Signing out from Spain
Ya me voy...
Itīs back to the Bay for me tomorrow, folks, so this is my last entry to my blog until then. I have a sweet ass 13 hour trip ahead of me (nothing should last freakinī 13 hours, not even THAT)...So today, Voodoo went a beachinī again, and tried to sneak a pic for those hungry Americanos who want one of the mujers on the playa. Woo baby.
I also went on this fiasco of a trip on this guided bus thingy that had me standing waiting for 30 minutes in the blazinī sun...I donīt mind doing anything for 30 minutes, but the blazing and the sun thing just donīt do it for me. At any rate, that was the tale of the Voodooīs day. I also got some last minute gifties for the homies and parents (gotta give ém sumthang). That plus I had lunch at this raginī cool Tapas joint. There were some FINE!!!! waiters there (I had to sample that dish heh), but yah the food was tight. I enjoyed it thoroughly, and if youīre ever in Barcelona, peep Tapa Tapa on Passeig de Gracia y Mallorca.
Iīm almost completely packed, now itīs time for me to bounce...Heh, the visuals!!!
Peas love and afro puffs.
Voodoo
Voodoo Lounge v.12.1: I'm the Juggernaut, bitch!
Wednesday, May 30, 2001
Tuesday, May 29, 2001
Voodoo Gets a New Hole
I didnīt plan on getting this, but I have one now...so you guess where it is:
I got it, and started giggling my ass off so hard, that I still have that shitty grin.
Okay, now Iīm off to do whatever it was I wanted to do...giggle some more, and will see you all later..
Vudu
I didnīt plan on getting this, but I have one now...so you guess where it is:
I got it, and started giggling my ass off so hard, that I still have that shitty grin.
- No it didnīt hurt.
- It cost me about $35.00 US dollahs
- The only professor you know with some shit goinī on down/above/around there....
- Itīs starting to throb.
- Thankfully the people who did it spoke enough engrish to tell me how to take care of it.
Okay, now Iīm off to do whatever it was I wanted to do...giggle some more, and will see you all later..
Vudu
Oh Wait, thereīsmore...
Why is it, that all these old men want to go Paseo with me...Today I had two of them want to escort me around. But unlike my other request for services, they offered no money.
It was freaky and I wasnīt quite thrilled to have old guys want to show me around and take pictures of me. Itīs one of those schemes where they want to do this for you, then you have to pay for it. Fuck that shit...;o)
Anyway, I havenīt had any proposals yet, but Iīm waiting.
If youīre wondering whyĻMr.Gaudiīs name sounds so familiar, ever call someoneīs fit "Gawdy?" Cause it looks like crap? Well, thatīs where it comes from. Sadly enough, Iīm sure that I will never use it in that way again. He was talented,but not so talented because he DID get mowed down by a tram. By the way, this is a vote for the Rough Guide...Even though the DorlingKindersly Guides are pretty proper, the Rough Guide had me going the best route, rather than up a freakinī hill that made me wheezy by the time I reached the top.
Hereīs a site where you can see the bench that I was yammering about. You can even manipulate it and spin around like you were on crack. Click on the picture, hold down the button and whirl til you virtually puke.
Voodoo
Still crispy and not funky
Why is it, that all these old men want to go Paseo with me...Today I had two of them want to escort me around. But unlike my other request for services, they offered no money.
It was freaky and I wasnīt quite thrilled to have old guys want to show me around and take pictures of me. Itīs one of those schemes where they want to do this for you, then you have to pay for it. Fuck that shit...;o)
Anyway, I havenīt had any proposals yet, but Iīm waiting.
If youīre wondering whyĻMr.Gaudiīs name sounds so familiar, ever call someoneīs fit "Gawdy?" Cause it looks like crap? Well, thatīs where it comes from. Sadly enough, Iīm sure that I will never use it in that way again. He was talented,but not so talented because he DID get mowed down by a tram. By the way, this is a vote for the Rough Guide...Even though the DorlingKindersly Guides are pretty proper, the Rough Guide had me going the best route, rather than up a freakinī hill that made me wheezy by the time I reached the top.
Hereīs a site where you can see the bench that I was yammering about. You can even manipulate it and spin around like you were on crack. Click on the picture, hold down the button and whirl til you virtually puke.
Voodoo
Still crispy and not funky
I WANT TO RULE THE WORLD!!!
I would like to welcome my readers in Australia, Brazil, and France! Ahhh France! I would love to go back.Whoever you are, you charming grenouille de l'amour, Écrivez-moi, et parlons de n'importe quoi! Je t'adore, cheri!
Okay, which ever country gives me the most hits, other than the good olī USA, Iīll go visit next year.
ŋHave you been Voodoofied?
ŋHa-tu Voodoofied?
Est-ce que tu vien d'ętre Voodoofied?
Digame.
Voodoo
I would like to welcome my readers in Australia, Brazil, and France! Ahhh France! I would love to go back.Whoever you are, you charming grenouille de l'amour, Écrivez-moi, et parlons de n'importe quoi! Je t'adore, cheri!
Okay, which ever country gives me the most hits, other than the good olī USA, Iīll go visit next year.
ŋHave you been Voodoofied?
ŋHa-tu Voodoofied?
Est-ce que tu vien d'ętre Voodoofied?
Digame.
Voodoo
Dark in the Park
I think I burned my ass yesterday. Not my Ass ass,but the entirety of my body. Actually itīs just my arms and they hurt like hell.So what do I do? Go back out and go to the park and get darker! oh Boy!
So I went to La Park Guëll today, and it was such a nice place. I think Gaudi was on some premium stuff to think of all of these things. You have got to witness it for yourself! Itīs an impressive house he threw together for his friend (do you have any friends that youīd put in some work like that for?)...He also lived there for awhile. Peep what homeboy wrote on his webpage..(not Gaudi, remember, dude got mowed down by a train)...
Located in the northwestern part of Barcelona, the Güell Park was originally intended as a bold new venture in town planning. Eusebi Güell an admirer of English landscape design and the new Garden City movement was resolved to create, in what was then open country, a community in which residents could live in verdant surroundings with a fine view of the city. In the event, only two of the sixty plots were sold and the scheme was abandoned, nevertheless, Gaudi created some of his most amazing and delightful structures for the Park - which in 1922 was purchased by the city and opened to the public. The site was hilly and rocky. Respecting the terrain, Gaudi avoided levelling it; instead building elevated pathways and tunnels, using the excavated rock as building material. This covered stone walkways is similar in spirit and structure to the crypt of the Güell Colony, though even more coarsely finished, creating the impression of having emerged from the earth.
So anyway, dude made some interesting benches (the longest in the world! so I hear). It sits on a mountainside, and you can get a nice view of the SMOG that emanates from the cityīs noncompliant smoggy vehicles. There is an interesting market place, a guardian lizard that perpetually vomits water, and a museum withĻwhat Bates would have called Clown Furniture. Pretty cool stuff. I canīt wait to see those pics I took. I brought my lunch and ate whilst staring at pigeons who wanted to get their groove on (I know these things). Pretty interesting.
I went to the Moll de Barcelona and basically it was a mall.Even had a 31 Flavors. Shoot! I should have gotten one of those whatchamacallit drinks! Shit! I was craving one all day!!! Whatīs with this craving anyway....Back to the topic. I went to a restaurant because I was kinda thirsty. So I get a seat, AND I get igored. Not that I was feeling like I was overreacting to anything, but I was literally ignored. The couple next to me sat down AFTER me and got helped before I did. It was pretty shitty, and I was getting madder so I left. I left them a nasty note. Heh.
And here we are. Itīs 2 PM, and Iīm ready for a drink. I had an ice cream during my walk through the Ramblas, and now Iīm off to get a famous Coke.
Take care and talk to you all soon,
Voodoo
I think I burned my ass yesterday. Not my Ass ass,but the entirety of my body. Actually itīs just my arms and they hurt like hell.So what do I do? Go back out and go to the park and get darker! oh Boy!
So I went to La Park Guëll today, and it was such a nice place. I think Gaudi was on some premium stuff to think of all of these things. You have got to witness it for yourself! Itīs an impressive house he threw together for his friend (do you have any friends that youīd put in some work like that for?)...He also lived there for awhile. Peep what homeboy wrote on his webpage..(not Gaudi, remember, dude got mowed down by a train)...
So anyway, dude made some interesting benches (the longest in the world! so I hear). It sits on a mountainside, and you can get a nice view of the SMOG that emanates from the cityīs noncompliant smoggy vehicles. There is an interesting market place, a guardian lizard that perpetually vomits water, and a museum withĻwhat Bates would have called Clown Furniture. Pretty cool stuff. I canīt wait to see those pics I took. I brought my lunch and ate whilst staring at pigeons who wanted to get their groove on (I know these things). Pretty interesting.
I went to the Moll de Barcelona and basically it was a mall.Even had a 31 Flavors. Shoot! I should have gotten one of those whatchamacallit drinks! Shit! I was craving one all day!!! Whatīs with this craving anyway....Back to the topic. I went to a restaurant because I was kinda thirsty. So I get a seat, AND I get igored. Not that I was feeling like I was overreacting to anything, but I was literally ignored. The couple next to me sat down AFTER me and got helped before I did. It was pretty shitty, and I was getting madder so I left. I left them a nasty note. Heh.
And here we are. Itīs 2 PM, and Iīm ready for a drink. I had an ice cream during my walk through the Ramblas, and now Iīm off to get a famous Coke.
Take care and talk to you all soon,
Voodoo
Monday, May 28, 2001
Response to Email
To the SHRINE: No I didnīt ask him how much he wanted the Voodoo for. Besides, he only flashed say, two folded bills. Thatīs probably like 2 bucks. (700 pesetas, donīt get a boner)
Iīm worth like 3.
ha!
Voodoo
To the SHRINE: No I didnīt ask him how much he wanted the Voodoo for. Besides, he only flashed say, two folded bills. Thatīs probably like 2 bucks. (700 pesetas, donīt get a boner)
Iīm worth like 3.
ha!
Voodoo
Voodooīs Melanin Vibrates
Welcome to la Platges Sant Sebastian.
I spent the day at the beach, not that long, because I ran errands earlier today, and I got wierded out because there was this guy who was sitting next to purty chicas ( like myself), not too close. I spied him reading a paper, well, kinda but not really, because what he wound up doing is just peeping over his paper at the chicas. You see, get over it folks, this is a topless land, and well, most of the girls there were doinī their thing. Voodoo included. The twins see the sun, everyoneīs happy.
So I go to the Kmart of Spain, El Cortes Ingles and buy my sun material, and hop in a cab and go to the beach. We have a conversation half in Spanish and Catalān, cause Iīm so fuckinī talented itīs a shame. Iīm humble too, did I tell you? So anyways, I get to the beach and itīs not quite sand, itīs not quite pebbles, itīs more like a little dirtish. The dirt-sand kicks in the air when people are walking by so itīs not a TAN I have itīs a coat of dirt-sand dust. Not cute, but thatīs life. So anyways, I see most women topless, find a spot to chill, and there I am, chillinī with the rest of the hoochie mamas gettinītheir sun on. God love ya.
I watch the Chica-Hawk pretty much get wood over the girls who were next to me (no, sorry guys, I couldnīt bring them back for you), and I feel weird about that. They blow him off, Iīm sure they know heīs right there, about four feet away. Anyway, I flip over and do my thing, and he leaves after about twenty minutes. Oh yah, he had to adjust himself before he left, and he was ready to squirt. You see, the Voodoo is quite astute when it comes to peepinī you guys shiftinīaround and walking funny so as to get the boys to move over and do their thing. I know itīs stuck to your fuckinī leg, so you might as well get it overwith DISCREETLY. Didnīt your dad tell you that?
I went back into town via bus, cause a girl like me canīt find the taxi station, and all the sweat on the bus made me stick to the damn chair. Iīm sure I left a puddle. I got off at my stop and went to have ice cream. Life is good.
Speaking of Sweat
Okay European people, Iīm holding a stick of Deordorant in my hands. You take off the cap, apply that mutha fucka into your armpit and then you wait for it to dry a little and then paste on another roll for good timeīs sake. Repeat as necessary. Let me tell you, that this place smells WORSE than France. And to top it off, I saw this really pretty woman walking by. She had it goinī on as most chicks do, then she passed by, AND SHE SMELLED LIKE a wet, used gym sock. Bam, there goes her popularity rating.
Deodorant is your FRIEND.
Just a friendly public service reminder from the Voodoo. Now off to have fun somewhere, with god knows who.
Peace in your hood!
Voodoo
Welcome to la Platges Sant Sebastian.
I spent the day at the beach, not that long, because I ran errands earlier today, and I got wierded out because there was this guy who was sitting next to purty chicas ( like myself), not too close. I spied him reading a paper, well, kinda but not really, because what he wound up doing is just peeping over his paper at the chicas. You see, get over it folks, this is a topless land, and well, most of the girls there were doinī their thing. Voodoo included. The twins see the sun, everyoneīs happy.
So I go to the Kmart of Spain, El Cortes Ingles and buy my sun material, and hop in a cab and go to the beach. We have a conversation half in Spanish and Catalān, cause Iīm so fuckinī talented itīs a shame. Iīm humble too, did I tell you? So anyways, I get to the beach and itīs not quite sand, itīs not quite pebbles, itīs more like a little dirtish. The dirt-sand kicks in the air when people are walking by so itīs not a TAN I have itīs a coat of dirt-sand dust. Not cute, but thatīs life. So anyways, I see most women topless, find a spot to chill, and there I am, chillinī with the rest of the hoochie mamas gettinītheir sun on. God love ya.
I watch the Chica-Hawk pretty much get wood over the girls who were next to me (no, sorry guys, I couldnīt bring them back for you), and I feel weird about that. They blow him off, Iīm sure they know heīs right there, about four feet away. Anyway, I flip over and do my thing, and he leaves after about twenty minutes. Oh yah, he had to adjust himself before he left, and he was ready to squirt. You see, the Voodoo is quite astute when it comes to peepinī you guys shiftinīaround and walking funny so as to get the boys to move over and do their thing. I know itīs stuck to your fuckinī leg, so you might as well get it overwith DISCREETLY. Didnīt your dad tell you that?
I went back into town via bus, cause a girl like me canīt find the taxi station, and all the sweat on the bus made me stick to the damn chair. Iīm sure I left a puddle. I got off at my stop and went to have ice cream. Life is good.
Speaking of Sweat
Okay European people, Iīm holding a stick of Deordorant in my hands. You take off the cap, apply that mutha fucka into your armpit and then you wait for it to dry a little and then paste on another roll for good timeīs sake. Repeat as necessary. Let me tell you, that this place smells WORSE than France. And to top it off, I saw this really pretty woman walking by. She had it goinī on as most chicks do, then she passed by, AND SHE SMELLED LIKE a wet, used gym sock. Bam, there goes her popularity rating.
Deodorant is your FRIEND.
Just a friendly public service reminder from the Voodoo. Now off to have fun somewhere, with god knows who.
Peace in your hood!
Voodoo
Sunday, May 27, 2001
Voodoo La Puta
Okay, itīs been awhile since I wrote you all last, and I have to ask you to forgive the Blogspot. That little heifer has been out of service for the last few days, and I wasnīt about to go back to the ghetto ass place I went to blog last time...anyways.
So much has happened in the last few days. Remember I told you that I met this girl who shall be deemed "Bates" because sheīs kinda psycho, who was totally lost? Well, we hung out together the other day, and I came about two inches from a bitchslap with her. Basically she wanted to do this and that, and then got all whiny, so I had to break her off and said, " Yo chick, I gotta bail." This was before she asked me to hold on to her purse, her bag, etc. while she tried on shit, like Iīm her boyfriend. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeatch. Anyway, I left without her today because we were supposed to hang out, but i donīt want to if I have to listen to her shit for another day.
So off we go onto a trip to another world. Iīm not going to go in order because, damn, itīs freakinīhot and Iīm freakinī tired.
Sagrada Familia What an awesome site. Itīs a church in progress, well, because dude got hit by a train. Okay, laugh now, but check out the website for some cool pics. I wound up seeing a few of this architectīs designs, and Iīm totally in love with his style. Peep this homieīs page...Itīs pic intensive, so you 2400 bauders can go get your laundry done while youīre waiting for it to load. I cannot tell you enough about the sheer beauty of this building. Itīs breathtaking, and Bates just keep whining about how sheīs afraid of churches that I had to leave there just to get her ass to shut the fuck up. I will definitely come back to visit when this place is done. One of the main features of the building itself, in my eyes, is that there are words that are put in mosaics around the church. holy words, mind you. But itīs crazy looking, and that alone makes you want to stare at it for hours. Bates kept asking me why I was taking so many pictures. Bitch!
The Barcelona Cathedral. Since Iīm Catholic (believe it or not), I love to go visit churches. This church is a nice, really old school church that has so many features to it. I liked the choir pews, as well as the Black Madonna who, you guessed it, is holding the Black Jesus. Oh yah, brotha Jesus in the heezy. He was sitting on her lap, with two fingers up for a peace sign. Or was that WESSSSSSTSSSIIIIIDE?
Museu Pîcasso Iīm not going to lie, this place just didnīt do it for me. Okay, Iīm mad, I just got busted there for taking out my camera. I didnīt even want to take a picture of the pictures, but I wanted to snap a picture of the people who were staring at the picture. Great. Í got totally lost on the way there, just the first of my Ļ"Oh shit, Iīm lost" moments.
The other Arc de Triomf. The other one is better. NEXT!
La Rambla Okay you Babies, youīve been to Market Street in San Francisco. Lots of shit to look at, some interesting, some not so interesting. A place you want to watch out for your personal belongings and your safety after certain hours. Well, La Rambla is JUST LIKE FREAKINīMARKET STREET. Iīll keep it short, since thereīs not too much to write about, but there are lots of neato things, like tons of people who are those silver painted statue thingies and theyīll do shit if you give ém a penny, bird sellers, artists, and basically the same shit you see in every major city. Thereīs even a SEX shop for those who canīt get any and need special videos. Nothing serious, just lots of funkiness.
Fundaciōn Joan Miró. Well well well, what a wonderful place. I liked it a lot, there are lots of paintings that are just beautiful there. Thereīs also a display there that has the sound of thunder, and you see these two squishy things and teeth. Itīs a movie...And then you notice that there are two sets of teeth! And then you notice that THERE ARE TWO PEOPLE SMASHINīTONGUES! Holy sniky, what kinda town is this.
The Palau Nacional. Ooh, itīs such a nice building. I like the view. Inside is a thing on Catalunyan art. Lots of religious stuff, and tons of Jesus with the peace sign (or westside for life). I walked to the entrance to the park, but there was a car show. Ooh boy, not that kind of car show with the booty cutters, you Voodoo Booty Freaks. But a regular one, just like the one at home. So I had to walk all the way around the damn thing, which is freakinīFAR but I met a nice man from Montreal who I spoke to the whole time in French. Go figure.
The Casa Mila. Bates called this the Clown House. I loved this house, I went to visit it and enjoyed it so much I took tons of pictures. It makes you think of the Winchester Mystery house with all of itīs curvy lines and fluid environment, but you know that he built it because he wanted to, not because some psychic told his ass to do it.
The Casa Battlo This is a purty house, just down the street from the Casa Mila. There are always tons of people taking pictures in front of it. Itīs an actual house thatīs used by people, so imagine tons of people taking pics in front of YOUR house. Annoying, but shit, I took pics anyway.
Why Voodoo Wears a Wedding Ring, Despite her Last Boyfriendīs Dismay that She Might Want to Get Married, but Nothing is Further from the Truth, Ruth. I was on the Metro this morning, and I braved the crowds and wore a skirt. An older man came up to me and told me in Spanish that he thought I was pretty. Okay, that happens to the Voodoo on a regular basis, I ainīt madatcha. So then he proceeds to ask me if Iīm married. Of course I donīt have a ring, so I donīt say that I am, but I tell him I have a boyfriend in the States. Thatīs a lie, by the way. Then he tells me that he wants to have dinner with me. And something about money. Iīm totally lost, and he keeps telling me how pretty I am, and then more about money. Then he flashes his cash at me. Nothing big, I figure I can knock him over and take it and run away, but Iīm in another country, so Iīm not going to trip. He then says something about Ļ" el amor". Now you know now, this homie wants to sample some Voodoo Lovinī for a fee. I told him clearly in spanish, No, I didnīt want that, Leave me alone, then he starts asking me if I know any girls who would. Ohhhhh shit. How funny is this mess. At least in France, the guys just wanted to marry me. Here, nigga wants to just get it on. Ahh.
And no I didnīt do it.
More to talk about later, but for now, Iīm going to jam and get some rest. Going to have a late dinner, I suppose, and just chill for the rest of the evening. Iīm still laughing inside about the dude with the money. Hope you are having fun with it too.
Ciao for now,
Voodoo
Okay, itīs been awhile since I wrote you all last, and I have to ask you to forgive the Blogspot. That little heifer has been out of service for the last few days, and I wasnīt about to go back to the ghetto ass place I went to blog last time...anyways.
So much has happened in the last few days. Remember I told you that I met this girl who shall be deemed "Bates" because sheīs kinda psycho, who was totally lost? Well, we hung out together the other day, and I came about two inches from a bitchslap with her. Basically she wanted to do this and that, and then got all whiny, so I had to break her off and said, " Yo chick, I gotta bail." This was before she asked me to hold on to her purse, her bag, etc. while she tried on shit, like Iīm her boyfriend. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeatch. Anyway, I left without her today because we were supposed to hang out, but i donīt want to if I have to listen to her shit for another day.
So off we go onto a trip to another world. Iīm not going to go in order because, damn, itīs freakinīhot and Iīm freakinī tired.
Sagrada Familia What an awesome site. Itīs a church in progress, well, because dude got hit by a train. Okay, laugh now, but check out the website for some cool pics. I wound up seeing a few of this architectīs designs, and Iīm totally in love with his style. Peep this homieīs page...Itīs pic intensive, so you 2400 bauders can go get your laundry done while youīre waiting for it to load. I cannot tell you enough about the sheer beauty of this building. Itīs breathtaking, and Bates just keep whining about how sheīs afraid of churches that I had to leave there just to get her ass to shut the fuck up. I will definitely come back to visit when this place is done. One of the main features of the building itself, in my eyes, is that there are words that are put in mosaics around the church. holy words, mind you. But itīs crazy looking, and that alone makes you want to stare at it for hours. Bates kept asking me why I was taking so many pictures. Bitch!
The Barcelona Cathedral. Since Iīm Catholic (believe it or not), I love to go visit churches. This church is a nice, really old school church that has so many features to it. I liked the choir pews, as well as the Black Madonna who, you guessed it, is holding the Black Jesus. Oh yah, brotha Jesus in the heezy. He was sitting on her lap, with two fingers up for a peace sign. Or was that WESSSSSSTSSSIIIIIDE?
Museu Pîcasso Iīm not going to lie, this place just didnīt do it for me. Okay, Iīm mad, I just got busted there for taking out my camera. I didnīt even want to take a picture of the pictures, but I wanted to snap a picture of the people who were staring at the picture. Great. Í got totally lost on the way there, just the first of my Ļ"Oh shit, Iīm lost" moments.
The other Arc de Triomf. The other one is better. NEXT!
La Rambla Okay you Babies, youīve been to Market Street in San Francisco. Lots of shit to look at, some interesting, some not so interesting. A place you want to watch out for your personal belongings and your safety after certain hours. Well, La Rambla is JUST LIKE FREAKINīMARKET STREET. Iīll keep it short, since thereīs not too much to write about, but there are lots of neato things, like tons of people who are those silver painted statue thingies and theyīll do shit if you give ém a penny, bird sellers, artists, and basically the same shit you see in every major city. Thereīs even a SEX shop for those who canīt get any and need special videos. Nothing serious, just lots of funkiness.
Fundaciōn Joan Miró. Well well well, what a wonderful place. I liked it a lot, there are lots of paintings that are just beautiful there. Thereīs also a display there that has the sound of thunder, and you see these two squishy things and teeth. Itīs a movie...And then you notice that there are two sets of teeth! And then you notice that THERE ARE TWO PEOPLE SMASHINīTONGUES! Holy sniky, what kinda town is this.
The Palau Nacional. Ooh, itīs such a nice building. I like the view. Inside is a thing on Catalunyan art. Lots of religious stuff, and tons of Jesus with the peace sign (or westside for life). I walked to the entrance to the park, but there was a car show. Ooh boy, not that kind of car show with the booty cutters, you Voodoo Booty Freaks. But a regular one, just like the one at home. So I had to walk all the way around the damn thing, which is freakinīFAR but I met a nice man from Montreal who I spoke to the whole time in French. Go figure.
The Casa Mila. Bates called this the Clown House. I loved this house, I went to visit it and enjoyed it so much I took tons of pictures. It makes you think of the Winchester Mystery house with all of itīs curvy lines and fluid environment, but you know that he built it because he wanted to, not because some psychic told his ass to do it.
The Casa Battlo This is a purty house, just down the street from the Casa Mila. There are always tons of people taking pictures in front of it. Itīs an actual house thatīs used by people, so imagine tons of people taking pics in front of YOUR house. Annoying, but shit, I took pics anyway.
Why Voodoo Wears a Wedding Ring, Despite her Last Boyfriendīs Dismay that She Might Want to Get Married, but Nothing is Further from the Truth, Ruth. I was on the Metro this morning, and I braved the crowds and wore a skirt. An older man came up to me and told me in Spanish that he thought I was pretty. Okay, that happens to the Voodoo on a regular basis, I ainīt madatcha. So then he proceeds to ask me if Iīm married. Of course I donīt have a ring, so I donīt say that I am, but I tell him I have a boyfriend in the States. Thatīs a lie, by the way. Then he tells me that he wants to have dinner with me. And something about money. Iīm totally lost, and he keeps telling me how pretty I am, and then more about money. Then he flashes his cash at me. Nothing big, I figure I can knock him over and take it and run away, but Iīm in another country, so Iīm not going to trip. He then says something about Ļ" el amor". Now you know now, this homie wants to sample some Voodoo Lovinī for a fee. I told him clearly in spanish, No, I didnīt want that, Leave me alone, then he starts asking me if I know any girls who would. Ohhhhh shit. How funny is this mess. At least in France, the guys just wanted to marry me. Here, nigga wants to just get it on. Ahh.
And no I didnīt do it.
More to talk about later, but for now, Iīm going to jam and get some rest. Going to have a late dinner, I suppose, and just chill for the rest of the evening. Iīm still laughing inside about the dude with the money. Hope you are having fun with it too.
Ciao for now,
Voodoo
Friday, May 25, 2001
You Went Shopping Already?
Okay okay, i needed a few things. I left my shades chez moi, at the Mansion, so I had to buy my own flossy-everyone-in-europe-has-these-colored-lenses sunglasses. I went to a Department Store that had a supermarket downstairs, so I loaded up on some snackies, as you know, I need to chomp down a few every now and then. I bought some gifties for the family at home, and I've been taking lots of pictures. Iīll try to see if I can post them later on when I get home, but chances are, NOPE! Iīm lazy, will admit it.
I had to go home to pass out for a few hours, the flight really kicked my ass. Tomorrow Iīm going to the museums, and hopefully be able to go to the beach. My feet are freakinīkillinīme, but I think itīs partially the weather and the other goodness of walking everywhere. Iīm going to brave the metro tomorrow, so wish me luck.
I realize that the blogspot isnīt working right now, and Iīm slightly peeved by that, so I hope itīll be up and running tomorrow. Thanks for checking anyways, god knows I told EVERY Voodoo Baby that I was going away and going to tell you all about it. How fun.
Anyways, time for me to bounce. Talk to you later, and best wishes from Barcelona.
Voodoo
Okay okay, i needed a few things. I left my shades chez moi, at the Mansion, so I had to buy my own flossy-everyone-in-europe-has-these-colored-lenses sunglasses. I went to a Department Store that had a supermarket downstairs, so I loaded up on some snackies, as you know, I need to chomp down a few every now and then. I bought some gifties for the family at home, and I've been taking lots of pictures. Iīll try to see if I can post them later on when I get home, but chances are, NOPE! Iīm lazy, will admit it.
I had to go home to pass out for a few hours, the flight really kicked my ass. Tomorrow Iīm going to the museums, and hopefully be able to go to the beach. My feet are freakinīkillinīme, but I think itīs partially the weather and the other goodness of walking everywhere. Iīm going to brave the metro tomorrow, so wish me luck.
I realize that the blogspot isnīt working right now, and Iīm slightly peeved by that, so I hope itīll be up and running tomorrow. Thanks for checking anyways, god knows I told EVERY Voodoo Baby that I was going away and going to tell you all about it. How fun.
Anyways, time for me to bounce. Talk to you later, and best wishes from Barcelona.
Voodoo
Hola, me llamo la Voodoo Child
Holyt Sniky folks, Iīm in freakinī Spain. What a freakinī basehead...going online when I should be out enjoying the city. If you donīt already know, Iīm in Barcelona, and itīs so pretty out here. It has a feel of a slightly congested city, but Iīm sure to find the charm somewhere. I havenīt gotten out of my plane clothes yet, since my hotel room is not free yet, those bastards, but Iīm here, so thatīs all that matters. I feel slightly scummy, like that, "hey you smell like youīve been on a plane for 12 hours" funk. Yes thatīs right, 6 hours to NYC where I think everyone who works there has issues and needs to go through therapy, and then another two hours to wait for a flight to Barcelona. I have come to the realization that Iberia Airlines kinda sucks big ones, and I guess the Vegetarian thing doesnīt fly very well over here.
OH yah, I have to tell you that these international keyboards arenīt exactly FRESH as the Apostle would say...But this Internet CAfe is supadupa fly. I might have to come back here again.
Anyways, so a little about the flight itself. Without problems. I always seem to meet neat people whereever I go, and I met Dennis who is planning on returning to school to become a Nurse after being an Admin Coordinator for a law firm. I met Dorothy who was so FreakinīLOST that she had no idea what the hell she was doing. And I wound up helping her a little bit, like finding out where the hell she is, etc. But thatīs enough about them. Movies? Well, try watching 13 Days TWICE. I mean, okay, Kevin Coster is aight and all, but canīt you find something more interesting to watch on a flight? I saw what they were showing in 1st Class, screw them with their portable videowalkmans. They have CHOICE! I remain held captive by the movies, and the sleeping grumpy old man on the plane.
Bad sign: my hotel is filled with old people. Oooh boy. ahahahahah jk
What to do, what to do. I think Iīm going to go shopping, because I left my sunglasses at home, and Iīm going to have to protect mis ojos someway. I donīt really want to spend too much on myself, because I have some people to buy stuff for at home... And I have shitloads of pictures to take. I brought two cameras: one is the faithful point and shoot, and the other is my lovely Ļthis might not come out, but what the hellĻ camera. I happen to love the Latter, but itīs all bueno.
Okay folks, Iīm going to bounce outta here and then do some damage out in the calles de barcelona. I wish you, the Voodoo BAbies of my dreams the best, and donīt forget to check back daily as I will be back and forth, telling you all about my adventures, and my run with the bulls, otherwise known as men.
Love and afropuffs,
La nina voodoo
Holyt Sniky folks, Iīm in freakinī Spain. What a freakinī basehead...going online when I should be out enjoying the city. If you donīt already know, Iīm in Barcelona, and itīs so pretty out here. It has a feel of a slightly congested city, but Iīm sure to find the charm somewhere. I havenīt gotten out of my plane clothes yet, since my hotel room is not free yet, those bastards, but Iīm here, so thatīs all that matters. I feel slightly scummy, like that, "hey you smell like youīve been on a plane for 12 hours" funk. Yes thatīs right, 6 hours to NYC where I think everyone who works there has issues and needs to go through therapy, and then another two hours to wait for a flight to Barcelona. I have come to the realization that Iberia Airlines kinda sucks big ones, and I guess the Vegetarian thing doesnīt fly very well over here.
OH yah, I have to tell you that these international keyboards arenīt exactly FRESH as the Apostle would say...But this Internet CAfe is supadupa fly. I might have to come back here again.
Anyways, so a little about the flight itself. Without problems. I always seem to meet neat people whereever I go, and I met Dennis who is planning on returning to school to become a Nurse after being an Admin Coordinator for a law firm. I met Dorothy who was so FreakinīLOST that she had no idea what the hell she was doing. And I wound up helping her a little bit, like finding out where the hell she is, etc. But thatīs enough about them. Movies? Well, try watching 13 Days TWICE. I mean, okay, Kevin Coster is aight and all, but canīt you find something more interesting to watch on a flight? I saw what they were showing in 1st Class, screw them with their portable videowalkmans. They have CHOICE! I remain held captive by the movies, and the sleeping grumpy old man on the plane.
Bad sign: my hotel is filled with old people. Oooh boy. ahahahahah jk
What to do, what to do. I think Iīm going to go shopping, because I left my sunglasses at home, and Iīm going to have to protect mis ojos someway. I donīt really want to spend too much on myself, because I have some people to buy stuff for at home... And I have shitloads of pictures to take. I brought two cameras: one is the faithful point and shoot, and the other is my lovely Ļthis might not come out, but what the hellĻ camera. I happen to love the Latter, but itīs all bueno.
Okay folks, Iīm going to bounce outta here and then do some damage out in the calles de barcelona. I wish you, the Voodoo BAbies of my dreams the best, and donīt forget to check back daily as I will be back and forth, telling you all about my adventures, and my run with the bulls, otherwise known as men.
Love and afropuffs,
La nina voodoo
Tuesday, May 22, 2001
I'm Outta Here
Voodoo Babies,
It's that time, ya'll, and I'm about to sign off from the Left Coast to return to you all again when I hit Spain. This will probably be sometime on Thursday. When freakin' BlogSpot goes back up, you should be able to read this...
At any rate, I will be able to check my mail, so you use that little link to the left (Email the Voodoo...) and I can chit chat with you honies. In a meanwhile, I will be posting my blogs here, so come back daily, and I'll tell you what kinda good stuff is going on in the good country of Spain. I plan on attacking the Palau National in the interest of my Philippine ancestors, so if for some reason you don't hear from me, I am probably awaiting trial in some jail. Just kidding. Sorta.
Okay kids, be good to each other, and if you're not, the Voodoo will come back and kick yo' butt!!!
Peas, Love and Nooky Noo,
Voodoo
PS: Mad love to the Husky Boy and The Apostle for Baby sitting me today!
Voodoo Babies,
It's that time, ya'll, and I'm about to sign off from the Left Coast to return to you all again when I hit Spain. This will probably be sometime on Thursday. When freakin' BlogSpot goes back up, you should be able to read this...
At any rate, I will be able to check my mail, so you use that little link to the left (Email the Voodoo...) and I can chit chat with you honies. In a meanwhile, I will be posting my blogs here, so come back daily, and I'll tell you what kinda good stuff is going on in the good country of Spain. I plan on attacking the Palau National in the interest of my Philippine ancestors, so if for some reason you don't hear from me, I am probably awaiting trial in some jail. Just kidding. Sorta.
Okay kids, be good to each other, and if you're not, the Voodoo will come back and kick yo' butt!!!
Peas, Love and Nooky Noo,
Voodoo
PS: Mad love to the Husky Boy and The Apostle for Baby sitting me today!
Yes, This is Summer, Becky, Now Put on Your Parka
Welcome to San Francisco, Voodoo Children, Land of the Freaky Frozen Tundra Summers, and the Left Over Hippie Haven.
Ahh. SUmmer. It's when so many tourists come from around the world just to experience the beauty of San Francisco, and yes, that's why we are the most popular city for travelers, I 'll have you know. But before you get here, las turistas, you must heed my warning. Bring your parka with you. There's nothing funnier than people who are from, say, Kansas, and are visiting lovely warm California. When they touch down into SF, they feel a breeze, no, that's not a breeze, it's a gale. It's hurricane force breezes ladies and gentlemen. Their pasty white legs (yes, I'm going to call 'em out) all pink from frostbite, their faces frozen into looks of sheer horror as they think, I did not bring any warm clothes! Hence, they go to the tourist markets and buy those I Heart SF sweaters with the meandering Cable Car on them. Oh lordy.
I have two residences, one in SF, and another in Daly City. It's not like I'm rich but you figure it out, you little brainiacs, but the temperature between the two is remarkable. Even across the Bay, it can be as much as a 40 degree difference. Now you think you got problems...How do you dress for it? Layering. It's the San Francisco treat. Summer here is freezing. But it could change into pleasantly warm! hm! So teeshirt, sweater, and jacket, just in case. You wear all three, shed or don as needed. I don't know any San Franciscan who doesn't have a small closet's worth of clothes in their trunk just waiting for those situations...
In Daly City, the fog is so thick that sometimes you can't see ten feet before you. It's interesting, and can be wonderful to watch as the fog literally creeps and then smothers everything in sight. But my favorite thing about fog is the foghorn. not the rooster, you dork! But the true foghorn. Here, check this foghorn out. Purty dope. I know it sounds like the thing they use on the Price is Right (bitch!) when some loser says that a boat, car and trip to hawaii will cost only 7,531 dollars. Come on Tawanda!
You can hear the foghorn in Daly City, a lot in the Northern part of the City (San Francisco, that is). It's somewhat comforting, and a fun thing to listen for in the night. It does get bad out there in Fogland. Some call it romantic, some call it crap. I, the Voodoo Fog Queen, doth pronounce it one cool deal. No where else do you get to forget about washing your car because as soon as it's outside in the fog, it's over. No where else do you leave your driveway with the fog dense as your sister's exboyfriend, then two blocks later, voila, it's as bright as your 1st grade teacher's smile when you handed him/her a busted apple for the last day of school. There are different kinds of fog, but to most NoCal peeps, there's just plain ol' fog, and more fog.
Enjoy your nice weather when you can, and when you come to Frisco, our summers don't kick in until September, so leave the shorts at home, Becky. Bring your woolie.
Voodoo
Welcome to San Francisco, Voodoo Children, Land of the Freaky Frozen Tundra Summers, and the Left Over Hippie Haven.
Ahh. SUmmer. It's when so many tourists come from around the world just to experience the beauty of San Francisco, and yes, that's why we are the most popular city for travelers, I 'll have you know. But before you get here, las turistas, you must heed my warning. Bring your parka with you. There's nothing funnier than people who are from, say, Kansas, and are visiting lovely warm California. When they touch down into SF, they feel a breeze, no, that's not a breeze, it's a gale. It's hurricane force breezes ladies and gentlemen. Their pasty white legs (yes, I'm going to call 'em out) all pink from frostbite, their faces frozen into looks of sheer horror as they think, I did not bring any warm clothes! Hence, they go to the tourist markets and buy those I Heart SF sweaters with the meandering Cable Car on them. Oh lordy.
I have two residences, one in SF, and another in Daly City. It's not like I'm rich but you figure it out, you little brainiacs, but the temperature between the two is remarkable. Even across the Bay, it can be as much as a 40 degree difference. Now you think you got problems...How do you dress for it? Layering. It's the San Francisco treat. Summer here is freezing. But it could change into pleasantly warm! hm! So teeshirt, sweater, and jacket, just in case. You wear all three, shed or don as needed. I don't know any San Franciscan who doesn't have a small closet's worth of clothes in their trunk just waiting for those situations...
In Daly City, the fog is so thick that sometimes you can't see ten feet before you. It's interesting, and can be wonderful to watch as the fog literally creeps and then smothers everything in sight. But my favorite thing about fog is the foghorn. not the rooster, you dork! But the true foghorn. Here, check this foghorn out. Purty dope. I know it sounds like the thing they use on the Price is Right (bitch!) when some loser says that a boat, car and trip to hawaii will cost only 7,531 dollars. Come on Tawanda!
You can hear the foghorn in Daly City, a lot in the Northern part of the City (San Francisco, that is). It's somewhat comforting, and a fun thing to listen for in the night. It does get bad out there in Fogland. Some call it romantic, some call it crap. I, the Voodoo Fog Queen, doth pronounce it one cool deal. No where else do you get to forget about washing your car because as soon as it's outside in the fog, it's over. No where else do you leave your driveway with the fog dense as your sister's exboyfriend, then two blocks later, voila, it's as bright as your 1st grade teacher's smile when you handed him/her a busted apple for the last day of school. There are different kinds of fog, but to most NoCal peeps, there's just plain ol' fog, and more fog.
Enjoy your nice weather when you can, and when you come to Frisco, our summers don't kick in until September, so leave the shorts at home, Becky. Bring your woolie.
Voodoo
Monday, May 21, 2001
Back to the Clock Question
Not just a few days ago, a friend passed away. I never know how to take these things, and I've seen a lot of death to those who are close to me. It always makes me stand still in my busy world and think about the way I've lived my life, and what I've done with my life so far. I'm never surprised to feel like I'm wasting my time doing dumb shit. I am truly blessed to be where I am today, but I would hate to leave this world with regrets of why I have done the things I've done, and regrets of things I had yet to do, but for some bullshit reason never got around to.
Makes you kinda wonder.
If you could go back in time and fix something, what would it be?
What is the thing you regret not doing?
I would probably go back and spend more time doing art. I regret not telling certain people how I really feel. I could easily go and rectify those things, put out some good artwork. Lay my cards on the table and even though it would have probably not made them very happy, or worse yet, alienate them, I would rather say how I feel and be true to myself rather than true to someone else's desires.
At any rate, I was thinking about my friend and her life...As all college buddies go, you drift apart, you see each other again. Even though there were rough times, we were always cool with each other, and now that she's gone, it'll be felt. I can't really say much more, but I have to learn to find that space where I can push potential so I never have regrets. I learned this from her, who loved to have fun, sometimes way too much fun, but it's all good girl. I'll see you up there.
Voodoo
Not just a few days ago, a friend passed away. I never know how to take these things, and I've seen a lot of death to those who are close to me. It always makes me stand still in my busy world and think about the way I've lived my life, and what I've done with my life so far. I'm never surprised to feel like I'm wasting my time doing dumb shit. I am truly blessed to be where I am today, but I would hate to leave this world with regrets of why I have done the things I've done, and regrets of things I had yet to do, but for some bullshit reason never got around to.
Makes you kinda wonder.
If you could go back in time and fix something, what would it be?
What is the thing you regret not doing?
I would probably go back and spend more time doing art. I regret not telling certain people how I really feel. I could easily go and rectify those things, put out some good artwork. Lay my cards on the table and even though it would have probably not made them very happy, or worse yet, alienate them, I would rather say how I feel and be true to myself rather than true to someone else's desires.
At any rate, I was thinking about my friend and her life...As all college buddies go, you drift apart, you see each other again. Even though there were rough times, we were always cool with each other, and now that she's gone, it'll be felt. I can't really say much more, but I have to learn to find that space where I can push potential so I never have regrets. I learned this from her, who loved to have fun, sometimes way too much fun, but it's all good girl. I'll see you up there.
Voodoo
Talkin Back!!!
Okay Voodoo Babies, I think it's time that you made yourselves heard. I do get email from you periodically, god/allah/buddha/yo mama love you! And that really makes my day, but I would now like to invite you to TALK BACK! I have installed Blog Voices onto my web page, and now you can add comments to each and every single post. I am trying to make this more interactive, and more than me ranting and raving about who stuck whose finger in whose chonchon...although I can tell you more about that if ya wanna.
As a firm believer in dialogue, I would like to engage in some chitchat with my folks...so please do take advantage of the new Discuss function, and have fun with it. Talk to you soon! Click on "discuss with da voodoo" at the end of every blog, and the world is yours.
Literally!
Voodoo
Okay Voodoo Babies, I think it's time that you made yourselves heard. I do get email from you periodically, god/allah/buddha/yo mama love you! And that really makes my day, but I would now like to invite you to TALK BACK! I have installed Blog Voices onto my web page, and now you can add comments to each and every single post. I am trying to make this more interactive, and more than me ranting and raving about who stuck whose finger in whose chonchon...although I can tell you more about that if ya wanna.
As a firm believer in dialogue, I would like to engage in some chitchat with my folks...so please do take advantage of the new Discuss function, and have fun with it. Talk to you soon! Click on "discuss with da voodoo" at the end of every blog, and the world is yours.
Literally!
Voodoo
BREASTS
See, that's all it takes for the Voodoo Babies to go "ooh ooh ooh ooh!" while clapping your hands like some shit's goin' ta happen and you might get your groove on. Do I know you guys or WHAT?
So I was peepin' other Blog sites, which often makes me feel somewhat strange because lemme tell you, there are some FREAKS out there. Not freaks by choice, which I happen to know many of you are, aren't you you naughty little..ooh lemme get back on track. There are freaks of choice, like yourselves, and there are freaks of nature. I think I have dated a few of those nature variety. Spooky shit.
Anyway, I found this, and I thought I'd share it with you. It's a personality test based on breast size. Now now, I know the guys out there are feeling left out because they don't have Breasts. When I find one for scrotum sacs, I'll let you know. But in a meanwhile, check out the site, and see if it's true. The Breast Test. And to some of you guys out there with, forgive my french, biaaaaaaaaaatch tits, feel free to check it out. Ouchy sez so.
Voodoo
See, that's all it takes for the Voodoo Babies to go "ooh ooh ooh ooh!" while clapping your hands like some shit's goin' ta happen and you might get your groove on. Do I know you guys or WHAT?
So I was peepin' other Blog sites, which often makes me feel somewhat strange because lemme tell you, there are some FREAKS out there. Not freaks by choice, which I happen to know many of you are, aren't you you naughty little..ooh lemme get back on track. There are freaks of choice, like yourselves, and there are freaks of nature. I think I have dated a few of those nature variety. Spooky shit.
Anyway, I found this, and I thought I'd share it with you. It's a personality test based on breast size. Now now, I know the guys out there are feeling left out because they don't have Breasts. When I find one for scrotum sacs, I'll let you know. But in a meanwhile, check out the site, and see if it's true. The Breast Test. And to some of you guys out there with, forgive my french, biaaaaaaaaaatch tits, feel free to check it out. Ouchy sez so.
Voodoo
I'm Goin' International Baby!!!
I have readers in Germany and Singapore? Well, welcome, friends! You too can be Voodoofied!
But I wanted to announce my big trip: I'm going to Barcelona!! I wound up choosing Barcelona, because, really I can go to Hawaii any day. It's a four hour flight from SFO, home base for the Voodoo...So onto Spain I go!
I'm looking forward to it, and I should be able to post regularly from Barcelona. If you've ever been, and want to give me some pointers, let me know!
I'm so ready to get the hell out of dodge...wanna go with me?
Voodoo
I have readers in Germany and Singapore? Well, welcome, friends! You too can be Voodoofied!
But I wanted to announce my big trip: I'm going to Barcelona!! I wound up choosing Barcelona, because, really I can go to Hawaii any day. It's a four hour flight from SFO, home base for the Voodoo...So onto Spain I go!
I'm looking forward to it, and I should be able to post regularly from Barcelona. If you've ever been, and want to give me some pointers, let me know!
I'm so ready to get the hell out of dodge...wanna go with me?
Voodoo
Voodoo Child's Bald Head of the Month and Summer Book List
Okay, so the two don't really go well together. But I'm going to make the grand announcement later about the Bald Head of the Month...First onto more brainiac activities:
Bald Head of the Month
This month, I give the Baldy to (drum roll please), Roy Jones Jr. He might not be bald anymore, but he's one BAD ASS MOFO. I love watching him box (yes I admit it, I'm a boxing fan), and I think he's SUPA FINE. He had a moving loss to a South Korean boxer in the 1988 Olympic Games, but he came back to be a big force in the sport.
K, enough drooling.
Voodoo
Okay, so the two don't really go well together. But I'm going to make the grand announcement later about the Bald Head of the Month...First onto more brainiac activities:
- The Hobbit. (J.R.R. Tolkein) Everyone's read it except for me. Okay, I'm a loser.
- Tuesdays with Morrie ( Mitch Albom) I've always wanted to read it, and it's going on my soon to be announced big Voodoo World Tour with me. Woohoo!
- Hakugare (Yamamoto Tsunetomo, translated by William Wilson) The Book of the Samurai. I learned about this book in Ghost Dog. Another excellent DVD.
- Sex and the Single Girl (Edited by Lee Damsky) I'm single. Sex? Not getting any. Read it anyway.
Bald Head of the Month
This month, I give the Baldy to (drum roll please), Roy Jones Jr. He might not be bald anymore, but he's one BAD ASS MOFO. I love watching him box (yes I admit it, I'm a boxing fan), and I think he's SUPA FINE. He had a moving loss to a South Korean boxer in the 1988 Olympic Games, but he came back to be a big force in the sport.
K, enough drooling.
Voodoo
What a freakin' weekend.
where do I start?
I had the extreme pleasure of graduating on Friday. I was exhausted, as I did work all day, and I was to work the next day's ceremonies (I need the comp time, come on). But when it came time to walk with all my classmates, I was very excited and ready to take the stroll across the platform.
The question that was on everyone's lips was "SO, what are you going to do next?" It beats me. I gave them the standard answer. I think I'm going to pee.
It hasn't quite hit me. The beer after graduation did. The beer the next night did. But hey, that's what you do when you graduate. You party with your best of friends and family, and I know who you are, thank you for showing up. But man it did kick my ass. You should have seen me, hungover, trying to help students put their gowns on. Some were screaming their heads off, and man I wanted to reach over and smack one of them. But cooler heads prevailed, and now I'm free, not locked up in bad administrator prison for being a bad sport. One student who was screeching (no really) was going to graduate with her BSN, bachelor of science in nursing. Now would you want a screaming freak sticking an enema tube into your second holiest of holies? No?
Now that I'm a doctor, it's funny. I love the fact that I'm only 30 and a doctor. I think it's pretty cool, mind you. And that is the one last goal that I set for myself. Seriously, I planned my life out about 10 or so years ago, and I told myself, I won't be able to really enjoy life and share my life fully with anyone until I do two things: go to Paris and stand at the top of the Eiffel Tower, and I receive a doctorate. I've done both of them, now the rest of the world has opened up for me to create new goals and fulfill the potential that is within.
Thanks to everyone who came out to partay...
Voodoo
where do I start?
I had the extreme pleasure of graduating on Friday. I was exhausted, as I did work all day, and I was to work the next day's ceremonies (I need the comp time, come on). But when it came time to walk with all my classmates, I was very excited and ready to take the stroll across the platform.
The question that was on everyone's lips was "SO, what are you going to do next?" It beats me. I gave them the standard answer. I think I'm going to pee.
It hasn't quite hit me. The beer after graduation did. The beer the next night did. But hey, that's what you do when you graduate. You party with your best of friends and family, and I know who you are, thank you for showing up. But man it did kick my ass. You should have seen me, hungover, trying to help students put their gowns on. Some were screaming their heads off, and man I wanted to reach over and smack one of them. But cooler heads prevailed, and now I'm free, not locked up in bad administrator prison for being a bad sport. One student who was screeching (no really) was going to graduate with her BSN, bachelor of science in nursing. Now would you want a screaming freak sticking an enema tube into your second holiest of holies? No?
Now that I'm a doctor, it's funny. I love the fact that I'm only 30 and a doctor. I think it's pretty cool, mind you. And that is the one last goal that I set for myself. Seriously, I planned my life out about 10 or so years ago, and I told myself, I won't be able to really enjoy life and share my life fully with anyone until I do two things: go to Paris and stand at the top of the Eiffel Tower, and I receive a doctorate. I've done both of them, now the rest of the world has opened up for me to create new goals and fulfill the potential that is within.
Thanks to everyone who came out to partay...
Voodoo
Thursday, May 17, 2001
Is that my Biological Clock ticking?
No, no, no, it's my graduation clock. It's starting to get to me, kids, and I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do...
I have to tell you, I'm starting to have nightmares of falling off the stage, but not before I goose the president. And then Ouchy the Clown catches me. I reach for his paddle, whack him along the sacristy, and then the organ player will start playing Rapper's Delight and everyone gets their groove on. I jump onto my FBR bike and ride into the sunset, laughing, gown ablaze and Abercrombie models screaming my name.
Voodoo, they say, Voodoo come back.
I keep going back to bed hoping that it will get better, but I always wake up when Tyson Beckford leans over and his buttcrack is showing over his Polo jeans. His underwear reads "Hanes." How disappointing.
That's it for my dreams, folks. It's not pretty, but I keep going back to sleep everynight to see what's next.
Voodoo
No, no, no, it's my graduation clock. It's starting to get to me, kids, and I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do...
I have to tell you, I'm starting to have nightmares of falling off the stage, but not before I goose the president. And then Ouchy the Clown catches me. I reach for his paddle, whack him along the sacristy, and then the organ player will start playing Rapper's Delight and everyone gets their groove on. I jump onto my FBR bike and ride into the sunset, laughing, gown ablaze and Abercrombie models screaming my name.
Voodoo, they say, Voodoo come back.
I keep going back to bed hoping that it will get better, but I always wake up when Tyson Beckford leans over and his buttcrack is showing over his Polo jeans. His underwear reads "Hanes." How disappointing.
That's it for my dreams, folks. It's not pretty, but I keep going back to sleep everynight to see what's next.
Voodoo
Wednesday, May 16, 2001
(*&$#
Enjoy. Turn it down if you're at work, and wonder aloud to yourself, now why would someone do this? Could be viewed as racist...So be careful! It's also a long DL, so click and go get some coffee, preferably not Starbucks.
Oh yah, and while you're at it, ever think of this at the circus? I bet not!
Vud-who?
Enjoy. Turn it down if you're at work, and wonder aloud to yourself, now why would someone do this? Could be viewed as racist...So be careful! It's also a long DL, so click and go get some coffee, preferably not Starbucks.
Oh yah, and while you're at it, ever think of this at the circus? I bet not!
Vud-who?
Tuesday, May 15, 2001
How to Write a Dissertation, or You Want to be a Doctor without the Blood and Guts
Hi everyone. Since you've all been asking me in some ways, shapes, and forms, how I managed to do all of this in three short years, I'm going to spill the guts and let you all know what's up. It's not hard, only challenging in every way possible. I'm not going to lie, there were times when I just wanted to give up, throw it all out, and resume my normal way of doing things. But even that gets boring, so I hammered it out, and voila, here we are.
It helps the most to know what you want to do with your life EARLY. In other words, when I was in kindergarten, I knew I wanted to do big things. That helped immensely because I was always trying to find that path no matter what. Okay, you're thinking, you're high, you were in kindergarten, etc. No joke, I was driven REAL early in life, and it helped to get me where I am now. I suggest this to those of you who were busy playing with their snot in kindergarten: The sooner you figure out what you want in life, the further you will go. The easier your path will be. The clearer your mind will become. You have to see the things that you want to attain, and then figure out the steps to get it. It is often this first step that drives everyone batty. No one knows what they want, but that's okay. For some it takes a lifetime, and for some, like me, you know right away.
In order to get a PhD, or an EdD in my case, you need 1) a bachelor's degree, 2) a master's degree, and 3) lots of free time. I know most of my readers are about at stage 1. Good for you. If you're not, all good too. A great deal of planning must be made in order to move onto the second stage, and some would tell you that you need to get your life together and decide in your bachelor's because you'll need to prepare, and so it goes in education. Prepare for the next step even though you have no idea what that step will be. I tell my students CONSTANTLY : it's easier to bounce back if you're prepared, and if you're not prepared. Chance favors the prepared mind, right? mmmmm? Yoda?
Okay so now we've got our masters and we're applying to the PhD program. You ready? You tell your friends and family that you're going to be a hermit/nerd/recluse/asshole for the next 3-7 years? No? Well, you better tell them. Applying to graduate programs is a little like taking off all of your clothes during a snowstorm. It's cold, you gotta show off all your stuff, and sometimes you may have shrinkage.
There are a few stages: you need letters of rec (which you have no doubt swindled people into writing for you), good test scores (more on that in a minute), and you need to go through an interview. The letters I got, no big deal. Interview, no problem. I wound up having two older filipino women interview me. Kinda like Lolas, but missing the whole "You want money" part of the conversation. Cake. The writing sample...Yes you have to do one on the spot, no problem. I'm in there like swimwear.
Now let's forward to the dissertation. Someone asked me once, what is the deal with it? How do you know when to start? You start thinking of it before you get into the program. You think of it because that's one of the questions they ask you in the interview. That's one of the ways that the ascertain if you're ready or not. No answer? No admission letter. Capiche? Anyway, a wise man once told me that you have to use each class as a way of thinking of your grand paper. For every paper you have to do in the classes, try to tie it in with your dissertation. That's the way you get to do your research done, and a lot of your writing. Without that, I'd be stuck up shit creek like a lot of my homies were.
I finished in three years. A ton of readings to show for it. Enough books to make an impressive bookcase topple over from the sheer weight of the knowledge. At any rate, three classes a semester, one summer session, one winter session, there's your 60 units. Classes on Friday nights, two on Saturday (4.5 hours each, babies). The writing part of it goes like this...wait, let me explain one thing. First, take your ego, roll it up into a little ball, and then throw it out the window. You will write, and rewrite over and over again. You will hear things about your work you dont' want to hear. You will hear that your argument is weak, and that your writing is not up to par. Smile, nod, and then walk away. Go home, make the changes. Hear it again. Smile, nod, walk away. In the end you will be so immune to those comments, but at the same time you will be able to have such a shining piece of work. Isn't life grand? But as I mentioned before, your dissertation is just as much a part of you as your arm is. You think about it constantly. It's something you think will change the world. So don't get hurt just because you hear that you need to change it. Even now, as I'm done, there are things that I want to do with it. I want to push it further, but you know , it's time to graduate, kids. I'm through.
The same goes for the defense. Here's how mine went. I invited some friends and family to the event. I didn't ask my parents or my brother, Buff, because i would have been completely nervous. Instead, I had their pictures up for moral support (they were in little frames in front of me when I was presenting). I presented for 40 minutes. And that's nothing....Can you do that? I was surprised that I was able to do it, but anyway, after my presentation, I fielded questions and listened to comments regarding my findings. This is the scary part of the defense where they can ask you literally anything, and you have to come up with the appropriate answer. The worst part is the hypotheticals that are posed...What if, What would happen if, Suppose if...IF SHIT, COME ON AND PASS ME ALREADY.
So after dealing with that (that's what a DEFENSE is really about, BTW), they ask you to leave the room. You and the guests.
Now, I suppose I should tell you that not everyone passes. There have been instances where people don't make it through, and they have to tell their guests, "Sorry, Mom, Dad and little Timmy, I didn't pass. I'm a failure." By this time, I'm absolutely exhausted. I can't stand still, my eyes are totally sleepy, and then, "Can you come back into the room Dr. Voodoo."
That's what I'm sayin'.
So what next? I'm going to work on my corrections, turn it in by June 30th. If I can help it, I'm going to turn it in before I leave for my soon to be revealed location worldwide....But the work still continues, and I apologize for not writing more, but I gots lots of stuff on my mind. I'm going to graduate on Friday, at 6PM. So imagine what's going through my head....
At any rate, that's the story of how I did it in three years. Most people take about 4-5 years, but since I knew what I wanted real early, it helped to speed me along. It also helped that I didn't have a lot of distractions, and a lot of support from the homies. I like to tell everyone that it was fun. I also like to tell everyone that it was easy. No it wasn't. It was hard, there were lots of rough spots, but I got over it. What is it? Assess, panic for a brief moment, then overcome.
So if anyone wants any more details, let me know, I got tons of 'em.
Back to work.
Dr. Voodoo
PS: If you're down for a party this saturday to celebrate my doctorhood, please email me.
Hi everyone. Since you've all been asking me in some ways, shapes, and forms, how I managed to do all of this in three short years, I'm going to spill the guts and let you all know what's up. It's not hard, only challenging in every way possible. I'm not going to lie, there were times when I just wanted to give up, throw it all out, and resume my normal way of doing things. But even that gets boring, so I hammered it out, and voila, here we are.
It helps the most to know what you want to do with your life EARLY. In other words, when I was in kindergarten, I knew I wanted to do big things. That helped immensely because I was always trying to find that path no matter what. Okay, you're thinking, you're high, you were in kindergarten, etc. No joke, I was driven REAL early in life, and it helped to get me where I am now. I suggest this to those of you who were busy playing with their snot in kindergarten: The sooner you figure out what you want in life, the further you will go. The easier your path will be. The clearer your mind will become. You have to see the things that you want to attain, and then figure out the steps to get it. It is often this first step that drives everyone batty. No one knows what they want, but that's okay. For some it takes a lifetime, and for some, like me, you know right away.
In order to get a PhD, or an EdD in my case, you need 1) a bachelor's degree, 2) a master's degree, and 3) lots of free time. I know most of my readers are about at stage 1. Good for you. If you're not, all good too. A great deal of planning must be made in order to move onto the second stage, and some would tell you that you need to get your life together and decide in your bachelor's because you'll need to prepare, and so it goes in education. Prepare for the next step even though you have no idea what that step will be. I tell my students CONSTANTLY : it's easier to bounce back if you're prepared, and if you're not prepared. Chance favors the prepared mind, right? mmmmm? Yoda?
Okay so now we've got our masters and we're applying to the PhD program. You ready? You tell your friends and family that you're going to be a hermit/nerd/recluse/asshole for the next 3-7 years? No? Well, you better tell them. Applying to graduate programs is a little like taking off all of your clothes during a snowstorm. It's cold, you gotta show off all your stuff, and sometimes you may have shrinkage.
There are a few stages: you need letters of rec (which you have no doubt swindled people into writing for you), good test scores (more on that in a minute), and you need to go through an interview. The letters I got, no big deal. Interview, no problem. I wound up having two older filipino women interview me. Kinda like Lolas, but missing the whole "You want money" part of the conversation. Cake. The writing sample...Yes you have to do one on the spot, no problem. I'm in there like swimwear.
Now let's forward to the dissertation. Someone asked me once, what is the deal with it? How do you know when to start? You start thinking of it before you get into the program. You think of it because that's one of the questions they ask you in the interview. That's one of the ways that the ascertain if you're ready or not. No answer? No admission letter. Capiche? Anyway, a wise man once told me that you have to use each class as a way of thinking of your grand paper. For every paper you have to do in the classes, try to tie it in with your dissertation. That's the way you get to do your research done, and a lot of your writing. Without that, I'd be stuck up shit creek like a lot of my homies were.
I finished in three years. A ton of readings to show for it. Enough books to make an impressive bookcase topple over from the sheer weight of the knowledge. At any rate, three classes a semester, one summer session, one winter session, there's your 60 units. Classes on Friday nights, two on Saturday (4.5 hours each, babies). The writing part of it goes like this...wait, let me explain one thing. First, take your ego, roll it up into a little ball, and then throw it out the window. You will write, and rewrite over and over again. You will hear things about your work you dont' want to hear. You will hear that your argument is weak, and that your writing is not up to par. Smile, nod, and then walk away. Go home, make the changes. Hear it again. Smile, nod, walk away. In the end you will be so immune to those comments, but at the same time you will be able to have such a shining piece of work. Isn't life grand? But as I mentioned before, your dissertation is just as much a part of you as your arm is. You think about it constantly. It's something you think will change the world. So don't get hurt just because you hear that you need to change it. Even now, as I'm done, there are things that I want to do with it. I want to push it further, but you know , it's time to graduate, kids. I'm through.
The same goes for the defense. Here's how mine went. I invited some friends and family to the event. I didn't ask my parents or my brother, Buff, because i would have been completely nervous. Instead, I had their pictures up for moral support (they were in little frames in front of me when I was presenting). I presented for 40 minutes. And that's nothing....Can you do that? I was surprised that I was able to do it, but anyway, after my presentation, I fielded questions and listened to comments regarding my findings. This is the scary part of the defense where they can ask you literally anything, and you have to come up with the appropriate answer. The worst part is the hypotheticals that are posed...What if, What would happen if, Suppose if...IF SHIT, COME ON AND PASS ME ALREADY.
So after dealing with that (that's what a DEFENSE is really about, BTW), they ask you to leave the room. You and the guests.
Now, I suppose I should tell you that not everyone passes. There have been instances where people don't make it through, and they have to tell their guests, "Sorry, Mom, Dad and little Timmy, I didn't pass. I'm a failure." By this time, I'm absolutely exhausted. I can't stand still, my eyes are totally sleepy, and then, "Can you come back into the room Dr. Voodoo."
That's what I'm sayin'.
So what next? I'm going to work on my corrections, turn it in by June 30th. If I can help it, I'm going to turn it in before I leave for my soon to be revealed location worldwide....But the work still continues, and I apologize for not writing more, but I gots lots of stuff on my mind. I'm going to graduate on Friday, at 6PM. So imagine what's going through my head....
At any rate, that's the story of how I did it in three years. Most people take about 4-5 years, but since I knew what I wanted real early, it helped to speed me along. It also helped that I didn't have a lot of distractions, and a lot of support from the homies. I like to tell everyone that it was fun. I also like to tell everyone that it was easy. No it wasn't. It was hard, there were lots of rough spots, but I got over it. What is it? Assess, panic for a brief moment, then overcome.
So if anyone wants any more details, let me know, I got tons of 'em.
Back to work.
Dr. Voodoo
PS: If you're down for a party this saturday to celebrate my doctorhood, please email me.
Monday, May 14, 2001
Voodoo Loves Stuart Scott
I had to share this with everyone...Most of you already know I have a thing for sports, and that Stuart Scott is an announcer on SportsCenter. God love him. I love him. He's soo, sooo, how do you say, PHRESH. Anyway, here's something I found interesting.
Later...
Voodoo
Don't go all Rasheed about this
People in sports are topics of conversation
Scott Ostler
Monday, May 14, 2001
Đ2001 San Francisco Chronicle
URL: http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2001/05/14/SP201478.DTL
IN "GOOD Will Hunting," Will's buddies give him a beat-up car for his 21st birthday. Will's best friend has been the group's wheel man. He plays off the gift, guy style, by telling Will, "I'm not going to Al Cowlings you around forever."
The reference being to O.J. Simpson's pal who chauffeured the Juice on the low-speed Bronco chase.
I hadn't realized how many sports-people references have crept into everyday conversation until I overheard two guys talking in a bar.
Pass me that bowl of bar snacks, dude. Don't Kobe 'em.
Don't have a Shaq attack, man. There's plenty. Say, how's your girlfriend?
She Tie Domi'd me.
No kidding? A blind-side cheap shot.
Yeah, she just went all Rasheed on me last night. Completely berserk. I had to eject her from my house. She was throwing things at me -- bottles, candles, whatever. Fortunately, she was doing a Rick Ankiel.
What's she so 'Sheed off about?
She accused me of Al Davis-ing her.
That figures, knowing you. You just can't make a long-term commitment, can you?
Hell yes, I can. I'm an honorable guy. I just can't keep it. But what about her? She said she wanted to be my girlfriend for life, but couldn't commit to that unless I bought her a new car to prove I love her.
Sheffield city. Hey, is it true that she found out about you and the young chick in the hot tub?
Yeah, she laid a big Chmura trip on me. She doesn't realize the courage it took for me to come clean about that incident.
Courage? She found the Polaroids, dude. You're playin' out of control, Mr. Jason Williams.
You might be right. Still, it's a blow. It was great for a while, then another Mickelson finish. How's your girlfriend?
She played the George Karl card, whined that I didn't respect her, didn't give her enough attention. So we broke up awhile back, but now she's Jordaning me.
Really? She's teasing you about coming back? That's good, right? She is a cutie.
She's also a Flutie.
You still have a Jones for taller women, eh?
Yeah, I guess you could say I have a "Too Tall" Jones.
How about that boss of yours? Still giving you a hard time?
Rod Smart.
He hate you, eh?
Yeah, ever since I started telling people I was bored with the job and probably would jump to another company the first chance I got.
Well, sure he's cranky if you're C-Webbing the man.
He gets on my nerves. He's a tyrant. Son of Steinbrenner. I'd like to Spre the dude.
Don't go there, girlfriend. If you Spre'd him, he'd just Bobby Knight you right back, and you'd both wind up with Merton Hanks neck. What's the deal, isn't he happy with your work?
He is, when I manage to show up. I've been late a lot, but it's not my fault. Why is it that scientists can put a man on the moon but they can't develop a reliable alarm clock?
Ah, so you been Isaiah Rider-ing. And bringing in high-quality alibis, I hope.
The best. My hamster died. I stopped to rescue orphans from a burning liquor store. Martians stole my sparkplugs. Original stuff. But every excuse I throw in this guy's direction, he Dikembes back at me. Today, he called me into his office and Tyson'd my ears. Said he was expecting more for all the money he's paying me, said I was A-Rodding him. He gave me a royal Aikman.
You gotta learn to Canseco that stuff, just let it bounce off your head and over the fence. Look, I sympathize with you, pal. I know that's a very hard job you've got.
Hard? On the hardness scale, it's between Shaq's free throws and Kobe's ear studs. If I ran into my boss right here in the bar, I'd Barkley his butt right through that window.
Maybe you should find another job. Have you checked out the want ads?
Can't. I never get my newspaper anymore. The delivery guy Knoblauchs The Chronicle onto my roof or into the puddle every day.
You're on a losing streak, dude. Maybe you should go the Tony Muser route.
Pray less and drink more? I'm thinking of giving that a try, old boy. Say, do you think you could give me a lift home? I'm a little tipsy.
I'm not surprised. We ordered about 10 shooters and I didn't have any. You took all the shots. You Iverson'd me.
So Al Davis me.
No, I'm not going to sue you. I'm going to Al Cowlings your rear end home.
I had to share this with everyone...Most of you already know I have a thing for sports, and that Stuart Scott is an announcer on SportsCenter. God love him. I love him. He's soo, sooo, how do you say, PHRESH. Anyway, here's something I found interesting.
Later...
Voodoo
Don't go all Rasheed about this
People in sports are topics of conversation
Scott Ostler
Monday, May 14, 2001
Đ2001 San Francisco Chronicle
URL: http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2001/05/14/SP201478.DTL
IN "GOOD Will Hunting," Will's buddies give him a beat-up car for his 21st birthday. Will's best friend has been the group's wheel man. He plays off the gift, guy style, by telling Will, "I'm not going to Al Cowlings you around forever."
The reference being to O.J. Simpson's pal who chauffeured the Juice on the low-speed Bronco chase.
I hadn't realized how many sports-people references have crept into everyday conversation until I overheard two guys talking in a bar.
Pass me that bowl of bar snacks, dude. Don't Kobe 'em.
Don't have a Shaq attack, man. There's plenty. Say, how's your girlfriend?
She Tie Domi'd me.
No kidding? A blind-side cheap shot.
Yeah, she just went all Rasheed on me last night. Completely berserk. I had to eject her from my house. She was throwing things at me -- bottles, candles, whatever. Fortunately, she was doing a Rick Ankiel.
What's she so 'Sheed off about?
She accused me of Al Davis-ing her.
That figures, knowing you. You just can't make a long-term commitment, can you?
Hell yes, I can. I'm an honorable guy. I just can't keep it. But what about her? She said she wanted to be my girlfriend for life, but couldn't commit to that unless I bought her a new car to prove I love her.
Sheffield city. Hey, is it true that she found out about you and the young chick in the hot tub?
Yeah, she laid a big Chmura trip on me. She doesn't realize the courage it took for me to come clean about that incident.
Courage? She found the Polaroids, dude. You're playin' out of control, Mr. Jason Williams.
You might be right. Still, it's a blow. It was great for a while, then another Mickelson finish. How's your girlfriend?
She played the George Karl card, whined that I didn't respect her, didn't give her enough attention. So we broke up awhile back, but now she's Jordaning me.
Really? She's teasing you about coming back? That's good, right? She is a cutie.
She's also a Flutie.
You still have a Jones for taller women, eh?
Yeah, I guess you could say I have a "Too Tall" Jones.
How about that boss of yours? Still giving you a hard time?
Rod Smart.
He hate you, eh?
Yeah, ever since I started telling people I was bored with the job and probably would jump to another company the first chance I got.
Well, sure he's cranky if you're C-Webbing the man.
He gets on my nerves. He's a tyrant. Son of Steinbrenner. I'd like to Spre the dude.
Don't go there, girlfriend. If you Spre'd him, he'd just Bobby Knight you right back, and you'd both wind up with Merton Hanks neck. What's the deal, isn't he happy with your work?
He is, when I manage to show up. I've been late a lot, but it's not my fault. Why is it that scientists can put a man on the moon but they can't develop a reliable alarm clock?
Ah, so you been Isaiah Rider-ing. And bringing in high-quality alibis, I hope.
The best. My hamster died. I stopped to rescue orphans from a burning liquor store. Martians stole my sparkplugs. Original stuff. But every excuse I throw in this guy's direction, he Dikembes back at me. Today, he called me into his office and Tyson'd my ears. Said he was expecting more for all the money he's paying me, said I was A-Rodding him. He gave me a royal Aikman.
You gotta learn to Canseco that stuff, just let it bounce off your head and over the fence. Look, I sympathize with you, pal. I know that's a very hard job you've got.
Hard? On the hardness scale, it's between Shaq's free throws and Kobe's ear studs. If I ran into my boss right here in the bar, I'd Barkley his butt right through that window.
Maybe you should find another job. Have you checked out the want ads?
Can't. I never get my newspaper anymore. The delivery guy Knoblauchs The Chronicle onto my roof or into the puddle every day.
You're on a losing streak, dude. Maybe you should go the Tony Muser route.
Pray less and drink more? I'm thinking of giving that a try, old boy. Say, do you think you could give me a lift home? I'm a little tipsy.
I'm not surprised. We ordered about 10 shooters and I didn't have any. You took all the shots. You Iverson'd me.
So Al Davis me.
No, I'm not going to sue you. I'm going to Al Cowlings your rear end home.
Saturday, May 12, 2001
What's up with White folks gittin' Jiggy that Makes me LAFF
Peep this site. It's up against Blogger for the Webby's. Personally I'm not voting for it, because it really doesn't contribute to anything significant like blogger does, but it's hilarious. Go WHITE BOY!!!
And props to Husky Boy for "I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. Tonight." ha!
Vooodoo
Peep this site. It's up against Blogger for the Webby's. Personally I'm not voting for it, because it really doesn't contribute to anything significant like blogger does, but it's hilarious. Go WHITE BOY!!!
And props to Husky Boy for "I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. Tonight." ha!
Vooodoo
Am I Happy or WHAT?
Damn, how many times did I say "happy" in the last blog.
Speaking of which, I know that we all have friends who have Greasy Hair, Dandruff, Bad Table Manners, Flatulence, etc. Why don't you be a pal and refer them to this web page? It's called Gentle Hints. And yes, it's anonymous. Oh gosh, who has Body Odor? You can send them an anonymous letter with the details of the offensive activity, possible forms of remediation and even a gift! For that person with the long nose hairs, they get a nosehair trimmer. How cute.
Lucky You.
Voodoo
Damn, how many times did I say "happy" in the last blog.
Speaking of which, I know that we all have friends who have Greasy Hair, Dandruff, Bad Table Manners, Flatulence, etc. Why don't you be a pal and refer them to this web page? It's called Gentle Hints. And yes, it's anonymous. Oh gosh, who has Body Odor? You can send them an anonymous letter with the details of the offensive activity, possible forms of remediation and even a gift! For that person with the long nose hairs, they get a nosehair trimmer. How cute.
Lucky You.
Voodoo
Long Live Couches
I finally have couches. Yes, big behemoths of couches, but finally, my guests don't have to sit on the floor, lounge on a pillow or collapse onto a hairy carpet. Now you can lounge with sheer relief and comfort. Now I can have a place for my overnighter buddies to crash. Now I can have raunchy nooky on my couches, careful not to get drops of stuffies on them...Oh wait, TMI. My bad.
Anyways, yesterday, I had the staff party at my crib. There were about 13 kids and me and my boss lounging around on the floor. WE had Filipino food. Please, hold your drool bucket close: Turon, Miki Bihon, Veggie Lumpia, Lumpia Shanghai, Fried Chicken, Garlic Fried Rice. Mango Ice Cream. Buco Ice Cream. Fun, fun, fun. Brazilian music in the background, all is well.
Then the couches came!!! We all amazed at how fast these guys loaded them into my crib. It's not a small feat, mind you, to bring in three massive furniture pieces, but it was done, and all are now happier. I just hope that they stay clean and happy. It's always a happy thing to watch students have a good time, and they get along so well. It's part of the reason why I love my job so much, and I am happy to be surrounded by happy kids all day. It's when they start getting cranky when it bugs me. Oh wells.
I'm finalizing details on the next Voodoo Trip around the world. Watch this space for more details, but I won't disclose the final notes until the day before I leave. Hope all is well, and don't forget to mano your elders. That means me.
Peas ya'll,
Voodoo
I finally have couches. Yes, big behemoths of couches, but finally, my guests don't have to sit on the floor, lounge on a pillow or collapse onto a hairy carpet. Now you can lounge with sheer relief and comfort. Now I can have a place for my overnighter buddies to crash. Now I can have raunchy nooky on my couches, careful not to get drops of stuffies on them...Oh wait, TMI. My bad.
Anyways, yesterday, I had the staff party at my crib. There were about 13 kids and me and my boss lounging around on the floor. WE had Filipino food. Please, hold your drool bucket close: Turon, Miki Bihon, Veggie Lumpia, Lumpia Shanghai, Fried Chicken, Garlic Fried Rice. Mango Ice Cream. Buco Ice Cream. Fun, fun, fun. Brazilian music in the background, all is well.
Then the couches came!!! We all amazed at how fast these guys loaded them into my crib. It's not a small feat, mind you, to bring in three massive furniture pieces, but it was done, and all are now happier. I just hope that they stay clean and happy. It's always a happy thing to watch students have a good time, and they get along so well. It's part of the reason why I love my job so much, and I am happy to be surrounded by happy kids all day. It's when they start getting cranky when it bugs me. Oh wells.
I'm finalizing details on the next Voodoo Trip around the world. Watch this space for more details, but I won't disclose the final notes until the day before I leave. Hope all is well, and don't forget to mano your elders. That means me.
Peas ya'll,
Voodoo
Thursday, May 10, 2001
Okay, who's been giving out our secrets...
I'm going to let this one just flow....I found this on a web page, and I damn near lost my mind. Peep this, and I'm sure you'll die laughing...It's a HOW TO for those who want to...do the Filipino thing...
Enjoy. Yes, this is a real web page.
eHow to Celebrate Halloween the Filipino Way
Steps:
1. Prepare an abundance of food to last all night.
2. Bring the food and beverages to the grave sites of loved ones when the evening grows dark.
3. Gather around the graves with friends and family of the deceased.
4. Sit on chairs or on banigs. Banigs are thin woven mats that are laid out like picnic blankets.
5. Light candles throughout the course of the night.
6. Pray, meditate and visit together.
7. Stay all night.
8. Replace the night crew with a day crew, which is made up of those unable to attend the night session. The day crew leaves the grave site at about nightfall.
They forgot egg houses of those who don't give you candy. I guess they think we sit on banigs in the freezing cold in Colma. Whatever.
Wait, there's more...
eHow to Eat Filipino Food With Your Hands
Chinese people use chopsticks, westerners use forks, Filipinos (traditionally, at least) use their hands
Steps:
1. Place a small amount of the main dish, called "ulam," on top of a little bit of rice, using your dominant hand.
2. Pinch your index finger and thumb together as if you are about to pick up a piece of cheese.
3. Include your other three fingers in the pinch.
4. Spread the pinch so that your fingers and thumb are shaped around the rice and "ulam."
5. Place your thumb behind the food.
6. Lean your head forward and lift your hand to your mouth.
7. Place fingers near your lower teeth and shove the food into your mouth with one big push of the thumb.
Tips:
Soups are often mixed on a plate with a big helping of rice and can then be eaten by hand. Otherwise, soups are eaten with a spoon.
Remember, when you go to the Sizzler or to Denny's or to freakin' some Booooourgeois restaurant, to always make sure the "ulam" is on top of the starchy equivalent.
Wait, there's MORE: (this shit doesn't stop)
eHow to Be a Proper Guest in a Filipino Home
Because the Filipino culture is very food-oriented, food accompanies all celebrations, gatherings and informal visits. It's safe to assume that being a guest means you'll be offered something to eat.
Steps:
1. Remove your shoes before entering a Filipino home.
2. Pay your respects to the elders of the household with the "mano" gesture and address them with a greeting. Mano is a gesture in which you lift an elder's hand to your forehead.
3. Always accept an invitation to eat no matter how many times you have already eaten that day.
4. Help clear the table and do the dishes unless your hosts insist otherwise. They probably won't accept your offer to help, but it will be considered favorable if you make the gesture.
5. When leaving be sure to personally extend good wishes to the elders of the household and express your appreciation to everyone.
Tips:
Filipinos might interpret a decline of their food as a personal offense. Many Filipinos live in poor conditions, so when they offer their food, they are essentially conveying that you are worth the trouble. By refusing their offer, you are refusing their hospitality.
During town fiestas, Filipinos visit each house in their neighborhood. At each house it is proper to at least sample a little bit of the food that's being offered.
Man. I can relate to poor conditions. My PIII with the 17inch flatscreen, the DVD player that's attached to my 27 inch TV and my hooride aren't as flossy as they used to be. Now sit down and eat your Ulam with your rice and say what's up to the ancestors while chillin' on the banig.
eHow to Treat Your Elders if You Are Filipino
Filipinos treat elders with the utmost respect. Mannerisms, gestures and language are used to convey this respect for parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, acquaintances and even strangers.
Steps:
1. Adopt an attitude of modesty around elders.
2. Approach elders with your head slightly bowed, shoulders slightly tucked in and hands clasped in front of you.
3. Always acknowledge the elders first when approaching a group of people.
4. Gently take the hand of an elder with your palm facing up and her palm facing down, and lightly touch her hand to your forehead as you slightly bow. Gently release the hand. This gesture is known as "mano."
5. Always "mano" to grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles and older friends of the family.
6. Always say the word "ho" or "po" in midsentence (after approximately every fourth word) and at the end of each sentence when speaking to anyone about 20 years older than yourself, whether they are family or not. This applies even when you are answering with a simple yes or no.
7. Address older sisters and female cousins with the expression "manang" or "até," which is pronounced "latte."
8. Address older brothers and male cousins with the expression "manong" or "cougha," which is pronounced "kooia."
Tips:
Cousins and siblings five or more years older than yourself are also addressed in an appropriate respectful manner.
Man, I think your latte is peepin' my cougha.Somebody say Hooooooooooooooo!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIGHT.
Voodoo
PS: Find this and more good stuff at www.ehow.com (do they have "How to Meet a Perfect Filipino Boyfriend" on there?)
I'm going to let this one just flow....I found this on a web page, and I damn near lost my mind. Peep this, and I'm sure you'll die laughing...It's a HOW TO for those who want to...do the Filipino thing...
Enjoy. Yes, this is a real web page.
eHow to Celebrate Halloween the Filipino Way
Steps:
1. Prepare an abundance of food to last all night.
2. Bring the food and beverages to the grave sites of loved ones when the evening grows dark.
3. Gather around the graves with friends and family of the deceased.
4. Sit on chairs or on banigs. Banigs are thin woven mats that are laid out like picnic blankets.
5. Light candles throughout the course of the night.
6. Pray, meditate and visit together.
7. Stay all night.
8. Replace the night crew with a day crew, which is made up of those unable to attend the night session. The day crew leaves the grave site at about nightfall.
They forgot egg houses of those who don't give you candy. I guess they think we sit on banigs in the freezing cold in Colma. Whatever.
Wait, there's more...
eHow to Eat Filipino Food With Your Hands
Chinese people use chopsticks, westerners use forks, Filipinos (traditionally, at least) use their hands
Steps:
1. Place a small amount of the main dish, called "ulam," on top of a little bit of rice, using your dominant hand.
2. Pinch your index finger and thumb together as if you are about to pick up a piece of cheese.
3. Include your other three fingers in the pinch.
4. Spread the pinch so that your fingers and thumb are shaped around the rice and "ulam."
5. Place your thumb behind the food.
6. Lean your head forward and lift your hand to your mouth.
7. Place fingers near your lower teeth and shove the food into your mouth with one big push of the thumb.
Tips:
Soups are often mixed on a plate with a big helping of rice and can then be eaten by hand. Otherwise, soups are eaten with a spoon.
Remember, when you go to the Sizzler or to Denny's or to freakin' some Booooourgeois restaurant, to always make sure the "ulam" is on top of the starchy equivalent.
Wait, there's MORE: (this shit doesn't stop)
eHow to Be a Proper Guest in a Filipino Home
Because the Filipino culture is very food-oriented, food accompanies all celebrations, gatherings and informal visits. It's safe to assume that being a guest means you'll be offered something to eat.
Steps:
1. Remove your shoes before entering a Filipino home.
2. Pay your respects to the elders of the household with the "mano" gesture and address them with a greeting. Mano is a gesture in which you lift an elder's hand to your forehead.
3. Always accept an invitation to eat no matter how many times you have already eaten that day.
4. Help clear the table and do the dishes unless your hosts insist otherwise. They probably won't accept your offer to help, but it will be considered favorable if you make the gesture.
5. When leaving be sure to personally extend good wishes to the elders of the household and express your appreciation to everyone.
Tips:
Filipinos might interpret a decline of their food as a personal offense. Many Filipinos live in poor conditions, so when they offer their food, they are essentially conveying that you are worth the trouble. By refusing their offer, you are refusing their hospitality.
During town fiestas, Filipinos visit each house in their neighborhood. At each house it is proper to at least sample a little bit of the food that's being offered.
Man. I can relate to poor conditions. My PIII with the 17inch flatscreen, the DVD player that's attached to my 27 inch TV and my hooride aren't as flossy as they used to be. Now sit down and eat your Ulam with your rice and say what's up to the ancestors while chillin' on the banig.
eHow to Treat Your Elders if You Are Filipino
Filipinos treat elders with the utmost respect. Mannerisms, gestures and language are used to convey this respect for parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, acquaintances and even strangers.
Steps:
1. Adopt an attitude of modesty around elders.
2. Approach elders with your head slightly bowed, shoulders slightly tucked in and hands clasped in front of you.
3. Always acknowledge the elders first when approaching a group of people.
4. Gently take the hand of an elder with your palm facing up and her palm facing down, and lightly touch her hand to your forehead as you slightly bow. Gently release the hand. This gesture is known as "mano."
5. Always "mano" to grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles and older friends of the family.
6. Always say the word "ho" or "po" in midsentence (after approximately every fourth word) and at the end of each sentence when speaking to anyone about 20 years older than yourself, whether they are family or not. This applies even when you are answering with a simple yes or no.
7. Address older sisters and female cousins with the expression "manang" or "até," which is pronounced "latte."
8. Address older brothers and male cousins with the expression "manong" or "cougha," which is pronounced "kooia."
Tips:
Cousins and siblings five or more years older than yourself are also addressed in an appropriate respectful manner.
Man, I think your latte is peepin' my cougha.Somebody say Hooooooooooooooo!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIGHT.
Voodoo
PS: Find this and more good stuff at www.ehow.com (do they have "How to Meet a Perfect Filipino Boyfriend" on there?)
Where in the World is the Voodoo Child?
Voodoo is going International, ya'll....and this is the page for you to check...This is my last trip to France. The next trip will be posted here, so peep in two weeks, and see where I bounced out to!
Voodoo
Voodoo is going International, ya'll....and this is the page for you to check...This is my last trip to France. The next trip will be posted here, so peep in two weeks, and see where I bounced out to!
Voodoo
Tuesday, May 08, 2001
Weddings R Us
A lady inserted an 'ad' in the classifieds: "Husband wanted". Next day she received a hundred letters. They all said the same thing: "You can have mine."
Heh.
VuDu
A lady inserted an 'ad' in the classifieds: "Husband wanted". Next day she received a hundred letters. They all said the same thing: "You can have mine."
Heh.
VuDu
Tie the NOT
Congratulations to the Man Stealer and the Lion Tamer on their lovely and perfectly beautiful wedding. How inspirational and fun, I'm glad to have been a part of the whole dealio. World of Curls looked fabulous as usual. And well, I'm a vision in Pink.
How nice to see old friends at a happy time, and again, congrats to the lovely bride and the giddy groom. You might be broke, but you sure make a cute couple.
Voodoo!
Congratulations to the Man Stealer and the Lion Tamer on their lovely and perfectly beautiful wedding. How inspirational and fun, I'm glad to have been a part of the whole dealio. World of Curls looked fabulous as usual. And well, I'm a vision in Pink.
How nice to see old friends at a happy time, and again, congrats to the lovely bride and the giddy groom. You might be broke, but you sure make a cute couple.
Voodoo!
Monday, May 07, 2001
Addiction is a strange thing
Friends, Voodoo Babies and Commoners, lend me your collective ears. I have a confessional to make, and one that I am not particularly very excited about making, but I wanted to share a little bit about myself to all of you. Firstly, allow me to talk about addictions. There are things like crack and asscrack that we can become addicted to and that pretty much screws everything up. There are other things like happiness and love that are positive, but taken to another level can be quite frightening.
My addiction, my friends, is ballroom dance competitions on public television.
Yes, I love the International Dance Competitions. I watch them every time they come on TV. I stay glued to my set, and I hate to admit it. What is it about the competitions? The dresses? The dance steps? The music? The drama, yes there is drama, thank you. The whole damn burrito, children. I love the whole damn thing. I can't pull myself away from it. I have to watch it! It's CRACK!
It started with my mom. We watched TV together for many years, and both of us stared, slack jawed and drooling (not my mom, but me) at the pagentry of the whole bit. Even the lady from I Dream of Jeannie is on there. That heffa, she doesn't know what's going on, but I tell you, I DO, and I'm not ashamed any longer! One of my favorite movies is "Shall We Dance" a Japanese movie about a man who goes ballroom dancing and doesn't tell his wife about it. It's a GREAT movie, and very very funny, especially the little dude. Watch it and enjoy.
Okay, back into hiding I go.
Voodoo
Friends, Voodoo Babies and Commoners, lend me your collective ears. I have a confessional to make, and one that I am not particularly very excited about making, but I wanted to share a little bit about myself to all of you. Firstly, allow me to talk about addictions. There are things like crack and asscrack that we can become addicted to and that pretty much screws everything up. There are other things like happiness and love that are positive, but taken to another level can be quite frightening.
My addiction, my friends, is ballroom dance competitions on public television.
Yes, I love the International Dance Competitions. I watch them every time they come on TV. I stay glued to my set, and I hate to admit it. What is it about the competitions? The dresses? The dance steps? The music? The drama, yes there is drama, thank you. The whole damn burrito, children. I love the whole damn thing. I can't pull myself away from it. I have to watch it! It's CRACK!
It started with my mom. We watched TV together for many years, and both of us stared, slack jawed and drooling (not my mom, but me) at the pagentry of the whole bit. Even the lady from I Dream of Jeannie is on there. That heffa, she doesn't know what's going on, but I tell you, I DO, and I'm not ashamed any longer! One of my favorite movies is "Shall We Dance" a Japanese movie about a man who goes ballroom dancing and doesn't tell his wife about it. It's a GREAT movie, and very very funny, especially the little dude. Watch it and enjoy.
Okay, back into hiding I go.
Voodoo
Maui Wowee
Anyone with hookups in Maui, email me now! I need to the get the hell off this rock! Or if you have any other bright ideas on where to go, do that too. A free postcard to any Voodoo Baby who gives me a winning idea.
Vudu
Anyone with hookups in Maui, email me now! I need to the get the hell off this rock! Or if you have any other bright ideas on where to go, do that too. A free postcard to any Voodoo Baby who gives me a winning idea.
Vudu
Friday, May 04, 2001
An Example Voodoo Apostle Essay
As some of you may or may not know, the process to become an Apostle requires an essay. Husky's essay was about crushing cans against his head. Mista J's was about E-40: Icon or Scourge. The Apostle (the original) wrote some programming code, and I have no idea what the hell it actually does. At any rate, this is a stellar example of an Essay. BTW: it was submitted as an actual college admissions essay, and yes it worked.
I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. I have been known to remodel train stations on my lunch breaks, making them more efficient in the area of heat retention. I translate ethnic slurs for Cuban refugees, I write award-winning operas, I manage time efficiently. Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row.
I woo women with my sensuous and godlike trombone playing, I can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed, and I cook Thirty- Minute Brownies in twenty minutes. I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru.
Using only a hoe and a large glass of water, I once single-handedly defended a small village in the Amazon Basin from a horde of ferocious army ants. I play bluegrass cello, I was scouted by the Mets, I am the subject of numerous documentaries. When I'm bored, I build large suspension bridges in my yard. I enjoy urban hang gliding. On Wednesdays, after school, I repair electrical appliances free of charge.
I am an abstract artist, a concrete analyst, and a ruthless bookie. Critics worldwide swoon over my original line of corduroy evening wear. I don't perspire. I am a private citizen, yet I receive fan mail. I have been caller number nine and have won the weekend passes. Last summer I toured New Jersey with a traveling centrifugal-force demonstration. I bat .400. My deft floral arrangements have earned me fame in international botany circles. Children trust me.
I can hurl tennis rackets at small moving objects with deadly accuracy. I once read Paradise Lost, Moby Dick, and David Copperfield in one day and still had time to refurbish an entire dining room that evening. I know the exact location of every food item in the supermarket. I have performed several covert operations for the CIA. I sleep once a week; when I do sleep, I sleep in a chair. While on vacation in Canada, I successfully negotiated with a group of terrorists who had seized a small bakery. The laws of physics do not apply to me.
I balance, I weave, I dodge, I frolic, and my bills are all paid. On weekends, to let off steam, I participate in full-contact origami. Years ago I discovered the meaning of life but forgot to write it down. I have made extraordinary four course meals using only a mouli and a toaster oven. I breed prize winning clams. I have won bullfights in San Juan, cliff-diving competitions in Sri Lanka, and spelling bees at the Kremlin. I have played Hamlet, I have performed open-heart surgery, and I have spoken with Elvis.
But I have not yet gone to college.
*****
I don't know about you, but I'd make him an Apostle in 5 seconds.
Voodoo
As some of you may or may not know, the process to become an Apostle requires an essay. Husky's essay was about crushing cans against his head. Mista J's was about E-40: Icon or Scourge. The Apostle (the original) wrote some programming code, and I have no idea what the hell it actually does. At any rate, this is a stellar example of an Essay. BTW: it was submitted as an actual college admissions essay, and yes it worked.
I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. I have been known to remodel train stations on my lunch breaks, making them more efficient in the area of heat retention. I translate ethnic slurs for Cuban refugees, I write award-winning operas, I manage time efficiently. Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row.
I woo women with my sensuous and godlike trombone playing, I can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed, and I cook Thirty- Minute Brownies in twenty minutes. I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru.
Using only a hoe and a large glass of water, I once single-handedly defended a small village in the Amazon Basin from a horde of ferocious army ants. I play bluegrass cello, I was scouted by the Mets, I am the subject of numerous documentaries. When I'm bored, I build large suspension bridges in my yard. I enjoy urban hang gliding. On Wednesdays, after school, I repair electrical appliances free of charge.
I am an abstract artist, a concrete analyst, and a ruthless bookie. Critics worldwide swoon over my original line of corduroy evening wear. I don't perspire. I am a private citizen, yet I receive fan mail. I have been caller number nine and have won the weekend passes. Last summer I toured New Jersey with a traveling centrifugal-force demonstration. I bat .400. My deft floral arrangements have earned me fame in international botany circles. Children trust me.
I can hurl tennis rackets at small moving objects with deadly accuracy. I once read Paradise Lost, Moby Dick, and David Copperfield in one day and still had time to refurbish an entire dining room that evening. I know the exact location of every food item in the supermarket. I have performed several covert operations for the CIA. I sleep once a week; when I do sleep, I sleep in a chair. While on vacation in Canada, I successfully negotiated with a group of terrorists who had seized a small bakery. The laws of physics do not apply to me.
I balance, I weave, I dodge, I frolic, and my bills are all paid. On weekends, to let off steam, I participate in full-contact origami. Years ago I discovered the meaning of life but forgot to write it down. I have made extraordinary four course meals using only a mouli and a toaster oven. I breed prize winning clams. I have won bullfights in San Juan, cliff-diving competitions in Sri Lanka, and spelling bees at the Kremlin. I have played Hamlet, I have performed open-heart surgery, and I have spoken with Elvis.
But I have not yet gone to college.
*****
I don't know about you, but I'd make him an Apostle in 5 seconds.
Voodoo
Thursday, May 03, 2001
Saints Alive!
I would like to announce the following Canonizations for the newest of the Apostles. We will have a small ceremony to welcome them into the circle, and this involves chicken grease and rubber bands, and the rest I can't tell you about. You'll also receive, as part of your Apostleship, free lifetime passes to the Sound Factory.
The Husky Boy. World reknown for his wrestling techniques and lightning fast wit and karate chop. I can kick his butt, but I don't tell him that.
Mista J. Colleague and DreamCast king who is going through withdrawal. I'm going to have My Sims mate with Your Sims.
Resistance is Futile.
Voodoo
I would like to announce the following Canonizations for the newest of the Apostles. We will have a small ceremony to welcome them into the circle, and this involves chicken grease and rubber bands, and the rest I can't tell you about. You'll also receive, as part of your Apostleship, free lifetime passes to the Sound Factory.
The Husky Boy. World reknown for his wrestling techniques and lightning fast wit and karate chop. I can kick his butt, but I don't tell him that.
Mista J. Colleague and DreamCast king who is going through withdrawal. I'm going to have My Sims mate with Your Sims.
Resistance is Futile.
Voodoo
Women and Safety: Not Just a Girl Thing
A few days ago, a woman got attacked at a club.
Read the story here. In reality, we don't like to read about things that happen to others, at least I know it's a tough fascination. On one hand you want to check it out, and on the other, it's painful to see the things that happen in real life. It's like watching Cops.
I won't get on my soapbox here, but going to clubs shouldn't be a dangerous activity. But truth is girls and guys go and get all tanked and don't know what the hell is going on, and it's really easy to get taken by surprise. Another truth is that people who get tanked and then get attacked are not responsible in any way for the attack. I know, I've heard the "get drunk, get attacked, it's your fault in the first place" bullshit before. No, that's not it. I'm faded, that gives you no right to impose yourself upon me.
As the weather gets more fabulous, the people start coming out and enjoying themselves, some a little too much. Maintain, people. Watch your consumption, and if you gotta get your swerve on, make sure you have some friends who can get your back. Make sure that they are able to help you out, or at least babysit you. I know, I hate babysitting drunks, but it's a matter of personal safety. This goes for girls and boys. Both Voodoo Sexes gotta look out for each other. Stop mackin' on some hoochie mama with the booty cutters and help your friends out. But maintain, ya'll. And watch your drinks to make sure that stuff doesn't get put in 'em. It happens all the time. Sad as hell, but it's the truth.
The university where I work, and that isn't too hard to figure out, is such a paradise because it is so safe, and it is so assuring, but you cannot assume that this is devoid of problems. There are bad people out there and that false sense of security can really hurt you when you least expect it. Those of you who are in public safety (not just at the university, but in departments around the world), I think it needs to be understood that the role that the men and women play who take reports is so crucial. The fact that she felt compromised by your presence and lack empathetic regard can hamper someone from reporting in the future. That, I believe is the second rape - when your safety is compromised AGAIN by those sworn to protect.
I should know. I've been there.
Voodoo
A few days ago, a woman got attacked at a club.
Read the story here. In reality, we don't like to read about things that happen to others, at least I know it's a tough fascination. On one hand you want to check it out, and on the other, it's painful to see the things that happen in real life. It's like watching Cops.
I won't get on my soapbox here, but going to clubs shouldn't be a dangerous activity. But truth is girls and guys go and get all tanked and don't know what the hell is going on, and it's really easy to get taken by surprise. Another truth is that people who get tanked and then get attacked are not responsible in any way for the attack. I know, I've heard the "get drunk, get attacked, it's your fault in the first place" bullshit before. No, that's not it. I'm faded, that gives you no right to impose yourself upon me.
As the weather gets more fabulous, the people start coming out and enjoying themselves, some a little too much. Maintain, people. Watch your consumption, and if you gotta get your swerve on, make sure you have some friends who can get your back. Make sure that they are able to help you out, or at least babysit you. I know, I hate babysitting drunks, but it's a matter of personal safety. This goes for girls and boys. Both Voodoo Sexes gotta look out for each other. Stop mackin' on some hoochie mama with the booty cutters and help your friends out. But maintain, ya'll. And watch your drinks to make sure that stuff doesn't get put in 'em. It happens all the time. Sad as hell, but it's the truth.
The university where I work, and that isn't too hard to figure out, is such a paradise because it is so safe, and it is so assuring, but you cannot assume that this is devoid of problems. There are bad people out there and that false sense of security can really hurt you when you least expect it. Those of you who are in public safety (not just at the university, but in departments around the world), I think it needs to be understood that the role that the men and women play who take reports is so crucial. The fact that she felt compromised by your presence and lack empathetic regard can hamper someone from reporting in the future. That, I believe is the second rape - when your safety is compromised AGAIN by those sworn to protect.
I should know. I've been there.
Voodoo
You Know You're Getting Old When...
What's your bitch and moan about being old? TELL ME NOW!
I'm going to take a nap.
Voodoo
** New additions: Courtesy of the Husky Boy: You know you're getting old when you can remember basketball PRE-Jordan.
Baseball PRE-Junior, Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa.
Football when the Raiders were in Oakland to begin with.
Boxing PRE-fixing. (Did I say that?).
Wrestline PRE-all that firework fonky big boobied chick entrance music crap. Remember when it was on TBS in a small soundstage? hahahahahahaha oh damn that's funny. Tommy Rich in the house! Nice ricebowl.
- You just can't spring back like you used to.
- You think that sleeping in is a good idea so that you can die in your sleep from so much pain and exhaustion.
- You wake up and wonder what millenia it is.
- You have BenGay but you hide it so when your friends come over they won't bust your chops.
- Every song you grew up listening to is now "old school"
- Last night one of my students held up a picture of a character from McDonalds that she didn't know. It was Grimace. Oh god, I'm old.
- Your students think for some reason that it's impossible for you to look cool, and then they think you're trying to copy them when you're wearing your so-called COOL clothes. I gotta get outta the office more.
- Eating pizza late at night just doesn't do it for me anymore.
- My students also didn't know who Jimi Hendrix was. Great.
- Half the songs on the radio I don't understand.
- You write about your daily drama and hope that someone understands.
- What exactly is the big deal with the bling bling culture?
- Where is Chuck D.?
- They keep getting younger and younger looking. Sheesh, how do I teach this batch of kids?
- Psst, pass the SAM-e.
- Naps? As mandatory as food.
What's your bitch and moan about being old? TELL ME NOW!
I'm going to take a nap.
Voodoo
** New additions: Courtesy of the Husky Boy: You know you're getting old when you can remember basketball PRE-Jordan.
Baseball PRE-Junior, Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa.
Football when the Raiders were in Oakland to begin with.
Boxing PRE-fixing. (Did I say that?).
Wrestline PRE-all that firework fonky big boobied chick entrance music crap. Remember when it was on TBS in a small soundstage? hahahahahahaha oh damn that's funny. Tommy Rich in the house! Nice ricebowl.
Wednesday, May 02, 2001
Exhaustion Sets In
I'm tired, babies. I'm so tired, and I feel like my feet dun had enough. Dun wanna walk no mo.
That's the truth, if you think about it. I've been through a rough few days, and I have been denying myself sleep and food, and it's almost like prison except for the soap dropping. Seriously though, have you ever had those days where you just want to pass out and not have to wake up...for a couple of days? That's me. I'm surprised I can still walk to work.
I've been thinking about taking a mental health day, because that would come in so handily. However, I will be taking a mental health week in a few, so that'll be exciting for me. I'm going to Maui, and I'm going to have a freakin' blast if it kills me. I look forward to doing nothing, sitting back and enjoying the sun and the beach and the food and the people and who the hell knows what else is going to go down there. I was thinking about going to NYC, but honestly, I want to chill, and NYC doesn't quite strike me as a chill spot, if you know what I mean. I think I'd pass out from the overstimulation.
I'm travelling by myself, so that'll be fun. I've travelled by myself to France, that was tight. So if you have any ideas of where I should go (other than hell, thank you very much), please let me know. Email me! Be back with more stories later.
I'm tired, babies. I'm so tired, and I feel like my feet dun had enough. Dun wanna walk no mo.
That's the truth, if you think about it. I've been through a rough few days, and I have been denying myself sleep and food, and it's almost like prison except for the soap dropping. Seriously though, have you ever had those days where you just want to pass out and not have to wake up...for a couple of days? That's me. I'm surprised I can still walk to work.
I've been thinking about taking a mental health day, because that would come in so handily. However, I will be taking a mental health week in a few, so that'll be exciting for me. I'm going to Maui, and I'm going to have a freakin' blast if it kills me. I look forward to doing nothing, sitting back and enjoying the sun and the beach and the food and the people and who the hell knows what else is going to go down there. I was thinking about going to NYC, but honestly, I want to chill, and NYC doesn't quite strike me as a chill spot, if you know what I mean. I think I'd pass out from the overstimulation.
I'm travelling by myself, so that'll be fun. I've travelled by myself to France, that was tight. So if you have any ideas of where I should go (other than hell, thank you very much), please let me know. Email me! Be back with more stories later.
Tuesday, May 01, 2001
I like long walks, especially when they're taken by people who annoy me. ~Fred Allen
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