So it was called to my attention that it sounds like I "shat all over Dave" in the last post, which yes, might be pretty accurate. However, bear in mind, gentle readers, that I was, as we all tend to be, actually really excited about the whole thing, even after I found out he was a crazy. Go figure. Anyway, I guess the moral of the story is that you win some and you lose some, and yes, I was probably the asshole in this "relationship"... as well as my last, how many? Fuck counting, it's just depressing.
The biggest news of the last few weeks is that my computer power cord exploded. Actually, almost literally. There was a huge spark and popping noise and a bunch of black smoke. Luckily it was just plugged into the wall and not into my computer, otherwise all my shit would probably be fried. Anyway, when I unwrapped the electrical tape, I discovered that the fat end of the cord was totally blown through and there were also some holes and burned wires on the skinny side that connects to my computer. My host dad, the physics and electrical genius, took a look at it and pronounced it "royally fucked," although not in so many words. He's too cool to be crass. I hauled ass to the only place in Peter that sells Apple parts and they told me that I could have a new power cord that ran on crappy Russian power for $100. Fuck you, Apple! Fuck you for telling me that I shouldn't buy an adaptor before I came! I hate you all! So meanwhile I'm lamenting the loss of my endless hours of solitaire, shitty american music, and being condemned to the internet cafe to write the rest of this fucking paper.
Let's not talk about the paper or conference, shall we? Let's also not talk about graduate school. Or boys.
On a positive note (because those are always really fun...phhbt), I bought euro-trash fabulous jeans at the rinok today for 800 rubles. This is about $32. They are fantabulous. I wish that I could post pictures, but alas, my ability to post pictures to the blog died with my computer. Let me just say that there is pocket detailing and the back pockets came pre-slashed. Please, just imagine the awesome!
Because my highschool is that awesome, we get solicited every three months or so for information about what we're doing. Last time, I said something about how I was hot-air-ballooning to the arctic to establish a colony of three-eyed frogs, or something ridiculous. This time I said, "After a recent brush with the Odessian Mafia involving several kilos of hasish and some handguns, I am on the lam and considering changing my name to Masha Kalashnikova." Of course they won't print it, but it amuses me. Which I guess is really all I can ask for...
...And that concludes this week's edition of all the news and not news that's both fit and unfit to print.
The biggest news of the last few weeks is that my computer power cord exploded. Actually, almost literally. There was a huge spark and popping noise and a bunch of black smoke. Luckily it was just plugged into the wall and not into my computer, otherwise all my shit would probably be fried. Anyway, when I unwrapped the electrical tape, I discovered that the fat end of the cord was totally blown through and there were also some holes and burned wires on the skinny side that connects to my computer. My host dad, the physics and electrical genius, took a look at it and pronounced it "royally fucked," although not in so many words. He's too cool to be crass. I hauled ass to the only place in Peter that sells Apple parts and they told me that I could have a new power cord that ran on crappy Russian power for $100. Fuck you, Apple! Fuck you for telling me that I shouldn't buy an adaptor before I came! I hate you all! So meanwhile I'm lamenting the loss of my endless hours of solitaire, shitty american music, and being condemned to the internet cafe to write the rest of this fucking paper.
Let's not talk about the paper or conference, shall we? Let's also not talk about graduate school. Or boys.
On a positive note (because those are always really fun...phhbt), I bought euro-trash fabulous jeans at the rinok today for 800 rubles. This is about $32. They are fantabulous. I wish that I could post pictures, but alas, my ability to post pictures to the blog died with my computer. Let me just say that there is pocket detailing and the back pockets came pre-slashed. Please, just imagine the awesome!
Because my highschool is that awesome, we get solicited every three months or so for information about what we're doing. Last time, I said something about how I was hot-air-ballooning to the arctic to establish a colony of three-eyed frogs, or something ridiculous. This time I said, "After a recent brush with the Odessian Mafia involving several kilos of hasish and some handguns, I am on the lam and considering changing my name to Masha Kalashnikova." Of course they won't print it, but it amuses me. Which I guess is really all I can ask for...
...And that concludes this week's edition of all the news and not news that's both fit and unfit to print.
posted by hillary at 11:15 AM
2 Comments:
I strongly disagree with whoever said you shat all over Dave. Dave is clearly still sporting relationship Huggies. Part and parcel of wearing training pants means that he needs to be trained not to shit (on) himself, the theory (not to mention the actual mechanics) of which seems to be escaping the young lad much like the greased-up deaf guy at the company picnic. Allow me to aid young Dave in naming the poos collected in his most recent relationship diaper (because every young child should have the pleasure of naming your excrement): lying to the people in his program about the relationship, lying to Hillary about their relationship, lying to Hillary about getting laid, not defending his girlfriend when someone assumed that she's a crazy liberal whacko because she's from the West Coast, talking about marriage before dating had actually started, assuming Hillary would take his last name, being offended at her suggestion that he take hers, immaturely jerking her around the St. Pete metro because he was upset with her. Maybe (probably) there were more. No, Hillary didn't crap all over Dave. She didn't need to. He beat her to the punch.
i love this fucking blog.
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