Some Idle JJ Worship

to hell with dignity and good judgment. i'm pulling out all the stops today.

jj redick is hot. there. i said it. i'm a fan. his only crimes as far as i can tell are being white. being a phenom athlete. and being a preppy duke kid. whatever, dudes. i like him.

redickulous


look sheldon, it's some more haters! to the batmobile!

oh jonathan clay, you are not reviled in my heart.

look at that tousled hair.


everyone just settle down. SETTLE DOWN.

the latest from the misanthropic writer:

On 3/27/06, misanthropic writer wrote:

are we pubbing again this week ?
-mw

On Mar 27, 2006, at 10:54 AM, Aparna wrote:

yup...thursday night?

On 3/27/06, misanthropic writer wrote:

ok.

On Mar 27, 2006, at 11:23 AM, Aparna wrote:

(random) pub again? i liked that place. who should we invite? is there a
game that night? wow why am i asking so many questions?

On 3/27/06, Aparna wrote:

guess what? i'm in love with jj redick.

On 3/27/06, misanthropic writer wrote:

(random) pub is my favorite.

jj called me last week to ask for your number, but I'm not giving it to
anyone.

On 3/27/06, Aparna wrote:

i can't believe you. i thought we were friends.

On 3/27/06, misanthropic writer wrote:

jealousy destroys the strongest of men.

If you don't believe me, check world literature.

See Revenge. I wouldnt want to be JJ right now.

-mw

On 3/27/06, Aparna wrote:

oh no! don't hurt jj!!!

Laughter is the Best Legal Narcotic

head hurts. heart hurts. eyes ache. nose hurts. still happy. because a comedian told me love ain't worth it. and i laughed. and i liked the way he said it. he also did a great crackhead impression. and i thought crackhead jokes had no depth left in 'em. also the rest of the audience was sitting in front of him. but i was ushering so i got to sit perpendicular to his stage and he made all his asides to me. he asked me if i found love more trouble than it's worth. and i nodded spastically. and he said "yeah, it sure is."

another comedian's joke:
my girlfriend recently told me she wanted to see other people. so i put LSD in her coffee. now she's seeing other people.

Within the Lines of Love

more motherese:

mother: is this your red thong?
me: i don't own any red thongs.
mother: why not?

and the #1 reason even though i've been a bitch to her this weekend that my mother is the best to live with:

she ate a piece of carrot cake yesterday and hates frosting but instead of discarding the white goo like a losing lotto ticket she ate the cake more carefully within the sugared lines than a coloring book ace stays legal while engaged in the craft. so this morning upon opening the fridge, a beautiful frosting skeleton met my wandering hungry gaze.


she just ate the cake parts. what a champ.

Interlude to a Weekend

for the love of celery broth, i'm already feeling the shittiness that usually hits on sunday. oh well, this is why i hate staying in at night. too unsexy, too unsexy. but i must. if we can all learn to be ok with our utter unsexiness, we'll be far better off than those who are doomed to repeat their excessive sexiness.

sketch comedy, help us all.

i'm practicing jokes to an audience of couch cushions with paper faces taped to them. wheeeeehoo. one of the faces is perpetually angry.

right now, i wish i were in a lacy frock with little shiny buckle shoes at some party being shown off by my parents. and i also wish i was five. that would be a little off if this memory had me being 23 in it. of course, if i remember my childhood correctly, this would be my body trying to merge through osmosis with my mother's leg as she tried to cajole even one peep out of me or one nanosecond of eye contact with a stranger. but i like being in other people's houses being fed. and entertained. and then being told "it was so great. we should do this again soon." even if i was an utter non-participant and trashtalked upon departure. pretense is uplifting at times.


this isn't me. but who wouldn't want to be this kid?

I Need to Hire Some New Writers

wow. you know how sitcoms have parallel themes where there are two or more running plotlines interwoven in one given episode but they all sort of circumnavigate the same key issue? yeah. i'm not explaining well, am i? like on full house there would be an episode about stephanie being afraid to wear her new glasses but then uncle jesse will also be EXTRA self-conscious of his hair in that episode...bing bing bing...so the main theme is getting over appearance.

yesterday night was totally like that. i was all wrapped up in how someone could have possibly behaved the way he/she did and been ok with it. and then i reflected on a few of my own actions throughout the evening and i had to ask myself the same question.

hmmm. yeah, i'll let you guys find the humor in that one. for now, i'm still shaking my head.

does the university of phoenix online degree program offer courses in preserving one's dignity?

Audience Participation

stupid questions i plan to ask when i go out tonight and tomorrow night, a cumulative list (please make a donation to the NUTTSACC* fund):

- what if we were all robots?
- kfc v. mister rogers. discuss. i mean, would you rather be with the colonel or the rog on a deserted island?
- would you pee on your mother for $100 dollars? i mean, just on her toe "BY ACCIDENT"?
- what is your holy book of choice (doesn't need to be related to religion)?
- live, learn, get luvs. yea or nay?
- would you wear adult diapers for a week if dared to do so?
- what was the last thing you ate?
- have i met you somewhere before? was it in my pants?
- love at first sight with inanimate objects. comment.
- what is your favorite away msg? why are you lame?
- would you go to finishing school if given a scholarship?
- who is the person you'd be most likely to marry if people weren't so judgy? (if the person tries to hit on you when answering this question, immediately pee on them.)
- do you prefer frozen or fresh peas?
- what cuisine causes your poop to smell the most?
- if you could be any piece of furniture, what would you be and why?
- if you were a tab of LSD, who would you want to get a trip off of you? a good trip or a bad trip? please describe.

OK THE FLOOR IS OPEN. i will tell you the answers i get on monday IF YOU SUBMIT A QUESTION TO ME.

*nurturing unexpected togetherness through stopping aggravating crappy conversations

Never a Boast or Brag

i love compliments. i love watching people get them, watching them tickle the back of people's throats before they give them, watching people accept them gracefully, watching people accept them poorly, and you know what i love most. when I GET THEM. i can make one tiny one last for days, years even.

yeah, that's right.

see? that was me gloating without actually rubbing any specific pompous boast or brag in your face. those are saved for those closest to me who are ok with being openly jealous behind my back.

(this is what i tell myself everyday. it gets me through life.)

Sure....Unsure Strikes Again

sometimes i feel confident


and sometimes i feel stupid


incidentally, despite doing some things that definitely would go under the stupid category in the recent past, i have felt confident about them. i have felt confident about my right to act conventionally unattractive and ridiculous.

and other things that should make me feel confident like job interviews make me feel stupid. i had a job interview yesterday, and every answer that came out of my mouth, even when it kind of sounded good, made me feel incredibly stupid.

this morning on the way to work, it was particularly manic. i felt confident a block before the coffeeshop. i smiled at a stranger openly. and then when i got to the coffeeshop, i felt stupid. i felt confident when ordering my coffee. i felt stupid when paying for my coffee. i felt confident when picking up my coffee. i felt stupid once i got to work. i really threw myself a curveball. my posture would straighten, slump, straighten, slump. my outward expression would smile, grimace, smile, grimace, smile, grimace.

it was really out of control. i felt confident. i started acting out a little and suddenly i was a cowering ball of fluff.


you know what i need right? a flask. i love the way hardened detectives on television swig their flasks when they're about to confront hardship and uncertainty in their lives.

coworker reading some blog post comment: "it's not like if someone gives you money, you call them dad."
me: "i do!"
coworker: "oh man, that's bad."

ain't nothing like the smell of ramen in the morning...

The Happiest Hour

yesterday was a dream.

that's all i can say about that.

no, just kidding, here comes my estrogenheavy-SCHPIEL.

it put all visions of twentysomething all-american genericko jocks to shame.

it quieted my doubts about where my alliances lie when it comes to sentimental sighs and mindwrenching daydreams (mindwrenching in a positive way).

thus was the "date" with the misanthropic writer, intern chris and i. another new intern joined us as well that the misanthrope invited. what can we say? the misanthropic writer likes his ladies. (sorry intern chris)

here's the rundown. i'll try to zoom in on the extra AWESOME parts because all of it was enough to make a girl srsly have an orspasm.

intern chris and i got to this pub. the writer said he'd arrive an hour early to, you know, situate himself. he was sitting in a booth all by himself reading VONNEGUT drinking a tanqueray and tonic. you say cliched. i say SHUT THE HELL UP. we walked right by him, did a double take, and then we all embraced like old friends. actually it was more like chris and i made confused faces, and then he did, and then we did, and then the writer snorted, his way of expressing humor. and then we sat down. intern chris inquired as to what the misanthropic writer got his wife for her birthday on the previous evening, and he said "crabs." HAHAHAHAHAAH. sometimes i forget the misanthropic writer is an adult because my first reaction was to say, "the good kind, i hope."

after some chitchat, the last intern showed up. and we began the proceedings for the evening. talk ran the gamut. alcohol flowed freely. march madness was played on screens above us. food was had. our waiter looked like a young jackie chan. the misanthropic writer is a funny eater. he's certainly not dainty. i had to point out a piece of chicken that was sticking to his elbow.

the misanthropic writer snorted many times. we discussed creationism, jupiter (the misanthropic writer is incidentally pro-jupiter), how to meet ladies, his levelheaded teenage daughter who once held an intervention for her 13-year-old friend who once came over after drinking an entire bottle of vodka, the south, gambling on horses, gambling at casinos, writing about gambling, podcasting, sex and the city and coach k. we were all irreverent, each one trying to outdo the other. then we started watching the duke v. lsu game and the misanthropic writer could not read the screen so he would tug on my hair every time he wanted to know the score. the misanthropic writer called a couple of people morons. we were all tipsy as those blowup boxing clowns by the time duke lost.

so i think i impressed him because after an evening that couldn't possibly have been any better, i received the following email in my inbox this morning:

From: Misanthropic Writer
To: Aparna Nancherla
Date: 3/24/06, 9:45 a.m.

we should do it again with just us !

misanthropic writer

[fin]

yeah. that one's being framed and put on my wall. goosebumps.

on another note, i think coffee makes me act out.

HOLY SHIT. I FORGOT THE BEST PART. THE MISANTHROPIC WRITER SANG "RING OF FIRE". HE SERENADED US. THIS WAS 5 DRINKS DEEP SO YOU BETCHA BUTT IT WAS AMAZING.

Aware and Informed

ways to prepare for a job interview/copyediting test (t-2 hours):

- read one of mummy's grammar books that she bought to MASTER english back in the day. yes, it was written in the 70s. no i don't care. shut up. all the sample sentences involve ms. dickerson baking cookies for her white bread boys. oh, and the cookies are laced with LSD.

- eat a small tub of frosting. without reason, i feel smarter and lumpier at the same time.

- organize my date planner. i am SO busy, i don't have time for a job.

- go to the orthodontist. and get my cheek stroked by a 60-year old man who loves sailing, as evidenced by the many yacht models strewn about his office and the tiny boats on his pants. don't laugh. i will figuratively murder you all.

- read a KID's guide to CONGRESS on the internet complete with sound effects and amazing animations. now that you mention it, i think i will write to my senator. now's as good a time as any, right?

- lick my lips and seriously consider applying chapstick. for around and about 15 minutes. i also considered forming a PAC about the issue, but the lobbyists take long lunches on thursdays. i have no idea what ZEE HELL i am talking about.

- wonder if the misanthropic writer will show up for our "date" tonight.

- look at my watch, shake my head, and realize i have inevitably screwed myself over again.


yelp.

Late Afternoon Crack Break

i just stapled myself to an important document.

also my victoria's (not-so-)secret underwear is showing. it's kind of hot.

i look very tousled. like i just woke up from bed. but in a sexy way. if i were on MySpace and had a webcam, you would totally be getting a live feed. be glad i'm not. and therefore, you're not. whoooo. be so glad.

gallery of anonymous camera mugging (work it, homeys)











and the winner of course...

Afternoon Crack Break

yo i need to stop being a waste of space today. but i can't help it. the walls are talking to me.

i need to share this song with everyone. i am moved to do so.
Police Dogs Bonfires

i got the following text msg yesterday: "You're a complicated girl ya know" at 11:03 p.m.*

understatement of the century. but i'm not bragging about my "layers" and "depth." hardly. don't make me crinkle my eyes and snort. i mean, i've got eeshues from here to lake okechobee. but on the upside, when i smile, it's not all gums. that was what my male coworker just nitpicked about this superhot girl. he said her smile was all gums. is this even a valid complaint if your titties could not be firmer if they were handpicked by hugh hefner? pick your battles, ladies and gentlemen, pick your battles. we're not all the energizer bunny. certainly not as annoying and pink anyway. like an itchy vagina. i can't stop namedropping genitalia. PEN-ARSE. WHOA.



*who can handle that shit at 11:03 p.m.? i was on the verge of slumber, my pie-eyed friends and then this text msg weighs on me like a ton of bricks so i responded the only way i knew how. i said: "hahaha lolz wuteva." yeah in case you found me intimidating before, i text msg like a 13 yr old girl. and no, i don't do it facetiously. whup? ok, what? oh, this just in: yes i do.

Sniffing Up the Wrong Alley

Epoxy on all your houses. Not really. Though the lightheadedness is mildly amusing.

~today is messy ponytail day. if your hair is nicely gathered, designated girls and boys, in an appropriate and even attractive waterfall, please redistribute your assets so that your hair looks, at best, like a natty mop. i'm trendsetting.

~my stomach is making LOUD LOUD LOUD clunky noises that are vibrating off the walls of this workspace. everytime one of these cavernous baritone groans emerges, the coworker sitting diagonal to me raises one eyebrow at his monitor in barely disguised concern, as if sharing a private pained moment with it.

~kanye is addictive. he uses levels. i have now listened to this song 12 times in a row. i suggest giving it a fair and impartial hearing.

~i was supposed to have drinks with the misanthropic writer tonight, planned more than a week in advance, but he forgot. it is his wife's birthday today. like none of us saw that coming.

~the construction workers are using excessive glue today. why. i don't ask questions. but i can no longer smell it. this is probably not the best of signs. but i love the smell of gasoline. two great things that go great together. yeah, my brain is slowly dripping down the back of my neck. not actually. i'm hyperbolizing. if it's not up to par, blame the lack of effort i'm putting into...well...everything today.

~i like people who sigh loud enough that you know they want someone to ask, "what's wrong, booboo?" because honestly, they could just sigh to themselves. but no, it's gotta be louder than that. loud enough so the world can hear. i'm going to say it next time i hear an audible sigh, "what's wrong, booboo?" they'll love it. i know they will.

Straight, No Chaser

trying to seek counseling through a male friend, take 1:

player 1: me, sitting at my home computer applying to jobs
player 2: male friend, sitting at his home computer browsing through female friendster profiles

me: so i've been feeling a bit down lately.
him: what a hot piece of ass!
me: and i think it's because...blargh blargh ahem oh gee blargh
him: holy shit. her abdomen. holllly shit. fucccccck.
me: and also, i don't know, just *sigh*
him: fuck me. this girl's sister is just OH MY GEEZ. ohhhh yeahhhhh. got those perky little breasts and those tan lines right there...shiiiiiit....
me: and i don't know, i just feel sort of...(trails off)
him: mm mm mm. what i wouldn't do to her if i had her.
me: i just feel so unappreciated.
him: GODDAMN, that's a HOT PIECE OF ASS. blonde too.
me: thanks for listening.

trying to seek counseling through a male friend, take 2:

player 1: me, sitting at home computer working on freelance article
player 2: male friend, sitting at work half-working half-counseling (*ahem*)

me: so i've been feeling a bit down lately.
him: I AM SO SURPRISED. let's YELL IT FROM THE STREETS. WOW LET's PHONE THIS IN TO THE AMAZEMENT DEPARTMENT AT THE DISCOVERY CORPORATION OF TRASH-MERICA.
me: and i think it's because...blargh blargh ahem oh gee blargh
him: YA THINK?! I THINK YA LIKE IT. I THINK you're GODDAMN pleased as punch that this happened. OTHERWISE, why would you be making such a hoohaw about it?
me: and also, i don't know, just *sigh*
him: you're making a spectacle of yourself. and a newborn could have predicted the backlash on this one. a LITTLE COOTCHIE COO PINKYFACED placenta juiced pipsqueak.
me: and i don't know, i just feel sort of...(trails off)
him: it's amazing how when a girl wants something, she'll get it, and then cover it up with insults and outrage.
me: i just feel so unappreciated.
him: he was exactly with the utmost, even supernatural or divine precision, what you wanted. he has the most successful approach in modern human history or at least in recent memory.
me: thanks for listening.

tough love wins over chauvinism.
tune in next time to "i'm saying this for your own good. you'll thank me later."

Picks, Pick-ups, and the Race Card

oh man. hahaha. some guy from these open mics i've been doing SENT ME some indian jokes he thinks i should tell because i'm indian. i told him i'm not really big into the race card, but gentleman that he was, he insisted. here are three of them:

My uncle, aunt and my 10 cousins all died from starvation last week in India, the good news is that they left me the family cow in their will.

Indian stereotypes almost got me killed. Yeah, I had a sniper stalking me for 6 months but nobody said anything because they thought the red dot on my forehead was supposed to be there.

Being an Indian comic is definitely not stereotypical. And since we got the self serve Big Gulp machine, I have more time to write jokes.

[fin]

i can't believe i have people writing jokes i should tell for me!!!

in other news, my dad forced me to make my bed and lie in it today. i kid you not. my parents made me deconstruct the bed i've had since i was 5 so i could go on to bigger better things. now i have this yellow canopy thing that looks like a banana invaded my room and made itself into a princess recliner. top notch. i feel so grown up...for a 12-year old.

and finally, a man in a plastic bag stared at me today. i wonder what's going through a guy's head when he's covered in plastic wrap that makes him think he can bag chicks. whatever it is. i want to buy some shares in it. and invest. and invest. and invest. and then sell.


also. i interviewed to be a sports writer today. i would be the only girl in a small little office with 4 other guys. most of them sports junkies. ok, all of them. the editor in chief of the paper said "hey for such an intensive position, you seem to lack the energy required to really heave-ho on things." that was because i got no sleep and didn't have any coffee but i whipped out a surefire response to that one about grace under pressure. and then i swindled them more with some other half-truths. they told me i'd have no life except for high school sports. i have to say, despite it all, i'm intrigued. the atmosphere would be sick for some anecdotes. one of the guys is named bj. muahahahh. i even commented on my march madness picks. damn, i'm good.

Disbelief is the New Same Old, Same Old

finally, i told some jokes and there were laughs. but not quite at the parts where i expected. ah well. i'll toast to that. or get toasted to that. a little butter for my bread would be nice though. i don't know what the means. i just thought i'd take the bread analogy a little farther. now i'm stuck in this analogy and i can't get out. well poo on that. i'm making an emergency exit.

ok. here's what i wanted to talk about today, honeybears. surreality. yeah. it seems to be a common-enough theme these days. but ever had one of those experiences where things just got so weird that you started to doubt that the event actually happened? like i'm talking dream-level weirdness. you might as well have been wearing a live duck on your head and had a cherry pie instead of a butt and things could not have gotten any weirder. well, when trying to process events like the following, you always have to start at that square-one of just sort of tilting your head back, squinting up at the sky, and thinking "what the woodchips was that all about?" and then laughing so hard you start choking. just a little bit. and then you get kind of delirious with hyena laughter just at the pure ridiculousness of it. all of it, and you need to hug something to prove that you exist, that the world still exists. that not everyone is going to slide off into some other parallel but sometimes diagonal dimension. but the closest thing is a door. so you hug a door. and it seems a fitting conclusion really to everything that already happened.

people are something else. you see them eat their kibbles and drink their tea just like you but you can never tell what moves them or how they'll be to anyone other than you. because you see it. but more or less, you interpret based on your own interactions and that's the only roadmap you ever have worth following.

Mad as a Hopped Up Hare/Hatter

oh fritter. i'm mad as a boiling sausage today. i just saw "snatch" last night too so all i can think of to relieve my tension is a good round of bare-knuckle boxing. i would go down within 5 seconds. in any case, getting the wind knocked out of me might distract in a good way. instead, i'll tell jokes and dance. i guess i will have to dance violently without remorse and tell jokes like lewis black.

the one and only lewis black

Minty Fresh Wasted

yahahahahahaha st. paddy's day. was. beyond. belief. here is a story to be filed away in "one time, i got really drunk and..." just so you're forewarned.

first i was at this party with some work people from my last job. and there was a guy who winked a lot. wink. wink. wink. every time he saw you, WINK. he was a walking emoticon. with about as much depth as an emoticon, anyway. at least in his drunken incarnation. he kept fulfilling our worst hopes about him. we secretly didn't want him to just be the guy who winks a lot. but he didn't really break beyond that blanket generalization so alas, that remained his name for the night.

then we went into the outer realms to a bar.

and i definitely ended up being the drunk girl who lost her friends and was wandering around the bar promising "to come back" to every new friend i made. mostly of the male persuasion. ohgeeohgee. and then i tried calling my friends. and nobody would pick up. and then i finally got through to someone and this fine specimen of belligerence started yelling at me for not being able to hear her, and then finally she was like, "fine, bitch. whatever. you know what? screw you! just shut the hell up," and hung up on me. girl was toasted. then a fight fell on me. literally. i was trying to communicate with my friend alex on the phone and a guy landed with his back squarely on my foot. and then another guy came flying through the air onto him. and then i told alex i better call her back. i've decided green beer looks too much like scope and tastes too much not like scope to jive with my palate.

and then. well, let's just say truth is much stranger than fiction. ah well. i think i sowed my wild oats. for the time being. tra la la.

Your Regularly Scheduled Program Has Been Interrupted for this Mellow Update

wow. rejection is a biotch, man.

i'm still occasionally experiencing moodswings from the most recent one.

and then i got a nice dollop of repeat bombed comedy last night. seriously, there wasn't a single laugh in the house. from 0 to negative in self-esteem, ladies and gentlemen.

and yet, i'm feeling pretty peachy keen today with a penchant for sudden sobs.

i'm the kind of person who doubts success and revels in failure.

people lose all their expectations of you.

it's great for the perfectionists among us.

nowhere to go but up

and my adopted soldier apparently already got an Ipod elsewhere. fricking fantastic.

Runoff from the Stars, No, Not the Celebrity Kind

whoops. blogger wouldn't work yesterday. so here's some nibbles from yesterday. in REVERSE chronological order to throw off your keen senses of acuity.

it's come to the point in the afternoon when i am tilting back a bag of chip remnants so all the little missed morsels and specks of cheese dust will frolic into my mouth like a stream of belligerent warriors.

and then. and then. wait. there's more. before, i was reaching down with regularity because i put the bag of chips near my feet so that i had to reach down and do sort of workplace kind of ab crunch every time i wanted a chip. it made me feel somewhat productive in this crazy world of ours. to do a crunch to receive a crunch in my mouth. tit for tat. and all that.

***

dude. i can't get enough NASA photos. they really put life in perspective when you're feeling like shit. you think to yourself, "hey. i'm really just a little shit in the scheme of things. i mean, wowwwwwww." and counterintuitively, you feel much better about your fuckups. as well as a little short of breath.

it's the freaking eta and keyhole in the carina nebula, bitches

p.s. this perfectly describes how i feel about men.

"“His face was the color of a freshly baked pork pie and as noncommittal” (Thomas Pynchon)

***

i can't stop running into amherst people. they're everywhere. it's a conspiracy. on the street. on the train. they plague my putrefying soul with goodness and camaraderie. nothing but love. especially when they say things like, "btw i'm engaged, finished up my business degree, and starting a new life in the fall after the wedding." "oh, me? not engaged with a person nor a paying job. living at home. high on life. high-five?"


if you're sick of the rigid aesthetic obsessions of society...
You're Not Alone

since i'm on the all-newsstaff email list i was fortunate enough to receive this email this morning:

subject:HELP! I'm a typewriter guy in a digital world.
sender: anon
message: Does anyone know how to get an iPod shuttle to work?

a few minutes later. same sender.
subject: Shuffle. Shuttle. Whatever. The damn thing doesn't work.

a minute later. same sender.
subject: Thanks for all your responses. I've got some help and I'm glad I can be a source of such luddite amusement...

mmmmmm. breaking news. on the minute.


I MIGHT GO INTO SPORTS WRITING. CROSS YOUR FINGERS. i've always wanted to be a balding middle-aged man with an inferiority complex masked by cockiness, vulgarity, and pure unrestrained anger.

yesssss. i can see it now.