the facts are these

For my writer friends: 50 Iconic Writers Who Were Repeatedly Rejected.

visited 24 states (48%)
Create your own visited map of The United States

It appears I have done my best to avoid all the flat states. That's not exactly intentional.

This past week the ladies at the Hairpin emptied out their purses for the world to see, and since I love that shit and the last time I did it was in 2008 (love how I always need bandaids), I figured I was due. I considered throwing my dice bag in there to get some cred but it felt disingenuous, seeing as I haven't played since our DM moved away.

Here we go, clockwise starting with the wallet!



1. Fossil/Relic wallet, full of discount cards for Borders and ABC Liquor and I think five bucks.


2. A measuring tape, which, you have no idea how useful this is sometimes. No idea. I was planning to empty this out and use it as a pill case, but it doesn't close properly. The mints were disgusting so I ended up dumping them out. I'm still hopeful.


3. Dinosaur print makeup bag containing a tampon, Clinique black honey lipstick, chapstick, a ponytail holder, two nail files (?!) and white citrus perfume.


4. Sad utilitarian keys. I no longer have a key fob because I lost my keys somewhere across America when I was roadtripping this summer and didn't realize it until I was home. They could be anywhere from Los Angeles to Pensacola, and I have no fucking idea where. That was a problem when I tried to get back in my own car, let me tell you.


5. Lucky Brand purse (that I may have stolen from my mom).


6. Moleskine planner, Staedler pens. The hipster standard. I'm more likely to be organized if I have pretty shit that I feel guilty about not using. And my six year old ipod which still works like a champ and has every embarrassing song I've ever downloaded since I was 16.


7. Freefloating "Yes to Carrots" lip balm and lotion. Excellent shit, and you feel all responsible and organic.


8. Pocketknife and unholy rats nest of a jump drive on a string and old handsfree for a phone I haven't had since October that I discovered when I opened the zip pocket on the inside of my purse. Bonus: busted silica packet!


9. Iphone with Jonathan Adler case and naked lady matches from a tapas restaurant with one burnt match put back in the box.


10. Bandaids, which are a necessity if you're me, honey-scented solid perfume (I change my perfume according to season, okay) and my ACTUAL pill case.

Having an iphone has enabled me to pick a direction and start driving. So that's what I did today, finding myself burdened with a few free hours. I had no plan and no idea where I wanted to go. I actually thought I might head south, or maybe find a beach. But as I pulled to the light at the entrance of my apartment complex, I put my left turn signal on to head back to this house someone I used to know once lived in.

@kitalita:
Reception is murder bad here. http://twitpic.com/38muf8

I'm not even kidding. Everything about that back-ass-wards area screams murder. Driving out there you have this fucking seven foot deep ditch directly next to the road. MURDER DITCH. I would have a photo for you but YOU CAN'T PULL OVER, THERE'S A MURDER DITCH THERE. And fuck if I'm gonna crane over with my camera and blindly click, even if the road is entirely fucking deserted. The reception out there? I'm pretty sure that tweet went through only when I got back on a well-maintained road about a half an hour later. And in case you all wondered about my sanity during this trip, I was either stopped or at a red light for every single one of these tweets. I'm adventurous, not suicidal.




I saw the sun set over the St John's river in the middle of nowhere.

@kitalita:
Somewhere between the east coast and sanford

@kitalita: First red light in 20 min

@kitalita: Never been more annoyed to see a taco bell http://twitpic.com/38n7ks

At this point I'd been driving around the country (and I mean COUUUNNTRY, as in a plywood sign with "RABBITS" and a phone number spray painted on it leaning against a telephone pole) for about an hour. I only saw two traffic lights in that entire time. And despite the fact that the soundtrack for this adventure was Girl Talk's new album, it only felt hipstery during the brief time that Karen O song from Where the Wild Things Are kicked in.

The arrival of the Taco Bell heralded the return to the massive fucking urban sprawl of the city, and the disappearance of anything photogenic. Although it took about another hour to make my way home, it became less an adventure of sightseeing and more a migratory dance party involving only the upper body. I did take ONE more detour to find the new location for Rocky's Replay.



The hot dogs are no longer only fifty cents but that loss has been made up for by way more floor space and the acquisition of new games, INCLUDING the Star Wars arcade game. So now when I hang out there I can impress people with more than my ability to fail spectacularly at Dance Dance Revolution.

This was a successful adventure, I think. An excellent way to spend the afternoon.



xposted to my blogspot

An update: Wild Fingerchew spotted sleeping on his bag outside HPA waiting for an opportunity to sit in front of someone in evolutionary bio and devour his own hand.

Today I have three things I need to do.

I need to review my French vocabulary for the oral midterm at 1:30.

I need to do my lab work before 2:30.

I need to do my French homework online before midnight.

If I had time, I might go home to get some of my Star Wars figures for my French project due on Friday.

So, think. Think, my Disney princesses. What is the key factor in all of this? What essential yet silent component could destroy this to-do list and keep me running around frantically? Who do I rely on time and time again to pull me through my busy days, or even a day like today, which really isn't that busy at all?

Oh, yeah, you know what it is. It's my netbook. My lovely faithful netbook. My lovely faithful netbook who has taken ill and will not boot.

Because all those things up there? They require a computer. Because my French textbook? Oh, it's an ebook. And my homework? It's online. And the lab work? It's a research assignment. On the internet.

This is not unprecedented. I called my dad to inform him that I would be coming home with my netbook to see if we can get its shit together and he told me that the other day he had one thing to do: mow the lawn. But then the mower blade hits something, and he looks at the mower and realizes that one of the bolts is gone, and another bolt had NEVER BEEN THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE, and the casing was cracked, and the engine was no longer being held INSIDE the motor by anything, and there went the entire day, just fixing the mower.

So it's not like my entire day is down the toilet. There are tons of computer labs around campus. And I'm used to it. I need to hit the ground running every week.

I JUST HOPE MY POOR BABY IS OKAY. I HOPE MY GIF FOLDER IS OKAY.

Going to the pub to celebrate my updo.



My camera was misbehaving in the second photo. I had no idea I was making that face until I uploaded the photo to my computer.