learned

Consider this the point in the college career where I decide never to drink again because as a result I may lose all of my friends after making a complete ass of myself at a club on spring break and being made to feel/feeling absolutely horrible about it.

Don't know what else to say. Stories of "drinking with pals" gone bad would rreeeeeaaalllyyyy help me from feeling like complete shit right about now. Thanks in advance.

She Works Hard-ish for the Money

OMFG work is so boring. There's nothing to do right now. As exciting and fast-paced as the wonderful world of sports is, there is some down time. The period around a little after halftime to a few minutes into the fourth is usually the dryest of the game, and tonight did not deviate from this highly scientific theory.

All of my usual methods of work-related entertainment are failing to keep my attention. My iPod is on, I took a little nap, and ate some Wendy's. I've sifted through all the new pictures of [Kobe Bryant] All-Star Weekend and read most of the comments on VSB. Usually I would turn to Facebook or anything else on the internets but my boss is doing this annoying thing where he looks over at my computer just as I start to have a little fun. Hmpf.

I'm being semi-productive though, right, by using this time to update? Go me. Today is BFF's birthday. I texted her, no answer. Even though we sorta smoothed things over, we haven't spoken in so long I feel like we're BFF's in name only. In practice, you are not supposed to avoid calling said BFF for fear of the awkwardness that no doubt has ensued as a result of not talking for two months. This saddens me greatly so let's move on...

...To how I passed That Boy and he did not seem to [feel the fire of my lust] notice me. Funnily enough, I remember passing Tex in that exact same spot last year, to similar results. So I made the executive decision** to take the L on this one. I've seen him twice since Motown Lover introduced us and let's just say the fireworks have not sparked; his interest surely should have peaked by now, but um, no. And I am not in the mood nor spirit to go man-chasing. Therefore, that's a wrap. Next!

Or...not. Am I being dramatic again? What say ye?

**Yesterday my boss used the term "I'm going to make an executive decision" with a totally straight face. What a goober.

PS-the word "ladyboy" is hil-ARIOUS to me. Go ahead, say it: ladyboy. Hahahahahaha.

Rinse and repeat.

This Week Has Been One Big Hot Flash

So. I'm annoyed.

I haven't properly talked to BFF in...awhile. I would text her and get nothing in response. Since, like, before Christmas. I'd start to get worried that I wasn't keeping in touch, send another text, get nothing, get more worried. Eventually, worried turned into "annoyed." I didn't want to jump to conclusions, so I tried to reserve too much annoyance. "Maybe she didn't have her phone," I'd think. But on yet another attempt, I wrote, "where have you been? Is everything ok?" and got back "I'm ok, in [city]." Relieved that she wasn't laying in a street somewhere dead, I responded with a "did you get any of my texts?" You guessed it, no answer. Cue actual annoyance. This hasn't' been the first time she's blown me off, by the way. Finally, she texted me a "Merry Christmas," but by that time I was annoyed--I think I responded, though.

Didn't hear from her until she called while I was at a friend's house on New Year's Eve. Still annoyed, and not wanting to be rude to my host, I texted her saying I was at a friend's house and would try to "ttyl." But a part of me didn't want to talk to her just yet. Why return her calls when the same courtesy hadn't been extended to me?

Earlier this evening, she sent me a "we need to talk." Well, text: I have a hanus cold/massive throatache. She said she didn't have her phone for 10 days, but she had called me twice in December. Both calls, which, I said, were probably made after I had been texting her to no avail. And anyway, like I said, why would I rush to return your calls when you don't return mine? And, ok, 2 calls versus a zillion texts and writing on her facebook wall just in case she didn't have her phone: all of which virtually went unanswered.

She wrote that I was "making a big deal out of something [she] had no control over. Get over it" etc etc. What fresh HELL? I said something to the effect of asking I get that you didn't have your phone but wouldn't you see that there were numerous texts from me and, I don't know, let me know what's up? I even wrote on your wall in case you didn't have a phone, pardon me for being worried about you.

No response.

Or am I totally tripping? I texted again. Do you see where I'm coming from?

No response.

Hello? One last try. Are we still having a conversation, are we talking when I can use the phone again, or...?

No response, and a blank stare to boot (from me, not her).

So, pretend to be objective, readers: am I, to coin a phrase, tripping? Why no "hey, I'm ok, I'm not ignoring you I just lost my phone" text? Why are you just now telling me this, as if a person wouldn't be annoyed a) at the pretense of being ignored 2) that her best friend is making her feel stupid for worrying about her? I mean, sheesh, at the very least, is an apology out of the damn question? Behavior like this makes me think she doesn't value our friendship. Which, I mean, I know she does, but...fuck...I'm pissed, and I think I have the right to be.

Plus, I have a lot on my plate at the moment. A dear friend is having school troubles at the moment, I haven't registered for classes yet, and to top it okk, I'm sick, I was actually at the doctor the day before it really kicked in. But when he examined my throat he found nothing. I wanted desperately be all Grey's Anatomy like, "You know, Doc, it might be my trachea..." but I didn't. I wish he would have found something because I literally cannot speak. Way to spend my last week at home. I've been living on Ramen noodles (actually I owe my life to those packets of noodley goodness) and knocking back shot glass-dosages of Tylenol--just 'cause I'm sick doesn't mean I can't take it like a champ.

Since I've been sick I've been watching a lot (a LOT) of TV, too--my aching throat distracts me from sleeping so I crawl in my parents' bed and watch Sportscenter and the History Channel...lulls me to sleep, incidentally. A new discovery: I have a thing for, it seems, crimes. But real stuff: Snapped, True Life: I'm in Prison, and recently Dog the Bounty Hunter. Watch it for the actual catches and for, Lord have mercy, the clothes. The whole family has mullets and every female fugitive they catch has horrid eyebrows. But the bounty hunters are actually quite nice to the fugitives once they're caught. And the son, Leland, is gorgeous--even with his grody ponytail. Two enthusiastic thumbs up.** Also, I think I'm gonna recap/reality index Daddy's Girls--that show about Angela and Vanessa Simmons. I couldn't figure out whether or not I liked it.

**Whoa. I just heard the racist remarks he made about, yep, us black folks. He wants his son to break up with his black girlfriend because the family uses the N-word and he doesn't want to be caught on camera using a racial slur. *Crickets* *reserving judgment on whether I watch the show again...*

I know I'm rambling but it's the cold medicine, tiredness, and Taco Bell, talking. Please excuse. Maybe I'll shop to lessen the pain. Yes, my suitcase was full when I arrived in Home State but I will crawl through the mall with a Tylenol IV if I have to.

Update: We are weird. Me and her will "fight" then two days later someone will call/text and be like "what classes are you taking this semester?" We managed to patch things up this morning at like 7am. She was like "why are you still awake?" and I was like "I'm sick" and she was like "Ew" and stuff. The mark of friendship, I guess, when even the wickedest of fights blow over in a few days' time...

My Own Best Friend

I don't quite know where this is coming from, but...

Sometimes I feel like the decisions I make aren't my own. Like a lot of my actions are determined by so many other things besides what I actually want. I feel like I'm censored to the point where I have to manipulate myself into thinking that the things I do are what I want when sometimes nothing is farther from the truth. I recognize this because the moments that I do what I really want are so joyous and precious and just...free. Before I have to deal with the backlash that unfortunately seem to go along with doing whatever the hell I want, by myself or in whoever's company in which I choose to be. Really and truly doing what I want is harder than it seems, or maybe I'm making it that way. I don't know...the non-ability to decide what I really want has plagued me for awhile, and I guess this particular insecurity is rearing its ugly head once more, just in time for final exams.

I'm stressy...I have papers to write and tests to study for and I just really want to go home, away from these people and this...place. I'll keep you posted on whether or not I lose my mind.

PS--I'm starved for affection [horny]. Fuck.

I'm Freaking Out

Classic college conundrum**: I just found out that I have a 15-page paper due on Tuesday. Your eyes do not deceive you, it is indeed Saturday evening. Please join me in a memorial service for my weekend/sanity. I'm kicking my own ass right now for not realizing. Fuck. Pray for me long and hard.

**I am so glad that even in these trying times I manage to alliterate. I amaze myself.

Update: It's Sunday, and I have about 9-10 pages done. Applaud my strength! That's pretty impressive, considering I keep getting distracted by Facebook, random blogs, and music. Jazmine Sullivan's "Lions, Tigers, and Bears" and Usher's "Love You Gently" are officially My Shit. Even though I'm a public school computer, somehow I got ITunes to work and currently have a nice little playlist going. My awesomeness is unparalleled. Just...wow. It should be illegal.

A Computerly Update

I am having a cruddy day.
I kind of can't stand the other interns(s) at Big Sports Network, for example. That, plus a host of other annoyances have steadily plagued me since I woke up on this day that the Lord hath made. The most prominent being my poor computer needing a new hard drive. Now, I don't know that much about computers, but a hard drive seems like a Pretty Big Deal in the big scheme of computers. If the cost is any indicator of importance, a hard drive is waaay up there. But here's the gag: all my stuff will be lost, huh? Tell it to me straight, I can take it (not). Has this ever happened to anyone? Any encounters with that blue screen o'death? What happened, was it a huge hassle to get all your info back? I don't think I put everything on a flash drive (it was way upstairs and I was way downstairs, ok? You know how it is). I'm basically screwed [fucked] huh?

On the plus side, the other night I had a dream that I was about to get a massage (and probably more than that, who am I kidding) from a male escort. I kid ye not. Of course I woke up before we got to the good stuff (damned sunshine). I can't get any in my own dreams!

This can't be life.

History CanNOT Repeat Itself

Where I should be excited that I am at the taping of my favorite sports TV show (it's good to be an intern, yo), I am instead having a silent freakout.

This post is written from the Blackberry because my computer is having a severe case of PMS. Long story short, I was being a brat to poor Savion and now when I restart her there is a hateful blue death screen with scary words like "BIOS" and "SAFE MODE" and just...oh, it's awful. My old computer did the same thing. Towards the end of her life. Which is why she is no longer with us!! Well, she's at my parents house, barely alive. So I guess she's in ICU or hospice. Not quite dead.

But anyway. By the grace of God, the assignment I thought was due today wasn't (I had church right in my driver's seat), but I NEED my computer to work!

Plus I've had a long day/week/life and I now I can't even unwind by watching a cheesy p*rno!!

I can't believe I just wrote that. But we're all adults, here. And you can't tell me laughing hysterically to some stupidly-titled, low budget flick doesn't warm the coldest of hearts. And if you say "ick no I've never watched 'Beverly Hills Bordello' and laughed mightily" then you are a liar and should be experiencing flames from the vicinity of your pantaloons.

FFUUUUUUUCCCCKKKK!!

PS--I hear Charles Barkley and I see Chris Webber! OMG my dad is gonna be so jealous! I love my life (this last post aside, of course).

Flashback Quote

I just erased a post. It was about a past sort-of, almost removal of underwear.

Have you ever looked back on a fake relationship and felt nostalgic, mortified, embarrassed, an anger that, left unchecked, could turn into hatred, and relieved to be "rid of that asshole" all at once?

It's been happening a lot lately. Please tell me I'm not the only one.

Gold Digger's Lament

I'm starting to think that money really does make the world go 'round. Was it supposed to be love? No, I'm pretty sure it's money.

There's just never enough of it. I'm not quite struggling by any means (I don't think), but sometimes it just seems like I'm supposed to have more money that I do. A lot of it has to do with my environment. For me, there's a lot attached to money and asking for it. I'm not going to get into it, but money problems have affected me way more that I let on. And the problem with that secrecy is that I can't keep up. I can't just ask my parents for money. What's more, I don't want to. That's the part people don't realize. I very well could just keep asking for Mom to put more money in my account, but again, for reasons I will skip over at this moment, I choose not to, unless I really, really need to. Contrary to popular belief, going out to dinner or a movie does not qualify as a "need."

What I'm inarticulately saying is, I'm not cheap by choice. I am, but I'm not. Things like guilt, memories, responsibility play a large part in the decisions I make when it comes to money. I just wish I could tell people that without telling them.

I guess I just did, huh?

Why I Cried

I cried today.

I cried because I'm tired. I cried because I'm hungry. I cried because I got into two "fights" with Sports Editor about not being able to do my job. I want to do my job well, so I cried because he thinks I can't. I cried because of course females cry when arguing with males in the workplace, right? I cried because females can't cry when arguing with males in the workplace. I cried because I have papers due. I cried because I'm not weak or incapable, I'm just busy. I cried because the only lady to ask me why I cried was the parking attendant. I cried because an old friend hugged me when he saw me cry. I cried because on my iPod, Lloyd cried that he wanted to "Treat U Good," and no one was there to treat me good. I cried because I was afraid of crying while driving on a dark freeway. I cried when I called my mother because she could tell that I was crying.

I cried today.

The Ice Cream Wasn't Even That Good

In my 19 years of living, I have lost many things. Money, my favorite gray sweatshirt, a new pair of jeans, a flatiron, my dignity, what have you. Some of these, thankfully, were found (the flatiron, sometimes the money), some still come and go (my dignity), and some are never to be found (that sweatshirt, those jeans, and yes, sometimes the money). Now I can add another "gone forever" thing to that list: my beloved Blackberry Curve.

That's right. My practically BRAND-NEW Blackberry with the adorable blue skin, is now sitting in the hands of some theiving asshole who must have scooped it up at the outdoor ice cream joint where I probably left it. As Cali Girl put it, "I hope whoever took it gets cancer from the phone's rays." This is why we are friends.

Firstly, it's my cell phone. My email. My lifeline. My instant connection to Dlisted. But aside from that, we all know how badly I wanted that phone. I worked lo-o-ong hours at VS, including two grueling graveyard shifts, to save up for it. And now my nicely laid-out plan to keep that phone until it turned to dust has been rudely thwarted by some jackass who will probably sell it because he is too lazy to find a respectable form of income and has to resort to stealing phones from innocently absent-minded college students. And I don't think I have insurance so you know the parentals were not pleased, to say the least.

My long day spent in high heels, tight jeans, 1,000-degree weather, and various annoyances was already going sour and I should have just gone home but I didn't. And now I'm phoneless. Maybe this is God's way of telling me not to be materialistic or to follow my instincts more often (if I'd listened to my gut and went straight home like I'd wanted to, this post would be upbeat twitter about my new semi-haircut).

Can I just say that yes I know it is just a phone and I may be exaggerating. But it was MY phone. MINE. That I helped PAY for. And also I am possessive.

Fare thee well, my little Blackberry. No, scratch that. Unless whoever took you turned you off for the night but intends on returning you to your rightful owner (ie, me) first thing in the morning, I hope you combust and explode violently in his or her very hands.

You know, in solidarity to me.

I'm Over It

Better get this one fast because my libations are painfully wearing off. And so come the gloves.

I'm embarrassed that the first thing I wanted to do was call you. Something I didn't have the courage to do sober. But all that did was make me sadder. I should have learned my lesson the last time.

You probably doesn't care about me. Frankly, you probably don't even think about me. And guess what? That fucking hurts. Don't get me wrong. I'm embarrassed that I think about you. I hate it. I hate it and I hate you. I don't care what anyone says about closure and moving on and not giving someone your time or emotion. As of now, I just about hate you. And it took numerous amounts of drink to allow me to admit it, but I really do hate you for what you did and how you made me feel. I hate that I'm hot, sleepy, half-drunk, sad, and alone. It doesn't make me weak or any less of a woman to say that I miss you and hate you at the same time. Because I do.

I have no faith in men. None at all. Any of them. Except for a choice few, most of whom are related to me.

Again, tomorrow if I come to my senses, I might take this post down. If you missed it, you didn't need to know.

Responsible Citizenry 101

I am in a bit of a pickle. A pickle that is a direct result of my own procrastination but that I really do need help in figuring out. It has to do with VOTING so you know it is serious and not just a garden-variety Lucky shenanigan. Although if you are hungering for one, I am slightly freaking out because of a diabolical hair-streaking mishap. But that is a story for another time.

Anyway, here is the situation. Don't be mad at me, but I have not yet registered to vote. Partly because of my own laziness and partly because the voting process confuses me. See, I want to register in Home State. But, during the election, I will be in Southern State. Why, you may ask, can't I just use an absentee ballot? That is a good question and I am glad that you are thinking ahead, but if I understand the law correctly (and there's a good chance I may not, so someone please correct me if necessary), it states that your first time voting must be done in the precinct in which you are registered.

It also doesn't help that I am leaving for Southern State in the wee hours of the morning so there isn't terribly much I can do in person unless my mom takes the reigns in my absence. So what do I do? Do I just bite the bullet and register in Southern State, even though I will only reside there for two more years? Register in Home State, defy the system and vote in Southern State with my absentee ballot when time comes? Register in Home State, show up in earnest, and use a provisional ballot? Anyone? Anyone at all? Please, some grownup who is smarter than me, give me a game plan.

Before this, I used to look down upon people who weren't registered to vote. My tender, naive sensibilities thought that only lazy, uninformed drones couldn't bother themselves to change the world, make a difference, and let their voices be heard! No more. I am still an idealistic hippie which is why I'm still trying to figure this out, but this shit is confusing. I guess I can understand why a lesser being would throw in the towel. It's not right, but it's okay.

Despite that, I think everyone who possibly can should try their best and register, especially us young and able-bodied folks. Because not only is this a historical election and I probably be rendered unworthy of a Black card if I don't vote, but also I because I really, really want to wear an "Obama is my Homeboy" t-shirt without feeling like a total sham and phony.

Merlin's Beard!

Yes, friends, another Harry Potter post is upon us. But, the news is bad this time around. According to the Daily Prophet (or, ok, New York Magazine), Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince will be pushed back from this Thanksgiving until July. As in 2009! That news was worthy of an Unforgivable Curse, and not "Avada Kedavra!" as much as "What the fuck!?" It's nothing pertaining to the actual movie, which is in post-production, but about the bottom line and Warner Brothers' need for a summer box-office smash. So, as big corporations are wont to do, they are using HP as a lifesaver. Boo. I totally couldn't wait for the movie, I was probably going to see it on Turkey Day, and now, nothing. Just hit me with a Stunning Spell, why dontcha?! (For S & G's, extra points to the fellow nerd who can leave the Stunning incantation in their comment).

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I bring forth good tidings to ye. You are now reading the writings of [Huge Sports TV Network's] newest fall intern! That enormously scary thing I had to do was a phone interview, and they offered me a position right on the spot, which I accepted right on said spot. It's funny, last year, I actually interviewed for the same position with a rather bored and snooty lady who subsequently turned me down. And now, with a scholarship and a personal recommendation from the director of the company under my belt, all I have to do is fill my name out correctly on the application *smirks*. This has been a good, no, fantabulous summer. Wowza.

Rest In Peace, Uncle Bernie

Last night, Middle Sister and I were talking about how Bernie Mac was the only funny comedian in The Kings of Comedy. I'd planned to watch it this evening. When I woke up this morning and checked my email, I found this:

Hollywood woke up this morning to the news that actor-comedian Bernie Mac has passed away due to complications from pneumonia. He was 50. (E! Online)

How badly does this suck? Bernie Mac was my favorite comedian. I quote him at least once a day. Fuck. The tears might come. He was kind of immortal to me, always around; even though he said he was retired he would always have a funny-ass cameo in some random movie (Charlie's Angels 2, Pride, Transformers). I'd come to love those cameos. I still watch reruns of The Bernie Mac Show. Below is the funniest clip from Kings of Comedy. Rest in peace, Mac Man.

More of the Same

How You Are In Love

You fall in love quickly and easily. And very often. You tend to give more than take in relationships. You tend to get very attached when you're with someone. You want to see your love all the time. You love your partner unconditionally and don't try to make them change. You stay in love for a long time, even if you aren't loved back. When you fall, you fall hard.

How Are You In Love?

Real quick, 'cause I'm on a mission.
-an 8th grade boy, Larry King, was killed after admitting he was gay. It was a hate crime; he was shot in the back of the head by a 14-year-old boy, who will be charged as an adult. King was bullied after he came out. My liberal heart hurts. Then it fills with anger that anti-gay sentiment and hate crimes are still going on.

-I had a dream that I was with people I cared about, trying to escape into London. Amy Winehouse was there, helping us out while trying to escape herself.

Sigh. I can't...I'm done. Tolerance, people, tolerance.