Archive for April, 2008

It was like a movie. A young Rachel Weisz will play me.

Friday night I went to see my brother and one of his bands play for the singer’s birthday. I have seen punk shows, I have seen drunks – I have never seen so many drunkity drunks at a punk show.

Afterwards, we began running (tripping?) across the street to the club. Soon there was a crowd of us from the bar dancing while the majority of the club-goers stared resentfully at us from the sidelines.

As I was hula hooped around by a friend, I noticed that there was a girl in huge orange pants, a spiked choker, and pigtails waving glo-sticks, and I momentarily flash-backed to 1999 when I wore virtually the same thing (except my choker was studded, my pants were zebra-striped, and I was never cool enough to go raving). Then I noticed a man in a suit and a man in a wheelchair wheeling around the  . Then, to my left, I saw an old man with white hair. In fetish wear. In like a latex harness with rings. I thought I was going to die. Things like this do not happen to me. I WAS LOSING MY MIND. OH GOD WHO SPIKED MY PBR WITH ACID.

The next day I found out that it had been “gothic, alternative, industrial, and fetish night.” My brother and I decided that we need to go to the club after every show. Tonight, however, I found out that the club closed two days ago. We killed it.


Friday, April 18, 2008 at 1:29 am 1 comment

Why, hello.

I have returned from the mysterious, non-blogging world of, er, not blogging.

I have officially been unemployed for going on seven months. The economy is about half of the reason for my sustained unemployment (retail jobs in Memphis are virtually nonexistent at the moment). The other half is a cocktail of procrastination; complete disgust at dealing with another dead-end, soul-crushing retail job where I make about $7.00 an hour and smile at people who seem to think that I am not a person; and anxiety. I also have things I want to do, but don’t want to ask off for. Telling a brand new employer that I cannot work the twenty-fifth because I have to go pretend to be a zombie somehow doesn’t seem like a good first impression.

I’ve kind of decided to abandon my former retail servitude and try my hand at waiting tables. Hey, as long as I’m doing dead-end, soul-crushing work, I might as well make enough to kinda, sorta survive on, right? If I can pay off my medical bills, get rid of my college debt and go back to school, and get an apartment, I will be a happy girl. If not, I will acquire a sugar daddy. Y’ALL DON’T KNOW ME! WHATEVUH! I DO WHAT I WANT!

Tuesday, April 8, 2008 at 12:41 am 1 comment


Et cetera


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