Monday, January 24, 2005

lazy girl lives...sort of

Back in the dark ages, when I was unemployed for a long stretch, I put up a website to amuse myself (and a few random passers-by) called Lazy Girl, which was filled with lessons about how to get by without doing any work. I got some nice compliments about the site and jokingly referred to the "lessons" as my manifesto.

I was using webspace from my cable provider and when they got bought out, I didn't move my site to the new location (see? Lazy!) and Lazy Girl was no more. I've still got the files on my harddrive at home, but I've never made the effort to recreate it since putting forth effort would kind of go against the Lazy Girl credo.

Today, a friend IM'd me this link http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0689874774/102-2941705-5756106?%5Fencoding=UTF8&v=glance. Those bastards stole my Manifesto! I would ruin them if it didn't seem like too much work.

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

hold your nose

So, my New Year's Eve was the usual fun time of getting drunk and kissing boys at midnight (and again at Alaska's midnight, if you want to get technical). Everyone laughed at my jokes and stared at my cleavage. (I am known for my impressive cleavage and, if I didn't wear revealing tops on big nights, people would be disappointed.)

At the end of the night, a group of us were shivering outside the bar, waiting for the taxis that the bartender had promised would be swarming. Sadly, this proved to be untrue. In fact, we were waiting for so long that, when a van-sized taxi showed up, we all piled in, even though we weren't all going home together. I mean, we all knew each other -- I'm not getting in a cab with a bunch of stangers at 2 am, no matter how drunk/tired/cold/cranky I am -- the cab was just going to have to make a few stops.

As I settled myself in the first row of seats, I looked back at the guy sitting behind me and, well, he looked a little green. When I asked him if he was okay, he just stared at me glassily and said "No." Oh boy. On our way to the first stop, which was, of course, in the opposite direction of where the rest of us live, I heard him tell the girl sitting next to him that he needed to get out of the cab. When we got the the first stop, she yanked her legs out of his way as he stumbled out of the cab and... just stood there for a minute. And then he got back in the cab. That's right - HE GOT BACK IN THE CAB. Still green, now a little paler and sweatier than before, but still full of whatever was making him green, pale & sweaty. But not for long.

That's right, on our way to his place, he vomited all over himself and the cab seat. I shared a look of disbelief with the guy sitting next to me and quickly held my nose closed. Which helped a little, but not as much as I would have liked. For the next ten minutes, I (nasally) gave directions to the cab driver to the vomiter's apartment. The whole time, the cabby made no comment and didn't appear upset in the least. Even if he hadn't heard the vomit, he had to have smelled it, but he just took my directions and kept driving. I mean, I guess the damage was done and he couldn't just kick us out of the taxi on Venice Blvd -- no, he totally could have kicked us out, I don't know why he didn't. (I probably would have, in a fit of revulsion.)

In the end, we tipped the cabby $25 on a $35 dollar ride and got the hell out. As I handed him the money, I said "I'm not sure what the damage is back there, but you're definitely going to have to do some cleaning."