pretty love machine
i've been visiting with the nine inch nails a lot lately, which i didn't think was so much of a bad thing, but while listening to "terrible lie" on pretty hate machine for the sixth time on repeat on tuesday night and thinking seriously that trent reznor might be the only man that will ever understand me and the rest of the world can take it and shove it, it occurred to me that i think i have actually become a pretty hate machine. as anyone who has been either witness to or victim of one of my recent rages can attest, they are really a beautiful and terrifying thing. i have lost any and all ability to lie. any capacity i used to have for hiding scorn or distaste or aggravation has just disappeared. i have no screen. none! goodbye! bye! seeya soon, screen! later!
maybe the screen will come back after it's had a nice beach vacation. maybe the screen needs a little aloha. but for now, i am screenless. and very easily swayed into attack mode, whether it be towards the self-righteous chump who stands in front of the subway doors instead of moving into the car, the gossipmonger who dives into everyone else's drama because of her own insecurity issues, the clueless publicist who doesn't have her freakin shit together but still seems to think it's a good idea to call, and most of all, to the goddamn-stupid-fucking-lords-of-powerbook-g4s that have decided that my disc drive is not going to eject cds and is holding AB's ryan adams album hostage and thereby forcing me to visit the mac genius bar at some asinine hour in the morning next week.
sigh.
pretty.hate.machine.
anyways. after taking some sick joy in the clearly visible levels of discomfort and self-doubt that my vengeance has wreaked on these poor souls the past few weeks, i have decided that i am a horrible person and trent is really not that cool anyways. i have changed. example: at brunch this morning, i didn't even try to make the imbecilic girl sitting next to me at dumont feel like less of a human being despite her inability to keep her feet under her own goddamn table. i bet G didn't even know that i secretly wanted to punch her hipster-mullet-ratty-scarf lights out!
this is improvement, i think. anyways. in an effort to become more pretty love machine than vengeful, unloving pretty hate machine, i've taken trent reznor out of heavy rotation and begun cataloging the many many things that are evidence of the happy random wonderful sweet loving caring generous nonsense that surround me everyday. it helps. there are lots of happy things to think about. i am done being an ungrateful wench. and i haven't wanted to punch anybody since breakfast.
here are a few things i heart, in no particular order:
poker & pavlov
i think most people feel it: there is something contagious about the happiness between Y & AB. poker is just a farce for everyone to gather around them. plus, there is something priceless about the fact that friday night i completely blanked on the fact that playing poker requires money, and rolled up to our weekly game with two half-finished bottles of booze and only $5 in my pocket, and nobody even batted an eye, despite the fact that we played two $10 buy-in games and gorged on takeout. i also kind of love that i left with little pieces of green fuzz all over me from the new felt. sidebar: everytime i walk into Y & AB's apartment, i have an uncontrollable urge to eat burritos. a big carne asada burrito, from buffalo cantina, with extra red sauce on the side. weird?
tuesdays
i like tuesdays.
roasted garlic
it's good on everything. i should know. in addition to becoming a pretty love machine, i'm also growing garlic cloves out of my ears. cut the top off a head of garlic, wrap in tin foil, drizzle with a little olive oil and salt, stick in the oven for half an hour at 350 degrees and you end up with one of the most glorious treats known to man. toss with linguini and a bit more oil. spread on a toasted pita. slather onto chicken. mash it into a potato. let them cool for a bit and pop into your mouth whole and breathe all over your apartment and revel in the garlicky-ness of it all. not that i've done that. at all. ever.
my friends inscribed into my apartment
everytime i look around my home i get little squishes of love. i still can't thank people enough for the blood sweat and tears that virtually everybody who knows me poured into helping me make a home. just a few of the highlights, because the list really goes on forever ...
generally unpleasant labor - G, D, C, AS
pretty painted walls - U, D, C
sexy bamboo paper shades - Y
sleek leaning bookshelves - G, AS
futon - G
humidifier - G
ottoman - C
television - U & A
chiffon curtains - U
and on, and on, and on ...
gmail chat
here's to C changing her browser solely so she can haunt g-chat with me ... and yay to C for letting me be the only one who interrupts her on a constant basis. to talk about love and life and spirituality and, you know, how much everyone else fucking sucks.
frequent flyer miles & J
um, hellooooooo oakland. hello sunshine when new york is about to drive me crazy. hello wine country. hello chez panisse. hello to the best of the midwest, relocated to the bay area. hello to a new way of eradicating the many many states that live between new york and california. hello to some serious sweetness on J's part, and hel-LO to finding a friend in the most unexpected of moments.
my mommy & daddy
for somehow knowing the one true longing in my heart, and for granting a wish i didn't dare ask for: a ticket for 10 days in beautiful kauai.
fresh direct
really. fresh direct. groceries, like tuesdays, make me happy.
world of warcraft, oranges & and assorted other G-isms
what started out as tolerance of G's addiction to the crack-like W0W and his need to discuss the game with anybody who would listen to him has now become a vested personal interest. i admit it. it's true. i actually LIKE hearing about little gnomes in fantasy land! i want to KNOW what happens with the lava monsters! i WORRY when i hear V's boyfriend doesn't have enough tools for the next quest! god save me.
erasure
for being exactly who they are.
my editor
AZ wants us to shop more. so he's forcing our department to shop for two days over the next few weeks, before we go on a "retail field trip" to examine a few malls in long island. forcing us. his words: "i don't even want to see you in the office. don't come in. go shopping. eavesdrop. hang out in the stores. it'll be good for us to pick up story ideas. have fun."
speaking of my editor: i have promised to work on a draft of a story on fashion brands expanding into india before tomorrow. AZ has set up a cool co-mentoring thingymajig that plays to the strengths of both me and MD, and in order to make the thingymajig work ... well, i've actually got to work.
leaving with happy thoughts and a promise not to beat down on any assclowns on the way to work tomorrow. wish me luck.
maybe the screen will come back after it's had a nice beach vacation. maybe the screen needs a little aloha. but for now, i am screenless. and very easily swayed into attack mode, whether it be towards the self-righteous chump who stands in front of the subway doors instead of moving into the car, the gossipmonger who dives into everyone else's drama because of her own insecurity issues, the clueless publicist who doesn't have her freakin shit together but still seems to think it's a good idea to call, and most of all, to the goddamn-stupid-fucking-lords-of-powerbook-g4s that have decided that my disc drive is not going to eject cds and is holding AB's ryan adams album hostage and thereby forcing me to visit the mac genius bar at some asinine hour in the morning next week.
sigh.
pretty.hate.machine.
anyways. after taking some sick joy in the clearly visible levels of discomfort and self-doubt that my vengeance has wreaked on these poor souls the past few weeks, i have decided that i am a horrible person and trent is really not that cool anyways. i have changed. example: at brunch this morning, i didn't even try to make the imbecilic girl sitting next to me at dumont feel like less of a human being despite her inability to keep her feet under her own goddamn table. i bet G didn't even know that i secretly wanted to punch her hipster-mullet-ratty-scarf lights out!
this is improvement, i think. anyways. in an effort to become more pretty love machine than vengeful, unloving pretty hate machine, i've taken trent reznor out of heavy rotation and begun cataloging the many many things that are evidence of the happy random wonderful sweet loving caring generous nonsense that surround me everyday. it helps. there are lots of happy things to think about. i am done being an ungrateful wench. and i haven't wanted to punch anybody since breakfast.
here are a few things i heart, in no particular order:
poker & pavlov
i think most people feel it: there is something contagious about the happiness between Y & AB. poker is just a farce for everyone to gather around them. plus, there is something priceless about the fact that friday night i completely blanked on the fact that playing poker requires money, and rolled up to our weekly game with two half-finished bottles of booze and only $5 in my pocket, and nobody even batted an eye, despite the fact that we played two $10 buy-in games and gorged on takeout. i also kind of love that i left with little pieces of green fuzz all over me from the new felt. sidebar: everytime i walk into Y & AB's apartment, i have an uncontrollable urge to eat burritos. a big carne asada burrito, from buffalo cantina, with extra red sauce on the side. weird?
tuesdays
i like tuesdays.
roasted garlic
it's good on everything. i should know. in addition to becoming a pretty love machine, i'm also growing garlic cloves out of my ears. cut the top off a head of garlic, wrap in tin foil, drizzle with a little olive oil and salt, stick in the oven for half an hour at 350 degrees and you end up with one of the most glorious treats known to man. toss with linguini and a bit more oil. spread on a toasted pita. slather onto chicken. mash it into a potato. let them cool for a bit and pop into your mouth whole and breathe all over your apartment and revel in the garlicky-ness of it all. not that i've done that. at all. ever.
my friends inscribed into my apartment
everytime i look around my home i get little squishes of love. i still can't thank people enough for the blood sweat and tears that virtually everybody who knows me poured into helping me make a home. just a few of the highlights, because the list really goes on forever ...
generally unpleasant labor - G, D, C, AS
pretty painted walls - U, D, C
sexy bamboo paper shades - Y
sleek leaning bookshelves - G, AS
futon - G
humidifier - G
ottoman - C
television - U & A
chiffon curtains - U
and on, and on, and on ...
gmail chat
here's to C changing her browser solely so she can haunt g-chat with me ... and yay to C for letting me be the only one who interrupts her on a constant basis. to talk about love and life and spirituality and, you know, how much everyone else fucking sucks.
frequent flyer miles & J
um, hellooooooo oakland. hello sunshine when new york is about to drive me crazy. hello wine country. hello chez panisse. hello to the best of the midwest, relocated to the bay area. hello to a new way of eradicating the many many states that live between new york and california. hello to some serious sweetness on J's part, and hel-LO to finding a friend in the most unexpected of moments.
my mommy & daddy
for somehow knowing the one true longing in my heart, and for granting a wish i didn't dare ask for: a ticket for 10 days in beautiful kauai.
fresh direct
really. fresh direct. groceries, like tuesdays, make me happy.
world of warcraft, oranges & and assorted other G-isms
what started out as tolerance of G's addiction to the crack-like W0W and his need to discuss the game with anybody who would listen to him has now become a vested personal interest. i admit it. it's true. i actually LIKE hearing about little gnomes in fantasy land! i want to KNOW what happens with the lava monsters! i WORRY when i hear V's boyfriend doesn't have enough tools for the next quest! god save me.
erasure
for being exactly who they are.
my editor
AZ wants us to shop more. so he's forcing our department to shop for two days over the next few weeks, before we go on a "retail field trip" to examine a few malls in long island. forcing us. his words: "i don't even want to see you in the office. don't come in. go shopping. eavesdrop. hang out in the stores. it'll be good for us to pick up story ideas. have fun."
speaking of my editor: i have promised to work on a draft of a story on fashion brands expanding into india before tomorrow. AZ has set up a cool co-mentoring thingymajig that plays to the strengths of both me and MD, and in order to make the thingymajig work ... well, i've actually got to work.
leaving with happy thoughts and a promise not to beat down on any assclowns on the way to work tomorrow. wish me luck.
posted by Amy S. Choi at 4:50 PM
5 Comments:
this entry made me happy, you pretty wonderful love machine. btw, i just had the same prob w/anne's ibook, sooooo here's what you do: 1) while computer is rebooting, hold down the mouse button. or 2) while computer is rebooting, hold down the escape button. or 3) refer to apple.com discussion boards where there are hoards more suggestions.
oh, the horror of trying everything on the apple discussion boards ... thanks momma. i have resigned myself to going into the mac store. i hope the hate machine doesn't reemerge.
a little skin? i intend on rolling up to the mac store in la perla and louboutin. if only i owned la perla and louboutin. crap.
so looked up "la perla and louboutin". google tells me its fancy panties and stuff.
i'm glad i've learned something usefull and interesting today.
"fancy panties." oh, gabe. i'm so glad i enrich your life in some way.
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