"there's a hair stuck in my goop" - kb
"my goop won't come out anymore" - hc
"my goop got stuck to my clothes one time. once it gets stuck to your clothes, you cant get it off." -kb
*pause*
"are you hearing this conversation?" - hc
*hilarity ensues*
*goop - n. the bright orange, moldable substance that (i think) is supposed to relieve stress or be "fun".
Showing posts with label etc. Show all posts
Showing posts with label etc. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Sex & Candy
Showtime and Comedy Central are really the only two channels I bother watching anymore. Last night, Weeds returned to my life - bringing a visibally older Shane and a much-loved Mary-Louise Parker (originally from Fort Jackson, South Carolina by the way).
And then there was toothy Brit, Billie Piper (what a fabulous name). Secret Diary of a Call Girl was exactly what I expected: soft-core porn. Although entertaining, it will be interesting to see if they can carry an actual story line. If not, it's just a string of steamy Sex scenes, without the City.
And then there was toothy Brit, Billie Piper (what a fabulous name). Secret Diary of a Call Girl was exactly what I expected: soft-core porn. Although entertaining, it will be interesting to see if they can carry an actual story line. If not, it's just a string of steamy Sex scenes, without the City.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
more from the mouth of the south
I've recently become an advocate for the anti-smoking cause. (see a few posts below) And there was an excellent article in the Timez this morning, that examined a study on the social aspects of quitting.
"Education also played a role. Those with more education were more highly influenced by their friends, and their friends were more likely to influence them. And some social contacts were more influential than others. A spouse’s quitting was more powerful than a friend’s, and a friend’s quitting was more powerful than a sibling’s. If someone you name as a friend quits, that has more of an effect than if someone who names you as their friend quits. Co-workers had an influence only in small firms where everyone knew one another. The effects were greater among casual smokers than heavy smokers."
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/22/science/22smoke.html?ref=us
"Education also played a role. Those with more education were more highly influenced by their friends, and their friends were more likely to influence them. And some social contacts were more influential than others. A spouse’s quitting was more powerful than a friend’s, and a friend’s quitting was more powerful than a sibling’s. If someone you name as a friend quits, that has more of an effect than if someone who names you as their friend quits. Co-workers had an influence only in small firms where everyone knew one another. The effects were greater among casual smokers than heavy smokers."
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/22/science/22smoke.html?ref=us
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
my latest facebook msg
Q. Facebook is to Monday through Thursday what Thursday happy hour is to Friday? (that's a sort of post SAT / in real world question)
a) a complete distraction
b) an escape from reality
c) the single source of my insane lack of productivity
d) all of the above ....
a) a complete distraction
b) an escape from reality
c) the single source of my insane lack of productivity
d) all of the above ....
I'm the best there is
There was a time in my life when I was a smoker. Yes, I know. How disgusting. I remember who gave me my first cigarette. I won't call out her name, per chance she reads my nonsense from time to time.
We were be-bopping around in her car, on the way to a neighboring town. I can't really remember, but maybe I was 17 or so. I was always older than my friends/grade/parents. They were menthols and I couldn't figure out how to do it. I probably smoked a whole pack without knowing what the hell I was doing. (Gosh this makes me sick. I almost dread having children!)
Fast forward through field parties and frat parties and long drives across the state. I was always cognizant of my surroundings when I smoked. It was never a necessity to smoke when I came home for weekends during college. I didn't want to upset my parents and I didn't really need it bad enough to sneak around in the back, back yard.
I'll get to the point. I quit, cold turkey a few months ago - maybe three. I know this may not seem astounding, but I am immensely proud of myself. It's gotten to the point where I find myself basking in my own self-righteousness.
Can you believe how freaking amazing I am? I mean honestly. I quit because I wanted to. People are actually addicted to these things?! What a load of crap! What a cop out! These people have absolutely no self control. Look at me. The wonderful, self-manipulating, drug-free, anti-substance magician. Poof - I'm done with that part of my life!
When I walk up to my office in the mornings, I see people (who have probably arrived at the office a mere 15 or 20 minutes before me - sad, they just can't wait) standing around outside the revolving doors, nicotine in hand. I can feel it. I can feel the snarl. There is an actual look of utter disgust on my face and I'm looking right at these people. I don't care that they can see me.
When I walk down the sidewalk and I am waiting to cross the street, I might be standing behind or next to a smoker. The ever-consistent wind might blow a plume of smoke through my nostrils.
I am astonished. I cough loudly and I dramatically fan my face. I want to scream "YOU'RE GOING TO DIE"! "YOU'RE GOING TO KILL ME WHILE YOU'RE AT IT"! I have never smoked a cigarette a day in my life. I loathe these people for their inability to resist. I am the only person in the world who has defeated nicotine. Damn it feels good.
But you know what? I don't care that I feel this way. I'm glad of it. Because if this is the mentality that a person must assume in order to detach themselves from this drug, then so be it. I am indefinitely excused for being a hypocritical bitch. And so are you.
We were be-bopping around in her car, on the way to a neighboring town. I can't really remember, but maybe I was 17 or so. I was always older than my friends/grade/parents. They were menthols and I couldn't figure out how to do it. I probably smoked a whole pack without knowing what the hell I was doing. (Gosh this makes me sick. I almost dread having children!)
Fast forward through field parties and frat parties and long drives across the state. I was always cognizant of my surroundings when I smoked. It was never a necessity to smoke when I came home for weekends during college. I didn't want to upset my parents and I didn't really need it bad enough to sneak around in the back, back yard.
I'll get to the point. I quit, cold turkey a few months ago - maybe three. I know this may not seem astounding, but I am immensely proud of myself. It's gotten to the point where I find myself basking in my own self-righteousness.
Can you believe how freaking amazing I am? I mean honestly. I quit because I wanted to. People are actually addicted to these things?! What a load of crap! What a cop out! These people have absolutely no self control. Look at me. The wonderful, self-manipulating, drug-free, anti-substance magician. Poof - I'm done with that part of my life!
When I walk up to my office in the mornings, I see people (who have probably arrived at the office a mere 15 or 20 minutes before me - sad, they just can't wait) standing around outside the revolving doors, nicotine in hand. I can feel it. I can feel the snarl. There is an actual look of utter disgust on my face and I'm looking right at these people. I don't care that they can see me.
When I walk down the sidewalk and I am waiting to cross the street, I might be standing behind or next to a smoker. The ever-consistent wind might blow a plume of smoke through my nostrils.
I am astonished. I cough loudly and I dramatically fan my face. I want to scream "YOU'RE GOING TO DIE"! "YOU'RE GOING TO KILL ME WHILE YOU'RE AT IT"! I have never smoked a cigarette a day in my life. I loathe these people for their inability to resist. I am the only person in the world who has defeated nicotine. Damn it feels good.
But you know what? I don't care that I feel this way. I'm glad of it. Because if this is the mentality that a person must assume in order to detach themselves from this drug, then so be it. I am indefinitely excused for being a hypocritical bitch. And so are you.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
part of your balanced breakfast
I think it's only fair to let everyone know that I have succumbed to the pressure of alcohol. I made it a full 11 days. But after countless refusals at dinner "Just water, please", and tests from my boyfriend "Mmm, this is good. Want a sip?", I finally realized that maybe the principle wasn't a good enough reason to say bye-bye to Lindeman's Framboise altogether. The real principle is, it isn't healthy to have a glass of wine with every meal, or slosh it out every weekend with vodka T's. I think I get my point.
So last night we had dinner at The Park. Complete with steamed artichoke/with lemon beurru blanc, bufala mozzarella/tomato/basil, and a prosciutto/arugula salad pizza. And as two ladies across the room from us poured out their meaty, purple Sangria, I thought...how wonderful a glass of such sweet nectar would taste in addition to the food we had just ordered.
So we did. We ordered a pitcher and I had two, brimming glasses. It was the best Sangria I've had in NY thus far. Sure I felt a little guilty. A lot guilty. I was really proud of myself. This morning, I have developed a mild aching in the upper region above my neck. But I still feel OK with this. Besides, Mem Wknd was sure to be a **** show, if I had really waited until such date to resume alcoholic intake.
So last night we had dinner at The Park. Complete with steamed artichoke/with lemon beurru blanc, bufala mozzarella/tomato/basil, and a prosciutto/arugula salad pizza. And as two ladies across the room from us poured out their meaty, purple Sangria, I thought...how wonderful a glass of such sweet nectar would taste in addition to the food we had just ordered.
So we did. We ordered a pitcher and I had two, brimming glasses. It was the best Sangria I've had in NY thus far. Sure I felt a little guilty. A lot guilty. I was really proud of myself. This morning, I have developed a mild aching in the upper region above my neck. But I still feel OK with this. Besides, Mem Wknd was sure to be a **** show, if I had really waited until such date to resume alcoholic intake.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
my latest flirtation with a false reality
I've decided to quit drinking alcohol until Memorial Weekend. (starting yesterday...since I didn't happen to drink then, and it makes my stats look better) I just want to *gasp* see what happens. Here's to Prohibition 2008!
P.S. That's my proud/shocked mother on the left!
P.S. That's my proud/shocked mother on the left!
Friday, May 2, 2008
love notes
...for some reason, my wonderful friends (and occasional readers) don't post comments on my blog so much as they verbally inform/facebook msg me their thoughts and opinions. That's cool, but some of these sweet words are just too kind to not share... :)
"Hayley - Have to tell you that your most recent blog is a classic and a true work of art. Kudos!!! I couldn't stop laughing, and have to agree with you that "he should have his balls cut off". Too funny."
***
"You always put up your blog in your status, I finally checked it out, and I absolutely LOVED it. You are such a talented writer! Anyways I just felt that you should be made aware of how fabulous you are! I hope you are doing wonderful, you sound like it from your writing.."
***
"thanks for providing me a new standard in comparing douchebaggery."
***
"ps.. i read your blog religiously..."
***
"Hayley - just read your post from yesterday. You are going to hell, but you just made my week. That is awesome."
***
"This is a TERRIFIC blog by a girl not unlike myself.
Southern transplant to the Upper East Side (although I’m still technically en route).Snarky, snappy writer. That’s so CaryRandolph! The girl loves her booze, shoes, and dudes. Enter my new virtual best friend!"
***
"so....i have plenty of time at work and I check the face....i see your status and it prompts me to read the Blog....pretty good stuff...keep it going....I feel like sara jessica parker"
***
"I just randomly decided to check your space to see how you are doing these days, and was so amused to check out your blog!!! I'm so impressed, girl!! Way to go!! Your blogs are so entertaining,"
...I'm really doing this in hopes to get picked up by Daily Candy.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
summer chop
I need a transformation. I'm thinking Jenny or Sienna. I hope my hair is long enough to donate. Thoughts???
Sunday, March 9, 2008
my favorite accessory
Have you ever done something common, alone? It's one of the most liberating feelings in the world. I'm talking about something you might usually do with friends. Seeing a movie at the theater. Going out to eat. To a park. The mall. Church. Moving to another state.
It simultaneously induces fear, independence, and a sense of abnormality. It's going up and down, without the uppers and downers. You can't buy that kind of drug cocktail at a frat party.
I remember girls in high school and incredibly, college - whose shreds of remaining self-confidence, wouldn't allow them to go to the bathroom without another person. While we chose our evening apparel (with each other's approval) and painted on our make-up, we were dialing our cells to assure that everyone would arrive to the party on time. It would be a complete disaster if one of us showed up before the other. Girls couldn't arrive at a party alone. It instilled a most primal fear in the shallow pools of their hearts. God.for.bid.
I had the sweetest girls stay with me this weekend - my cousin and her three girlfriends (all sophomores at CofC). And they said to me:
"You are so mature. Were you this mature when you were our age?".
And I laughed, partly so I wouldn't cry that college sophomores were referring to me as being infinitely older.
But it isn't my maturity, so much as confidence, that they were noticing. Why are young women in today's society so void of this attribute? I could start a laundry list of cliche reasons: the media, lack of parental guidance, etc etc. It makes me very sad to see that (especially Southern) young women tend to fall into a sort of naive, spiritless existence.
Confidence is rarely inherent. You have to find it, mold it, substantiate it. From my personal experience, this is (in part) achieved by doing things by yourself. It's okay to be the lone person sitting in the window at Chipotle, looking out at the passing crowds. And when you walk out of that door, full and content, knowing that you've done something that SOME people are actually afraid to do, you will find your confidence meter twitching.
Who knows - you might even have a Mary-Tyler-Moore moment.
And that feeling is just great.
It simultaneously induces fear, independence, and a sense of abnormality. It's going up and down, without the uppers and downers. You can't buy that kind of drug cocktail at a frat party.
I remember girls in high school and incredibly, college - whose shreds of remaining self-confidence, wouldn't allow them to go to the bathroom without another person. While we chose our evening apparel (with each other's approval) and painted on our make-up, we were dialing our cells to assure that everyone would arrive to the party on time. It would be a complete disaster if one of us showed up before the other. Girls couldn't arrive at a party alone. It instilled a most primal fear in the shallow pools of their hearts. God.for.bid.
I had the sweetest girls stay with me this weekend - my cousin and her three girlfriends (all sophomores at CofC). And they said to me:
"You are so mature. Were you this mature when you were our age?".
And I laughed, partly so I wouldn't cry that college sophomores were referring to me as being infinitely older.
But it isn't my maturity, so much as confidence, that they were noticing. Why are young women in today's society so void of this attribute? I could start a laundry list of cliche reasons: the media, lack of parental guidance, etc etc. It makes me very sad to see that (especially Southern) young women tend to fall into a sort of naive, spiritless existence.
Confidence is rarely inherent. You have to find it, mold it, substantiate it. From my personal experience, this is (in part) achieved by doing things by yourself. It's okay to be the lone person sitting in the window at Chipotle, looking out at the passing crowds. And when you walk out of that door, full and content, knowing that you've done something that SOME people are actually afraid to do, you will find your confidence meter twitching.
Who knows - you might even have a Mary-Tyler-Moore moment.
And that feeling is just great.
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