December 2011
17 posts
things I find myself explaining time and time...
Basic Math
finding 10%, 15%, 18% and percent change shit.
The Keeper
over half of my college friends swear by this — my midwestern friends vomit at the thought and some of those think I’ve made it up with my own perverted mind.
white gravy and fried okra
seems to be a southern thing with overflow into the midwest
Arkansas
aka AR (not AK). aka a former state of the...
things I keep myself from posting on facebook
“Twilight blows.”
“Wow, you people sure are racist/homophobic/ignorant/morally repugnant.”
Tim Tebow related hate speech.
“People actually like Mizzou?”
Criticism of those who have only lived in one state with a population 1/4 the size of NYC.
Details of my pedestrian restaurant gig.
Anything sexy.
Jokes about “courting” (and also the...
on thriftiness
I felt a tad guilty for dropping $10 on yet another purse when I swung by the thrift store before work this morning. But it was biggish and pretty and embroidered plenty for my carpetbag loving soul. I felt much, much better about my purchase once I transferred my shit inside and discovered a $245 price tag from another place. It clearly identifies the purse as the item, but the purse is missing a...
mathtarded
Coworker 1: Hey Regan, do you know if you can get advances on tax returns like at HR Block or something. Me: Actually, I just read something about that* last week. You can, but they take like 10% out of it or something. Coworker 1: 10%?? That’s outrageous! Me: Well… Coworker 2: It’s not that much, it’s like, say you get $1200, they only take $120, $800 they take $80....
changes
I am strongly considering moving my bed to the tiny ass second bedroom and turning the larger room with French doors into an office type space. Also, my dad wants me to simply carpet the second bedroom and I’m growing giddy at the freedom to pick-out any type of carpet. ANY. I don’t even know which types of carpets exist beyond the whites and tans. EEEeee!
New York Times: "Pig," a Play, Roasts the... →
coldplums:
leilacohanmiccio:
pigatumblrforpigarestaurant:
Oh, hey, NBD, just a feature on Diner’s Journal.
At a performance of “Pig: A Restaurant” at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater in Chelsea on Wednesday night, a deranged celebrity chef unveiled a drink list featuring “bacon-infused bourbon” and “pork cheek bitters.” A locavore praised the taste of edible weeds picked along the ...
“I suggest that we continue to go out and see what happens. Needless to say, I...”
– from some douche who I can’t help get the feeling that I’ve dated a time or two.
on exhaustion
I’m not sure if it is the three hours of sleep I had last night, the eleven hour restaurant shift with one tiny break, or the fact that I had to explain, in grave detail, the basic restrictions regarding that new planet discovery thing to coworkers who were excited that we would live on another planet in our lifetime.
“Well, it’s 600 light years away. Light years. It means the...
fantasy update
So, my childhood neighbor is now managing my fantasy football team for me. I changed my password, so now the man friend will be mad when he wakes up and I have a new defense, top kicker, and he no longer has access to my account. I play him next in the first round of playoffs and my God I want to beat him SO BADLY
Really, it’s healthy revenge, seeing as I won’t make any money off of...
Thanks, Danielle! That is all I know to start with, so I suppose I just need to research-up and keep an eye out for changes in projections. My opponent just got laid off, so sadly he has too much time on his hands to devote to this.
And sadly it took me over fifteen minutes just to figure out how to change my password on ESPN.com.
on control
So this is going to piss a few of you off, but my man friend was managing my fantasy football team. Not because I’m a cheater, mind you, but because I could give two shits about professional football and because he twisted my arm into playing in his league. We didn’t do any creepy colluding and we both made the playoffs, so there was no intentional weakening of teams, etc etc.
...
if my life were a romantic comedy
I should be meeting my Mr. Right right about now. Long slew of assholes date awesome girl and then she meets the right guy. Right? RIGHT? Don’t fail me now, sick stories brought to you by American consumerism.
P.S. I don’t know how to change my relationship status on facebook. Le sigh.
on konfusion
My mother sent me a half dozen US Weekly magazines about the Kardashians. I told her repeatedly over our Thanksgiving roadtrip that I had no interest in the Kardashians, rarely watched reality-TV, and how creepy I find it to care about strangers in such a petty way.
So…