Your Councillors

This site my dad (who, it should be said, vehemently denies my previous implications that he was in attendance at Naked Karaoke night) recently sent me a link to always cracks me up. It appears that the Extremely Silly Party has won the majority in the government of the London Borough of Harrow. It's just good to see an example of democracy in action.

Your Councillors.


Hell Hath No Fury

Above: Me and a douchebag. Now with identity-protecting black bar over his eyes!

Hey, everyone. How were your Valentine's Days? That's great. Let me tell you about mine:

I just had this whole week off to do whatever I wanted. This quickly got boring, and by Monday morning, I was wandering aimlessly about the interweb, looking for something to keep me entertained. Then I remembered that I hadn't checked out The Guy I've Been Seeing's LiveJournal in a while, and I hadn't checked out his "friends-only" protected entries in even longer than that. So I signed into LiveJournal (I do not have an LJ, I only made the account to see The Guy I've Been Seeing's protected entries, at his suggestion) and checked it out. And that's when I saw an entry about how TGIBS loves his new webcam because it lets him talk to "hot chicks" online. Especially this one hot chick in particular, whose face he loves to see on his computer screen. I was immediately able to rule out all possibilities of this being competely innocent, since TGIBS has no sisters and he hates his mother.

And then I found the LJ of the hot chick. After wading through several trivial entries about her thrilling life of dropping out of college to live with her parents and work part-time at the mall, I found some things about a guy with the same name as TGIBS whose webcam smile makes her "all giddy happy for the rest of the day" and she loves it when he plays his guitar for her (probably the same exact songs that he played for me) and she got a wonderful package from him for Valentine's Day which I found especially hilarious, given that he told me he forgot about the holiday entirely, and had to work all weekend. And THEN! She wrote about how she'll be flying across the country to visit TGIBS in the beginning of March. He then left her a comment about how he hoped she would bring her Victoria's Secret underwear. Case closed, pretty much.

He didn't have much to say for himself when I confonted him (over IM because he wouldn't talk about it on the phone or in person). At first, he told me to "calm down," which, by the way, guys who get caught cheating on girls: DON'T EVER SAY THAT. And then he got defensive and condescending with the "so sorry" and the "haha" and "I think you're working things up too much in your head" and then he actually had the nerve to get mad at ME for accusing him of lying to me about this "good friend of his from school." And THEN! HE SPELLED MY NAME WRONG. And said he didn't understand what my problem was because this girl lives across the country and she was only visiting for one week. Later on that day, I saw that he had removed my name from his LJ friends list so that I was no longer able to see his protected entries. This passive-agressive (and just a little too late) bullshit needed to be addressed, so another IM discussion was had. At first, TGIBS was reluctant to talk, saying, and I quote: "sara, i'm not going to sit and have you pick at me, i'll im you when i want to talk to you again." He gets a point for scoring my name correctly this time, but negative ONE MILLION points for every word that followed my correctly-spelled name. A heated exchange followed, for I shall not be spoken to in this manner, and it ended with me taking a few cheap shots at him. My only regret is that he signed off before I could get them all out. Because I am SO ANGRY.

But then I remembered that I have a blog, and I can just do it there. Maybe he'll find it and read it on whatever day would be the most CRUELLY IRONIC for him to do so, like I had to read that stuff in his blog on Valentine's Day.

Without further ado:

Dear The Guy I've Been Seeing,

I was pretty sure I wanted nothing to do with you after, the last time we saw each other, you told me about how, when you heard about the Glendale train crash that killed eleven people, you got on your female roommate's bike and sped down to the scene so you could take pictures of the gore and put them on your website, where they would match those pictures you took of your senile neighbor without her permission, and then posted with some comments about how crazy and old she is. Charming. I used to love your laugh, but when you laughed about how being on a girl's bike, as opposed to in a car, got you past a lot of the security blockades and closer to the scene than the rest of the rubberneckers, I sensed an edge of cruelity in your laugh, and in you, that I didn't like.

Another edge I sensed in you that I didn't particuarly enjoy was the homosexual one. I have nothing against homosexuals; I just prefer that the men I date are not part of that group, for obvious reasons. Almost as obvious as the signs that you were part of that group, many of which I detailed over at Pamie's site in poem form. One thing that I left out of that was your LJ interests, which include, but are not limited to: Antiques Roadshow, fashion, fashion photography, lemon sorbet, love notes, siamese cats, stretch shirts, sunsets, and a heart symbol. All this, and the fact that Evil Roommate wasn't being so friendly to you when you met because he's polite; HE WAS FLIRTING WITH YOU. AND HE THOUGHT YOU WERE FLIRTING BACK. In fact, here is the short conversation we had about you the other day:

Evil Roommate: [returning home from a long day of work] Happy fucking Valentine's Day!
Sara: Evil Roommate! TGIBS had ANOTHER GIRL!
Evil Roommate: Are you sure it was a girl?
Sara: Yes!
Evil Roommate: [shakes head, laughs] They never learn ...

I would also like to add that you were a little bitch when it came to who would drive on our dates. You always told me to drive to your apartment because your car "didn't like you." I thought this meant that your car wasn't actually operational, until you told me about the long drive you took to Death Valley the next day in it. Either you just didn't want to pay for gas or you were afraid of driving in the rain. You need to save your money for the new apartment you'll be getting, one that you won't be sharing with your roommate just as soon as you get the balls to tell the poor guy that you don't want to live with him because he does the dishes too often and you and the rest of the friends he thought he had in Los Angeles all secretly hate him.

In conclusion, TGIBS, you aren't half as cute as you think you are. And those red bumps you get everywhere because you insist on shaving your body hair are even less cute than that. I wish I hadn't wasted four months and however much water I cried out on you, but I knew from the beginning that it wouldn't last because you never made me laugh. Except for the time when I found out you were cheating on me with a girl on your webcam. That actually made me laugh a lot, once I got over the anger.

Regretfully Yours,

The Girl You've Been Seeing (no, not the one who lives across the country with her parents and some cows and inflates your ego with lame gushy blog entries about how wonderful you are. The other one. The one who deserves better than you.)


Holy Gridlock

I don't think it's very fair that I have to wait in traffic because other people take God's name in vain. Personally, I don't, although this has nothing to do with religion and everything to do with the fact that when I'm in traffic, I'm usually so angry that I am either saying worse things than "God damn" or "Jesus," or I have been rendered incapable of speech. I am glad, however, that God has taken it upon himself to rent out billboard space and let us all know the reason why our commutes are a daily hell on earth. Otherwise, everyone would have kept going about thinking that it was caused by an inadequate public transportation system, stoplight timing that is so off it actually makes things worse than they have to be, and that fact that there's just too many cars and not enough road. Oh, and also the fact that entire main streets are often closed off for special events like an L.L. Cool J. concert. I will never forgive Hollywood Boulevard for that. Ever.


It May Be Time For A Trip Home...

Bar To Host Naked Karaoke

As you may recall from a previous entry, a bar down the street from where I spent my formative years has been engaged in almost a year of ridiculous legal struggles for the right to host a Naked Karaoke night. This past weekend, it won.

And it made national news! When I signed onto AIM just now, it was a headline in that annoying AIM today window that always pops up. A quick Google search showed that we made newspapers all over the country! We were in USA Today! That shit's in color, yo! We're famous! I have never been so proud.

Sadly, my father reports (because apparently he was there, which is something he and I will have to talk about) that while there were many performers that night, none of them actually took their clothes off.

Maybe they'll do another one soon. In which case, Pam, my invitation is still open.


All Questionably Good Things Must Come to an End

First off, sad news for fans of Our Lady of Fatima. It's even sadder when you see who was one of her last visitors, and what he gave as a present. What the hell is a 97 year-old nun going to do with a DVD?

Second, I have left the job of shellacked cakes and food on the floor. For all the complaining I did here about the job that just ended, it was a good place overall, and I had a lot of fun times there. Things got bad towards the end when I felt like a co-worker I had become good friends with turned out to be a bit of a liar and a backstabber, but the guy who will do whatever he has to to get ahead and stay ahead is in every office, so my experience isn't unique. It's just sad that ours started out so cool and fun and then changed. I hope he's happy working with the same people he used to say stood for everything that was wrong with this world. I'm going to be pretty happy at my new job, working with two people who are awesome. Good times ahead, I think.


One Week Left...

You know there's something wrong with your workplace when the departing boss (a.k.a. He Who Throws Scraps On The Floor) would rather have the remains of his Good-Bye cake SHELLACKED than offer them to you. But at least I'm not the PA who has to do it.

Note From Apartment Management

There have an abundance of notes left on our door recently. The first was notifying us of a rent increase. The third was to tell us who our new manager was, our previous manager having vacated the position sometime around Thanksgiving. The second one was not a building-wide memo, but a special note just for us. It is all spelled as indicated:

"Is has been brought to my attention that one of your vehicles is leaking a tremendous amount of oil, you are required to clean your parking area every time it spills oil. If you are unable to repair your vehicle please park it on the street until you do.

Thank you,

I'm not cleaning anything until Management does something about the techno-loving unemployed frat boys who moved in downstairs. And even if Management does do something about them, I still won't clean anything because I'm not the one who bottomed out my car so hard that the oil pan was ripped off. Twice.


Reason #149568404 Why I'm Glad I Don't Live in Connecticut Anymore