tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37026782011-07-07T15:54:30.234-07:00Crushed IceStefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.comBlogger4241100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-25966912480874793922010-02-20T11:17:00.003-07:002010-02-20T11:30:12.635-07:00"I call it Anne Frank Face."So, here's the thing: I started this blog in high school. I don't want to get all iCarly on your ass and get sentimental over an internet project that has about four readers (three of which are related to me, one of which is me), but I loved this blog. Somehow, I became the Gossip Girl of North Canyon High. Even teachers were checking it- and also stalking it, but that's a Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-48606852225004970032009-07-24T02:07:00.002-07:002009-07-24T03:50:17.643-07:00"That tears it."At night, things get a little hazy. Not because the sun went down, but because for us artsy emo indie types, night time is the perfect time to start over thinking or over drinking or both. Me? I'm an over-thinker personally. That's just my style. That's how I get things I done. I love to sit and really analyze a day. What did he mean "oh, that's nice"? He may as well have been saying, "Give me Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-57225634361435493172009-05-12T00:16:00.006-07:002009-05-12T00:50:20.407-07:00"Oh that's right, she's your invisible girlfriend."On the May 11th episode of David Letterman, Tom Hanks spoke about braving the cold DC weather along with a kajillion other people to witness Barack Obama’s historical January inauguration. He laughed as he showed the audience photos of his view of the swearing in, which consisted of a guy’s hat and not Obama at all. He admits to freezing his ass off and wondering, if only for a moment, if going Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-5958722952716203982009-05-06T00:17:00.004-07:002009-05-06T00:33:13.639-07:00"Don't thank me. Thank John Winthrope."So, I think I have some explaining to do.I haven't been writing as I ought, but hey, times, they are a changin'. I was always choosing between writing in here or writing an essay that I could get a grade for and well, I guess you know the rest.Nobody's perfect.I'll try my best to post something again within the month, I swear.Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-51157492872054988442008-10-16T00:00:00.018-07:002008-10-16T21:56:15.805-07:00"I hear they have more fun."It's midterm season. This means I've been dividing my time between studying and panicking.Seems to be working out for me.I'm trying to change up my life. Like, yesterday, I took a walk. You know, instead of riding my bike.(Which, was stolen last Spring like my heart by Lee Pace.)So I'm walking along having a fabulously good time singing She & Him to myself, pretending it's 1963 (or that I know Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-49456891103211568322008-09-27T00:48:00.006-07:002008-09-28T17:21:45.753-07:00"Damn."I didn't go away. I didn't disappear. I didn't get married. I didn't run off with Benjamin Braddock. Though, looking back, I probably should have.I've been living life. "Finding myself" or whatever the hell you're supposed to do when you're in college. If finding yourself means sitting around waiting for 30 Rock to premiere, than yeah. I've been finding myself real good.The truth is, I've been Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-447703892758396412008-08-22T23:51:00.006-07:002008-08-23T11:14:35.286-07:00"We are just friends, Philip Seymour Hoffman!"The smell of failure smells a lot like my university bookstore. The smell of all the things you didn't do over the summer smells like books that were used as sponges when the beer spilled and fear in the sweat from the Freshman and those really expensive calculators. 'Musky' isn't the right word to describe all of these things, but it'll do in a pinch.The stuff you were totally gonna do this Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-44167274788952799142008-05-19T01:35:00.004-07:002008-06-01T00:47:49.079-07:00"I think they heard me."Doogie Howser M.D. holds a very special place in my heart. Not just because he was, in my book, the first official ‘blogger’, but because unlike Doogie, the little prodigy who loved school so much he finished medical school by age fourteen, I loved not going to school so much that I could sometimes convince my mother to let me stay home and watch Doogie reruns at eleven in the morning on TBS. TheStefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-48654519007268003742008-04-28T21:00:00.005-07:002008-04-29T16:25:46.770-07:00"That's cutting your nose to spite your face."Hi. Can we talk?I'm turning twenty-one soon, and I'm having a bit of an early twenties existential who-am-I-does-my-life-matter-crisis.I'm just a little worried about my future.I seem to be taking turning twenty-one like most women take turning fifty. I had a motherfucking hot flash today. I am not even kidding.The intense sweating got so bad, I finally just had to own up to it. Yep. That stinky,Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-58055945092499886072008-04-24T02:35:00.003-07:002008-04-25T17:04:26.697-07:00"I think I hurt my sweet tooth."All my life, all 20.11 ¾ years of it, all I’ve wanted to be is older. In pre-school I was pretending my cubby was a locker. In first grade I made my own paper “schedule”, being sure to block out when we had “sustained silent reading”, mathematics, social studies, lunch, and free time. In high school I day dreamed in English class about being somewhere far away and Ivy League-y where I could wear Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-73201998051687583782008-04-14T05:10:00.012-07:002008-04-15T12:10:09.119-07:00"Its like Switzerland if Switzerland was cheaply made out of particle board."“She’s buff,” Rich, -or maybe he said Mitch?- notes, pointing to my friend Robyn who is helping her boyfriend, Brian, load up the back of his Toyota truck with band equipment after his concert for his (good) band The Twilight Showdown. I have helped a little by picking up a few mats and looking like a groupie. I had already told Brian that I was wearing white and I was a girl so therefore unable Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-72337979910220016672008-04-07T21:49:00.007-07:002008-04-14T02:28:31.531-07:00"No, thank you."Andrea is afraid of driving so I find it ironic that she only fools around with her current sort-of boyfriend in the backseat of his Honda Civic."It was actually, OK," she says to me at coffee one day. "I kept trying to talk to him in a sexy voice, but I hate my voice, I think its high pitched," She confesses. "I sound like I was sexually abused.""You do not," I tell her. "You're insane. Your Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-5673736550059134142008-04-01T00:57:00.008-07:002008-04-01T17:59:47.946-07:00"I can't handle this."I make a mad dash for the exit when I leave my friend’s party in the hopes that I don’t have to give any awkward hugs goodbye to the drunk people who ignored me most of the night anyway. I casually touch people on their shoulders and thank the host before I bolt for the door. Robyn follows me out to the car, our arms interlinked like old lovers. I hate to admit I am feverishly pre-menstrual Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-28250211840680286662008-03-28T01:31:00.008-07:002008-03-29T13:32:35.975-07:00"Yeah, cows are great."Ally and I sip iced lattes in the grass under a tree in the quad at Arizona State University for two hours and we see nary a good looking fella. “I’m thinking about lowering my standards,” I say casually from my position in the grass. I pluck a few blades out and twist them around my fingers. We look super cute today in our spring sundresses and we’ve both kicked off our shoes and were resisting Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-50503679528564765492008-03-22T15:13:00.006-07:002008-03-22T17:23:06.491-07:00"That's one stupid hat."When I tell the cute Mormon kid that the reason I didn’t usually see him when he was working late at Starbucks on Thursday nights was because usually, when its not Spring Break(kkk), I am half asleep on my couch at nine in the evening watching a TiVoed anything, I am not lying. I’m being brutally honest, and he laughs. “I wish,” he says, “I wish I could do that.” For this I give him my number. HeStefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-71033066590457439702008-02-19T02:04:00.002-07:002008-02-19T16:46:22.841-07:00"I know you from somewhere..."I’m boring. I hate when people say that, but in my case, I suppose its true. I work a lot, like you, I assume, Mr. or Ms. College Student reading this blog. “I work too!” you say, “And I’m not boring.” OK, great. Shut up. You probably ARE boring, you just don’t realize it because you’re too busy laughing at your own jokes. That’s how I was, until late.At a party, I ran into an old… well, I wouldnStefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-21857471683732386622007-12-20T00:30:00.000-07:002007-12-20T06:39:07.030-07:00"Its not my jacket."This Christmas break has left me with a load of free time on my hands. Granted, it is my own damn fault. Just yesterday, an employer of mine (one of many, I am a working girl.) asked me if I was available to help him out for a few extra hours this week.Unfortunately, I am not.Back in October, I thought I’d use my winter break to read all of those books I bought this semester and write in my blog Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-22827108277613021532007-10-28T01:41:00.000-07:002007-10-30T19:02:45.183-07:00"Look at the stems on you!"Funerals are the worst; the whole family, together again so soon after The High Holy Days, because a ninety four-year-old relative has passed. And you never really knew them to begin with. Their loss, obviously. And technically, is the mother of your ex-aunt even family? You’d wear black and your big sunglasses to the funeral, but that’s so trite. You go with deep maroon and your big sunglasses Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-59672444567708456472007-09-03T14:15:00.000-07:002007-09-03T14:18:18.965-07:00"That's just crazy talk."“I’ll let you get that,” I say to my mother as I nod towards the door leading to my doctor’s office. The green handle practically smelt of Ebola virus and death.She shakes her head, “You’re so insane.”“I’m not!” I protest, eyeing the handle hesitantly. My mother deserved a medal for touching it. “You know how I feel about other people’s hygiene and doctor’s offices.”“I can’t believe I raised a Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-78638403449468644702007-08-20T04:39:00.000-07:002007-08-20T04:53:00.785-07:00"Get Mommy her pills."I'm in a bit of a tizzy. I'm not ready for school. Instead of wasting my time wondering what notebook will go best with which backpack, I've been much more concerned about whether or not I will be able to see Superbad the day it comes out. I don't remember Asshole 320 being part of the Creative Writing degree, but man, I wish it was.I looked back on my summer and realized I spent a majority of Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-75374734824105976522007-08-03T00:04:00.000-07:002007-08-03T00:07:54.375-07:00"I wouldn't date him."Being in Los Angeles during the summer is like being in a zoo at night when all the animals are asleep or hiding.I was there for one week and I saw absolutely, positively, no one famous. I think they are all in St. Bart’s or Aruba, or someplace equally as tropical and exotic where the tan lines come free with the mai tai if you drink it at the beach.However, there are plenty of size 00 girls in Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-48891683330375069482007-07-23T17:07:00.000-07:002007-07-23T17:42:28.079-07:00"I thought it'd be funny or semi-amusing, at least."Everything in my house is covered in a fine dust. There's nothing to do except work and worry and frankly, I'm tired of doing both. I haven't written in ages. I have become boring and dull. At a loss for words even when in the company of people I actually like. I'm tired all. The. Time. The Daily Show has been repeats since July 1 and it's monsoon season in any event, so the power is out every Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-45441682272660785182007-06-17T14:11:00.000-07:002007-06-17T14:17:07.976-07:00"Allegedly."“Don’t you ever do anything except watch movies?” My father asks me. It’s my second week of summer vacation and not counting season one of How I Met Your Mother and The Larry Sander’s Show on DVD, I’ve watched about a thousand movies. Give or take. He musses my hair and I fight the urge to slap his hand away as he says, “You’re going to turn into a movie!”One could only hope.Often, I like to Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-77670264089313563952007-05-20T17:06:00.000-07:002007-05-22T12:16:15.190-07:00"It just ain't fittin'."Josh called and woke me up at 8:30 AM the morning after Spider-Man 3 was released. I thought he was calling that early to apologize first thing for being the Worst Gay Best Friend Ever, which I called him on the day before in contemporary cinema class.“You never even said you liked my new dress!” I feigned resentment. “I could get myself a real boyfriend who holds the door open for me and pays Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-47298788461783047632007-05-13T20:43:00.000-07:002007-05-13T20:57:23.499-07:00"That's just crazy."Krista is pale, petite, and wearing a deadly shade of red lipstick that makes her look like she just sucked someone’s, probably her boyfriend’s, blood. I don’t judge her even though I exited the I-Vwahnt-To-Be-Alone Greta Garbo stage of my life roughly around the same time N*sync and Britney Spears became popular. Only through conversation do I realize that we went to high school together and hadStefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-8275464489769631252007-05-03T15:25:00.000-07:002007-05-04T01:55:15.542-07:00"Didn't you see his ears perk up? He's GAY."“What are you wearing to the concert?” Jane, my hairdresser’s assistant asks as she massages my head. She tilts my head forward and works on my neck. It is quite possibly the nicest feeling in the whole entire world, and I choose not to answer her until she’s done. The head massage is worth the price of the haircut alone. She begins to towel dry my tresses and my voice is muffled through the Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-37116361851052011752007-04-25T23:23:00.000-07:002007-04-25T23:56:37.658-07:00"We don't have fat free milk, but we have skim if that's OK?"Hannah is getting mad because it's "late" and she needs to get home."OK," I say, leaning against my car, no doubt getting dirt all over me, "Just let me take one more picture."I can tell she's mad, but she loves being the center of attention so she gives in, "One more picture.""One more," I echo as a BMW holding two men pulls into the empty parking spot next to my car. It is so smooth and shiny Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-85553421341844867392007-04-16T23:02:00.000-07:002007-04-17T01:28:25.838-07:00"You know where I'm going with this?"“So, whose birthday is it today?” a boy who didn’t look unlike Brandon Davis asks the table but looks directly at my gorgeous friend Michelle beside me. She and Katie giggle and point to me. My two friends told me that I was beginning to prematurely age into a forty-year-old woman, so they took me out to celebrate my birthday about three weeks early at a small Chinese bistro. Davis looks Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1174544486613704492007-03-22T00:19:00.000-07:002007-05-12T13:23:41.727-07:00"I'm the proud owner of a penis.""Here is a penis," my psych professor says happily as he clicks his power point to a textbook drawing that clearly labels every last detail of the male genitalia. "Full frontal," he notes before clicking away, "That’s always good. Makes things more interesting." A few kids snicker, and the rest pretend to be serious and very concerned about the sexual organs.I feel very much like I am back in Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1173338800370575922007-03-08T00:01:00.000-07:002007-03-08T16:05:36.356-07:00"I feel like Jim."My wisdom teeth are coming in. Or, to be more specific: my wisdom teeth have been coming in for a year and a half and I tried to ignore them (while at the same time, worry day in and day out about the state of my precious perfect bite and if it is being compromised by said new incoming teeth) but now the little fuckers are digging a hole Shawshank Redemption style through my cheek. And it hurts.AStefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1171268925940164082007-02-12T01:01:00.000-07:002007-02-12T01:31:31.486-07:00"Too soon?"Authors note: I've been urged by my posse to write this, despite the fact that it makes me lose all credibility.I don’t really like to admit just how big of a dork I am. I can admit the small stuff. Everyone watches The Daily Show and Colbert Report (my “power hour”), and watching CNN can be excused, and Al Franken is cool because he’s on Letterman all the time, but listening to Discovery Radio Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1169699403580262792007-01-24T21:27:00.000-07:002007-01-24T21:30:03.606-07:00"I touched your pen, man!"Anthony is the kind of guy you knew back in high school. He’s that one untouchable jock who lived for extra-curricular activities. He is the guy who scored the winning touchdown at the homecoming game, brought the hot cheerleader to Prom, and hardly ever showed up to class and yet still managed to graduate.I know this because he keeps telling me. “So, like, seriously, my senior year? Never went Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1167250807345720742006-12-27T13:16:00.000-07:002006-12-27T13:20:07.383-07:00"She's a slutty-druggy."I love kids. I never used to, but something happened between high school and college and now, I think kids are adorable-Until they start doing that thing where they sneeze into your face. I stop breathing and back away in horror, “You can handle that…” I tell my mother as she expertly maneuvers the small boy, Spencer, with just one hand. He’s wearing a colorful construction paper hat still thick Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1164424576243937972006-11-24T20:10:00.000-07:002006-11-25T09:01:17.546-07:00“Why is this town so anti-marshmallow?”“Ever been Snipe hunting?” Janine asks us. She’s tall and blonde like an Aryan. The four city kids blink in confusion. I meet my sister’s eyes to speak via telepathy, Fucking country folk. Janine is the oldest of the Sessions, a Mormon family with eleven children ranging in age from 19 to eight who live down the dirt road from my two cousin’s house in the woods.“Eleven kids?” I had asked earlier,Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1163145497908634702006-11-10T00:37:00.000-07:002006-11-10T01:36:41.776-07:00"It's like crack; the first hit is free."I wasn’t embarrassed like most girls when my mother told me I was finally allowed to buy a real bra at the age of eleven. I thought nothing of it when I was dragged off to an overly lit department store to be measured and strapped into womanhood by an old lady whose own womanhood was sagging well below her knobby knees. If anything, excited probably described me more accurately. I imagined that Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1160949905597111892006-10-15T15:04:00.000-07:002006-11-05T04:12:01.596-07:00“You just thought I was a crazy, neo-conservative, religious lunatic.”My father used to say, “Act civilized!” to both my sister and myself when we were too rowdy in the backseat of the car on a road trip. For some reason, this was never as effective as the “shut the hell up, already” that he usually resorted to. From an early age, I was taught to “act civilized”. And for my first eight or so years, I just thought that “civilized” was defined as “to be bored and notStefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1159605653883962542006-09-30T01:30:00.000-07:002006-09-30T01:42:56.346-07:00"Can you make me this cake?"“You’re breaking up with me to go out with a slut?” As I sit in the café at Barnes and Noble on that last day of August, there is an entire world crashing down just two tables away and I can not help but listen in. Being a young woman myself, my reaction is a cross between enraged “girl power” and misery loves company. Parts of me want to stand on my table and shout a decree: “That boy!” I wouldStefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1159124112010577712006-09-24T10:53:00.000-07:002006-10-02T12:35:10.316-07:00"We're on the debate team."As recently as last week, I took a trip to Washington D.C. with some of my Student Government classmates that I found to be rather tiring and frustrating. We were in DC but we didn't get to see anything for more than five minutes. We barely made it to any monuments, (I only saw my boyfriend Lincoln for a mere four minutes and twenty three seconds, which I found entirely depressing) and although Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1157447606062145982006-09-05T02:05:00.000-07:002006-09-24T10:46:48.536-07:00"No one told me it was drunk crazy skank night."School has started for another year, and I've already grown so tired of it. I've been terribly busy which is not at all how I pictured college. Thank goodness I don't party "hard" or I'd have a real conundrum trying to fit binge drinking and whoring around into my already tight schedule. Forty minutes was all it took for classes to become routine for me again. By the end of my first class I had Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1155551876425496802006-08-14T03:34:00.000-07:002006-08-14T16:02:51.383-07:00“I don’t find him particularly attractive.”I started taking classes in the Russian language a few weeks ago. An unexpected turn because I never anticipated learning Russian. All it made me think about was vodka drinking, big fur hats, crazy sporadic dancing and Meg Ryan just as one might think of cowboys, football, and "Da Britney Sperz" when asked to learn "American". For years I've been telling myself that I will learn French eventuallyStefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1153380711863742132006-07-20T00:31:00.000-07:002006-07-20T00:42:51.156-07:00"Wanna get distracted?"Having a giant ass pimple taking up residence on my chin reminds me that I'm not as wonderful and sparkly as my distorted mind likes to think I am. I am just a normal person. Like you. I often forget about the "regular" people. You know, the ones who don't watch Colbert or Project Runway or even own a TiVo. The ones who think skinny jeans are still in. No, I'm not that terribly narcissistic, but Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1152821767188510792006-07-13T13:10:00.000-07:002006-07-26T19:43:13.703-07:00“No, seriously, stop.”There is a boy in my History of Cinema class who stares at me. Or maybe just my hair. I’m not sure if he’s actually gay or not. One thing for sure is though, I have great hair.He sits diagonal to me and the thing that I like best about him is, if you look very quickly, he almost looks like a young Woody Allen. Its most endearing without being attractive in any way shape or form, which is odd Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1150667632592591832006-06-18T14:39:00.000-07:002006-06-18T15:14:26.100-07:00"The war is over Anne Frank, let it go."The night was still young when Sandeep called me, "It's Saturday night," he whines, and I feel the frustration in his voice. He hasn’t had a sip of alcohol in over four hours."It's between you and TiVoed Colbert tonight," I say, "Duke it out."He ignores me, "See you in fifteen."After some persuading ("It's late but, I guess I'll go.") Rachel decided to come with us to The Coffee Plantation: one Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1148959628988763482006-05-29T20:22:00.000-07:002006-05-29T20:27:09.006-07:00“The marshmallow to oat thing ratio is what I’m talking about.”I drove a ‘93 Nissan Maxima. Formerly. It was the size of Nebraska, weighed the same as Oprah at her heaviest (the second time) and was the absolute love of my life. It was definitely the longest relationship I’ve ever had and probably the most loving. Sure, Nebraska would break down a lot, was louder than that old guy yelling at the movie screen during X-Men III and, was a dead beat so I had to Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1146469763311414342006-05-01T00:41:00.000-07:002006-05-01T01:06:17.526-07:00“Maybe she should have brought her dogs with her.”America has been flailing. With each new Tom Cruise movie and every “candid” shot of Britney Spears’ supposedly retarded son, our country dies a little. It makes me yearn for the days of the Revolutionary War; the days when war really meant something. The days when we fought over here instead of “over there” and our biggest threat was just some crazy guy with bad teeth wearing a crown and Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1145425225778656632006-04-18T22:38:00.000-07:002006-04-19T01:02:13.670-07:00"I can't find my thunder!"What does sex have to do with a research presentation on Global Warming? Nothing, but that’s what I was thinking about in English as people gave their presentations. I blame the hot guy in the second row. He looks like Brad Pitt in Fight Club. No, really. Despite rumors, college is far worse than high school in terms of hormones. In high school, at least most girls pretended to hide their “Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1143695209565629752006-03-29T22:05:00.000-07:002006-03-30T16:02:48.116-07:00“It’s so gritty!”My very young science lab professor, who I have dubbed Pruf.Rock (Edited from G-man because nobody understood the mob reference. So sorry for being cultured), is what one might call really, really good looking. “Especially on the days he doesn’t shave,” swoons a classmate over lunch one day. As college girls, we fall victim to any boy over the age of twelve who showers regularly and doesn’t wear Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1142757484700482642006-03-19T01:33:00.000-07:002006-03-19T01:40:08.643-07:00"The weirdo guy with the photos? Crazy!"College has turned me into a cynical bitch. No, actually, college didn’t do that, but at least before I would suppress it a little. Now, I don’t care and I stopped shaving my legs. But I still shower, let me get that out there. Half the year has flown by and I’ve already changed my major three times, which will allow me an undergraduate experience just shy of eight years no doubt. For the moment,Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1141785695686385392006-03-07T19:39:00.000-07:002006-04-08T10:46:31.820-07:00"Are we dating?"My English class happens to be taught by Professor Marvel; a self-proclaimed psychic with a self-made addiction to food. “Stephanie,” he pinpointed me one day during a discussion I hadn’t been paying much attention to; instead I was busy writing limericks in my notebook, “Did you want to say something? I felt as though you did?” He takes a bite of his chocolate muffin, which sounds dirty on paperStefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1140062501014274182006-02-15T20:50:00.000-07:002006-03-28T17:07:24.530-07:00"Is he married?"I used to think the girl, W, who sat across from me in my late afternoon writing class was just another Jewess with genetic neurotic tendencies. I marked her off as harmless, and in an extreme lack of judgment, sweet. I told myself that she tapped her pencil because she was a frustrated writer! She always looked like a five year old dressed her because that’s just how she rolls! And ain’t it cuteStefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1138519264340836672006-01-29T00:20:00.000-07:002006-03-30T16:47:54.186-07:00"I'm spreading my eggs too thin."The girls in my humanities class -all 500 of them- were getting ready to fight for the kill. Anything with cleavage that actually shaved their legs that day was seen as a threat. The skirts felt vulnerable as they eyed each other; mentally challenging their opponents over the lone hot guy who “accidentally” signed up for a girly class and undoubtedly will “turn” gay by the end of the semester. “Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1136968317766328412006-01-11T01:28:00.000-07:002006-01-14T12:36:53.696-07:00"OK, but try not to."Being sick can take a lot out of you. I find its really a bothersome way to spend a week. I’m usually so good with the hand sanitizer, but apparently, one slipped past the goalie. I woke up a week ago freezing with a pounding headache, stuffy ears, and a kick in the throat. Realizing within moments that I was sick, I immediately reverted back into a five year old. I have a schedule down- up at 8Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1135483598544169692005-12-24T21:04:00.000-07:002005-12-24T21:06:38.556-07:00"Marry or merry?"It might be the 80 degree weather or maybe the fact that I’m Jewish, but I can’t believe Christmas time is upon us. I’m not usually in The Holiday Spirit anyway, but this year it seems next to impossible to get into the swing of things.It was easier when I was eight. Your teacher at school would start gearing you up for the holidays somewhere around September. Maybe the classroom would have some Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1134506378091807472005-12-13T13:22:00.000-07:002005-12-13T13:55:17.696-07:00“Would you like me to let go of your hand?”If I’m going to a friend’s house, I always bring something, and since I’m on this baking kick and they are all poor college students, none of them seem to mind.“YOU! YOU BROUGHT COOKIES!” Sky shouted into my face as she hugged me, “Aw Stefi! I missed you!” She was drunk, which wasn’t far off from the way she was the last time I saw her, but I missed her, too. She surprised me by being at an End Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1133777552830190152005-12-05T03:10:00.000-07:002005-12-13T12:12:14.696-07:00“If he puts them down, it’s 'cause he’s jealous.”Finding straight boys to date has never been my specialty. I'm prone to adoring boys who like boys or wish to be girls.It started early. Josh was the prettiest of all the second graders in my class, and probably also the cleanest. He loved Hanson and Cher and The Spice Girls, and Jewel and I adored him for it. He used to pick me for pop-corn reading and I would choose him for soccer. We'd talk Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1133248129900439882005-11-29T00:07:00.000-07:002005-11-29T22:48:43.873-07:00"It's like trimming the hedges."Phoenix is what I like to call a “Lesbian Town”. Not because we’re all wearing strap-ons, but because Phoenix is beyond boring if you’re under 21 and have intelligent friends. It’s not our fault we drink two beers and call ourselves drunk or go to Ihop at 2 AM for a good time; it’s just that, well, Ihop is the only thing open, and our friend works there, so everyone wins.Kato and I decided to Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1132122452779879582005-11-15T23:26:00.000-07:002005-11-16T00:13:43.040-07:00"Yeah, but then he'd be out-out."In college, though I’ve been here about three minutes, as far as I can tell, everyone’s life revolves around their facebook wall and sex. Most late night marathon discussions that originally began as a friendly chat about the monetary policy or how ugly your English professor is quickly turns into a gab fest about favorite positions or fetishes and finishes up with the agreement that everyone in Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1131143739134577502005-11-04T14:58:00.000-07:002006-03-03T00:06:09.226-07:00“I love that fucking word!”School was boring for me this week. It’s always dull. And I am always overtired. And I always look like death warmed over. That’s what I get for staying in-state. All the smart kids went out of state or at the very least, three hours away, but I get to run into the slut from my senior math class every day and pretend like I don’t know her or have ever seen her drunkenly flash her tits while nine Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1130556863600249272005-10-28T20:16:00.000-07:002005-10-30T22:42:32.343-07:00"You fell asleep?"I ran into a girl today whom I’d used to know pretty well. She graduated a year ahead of me and didn’t get into any college because she’d spent high school perfecting her blowjob technique. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I was on my way out of Barnes and Noble as she was coming in. I don’t know what she was doing there, because it’s a bookstore. But maybe she had to pick up an issue Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1129970481568984402005-10-22T01:39:00.000-07:002005-10-25T00:34:24.840-07:00“I know what an editorial is, thank you.”“By the time you get married,” someone ‘joked’ with me one afternoon, “I will be…” there was a pause, “DEAD.” he blurted the last word, unsure of whether or not it was funny. Hurt, I played it cool, I almost always do.“Oh, ha.” I laughed it off after a beat and changed the subject, but inside, I fear, they may be right.I’m kind of picky. OK, really picky. I like my boys neurotic and awkward. The Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1129602663757154602005-10-17T19:15:00.000-07:002005-10-17T19:34:05.663-07:00"It's the military training."I almost made it to English today. In fact, I parked my car, walked to class, then walked past my class and directly back to my car without stopping, resulting in one giant circle. From the time it took me to park what's left of my Maxima and slog over to class, I looked at my watch and had a completely irrational thought because it was so early (9:17 AM), "I bet coming in late every week is Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1129111111551762582005-10-12T02:30:00.000-07:002005-10-14T19:01:49.926-07:00"I don't use them."I know. I know. I know. I know. I know.I’ve been busy. College is a lot of work!Sorta.I’m calling the past couple of weeks my “vacation”.Hey, Conan can take off two months, why can’t I take off a few weeks?"Don't I deserve a break?"That was a shoutout to Mr. Bach. Sup?I’ve been around and about.Joined a club.Took a small road trip to see Kato (and roommate).Got a job.No, kidding of course.Hung Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1127535895786929702005-09-23T21:24:00.000-07:002005-09-24T00:39:06.276-07:00“Just stick to nicotine.”There was only one line open at Walgreen’s, and just my luck it was being manned by some kid I kinda knew back in high school who I would like to call “Jason” except I am almost positive that is not what’s on his birth certificate. I quickly evaluated just how badly I wanted my Raisinetes and make-up remover, and figured that, sadly, they were both necessities, and that if another smocked Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1126837836330166222005-09-15T19:27:00.000-07:002005-09-15T19:34:04.540-07:00“Excoose me while I ride my camel.”Without Goodman going to ASU, I feel out of the loop on where all the good* parties are. I’ve decided to make it my bidnaz to go up to the next un-showered male with a backwards hat and muscle shirt to ask how exactly do I get to Delta Kappafucksanygirlthatmoves Delta?I say this, but I usually just want to hang out with one or two people I already know nowadays.I thought I might have had an Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1125867573453055732005-09-04T13:58:00.000-07:002005-09-04T14:08:00.583-07:00“He just doesn’t know it yet.”I almost died last night. It’s not true what they say; that when you have a near death experience, your entire life flashes before your eyes. All I kept thinking was, now I’ll never meet Drew Barrymore.Old friends are in town. This is where I take the time to talk about people I haven’t seen in about a week like I haven’t seen them in years. They look older. College has changed us already. We’re Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1125177897362705902005-08-27T14:13:00.000-07:002005-08-29T18:45:48.700-07:00"Prettttay pretttay pretttay pretttay good."I was so lost, but then I found Jesus.Actually, his name was Justin, and he was riding a golf cart, but he looked a hell of a lot like Jesus.“Lost?” he asked me.“Very.” As if he couldn’t tell by the 80 maps I had in my hand, class schedule, and Starbucks. C’mon.“Lemme guess,” he squinted in the 9:06 AM sun. Six minutes late to my first class. “Theatre?”I wondered how awful I must have looked for Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1124680148366948692005-08-21T20:05:00.000-07:002005-08-21T20:09:08.373-07:00"You don't remember me, do you?"I never imagine I'd be going to college. High school I thought a lot about, then my first failed marriage, and ultimately, The Rest of My Life; but I always seemed to casually skip over college. Usually in my warped sense of reality I just magically mature into an author or famous actress/weather girl in a Prada suit being interviewed for primetime TV by Barbara Walters' preserved head."So just Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1124412039436364472005-08-18T17:40:00.000-07:002005-08-18T19:18:23.236-07:00“Is that fish in the fucking blender?”Last minute plans brought me to Jillian’s after hours Wednesday night. A much-needed outing after the weird and horrible day I’d been having. Dying of thirst, I wandered over to the bar, which I didn’t realize would serve me alcohol without checking my ID since it was 21 and over until it was too late and last call had been made. Bitch please, like I’d even risk it anyway.While waiting for the Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1124080988687167842005-08-14T21:42:00.000-07:002005-08-14T21:43:08.693-07:00“Secretly awesome.”Happy Sunday. With the school year fast approaching, the days have slowed and my mind can now distinguish what day of the week it is. Aren’t you proud?Life’s been a series of good-byes lately. Everything is just a reminder of how in six days most of the people I know will be across the country or three hours a way in either direction. It’s ridiculously depressing. Regardless, the farewell partiesStefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1123312882146994402005-08-06T00:19:00.000-07:002005-08-06T11:23:37.006-07:00“You’re no Jersey Girl! False advertising!”Sweet home, Arizona. It’s good to be back. I never thought I’d miss her, I really didn’t. I didn’t think I’d miss Dyke City or The Gay Denny’s or the fact that the only thing to do after eleven is hit a strip club or eat, but I did. I really, really did.There used to be this song that my choir teacher would make us sing back in grammar school called “I Love You, Arizona” and I fucking hated it. IStefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1122277350181552462005-07-25T00:41:00.000-07:002005-07-28T20:38:11.353-07:00"He looks like he likes men."I’m getting worried. Haley Joel Osment (of The Walker Texas Ranger “Walker told me I have AIDs” fame) is getting hot. Oh, don’t get me wrong, it’s in a weird way. But c’mon, isn’t he a little too old to be carried? Only Dakota Fanning (who can kick your ass) can get away with that. And that’s only because according to Tom, it’s “in her contract” that she has to be carried. Yeah. Whatever. That’s Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1121913250116577762005-07-20T19:32:00.000-07:002005-07-20T19:34:10.123-07:00“I can deal with the fact that he doesn't have a chin.”I woke up a little after nine this morning, because I heard the ringing of our doorbell. I have a feeling I have a past life where I once lived during the Holocaust or something. A time when Jews would be awoken in the middle of the night by David Hasselhoff and carted like cattle to tall towers where they turned straw into gold; because for no reason at all, every time the door bell rings or Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1121654759490755852005-07-17T18:13:00.000-07:002005-07-17T19:45:59.496-07:00“See ya, Ol’ Droopy Drawers!”Grandmar is coming over tonight, much to my (and my mother’s) chagrin. She was starting trouble earlier today when she brought up my maternal grandmother (the classy one) to my mother and then proceeded to badmouth her, perhaps because she forgot to whom she was talking to. It wouldn’t surprise me if that actually did happen, she keeps calling me by my sister’s name, Danielle, and when I correct Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1121553922863701572005-07-16T15:44:00.000-07:002005-07-17T02:32:36.970-07:00“Oh my God! I love your bracelet!”Grandma is in town, most commonly referred to as “Grandmar” or “Gdawg”. Because I can.She’s not all bad, if you ignore how she walks around in heavy cotton wool blend sweaters, sweatshirts, and long pants during the summers, repeats herself constantly, and carries Cheeze whiz around in her bag at all times.“Anyone want some?” she asked, pulling the can out of her giant purse a summer ago when sheStefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1121217758356800992005-07-12T18:22:00.000-07:002005-07-12T18:22:38.363-07:00"She was caked out."I was asked to take my sister to the orthodontist today. She’s years behind me in the way of a gorgeous Hilary Duff influenced smile. She beat me in the boob department though, so I suppose we’re both winners in our own way. Getting a tightening isn’t as bad as feeling completely awkward and gross next to the beautiful Brazilian orthodontist assistants as they shove their gloved index fingers Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1120441123851753662005-07-03T18:26:00.000-07:002005-07-03T19:17:39.306-07:00"Are you here all night?"ShopGirlLA: If I see one more picture of "Kate" Holmes and Tom Cruise wearing matching sunglasses and teeth I'm gonna scream.easyasawaitress: Fuck both of themeasyasawaitress: Tom Cruise ruined his credibility and Katie Holmes looks like she has down syndrome.ShopGirlLA: I would because surely, that would get me into HollywoodShopGirlLA: that's enough credibilityeasyasawaitress: Case settled, letStefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1119781840390029272005-06-26T03:30:00.000-07:002005-06-26T03:53:26.886-07:00“Patty Duke was a little bitch!”I had the strangest dream last night. I was watching television while babysitting for some kid and it was this made for TV movie and Carson Wheet was in it. I tried calling my mom to tell her, why, I don’t know, but I was upset when I couldn’t get a hold of her. “I know that guy,” I tried to tell the kid I was babysitting.“He has weird hair,” they replied.“He must have made this movie before he Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1119478456850559182005-06-22T15:13:00.000-07:002005-06-22T15:30:01.843-07:00"My question to you is; could you smoke your own urine?”I went to lunch with my friend Skylar today who I admire very much because she sticks to her guns. She doesn't take crap from anyone. And, mentally, she's about twenty-nine (I didn't have a fun saying for that one). As I put it to her over fundidos or, whatever it is that she ordered at the Mexican restaurant, “You were emotionally out of high school by the age of nine.” She makes me feel like Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1118956363521685002005-06-16T14:11:00.000-07:002005-06-16T15:15:33.130-07:00“You look like you’re going to cry.”I carry a lot of stuff with me at all times and even I’m not so sure why. And it’s always all over the place. I like to make everywhere I am home.Last summer I had this messenger bag that I took everywhere and I think at least once a day I’d say something to the effect of, “Where’s my iPod?” or “Where are my keys?”.“Wait guys, I can’t find my glasses.”My male friend would sigh and as he threw hisStefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1118791240627219792005-06-14T16:20:00.000-07:002005-06-14T19:44:04.043-07:00“You would be a reporter. Wait, are you serious?”With help from H. S. Thompson T. S. HouseHere I was, at home succumbing to the fact that it was gonna be another boring night on the internet talking about how bored I was. I didn’t believe that this “spontaneity” Ashley so desperately craved was gonna turn into anything fabulous, but I brought some pop tarts just in case (cherry, it was appropriate).We drove around this lesbian town looking at Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1118395994203852382005-06-10T02:32:00.000-07:002005-06-10T02:39:59.270-07:00“Are you coming or going?”I love Phoenix, I do. Great town. Yay. Go Suns, what a season, am I right or am I right? But why isn’t there anything to do in this lesbian town? After eleven, we may as well live in Capeside, MA or some other equally boring WB town (not Sunnydale) because there’s nothing to do here.The other night was a prime example. It’s 10:59 PM and suddenly the lights of Desert Ridge (which, I hate anyway) Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1117656069669879162005-06-01T12:59:00.000-07:002005-06-06T15:23:16.216-07:00“But, it’s summer!”You’ve been looking forward to it all year, and now it’s here:The Third Annual Stefi Awards hosted by Stephanie Sparer.I’ll skip the song, dance, and monologue and get straight to the awards (we’re pressed for time).Best Rumor About Me That Wasn’t TrueThat I’m Canadian.Best Rumor About Me That Was TrueTeachers thought I was trying to spite them on announcements and complained about me. ScandalousStefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1117355934722850282005-05-29T01:37:00.000-07:002005-06-05T21:58:35.886-07:00“No, nevermind, that would require moving.”I was sitting in my car at four thirty in the morning Friday, half asleep listening to Elton John and trying to figure out how in the world I was going to get home that it hit me; since I didn't get drunk tonight, there's no way I am gonna get laid.And then I was like, "Whoa, I graduated."I still can't grasp the concept yet. Slowly it is setting in. Something tells me if I stop showing up at Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1116894195015211422005-05-23T17:22:00.000-07:002005-05-23T18:34:54.883-07:00“I think I look cute!”“It’s always you guys with all the teen angst who cry the most,” Holden told me as I sat teary eyed in her classroom after school Friday while taking the English final; the last one of my high school career, the one I was late for this morning because I overslept. Again.I would have argued with her because I don’t consider my warped and cynical sense of humor as angst, but I thought I’d said Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1116397576804615832005-05-17T23:22:00.000-07:002005-05-17T23:26:16.810-07:00“I take it back. You’re not less cynical.”With three days to go, I have officially stopped caring about school. Ever since I learned that I didn’t need my math class to graduate, life’s been pretty damn easy. I literally went into my third hour teacher today and said, look, I don’t need this class to graduate, so while everyone sits around pretending to do the study packet, I’m going to be productive and flirt with Mrs. Murphy- Tick's Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1116001458219242882005-05-13T09:22:00.000-07:002005-05-14T13:10:18.103-07:00“You seem less cynical… to me at least.”Why I Won’t Miss North Canyon Reason four hundred and ninety two.The Security. By now, everyone knows I like to make an entrance, so I’m always fashionably late to everything. Yesterday however, I was three minutes shy of garnering a parking space in the popular (former) Senior Lot. It was seven thirty on a Thursday and there wasn’t a single space. It was ridiculous. Even that one space in the Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1115939418367688572005-05-12T16:09:00.000-07:002005-05-12T16:23:51.006-07:00“No, I can tell by the way he walks.”I went to the store again last night (12:30 AMish) by myself in hopes of some guy attacking me in the parking lot so I’d have to beat him down with my Dooney and Burke. My hair would be flying in that sexy, helpless way as I pulled all of my best Buffy moves on him (or her, I’m not picky at this particular point in time) and I expertly darted their counter punches. Only when I returned home (safeStefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1115664573269402702005-05-09T11:47:00.000-07:002005-05-11T01:46:26.200-07:00“Use it as a ruler!”I took the SATs again this Saturday (I wanted to take it with the new writing portion because I’m a word whore like that) at Scottsdale Christian Academy. For years I had gone to school at the temple across the street and had been jealous of all the little girls in their little school uniforms jumping out of their mother’s SUVs without kissing them goodbye before trotting off to first hour Bible Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1115354229617952992005-05-05T21:35:00.000-07:002005-05-06T08:07:19.466-07:00"What's wrong with Jonathan Taylor Thomas?"I’m eighteen now. I kind of feel like it too, if only because I’m not wearing braces anymore AND I can go out on my own. Score.Other than that, I feel pretty much the same. I’ve been a bit lightheaded lately due to some medication I’m on, so school’s been hell. I don’t know how stoners do it. I’ve had to really pay attention to everything lately so that I can make sense of it. I haven’t had a Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1114153940583310242005-04-22T00:02:00.000-07:002005-04-23T00:27:15.366-07:00"Just pick one."My mom gave me a list of stuff to get at the store, and I’m never one to turn down late-night shopping (Plus I needed anti-bacterial hand wipes anyway, I was fresh out) so I happily oblige.I’m in line at the only open register, behind this woman with about a million different groceries, ready to check out, and out of the corner of my eye I see some guy in his early twenties step into queue. I Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1113637240669510132005-04-16T00:38:00.000-07:002005-04-16T00:45:34.920-07:00“If you can get some phlegm up, I’d be really impressed.”Here’s how I sum up the play.The script is good.The cast is not.Granted there are exceptions; Preston, Nadine, Jake, and of course, Emily do a great job as the principle cast. Rocky, Sasha, and Tara as friends; perfect. Melissa and Tanya; right up there.It’s fucking everyone else who decided they didn’t have to come to rehearsals, listen to me, or have energy. What the hell. It’s so sad. It’s Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1113275208042715242005-04-11T20:05:00.000-07:002005-04-12T08:00:52.423-07:00"I hope you had a good weekend…I know I did."I had a math test this past week that I completely forgot about.Ok. That's a lie. I did know, but I wanted to pretend I had some excuse as to why I am going to fail it miserably."I don't want to waste paper," said the kid to the side of me, whom I've known since I was twelve, the day of the test as he hands his paper back to Milburn. I used to have a crush on him back in middle school when he wasStefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1112781824750804542005-04-06T03:03:00.000-07:002005-04-12T01:25:32.986-07:00“Nadine doesn’t have cable.”I’m up and I shouldn’t be. 3 AM bedtimes are a bad habit for me.This entry won’t make much sense since I entered Loopy Land around 11PM this evening. However, I didn’t want to lose touch with *cue Britney/Mariah moment* fans out there and also, I didn’t want to stop getting hits. I’m letting everyone know that I’m totally still spry, totally still available, and completely willing to put out if Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1111716628928565782005-03-24T19:10:00.000-07:002005-03-25T01:35:33.540-07:00“Don’t. You're asian, they'll never believe you anyway.”So, I’m at Bri’s work getting my green tea. It seems to be a normal day, save for the extreme wind that’s been happening and the cold, which, frankly, I’m enjoying, and the fact that Bri’s [crazy] boss was with his daughter today.I’m bored and except for a boy who didn’t know that he was gay yet, the place is empty so I decided to talk to the five year old who earlier had told me she liked my Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1111079351669943362005-03-17T10:08:00.000-07:002005-03-17T14:48:14.566-07:00“I’m just a better person now.”I’ve never been great at getting my ass up [on time or at all] and getting to school so I wasn't suprised when I woke up at seven this morning. I was not programmed to get up any earlier. I’m always late or I’m never there. It’s that simple. It’s something I’ve always had trouble with.I remember in sixth grade running out to my classroom from my mother’s car and throwing the door open during the Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1110783276917568902005-03-13T23:54:00.000-07:002005-03-14T00:12:36.736-07:00“You guys are like children! I can’t take you anywhere!”The weather is changing, Spring Break is near, and damn, I should have done more work this weekend.But I didn’t.I’m too lethargic to work. The warmer weather makes me want to just lie down with a good book or sit outside at a café with my friends speaking of our younger years and what we can expect in the future. Sometimes it’s scary to think I’ve known a few of my friends since we were six.Bri Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1109663561897531062005-03-01T00:51:00.000-07:002005-03-01T01:35:21.050-07:00“[Jesus] was a person of questionable background.”My cousin, he’ll remain nameless, was the, well, I’ll just be frank here, fuck up of the family. He didn't mean to be, he just was. Consequently, he enlisted into the army, and perhaps, in some sort of irony, was also the first out of many cousins (take however many cousins you have and multiply that by 40 and then will have the same amount I have) to participate in a wedding ceremony. And his Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1109220688561833472005-02-23T21:46:00.000-07:002005-02-23T21:53:36.103-07:00"And that gives me my goodies for the day."All right, so I had some free time on my hands this morning when I didn’t go to math class (really, what’s the point?) and I started thinking about the extreme lack of good looking male specimens at my school. I mean, sure, there are about oh, five (four of which are gay, one is just an asshole) and then one really handsome girl, but, other than that… there isn’t much going on at my high school. Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1108980337257573322005-02-21T03:04:00.000-07:002005-02-21T03:11:21.840-07:00“That’s why this marriage doesn’t work.”Where ya been? Why you been holdin’ out on me? I’ve been busy, now give mama some sugah, she hasn’t seen you in a while.School has been incredibly busy lately. I haven’t slept well since probably the last time I blogged (by well I mean more than four hours) and it seems like each week is worse than the last one. I love Mr. Bush, but the work he keeps throwing at me is keeping me from even Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702678.post-1107930550642817852005-02-08T23:23:00.000-07:002005-02-08T23:29:10.643-07:00"He was wearing a white shirt in mine."Yeah, this'll be butchered in the paper, so enjoy it now, bitches.
Did you notice something this year at the Super Bowl half time show? Perhaps you noticed a lack of vulgarity, breasts, dancing, and hot guys? Did you notice it was family friendly; something virtually impossible unless you are watching PBS and even that’s risky nowadays.
Obviously, FOX was trying to fix CBS’s blunder last year Stefihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00598080695370040647noreply@blogger.com3