i recently found out that my alma mater is undergoing a terrible tragedy. the town is trying to ban outdoor drinking games, and all paraphernalia associated with them. it breaks my heart to think that i can never go back to see a makeshift plywood table in someone's front lawn, covered in red solo cups, beer dripping from all sides, and a crew of merry students-laughing and tossing the ping pong ball around. it's an outrage. for the full article, click here.

"If passed, the ordinance would go into effect 30 days after it is approved. It would forbid all residents of Oxford from participating in alcoholic games outside the home and require that all materials used be transferred inside the resident's house.

It lists beer pong, flip cup and chugging contests as examples of games that would be prohibited. Violators would be charged $100, $250 and $500 for the first, second and third offenses respectively. Subsequent offenses continue with a $500 fine. Because the ordinance prohibits alcohol games played in public view, house porches would be included as part of the outside vicinity.

Tables, plywood boards and other devices used for games involving alcohol placed outside of a house and in view of a public street or sidewalk are also explicitly banned."

This has absolutely made my day. many may have already learned of this wonderful product, but i have had my first exposure today. "effen vodka," imported from holland, is apparently named after the dutch word for "smooth." i like to think someone just got really drunk, and said to their friend, "give me the effen vodka." thus the name was born.

the name itself is funny, but their billboards are funnier. props to their crazy ad folks.

i hope they start advertising in my magazine. it would make for great hilarity and endless joke possibility every day.

shame shame, i know your name.

ever have one of those days where you wake up and realize that you were a complete ass the day before? and i can't even blame this one on booze. it was like i was taken over by someone else for a day, and i have no idea why. that someone was a nasty, miserable, bored-with-life person, with no desire to be nice to people or even hold the elevator for someone running right towards the door. oh, you know you're in a bad mood when you do that. and when you hear that person say, "what an ass," you know you totally deserved it.

so then you get up to work, and someone has already drank the whole pot of coffee, and didn't bother to make more for anyone else. nice. so in retort, you make just enough for yourself, and leave the pot empty. that'll show 'em.

you mozy on to your desk, to find someone has left a pile of papers and notes on your chair. don't they see your INBOX right on your desk? i mean, it might as well have a sign above it that says "put mail here," but no, they insist on leaving a heap of crap right where you want to plant your ass.

you log in to your computer, which takes long enough to finish your entire cup of coffee, and finally receive the bombardment of emails. 1/3 spam, 1/3 work you don't want to deal with, and 1/3 emails from friends. obviously, those come first. after responding to weekend plans and party details, you delete the spam and let the work emails sit for a few hours, while you check your personal email for more interesting stuff.

then, a co-worker walks up to your desk. and they need your help. damn, if you JUST would have been in the bathroom. now you're stuck stuffing envelopes and helping answer phones for four hours, when you could have been viewing priceless laughs on youtube. by this point,

the alter-ego has completely set in.

you sit, disgruntled as hell, stewing on how much you hate your job, and why you should quit and find another job. you even get on monster to look at a few. then the thought of revising your resume and interviewing makes you nauseous, so you go back to bitching about your current job.

after a short lunch at subway, and more fucking envelopes, you finally have a minute to get to your real work. but it's friday afternoon, and you can't get any work done anyways...so you decide to shop online for a while instead. always a better decision.

by now, it's 4:45, and you obviously can't start any work. that's just insane. so you bullshit via email and chat with co-workers (the ones who DIDN'T drink all the coffee) until 5. then you head home.

thus is the day that makes me a raging lunatic, and happens approximately 3 out of 5 days a week.

the joys of 9-5. why did i ever want to do this.

click here to join the fun:

so today i have decided to take up the fine art of jewelry making. with my luck, it will turn out just like my decision to be a painter in the eighth grade...which resulted in a box of paints and supplies packed up in my parents basement to this day. i purchased earring hooks, headpins and needle-nose pliers (duh) as well as some assorted beads. i will attack this feat tonight, and hopefully have pictures tomorrow.

in other news: the cardinals play game 1 of the nlcs tonight. go cards.

today i've been thinking: do self-help books really work? i mean, in order to help yourself, you have to be in a mindset of knowing that your self needs help...which isn't the case in most people that actually need help. people who actually need self-help books are the crazies that run amuck making other people nuts, then force them to get self-help books, but the reality is that the latter person of this instance doesn't even need help. they just need the former person in the instance to go away. for instance, when i was in high school i dated this really big d-bag. he was a total creep, and treated me like a bag of poop. once i realized that i was in a crap relationship, i dumped him, and was screwed up for years. i dated a slew of new d-bags, didn't understand what was wrong with me, had no self-confidence, blah, blah. well, what had actually happened was that his mere presence had caused me to believe that i was in need of help. i joined a support group type thing (just some other girls with problems) and after telling my story three dozen times to many many people, i had an epiphany. I was not the crazy, he was. so all of that time that i spent trying to "fix" myself was worthless, because i didn't need the fixing, he did. and i'm sure he didn't go to a support group or spend time trying to get better and not be a d-bag, because he didn't even know he was a d-bag.

the moral of the story is: let the crazies worry about fixing themselves, you're the normal one.