who let the dogs out?

haiiii blogsphere. i have missed you so. have you missed me? who am i kidding? of course you have missed me.

I am currently infatuated with the color purple, Ke$ha, zamzar, nose rings, spicy tuna rolls, MLIA, honeycrisp apples, cardigans, transmet caesar salads, and all things fall. duh.

Never have I ever celebrated fall more fervently than I have this year. I am legitimately cracked out on fall. 1979 has become a shrine to the season, and I must say--autumn looks nice on you, 1979. Last week, Kerry and I went pumpkin hunting. Baby Kerry raised hell over at Kroger, rummaging all up in their bins until we found three perfect pumpkins. We also managed to find the very last pumpkin carving kit at Joanne's, 50% off. Our wildly inappropriate ruthlessness paid off. GREAT SUCCESS. Now the front porch is decorated with an ostrich pumpkin (mine/catalinas), a dragon pumpkin (sarahs/baby kerrys), and a squirrel/ penis pumpkin (gresHAMs--no help from anyone! no stencils! swine you are worthy of our praise!!! all hail SHAM WOW!).

This weekend smel and I RAGED on fall edibles. I'm talking chili. cornbread. caramel apples. smores. pumpkin bread. candy corn pumpkins. mars mix of halloween minis. apple cider. pumpkin beer.

out. of. control. Fall just yacked all over the kitchen. nbd.

Now if only the weather would allow me to don sweaters and scarves and botas. Alas, I went to class in shorts today. heyyy climate change.

Last weekend smel and I trekked up to Chucktown to attend an art gallery opening. We're so damn cultured I can hardly stand it. I got to see sweet Vicky Torie and my GIRLLL Netta, and of course my love Holly Wolly. Hollis is a badass and was working at aforementioned art gallery opening, and so I think it's appropriate that we all take a moment to reflect on how we can better our own lame lives to become more like Hollis, and thus more of a badass. Ohmmm.

In my badass endeavors, I am considering putting a ring into my nose piercing in lieu of the stud. Too much? Tell me what you think. I may or may not care. ALSO I have always wanted to dye my hair bleach blonde. Never more-so than when I discovered KE$HA. I love this bitch. If you haven't heard her song Tik Tok you must download it asap. It's my JAM. Yet another to add to my list of celeb obsessions.

ANYWAYS Charleston was a b-last. As always, we had to hit Jim N Nicks and Einstein Bagels. And you know I got my Fro Yo onnn. Plus we went to a haunted corn maze, which was the shit. Except for when the dude with the chainsaw TOUCHED ME WITH THE CHAINSAW. I don't THINK so chainsaw dude. RUDE! Friday night after we'd had our fill of culture, we found ourselves a couple of keg parties. Keg party numero uno ended with a boy turning out the lights at 11 and yelling "PARTY'S OVER!" because homebody wanted to go to the bars and the keg was tapped. I was beyond appalled, but appeased when informed that we had a ride to another partayy. Party numero dos ended when I released all three of the resident canines into the great outdoors. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I LET THE DOGS OUT. The guy who lives there was so pissed, and started screaming "WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?" Classic. I couldn't stop laughing and spewed beer all the f over their hardwood floors. For some reason, no one else found this humorous, so we excused ourselves and called a cabbie to shuttle our party fouled asses home. Saturday night (after I was scarred for life by the chainsaw incident) we played a rousing game of power hour then made our way over to Pi Kapp for some frat-tastic fun. A good time was had by all, until Sunday morning when we woke up 3 hours too late to get on the road, then ended up missing the entire lunch shift that we were supposed to be working. OOPS! I can always count on Charleston for a good time.

PARTY SNEAKS HAVE ARRIVED. They made their debut on Thursday night, paired with a black denim mini and a shit ton of gold jewelry. They're appropriately on display in my room, next to my tiara. I love you, party sneaks. So much.

NOW THE PARTY DONT START TIL I WALK INNNNN. DONT STOP. MAKE IT POP. DJ BLOW MY SPEAKERS UP. TONIGHT. IMA FIGHT. TIL WE SEE THE SUNLIGHT. TIK. TOK. ON THE CLOCK. BUT THE PARTY DONT STOP NO.

peace love and party sneak$

i am bad boy. i loves it.

wattup playa playaz

I am still on my endorphin high from spin class, so bear with me. I am in no mood to focus on one thing at a time. GET ON MY LEVEL.

On Wednesday I attended the Look At This Fucking Hipster convention under the pretense of attending the Blink 182 concert. I made Brandes come play chaperone with me, so the littlest Jennings could rage without mother dearest in tow. It just so happened that my love Dill was also in attendance. So there I stood with the only boys for miles rocking polos and jeans that weren't quite tight enough to put their junk on display for all to see, and for this I am grateful. Things were looking down as valencia took the stage, and just when we thought things couldn't get much worse, asher roth came on stage with two gay male strippers. I had no idea what the fuck was going on, but asher roth was just loving life. In lieu of dancing, asher wowed us with his ability to swing his arm back and forth in time with a beat. Oh and his overly zealous stomping/ fist pumping combo. Awe-inspiring, truly. Actually I def see myself busting out the stomp/ fist pump in the future...followed shortly by a swift knee to the head in the process.. ANYWAYS needless to say asher roth was a bust in concert. BOO. I still love college. Mark tom and travis finally made their way to the stage, and led me on a trip down memory lane. We had so much fun, fist pumping and head nodding and all things hipster. We discovered that Blink still has an insanely hardcore underground following who raged to every song, whether that be with tribal dancing or with emo tears; they knew every word to every song without fail and screamed them like their lives depended on it. We just couldn't get on their level. I'm okay with that. Oh and also travis barker is king.

My job is doing tremendous things in my life. Both my Thursday and Sunday shifts gifted me with cute boys, and while the profit margin may be dismal, I gladly accept eye candy as collateral. Thursday provided me with instant gratification, whilst the benefits of Sunday's prospects have yet to be reaped. All you need to know is that a fine ass peruvian man-boy wants to salir conmigo and said so en espanol. Oh and he calls me Saraita. You know I love that. But then he said, "those toes...I want to kiss those toes." ...que? He kissed my cheek and left before I could process that line. I'm still not quite sure what to make of it.

The boss man treated me to lunch this afternoon. I left my phone behind the bar at work last night, rendering me completely debilitated for the following 15 hours. So I went to retrieve my precious after classes today, and the boss man was just loving life. He had been flying solo all morning, and was quite pleased with the 60 dollars in tips he'd received from playing the roles of waiter/cook/bus boy, not to mention manager/owner, all by his lonesome. He asked if I was hungry, which of course I was, and so he fixed me his fish tacos that I love so much. We ate and he enlightened me on his value system as it pertains to gay marriage, abortion, and the death penalty (I was still mulling over our debates in francais this morning on said topics, but in my french class we are a bunch of flaming liberals and so I enjoyed boss man's ultra conservative take on things). And just like that a fish taco made my life infinitely more enjoyable.

This morning the sky opened up and yacked, worsening an already miserable monday morning. Smel dropped me off at class, but because I was phone-less, I was left to make the trek back to 1979 without even an umbrella to my name. I approached the bus stop just in time to see a Mill bus departing, so I settled in for the wait ahead. A second Mill bus FINALLY came, and as was to be expected, the sorostitutes were out to play. I found myself fending Lilly Pulitzer umbrellas off, in fear of losing an eyeball in the good fight against paisley. I was caught in a sea of North Face rain jackets and stupid rubber rain boots, and I got lost in the sorostitute storm. Before I knew it, the Mill bus was just about packed, and I wasn't quite on. I was determined, though, and just as I made it to the bus doors, a frat-fucking-tastic cretin ran up and jumped into the last iota of space available. My arch nemesis.

TO MY FRAT-TASTIC ARCH NEMESIS: I HATE YOU WITH THE FIRE OF A THOUSAND SUNS.

On a final note, I have a new jam. Replay by Iyaz. I listen to it on replay (obvi), interrupted only by 3 by Britney and Kid Cudi's Pursuit of Happiness.

peace love and arch nemeses

i am optimus prime. KAPEESH!

This morning I woke up at 4:45 am only to realize that I had never woken up from my nap that I lied down to take at 5:30 yesterday evening. Sigh. At least it was only a Wednesday--I'll watch Glee on hulu.. anything else is of little to no importance. I have had a very productive morning thus far. I banged around the kitchen a bit at 5--made a pot of coffee, fried up some eggs, toasted some toast, and poured myself some oj. (Deepest apologies if I disrupted your slumber, smel.) I then proceeded to dominate a psychology quiz and email my French professor about my presentation on Friday, and am currently toying with the idea of getting an endorphin fix at bodyplex before class at 11...we'll see.

Dear body, I am so sorry for denying you the sleep you had so obviously needed after the previous week chock full of debauchery. I will tend better to your needs after graduation. Promise. xoSJ

I love showing off Athens to out-of-towners. It's impossible to not have an amazing time in this outrageous city that I love to call home. Charlie flew in to hotlanta last week, and made his way to Athens on Wednesday. And what better way to welcome him than a rousing game of Edward 40-hands?? None other. obvi. Thursday morning consisted of enduring two and a half painful hours of class, and then sweet, sweet freedom. Well, almost. Between the hours of 6 and 10 I submitted to my scheduled slave labor duties, and then came sweet, sweet freedom. Smel, Charlie, Baby Kerry, Zack, and I took the streets of dt by storm. We had Greg and Mal Pal in tow, but parted ways after Mal Pal had a little lie down on the floor of east-west. Ohhh Mal Pal. After east-west we headed over to boar's head, where I made new friends. I was just loving life on Thursday night. I drank everything I could get my hands on. I started with tequila, seeing as it was tequila thursday after all, then had fletch make me my delicious pink lemonade at jr's then an amaretto sour, champagne, and whatever my friends bought me at boar's head.. shoop! I woke up on Friday morning with red wine stains on my sheets and crumbs stabbing every square inch of my skin. Apparently I poured myself a goblet of wine and insisted that everyone drink my wine and eat pokey sticks in my bed. I do vaguely remember peeling strips of pokeys from the box and flailing them around while everyone else was eating, but other than that no recollection. Thursday night = great success.

I didn't quite make it to class on Friday morning, but I did make it to Mama's Boy for the legends' Friday ritual. Had a revelation that blew my mind about being blackout drunk, but will spare Holly Wolly from hearing it once again since I spent the majority of the weekend talking about it.. oops. After chili, we headed back to 1979 and watched Adventureland. I ate an entire bag of grapes and made outlandish claims about never wanting to eat a grape again (I stole a few grapes from baby kerry this morning). After Adventureland, there was no time left to anxiously anticipate the arrival of our guests from chucktown because they had already arrived! Holly Berry and Vicky Torie pulled up to 1979 ridin dirrrrty. Actually just ridin with no ac, which is a lot more badass than riding around with drugs and such if you ask me. We wasted no time, cracking open beers and preparing a stir fry feast. We prettied ourselves up, then headed dt for round 2. Hollis was wearing this dress that I MUST MUST borrow when I come to visit Charleston.. just a head's up.. Fastforward to dancing on tables at bourbon, when we decided it was high time to head home. We got back, and laughed our asses off for the better part of the evening. I woke up on Saturday and my abs were legitimately sore. Victoria enlightened us on how to moon-walk, and how to fly DEE-tee, and how the ceiling is made of cheese... LLAP.

Saturday: Game Day.

scratch that.

Saturday: Monsoon Day.

1979 failed to make it to Sanford Stadium, and instead retreated back to the house to celebrate baby kerry's acceptance into the college of education!! woop woop! It was an excellent decision, if I do say so myself. Instead of getting pelted by obnoxiously large rain drops, we stayed warm and toasty and ordered in delicious pizza. Effing papa johns nearly ruined my night, but then the pizza finally arrived and all was right in the world again. The rest of the night consisted of sprinting into the house from the back porch in fear of our lives (thereby burning all carbs that were consumed earlier in the night), brainstorming elephant names: tandor turk, discussing deep things like being blackout, kerry and hollis swapping indian tribe info, and smel and i sketching off to ptfo. Appro-pro, seeing as we had to be up to work from 11-11 on sunday. ughhhh.

BEST! WEEK! EVER!

I am cocaine. Kerry is adderall. Smel is shrooms. Charlie is heroin. HEROIN!

Perez keeps trying to make "amazeballs" happen, and I want Regina George to tell him that amazeballs. is. never. going. to. happen.

Luckily, I have my very own 1979-version of Regina George (baby kerry). I also have a Ms. Norbury (smel) and a Janice (hollis/victoria). Charlie is aaron samuels, but we are lacking a Cady, a Karen, and a Damien. Any takers?

ta for now lovers.

my dreams are bursting at the seams.

wattup!

I cannot get enough of Owl City right now. Fireflies. Hello Seattle. The Airway. Designer Skyline. Dental Care. Fireflies. Fireflies. Fireflies.

On Friday I went to see Sister Hazel at the Classic Center. Never have I used the word "awkward" to describe a concert, but I can think of no word that better embodies the experience that was had on Friday night. Things seemed to be looking up when we first arrived: there was this HOT MESS of a girl who stumbled out of the bathroom, then proceeded to slide down the entirety of the staircase with a smile spread across her face as if it wasn't WILDLY inappropriate for her to be blackout drunk at a Children's Miracle Network benefit concert (at 7:00, no less). We entered the theater and made our way past every yellow-collared dope who wanted to triple-check our tickets, all the way to the Pi Phi section. As an honorary Pi Phi, I proudly sported my VIP wristband and trash talked the cretins who had invaded the Pi Phi territory without wristbands. Before they were removed, of course. Things took a turn for the worse as the yellow collars took the stage and gave a lackluster intro for the main event. Sister Hazel took the stage, and I stood amongst the throng of my fellow concert-goers. I was ready to jam, but as I looked around during the opening number I realized a jam session was not on the agenda for the evening. Everyone was SO uptight, stiffened and seemingly disconcerted to even be at a concert. I flailed my arms and sang (read: shouted) along, and was getting looks. WTF. When the band would stop singing and direct the mike to the crowd to signal an impromptu sing-along, my voice was the only audible noise emitted from the masses. Ken Block described the embarrassing exchange as a "polite sing-along," but sadly he came to find that no, that's just typical weak shit Georgia crowds. I didn't let that ruin my night, though. I sang and danced along as if I weren't surrounded by a bunch of twerps with sticks up their asses. MVP moment of the night: when everyone else SAT DOWN DURING THE BASS SOLO (ARE YOU KIDDING?), Jacqueline, Melanie, Ku, and I just jammed. Glorious. Needless to say, I made Pi Phi look damn good. A mandolin moon and a champagne high later, I was loving life and wasn't even bothered by my embarrassing crowd counterparts.

On Saturday morning, I was the only lameass driving out of Athens on the sacred first home game of the season. Although I was bitter about this fact for the better part of my morning, by the time I had donned my new lbd in preparation for my flight instructor's wedding on Saturday night, thoughts of tailgating and kegs were off of my radar. I was all smiles as I thought of the prospect of an open bar paired with my favorite past time: people watching. And what a glorious night it was. I took Brandes as my date, and we decided that we should consider wedding crashing as a viable career option. During dinner, we sat at a table full of the bride's family members--I have met the bride all of ONCE, mind you. We stuffed Brandes's pockets with the candy that was sitting out for guests. We made nice with the bartender, and she hooked us UP. She crafted a sangria for me once the red wine was running low, and then treated me to "cool punch" when the sangria was out. After cool punch, she stopped naming her concoctions, instead focusing on avoiding any unwanted attention from the nearby cops as she dumped gin and beer in with the kiddy punch. Of course there was champagne for the toasts, and buckets of beer for when everything else was gone. CLEARLY I had a fantastic evening. Work the next day was rough, but it was worth it. Besides, boss man sent me home to take a three hour nap, which made life so much better.

I saw a guy get hit by a University bus on Friday. The story was not even published in the red and black. wtf. Our school newspaper is not competent of anything beyond daily crosswords and football coverage. You know, the hard stuff.

Okay I need to drag my ass to the gym. Peace out girl scouts.

peace love and fireflies.

hoedown throwdown

I received a text message last week that read, "today marks the one month mark since you last blogged. Sucks that your life stopped being fabulous." So I figured it was about time that I provide a life update for my diehard fan. A life update on my still very fabulous life, might I add.

In celebration of my entry into junior year of college, I have decided to dip my toes into the foreboding "real world." Somebody bump "Independent Women" and let me throw my hands up at Destiny's Child because I am a honey makin money. HAY.

The motivation for my job hunt began with an overdraft here, an insufficient funds there. As these two occurrences started making more and more frequent appearances in my fabulous life, I considered my options. As you may have gathered, my efforts to acquire a sugar daddy were not as fruitful as I'd hope they'd be. Charlie and I discussed prostitution rather extensively, and although I ultimately ruled it out, I cannot speak for my money-maker-faced friend. After sugar daddy and prostitution, I was fresh out of ideas, so I mentally prepared myself to rock a blue collar. I did not actively pursue this lifestyle; I did so passively, inquiring about the "Now Hiring" sign as I was checking out at Old Navy with two new pairs of jeans ($19 sale what what) and halfheartedly filling out the thousand-question online application. I was all talk. I blathered on about this "job hunt" that I was pursuing in theory, and as luck would have it, that is exactly what led me to my current place of work. A friend told me that her and her boyfriend had eaten at a new Mexican restaurant and that the owner had mentioned he was hiring, so Smelanie and I worked up a hearty appetite and ventured over to have a Mexican feast and to inquire about the position. A veggie quesadilla later, I was convinced that this restaurant was my destiny. When I asked the owner if they were hiring, he gave me the once-over and told me I could start the next day. Baffled, all I could think to ask was what to wear (jeans and a tee shirt). It was only then, after hiring me, that he asked if I had any experience waitressing. I told him no, and he said "Don't worry, honey. I will to help you. If you make mistake, I fix it. I can tell you are good girl. I wish you to make good money here. I wish us to be best friends." And that was that.

I freaking love my job. My boss is the man. He's from Jordan, and I'm trying to get him to teach me Arabic. Thus far, I know two words: "habibi" and "ameera." "Habibi" means my love, and so that is what we call each other. "Ameera" means princess, but when I tried to get him to call me that he kept calling me Fiona, saying that I was the Fiona to his Shrek. That's a negative, ghost writer.

Other notables about the boss man: he is the owner/manager/cook/bus boy of a restaurant that is open 7 days a week, he thinks it's hysterical to call me "beeotch", he loves going dt- the loft is his fave, he drives this huge ass chester the molester van equipped with tinted windows, he is a lightweight (don't tell anyone it's a secret), oh and nbd he's the three-time national ping pong champion of Jordan. Third in the entirety of the Middle East. Yeah he just slipped that little nugget into conversation one day. Hasn't mentioned it since.

Smel and I work the entire day on Sundays--11 am until 11 pm. When I told Deany Weany this, he asked if I was doing time for a DUI. No DUIs, Deany, just getting those dolla dolla bills. I also am working away my Thursday and Friday nights, but it's quite alright because for the first time in my life I have cash money in my wallet. I have this great idea to deposit some of it in my savings, but thus far have not followed through on this noble idea. Instead, I buy things on impulse. The other day I went to Wal Mart and dropped 50 dollars.. today I dropped 60 at Target. Reflecting on this, I am currently revisiting the depositing earnings into my savings idea...and. um. yeah. That should happen.

Other things...

• September 17th: Survivor: Samoa.
  
• Thin Mint Tuesdays. Tequila Thursdays. Mason Jar Fridays? LEGENDARY.
• I have nearly perfected the Hoedown Throwdown and am in search of a social gathering where I can flaunt my newly acquired life skill. Let me know if you know of such an event.
• Saw UP at the dollar theater today. Cried three times. So much better than the Georgia game that I had to sit through right after.
• Pumpkin Spice Lattes are back! I am waiting for the perfect fall day to have my first.. then I will crave them uncontrollably til it gets warm again. Curse you and your delicious libations, Starbucks. CURSE YOU!
• The legends have found our morning-after restaurant and it is nothing short of glorious.
• Coupons are one of my passions in life. This is a new revelation. I wish to make the majority of my purchases from now on using coupons. Thus far this semester, I have dropped coups at Inoko Sushi Express, Planet Smoothie, Smoothie King, Subway, and Papa John's, and I have no intentions of slowing down any time soon.
• Just re-watched the 5th Harry Potter and definitely think that the showdown between Voldemort and Dumbledore is the all-time greatest fight scene. Ever. Also, have been pondering what my patronus would look like. I like to think it'd be an ostrich. I'd settle for a sea otter, though.
• I really want a leather jacket.
• Party in the USA is my JAM right now. I spent the hour and a half drive from Athens to Roswell listening to nothing but Miley. The Hannah Montana movie changed my life, and if you're judging me it's only because you haven't seen it.

Okay I have my DUI shift in the morning, so I'm off to bed. I am pledging to post more frequently so my fabulosity doesn't build up to the point that I can't focus because that is what's happening right now. Ta for now.

Some websites to peruse during class (or during your hiatus from school, whichever):

http://peopleofwalmart.com/

http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/

peace love and party in the usa