Americans,
your President.


claude le monde
UDvCLM
...
archives + shop le monde
guestbook
diaryland
email the claw
...
the last five entries:

i killed it Gilbert

the taco mystique

no networks, no nukes, not notcakes

my vacation in numbers

cycloparappin: CnH4n


how we do:
loupe online
universal donor
tape + solitaire
dr j.j.
tuckova
drunkenbee
my ninjas
dinosaur comics !
the 2ndhand
12% beer


+ you are #




1:38 pm | 15 October 2004 | eastbound and down

So I hate unsurprisingly hate "busy work," not only because it is a total waste of my magnificent brain to do shit like burn, put stickers upon, and then paper-sleeve 40 cd-roms (i mean for real people), and also because of that school connotation where it's just "giving you something to keep busy with," like the hallmark of a good salaried employee is not "i kicked ass in 37 hours this week and i'm leaving at 2pm," but instead "i looked frantic for 40 hours and most of the time i only played Pong." I hate it. And then I actually went and looked up the definition for kicks and it had this gem:

Some critics have charged that busy work can cause problems for teachers: "When busy work becomes 'institutionalized,' among other teachers or the entire school, it creates such an overload of work for the slower students, that they have to 'buy out' of the system. They will always have more work than they can do because the work is assigned for control and not learning."

I have also eaten the MOST bullshit today, like (this is so gross and I'm sorry but I must repeat MUST keep it real) a triad of tacos--a taco hattrick, if you will. At 8:30am. What can I say? I was starving and hungover, and i wanted savory foods wrapped in carbinaceous white-people* tortillas. (Another thing that is fun is going into Taco Bell or whatever and saying "Yo quiero un pesadilla" to the counter clerk. Just go on up and, in your best honky Spanish, politely request a nightmare. They love it.) Then I just ate this gross blueberry cobbler or something that our accountant brought from Starbucks, only to notice five minutes later that oh, hey, got an oat stuck to my face. No, no worries. Just one. Oat. Singular.

Bitches I'm out. I'm going to New York tomorrow and I won't be back on the Left Coast until Thursday, so posting'll be sporadic until then, but Jeremy has internet at home (cough cough no excuse for post paucity chez UD cough) so I'll prolly hoch* something up if I can. WESTSIIIIIIDE! clm.

. . .

*This phrase is used to denote any super-homogenized "ethnic" food, like Tostitos, La Choy sweet & sour sauce, or Chef Boyardee "pasta." My parents, Michiganders that they are, are particularly susceptible (through no fault of their own); I'm used to eating those pretty thick greasy gritty Mexican chips, for example, and then I go home and it's all "Look, honey! These ones is white as snow and shaped just for scoopin'! Your aunt made that cream-cheese-and-supermarket-(glorified ketchup)-salsa dip you like!" So killer. Going home is a gastrointestinal disaster with emphasis on the "gas" and "as[s]" from those two words, respectively, 'cause everything is processed to shit and it's like an Applebee's wasteland. I'm from a town of 200,000 with, like, no Thai restaurants.
**You guessed it; you pronounce this word like "loch" and it is a verb denoting the violent expectoration of phlegm.


prev... (home) ...next

unless otherwise noted, all work contained herein is claudia sherman, 2002-04.
all rights, including those of reproduction, reserved.