ho ho, ho.

after battling some kind of reject flu during finals week (it's on, uconn), i pulled into the driveway of a familiar residence on december 13, 2003 at approximately 7:34 p.m. i shimmied out of the overpacked backseat, breathed in the crisp wintry air, had a coughing attack, and caught the tail end of a drug deal going on next door. ahhhh yes..home for the holidays in good ol' revere.

the fact that i had spent 18 years and 3 months in this toxic waste heap had never fazed me all that much until i had my diploma in a death grip rivaling that of any wwe "superstar." no more gossiping. no more judgements. nothing. i did it. i was done. i was free. i had a feeling that these things would never disappear completely (this kind of genius logic is why i'm in college), and they haven't..but after removing myself from this atmosphere for months at a time, there are still two words that have, and will always have, the uncanny ability to make my collegiate toes curl: christmas break.

don't get me wrong, being away from my family so much has made me appreciate them more. i have come to enjoy their company rather than loathe/dread/avoid it at all costs. guess the 'rents weren't just reading from the manual when they said they "really weren't trying to ruin my life" and that they "cared about me." so sweet..tear! until the holidays officially begin, however, it would be just me and the sandwich hanging around the house and watching unhealthy amounts of television for the majority of the day. and you know what they say about idle hands, or idle anything for that matter: they are the devil's playground. using those higher learning skills of mine, i decided that it would be in my best interest to get off my kiester and work it like it ain't no thang. if not, it would only be a matter of time until the words "breakfast" and "martini" could be used interchangeably in my vocabulary.

enter the fantabulous innovation called temporary employment. yep, despite my horrid primary foray in the temping world this past summer (bmc = chain gang member for $12/hr), i have once again volunteered to whore myself to the corporate world in exchange for monetary incentives and minimal respect. tempting, i know, but curb your salivation. seriously, you're staining the carpet and my mother has a nasty left cross.

this job, however, is a little slice of pie heaven compared to the nightmare i lived to tell about. then: carpal tunnel-inducing keyboard labor/go online and we cane you/uttering any kind of sound warrants certain death; now: talk on phone/go online without fear of a beating/schmooze with any and all attorneys who happen to pass by my desk/masquerading as a bubbly and helpful receptionist from 9 to 5. i'll just assume that my oscar is in the mail..along with my fatass check..yo.

sounds good in theory..let's just hope i get it before i get ddt-ed by the reverian lifestyle yet again.

..temporarily and soberly yours (but not yours..ew),
lex

i gots boogers.

hey. hi. hello there. nice shirt. no..puce really IS the new black.

i know it's been a while since our last little tryst (still wondering why you haven't you returned my calls *sniffle sniffle crazy eyes*) and things have changed..but knowing that the mere though of many of you churns my stomach like a tuna sandwich gone wrong hasn't faded a bit gives me that special feeling. three cheers for monotony, habituation, and potential hospitalization! woopWOOP!

yeah yeah..sure you were too busy. what's that? dead grandma? pinky amputation? dog ate your cell phone? whatev..save if for someone who gives a care..or 2..or 3 ('tis the season after all!) truth be told, i haven't been feeling myself lately..but that was a bad habit anyway (baddum psssshhhh! a-thank you.). i've actually been moonlighting as the poster girl for kleenex enterprises since "get fat and plastered with the family" day (aka: thanksgiving). if i wasn't attempting to dam the leaky snot reservoir aka the artist formally known as my nasal cavity, i was toting my kleenex caddy alllllllllll around campus like the husky ambassador i strive to be (and this is gampel..and that is the co-op..and there is a cop ticketing a legally parked vehicle..). i blame uconn for their non-existent supply of tropicana and 80 degree days. if i'm still sickly for finals you best saddle up the legal team for a hot little holiday ride..fools.

on a disgustingly nostalgic note, i can't believe the semester is drawing to a close. it feels like it just started yesterday. i've learned a lot..not just schooly stuff either. i've been high on life, down in the dumps, and any variation in between..but i've always had people by my side to cheer me on or mop up my tears. to those impressive lads and lassies: iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou! and ps..before you get all hoity-toity with me about originality or lack there of, i'm well aware that it's the mother of all cliches to say anything even remotely close to what has been presented in this paragraph..but then again..so is your life. go reevaluate your place in the universe. immediately.

..i may be contagious..but at least i'm not you,
lex

the usual debauchery..only this time it's in costume.

historically, all hallows eve is the one night of the year when the disembodied spirits of those who died that year return to earth from beyond the grave to find a living body to possess. all laws of space and time are suspended..allowing the dead to intermingle with the living because this was, of course, their only chance to prosper in the afterlife. hmmmm..sounds a wee bit far-fetched if you ask me (which you clearly did..don't deny). let's try this on for size:

a bunch of nearly nekid uconners got frighteningly F-ed up at alicia's place on friday night. dag, yo..how's THAT for accuracy? the new york times could benefit from my talents for serious.

we had sparkly fairies..we had sexy bunnies. we had sun-kissed hula girls..we had exotic egyptian deities. one lone yankee even came out of world series regret/shame-induced hiding to throw back a few. skanky pop stars, skeezy truckers, and favorite bedtime snuggle buddies were all in attendance in addition to rugged action heroes, catholic sisters, and aquaphobic ladybugs (bullwhips, rosary beads, and inflatable unicorn swimmies included, respectively). though the costumage was more diverse than the clientele at a weekend flea market, the drama was far from real world-esque due in large part to the pleasantly potent (read: semi-lethal if ingested) vat o' jungle juice and continuous games of pong. a prelude to the puke olympics of november 1st? oh you know it was.

yes? you there..did you have a question? was there booty shaking, you ask? oh you poor, POOR child..of course there was. you must have been the torch carrier in the puke olympics..leading your team to victory. but yes, there was bootyshaking..an abundance of it to be exact. thank buddah we got this ish on video..and for just three easy payments of $29.95 it can be yours..por siempre.

despite the security detail on hand, a few bad apples were able to sneak by our army boys (who were most likely admiring their jackboots, dog tags, and camo booty shorts in any and all reflective surfaces) and pilfer us, the adorable and accommodating deluxe hostesses, of two cameras, a cell phone, and full bottle of alcohol. while angymar DID go juan valdez colombian on those amaretto stealing mofos ("mira ese..") and our handy dandy blackmailfest revealed one camera crook, we are still unable to locate the culprit in the case of the missing cell phone. if you happen to be keeping track, this last incident puts us among some of the unhappiest campers you have ever seen since canteen boy. dammit..where is nancy drew when you need her? give me a hot minute to get serious. wait for it. wait for it. ok..ready. i want that phone in my pretty little hand by sundown..else someone's bout to have a little run-in with a two-by-four, bag of prickly pears, and a string of christmas lights. i'll let that certain punishment speak for itself..just know that i'm not playin'. i'll be waiting for your arrival..whenever those boots of yours stop a-shakin'. grrrRRRRRR. ah revenge..it is a dish best served cold (insert maniacal laughter and head toss with whiplash potential HERE).

aside from petty thieves and acute alcohol intoxication, a good time was had by all. my *deepest condolences* go out to those weren't able to make it. you were *sorely missed.*

..noting that recovery..like myself..is a total bitch,
lex

*deepest condolences*: definition = nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah!

*sorely missed*: definition = i would rather get a lapdance from an aging transvestite with a 5 o'clock shadow and bad teeth than be you right now.

baseballin' and bitchery.

my crim class consists of a bunch of babies that are in dire need of a huggie change.

here at the 'conn, we have this dandy little invention called webct. you sign on using one of 84758475 usernames and passwords the school requires you change every 2.7 seconds, check your grades, see what the prof has to say, and, in this case, get ripped a new asshole if you express any shred of doubt or concern. i don't know about you..but when i see a thread titled "review for exam" and i have an exam in that very class in less than 24 hours, i think it's safe to assume that the content is going to be somewhat beneficial to my studying. it's only logical.

too bad yesterday was opposite day.

i click. i scroll. i cringe. what began as an innocent question regarding the rapidly approaching exam quickly turned into a junior high meet-me-at-the-jungle-gym-at-3-oooOOOOOOO verbal ass kicking contest. the best part? no one had the huevos enough to own up to their own comments. i was half expecting the next post to say something along the "my cousin's friend's brother's nephew's sister-in-law's half niece's gerbil said you are a stupid head" or some other asinine comment that should be strictly relegated to recess. so being the shameless biatch that i am, i decide it's my warren g given right to regulate the situation. don't mean to toot my own horn or anything (though i could obtain a parking cone or two if need be), but i tidied that mess up faster than an OCD victim afterhours at a dollar store.

connecticut is a weird place to be in october..especially when the bosox are playing the bombers during midterms. school work is not an option, lectures are often interrupted by the flip of a phone for a quick score check (big ups to mr. maclean), and any kind of work ethic is the furthest thing from ones mind. there are other factors to consider as well if one of your closest friends is one ms. alicia bordonaro. while five girls sitting around watching the ball game is pretty much every man's fantasy (place notebook over lap now, please. thank you.), death and dismemberment are not very up there on the sexxxy ohbabyohbabyOH scale for either gender. after watching several games of the ALCS with ms. b, i have realized how precious life really is..because mine was damn near ended at least 7, maybe even 8 times. slipper throwing, projectile pencils, and screams that leave my eardrums throbbing and bleeding are all part of the fun. if i ever busted out a nice little "yankees suck" chant, despite the validity of the statement, i think that i would be beheaded..fo sho. i'm just gonna keep that puppy under wraps til after we trounce the marlins in the world series (sorry cubbies!)..awwww shizzy awww..oh HIIIIII aleesh. no i wasn't talkin' smack 'bout your boys. why would i be checking out jeter's ass..i know he's your husband. wait a tick..what's with the machete and mischievous glint in your eye? uh ohhhhhhh.

..cowering in a dark corner til spring training,
lex

sources of amusement in bumblefuck, connecticut.

over the past few weeks, i have done the following: mixed up and consumed some quality beverages, eaten many a meal saturated with laxatives, dialed under the influence, battled the rabid sunday walmart crowd with nothing but a plastic coat hanger and a devious grin, and took it in the ass hardcore from my friendly campus bookstore and various professors (exam-wise, you dirty bird). for the math majors in the audience, those are five (cinco for our spanish speaking friends) telltale signs that i have traded in my bulletproof vest and pimp strut for my eastpack and late-to-lecture bulldoze run. bust out the bells, whistles, and, if i'm lucky, a bonus kazoo..cuz lex is back at the 'conn!

as you could probably tell from my less than abundant number of entries from mid-may through rightthisverysecond, the majority of my summer sucked big, bad, economy-sized (insert lewd and inappropriate comment here). work all day..too tired to do anything at night..every day off the sun is no where to be found. bet you've never seen a pasty italian chick at the end of summer. put me under a black light and i'll glow. it's like one of those once in a life time, blink-and-you-miss-it phenomenons, like haley's comet..or a black guy playing hockey..well. this ish is guinness book worthy, i tell you.

safe to say that things have changed since my triumphant return to cow country. what were once nights spent serving up espressos and getting the up-and-down from foreign men old enough to be my grandpa (or husband if i was a gold-digging, money-grubbing hoebiggitybag) are now spent carousing about downtown storrs..raising hell, breaking hearts and downsizing egos with perhaps some of the naughtiest girls in northeastern connecticut..though i may even go so far as to say the tri-state area..then the universe. while the pretty process can sometimes get a wee bit out of control sometimes (i.e., princess jeff epic and leaving the dorms at 11:45), it's all worth it at the end of the night..especially when there�s an empty table that needs a-dancing on or a fashion victim that needs a loud and public reminder that her jeans are U-G-L-Y. needless to say that gargoyles, projectile fruit, and drunken humping on public benches whilst wearing moccasins are strictly prohibited within 500 feet. you think you know? you don't have a fucking clue. watchyaself..cuz we shake it fast.

missions have become a favorite weekend pastime circa two weeks ago..a sure sign that reality tv is taking its toll on society. scenario: you are at a weakass party and your buzz is fading fast. sure there's more alcohol inside..but it's more packed, sweaty and scantily clad in there than slutskies on a thursday night (skanks included free of charge) to maneuver yourself effectively to the keg. rico not-so-suaves are coming up to you left and right..spitting some lameass game all over the place and someone just spilled some keystone on your oh-so-cute shoes. do you a.) look at your watch a few dozen times, sigh profusely, hop on the rape trail and party poop your way back home or b.) bust out some paper, a pen, and some scandalous schemes guaranteed to keep the party bumpin' till the wee hours of the morn? whatever your choice may be, i would like to give MASSIVE ups to hairy running man, strategically placed couches, boys sans shirts, heinous parents who created an equally heinous offspring, crazy japs, the walmart "jazz", and friends with nonexistent inhibitions for making this good time possible. next time you see a gaggle of girlies toting a camera at your next social gathering, beware. you never know when you could be the target of our dirty, dirty game. cheers!

lastly, a good skirt brings out the wade robson in all of us..minus the whackass sound effects and excessive perspiration (whoompbahhhh anyone?). please join in as i shake what my mama gave me.

..back in action for serious,
lex

free at last, free at last.

hello childrens! i see most of you are clutching your bosoms in what appears to be shock. over a month and nary a response? let me explain, lest we land ourselves in the hospital.

since the number of cliffs and ends of the earths in the metro-boston area are few and far between, i would like to inform the lot of you that i have not fallen off of either, nor did i morph into a pool of silver gelatinous goo normally found chasing cars or travelling stealthily through drainpipes in capri sun commercials, terminator 2, or the secret world of alex mack. lastly, i haven't undergone a sex change operation and been hiding out in a cave in northern europe building a new life as stocky swede named hoyt. the truth is, being a whore to the corporate world isn't as easy or glamorous as one may think (free office supplies and carpal tunnel aside, of course).

since i finally flipped boston medical, the tattle-tailing customer service reps, and my hitleresque boss the proverbial bird exactly fifteen days ago, i've been too busy revelling in my new found freedom to even think of doing much else. that "much else" unfortunately included (but was in no way limited to) plunking my sweet ass in front of a computer and providing y'all the belly-laughs and i-know-exactly-what-you-mean-i-hate-those-tools-too snickers that you've come to know, love, and, in some cases, become obsessed with and physically dependent on. given these extenuating circumstances, i feel that there is only one thing left for me to say:

for those individuals whose daily fix for sarcasm has not been fulfilled by yours truly, whose quest for satire has been in vain: get a friggin' hobby. stamp collection and needlepoint are making a comeback! we all have to be disappointed in someone sometime..otherwise, we'd all be complete saps, naively putting faith in anyone who looks our way..like the amish. if it wasn't me, it probably would have been your own fault. feel free to thank me at your leisure (read: nownowrightnowkissmyfeetandlikeit).

as you are undoubtedly nursing your bruised egos back to health, i'll pick up where i left off before i unleashed a well-overdue tirade on your delicate psychees. like i said, boston medical is nothing but a memory. my days of txn-ing, dcom-ing, and doing countless unrepaid favors are in the past. however, as i moonwalked out the door on july 3rd with such precision that would make michael jackson green (or black or white or whatever) with envy, i knew i was leaving some of my fellow temps, a quality bunch, trapped in the clutches of corporate america and gasping for air (not to mention vacation time). do not fret, my anti-free care warriors, at least no one hates you with the fire of 87544358465 suns because your name is roger carroll. stay strong..even if it takes a bloody mary or two during your lunch hour to do so. i salute you and miss our midday office bashings to the fullest..tear!

the remainder of my summer, when i am not perfecting the fine art of slothing, will be spent slaving away behind a marble counter four days a week at a delightful little pastry shop in the north end. while things did not start out as i had envisioned they would (the "BELLISIMA!" sketch on snl), i was more than willing to weather the constant storm of long, short, tall, iced, light, dark, frothed, and steamed specifics regarding caffeinated goodness, no matter how long it took. i would rather scald myself with lattes for hours on end if it meant never returning to a monotonous desk job from hades. it took about a week, and now instead of having espressos hastily shoved back at me in disgust, i get winks and veeeeeery generous tips from the old italian regulars..and we know how that can get a gal all hot and bothered. oh myMY.

..keepin' it real whilst raking in the pesos,
lex

my temporary life.

if martha stewart ever strolls into my office to give a how-to tutorial on constructing stylish yet functional doilies using only coffee filters and used mustard packets, my suspicions will be confirmed: being a temp is about as close to being in hell as you can possibly get without SPF 873584734 and sporting a serious farmer's tan.

i signed up for this ish thinking it would be easier than a drunken sorority girl on spring break. aside from the nightmare of a commute i was informed of beforehand (blue line to orange line to 10 bus..oh MY!), i was expecting to show up, sit my pretty ass down and play on the internet for the better part of the day, occasionally filing some "important" documents or fetching some caffeinated goodness for the bossman. i could catch up on some pleasure reading (big ups to second helpings and the dirty girl's social club), experiment with new and interesting hair styles, maybe, just maybe, even answer a ringing phone or two if i was feeling particularly ambitious. it was gonna be sweet.

that fantasy bubble burst into eleventybillion pieces on the morning of may 28th when i was assigned to go through FIVE THOUSAND pages of government-subsidized health care recipients and correct each and every minuscule mistake and potentially put millions of the company's dollars in jeopardy..all after a whopping 20 seconds of training (if that's what that crapfest was intended to be..but i digress)! also, if i was caught online during company time, i would be tarred, feathered, and immediately fired for "lack of productivity." welcome to my nightmare. please, stay a while.

my boss is a thin, pasty man that i could take easily if we stepped into the ring. don't let his weak and feeble exterior fool you though; he's one crafty character. just yesterday as he was perusing the daily account quotas, he casually mentioned that it would be "really great if some of you could possibly come in on saturday" to "tie up a few loose ends" in the "billing department." ummm excuse me..bill lumbergh, i presume? it's bad enough that i am spending half of my summer in your corporate shithole. do us both a favor and don't cut into my weekends dude..or i'll cut you up realquick. i have friends in the cutlery industry..yo.

when i get home at the end of each increasingly monotonous day, after an hour of rubbing elbows (among other things too sordid to mention in this particular forum) with my fellow employment-loathing associates via mbta, i am able to keep my eyes open for about 20 minutes before i collapse into a carpal tunnel-induced slumber..only to wake up and do it all over again the next day beginning at the asscrack of dawn. good thing that i would rather repeatedly kiss a toilet seat than interact with the majority of reverians or i'd really feel like i was missing out on some kind of social life. this is one of those times when i revel in my decision to implement an idiot boycott. pretty successful so far..i'll keep y'all posted.

..woking hard or hardly working,
lex

no more teachers, no more books.

well kids..my bulletproof vest is strapped on tight and i've been rockin' a pretty nasty pimp strut for a little over a week..two telltale signs that i am home crap home in revere.

i am not ready to pull my hair out in a mixture of frustration and boredom..yet. my days have consisted of waking up a shade after 11, eating a big ol' bowl of cereal whilst channel surfing through the plethora of morning talk shows with annoying, makeup-caked hosts (see: kelly ripa and that big mound of woman we call star jones), endless mind-numbing infomercials pushing useless products geared to our agoraphobic friends worldwide, and a whole lotta "behind the music." during commercials, i chill with sandwich (my dog, not the tasty lunchtime treat), shower, or venture to the freezer for a popsicle. i know it's still -84758475 degrees outside, but nothing says "summertime" like a nice, frosty bomb pop..unless, of course, that something is me sitting poolside in a bikini sipping a mimosa. excuse me while i dare to dream.

wow..thus far, my "what i did on my summer vacation" essay royally blows.

yesterday, however, i did manage to tear myself away from my impressive ass-groove long enough to get myself a hot J-O-B for the summer. 40 hours a week organizing files in air-conditioned bliss while dodging bullets on my lunch hour on the mean streets of dorchester? shit man..i'll TAKE it! hellooooOOOOO jackson, grant, and franklin! peace out crappy yet addictive morning television..and sleepies! ever seen me voluntarily awake at the asscrack of dawn? it seldom happens..and things could get ugly.

..loathing 6 a.m. on tuesday to the fullest,
lex

anatomy 101.

i hate cold weather and horny upstairs neighbors.

when i was a wee tyke (same size..but with bangs and a wardrobe comprised of colors you would need sunglasses to look directly at), when the middle of march rolled around and the calendar said spring, mother nature whipped up a nice reprieve from the cold new england winters that had finally come to an end. i remember playing some serious games of red rover and off the wall, clad in only a tank top, shorts, and devious grin. would you mess with that? yeah..i didn't think so.

guess mother nature has been neglecting her meds, shifting her alzheimer's into 5th gear, because it's may and it's still highly likely that if i stepped outside sans long sleeves, a hood, and 7 layers of long undies, i could very well lose a nipple. what GIVES, mama n? can't you tear yourself away from reruns of the golden girls and matlock long enough to hook a sistah up with some sunshine? let's be realistic here. c'mon..i've gone through approximately 12 replacement nipples since monday alone. lucky 13 may just put me over the edge.

so as i mentioned briefly in my last stress filled i'm-gonna-shove-a-pen-through-my-eyeball-if-i-study-anymore entry, the dark cloud called finals has cast its shadow over downtown storrs. while most people are off chillen with homer or pulling an all-nighter in the study lounge whilst hopped up on one too many red bulls, my upstairs neighbors have adopted a different approach to dealing with this untimely season that makes most of us silently hope that our roommate has an unfortunate encounter with a runaway steam roller (4.0 baby..hook that ish up).

enter: the end of semester power fucking marathon in 728.

scenario: it is 2:27am and i have just finished studying for an 8am exam the following morning. i say to myself, "self, you deserve some sleep after relearning an entire semester's worth of lecture notes and powerpoint slides in under 3 hours. get thee to the top bunk." i'm not one to disagree with good advice, so i jumped into my pjs and crawled under the covers for some much needed shut-eye. after tossing and turning for 10 minutes to find my desired comfort groove, my schooled-out body finally starts to drift off to sleepyland. then, it happens. i hear a squeak from above my head. followed by another squeak. and another squeak. and the thumping of a headboard. and an "uhhhhuhhhhhooohhhhHHHHHHHH!" and more squeaks. and more headboard thumping. and then nothing..for about five minutes before the whole damn thing starts over again. i'm still half-expecting two nekid, sweaty bodies to come a-crashin' through my ceiling before the week is over. dag, yo. to whom it may concern, i hope your respective (and i use that term very loosely) reproductive organs pack up and leave for a nice long vacation. they deserve it after all the overtime they've been putting in these days. do i smell a end of year bonus? nope..must be something else. ew.

..living out my remaining nights at the 'conn in a delightful mixture of fear and disgust,
lex

here to stay.

newsflash: i am not dead.

i'm sure that all 12 (ok..3) of you have been worried sick because of my recent lack of entries. i know i should have called first..or at least given the special hand signal..but i have just been too stressed the fuckout from school and finals and people and such to let y'all know until now (right now..when i should be utilizing my time to finish a paper instead of talking to you schmucks..but i digress).

so cancel the search party. call the milk carton people. tell oprah to back the hell up. i'm alive. i'm kickin'. i'm losing my hair from school-induced anxiety..and i still look better than you.

..counting down the days til summaaaahhhhhh,
lex

catholicism wow.

behold! jesus christ has died for our sins and we are rewarded not only with eternal salvation and deliverance from evil (amen)..but also with candy-coated chocolate eggs and marshmallow peeps from an fluffy, oversized rodent in a pink pastel bowtie! can life get much better? i submit that it CANNOT! thanks j.c. you are truly the ish.

over the past few years, i have realized that celebrating easter with my family is not leisurely by any stretch of the imagination. it is a full-contact sport. scenario: it is a pristine spring day in the ghetto they call revere. the sun is shining and a light, cool breeze is blowing from the west. my extended family is gathered on the deck behind my aunt and uncle's house, enjoying the beautiful (its about damn time!) weather and each other's company. my uncle then announces that the now yearly tradition of the easter egg hunt will commence in approximately 5 minutes.

uh oh.

that seemingly innocent declaration draws the same reaction every year. the kiddies begin scheming with each other, but all the while plotting their individual domination in their devious little minds. the dogs sniff their respective no-no places. the adults jockey for a good position with their cameras, because, hey, capturing your loved ones engage in hand-to-hand combat over cheap plastic is a memory worthy of savoring for always. then, the three words known to cause all hell to break loose bellow from my uncle's throat: "ready. set. go."

a shove-and-slapfest between young and old alike rapidly ensues. scandal! sabotage! snacks! (mmmm..snacks..). it's every man for himself..and trust me..the aftermath ain't pretty. skinned knees, eye gouging, and temper tantrums are all standard features. in-your-face victory squeals/taunts from my 25 year old cousin are available with the deluxe model. mastercard's got nuthin' on my kin. they are PRICELESS.

man..i love the holidays.

..nursing a compound fracture to the fibula and a severely bruised ego,
lex

some people make me sad.

regardless of what friends, strangers or your company policy may say, harassment is pretty dang fun.

unless you are residing in an ice-covered shanty on the northwest quadrant of antarctica, you've probably realized that spring has sprung like a 12-year-old boy after sneaking a peak at his dad's stash of playboys. so, much like the beginning of second semester (spring break gym whores whatWHAT!), the majority of the uconn campus is once again out, about, and lookin' pretty flippin' stupid, all on the (often unattainable) quest to look good nekid. of course, this means that even the most unkempt and portly are strutting their (excessive) stuff around campus that have been known to warrant many a what-the-HELL-are-you-THINKING double take.

what's a gal to do in a situation like this? that's right kiddies..sling insults from a fourth floor window with the help of an equally acid-tongued accomplice, one mr. jeff houle. among the numerous cornea cinging abominations witnessed this afternoon from 404 chandler were half-lobster woman, leap year mack truck face, bad booty brigades, countless runners closely resembling various species of sloth and supersoaker toting assailants in wife beaters with sad looking afros. without your dysfunction, the going-ons of jeff and my tuesday afternoon would have been strictly relegated to homework and reality television. uconn, i thank you.

one thing that i do NOT thank uconn for is the 8374589475987 pounds of stress and annoyance it dumps on its students as the academic year draws to a close. irritable tempers and roommate sabotage have ensued..meaning that housing selection has reared its ugly head once again. can someone please explain to me how all seniors get housing and totally screw the rest of us into the ground when they aren't even guaranteed housing in the first place? poor little me, on the brink of upperclassman status, is currently stuck living in a regular ol' dorm room when i really should be livin' the life of luxury in the suites. honestly, i think that the only feasible solution to this little problem is for me to go down to reslife and throw down wwe style. i'm more than just a plucky brunette with an ass that won't quit. plus..i wear rings. be prepared for an ass-whoopin', drl. for serious.

..always the polite pretty princess,
lex

shmexis brings the pain.

i think i may just have to reinstate the big plastic bubble idea..because i just can't be left to my own devices for more than five minutes without bringing harm upon myself or others. for example: walking. putting one foot in front of the other at a slow to moderate pace meant to get a person from point A to point B..sometimes to point C for a quick snack or bathroom break (even though both should have been taken care of before leaving the house like moms said). it's a fairly easy task, yet i somehow manage to mess it up on a daily basis by trying to complete another task in the process. today, i left my room to grab a newspaper and take out the trash. after disposing of the garbage, i embarked on the 5 to 7 second walk back to my room when an exceptionally large headline caught my eye. i glanced down for one hot minute and BAM..the right side of my body got real intimate with a sweet (but not really my type) piece of wall. hell, i can jump rope and juggle several watermelons while spinning 18 plates on sticks and tap dance michael flatley style without breaking a sweat..but walking and reading? amateurs need not apply..cuz this is OBVIOUSLY only for the experts.

wincing in a mixture of pain and where-the-hell-did-that-wall-come-from, i gimped the rest of the way back to the room and closed the door, wondering when this seemingly endless bout of clumsiness began (maybe following that black cat under a ladder on a sidewalk covered in cracks last week wasn't the best idea..). apparently thinking and walking is something else that cannot successfully do, because at that very moment i slipped on a notebook and banged my right knee, the same knee that was still reeling from a chance encounter with a concrete wall several seconds prior, into my desk chair. i'm not even going to try walking and chewing gum at the same time. it just may prove fatal considering my current track record.

in the few minutes left in the day when i am not laid up because of my latest injury, i have been busy slaving away to my major (journalism if y'all haven't guessed by now). even though writing is something that i love to do (evidence: helloooOO blogger!) and am pretty damn good at (thankyouverymuch), it's definitely something that's going to put my already short temper to the test. for serious, being a journalist is like going on an episode of "blind date"..minus those nifty thought bubbles. at first, people are all excited to meet you, but as soon as they realize who you are and what your intentions could potentially be, the "date" quickly begins to resemble an episode of "cops:" dodging questions left and right and occasionally involving high-speed car chases and liberal use of mace. and then they have the nerve to say they will call you back..but NEVER DO. those little evasion tactics may have worked for you in the past..but not anymore. there's a new sheriff in town..and she's gonna take you down. i have a badge and everything yo.

..laying down the law (then needing medical attention after tripping over it),
lex

rawk with me, won't you?

while suffering from an extreme case of boredom and procrastination a few nights back, i began scouring the profile of every person on my buddy list (you know you do it too..don't deny) and found a quote so accurate that i was half expecting guy smiley and his massive chompers to show up and shriek, "alexisshmexis..this is your life!"

guy never showed up (a honker fight at mr. hooper's store took precedence, i'm sure)..but the quote went a little somethin' like this: always avoid drama..keep things easy..forget the future..be yourself..never give a fuck..and bite your tongue for NO ONE. if those few words didn't sum up the mess that i fondly refer to as my life then i don't know what will. i mean really..biting your tongue is probably one of the most unfun things that you can do, including getting a red-hot poker in the eye or a knee to the groin..discluding slip 'n slides.

also rivaling the aforementioned tortures is getting roughed up by middle-schoolers..when you are in college. regardless of what you may hear or think, 12 year olds in large numbers are a force to be reckoned with. scenario: me and big mike go to woooostahhh for a night of some much needed rockin' out courtesy of those lovable canucks, simple plan. imagine my surprise when we arrived at the venue and saw glitter, safety pins, and parental chaperones as far as the eye could see. seeing as though the collective height of the prepubescent crowd towered over my teeny fivefoottwo frame, i was the proud owner of a baker's dozen new bumps and bruises by the time the show let out. definitely worth the pain..but i'm still telling my mom.

not much else to report/comment on/kick to the curb this time around..it's been a pretty uneventful week. our regularly scheduled idiocy will resume momentarily.

here's a great joke..YOUR FACE! ahhhh yes..there it is.

..seriously reconsidering picking on someone my own size,
lex

spring breakdown.

after a short hiatus, muchos drinkies, and far too many hours flying the "friendly" skies on the delta express, *cue drumroll, strobe lights, and midgets on unicycles* i am BACK for your viewing pleasure. peep these tan lines! no not you..you're gross. backupoffme.

spring break was sweet. me and judy doin' it up for serious. lots o' sun..lots o' skin..but my question (but not a complaint by ANY means) is why was everyone down in ft. lauderdale from indiana? not just like one or two people..three at the most..but even people on the street were all like "how y'all ladies doing tonight?" with that lazy, midwestern, cornfed accent prominent their voices. without a doubt some of the most laid-back dudes i have ever met despite the hick-like drawl emitting from their mouths. they definitely made our stint in florida all the better..aside from informing us we were the worst frisbee players on the eastern seaboard and the ongoing grabass tournament we were unwittingly roped into. maybe we'll see the good ol' boys again next year..but don't expect to see me flashin' my goodies on girls gone wild. EVER.

in a related story, why do all the wrong people choose to wear thongs on the beach? and people with chest hair rivaling that of a woolly mammoth insist on going topless? discuss amongst yourselves.

turning and being 20 is a weird thing. i expected something crazy to happen..growing a horn or sprouting a third nipple perhaps..but i woke up on the ides of march to the same ol' lex staring right back at me in the mirror. same long, silky brown hair. same fabulous abs. same rockin' ass. while these attributes are all well and good and sexy as hell, i was still the same silly gal i was they day before (remember my policy about growing up?). i think (and shout me a holla if you agree) that 19 and 20 should be abolished. just wiped the hell out. el fin. kaput. there's nothing eventful that one can do on these birthdays except count down the days until they are 21..and probably partake in the same activities that would occur on that momentous day anyway. my suggestion is either 1. skip from 18 to 21 like it ain't no thang, or 2. bring on the weird body mumbo-jumbo. it's a bummer about not growing a horn. it would have been great for fighting evil.

lastly, would the owner of the beige 1979 vista cruiser please approach the podium? your lights are on.

..saving the world before bedtime,
lex

my life as the consolation prize.

a few weeks ago, i was assigned a task. very dangerous, very covert, uncharted territory if you will. toppling an underground cock fighting operation? negative. assassinating pygmy aborigines using only mind bullets? again, no. my mission, if i chose to accept it, was to turn a gay guy, well, un-gay.

this past weekend, the aforementioned task was to be completed. "it's for the good of mankind," i was told by an unnamed party (dave), "plus, i'm tired of him hitting on me!" while i can always be counted on to help a friend in need (and by "always" i mean if just the right amount of begging, pleading, and sincere ass-kissing/monetary bribes come into play), i was torn on this one, wrestling with the pros and cons at great length. why, you ask? because i am suffering from a severe disorder, one that could potentially kill me if rejected by a gay (or any) guy. this disorder is the "cool girl complex," and i have been at it's mercy my entire life.

the "cool girl complex" is both simple and mind-fucking-boggling at the same time. it generally targets olive-toned, dark-haired, shorter-than-your-average girls named lex at birth and sticks with them like glue until they're sleepin' with the fishes. girls like this are the first-born child of middle-class parents from a ghetto suburb of boston called revere and, when aged to perfection (or 18), move to connecticut to attend college for journalism. the sweeter the ass, the more potent a punch the complex packs. as you can see, it is very rare, and a cure has not yet been found. i have the most advanced form and i'm fading..fast.

symptoms of "the complex," as it will now be referred to as, are overall attractive physical features, paired with an easy-going-but-not-standing-for-bullshit personality, razor sharp wit, and the alcohol tolerance of a salty old sea captain. those individuals diagnosed with the complex can meet someone new and within minutes be that stranger's new best friend. perfect, right? but wait..there's more. if this stranger is of the opposite sex though, this of course means that a blinking, neon sign lights up above the complexed one's head that says "please Please PUHLEEZ tell me about any and all problems/thoughts/general wonderings about that girl over there with the monster cleavage that you've been checking out all night..and spare NO detail!" the cool girl can feign genuine interest quite well in this kind of scenario and will even offer up suggestions as to how to win the checked out girl over from the female perspective. they are then told that they are "so great" and "the best person ever" as the aforementioned male scampers over to implement the cool girl's plan to win over the checked out girl and ultimately leave the cool girl dumbfounded and alone..all the while wondering, "what the..?"

if the cool girl is lucky, she may (rarely) steal a kiss or other token of affection, though it is usually the result of a mighty thick pair of beer goggles. she has grown accustomed to pats on the back and playful tousles of the hair. she is the top romantic councilor and advice-giver-outer in her circle of friends (who are all paired up and ducky with love), yet she remains the kid sister that you don't really notice until she makes you laugh or kicks you in the shins. she's a total pain in the ass..but you keep her around for those rainy nights when you can't have your first choice.

the thing that always gets me though is that when asked what kind of girl they would prefer to be with, most guys will say "dude, i have to be able to carry on a conversation with her; if she can tell a good joke, even better. oh yeah..and she has to be somewhat cute." helloooooOOOOOOOO! i'm right here, you schmuck. no..behind the blond in the low-cut shirt and the redhead with legs for days. i'm right here..oh..and there you go. i'll be the shoulder to complain on when she dumps you..like i always am. welcome to my life as the consolation prize.

the cool girl will always be the cool girl..because she is too stubborn and proud to change her ways, despite the ever-present lovin' drought. the cool girl is never phony and will never back down just to please a crowd. she is genuine and brutally honest. this is her greatest strength as well as her downfall. "the complex" may very well go without a cure forever..but maybe one day (hopefully before i am old, gray, and sagging in all the wrong places) someone will take the cool girl for who she is. he is the cool guy..and i know he's out there somewhere.

..not only the president but also a client,
lex

ps..a certain tennis pro that shall remain nameless likes horses in a prison movie kind of way..talk amongst yourselves.

i love you, eye crispies and all.

hi my name is lex..i have an addiction. i'm a dick..i'm addicted..to sleepies.

i don't view naps as a leisurely activity. i view them as a sport, a competition if you will. and we all know the goal of a competition: to win..by any means necessary (morals are out the window..kinda like politics). it started innocently enough: i would come back from a particularly grueling (read: starting before 10 a.m.) class, feel a bit drowsy, and decided a good remedy would be to catch a few quick zzzs to refresh and reenergize myself, hence warding off all unnecessary bitchiness for the remainder of the day. what started as a 20 minute jaunt now has the tendency to stretch into several hours..escalating from a mere "nap" to the more advanced (and illegal in 32 states, including connecticut) "snoozefest of death 2003." the sad part is that, no matter how hard i try, no matter how much sleep i get the night before, no matter if i have kicked the nyquil bottle to the curb, i cannot stop. someone please help me..for sleepies have taken over my existence. all messages can be relayed to the top bunk, both my accomplice and ultimate demise.

moving right along, i am not greek. i never was greek. most likely, there will never be any greek in me in my entire life (unless, of course, that tall dark fellow over there is a friend of socrates if yaknowwhatimsayin..). although this is a heritage that alludes me, it's still pretty damn fun to pretend. that being said, i can surely say that i can rock the toga like no other. move over zeus. sit yo' ass down aphrodite. there's a new goddess in town..and her name is ME..actually it's lex, but you get the idea (if you don't then you are real unsmart). my get-up was waaaaaay better than yours anyhow..and i don't even have magic powers. canyoudealwithTHAT? didn't think so..but bring it just the same. i'll be waiting..cardboard lightning bolt in hand.

so yeah..i turn 20 in six days. this rapidly approaching deadline has caused me to ponder one of life's most burning questions: are the days of watching spongebob in my underwear whilst eating a huge bowl of cinnamon toast crunch really numbered? i submit that they are NOT! if people expect me to act all grown-uppy just because i am out of the "teens" then they are sorely mistaken. i will not only reject that unwanted status, but i will revel in my childhood for as long as possible. revel with me, if you'd like. i'll tell you now though..try to take my my little ponies, especially the flutter ponies with the detachable iridescent wings, and you will be dining at the sandbox buffet for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the next few weeks. you thought i would go house on those mount olympus mofos? oh..you ain't seen nuthin' yet. the ties between a girl and her playthings last a lifetime. plus, you'll mess up their hair.

..reppin' mattel to the fullest,
lex

snoozebars, snowfall and stds..oh MY.

if i went outside right now and just stood there, within approximately 4.3 seconds, all 5 foot 2 of me (stop laughing..that's my real height..on a good day..meaning today i am closer to 3' 7"..) would be completely covered with a semi-thick layer of snow. god really needs to start using head and shoulders..cuz these flakes are the size of carpet squares (remember those?! naptime rules!).

after a slapfest with my snooze bar that lasted close to 45 minutes (not even close to my previously set record of 3 hours and 17 minutes but whatev), i rolled over and mumbled to my roomie, "hey can i see that stupid article for.." those 8 words were all that i said..because it was only then that i realized that my roommate (and the stupid article) were nowhere to be found. so yeah..i was talking to myself. please bust out the straight jacket and escort me to a padded cell as soon as possible.

on tuesdays and thursdays, i have about an hour between women's studies and lit class, so i usually come back to the dorm, grab some grub, and veg for a while until i have to get back on the shuttle and ship off to heinous blond bitch on wheels 127..i mean english. as i mentioned earlier (just scroll up if the ahlzies is kickin' in), the white stuff was coming down pretty heavy and i was debating whether or not to subject myself to the elements just to learn a few useless facts that would be erased from my memory as soon as the tv is flipped on later. i DO have a midterm on tuesday in lit, so i said to myself, "self..you really should go to class..even though a mere glimpse of your teacher could turn you to stone." being the ever conscientious student i am (again, stifle the laughter), i pack up my "learning appliances" (i.e., backpack, notebook, juicebox, rice krispie treat, etc) and trek my sweet ass downstairs and onto the shuttle. we were in i-lot when the loud girl on the cell phone (there's always one) announced to the entire shuttle that classes from 12:30 on were cancelled because of the weather, prompting everyone and their mother, brother, and second cousin's hamster to whip out their respective wireless devices and call anyone who could potentially be effected by this revelation. of course i'm doing the happy dance because i don't have class..but i am too far from my dorm to walk back without risking losing a limb from frostbite. so i did what any self-respecting, lazy-ass, i'd-rather-be-sleeping college student would do: take the shuttle all the way back around campus back to the dorm, where a pair of sweatpants and spongebob blanket were anxiously awaiting my return. the problem was (now try to contain your surprise) everyone else (and their mother, brother, and second cousin's hamster) had the same damn idea. lots of inappropriate closeness and crotches to the facial region ensued.

i may have a slight (ok..excessive) tendency to think the worst of people..but when people deserve their props..i give 'em. in the closing moments of the longest shuttle ride in modern history, where people were packed in so tightly that several restraining orders were implemented upon departure, several of my fellow shuttle buddies kept me laughing so hard my eyes started to tear. anecdote worthy of repeating: "hey..what if this was a friday night and we were all cocked as hell? that would be awesome." the mental picture in itself was enough that the sheer thought of it now is still making me giggle.

in a related story, i would like to express my sincere gratitude to judy m for honoring my request to have a sharp object ready for me to jab into my eye upon my return to the dorm. a graphic depiction will be displayed on the whiteboard until for-ev-er.

i would also like to inform those who expressed concern (aka my moms) that since my last post, i have yet to encounter another slipperooo. the plastic bubble has since been moved into the abandoned warehouse where all stupid and short-lived ideas i have had since age fetus now reside in useless peace and harmony.

apparently, there is a chlamydia epidemic sweeping the population of downtown storrs. shield your genitals kiddies..this could get messy. also, ewwwwwwwwwwww.

..off to make snow angels and stock up on contraceptives,
lex

i am the mayor of pain.

i fell thrice times in under 24 hours. i should be outlawed from walking and quarantined to a plastic bubble for the remainder of my existence.

..in dire need of a full-body bandage,
lex

a fringed leather jacket would have made this day perfection.

i'm attempting to think of an analogy to accurately describe my current state of being..and all that seems to fit is UUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH. to quote the man, the myth, the legend jesse chisholm: "i feel like a big bag of mess..and i don't think i like it."

picture the carefree antics and wild shenanigans of one mr. ferris bueller on his very famous day off. and seeing as though it was on approximately 845874857 times on friday (big ups to the new TNN) and i am now even more well versed in everything bueller, i can conclude beyond a shadow of a doubt that my day was the exact polar opposite of that. join me, will you, for a quick trip down memory lane.

so i wake up rockin' a pretty lethal hangover (no need to lick my palms here..this was for serious) and realize very quickly that i have to move the civic (not a ferrari california that i never drive, but instead rub with a diaper) from x-lot and gas it up, the least i could do for it after the obscene amount of driving i did this weekend (driving? in a car? who DOES that?). so me and jeff (my very own version of cameron frye) scamper down the hill in the torrential rain (it never rained on ferris..jeanie maybe..but never ferris), hop in the civic, and start it up. now is the time where i will dazzle y'all with my impression of what my car then did just to bust my nonexistent balls (although it would be better if this could be done, in song, atop a parade float in downtown chicago): sputter-sputter-eeee-eeee-eeee-shakey-shakey-haha-lex-this-is-what-you-get-i-hate-you-peace-out-mofo-kersplat-caput-stall. so of course i did the only logical thing i could think of: scream forever and go into a catatonic trance that could only be remedied by falling off a diving board.

when once again able to function properly, i called the roomie (definitely playing the role of "mom") and she picks my, by that point, completely drenched self up and we go to the gas station to revive poor, poor blue. the attendant, strangely reminiscent of one of the sketchy guys at the parking garage..accent and all, hooks me up with one of those little red emergency gas caddies. i once again scamper back outside and we zoom back to x-lot (cue star wars music and slow-mo video footage) where i proceeded to dribble gas all over my frostbitten hands whilst trying to quench the thirsty tank. after i was done (read: 7 years later), me and ol' blue zipped back to the gas station for round 2 with the sketchball foreign guy. i filled my tank, got even more soaked by the subsiding rain, and peaced out of the piece like it was my job.

i would have gotten away with this whole thing scot-free..if my moms (mr. rooney for SURE) asked me the inevitable question "so honey..how is your car running?". what i should have done was ask her to make me some soup and then squeal in satisfaction, but i elected to tell her the whole damn story, and was once again made privy to the fact that honesty isn't always the best policy..because my ass got screamed at for a good 5 minutes about "responsibility" and what a "dumbass" i was for "letting it go too far" because "the e is there for a reason." and all this time i thought it was just for decoration. excuse me while i blush and grin sheepishly.

and THAT, my friends, is the crapfest that is my life. i will gladly accept your sympathy..in addition to cash, check, and all major credit cards.

..pucker up buttercup,
lex

children of the 80s, unite!

two posts in two days?! i must be going MAD. mad..or bored..or horny as hell..take your pick..

do you guys remember mash? you know..mansion apartment shack house? that you and all your little friends used to cramp your fingers up feverishly writing at the lunch table..only to find out you would be married to harold with the stinky breath, have 43 children, drive a purple tricycle, and live in a shack in guadalajara? as we left , mash became shelved in the back of our tiny prepubescent minds, in between hypercolor t-shirts and jem..tear!

apparently though..someone was smart enough (or mad..or bored..or horny as hell..take your pick) to initiate the MASH COMEBACK! i kid you not..www.playmash.com is the ish. and if it is accurate (and why wouldn't it be seeing as though it was created by second graders?)..i am going to be married to the afrolicious philosophosophizer himself john raus (don't mess..he'll go brandon lee style on yo' ass!), have one kid, drive a yellow pony (and i don't mean mustang..but probably in dire need of an air-freshener), and live in a mansion in storrs, connecticut. this would of course mean that i would have to end my long-term relationship with my television set, a lively combination of tv and vcr..but it's for the best. mash has created me a life where i can look out into the backyard of my mansion in the busy and bustling town (laugh it up if ya know..shut it if ya don't) of storrs and see my one adorable and quick-witted child riding a yellow pony..and that child has a 'fro so big that it could potentially eclipse the sun. with tv, that dream could never be a reality..not even on cable. sorry tv..it's over. my people will be in touch.

so give it a go and revel in your childhood once more..however i am waiving all responsibility if you get stuck with harold. don't give me that look..i'll tell.

..all mashed up,
lex

tide can't help my mess of a life.

i'd been feeling a tad too cracker-like here at the 'conn (although i'm sure you are wondering just how that's possible with friends like mine)..so i thought it was high time to ghetto myself up. that's right kiddies..(dramatic pause)..i went home for the weekend.

even though the thought of my hometown has been known to cause the chunks to rise in my throat because of a select few ignorant assholes who shall remain nameless, i don't mind going home so much anymore. i can do my laundry for free (take that mac-gray!), get some quality eats courtesy of mama mattera, and have everyone fall all over themselves to appease me. in short (much like the collective height home on the range), my family rocks. don't be jealous. we'll adopt you.

that being said, i think that my washing machine and dryer are out to get me..for serious. every time i try to save a few bucks by bringing my laundry home, these devil appliances sense that i am taking business away from their quarter-filled counterparts back at the 'conn, have a quick intervention, and *mysteriously* something always gets ruined. first it was my blue sweater, which now is a wardrobe staple of my pygmy 12-year-old sister. then it was demise of, as big mike playfully calls them, my pink "hot pants" with a big black ink stain on the left bumcheek (thanks to the aforementioned pygmy 12 year old). which brings us to the most recent addition to the cute clothes cemetery: my monster slippers. one minute, silky smooth..the next, a-callin' for some afro sheen. please observe a moment of silence.

aaaaaaaaaaaaand done.

so guys at uconn are really gross. i just wanna put that out there. before y'all get all up in arms about it, i'll give you my reasoning. not all uconn guys are skeezy mofos..just those with the staring problems and enormous rods that have been confined to the gym since the beginning of the semester. a new addition to my workout routine (which has FINALLY gotten back to normal after the spring break gym whores returned to their ass-grooved futons, d.p. dough in hand..and i'll bet all over their faces) has been doing laps in the pool instead of on the track a few times a week. just so happens that the pool is located smack dibbity-dab in the middle of the gym, in full view for treadmill enthusiasts and iron-pumping 'roid-heads alike. i SWEAR..it's like these people have never seen a soaking wet, bathing suit clad gal with a bangin' ass in their entire lives. and contrary to popular beliefs, having about 84758465 pairs of eyes boring holes into your speedo isn't the most pleasant feeling. if i want to feel like a piece of meat, i'll go to the outback. gentlemen..you are truly "upstanding"..now watch out before you drop a dumbbell and render yourself useless in the baby-making process. it's for your own good.

one more thing before i call it a night (aka park it on the couch and veg like it's my J-O-B), i am NOT INTERESTED in "adding a few inches to my penis." hey internet porn industry, grey's anatomy called. girls don't have penises..except for hilary swank. make a mental note.

..wondering if anyone else feels like a steak right now,
lex

i think i could possibly have rage issues.

dammit dammit DAMMIT..oh yeah..and hello.

i'm annoyed right now. i'm sure you are thinking "what else is new..there is ALWAYS something pissing you off!" while you are correct in that aspect..well..you're right. i really can't think of a single instance when i haven't been heated over something in recent months. maybe it's true: i'm just a bitter bitch who needs to get laid. discuss amongst yourselves. diagrams, charts, and other assorted graphic aids are encouraged.

the weekend is practically my only downtime this semester given my crazy-ass educational commitments. it's my time to kick back, relax, and wake up from an alcohol induced slumber on saturday morning and question the events of the previous evening over the dining hall's only enjoyable feature: made-to-order omelets. that's what weekends are for in college for god's sake. professors though..they don't give a rat's ass about my well-being..hence the THREE TESTS i have next week..two of which are on one day..back-to-back. you people are an educated bunch..but you gotta talk to each other when scheduling exams that could make or break my grade point average. don't be shy.

if you didn't already know..motorola and verizon suck big balls. i think it's some kind of prerequisite if you are going to have a business that deals with wireless communication..or dealing with people in general. so my phone charger mysteriously (read: sabotage) broke..and of COURSE the phone i have, which looks like one of those toy cell phones that candy comes in, was only manufactured for about 5.4 seconds. so now i have to shovel the civic out of a heap of snow that probably quadruples me in size and mass, drive to the mall, and deal with some "friendly customer service technician" (aka asshole with a headset) to get a whole new phone with money that i just don't have at the moment. just out of curiosity, would it be so wrong to bust out the judo-chops on these mofos? yeah..i thought not.

have you ever walked in on two people copulating? i almost did..and it was just as emotionally scarring as getting picked last in gym class..after the fat kid with asthma and the kid w tape on his glasses..not to mention the paraplegic and dracula (never happened..i swear).

the fact that i totally beat the crap out of my cold is keeping me in high spirits. i would like to thank the lovely people at tylenol cold and sinus, the wonder that is the top bunk, trista and ryan, and the killer t cells of my immune system for my speedy recovery. i could not have done it without you.

..roughing up customer service reps like its my job and shielding my eyes before entering a room from this moment on,
lex

ps..yay for temperatures above -84758458475987 degrees..i saw grass today too, raus!

more things that make me feel pukey.

usually i'm not a big fan of pity parties. the lighting is bad, the food usually sucks (more on that later), and the atmosphere..well..people just seem like they'd rather be doing something..ANYTHING..else (sponge baths to the elderly come to mind for some reason..bygones). however..when your friends are the shit (aka don't smell and give you presents for no good reason other than the fact that they looooOOOOOve you unconditionally)..i say bring these parties on. to the remaining two-thirds of that crazy cult they call "triple A": you know how to cheer me up even when there is no misfortune of others in sight to cackle at..hearts! ps..you are both gayer than christmas.

i would also like to retract a statement from the previous entry that said oversized cards touted MAJOR vomit-potential. that is only true when there is no talk of my enviable abs and pantene pro-v commercial worthy strands or pictures of delicious boys in silk boxers. period.

so HOORAY for me..for i managed to escape v-day unscathed (maybe with an added 45874857094 calories or so and with a BONUS headcold *sniffle sniffle a-chooooOOO*..but who's counting?). quality time with mike weird-last-name over a seemingly endless box o' pizza and numerous cans of busch..oh sweet nectar of the gods (insert bitter beer face here). it's amazing how well two people can get along when their significant others are either in spain or invisible (guess which one is my love slave..shan't be too hard). at least moms sent me some yum-yum-yummy jelly bellys to suppress any and all urges to maintain a semi-normal eating routine. word to the (not-so) wise though: confusing cinnamon with very cherry is potentially lethal to your taste buds. rapid hand flapping and uncontrollable watering of the eyes will most likely ensue.

speaking of unpleasant tastes in my mouth..i'm so sick of uconn food. it's bad enough that you can actually see the laxatives stewing around in puddles atop most entrees, but the food itself (though supposedly prepared by professional culinary wizards, or as i realistically refer to as those who have passed "how to operate an ez-bake oven for dummies 101") is usually something that i wouldn't even subject my dog to eat (he's a ball of fur with principles and sophisticated tastes, after all). seriously..had i gotten sick last night, the thought of seeing the same slop i involuntarily consumed several hours earlier, arroz con pollo in reverse mind you, would have done some irreversible damage to my fragile psyche. aaaaaand scene.

..jonesing for some good chow and an economy-size box o' kleenex,
lex

this one goes out to all y'all.

note to all you obsessive freaks constantly checking this for an update: now is the time to escort children and elderly persons away from the computer in preparation for a bout with my pent-up, revere-style ghettoness. ready? ok..BACKUPOFFME..yo! i well aware that i've been one lazy mofo with the entries as of late..but between getting repeatedly plowed in the ass by each and every one of my classes, staying faithful to my television commitments (prime-time waits for NO ONE!) and sponsoring 8345876 starving children in ecuador (haha just kidding..y'all know i hate kids), i've been what the spaniards call "mucho too-busy-for-you-o". that's my story and i'm stickin' to it. any further comments should be immediately forwarded to shutupyousuck@eatmyass.org.

before we get into any current events and other assorted pressing issues (i.e., war, economics, my sweet, sweet ass..), i just want to give some people/places/inanimate objects the props that are rightfully theirs: JEFF FARREN for picking up right where we left off many, many moons ago..you are still one funny bastard and i miss you quite much..tear!, JESSE ALEXANDER "THE GREAT" for making me giggle like a schoolgirl whilst hearing his escapades of epic (and ethnic) proportions in the wonderful (?) world of engineering, DEVEN JESUS SMITH-CLARKE for making it perfectly acceptable to include children, en fuego, in any and all works of literature, THE AMAZING JOHN RAUS for spreading the good word that is my acid-tongued social commentary to the good folks up at the cross, JA REMS for having the uncanny ability to make the dance floor his bitch all night long, JOE MILLIONAIRE for being a massive tool and continuing his i-can't-help-but-watch-15-minutes-of-fame-reality-crapfest for yet another week, FRUIT SNACKS for being so deliciously addictive, and THE CREATORS OF CLONE HIGH USA for producing the most hysterical show circulating the airwaves at the moment (talking peanuts, dinghies galore, and robots who go "bee-boo-beep" and call everyone "wesleeeeeeeey"..how can you go wrong?!). i would also like to thank J. ANDREA MARTINEZ for tackling me terry tate-style into a seemingly bottomless snowbank and almost breaking my tailbone 2 days ago. seriously ang..i really would like to thank you..but that's not an option, given the fact that i would like nothing more than to downsize your face with a shovel as punishment for your erratic actions. with regards..

if you haven't noticed, valentine's day and all of its plastic, commercialized glory is upon us. flowers and candy and an oversized card that says "i wuv you thiiiiiiiiis much"..for MOI? sorry sally/jesse/raphael..i don't think so. hey you in the back..yeah you with the hairy knuckles and backwards toupee..if it's not too much trouble can you hand me a garbage can so i can blow some serious chunks? thanks ma'am..much appreciated..you're a doll. i mean if you gots someone to love then by ALL MEANS love them..all night long..over and over and over again (ps..i hate you and wish numerous venereal diseases upon you and yours)..but my plans for the evening will most likely involve me sitting around in my purple paul frank underoos and inhaling an entire pizza all by myself. mama would be so proud..i always was quite the little glutton (if you haven't seen my baby picture where i look like slimer covered in brownish mush with no plate in sight, just let me know and i'll send it your way..because i think it's pretty obvious at this point that i haven't a single, solitary shred of shame left..so BRING IT)!

i am a nice gal..unless poked, prodded, or spoken to on a day ending in "y". you give me what i want and you don't end up looking like the chump that you probably are for all to see. that being said..if by any chance your name is wayne and you are a delivery guy from wings..i am going to deliver (free of charge!) some crazy bruce lee moves to your cranium if we ever meet. this waste of space had the nerve to accuse me..ME..of screwing up all of his deliveries when in actuality all i did was answer a ringing phone and school him on the differences between "hall" and "inn" (hall = where his minimum-wage-making-tips-encouraged ass should be..inn = where his incompetent-no-way-in-hell-are-you-getting-paid keister could then be found) curb the 'tude dude..or i'll curb your face. ummmm..yeah. you've been warned.

one final note..what the FUCK with this never ending deluge of snow?! this is THE reason why i am moving to fiji to pursue a lucrative career in spear-fishing with the help of my uconn journalism degree. plus..if you had the excuse to wear a snazzy loincloth and coconut bra on any day other than casual friday you know you'd be all over it too..

..waiting for the excuse to kick some ass,
lex

definitely not sushi-grade.

ever since i was little, there has almost always been some kind of pet in my house. whether it was a big, dumb, loveable mutt, a schitzo cat that is constantly trying to escape, a silly spitz who likes to terrorize the laundry pile, or the most boring turtle on the planet..there was always something to play with when i wasn't too busy making my siblings' lives a living hell (what are older sisters FOR after all?).

now that i'm at school with nothing to comfort me but my computer and cat-dog (yeah..i need a boyfriend..REAL bad) i tend to get rather bored. then it hit me (cue lightbulb over my head): i'll get a fish! enter fluffy guy mattera..a cool little fish with an enormous head. SURE he was slimy to the touch and had the potential to develop somewhat of an odor..at least it was something to amuse me from time to time. the key word here is was..because the damn thing DIED like 3 hours after i got it. he was all belly up in his little jar this morning..and come to think of it..he looked extra dead..like he was rubbing it in my face that i was a horrible mother or something (on a side note: i am now discouraged from spawning offspring..until forever). he should have just eaten his food like a big boy and maybe..just maybe the little bugger would still be a-flippin' and a-floppin'..still not knowing what the hell was going on. OH the good ol' day! that's the first and last time i trust wal-mart to sell me a quality product. rip fluffy guy..we barely knew yee..

as if that unfortunate loss wasn't enough (give me 3 to 5 days to recover..or 3 to 5 beers to dull the pain..whichever you prefer)..uconn parking services finally outfoxed me (don't worry..i didn't think it could be done either..gold star for them). in the middle of sociology today i screamed out (and by screamed i clearly mean loudly whispered in a voice that would have made felicity, noel, AND ben proud) "ahhhhh SHIT!"..remembering that i had forgotten to move my car from the lot near my building..the lot restricted for professors, RAs, and of course any and all visiting dignitaries..not me though..NEVER ME! *cue violins and one lone tear on my left cheek* them uconn officers..they're VULTURES i tell you! the time on that ticket was 6:16..A.M! i was still doin some serious sleepies (quality dream by the way..i got some action..and if you know of my current drought at all you can be CERTAIN that it was indeed a dream..grr). all this time i thought the po po was all about coffee and donuts..but they are really just out for blood..and a little cash too i guess. oh i'll get you fake police..and your little computerized ticket writer too..whahahahaha!

for some reason i thought that last comment would read in a maniacally threatening way. i was wrong. i sounded like the big dork that i am. oh..the humanity..

one final note before i go on my merry way: just because i did a top 10 (ok..top 7) list about jeff houle DOES NOT MEAN that i can do one for everyone who asks! you hearin' me, ese? and THAT regis..is my *final* answer..

..in need of a hug,
lex

*final is so permanent. how about you give me $6.87, a bag of gummi bears, and a lap dance by a midget dressed as a unicorn and we have ourselves a deal? i'm sure we can work something out..i'm flexible (in business negotiations of course..but let your imagination go for a second..ok stop)..

letterman gots nuthin' on me.

good evening all..and welcome to another episode of masterpiece theater..umm..errrr..what? come now..you know i would never subject you..my cherished readers..to such rubbish..but while we're on the subject..why oh WHY do the english insist on spelling words like "theater" and "center" with an -re instead of an -er..and don't even get me STARTED on that -our crap. say it with me QE2: fav-OR-ite..col-OR. you can do it ol' gal! for serious though..just because the language is named after that little country of theirs doesn't mean they can forgo any and all simple rules of spelling and grammar..but i digress. i guess it's like that whole tootsie pop licking deal: the world may never know. but if by chance it asks..those limey bastards can kiss me arse..o fo sho.

moving right along into our regularly scheduled idiocy..i have a friend named jeff houle (pronounced hoooooooooooool..be sure to enunciate each individual O). after spending an OBSCENE amount of time confined in the civic with him this weekend..i can say with 97.64 percent accuracy that he is quite possibly one of the best people i have ever met, talked to, or inappropriately felt up on in my entire life. there are so many things about the wonder that is jeff that i've come to know and love..and god dammit..these are things that you too should have the opportunity to experience as well. ladies, gentlemen and 3-toed sloths worldwide, i bestow upon you with great flourish: 10 THINGS (or however many i can think of) THAT I HEART ABOUT JEFF HOULE.

#1. THE SMILE: i swear to the buddy christ that this boy could be wearing a burlap sack, striped legwarmers, and a paisley-print neckerchief and he would still look like about 7585863475864357464 bucks because of his pearly, pearly whites. even after a heinous accident involving alcohol, a telephone, and a slipperoo off his place of slumber..he's STILL recommended by 4 out of 5 dentists and unanimously approved by the american dental association.

#2. HE'S A TOOL: jeff is not a tool in the derogatory sense (see prick, asshole, et al)..but he did fix a shelf for me once..with a hammer. so technically he is a tool afficionado..a toolman if you will..a regular tim taylor minus the bearded, flannel wearing sidekick. did you know that he built his own shed? well he did..with lots of tools..some even battery operated. better snatch him up fast ladies..he's the catch of the day!

#3. CONSTANT DENIAL OF HIS WHITENESS: regardless of what he may tell you, jeff houle is pretty damn white. but do you think that he lets a little thing like enthnicity doesn't get him down? HELLLLLLLLLLS no! he wears his pants so low that everyone knows what color undies he's sportin' that day (i think they were gray boxer briefs today..), his favorite movie is "baby boy," and he describes any song or band that doesn't mention slapping bitches or bustin' caps as "cracker music." and if we ever get married he suggested that our wedding song be "we right here" by dmx. yeah..i'm not playin'.

#4. S.B's: s.b's are both snuggle buddies and sweater buddies. although we have never officially tested these waters, jeff and i have agreed on several occasions that we would be good snuggle buddies (just sleeping..get your mind out of the gutter!) because we don't hog the entire bed, snore, or steal blankets like some people do. we also don't have bed-wetting tendencies..anymore. sweater buddies was created one night when we both wore similar sweaters to a party one night. of COURSE he looked better in his than i did in mine..grrrRRRRR way to show me up dude! i must, i must, i must increase my bust..

#5. HIS "ROYAL" ALTER-EGO: here's the scenario..it's a friday night and you have plans with a group of your friends..and one of these friends is jeff. the estimated time of departure for the evening's festivities is 8pm..but because of jeff's obsessive primping and grooming routine, you don't get out the door until roughly 1:45am. these beautification methods of epic proportions have earned jeff the title of "princess jeff" and are known far and wide by many of his royal subjects. tiara rentals available by appointment only.

#6. METAPHORICAL REFERENCES INVOLVING CHEESE: while cheese may be just a common deli topping to most people..jeff wields this lactose-infused wonder product in other astonishing ways. case in point: my sarcasm. i was once told that my weapon of choice loses its edge as the hours go by. jeff begs to differ, insisting that my wit is "sharp like the finest cheddar at any hour." if anyone else can come up with a simile of equal caliber i'd sure like to hear it..

#7. PSYCHIC TENDENCIES: when i informed mr. houle that i was going to make a top 10 list about him..he said there was no way that i would be able to come up with the intended number of items on my list. he was right. excuse me while i bow down.

..renting princess jeff's tiara for the weekend,
lex

oh my god..you totally want my shit.

although today began with an olympic-caliber tumble off the top bunk and later followed with my bi-weekly (and quickly becoming dreaded) encounter with the heinous blonde bitch on wheels, today wasn't all too shabby. i even got a bonus crotch in the face..score!

i will preface this comment with the disclaimer that the following statement is very sincere and heartfelt..but don't get used to it. this is a one-time thing up in here: to everyone who imed me today to tell me that i am very funny, witty, and talented writer (there were several of you believe it or not)..THANK YOU because y'all were responsible for the sheepish grin plastered across my face for the better part of the afternoon. i know i may come off all cool and nonchalant most of the time(even though it's usually just lack of sleep or perhaps a nyquil hangover gone awry)..but right now i'll admit that i'm downright giddy and genuinely touched. what i'm basically trying to say is that you rock harder than an '80s hairband (pick one..they're all the same). end sincere and heartfelt statement. i'll be here all week. try the veal.

..always the modest one,
lex

ps..sorry for the lack of laughs today..sincerity and cynical humor just don't mesh.

the downfall of western edumikation and other assorted lameosities.

unless you are suffering from a premature case of alzheimer's..you may remember me saying that i probably hated you already, regardless of who you are. SWEET SASSY MOLASSEY that couldn't be more true today! if you're at all squeamish..you may want to leave your computer and hide in a dark corner now.

the first person/place/thing/general noun that i hate is college professors who treat you like you're still walking around in your huggies. bust this: in my lit class today, my professor, whom i will affectionately refer to from now on as "the heinous blonde bitch on wheels," (write that down for later reference) showed us a movie. i'm sure you are thinking "wow..she must be mad chill to do that on the second day of class"..and normally i would agree with you..but no NO. the only thing chill about this woman is the blood running through her veins. as the clock ticks closer and closer to the time we have to leave..people begin gathering up their respective belongings because..well we have lives that do NOT revolve around her class. most professors have come to expect and overlook this kind of thing..but the heinous blonde bitch on wheels (remember her? you should if you wrote it down!) actually turned around..put one finger up to her lips..and SSSSHHHHHHHHHHHed us. my mouth dropped and a you've-got-to-be-fucking-kidding-me expression across my face. i was half expecting her to make us line up for individual spankings and then deny us dessert after that! tommy d was there too..and he can back me up when i say: who DOES that?!

moving on to the next people i would like to tie to a chair and beat with a hammer are spring break gym-whores. i myself am an avid gym goer and fitness class attendee. i have also grown to recognize the constipated faces and firm behinds..albeit drenched in sweat and stinking to high heavens..of other regulars..and take comfort in knowing that they too know the value of a good work out. we go to the gym or fitness class at our convenience..do our thing..and leave. this is something that we have been doing so since the dawn of time (a little exaggeration i know..but you get my point). all of a sudden..winter intersession is over and all of those familiar, sweaty faces that i have come to expect to see during my visits have been not replaced, but overshadowed (pun intended), by the whiny, fluffy, beer-gutted majority of the uconn population. these lumps, who probably haven't even said the word "gym" in their entire lives, have left their prominent ass-grooves on their futons and are now monopolizing the treadmills and ellipticals, the pilates mats and chisel weights, that rightfully belong to me and my fellow hard bodies. do me a favor: grab a bag of chips and a bowl of easy mac and take your cellulite elsewhere so i can return to my former life in peace.

the aforementioned shlubbs are the same people..or are at least descended from the same ancestral breed of shlubbs..who make rides on the good 'ol uconn shuttle amazingly similar to a guest appearance in a sardine can. don't get me wrong..i can understand that no one wants to freeze their huevos off in this weather..but if i have to wait patiently for "the shuttle that's coming in 2 minutes" then so can they. again..no NO. these people pack themselves in so tight that a) those of us fortunate enough to find a seat are frequently subjected to an intimate conversation with a stranger's crotch, b) they occupy all the seats..making vertically-challenged folk like myself reminiscent of barnum and bailey's trapeze artists dangling high above the crowd from one of those too-high-for-my-liking monkeybar/supposed handrail things, or c) there is absolutely nothing to hold onto at all so when the driver (whos license should have been revoked about 8567845769854 years ago) stops short you end up losing your balance and create a massive domino effect within the bus. THEN..after all that..they give you nasty-ass looks when they can't get off the hell ride fast enough. hahahahahaha..and FUCK YOU.

last on my list (for today anyway) are people who think they are sooooOOOOOOO much better than everyone else. scenario: i am bleeding from both eyes and have a compound fracture on my left fibula..and this person is all huffs and puffs that paramedics are fawning all over me and not paying attention to their hangnail or something. i'll make this brief: if i could vomit on every single person i have ever met who was like that i would be the poster girl for bulimia. someone stop these people from reproducing. IMMEDIATELY.

..officially spent,
lex

ps..BANG

we're friends, right? great..carry my baggage.

it's about 1:30 p.m. on a sunday..and i am awake and alert. there are so many things wrong with that statement.

so now that we are better acquainted (i'm assuming of course that you have read my last put-it-all-out-there-for-the-world-to-see post), i think it's high time that you become my shoulder. whether you like it or not i am going to be commenting on, obsessing about and venting anything and everything on my mind here several times a week. it's your choice to keep coming back to listen..but once you get a taste you'll be craving more (if that sounded at all raunchy it was probably intended that way). you're probably going to know things that my own mother is clueless about..and why wouldn't you? we've known each other for approximately 3.2 seconds. THAT..my nameless faceless confidante..is what i call a quality relationship.

this was the first official weekend back at the 'conn. since i'm the only out-of-stater in my crew, it was the first time i've been able to do some much needed catching up with some of my favorite people in the world. and what better way to that than over an obscene number of cocktails and recreational substances. ahhhhh the college life! whether it was the thought of classes that would be potentially ass-raping us throughout the semester or sketchball romantic interests that just weren't going the way we would have liked..after a few hours (even less for some..big ups to judy m!)..that was all forgotten. my good time was almost destroyed when some kid called me an insincere bitch because of a comment i made. i was about ready to put my fist through his face until i found out he was just a frosh. oh you..so much to learn..so little time to do it in before you get smacked upside your overly gel-styled head. needless to say..within minutes i was able to return to destroying my liver in peace.

after much careful consideration..i have concluded that it would not be a good idea for colombian supreme and i to be in charge of the future. we would have people doing some pretty fucked up shit purely for our amusement alone. possible ideas: making people really sit in their underwear during a presentation to put the speaker at ease instead of them just imagining it and having our text books shrunk down into microchips to be implanted into our brains..making the buy-back process quite similar to one of those slice-and-dicefests they broadcast on tlc. things that make ya go hmmmmmm..

in a related story..grab-ass is game that should go under olympic consideration. talk amongst yourselves.

..until next time,
lex

obligatory introduction posting.

ahoy-hoy..and welcome to el blog de lex. i..for all you math majors out there..am lex. whether you know me well enough to know my favorite pair of underwear or are just some pasty shut-in surfing for kiddie porn (hey, it's YOUR choice dude..just leave quietly and don't touch anything..god only knows where those hands have been) you'll realize pretty fast that there's no middle ground when dealing with me. you will either love me or hate me..it's that simple. odds are pretty high that i hate you already..so make your decision accordingly.

i will be you all the lint in my pocket right now (i'm broke..deal with it) that you are shaking your head and calling me a heinous biatch under your breath. am i? well..that depends on how you look at it. NO i don't go around yelling and kicking chairs out from under people all the time (but c'mon..once in a while is ok..if not necessary) and i certainly don't make people leave parties in tears (although it has been known to happen on occasion). those near and dear to me call it my snap..i suggest you learn it live it and love it. i don't stand for bullshit and i have no reservations about telling someone they suck..loudly and publicly. last time i checked that wasn't a crime..maybe it is in alabama or something..but they're a bunch of incestuous tools..making their collective opinion mean about thismuch.

i'm funny..i'll tell you that straight off so it doesn't catch you off guard and you go and do something embarrassing..like soil yourself in a room full of friends (it's not a good idea no matter HOW close you think you are). i've been called everything from quirky to crazy..and believe me..you'll see every side displayed here in all of its glory. i'll warn you..it's not for everyone..and i am not..i repeat NOT taking responsibility for your reaction to it..that's all you..learn to curb it or read something more your speed (the dictionary maybe?).

so now that you know what you're getting yourself into..feel free to come back any time. if not? no skin off my ass..just know that you suck big balls (see..i told you i'd say it publicly).

..your new best friend/worst enemy/sexual fantasy,
lex