The Dictator Agrees
Things are getting out of control. It's insane. I went to a free screening of "Harold and Kumar go to White Castle" with the girls from the concerts last night. Now I had never gone to one of these free screenings, and therefore was in for a bit of a shock. YOU HAVE TO PASS A SECURITY CHECK!!! What the fuck? I mean seriously?!
We passed the ticket check and are waiting in a line outside the theater, waiting for something. And not the movie, not yet. Like mom and big bird always say, safety first. The camando troops, the same company I noticed that does security at the airport, come marching out, their magic security wands gleaming, and set up their check points. Notice that I said points not point, meaning there is more than one stop on this tour. oh yes.
You line up at Check Point Charlie and open your bag, I was lucky enough to get to remove stuff from mine so they could get a better look.
Proving that I wasn't planing to bootleg the video or commit some act of terrorism I was permitted to move on to check point number 2, The Magic Wand!! Doesn't it sound exciting? And it is! You stand arms out ect while they wave it over you secretly hoping that it will beep, to spice up their dull day of running security check point at a movie theater! Well it did beep. On my bag. So I got to rummage through my bag-o-crap again to prove that I was not here to commit spine tingeling illegal acts. Good thing I forgot my digi cam at home today. It could have had international incedent written all over it.
After the magic wand we were cleared to go into the theater. Where Kate and I sat completely flabergasted by what just happened. Rach just wanted us to let it go. I am sorry Rach that can't happen. This is normal for a plane flight, true on international flights to the US you get the added...perk? of being felt up by security, but you know what I'm saying. This is a movie. Kate agrees, and her nickname is the dictator. All who know her know that this is for a reason. We love her, she keeps us within the rules and laws, but even she said no. this is too much. Thank you Kate. I love you.
On top of the security check points, I noticed that there were security guards posted at the back of the theater. You know, in case someone was real crafty and managed to get a no-no past the patrol team. Or maybe they were just worn out from a hard day of fighting crime and wanted to sit back and enjoy mindless comedy. You pick.
On a final note I would like to say that I am not angry with the actual security guards. I realize they are just doing their job. I am angry at the system, the man, whatever you want to call it that has brought us to this point.
Also I would like everyone to comment on this one if possible. I want to know if Kate and I are the only ones that feel this way. I want an all out war on the topic. So show me what you've got.
Do You Like The Hiiiiives?
I used to like them. Then I went to their show last night. Now I freakin LOVE them! It was so much fun. But I will start at the begining.
I called Kate yesterday and told her that she should really come and that she would have fun. She called me back while i was waiting in hell on earth, the DMV (side note: I passed. Damn.) telling me she would come, she just needed to get a ticket.
After I was finally released from the tortures of the Department of Motor Vehicals, we met at my house, then went down to Independent records to get her a ticket. Since it was around 6 and the doors didn't open until 8, and it had been raining, we managed to find a parking place very close to the Ogden.
Anyway, we went into Independent and got her a ticket, where we were informed that the lead singer of the Hives had just left. Damn. We then decided to wander around the store for awhile. It was during this time that Rachel called, asking when she should come down. ASAP. This was shortly after 6.
Since it wasn't raining anymore, Kate and I decided to just hold places out in front of the Ogden. We were second in line, go us. The nice thing about sitting out on Colfax is, there is no shortage of crazy people to watch. The drunks, the insane, the druggies, the pimps and hos and the people trying to get them to registar to vote. My favorite was a guy walking by yelling about how Jesus was great and could save your soul with his love ect. But one of the things he yelled as he walked by, and I love it, was "Satan is a loser!!" That right there is fucking brilliant.
Around 7.30 Rachel and Alex made their appearence. Alex Gabel had come, bought a ticket then run home to get something. whatever. 8ish, Doors open, Hooray! We find ourselves a nice spot above the pit and in clear view of the stage.
9 ish. The first band, The Reigning Sound comes on. 9.05 we all wish they would get off the stage. Saddly enough they don't. They go on to play a lot of songs, the last 3 or so they tease us by saying it is their last song. Bastards.
10 ish, SAHARA HOTNIGHTS!! They are fun and so cute. The drummer was great. She was getting all into it, thrashing her long blond hair around. It seemed like they played for 10 minutes. Then we figured out thay probably played for the same amount of time The Reigning Sound did. The difference was, they were good.
11 ish, THE HIVES!!!!! They had lost the white silky personalized jackets they had been wandering around in earlier in favor of their swanky black and white suits. Hanging above their white amps, white drums (with white light up platform underneath no less) was a glowing red neon sign. Oh yes, these boys are professionals, they aren't fucking around. From here on out it was Jagger like struts, karate kicks, loud fast rock and screams that sounded like they were coming from someone in a mental ward. Not to mention "Do you like the Hiiiives?" and seeing how many times he could point out that we all indeed were in Denver, Colorado. But I accept this. Why? Because unlike the Counting Crows, he did not say "Hello California" and, last night was one of the few concerts I have ever gone to where the subject of the air, or lack there of, was not brought up.
Three songs in, they had to loose their swanky jackets. That's ok as Howlin' Pelle Almqvist put it "Have you seen my nice jacket? The only problem is, Denver is too hot! So I must take it off. Feel free to applaude me as I remove this garment of clothing!" Hee.
All the favorite songs were played, plus new ones. As people in the pit started getting too hot, the bouncers poked holes in the tops of water bottles and spraying the crowd down. I had never wanted to be in the pit so bad in my life.
Sometime shortly after midnight the show came to an end. As much as I wanted to get something to drink and sit down, I really wasn't ready for the show to be over. I wanted more. I want more. I was still wound up from the show when I woke up this morning! I danced around my kitchen! I never dance!
So to the Hives, who are most definatly not reading this, please come back.
Baby You Can Drive My Car
So tomarrow I take my drivers test. Becuase I really am that lazy. Legally I could have gotten my driver's lisence like three years ago, I just couldn't be bothered to actually take the test. I passed driver's ed and managed to get my 50 supervised driving hours that is required by the state of Colorado, but calling and making a test appointment? Do you have any idea how much effort that takes?
So now, at the ripe age of 19 I have finally taken that step. I made the test appointment. But not just that. No no. I had to retake the permit test and get that again. And I did.
And now with the test less then 24 hours away, it's dawned on me. It's not that I'm THAT lazy, I just hate to drive. Plain and simple. Other drivers are clueless assholes, the roads are in terrible condition and my mom's car is way too nice for someone like me to be driving.
Everyone wants me to pass, with the exception of me. Not being able to drive actually works out very well for me. I never have to be the designated driver, we have pretty nice weather here so i can walk lots of places, which is good since the RTD is god awful, my brother isn't constantly asking me for rides like he is with my mom and dad and John and apparently Kiyomi and anyone else he knows with a car. I don't worry when the price of gas goes up. It's great. If I pass, this is all gonna change, and it is going to suck royal ass.
But all this has given me a goal in life. To make enough money to hire a driver. A taxi doesn't count, in denver they are worse then the public transportation system. I am talking about my own private driver. I would rather pay someone to drive me around than own the nicest car on the planet.
So if I fail the test tomarrow, don't be too suprised.
Actually Sir, I Have A Very Cunning Plan
A friend once asked me how you got another friend to stop bringing up a stupid drunken mistake. My response was to get your friend really drunk and get them to do something even stupider.
At the time I didn't really know what I was talking about, it just seemed like a good strategy. I didn't drink much then, and if I did I was always the one who could hold the most alcohol.
Now I find that I need to use my strategy. Not because I was around someone sobberer then myself, no I was in fact with a fly weight. But I was stupid enough to do something dumb while semi intoxocaited AND THEN! Tell my friend about it!! In all honesty, telling her was indeed the biggest mistake of the year. Now she uses every possible moment to bring it up. I am not safe. But really, neither is she. She maybe at the moment, but she is forgetting several crucial things. I can out drink her. This will come in handy. I also have an amazingly good memory when I drink. This will come in very handy.
So Miss Rachel, from here on out it is open season. And I will use every oppertunity to get you drunk off your ass.
let the games begin!
Oh, That's Not Right
The following took place while Dave and I were watching Jay Leno tell really crap and low "jokes" the other night.
Me: Oh that was low man.
Dave: That was lower then JLo goes on her honeymoon, which happens a lot!
A Good Old Fashion Family Dinner
Very rarely is a family dinner in my house what you would call traditional. Like the time we were doing a Benihana type thing in Japan, and Dave was in charge of cooking the beef tongue. Suddenly he turned to me, gripping a sliver of tongue in his chopsticks, and said "Hey Lauren! Check it out, I'm making out with cow!" Then proceeded to do exactly that.
Tonight was no exception. We went to the most wonderful restaurant in Denver, Tiramisu. (please stand by while Lauren drools with desire.) What we didn't realize that Thursdays are Frank Sinatra impersonator night!!! Why was I not informed of this earlier!! I knew about the opera singer who sang a Shikera song. I kid you not.
Well because few things rock more then a faux Sinatra, Thursday is apparently their busiest night. We were seated next to a large table that was reseved for a large party, which ended up being a big party of lesbian women. They really got into some of the songs. To the point that there was still-seated group dancing. Holding hands, swaying, jumping around and singing along. Such a display prompted my Dad to ask the rest of us if the Indigo Girls were present. This is by far not the worst comment made during the evening. No, the rest are from Dave. He suggested that the "Dykes" at the next table go to work with he and my dad on friday to helpn them rip out carpet, he figures he would probably learn a thing or two. Or after the dissapointing response from them to "That's Why the Lady is a Tramp" he felt the Sinatra should just yell either "Fucking Dykes!" or even worse, "Talk about a waste of a vagina!" I must say, between these and the Jim Crow pants remark, Dave sounds like a very intolerant person, but that really isn't the case.
Also notable, when The Chairman of the Board serenaded my mom with part of "When I was 17" or when he was taking a break as we were leaving, they put on a cd of the Rat Pack live in concert. As we paid the bill, they were indeed playing a Frank Sinatra tune. As we were leaving my dad, meaning to be witty and pay the man a compliment, turned to the Sinatra impersonator and said "You know this guy sounds just like you!" It was at this moment that I pointed out that they were actually playing a Dean Martin tune.
A Waste of My God Damn Time
Ah, preparing for college. In a perfect world I would be able to relive the process everyday. Oh wait! No. That would be a form of hell.
As an incoming freshmen you have to have your classes approved by a counsilor. No problem. I called my advisor, Nimol Hen, from Austria talked it over, got it approved. During this call she told me that when I returned to Denver I would need to come in and take the Accuplacer placement exam as soon as possible. So I set up my exam for 10am this morning. Seeing as I have no car, it was the Rough Tough and Dirty for me. Since the public transportation in Denver sucks, to get there by 10, I have to leave around 9.
Anyway, I make it down there, manage to find the right building and such and take my exam. I think it is rather odd to take an exam on a computer. I don't know how i feel about it. They told me over the phone that the exam would take about 2 hours. I finished in about an hour. But I did guess on most of the math questions, which helps explain my score.
During my phone conference, Ms. Hen told me that also needed to set up an advising session after the exam. When I called she had no appointments open. LIES!! After a 10min wait, I was able to get in.
When I sat down in her office she leaned over and politly asked, "So Lauren, what did you want to talk to me about?" What did I want to talk to you about? No no!! What did YOU want to talk to ME about?! You were the one who told me over the phone AND sent me several emails saying I needed to come in for an advising session. Working past that point we went on to my test results. It turns out you don't have to take a placement exam for the math class I am signed up for. Greaaaaaat. That is super. And because I took AP Lit in High School and am signed up for Core Comp 101 or whatever it is called, I don't really need to take the english placement exams either.
Do you know what would have been great? If they had told me this BEFORE I had taken the exam. Like around the time I had my classes approved and we were going over these kind of pesky details.
The Diplomat and the Delinquent
This entry is a special request from Miss Morgan after I told it to her through a long series of IMs the other night at roughly 2am east coast time. And really, how could I say no to her? She's a fucking Ninja!! So here goes.
The family I worked for in Austria was a rather well to do family, who had in turn come from well to do families. So they were what you could call "old money." The mother, my boss, came from a diplomatic family. Her father was ambasador to Argentina, Luxumburg, England, the USA and Germany. So the grandfather was a very high and respectable diplomat, and accustomed to being treated as such. Though now retired, he still had a very formal air about him. Always dressed incredibly well, the finest suits, hair perfectly cut, shoes spotlessly shined ect. He was also an ass. To him, I was very much considered "the help." Never once in the 11 months I lived in his daughter's house did he get my name right. Not once.
One Saturday or Sunday morning, I forget which, he came to say good bye to his oldest grandaughter Camilla before she returned to England, where she attends Oxford University. In order to see Camilla before she needed to leave for the airport, he arrived around 7.30, 8 in the morning.
When the doorbell rang I was asleep. Since other people in the house were awake, I figured someone else would answer the door. Apparently not. The doorbell rang again. I threw back my covers, in a very annoyed and pissy manner, left my room and headed for the phone, which also served as an intercom to the front gate. I'd hit the button, "hello? hello?" no answer. So I walked over to the one window where you could see the front gate to see if anyone is there. No one, fuck this I'm going back to bed. Well apparently there was in fact someone there. The grandfather. Someone else had buzzed him in before I got to the phone. Well in order to get back to my room from where I was, I had to pass the front entrance hall. Just as I did that, the grandfather walked in.
Having already explained what the grandfather is like, I would like to take this oppertunity to explain what I looked like. Keep in mind that it is very early on a weekend and I am by no means a morning person. When I got up to get the door I had refused to open my eyes all the way, actually I'm not sure if it would have been possible anyway. So my eyes, or eye rather, I had only managed one, was open just enough for me to peer through my eyelashes. To an innocent bystander I would have appeared to have been sleep walking. I was donning a lovely gray Curious George t-shirt that has seen better days, to put it nicely, and a pair of lovely pj pants covered in either polar bears or lobsters. My hair. I had put my hair up in a half ponytail (where you start to pull it through as a ponytail but stop half way through) before going to bed the night before, but since I was going to bed it was pearched not on the back of my head but right on top. Well after sleeping with it like that, it had come a bit loose. In fact my brown hair was sticking out in every direction possible all the while reeking of old sour cigarettes after having spent the better part of the previous evening in a pub. This made a nice contrast with my face, which was a nice deathly white and rippled with lines from my pillow. I should also point out that in the morning I have no balance. I have been known to bounce off walls like a pinball on the way to the bathroom which was approximatly 15ft from my bed. This means I was swaying. Sexy I know.
Most people upon seeing a person in this condition would try to figure out how the hell to get them back into bed, or at least in to a shower, not the grandfather. No, to him I am still "the help" and therefor am on the clock. He orders me to make him a cup of coffee. We have a near fatal, exorcist moment here. Luckily most of my energy was focused on keeping myself perpendicular to the floor, so all I managed was the evil eye and a low growl. I shuffeled into the kitchen, which was a convieniant 3ft away and managed to locate a coffee cup. At this point the mom, my boss, walked into the kitchen. She took one look at me and promptly ordered me back to bed. God bless her.
Oh That Dave...
sitting in bed last night, chatting with The Stripper and Miss Morgan watching crap tv reruns when sudenly Dave bursts through my door armed with some old jeans and a pair of kitchen scissors declaring "These jeans are old, the backs are all screwed up, I'm making cut offs!" My immediate reaction was to start laughing, Hard, As I pictured my brother in little daisy duke cut offs, circa 1987, short enough that the pockets hang out from below the hem.
So he lays out his pants and set to work snipping at where he believes the knees to be. After a dramatic final snip he paused to examine his handy work before stripping down to his boxers to model his new fashion statement. He pulls on his pants, zips up and does a little cat walk strut around the room before announcing, and he means this in the nicest possible way, "these look like Jim Crow pants." What the fuck? What the fuck are Jim Crow pants? Jim Crow wore baggy jean capris? Apparently so.
So Dave drops trow, and cuts another three inches or so off. Now he has hit the knee. He puts on his no longer jim crow pants and struts some more. They are now what I call pirate length. If you don't understand what that means please don't ask, i can't explain.
At this point Dave has decided that he is satisfied with the length of his cut offs, but this is soon over shadowed by the amount of amusement the strips of scrap jeans laying on my bed bring. He takes the longer bits and puts them on his arm, like denim tin man sleeves or something. He takes one of the smaller bits and puts it on his head, fashioning himself a little crown and proceeds to do a little jig around the room and across the hall to his room. Nothing like a little victory jig to celebrate your new cut offs.
My life in an Onion headline
"Putting up with Dave's shit not in job description"
Thank you! But no, I have to put up with so much of dave's shit. Not just because he is my younger brother, but because now my room is right across the hall from his. There is no escape. If i go out, like the other night i went to the drive in, i get yelled at multiple times by him when i get back. This morning i was listening to Bad Religion in my room, with the door closed and a fan on, so I could barely hear it, he threw a shoe at my door. hard.
And it's not just noise complaints either. Far from it. Yesterday I was working on the computer, he fucking wrestled me off!! He started with let me show you a website. The next thing I knew he was IM'ing all his friends! When an IM came from the stripper he fought me away and responded for me. prick.
But the stuff that really got me happened last night. His friend Griffen came over, whatever no problem. first they were supposed to be back at like 7.45 form a friends house. After several phone calls they get back at like 8.20. Suprisingly enough my dad isn't mad. He does talk to him a bit about being polite and calling if you aren't going to be home when you say you will and what not. The thing is, Dave gets all defensive! Like he wants to pick a fight over it! What the hell? In the process he tries, without success, to take me down with him! Bitch move little man!! He was like "Well lauren got home from the drive in way later then she said, so why isn't she in trouble?" Bitch move indeed.
Or when I was getting ready for bed last night he calls me to his room and goes on to basically tell me that all my friends are nerdy and I should watch out or I will become a nerdy loser too. (Yes you all have permission to kick his ass, please contact me for an appointment). It seemed pointless to point out that none of us actually try to be the cool popular kids in school. We all served our Middle school sentence, some people may have tried during high school as well, and said fuck it. It's not worth it.
argh.
Dave can be a really cool kid that is lots of fun to hang out with, but he can also be the biggest ass.
I'm done now.
Fiesta!
I don't understand how people can say no to a mariachi band. I really don't. Every party that is thrown here i suggest hiring a mariachi band for. And every single time i am denied. Why wouldn't you want a mariachi band at your party? They're fantastic! They wear rockin' outfits, the nice ones will let you wear their sombreros, they have that one guy who plays that really big guitar, and they can do that really great EIII ei eiei! thing. it's awsome! You just can't have a bad party with a mariachi band around, it just doesn't work. That is why I will be holding my next birthday at the Disneyland of mexican theme restaurants, Casa Bonita! Then i will finally get my mariachi band! With the added perk of cliff divers and inedible food. You know you wanna come.
I've Always Wanted An American Girlfriend
A guy started yelling at me on the street yesterday because I didn't say hello. See after living in Vienna for a year, I have just learned that you don't say hello to people on the street who say hello to you. You can't even smile at them. If you do, they won't leave you alone until a phone number has been exchanged and a time has been set up for you to call or meet them somewhere. Found this one out the hard way.
During these attempted pick ups I have heard some great lines, What's your sign? (I had no idea people actually used that one) So, have you ever thought about learning Persian? and my personal fav, I've always wanted an American girlfriend. They also will not except that you are not interested. EVER. One night i was waiting for my friends in front of Stephansdom, the big cathedral in the center of Vienna, and this guy started talking to me and would not stop. Despite the fact that I was trying my best not to pay any attention to him. He asked me for a drink, i declined. He asked me if I had a boyfriend, I said yes. He asked me if i was waiting for my boyfriend, I said yes. He asked me if I wanted to go for a drink. What? He had always wanted an american girlfriend.
I should point out that none of the men who do this are from Austria, with the exception of the philosopher but that is a story for another day.
god i love a good death threat!
Look everyone! I caved to my peers, and their death threats, mainly from the stripper and got my very own blog. Isn't he just the cutest little thing? or not, whatever. ok, there will be plenty of stories to come but right now, I just need to dance.
lauren
