Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Chippie the Hardass' LiveJournal:

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Thursday, June 8th, 2006
10:53 pm	Is there medication for OCD? Do you ever noticed when you're stoned that simple tasks turn into a bigger ordeal than they ever should be? For instance, I was burning incense in my room and the stick holder is significantly too small, so all the ash falls onto the dresser top. It wasn't that much so I wasn't as concerned with wiping it off, but being stoned I couldn't help but obsess over it and feel the need to blow it off. Well, I also have a ceiling fan on which directs the ash I just blew into my dark green velvet curtains. That creates another moment of obsessive compulsion, so I brush the curtain, which now banishes the top layer of ash, but grounds the rest into the green. Immediately noticing a water bottle nearby, my brain turns toward cleaning and I decide to wet a kleenex to rub out the ash. Too much is soaked into the kleenex, but I, being now less overly pensive, don't notice and being to spot-clean. The kleenex being wet, begins to roll up and deposit itself onto the, curtains, which are much worse off than when I started. At this point, I'm sure several upon several minutes have passed and I'm exhausted, both brain and body. It's tiresome being OCD. Luckily a shiny object nearby attracts my attention, I am distracted and soon after fall into bed to enjoy a deep slumber. Current Mood: lethargic Current Music: Sweet hum of my computer with crickets in the night air (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Friday, February 10th, 2006
11:03 am	V-Day Advice Reuters in London published a list to follow in order to avoid sending a racy or embarrassing Valentine text to the wrong person. -- Keep flirty messages short. -- Observe the two-day rule: get in touch after meeting someone within two days, no longer. -- Do not drink and text. -- Avoid over-use of emoticons and jargon. -- "Xs" at the end of messages should not exceed three. -- Be careful about picture messaging which others may get their hands on. -- Adhere to the two text rule; Admit defeat if you have not received a reply after 12 hours and two texts. I like 3 and 5 and definitely the last one. STOP IT. JUST STOP. But the funniest part is thinking of all the people out there that will read this and take it as sound advice because it applies to them. I know I've done some of these things, embarrassment is nothing new to me. But really, suffer the embarrassment if you're retarded enough to text a picture of yourself that wouldn't be considered appropriate for the masses if you send it to the wrong person. (Comment on this)
Saturday, February 4th, 2006
11:24 am	Running from the fuzz My faith in the Sacramento County Police Department was both renewed and questioned last night. As I was driving home from Sacramento, I was pulled over. This normally wouldn't have been a big issue, except for the fact that the reason I was leaving Sac-town was because I couldn't find my ID to get into the comedy club where we had gone to celebrate Dom's birthday. So I'm driving rather prudently with no driver's license when I'm pulled over near the airport. I couldn't figure out why, I wasn't speeding, I had just checked my car and all the lights were working, etc. The cop makes an attempt at leisurely strolling up to the car, but I could see in my side-view mirror that his state of leisure was laced with some uncomfortableness. Ahh yes, a rookie. He asks me for license and registration, of which I have neither. The reason I have no registration is because it can take up to 2 months after purchasing a car for the title to be transfered to my name. The only thing I have is a little piece of paper which is taped to the inside of my windshield that states I am the owner. The reason he's pulled me over is because the tags on my license have expired, which is stated in the paper on aforementioned windshield. I cannot renew the tags until the registration goes through. I explain this to the officer, so he asks for my license and says that as he's running my license I need to peel the sticker off to show him. So then I'm strapped with the decision to a) tell the truth about my license and suffer the consequences, b) fabricate some story about my wallet being stolen and now I'm on my way home to call the credit card company while mustering tears or stealthily getting the visine from my purse, or c) convince Rabbit here that he can just run my license number without the card. I've been told by some that it is possible, while others say the card must be present. So I try my luck and start working on option C. He's not going for it, so in an effort to grant myself more time for story fabrication, I tell him I'm going to work on getting my registration off the windshield. He seems flustered, and tries to tell me to stop worrying about the registration and find my ID. I take advantage of this and ask, "but wait, isn't the registration on the car just as important as my license? Wouldn't lack of proof of registration mean that I stole the car and in turn is causing more damage because I have robbed someone of a very costly possession than just merely me driving without a license?" Just as he's searching for an answer, a car speeds past us, swerves, almost hits another car and speeds up the overpass. Junior officer decides this is more important than my little situation, mutters some phrase about getting new tags as soon as possible and takes off back to his car. Guess the exciting chase will give him more street cred. The day is rapidly approaching when I can't talk my way out of a situation, but until that day shows it face, I will continue to gloat on my methods of persuasion with the law. (Sorry I missed out on the b-day festivities, Dom) Current Mood: Power-trip (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, February 1st, 2006
12:15 pm	All things alike... I had to call Walmart today to talk to the parent of one of the students from school. While I was on hold, the music playing was some country song. I knew I hated Walmart. Current Music: Shit (Comment on this)
Monday, January 23rd, 2006
6:19 pm	Spinsterhood awaits Today I met the woman my parents are renting their house to. It was a sort of look into my future, and it was depressing. She's motivated with work, achieved a lot in her career, has hips and a bit of a ghetto booty (totally white chick otherwise), freckles, and has a cat. She's 35 and lives alone in a 4 bedroom house in Woodland. This could be me. We're the same person, same sense of humor, same strengths and interests. The only difference is that I'm curvier (ie she's flat-chested) and she has a cat, while I want a dog. Sad. Current Mood: depressed Current Music: Damien Rice (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 29th, 2005
9:15 pm	My life has reached a new low. My Dad borrowed my car the other day and left it unlocked, this of course meant that the radio was stolen because in these parts nothing is safe. I spent today's commute to work (only about 5 minutes) listening to the downloaded ringtones on my phone. I think the next step is to bust out the old boombox for the passenger seat. (the saddest part about this whole scene was that I was groovin' to the polyphonic tones) Current Mood: amused Current Music: Haha, earlier it was Sweet Home Alabama on my cell phone (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Sunday, November 27th, 2005
12:42 am	Another blessed union I went to a wedding today. The second wedding in the past 6 months. I hate weddings. I always think that I might enjoy them, but I never do. I enjoy the getting dressed up part, the open bar, the seeing people I haven’t seen in a while, the open bar. But it’s never anything but a judgment-fest. This one was particularly so, because I was put on display for judgment. I was seated at what once would have been known as the “kids table”, but considering that we were all in our mid-twenties, it was the “singles table”. That was unfortunate enough, but what makes it worse was there were 5 females at the table and 3 males, two of which were brothers of the groom and quite possibly not yet 20-years old. So I saw my life flash before my eyes as a spinster and spent much of the evening thinking of whether I will be a purebred or a pound-puppy type of an old lady. Due to the fact that the ratio of XY and XX chromosomes was not exactly in my favor, I made friends with the girl next to me and reveled in the awkwardness that was going on around us. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that I knew 6 people at this 150+ guest wedding. My Mom and Dad, the bride, her parents and sister. Yeah, I was thrilled with the combination of sitting with absolutely no one that I knew and being labeled society’s rejects. But the best part happened about halfway through the evening. As mentioned above, I found the open bar. This, in turn, made me have to pee. So, I went in search of the facilities. With 4 gin and tonics, 2 glasses of wine, and a glass of champagne under belt, I was a little tipsy. I found the bathroom and walked into find another woman in there. It being a one-room (not a stall situation), I apologized and began to retreat back to the hallway to wait my turn. But the woman inside instead replied with, “No no, come on in. We’re both girls, we can share.” So not sure what to do in this situation, hesitated, then proceeded to enter the bathroom. I hovered for a minute in the middle trying to decide how play this off. Do I wait while she finished applying her lipstick, then leaves? Do I grab a piece of toilet paper and pretend to be blowing my nose in hopes she finishes up and leaves my in peace? Or do I just drop trough and go in front of this woman? Well, I had to pee, so I locked the door and went about my business while she applied the magenta paint to her lips. She was quite chatty and continued the conversation as if everything was cool. In the small talk that we exchanged I managed to share how I was related to the bride, explaining that my parents had been friends with the bride’s since the early 70s when they were all living like hippies in Sonoma County. She suddenly exclaims, “Oh my god, I’ve heard so much about you, I’m so excited I got the opportunity to meet you. You just moved back to the area didn’t you? That is so great it is so nice to meet you.” This was nice and but kind of odd that I had been spoken about in such detail in a party where I knew about 5% of the population. But the weirdest part was, in a normal situation this would be when people would shake hands. But considering I was on the pot and had just wiped, it wasn’t appropriate. So I finished up and went to wash my hands, while she exited the room. Yeah, awkward. But the part that I am now thinking about is whether or not she really expected me to just go in front of her. Thinking about it, I was drunk and to me it seemed as though she didn’t care. But in retrospect, the small talk was weird and she bolted as soon as it was appropriate to open the door. She probably thought it was weird, too. Awesome, just another story to enhance my already stellar reputation. Current Mood: embarrassed Current Music: Braveheart on TV (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, November 9th, 2005
12:32 am	The Freaks Come Out at Night So tonight I was doing pretty well, serving up coffee to the patrons of the greater Chicago area, when the most entertaining street-person (PC term for bum) came in to fill my evening with delight. He looked about 50-60 years old, male, black, salt n pepper hair, decently dressed in a sweater and khakis, with a messenger bag. My first thought was that he was normal, didn't look bum-ish at all. It wasn't until I noticed him moving from table to table talking to various people that I realized he was one brick short of a load. My manager, May, approached him and asked him to leave the other customers alone. I didn't hear what he said, but she left him alone and went to call the police. May is about 5'4" and stick-thin, so I didn't want her approaching him again. But he was continuing to bother the other customers, so I decided to step in. But after I coming up to him and suggesting he let the students get back to their studying, he started to mouth off at me. "Uh oh, now look-ah who's comin' up to me now....what do ya want....maybe I should screw you too, wadda ya think?" "Um, I don't think that sounds like fun at all. I think maybe you should head outside, sir. These customers look like they'd like to get back to their work or conversations" "Uh, no, I'm not gonna go anywhere....blah blah drunken mumble....I'm gonna....drunk talk....who wants to see me dance?" He then starts to sing Yankee Doodle Dandy and skip-dance/stumble/lean on me. After knocking into a few people and almost falling over, I finally get him upright and start leading him to the door. As I turn away from him he blurts out, "Damn, you got a big ass!" "Damn, you're a rude asshole that needs to get the hell out of here" By that time, a customer came up and helped me throw him out. Awesome. I acknowledge that I have a large derriere. In fact, I've been told by several black men and women that I have a "black woman's ass". I'm not ashamed of it, but I sure don't want that fact being broadcast to the whole coffee shop. Thanks, crazy. I do have to say though, the Yankee Doodle dance was priceless. Current Mood: amused Current Music: Sir Mix A Lot - Baby Got Back (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Thursday, November 3rd, 2005
11:16 pm	Trip down memory lane So my roommate/hetero-life-partner Kiki and I were reminiscing and looked up some of my older lj entries. The one that we came across and truly made me laugh was the one about Taco Bell (see January 25th entry). That night was so random and ridiculous that I wrote a poem about it for my intro to poetry class I took senior year (hell yeah I was a slacker). So after reading the entry, we had to go read the poem. Maybe it isn't funny to the rest of you, but I giggled my mutha-fuckin' ass off. So, if you will read the entry, then read the poem, I hope to share the delight with you. Oh Taco Bell How I cannot resist the temptation of your food The crisp taco shells The seasoned Mexi Nuggets And the salty beef Yet because you are a blue collar employee Your staff consists of those who judge those more fortunate Is it my fault I was blessed with determination and support? Why do you judge me? It was not yet 1am and your drive thru was closed Preventing me from my post-socializing munchies I did indeed pound on the window But only in an act of passion and denial Your employees in their silly purple outfits Sitting, smoking, sassing me I am a paying customer And it was not yet 1am! Current Mood: content Current Music: Journey - Don't Stop Believin' (Comment on this)
Monday, October 31st, 2005
9:49 pm	Highlights from Halloween Saturday Ok, and by highlights I mean details that I vaguely remember: - Home from work by 6pm and getting ready/drinking by 7pm. - On train, still drinking, dressed as Margot Tenenbaum, accompanied by the St. Pauli Girl by 9pm. - Drinking with afore-mentioned German Beer Whore, Olsen Twins, and my brother Richie Tenenbaum by 10pm. - Walking to party with everyone by 11:30pm, carrying water bottle full of Franzia and inner bladder of Franzia under my overcoat. - At party drinking, playing flip-cup, drinking, stumbling, etc. - On step outside of party smoking a cigarette with random guy around 1am. - Possibly getting sick, or maybe just wanting to, into garden next to apartment building. - Sitting on steps of adjacent apartment building, drunk-dialing and pretending as though I'm totally cool, but thanks for asking. - At Walgreens a couple blocks away, by myself, looking for a bathroom. - Wandering into back office of Walgreens, becoming confused. - Catching my reflection in a mirror on shelf and realizing I look like a homeless person. - Finally notice other customers, who aren't in costume, and buying things like toilet paper and baby food looking at me strangely. What, you've never seen a drunkard in costume wandering in and out of the back rooms at a 24-hour pharmacy? - Ending up back at party, to find roommate and all friends gone. - Finding note on door of apartment from Ms. St. Pauli saying everyone looked for me, couldn't find me so they left for a bar. - Realizing that St. Pauli Girl has my wallet and ID. - Get in cab, calling roommate, ending up at bar where everyone is. - Getting yelled at by cabbie for getting out of car before paying, even though I was getting out to get wallet from roommate who is standing right next to cab. - Realizing it is 4am, I'm so drunk I don't even know how to walk and I have to be at work at 7am. - Start to walk by myself to train to come home, but end up walking in the wrong direction. - Stand in the middle of the road on a bridge trying to wave down a cab, and narrowly avoiding being hit by oncoming cars. - Lots of cabs pass me before one finally stops and picks me up. I share the ride with 2 other wasted people. - They get out 2 blocks later, hand me a wad of cash, and cabbie asks where I'm headed. - I tell him where I live and that I only have $20. - He laughs and tells me he'll drop me at the train station (apparently $20 wasn't enough). - After telling him the story of my evening, he turns off the meter and drives me all the way home (after asking around today, I found out that was a $40 cab ride). - I arrive at home in time to pass out for a quick nap and wake up 1.5 hours later to go to work. - Spend next 6 hours dizzy, sick, and wanting to throw sharp objects at asshole customers, or throw up on them. I'm so disoriented upon arrival at work (and by disoriented I mean probably still drunk) that I try to make myself a latte and spill entire gallon jug of milk down my front and onto ground. - At home, passed out in bed by 12:30. All in all, fun. I think..... Current Mood: tired Current Music: That Hilary Duff song because I'm watching Laguna Beach (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, October 12th, 2005
7:40 pm	Stop eating before bedtime So I had a dream that I went to a speed-dating thing and met a prostitute. She said that her pimp encourages his girls to speed-date because it helps them on their short-game. Awesome. (Comment on this)
Tuesday, October 11th, 2005
4:07 pm	Black Eyed Peas, what are you doin'? Ok, now don't get me wrong, I'm a BEP fan. But their newest album is really lacking in its deep and meaningful messages. Seriously, my lovely lady lumps? I, as a woman, feel that voluptuous breasts should not be minimized or degraded to lumps. Makes me think of lumpy mashed potatoes, which I don't know about chy'all, but that ain't sexy. That's grandma's home-cookin', not a tool in my game. Current Mood: sad Current Music: Marley - something with meaning (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, October 6th, 2005
7:13 pm	Asian-Invasion Since I moved into my current building, I have been innundated with the Asian lifestyle. 95% of the people that live here are international students, and they are all Asian. This in turn means lots of Asian kids running around (it's graduate student housing, so families welcome), the waft of noodles and stir-fry (maybe even a little cat), and lots of conversations I can't understand in a tongue that is not of the romance-language genre. In addition to the kids running around, they are also screaming in the above-mentioned language. Not pleasant. But the best part about this whole experience was a website that was introduced to me by a fellow non-Asian in our building. www.engrish.com. Fucking funny. So much of it applies to the people I see everyday. There was a guy in the hall the other day that was on the phone and he kept saying "herro? herro?" over and over. I giggled my mutha-fuckin' ass off. I'm not a racist, I'm a minority. Where's my equal-opportunity employment? Current Mood: blah Current Music: Ella (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, October 3rd, 2005
3:38 pm	So apparently Britney Spear's son, whose name is Preston (how unfortunate), is claimed to be a gangsta by his father, K-Fed. This is because the first time that he held his son, Preston peed on him. This is totally what I thought classified someone as gangsta. In fact, I think I was witness to a run-by peeing the other day on Chicago's Southside. What a thug-life, man. Or maybe, as Dom put it, it's R. Kelly's baby and Kevin is going to have to raise the little motherfucker. Talk about your True Hollywood Story in the making. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, September 30th, 2005
4:08 pm	Taradise, is it really a funded program? So I was channel-surfing today and came across Taradise on E! Despite my generally higher standards, I tuned in. I knew the premise was for Tara Reid to take over the show Wild On, but I had no idea that she was going to get away with being drunk, disorderly, and tramping around different parts of the world playing it off as though she was exploring the cultural side to these different cities. The episode I had the pleasure of seeing was her in Athens, where she oh so conveniently ran into Paris Hilton, what a surprise. If this wasn't enough for me, the show continued to show the two of them dancing at one of the most exclusive clubs in the world. I didn't catch the name, and now I feel a void in my life not knowing it. Right. After some time spent on the dancefloor and at the bar, Tara found a balcony with a dancepole that she commandeered. She took a few spins then announced to the crowd below, "I know you all think that I'm too drunk, but I'm not gonna fall. Just don't look up my dress too much!" Basically, the only thoughts running through my mind during this 30 minutes of my life that I'll never get back were, how the hell did Tara Reid manage to get a show that she can appear in as little clothing as possible while looking as though she had been run over by a truck repeatedly? The best part about the 30 minutes though was when she made the comment that while she was out with Paris, her best friend and travel companion took the camera to explore the side of Athens that embraces the true Greek culture. Funny how none of that was shown. As my friend Dominic put it, Tara Reid has just become one big ball of WTF? Current Mood: confused Current Music: Belle and Sebastian (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, September 27th, 2005
10:49 pm	Idiot So I was reading an article online today about a man in Muncie, Indiana. I giggled my ass off. Apparently some dumbshit pulled up to a gas station in the middle of the night and began siphoning gas out of the underground tank. The best part about the story was that the manager of the gas stationed arrived the following morning to find the man and a 55-gallon tank partially filled with gas in the back of the man's van. The idiot was asleep. As read on Fark.com, one should remember their no-doze when siphoning gasoline. It can get tiring. I call it natural selection. Current Mood: amused Current Music: Bob Dylan special on PBS - Like a rolling stone (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, September 23rd, 2005
9:13 pm	Awesome You are What Rejected Crayon Are You? (Comment on this)
Wednesday, September 21st, 2005
8:19 pm	Feeling Lost So I decided tonight that I was going to watch the season premiere of the show "Lost". This was a bad idea because I've never seen the show, never really had any interest in the show, and can't let my mind embrace Matthew Fox in any other role than Charlie on "Party of Five". So I've now watched 20 minutes of it, have no idea what's going on, who anyone is, or why they're all crazy. I mean I would be crazy too if I was trapped on an island with a bunch of b-list actors. But they're certifiably looney. I don't understand what's going on, but yet I keep watching. I guess I'm the one that's lost. Maybe it's time to get some hobbies. Current Mood: bored (Comment on this)
Wednesday, August 24th, 2005
3:43 pm	What up, fuck Bush, I'm a damn liberal Your Political Profile Overall: 45% Conservative, 55% Liberal Social Issues: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal Personal Responsibility: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal Fiscal Issues: 100% Conservative, 0% Liberal Ethics: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal Defense and Crime: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal How Liberal / Conservative Are You? (Comment on this)
Sunday, August 21st, 2005
8:44 pm	It's a long one, but a good read... The setting: driving up I-5 from LA to Woodland in a 1978 Ford F-150, with no air conditioning or really any ventilation system to speak of (unless you count the holes in the floorboard and door panel). An AM stereo that doesn't work, a speedometer that doesn't work, and as you will soon find out, a fuel gage that doesn't work. The sun is beating down on the left arm of the driver who departed SoCal at 1pm. The character: me. A tired, stoned driver. I had been in LA the day before with my great-aunt who fell and was in the ICU. I went to see her and move her back home, and while down South decided to drive my truck back since I have not heard a word from Pimp My Ride and didn't want to outstay my welcome in my relative's driveway. I flew down last minute so didn't pack to wisely. In the heat of the afternoon, I decided to change into as little clothing as possible. The costume: boxers, old wife-beater, black bra, adidas old skool sneakers, frizzy and wind-blown hair. The epitome of white trash. Like I said before, I didn't pack very well and ended up wearing my pajamas on the road. I can't forget to mention that because of the wife-beater and no ventilation, I'm driving with the window down achieving what might be the best trucker-tan ever. The dilemma: about 6 hours into my 7 hour trip, the truck dies. I have no idea why. So I pull over to the side of the road, right next to the on-ramp of exit 498, and call AAA. There are no signs nearby, except for the one that says exit 498, so I have no idea where I am. Somewhere between Stockton and Sacramento. Right after I get off the phone with them, my phone dies. Awesome. I figure that since AAA doens't really know where I am, that it will probably take awhile to get there. So naturally, I roll a joint. About 5 minutes after I finish smoking it, a cop pulls up behind. Naturally, I panic. Luckily it was still bright out, so with sunglasses on, I talk to him letting him know that everything was fine and AAA was on the way. Whew. Next thing I know, another cop pulls some dude over behind me. He's parked back like 20 yards. He talks to the driver a bit, then makes him get out of the car. He proceeds to make the guy walk a straight line, follow his finger with his eyes, and a few other drunk-driver tests. Next thing I know, he's handcuffing the guy and putting him in the back of the car. Crazy, right? It gets better. So as the cop is going through the man's car, another guy pulls over on the other side of the on-ramp. He gets out of his car and.....starts to pee!!! Now, the peeing isn't that big of a deal, except for the fact that he's illegally parked on the side of an on-ramp and peeing in front of not only myself, but a cop! And it's not like we were hidden. So the cop walks over to the guy while he's doing his business, talks to him a bit and then issues him a ticket. The guy wraps up and drives away. The cop finishes his shit at the other car and comes to talk to me. I straight up ask him what happened with the peeing guy and he tells me he issued a ticket for illegal parking on an emergency strip and indecent exposure. Awesome. Finally, an hour and a half after I call, AAA shows up. He asks me what happened to the car, I describe it, and he puts some gas in. It starts and I drive away with my head held in shame. I swear to you, the gas gage read 1/4 tank. Oh well. On top of driving all the way back from LA not knowing how fast I was going, due to broken speedometer, I apparently had no idea how much gas was in the truck. I arrived at home 9.5 hours after I departed. The moral of the story: appreciate the little things, like a working gas gage, an armrest, a stereo in your car, and the beautiful sunset I witnessed while waiting. Whatever bad karma I have has been wiped clean. Current Mood: tired Current Music: The theme song to The Office, fucking funny show (1 Comment |Comment on this)