Goddess of Packages

28 Comments read Projects

I went into the apartment manager’s office yesterday to pick up a package, and she looked up and loudly announced to everyone inside that “this girl is the goddess of packages, she’s in here all the time.”

Yeah.

So one: Bullshit. I’ve gotten TWO packages since she started managing the place 3 months ago–I’m hardly running a Fed Ex portal through my apartment.

Two: It’s none of her goddamn business how many packages I get in the mail, whether it’s one or 1,000. If I wanted to have everything delivered to my doorstep instead of dealing with people, that would be my choice. If she thinks it’s excessive, there’s no need to make remarks about it to me or anyone else, because to me, her sole function consists of cashing my check every month. Frankly, I don’t really want to interact with her even on a package pickup basis–I wish that FedEx, UPS, and the post office would just leave them by my door. No one is going to mess with the crazy lady’s packages.

I’m seriously considering posting my address here and asking everyone to take the time to send me a shoebox with whatever inside so long as it’s not (a)illegal or (b)gross and THEN she’ll see who the goddamn goddess of packages is. I’d like to fill that office and make her sign for packages until she gets carpal tunnel syndrome.

Nosy witch.

Time to move.

16 Comments read Everything is Terrible

Last night, I was working on embroidering a hat band for my Halloween costume while wearing some fuzzy flannel pajamas–the weather was particularly gross yesterday and flannel makes me feel warm and happy; now you all know where the whole grunge look came from and why it originated in Seattle. You’re welcome. In addition to the PJs, I was rocking out to some tunes on my ipod and wearing the top hat in question when Napoleon indicated that he had to go outside. Right now. So I threw on the closest shoes and rushed outside, dancing to the salsa blasting through my headphones and mouthing the words while Napoleon does his business…when I spot a neighbor smiling and waving at me while he gets out of his car. This isn’t someone I know, so I can safely assume it’s the equivalent of pointing and laughing. I must’ve looked quite the picture–flannel pjs with penguins printed all over them, cowboy boots, top hat, dancing like a damn fool, while attached to a dog in the process of marking his territory…

I’ve mocked my neighbors as white trash meth-smoking nascar-lovers, and yet somehow I’ve just turned into the insane one in the apartment complex.

I’m still cringing.

Photoshop Friday

27 Comments read (f)Art

Recently, Nicki sent me a link to dress your wedding, and this picture:

“See that one on the left with short black hair?” she intimated. “That’s you.” I was thrown off for a few moments, because (a)hadn’t I already announced ‘No More Weddings’? and (b)was there something that she’d been neglecting to tell me? The answers to these questions were: too damn bad, and no, respectively; she was bored and was having fun playing with this.

Well, I am not one to be outdone. So I quickly whipped up some Goth Prom action. “See that one with the short brown hair? That’s you!” I crowed.

“Who’s the ring bearer?” Nicki wanted to know. “That’s not really a ring bearer in the strictest sense…it’s a midget. Gidget ‘Pepito’ the Midget.” We joked about it for a while longer, and then yesterday, she sent me a message saying that her friend liked my midget, and a link to the picture of HER wedding plans. “You know why this is so much fun right? All it is, is Barbies for big girls.”

I was never a kid that played with Barbies normally. They pretty much lived in a Barbie nudist colony and had tiny plastic orgies and then settled down to live in shoebox trailers and raise their bastard children dressed in scraps of t-shirts while chainsmoking. All this time, I had Britney Spears Barbie and didn’t even realize it! So if I was going to play dress-up with this thing, I was bound and determined to do it RIGHT and make it look like it would actually look, should I ever get married:

Now THAT is more like it. Not pictured here is Fat Elvis, our minister.

I had so much fun with this, I think the rest of you should do it, too. Take the tools the internet has so handily given to us and abuse them horribly. Create the greatest monstrosity known to man. Create the funniest thing you can think of. If you want the bridal party to be like the spectrum of the rainbow, go for it. If the given tools aren’t enough because you want everyone in candy pink standing in a post-apocalyptic underworld, screencap it and stick it in photoshop or paint or whatever you’ve got handy and go nuts. Just make sure to post it here, because I want to see it. Oh, how I want to see it.