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