You mean...everyone else isn't just lazy?


And don't you dare tell me that caps lock isn't correct, either. I'M A GRAMMAR BANDIT. I DO WHAT I WANT.

Image from an earlier post, but originally from that Community episode where Troy meets Levar Burton. Those eyes just slay me.


I've Got Movin' On My Mind

In five days I'll be starting out to live on my own!

Well.  "On my own" might be a bit of an exaggeration, since right now I still have no job and no apartment.  I wish that made me spunky and adventurous, but it will probably just make me a mooching recluse, eating cereal with the shades drawn and watching reruns of "I Love Lucy" in my boyfriend's place while he's at work.  Then when he confronts me, I'll shout, "I'M WORKING ON MY WRITING.  THIS IS THE GATHERING INSPIRATION STAGE" before asking him to please buy some more Raisin Bran and maraschino cherries next time he's out.

Image via The Classy Woman.


School's Out Forever!

Today was my last day of work as a kindergarten teacher.  And you know, I believe unemployment suits me.

Image via Vintage Fine Art Prints.



Cinco de Mayo!

I told the kids that I was leaving and that they would be having a new teacher after next week.  Yesterday  I found twelve notes on the podium saying "I do not wut you to go miss tracy" and one that said, "Happy Cinco de Mayo!"  At least one of them has his priorities straight.

Image via Cubiclebot.


Grand Exit

One week from today is my last day of work.  Any ideas on how to make a memorable exit?  Keep in mind, I work at a kindergarten - so no nudity or profanity, or my grand exit may be in handcuffs.

Image via The Chive.



Since I decided a month ago to move from California to Pennsylvania, I've applied to almost fifty jobs.  Craiglist, Monster, Indeed, numbers scrawled on the bathroom walls in bus terminals...I'm getting desperate.  But as the weeks went on and I failed to receive a single response, I descended gracefully into despondency.

Not all swoons occur near fainting couches.

Well, I thought, it will be easier once I'm actually able to put a Pennsylvania address on my resume.  Everyone knows companies don't like to hire out of state.  And with that small comfort I trudged back home, weary from the dust and rejection of another day pounding the virtual pavements.

What.  So I like trudging.

Last night, however, I decided on a whim to change my cover letter just slightly.  Instead of listing my reason for relocating as a desire to be near family or loved ones or even my boyfriend, I lied and wrote, "I'm moving to Pennsylvania to be near my fiance."

Suddenly, this morning: three responses in my inbox and one voicemail!  I don't think that's a coincidence.

"WHAT A BITCH GOTTA DO TO GET A JOB THESE DAYS?!" I'd cried to the cold, unfeeling universe.

"Put a ring on it," the universe replied, not even looking up from her Emory board.

Speaking of which, I guess I'll have to find a ring for all these interviews coming up.

Too much?

Images via Nonnie's Notes, Littie Loves, Staggered.


Why This Blog Has Been Left Curled Up, Forgotten in the Corner, Like a Dirty Foundling.

Such as:

1.  Laundry.
2.  Eating all the cheese in my apartment as soon as it enters my apartment.
3.  Finding a job so I can pay for cheese once I have my own apartment.
4-1001:  I wouldn't want to bore you, but "sleep" is not on there.  Moving cross-country is worse than finals week.*

*So can we get over all the Facebook statuses already, please?

Image via Junia Isabel.


These Days

...I feel like this.  After spending my days cleaning up vomit and accidents and bloody noses, then passing my nights applying to jobs from which I won't hear a response unless it's part of a cashier's check scam.

But more on all that drudgery later.  I'm going to go take a shower and eat a cupcake.

Yes at the same time.  What.

Image via Veevs.



Every time I wonder if I'm being too cutesy or moronic or twee, I try to think about what Daria's reaction would be to whatever I'm doing.

It helps.

Image via Interrobangs Anonymous.


This Day in History

And by April 16th, 1912, the iceberg that sank the great RMS Titanic had finally drifted back to its iceberg bros and was all like, "Yeah, I nailed that bitch so hard, she sank!"

And ice-cold Natty Lite was had by all.

I'm pretty sure that's how it goes.  That was going to be the last scene of Titanic, but I guess they thought the old lady in her nightie would be more relatable.  You know.  To humans.

Image via Iceberg Tours.


Good News, Everyone!

After a year of turmoil and frustration and whining on my part, I am finally moving to Pennsylvania to be near The Boy and also the Amish.  In four weeks.

Good news!

The bad news is, I have no job and no place to live, as of now.  It's as if companies don't want to hire entry-level employees out of state.  Absurd.

So if you know anyone who's hiring, let me know.  Until then, I'll be sending out cover letters and lightly scented resumes and muffin baskets and locks of my hair and perhaps even some lacy unmentionables - generally trying to sell myself like a cheap whore.  

What else is new.

Hope your Saturday is perfectly delightful.

Images via Gunaxin Swide.

Joyeux Anniversaire, Robert Doisneau!

Images via All Posters, Chasing Light, Squidoo, Little Hokum Rag, Masters of Photography, Joy is Style.



Aren't hipsters over yet?  I'm actually a little bit tired of making fun of them.  It was fun for a while, but now it's like all those pictures of married couples with over-sized balloons: There are only so many ways to pose.*  Maybe if we try ignoring the hipsters, they'll just slink quietly back into their dirty hovels, and the world will be hipster-free in two-oh-one-three.**

* Haa I didn't even plan that!
** Which, incidentally, would be my campaign slogan were I running for president in the upcoming election (and that's the most political this blog will ever get).

Image via copypastereposte.


Kindergarten Quote of the Day

"MISS TRACY," shrieked a girl out of the blue, shaking hysterically, "YOUR EYELASHES ARE TOO BIG."

That's rude, child.  Hush, now.

Image via Pulse.


Way Up North: The UC Davis Post

I forgot to bring a camera with me when I went to visit my best friend D. in Davis, which is a shame because it's quite pretty and very stereotypical in its college-iness up there.  So instead, I looked up some pictures on the internet, and I will proceed as if I had taken them, myself.

Getting this aerial shot was a real bitch.  I hope you appreciate it.

Davis has more places to eat per square foot than anywhere I've ever been before.  But that suits D. and myself just fine; food is pretty much the basis of our friendship.  So, this post is pretty much a list of all the places we ate:

1.  The Davis Farmers Market

Such bounty!  Such friendly faces! 

We rolled up on a Wednesday night as the market was closing, but the good people of Davis still practically threw their wares at us: D. and I tried shook some dried fruit out of tupperware and a rather good-looking young Greek man let us sample a dish from his country.  I was more interested in a different kind of Greek dish, but D. was still hungry, so she dragged me away to get pad thai.

2.  Pad Thai

I don't even know what this food is.  But check out the composition and use of color!
I am just a stellar photographer. I had no idea.

I haven't had much thai food, but the Spicy Bamboo dish at this place was tasty enough to make me expand my palate beyond thai wraps drenched in peanut sauce.  And that's despite the fact that the chicken didn't really sit quite right in m'belly.  I guess I'm still not used to eating meat, even though I've been an ex-vegetarian for months now.

Cool story.

D. told me that at night, the tables are cleared away, the hostess stand is converted into a DJ booth, and the up-scale restaurant transforms into a club, complete with colored, flashing lights and a bouncer.  I was speechless then and I'm still speechless now.

3.  La Crepe

Isn't it starting to seem like I actually did take all these pictures?

For breakfast before D's class, we went to La Crepe, where the food was good, but it was really all about the fresh-squeezed orange juice.  I also had coffee and a full glass of water, so...there was almost a situation during the hour-and-a-half lecture.

[Side note: Why is the coffee so good in Davis? Apparently the farther up the west coast you go, the better it tastes.]

4.  Nugget Sandwiches

Doesn't it just look like it's smiling?!

D. told me that these were the best sandwiches in the world, and she wasn't wrong.  The Nugget is a Northern California grocery store, and it's delightful.  Large, vintage circus letters in the liquor section, fresh flowers in tin buckets by the doors, free samples of fresh bread.  Plus, D. has a crush on the guy at the cheese stand, which just tickles me to no end.  We wolfed down our sandwiches with fresh asparagus on the side and delicious coffee to finish it all off, but now I'm a little bit sad.  I miss that sandwich.  If only I had a large beard, I could have saved some for later.

Next time.

5.  de Vere's
I miss it already.

Old man pub, she called it.

"You had me at old man!" I cried, and this little place did not disappoint.  Some of D's friends met us there, and we had fish 'n' chips and stew and cider, and I felt like I was in the Old Country.  Only complaint:  Did not see any old men.

6.  Sophia's

We didn't stay here too long, but it was D's friend's birthday, and Sophia's has a wheel you get to spin to decide which free drink you get on your birthday.

I couldn't find the real picture.

I bought myself a glow-in-the-dark gin and tonic!  Because try as I might to charm and allure, no boys wanted to buy a drink for the twitchy, disheveled girl leering at them from across the bar.

Sup, boo?

Of course, I met D's lovely roommates and delightful friends and cuddled with her big teddy bear of a dog and gossiped with D.  A lot.  I also went to two classes with her, which reminded me that college classes are awesome!  As long as you don't have to worry about homework or projects or midterms.  Which I don't.

You don't even go here!

Miscellaneous:  I had my fortune told by D's gay roommate

Accurate portrayal.

and was almost run over by bikes at least seventeen times.

Not even a little bit accurate.  Bikers there are ruthless.

However, before any of these delights, I got a ticket just south of Stockton - 92 in a 70.  Usually I scour the road constantly for cops, because they're so sneaky: hiding behind bridges, lurking in the brush on turn-outs, even posing as normal cars.  But this time, my sun roof was making a weird noise, and my foot just somehow kept accelerating as I fiddled with the sun roof, so that it wasn't for a minute or two that I even noticed the cop was following me, lights flashing garishly.

Unfortunately, I am not very well-endowed or charming or brave, so I didn't stand a chance of getting out of a ticket - I even tried crying.  Still, something might have worked...maybe...if my car weren't still registered in the previous owner's name...and if I hadn't fumbled and handed the cop two different roadside assistance cards instead of proof of insurance...and if only I had gotten around to correcting my license so that it had my California address instead of my old out-of-state mailing address.  He did go easy on me and just gave me a warning for the address thing.  I think he took pity on me for being such a blubbering moron.

Why...do you...hate me...officer?

Later, when I looked at the ticket more closely, I noticed that the city just south of Stockton is called...


Son of a bitch.  Would you like some salt on that wound?

Images via City Data, Focus on Davis, Kung Food Panda, Walk in the Dust, Coeur de La, Davis Life MagazineBiowareOne-Stop Birthday Ideas, The Happy DashEat Food YumSodaheadUC Davis Special Collectionsbabble, and Road Police.  Whew.


Off Again!

To Davis this time!

Land of the finest bovine.

And big news when I get back.  Have a perfectly acceptable week.

Image via Information Facts, which seems a redundant title, but the article is about cows getting drunk, so.


Death and Taxes

If you're lookin' for trouble, well Mister, you've found it.

Under a streetlamp, just visible in the murky fog, you see her:  long coat pulled close around her chest, collar flicked up and hat pulled low.  She leans against the post as if she owns the thing.  A cold wind stings your face, and as you move closer, you watch her lift a cigarette to her lips and exhale the twisting tendrils of smoke.

She doesn't even look up when you reach her.  "Is it done?" you ask.  "Did you do it?"

Of course, she breathes, as smoke curls out from between her lips.  She looks up finally and her eyes meet yours, steely and guarded.  It was my first time - she takes another drag - but I think I did alright.  It wasn't exactly enjoyable for me, but it'll be worth it for the money I'll get in return.

You swallow nervously.  "Well it wouldn't be fun if you were late.  I worry about you sometimes, Tracy."

The woman laughs softly, pulls her coat tighter to her.  Don't worry so much.  They're only taxes.

Before she even finishes speaking she's already looked away, stepping out of the streetlamp's glow dismissively, off to do...who knows what.  Alphabetize her bookshelves?  Clean out her refrigerator?  Maybe change the oil in her car.  Her heels clack on the cobblestone as she slinks into the fog, hips rolling from side to side and cigarette smoke trailing behind her.

As you watch her go, you think, What a woman. 

Well, that's just who I am.  A woman of the night.  Putting the XXX back in taXXXes.

Image via Classic Movies Digest.


A Stalk of Wheat and Some Little Chaffs

I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I spend a lot of time alone.  Partly because of my crippling social fears, but also because I just like it.*  Tonight I went to the beach alone, which was very nice until I remembered that it's Saturday night in the beginning of Bonfire Season.

Disappointed at the crowds (because, as I mentioned...I hate other people), I went to make a lap of the parking lot and just drive PCH for a while, but some kids - some ten-year-old boys in girl pants and flannel - were running all around my car.  Faking me out, darting around, and generally being tiny snot wads.

I decided to be an example of maturity and responsibility for them by calling sweetly out my open window, "Really?  Running around moving cars?  You're gonna get killed, you little shits."

Then I drove huffily away, trying to ignore the shouts of "Sexyyy" and "Come back, baby!" trailing behind me.  I should have just run them over.

Still, on my way home I stopped at Starbucks and not only did they take my order even though they were closing, but the guy behind the counter gave me extra caramel in my fancy-pants drink and then charged me the price of a black coffee.  People aren't usually so nice without asking for anything in return.  Like my number.  Or a hand job.  So thank you, Nameless Starbucks Guy and Silent Hipster With the Waxed Mustache, for the most thoughtful yet truly awful-tasting cup of coffee I've ever had.

If only he hadn't been so nice, I could've just tossed it out the window.

* "It" meaning "not being around people, since I hate people."

Image via the aptly named Coffee, Coffee and More Coffee.


Don't you hate when you're out bumbling along and you come across someone who's so much better at what you like to do than you are?  I get the feeling that there are people out there who would be excited and inspired under those circumstances, but I am clearly not one of those people.


And don't even think about the Chinese checkers set.

Image via Reedy River Recessionista.


Things I Dislike


Oh, how I should very much like to die right now.

For a while they're really great and make you all frothy with excitement - until you find yourself with not enough edge pieces even though you were careful not to let any fall on the floor, and then eventually all the easy bits are finished and all that's left is the background which all looks the same, and after a while you start to wonder if maybe you've put some pieces where they didn't belong just because they seemed to fit and you were overly excited to make some small progress but now there's no way of really knowing which is the odd piece, and before you know it three weeks have passed and you haven't showered.

This shit blows.

Images via The Standard, Bete du jour.


It Had to Happen

I blame you, Pinterest.

All this pinning is OUT OF CONTROL.

I should have known that, eventually, pinning pictures from my own blog would mean trouble for me.  As more and more people I know look at my pins, a small trickle of friends and acquaintances is making its way here, and it's only a matter of time before somebody recognizes a characteristic turn of phrase or a unique detail from my life.  Pretty soon they'll realize who I really am, and then my cover will be blown and I'll feel all sheepish and self-conscious.

WHY did I think putting up twenty-four posts of
vintage Guinness ads would be a good idea?

I guess that means I should probably start writing stuff that's actually interesting, eh?

Images via I Love You Like, Ricnic.