jewelry making marathons and the UCU

Making jewelry for 20 hours this weekend was a good time. Nice and relaxing. The only way better to spend the weekend is doing yardwork. That's a little more relaxing, I think. I am pretty fortunate, though, I have some really really good friends who wanted to spend the weekend working as a cog in my little machine for nothing more than Cyndy's and a haircut. So, 11 days until the show, hopefully I won't go completely crazy before then. Check out or sweet gems at the Urban Craft Uprising Seattle 1st and 2nd at Seattle Center or www.three4ten.etsy.com or www.myspace.com/three_4_ten.

Just in case you didn't notice, I have a little too much fun on the ol' internet.

Like, really? For real?

Do we really need another frickin movie directed by Tim Burton and starring....guess who....Johnny Depp? Are we really that hard up for entertainment that we want to watch the same reprocessed crap over and over and over and over and over again? You know what I miss? I miss when Tim Burton used to actually make good movies. You know, the ones that weren't just Johnny Depp acting like a freak in weird costumes. Oh wait, no, that happened in one of the good ones too. It was just so much cooler, like, 15 years ago when it happened the first time. Are you kidding me with this shit? Give it a break, Tim. You're done.

The law of "top friends"

I didn't know it was such a big deal what order your "top friends" on myspace were in. I thought it was more like you really like those people, so you want to see their faces when you check your myspace, which is so fucking Dennis anyways. But apparently, what I did not know was on the myspace popularity contest, if you get moved too low in your friends' top friends, you are a loser. This is the word on the street. Therefore, I am going to have a rotating #1 friend, and it will change as often as my moods do. I will let you know when you will get your chance of being my #1. I might even let you take me out for a beer for the opportunity. Applications are now being accepted.

I'm pretty sure....

But not positive...I don't think I will survive the winter. The rain has barely gotten here and already I'm agitated. I feel like hitting pedestrians with my car and kicking puppies and just generally being an asshole. It's gonna be a long winter. Guess I better drink more.

Uranus is cool.

Tonight I watched a show on the Discovery Channel. It was about Pluto and how it's not really a planet. They talked about Uranus a lot. It's really fun how hard astronomers try to not say Uranus (like yer-anus). I couldn't be an astronomer. I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. The best part is because they're trying so hard not to say anus, they say Uranus (like urine-us) which just makes me laugh even more. Jenna kept telling me I was retarded cause I snickered the whole time. I didn't really care. Anuses are pretty funny. Then I thought, which was named first? Uranus? Or your anus? Like, I mean, anus. Not yours per se. Kind of like which came first the chicken or the egg? One could sit and ponder for days.

Jenna's anus is named Kipper. Mine's Ted.

By the way, I know anus humor is very juvenile. I just don't care. I laughed so hard writing this blog. Uranus. Think about it.

What I'd like for my anniversary.......

You know, for those special occasions in your life like anniversaries, there is a traditional gift giving system. On your first year, you get paper. On your second, you get cotton. Third, leather. Fourth, linen. And so on, until we get to year ten, which is supposed to be tin or aluminum.

My friend Dennis and I are nearing our tenth anniversary. I met Dennis on a cool fall day, at my parent's drycleaners where I was working. It was cool, we sat outside and smoked cigarettes. Dennis was dating my friend Matt, and Matt wanted me to meet him. We were insta-best buddy friends. Dennis has been one of my favorites for a long time. Then, we kinda fell out of touch for a few years. On my first weekend in Seattle, I went to a party and randomly found Dennis. We were insta-best buddy friends all over again. It was pretty rad.

I was sitting on my couch with Dennis the other night and we were awestruck that we had known each other for a decade. It's completely unbelievable. So I said, "What are you getting me for our anniversary?" and Dennis had a quick witted (aka dick head) response. "I think I'm going to give you a paper plate, to symbolize how disposable our realtionship is."

Ummmmmm....helllloooo Dennis. The first anniversary is supposed to be paper. Not that you gave me any paper then. Dick. You're so cheap you couldn't even get me a frickin roll of aluminum foil. Or a tin can. A paper plate. I pretty much hate you.

I am easily distracted

Yeah. How bout that?

My Eagle Ears

I don't know if you know this about me or not, but I have supersonic hearing. That's right, I can hear a pin drop from 5 miles. In fact, my hearing is so freaking good that I can hear you scoffing at this blog where you sit at your computer. It's true. Because this is my super power, I love to go to restaurants, or malls, or bars or whatever and just eavesdrop on whatever conversations I can. Mostly so I can laugh at how stupid people are. You better believe I mean STUPID, too.

I suppose I should explain the old "eagle ears" thing. I was at work and was accused of having "eagle ears" by Gwen because I heard her talking about me across the room. I think she meant to say "eagle eyes" but it was about my hearing and one thing just led to another. Long story short, I love Gwen for giving me this new saying to giggle over. You better watch the fuck out for my eagle ears, yo.

No. Shut. Up.

Oh my god. And just in case you didn't see the giant dog in the giant yellow rainslicker, it conveniently has a reflective strip down the middle. I almost peed over this.

Computers are funny.

Right now (and this is most definitely NOT the first time this has happened at my house) me, my roomie Jenna, and my friend Sarah (a.k.a. roomie #3) are all sitting in the living room playing with our respective laptops. It's kind of ridiculous, actually. When my little sister was here over the summer, sometimes Jenna and I would both be on yahoo messenger and talk about my sister and how she had no idea that we were totally talking IM smack about her. And she really had no idea. It's kind of funny to sit less than 10 feet away from someone and be chatting online. Everybody is so much funnier on IM, too. Seriously. Everybody is a comedian.

This is a picture of my sister eating nachos.





She loves it when I put this picture up. And yes, I know I'm going to be in a lot of trouble for the IM thing. But tonight, I'm feeling saucy. Sorry, Jenna.

The proverbial "dog's balls"

I used to have this friend named April in Columbus. She was a super funny girl with some really funny sayings. My personal favorite is when something is really really good, you say it's the dog's balls. For example, "My grandma's cookies are the dog's balls." It makes me laugh like 5 years later.
Last Saturday my friends Dan and Bryan and I decided to go over to Olympic National Forest. We decided to take the ferry, and naturally, since it was Saturday of Labor Day weekend, there was a little wait in line to get on the ferry. Like an hour and a half. At one point, we were behind this car and there was this ginormous dog, like cattle sized. He was super cute, maybe a Great Dane? Well, he started getting frisky in the car, so the owner got out to take him for a walk. We were just hanging out, eating some peanut m&m's. That fuckin dog had the hugest big floppy dog balls I have ever seen in my life. I yelled with shock, "Holy shit! That dog has huge floppy balls!!!!" and my friend Dan almost narfed a peanut m&m. It was seriously the funniest shit ever. The owner and the dog went for a little walkie, and when they came back to the car, Dan had the camera all set up with fast clickie sports settings, and frantically tried to get a picture of the dog's balls so I could post them with this blog. Mostly we ended up with pictures of chubby redneck guy's butt instead of the dog's balls. Titties.

Just so we're clear.

Spiders are scary. They are evil, hairy, and they have more legs than my dog. Which is a problem for me. I don't know if you know this or not, but they can jump, they can fly, and they are most assuredly thirsty for blood. In particular, I mean my blood. It appears both the spiders and the mosquitos agree, I am quite tasty. Knowing all of this, I'd like to share a story about my day.

I was outside at "the beach" (aka the loading dock behind the warehouse) with my friend Jenny. She very casually, and not knowing I would have a panic attack, said, "Liz, I want you to turn around and casually observe the huge spider on the wall right there." Not even thinking, I turned and looked. It was fucking huge. It had to be about 3 feet across. I immediately screamed like a little bitch and ran back into the warehouse. And then I noticed that because the big door was open, everyone in production and receiving was staring at me. I felt like such an ass, I know my face turned purple and I said, "Uhhh.....there was a spider." and shuffled back to my desk. Good times.

My roomie also lost her phone today. That sucks really really bad for her, because we have no home phone. I changed my voice mail just in case any of her friends call me, cause I hate picking up the phone for people I don't know. Jenna said I was silly because I changed my message. Silliness I can deal with. Spiders? Not so much.









Oh, yeah, and just in case anybody ever thinks about playing any tricks on me that involve plastic spiders? I'm smarter than you and I will have my revenge.

My seeeester.

My little sister is the shit. I love her more than any human on the planet. She's kind of a douche, but that just makes her even more endearing. She's going to school in Youngstown, Ohio right now. It's a total party for her. And not ghetto at all. Anyways, the reason for this rant is I just read my sister's myspace profile (myspace.com/katiekins_2010) and I think she just might be the funniest person I know. Wait, the second funniest, but still my number 1 favorite human. Kate, I know you're gonna read this and yell at me for being retarded and blogging about you, but I am older, kinda wiser, and could definitely kick your ass, so I'm not scared. Love you dou. Why do I love Kate you might ask? If you are really so lazy that you haven't looked at her profile by this point in my blog, here's her about me section which is why she rocks:


i'm a myspace whore...it's true, i admit it. i check daily and there's no way around it. i'm living in seattle for the summer with my sister and her awesome roommate jenna. we have some pretty bomb times. i work at fusion beads and love it. everyone at the store is the shit. i'm ready to start as a RA in my sophomore year at YSU (penguins!!!!) and i major in pre-law and english but that might be changing. lol...my friends are pretty much my life. -------- things i like...hmmm...life, the yo, the internet, beads, good pillows, men with a good sense of humor, happiness, my siblings, candy apples, dark chocolate, chocolate brown clothing, old navy, the rack, television, sarcasm, video games, balloons, flowers, love chairs, boxer-briefs, christmas lights, trees, earrings, tattoos, movies, blenders, cheese, diet pepsi, jack daniels, art, music, vintage posters, the beach, the space needle, mountains, eric cartman, the words "douche" and "titties", journals, poetry, lips, carmex, theaters -------- things i hate...gum smacking, bad drivers, round-abouts, passive agressive people, psychologists, athens, the ridges, stupidity, caddy girls, slackers, push-overs, money, being disorganized, techno, southern twang, guns, broken fingernails, dirty clothes, stains

LOL, Kate, LOL.

Blog bloggity blog blog blog

My little sister seems to think that I have been lacking in my blogability. I actually had to go to church this morning and confess my sins. I said, "Forgive me, father, it has been 16 days since my last blog."
Unfortunately for y'all, I just worked for 13 and 1/2 hours, and I feel retarded. So you're just gonna have to take what you can get.
I think I said like 50 times in the last two weeks that I was going to blog about something. But I didn't. Because I'm lame. So here's some highlights (and who knows, maybe a couple of teasers):
The Precipice of Tar Tarnia
The Son of El Douche (I know, not as long, though.)
"That girl is louder than the fire alarm!" (Not really about me, but I decided it should be. That's probably what my teachers said about me behind my back, too.)

I like my blog. I hope you all like my blog. I will do my very best to update it more often. As you can see, I didn't stick to my resolution for very long. Typical. As my friend Dennis put it, though, "You had me at diphthong." Awesome.

What's that? A new blog?

Last night I had a party at my house. It was supposed to be for my friend Jenna's birthday, but she currently has the bubonic plague and had to go into hiding at her parent's house. We had a screamin good time. I was totally drunk and acted a fool. But not so drunk that I didn't make enough fajitas to feed an army. BUT....no army showed up. So to all of my friends (you know who you are) that did not show up, you are all dead to me. To my friends that did show up? Titties.

El Douche

Today I would like to share with you the story of El Douche.

A short and frail man, El Douche didn't have many friends. Cursed with a horrible skin condition, El Douche also didn't have any women. He was a horrid and sad little man, with little in the world except el house and el car to his name. For work, El Douche shoveled horse manure at the local el rancho. Bitter and unsatisfied with this lowly job, El Douche dreamed of bigger things. His greatest dream was to move to El New York City and find work at the one place he loved. El Statue of Liberty.

El Douche would stare in to space for hours on end, shoveling horse manure and trying not to gag over the intense fumes. Over and over in his head he could see scrubbing each of the 354 stairs to the crown of El Statue with love and tender care. It seemed as though he would never make it to El New York City.

On a cold day in late November, El Douche left his house to go to El Grocery Store for milk, cornbread, and toothpaste. He gathered his items with great haste, trying not to make eye contact with anyone in the store. El Douche jumped in El Car and drove for El House. Looking forward to a night filled with dreams of a life he couldn't figure out how to get, he didn't even notice that there was smoke. He arrived home to find his entire house had burnt to the ground. "El house! El house is burning!" he cried with anguish to the sky, "why does el shit always happen to me?!?!"

Two days later El Douche was sitting on the magic fingers bed at el Local Crappy Motel. The phone rang, he answered it.

"Is this El Douche?"

"Si."

"Sir, I am from El Insurance Company. I am calling to let you know that the policy on your house is due to be paid in full after the horrific fire you had. Turns out the cause of the fire was lightning. You should receive a check for $100,000 dollars in the mail in the next 2 weeks."

"Ay Carumba! My house is making me rich!" El Douche exclaimed. In his excitement, he started jumping up and down and hung up the phone. "Finally, I will be able to move to El New York! I will get to see El Statue of Liberty!" El Douche immediately started packing the few things he had scattered about El Local Crappy Motel in a ratty plaid suitcase. 9 days later his check arrived. He cashed it immediately and purchased a ticket on El Greyhound to El New York.

Upon arrival in El New York, El Douche was amazed at the commotion. Cars, lights, people....compared to El Small Town he came from, this was insanity! El Douche was not dissuaded. He immediately found a tiny, but cozy studio apartment in Queens. Because of his check, he had money to pay 6 months rent in advance. He also bought some furniture, clothes, and food. Determined to have his dream job, he practiced scrubbing the stairs of his apartment.

Finally, 3 weeks after first laying eyes on El New York, he decided he was ready. He had practiced his stair cleaning techniques over and over and over. Now was the time. He picked up the paper and scoured the classifieds, seeking his perfect job. There, listed under janitorial, was an opening at El Statue. It seemed too good to be true.

He caught a train and made his way to El Statue. He walked in, carrying the torn out newspaper classified in his shaking hand. He could barely contain his excitement. He walked up to the girl sitting at El Desk.

"I am here for the job cleaning the stairs at this magnificent beautiful statue. I have waited my whole life for this opportunity."

"Oh, I see, sir. Can I get you to fill out this application for employment, please?"

"Si."

El Douche was trembling with anticipation. He took the application, securely fastened to a clip board. The piece of string, taped to the cheap bic pen, was hardly long enough for him to fill out the form. He fastidiously filled in all of the fields, and triple checked all of his answers. He did not want to screw up this application for the job he had always wanted. Taking a deep breath, he stood, walked back to the desk, and handed the application to the girl.

"I am done."

"Thank you so much, uh......El Douche. Oh." the girl responded with a tone of disappointment. "Is this your birth name?"

"Si. I am the son of Una Douche."

"Sir, I am very sorry to say. This country has banned all Douches from employment. You can't work here. I am very sorry."

El Douche was crushed. His lifelong dream squashed by a name. He walked slowly out of El Statue and returned to El Crappy Apartment.

Fill in the blank with......

The word of the day is........diphthong!

First, what it really means:
–noun
1. Phonetics. an unsegmentable, gliding speech sound varying continuously in phonetic quality but held to be a single sound or phoneme and identified by its apparent beginning and ending sound, as the oi-sound of toy or boil.
2. (not in technical use) a. a digraph, as the ea of meat.
b. a ligature, as æ.

–verb (used with object), verb (used without object)
3. to diphthongize.

But....it's such a freakin funny word I decided to use it different. :)

So I got the cutest diphthong at the mall last night!
Man, that guy is such a diphthong.
Shut up and stop diphthonging around!
You can't leave the table until you've eaten all of your diphthong.
What the diphthong?
Don't make me turn this diphthong around!
NO returns or exchanges on ANY diphthongs.
I can't believe that her diphthong was hanging out like that.
I am such a stupid dipthong!
I had to diphthongize my car because it wouldn't start.
I can't hear any diphthong you are saying!
I'll have 2 diphthongs and a coke, please.
Shipping of your diphthong will take 4-6 weeks.
Ask me about my diphthong!
Did you diphthongize the dishes?
How many diphthongs does it take to screw in a light bulb?
If I had a diphthong for every time you've said that, I'd be rich!
If you can't keep your diphthong to yourself, I will have to separate you two.
Can you just not be a diphthong for a minute?
My diphthong just got home from work!

Cars suck butt.

Today I had to get up at the ass crack of dawn to take my car in to the doctor. Apparently, the passenger side tie rod was screwed up. Which makes, like, pretty much no sense, since I just replaced that particular tie rod about a year ago. Long story short, dumping a ton of money on your car is always a good time. I was so angry this morning, I was slamming things around, and cussing, and of course everything that happened was pretty much an affront to my entire existence. Luckily, my little sister let me bitch...and bitch.....and bitch. Then she took me out to lunch. I thought of putting a sign around my neck that said "I'm in a bad mood....tread lightly" but then my sister suggested that she just order for me so I didn't have to actually talk to anybody. It worked, I did not yell at any dumbasses all day long.

I Heart Dennis!

My friend Dennis is just about the funniest motherfucker on the face of the planet. Not only funny online, (like so many douchebags can be), Dennis is truly and utterly hilarious in the flesh as well. Today Dennis posted some truly ridiculous and hilarious goodies on my myspace, and it prompted me to share this oldie (but totes goodie) story about Dennis.
Dennis and I went to the Northgate Mall in search of patches (like, to sew on clothes or whatever.) that were sweet for this hat I had gotten. Disappointed by the selection of patches at Northgate (i.e. none) we got in my car to head off to another shopping destination. We were leaving the parking lot when we spotted this cute little Asian chick wearing ketchup red pants (they were like jeans, actually, but ketchup read) a mustard yellow shirt, and a red and yellow little Hello Kitty backpack. And it was kind of one of those little backpacks that are stupid and I won't wear, but whatever. She was so funny, we started giggling and I drove out of the parking lot. Dennis turns to me and says, "You know, when I get dressed in the morning there's a little inner dialogue going on like, 'ok, I'm gonna wear these pants, this belt, this shirt, those shoes...' I'll bet that girl woke up this morning and was like, "Ahhh....today I will wear. Red.....Yerrow.....eh Herro Kitty!" I almost wrecked my car because I was laughing so hard my left eye would not stay open, so I had no depth perception.

Dennis, I love you.

Harry Potter and stuff

This is my obligatory Harry Potter blog. In anticipation of the release of the 7th book, my sister and I have made absolutely no plans for Saturday, so hopefully the mail man will bring a big fat bundle of Harry Potter joy. What happens after that, you might ask? I believe it will be a frantic race to the finish line between me and my sister. I would like to make a little wager that we will finish the book before midnight Sunday. I think we can do it. If only I didn't have to have a job, I would be done by noon. I know this makes me a complete tar tar, but unfortunately, it's super duper uber fun to get caught up in the hype. And it's also fun to be a complete nerd. And for all you suckas that didn't preorder? Have fun in line, bitches.

Ahhh....the aroma of Tacoma

Tacoma is a cute little town. Why does it have to smell so funny? And why are the valet parking guys at the Sheraton so retarded? I had to valet park my car there in order to meet up with Kriss Silva (who is rad) and help her with her class. I was walking away after I dropped off my car and I heard the alarm go off. I chuckled a little, because it's pretty dang funny when it's not you and I kept walking. About a block later, I still heard the alarm going off, so I turned around. I actually had to help the dude turn off the car alarm. So I went, helped Kriss, and went to pick up my car. They brought it up to me with the alarm going off. The guy says, "what's the point of that alarm? It goes off when you start the car!" and I said, "Uhhh...I don't know. It's never happened to me before." You would think guys that valet park cars would be able to figure it out. You know, don't push the little red panic button on the side of the key when you start the car? Doesn't seem like rocket science, but then again, I am no rocket scientist.

Like, seriously.

It's hot. Like sweating and wishing I was standing in the freezer aisle at the grocery hot. What the hell is going on? Where the hell do I live? Did we fall in to some third level of hell? Is this the apocolypse? I went to Target tonight to try and buy some fans, but due to the ridonky donk heat, they were completely sold out. Not discouraged, I proceeded with my trusty roommate to Home Depot where we picked up 3 fans. This dude laughed at us. Like he doesn't have fans and/or air conditioning at home. Dick. This better let up soon, or I will have to go crazy on that ball of fire in the sky that causes these problems. Damn. I'm hot.

blog?

My New Year's resolution (in July) is to start blogging. Today's blog will be about blogging. It's kind of a weird thing, blogging. And a weird word. Blog. Try it out a little bit. It's strange.

I decided today after a trip downtown to the ol' Pike Place Market that mostly, I just hate people. It's a sad thing, I feel like I generally go out of my way to be nice to people and courteous, not just of their space, but also of their sense of smell. Unfortunately for me, not too many people at the market felt the same way. One more person steps in front of me or shoves me and I might just about lose it. Luckily, good natured family and friends make all of the difference. And stop me from kicking people in public places. Which in turn probably keeps me from getting arrested.