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Of course, they found me through Facebook. I wonder what all the former class presidents did before the Internet?

"August 27 at 11:54pm
SUBJECT:Class of [MY HIGH SCHOOL] Ten Year Reunion
Between You and [EVENT ORGANIZER OF MY GRADUATING CLASS]

Hi Christina,

I'm working with [CLASS PRESIDENT] and [CLASS VICE PRESIDENT] on the 10 year reunion. We have a facebook group page and we are collecting everyone's contact information to send invitations to the Ten Year Reunion.

Please join the Group so that you can be up-to-date on the planning of the reunion. Here is the link: http:// www.facebook.com/doyoureallywanttogotothisthing?really?

Please either email me your current contact information at organize.this@yourfucking10yearreunion.com or send through facebook.

Hope that you are doing well,
[EVENT ORGANIZER OF MY GRADUATING CLASS]"

Crap. Since I can count to 10, I knew this was coming. I also know it's not a HUGE deal. It's one night of awkward conversation and dancing to bad music (Prom Night II: Now The Drinkin's Legal), but is it necessary? The advent of Facebook sort of makes the act of the reunion obsolete. I already know who got married, who got knocked up, who got fat, because the Internet told me so. There most likely won't be any surprises. I also worry- I've had TEN YEARS to get it together, and I don't have much to show. No babies, no engagement rings, no Tonys. My best friend says, "Are you kidding? Of course we're going! We're the only ones who didn't get boring jobs. Or fat." But I don't know. Did any of you go to you 10-year reunion? Was it worth it?

UPDATE: Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion has just started on a random cable channel. Possibly, I should watch it for inspiration.
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I had a free ticket, so I finally caught Paper Heart (if you haven't heard anything about it, it's the "Geeky Girls Need Love Too [as long as it's with someone as equally awkward as you]" hit of the Summer.) If you're still in the dark, here's an interview (a short one) where Charlyne Yi clears up some questions about the film- namely, that her personal part of the "Documentary", ie, her fauxlationship with Michael Cera was scripted.

I both loved and hated it, which doesn't equal that I liked it per say. I either loved elements of it (The actual documentary interviews, the actor who played Nick [Jake Johnson], The hand-made action figure segments), or hated elements of it (mainly Charlyne Yi).

Maybe I've been living under a rock, but who is this girl? As far as I can tell, she had that one stupid cameo in Knocked Up and that was it. Is comedy different in LA? because the snippet of her show which appears in the film portrays her as an awkward, desperate, unfunny girl with no self esteem who is desperate of attention. Actually, the whole movie did that. I spent equal amounts of time feeling sorry for her and wanting her off the screen. STOP making that "Who, me?" face, Charlyne. Shrugging and turtle-ing your chin into your neck over and over again is not "acting". It's "annoying".

I mean, Michael Cera isn't a huge joy either, but I've grown used to his bumbling Cera-ness since his stint on Arrested Development and his repeated turn as Judd Apatow's pet. It's comforting in its consistency- if Cera is on the project, you know exactly what you're getting and I'm fine with that.

Please don't misunderstand- I am exceptionally psyched that the quirky sidekick gets a star turn instead of the "I'm pretty so I get a boyfriend" girl or the "I'm going to get a full makeover by the end of this flick so THEN I'll get a boyfriend" girl. Those girls are boring. Unfortunately, Charlyne Yi is annoying. Really, really, annoying.

Which doesn't mean your shouldn't see it. You should. Much of Paper Heart is really entertaining, especially the puppet segments.

Also, as an added bonus, playing a round of the game "You've hit on me/you've hit on me/Hey I made out with you at the back room of Rafifi" during the LA house party scenes at which seemingly the entire '01-'05 underground NYC comedy scene was vying for a cameo was personally fun for me.


Ugly and Awkward = Funny?
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Setting my alarm for 5AM to wake up in time to catch a documentary on competitive synchronized swimming on PBS. (no, of course I don't have a TiVo. That would be too easy).

5:57AM Update: Yup, totally worth it.
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but I find it very hard to do these things because I hit a point where I'm too tired to actually get off the couch and I'm sitting here all sweaty and thirsty and exhausted and really I should just get up and go to bed but that requires GETTING UP and that is a problem because except for the sweaty thirsty exhausted thing I'm pretty comfortable right here and The Big Band Years is on PBS and I keep thinking I'll get up after the next song, but I have a special place in my heart for big band music (maybe because my mother was touring with a big band while she was pregnant with me? who knows. Anyway-) and that's the thing about about PBS, there are no commercials so when the hell are you supposed to get up without missing something? I have to get OFF THE COUCH because there is a list a mile long of "Before bed" crap you have to do as a grownup;

-Find anything perishable that you will be really pissed if you wake up in the morning to find still sweating on the counter (like the time you left the milk out. that was some VERY bitter coffee you had to drink.)

-While you're up putting the perishables away, you may as well turn off any excessive lights, even though the switch is waaaaay over there. Al Gore would appreciate it.

-Wash off all your makeup and moisturize. Nobody wants wrinkles. Or a breakout.

-Find something that isn't the clothes you've been wearing all day (Okay, since yesterday) to sleep in. You will be so much more comfortable.

-Same goes for your bed... you love that bed. You always sleep better in it. The couch tilts funny and is squashed in the middle.

I would go bed right now, but I'm SO TIRED and my bed is ALL THE WAY OVER THERE. So I'll sit here and type a blog entry instead of getting up and going to it. Responsible!
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Look, I know it's none of my business, and I'm just going to be pissing on every one's fun parade, but I've now seen this video clip posted on everything from CollegeHumour to DailyCandy to every site about Brides-to-Be in existence, plus I've been e-mailed the video link individually by AT LEAST 12 separate people, and I hate it.
HAAAAAATE IT.



I'm sorry. I am. I tried to keep an open mind, but I think this kind of wedding novelty is the tackiest thing I have ever seen. A desperate reach to live up to expectations because in your particular group of friends you have been dubbed the "Zany Couple", so everything you do has to be "OFF THE WALL!". All that's missing is the kooky grandma type doing The Worm down the aisle to make the picture complete.
I'm not sure what bothers me about it so much; perhaps it's the sheer number of times the link has been shown to me, by friends and colleagues and even my Internet-illiterate aunt, with the exclamation of "This is just the coolest thing ever!"; I wonder how many copycats will have to steal this idea for their own weddings before it's no longer the "coolest thing ever!". Perhaps it's the fact that it's taking place in a CHURCH, ie a place of WORSHIP. I am the least religious person you will ever meet, but something about this ridiculous White Boy Dance promenade down the aisle in what many consider to be a sacred place is just too much. If you wanna shake your wedding up a bit, can't you wait for the reception? Limbo into the banquet hall if you must, but I just wish the simple beauty of devoting your life to another person could get the attention it deserves, without all the bells and whistles around it.


And you can use the "It's not YOUR day, it's THEIR day!" argument all you like, but hey, this mess stopped being THEIR day the second they posted it to YouTube.

Hooray!

May. 5th, 2009 06:07 pm
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Happy Birthday [livejournal.com profile] monkey1976!!

Yay Erin!
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Has anyone seen these commercials for the new line of "healthy" Frito-Lay snacks? I'm sure there's more, but in the few I've seen, the stick-figured women are either exercising, complaining about exercising, or procrastinating on beginning to exercise. And then they eat snacks. Honestly, I'm as Girl Power as the next girl, but I hate these cartoons. When I eat a snack, I don't sit around and chit-chat about how caloric it is, and then do some animated jumping-jacks after. I watch an episode of the Daily Show and go to bed, much as any other guy OR girl would do.
LoFat snacks and complaining about guys! Alright, Girl Power!


I think what I'm really saying is I find gender-specific marketing really irritating.
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I only started wearing glasses at the tail end of my college career, after years of not being able to see things more than 6 feet in front of me, until somebody finally said, "That's wrong, you should be able to see clearly farther than that." I finally got myself to Chinatown and got the seeing thing cleared up, but I only started looking into contact lenses this year. They're easier in some ways, sure, but Christ are they irritating. It's easier to see in places like dance class or skating, where glasses would be a hinderance, but nobody mentioned, ever, how much they would BURN. They're finw when I wear them, but for about an hour after I take them out, it's Burn City, population: Me. Ouch.
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Now that I'm on the dole, I'm catching up on the television shows that I pay the cable bill for but have never watched.

Tough Love: What is this show? It seems like some snarky dude from Great Neck and his mom make mean comments to make girls with already low self esteem feel worse about themselves under the guise of "improving" them and making it possible to find love. I was vacuuming when the show came on and ended up leaving it on. It made me want to kill myself. This is why I don't typically watch reality programs.

Take The Stage:Is this like "The Hills", except shot on the set of FAME? I like watching the kids perform, but all the "drama" kind of wears on me. I don't know if this is a "Faux" reality show or not, but I should probably just start watching the last 10 minutes.


Toddlers in Tiaras: It's like a train wreck. You can practically taste the parent's desperation oozing through the television (or maybe that's just a byproduct of watching it in HD?). I get a small shot of nostalgia watching the curly hair, the self tanner, and the $3,000 dresses. Take away the flipper and add some fiddle music, it's like watching every weekend I spent at an Irish Dance competition, done up like a rhinestone poodle. Also, I love how the little kids just want to eat extra large pixie stix while their parents hem and haw about the precious little one's facial* beauty score.


Iron Chef America: Ain't nothin' wrong with it. Love it.


* heh heh heh.... facial. Yeah, I'm 12. What of it?
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Things that are grossing me out today:

People who do inappropriate shit that is offensive to others at their desks: My number one thing in this category is people who cut their nails at their desks, but can also include hawking loogies and eating olfactory-offending food for breakfast or lunch. I know people get attached to their desks- it's your home for at least 8 hours a day (sometimes 12, if you're me), and that's where your Jeter bobblehead and that snapshot of your ugly nephew is, but you seem to forget that people are ALL AROUND YOU. This floor doesn't even have cubicle walls to give this illusion of privacy. When you sit at your computer and use that dollar-store clipper to trim your nails, it's not like at home, buddy. People can see you. And, actually, I can hear you too, and it's grossing me out. I suppose this is to be expected, since nail-cutter guy is also eat-6-hardboiled-eggs-at-my-desk-for-breakfast guy.

People who aggressively pick their nose in public: Look, I know it's winter and when it's cold your mucus membranes freak out, and you're gonna need to blow once in awhile. But, when I'm out an about, I try to tone it down a little. Say, If I'm on the subway, 12 inches from somebody else's face, I'm not going give a big snot-rocket honking blow and then start digging around to make sure "I got everything". Just because there is a cheap 2-ply Kleenex on your finger, that does NOT make it anymore pleasant to watch you. ie, what I experienced this morning. Guh-ross!

Dudes who are trying to be cute (I hope) but actually come across as totally skeevatz: Maybe this is old, but it's new to me, and it keeps coming up in conversation (usually with guys I went to high school with and have recently figured out how to use the chat feature on Facebook): the term "Play with me". As in, "I'm bored, come play with meeeeeee.", which I think is just a failed attempt at being cute, but actually comes across as, "Hey, girl I haven't seen in almost 10 years, come to wherever I am and give me a blowjob!".
Example:
Dude: "Yo."
Me: "Hi, what's up?"
Dude: "Not much LOL :)"
Me: "I see. Nothing going on?"
Dude: "No, I'm bored but nobody will come play with meeeeeee ;-("
This, to me, says "I can't get laid, but I'd like to. What are YOU up to?" But I could be wrong (hopefully). After all, it's only Facebook.
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one of the greatest consolations of 2009 so far, I think, was Valentine's Day falling on a Saturday. Overall, I think the whole thing is kind of silly, but there's nothing like the sinking realization that every desk around you is covered with flowers/chocolate/Vermont Teddybear/ those dumbass Pajamagrams to make you feel like the absolute personification of a Cathy cartoon (Ack!).
Women find this funny?


So, okay, the "get presents delivered to you at work so you can show off" portion of the day gets a reprieve, but you still kind of have to figure out something to do at night. There's two "What I'm doing On Valentine's Day" categories, as far as I can see: I'M DOING SOMETHING VALENTINE-Y and I'M ACTIVELY DOING SOMETHING ANTI-VALENTINE-Y. Neither one's better than the other- you can drop a million dollars eating at the Russian Tea Room and giving expensive gifts only to have a fight with your lady/gent and have a shitty time, just as easily as you can run to the local dive bar to grab a beer with a bunch of likeminded friends and have the time of your life. Or vice-versa. (Being a cranky anti-everything, moping on your couch in your sweatpants eating a tube of raw cookie dough still counts as doing something, so you may as well get out. Or at least get drunk)
I'm pretty sure, for the first time ever, I did an activity that was neither Pro or Con Valentine: I went ballroom dancing with my mother.

...well, sort of. My mother was part of the band playing the gig (which is a quarterly event with the Ballroom Dancing Society, not holiday related), and she's still gimping on her crutches, so she wouldn't be dancing. But I went, planning to help her get on and off the stage, and if the rest of the event was lame, I could sit in the back with the brass section and sneak nips out of my contraband bottle of Jameson's.

I did that for an hour or so, critiquing the dancers on the floor, flask in my lap. Then I cut across the dance floor to go to the bathroom, and somebody asked me to dance*. On the way back from the bathroom, somebody else asked me to dance. Then somebody else. It was pretty fun, I must admit. Also, watching my mom laughing at me from the bandstand was entertaining.

Then I noticed kind of a funny coincidence. All the dudes asking for a turn around the floor were Asian. Chinese, Chinese, and Korean, if I remember correctly. It kept happening all night, except when I danced with a few 50+ members of the band on a break. I don't know, maybe Asian dudes have a thing for platinum hair with a pink streak in the back?

Most of the guys came with other friends or girlfriends, and just change parters to practice. The last guy I danced with was clearly there to get himself a wife. Sorry dude, I kind of require my future husbands to speak more than 6 words of English. Also, to not have BO. JingHua would not leave me be, so I retreated back up to the safety of the brass section and my flask.

Still, a marriage proposal, dancing, and liquor made for not that bad of an Valentine's experience. Also, I now have the added bonus of finally knowing my target audience- who would have thought I'd be so popular in Asia?



*I'm pretty fair at ballroom. I haven't taken lessons in a long time, but besides remembering "1,2 cha-cha-cha" and holding on to the dude who's pushing you around the floor, there isn't much to screw up. It also helps if I've been drinking a little, which I was.
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I think having problems with iPods has fallen by the wayside. I can recall back to the days when you couldn't check your RSS feed without somebody lamenting the "Sad Mac" icon, randomly crashing desktops, and corrupted files. But these days? I guess I missed the hip time to have iPod problems, but I'm having them now.

I haven't even needed to update my ipod in forever. I was working on a show some time last year, and somebody on the crew took my pod home overnight and added at least 8Gigs of stuff to it, and I haven't had to add stuff to it since then. Over the weekend one of my funnest friends made me a "Cheer Up/No Need for Heartache/Happy time!" mix CD, which I would love to put into my Ipod.

...except I CAN'T, because my iTunes and my computer have decided that they want to pretend my ipod doesn't exist. I plug it in, little Pod is all like "DO NOT DISCONNECT, I'M IN!" and iTunes doesn't do squat. I restart. I open and close. I do all kinds of stuff, and nada.

I'm wary to screw around too much because about 85% of the stuff in the little pod are either from an old computer that's gone (from my parents), or from this random crew guy a year ago who gave me one biometric shit ton of cool music and I havent' talked to him since, so the stuff I have now could be lost forever with no way to get it back.

Anyone have any ideas? Options for back up? Something that isn't too super complicated that might save the music I have now while still enabling me to listen to Britney Spear's "Womanizer" (Track #4) in peace?

Any info that isn't "Go see the Mac Geniuses"* is very, very appreciated.


*I won't go to the Mac Geniuses. I hate them.
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I heard on the radio this morning that there are an estimated 3 Million people in DC for the inauguration, about 75% of them are under the age of 35. City officials are estimating that by 10AM this morning, traffic will be at a standstill for 50 miles surrounding the city.

Personally, I know about 20 people who packed up and drove to DC, a few for work, but mostly just to go.

Friends, for your sake, if you went to DC today, I really hope you packed an empty mason jar (ladies) or a soda bottle (gents) or something, because it sounds like running to the Port-A-Potty might not be such a simple option.

Yes, a new president, especially after the last Yahoo we had, is very exciting. The first (half) black president is ever more exciting. If you want to drive 5+ hours to an already over-packed city that can't handle the sheer amount of bodies, just so you can say you were there, that's fine by me. I'm just saying, have realistic expectations. President Obama is only getting sworn in today. You need to give him at least... oh, I dunno, like 5 to 10 days to completely turn it around and navigate these fine United States out of the virtual cesspool.

Also, take care of your bladders and extremities while you're standing outside for the next 12 hours with 4 million other people. President Obama does not want you to fall victim to a UTI or frostbite, just so you can watch him say "I Do" on the Jumbo-Tron. Personally, I will be watching the swearing live on the Internets, with my heat and my running water close by. I totally want to see him fly in on the magical Unicorn, throwing handfuls of pixie dust to the crowd! At least, that's what people seem to think is going to happen.

Happy inauguration day!
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not that working in Times Square isn't always a treat or anything...

...but I had to literally step OVER people setting up camp to get a good view of THE BALL to get into my building this morning. Yeesh, tourists, it's snowing and stuff. Is being an extra in Cloverfield II that important that you want to spend the next 12 hours sitting on the concrete?
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....frankly, 2008, you sucked giant farmyard donkey balls. You were a terrible year, and I can't wait for you to get the hell off of my calendar.

don't let the door in you in the ass on the way to my recycling bin.
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My dad is going to be near my apartment this afternoon, so he's going to swing by my apartment to pick up my bags of christmas accoutrements for me so I don't need to brave the LIRR laden with Christmas goodies. However, I forgot to pack my camera.
*ring**ring* "Hello?"
"Hi Dad! Listen, I forgot to put my camera in that bag for you to pick up. can you grab it for me?"
"Sure. Where is it?"
"Hanging on the antlers."
"Which antlers? The ones in the kitchen or the bedroom."
"The Chrome ones in the kitchen."
"...and which Camera?"
"The Canon. In the case."
"There's a dozen cameras on these antlers. Which one?"
"The G9. You'll see it. I don't plan on screwing with any vintage Kodaks on the birthday of our Lord, dad."
So I'm guessing I either have too many antlers or cameras in my apartment. Maybe both. Maybe I should start collecting Beanie Babies or sea shells or something now?


Also, hi, I am still sitting at my desk. Doing actual work. Judging by the pile of paperwork that just landed in front of me, I'm pretty sure nobody in this office got the memo that Santa is en route and we should all be at home baking cookies for him.

Happy Holidays! A joyous ChrismaHanuKwanzika to all and to all a good night.
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I'm not sure if it's the sudden downturn of the stock market or something in the water or what, but suddenly, every chick on the trading floor is in procreation mode. Pendulus-bellied, breasts-refusing-to-be-hidden-under-an-Ann-Taylorblazer, stocking-feet-elevated-under-the-desk Preggers. I'm usually quite pleasant to them as we pass on the floor, or hold the bathroom door open for them to waddle past, but sometimes it's not so easy to be so gracious. When I have to step out of the elevator, or let a Mommy-To-Be grab the last turkey sub in the cafeteria, I definitely start to shoot the evil looks I usually reserve for holiday-season tourists and pukey-fall-down-drunk girls on Saturday night: "Well, gee, I'm SO glad I get to inconvenience myself so YOU can go first/eat my lunch/take my turn. It's not like I told you to get knocked up, and here I am, suffering for your unborn spawn." I try not to be so heinous, but honestly, it's hard to commiserate because I had absolutely no idea where all these walking incubators are coming from.

Until today.

"Listen, sister," said Boyfriend, rolling out of bed this morning, "there is NO way I can spend another night in this bed. I spend more time tossing and turning than I do actually sleeping."
"Is it really that bad?" being notoriously oblivious to most things, as well as a very still sleeper, things like "finding a comfortable spot" rarely affect me if I'm tired enough.
"Pretty soon, I'm going to start sleeping in the bathtub. I bet it's more comfortable," He says.*

A few hours later, when a Macy's discount coupon popped into my inbox and an afternoon suspiciously devoid of work-related emergencies ahead of me, I opted to take an actual lunch hour and investigate the wild world of mattress pads and feather beds to try and remedy the little problem of Boyfriend trying to sleep in the bathroom.

Have you ever tried to shop for a Mattress pad? it's definitely not as simple as I originally anticipated. There are dozens of prices, materials, and comfort levels. Goose down? Synthetic? Tempurpedic? You can get an egg crate and recreate the college days when you tried to make your Xtra long twin mattress feel less like a soggy piece of foam slung across rough-wood planks. You can get a 3,000 threadcount 100% goosedown feather bed and pretend you're a fancy callgirl making a visit to the Ritz Carlton.

In the end, I settled on a full-size synthetic 500 threadcount featherbed. The mattress equivalent of an Audi.

Purchase made, I go to breeze out of the Macy's home department, and realize that my body circumference has more than doubled now that I'm carrying $200 worth of pillowtop. The handles on the carrying case are only long enough for me to put my forearm through; I tried hupping it up over my shoulder and got stuck.

So now I'm lugging a three-feet around bag of puffy stuff, held tight against my stomach, navigating carefully through the store, to the street, to the subway, trying to avoid hitting other people with my new "belly". I couldn't navigate around slow moving people like I normally do, zipping around yet another ambling tour group or lady with a Bugaboo stroller, and that's when it hit me:

This is what it must be like to be pregnant.**

Or a shopaholic.


Either way, Mommies-to-Be, sorry I was so terse to your conidition before. I get it now. I'll try to be a little nicer about scootching over in the elevator for you.





*He's actually right. I tried to find a comfy spot where my mattress isn't poking me in the side, the back, the ass. And there isn't one. My mattress is barely two years old, and suddenly it feels like lying on a wire cage wrapped in toilet paper. That's what I get for going to Sleepy's during a labor day sale and saying, "I want the $199 special, no special insurance, no pillow tops, no special deals, just the cheap shit please, thanks very much."
**Kind of. I realize this is a very loosely-formed metaphor at best.
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Of course, like 98% of New York, I'm pleased and relieved at the way the election turned out. It's not going to be easy, but I'm glad that if I happen to get knocked up, I don't have to move to Alaska and start eating moose meat a la Clan of the Cave Bear.

However, the biggest perk of the victory of the Obama/Biden ticket is, for me personally, that I never have to see THIS GUY
Seriously?
AGAIN!


This dude (or lady, but I'm pretty sure it's a dude) marches in the West Village Halloween parade every year, with a Bush mask on his head, a toilet seat around his neck, and a "Sewage W. Bush" sign that changes yearly to a slogan that is progressively worse than the one from the year before.

I hate him. He starts at the beginning of the parade route and WANDERS back and forth in between the floats and other acts. I definitely almost tripped over him twice during a performance of "Thriller" he happened to get tied up in the middle of. I'm pretty sure the Ferris Bueller float had to stop for him to blindly trip his way down 6th Avenue (the rubber mask isn't great on visibility, it seems).

I get that any time New Yorkers have a chance to get together en masse, regardless of the holiday, there's going to be at least a little bit of politics mixed in there, ESPECIALLY during an election year. But Sewage W. Bush has been present in at least the past FOUR Halloween parades (Could be more, but since I've started doing the parade he's always there). If you wanna demonstrate, fine, that's cool. But "Sewage W. Bush".... is dumb. It's so fucking dumb. "Sewage" sounds NOTHING like "George".

I mean, I could EVEN deal with the (so, so stupid) name. But the slogans? Come on:
Worst.

Costume.

Ever.


Personally, I would like you thank you, America, for voting for change. Especially so I don't have to see four years of this, President McCain-style (or even scarier, President Palin-style).
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When Halloween falls on a Friday, it's absolutely considered a 3-day National Holiday (2 for getting down and/or funky, one for a hangover bunch where you look at the crazy photos you took). I danced in the Halloween parade, completely blind because contact lenses frosted over from not blinking. At some point, I posed for this photo:

this is thrillerrrr
From the NY Daily News, 11.1.08


Happy Hollyween! Don't forget to vote!


. I would like to point out, this is my 18th consecutive year of wearing a NON-sexy costume. In 4th grade I went as "I dream of Jeannie" and that was the last time my bare midriff has made an appearance on October 31. Cover UP girls, jeez. It's winter! It's cold!
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