Currently Watching Crunch - Super SlimDown: Pilates Yoga Blend By Ellen Barrett see related

i'm going to fail health fitness 1210.

my fate has been decided upon and there is no changing my future. i've missed too many labs to ever have any hope of passing this class, especially since i have intentionally skipped most of my required yoga sessions. but, in a last futile attempt to struggle against this downward spiral which i am powerless to stop, i decided to talk to my professor and explain to him my situation.

of course, lindsey, always the voice of reason, stopped me:

"cheyenne, you can't tell dr. smith that you were required to be at the homecoming musical,"

"it was for recital attendance."

"or mr. wilcox's trumpet recital."

"i was supporting the faculty."

"you're abusing the system."

"the system is abusing me. this class is the biggest crock of bullshit at mcmurry."

and, noting that there are crocks upon crocks of bullshit used for the very foundation of mcmurry university, we both agreed that my cause was completely justified. namely, i should milk all the sympathy i can from the PE department so that my gpa doesn't burn in the firey pits of hell.

surprisingly, giving bullshit excuses to get out of a bullshit class was good enough to get me some makeup passes!

yes! sweet redemption! there is hope of a C! maybe even a C+!

on one condition.

i have to make up all the labs i've missed - not too strict a punishment, i thought. and since lindsey will be doing it with me, it can't possibly be that bad. right?

as we were scheduling just when we were going to make up all these fitness classes, the truth hit us in the face like an unexpected dirty sanchez:

"lindsey, we're going to have to take both step aerobics and yoga on tuesday and thursday, pilates on friday, and possibly a noon yoga class on monday..."

"so?"

"for the next three weeks."

"fuck."

"fuck indeed."

so, even though we're going to be completely raped by exercise for the next three weeks, at least we will be skinny and beautiful when our journey into the world of fitness is over.

wish us luck!

Currently Listening Best of Miles Davis & John Coltrane By Miles Davis & John Coltrane see related

mmm...mezamiz?

so, by a series of peculiar events i ended up with a job at mezamiz. roughly it went like this:

cheyenne- ::walking to the grill::

dustin- "hey cheyenne! let's go eat!"

cheyenne- "sounds like fun!"

eat, eat, eat

cindy- "hey dustin & cheyenne! let's go smoke some cigars!" 

dustin & cheyenne- "sounds like fun!"

smoke, smoke, smoke

neil- "hey everybody! come hear me play at mezamiz!"

everybody except cheyenne- "sounds like fun!"

cheyenne- "i have to wash some rich lady's dishes so that i will have money. i cannot go."

everybody- "boo."

wash, wash, wash,

cheyenne- ::stumbles into mezamiz at the last minute to hear neil sing a few wonderful songs::

robert & dustin- "cheyenne, you need to get a real job, preferably one where you can watch neil's shows."

cheyenne- "that would be wonderful. if only such a place existed and was hiring."

manager of mezamiz- "well, would you like to work here?"

cheyenne- "sounds like fun!"

work, work, work

and that is how i became a barista. so, come hang out with me and i'll make you some coffee for $5.15/hr!!

i start tonight at 8. maybe i'll even work tomorrow. who knows.

---------------

actually, at 8 you should go watch neil play at the bean counter, but afterwards you should come buy coffee at mez. there. now you have something to do tonight.

Currently Listening John Rutter: Requiem see related

so, this morning when i was jolted awake by the earsplitting crashes and general loudness of the garbage truck, i realized that i couldn't feel my hands. i had to shake them out a bit to get the blood going again, and i wondered,

"wtf m8?" because i speak to myself in internet lingo.

i had slept the whole night with my arms crossed, and i'm sure i had a frown on my face as well. what the hell? why would anyone ever act like this? after much consideration, i decided that it is because i am officially a bitter old hag. now all i have to do i buy some cats and wait for death.

my transcendence into adulthood has blown by so quickly, was it only yesterday when kati told me i acted like a forty-year old? oh well, life has been short my friends, and it is time for me to enter the golden years. to symbolize my passing from adulthood into spinsterhood, i'm going to start wearing golden shoes.

weep not for me, friends, old lady-dom will be kind to me. i can finally start preparations on my funeral service. here's a few ideas:

      -dr. gomer will play the organ, of course, and hopefully we can snare a few full-throated men to sing "the hearse song" (the worms crawl in, the worms crawl out) before he plays "a diet of worms."

       -a choir will sing john rutter's "requiem", just to make sure that the lamb of god grants me rest. however, instead of an oboe solo during "the lord is my shepherd" it will be a clarinet. it's only right.

       -and speaking of the clarinet, as a just tribute to the dearly departed, "the wind" simply must be played (with the customary squawk at the beginning, obviously.)

       -finally, just for the sake of ambiance, we'll have a choir, in the back of the church, sing "song for athene," a song performed while princess diana's coffin was being processed, (no, i know what you're thinking. it's nothing like 'a candle in the wind')  it's the perfect mix of twentieth century dissonant crap that i love, and gregorian chant. plus, even in death, i want to be able to torture some second basses by making them hold out a low F for the entirety of the song.

so there you have the preparations for my funeral. funny...i think there is a local collegiate group that is performing almost exactly this repertoire...

at heavenly rest

at 7:30

tonight

oh, i just love a good halloweeny funeral service.

Currently Reading Party Monster: A Fabulous But True Tale of Murder in Clubland By James St. James see related

  i am most definitely going to be michael alig for halloween this year. no matter how trashy and ridiculous my costume is, i'll be fabulous just to be able to drop that name.

i know i've already blogged about how obsessed i am with the movie party monster (michael alig's biography/ memoirs of james st. james) but now that i'm reading the book, i'm going to do it some more.

basically it's a story of a bunch of outlandish, social climbing drag queens who rocked new york night life with their blatantly self-absorbed need for attention and social power. and drugs. lots and lots of drugs. and people gave them both. lots and lots of both. the 90's came all to quick for the gaudy 80's nightclub crowd. they needed something glamorous and over the top, so they wore crazy costumes that made no sense, and they were fabulous. blue dots on your face? sizzling hot. have an IV hanging out of your arm? spectacular. a superglued virginia ham on your left thigh? untouchable.

the point is, these people lived to discover something new. they wanted to find a new way of living life that wasn't tired. everyone and their mother had grown up in the midwest and learned how to bake cookies, landed a successful job, found a wife, and lived happily ever after for hundreds of years. surely there was more to life than domesticity. and there was. by dressing like insane people, and frankly doing so many drugs that they WERE insane people, they completely transcended normalcy. they were lifted onto so many pedestals that they were able to totally detach themselves from reality and could observe all us little ants and our meaningless daily trappings.

of course they overdosed. of course many of them died. michael alig, the king himself, murdered a drug dealer, hacked up his body, and threw it into the hudson. i wonder how fabulous he is on death row. james st. james, the author of the book, describes a night where jennytalia, a superstar model, had spent all her money on a week long crack binge and was broke and hungry sitting in a trash can trying to open a can of beans with a butterknife.

i sit here drinking my cheap coffee and schedule out every hour of my day, classes from 9-5:30, practice the weber concerto/ f minor scales from 6-8,  and i wonder, am i sinking into the trap of normalcy? all my life i've lived by the creed of 'if everybody's doing it, it's probably wrong. and even if it's not wrong, wouldn't it be nice to think of it in a different way?' sometimes this way of thinking gives me insight, sometimes it makes me look crazy, and it ALWAYS gets me the attention i crave. 

so is it noble to stay right and vacuum my living room tonight, or is it more important to break away and go find me some ecstacy? which way it the better way to live? we all end up in the ground either way, and so far the only meaning for life i can come up with lately is to experience something other than nothingness.

why not?