Friday, July 15, 2005

grand theft uh oh

Isn't this a funny headline?

Clinton seeks video game sex scene probe

Furthermore, doesn't that sound dirty?

It's an article on cnn.com about how Hilary is against the simulated sex in a version of "Grand Theft Auto: San Andres."

Now, I'm not really what you would call "a person who plays video games." Some might say that's because I don't have a "penis," but whatever. Grand Theft Auto is one of the few games I've actually played. It's been a few years, but as I recall, I just looked up the cheat codes online and cruised around the city in a golf cart hacking people to bits with a chainsaw. It's not like it's the Teletubbies giving you simulated sex here, it's an extremely violent video game. I'm pretty liberal in most arenas, but when politicians are suggesting legislation regarding video games, I'm thinking, certainly you have more important things to worry about, right?

Hang on, let's all take a moment to imagine a world where the Teletubbies give you simulated sex.

step off, muppet man

I was in a state of perpetual elation as soon as I purchased my ticket (online, 12 hrs in advance) for the 12:01am showing of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. (a movie I’ve been anticipating for three long years.) I arrived at the theatre an hour early to ensure prime seating and what happens? A large man with muppet-like hair sits right in front of me. (when there are plenty of other open seats available.)

Movie-going tip of the day
What to do if a large man with muppet-like hair sits right in front of you:
-If a large man with muppet-like hair sits right in front of you at the theatre, start a boisterous discussion with your friends about using a Twizzler to snort crushed up Adderall. Muppet hair man will move to a new seat.

Just as an aside: having a good chuckle at someone else’s expense is truly one of life’s simple treasures. And so is eating your roommate’s ice cream when she’s out of town.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

"Our little vixen didn't show up"

Well, news of the day: the "hot" intern is not coming back. She decided to call it quits after one day. Trust me, it wasn't because you could cut the sexual tension with a knife. It wasn't like that at all. I think it was more the lack of professionalism. For example, a good portion of today was spent playing rolly chair tug-of-war.

Later, my roommate gave me her daily, "I'm fat" speech.
(which obviously she isn't. For some reason that's just something girls say a lot.) So after my obligatory, "You're not fat" speech, she suggested we go to the grocery store to buy ice cream. Makes perfect sense, right?

tidbit #1: there exists a flavor of Ben &Jerry's called 'Dave Matthews Band Magic Brownies.’
tidbit #2: I purchased said flavor. and... I wouldn't recommend it. Always read the ice cream description very carefully before purchasing. You see, in spite of the fact that this flavor is called "magic brownies" the ice cream is vanilla rather than chocolate. Even worse, it contains absolutely no THC. False advertising, Ben & Jerry's. Looks like my dopamine levels will be stagnant tonight.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

why there is cheese on my wall

Coming to new york has been an introspective journey. I've learned so much I didn't know about myself. Like, if there's a guy handing out free stuff** on the street, and he's wearing a banana suit, I'll take whatever he's giving. It could be smallpox samples—I don’t care. He's wearing a banana suit for god's sake! How cool is that?

**Oh wow, I crumpled banana man’s flyer and stuffed it in my bag, but upon reexamining it, I see it’s a coupon for a FREE 10 oz “Brain Pep Shake.” (Which sounds about as good as a smallpox sample.) But hey, it’s got ginko baloba AND antioxidants, so I can’t go wrong. To redeem or not to redeem?

Right now my roommate is giving me the letters of scrambled words and having me unscramble them, because it helps her sleep. Just prior she threw a container of cream cheese at my wall in a fit of anger and now there are white globs stuck right above my bed. (What? The lights were out and I thought it would be funny to hand her a snack-sized container of cream cheese instead of the lip gloss she asked for. Who knew she’d chuck it at the wall?)

Monday, July 11, 2005

testing office boundaries the slumber party way

I took a carton of milk to work with me. As soon as I got into the office, I sat at my desk and poured myself a bowl of cereal. I was still in my pajamas.

You’d think that at a 5th avenue Manhattan office for a national publication, there’d be at least some degree of professionalism. You’d think that, but my sweatpants wearing and milk carton chugging beg to differ.

Granted, I received a few comments regarding my super hot “just-rolled-out-of-bed” hairstyle, but you can’t win ‘em all.

Should I feel weird that the editor & chief slipped me a ten to run him an errand in the meat packing district? Aren’t interns supposed to do that kind of stuff anyway? At least now I don’t have to admit I’m an unpaid intern. That’s a good three cents per hour for the whole summer. Who’s a baller now?

In case you were wondering about the hot new intern’s first day, it actually lacked in inappropriate remarks, except for when the president came into the office and upon being introduced the first and only thing he said to her was, “You look… tan."

Sunday, July 10, 2005

looking for interns with fair - excellent teeth

Here’s the deal: I’m an intern in new york city at a comedy magazine that seems like it’s on its way down the drain. The majority of my time at work last week was spent flinging rubber bands across the office. The company president came in on Friday and then we really got down to business… flinging more rubber bands across the office.

Sadly, I will no longer be the hottest intern. But that’s for the best. All anyone can talk about is what a “looker” the new intern is or how perfect her teeth are. She was described by one of my superiors as “the kind of girl I’d like to have sex with and then never see again.”

Monday is her first day. That should be interesting considering almost everyone in the office wants to hit that. I’ll let you know how it goes.

coming to terms with mortality [kiss-my-grits-style]

My suitemate’s fear of death is really irritating. I don’t want to hear anymore whiney phone conversations with such cliché lamentations as, “I don’t wanna die!” or the ever popular, “I’m too young to die!” Please.

It was a little funny when she stammered and called NY the biggest ‘terrorist attack place’ ever. Forget ‘the empire state,’ we’ve got a new slogan.

We were all a little antsy riding the subway the day of the London bombing, but as an average citizen, worrying about a terrorist attack does less good than worrying about elephants escaping the zoo and stampeding your house.

I know what you’re thinking. I’m just bitter because when I came to NY, I thought I would get to be the resident hick, being from Indiana and all. But the fearful suitemate is from Oklahoma. I can ride my tractor and chew on straw all I want. Doesn’t matter. She has me beaten, ten fold. Yeehaw.

the lessons I've learned from new york bar culture

Avoid hooking up with:
-way older business men
-your friend’s brother
-guys named ‘Ace’

my roommate is a hater

Is it a bad sign if my roommate blurts out, “Holy shit, I will kill you!”?

She’s from New Jersey, maybe that’s normal there. She was just hatin’ because I was singing the intro from the Stroke’s “I Can’t Win” in the form of “ding ding ding da da ding ding ding ding” over and over. Who wouldn’t like that?
I always knew she was drinking the Hater-Aid, but is it possible she’s also added Hater-totts to her daily regimen of anger-based nutrients?

Ok, now she’s singing that one song, “If you want my body and you think I’m sexy come on, Sugar, let me know…” etc. So I say, we’re even.

beating a preppy dead horse

Seeing one familiar face in nyc is weird enough, but an entire cluster of familiar faces is borderline surreal. Last night I was out with a group of people/alums from IU’s newspaper. It was great, but for a bar called Nevada Smiths, I sense they played a little too much destiny’s child.

Someone mentioned to me, “That guy over there in the red shirt was just checking you out, but he doesn’t have his collar popped.” He was kinda hot, but he was in fact wearing a polo shirt without the collar popped, so I was like- fuck him.

Looking back now, I’m thinking, “wait a minute, I blew off a hot guy who didn’t have his collar popped? Why did I do that?!” But A) I’d been drinking.

Dear hot guy in the red shirt,
If you’re reading this, I’m sorry I blew you off. I’m sure there are plenty of women out there who are willing to love you (or just randomly hookup) even with your collar down.
Love, Joanna

I think it’s sad that popped collars are still something you can make fun of after all this time. I also think it’s sad that the accepted term for this fashion faux paus is “popping.”

What if bouncers didn’t let people into bars or clubs if their collars were popped? I really wonder what the reaction would be. Would popped patrons just be belligerent or would they go someplace else or would some people actually put their collars down? Would it squelch the trend? One wonders.

And if you put your collar down and they find you again inside with your collar popped … oh my god, they throw you out onto the street.

Speaking of popping, I just want to take a moment to make fun of my roommate. Every single damn time the song “Drop It Like It’s Hot” comes on, she feels the need to change the lyrics to, “pop it like a squat.” She doesn’t just say it once though, ohhh no. Every time she says it. And she has to make sure I’m listening the entire time so I know just how clever she is. If this were six years ago, that might be remotely humorous, but no.