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Quiet Is...

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Consumating's Question of the Week [Friday
August 24th, 2007 at 5:35pm]
How do you deal with an unwanted phone call you've already answered?

Just have someone scream in the background, "BITCH! Get off the phone and make me my chicken pot pie!" Trust me, it works everytime.

(From Consumating)

Consumating's Question of the Week [Sunday
August 19th, 2007 at 7:32pm]
How do you like your eggs?

Golden goose style! I need a new purse.

(From Consumating)

Consumating's Question of the Week [Thursday
June 21st, 2007 at 8:01am]
What was your very first memory?

"Get away from my toys."

(From Consumating)

Consumating's Question of the Week [Friday
April 27th, 2007 at 11:11pm]
Where are you headed?

That way.

(From Consumating)

Consumating's Question of the Week [Friday
April 27th, 2007 at 11:10pm]
We are judging you by what's on your coffee table. What magazines or periodicals represent you and why?

New York Magazine, Flaunt, Black Book... Field & Stream.

(From Consumating)

Consumating's Question of the Week [Friday
April 27th, 2007 at 11:08pm]
What goes in your dream sandwich?

Hundred dollar bills.

(From Consumating)

Consumating's Question of the Week [Monday
December 25th, 2006 at 4:25pm]
Only one shopping week left til Christmas! What do you want to see in your stocking?

Olivier Martinez.

(From Consumating)

talk amongst your'seveles. [Wednesday
July 26th, 2006 at 2:57am]
So becaus Im drunk feel free to disreggard the next couple of whatevers... aka words.

It's funny whe n you're introduced to people (also known as his friends) and that say "sooo you're the one he's been talking about.'

It's an adorable feeling. One i don't feel. one i want to feel all the time; twentyfor/seven.

typing when you're drukn is the most dificulat thing i've ever done as of wright now. holy fucking balsk. i suckat this.

"That baby oil is no joke." [Monday
July 24th, 2006 at 8:47am]
I fell down the stairs yesterday. Not one or two stairs, but a whole flight. My brother, who was on the computer at the time said he heard a rumbling sound... and then I appeared from the upstairs, face down, on the floor. He thought I was hurt. We must've spent the next ten minutes laughing.

The moral of the story is... don't put baby oil on your feet if you plan on climbing, or in my case, descending a flight of stairs.

You effing bastards. [Monday
July 10th, 2006 at 3:34pm]
You know what sucks. When the photo developer calls you and says, "Um... hello, Miss MaGee? Well, um... yeah, your film got destroyed in our printer. I'm sorry."

Somehow 3 free rolls of film and 3 free processsing doesn't quite cut it.

I'm not going to aid and abet some fifty-year-old homeless alcholic rummaging through my trash. [Wednesday
July 5th, 2006 at 11:07am]
Nothing like trying to get rid of the bottle of White Russian before the fam gets home. And no... it's not going down the drain. And yes... it's 11am.

Perhaps this is the diet that evaporated the wavering 20lbs on my body. And yes... I've lost 20lbs.

Bitches, please. [Monday
June 12th, 2006 at 8:40pm]
The number one problem with "dating" an attractive man is as follows: Girls want him. Lots and lots of girls.

Episode: 1
I was at the bar with Erin who'd just come back from Europe. He's there and we're at the point where we don't need to be glued to each other's hip to prove anything, but nonetheless, my absence kind of left room for hoes to make moves.

Enter blonde.

I didn't want to be like "um, hello. you see that? yeah, that right there. that's mine. MINE." But, I thought I'd go over and make my presence known. Apparently, she grabbed his butt like four times in a row. This coming from a friend of mine. On top of the unfortunate conversation I heard between her and her friend.

"Ohmigod. He's so hot. And he's so mine."

Uh, no honey. Luckily for me, he's a good boy. When she tried to kiss him goodbye, he dodged her, grabbed me by the hand and we went for the door.

Episode: 2
Being an attractive male tends to leave room for a bunch of "female friends". He doesn't realize that 90% percent of them want his penis and the other 10% are lesbians.

Enter brunette.

She's apparently been friends with him for a while and according to everyone she's been trying to bed him for just as long. She's irritating and prone to the dramatics. The type of friend that you get sick of after five seconds. Anyway, the story was that she "needed a place to crash" or she was going to be "sleeping in her car". When she says "a place" she means his place. And he, who is prone to people-pleasing, could only ignore her at first.

Until on a cigarette break she cornered him in front of everyone and asked, "So am I gonna be going to your place tonight, or not?"

"Not." Bless him. Then the bitch looked me dead in the eye and walked away.

Then we went home together. I win.

Hey Ann, there's an "Assasinate Me" sign on your back. Wait, why am I warning you? [Wednesday
June 7th, 2006 at 11:33pm]
No seriously, Ann Coulter is the devil.

Funny how time flies when you're having fun. Or not. [Friday
June 2nd, 2006 at 10:54pm]
I got Kristen's postcard today (YES!) and spent more time than I should have marvelling at the beauty of her handwriting, I initially thought it was typed it was so nice. Than I realized that people don't type postcards.

The weather here is terrible. In the daytime it's nice and warm and then all of a sudden CRACK! it's all thunder and lightening and huge droplets of rain. Lots and lots of rain. On my hair. Well, as a result of being tossed (yes, tossed) into the rain by Mario, a male coworker. I fought like hell too. Kicking AND screaming. But to no avail. Lots and lots of rain. On my hair.

My housing search is driving me nuts. I'm afraid to live with people I don't know, despite the fact that the first time I tried, I came out with a friend for life, but I was brought to a sort of paranoia by the experience, not peace. You're not supposed to like the people you move in with, right? I wish I knew a million great homeless people with money so I'd never have to worry about that.

FYI: The little girl in Poltergeist III is creepy looking and strange.

Afro-Punk Prom is coming up and I may not have a date. Balls.

And all that jazz again and agazin. [Monday
May 29th, 2006 at 7:45pm]
Went to see X-Men III: The Last Stand today. Alone. But I don't really care about that, because despite the glaring flaws, I fucking loved it. Okay, maybe it was just because of her:


Okay. I have a rediculous lesbian crush on her. It's...wait for it... the androdgny of her that I love. *Gasp* For those who don't know, I always had a sort of strange aversion to the idea of the adrogynous being. Usually men, though, but I have relinquished my "ick" factor for good. Because goood God.

Also, for those who don't know, me and Dan are turning into something of an item. To the point where, I swear to you, I cannot be seen with him without someone in the bar "Awwww"ing us. You know, "Awwww"?

He invited me to his apartment in Princeton (walk outside and one block to the left and you're in the middle of the campus) and we watched Buffy until we fell alseep. (FYI: I kid you not, we have to walk through a CEMETARY to get to his place.) The next morning we went for a walk on campus, and braved the most "!?" looks I've ever consecutively recieved in such a short amount of time. Granted, I was wearing a cardigan and cordoroy flats and he was wearing black. All black. And had temporarily tamed his mohawk.

Had lunch. Pizza for Odd Couple at table Two. Talked and talked. He warned me in a I-like-you-but-don't-know-how-to-say-so kinda way that tying him down is "sort of complicated". Well, you obviously haven't dated me, sir. Obviously not.

McCormick's: Episode 1 [Thursday
May 11th, 2006 at 3:56pm]
It's not that gutter punks aren't my type, because for the most part, it's quite possible for anyone to be my type. But it's definitely a new sort of feeling to have someone with a mohawk approach you in a bar. Granted the bar is extremely SCENE and as the only black female in the whole place, I'm somewhat of a rarity. Thing is, this kid managed to be completely irresistable.


He's unlike any punk I've ever seen. No, seriously. He has all his teeth and he smiles all the time. And he's handsome. Not cute, not adorable. He's handsome, like some sort of movie star. So you could imagine my surprise when my girlfriends are like, "Ashley. He's watching you." "He's coming over." "He's so... oh my god."

But his style can use a little work though.


April 22nd, 2006 at 3:58pm]
Among the dozen or so something or others that have happened since I've last written in this thing... among them...

--leaving Barnes & Noble
--going back to Sam Ash
--consistantly making my rent on time
--a sudden obsession with looking at apartments in Paris
--a pregnancy scare
--losing 15 lbs.
--several new crushes
--several new reasons to stop crushing on people
--emusic.com ruining my life and my bank account
--having the nerve to tell people to check out this website (http://kevan.org/johari?name=the_new_loud), for my own selfish reasons

Mica, go download "Boom Boom", "Black Betty", and "Bar Star" by Kudu. The greatest in New-York-City-Dance-Party music.

March 18th, 2006 at 10:58pm]
Oh, I'm in Miami. Just got back from a Carribean culture Festival thing. Good God.

What do you do when a sexy chocolate man from Amsterdam approaches you? Well, I would try to make as little sense as possible before I give him what may or may not have been my phone number. Woot.

Um, disregard the "woot". I'm just reveling in the high that was feeling Jamaican, Trinidadian, Grenadian, Puerto Rican, Indian etc, eyes on me. Guess I didn't have crumbs on my face this time.

Funny thing happened at the market. My mother bought a $60 knockoff Dooney & Burke handbag just so she could flirt with one of the sexiest men I've ever seen in my life. Indian, 40ish, skin like melted Belgian chocolate, salt & pepper hair, most likely chiseled from gold by God himself. Can't say that I blame her, either. Can't say that I didn't bat my eyelashes like a fifteen-year-old cheerleader either.

Good God.

Oh shoot, yo, good good god. [Saturday
March 18th, 2006 at 10:52pm]
Hey! I remember this thing. I suppose I've been to busy doing absolutely nothing at all to update it. But nevertheless, be assured that there's nothing much going on in my life except the usual unrequited crushes, a job that I hate, a boss I would slaughter, hours of meticulously watched films (The Machinist? Word.), and pages upon pages of written words with no end in sight.

I remember when I used to be such an upper.

FYI: Be Cool is one of the biggest Pulp Fiction shams of all time. Not to mention it gets my honorable mention vote for worst film ever.

Don't let your mom read over your shoulder for this one. [Thursday
January 26th, 2006 at 8:12am]
Yeah, so um... literally half an hour following an introduction to LaRonda, the girl who lives downstairs, I officially know everything about her. In the biblical sense. Let me explain...

She's a sex-crazed lesbian black girl. I'm not judging that's just what she is, seriously.

She just got her nipples pierced.
She showed them to me.
She just got her vagina pierced.
She showed it to me.
She showed it to me.
Her clit.

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