My debut.

Wes Bentley totally shook my hand. Like OMG!

Look for me from the back boarding a train in The Ungodly! Look for Juan walking in front of me! Look for Sara and Ram walking through the station and up some stairs! Look for the house as the old lady's house! Look for our names in the credits at the very super end in tiny print!

Since you are looking, look for a job for me while you're at it!

Super Salute to Unemployment Tuesday

Today Sara and I went downtown to eat sushi. On the way to the sushi place, we got two really odd remarks holla-ed at us.

1.) "He's going to kill me. Can you help me?"
2.) "If I went to y'all's school, would you date me?"

In both cases, we just walked away and then about 10 steps later looked at each other and laughed.

The Turnpike.

On Sunday, I went to Roni and Luke's engagement party in Northern Jersey. (Yay! Congratulations!) It was fun and delicious. However, it was also very far. It's the last exit on the New Jersey turnpike which is #18. I started at Philadelphia #4. Driving on any turnpike is the most boring thing ever. They are hardly any billboards and I found myself anxiously awaiting the next rest stop sign where they tell you what food places each one has.

I am such a nerd that I spent a significant part of my 2 hourish drive time trying to see if any of them were always together. I actually had thoughts like, "Oooh, I wonder if the Burger King and Aunt Anne are doing it" or "That naked mermaid from Starbuck's loves her some Nathan's hot dogs."

I also listened to Gold Digger on repeat for 25 minutes before I realized it was repeating. It was like when you hit Scan on the radio and an hour later, you realize that you have just been listening to the radio scan channels all this time and haven't actually heard a whole song. That happens to other people, right?

Unemployment makes you crazy.

The immunity idol.

First off, I'm such a TV nerd. I just referenced Survivor in my subject.

Secondly, I think I have become immune to my alarm clock! Well, my cell phone alarm clock. I don't use my actual clock because the alarm is busted and will only be as loud as possible and it gives me a heart attack if I use that. I have been using my cell phone alarm for about 3 years now and it always worked well. On my old Nokia phone, sometimes the alarm would go off at random times, but it would always go off when it was supposed to as well.

I have a Motorola phone now which is cool because you can save alarm times in the phone. But lately, I have just been sleeping right through it. The happy little Cingular tune no longer wakes me up. I have never slept through alarms before. I always used to wake up Roni freshmen year because she slept through hers. (Aww, memories.) I tried changing it to something else, but no dice. I still sleep through it. (By the way, I just set the alarm so I can get up and look for jobs. It's not like I have anywhere to go or ever leave my house.)

I think I'm going to have to start using the loudest alarm clock ever known to man to wake me up. Either that or accepting my bumhood and sleeping till 2 pm everyday. I think is much worse than that time I became immune to my deodorant.

Right...

In reference to Thanksgiving, I forgot to add that pumpkin pie is the foulest thing ever. It's orange-y brown and smells and has a weird texture and is disgusting and thus the third reason why I hate Thanksgiving.

I'm just a bundle of joy this week!

The time has come...

Well, my 4 lovely readers who I love and worship, the day has come that I finally get to go world wide with my greatest complaint of all time. This following rant is usually expressed every year at this time, but this is the first time it is going in the written word. Here we go.

I fucking hate Thanksgiving.

It is the most ridiculous holiday every created. Please note that I am a nerd and I love holidays especially Christmas. I am addicted to Hallmark cards and like to give people gifts and hang out with my family and do our nerdy Gryffindor traditions.

But Thanksgiving annoys me to no end. Let's just say that America was briefly nice to the Native Americans for a bit and shared a meal with them. That's lovely! Good job, pilgrims. However, that one possible nice moment has been spoiled with fucking turkey sales and Thanksgiving Beanie Babies. And even if that supposed moment did happen, afterwards we stole the Indians' land, killed them, raped them, ruined their lives and gave them our fancy English diseases like syphilis.

Mmm, syphilis really makes me want to eat goddamn turkey. Which brings me to my second point against Thanksgiving. I hate turkey. It's dry and blah and I much prefer chicken. For the record, I do, however, enjoy lunch meat turkey, just not turkey turkey. My sister is the same way. I really like the side dishes at Thanksgiving: mashed potatoes, stuffing, corn, beans, etc. Plus I completely love the cranberry sauce out of the can. But every fucking year, someone in my family who shall remain nameless, but if you have ever been to my house when my extended family is there you can guess who it is, brings up the fact that I didn't eat the turkey and how disrespectful that is to my mother who cooked it which is funny because my mom doesn't really like turkey either and she is nice and doesn't care if I don't eat it because she knows I respect her and eat anything else she makes. That was a long sentence.

I hope everyone enjoyed my Thanksgiving rant. For those of you who have heard it numerous times, let me know if I forgot anything.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Nostalgia

I had a weird hankering to play skee ball the other day and Ram and I finally played the other day. It was super fun. I beat Ram once, but then he turned into an international skee ball champion and destroyed me. I was just excited I was finally able to score higher than 10 points with a ball.

My new goal in life is to own a skee ball table. Anyone want to give me $4,795? And uh, after that I need some people to move it. It's only 450 pounds though.

Being Italian.

Everyone in my family always has "a guy" and everyone constantly feels the need to compete to see who has a better guy. It's weird. I don't feel as though my family is much on bragging or comparing ourselves too much, [See Rule Number 1 in Italian Family Handbook: What happens in the family, stays in the family.] but everybody loves a good guy competition.

For example, my mother needs new tires on her car, which incidentally was purchased because my dad knows a guy. My grandfather was over for dinner and was talking about how he took his car to the dealership to get looked at and my mom yelled at him because they overcharge and I don't know how this lead to my mom telling him she was told she needed new tires, but didn't get them from the mechanic who told her that because they were expensive because my mom and grandpa argue exactly the same and it takes forever and don't you hate when people ramble on in one endless sentence like that and never reach the point? Ha.

But yeah, my grandpa told my mom he had a guy who could get good deals on tires because of where he works. Then my mom said she knew a guy who could get a better deal and then I think my sister said my dad knew a guy with an even better deal. Thus, my dad won. Although, in all fairness my grandfather didn't have a price estimate to fully compete with.

Did this make sense to anyone? I think I even confused myself with this one. I apologize for the lack of/random blogging as of late.

Just another Thursday.

My father is obsessed with office supplies. Today he said, "I love my white out and highlighters. Playing with them keeps me sane." It was really odd because he said it in this dreamy kind of voice and for a minute I could see Young Louis going school supply shopping as a child. He makes me laugh, but he is insane. Obviously, his office supplies didn't keep him sane enough.

Thinking about what your parents were like when they were younger is really strange. They could totally lie to you about what they were like and you'd have no idea. I'm lucky because both my parents are willing to rat the other out on their lies and both have friends they have known since elementary school who will not only tell me what's a lie, they will also supply a super awesome true story.

I think I'm going to tell my kids I was super cool. If I know you in the future, lie for me, okay?

I can't believe this happened.

An actual conversation from my life:

Me: Are you going to leave me for Star Wars?
Anonymous: No, you have boobs, I wouldn't do that.
Me: You would leave me for a light saber though.
Anonymous: No, of course not. [PAUSE] Wait, a REAL light saber?
Me: Yeah.
Aonoymous: Well, of course, I would! Imagine what I could do with a real light saber.

Another reason why I can't be a grown up.

I am 22 years old and I am scared to be home alone with repair people. Today someone came to fix our oven and I was really weirded out by it.

I think this stems from the fact that when I was about 9 (4th grade?) my sister and I were always home alone when the fixer people came and I was always scared they were going to kidnap us. I used to have weird dreams that people spied on us through the electrical sockets and would watch for when my mom left and then they would abduct us in their horse and buggy. I was a very odd child.

I recently realized that I know all the words to the Golden Girls' theme song. So, add that to the list of useless TV theme songs I know by heart.

I carried a watermelon.

You know when you are driving and suddenly you realize you are much further into the trip then you thought you were? That really weirds me out. It happens to me all the time and I try to focus, but no matter what I just sorta zone out. Today I was on 76 and then suddenly I was getting off at my exit on 95. I don't remember driving in between there, but I did. I guess it's nice that my brain still worked and got me where I had to go, but I'd like to be able to not feel like I could have died. I swear I'm a good driver by the way. I don't do that with other people in the car.

I went out with Domenica on Saturday and some weird waitress at Ruby Tuesday's stalked her to the salad bar and asked about her cowboy boots. Then she came to the table and talked to me about cowboy boots. She also rubbed Domenica's boot while talking to me. It was really strange. I bet she was a cheerleader, she had cheerleader hair.

I went to a park with Ram and Chris on Sunday and we swung on swings. I told them that Inside-Out Boy was my childhood hero and Ram pooed all over my dream by telling me Mythbusters tried to swing over the bar, but deemed it a myth. This little kid there landed on his head twice when he fell off the swing.

I really want some cottage cheese. I get really weird food cravings. One time when I was drunk, I told Sara I wanted pizza with sushi on top wrapped in a tortilla shell.

Living at my house is slowly killing me. Or just making me really uncool and hard to deal with.