scheming is believing

let me preface this entry by stating for the record that i love my new job. i really do. i feel so fortunate to have found a position with a company that put it's employees first - a difference that is night and day compared to my last gig. don't get me wrong, rolling in the Sequoia was nice and all, but the dozen or so daily tirades weren't exactly worth the migraines and my no longer recreational vicodin addiction.

BUT (you all knew it was coming...) the one thing i can't stand is the fact that they have communal music blaring all day long. and i know what you're thinking - if the only thing i have to complain about is the music then i should shut the hell up, especially because i am a lover of (just about) all music. i'm talking Hot 92.3 Jams type shit ALL FUCKING DAY LONG, though. and if it's not Joe's "I Wanna Know"-esque type songs, KBIG 104/Kelly Clarkson and Beyonce ballads for eight consecutive hours. much to my displeasure/delight, i now know every word to "Irreplaceable". the first week was... ok. second week, eh, started nervously tapping my nails on the desk. and now... now i want to gouge my eyes out with a paper clip. i live/eat/breathe/sleep/sing these wretched songs day and night. the soundtrack to my dreams has shifted from Ben Gibbard singing sweet nothings while i frolick in a field of sunflowers to Ginuine screaming "ride it, my pony" as the masked killer from the Scream movies chases me into a Radio Shack.

i've spent the past four hours trying to come up with a way i could inconspicuously climb to the rafters of the building and disconnect the speaker system. i've pictured myself in an all camo outfit shimmying from beam to beam, snipping wires with the scissors that are conveniently located in my top desk drawer left and right. i then thought i should try and utilize my former Girl Scout archery training (yes, i was a Girl Scout) and shoot out each speaker individually from the comfort of my own desk. only problem is, i don't have a bow and arrow set, nor know where to get one that isn't plastic. and now that i think about it, i'm pretty sure i failed the archery patch...

shit. [sung] to the left, to the left. everything you own in a box to the left.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!

ok, this is probably the most useless information i've ever written in my blog, but i have to share it with you because i need a shoulder to cry on. and if i actually picked up the phone and called (you know, you. the one reading this shit.), you would undoubtedly laugh in my face. i'd rather you laugh behind my back (assuming i'm not sitting next to you when you read this.)

all day at work, i've randomly been playing games of Free Cell. i don't know if any of you are Free Cell geeks like i am, but if you click "File" then "Statistics", it will (obviously) show you your current win/loss stats. i was on a twelve game winning streak. T-W-E-L-V-E. that might not seem like a lot, but i dare you to shout "victory is mine!" twelve wins. consecutive wins, damn it.

i just lost. i hate you, thirteen. i hate you. unless of course thirteen is referring to Michael Cammalleri in which case i love you, thirteen. love, love, love you.

is it 6:00pm yet?

side note: i'm really into parenthesis today. who knew?

shameless plug

for those of you who are in the know or simply in the dark, i'm currently completing an internship with advice guru E. Jean Carroll. part of my first task is to help promote her new site, so without further ado...

ADVICE VIXENS!
check it before you wreck it.

and while you're at it, add the newly formed AV myspace to your ever growing list of myspace friends. AV on MYSPACE!

(and no, i'm not the one monitoring the myspace site so please don't post stupid comments specifically about me b/c it will actually in fact post directly to AV site)

ciao, bella.

i'm goin' down to South Park gonna have myself a time

i swear on the un-holy bible that the cabbie we hitched a ride with on Friday night believed that he was Eric Cartman from South Park.

at first, i thought it was a funny joke and that he'd drop the Cartman voice and weird South Park references; but after he called Nikki a redneck, and Katie a hippie and wished that he had some cheesy poofs for the ump-teenth time i about peed in my pants (skirt) due to uncontrollable laughter.

did i mention he drove like a maniac and there were multiple times i was sure the van was going to flip over?

luckily we got his card.

it's a sad, sick time

Kings fans, take a moment, let's bow our heads and mourn a great loss.

rarely do i write anything but cute anecdotes of drunken/high/silly times because let's face it - i give the people what they want. but for the sake of my father, my brother, myself and any other true blue we'll stand by you even when you're second to last in the entire NHL Kings fans, i feel this post is justified. not a sports fan? you can stop reading. i won't take it personally. not a hockey fan? definitely may want to stop reading.

you're still here? you like me. you really like me.

my heart has once again been ripped out of my chest and stomped upon by the Los Angeles Kings organization. it was announced yesterday that the Kings captain Mattias Norstrom was traded to Dallas for none other than Jaroslav Modry. Modry, who four short years ago the Kings said "fell short of expectations", which resulted in his own trade to Dallas. Modry, who was booed out off of his home ice by disgruntled Los Angeles fans (though i personally never had any real problem with him and firmly believe that you never, under any circumstances, boo your own team). Modry for Norstrom?

and don't get all technical with me and say that we also got two draft picks and Johan Fransson because really who the fuck is Johan Fransson? maybe he'll come here and do great things, but the bottom line is he will never fill the skates worn by El Capitan. never.

you couldn't get me a Chara or a Phaneuf? the loss of Matty would still sting, but at least i'd feel a little better. MODRY? i will never understand. at least Matty will have a chance with Dallas to do something, because unlike our depleting, disheveled bunch, Dave Tippett's team has the potential to go somewhere. i may become a Dallas fan...

so Dean Lombardi, you build your dream team of "youngsters" who will be future stars. after all, isn't that what the Kings have been doing all along? look what a super star Jamie Storr is... oh wait, he is now in the German Elite League. and Jared Aulin... don't get me wrong, he was a good looking kid, but what benefit was he after we got rid of Blake for him? if we're all about the young talent then where is Gleason? Corvo? Belanger? Avery? gone, gone, gone and gone.

for the first time in my life, i uttered the unspeakable. last night i told my dad "i hate the Kings". and i meant it...

linked by a semi-common thread

last Friday, Danielle and i dropped Nikki off at the airport and then proceeded directly to Penguin's for a delicious frozen treat. on the ride there, her scar from the outdoor heater incident* began to hurt. granted, i was a little stoned but i started laughing uncontrollably and told her she was the new Harry Potter and evil was near**. though i'm not even sure Dani is even a HP fan, she, too, began to laugh. and we giggled all the way through our frozen yogurt looking over our shoulders every once in a while to make sure an evil wizard wasn't watching us devour our dessert.

well, last night Katie wanted frozen yogurt, and naturally i couldn't say no. i, once again, had just smoked, and was patiently sitting at our dining table waiting for KDD to pick me up when i hear a noise. "Nikki, did you hear that?" of course she didn't. i hear it again. "hello," i frantically scream. "is some one here?" Nikki is now laughing at me. what can i say? i've become a paranoid stoner in my old age. Katie calls - she's out front - so i grab my purse and turn the corner to head down when i realize that THE FUCKING FRONT DOOR IS OPEN. no one came in or out of our house, but the god damn door is wide open. i become mildly hysterical. Nix tries to assure me that the serial killer, who isn't really there, won't kill me on my way to Katie's car because he does not, in fact, exist. i'm not so convinced. feeling that i will scare off any attacker, i scream "i'll cut you" over and over while running down the stairs until i jump into Katie's car.

looking back on both incidents, i've realized a few things...

1.) we need to find some thing more exciting to do on Friday nights.
2.) i have an incurable, embedded fear in my brain that evil is constantly lurking.
3.) we love frozen yogurt.


FOOTNOTES
* a few months ago, Danielle was walking our old roommate's dog and tied her to the giant outdoor heater that is in front of our building. she began to walk away, the dog thought she was going with and began to follow. long story short, D turned around with just enough time to see the top of the heater come crashing down on her face. ER visit, all that good stuff, but now a faint scar is all we have to remember the incident by.
** Harry Potter has a scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt which causes him excruciating pain whenever Lord Voldemort is near.

cell phones are the devil

i've come to the conclusion that i should no longer be allowed to enter The Whaler if i have my cell phone. neither should Nikki. the past few weeks we have been the drunk dialing/texting queens. not that we haven't had fun, and not that we've really done/said anything that terrible, but we've spent one too many mornings wondering "did i really say that?" and "i wonder if i actually spoke with (insert name here), or if i just left an obnoxiously drunk message..." it's gotten to the point where i thank baby Jesus that i have an unlimited text messaging plan.

last night Son came over and played a message he saved from last week after our Sharkeez fiasco, and i honestly thought i was going to die because i was laughing so hard that i couldn't breathe. the best part about it was earlier this week he told Nikki that she left the funniest message, and she was absolutely convinced that i was the one who called. but sure enough, it was her beautiful voice on Ricky's VM busting out Human League's "Don't You Want Me Baby", then transitioning into one of my own new personal favorites, "Jason Ricablanca Lives by the Sea" (sung to the tune of "Puff the Magic Dragon"). i only wish that she was home to hear it.

and then it's moments like that which lead me to believe that we should, in fact, keep on keepin' on. who would entertain the masses? who would bring smiles (possibly perplexed frowns) to our friends faces without a "get your ass to The Whaler or we'll hate you" call from us? how would you know that we were belligerently wasted if you didn't have record of a text message that we sent you? i may have just changed my own mind in the process of writing this entry. yup. i did. i'm pretty persuasive like that.

i say yes to drunk dialing. bring on the drunk texting. i for one don't want to live in a world with out "Jason Ricablanca Lives by the Sea". do you? i hope not...