Monthly Archives: July 2010

Stuff Rachel Fucking Hates

When pictures tagged as Malcolm X are actually of Denzel Washington in the Malcolm X biopic Seriously, HOW CAN YOU NOT TELL THE DIFFERENCE

Someone missed their “sketch swap mailing” We get a lot of mail for the people who used to live at this house, which I always throw out because we don’t have their forwarding address. But recently we got one for a name that as far as I can tell didn’t live here because she was not a male grad student in engineering, but it was a sketch swap exchange and I wish I had an address to forward it to her, because that sounds like something you’d be looking forward to getting. Sorry, Nancy.

I’ve never seen My So-Called Life I feel like I would have turned out a more normal/complete person if I had watched it when I was younger? I mean I guess that’s the point, is that it’s not about “being normal” or whatever, but watching G Gundam with your little brother when you get home from school doesn’t really help your development as a human being.

Actually I’ve like never seen any TV ever This week JP (my co-barista) and I had to have a serious conversation about our relationship, because he keeps trying to reference lines from movies and TV shows with me, and I finally had to be like “JP, this can’t be how we relate. It isn’t going to work. I haven’t seen like any TV ever.” “Well then, what are we going to relate about?” he asked. We settled finally, uneasily, on making fun of lousy bands and hating our customers. But apparently that really doesn’t compare to a good shared enjoyment of Seinfeld. Which I have never seen.

Um, it turns out the economy sucks? I have a job, and I am really thankful for that, and I should remember that when I complain about people who decide they wanted their iced decaf mocha cappucinos not iced at all actually. Once in a while there are these little reminders that break through my privileged more-than-minimum-wage haze and give me the chills, like the people who occasionally come in looking for an application, and won’t leave even after I tell them we don’t have one, and desperately ask to speak to a manager in the hopes that it will make their resume somehow different from the other ones we have on file. One of the dishwashers just got fired, and while I understand the reasons for doing it, I know he has a toddler at home and considering that the other dishwashers work 60-80 hours a week to feed their families, I can’t imagine what he’s doing. It sucks, you know? It really, really does. In related news, though, Emma maybe has a job? Go baby go!

“Morning Dessert”/”Sex For Breakfast” on Christina Aguilera’s new album Listen, I’m sorry, these are just embarrassingly terrible.

I don’t know, I feel like there should be more, but I’m tired and I didn’t take my nap today, so. Heather is staying Chez Emma and Moi and wishes me to inform you that the Stuff She Thinks Is Great will probably be up tomorrow morning, she has a very busy social life, you will all just have to suck it up. She didn’t actually say that last part, I did. Anyways.

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top five: things i would do if i were rich

Most of the time, I fantasize about not having to worry about money. Not leading some kind of hedonistic lifestyle where you buy brand-name Saran Wrap, but the kind where you never have to check your account balance immediately after buying gas to make sure that you didn’t overdraft anything. But occasionally I think about how The Other Half lives – people who plan elaborate vacations, who buy new hardcover books, who call the place where I work and place $300 catering orders on a whim for a few friends that they’re having over the next day. Here is a list of things I would do if I had some kind of Gringotts reserve of goblin gold backing my every purchase, and reaching the bottom of my supply was not something I ever needed to worry about.

1. Buying food in restaurants and cafes. My favorite cafe has a sandwich that I have eaten exactly once and that I like a lot – seven-grain bread with cucumber, carrots, sprouts, and tofu with peanut sauce. It costs $7.25, which is a third of my grocery budget for the entire week. But it is really good, and although I love cooking sometimes it is indescribably nice to have something just appear in front of you, with no strings like “chopping and assembly” or “putting the plate in the dishwasher” attached. I can’t imagine a world where $7.25 for a sandwich doesn’t seem exorbitantly expensive, but I would like to live there if it exists.

2. Make it rain for the food service workers of my immediate area The other day a customer came into work who was exactly the kind of person I would normally hate – rich, white, dropped anecdotes about several different friends of hers from exotic nationalities just in the 5 minutes she stood in front of the register. But then before she left, she smiled at me and said “You know, I used to work in a place like this,” and dropped $5 into the tip jar. I try to do things like that when I can, but I would love to be able to do it all the time: $20 in the jar at Felipe’s, a 75% tip at the Indian restaurant my mom likes. You know? You know.

3. Get my gym on There are approximately 17 gyms within two blocks of my house, and our area is overrun with thin white women with yoga mats over one shoulder either headed to or headed home from some power-heat-kundalini-extra-oxygenated yoga class. They annoy me, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to be one of them. Would I go for a basic no-frills place like Planet Fitness, or one of the high-end gyms that I constantly run into old professors of mine coming out of? Or even better, a local yoga studio with poor graphic design and a faux-Indian spiritual vibe? Maybe all of them! I love sweating. Just kidding, I love feeling superior when I walk past other people in gym clothes.

4. ALL ETSY ALL THE TIME Seriously, this shit would be OOC. My wallet would be made of felted alpaca fleece with tiny hearts handsewn onto it, and my purse would be a bird’s nest, my shoes would be knitted out of hemp, and I would wear this to work. All jokes aside, though, I like pretty things? And if possible, I would prefer to pay real human people for pretty things that will thus enable them to pay rent and buy grapes with coupons from Market Basket that save them 51 cents a pound like I do, rather than enable Dov Charney to stuff fifty-dollar bills inside an underage girl’s vagina. Also my friend has this really great Etsy shop where she sells soap that will make you smarter, if you have $5 and need to shower (and I know this is true of you, reader) then you should buy something from her!

5. Finally start Dream Vegan Cafe Actually that’s probably not true, slash A Post For Another Time. Probably I would give all the money to Autostraddle so we could afford to buy salad and no one got scurvy. Or probably I would just start buying things at Alternative Apparel and Tom’s Shoes instead of browsing their websites longingly, or start buying Threadless tees again now that they have a boatneck cut. I know, I’m so easy, aren’t I? So easy. Someone should put me on Jersey Shore.

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Stuff Rachel Fucking Hates

Heterosexual weddings are weird. It’s entirely possible, maybe even probable, that homosexual weddings are just as weird/weirder, but I’m going to hold out hope for that until I have a gay friend who is emotionally stable enough to ever make a lifetime commitment to another person. I had never been to a wedding before this weekend, and now I think they are mostly about fried food and whiskey sours and hearing all the same stories from high school that everyone has told over and over. Also, old people. Also, James Brown. I don’t even know how to feel, you know? You know.

I really just do not know what to write for daily fixes anymore Approximately once every month or two, someone on the AS editorial team will tweet “this is it. it’s over. i can’t write anymore. i just don’t know how to write one more thing.” I think this is my turn. Dan Choi? Church scandals? DOMA? I just don’t know. I think that the reason I can never be a real journalist is that whenever a story gets just heavy and important enough that it actually really should be written about and talked about, I lose interest, because it’s just too much for me. Like I think what I probably actually should write about is this Shirley Sherrod/NAACP thing; it is actually kind of important? But all the name-calling and yelling and stupidity just makes me tired and need an advil and so I go browse the internet for vegan recipes instead.

I hate the internet. Really.

Being lucky is not the same thing as being happy. This is just a fact.

I don’t think I will ever have a craigslist-funded alternative lifestyle haircut, and that’s unfortunate. I ran out of hair conditioner like two weeks ago and haven’t bothered to buy more. So my hair is kind of gross and weirdly fluffy and hay-like, and also really hot. But at the same time, I don’t want it short badly enough to shell out $50. Am thinking about approaching the hipster hair salon in [redacted] square and asking if they ever do free haircuts for instructional purposes. That can’t possibly end badly, right?

I am actually the worst daughter, ever I realized when driving home tired and slightly hung over from said heterosexual wedding today that my dad’s birthday was last week, and despite my constant sort of vague confusion and guilt about not knowing what to get him as a gift, I had somehow managed to forget the actual day. When I called to apologize and wish him a happy birthday, his being so nice about it actually made it probably one hundred times worse: “Oh, that’s fine, honey. You remembered eventually! And it was only last week, so it’s not even that long ago.”

I just want someone to go get me a mango, or even a pineapple. Is that so much to ask. Is it.

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Stuff Heather Thinks is Super Great

Having a job. So they pay me in single digits and schedule me for six hours a week.  So it’s at the mall.  It’s not ideal, fine.  At least it’s some form of income, however small, and lends a purpose/structure to the days.

This:

A birthday cake all-time great.  Beats the Joker cake I was so proud of by a long shot.  (And let’s not even bring up the Spock cake!  The Spock cake was nothing compared to the Joker.)

I’m just saying, my birthday’s only a few months away.

Seeing college friends. This weekend was chock-full of mini college reunions.  We only graduated in May, but it feels like lightyears ago.  Hello, friends!  I missed you.  Let’s eat Mexican food/bowl/karaoke/see Inception another time! (Which brings me to…)

Inception. When I was about nine or ten, I went through a “What is reality?  How do we know our dreams aren’t real, maybe what we think is our waking life is actually us dreaming and what we think are dreams is actually real life!  Maybe we are asleep RIGHT NOW.  Yeah, well, how do you know we’re not?  What is ‘real’?  What makes the dream world any less legitimate?  Maybe they are both real” phase.  At the time, I mostly used my new powers of philosophical thought to enlighten/annoy the teenage workers at the afterschool daycare I attended.  Inception took the same concepts and made something totally badass out of them: a mindbending (ha!), intricate action film.  Oh, and almost every guy in it was hot.  (Sorry, Michael Caine and Pete Postlethwaite.)

Clone High. This show was too clever for MTV.  It should have been on Adult Swim or Comedy Central.  It should be on Adult Swim or Comedy Central now.  It should get picked up.  Reproduce the show, you chowderheads!  (To quote JFK: “That guy’s HEAD is so full of CHOWdah, he should have a BREAD BOWL for a BEEEEUUUHD!”)

The Robert/Allison routine from SYTYCD last week:

Every now and then on So You Think You Can Dance, they will do a contemporary number choreographed around a deceased or ailing parent, usually the choreographer’s.  These routines never fail to make the judges, the in-studio audience, and my mother bawl outright.  This one, though, got to me more than the others.  The part where he nudges her legs with his head, puppylike, or literally walks for her?  Oh, my God.

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Best Of Craigslist #7

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i am a writer, writer of fictions

and I just proved it to everyone by doing it (writing fiction) in a coffeeshop.  Yes, I am now One of Those People Who Write On Their Macbook in Coffeeshops.  I woke up this morning, decided to try it (again, as I have never been able to focus enough on actually writing whenever I go to a coffeeshop/library/etc to do such a thing, due to peoplewatching and so on and so forth), and the experiment has proven successful!  I’m going to chalk today up as a win.  Low expectations and all that.

The best thing would have been to blog at said coffeeshop, but their WiFi is locked and I figured I might have to pay for it, so.

Other things I did today:

  • scoured Craigslist for jobs
  • finished No One Belongs Here More Than You
  • went to a restaurant and applied to be a waitress
  • went to apply to another job, to sell books at the airport, but got tangled up in the airport roadways and couldn’t find a place to park that wouldn’t charge me at least three dollars for the service, so I left and decided to apply via Craigslist instead
  • went back to AHWOSG, which is what I’d been reading before ILL came through with aforementioned No One
  • crossing the border –– again –– from poseur to halfway-legitimate hipster (see above)
  • drank hot chocolate at the outrageously air-conditioned coffeeshop
  • spilled hot chocolate on my dress

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Stuff Rachel Fucking Hates

It is roughly halfway through Vegan July, and roughly halfway through the summer, even though summer is now a meaningless concept (or at least a very different one) because I am not going back to school, so really there’s no difference between September and August except that my birthday is in one of them and my brother’s is in the other. So far this summer has mostly been wandering around my house in my underwear and spending a lot of time on Craigslist. It’s like Summer of My German Soldier, or Batia’s Summer of Chocolate, except mine is the the Summer of Sitting In Front Of My Computer In My Underwear On Craigslist. This is not even a thing I hate, we haven’t even gotten there, I’m just giving you some context. Taken out of context/I must seem so strange, you know? Anyways.

All the customers, ever. I’m sorry, I just can’t stop complaining about this, ever again. I have worked in jobs that require some level of customer service since I was 14, and for the most part it’s been, you know, fine. Not great, but fine. Sometimes customers are annoying, but you just eat some of the food at the place you’re working without paying for it and it’s fine. But this week I’m working the 7 am shift five days in a row, and as of yesterday I had to institute a rule that I couldn’t work at the register up front for more than an hour at at time because I was going to say something to a customer that would actually get me fired, as opposed to the attitude that had just had my manager watching me warily for the past three days. It’s just an inherently unstable situation: I work at a fairly upscale place, and by definition the people who come in and buy stuff from us have never had to work a minimum wage job, because they can afford to spend almost $5 on one piece of baklava. Do you know what I mean? In that respect, I almost feel like it would be better to work at Applebee’s. Our baklava is pretty good though and Applebee’s doesn’t have baklava, so.

I can’t even use my fucking bike You may know that I bought one of these recently, and was very excited about it. But then the chain came off, and I don’t know how to fix it because I have a vagina. Things I do know how to do include cooking, crying, and convincing adult men to change my tire. If you need any of those things done feel free to get in touch with me.

The other day on the radio they transitioned from “Love The Way You Lie” by Rihanna and Eminem to Katy Perry’s “California Gurls.” I almost drove into a tree. Why the fuck would you ever do that.

I just want to stay in bed with a book while someone goes out and gets me a dosa, is that so much to ask

Actually I changed my mind, I want to stay in bed and constantly refresh goraspotting dot tumblr dot com while someone goes out and gets me a dosa, but Batia won’t start it

I think my external hard drive Sometimes I wish I was like Tila Tequila when she was still just famous for being pretty, and she could like link to a Victoria’s Secret lingerie set that she wanted and instantly seventeen different crazed fans would buy it for her. Except I don’t want lingerie, I want strangers to volunteer to buy me things like external hard drives and soy yogurt and dosa and hair conditioner. Actually I really do need more underwear, but I prefer fruit of the loom men’s small boxer briefs please.

I have to go to a wedding this weekend Do you know what weddings are? I don’t. I don’t know what you do at them. I think you are supposed to drink and also dance. And also feel happy. Didn’t Bowling for Soup or someone name an album Drunk Enough To Dance? I will never be drunk enough to dance at weddings. That doesn’t mean I won’t be drunk though, I will, I will just be drunk enough to maybe share my thoughts out loud about how depressing weddings are, which is a different kind of drunk.

I am out of tea, again I actually live next door to a tea store now. They are a wholesaler though, which means that they only sell tea to every single cafe in the area, and it is delicious but it is like $2.50 a cup and I could just buy like an $80 bag which would make each individual cup of tea I make like 75 cents, but I can’t do that because I am just one girl and one girl is not a company or a cafe or a revolution or anyone worth selling tea to. Anyways, I could use some more tea, that’s really all I’m saying. Preferably green and/or herbal. I have a little black tea left.

My wireless subscription at [redacted] cafe has expired This is ultimately a good thing, because it means that when I “go there to do work” I will actually “do work” instead of “browse craigslist and drink tea from the wholesaler who I live next to, but three blocks away from my house instead.” But at the same time it sucks, because “browsing craigslist and drinking tea” is actually one of my favorite things, especially when combined with “eating vegan baked goods” or “grousing about the lack of vegan baked goods,” one is actually about as good as the other.

Yeah I don’t know, you may notice this got posted on Wednesday instead of last Friday, that’s just kind of how this week is going. I don’t have enough money to pay rent yet this month because I haven’t gotten my paycheck yet but I put three dollars in a cafe tip jar yesterday because the joy of tips is a good thing to share. Maybe you should check out weareallmadeofkittens dot tumblr dot com, maybe you would enjoy that more than this blog post. Yeah? Yeah, I know. It’s okay.

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