Friday, January 26, 2007

London, baby!

Call it trip envy or boredom or just missing that other little piece of my soul... On Febuary 21 I'm going to London! For the first time ever!! To visit my other Rachel! And bop around Europe for 4 days! There are not enough exclamation points in the universe right now! I just realized that I'll be missing my last improv class (its no worries, I can make it up later in the week...) for this and I almost don't care.

Gah! London!

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Puncture Wounds

After reading Courtney's recent blog about all of her piercing experiences I decided to take time out of my busy phone-answering-diet-coke-drinking-Gawker-reading Day and follow suit. So here it is, my long history with such things. I'll add pictures to this post once they become available (read: when I get home from work).

Elementary School (circa 4th or 5th grade): I am in the mall with my mom and spontaneously ask if I can get my ears pierced. She agrees. We go to Claire's that day. I have a mild panic attack before they do the actual piercing and my mother says to Cool It. I have pierced ears. I am tres grown-up.

A few weeks later: One of my earring holes gets infected. The doctor tells my mom to take it out, failing to mention that the backs of starter earrings are designed to be difficult to get off. My mom proceedes to pull the entire earring through my ear. Pouring blood all over the bathroom (a reoccuring theme in this timeline) and my favorite stuffed rabbit. There is a small part of me that has yet to forgive her.

A few months after that: After wandering around with one earring for a while I get my hole repeirced. I'm not quite sure why my mom let me hang out with just one earring for that fairly long while it took my lobe to heal... I only ever remember it being an issue once in gymnastics class when I had my hair done up in a bun and one of the other girls asked me about it (I spent most of my younger years with my hair down...and I had bangs. Times change, people). I get it repierced and am 600 times more nervous because I now know how bad its going to hurt. My parents go out that night, our babysitter Elizabeth gives me an extra scoop of ice cream for being brave.

Sometime in 8th or 9th grade: My friend Cupcake has entered her, "punk" stage and has taken to piercing her own ears all the time, she asks if I want her to do mine, I say "yes, eventually," and hope she'll forget to ask again.

Fall of 9th grade: One of the first times we go to Maryland Council for Dance (a weekend long affair that was a really great excuse to get out of school early on a friday and hang out in a hotel suite unchaperoned). Cupcake decides that once and for all, I'm getting my ears pierced. We go into the hotel bathroom because its "sterile" (we weren't the brightest kids...) and she puts the needle through my ear at the exact same moment that my dance teacher walks through the door of the suite. The suprise redirects the needle and it nicks some sort of vein causing blood to start dripping. I cup my hand over my ear and hope Dee doesn't notice it (if she does, she never said anything). I halt the piercing.

Spring Break of 9th grade: Continuous peer pressure finally gets to me and at a sleep over at a Pinkie's house, Cupcake pierces 2nd holes in each of my ears. I use the smallest studs possible in the vain attempt that my parents won't notice. There is a picture of this blessed event taking place...if I can find it, I'll add it to this blog. My parents don't notice until one morning I wake up and realize that the stud was too small and my lobe has started to close up over it. I am forced to push it back through and once again, cover my bathroom with blood. My parents notice when my ear starts throbbing.

Note* -- I am constantly having problems with my earring holes, but to the date I have had less problems with the holes that were pierced with safety pin in my friend's bedroom than the one's done at Claire's. Suck it Claire's.

March of 12th grade: It is discovered that in Pennsylvania you only need to be 16 to get piercings without an adult signature (in Maryland it's 18). My mother had expressed her displeasure at the idea of a navel ring, her constant refrain being, "I'll never sign a piece of paper allowing you to get your belly button pierced." I take this as an automatic okay to go ahead and get it done (I think my excuse later was, "Mom, you never signed a piece of paper"). My friends and I go up to the closest Piercing/Tattoo place over the border (the place made a killing from people at my high school, I garantee it). They say that if I don't get my belly button pierced they're leaving me in the parking lot. I get it done. I think I am cool.

A week later: The pain has subsided a little bit, but I am constantly clutching my stomach, prompting my mother to ask if I need to see a doctor. I show her what I have done. We don't speak for awhile...

Note*-- My mother now demands that she be able to see the navel ring in photos of me in my bathing suit and has on occasion called it "cute" though she'll deny ever saying such things until the day she dies.

June of 12th grade: In my final dance recital I decide to flip a metaphoric bird to the dance studio and during an acro dance bust out the worm (instead of what was previously coreographed for me). Later I realize this was a bad idea as my stomach is now smeared with blood.

December of Sophomore Year: Poodle peer pressures me into getting a tattoo. I say okay because I am weak and because I am having a bad semester. It continues to be one of my favorite choices I ever made.

July after Junior Year: I hate my job working with children which is something that up until then I didn't think was possible. On the final day of camp 1 I decide to celebrate by getting my nose pierced. This only comes after I say, "Hey, Teeny, I want to get my nose pierced" and she says, "Yeah okay, You won't." I am mad at myself for sharing with her the powers of, "you won't." I don't tell my parents until I come home to visit, they are not pleased. I instantly become a celebrity to my sister and all of her 12 year old friends.

January of Senior Year: I am told by my oral surgeon that I have to take out my nose ring when he takes out my wisdom teeth. Then in the middle of a vicious allergy attack in the middle of the night, I manage to pull out the stud without even waking up. I realize how attached I am to the thing when I desperatly try to re-pierce it with a needle and (wait for it) draw blood.

Febuary of Senior Year: I repierce my nose and it hurts twice as bad as it did the first time. It also becomes infected almost immediatly and I wonder if I should get it repierced. I decide to just deal with it because the piercing hurts too bad.

Note*-- I am still amazed at the fact that I managed to pull my nose ring out and not wake up. Sometimes even now I'll hit it the wrong way and the pain will be insanely ridiculious.

Present: I currently have earrings in my first holes after a long stretch of not wearing earrings at all. I can't remember the last time I wore earrings in my second holes, but will occasionally stab one through them to make sure they're still open. I haven't done this recently, so for all I know they could be closed at this point. I still have in the same nose ring that I got it pierced with (both times). I sometimes put in a clear retainer, but think that it looks stranger than just having a silver stud in. Have considered at times taking the nose ring out since it's become soooo effin' mainstream, but really like the way it looks on my ugly face. My belly button ring has been in continuously since I got it pierced (almost 6 years ago)! I love it. I don't care that saggy post-pregnancy women have it now too. I think its adorable (see also the tat). I have at times considered piercing: my tragus, cartilage or nipple (just for the story) but always decide to wait until a moment that needs to be commemorated to do anymore damage to my body.

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Just in case you were curious...

I can totally do this now. Circus class is awesome. Other things I can do:

Walk on a globe.
Walk on stilts
Do fancy tricks on the trapeze
A front handspring

Friday, January 05, 2007

The more you know...

How much does laziness cost?


That's how much its going to cost to have some grumpy bear-sized man deliver my new bed up to my new apartment.

Totally worth it, if you ask me.

Also, I am now a bed-owner. How v. grown-up.

Tuesday, January 02, 2007


And so 2007 begins. It has taken all of my strength not to crawl under my desk and die today. I thought that this whole, "fly back in the morning, go straight to work" thing was an excellent plan. What I didn't factor in was the fact that I was going to feel like baked asshole for pretty much the entire day yesterday (and the fact that I've pretty much been on a drink, sleep, eat chocolate bender for the past week and a half). New Years Eve pretty much kicked my ass upside down and sideways. I fell off a barstool. That's how hard it kicked my ass. I decided to fight with gravity and gravity won (as it usually does).

Anyway at some point after the two pitchers of sangria and before I told one boy that he had to give me his mardi gras beads and another that I hoped he died a miserable death in the next fifteen minutes (I was trying to talk to Christine via cellphone! Do not try to have conversations with me when I am on my cellphone, particularly when I'm talking to Teeny-pants) there were jell-o shots.

A LOT of Jell-o shots.

We decided during the sangria and tapas (aka respectable) part of the evening that the best bet for the less-respectable part of the evening would be a fun lil divey bar in Adams Morgan (or Ad Mo, as I have just decided I'm going to call it...see also: North Fruit Loop) called Millie and Al's. Millie and Al's is my favorite bar in DC for one simple reason: $1 Jell-o Shots. The only thing better? Free jell-o shots.

This plan was cememnted when we realized that Millie and Al's had no cover. NO COVER! On New Years! Someone wants me to be happy! About 15 seconds after we had staked our claim on a fine piece of bar real estate the $1 jell-o shots light went on. I dropped a Jackson and we were on our way.

20 jell-o shots. 3 girls. Happy New Years to us.

C, because she is by far the most Suzy High-school of the thrio of us decided that for every shot we had to make a resolution. Here are mine (although I think the tally was up to 9 shots by the end of the night I think we got Courtney drunk enough that she stopped hounding us about it so we only made half a dozen or so).

1- Have a successful, healthy romantic relationship that lasts a substantial amount of time (although, that's asking a lot of me and the men of Chicago...I think that on NYE I said a month, I'm scaling that back to 2 weeks. Baby steps, people).

2- Have some mindblowingly good sex that ALSO makes me forget the english language (apparently these things are mutually exclusive)

3- Get an acting job. Any acting job (that doesn't require me to take off my clothes).

4- Learn to accept compliments instead of argue with them

5- Buy Pants. Really good pants. Mindblowing pants.

6- Stop dwelling on Matt Demos (oh wait...)

7- Solve all of C's problems by sleeping with the cute kid in her grad program, thus breaking up him and his girl friend and allowing Courtney to swoop in and be his new lovah.

8- World Peace.

Happy 2007. May you only write 2006 on all documents until mid-March.

She's pint-sized and amazing.