Filed under: Uncategorized
I’ve done a pretty bad job of following the campaigns this year. Occasionally I read a news clip on Gawker or read through Crappy Hour on Jezebel, but last night (I think this was the first time my boyfriend and I actually used the rabbit ears on his t.v.) I watched the Democratic Convention for Obama’s acceptance speech and as you would guess…
At first when I heard about this New York Magazine article about New Yorkers moving to Buffalo, I was afraid. Afraid as in “Damnit, they’re foiling my plan by sending flocks of poor stuff white people like Brooklynites to the city I’ve wanted to live in after graduation when I’m poor!” I still feel the same way.
I read it this morning on the train from Ridgewood to Clinton Hill and (since I’ve been really unstable in the emotional department) I got glossy-eyed a few times. Mostly because I know I would’ve saved money if I had just moved to Buffalo after high school in the first place, and also because I know that if I hadn’t moved to New York to become used to an urban environment with everything at my fingertips, I wouldn’t value the scuzzy city to the west as much as I do every time I go home.
Filed under: Prattstitutes, Tragedy | Tags: apush, crying, grotto, little debbie, oatmeal rounds, paris hilton
A long, long time ago when I was a senior in high school, I spent a lot of time doing homework in the social studies grotto during my study hall. I’d hang out with my AP Gov and AP Us History teachers and talk about books and movies when I wasn’t writing surveys or essays for the Exit Project. My APUSH teacher and I became pretty good friends, and when prom time came around that May, he asked who I was going with. I said I wasn’t going and left it at that, but he persisted “But it’s your senior year! You have to go to prom! Why aren’t you going?!” After three rounds of this I burst into tears and walked to the nearest bathroom until I cooled down.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Scott Tomford has started up a blog called I’m Just The Walker, and it’ll certainly be updated about dog walking stuff and photos of cute puppies to look at while you’re at work.
My blog is not changing into a dog-walking or special interest blog. It will remain an old-lady-who-shakes-her-fist-at-changing-times, pop culture, food and drink, and goings-ons blog. I once again just need to promote the fact that I need a dog walker.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: company, dogwalking, Fort Greene, puppies
It looks like my dog walking empire may actually expand into an empire. But I guess since I’ve just been a one man show with a cameo of Scott Tomford, it might just expand into a very small citystate with a good reputation of dorky walkers.
I made a listing on facebook just now searching for some kids that would be interested in being semi-self employed. Anyway, here it is:
A friend and I have been walking dogs for close to a year in Fort Greene and have gained popularity and demand among local dog owners. Since there’s only two of us,we need to have a couple of trustworthy, dog-loving people to refer some of the owners to when we’re busy with class/other jobs.
This is a really rewarding and easy way to make some cash and get some exercise between classes. The rate that my friend and I use is $10/walk, which is suggested, but the maximum is $15. With a steady gig, you can make $150/week or more.
You can email me at sharkclark.sharon@gmail.com if you’re interested.
Hours: Part-Time
This job pays at an hourly rate
Seasonal employment
I went through a phase where I named everything I owned (as potsmokers do with their pieces). And I realized the other night (coincidentally after visiting some friends that had an endearing name for their pipe), that I had not named a personal belonging in about two years. The last recipient of a moniker? My word processor, my ichat/firefox provider, my music player: my one and only laptop.
Today, for the first time ever, I’m leaving my beloved laptop Owen home alone for a weekend. I bought my macbook when school started in the Fall of ‘06, and he has been nothing but good to me. He has endured plane rides, bus trips, Florida, New England, some minor falls, a major spill of Smirnoff Raspberry all over his keyboard (the fizzling it made and the stickiness of the keys for weeks after made me worried I’d have to part with some of his hardware), and even the hundreds of times I’ve left him open and on for days on end.
Owen has proved to both of us that he is capable of staying home alone over the weekend.
Remember that commercial for Staples? The back to school one with the parents flying down the aisles of the store singing “It’s the most wonderful time of the year!” and throwing supplies into the shopping cart?
If this is any indicator:
Pratt is ready for school to start and for its incoming freshman/transfer students to expect nothing but the best technology an institute has to offer. Maybe they’re working on introducing a new URL/email-link hybrid.
Anyway, I just remembered that I’m going away over the weekend and I took Monday off of work. This means an entire day’s break from the fresh batch of bright-eyed, yet to be alcoholic/cigarette smoking freshmen stopping at the turn-style in the library (that doesn’t work) and swiping their i.d.’s over and over without any sign of the turn-style working. Because it doesn’t work.
This whole Orientation week thing, which they’ve started already for early-move in and international students gives me the creeps and makes me feel old. The cafeteria is setting out the food for the week and a half of free lunches they give the new students — free lunches that I used to think were amazing until I had to spend my shitty meal plan on them every day in the cafeteria — and the creepy O-staff cult is spread out over campus wearing blue shirts with the a pseudo-Pratt monopoly game board on the back.
The end.
Filed under: Essay, Prattstitutes | Tags: grasshopper, kendo sword, stick of butter, stupid
From time to time, I have these moments where words come out of my mouth and I think “Sharon, you could’ve thought that out for at least two seconds more and had your answer instead of making everyone listening to you think you’re stupid.” I feel like this has been happening more frequently these days. I tend to say things like: “My dad is adopted but we think he’s like 100% French Canadian or something, but like, I don’t understand how I compute my percentages.”
And everyone sitting there is like “Um, you just halve their percentages, add them and that’s yours.” Which I knew, but I was really thinking about the fact that my mom is French Canadian too, so I was trying to think of what she is and what it would make my percentage with my dad. Not that it matters.
Then there are the times I draw a blank: “Who are your favorite poets/writers?”
I sort of stammer for a second and then try to remember the last book of poetry I read that I really liked, but I always default on something I read a long time ago and answer “Jack Gilbert, Kenneth Koch, etc.” And then I feel like I’m lying to the person. Wouldn’t I know who my favorite writers were off the top of my head? They know I’m up to something.
So these are probably just little things that I shouldn’t worry about too much, but I dwell on them for the entire day and well into the next. I worry about what the other people thought of me when I said what I did, and I usually tell myself that they thought I was incredibly stupid. Next I begin telling myself that I’m not smart.
Difference in definition?
Stupid means dull/slow and smart means quick/sharp. Is it possible to be a combination of both, or am I really just stoopit? Am I dull/quick like a speeding stick of butter, or slow/sharp like a kendo sword attached to a turtle? Ah, grasshoppah.
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Filed under: Food and Drink, Tragedy | Tags: bacon, bacon suitcase, pantene pro-v, PBR, turkey bacon
I researched the I.D. thing more yesterday afternoon and I’m mulling my decision a little more. Especially after going to a bar in the Pratt neighborhood, getting in for 2 PBR’s (basically I was there for half an hour) then going out to smoke and getting carded on my way back in. I rushed past the guy at the door and said I had already been inside. I went to the bathroom and on my way out saw that the guy at followed me in. I told him I didn’t bring my I.D. with me “I didn’t know I was coming here, I didn’t bring it in case I got mugged, I’m leaving anyway.” So I grabbed my boyfriend and we left. I felt really bad about it, not to mention stupid for thinking that they wouldn’t have someone carding outside of a $1 PBR night.
My boyfriend picked up more beer and we decided to go to a BYOB place across the street for dinner. The waitress took forever to come, so we left fifteen minutes later without ordering any food.
So very hungry by the time we got back home, I felt a craving for eggs, so I made turkey bacon and cheddar cheese omelette’s. And our tiny apartment smelled like bacon.
This morning I slept through my alarms and eventually woke up later than usual thinking it was eleven a.m. and that I’d have to call into work. I had a dream that my boyfriend was saying “That’s it. I’ve come to terms with it. I’m going to be late for work at Flavorpill.” When he did get up he wasn’t freaking out like I thought he would be. I showered and got ready as usual and made some comment like “Man, I’m glad that I’m in such a good mood despite being late and everything.” He told me what time it was and it was only 8:47, not 10:47 as I’d thought. I suddenly felt a surge of wonderfulness when I realized I wouldn’t be that late, so I made more turkey bacon which is still lingering in my previously clean and pantene pro-v smelling hair.
