Really...what else can you say about that?
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Mum's the Word: Or What Happens in ___ Stays in ___!
Sorry I haven't blogged in a while.
It's not that I have been busy.
Or bored.
Or uninteresting.
Indeed, quite the contrary. But knowing my luck, the person(s) I really have the urge to blog about would find out...and the consequences could be disastrous.
So that's all I have to say about that.
It's not that I have been busy.
Or bored.
Or uninteresting.
Indeed, quite the contrary. But knowing my luck, the person(s) I really have the urge to blog about would find out...and the consequences could be disastrous.
So that's all I have to say about that.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Stir Crazy: Or How to Entertain Yourself on a Rainy Day
In light of the current weather and previous blog entries, I submit to you the top ten ways to entertain yourself on a gloomy autumn day:
10. Make up a new vocabulary of verbs using various body parts.
9. Tackle the internal conflict generated by your fervent feminism and your love of hip-hop music.
10. Make up a new vocabulary of verbs using various body parts.
9. Tackle the internal conflict generated by your fervent feminism and your love of hip-hop music.
8. Throw a sophisticated houseparty.
7. Listen to some Awesome Aussies make fun of silly, MTV-Spring-Break-type American kids.
6. Get blazed with a seminary student.
4. Go to the gym and get swole!
2. Jump up and down in an elevator.
And the number one way to entertain yourself on a rainy fall evening:
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Bally Total Fitness: Or How To Sell Your Soul to a Gym
I suppose that's what I get for being bored one day. P convinced me, while at work, to sign up for a free two-week trial membership at Bally Total Fitness. I think she just wanted some motivation to go herself, and having a workout buddy can do that to you...and how.
So here I am, only one week into the two-week trial, and I've gone to the gym every day. Something about it just sucks you in. There's hard body hotties, and girls in cute exercise gear, there's even a flipping juice bar.
Somehow my psyche has been altered, and Bally Total Fitness has become like crack cocaine to me: Must do CardioFlex on Monday, must make it to Spinning Class on Tuesday, KwandoFlex on Wednesday, more Spinning on Thursday, lift on Friday. Forget about resting on Saturday and Sunday...you've just gotten started.
My eyelids are heavy, my back hurts, my ankles are swollen, I can't feel other parts of my body, and sometimes moving about can be agonizing. So guess where I'm going this afternoon? That's right: Bally Total Fitness.
I give up...and relinquish all control to The Bally.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
World of Warcraft: Or Too Much Free Time
So I was talking to a friend online today and we started discussing the different things we do to pass the time at work (work not being one of those things, interestingly enough). My friend told me that he had been sucked into the "world of warcraft," and I'm thinking, okay, he's obssessed with planes and aircraft carriers...whatever floats your boat.
Oh, no. It's better than that, he explained. "World of Warcraft" is a MMORPG, or Massive Multiplayer Online Roleplaying Game (read: Super Dorkfest...disclaimer: I can say that because I'm the biggest dork of all). Apparently the whole world knows about it, except for me. So, for those of you NOT in the loop: Here's the gist...
The storyline is based on the Warcraft game series (again, drawing a blank here). So anyway, you can create your own characters from eight races and nine classes, but the main objective is to align yourself with a certain faction: the Horde or the Alliance. From there, your "team" (as it were) I guess strategizes and works together to defeat the other faction. You may laugh and think, "Who the hell has time to do that?", but worldwide about 3 to 4 million people are playing this RPG.
What fascinates me most is that the people who are playing are most likely highly educated adults. Think about it...kids are in school most of the day, though they may play a bit at night, college students are probably another faction because they have flexible schedules, and people who do not have higher degrees may often have a job that does not necessitate the use of a computer.
You know what that means...governments and multinational corporations are PAYING people to sit in front of a computer all day, avoid doing real work and escape to a fantasyland of elves, orcs, trolls, warlocks and warriors. Plus, think of those faction names: The Horde, the Alliance. Good gravy! We're teaching people how to be subversive and rebel against injustice and oppressive authorities! Gotta love it. If pissing away your day playing Warcraft isn't a clever way of sticking it to THE MAN, I don't know what is.
Thank you, Warcraft players. I salute you for your contribution to the Revolution.
Oh, no. It's better than that, he explained. "World of Warcraft" is a MMORPG, or Massive Multiplayer Online Roleplaying Game (read: Super Dorkfest...disclaimer: I can say that because I'm the biggest dork of all). Apparently the whole world knows about it, except for me. So, for those of you NOT in the loop: Here's the gist...
The storyline is based on the Warcraft game series (again, drawing a blank here). So anyway, you can create your own characters from eight races and nine classes, but the main objective is to align yourself with a certain faction: the Horde or the Alliance. From there, your "team" (as it were) I guess strategizes and works together to defeat the other faction. You may laugh and think, "Who the hell has time to do that?", but worldwide about 3 to 4 million people are playing this RPG.
What fascinates me most is that the people who are playing are most likely highly educated adults. Think about it...kids are in school most of the day, though they may play a bit at night, college students are probably another faction because they have flexible schedules, and people who do not have higher degrees may often have a job that does not necessitate the use of a computer.
You know what that means...governments and multinational corporations are PAYING people to sit in front of a computer all day, avoid doing real work and escape to a fantasyland of elves, orcs, trolls, warlocks and warriors. Plus, think of those faction names: The Horde, the Alliance. Good gravy! We're teaching people how to be subversive and rebel against injustice and oppressive authorities! Gotta love it. If pissing away your day playing Warcraft isn't a clever way of sticking it to THE MAN, I don't know what is.
Thank you, Warcraft players. I salute you for your contribution to the Revolution.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Hump Day Eve: Or Going Back to College
Somehow I knew it was probably a bad idea when I got off the GUTS bus. But S had called me to say hi and see if I would be on campus. I hadn't seen her in a while and thought it would be nice to catch up. Granted, I do live live just a 5-minute walk away from my old stomping grounds at Georgetown University, but actually hanging out on campus is a different experience altogether. There's something familiar and oddly comforting about being there, but at the same time, as I get older, and the familiar faces are fewer and farther between, I feel out of place and uneasy. Nevertheless, I stopped by S's apartment just to chat for a few minutes, but I ended up staying for about 4 hours.
By the way, S has lovely roommates. I wish I'd had that kind of living situation during college. On a random Tuesday night, they were gathered around the kitchen table, gossiping and drinking (Korbel champagne and scotch on the rocks...classy!), smoking hookah, listening to music (house, "Golddigger" and "Shake it Off"), and generally just enjoying each other's company, and for a brief while, I was a part of it...and that was not mildly uncomfortable.
Then...the boys showed up. They arrived, like Santa Claus on the evening of December 24, bearing gifts of Busch Light and ping pong balls and announcing the weekly holiday, "Hump Day Eve" (i.e. the day before Hump Day, Wednesday...hey, some people don't know...). When they busted out the beer pong table, suddenly I had a single thought: I am way too old for this shit.
Final verdict: I miss college and chilling with girlfriends. I don't miss immature boys and drinking games.
Congrats, Erin and Jon: Or "Another One Bites the Dust"
My good high school friend Erin recently announced her engagement to her boyfriend of several years, Jon. I am extremely happy for her and eager to know where I can find a man who worships the ground I walk on (as Jon seems to for her). I haven't met Jon yet, but I have heard lots of wonderful things, and I will be glad to know him finally.
This will be, I know, a marriage that will stand the test of time. Plus they'll have really cute kids! Furthermore, this will be a wedding ceremony at which I will inevitably cause some trouble. Drunken wedding guests only make the party more fun, right? Anyway, Erin is the first of my closest friends to prepare for a trip down the aisle, and I have suddenly realized: I AM GETTING VERY OLD.
Here's to Erin and Jon! :)
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Keepin it Real: Or My Definition of Friendship
I fucked up. There it is. Plain as day. She knows what I did and that I'm sorry. She already forgave me for it. That's because she's my best friend.
A best friend:
A best friend:
- Calls you on ALL of your bullshit.
- Forgives you before you've said I'm sorry.
- Holds you to a higher standard.
- Doesn't keep track of who did what nice thing for whom, or if those nice things are equal.
- Thinks of you always, no matter the occasion.
- Keeps it real. Honesty hurts but it's better than sugarcoating the truth.
- Never stops loving you.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Club AJ: Or Two Hot Chicks Throw a Party
AJ Productions, Inc. Proudly Presents
"SausageFest 2K5"
"Two thumbs way up!"
"I laughed, I cried. It was better than AK's housewarming!"
"A stunning first outing by fresh new talent!"
"The jungle juice runneth over..."
"Who wants to be DD?"
"For every drunken party guest, there are two hot hostesses responsible."
"How do I get invited to the next one?"
Thanks for coming out, kids. We hope you had a great time. We really enjoyed having you there.
Friday, September 16, 2005
Girlfight: Or Prof-on-Prof Violence
Fuck what ya heard...Georgetown University streets are tough, and only the strong survive, homie...
http://www.thehoya.com/news/091605/news1.cfm
Professor Accused in Campus Assault By Moises MendozaHoya Staff Writer Friday, September 16, 2005; Page A1
A Georgetown professor allegedly hit a State Department worker outside Lauinger Library last Thursday, prompting the woman to bite him and the professor's wife to call her a "cannibal."
According to police accounts, Ibrahim Oweiss, a School of Foreign Service-Qatar economics professor, hit Michelina Bonnano in her face with a closed fist while she sat inside her car Sept. 10. A Metropolitan Police Department incident report said that Bonnano, a former Georgetown professor and a current employee of the State Department, responded to the alleged assault by biting his right hand.
Bonnano said Thursday that she was packing items into her parked car near Lauinger when she saw Oweiss and his wife, Georgetown French professor Celine Oweiss, running toward her. Bonnano said she got into her car and rolled her window down at which point Ibrahim Oweiss started grabbing the identification card around her neck.
"He started grabbing at my ID and pulling it and he just punched me in my face and knocked off my glasses," she said. "He grabbed me and wouldn't let go and I bit him to get him away from me."
A Georgetown student had to pull Oweiss off Bonnano, she said. She added that she reported the assault to several passing Department of Public Safety officers who took a report.
Ibrahim Oweiss could not be reached for comment Thursday because he was in Qatar but his wife insisted that he had not struck Bonnano and that Bonnano had bit him without provocation.
"We have cannibals on campus," she said. "Her car and another car were blocking the little hole leading to the library. It was urgent for us to leave and we had waited a long time."
Celine Oweiss said that her husband was only trying to look at Bonnano's Georgetown ID tag hanging around her neck when she bit him.
"He did not hit her and she has no signs of attack or anything. This is like Mike Tyson biting the ear of his adversary. It's incredible the aggressiveness we witnessed," Celine Oweiss said.
The MPD incident report said that Ibrahim Oweiss had a cut on his hand and that Bonnano suffered a cut and bruising above her left eye. Both were taken by GERMS to Georgetown University Medical Center and released, the report said.
Ibrahim Oweiss was not arrested, but both Celine Oweiss and Bonnano said that they are contemplating taking legal action.
Hoya Staff Writer Alex Schank contributed to this report.
http://www.thehoya.com/news/091605/news1.cfm
Professor Accused in Campus Assault By Moises MendozaHoya Staff Writer Friday, September 16, 2005; Page A1
A Georgetown professor allegedly hit a State Department worker outside Lauinger Library last Thursday, prompting the woman to bite him and the professor's wife to call her a "cannibal."
According to police accounts, Ibrahim Oweiss, a School of Foreign Service-Qatar economics professor, hit Michelina Bonnano in her face with a closed fist while she sat inside her car Sept. 10. A Metropolitan Police Department incident report said that Bonnano, a former Georgetown professor and a current employee of the State Department, responded to the alleged assault by biting his right hand.
Bonnano said Thursday that she was packing items into her parked car near Lauinger when she saw Oweiss and his wife, Georgetown French professor Celine Oweiss, running toward her. Bonnano said she got into her car and rolled her window down at which point Ibrahim Oweiss started grabbing the identification card around her neck.
"He started grabbing at my ID and pulling it and he just punched me in my face and knocked off my glasses," she said. "He grabbed me and wouldn't let go and I bit him to get him away from me."
A Georgetown student had to pull Oweiss off Bonnano, she said. She added that she reported the assault to several passing Department of Public Safety officers who took a report.
Ibrahim Oweiss could not be reached for comment Thursday because he was in Qatar but his wife insisted that he had not struck Bonnano and that Bonnano had bit him without provocation.
"We have cannibals on campus," she said. "Her car and another car were blocking the little hole leading to the library. It was urgent for us to leave and we had waited a long time."
Celine Oweiss said that her husband was only trying to look at Bonnano's Georgetown ID tag hanging around her neck when she bit him.
"He did not hit her and she has no signs of attack or anything. This is like Mike Tyson biting the ear of his adversary. It's incredible the aggressiveness we witnessed," Celine Oweiss said.
The MPD incident report said that Ibrahim Oweiss had a cut on his hand and that Bonnano suffered a cut and bruising above her left eye. Both were taken by GERMS to Georgetown University Medical Center and released, the report said.
Ibrahim Oweiss was not arrested, but both Celine Oweiss and Bonnano said that they are contemplating taking legal action.
Hoya Staff Writer Alex Schank contributed to this report.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Takin it Back to the Old School: Or a Trip Down Memory Lane
Okay, you ever go through your pictures and just laugh your ass off? Or just smile and remember? Well, these pics do it for me.
Why put this together? Because I was bored and needed a laugh...
For your enjoyment, some of my favorite weird photo ops...
This is my mom. Clearly I learned to doublefist from her. I did not, however, inherit her high tolerance for the spirits.
Case in point: During the summer of 2003, I studied abroad at Oxford University. Here's me during a "wine party." (As Greg would say, welcome to the Bad Idea Club).
Here I am approximately 10 minutes after that first picture, with Liz, JR, Clare and Hemali. After that, I puked in the rose bushes outside in that beautiful courtyard and passed out in my bed by 8:45 PM while everyone else went out partying.
But Oxford wasn't all about drinking...we had some good sober times. Here are two of my very favorite people at Oxford: Kevin and Liz. Kevin's the sweetest, most considerate person you'll ever meet. Liz is an awesome cook, baker and knows more about music than anyone. They made it an unforgettable experience. That guy in the back is nice, too, but I forgot his name. Don't hate me, random guy!
Also, during a trip to Stratford (Shakespeare's birthplace), I dominated John in a DDR battle (Dance Dance Revolution, for you non-nerds).
The last few days at Oxford were to be spent studying for final exams...clearly we studied very hard...Here's my roommate Kelly jumping on the couch in our suite after a card game outside on the lawn.
Here's Arianne nude on the beach in Barcelona...GOTCHA! It's just a strapless swimsuit.
No, that's not a boy. She's one of my dearest friends, Janice. And she thought it would be wild and adventurous to chop off her long beautiful hair before senior year. Bad idea club! I was furious with her and vowed not to let her live it down...so I post the picture online for the world to see. *Sigh*
Also in the summer of 2003, I attended the Summer Venture in Management at Harvard Business School. Or as I call it, Haaaaaahvahd. There I met Ron. He's one of the neatest people I've ever met, and is better at "staying in touch" than anyone. I can count on a phone call or e-mail from Ron at least once a month. Unfortunately, while drinking and talking, he accidentally spit in my eye...hence the weird look on my face.
One highlight of SVMP was the pajama Jammy Jam. Here Alex breaks it down for the ladies...
All in all, a great program. I met a lot of great young people, learned a lot about HBS, and saw some hotspots in Beantown. Who knows, maybe I'll return to Haaaahhhvahd for grad school.
Senior year started out with a bang, to be sure. Here's yet another jam-packed house party at 3616 N St., a Georgetown University townhouse. I'm not kidding when I say the WALLS were sweating...
Here's my derivatives class buddy, Jerry. He happened to catch me before a night on the town. A couple girlfriends and I went to Dream for a Democratic National Convention event starring Bill Clinton. Hehe. It was supposed to raise funds for the 2004 election, but we all know how that turned out...
...Anyway, I think Jerry's adorable. I think he's some kind of secret agent now, so we lost touch, and I miss him. Hope you're doing well, buddy!
Ah, sweet sweet Megan. To this day, she is one of the most beautiful people I have ever seen up close. Granted, this isn't the best picture, but it is my favorite. Megan was doing a striptease for our cab driver on the way back from happy hour. Gotta love it.
Megs is now seeking fame in fortune in Hollywood. Look out, world!
One night I ditched Jerry and derivatives class to go to a lounge called Home. So I wasn't lying to the professor when I said I needed to go home...Here's my cousin Charla and I with some of her coworkers...there's nothing particularly scandalous about this photo until you check out the drunk chick on the floor. She's not posing, she FELL that way. As my friends would say, "Don't be that girl!"
Oh, my dear dear Jason...he was mad I didn't want to dance with him. So he gave me an unsolicited lap dance at Bohemian Caverns. Why yes, he is crushing me and true, it is hard to breathe that way. But we had a good night anyway.
The things we do for the sake of "droppin it like it's hot..."
For the second year in a row, I attended the Business Today International Conference in New York City in 2003. This annual event gathers 200 overachieving college students from around the world to meet with top business executives and kiss ass like it's a full-time job. They should actually call it the Drinking Today International Kiss-Ass Festival. Seriously, it's a great experience and I highly recommend it.
That year, I met Adrienne, a quiet, sweet girl from Kansas...yea, right! Once we hit the bars, Adrienne was anything but quiet! I think in this picture she's saying, "Shhh...Arianne, don't ever tell anyone you ever saw me like this..." Too late. Anyway, Adrienne's da bomb and has come to visit me twice in DC. She makes me wanna yell, "Yo, Adrienne!"
Here is another Biz Today guy...actually I met Kevin the year before at the conference, but he stopped by to say hello.
Here is what I like about Kevin: He is awesome at schmoozing. He knows everybody and will talk to anybody. He (he'll prob correct me if I get this wrong) worked for Bad Boy/BMG, then for Arista, and now works for the new online crack-cocaine: thefacebook.com ! He owns a night club in Cancun and sends me pictures of him with celebs like 50 Cent and Paris Hilton.
My favorite Kevin quote: "I hung out with Puff Daddy...Puff Daddy is the whitest black man I have ever met."
This is Buck. Don't make fun of his name; he's gonna be a senator one day. And frankly, it fits him well (Buck, I mean that in a very serious and positive way). As my fellow RA senior year, we spent countless hours bashing our hall director and generally musing about other useless topics. He came with us to Dream on the night of my birthday party, which I appreciated, and showed us all his awesome dance moves.
Plus, Buck has hot friends from his former life...*wink*...
Here's Lindsey shortly before graduation playing with my camera. Don't you think she should be a model?
During Senior Week (week before graduation), we had a Trucker Party (classy...). Anyway, Teesha and Fatty break it down on the dance floor..
o, after graduation, I had some time to party...my parents had a joint 50th birthday party down in Destin, FL, and basically 100+ black people descended on the Sandestin resort for a crazy good time (doesn't happen often there).
Pictured here is a family friend, Kevin (he was my "boyfriend" when we were like 10). No, he is not touching my boob, but I thought it was a funny pic anyway. There's Molly on the left!
I love this picture. Molly and I got drunk in Destin during my parents' party and got to playing Spit (some lame people call it Speed). Anyway, Molly is a Spit champion, and, maybe it was the Smirnoff, but I beat her that night. I rule.
She got all pissed and started throwing things. It was, in a word, hilarious.
Okay, there's really nothing funny or interesting about this pic, but I like it.
After all, September is Shameless Promotion Month. So why not promote yourself?
Okay, so after some summer fun, I started this job where they pay me a lot of money to do very little work. I highly recommend it. To boot, I met a lot of really nice people to who like to have fun.
One of my favorites is fellow blogger DC Cookie and her constant partner in crime.
Through one of my coworkers I met Osie, the hottie on the right. In the Deep Dark South, they call him Tres.
Thus began what he calls a "loose affiliation." Anyway, he's hot and silly and sweet, and that's all I have to say about that.
So, at this new job, I did what I do best...plan social events. I even got involved in planning the traditional office Christmas party. I brought Osie as my date, and we dressed up as Bonnie and Clyde.
I look so DANGEROUS!
And last, but not least, this is my little brother Max. Okay, not really...but it's an awesome picture of a crazy kid anyway.
Here is my real brother, who has the whole 9th grade girls basketball team on lock...not to mention some models and college freshmen...where do you think he learned his pimpin skills?
Why put this together? Because I was bored and needed a laugh...
For your enjoyment, some of my favorite weird photo ops...
This is my mom. Clearly I learned to doublefist from her. I did not, however, inherit her high tolerance for the spirits.
Case in point: During the summer of 2003, I studied abroad at Oxford University. Here's me during a "wine party." (As Greg would say, welcome to the Bad Idea Club).
Here I am approximately 10 minutes after that first picture, with Liz, JR, Clare and Hemali. After that, I puked in the rose bushes outside in that beautiful courtyard and passed out in my bed by 8:45 PM while everyone else went out partying.
But Oxford wasn't all about drinking...we had some good sober times. Here are two of my very favorite people at Oxford: Kevin and Liz. Kevin's the sweetest, most considerate person you'll ever meet. Liz is an awesome cook, baker and knows more about music than anyone. They made it an unforgettable experience. That guy in the back is nice, too, but I forgot his name. Don't hate me, random guy!
Also, during a trip to Stratford (Shakespeare's birthplace), I dominated John in a DDR battle (Dance Dance Revolution, for you non-nerds).
The last few days at Oxford were to be spent studying for final exams...clearly we studied very hard...Here's my roommate Kelly jumping on the couch in our suite after a card game outside on the lawn.
Here's Arianne nude on the beach in Barcelona...GOTCHA! It's just a strapless swimsuit.
No, that's not a boy. She's one of my dearest friends, Janice. And she thought it would be wild and adventurous to chop off her long beautiful hair before senior year. Bad idea club! I was furious with her and vowed not to let her live it down...so I post the picture online for the world to see. *Sigh*
Also in the summer of 2003, I attended the Summer Venture in Management at Harvard Business School. Or as I call it, Haaaaaahvahd. There I met Ron. He's one of the neatest people I've ever met, and is better at "staying in touch" than anyone. I can count on a phone call or e-mail from Ron at least once a month. Unfortunately, while drinking and talking, he accidentally spit in my eye...hence the weird look on my face.
One highlight of SVMP was the pajama Jammy Jam. Here Alex breaks it down for the ladies...
All in all, a great program. I met a lot of great young people, learned a lot about HBS, and saw some hotspots in Beantown. Who knows, maybe I'll return to Haaaahhhvahd for grad school.
Senior year started out with a bang, to be sure. Here's yet another jam-packed house party at 3616 N St., a Georgetown University townhouse. I'm not kidding when I say the WALLS were sweating...
Here's my derivatives class buddy, Jerry. He happened to catch me before a night on the town. A couple girlfriends and I went to Dream for a Democratic National Convention event starring Bill Clinton. Hehe. It was supposed to raise funds for the 2004 election, but we all know how that turned out...
...Anyway, I think Jerry's adorable. I think he's some kind of secret agent now, so we lost touch, and I miss him. Hope you're doing well, buddy!
Ah, sweet sweet Megan. To this day, she is one of the most beautiful people I have ever seen up close. Granted, this isn't the best picture, but it is my favorite. Megan was doing a striptease for our cab driver on the way back from happy hour. Gotta love it.
Megs is now seeking fame in fortune in Hollywood. Look out, world!
One night I ditched Jerry and derivatives class to go to a lounge called Home. So I wasn't lying to the professor when I said I needed to go home...Here's my cousin Charla and I with some of her coworkers...there's nothing particularly scandalous about this photo until you check out the drunk chick on the floor. She's not posing, she FELL that way. As my friends would say, "Don't be that girl!"
Oh, my dear dear Jason...he was mad I didn't want to dance with him. So he gave me an unsolicited lap dance at Bohemian Caverns. Why yes, he is crushing me and true, it is hard to breathe that way. But we had a good night anyway.
The things we do for the sake of "droppin it like it's hot..."
For the second year in a row, I attended the Business Today International Conference in New York City in 2003. This annual event gathers 200 overachieving college students from around the world to meet with top business executives and kiss ass like it's a full-time job. They should actually call it the Drinking Today International Kiss-Ass Festival. Seriously, it's a great experience and I highly recommend it.
That year, I met Adrienne, a quiet, sweet girl from Kansas...yea, right! Once we hit the bars, Adrienne was anything but quiet! I think in this picture she's saying, "Shhh...Arianne, don't ever tell anyone you ever saw me like this..." Too late. Anyway, Adrienne's da bomb and has come to visit me twice in DC. She makes me wanna yell, "Yo, Adrienne!"
Here is another Biz Today guy...actually I met Kevin the year before at the conference, but he stopped by to say hello.
Here is what I like about Kevin: He is awesome at schmoozing. He knows everybody and will talk to anybody. He (he'll prob correct me if I get this wrong) worked for Bad Boy/BMG, then for Arista, and now works for the new online crack-cocaine: thefacebook.com ! He owns a night club in Cancun and sends me pictures of him with celebs like 50 Cent and Paris Hilton.
My favorite Kevin quote: "I hung out with Puff Daddy...Puff Daddy is the whitest black man I have ever met."
This is Buck. Don't make fun of his name; he's gonna be a senator one day. And frankly, it fits him well (Buck, I mean that in a very serious and positive way). As my fellow RA senior year, we spent countless hours bashing our hall director and generally musing about other useless topics. He came with us to Dream on the night of my birthday party, which I appreciated, and showed us all his awesome dance moves.
Plus, Buck has hot friends from his former life...*wink*...
Here's Lindsey shortly before graduation playing with my camera. Don't you think she should be a model?
During Senior Week (week before graduation), we had a Trucker Party (classy...). Anyway, Teesha and Fatty break it down on the dance floor..
o, after graduation, I had some time to party...my parents had a joint 50th birthday party down in Destin, FL, and basically 100+ black people descended on the Sandestin resort for a crazy good time (doesn't happen often there).
Pictured here is a family friend, Kevin (he was my "boyfriend" when we were like 10). No, he is not touching my boob, but I thought it was a funny pic anyway. There's Molly on the left!
I love this picture. Molly and I got drunk in Destin during my parents' party and got to playing Spit (some lame people call it Speed). Anyway, Molly is a Spit champion, and, maybe it was the Smirnoff, but I beat her that night. I rule.
She got all pissed and started throwing things. It was, in a word, hilarious.
Okay, there's really nothing funny or interesting about this pic, but I like it.
After all, September is Shameless Promotion Month. So why not promote yourself?
Okay, so after some summer fun, I started this job where they pay me a lot of money to do very little work. I highly recommend it. To boot, I met a lot of really nice people to who like to have fun.
One of my favorites is fellow blogger DC Cookie and her constant partner in crime.
Through one of my coworkers I met Osie, the hottie on the right. In the Deep Dark South, they call him Tres.
Thus began what he calls a "loose affiliation." Anyway, he's hot and silly and sweet, and that's all I have to say about that.
So, at this new job, I did what I do best...plan social events. I even got involved in planning the traditional office Christmas party. I brought Osie as my date, and we dressed up as Bonnie and Clyde.
I look so DANGEROUS!
And last, but not least, this is my little brother Max. Okay, not really...but it's an awesome picture of a crazy kid anyway.
Here is my real brother, who has the whole 9th grade girls basketball team on lock...not to mention some models and college freshmen...where do you think he learned his pimpin skills?
Monday, September 12, 2005
Tempted to Touch: Or My Weird Encounters with Men
Hi, it's me again...
So, I've been thinking (scary, I know), and recent events have led me to some conclusions regarding Ari vs. The Male Species. Here is what I hold to be true:
So, I've been thinking (scary, I know), and recent events have led me to some conclusions regarding Ari vs. The Male Species. Here is what I hold to be true:
- Men find me unapproachable. Inevitably I will encounter a handsome manboy at school/work/bar/party/church, he will unabashedly stare at me, eye-fuck me, mentally undress me...and never say a word to me. I have had to become quite courageous in going up to men first (at least the ones I am attracted to, unattractive men have no qualms about seeking me out first) and beginning a conversation. At some point, said manboy will quip, "Wow, I'm impressed you came and talked to me. I was a little intimidated by you." I am still baffled as to whether I should take that statement as a compliment or criticism. Do I look constantly pissed off? Do I look like I would never acknowledge your presence if you spoke to me? (Well, truth be told I may ignore you if you a) look psychotic or b) approach me with some crass comment about the ungodly things you would do to my body) Clearly I'm attractive, but not stunningly gorgeous in my opinion...I like to think of my beauty as a sneak-up-behind-you type and very unassuming. Haha...But let's get back to the point. For whatever reason, men are intimidated by what they perceive me to be. My friends often call me their "most self-confident" companion, and that is true to some extent, but as my best friend M will attest, when it comes to boys/men/dating/sex, I can be downright terrified and highly self-critical. It really makes no sense at all. Men see a self-assured, beautiful popular woman; but oh, if they knew the dorky nerd girl that resides inside.
- I must confuse men, because they deeply confuse me. Here's an all-too-often pattern in my love life: Boy meets Ari, boy get's Ari's number, boy calls Ari and asks her out, Ari accepts, Boy and Ari start hanging out on a semi-regular basis. To Ari's delight, Boy expresses an interest in continuing to see her. Ari agrees and everything seems to be going well. One day, Boy stops calling and does not return phone calls or e-mails. Boy apparently falls off face of Earth. Come on...I could understand if this happened once or twice, but really...this shit is bananas. B-A-N-A-N-A-S. The first couple times I thought, okay, he's just a flake. But now, there is clearly something wrong with ME. Anybody out there got any ideas, do let me know.
- I have no "type." I guess that would make me slutty, but I don't hook up with guys a lot. More likely it just makes me boy crazy. I am attracted to/can find something attractive about pretty much any man I see. Any race, religion, height, weight, etc...I can name a few guys I've tried to nab. Is this really a sign I'm as open-minded as I purport myself to be...or do I just have low standards? Haha...
Stay tuned, kids...I predict my love/hate relationship with the Y chromosome will only become more interesting with time.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
The Stiff-Meister: Or Why I love my roommate...
No, not like that...but D and his friend Wouiza came up with a hella funny list based on Stifler-isms (You know, American Pie dude) after we cracked outselves up saying "Hang out with my wang out." So without further ado, for your reading pleasure, you could:
- You could:
Rock out with your cock out
Pass out with your ass out
Hang out with your wang out
Sit out with your tit out
Rest out with your breast out
Jump out with your rump out
Wuss out with your puss out
Stick out with your dick out
Sneak out with your cheek out
Fake out with your snake out
Skip out with your nip out
Fall out with your ball out
Watch out with your chatch out
Shoot out with your coot out
Black out with your crack out
Go out with your camel toe out
Get laughed out with your shaft out
Rot out with your twat out
Tune out with your poon out
Hunt out with your cunt out
Stole out with your pole out
Blows out with your hose out
Pound out with your mound out
Cool out with your tool out
Trips/Flips out with your lips out
Bugs out with your jugs out
Leave out with your beav out
Rocks out with your box out
Eat out with your teat out
Run out with a bun out
Shut out with your nut out
Weird out with your beard out
Dork out with your pork out
Pork out with your dork out
Grump out with your rump out - Crunk out with your junk out (courtesy of DC Cookie)
We're taking more suggestions, people... :)
Monday, September 05, 2005
I take back everything bad I said about Kanye West
Anyone who ain't scurred to rip Bush a new one on live tv can have my $16.99 for an album sale.
http://http://media.putfile.com/Kanye79
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Hurricane Katrina vs. The Grahams: Or Why My Family Kicks Ass
Okay, so I know this blog is generally supposed to be about the crazy things that happen to me and me alone...but that mantra seems a tad bit self-absorbed and self-centered at this particular moment.
Besides, I would definitely call Hurricane Katrina a Series of Unfortunate Events, much like my blog.
Just in case you've been living under a rock for the last week, i am indeed referring to a devastating hurricane that ruined much of the beautiful Gulf Coast, one of my favorite regions of America, despite being part of the deepest, darkest bass-ackward South.
For me, Hurricane Katrina became very personal very quickly. Originally, all of my folks come from Louisiana. My dad's side still has reunions in the state. My mom and her three sisters were born and raised in New Orleans, and much of their side of the family lives there, including my mother's parents, my maternal grandparents. Shirley and Joe are now 80 years old, and while dear old grandpa is alive and kicking in spite of a 66 year love affair with tobacco, Grandma Shirley is in the beginning stages of Alzheimer's Disease, and her frail 70 lb body has begun to deteriorate. Needless to say, evacuating her in preparation for a hurricane was not really an option.
Prior to the storm, my mom made sure Grandpa Joe had made adequate preparations with plenty of food and water. As Sunday night began to fall, however, and mandatory evacuations were ordered, I became increasingly concerned for their safety. Monday morning dawned, and it seemed the worst was over. Parts of Louisiana and Mississippi were devastated, but I happily learned my grandparents were safe at home in New Orleans.
Then the unthinkable happened...well, clearly it was not unthinkable, as many experts apparently foresaw a disaster of this magnitude. The levees protecting this below sea-level city (whose dumb idea was THAT?) from the ocean and Lake Ponchartrain failed the citizens of New Orleans, and the floodwaters rushed in. When we didn't hear from Grandpa Joe, we resigned ourselves to the worst. They probably did not make it out of their house alive. But a miracle occured. This is my grandparents' harrowing story as I know it to have happened:
Grandpa Joe said the flood had reached his knees by the time he knew he had to get out of the house. He opened the door to a few neighbors that helped him get grandma to a local high school with 300 other citizens. Later he would tell me that the last thing he saw as he left the house was a picture of myself and him at my graduation ceremony from Georgetown University. It broke my heart. At the high school, they had no food, water or working toilets. By grace and grace alone, my grandpa's cell phone found a signal and he called my mother, who happened to be near the phone in Atlanta. He told her of their conditions, and my father (amazing man, really) started a phone and e-mail chain that touched thousands. We were able to finally get through to CNN, Fox News, FEMA and the U.S. Coast Guard about my grandparents' whereabouts. We still do not know who rescued them from that place. After leaving the high school, the evacuees were dropped off at an onramp to Interstate 10. There they were told to walk about 3 miles to the Convention Center or the Superdome to await buses. Grandpa could not push Grandma that far in her wheelchair, so they waited along the highway with about 100 others. They slept on the concrete of a major interstate for several nights. He said that buses "full of white people" passed him by without stopping, and that conditions deteriorated to the point that he believed "they" (law enforcement forces) were "out exterminating black people" in the street (say what you want about the racial implications of this tragedy, but the simple fact of the matter is this: my grandpa was there, he lived it, you didn't, so shut the hell up. Oh yea, and the "looters" that stole groceries from stores, well they were the ones who probably kept my family alive with their stolen goods. But yea, there's really no excuse for stealing TVs and tennish shoes...). At some point on Friday we got two voice mail messages: one from a woman named Pam who had been with my grandparents at the high school and was calling from Baton Rouge. The other was a National Guardsman with a thick Southern accent, saying, "Dr. Graham, I met your father-in-law, Joe Gaspard. He wanted me to call and tell you he's okay, and to come and get him." Later that same evening, we finally received a phone call from Grandpa Joe in Eunice, LA. He and grandma had been evacuated to a tiny Baptist church in the middle of nowhere. My parents hopped in the car, drove all the way to Louisiana and back in 21 hours. Thank God. My grandparents are now safe in Atlanta.
Needless to say, it was the longest week of my life. I didn't realize how much I really do love my family until I almost lost them. As I said in an e-mail to family and friends, all the anger I had felt over the past week had dissipated. I was angry at my grandparents for not leaving the city in the first place, angry at FEMA and the Bush administration for being incompetent as usual, angry at the crackheads shooting at rescue helicopters, angry at the racist and classist talking heads all over the country that have no clue about the day-to-day life of our nation's poorest citizens, angry at the media for making me sick with worry, the list went on and on.
All of a sudden, the things I worried and obssessed over seem so minute. My job, my love life, my money...bullshit. All of it. I have life, I have health, I have family, I have faith. I am so utterly blessed, and I don't deserve any of it. I do, however, have a new and unrelenting desire to expose evil in all of its forms; be it the Bush administration, government bureaucracy in general, racism, classism and all the other "ism's"...Look out, world, you just got yourself a new champion of justice.
I'll say it one more time: If you don't believe in miracles because you've never witnessed one, then just take one look at my family's nightmare-turned-reunion. If you still don't believe after that, then I feel sorry for you. I am happy to report that the heavens are not closed and the earnest prayers of the faithful are still answered by a merciful and loving God. I only hope that the life I live will be a testament to these statements being true.
Alrighty, I'll get off my high horse now. Just thought I'd share...
Besides, I would definitely call Hurricane Katrina a Series of Unfortunate Events, much like my blog.
Just in case you've been living under a rock for the last week, i am indeed referring to a devastating hurricane that ruined much of the beautiful Gulf Coast, one of my favorite regions of America, despite being part of the deepest, darkest bass-ackward South.
For me, Hurricane Katrina became very personal very quickly. Originally, all of my folks come from Louisiana. My dad's side still has reunions in the state. My mom and her three sisters were born and raised in New Orleans, and much of their side of the family lives there, including my mother's parents, my maternal grandparents. Shirley and Joe are now 80 years old, and while dear old grandpa is alive and kicking in spite of a 66 year love affair with tobacco, Grandma Shirley is in the beginning stages of Alzheimer's Disease, and her frail 70 lb body has begun to deteriorate. Needless to say, evacuating her in preparation for a hurricane was not really an option.
Prior to the storm, my mom made sure Grandpa Joe had made adequate preparations with plenty of food and water. As Sunday night began to fall, however, and mandatory evacuations were ordered, I became increasingly concerned for their safety. Monday morning dawned, and it seemed the worst was over. Parts of Louisiana and Mississippi were devastated, but I happily learned my grandparents were safe at home in New Orleans.
Then the unthinkable happened...well, clearly it was not unthinkable, as many experts apparently foresaw a disaster of this magnitude. The levees protecting this below sea-level city (whose dumb idea was THAT?) from the ocean and Lake Ponchartrain failed the citizens of New Orleans, and the floodwaters rushed in. When we didn't hear from Grandpa Joe, we resigned ourselves to the worst. They probably did not make it out of their house alive. But a miracle occured. This is my grandparents' harrowing story as I know it to have happened:
Grandpa Joe said the flood had reached his knees by the time he knew he had to get out of the house. He opened the door to a few neighbors that helped him get grandma to a local high school with 300 other citizens. Later he would tell me that the last thing he saw as he left the house was a picture of myself and him at my graduation ceremony from Georgetown University. It broke my heart. At the high school, they had no food, water or working toilets. By grace and grace alone, my grandpa's cell phone found a signal and he called my mother, who happened to be near the phone in Atlanta. He told her of their conditions, and my father (amazing man, really) started a phone and e-mail chain that touched thousands. We were able to finally get through to CNN, Fox News, FEMA and the U.S. Coast Guard about my grandparents' whereabouts. We still do not know who rescued them from that place. After leaving the high school, the evacuees were dropped off at an onramp to Interstate 10. There they were told to walk about 3 miles to the Convention Center or the Superdome to await buses. Grandpa could not push Grandma that far in her wheelchair, so they waited along the highway with about 100 others. They slept on the concrete of a major interstate for several nights. He said that buses "full of white people" passed him by without stopping, and that conditions deteriorated to the point that he believed "they" (law enforcement forces) were "out exterminating black people" in the street (say what you want about the racial implications of this tragedy, but the simple fact of the matter is this: my grandpa was there, he lived it, you didn't, so shut the hell up. Oh yea, and the "looters" that stole groceries from stores, well they were the ones who probably kept my family alive with their stolen goods. But yea, there's really no excuse for stealing TVs and tennish shoes...). At some point on Friday we got two voice mail messages: one from a woman named Pam who had been with my grandparents at the high school and was calling from Baton Rouge. The other was a National Guardsman with a thick Southern accent, saying, "Dr. Graham, I met your father-in-law, Joe Gaspard. He wanted me to call and tell you he's okay, and to come and get him." Later that same evening, we finally received a phone call from Grandpa Joe in Eunice, LA. He and grandma had been evacuated to a tiny Baptist church in the middle of nowhere. My parents hopped in the car, drove all the way to Louisiana and back in 21 hours. Thank God. My grandparents are now safe in Atlanta.
Needless to say, it was the longest week of my life. I didn't realize how much I really do love my family until I almost lost them. As I said in an e-mail to family and friends, all the anger I had felt over the past week had dissipated. I was angry at my grandparents for not leaving the city in the first place, angry at FEMA and the Bush administration for being incompetent as usual, angry at the crackheads shooting at rescue helicopters, angry at the racist and classist talking heads all over the country that have no clue about the day-to-day life of our nation's poorest citizens, angry at the media for making me sick with worry, the list went on and on.
All of a sudden, the things I worried and obssessed over seem so minute. My job, my love life, my money...bullshit. All of it. I have life, I have health, I have family, I have faith. I am so utterly blessed, and I don't deserve any of it. I do, however, have a new and unrelenting desire to expose evil in all of its forms; be it the Bush administration, government bureaucracy in general, racism, classism and all the other "ism's"...Look out, world, you just got yourself a new champion of justice.
I'll say it one more time: If you don't believe in miracles because you've never witnessed one, then just take one look at my family's nightmare-turned-reunion. If you still don't believe after that, then I feel sorry for you. I am happy to report that the heavens are not closed and the earnest prayers of the faithful are still answered by a merciful and loving God. I only hope that the life I live will be a testament to these statements being true.
Alrighty, I'll get off my high horse now. Just thought I'd share...
Monday, August 15, 2005
Supeer Sweet Sixteen: Or a Tale of the Sloppy, Snobby Sophie-Bitch
She looks mildly retarded, if you ask me. But this is Sophia, star of the premiere of quite possibly the most insipid MTV reality show yet: My Super Sweet Sixteen. But I know what you're thinking, and yes, I know: Ari had to have watched the show to deem it insipid. Guilty as charged. I was sick in bed and was quite literally sucked in (look at the pie-hole on that one, kids!). I do not usually write about things not directly related to my life, nor do I advocate watching bad reality TV, let alone on MTV, but this was just too appalling to pass up. That's saying something, because I am not shocked easily.
So here's the premise of the show. Over-indulged little snot gets to have a birthday party that usually costs more cheese than most people make in a year. This one, I'm hoping, is as bad as it gets in terms of how spoiled the kids are. Anyway, let's get on with it...
Sophie: preppy 15-year old private school snob (I can say that, I went to private school) from West Palm Beach, FL. As far as you can tell, she lives alone with her veterinarian mom who is, well, white. It's not a huge deal, but I noticed that the idea is never addressed in the show, as if someone might mention it to Sophie, she would gasp and exclaim something like, "Are you kidding? Get the fuck out! Take back that horrible insult!" and then maybe keel over and die. Because, aside from Sophie, the show turns out to be pretty much lily white, and Sophie does not register the fact that she is any different, which brings me to my next gripe...
Sophie's Hair!
Okay, it was a cheap shot, but this is seriously a close approximation. Somebody get that chick a hotcomb! Look, I know what it's like to be the one of only a few black girls and live in a place where very few hairdressers know how to "deal with" my hair. Still, that girl has more money at her disposal than any 15-year-old should, so there's really no excuse. I'm just going to blame her racial identity issues. Sorry, Sophia, it will not turn blonde and straight, so stop praying for the day that it will. You can't change the hair you were born with, but you can change a couple things...like you could drop forty pounds (those Dunkin Donuts and Moolattes go straight to your middle, apparently), and you could also adjust...
(Sophie and her blonde mom...still can't figure that one out. But for a designer dress, you could find one that don't make her boobs look fat and floppy...)
Sophie's Stank-Ass Attitude!
Once, in a department store, I saw a child slap her mother across the face for making her pick one sweater instead of buying two. I thought that woman was the worst mother in the world...until I saw Sophie's mom on TV. This woman is the obviously the source of the trouble. She lets the kids walk all over her, telling her to "shut up", "stop being annoying," and yelling and screaming all the time. Keep in mind this is the woman signing the check for the damn party.
Once, in a department store, I saw a child slap her mother across the face for making her pick one sweater instead of buying two. I thought that woman was the worst mother in the world...until I saw Sophie's mom on TV. This woman is the obviously the source of the trouble. She lets the kids walk all over her, telling her to "shut up", "stop being annoying," and yelling and screaming all the time. Keep in mind this is the woman signing the check for the damn party.
The mother pays for the party, a new car, and whatever else Sophie asks for, despite several verbal assaults. I guess my question is, what happened to a good old-fashioned ass-whooping? Seriously, let's entertain the idea for just a second that my parents would throw such a party for me... if I dared utter a disrespectful retort, not only would the party be off but my mother would personally ensure that I could not sit down on my rear end for at least a week.
But Sophie is a bitch to everyone...so I guess her mother just takes it. Sucker.
BOTTOM LINE: If you happen to be home when it reruns, just try to watch without wanting to backhand the selfish little twit. And you know what my punishment will be for bad-mouthing her? I'm gonna have a daughter who is Sophie reincarnated. God have mercy on me.
Monday, August 01, 2005
Sowing the Oats: Or Things I Must Do Before Settling Down
I've been thinking a lot lately. I should grow up. I should settle down. With one person. Knock out a couple rugrats. Call it a day.
But before I do, there are some very important things I must take care of. Stuff I haven't gotten to in life. Stuff I'll always wonder about if I don't ever do it. So here it is, a list of five absolute "musts" before Ari retires from the playalistic life:
But before I do, there are some very important things I must take care of. Stuff I haven't gotten to in life. Stuff I'll always wonder about if I don't ever do it. So here it is, a list of five absolute "musts" before Ari retires from the playalistic life:
- Live alone/Live with another girl. Don't get me wrong, I love my roomie D to death, but the thought of going straight from living with him to living with another bundle of testosterone is more than my feminine mystique can handle. I like my home clean, toilet seats down, sinks free of stubble, and everything smelling nice and flowery, thankyouverymuch.
- Conquer the "hit list." Don't even act like you don't have one. You may have not consciously made it like I did, but somewhere in your mind, there's a list of people you're attracted to, a "wish list" if you will. You know for certain it probably wouldn't work out long-term, but you've just gotta find out "what if" or die trying. My hit list, I'll admit, is quite ambitious and even a tad lengthy, but I'm on it. And I'm not talking about sex, for those of you quick to slap the "ho" label on my forehead. It could be some juvenile hand holding, a make out session, or even just blurting out, "You know, I was always hot for you." It's cathartic, really. I highly recommend everyone get in touch with their inner hit list.
- Go back to school. This should be interesting, since I currently enjoy not being broke and have not studied for anything in over two years, and thus lack the motivation to do so.
- Own a house and/or car, all on my own. Because I gotta have my own shit together before I add my name to somebody else's bad credit.
And last but not least...
5. Spend a weekend (or longer) completely in the nude. By my damn self. Because it might be the first and last time I can do it before being tackled by a significant other...
Thank you. That is all.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Youth is Wasted on the Young: Or the Older Folks that Have More Stamina Than Me
It was another long day out at the client hospital in suburban Chicago. You see, I travel four days a week and work, along with a team of 8-10 other consultants, at our client's hospital. Folks were stressed, tensions running high, but it was Wednesday, the second-to-last weekday (for us), and by the afternoon all thoughts turned to our favorite Wednesday pastime: TEAM DINNER.
Once a week our managing director takes the whole gang out to some swanky Chicago hotspot for a nice meal, a small compensation for being away from family and friends most of the week. If it's on the menu, we pretty much order it. Appetizers, salads, entrees, dessert. And don't forget the wine. Lots and lots of really good wine.
This particular week it was my turn to the pick the restaurant, and I chose a favorite of mine and my grandma (also a Chi-town resident): The Chicago Firehouse. I highly recommend it. What began as an early dinner (about 5:30pm) quickly became a marathon meal, wrapping up about 10:00pm, after my teammates became sufficiently soused.
You see, aside from me and another girl in her 20s, everyone on the team is aged 40+. I, being the lucky girl I am, had a freak allergic reaction to something in the air or in the food (still a mystery), and my eyes swelled to the size of golf balls (I put on my sunglasses since we were seated outside, and no one seemed to notice except when I attempted to scratch my eyeballs out). So why did I hang out? Well, the networking opportunities are endless, and if you're known as "that girl that bailed out early on dinner," your career just might never recover. So I sat, miserable and itchy.
As we left the restaurant, the ringleader, a director in his mid-60s (with 5 grandkids, I might add), announces that we're all going drinking. S (the other girl in her 20s) and I tried to make a mad dash for the rental car, but the director called after us, indicating the activity was not optional. S looked at me and pleaded to go back to the hotel to pack and get to bed, which was exactly where I wanted to go, exhausted and itchy as I was. We were met with taunts and jeers from the other team members (bear in mind, all grown-ass adults themselves) who called us "weak" and "no fun" as they jumped around on the sidewalk, yelling and carrying on for all of downtown Chicago to witness. Well it was clear what had to be done: S and I were going drinking with the bully consultants, swollen eyelids or not.
Thankfully, my coworkers relented long enough to let me make a mad dash for Walgreens to buy some benadryl to decrease my Quasimodo-like swelling. Then they took me to the bar and insisted on shots and beer (bastards), knowing full well I had just taken some medication. Peer pressure is a bitch. I can't believe I was being bullied by people with their own spouses, children (and some with grandchildren!) I can't tell you how many times I heard "Come on, Ari, don't be a pussy!" that night.
Final verdict: It was a good night. Didn't spend a dime, got drunk enough to forget about my itchy eyes, networked with some great contacts to further my career, and just enjoyed myself with some folks I happen to like very much.
But, seriously, why do people twice my age have twice my energy?
Once a week our managing director takes the whole gang out to some swanky Chicago hotspot for a nice meal, a small compensation for being away from family and friends most of the week. If it's on the menu, we pretty much order it. Appetizers, salads, entrees, dessert. And don't forget the wine. Lots and lots of really good wine.
This particular week it was my turn to the pick the restaurant, and I chose a favorite of mine and my grandma (also a Chi-town resident): The Chicago Firehouse. I highly recommend it. What began as an early dinner (about 5:30pm) quickly became a marathon meal, wrapping up about 10:00pm, after my teammates became sufficiently soused.
You see, aside from me and another girl in her 20s, everyone on the team is aged 40+. I, being the lucky girl I am, had a freak allergic reaction to something in the air or in the food (still a mystery), and my eyes swelled to the size of golf balls (I put on my sunglasses since we were seated outside, and no one seemed to notice except when I attempted to scratch my eyeballs out). So why did I hang out? Well, the networking opportunities are endless, and if you're known as "that girl that bailed out early on dinner," your career just might never recover. So I sat, miserable and itchy.
As we left the restaurant, the ringleader, a director in his mid-60s (with 5 grandkids, I might add), announces that we're all going drinking. S (the other girl in her 20s) and I tried to make a mad dash for the rental car, but the director called after us, indicating the activity was not optional. S looked at me and pleaded to go back to the hotel to pack and get to bed, which was exactly where I wanted to go, exhausted and itchy as I was. We were met with taunts and jeers from the other team members (bear in mind, all grown-ass adults themselves) who called us "weak" and "no fun" as they jumped around on the sidewalk, yelling and carrying on for all of downtown Chicago to witness. Well it was clear what had to be done: S and I were going drinking with the bully consultants, swollen eyelids or not.
Thankfully, my coworkers relented long enough to let me make a mad dash for Walgreens to buy some benadryl to decrease my Quasimodo-like swelling. Then they took me to the bar and insisted on shots and beer (bastards), knowing full well I had just taken some medication. Peer pressure is a bitch. I can't believe I was being bullied by people with their own spouses, children (and some with grandchildren!) I can't tell you how many times I heard "Come on, Ari, don't be a pussy!" that night.
Final verdict: It was a good night. Didn't spend a dime, got drunk enough to forget about my itchy eyes, networked with some great contacts to further my career, and just enjoyed myself with some folks I happen to like very much.
But, seriously, why do people twice my age have twice my energy?
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Hair, Steak and Houseparty: Or the Best Weekend in a While
J, Ari, D and P at Mortons Georgetown (aren't they all hot?)It was Friday, and I was tired. I didn't really want to go out that night, but S the intern reminded me that I had promised to hang out all summer and had yet to follow through. I relented, and by midnight we were on our way to Dream. Her sketchy connection C got us in for free just in time to see 112 perform, and then on to the VIP section where I met Slim. After four apple martinis, though, I don't remember what all I said to him. But that's not the story at hand...
Saturday morning I felt a bit icky, but P, my roommate's coworker and friend, came over to do my hair. He comes to my apartment to do it and charges me less than a salon (rave!) and does a fabulous job. Tell me if you want his number. He does my hair free every time I get him a new client. While chatting, we decided to try Mortons for dinner since he and roommate D are servers there and get a 50% discount. I invited my hot girl friend J, and off we went. At dinner, we were comped a bunch of side dishes and dessert, and it was only $100 for all four of us to eat (rave!)!
After that, we hit up a houseparty in Capitol Hill. The crowd was just OK, but there were plenty of jello shots to be had, so that kept us busy. Later on, our foursome hopped into a cab driven by a Sudanese dude (actually half Sudanese, half Irish, he explained, saying he was "all Irish" from the waist down. GROSS!). Roomie D suggested we take a detour to a strip club...and then...well, what did happen after that? Maybe I'll remember next time...
...But to recap: Good hair, good food, good fun? All in a day? These things ONLY happen to me... :)
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Holy Crap: Or How Capitalism Raped Christianity
In J's words, "I mean, I am a baller." So it was no big deal to switch my plans at the last minute and fly to Orlando for the 4th of July weekend to visit two of my favorite Gtown grads. We'll call them J-Squared.
Besides an awesome shopping spree at the outlet mall and a day of rides at Universal Studios, our happy threesome stumbled upon another interesting attraction just off of I-4: The Holy Land Experience. I'm telling you, had I not been there, no way we would have stumbled across an attraction so ridiculous.
Oh, yes. It IS what you think it is. The Holy Land Experience is a theme park/amusement/attraction designed to transport the 21st century visitor to The Holy Land. Israel. Jerusalem, to be specific. Nevermind the fact that you're not in an actual desert locale in the Middle East. You're in the middle of muggy, touristy, Disney-esque Orlando, right smack in the middle of the Red State/Bible Belt.
My mouth gaped wide open as we drove past. The Holy Land Experience? Are you kidding? My God, whose brainchild was this? And what venture capitalist agreed to finance such an undertaking? A huge replica of the Holy Temple blocked my view of the rest of the park, so my mind began to wander and imagine the types of attractions held within:
- Test your agility in the "Dodge a Suicide Bomber" room! Avoid cafes, markets and public squares! Those bombers are tricky, and those who avoid getting blood and guts on their clothes WIN!
- Sing along to the crucifixion! Dress up as an actual Roman guard and pose with the Savior!
- Amaze your family as our holy magicians teach you to change water into wine! Great party tricks for all!
- Challenge your friends to play peace broker b/t those feisty Israelis and Palestinians! Ceasefires and treaties get you bonus points, and the highest score wins!
All this and more at the Holy Land Experience!
Ok, so I'm bordering on sacrilege, but I'm trying to make a point. Christian or not, I hope most people were as appalled at this eyesore as I was. What's worse is that the park attempted to gain property tax exemption, a distinction reserved for venues such as places of worship. I feel violently ill just thinking about it. Capitalist pigs.
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