A rolling stone gathers no moss. See all future updates on my life at caseyj.tumblr.com
The short story here is that I just stayed up all night with the Editorial and CHTV staff making Hardly Workings. It was awesome, and so much fun. I made appearances in a good few, but one stands out to me. I would not venture that it’s the funniest or most poignant, but it definitely holds a special place in my heart. It is the video in which Susanna and I mastermind the greatest shaming ever. Mostly it holds this special place because it means by extension that, within the Hardly Working canon, Susanna and I have handled all the male genitalia in this video. I won’t say who handled who, though. Ok I give up– Susanna did Jake.
One of the most interesting parts that I hope can be repeated on more limited levels was the live video chat. You should be sorry if you missed it, because it was awesome. With regards to all of the comments that my rack has generated, I am never wearing that shirt again. Ever. Seriously, I burned it like 2 seconds ago. If I ever hear a slang term for breasts again it will be too soon, and also, I may have a seizure.
Now I’m in this strange zen state of “I could easily go on not sleeping until the appropriate time tonight, but if I decided I wanted to sleep right now I’d be asleep before I was finished making the decision.” Weird? You bet it is!
I haven’t posted in a while because the ethernet port on my Macbook has stopped working. As I have read on forums, this didn’t used to be a typical computer “fail” until the Macbook. I don’t know how this happens aside from very specific divine intervention. Hence, I don’t have any time to find funny things to write about because each webpage takes literally about 5 minutes to load on Columbia’s shitty wireless. This means the only time I can be online for real and catch up on my TV shows is when I’m at work. Kidding. Kind of.
For about 2 hours, I couldn’t persuade my internet connection to operate. First I chalked it up to shitty Columbia. Then I tried all different combinations of cat 5 wires in the various ports in the wall, on my computer, and in my hub thinger (can’t remember the technical term). No dice. So I sat curled in a ball on my bed, internetless, for too long. Then something occured to me; an ancient strategy once used on SNES and Game Boy cartridges that authority figures always said would make everything break, but all it ever did was work. So I pulled out the ethernet cable, blew into the ethernet orifice, blew on the cable, plugged it back in, and poof– internet. This is truly one for the books.
Something I’ve been trying to figure out for a while: guys who profess to like girls who wear hats. Steve is one of these people. This confuses me because I pretty much only wear a hat when I haven’t washed my hair recently enough to look like a functioning member of society. I wear hats when I am dirty and don’t want anyone to look at me, and I would never wear a hat when I am fresh and clean as a daisy, unless I were going to a baseball game, and I would venture that most girls that wear hats are the same way. That said, it is baffling that in this state, I would appear more attractive to a guy with a hat fetish. It doesn’t make sense, right?
I figured it out though. Guys don’t like when girls wear hats. They have it wrong. Putting a hat on some busted twat would not make her any more attractive to “hat” guys. What these guys do like is girls who wear hats and still look hot IN SPITE OF the hat, or more broadly, can dress, and feel like crap but still be attractive. Watch out, boys, I’m hot on your tail.