Sunday, September 30, 2007

I stalk people

But you all already knew that. And if you didn't, well, this just became awkward.

Anyway. Because I'm lazy, I prefer to confine to my stalking to that which can done over the internet, i.e. IP tracing those of you reading. Yo.

A brief rundown--

Most frequent visitor: someone from I, of course, have NO IDEA who this is. *strokes chin in perplexed fashion, raises eyebrow*

Visiting blog at oddest hours of the morning: True, she has some help because of the time difference, but the random visits at 4am PST propelled her to first, it's She Who Wields The Awesome Hulk Hands of POWER!

Oddest random visitor: Someone whose IP was identified as "Department of Homeland Security." Please note that I would like to be placed in the "Disturbing, yet HARMLESS category." Thank you!

Second most disturbing keyword search: "Caffeinegirl livejournal." Dammit people, I told you NOT to go look at the LJ? What am I going to do with you? *shake head*

Most disturbing keyword search : "Teenage girl blow me"...RIGHT. MOVING ON.

Funniest revelation during stalking: has classified this as an "Adult website." Heh.

Most common ISP: Represent!

The reason I am writing this post, which is why it is very forced and much less funny than usual: I just realized that I'm still getting hits from in Connecticut. Now, any time I see that, I freak out for a second, because my PARENTS are in Connecticut, using optonline. Then usually I calm down and realize that someone I know is home in Darien, also using optonline. But.


I ran a trace, and the geographic area (thanks, shitty free utilities) is PROBABLY in Stamford. Unfortunately, my house is close enough to Stamford that I can't rule it out.

Therefore. I desperately need an answer to the following questions:

1. Has anyone been home / in Stamford lately?

2. Did anyone give the blog address to someone in Stamford / Darien?

3. Did anyone think about the blog while someone from Stamford could have been in the area and picked it up with their latent telepathic abilities?

4. Is there a random person around who I don't know?

5. KELLY! Could it be you? Please be you!

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF CHEESE EMAIL ME: if you know the answer!

And, if, horror of horrors, it is my parents: Hi! What's up? This is, of course, a complete work of fiction! Hahahaha...good one, right? Actually, this isn't even caffeinegirl writing this! It's The Awesome Roommate! I was bored, in Chicago, on my off-term! Caffeinegirl gave me her password. She's in the library, diligently studying!



Saturday, September 29, 2007

Sometimes the most efficient solution... not actually the best solution.

Case in point: I had three brownies that would not fit in the tupperware container.

So I ate them.


Thursday, September 27, 2007

Because that makes SENSE

Let's imagine you're a parent. A parent of the semi-psychotic-attempting-to-produce-super-kids variety, but a parent nonetheless. So, you're dealing with the crisis of your child attending one of two sub-par Ivy League schools. You obviously want her to go to the "better" (i.e. higher-ranked, damn-liberals-stigmata-free) college. You prepare a blindsiding onslaught of negatives about...let's call it Starts With A B University. To your surprise, in the middle of this harangue, your daughter falls off of her chair laughing. It seems that you have dissed Starts With A B for its "huge frat scene."

Your daughter, after picking herself off of the floor and wiping the tears from her eyes, asks you if you have ever seen Animal House. You say yes, because really, who hasn't?

Well, did you know that Animal House was written by Starts With A D alumni? she asks.

You can't really contradict her because she shows you three independent sources confirming this somewhat disturbing fact. You waffle, claim that surely the Greek life is more rambunctious at Starts With A B, reminding your daughter of that frat house you saw when you visited with all those beer cans on the lawn. SCANDALOUS! College students drinking? Well, I never!

Your daughter points out that you didn't happen to walk by a frat house while at Starts With A D. She also seems to be prepared with statistics showing that while 29% of students are members of a Greek house at Starts with a B, more than 50% are such members at Starts With A D. She also has numerous quotes from Starts with A D students along the lines of "it seems like everyone is in a house. It's the whole social scene."

You point out to your daughter that statistics can lie. (She will repeat this to you later when she learns that Starts With A D likes to report that about 50% of the TOTAL student body is in a house, but as first-years are not permitted to rush, about 67% of ELIGIBLE students are in a house.)

The argument goes on. Other points are raised, including your brilliant analysis that "anyone who wants her to go to Starts With A B is trying to 'bring her down' ". Your daughter briefly runs away from home. Eventually, reason prevails and she agrees to go to Starts With A D. After a brief attempt to sabotage some people who you suspect of "encouraging" your daughter to attend Starts With A B, you are content.

Fast forward. Your daughter LOVES Starts With A D. It's not as conservative as you thought, and now your daughter wants to go to medical school. This is vexing.

But even worse, now she wants to join a sorority. SORORITIES? All sororities are anti-intellectual and full of dumb blondes, especially at Ivy-League schools because, you know, stereotypically dumb sorority girls make up such a large percentage of the student body.

Round two of the argument begins. Your daughter brings up Round one, in which she allegedly TOLD you that this may happen. You categorically deny this and threaten many consequences if your daughter does indeed rush. Why didn't someone WARN you that there was such a significant Greek scene at Starts With A D????

Your daughter stabs herself in the eye with a pickle fork. You continue to wonder...why?

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Another story about pens

Sometimes, you schedule an interview. A long one, because the story that you're writing is very geeky and you need to interview someone who works for technical services.

Sometimes, that person is very accommodating, and sets aside an hour for you two to talk. And despite being rather nerdy and technical and awkward, he is actually interested and talking and gives you good information. Sometimes, he's even perfectly willing to be quoted. Sometimes, you're lucky.

But sometimes, at the beginning of this otherwise-unnaturally smooth meeting, you realize that you have no pencil. Or pen. So you dig frantically through the bottom of your bag and find an almost-dry green gel pen. And all of your notes are less ink and more SCRATCHED painfully into the paper.

Sometimes, after you thank the helpful person and get his business card, you leave. And when you're out of site, you destroy the pen and break it into one thousand splintered plastic shards and SLAM them into the garbage.

Sometimes, this is very satisfying.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Dear the Wonderfully Clueless People Who Design Clothes,

This is a teensy-eensy bit complicated, but I really think that if you FOCUS, you can figure it out. Ready? Ok!

It is entirely possible

That a woman.

May have a waist.

That is SMALLER than than her ass.

Got it? You could also say "It is entirely possible that a woman may have an ass that is LARGER than her waist" but I much prefer the first way, as it emphasizes SMALLER. Regardless of semantics, this is a FACT. Now, I realize that you people deal with lots of models, but could you take a quiiiiick break from the schmoozing and champagne and check out, say, an average woman who's Hispanic? African? Mediterranean? No? Hmmm....oh! Famous people! You deal with famous people, right? One word: BEYONCÉ . Good! Now see the part of her body that's narrower? Yes, with the ribbon tied around it. That's a WAIST. Very good.

Now, what if you were to custom-design a pair of jeans for her? There would have to be LESS FABRIC around her WAIST than around her ASS. Oh, DO NOT give me that look. It IS TOO physically possible.

Exhibit A:
The aforementioned Joe's Jeans! Woooooo!!

Note also my uB3r L33T picture taking skillz.

See how HAPPY this is? See how the jeans actually FIT the girl in the picture? See how, theoretically, she could bend down and the jeans might actually move WITH her, instead of SLIDING, resulting in massively annoying slippage and awkward hiking-the-jeans-back-up motions ?


Do you see? The space? The space that you could practically FIT ANOTHER PERSON INTO? The space that makes me want to SHOOT MYSELF, because these are awesomely amazing jeans and I almost look like a legit PERSON in them, except I can't MOVE, because if I do, they will SLIDE?

Wait! I've got it.

There, now they won't slide.

LOOK WHAT YOU HAVE REDUCED ME TO. I'm the psychotic-straining-muscles-attempting-to-take-pictures-of-her-(clothed, thank you very much)-ass-in-STUPID-JEANS-and-now-I-have-a-stuffed-animal-in-my-pants-
so-obviously-the-logical-thing-to-do-is-POST-THIS-ON-THE-INTERNET girl! I hate you all. Go choke on something expensive.

Yours truly,

Monday, September 17, 2007


Texas has very little space that is not paved over...but it has really awesome shopping!

The average Texas home/place of business cranks up the air conditioning until the liquid in your eyeballs freezes...but it's nice and warm if you survive to go outside.

The populace is EVER SO SLIGHTLY conservative...but they're polite about you would feel bad punching them out...but if you punched them out, it would be ok, because it's Texas.

"He needed killin'" will stand up in court...I am undecided if this is good or bad.

It's gigantic, so you have to drive everywhere...but everyone drives really fast. (To the point that it freaked ME out. Yes, this can happen.)

There is REALLY SERIOUSLY GOOD Mexican food...there is REALLY SERIOUSLY GOOD Mexican food.

Final conclusion: Texas is very large.

This is the kind of hard-hitting analysis that you came for, right?

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Monday, September 10, 2007


Over the Hedge is THE BEST MOVIE IN THE HISTORY OF MOVIES. Even if you've already seen it GO SEE IT. AGAIN. NOW.

While you're watching imagine me as the squirrel. See? See?

Everyone who is even remotely associated with Joe's Jeans deserves a Congressional Medal of Honor. FOR SERIOUS.

Thursday, September 06, 2007


It has come to my attention that lately, I have been guilty of Blogging Under the Influence.

Three posts ago: Caffeine (Yes, this is obviously expected, but I urge you to scroll down and reread to fully appreciate the depths of this particular instance of insanity.)
Two posts ago: cute penguin-ness
One Post ago: NEW IPODS, PEOPLE (ok, so it hasn't worn off yet)

So, is there some kind of Anonymous group I should join?

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Delirious hyperventilation

If you saw any Apple fanboys spontaneously combust today, this is why.

This has caused my brain to completely snap and I will now just be going on randomly for a bit.

Umbrellas. Pink tap-dancing rats. Nuclear powered cheese. WATERMELON FLAVORED ATTACK CHIHUAHUAS.

//Sometimes, when I am putting oranges in the saurkraut, I think...of my thoughts. And they make me laugh!

Monday, September 03, 2007

I may have mentioned that I am five years old

Went to Linens n Things today because hey! Labor Day! Sale!

I needed a new bath towel and one of those plastic holds-all-your-shower-stuff doodads.

I came out sans towel.

Sans doodad.

And plus one gigantic fluffy penguin.

His name is Pepper, and this is why I have no money.

Sunday, September 02, 2007

Losing my identity

So, confession time...caffeingirl kind of weaned herself off of caffeine. Scary, shame, whatev.


Today I had some espresso. By some of course, I mean a whole bunch of. Espresso, that is. Which was fun. Especially the part where I went to bed.

That was five hours ago and man am I TWEAKING. In a baaaaaaaaaad way. I can feel my skin. IT'S ALIVE.

Also, you know when you don't eat for three days and then have to go out to dinner with your ultra-conservative relatives and lose focus because you're trying not to punt the very frail eighty-five year old woman through the wall,

EVEN THOUGH she is quoting Rush Limbaugh and expecting you to take her seriously, and you're trying VERY HARD not to mention some really good counter-examples like seriously kickass professors who started off in the country as illegal immigrants and wound up tenured at Ivy League institutions, NO MA'AM of COURSE no one from those countries could possibly be successful and this conversation is bordering as daaaaangerously close to eugenics as this sentence is to a run-on,

SO because this distracts you, you kind of forget that you don't eat food, so you order and eat approximately seventy metric tons of shellfish which lands smack in the middle of your digestive system which is like Bitch, what the fuck, we don't deal with this anymore get this shit out of here, so you're all Oh blow me, YOU were the thing that wouldn't shut up yesterday, STOMACH, so when I actually put stuff in you DEAL WITH IT, and you attempt to have a pleasant conversation HA HA with people while not shooting yourself because the couple at the next table is dressed in reverse,

BUT your small intestine flatly refuses to GET ON WITH IT ALREADY and instead decides that you are going to spend the rest of your life burping AND it's going to taste like fish EIGHT HOURS LATER because there is no actual DIGESTION GOING ON HERE SERIOUSLY, because you are LOSING ARGUMENTS WITH YOUR INTERNAL ORGANS, which is just pathetic, and then you can't sleep because of the aforementioned espresso slash FISH IN YOUR STOMACH so you decide that that it would be a great idea to TELL THE INTERNET THAT YOU ARE BURPING AND IT TAKES LIKE FISH.

I think I may have kind of pushed the run-on there, because sweet blessed cheeseburgers, it was a run-on WITH PARAGRAPHS. Fear me.

But whatever, it's almost 4 in the morning, which is an excellent song, by the way, and there's no way in hell I'm sleeping and I've got a niiiiice head of steam built up, so let's just keep going with THINGS I HATE.

Next up: people and their DAMMED LACK OF EMAIL CHECKING. Seriously. How the HELL do you not check your email every day? I check my email EVERY FIVE MINUTES and go into anaphlactic SHOCK if I don't. It takes THIRTY SECONDS and the world might end if you don't. Email. Do it.

Annnnnd related only by the resulting level of my rage: VINEYARD FUCKING VINES. The pants can either be Nantucket red, WHICH IS ACTUALLY PINK, FOR YOUR INFORMATION, oooooor they can have whales all over them BUT NOT BOTH. YOU PEOPLE LOOK RIDICULOUS! Aren't you supposed to be the elite upper-class who run the country? How can you run the country when you have LARGE MARINE ANIMALS all over your pants??????? And for chirst sakes, YOUR KID IS THREE YEARS OLD. Did you HAVE children for the SOLE PURPOSE of dressing them up? Buy a fucking Barbie and STOP REPRODUCING.

And tennis matches. Specifically, The Mother watching tennis matches and her resulting near-cardiac arrest. Chill the FUCK OUT, there's a REASON you get two serves, and it's because people miss ALL THE DAMN TIME and these are PROFESSIONALS who are serving at more than 100 miles an hour, so if they hit it in the net a few times, IT'S REALLY NOT A BIG DEAL. Are they freaking out? NO, and I daresay that they have A HELL OF A LOT MORE riding on it than YOU DO. You don't even KNOW THEM. Note how THEIR PARENTS ARE SITTING CALMLY AND WATCHING. Do you know how to do that? NO. YOU DO NOT. Evidence: I played 85 high school tennis matches, of which you attempted to attend THREE, and left after TWO FUCKING MINUTES each time, because you "couldn't take it" and for CHRIST'S SAKE EVEYONE ELSE'S PARENTS ARE HERE BECAUSE IT'S THE STATE FUCKING CHAMIONSHIP but you apparently are SO CONCERNED that I'm going to FUCK UP that you can't even fucking watch EVEN THOUGH we are actually WINNING, rather easily in fact, and actually crushed our opponents BUT YOU WOULDN'T KNOW THAT, BECAUSE YOU WERE BUSY FREAKING OUT AND DIDN'T SEE IT, and I am obviously in serious need of a therapist.

Also, Maria Sharapova lost, which pisses me off, because then I have to do something drastic like root for Serena, who is very talented, but also apparently BLIND because she keeps going on about DESIGNING her own fucking clothes and honey, if I were you I woudl shut up and pretend that someone else made me wear that because it looks like a POTATO SACK MADE OUT OF PINK SPANDEX and seriously, those have to be double-Ds, so I suggest that you invest in some kind of bra, because doesn't that HURT?


And now i'm doing that thing where i'm considering not posting this because I"m not a hundred percent sure exactly who reads my blog because i have def shown it to at least four legit adults including two former high school teachers, one of whom i think does actually occasionally check it and it's like OOOH LOOK SHE'S A SPAZZ but of course if you've actually met me YOU ALREADY KNEW THAT so what does it MATTER, plus they actually have LIVES and are NOT READING YOUR STUPID BLOG ANYWAY, EVEN THOUGH THE ENTIRE REASON YOU HAVE A DAMN BLOG IN THE FIRST PLACE IS BECAUSE YOU WANTED SOMEONE TO FUCKING READ YOUR ENGLISH PAPER, DAMMIT but it would be nice if the free tracking software had a better ip addy locator because telling me a person's in connecticut is NOT ACTUALLY THAT HELPFUL. i realize that connecticut is comparatively small, but EVERYONE I KNOW LIVES THERE, mostly, so it's like wow, connecticut! That could be....anyone! SWEET. I may be getting tired.

Yup, definitely