| New Site! |
[15 Oct 2007|11:28pm] |
If there are any fans left of the live journal of Meg Rowland, visit www.2birds1blog.blogspot.com for the all new blog. It's the brain child of myself and one of my best friends from college, Caitlin (lj user: bearcatsmewo). Together we blog about the shenanigans of our new, post-college lives. She moved to the Pacific Northwest to do voluteer work, whereas I have moved to New York City where I'm the layout artist for Soap Opera Digest. Wackiness ensues. Always.
We're trying to make the blog legit, so maybe tell a friend who will tell 2 friends, who'll tell 2 friends and so on and so on and so on. It's been a pleasure livejournal! Keep up with my big city life at www.2birds1blog.blogspot.com
<3 <3 <3
Meg
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| 4th Annual Ode to Anna Hugo on her Birthday |
[05 May 2007|11:23am] |
Well anna dear, it's your birthday for shore.
And in the past year, i think i loves you even more.
I wish I could be there tonight, ripping shots and rapping Shai Warsaw-style in a cab,
But sadly, my ass is owned by the American University design lab.
But here is an ode to tell you exactly how i feel,
And there might be a special line about your dad...you and Rosa can just deal.
I loves you for the trip to Delaware, Dollar Debbie, banjo laughs, "free" fries and jagger bombs bought by the UWillmington ghostly folk,
Now we know, never jokingly ask a room full of strangers if anyone has some coke.
Kegs and Eggs was the best, drunk poods at noon in front of babies is always the right track,
Sorry I spilt a bloody mary on your white dress....but atleast we brought whip-its back!
The weekend i actually came to visit Towson was the tits,
Remember the weekend you came to visit me, and all I fed you was cloves and cheeze-its?
We may not have a lot in common, seeing how I can't remember where you live, don't know your sisters name and hate Friends and Lost soooooo.....
but we'll always have things in common, like how we're both frequently sloppy drunk messes (please see us below):
Soon we'll be living it up in Europe, holy god that's going to be rad,
If we get stuck the whole time in Reykjavik, oops...my bad!
So, the moral of the story is, I loves you biffles, us meeting was fate,
I can't believe I forgot a line about how i routinely fuck your dad...oh, wait...
Who can forget the night when Talia and I were a couple of thiefs,
Happy birthday from me and your dad's crips white briefs!
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| It's the small things... |
[04 Apr 2007|02:15am] |
A few weeks ago, Alex and I struck up a bargain where I buy him California Tortilla once a week, in exchange for access to his laptop. I have a pimped out desktop computer, but I have a ton of research to do and papers to write as of late, and it sounds weird, but I'm just more productive when I'm horizontal.
So the other night I was in bed attempting to write a research paper, but obviously procrastinating. Alex's computer doesn't have AIM, so I signed onto iChat (Mac's version of AIM) to chat with a friend (I know this sounds asinine, I swear it gets more interesting). If you've never seen what a iChat conversation looks like, it's formatted so it looks like one buddy icon is having a conversation with the other person's buddy icon, complete with word bubbles. My default buddy icon was a kitten. I have a filthy, filthy mouth and tend to say rediculous things at all time,s and it pretty much made my night to see a kitten with a word bubble saying all of the obscene things I tend to say.
Example:
Seriously, I might be the only person to find this funny, and maybe I'm taking it too far making it an LJ-post...but it's just the small things that get me. For some reason I think the kitten being on an angel has something to do with it.
I was having a conversation with a friend who's buddy icon is Dane Cook (OK, this really isn't cryptic anymore, it was Chris...sorry for posting parts of our conversation without your approval), and it looks like Dane Cook and Crass Kitten are having an X-rated coversation:
Now all I can think about is how I would pitch a sit-com about Crass Kitten and Dane Cooke living together and all of the cooky hijinx they would encounter. I call it Two Peas in a Pod.
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| Musings. |
[30 Mar 2007|01:21am] |
- Well tie my coreset tighter, paint my black eyeliner blacker, makeout with me in Hot Topic and call me a goth! I got 2 more tattoos when I was in Miami and dyed my hair black again. I miss having hair that's one color and sort of missed it being dark. And my tattoos are pretty sweet. My mom said I look white trash, but she also told my sister that every time you have sex you get a UTI to keep her from doin' it, so I don't really trust her.
- I've decided that I want to move to New York City and puruse a career in magazine design/art direction. So now, I just need someone to go with me. I sort of want to design for Playboy though, and that's in Chicago. Really I'd move anywhere. I just wish I knew what my plans are going to be. Let's make our minds Yippie Rod, kthnx.
- I don't know why I decided to write this post, I really don't have anything to say.
- I've been partying too much this semester and now have a pile of work I haven't done, and the deadlines are rapidly approaching. I hate that feeling. Damn lack of motivation! Damn love of altered states! Damn new addiction to Buffy the Vampire Slayer on DVD (let's not talk about it)!
- So the following is going to sound very cocky, and I really don't mean it to be so cocky. In my Costume Design class, we were put in groups of 2 and said groups are doing a specific costume re-design of Titus Andronicus. I'm doing the play set during the time of Japanese Feudalism. Anyway, I was assigned to the project with a boy named Chris Kelly. "Great!" I thought gleefully, "That's the name of my best friend! What a coincidence! We shall have oh so much in common!" ALAS! This Chris Kelly is awesome Chris Kelly's evil twin! No matter what I do, this boy is a not a fan of me. Not one bit. In fact, I think it's safe to say, he can't stand me. This baffles me (this is where the cockiness comes in)! Here are just 2 examples out of many. When we first met, the following conversation really happened:
Evil Chris Kelly: "So, what's your name?"
Me: Meg Rowland.
ECK: "Oh. I'm Chris Kelly."
M: Yea, that's actually sort of weird because my best friend in Boston's name is Chris Kelly, so I feel like we have this great history already!....haha.....
ECK: literally rolls eyes and half smiles Right...why don't we just get to work?
...after getting through 15 minutes of pure awkwardness, and 45 minutes of planning time remaining:
ECK: "Right.........so if you don't have anything else to say, I would really just rather play on-line poker than do this."
Then! I was walking to Gothic Art the other day and locked eyes with ECK, so I only thought it was polite to wave, and he looked at me, widdened his eyes slightly to aknowledge my existence and immediatley walked the other way. WTF? I don't get it! Everyone wants to be my friend! I'm charmingly awkward and quirky! I put people at ease! And now it's like a challenge and I'm addicted to making him want to be my friend. But I find myself pre-planning jokes and witty conversation material before class and it perpetually bombs. Tough crowd...I'll crack this kid though. Crack him, or die trying. Although he came to class tonight wearing his shirt completly unbuttoned and a fur pouch tied to his belt...maybe I don't want his friendship.
- I hate when you're waiting for the elevator and the light is clearly lit up, meaning you pressed the up button already, and then some random person comes up, waits with you, and then presses the button again. It's like, we're not fighting for the love and respect of the elevator. Your different touch isn't going to make it come any faster (hahaha...upon reading that sentence again, that's gold.
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| Well I was waiting for a job to fall into my lap... |
[05 Mar 2007|02:07am] |
So I logged onto my.american to check my email tonight and something was a wee bit different-
wtfuck? When did I get a job at AU?
SASS101 is being taught by professor Rowland this semester.
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| I'm only happy when it rains. |
[07 Feb 2007|03:30pm] |
School is so boring. How is it that I'm taking 6 classes and all of them bore me to tears? I'm in this weird state of mind where I don't want college to end because I'm scared shitless of the future, but I'm so over school. I haven't felt like myself since I got back because I cannot force myself to care about my work. My design is half-assed; I blatantly didn't read the first text for Gothic Art or Costume Design. And normally this would all stress me out, but it's like, I just really don't care at all. And that weirds me out because I'm a dedicated stressor. This semester is a fucking expensive waste of my time.
So last night I was in the design lab working (half-assed) on my magazine cover until like 3am? Anyway, when I was walking home it was snowing and there was already like an inch of snow on the ground. It was weird because due to the lighting around Katzen and Ward Circle, I felt like I was in the last scene of "The Rules of Attraction" in the ampitheater. Except I hadn't just been raped. And I wasn't in an ampitheater. And James Van Der Beek wasn't there (which is regrettable). And I was walking home from the Design Lab, not The End of the World Party. So basically the only similarities are, I was as college student walking in the snow at night...which I'm sure relates to many other movies. Either way, I got an incredible urge to tell someone that they will never know me. That no one can ever really know anyone. And then yell back at myself Fuck you Bateman!....Fuck you! and then start crying dramatically. I think this entire paragraph was just a testament to the fact that I've seen "The Rules of Attraction" too many times.
I got called out again for objectifying women and being sexist with a poster I made for the AmLit submissions drive. Hm. The President of AU's Women's Initiative ripped it off her floor's wall. It's like...fuck you, you know?
I've decided I'm a little bit off. Last semester was so torturous because our Advanced Design professor was a total bitch and expected ridiculous levels of performance from us. But it was like a game that I really miss playing. Our new Advanced professor is tough, but not in a totally fucked up way like last semester. I think I've come to realize that one some level, I totally loved how rough Kate was. I (secretly) loved working for like 6 hours on end just to get torn apart by her. Because then I would get enraged and work even harder. It was kind of fun to see how far I would go. How long I could go without sleep, how good I could make my stuff...now the challenge is gone and I can't make myself do anything worthwhile. I think I feel like that in all of my classes right now. If there's no fight, what's the point in showing up?
Example, the following is from The Cheese Monkeys by Chip Kidd, which is a really good book about a boy's experience in Intro to Graphic Design. This is what the professor says to a kid who comes to the first critique with half-assed work, "He stood up and took the pipe out of his mouth. 'Son.' Held it like a grenade he just yanked the pin out of. 'This isn't a classroom, it's an arena. And I'd like nothing more than to scour the floor of it with your mirror-kissing lips. But the thing is, we charge admission here. Your ticket is your assignment, completed. Then I rip it in two and may or may not give you back the stub for your scrapbook. No exceptions. Last Thursday I made that as clear as you probably think your skin is.'" See, now where's the fun without that kind of attitude? Doesn't that just make you want to work your ass off?? Wow. I hate myself because I totally just validated why Kate, Chemi and Bob are assholes. Don't tell anyone!
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[22 Jan 2007|07:51pm] |
Imagine this:
You come to class with your portfolio, ready to give an oral presentation to your Advanced Design II class about the importance of self confidence with one's design. You sit down, open your portfolio, flip to your favorite piece (which you are using to illustrate the successful effect confidence has on design) only to see that your Advanced I professor and the head of the design department (who are fucking) wrote horrible notes on all of your pieces during a confidential look-through. What they don't realize is that although they wrote on pieces of paper that you will never see, they wrote on said pieces of paper on your porfolio slips, so the notes go through the plastic and are therefore engraved forever. So you see those notes. Right before you give your presentation.
Try giving a presentation about the success of a piece, five minutes after reading that the head of the program deemed it as "illustrated S&M smut."
I don't think I want to do this anymore. Again.
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| Bunny Hop |
[10 Jan 2007|07:39pm] |
Some days, I just feel like throwing the old T-square out the window and creating a blog where I write about the ridiculous shit that happens in my life (in my mind, I also get lots of money for creating said blog, hence the throwing outage of the T-square. That and throwing shit out of windows is just endlessly amusing and I dare you to disagree). But then I think, "Please, my life really isn't that ridiculous...I just make a big deal out of everything. Everyone's life is somewhat ridiculous."
And that's what I thought. But I bet your mom isn't training you to become a Playboy Playmate and/or Bunny. That's right. Diane Rowland's new project is turning me into a Playboy Bunny.
On one hand, I'm happy that Diane has a new project to be focusing on and a new goal to be striving for. On the other, I'm unhappy that said project will leave me blonde, topless and airbrushed.
First of all, I'm not kidding. This really is her new project. It started as a joke and over the course of only three days has morphed into a sick and twisted true goal. You might need to know something about my mom to really get this. Her name is Diane (not Misty May), we live in the suburbs (not a trailer) and she's your clichéd uptight and overbearing Jewish mom (not a "Cool Mom" who would much rather you drink in the house). And you should probably know something about me. I do not look like a Playmate. If I were to be in a girlie magazine, it would probably be the bastard child of Jugs, Suicide Girls, More and New England Homes. Not Playboy. Also you should know my mom's motives. She isn't doing this to improve my dwindling self esteem or just to overall become more involved in my life. No. Rather she is doing this because Hugh Hefner has made his way onto one of my mom's life lists. Specifically, her list of People she Just Wants to Give a Big Hug. Who else is on her PSJW2GABH List you may ask? Bob Villa from New Yankee Workshop, This Old House and many Ace Hardware commercials. That's Hef's competition.
She's got me running on the treadmill for a half hour every day and took me to the dermatologist. I'm now taking anti-biotics twice a day, using a bleach cleanser twice a day with two kinds of cream. Tonight she added a new incentive to the mix: I could either go to Las Vegas with my friends for Spring Break, or I could stay at home and get a breast reduction slash lift slash total reconstruction. To be fair, these are all things I had asked for in the past. I just find it interesting that my mom is actually willing to financially back my vain needs in order to fulfill her goal of hugging Hugh Hefner. I guess everyone has their price. Goodnight and good luck Mr. Villa.
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| LJ is like riding a bike... |
[18 Dec 2006|12:32am] |
Hi team. So I didn't update for an entire semester because saying "I was busy" would be the understatement of the year. But I'm done now and I feel the need to update. Although nothing too exciting really happened. But I would like to get back to the point where I can just update this bad boy with random shit. It's bullet time.
- So classes. I survived Advanced Design I. I actually did really well. I don't know what grade I'll get, but it's the best work I've ever done and screw grades. I put my portfolio together. I'm staring at it right now...it's weird because now it's tangible. My professor is an evil uber bitch and I'm so psyched I'll never have her again. She fucked the head of the program and therefore got a job as a professor. Part of me respects that, and the other part thinks she can go to hell. Whatever, I don't have to interact with her again until Senior Reviews. I'm uber biffy with the other 6 kids in my senior class. We get each other through it, which I think is really good.
- HAHA I TOOK WEB DESIGN. It's laughable. But my website actually turned to be pretty kickin'. I'm a master at Advanced CSS and I raped Java Script. However I flat out did not do my final Action Script project, because a.) I don't get Action Script and b.) I didn't have time. This was the first time I have ever consciously chosen just not to do an assignment. Sooo we'll see what grade I get. I fell in love with my professor. He's gay and beautiful and utterly evil. But we have an understanding, so I think I'll be ok. I just want to go up to him and be like "You are so mean and beautiful. I think we should be friends."
- Legal Comm. was awesome. I got a B+, which is regrettable, but I didn't so much try in that class. Our professor was ridiculously cool. She took us all out for drinks at Chef Geoff’s after the final and Andrew and I got wasted and talked about porn with our professor. But that's why we're friends. Because only we would do that.
- Art History. Lame.
- AmLit. Beautiful. Ask me for a copy.
- My friends. Good. They all have boyfriends and I don't, so there's that.
- Paper Source. Meh. I can gift wrap like a motherfucker however. I don't mean to be cocky, but I am one amazing gift wrapper. I think it's my calling.
I regret updating because seeing how lame and uneventful my life is in print is just downright depressing.
So I got a new phone and I was searching online for backgrounds. All of them were lame, obviously, but I looked at the backgrounds under the "Guys Stuff" section because all of the "Girls Stuff" backgrounds were like anime blondes with big tits boasting about how they'll steal your boyfriend. Anyway, one of the backgrounds under "Guys Stuff," was literally a pile of vomit. A pile of vomit. Is that really what Cingular thinks the young males of the world want on their cell phones? Is that what they want? That is the most cliché "dude" thing I've ever seen. A pile of vomit. Who in their right mind would be like "Oh, hey that's cool. A giant pile of vomit would be totally sweet as my cell phone background. Every time I open my phone, I want to see a giant pile of vomit. Cool! Now I’m going to purchase this for $1.39. SLIPKNOT RULEZ!"
So next semester I'm taking Advanced Design II: Narrative Design. We're making our own magazines, and it can be on anything we want, as long as the text, photos and design are original and it displays everything we've learned about design. Basically this is my wet dream. I plan to do my magazine on D.I.Y. Fashion. I need a title. I feel like D.I.Y. magazines, books, websites, ads, whatever is always designed in this hand-rendered predictable way. So I'm going to make my magazine dark, sophisticated and beautiful. It will still be "D.I.Y". and hand rendered in more subtle ways, like the photography will done chemically/hand processed. So I'll have all of these gorgeous black and white photos with the sexy edges showing. I need models, boys and girls. You should volunteer because one day I'm going to be famous and I'll take you to the top with me. That's what I've decided by the way. I'm going to be famous. I'm not quite sure how yet. I have this friend who keeps telling me I'm going to be famous. I have no idea in what way she thinks I'll be famous and she never elaborates, she just says it and walks away. But she's a trustworthy source, so I believe her. I want to have my own magazine about fashion, art, design, music and sex. But that's so done.
That's enough randomness for now. I'm done with my Art History final, so now I'm going to unwind by crocheting and watching Trainspotting. Tomorrow the rowdiness begins!
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| HELP!HELP!HELP!HELP!HELP!HELP!HELP!HELP!HELP! |
[27 Jul 2006|12:24pm] |
HEY LOYAL LJ READER! DO YOU HAVE WICKED HAWT WEB DESIGN TALENT? DO YOU KNOW DREAMWEAVER LIKE THE BACK OF YOUR HAND? DO YOU LAUGH IN THE FACE OF HTML CODING?
If so, I am looking for someone to tutor me in web design (Fireworks, Dreamweaver etc.) so I don't die next semester in my web design class. I can provide the software, computer and a cozy environment for you to tutor me in. Also, I will pay you mad bank per hour. So if you, or anyone you know is a web design wizard, I will throw 20's in your face like a ho on a pole if you help me out the first couple of weeks in August.
Thanks!
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| Random thoughts for your enjoyment! |
[18 Jul 2006|01:58am] |
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mood |
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 complacent |
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music |
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Honey - Bobby Goldsboro (horrible, DL it) |
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Sometimes I ride the metro home with this metro worker who has a giant vanity belt buckle (if that's the right term) that says "RAY RAY" and then under it, "DON'T ASK ME SHIT!" My new favorite activity is imagining some poor lost soul going up to Ray Ray the metro worker and asking, "Excuse me, what line do I take if I'm trying to get to----" ::Ray Ray points to oversize novelty belt buckle:: Muhahaha
A woman came into work (Paper Source, not the gallery. She works hard for the money.) the other day and kept asking me where our embroidery or crocheting or knitting materials were. I explained that we don't carry anything of that nature. And she asked, "Well what does this store specialize in?"........................Paper. It's called The Paper Source. I thought I was being Punkd. That's like going into a funeral home and being like, "Hi, can I get a toasted sesame bagel with low-fat spread?" Well. Not exactly. But close enough.
I'm so going to Virgin Festival because every worthy band will be there. Too bad tickets are 98 bucks and all I have in my pocket is five dollars and some sweet lint that's gotta be worth at least like 90 bucks...so only eight more dollars needed!
Now that Danielle is gone, I've gotten close to our cats. I really like Graydon. He's an attractive cat. Kirikou is all skinny, but Graydon so has an L.A. face with an Oakland booty. I like fat little cats.
My full blown Super Nintendo Donkey Kong Country addiction has come back full force. It was a major force to get me out of bed this morning, which is mildly depressing.
Helena and I are road tripping to Ohio to see Allie and relive old memories in a few weeks. It's so ridiculous how things have changed. Helena/Meg road trips tend to be amazing, so I'm psyched as hell. We have to spend a night at Allie's Jesus camp though. I'm still psyched as hell heck.
Was driving home from College Park the other night, and I ended up in Alexandria. I fucking hate Virginia because no matter where you drive around the tri-state area, you will inevitably end up lost in Virginia. I get up in the morning, walk to the bathroom and suddenly I'm on the Wilson Memorial Bridge lost as fuck. It should be studied...it's like a flaw in the universe.
And I'm spent. By the way, I love my friends a lot. Some things may change, some people come and go in your life, but it's nice to know that there are some choice people who will be there forever. And its fun coming to that realization, drunk and pantsless, crowded in a bathroom. That's how we roll. And I would have it no other way.
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| Karma Chameleon |
[14 Jul 2006|03:44pm] |
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Art |
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So I'm getting my hair cut and colored radically different in T-minus like 2 hours. And I feel like I'm going to throw up. I'm going to a place a girl from work recommended in Dupont down the road from my gallery. I hear it's really good but I am freaking out. The cut won't so much be different, but I'm going crazy with color. Like strawberry blonde. Really? Is this a good idea? (And that's a rhetorical question. If you comment "no" I would probably excuse myself to go throw up in the bathroom right now). Why do I make a huge deal out of everything? I'm so effing annoying. Thank God Megan is coming with me for moral support. Also because I can't talk to hair stylists. I can't communicate what I want done and just say "Yea! Sure! That sounds awesome!" like a schmuck to everything they suggest. And then I leave all disappointed and sad. I came back from my old hair stylist's once with a cut that I originally had no intention of getting, prompting the following conversation with my mom:
Meg: I look like shit. This isn't what I wanted. This is way too short.
Diane: Did you tell her exactly what you wanted.
M: No...
D: Hmm...When you saw that she was cutting about 3 inches too much off, did you say anything?
N: Well in the literal sense...no.
D: Right. Meghan, there's a giant hole in the middle of your face. Use it.
Touché Diane Rowland, touché.
I think I have to go to grad school, but I would rather not. I would rather sleep in a flannel sleeping bag on a hammock (or a slammock if you will ::PATENT PENDING::) after graduation for a few months. Then I shall marry a millionaire and wear a gaudy gold bathing suite, gold stilettos, diamonds up the wazoo with big poofy hair and lay poolside in Malibu with a bottle of Andre in my hand. Strike that, lay slammock-style-poolside in Malibu.
The best part of my day is arriving to work and relaxing with the Washington Post Express and enjoying my blueberry muffin and unsweetened grande green tea from Starbucks. The Express reminds me of a high school newspaper. It's full of fun and useless information, such as the following story:
"A Tampa federal judge, miffed at the inability of opposing attorneys to agree on even the slightest details of a lawsuit, ordered them to settle their latest dispute with a game of 'rock, paper, scissors'. The argument was over a location to take the sworn statement of a witness in an insurance lawsuit. In an order signed June 6, U.S. District Judge Gregory Presnell scolded both sides and ordered them to meet at a neutral location at 4 p.m. June 30 to play a round of the hand gesture game often used to settle childhood disputes. If they can't agree on the neutral location, he said, they'll play on the steps of the federal courthouse."
God bless America.
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| A rant, brought to you by the inner snob in us all...or maybe just me |
[13 Jul 2006|01:25am] |
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music |
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Poster of a Girl - Metric |
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I've always been very pro tourist. I really think there's no reason to go hatin' on tourists...they're just trying to see the sights of a new and exciting city and are boosting said city's economy. I am a proud tourist myself. I'm always at the ready with a map and digital camera; I enjoy travel and scoping out new places. Today, however, I finally understand why people hate tourists. They mess with the effing hustle and flow of my morning routine. I take the metro to and fro work, and I have come to terms that the afternoon commute is like being herded into a cattle car full of young twentysomethings, and I'm fine with it. I really love my mellow morning commute. I'm at the metro at around 10:15, so I miss the morning rush and am about an hour before the lunch rush, so I get to an enjoy a lovely semi-empty car all to myself and my crocheting. ALAS! The hot, sticky DC summer has officially begun, and with that comes gangs upon gangs of tourists. Now, I don't hate them just because they're tourists and therefore dress below par, shout loudly at each other and are perpetually confused as to what line they're on and when they should get off. Please, I've been there (well...normally I'm still rockin' stilettos and a jersey dress when traveling, but that is neither here nor there). I just can't stand that there are PACKS OF THEM! With STROLLERS! Filled with BABIES! These stroller pushing, fanny pack wearing, lost and shouting people fill up my 10:15 mellow metro ride, as this is prime Zoo visiting and monument spying hours. Therefore, I, a citizen of the District of Columbia, just trying to get to work and stay mellow have to deal with standing in a hot packed car TWICE a day, routinely get my knees bashed in by screaming children in strollers, and have young Midwestern girls, wearing short shorts and t-shirts that boast "TAKE MY CREDIT CARD BEFORE I SHOP!," stare my outfits up down and sideways (Yes I wore a vintage slip dress to work, no that does not make me a hizzo. What is this, 1930?). They all pile out at Woodley Park to go to the Zoo, a process, mind you, which takes about 2 minutes longer than it should. Then I can finally sit for but a brief moment before I have to get off at Dupont and lead a long day sucking up to the same tourists who come to the gallery thinking they know art, when really they know shit. There. I am ashamed of myself. I have become a city snob. And I'm an art snob. To the max. Who have I become? This is a sad, sad day.
However, there was a man on the metro this morning wearing a bathrobe and a tri-corn hat. He basically made me believe again. Believe that cities can be populated by more than those tourists and visiting Capitol Hill interns that I hate so.
Project Runway 3 started tonight and I would appreciate people's thoughts.
PS: I'm a redhead (and still a good natured alcoholic!)
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| Move that thang! |
[24 Jun 2006|11:30am] |
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tired |
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Gallery Sounds |
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You know who drive me crazy? People on metro buses, AU shuttle buses and specifically the metro that do not scootch over to the window seat in a two-seater situation. If I'm hot and sweaty and tired, I really do not want to be standing, clinging for dear life to the metal pole like a stripper tryin' to make a buck. Really, scootch over so I can sit down. I do not have coodies, I smell like "Very Sexy for Her" which means I must smell very sexy, and my ass will not spill over onto your side. And even if it does, that just means you’re lucky. I always scootch. Even if the bus/train is empty, I will always scootch over just to prove my point. The other day, I was sweating like a bitch, packed into the AU shuttle bus like herded cattle when I spy this smug little Capitol Intern sittin' pretty on a 2-seater, her ass planted on the seat closest to the aisle and her Gucci bag sitting comfortably on the seat closest to the window. It's like, I'm glad your bag is comfortable, however I am not. And I'm a person, not a piece of over priced cow skin with gaudy gold embellishments. So you bet your ass I shot her El-Senor-Death-Glare. But then I felt bad...because she saw El-Senor-Death-Glare and asked if I would like to sit down. I was like "YES. YES I WOULD......thank you very much." The moral of the story is: Scootch! Scootch people! We're all just trying to comfortably leave our mundane summer internships and get home to our families. Or in my case to get home to a bottle of vodka, back-to-back episodes of The Golden Girls and two surly cats.
The gallery is going well. I'm doing more, so I feel better. Although I do miss crocheting and watching every episode of Project Runway on my i-Pod all day long. John trusts me, which is good, but he trusts me so much he rarely comes in now and I'm in charge. Which is pretty cool I guess. After freelancing the design for this wedding I just did, I think it sealed the deal that I really don't want to do special events design. If I were to do design, it would be for a magazine. I can't stand brides and event planners. I should have known from my experience with them at Paper Source.
So today I'm managing the gallery and this chick named Julia is working with me. She's 38 and works at The Walters Museum in Baltimore and the Freer. I actually applied for a summer program at the Walters but was flat out denied. I brought this up with Julia who told me not to take it personally because that's actually a program for African Americans. I probably should have picked up on that when the title of the program is, "Diversity in the Arts." I thought they just meant Diversity in...the kind of art...they have. I was like "Ohhhhh Diversity! So I guess that didn't bode well when Meghan Catherine Rowland applied?" I'm an idiot.
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| And for one brief flickering moment...things are good. |
[07 Jun 2006|09:10pm] |
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Goldfrapp - Number 1 |
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Paper Source and I are no longer in a fight. It made up with me, so we're back in love.
"So You Think You Can Dance" is like the most ridiculous (ly good) show I have ever seen. It makes me miss Chris Kelly viciously though.
The weirdest thing happened today! It was like out of a movie. So I was walking to work and on my route I pass this trendy/yummy restaurant "Sette." So there was this cute waiter outside setting up the outdoor tables. So he shot me a smile, which, like the sassy vixen I am, I shot right back. Then we exchanged a little "Morning! How are you?" "I'm good, how are you?" SmileSmileSmile. So I went on my way and didn't think anything of it. SO, this afternoon, I was walking by Sette again, but I was listening to my ipod. I saw someone out of the corner of my eye ask me a question, but due to ipod, I didn't hear what this person was asking...and it was awkward so I kept walking. Then! This person runs down Connecticut after me, and I realize it's the waiter from Sette! So we chat about our days and the general whatnot. Introduced ourselves (his name is Adam) and then he asked for my number. Digits were exchanged and he asked if he could take me out for a drink sometime. So he texted me (pussy) tonight to see if I wanted to go out for a drink! I don't know! It's crazy...I feel like people aren't just run down in the streets and asked out by cute waiters named Adam, nonetheless me. I smiled like an idiot the entire metro ride home.
My apartment is so deliciously clean, which is amazing. But Danielle is in South Africa for the summer, which is not as amazing.
Danielle and Alyssa went to King's Dominion on Sunday, and they got me an airbrushed trucker hat that says "Moustache Ride." I didn't even know how to handle my excitement. It's sitting atop my computer just waiting for the ideal trucker hat occasion.
My sister got myspace and she listed me as her hero. Um I cried. Which is embarrassing because I was checking this while my boss ran out to get the mail.
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| She rambles and rambles and rambles... |
[01 Jun 2006|02:21pm] |
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Creepy Art |
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So here I am at work, my boss is out for the day so I'm in the main gallery and this chick Marjory is upstairs. By chick I mean she's like in her late 60's and was late to work today because she fell flat on her face walking here and effed up her toe and hands. But apparently a nice looking young man helped her up, but "what with the age difference, it would never work." What? The perk of being all up in John's gallery is that it has the interweb, which I couldn't figure out how to work until 2. But I spent my first 3 hours watching various SNL skits on my video iPod and I'm finishing Valley of the Dolls for the millionth time. Oooo GOSSIP! Did you know that Jacqueline Susann had an affair with Ethel Merman? My boss told me that. He's old and gay so I naturally believe him.
I drove to work today because I feel like complete crap. Which is unfortunate because tonight everybody and their mother is going to Apex and tomorrow night is the big gallery opening and then cocktails at my place. I realized there was a parking garage like a block down the street from the gallery, so I parked there thinking, "Sweet, this will be a nice little indulgence when I'm too tired/it's too hot do the public transportation thing." Turns out it's a private parking garage, and the attendant laughed in my face when I told him I worked down the street. I looked hurt, so he's letting me park here for today, but just today.
I saw Art School Confidential last night and I recommend it. It wasn't so much what I was expecting, but I liked it nonetheless.
Ali, Megan and I watched the tape of our senior year "Rock 'n' Roll Revival" last week and it was less traumatic and more humorous than I expected. It's so weird the people you forget about. Like Peter Reins! I went to school with that kid for like 10 years. I wonder what he's up to. If someone could give me the Peter Reins update, I would appreciate it.
I'm in the biggest fight with Paper Source. We might break up. But I hope we don't. I generally like the people who work there and...Money...she makes the world go round.
My internship thus far has been good times. I like my boss and the artists aren't as bad as I was told to expect. There is a very high emphasis on coming to work looking good. "This business is 50% how you look and 50% how you can sell it." I feel like I've put my fashion game face on and brought it. John told me I was the best dressed gallery assistant he's ever worked with slash in Dupont as a whole. I giggled. But he's not here today so I look like ass and it's great! But any job description that entails, "look good, flirt and schmooze people and talk about art" is pretty much what I'm all about. Lose weight, change hair. That would help though.
So far I haven't really had any kooky experiences, which is disappointing. A really boring plastic surgeon came in yesterday and he talked pompously about art for a while and made me feel like an a-hole because I've never actually seen the real Mona Lisa. I'm like, shut up and give me a breast reduction already.
I'm making some headway on my "Things I Need To Do Now that it's Summer" List:
- Jimmie Cone
- Go crabbin'
- Go to the pool
- Get tan
- Watch EuroTrip
- Watch Dazed and Confused
Woot!
Tomorrow my gallery is having a show opening from 6-8, dressy casual, cocktails to follow at my apartment. All are welcome. 2108 R st. Ask for directions because odds are, I would love to see you. And I'm wearing a dress I can't tell how I feel about...I got it for like 20 bucks in San Francisco...it's sort of racy.
I found out that Long Island Ice Teas have 780 calories, and now I'm having an identity crisis.
Last Friday Anna and I took Kelley out for her birthday in Adams Morgan for her 21st...Apparently I turned 21, as from the hours of 5-2 I drank the following:
- 3/4 bottle of white wine
- Half a bottle of Andre
- 5 Jell-O shots
- 1 shot of Vodka
- 1 Red Headed Slut
- 1 Lemon Drop
- 1 Vodka Tonic
- 1/2 Long Island Ice Tea
- 1 Corona
...and the only thing I paid for was the Corona! I guess there are perks to having friends that are far more attractive than you are.
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| RULL QUICK |
[18 May 2006|12:25pm] |
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Silence! It's a gallery! |
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Ahoy ahoy, faithful LJ readers. I am alive, believe it or not. I haven't updated since Kennedy was president because this semester took me, turned me sideways and made me it's bitch. BUT I SURVIVED! So take that Spring 2006.
Highlights and Lowlights:
- I hate design and I wish it weren't my major. It's not what I want to do anymore and it's expensive, stressful and time consuming. I'm going to stick with though, because I'm good and it's nice to have options.
+ All nighters in the Design Lab, bitching about Chemi, class and such really bonded my class of design kittens. They're really good people and I feel lucky to be killing myself with them.
-/+ I cut off a portion of the top of my left pointer finger at 3am cutting illustration board with a utility knife. I was so tired/it was so sharp I didn't even notice. Then I saw the blood on my knife. I quickly wrapped it up in a paper towel from the bathroom and went back to making my final comp. The best was when Carni looked over and goes, "...Um...are you wiping blood off of your utility knife...?" Me, "Um...yes." Carni: "...That's really bad-ass. It's like you've been initiated into the world of design." I like when punk vegan anarchists tell me I'm badass. He offered to finish cutting my illustration board, and in retrospect I should have let him. It would have been straighter.
+ AmLit was released and it looked amazing.
+ Chris and Megan came to surprise me a couple weekends ago! I love them a lot.
- We finally cleaned our apartment. But it's messy again. I hate that.
+ Finished finals. Grades: PR-A Design&Photography-B (YES BITCHES, I DON'T HAVE TO TAKE IT AGAIN!) and I'm still waiting on the rest. I'm a senior. Awkward.
+ Went to Napa/San Francisco with my family and it was one of the best weeks ever. But like ever.
+ Started my new internship. Which is where I am right now.
- I manage the second floor of the gallery...where there's no computer (John is out right now, so I get the first floor just for the first half of today). So it's going to be effing boring as sin. And if work is going to be boring, I expect a computer to shoot emails to my fellow bored summer interns. 'Eh...boss called and will be back in 20 minutes. Grr...have to cut this short.
So yes. This summer = working at the gallery and general Tom Foolery on my days off. I need to de-stress. Well now that we're all caught up in this lame-ass update, the rumiations can begin again.
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| You know... |
[07 Apr 2006|06:10pm] |
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Danielle's iPod |
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So this semester has been really rough for me. Which is totally odd, because I'm really only taking 3 academic classes. And usually I take five. But rough, it has been!
*Design and Photography: So I cry a lot because of this class. I have great ideas for my projects, but when it comes down to executing them, it just does not work out so well. And I'm CONSTANTLY doing work for this class. I miss my friends. I miss alcohol. I miss general tom-foolery. I don't think I'm failing...because...I don't think Chemi would fail me, but I might be coming mighty close.
*Internship: Loved it! It was very time consuming, but working with my sister was an amazing experience and I have some great stuff for my portfolio. Design&Photography made me think I shouldn't be a designer, but my Internship did the exact opposite. Oye! Amazing experience!
*PR: So stupid. SOC is not made for me. My professor looks like Peter Griffin from "Family Guy" so that's entertaining and distracting. I really have nothing to say about this class...it's dumb and I'm not doing well in it only because I refuse to try. Lame.
*Art History: Level 511 class and I've gotten A's on everything so far, which is amazing and I'm really proud of myself. If I had college to do over again, I think I would major in Art History and minor in Design. Oh well.
So I'm the happiest kitten in the litter because I got a summer internship! And it's my dream internship! I'm a gallery assistant at Studio Gallery in Dupont Circle. It's DC's oldest co-op gallery, located on what I call "Gallery Row" on R street. R street has this long stretch of beautiful old brownstones that are all just galleries. The first friday of every month, all of the galleries open at night and serve wine and cheese and you can just walk up and down R street gallery hopping. So I'm working as John Blee's assistant. John has been the gallery director for galleries and museums in DC, New York and Boston. He's also a professor, a well respected art critic with a regular column in The Georgetowner and is a painter! He has a collection in MoMA! We really clicked and he hired me on the spot. Our interview suddenly turned into me telling him about my family and him counseling me with our problems, hearing about his family and the scandal that occured when his brother divorced his wife of 30 years. After all of this, I said, "Well, anyway, family matters aside, do you have more questions?" to which he said, "You know what? I like you a lot. You're hired. I have more people interviewing, but forget them." And then he called his partner and told her that I presented myself well, was beautiful (I turned bright red), intelligent, talented and an interesting person. He loves me! Obviously he's gay. I love the gays and the gays love me. So I get a key to the gallery and I get to make sales and deal with artist relations and attend openings and AH! I'm just so excited! John said that I should be aiming to work at a museum, not gallery because money is in museums. He also said that with his recommendation and a phone call I could get a job wherever I want. And I'm just like freaking out! I've been so frustrated at how hard it is to get your foot in the door of the art management industry and this nice old gay guy just shoved me on in! It seems too good to be true...but I'm trying to stay positive. Maybe that's why this semester was so hard, now things will get better.
Next Sunday is my 21st birthday! Insanity...
So it's getting better... :)
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| By confessing this, I can finally get better... |
[07 Feb 2006|10:49pm] |
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Why the fuck am I watching Geraldo? |
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They say that when you go to college, you have a 45% chance of developing an addiction to drugs or alcohol. I thought to myself, "Well I've got willpower...I got all of my weed-lovin' out in high school. And I can moderate my alcohol use. I'm fine!" Well...it's time for me to stop lying to myself, to my family, to my friends and to my dear LJ readers. I have an addiction and I'm so sorry if it has ever come between us. I'm seeking therapy, and I know with God's help, I can overcome this terrible addiction. This is so hard to say and to hard to see in black and white. I have...oh God...I am addicted to Bravo's genius hit TV show, "Project Runway." Addicted. If I could, I would mix it with Klonopin, heat it on a spoon with a lighter and inject it directly into my veins. I love Nick, I love Santino, I love Tim Gunn, I love Santino's impression of Tim Gunn, I love Heidi Klum, I love Nina Garcia Fashion Editor of Elle Magazine, I love Marc Jacobs, I love Andre, I love "Project Runway." And it's all I effing think about. Wednesdays from 10-11pm, you can find me face down on my apartment floor, half naked, drooling, twitching, intensely watching Bravo (yet facedown...I don't know how it works, but it does). I have class Wednesdays from 2-8 and then AmLit meetings from 9-10, and I can't concentrate...it's ruining my GPA. I sit in Art History and suddenly the five figures in Picasso's Demoiselles D'Avignon turn into Santino, Tim Gunn, Nick, Heidi and Marc Jacobs. In PR, I just twitch and scratch my neck, sweating bullets knowing that I'm just hours away from the best part of my week. In AmLit, I agree to do anything for the magazine just so I can get out of the meeting on time. And then I race home, lock the door, pull down the shades, and spark up the TV. Last week, I watched the same Goddamn episode of "Project Runway" three times. I'm like a dealer, I welcome anyone who doesn't get Bravo to come to my house and join me. First I watched it with Caitlin, Laura and Hannah. When it's over, my happy customers leave. Then Allie comes and I watch it again with her. And then Danielle and I fall asleep to it. I CAN'T FALL ASLEEP WITHOUT IT MAN! I have literally read every designers bio, watched every video clip and I regularly read all of the designer's blogs on bravotv.com. I need help. I have nightmares because I have such inner turmoil over whether Danny V, Nick or Santino should win. I wake up in a cold sweat screaming "I FUCKING HATE YOU CHLOE! ALL OF YOUR SHIT LOOKS THE SAME AND I DARE YOU TO STRAY AWAY FROM THE COLOR BLUE!" When I was making my editor's priority schedule for AmLit, I scheduled "Project Runway" in from 10-11 as a time I can't design or meet with anyone (that's no lie). I know I'm not the only one with this addiction...and I know I'll get better. In the name of Austin Scarlet, I will get better.
In related news, the night of the last Project Runway, Caitlin Pratt (bearcatsmewo) and I will be doing a live LJ-cast of our witty thoughts of the finale/runway show. Get psyched!
You know what's ridiculous? Today I was driving home from work in heavy traffic, heading north on the mess that is Wisconsin Avenue at rush hour. An ambulance was coming up behind me; so naturally, I pulled over to the right. After the ambulance passed, I waited for the person in front of me to get back into the lane and then I went to, AND THE ASSHOLE BEHIND ME SPED UP AND CUT ME OFF! Are you kidding me?! Don't take advantage of someone mayhaps having a heart attack to speed up and cut me off. I hope that person chokes on a hunk of steak...I've been there. It's rough.
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| Put the needle to the record and hit me with your style |
[05 Feb 2006|10:40pm] |
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Things are intense right now. My internship is going really well. It's like...professional and shit. I'm currently designing the menu, party favors and dinner cards for someone's wedding. WHAT? Like someone's wedding...someone I don't know. A "client," if you will.
I've been getting such good feedback on a lot of design I've been doing, whether it be for classes, 3Citron or AmLit. Oh Meg, it's time to let yourself think you're an amazing designer. You are an amazing designer. You will be a successful designer. I think since I started the design program I've been so intimidated by everyone and everything because I was new at it. But talent is talent. It doesn't matter how long you've been dicking around with Adobe.
Classes are going well. PR is so fucking pointless. It makes me want to drop my Communications minor. The only reason I'm minoring in it is because I might want to go into Magazine design. This is something I need to think about. My Art History class is so intense. Mainly because it's a graduate class. I'm trying not to be intimidated. I really think I might want to pursue Art Administration. I'm applying for a summer internship program in Baltimore with the Walters Art Museum. Only 3 people will get it. So it's a long-shot but worth it. I need to look for other internships for the summer. I talked to Dr. Broude (my Art History professor) and she said she would be happy to write one of my academic references. She said my paper on Gauguin was "quite exceptional." Guys what should I be when I grow up?
I've been thinking about Boston a lot recently. Specifically my moving there.
I miss Alex.
Caitlin and I had the craziest fucking kickboxing substitute instructor this past Thursday. She made us do these new fangled things called "push-ups." It made my muscles "work." I forgot my water and had to share Caitlin's nalgene bottle that had remnants of Irish Car Bomb in it, my pants were on backwards and I kept cursing at inappropriate times. I was a hot mess.
You know what's awkward? When you're in the elevator with someone and they get off and randomly say some parting line to you. For example, the other night I was riding the elevator up to the 7th floor, and the guy in the elevator with me was taking it to the 5th floor. I was minding my own business, marveling at the new 39-cent stamps on my bills when the guy got off and said, "Have a great night." I'm never prepared for this. It's just so polite. I mean, we weren't talking and I don't know you. But that's really nice. So then my inner monologue starts dissecting this act of kindness: "Oh shit, is he talking to me? Of course he's talking to me, I'm the only person in the elevator. Wow, what a nice and awkward thing to do. Is he trying to get in my pants? Would I let him? Is he Lebanese or just really tan? Either way that's hot right? FUCK! SAY SOMETHING BACK!" And then I manage to make out a soft "Your too. I mean you. Night. Ha." just as the doors have closed. This happens to me more than you would expect. And I'm sufficiently awkward about it each time.
I hate getting harassed for money by people on the street in Georgetown. I'm not talking about the homeless; I'm talking about like Jesus freaks, hippies, and the general whatnot. Recently I was hardcore stopped by some guy with the Children’s Miracle Network. They always get me by asking how I am. I have to respond. It's like instinct. So they're like, "Hi Miss! How are you today?" and apparently I can't deny them the knowledge that I'm "hangin' in there, thanks." And then they go into the whole "Well my name is Anthony and I'm out here on this fine day trying to make a change! Are you willing to give me 3 minutes of your life and help me make that change?" Because it's like, no Anthony, no I cannot. I need to use that precious three minutes to drop $133 in Urban Outfitters and enjoy a delicious soft pretzel while gazing at the canal outside the porn shop on this fine day. And it's not even my money! It's my rich white middle class parents money! And when it runs out, I'll just ask for more! And it's not a big deal! And I feel fucking awful about it, but can't change it! But you can't say that because that makes you a horrible person, so you just grunt and mumble "sorry" and walk a little more quickly, gazing a little more blankly to hide the fact that you are a horrible person. Some kid in the Congo is now dying because I needed a boho bag.
I have to think of an idea for the Design Expo poster. It's a big deal if you're poster/call for entries/postcard/invitation gets picked so naturally I want to win or whatever. But I've been doing nothing but promotion design recently for AmLit, so my creative juices are spent. Promotion design is Satan.
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