Really, it’s a fucking blast. Jk it is pure unadulterated hell sometimes even when it’s mostly mutual.
I bought these tacky ass hearts that feel like gummy bears, and I put them on my window. They’re making me feel better.
when JenEffect and I hang out…
I eat your queso. I eat it up!
There is some queso in me. I want no one else to have it. I hate most people.
We are fucking pigz.
Should people who currently major in Women’s Studies be shot?
(JUST KIDDING, okay)
Did Matthew Broderick cheat on Sar Jess Park?
Cool:
Not Cool:
Will I ever take my Christmas Tree down? 5/7/2009: Still up.
Did I just commission someone to custom-make me these shoes? Should I be shot?
There is no cure for embarrassment. Only avoidance. Or alcohol.
The single most embarrassing event I can think of? Passing a pouf in public. Cutting the cheese in Calcutta. The two worst-possible-evar-scenarios:
1) Audibly breaking wind in a group, and it very obviously came from YOU
2) Silently dropping a gnarly egg-bomb, and it’s just you and one other
Clearly, there are two options:
1) Acknowledge it: Make a joke, gracefully apologize, say “Whoops!” and quickly change the subject
2) DO NOT ACKNOWLEDGE
I really don’t know what’s best. I think dying is pretty much the only feasible option.
When is the last/worst time this happened to you? OR ARE YOU NOT GOING TO SAY ANYTHING. You can change your name if you want. I’ll wait at least a week before I out you. :D I know the heaviness of the situation; it’s even worse than when my woman’s blood spotted on the butt of my jeans in junior high.
EDIT: Pussy farts are now included, since overnight you commenters have grown a modesty gene or something (blaming it on Queen Mother, Rev. Twatkin?)
Scene: EXT. WALGREEN’S PARKING LOT. DAY.
Halfassitude walks toward the entrance and notices that an annoying little lady has set up an annoying little table out front.
LADY: Hello, have you heard of the D.A.R.E. program?!!!?! 
?
HALFASSITUDE: Yes. Yes I have.
LADY: Would you like to take a moment to look at all this shit on my table and buy something to help?
HALFASSITUDE: No thanks. I like drugs.
LADY: 
—————————————
So I proceed to do my shoppings, all the while LOL’ing in my head, until I realize that I have to cross paths with Lady again on the way out. I smiled at her; she looked at me. Then her phone rang with some hip-hop ringtone and it was over.
~fin~
Oh, and D.A.R.E.?
1999 called. It wants its web design back.
Filed under: Pro-tips, embarrassing, farts, fashion, gross, old people, teaching, working, you
Shit just gets WAY too real in there. Thrice I have been privy to things of which I shall not speak. Talk about the clinical definition of awkward. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be a guy, standing next to your boss at the urinal while both of you hold your thingies? Do you feel obligated to make small talk? :(
So I made a “What I Wore” feed over to the left, because IT NEVER ENDS, DOES IT. ”Vainglorious” redirects to here . Apparently God and I are getting a divorce (on the grounds of my forsaking him for my own image, always with the forsaking.)
The five-dollar answer:
(Thanks, Zerokewl!)
Filed under: Iowa, beer, bored, farts, gross, mental, oh fuck, old people, scotch, trips, what a dick, you
OK guys: FLIGHT CANCELED. If I could bitch-slap the weather, I would.
I was so looking forward to NOT THIS. Since I am an emotional handicap, I’m pretty sure the entire airport knows I how I feel about my extended stay in Iowa.
Please, someone talk to me. I’ve already tried screaming SERENITY NOW!!!! but that pissed everyone off.
I’ve started drinking.
That smile was captured en route to the Airport of Sadness. It has been turned upside down. A couple-few more heinekens and we’ll right-side-it-up again.
Filed under: Iowa, bored, chillin today, eating food, farts, gross, mental, oh fuck, old people, scotch, trips, you
Relatively Constant Circumstances:
- Softwater
- Going ANTIQUING against one’s will. Oh yeah I am being super-cereal about this
- Where is the tobasco? Do I have to eat the fish eggs
- Can I put this down your garbage disposal / do you like your dishes in the dishwasher facing North? [AGAIN, super-cereal] / where do I put my empty glass bottle?
- Had to leave all my recreational “God made dirt => dir’t don’t hurt” plant life at home
- B&W movies, of which I don’t have an across-the-board prob with, but who watches “The Day the Earth Stood Still” in its original version when you have 20-something guests in your home?
- Sneaking alochol. Hoping no one planned to put scotch in their eggnog, as I have stolen and hidden it in the basement guestroom.
2) 
3) 
7)
Consequences of the Above C ircumstances
- I cannot get clean, no matter if I rinse long enough to freeze myself out when 6 other people are taking/have already taken showers. Filmy soap scum is an evil, slippery force.
- I’ll show you the rest of my “finds” shortly.
- I am not satiated. Not hardly. The W.T. in me doesn’t like fish eggs.
- I don’t want to be a pretentious dick about your refusal to recycle so let’s all get uncomfs when I ask where to put the empty glass .
- I could handle this whole thing in a more civil manner if I had some herbal assistance and had decided to bring my Wii. My lungs are sort of thanking me, though.
- Actually, who wants to see either version? OK, if you’re a guy with the guy retard gene, may-hap you wanna see the remake with KEANU. Full disclosure, I have the retarded chick gene that has caused me to watch Kate Hudson’s “How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days” 130492x.
- When there isn’t 50 people up in the kitchen, must spike whatever is on hand, and with a quickness.
Bonus glass of FAKE WINE of TRICKERY:
P.S. I hope you guys hearted your ecards if you requested one. If you still want one, send me an email at halfassitude at gmail. Wuv you guys, would rather hang out with you via interton any day.
I’m in fucking Iowa. I’m getting in trouble for not putting up ornaments. I now have a vodka ginger ale that looketh like water [don't think I didn't drink on the plane.]
[Or at the airport bar. Relax, those glasses aren't all mine]
More to come later. I told Jen I’d make her a snow angel. If I chicken out, I’ll blame it on my cough. IT IS DAMN COLD UP HERE.
Filed under: farts, hammock, intertron, me me me, movies, oh fuck, teaching, what a dick, working
I know I don’t have to explain this to you, because I am clearly one of the better Camera Artists of Our Time and you guys appreciate art. I can tell. But this piece, which I was moved to capture this morning, is entitled “Loneliness” because OBVS, just look at it, and also cause every joy has been sucked out of my life since I am also the Stupidest Decision Maker of Our Time.
Agenda for the first day of the rest of my life:
- Download more music because I am a moron who throws computers around and doesn’t back up her shit
- resolve my love/bored/confused relationship with Yo La Tengo, Bloc Party and Broken Social Scene
- figure out how to get Pandora to work WITH me and not AGAINST me (just cause I marked that I liked a song doesn’t mean I’m OBSESSED with it)
- Write an exam for the class test tomorrow
- Respond to 50 intermittent emails about why students can’t make the exam tomorrow due to recent bodily harm
- Thrash around on the hammock and complain for 30 minutes before I start my research (for MEETING tomorrow, h8 meetings 4 lyfe just everyone leave me alone)
Filed under: embarrassing, farts, fashion, me me me, oh fuck, she-celebs, teaching, tv, working
Go ahead, ask me. I’ve been unable to sleep since 6AM and I have a tv in my bedroom, so I know what I’m talking about here. And DO NOT get me started on the FREE and BONUS Dial-O-Matic food slicer. It will cut up your food SO HARDCORE.
1)
2) 
Onwards and upwards, we’ll now discuss some of the more exotic and curious and, one might say, fucking ugly selections from some of my favorite sites. Why: Because it’s butass early for me to be awake, and I’m not doing anything else except watching that “Sex and the City” episode where Carrie cuts a fart in front of Mr. Big. So here we go:
Interesting. From the front, maybe okay, and especially if one is Wonder Woman and needs an updated pair of booties.
And now:
These, these… Fancy! This looks like a good running outfit.
Well I’ve been known to put together some rather fug fugliness myself, what with the confusing shorts [click for maximum confusion] and the so much pink:
I’m nervous about the teaching job. It’s not final until tomorrowish, because if some classes are cancelled due to low enrollment they’ll have to give my class to one of those profs. The dept. head told me it was 99%, but I would have preferred 100. UPDATE: I got the class (!!!), and it contains NINETY-THREE (93) STUDENTS. The other time I taught, it was only ten people. Excuse me, I need to go put on some more deodorant because I am heavily perspiring.
Either way, I think I’m going back into the PhD prog next Spring, so I’ll either be teaching or taking a chill job involving fries and if people would like cheese with that. I’m going to try and blog every day now, because it’s my version of leaving the house [which I refuse to do].
Finally, the utilities-meter-reading guy nearly gave me and my cat a fucking heart attack a second ago. Seeing a large shorts-with-boots-wearing man traipsing through my backyard makes me glad it’s not Naked Wednesday. [Just kidding, there is no Naked Wednesday. Not since my mom started abusing her privileges with the copy of my house key.]
This hotel connection is pure shit. At least there is one, right? The internets are half full.
Watching Family Guy, drinking a Miller Lite and grossing out on my dog’s tourist-food-farts [she refuses to eat her dog food right now, so she gets half of my Huevos Rancheros from the restaurant next door]. There’s actually a “lobster mac n chee” at some steakhouse that I’m going to eat the shit out of on Wednesday night. I sound like such a d-bag.
