I have always dismissed advice given by strangers at the gym as pompous attempts to hit on me, but after an 85-year-old man interrupted my workout today to tell me that I was using the machine completely incorrectly I realized that I must be completely retarded at using the gym. Huh.
I prefer to think that all those body builders were just trying to mack on me.
All is well. I have 25 sketches due on Wednesday that I should probably start tonight. I think I’ll go do that. I went to Taco Bell today, by the way, and it was the best meal I’ve had in ages. Seriously.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Jesus Christ. No love, no love at all for the tattoo idea thus far. God. You’d think that one might find support for such an idea from the creative counter-culture that is design, but alas, I have yet to find any. Today I was told by a man with a mohawk and a batman tee that I would taint myself with a large tattoo. What the hell.
I am beginning to have my doubts. I can’t decide which would be worse: looking back at age 65 and regretting that I never had the balls to get a tattoo that I always wanted, or looking down at age 65 and seeing a stretched, out-of-place blight that covers a third of my torso. Hmmmm… decisions, decisions. I simply love the idea of a pretty, conservatively dressed young professional who beneath the banana republic cardigan and darling heels has Russian literature tattooed all over her body. Surely there is someone out there who also finds that amusing and awesome. Speak up, you illusive tattoo-condoning individuals! Where are you?
Today was successful. At 11:00 I went to brunch with Dennis, my dear friend and previous regional manager at Chart House, at Honey, an awesome indy restaurant over in Northside. I like Dennis immensely; he’s intelligent and pleasant while unapologetically goofy at times. We live in separate worlds, he and I; I spend 70 hours a week in the dork bizarro bubble that is DAAP, whereas his time is spent in a world of restaurants, wine tasting and actually having money. He turns 30 next week and invited me to a celebratory soiree:
D: “What are you doing on the 18th?
Me: “ Oh my god, BATMAN!”
D: “Come again?”
Me: “Dude, The Dark Knight comes out on the 18th, and I made plans to go see it EIGHT months ago. We even planned a batman marathon in preparation. BATMAN. That is what I’m doing on the 18th.”
D: “…..”
Me: “Does that make me even more of a dork?”
D: “That makes you even more awesome”.
I agreed to stop by after the film and help him celebrate his being old, and I look forward to meeting his friends and family. I also look forward to Batman, obviously. I’m going with my studio friend Matt, the aforementioned tattoo-hater who is currently sporting a mohawk. He’s an even bigger batman fan than I am, so his presence, hopefully, will make me feel somewhat normal. I cannot contain my excitement for the movie; the trailers look downright spectacular. Though I was initially suspicious of Heath Ledger’s Joker, my worries were banished the moment I saw his demented makeup and that menacing Chelsea smile. It’s going to be creepy. It’s going to be fantastic.
On a side note, I’ve been going to the gym daily since school started, and it’s starting to show. While on coop I spent almost every weekend in Chicago with Ben, during which time we went out to eat for every meal. I, er, returned to Cincinnati significantly plumper than I had left it, and was unhappy with the state of affairs. I dragged my chubby little ass to the gym and have worked out an hour a day since then, and will soon be the walking ball of hotness I aspire to be. Things are looking up.
I am beginning to have my doubts. I can’t decide which would be worse: looking back at age 65 and regretting that I never had the balls to get a tattoo that I always wanted, or looking down at age 65 and seeing a stretched, out-of-place blight that covers a third of my torso. Hmmmm… decisions, decisions. I simply love the idea of a pretty, conservatively dressed young professional who beneath the banana republic cardigan and darling heels has Russian literature tattooed all over her body. Surely there is someone out there who also finds that amusing and awesome. Speak up, you illusive tattoo-condoning individuals! Where are you?
Today was successful. At 11:00 I went to brunch with Dennis, my dear friend and previous regional manager at Chart House, at Honey, an awesome indy restaurant over in Northside. I like Dennis immensely; he’s intelligent and pleasant while unapologetically goofy at times. We live in separate worlds, he and I; I spend 70 hours a week in the dork bizarro bubble that is DAAP, whereas his time is spent in a world of restaurants, wine tasting and actually having money. He turns 30 next week and invited me to a celebratory soiree:
D: “What are you doing on the 18th?
Me: “ Oh my god, BATMAN!”
D: “Come again?”
Me: “Dude, The Dark Knight comes out on the 18th, and I made plans to go see it EIGHT months ago. We even planned a batman marathon in preparation. BATMAN. That is what I’m doing on the 18th.”
D: “…..”
Me: “Does that make me even more of a dork?”
D: “That makes you even more awesome”.
I agreed to stop by after the film and help him celebrate his being old, and I look forward to meeting his friends and family. I also look forward to Batman, obviously. I’m going with my studio friend Matt, the aforementioned tattoo-hater who is currently sporting a mohawk. He’s an even bigger batman fan than I am, so his presence, hopefully, will make me feel somewhat normal. I cannot contain my excitement for the movie; the trailers look downright spectacular. Though I was initially suspicious of Heath Ledger’s Joker, my worries were banished the moment I saw his demented makeup and that menacing Chelsea smile. It’s going to be creepy. It’s going to be fantastic.
On a side note, I’ve been going to the gym daily since school started, and it’s starting to show. While on coop I spent almost every weekend in Chicago with Ben, during which time we went out to eat for every meal. I, er, returned to Cincinnati significantly plumper than I had left it, and was unhappy with the state of affairs. I dragged my chubby little ass to the gym and have worked out an hour a day since then, and will soon be the walking ball of hotness I aspire to be. Things are looking up.
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Dear God, I feel completely brain-dead. The weekend that held such promise has been pissed away by my sloth and adoration of my couch. Though things began somewhat social- I went out Thursday evening with my father’s friends and attempted a grill-out Friday afternoon- I have, for the past two days, spent the entire time in my pajamas indoors. For example, I am currently wearing my pajamas. At 8:05 on a Saturday evening.
To my defense, however, the quarter is bound to get unbearably busy any moment now, so I suppose if there were ever a time to slip into a Seinfeld/beer-induced coma, this is it. I’ve enjoyed myself, I suppose, with the exception of that horrible dizzy feeling one gets after sitting and staring at screens too long.
Hey, I mowed the lawn today. I saw the sun. Don’t hate.
Next week I begin training for a server position at P.F Chang’s. The job is the most ideal I could hope for and probably the most lucrative available, but is quite a commitment for the three months that I’ll be in Cincinnati. Training will take a couple of weeks, at the very least, and I need money now. I needed money last week. Things are getting dicey. Though I realize I’ve spoken of monetary woes many a time on this blog before, my bills have always been minimal. So minimal they hardly classify as bills. Now, however, I have rent to pay, as well as medical bills for a Jameson-induced ordeal that occurred while I was on co-op. It’s actually an enormously amusing story that I will tell in depth sometime later, provided everyone promises to suspend their judgment, well, indefinitely.
Classes are off to an abnormally slow start. We had been told that summer classes were noticeably more lax than conventional terms, and indeed the rumors are true. We’re designing a power tool, and I’m very excited with my idea. After watching my mum attempt to use floor edgers on multiple occasions, I’ve decided it’s finally time that they were improved. I have many ideas for the redesign, some reasonable and some completely out there, so I’m not too worried about the project at this moment in time. My floor edger will be awesome.
I think I want a tattoo. At least I have begun the process of contemplating one. I adore typographic tattoos and am considering getting one of the Dostoevsky passage I posted earlier this year. Both my father and Cindy think it’s a horrible idea, which is not too surprising, what with them being parents and all. The gears in my little head have begun to turn, and the thought of a huge passage on the side of my torso intrigues me.
This post is scatter-brained and sloppily written, but I must settle for whatever absent-minded dross I am able to force out of myself. I haven’t written in quite a while. Eloquence will follow with time.
To my defense, however, the quarter is bound to get unbearably busy any moment now, so I suppose if there were ever a time to slip into a Seinfeld/beer-induced coma, this is it. I’ve enjoyed myself, I suppose, with the exception of that horrible dizzy feeling one gets after sitting and staring at screens too long.
Hey, I mowed the lawn today. I saw the sun. Don’t hate.
Next week I begin training for a server position at P.F Chang’s. The job is the most ideal I could hope for and probably the most lucrative available, but is quite a commitment for the three months that I’ll be in Cincinnati. Training will take a couple of weeks, at the very least, and I need money now. I needed money last week. Things are getting dicey. Though I realize I’ve spoken of monetary woes many a time on this blog before, my bills have always been minimal. So minimal they hardly classify as bills. Now, however, I have rent to pay, as well as medical bills for a Jameson-induced ordeal that occurred while I was on co-op. It’s actually an enormously amusing story that I will tell in depth sometime later, provided everyone promises to suspend their judgment, well, indefinitely.
Classes are off to an abnormally slow start. We had been told that summer classes were noticeably more lax than conventional terms, and indeed the rumors are true. We’re designing a power tool, and I’m very excited with my idea. After watching my mum attempt to use floor edgers on multiple occasions, I’ve decided it’s finally time that they were improved. I have many ideas for the redesign, some reasonable and some completely out there, so I’m not too worried about the project at this moment in time. My floor edger will be awesome.
I think I want a tattoo. At least I have begun the process of contemplating one. I adore typographic tattoos and am considering getting one of the Dostoevsky passage I posted earlier this year. Both my father and Cindy think it’s a horrible idea, which is not too surprising, what with them being parents and all. The gears in my little head have begun to turn, and the thought of a huge passage on the side of my torso intrigues me.
This post is scatter-brained and sloppily written, but I must settle for whatever absent-minded dross I am able to force out of myself. I haven’t written in quite a while. Eloquence will follow with time.
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