It’s Always Cloudy In Chicago
Like Laguna Beach on crack…Archive for a day in the life
Back to school (for those of us who like torture.)
While Audrey is enjoying the world of big kid status, your little Lily has headed back to school. A semester full of cheery bullshit should ensue… I’m taking some abnormally ridiculous classes, including (but not limited to) Jewish-American Literature, Box Office Practicum and (drumroll, please…) Math for Teachers.
The biggest pile of bullshit there is. This is because I can’t do math to save my life.
Literally.
Unless it’s percentages (I have been waiting tables a long time, and shopping for even longer), I’m fucked. And, they’re making me tutor little kids. It’s a hilarious joke that will end up in the demise of these children’s mathmatics careers. I hope to god they give me right-brained kids. You know the ones: reading big books that should be beyond their comprehension (I got made fun of for reading Lolita… at 8.), usually they’re a little too skinny, and they are really quiet… until they get on a topic they like, then you can’t shut them up.
That was so me as a pre-adolescent. I was a bucket of annoying. And those kids have little to no hope when it comes to math anyways, so there’s really not much for me to fuck up. I can just go with the flow that is a shitty understanding of math… and all will, once again, be good with the world.
So, say your prayers for me (and, especially for the little ones), kids. Your little Lily is back, destroying lives one math equation at a time.
I’ll keep you updated.
So, here’s what I miss.
It’s hard to know you’re going through life, and losing people along the way. Nothing serious… most times, you just drift apart. There’s no screaming, no arguments… no closure. Because, after a moment, you realize that you do miss them.
And you can’t seem to shake the feeling that something’s wrong. Of course, I also miss the ability to eat a meal without obsessing about calories. I miss not having to take a handful of pills every day so that I can convince people that I’m doing okay.
I miss carefree.
I miss happy.
But, in all reality, who am I kidding? I can’t remember the last day that I didn’t feel the way I do now. It’s not so much depressed (and certainly not mania) as it is… numbness.
Listen: I’m in this new apartment.
I’m content. There’s something about paying your own rent, buying your own groceries, drinking your own wine, and watching your own television through your own cable and surfing your own internet on your own computer that just… well, it’s lonely as hell, but I feel really stable.
Soon, I’ll be out of Chicago. I’ve got six more months, and then I’m free.
I just keep trying to remind myself of that, over and over again.
And, I know… everyone hasn’t left me.
I know.
Audrey Quits Playing Games With Your Heart
I hate to say it kids, but “good” Audrey is done.
I am so sick of boys right now with their back-back-forth-and-forth-ness. It’s pretty ridiculous. Goggles especially–he’s totally not goodlooking enough to play this game. First, he’s all about me. Then he’s not about me. But, oh wait, he’s all about it bout it when his friend, who from this day forth shall be known as, Wolverine, or any other random guy is all over my nuts.
That’s how he was on Halloween. That is why he kissed me. That is why he texts me every five seconds when he knows that I am with Wolverine or if he is the vicinity.
Is he trying to prove something? He knows that I like him–nay, liked him, but I’m so over his psuedo-Jedi mind tricks. Why is it so difficult for him to show me that he likes me or blow me off if he doesn’t? I am not in love with him so I would not care. I have the bounce back rate of a 2-year-old. Just flash something shiny in my direction and I will be distracted. I am not going to cry about it. There are so many other guys that will wait, oh, less than THREE MONTHS to kiss me. In fact, there are guys who will try to make out after 8 seconds of knowing me!
Also, there are guys who won’t lie about hanging out with his brother just to go have a guys’ night. Yeah, that is what Goggles did. He invited me to watch Da Bears’ game the other day and then uninvited me because his brother was coming over. Then Mark texted me to tell me to come to watch the game at Goggle’s house unbeknownst to him that I was uninvited since his brother was there. What? Who does that?
We all know that I really really really liked Goggles. There is no denying that. I stopped smoking around him. I stopped going to straight bars. I stopped randomly making out with random people. I turned down sex many a time. I did all of this because I thought somehow this would prove to him how much I liked him when I really did not have to prove anything to him at all.
So I am done pretending to be this goody-two shoes for no apparent reason. He only likes me when he feels it is convenient for him. For the most part, that is when someone else is stepping on to “his” territory. And for the record, I am for no man to claim. Thank you very much.
I guess what I am trying to say is this: Audrey is back. None of this pretending to be nice nonsense. No more of this “I like Goggles soo much” bull crap! I am going back to my evil ways and you can’t stop me. I’m going to stop being boring now and go on all the random misadventures that make my life as carefree as possible. Holla! Jammin’ on the one.
Disclaimer: This is a drunken rant. If it doesn’t make sense, it is because I am slightly enibriated.
The Dynamic Duo Stuffs a Turkey
Happy Thanksgiving, kiddos.
It’s been a crazy little week and Lily and I have been slacking with the posts, I know. Last week, was super stressful with me killing the economy and all.
Last Friday, I needed to de-stress. I had one hell of a shopping spree with Ana. Later that night, I managed to dance the night away with Goggles (who is a really really bad dancer, but in the most adorable kind of way). Lily managed to do the one thing I told her not to do, which was drunkenly tell Goggles how I feel about him (Thanks, Lil). Then at some point, she managed to drunkenly flash us at Barleycorn. Ha, I know. What a skank, right? I thought that he would never speak to me again (since he told me that he never talks to girls who like him if he does not like them back), but it worked in my favor. I figure that he has to dig me a little bit since he is still talking to me and hanging out with me. So, you’re lucky this time, Lillian, but no more drunken professions of love when a) you’re inebriated and b) not involved in either party.
Saturday, I met up with the loves of my life, Karly and Alyssa, and we partied it up with Mark and company since he was throwing a party. Things got a little nutty (there was Jungle Juice and Jungle Juice and I are not the best of friends). I attacked a boxing machine and spent the night hanging out with Goggles friend. No, we didn’t do anything (even though that was my plan). I really like Goggles and I just didn’t think it was in my best interest if I want to pursue something special with him (I know. I’m gay).
And this whole passed week, I’ve just been coasting through. Saw Beowulf on Monday–I realized that I hated the epic and that there was no need for me to see the movie. I learned a few things though–Angelina Jolie can fuck whoever she wants and it will haunt a man forever; and if your arm rips off of your body, you’re screwed because you automatically die.
The rest of the week I was partying hard with old friends and closing down bars. I didn’t realize how much I missed everyone until I saw them all again. And although, the suburb bars do not compare to the one’s we have in the city, the patrons know how to throw down and have a shit ton of fun. I saw everyone from Preschool to Excess Baggage to kids that I went to grade school with and of course, Karly and Alyssa, so it was automatically an awesome time.
I will be reuniting with everyone again tomorrow for a last hoorah at a friend’s birthday bash/lingerie party tomorrow at Enclave (Googles will be there too I think… I was so happy that he conveniently made it out to the suburbs last night and that Mark convinced him to go to the same bar that the girls and I were at). I’m quite excited. I might dress a little skankier than usual for the occasion. This might even call for an emergency shopping trip.
But I guess , I just want to take this time and state everything that I’m thankful for, since it’s Thanksgiving and all. I figure the occassion calls for it.
- My Family. I’m so glad that my family is pretty attractive and that I didn’t end up ugly. I’m pretty glad that I’m cute because God knows that I’m not the brightest crayon in the box and that my looks have gotten me a lot of things. I’m kind of glad that they don’t expect me to be a rocket scientist and that they will always think of me as “the cute one”. No pressure there.
- The Crazy Bitches I Call Friends. I am partial to you guys because there’s only a select bunch that I truly truly enjoy. You’re always a guaranteed good time and I could talk to them about anything.
- My Cell Phone. It is truly an extension of my body. I don’t know what I would do with out it.
- M.A.C. Cosmetics. Because they make me look flawless (even though it really doesn’t take much).
- Andy Samberg. There should be no reason for why I’m thankful for him except that he is the most beautiful, funniest man in the universe.
- That Homeboy Broke Up With Me When He Did. Ugh. I would have been engaged by now, dudes! How crazy would that have been? No crazy stories. No random make out sessions. No slutting around town. No crazy list of bad ideas. No Goggles (he wouldn’t have even been a blip on my radar since when I am in a fully committed relationship–which I was–I have boy blinders on). My life would pretty much suck major!
- Skinny Jeans. They just make my legs look long and my ass look fierce!
- Justin Timberlake. Without his music, I would not be such a merry drunk.
- The Gays. They are just so fab. Without them we would not know what is cool and what is hot. We need them in our society. They make society work and the world a better place in general.
- The Almighty Credit Card. The emergency credit card has done wonders for my wardrobe. Without I wouldn’t be looking as fresh and clean as I usually do. Also, it has closed a few bar tabs in its day. I can’t help it if I live beyond my means. I’m cool like that. Hollar!
I think that is it. I was looking forward to not waking up early, but I’m thinking that I might have to just for the sake of having something to wear tomorrow night. Hope you guys are all fattened up. I have a feeling you all are going to purge tomorrow. Kidding! Not really, but for the sake of the kids, I never said I was a role model.
Lily Takes A Random Tangent And Runs With It
I woke up early this morning because my father texted me. That’s right, my father. My mother does it every once in a while too. I’m not too comfortable with this little bit of information. I mean, I thought parents didn’t know how to use technology. Now granted, it is just a testament to the fact that I’m a good teacher. I was the one who sat them down (separately, of course. They hate each other with a fiery passion.) and taught them how to use their phones, computers, dvd players, sound systems, etc.
And, let me tell you, I’m not even that good at it. So, when was it that our generation’s differentiation became a bridged gap? I was sitting in class, analyzing a poem (it’s what you do as an English major. I can’t imagine why anyone would choose a real degree ever.), and we started talking about a specific poem that was touching on how the previous generation always envies the newest generation. But, as was brought up in class, there is nothing to envy of our generation. We living in a technologically savvy world, but we are disconnected from everyone around us. We have all the comforts we could ask for (at least in this country) but we are riddled with mental disease and disorder in extreme quantities. How is it that the “Age of Information” has become the “Age of Depression”?
Now, of course, there are certain things that we have that our parents didn’t. Like, internet. And cell phones, digital cable, dvds, cds… anybody else notice a trend? They got free love, LSD, birth control, and a war they wanted to fight for. We got a bunch of gadgets that force us even further away from human contact. I don’t really see the logic there. I think, somewhere along the lines, we got fucked. And saying that, I know that the generation after me will probably be even more fucked than I am. They won’t know what it’s like to go play outside with their friends, because they’ll be too busy playing with their game systems and high-tech toys. I at least got the luxury of being able to run around as a child, using my imagination, stopping to smell the Lily of the Valley (no pun intended… I was just a very silly child. Lily of the Valley are my favorite flowers though. Heads up.) and having a grand ol’ time without a care in the world. With every kid on Ritalin, Adderall, Prozac, and more, it’s no wonder that kids just sit in their rooms all day, playing Halo on a PS3. They don’t know what else to do, since they’re pretty much high all the time.
Of course, I can’t talk. I’m on drugs too. But thats my choice. And I feel bad for these kids who wander around like zombies because their overbearing parents are unable to handle them without doping them up.
So, maybe that’s the problem with this and the next generation: bad parenting. And, I have a way to stop the cycle…
Sterilize. Everyone.
Hey, it could work.
Audrey is a Threat to the Economy
I realize that the economy is a necessary entity in the world that we live in—with all the importing and exporting and what not that we do; and the whole supply and demand nonsense. Without it, I would not be able to go shopping and forgo my career as a marketer…yadda, yadda, yadda. I get it. The economy is necessary.
However, I would like to argue why I do not think it should be a necessary part of my curriculum. The reasons being: it is stupid and I hate it. I literally want to set it ablaze (and yes, I have noticed that lately I do have pyromaniac tendencies) and kill it. I think the economy is horse shit simply because it makes my life more difficult.
Why do I need to know how to minimize marginal cost without reducing the output of production? You know what my answer would be on an exam? Hire more friggin’ immigrants or outsource your labor to a third world country. But unfortunately, that is not one of t he choices that I am given on a multiple choice test. Also, there is no mathematical proof… well, legitimate mathematical proof that people don’t frown upon (stupid hippies). I mean, I guess I can bs an algorithm (immigrants/third world country labor + higher rate of production + jacked up output prices = lower marginal cost + higher overall revenues), but I have a feeling I would a) displease my professor and b) be deemed as a “bad person”. To be honest, I have accepted the latter, however, I must avoid the former if I want to pass this stupid, stupid class.
Everything that is discussed in regards to the stupid economy is retarded. Personally, I do not think it pertains to anything relevant that I want to do. I just want to make pretty advertisements and launch bitchin’ campaigns; maybe cause a few eating disorders, control what is deemed as “cool”, and push people to believe that who they are is what they own. That isn’t so much to ask for. I know. I am simple like that.
I do not care how much it costs a company to produces what they want to me to market. I do not care what the consumer has to pay. My sole purpose in life is to make whatever product it is super duper sexy. I am just there to create a demand (at a pretty damn good price).
But yeah, I purpose that we stage a coup. Yes, you and I! Let’s kill the economy. Okay, maybe not the real economy because the world would totally go in the shitter, but on the smaller scale, economy related classes. I believe they call them economics. For I deem them unnecessary and irrelevant to my life. Not only are they dry and boring and full of numbers and algebra (yuck!), they put me in the most awful mood.
So blast you, economy. I demand that you supply your carcass for a good old fashion ass kicking. And, oh yes, I will see you in hell.
Lily Almost Dies… For Like The Hundredth Time
So, in the interest of frankness, I’ll get to the point: I’m super clumsy. I drop a lot of things, break things, accidentally trip and fall, and get caught in exceptionally awkward situations. This is one of the main reasons why Audrey and I get along. She’s klutzy, but I can make even her feel like a graceful little swan.
Case and Point: Last week, I was at work in Evanston, doing my thing. It’s a breakfast/brunch place, so we open early. And by early, I mean my ass has to wake up at four to get there by six. And you wonder why there are nights when I just don’t feel like going out. So, it’s about 6:45 and I’ve got two tables: a regular who comes in every day right as we open, and some guy I’d never seen before. We were super dead, and I was bored, so I figured that I’d get some of my sidework done and start cutting lemons.
I bet you can see where this is going.
Cut to about five minutes later, my hand in a sink, my finger cut down to the bone, and blood is literally pouring out of it as if that were a fun idea. My manager, who happens to be a great guy but also a little nervous, decides that it would be a good idea to call me an ambulance. Yes, kids, you heard that crazy Lily right. An ambulance. For a finger cut. Now granted, it was a very deep cut, and it wouldn’t stop bleeding, but I’m a big girl. I’ll buck up, stick some gauze on it, and go about my day. But no, kind manager says, I must go get stitches in the ER. So, in the interest of my job and his sanity, I decided to go. Also, the ambulance had arrived by this point, lights, sirens, and the whole fucking gang, and I just figured “What the hell? I’m here, they’re here, sounds like a party.” and hopped in. Okay, so I wasn’t as cheery as that. I was bleeding pretty bad, give me a break. But, off to the hospital I went, where I got four nice little stitches, and a Nurse Practitioner who understood my plight. He had gone to my college, and was waiting tables too… and having that kinship of the broke college student idea, he knew just what to do: he gave me a handful of about fifty bandaids and some antibacterial stuff… because he knew (correctly, I might add) that I didn’t have any of that at home.
Yes, even my little finger cuts become glamorous excursions. Imagine what an actual injury would involve.
I was home by nine am. Most of my friends weren’t even awake at this point. I, on the other hand, took a Xanax (What? I was emotionally exhausted.) and passed the fuck out.
Fast forward to today, my first day back since the “incident”. I was grand. It was a clumsy day, yes, but I was a new girl! Everything was great. Everything until I asked my manager to sharpen the knife again so I could cut some lemons and get my sidework done.
Now, I have three bandaged fingers.
Fuck.
Needless to say, I am now no longer to handle knives at work. It’s a rule. They wrote it and everything.
Moral of the Story: Lemons fucking suck. So do huge knives used to cut them. ‘Nuff said.
