Saturday, July 23, 2005

intern magazine

Since the "magazine" where I intern has a surplus of overqualified interns with nothing to do, we decided to start our own magazine.

Here's a sample of what's inside:
Page 1
Page 2
Page 3

I'll admit, there's no table of contents, no page numbers or folio or anything, but what can I say? I'm a lazy mothafucka. (in fact, one of my suitemates said I was the laziest person in the world just because I took a 6 hour nap. bitch.) and... as a staff, we put our content together over a period of maybe 15 - 20 minutes.

But the main flaw of this magazine is that it lacks the most important thing every magazine should have: a demographic. The only people who might want to read this would be the other people who work in the office, but that's only a slight maybe at best.

Friday, July 22, 2005

sleepy sleepy baby

I’m experiencing inner turmoil right now. You see, my roommate was supposed to be at work half an hour ago, but she’s in bed asleep. I don’t have to be at work for another two hours. Why am I awake you ask? Well, at 6 am, my roommate came home quite plastered. Her arrival probably would’ve woken me anyway, but she purposefully woke me up to tell me that I’m a beautiful girl who has a lot to offer the world.

I was slowly drifting back to sleep as she repeatedly mumbled to her friend that I’m “a beautiful girl who has a lot to offer the world.” Then she said, “here, eat some cheez-its” and I refused. She then gave me the sad drunken puppy look, so I ate one cheez it. Then she passed out, and I couldn’t fall back asleep to save my life.

Her alarm blared at 7 am but it did not rouse her. I said, “Liz, your alarm is going off,” and she said “OK” but did not move. I woke her up several times and asked, “Do you have work today?” She sleepily nodded yes and fell back asleep.

This is when the turmoil started. On the one hand, a decent human being would make sure their roommate didn’t sleep through work, but on the other hand, wouldn’t it be hilarious if my roommate slept through work?

On the one hand, she’s the star intern at her sector of Merill Lynch and it’s so excellent to see the mighty fall. But on the other hand, what would Jesus do?

On the one hand, it’s not my responsibility to mother her drunken ass, but on the other hand, I sort of like her.

I think we all know what Jesus would do.

But I didn’t do it. She just now ran out the door, an hour late for work, looking like hell.

the rest of the story
Last night I encountered my first diligent bouncer. It seems all the other bouncers in new york will look at an ID that is obviously expired and obviously not mine and let me in anyway. At this bar however, they actually measured me, discovered I am not 5’8 and sent me packing as my cohorts (aka roommate and friend) went on without me. (But I gave them my blessing, because I’m no wet blanket) Despite my desperate drunken phone pleas (where are you?! I’m so alone!) to my small bank of ny friends, I ended up just going home. It is my trademark to boycott taxi cabs and walk long distances by myself like an idiot, but even in a state of inebriation I knew 40 blocks wasn’t gonna cut it. So I sucked it up and did the taxi thing. Damn taxis, always driving people everywhere, the nerve.

Thursday, July 21, 2005


I have an excessive number of NYU “declining dollars” to spend. And Starbucks takes them. And I mean a real Starbucks, not one of those lame, fake Starbucks where the employees don’t even know the difference between a latte and a cappuccino. (imbeciles!)

I could take any of you jacktard friends of mine to Starbucks and buy you anything you want. Anything! Have you ever wanted to go buck wild at Starbucks? This is your chance. You could get a grande iced caramel machiatto and a venti java chip frapuccino and hell, even a biscotti and one of those fancy coffee mugs. But maybe you’re all just too school for cool. I guess staying in Indiana is fun, if you’re a jacktard.*

*I just wanted the opportunity to combine the word “retard” with “jackass.” Mission accomplished.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

talk about bad marketing

Dear young men selling m&m’s on the street to help raise money for your ‘basketball team,’

I’m not buying your m&m’s, not even if I wanted m&m’s. I don’t like making transactions on the sidewalk.

Second of all, if you grab my arm and demand that I take off my headphones, not only will I not be buying your m&m’s, I’ll be reaching for my pepper spray. If you really need money for a legit youth sports team, do what any smart team does. Get a strip club to sponsor you.

Love, Joanna

(I don’t actually carry pepper spray, but aggressive m&m vendors make me wish I did.. or maybe a hand gun.)

nice boxers?

A drunk guy just walked into my bedroom and took off his pants. He then introduced himself and shook my hand. (and I said, "nice to meet you," because I am cordial.)

He is my roommate’s ex boyfriend. I trust this can only get more amusing.

They’re in the living room right now and I hear dialogue such as: “I don’t know what to tell you. That’s a huge tattoo.”

Roomie occasionally comes back into the bedroom, frantically mouthing the words, “What the fuck! What do I do?” But all I can do is chuckle. (and shrug) If anyone should be asking, “What the fuck?” I think it's me. Though, I did already make the appropriate “wtf?” hand gesture/facial expression as said ex was taking off his pants.

Also, is it just me or has the moon been acting weird lately? Not just sort of weird, but really weird, like, the earth is about to be destroyed kind of weird.

I’ll keep you posted.

Monday, July 18, 2005

locking your door isn't trendy or cool

Checking my email is quite a blow to the self esteem. I received an email today with the subject heading "Weight loss for idiots." They're not just calling me fat, oh no, they're calling me a fat idiot. Add that to my mortgage rate sucking and my penis being too small and I start wonder, do I have any reason to live? Thanks a lot, email.

Now I'm going to try to get inside the head of one of my roommates so I can maybe understand her actions. She never ever locks the door. In fact, she leaves the door visibly open and gets irritated when I close it. On multiple occasions I have been woken up in the morning by strange men entering my bedroom, wondering A) if now was a good time for the exterminator to come in and B) why on earth was the door open?
So perhaps she is thinking:
"Taking a key with me is such an incredible hassle, to save myself the trouble, why not just leave the door standing open so anyone, at any time, can just walk right into my apartment and steal my shit and rape/kill my roommates? I am brilliant!"

Wow, that’s two posts in a row where I’ve used the word “penis.” What is up with that? Enjoy it while it lasts.