![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Mar. 6th, 2006 03:28 pmOkay, so who's spring break begins this weekend? WHO?!?!?!
Mar. 6th, 2006
K19- The Babymaker
Mar. 6th, 2006 06:50 pmToday I sat through a very, very German movie for class. The Promise. Between enduring the cinema classic ("You and your protestant faith!") and its previews (Bed of Roses, Frankie Starlight, and Seven, in which Morgan attempts to become a Free Man by leaving the force), I missed Jer, whose job it is to sit with me through Volkswagen: Hitler's Dream, Hildegard von Bangen'!, Ludwig: Still Crazy! and other Deutsch-related masterpieces.
Today my Buffy arrived, weeks late, the box in broken shambles of plastic and cardboard. Thanks, ebay. Thanks. Still, watched the Thanksgiving episode with the Shumas tribe, enjoyed it.
I submitted my applications to work for Pistil and Another Chicago Magazine on Sunday, and lined up a very nice probable home for the summer over by Belmont/Halsted.
The Pitchfork Music Festival this summer is getting all lined up. Colin and I have our tickets, Kayta and Ammena, Danny and Annie are probably comming. Jenny is considdering it in terms of her work obligations, I think. It's the end of July, and I provide crash space for those who desperatley need it. I still have to apply for Pierce, who runs the Chicago Tribune Food Section, and some backup publications. But really? I'm shooting for Pistil. It's a start up that might actually have more use for me than the strictly coffee-related. It's very music, fashion, pop-culture feminist.
The Prisoner, disk II, arives tomorrow. I'm glad it's on netflix.
This hair is so agonizingly terrible I fear appearing in public. Never again, Dimensions. I will remember this. It's like the Battle of the Alamo happened on my scalp, but with less appropriate application of bleach. I'm getting Aveda'd post haste. I can't afford it but can I afford to look the the 80s vommited on my tresses? No, and Cindi Lauper's going to call and leave angry little notes about how she wants her look back.
Oh Meryl Streep, your river IS wild.
Today my Buffy arrived, weeks late, the box in broken shambles of plastic and cardboard. Thanks, ebay. Thanks. Still, watched the Thanksgiving episode with the Shumas tribe, enjoyed it.
I submitted my applications to work for Pistil and Another Chicago Magazine on Sunday, and lined up a very nice probable home for the summer over by Belmont/Halsted.
The Pitchfork Music Festival this summer is getting all lined up. Colin and I have our tickets, Kayta and Ammena, Danny and Annie are probably comming. Jenny is considdering it in terms of her work obligations, I think. It's the end of July, and I provide crash space for those who desperatley need it. I still have to apply for Pierce, who runs the Chicago Tribune Food Section, and some backup publications. But really? I'm shooting for Pistil. It's a start up that might actually have more use for me than the strictly coffee-related. It's very music, fashion, pop-culture feminist.
The Prisoner, disk II, arives tomorrow. I'm glad it's on netflix.
This hair is so agonizingly terrible I fear appearing in public. Never again, Dimensions. I will remember this. It's like the Battle of the Alamo happened on my scalp, but with less appropriate application of bleach. I'm getting Aveda'd post haste. I can't afford it but can I afford to look the the 80s vommited on my tresses? No, and Cindi Lauper's going to call and leave angry little notes about how she wants her look back.
Oh Meryl Streep, your river IS wild.
K19- The Babymaker
Mar. 6th, 2006 06:50 pmToday I sat through a very, very German movie for class. The Promise. Between enduring the cinema classic ("You and your protestant faith!") and its previews (Bed of Roses, Frankie Starlight, and Seven, in which Morgan attempts to become a Free Man by leaving the force), I missed Jer, whose job it is to sit with me through Volkswagen: Hitler's Dream, Hildegard von Bangen'!, Ludwig: Still Crazy! and other Deutsch-related masterpieces.
Today my Buffy arrived, weeks late, the box in broken shambles of plastic and cardboard. Thanks, ebay. Thanks. Still, watched the Thanksgiving episode with the Shumas tribe, enjoyed it.
I submitted my applications to work for Pistil and Another Chicago Magazine on Sunday, and lined up a very nice probable home for the summer over by Belmont/Halsted.
The Pitchfork Music Festival this summer is getting all lined up. Colin and I have our tickets, Kayta and Ammena, Danny and Annie are probably comming. Jenny is considdering it in terms of her work obligations, I think. It's the end of July, and I provide crash space for those who desperatley need it. I still have to apply for Pierce, who runs the Chicago Tribune Food Section, and some backup publications. But really? I'm shooting for Pistil. It's a start up that might actually have more use for me than the strictly coffee-related. It's very music, fashion, pop-culture feminist.
The Prisoner, disk II, arives tomorrow. I'm glad it's on netflix.
This hair is so agonizingly terrible I fear appearing in public. Never again, Dimensions. I will remember this. It's like the Battle of the Alamo happened on my scalp, but with less appropriate application of bleach. I'm getting Aveda'd post haste. I can't afford it but can I afford to look the the 80s vommited on my tresses? No, and Cindi Lauper's going to call and leave angry little notes about how she wants her look back.
Oh Meryl Streep, your river IS wild.
Today my Buffy arrived, weeks late, the box in broken shambles of plastic and cardboard. Thanks, ebay. Thanks. Still, watched the Thanksgiving episode with the Shumas tribe, enjoyed it.
I submitted my applications to work for Pistil and Another Chicago Magazine on Sunday, and lined up a very nice probable home for the summer over by Belmont/Halsted.
The Pitchfork Music Festival this summer is getting all lined up. Colin and I have our tickets, Kayta and Ammena, Danny and Annie are probably comming. Jenny is considdering it in terms of her work obligations, I think. It's the end of July, and I provide crash space for those who desperatley need it. I still have to apply for Pierce, who runs the Chicago Tribune Food Section, and some backup publications. But really? I'm shooting for Pistil. It's a start up that might actually have more use for me than the strictly coffee-related. It's very music, fashion, pop-culture feminist.
The Prisoner, disk II, arives tomorrow. I'm glad it's on netflix.
This hair is so agonizingly terrible I fear appearing in public. Never again, Dimensions. I will remember this. It's like the Battle of the Alamo happened on my scalp, but with less appropriate application of bleach. I'm getting Aveda'd post haste. I can't afford it but can I afford to look the the 80s vommited on my tresses? No, and Cindi Lauper's going to call and leave angry little notes about how she wants her look back.
Oh Meryl Streep, your river IS wild.