dammit

okay, so the last thing i wrote didn't work. trying again...

6 month hiatus

so i've been busy. i am, in actuality, a double agent. i have spent the last 6 months living in russia, posing as putin's personal shopper and learning secrets about explosives and vodka. haven't you noticed how good he's been looking lately?

and now i'm back. temporarily at least.

i just saw anal shook. popped across the country for a few days to visit some lovely fam and of course, anal. i couldn't have kept it a secret if i tried. she'd sniff me out immediately. we had very delicious sushi. unparalelled by any other. i love it so much i've eaten it for 3 days straight. unfortunately, the sushi around here doesn't quite hold a candle to good old sushi sam. whoever the hell sam is, he's damn good.

on my way to rodeo country, i breezed through chicago. they're not kidding when they call it the windy city. try lighting a cigarette. it was HELL i tell you. had a bit of a run in with airport security there. in essence, i was almost really really screwed. badly.

on my way home, we stopped but did not have to change planes. however, there was a wait and i wanted to walk around, use the loo, and pop out for a quick smoke. by my watch, i had about 45 minutes. i asked the ticket counter lady by the gate if i needed more than just a boarding pass and my ID. she said i'd be finD with that. so i went to find the door outside.

about a mile later, i made it. i joined the other smokees on some benches and was truly outside for about 10 minutes. then i pushed back inside. the first checkpoint really railed me. a sign requested a boarding pass and an ID, both of which i had. (mind you, this was not the x-ray security check...merely the check to see whether or not i was supposed to be on a plane anywhere in the airport)

so the teenage dropout doing the check looks at my pass (which was nothing more than a stub--they took the better part of it at the last airport) and says "you can't come in" by this time, it's 20 minutes before the plane leaves me behind in chicago. so i tell her that the lady BY THE GATE told me this would be finD and that i should, indeed, be allowed to go past this initial checkpoint.

girl: no, you can't come through. this isn't enough.
me: fuuuuuuck
girl: you need to go up to the ticket counter (upstairs) and get a new boarding pass
me: fuuuuuuck

so i ran upstairs and looked at the line. it was a long ass line. at this point i had 15 minutes to stand in a 30 minute line.

me: fuuuuuuck

after a minute or two, i could take it no longer. especially when an asian family of 6 pushed by me to join a lone asian directly in front of me. the line-time lengthened greatly. i could not afford (literally) to miss the flight, since it was the last one scheduled to washington that night.

me: fuuuuuuck

so i did what any smug person would do. i cut. i walked right up as the rest of the line cursed me, flipped them my longest finger, and got my new pass. note: the lady at the desk said the teenage lackeys downstairs didn't know what the hell they were talking about.

i was feeling extra smug with my new boarding pass. i knocked by some slowpokes on the escalator and marched up to the 10th grade dropout "security" girl. i informed her in my most polite (not really) voice that she was wrong and two experienced ticket agents had backed me up. i bit my tongue before screaming that heads would roll if i missed my flight. i would have been arrested. then i would have yelled "bomb." (how dare my elementary school teachers give me "needs improvement" marks on my report card for the "practices self control" section)

so i ended up having to knock a lot of people out of my way. i was v. busy and important. i had a mile to go and only ten minutes left before my plane left without me. lucky me, i had already used the ladies room.

i made it to the plane and settled in just in time--or so i thought. exactly, instead of leaving right then, we had to wait over an hour for a plane from los angeles to make it's way in so those passengers could get to washington with the rest of us. so much for being proud of myself for finally getting somewhere on time.

hope everyone had a nice 6 months. on that calendar, i'm due back again sometime in june. if i get a moment from my v. busy fancy life, i'll pop in sooner. this whole "college thing" is really putting a damper on my social life.

cheers all.

better late than never

now that i'm a baywatch babe (er...) i've been terribly busy and important at all times. even moreso than ever before. right...so i've been neglecting my pants and since i lead such an exciting existence, i had better damn well share it. but one thing at a time. i have some pictures from the party anal and i sweated over for so long.

once i had smoked myself silly, began ignoring anal shook who was as overbearing as ever, and had a pint to steady my nerves, i managed to have a lovely time. dinner went well, the limo was a total surprise, and the hotel was perfect for our purpose.

we went to dinner at clyde's and the blushing bride helped to down 4 bottles of wine. oh my. not a fan of red wine, i gave my glass to anal who happily double fisted. after dinner (where more than half the girls stumbled outside) we got into a "phat" limo. am not exactly sure what "phat" means or why am using that particular choice of words but think it fits in this case. it was brand new and stocked with champagne and other delights, thanks to an anxiety-filled trip anal and i took earlier to the local giant.

larry, our excellent driver, took us to some monuments where we cavorted wildly and posed in lewd ways as cameras flashed. then on to georgetown where we hooted out the windows (and anne, the girl with the best ass, showed it around our nation's capital. she is pictured below.) we took quick stops at different bars to grab shots and pimp the bride, who was wearing a shirt i had made for her. (i sewed on lots of lifesavers and ironed "suck for a buck" on the front.) the bride got some man to give her his underwear and i shamefacedly recall shaking my goods on a dance floor...empty of all but me. er...right, so.

the denouement involved going back to alexandria and spending time at the funnest (yes, funnest) pub around--murphy's. once in murphy's, amy (an obvious bride in her "suck for a buck" shirt and tiara with veil) and company took center stage and (from anal reported--i was in no mood to mind anything at that point) overshadowed, thus angering a group of homely young women sitting near us.

i even met a man in the bathroom, name of phil. he and his friends were there on business from england. his friends attempted to talk the bride out of the upcoming nuptials and u.k. phil gave me money for our drinks. good, says i. we were eventually herded out and arrived at the hotel just moments before the guest of honor passed out.

anal and i shared a bed and insists i was a "cuddly blonde rock." ick. with anyone but anal. (she feels the same.)

the evidence:


me
mother of the bride
anal
amy--bride

amy in her shirt and veil

me
amy (wearing underpants on head)

anne
anal w/undies
me

we have tons more...ask and ye shall receive.

cheers darlings.

why my dad kicks your ass

it's the wedding weekend and i'm at home. being at home for a long time can get messy but a long weekend is rather nice. unfortunately, being at home means that i don't have some of my own things at my disposal. i am v. appreciative of the private bathroom but problems can occur when seven people must share a computer. it seems everyone has a more important reason than anyone else to check email and be foolish.

just a short while ago i, too, felt like checking my email. only one thing stood in my way--DAD. dad works a lot and often late. he is v. busy and important. i never tell dad, but i love him. he kicks your dad's ass. dad enjoys fishing in his big-ass boat and his limited computer time, often in the wee hours of the morning.

see, dad is a fanatic of sorts. besides fishing, he is obsessed with snood. he is the only one i know that actually paid ten dollars to purchase the game. apparently it is no longer offered on a trial basis and when i left, i took the free snood with me. poor dad.

tonight, after anal vigorously rubbed my burned and horribly peeling back (for sex appeal purposes in my "look at me" dress) i decided to see what was going on outside my dinky town. for that, i needed the internet.

as i walked down the dimly lit hallway toward the computer room i saw dad's shadowy figure and the monitor aglow. dad was snoodling. "oi vei" i thought, "i must sweet talk dad into going away." we got to chatting about work while i alternately tossed in some insults about his game strategy, to which he said things like "shut up" and "go away." dad is funny like that.

so then he starts talking about some greek family that i apparently was supposed to know about. i did not. he seemed both shocked and pleased that mum had not already mentioned them and spoiled his delicious tale.

apparently the story begins with some greek family who own a (seedy) restaurant called "paradise." do not let the name fool you. it is located near the rt.17 truck stop (famous for its ugly prostitutes and their ungodly acts) the greeks came into dad's work to purchase a car. dad is the finance manager. like i said, he's terribly busy and important and NOT a sleazy car salesman, contrary to what "working at a car dealership" might lead one to believe. right...so.

dad mentioned that they had a lot of miles on their old car and greekman said proudly that his son was in college and did a lot of driving. friendly and curious, dad inquired where. greekman replied "NOVA in annandale." this is very far away from where greekfamily lives. dad merely commented that the woodbridge campus was much closer. "oh no!" greekman exclaimed, "that campus is where all the dummies go."

greekman would have done well for himself to keep his mouth closed. jovial dad was not in the least bit amused. he told greekman that that was a gross generalization and added that it would be similar to his saying that everyone in the restaurant business was just as stupid. then he asked greekman "are you an idiot?" greekman, fumbling to remove his foot from his mouth said no, he was not an idiot.

dad was not done. he then told greekman that his daughter (me, elizabeth) had gone to NOVA at woodbridge, graduated from tech, and was now in grad school. dad concluded with "that dummy seems to have done pretty well for herself." yay "defending-my-honor" dad! greekfamily was speechless. uppity sleazy shabby restaurant owning pricks, the lot of them.

dad told them if they wanted their car they needed to fill out the paperwork and be quick about it--it made no difference to him. silently, greekman signed his long "opolous" name in the appropriate spaces and scooted away, tail between his legs, shamed family trailing behind. dad can be a looming, scary dad when need be.

he added to me that he would have liked to "bitch slap" the man. i have never been bitch slapped by dad--just regular slaps--but i would imagine a bitch slap would hurt just as much. dad is a man's man and strong as 10 oxen. dad's strong hand has taken its toll on my rear end numerous times in the past and it's no fun. i don't imagine greekman would have enjoyed it much either.

cheers to dad!

my elbow

written 9 or 10 years ago by myself and an old friend called chirt. we were at my grandparent's house in ocean city getting chased by handsome british boys who let us ride all the rides on the boardwalk free. chirt got her first kiss by some guy with bad breath. i got nothing but the free rides. i had already been kissed.

my elbow is my friend because
he’s there when i need him most
he’s with me now and always was
he’s the only appendage of which i care to boast

he makes me smile instead of frown
and he is always here
i love to have him “hang around”
with him i need not fear

he protects me from the bad guys
and packs a hefty punch
for an elbow he is truly wise
he helps me out a bunch

he helps me with my homework
he lends a “helping hand”
he even helps me at the beach
to build castles in the sand

i wondered if elbow was always quiet
as noiseless as he seemed
one day i thought i’d try it
so i smashed him into a splintery beam
(he didn’t say a word—i screamed)

elbow was out of commission
useless for quite awhile
the scab was festering and oozing pus
yet elbow took it with a wrinkly smile

my elbow is still my buddy
for he’s got a funny bone
he chuckles when i get him muddy
and never sulks alone

he still helps me catch a frisbee
he still helps me throw a ball
i am positive that without him
i wouldn’t have an arm at all

the end.

i'm going home right from work tomorrow. my darling is with hanni until sunday. when hanni went way for spring break, i watched her fish. unfortunately, he passed on during that week. pray that she doesn't take this opportunity to seek revenge through beautyclee...ha.

note: pray i keep my sanity over the next few days...anal arrives in DC wednesday night. oh my.

cheers.

not to be missed

i was talking to ricky and aaron tonight and somehow the subject of bec came up. bec is nuts. v. nuts. she and ricky were originally best friends and roommates. after the infamous halloween party where aaron was introduced to ricky, bec became insanely jealous...and dangerous.

side note: aaron and i were dressed in ladybug costumes i made for us. ricky was a hunter (riiight) and bec (who, surprisingly looked female) was dressed as a dominatrix in a low-cut pleather dress, red wig, and carried a whip. her enormous boobs continued to fall out of said dress all night.


the happy couple: dick (with glasses) and ron

this was the only picture i was allowed to use. aaron said if i used any other (in which he felt he might not look as cute) i could expect to take it up with him on judge judy. so fickle...

sooo...bec also used to be a friend of mine until she tried to be intimate with me--at aforementioned halloween party--a scene straight from an after-school special. her advances were not well received despite dress, wig, and scary whip.

subsequently, she took to threatening our lives in hilarious ways and computer-whiz ricky (and published author) documented it all for our enjoyment. indeed, it is not to be missed.

now if i may divert your attention here...

even if you don't have the time to go through everything, "the letter" is a must. take care to note bec's undocumented biblical quotations and remember...this is REAL.

begin reading...NOW.

when she finally moved out of the apartment and her attempts to woo the head of judicial affairs fell through, she transferred. consequently, we're sleeping more soundly.

cheers darlings.

a real kick in the head...

please start from the beginning. when you get to the end, stop.

go here.

make yourself. c'mon, just do it.

send to friends and loved ones.

send to me even if we're not in love...or even friends.

if it makes you feel any better, i've already done it and enlisted outside help.

smug elle (and cleo beautycat) anal will smoo hanni

we're JUST about as attractive as they come. i'll spill a little secret...i even made one of professor hotpants. yes. i did. terrible, i know. right. so...t'sall for now.

cheers loves!

deja vu


the missionaries were on the prowl again.



if they drop by, i will be ready for them with this.


cheers.

ew

i saw some missionaries last night in front of tacobell. i spotted them from afar in their white collared shirts and black slacks, carrying backpacks filled with...the word of God? i think not. although i tried to hit them with my car, my attempt failed. filled with disappointment, i reminded myself there is always a next time.

maybe it's the fact that every mormon family has too many kids and the same enormous framed drawing of jesus mixed in with the rest of the family photos on the wall that weirds me out. i've been in a lot of mormon homes. lots. it's always the same thing. "this is uncle mike and aunt shirley, that's little andy's first day of school, that's jesus..."

maybe it's the sacred underwear. yes, sacred underwear. i couldn't believe it when i first heard about it. i was at MORMON SUMMER CAMP. gross, right? i only went because i was "best" friends with the bald girl. i could think of a longer name incorporating her dandruff and hair oil problem but since she will also be bald in the next 15 years, "the bald girl" works for me.

at the time we really were very good friends. i overlooked her hair woes and she told me how big my ass was. i drank beer, coffee, soda, said "damn shit" to upset her, and played gin with face cards. she tried to convert me and said if there was a hell, i would be in it. i went to her scary church and played for their scary basketball team. i also got roped into going to that shitty camp with her.

our "counselor" was (no joke) about two years older than we were...and married to some missionary that had just come back from brainwashing hmong farmers in laos or something like that. she thought she was really cool because she was having sex and we weren't. good for her. and so i learned about the sacred underwear.

i forget why the sacred underwear is worn, but i do know that they are kind of like little white tank tops and boxer briefs and have to be the first thing that touches the skin. they might have different styles but since they are sacred and thus "secret" i am not privy to that information. the thing that really disturbed me was that if you wanted to wear, say, a BRA, it had to be worn OVER the secret sacred underwear. girls, does this sound comfortable? mmm...

my own underwear is not quite so secret. i shudder to think what they would do if they knew i sometimes fold my laundry with a clean pair of underpants perched on my head like a jaunty beret. right...so.

i'm just not into the LDS. the bald girl tried for 8 years to convert me. even when she moved to arizona after high school we kept in touch. we wrote, called, visited, and she sent missionaries to my parents house...multiple times. they weren't pleased. she even tried to convert my boyfriend of 2 years.

i guess her persistence finally paid off. he converted and they got married last year.

hmm.

my pants

something to share:

the picture of pants next to the title was stolen from the gap online. they are indeed elliepants as the official name is the "ellie patch pocket pant." they are also ellie's pants because i have a pair. in fact, i was pleased to note that there is a giant "ellie" on the tag. what fun!

in other news, i got a job. yesterday during a bout of boredom from too much lounge-time, i thought i might run out quickly to get a job. and so i did. hurrah!

i also found my perfect post graduation job. unfortunately, it has nothing to do with either degree. pushing that aside however, my new career list begins with "dolphin trainer" at the very top. i can a) be near the ocean b) be tan (though freckled is more likely) and c) wear a bathing suit all day (and be in my most natural state, as i refused underwearpants until the 6th grade...yes, i realize how ridiculous that is.) moving on...

during this past week i have watched too much television, read 5 books, and (other than the "running out to get a job" thing) worn pajamas almost exclusively. when alone, i have also begun to fancy myself an enormously popular singer. in truth this is not possible, as i often sound rather like a very off-key cher. i may choose not to pursue a public singing career. mmm...damn.

the end.

cheers to being a closet rockstar.

ellie's pants revamped

this is an exciting night. thanks to help from hanni, my pants have been given a total overhaul for the better. no more shitty orange, teal, and lime. hurrah!

i even learned how to put in pictures, as you can see from the lovely image below of my darling girl cleo. i thought the first official photo should be of sweet clee since she's wonderful and obviously has lots of stripes.



am huge computer science dorkass tonight and loving it. oooh...maybe one day i will figure out how to use those faggy little animated mood icons.

cheers to that!

smug married...who wants to be one anyway?

apparently a lot of people. it's that time of year again...wedding season. in two weeks i will return to the ever lovely stafford, virginia to reunite with smoo williams and anal shook. although i've long speculated that they are quietly in love, they are not the happy couple soon to be smug marrieds. the bride is our ass-kicking friend amy and her groom is a different andrew (not smoo), a crime fighting republican who peed on the "welcome to arkansas" sign. i know...there were photos.

anal and smoo will be staying at my parents house and mum has agreed to let me stay there as well. hurrah! smoo has referred to our reunion as a long weekend full of "frivolity and merriment." i'm just hoping to go skinny dipping in our pool.

i am also dateless. gaah! my expected date has bailed on me. in fact, he bailed five minutes after i sealed the rsvp envelope that enclosed my reply of "2". shortly thereafter, i made it my mission to find myself a very good (and attractive) replacement date. however, since talking to anal about it, i have changed my mind. dateless is best.

i will now be (according to anal) the "mysterious single girl." anal swears there is one at every wedding. from what i understand, the "mysterious single girl" has just a few duties at a wedding. those must include, but are not limited to, being alone and being beautiful. since i obviously have those covered, i am free to explore other territories that accompany said requirements.

i can choose from a range of options comprising:
being witty and/or charming
being flirtatious
being aloof and unmeasurably sexy
being fall-down funny
being drunk

i am a chronic procrastinator and prefer to wait until june 1st to decide my role. play it by ear, if you will.

all said, it should be fun.

too smart for my own pants

catchy, isn't it? so i finished my last real "class" of the semester today. yes, and on READING day. subsequently, i neither read nor studied. i had my exam this evening during our class, you see. didn't even study. never cracked a stinking book. it was cake. CAKE, i tell you.

actually, we weren't supposed to study, so i'm not really that dumb...or smart. i feel i must talk about that class. i have a little group in there. i guess you would call us a clique. we didn't start out like that. we just happened to sign up for the same group. love at first sight. my group kicks a lot of ass. lots. if you knew them, you would be jealous of me forever and ever. our ashes are going to be buried in an artificial reef together when we die. there's room for four in the same reef. me, cleo beautycat, gus, and wendy. the latter two comprise the rest of said group. (see eternal reefs if you, too, are interested in being an ocean dweller for all eternity) i think wendy might be allergic to sweetclee but i doubt that will matter much when we're dead.

i love my group. we may just be the f-ing smartest people in the world--or at least in our class--but probably in our major at least.

gus:
married to nice wife. two nice kids...and some of you may know that kids make me nervous. his son is v. cute and blonde and isn't even all that scared of me. hurrah! mayhaps he'll marry my daughter...if i have one, and all. is hilarious and also nuts. runs marathons (nuts, like i said.) sometimes he lets the f-word slip. apparently he also calls people "jackass" when he drives and got caught when little sam came home to his mum and called someone a jackass. i love it! if i were to have a comedic marathon-running older brother, gus would be at the top of the list. here's the real kicker--he says "dammit" too. bliss.

wendy:
the missing piece of the puzzle. this girl not only grows wheat and barley while getting tan at the greenhouse, she is left-handed and has a HARLEY...complete with a leather HD jacket and leather chaps! does it get any better than this? i think not. our professor also has somewhat of a crush on her because she is hot and has special motorcycle halter tops for summer. (i'm betting the chaps factored in there somewhere as well.) she even goes to bike rallies and shit. o yes, it's true.

i really lucked out. i could have been in a group with a v. bad lady in class. we'll call her "julie." hell, why not? it IS her name, after all. ms. julie is whack. i don't believe i've ever used the word "whack" before but i'm feeling a little long island tonight. (love you ma!) she has enormous hair. bigger than some hair we've discussed in the past as being enormous. there is SO much of it.

i know i'm going to hell for this but i can't help it. it's v. long hair. she is rather on the old side too. not overly old but i think she's got a MINIMUM of ten years on me. long, brown, totally frizzed out. commonly seen in a low messy ponytail and a cushioned headband. it's a bad scene. she is a devil of sorts. no personality. none. humor? HA! a joke.

she loves to correct other people's spelling. publicly. she loves to look at our grades (which, to date have been nothing less than perfect. no horseshit.) i think this upsets her. really gets her stretch stirrup pants in a bunch. there's one little catch though...

she is in love with gus.

she started out hating him because sam was talking during mass once...and then he stepped on her cheap shoe during class. she was none too kind in her words. lately though, things have taken a turn in old jules' feelings for our dear gus (augustus! aren't germans neat?) i am inclined to suspect her budding love for him began around the time the entire class realized how lost we would all be without him. it's a bandwagon thing.

now she constantly talks to "the group" when we are obviously trying to be exclusive. at our barbeque last week, we grabbed the prime table and she was right there to join a lovely discussion that may have centered around our disenchantment with her. subject changed at her arrival.

today, our last meeting, was a good one though. it has been raining v. hard today. am thinking ahead and have decided to build an arc. just for the group, you know. right, so. another girl in class made a remark about it raining and having to share an umbrella with our hero of the hour, although she didn't call him that. (am just trying to be dramatic. no dramatic reading is complete without some drama.) anyway, julie jumped right in with the most inappropriate of comments. something about "umbrella" being a code word for a condom. nobody laughed.

despite the fact that this man is happily married with a lovely family, julie the lunatic is worried (and jealous!) that he may be having an affair with some random classmate of ours. ugh. wendy thinks that she might try to follow us to the bottom of the ocean...for all eternity. we are disgusted by this prospect.

cheers for the best group i know

all unicorns are white, yes?

i was attempting to study with jen provolone last night. mostly we just smoked and talked about a certain bitch who's forehead is so enormous, we think she rents it out on weekends as a movie screen. mmm...so studying.

provolone was also complaining about her philosophy class which, strangely, also doubles as a math class. what??? yes. she said she was going to fail and it was going to be a mess and then i saw why. here are some sample "mathosophy" problems:

analytically true or analytically false

1. all unicorns are white
2. no unicorns are white
3. some unicorns are white
4. some unicorns are not white

you think i'm joking? make sense of this:

john isn't not coming. if john is coming, sally will be unhappy. either sally will be unhappy or it will snow. HUH?

riiight. so there's more. this is a replication of what is called a "truth tree." i don't know what it means and neither does provolone but dammit! she has to solve it.

P Q (~R=S) ~F T R W
( (Q~~P)
(Y W R Y) ~ U P O E
~P Y D S (~P ~Q)
(V B) ~P ~R T G H
Y E W N V C ~
(~W W ~R) Y=~T

doesn't it look fun?

it's no wonder the suicide rate jumps 1000% during exam time...

mathosophy/philematics class blows goats. thank you very much.

cheers.

how many bollos employees can you fit in a one room apartment?

surprisingly, all of them. i went to a party by request this weekend. the first time in a long time i have left the comfort of my pajamas. it was a fashion show of sorts. a girl i know makes clothes and had a party/show. hanni was a model and looked very trampy, much to our delight. lovely turnout, lovely to see everyone. dick, ron, non-judgemental katie, abused josh, will, laRAsex, larry the famous jew, and even SORM (son of richard marx) scooched in to say hi. i'd say it was "fabulous" but it might be cause to vomit.

right, so there was some weird stuff going on and i'm fairly certain that bollos employees were behind it all. first of all, there were fruits and vegetables for guests to eat. yes...fruits and vegetables. they were V. delish and i didn't exactly expect meatlover's pizza...

the bitches were there. the graphic design minions. the terrors of kinkos. veronica...and brian! (inser terrifying horror music) these two are evil. i am still working up the balls to ask that square faced devil if kinkos sells paper. him, i've talked to...tried to. tried to be nice to that asscrack during RA training two years ago when i felt sorry for him for being supergay and ostracized by his macho co-workers in the biggest all-male dorm on the east coast, once featured in playboy as a top place to lose the big one. the kid was wearing rainbow sandals and carried a purse! so he was a shit to me and i've never forgotten it. (actually, i did until i saw him at the partyshow and realized who he was at last) right-o. he quit anyway. most likely couldn't handle the shoe criticism. too bad he didn't have ME for a friend...his loss. he made a deal with teenybangs satan square face already. onward!

so then this crazy strawberry blonde was the star of the show. she was wearing a very skimpy dress and obviously nothing else. her flailing around was very nerve wracking, as we were sure at any moment, the dress would fly right off or spontaneously combust. she appeared several times to become intimate with the wall. she circled the room, pointing at each of us for a moment. v. dramatic. then she circled the room again and put carrot sticks in our mouths. unbelievable. she danced with me. she danced with hanni. she made out with her boyfriend. she ran into the low-hanging light. she collapsed on the floor...spent.

cheers to aaron for bringing the digital camera...

cheers to josh for posing as a CT photographer and capturing the excitement...

cheers to me for getting that very dirty bare-foot shot as we all stepped over her prostrate form on our way out...

cheers to that girl for unwittingly entertaining us all...

i AM nancy drew

this is dedicated to slimey people...

dear scum,
please do not think i am fooled by your pitiful attempts to be sneaky, for i AM nancy drew and i am FAR sneakier. you are dense...and very lucky we are not on survivor because i can outsmart, outlast, and outplay you. that may not be the real survivor motto (i stopped watching after survivor outback) but it doesn't matter. i am still doing all of those things. i am not impressed by your manicured toes, pedophilia, or fancy pants car. your not-so-subtle tricks aren't working and i am laughing at you. ha HA! see?

as ricky's violent and crazy lesbian ex-roommate would say, "god has numbered the days of your reign and brought them to an end--the bible." thankfully she's not here to say it though because she is REALLY screwy. nuts. out of her mind. d) all of the above. i just thought that would be fun to put in. thought you might appreciate the drama of it all. i know ron and dick will. (hi girls!)

riiight. so. i was born at night...but not LAST night. just a heads up there, scummy--i'm too good for you. i am nancy drew.

in other news, my toes are REALLY hurty tonight. even the toe rub i got from my ecuadorian manservant didn't do the trick. maybe i'll have to write a letter to my toes next.
it will start: dear TOES...


cheers from ellie and her sore feets and toes

stories from anal shook

i must discuss my friend, the infamous anal shook. anal is anal. V. anal. she loves money and clothes and rides around all day long in what aaron describes as "the business mobile." she puts everything in her planner. everything. she's the best...and the worst. she's great...and terrible. i just love and hate her. hurrah for anal shook!

so i just got off the phone with good old anal. she had a fascinatingly disgusting story to tell. yesterday, or mayhaps the day before (i pretend i'm fully listening to anal. i'm usually also a) sleeping or b) painting my beauty toes) right, so. anal was driving around in the business mobile. she was probably also wearing a very showy name brand charcoal gray suit too. with expensively tasteful v. low shoes. anal wears low shoes because she is 7ft tall. no, not really. she's only 6ft3 (although she will only attest to 6ft1 and it is a big fat lie--love you anal!)

so anal was being extremely businesslike as always. and in a hurry too. anal is never lazy like me--i prefer to call it "laid back." right...back to the business mobile! anal was tooling around fort worth trying to sell paper to big fancy companies that appreciate her fancy planner and shoes. her job is more important than that but for the sake of this story we will just call her a paper salesman.

anal called another paper hocker who was driving around in HER fancy business mobile and they decided to meet for lunch. i like to imagine the phone call as going something like this:

anal: hi, it's me. i'm very busy and important but i need to eat. where are you?
girl: i'm in pottery barn buying myself something upscale. where are you?
anal: this is a good day for you. as luck would have it, i am also in pottery barn making enormous purchases with my platinum visa. let's eat.

nibbling on salads at chic-fil-a (important business people ONLY eat salads and drink water with lemon) anal noticed a very gross man seated behind her business associate. he was alone, looked creepy and was NOT eating a very businessy lunch. anal and girl were getting situated when our heroine anal accidentally dropped her knife and fork onto the floor. since it was still in the plastic packaging anal made a quick-thinking business decision to pick it up continue on with her lunch.

this is the disgusting part.

as anal bent down to retrieve her knife and fork, she glanced up and had a clear view of the creepy man's lower half under the table. he was wearing shorts. teeny nylon shorts. and nothing else. he was scooted to the end of his chair while he ate and his junk was right there for anal to see. anal is no pervert though and did not behave at all like i would have. she gasped but sat up and continued her lunch, never mentioning it to her lunch date, although she explains later that the situation did indeed ruin her dining experience. v. professional of her. i, on the other hand would have been cracking up, crying, making a huge laughing scene.

i guess that's why anal has her fancy business life and i'm still in college and wear pajamas every day. hurrah to anal and our love/hate relationship.

cheers!

open! positions in hell. now hiring...

hurry hurry, positions fill quickly for coveted spots at team demon!

imagine yourself slaving over a firey hot stove, being yelled at for no good reason, and being degraded daily. sound good? the fun doesn't stop there...

not even tide mountain spring will be able to rid your uncomfortable uniform of the odor of rancid meat. your once-perfect skin will redden, blister, and scar following exposure to frothy, bubbling kettles of boiling greasewater and thick, burning sauces that splatter and stick to tender pink flesh. it doesn't get any better than this!


work for:

a very fat man with bad grammar, no social skills, and an abnormally tall, ridiculous-looking hat. make sure to cook extra because he's going to eat half of it!

an up-and-coming ASSCRACK who's thin but boasts scary love handles reminiscent of potato sacks. this jackass will scream hateful curses in your face and insult you in multiple other ways in under ten minutes!

asscrack's closeted sidekick. blackened teeth-nubs and a balding head won't stop THIS twenty-something from "tearing you a new one" when he gets bored forming soy poultry nuggets.

so what are you waiting for? opportunity is knocking. be sure to answer that door.

wednesday is my friday so hurrah for that.

cheers all.

holy holy--meet smug ellie

hi. ellie/va. smug. "often angry" according to friend/roommate hanni. i really don't feel quite as angry as i have been portrayed as. have decided that "occasionally indignant" is a better way to phrase my disposition, although i am v. fond of the color red--traditionally associated with firey anger. apparently it's also the color of love and passion but i currently have the time for neither of those...oi vei.

i did make time to be a very naughty girl at mass today. i couldn't help it. i felt like i was in new york again--age five with my cousin james on easter sunday. holy sh*t. we were sooo bad. at one point my gram washed my mouth out with soap because i said "poo" too much. so today this deacon was just chatting away about chairs and their innate "chairness" and how they can also be weapons. it was actually a very good and sensible homily but i couldn't stop looking at the priest, who at 6:30 had already done this routine at least twice and was probably about to lose his poor holy mind. anyhoo...he was sitting up there on his little throne looking as if at ANY moment he would burst out laughing hysterically. he has reddish hair and very light skin so i could clearly see his face turning hot pink.

right...i had no idea what he thought was so funny but i found that V. funny and started feeling the giggles too. THEN he bit his lip and looked down, playing with his robe. this poor guy was doing anything he could to not laugh but his solemn "in prayer" pose didn't fool me. his shoulders were shaking a teeny bit too. i, of course, thought this was just hilarious. i was CRACKING UP but i couldn't make any noise! i suspect the surrounding churchgoers thought i was either v. moved by the deacon's homily or simply insane due to the river of tears that were pouring out of my eyes and down my cheeks. i was shaking uncontrollably (though not in manner of a seizure) and i swear i almost wet my pants. i couldn't look up or i would have exploded, causing a scene, embarassment, and most likely lots of disrespect to the cause. i almost left. so bad! everything was hilariously funny. hell, i'm laughing right now.

eventually i had to think of awful things like death of loved ones, etc. to finally get myself under control...and even that took a bit of time. sorry, loved ones. the rest of the service passed quietly, although the lady next to me would not hold my hand during the "our father" or give me a sign of peace. mmm--jerk. after all that secret laughing, i was rather exhausted and had no more strength left to continue naughty reign of terror like making spitballs or crawling around under all the pews. i was V. misbehaved. what fun!

note: have actually done aforementioned activities in a house of God

is nice to be back.
cheers!