tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18021298960921869002024-03-12T20:44:02.466-07:00butthurt.com (working title)a written account of our stay in state college, pashanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05984085548783373278noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1802129896092186900.post-92103538229177684372016-01-10T19:05:00.000-08:002016-01-10T19:05:33.404-08:00<br />
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<a aria-label="Lauren Bala" class="profileLink" data-hover="tooltip" href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=9383370" id="js_58" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; display: block;"><img class="profilePhoto" src="https://fbcdn-profile-a.akamaihd.net/hprofile-ak-prn2/s32x32/275264_9383370_994987067_q.jpg" style="border: 0px; display: block; height: 32px; width: 32px;" /></a></div>
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<span class="timestamp">3:18am</span></div>
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<a class="_553k" href="http://jesusthejew.diaryland.com/050413_6.html" rel="nofollow" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; padding: 1px 0px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://jesusthejew.diaryland.com/050413_6.html</a></div>
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convos with connie is so good</div>
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i showed it to my mom</div>
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Feeling a real lack of creativity lately. It's really hard to follow up a blog post as good as http://ourstayinstatecollege.blogspot.com/2013/02/conversations-with-connie.html Conversations With Connie.</div>
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shanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05984085548783373278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1802129896092186900.post-57618310179059997812013-05-05T12:54:00.000-07:002013-05-05T12:54:47.615-07:00NRG drinX<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.ripitenergy.com/site/images/stories/16ozcans/citrusxsf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="http://www.ripitenergy.com/site/images/stories/16ozcans/citrusxsf.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">REAL energy for REAL people!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
I want to know. I want to know right now, so bad, but how the heck am I gonna know all about how jacked off I'm gonna be by drinking this drink?<br />
I want a clear cut, digestible (pun) system of advertising in the form of analogies to a car (French: l'automobile) to let <b>me</b> (the lay man) know all about my body.<br />
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How many freakin' horse power am I drinking <i>right now? </i>I want to taste the gears, or carburetors or something. And it better taste like ASS or I ain't payin'.<br />
I have a right to feel great inside my body (human: untethered pod) every day until the day I die, so, duh (pun), guys, just put the info on the can.<br />
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<a href="http://st1.health.india.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/old-man-diet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="170" src="http://st1.health.india.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/old-man-diet.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"There's not enough horse power in this!"</span></div>
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-Old human</div>
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<a href="http://www.healthwatchcenter.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/chest-pain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.healthwatchcenter.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/chest-pain.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"This tastes like ASS! Just the way I like it"</span></div>
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-Old human</div>
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Let's face it, folks, we're all <b>REAL PEOPLE</b> here, right? Heh, heh...Jesus, just take my money already.<br />
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-PaulAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12808382814692772821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1802129896092186900.post-90582098309697349032013-05-05T11:01:00.003-07:002013-05-05T11:01:51.544-07:00Lords of Johnstown<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Friendly, Safe and Clean"</span></div>
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-Johnstown City</div>
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What began as a brief stint in the infamous Flood City mutated and clawed its way into two Earth years of my actual (not second) life. The death grip of the Laurel Highlands brought me closer to my own mortality than would the breathtaking view atop the world's steepest vehicular inclined plane (source: <a href="http://www.inclinedplane.org/">http://www.inclinedplane.org/</a>) Note the new hours.<br />
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While the hike up the inclined plane to the top of Mount...something (citation needed) appears to be that existential getaway you've always been looking for, don't count on the backdrop of failed industry to turn off its shitty engine for the trip: plumes of diesel exhaust, wailing sirens, and welfare fraud nip at your heels all the way to the top. During mating season, you'll literally be tripping over halfway house guys and gals having unprotected sex in the woods.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"I take two urine screens a month, girl. I swear I'm clean"</span></div>
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-Halfway house resident</div>
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Great, you made it to the top. Turn to page 53 to jump to your certain demise, or page 86 to collect unemployment.</div>
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No, you're too indecisive to take the manly way out, so fork over the two bucks and ride back downtown. Note the new hours.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"[something unintelligible]"</span></div>
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-Johnstown resident</div>
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At first glance, downtown Johnstown gives the impression of being a chief manufacturer of Hoveround(tm) Scooters who also forgot to export any.</div>
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<a href="http://knifefight.typepad.com/.a/6a00d8341d2f6553ef01156f8b6a40970b-320wi" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://knifefight.typepad.com/.a/6a00d8341d2f6553ef01156f8b6a40970b-320wi" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"...bunch of Stephen Hawkings rolling around here"</span></div>
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-Anonymous</div>
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Here are some quick city fun facts:</div>
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<ol>
<li>Population: 20,978</li>
<li>Welfare recipients: 20,512</li>
<li>Erections per street corner: 1.4</li>
<li>Median weight (in pounds): 290</li>
<li>College degrees: 7</li>
<li>Bus fare: $1.50 ($.30 transfer)</li>
<li>Murders: Yes</li>
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The real class acts are the elite fighting force, the upper echelon, I dubbed the "Lords of Johnstown". These select few "bosses" suffer from ailments ranging from chronic bus-riding syndrome to ashtray miner complex to untreated schizophrenia. When you make that wrong turn down the alley to encounter a man in bulging sweat pants trying to make a collect call on an upside down cellphone without a battery, it's best to avoid eye contact. The real source of these subterraneans has never been investigated and reported on...<i>.by anyone who lived to tell the tale.</i><br />
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Even the local lechers, thieves, scumbags and freaks keep to themselves and hurriedly engage in conversation about the unpredictability of the weather in the presence of the "L.o.J."</div>
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<i>Did they arrive in the Flood? Where do they live? Are they even alive?</i></div>
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Truthfully, nobody will ever know the answers to these questions. All we can do is patiently wait for the next flood to wipe our memories clean. Because we are corrupted; we are decaying; we are Johnstown.</div>
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Johnstown City, Pennsylvania</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"Fuck whatcha heard"</i></span></div>
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-Mayor Tom Trigona</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12808382814692772821noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1802129896092186900.post-88503678494937885052013-03-08T10:31:00.000-08:002013-03-08T10:31:11.399-08:00It's a sad vacation, oh what can I say?Hey guys, it's me, Lauren, reporting from Bushwick, New York, where I've been spending some quality time with my dear friends Jack and Shuja. Both of these comrades are in the midst of a depressive episode, so it's been an emotional roller-coaster. I can't, however, blame them for their current mental states because something about this place is relatively soul-sucking. I blame the locals, and by locals I mean twenty-somethings that have their parents pay for them to pretend they're poor in really nice apartments. Here is a list of hipster-cliches I've spotted since my arrival:<br />
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-I went to a charming little coffee place, "Little Skips," to enjoy a chai tea with Jack. Since we were both in lounge-wear, we were greeted with looks of distaste. I noticed one young man at the bar taking brief pauses from his reading of a Bukowski book to scoff at Jack's velour leisure pants (which he claims to have been wearing for four weeks straight).<br />
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-At the same coffee shop, there was a girl doing diligent liberal arts homework on an Apple (tm) laptop, and she was wearing THREE SCARVES at one time.<br />
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-There is a garage here that, from the outside, you would assume served to maintain and/or build motorcycles. I learned, though, that what this garage offers is repairs on fixed gear bikes.<br />
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- I awoke to blizzard-like conditions and on a brief stroll with Shuja, those I saw braving the weather all actually had rain-slickers and galoshes. Cool ones, of course.<br />
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-A wall-art collage.<br />
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-A girl who looked and dressed just like this:<br />
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-On a completely unrelated note, the neighbors who are semi-constantly in the midst of a very intense, and very audible verbal disagreement were having one such episode yesterday that ended in the dude being like "I'm outta here. I got my cell phone, my phone charger, and my tarot cards. I never want to see you again." He never left though.<br />
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In conclusion, Brooklyn makes Chronic Town seem like a biker-bar in the southern tip of Texas.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02106652677166620647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1802129896092186900.post-74534565582470678692013-03-03T19:20:00.002-08:002013-03-03T19:22:15.470-08:00<br />
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<a aria-label="Shana Greger" class="profileLink" data-hover="tooltip" href="http://www.facebook.com/monobrows" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; float: left; position: relative; text-decoration: none;"><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /><img class="profilePhoto" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-ash3/23236_1482360028_1712122893_q.jpg" style="border: 0px; display: block; height: 32px; width: 32px;" /></a><br />
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ahh word im watching buffy</div>
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omg</div>
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i want</div>
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the movie or the series?</div>
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series</div>
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cannot hate</div>
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i got into angel for a bit</div>
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i was a lame 9th grader</div>
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yeah angel is ok</div>
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have you watched supernatural?</div>
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shanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05984085548783373278noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1802129896092186900.post-5533738899161183812013-02-12T19:47:00.000-08:002013-02-12T19:47:30.053-08:00 NEW BLOG<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEins6T03S0fn-XnKdFNMQulwzspxTdDPtFM3fB-T-LvQKHbmuiQTX7ThoBdtPlyBrDuLCBCYoOmkMo8Ppj0x1N3VCXyP5HwfE29SQD-R91OwPd0h8vXoM3e87thANI-8XMzDqEU_brEtwI/s1600/tomwillis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEins6T03S0fn-XnKdFNMQulwzspxTdDPtFM3fB-T-LvQKHbmuiQTX7ThoBdtPlyBrDuLCBCYoOmkMo8Ppj0x1N3VCXyP5HwfE29SQD-R91OwPd0h8vXoM3e87thANI-8XMzDqEU_brEtwI/s400/tomwillis.jpg" width="261" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />"This shit is garbage."</span></div>
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<i>- Tom Willis</i></div>
<br />UH OH. Tom got mad because 'Conversations With Connie' hit too close to home. Or maybe it was that he was not involved. In any case, we lost control of our blog because Tom hacked into it. He blocked me on Facebook for the second (third?) time shortly after that. I did some damage control. Now we don't have to worry about arbitrary parentheses, or any sorts of posts like <a href="http://stayinginstatecollege.blogspot.com/2010/10/new-writer.html">these</a>.<br /><div>
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Elizabeth and I gave our blog a breath of life since it was last updated August 31, 2011. In turn, we gained plenty of positive feedback, including roughly 20 Facebook 'likes' and 300+ pageviews. We had no other choice but to start a new blog. </div>
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Welcome readers, and always remember:</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"There is nothing wrong with being glib and white"</span></div>
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<i>- Emily Crossen</i></div>
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shanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05984085548783373278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1802129896092186900.post-80354146978264327402013-02-12T17:27:00.002-08:002016-01-10T19:07:37.841-08:00Conversations With Connie<div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGGepD_DaYmFCui7XvinS4GkIFZy8_qLqpsZ3GwSNKGN2hq5DmYqS7XJVXuNRrXMstBi1IsGbu9mKy40_ODzfCF6xq1v8unr3klS5AE-lU6duFCytqKMqsnsSlAe8QFWtlaNleRgavoO5Q/s1600/inbigtrouble.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGGepD_DaYmFCui7XvinS4GkIFZy8_qLqpsZ3GwSNKGN2hq5DmYqS7XJVXuNRrXMstBi1IsGbu9mKy40_ODzfCF6xq1v8unr3klS5AE-lU6duFCytqKMqsnsSlAe8QFWtlaNleRgavoO5Q/s400/inbigtrouble.jpg" width="307" /></a></div>
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Last night Paige, Carly, and Shana hosted a party and received a noise violation. But really it just looks like the cop gave up, especially when spelling Shana's last name correctly the first time, crossing it out and misspelling it.</div>
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<span style="text-align: right;">This was not the first shocking event that involved magnetic poetry.</span></div>
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One party guest was worried that a bearded stranger would pull a gun out, so these chilling lines seemed very fitting:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi63D4MedXwttkJfPI4sdFg0Zcx9tJEvItkP4fv4NSNGC3yuB9AORNxEcVDM-I0v0B_XVV0tt05kpstaP7BbsjBGy2F1qeEndB5P-Rgg3KjrQN0xyk9er6p8Hoit1XCMTJgQ3WeHXPv0AI/s1600/columbinefridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi63D4MedXwttkJfPI4sdFg0Zcx9tJEvItkP4fv4NSNGC3yuB9AORNxEcVDM-I0v0B_XVV0tt05kpstaP7BbsjBGy2F1qeEndB5P-Rgg3KjrQN0xyk9er6p8Hoit1XCMTJgQ3WeHXPv0AI/s320/columbinefridge.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>Añdrēw Bársöm</b><span id=".reactRoot[150].[1][2][1]{comment10200528143474395_3067798}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][1]"> </span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id=".reactRoot[150].[1][2][1]{comment10200528143474395_3067798}.0.[1].0.[1].0.[0].[0][2]">columbine fridge poetry, nice</span></div>
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~*~</div>
<ul>The next morning called for Waffle Shop. Elizabeth was driving, and she failed to turn right (**promptly after coming to a complete stop) at a red light. Shana and Elizabeth started bickering, and the idea was brought about that they were similar to the Lockhorns.</ul>
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<a href="http://fif.s3.amazonaws.com/uploads/image/mediafile/1274131535-4d9e5602f19b7dcb9ccbec6a4f7daae1/x400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://fif.s3.amazonaws.com/uploads/image/mediafile/1274131535-4d9e5602f19b7dcb9ccbec6a4f7daae1/x400.jpg" height="221" width="320" /></a></div>
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<ul>As we pulled into the parking lot, we almost died by a frantic Waffle-Shopper in a mini-SUV. </ul>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Waffles do things to people" </span></blockquote>
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<i>- Unknown</i><br />
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<ul>We then realized it was Sunday. And it was the Waffle Shop. Naturally there was a line out the door. Many were seen looking bored and hungry. Shana was still drunk.<br /><span style="font-size: large; text-align: center;"><br /></span></ul>
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: center;"> "OMG, is there a car in line?"</span></blockquote>
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<i> - Shana</i></div>
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Denny's was decided upon after discussing the horrifying possibility of seeing your family photos displayed in Cracker Barrel. Also, Cracker Barrel sucks. But so does Denny's. Now we know this for a fact.</div>
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We waited for what seemed like hours on the padded seats in the front foyer. While sitting, we noticed and admired a heart-shaped Popeye plush pillow in the claw machine. Plans were made to attempt to extract said pillow from the machine. Men sporting khakis and fancy boat shoes were crowding the area, but the most confusing part was the sole female in the group dressed in the traditional Penn State female student garb (referred to as the "<a href="http://onwardstate.com/2011/10/07/onward-debates-open-season-on-snugg-season/">SNUGG</a>"). </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Yacht club?"</span> </blockquote>
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<i>- Shana</i></blockquote>
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Finally we were seated. The waitress (Connie) gave us menus in a huff, and after a short wait she came back to take our drink orders.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Coffee and water, please"</span></blockquote>
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<i>- Everyone </i></div>
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Everything was going fine until Shana decided she wanted her cream "on the side", thus commencing the trying experience of being Served By Connie. (Shana as our unspoken spokesperson, unfortunately got the brunt of her wrath and scorn.)</div>
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The notion that Shana would need to specify was laughable to Connie. She regarded the request with marked dismay.<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px;"> </span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Well, yeah"</span><br />
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<i>- Connie</i></div>
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Soon-ish after, she returned heaving a overly laden tray of coffee and miniature pitchers of cream for all. She remarked grouchily that she couldn't fit all of the beverages on one tray and would have to make two trips. This is where things really started to get interesting. She demanded we "participate" by passing cups of coffee and the mini-pitchers down the table. It was clear she took us for hooligans lacking a basic understanding of the physical limitations of human arms, and an unreasonable expectation that they should stretch several extra feet. On her huffy second trip, we got to go through the overly coached (by Coach Connie herself) "participation" activity again. Lucky us! </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"I feel like this is a team building exercise"</span></div>
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<i>- Paige</i></div>
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Before she left the table to be nicer to other customers, Elizabeth requested a spoon to stir her coffee (assuming our own put-upon Connie might just take some initiative and bring six). That was Elizabeth's first mistake.</div>
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Elizabeth: <i>Could I get a spoon, please?</i></div>
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Connie: <i>Uhhmmmmm. I'll see what I can do...</i></div>
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We waited for Connie to pull some strings. Shana struggled a bit with her mini-pitcher and after spilling cream asked our Connie if she could bring some napkins and silverware. "They're rolling them now. We ran out. I'll bring some out with your meal."<br />
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<i>Inner monologue: "YOU'RE SERIOUSLY ASKING ME FOR SHIT RIGHT NOW. YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE FOOD. FUCK YOU." </i></div>
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Everyone was struck by the bizarre notion that silverware and napkins can't be given to customers separately and without being rolled. Connie was confused.<br />
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<i> Inner monologue: "You'll get it when it's ready." </i><br />
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As if we were asking her to serve us dangerously undercooked meat. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"I don't want a dog that's smarter than me"</span><br />
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<i>- Overheard at nearby table</i></div>
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Then came the food, which in itself wasn't bad (though in retrospect it didn't <b>feel</b> good), but brought with it a slew of new offenses. Shana's skillet was carelessly (though possibly maliciously (let's give her the benefit of the doubt this time)) tossed into her open hand, nearly falling, and potentially burning Shana and Carly (though it now seems that it may not have been heated to an appropriate temperature, and may not have burned anyone).<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><u>DEUX: Preparing for Hurricane Connie II (Coffee Refills)</u></span></div>
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As the meal progressed, our mugs grew emptier and emptier. We soon realized that something had to be done to help our poor persecuted Connie. Arranging our mugs at the end of the table in an effort to alleviate our server's plight, Elizabeth spearheaded the plan to circumvent her strife. When she finally came back, we asked for coffee refills and she asked us to pass our mugs down. Hm. Did she really not see them? Was it because she was so engrossed in her thoughts of being misunderstood by this table of sloppy, stupid youths (it should be noted that Connie can't be over twenty-five years old). After being shown the mugs right in front of her, she huffed away and returned with a fresh pot of coffee. "I don't know whose is whose, so you'll have to figure that out," said Connie with her ever present air of impatience. Little did she know we had prepared for that understandably confusing eventuality, and when told, she seemed taken aback. </div>
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Quick aside: we just looked up the name Connie, and discovered that it's short for Constance, which, if a persons name has any bearing on their character, might account for her steadfast crabbiness.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQIfcMMoAJKWDCKdIO2n53wyElOVFS60wYswL6uV7Vsw3938FOCm8IKzOKtDw7MpDe0u8-cHlLApkYUlI9VnjXQoG0XxIqx8IAIsBAFr35E2dIJBf1ntaf5MWRUoXIZq8Fn1LMhoP3oEg/s1600/crabby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQIfcMMoAJKWDCKdIO2n53wyElOVFS60wYswL6uV7Vsw3938FOCm8IKzOKtDw7MpDe0u8-cHlLApkYUlI9VnjXQoG0XxIqx8IAIsBAFr35E2dIJBf1ntaf5MWRUoXIZq8Fn1LMhoP3oEg/s320/crabby.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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We got our coffee and coasted through the rest of our dining experience, with the exception of being forced to get up and search for a $25 Applebee's giftcard that the patron before us had left. There was no Applebee's giftcard, and even if there was, we all agreed we would have taken it. Everything else was pleasant and uneventful until Paige noted that Elizabeth's last piece of bacon looked like a man in a canoe. Upon further inspection, we realized that he had a clear profile and very prominent lips.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXcJhantudJFAInqY4UXysov7GjeJ2lZctkXEcRNzhd7AFY60tO3e6PU5u34BCRUfH6dFcYcPtgNmve8AEXYYa9GMSnpoaHMs22eCCX9875lbc87r0l_4gx4MiyJZd1dXjzXnO5HBAcIiD/s1600/mouthbreather.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXcJhantudJFAInqY4UXysov7GjeJ2lZctkXEcRNzhd7AFY60tO3e6PU5u34BCRUfH6dFcYcPtgNmve8AEXYYa9GMSnpoaHMs22eCCX9875lbc87r0l_4gx4MiyJZd1dXjzXnO5HBAcIiD/s400/mouthbreather.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Definitely a mouth breather."</span></div>
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<i>-Shana</i></div>
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It was the first plate she cleared, and our own little piece of heaven went with her.</div>
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It should be made clear that it wasn't really even anything that she said that was that bad, it was the way she said it. Definite 'tude. Maybe her behavior is just a culmination of years of being dumped on at Denny's.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"These people clearly don't understand me"</span></div>
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<i>- Something Connie would say<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />~*~</i></div>
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<a class="_b9" data-hovercard-instant="1" href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7941489603212990663" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: default;"><abbr class="_35 timestamp" data-utime="0" style="border-bottom-style: none; color: #bfbfbf; display: inline-block; vertical-align: middle;" title="Today">6:05pm</abbr></a><br />
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<strong class="_36" style="display: block; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1; margin: 1px 0px 4px;">Jon</strong><br />
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you think jeff will want the warmingtons to play CT after last night?</div>
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he was lovin that shit</div>
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<abbr class="_35 timestamp" data-utime="0" style="border-bottom-style: none; color: #bfbfbf; cursor: default; display: inline-block; vertical-align: middle;" title="Today">6:09pm</abbr><br />
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<strong class="_36" style="display: block; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1; margin: 1px 0px 4px;"><strong class="_36" style="display: block; line-height: 1; margin: 1px 0px 4px;">Shana</strong></strong><br />
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"jon spearly is killin it downstairs"</div>
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<strong class="_36" style="display: block; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1; margin: 1px 0px 4px;">Jon</strong><br />
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was that when we were playing or when [NAME HAS BEEN REMOVED] was stapling my body to the wall with her butt cheeks?</div>
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shanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05984085548783373278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1802129896092186900.post-85584363534978081792011-08-31T17:30:00.000-07:002013-02-12T17:31:27.520-08:00"singer/songwriters are like a drug that i need to ween myself off of" - keith smerbeckshanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05984085548783373278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1802129896092186900.post-12984074060999665112010-11-10T17:35:00.000-08:002013-02-12T17:35:51.951-08:00Last Co-op Party: A ReviewThe Last Co-op Party: A Review
Well, since I'm in State College, I obviously had nothing better to do this weekend besides attend another "super creatively themed" get-together at the Co-op. I arrived at about 11:00 pm, with Nate Oakes and Sarah Fay. Here's how it went:
HIGHLIGHTS:
Will Subler was there, sporting a slick new haircut. Later, Will met an elvish girl who probably went to Delta and got her phone number. Though she had already made out with two other men before Will caught her attention, she seemed pretty charmed by him and also met the difficult height requirement for Will's love interests of "has to be shorter than Will." I have high hopes for this one, folks, I'll keep you posted as things progress!
Carlo Sica wasn't there.
Corey did not d.j.
At 3:00 am, it turned back into 2:00 am, so in a way I only wasted three hours of my night, instead of four.
LOWLIGHTS:
I had to pay three dollars to get into a BYOB party. Although it was obvious by the evidence of a strong scent that stuffing was somewhere in the house, nobody was sharing. Elitist vegan bastards. (What do you stuff it into if you're anti-meat?!) I guess I paid three dollars to make that Justin kid feel better about himself by locking people out of his bedroom who had no interest in going in in the first place. Money well spent IMO! LOL!
I really had to pee, but the pantry/bathroom had a hefty waiting list, so I exited out the side door to utilize the restroom in the other building. This lead to two unfortunate occurances:
I ran into a glass door, severely damaging the bridge of my already-unsightly Polish nose. Four days after the fact, it is still black and blue. Gross!
After I managed to open aforementioned transparent door, I was greeted, or rather denied by an androgynous, overweight person in a typical co-op resident condescending way, informing me that "there are no party-ers in this house,and no, I could not use the bathroom!" I'm going to say this person was a girl just for the sake of being able to use the gender-specific description of "huge bitch" to convey "her" attitude towards me. I suppose I can understand not wanting to be bothered by drunks at my place of resident, but I also keep these feelings in mind when choosing NOT to live in cooperative housing known for frequent parties. It's these wise decisions that I believe have contributed to me not becoming an overweight androgynous bitch.
I'd like to say I've learned my lesson and won't go to another one of these overpriced, glorified "stopping to chat with alterna-teens at Websters who won't give you booze" type events, but I mean, I'll probably be at the next one. Sigh.
- Lauren Bala (formally known as orcplow)shanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05984085548783373278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1802129896092186900.post-64703142697953484272010-10-19T17:47:00.000-07:002013-02-12T17:47:47.377-08:00No Day But Today We went to Altoona, Pennsylvania last week to go thrifting (much like shopping but for clothes that people have already worn!). The place we went is called "Salvation Army" which is much like a GoodWill, except with three more syllables. I woke up at the crack of dawn (11AM) slightly hung over from all the whippets I did the previous night at a co-workers birthday party, sporting the same yoga pants along with an over-sized sweatshirt that had been given to me the night before by a so-called friend (I will call him "Ronald" for the sake of anonymity), perfect attire for a rainy day in Altoona. Or so I thought. (I say this because later on the way back to State College I find that there is a large undefinable scum crusted on the inside hood of Ronald's seemingly innocent sweatshirt. I thank the heavens above for buying another over-sized shirt at Salvation Army and put it on, cursing Ronald and vowing never to associate with him again!)
Walking up the stairs, I notice an empty Sugar-free Redbull perched on the coffee table in my townhostel. I pick it up and find that it's empty.. I begin crushing the can with my bare paws, enraged that someone dared to drink my LAST redbull of the 24-pack (THAT WAS 22 DOLLARS AT GIANT). I look to the left of the table and find my pack of Marlboro's. I rush to smoke a cigarette -- finally a vice that can alleviate the whippets. My last cigarette. My only cigarette. I open the crushed pack to find *someone* has smoked it. They have sabotaged me. I contemplate breaking windows and throwing pillows, but I know that nothing good will come of it. Instead I make an executive decision to hold my frustrations until I can get attention from Tom and Elizabeth, who are waiting outside for me.
I greet the groggy couple and slouch in the backseat, all the while sighing incredibly loudly and shaking my head back and forth, waiting for them to ask me what's wrong. Only they never do. Tom starts playing Big Willy Style on the CD player, Elizabeth is consumed by road rage. I am alone, and the Will Smith record is so loud that no one could even hear me if I tried to complain. When the music finally ceased, I begin to unveil my plight of the redbull and cigarettes, how *someone* is trying to take the only things that matter from me. Elizabeth suggests that we go to the store to collect my items... and I grudgenly agree... I just wanted MY redbull.. Tom tells me I have to buy him coffee because I allegedly promised, so I called him a prince. He got really upset. Insults were thrown. Elizabeth and I called Tom "Bitch" and "Dick" seemingly simultaneously. We all want to get breakfast so we stop at the only place we trust, Sheetz. Before entering the establishment I suggest a group hug. We hug it out. Elizabeth starts shaking uncontrollably and is very embarrassed to be hugging in front of such a fine eatery such as Sheetz, so we enter and get food. Tom forgets to buy coffee. I get three drinks. Elizabeth is speedy as ever with the MTO machine. We get our breakfasts and leave for Altoona.. only to find out there is American cheese on Tom's sandwich. I felt really sorry for the guy. Despite our Sheetz experience being less than kind, things were so much brighter then.
On the road again. We passed a hitchhiker who nodded uncontrollably. Fleetwood Mac was playing so that was cool, only I couldn't hear anything Elizabeth and Tom were saying. Not like they were talking to me anyway. The car ride didn't take very long though, and we were soon in Altoona. This is a good thing because Elizabeth had a car appointment at 4pm back in State College, and it was now 2:00. Elizabeth admits she has no idea where Salvation Army even is, and assumed it would be right there waiting for us after we got off I-99. I try to use my Droid to look it up, but end up just confusing everyone! The gas light comes on. A local Altoonean is getting arrested in a blue van. We find the donation center and I boldly ask the rugged man smoking a cigarette outside for directions. He tells us brief and not very thorough directions, and I literally cannot understand him at all, except when he says that he's originally from Pittsburgh (they call it Picksburgh here). So we go towards Sam's club like we think he said, and find out that Altoona is actually home to the headquarters of Sheetz which is why there's roughtly 450 in the area. During this stressful time, Tom sees his "salvation" at Petco, and suggests instead of going shopping for clothes we purchase toys for Miep. Tensions were high. Saw signs that read "Tumor Killing" and "Intentional Colding". Altoona is frightening. Finally, we find Salvation Army. And it really was our sweet salvation.shanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05984085548783373278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1802129896092186900.post-30867247986470171462010-10-12T17:45:00.000-07:002013-02-12T17:48:09.997-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilBuOHMmIq7C7b8WiAFDPQwHS3S03UHMDwH8UN8uZH97XnAcyrtMpeZQZMJi7gKSCDs5rXN3qnTppMlwUGMqh8hD_wWJrUnDYN5egGrFGiDdjIpy462rEJYl0zj2x6lNC5Or0I_OxKPZbr/s1600/willssister.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532597906684616578" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilBuOHMmIq7C7b8WiAFDPQwHS3S03UHMDwH8UN8uZH97XnAcyrtMpeZQZMJi7gKSCDs5rXN3qnTppMlwUGMqh8hD_wWJrUnDYN5egGrFGiDdjIpy462rEJYl0zj2x6lNC5Or0I_OxKPZbr/s320/willssister.png" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 180px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
Learned that Will Subler's sister frequents Chronic Town. More updates soon <3 SHANA!shanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05984085548783373278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1802129896092186900.post-38000217829700123712010-09-21T17:49:00.000-07:002013-02-12T17:49:44.988-08:00Fell In Love With The Girl At The Rock ShowToday I woke up with that not-so-fresh feeling -- I was awakened by the realization that time keeps progressing. The clock keeps ticking. I was warned this would happened. Like sand through the hour glass. So are the days of our lives.
You are reading this blog and thinking, what's a psych major like me doing in a place like this? Well I'm thinking about getting a bowel of cereal. I just spent liek so long in bed just reflecting upon my life, it's ups and downs, what I want to eat next. While contemplating a bowl of Cheerios (they sometimes call them "TOASTED OATS" here... This is funny to me because I always thought Cheerios were FRIED BREAD (fried?fired?) I imagined reading the dictionary. I thought of the harsh struggel through the pages, the letters ornamented in Times new Ramen font, it is just so foreign to me. Like my mind is in a foreign place.. Anyway. Sometimes when I try and look at the box I imagine what it would be like to eat whats inside. Right now In my hostel I am eating them. Tasting what they have to offer. So that the memory will not evaporate into the thin air.
I talked to one of my American neighbors who feeds the local street cats (they call them "strays"). she recommended an exotic locale called "Orchard Park", just down the street from our townhostel. Even though its called a "PARK" it's still like a "GARDEN" but not in someones backyard, FOR EVERYONE! I enjoyed tossing a quiet frisbee in the comfart of the afternoon sun with my friends Elizabeth Damien Tom and Mike! of course even though he's my boyfriend he's still my friend.. with benefits! (they call it a "relationship" here!). As dusk arrived, the sun drifted into the horizon like a still dragon and we were left to unravel the gift the sun gave us: night (sometimes called "evening")!shanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05984085548783373278noreply@blogger.com0