Ian, I did this once. VG's surprisingly alert robo-police blocked me, forever. I even emailed with Gabe (LADIES?!?!?!) and he couldn't fix it. Nothing could fix it. Nothing. I had...I had to change my name. Change my password. Come back in disguise.
Point is, if "Ians" stars commenting regularly, I will understand. I will be the only one, I'm sure. Of course, I could just check any other post and see if you made it through, but I am not going to, because I am lazy and it would kill all of the drama.
Good luck, my friend. Good luck.
I have SO MANY questions about the origins of the geese and their relationship with the "band" and is it organized or just something spontaneous that happens naturally when geese and bands run in to each other on the street, but mostly I just want to know where they are and how fast I can move there. Because, as it turns out, I am a huge, huge fan of the goose parade scene.
I got an entire carton of double yolks once. I was trying to cook breakfast for my lovely family, and as I cracked each additional egg and they CONTINUED to have double fucking yolks, I had some kind of ethical crisis, and started lecturing my mom about how I can even imagine what kind of fucking hormones they were giving those birds, and none of us should be eating them, and I refused to continue cooking said eggs, and in fact stopped eating commercial eggs entirely and now insist that my eggs come from organic, free range, happy chickens and cost about $12 per carton.
We have at least 2 Vermonters here. Pt, wasn't there someone else before too? Anyway, I would like a New England meet up - I've though about going to one of the NYC ones, but honestly I am not cool enough to go to a bowling alley in Brooklyn. Not even close.
The theme of our prom was "Under the Sea." It was held at an Elks Club. And then the theme of our 10-year reunion was ....Prom Redux. It was held at the same Elks Club.
I watched it because it was on at the gym, and I can't ever seem to find the remote for the TV. The only thing I took away is that no one seemed to be "steering the horses" as the happy couple rode off in their carriage. How did they know where to go? Mysterious AND impressive.
Also I am going to inappropriately reply to myself to point out that I JUST realized this post says "elephant massage" and not "eggplant massage," which has cleared up quite a bit of confusion on my end.
The VT meetup was HOT, we left the house in something other than winter boots and then promptly ruined our nice shoes in a muddy parking lot, and THEN we accidentally misled a waiter about a birthday and received a small candle with our dessert. And we tried Tia Maria for the first time. It is very similar to Kahlua.
Well take your time getting back, it is still snowing EVERY DAY and the entire state is very, very cranky. I am about to flee to the west coast for a week to remind myself there are places where real human beings can do normal human things, like have BBQs and wear sandals and rent private karaoke rooms for birthday celebrations.
Dear Men in this Video,
As a lady, I implore you to please stop eye-raping me while speaking in low, soothing tones. It is doing the opposite of whatever you want it to do.
Regards,
Chaka Khans (very uncomfortable) Moms
Ok well that's a lovely reason to come back. If you do maybe we'll finally put together that VT monster meet up. There must be at least 3 of us at this point.
I am fairly certain one did not have to pay to get in to our games, although I was also very, very high during those years, so it's possible I was just not paying attention.
All this band nerd reminiscing has left me with a feeling of quiet desperation and the sudden urge to "cut" the rest of the work day and go drive around aimlessly listening to Nirvana.
I played the bassoon. For marching band, they moved me to the Glockenspiel. Instead of taking the hint, I played the fuck out of that Glockenspiel, ignoring all the sheet music and developing my own melodies to accompany the rest of the band. During breaks, I would use my mallets to point to each of the people on the bass drums behind me, because they had no rhythm and were unable to keep any kind of beat without my assistance. I was not the coolest kid, but to this day I am convinced that the marching band would have floundered and died without me, my glockenspiel, and my mallets.
I was sort of stood up on Saturday night (yep, that's right. old school style.) and my sole comfort was knowing that, despite the hour drive, I would make it home in time for SNL (have you put this all together yet? let me help. I drove one (1) hour to be stood up, and then had to drive one (1) hour home again) which was good because ZG would surely be very funny. And so I get home (and by home I mean to my parents' house, since my roommate's girlfriend was over and I didn't want to interrupt. seriously, it was a great weekend) and I make myself a vodka and cran (DIET cran, gross) and sit down to watch, and it was not funny and I did not laugh. Not one time.
Mmmm, if you're doing a breakfast/brunch thing, definitely do Kismet - very, very delicious stuff. I envy your ability to just bust out of here when the mood strikes you.
If I had to guess, I would say you are going to the release party at Langdon? I can't imagine why else you would visit our fair capitol city. Where will the next trip take you?
I bought the box set for myself for Christmas, wrapped it, put it under the tree, and shrieked with delight when I opened it. I think that's the point when my family started to feel sincerely sorry for me.
I arrived at my Grammy viewing party (What? It's February in VT. I will do literally anything for human contact at this point) ready to tear Katy Perry's head off with my words, and just as I started someone was like "Oh yeah, I used to hang out with her when she was dating my roommate who was in the LA music circuit, and she's really nice, we had a lot of fun." And after that I had to keep it ALL TO MYSELF. What are the fucking chances?
That's because the rabbit ears don't pick up the game so well, so by 2 hours in most of us were like, "Aw, fuck it. Let's go shovel some more" and missed the whole mess.
Absolutely! "Jackshit" is what you learn in 95% of your MBA courses because you're too hungover to listen. "Horseshit" is what you spew during interviews to prevent yourself from saying "I want this job because I have a bazillion dollars in loans and my grace period just expired." Of course, for Kevin Smith, both of those terms mean "I am a total douche."
This picture is the reason I entered the crazy, wonderful world of dachshund parenthood. Seriously, I saw it, was like "Yes, please," found a breeder, and never turned back. This picture was, in essence, the birth of Chaka Khan.
I was on a conference call and actually squealed into the phone when I saw them....I....I can't even catch my breath, I don't think I have ever wanted anything more in my LIFE.
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