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joanjett_ofarc

age:

	22

location:

	Austin, TX

looking for :

	yet another fiasco

more about me:

	I have lost my sense of irony and now go see remakes of horror films in the theatre while dead sober, but I'm keeping my checkerboard Vans.

6.399

Other Hooksexup Blogs:

Parting Shots
3/25/2005 11:46:32 AM

Looks like my number’s up. I tried to think of something important to say here, but I don’t really have anything. Probably the deepest* thing I thought about the ending of this was how it’s interesting that real-life narratives almost never have closure. There’s no way to wrap this up neatly, so I won’t even try.

I had a date last night. I’ll probably have another one in a few days. One of these days I’ll have a boyfriend, and probably one of these days we’ll break up. I’m not holding my breath for some happily-ever-after.

This has been an interesting experience, and I appreciate how nice everyone –- the people on the boards, the people at Hooksexup, and the other bloggers –- has been. Most of why I applied to this in the first place was to try to force myself to prioritize dating somewhere above taking the trash out and watching reruns on network television, and I definitely got that out of it.

If anyone wants to get in touch with me, I have no intention of taking down my profile, so feel free to contact me there.

*Deep only in comparison to other important things I’ve been thinking about, like whether or not I really want purple streaks in my hair, and whether I should wear my new chiffon skirt or my ripped up jeans to the party tomorrow night.

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Buy Me Some Peanuts and Cracker Jack
3/21/2005 1:48:49 AM

Dating has started to feel sort of like buying Cracker Jack. Remember how Cracker Jack used to come with awesome toys like decoder rings, and now they come with lameass stickers and trading cards? For some reason, it’s really hard to remember that the toys got stupid, so on the rare occasion that I get Cracker Jack, I’m disappointed all over again. I keep holding out hope that there’s going to be some awesome choking hazard toy in the box –- something like you’d find in a Kinder Egg.

Dating feels like that, too. Every new date seems like reaching to the bottom of the box for something that could be really awesome, but then I get stuck with an American Presidents trading card and it sucks.

So, basically, my thought was that I’d like to have someone else pick out the toys. If any of you guys:

a) know a boy in Austin I should go on a date with
b) are a boy in Austin I should go on a date with
c) have seen the profile of a boy in Austin I should go on a date with,

let me know. I’m game. I am apparently doing a poor job of picking out people on my own, I might as well see what someone else thinks would work. I’m flexible on most things, except I’m pretty bent on an early-30s cut-off point for age. I figure most of you have a decent enough handle on how I tick to make some suggestions.

You can either message me via my profile, or leave me a comment here on whose profile I should be scoping out.

So, let’s go find me a Kinder Egg, guys.

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Close Encounters
3/18/2005 1:59:38 PM

I had my 5 seconds of feeling like a pseudo-celebrity last night. At the Hot Hot Heat show at La Zona Rosa (a music venue literally next door to a homeless shelter) I caught a girl looking at me in that way you look at people you think sat behind you in 9th-grade biology.

I was bracing myself to explain that no, I was not in Mrs. Havershamer’s second period, and no, I never totally made out with Dan Stimpson on the fifty yard line and then got caught by the cops and subsequently kicked off the cheerleading squad. But then, I got this: “You blog for Hooksexup.” Oh, yes. Yes I do.

She was nice. We chatted for a minute. She said she met her live-in via Hooksexup personals, and so I smiled and told her she’s obviously been much more successful than me. Then, she went to do whatever she was going to do, and I went and bought another gin and tonic.

In retrospect, maybe I should have asked her to set me up with someone. I mean, she likes good music, she probably knows some cool boys. Picking out people for myself is obviously not working out as well as I might hope. Oh, well.

PS: That picture’s a demo of what I look like at 3:30 a.m. sitting in a Taco Cabana so desperate for a cab I was on the verge of asking if anyone in the restaurant would be willing to drop us at my place for 15 bucks.

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Dancing With Myself
3/16/2005 9:34:44 AM

Today is day one of the SXSW Music Festival, which is sort of like Spring Break for Hipsters. Real hipsters can’t go on regular spring break, because they might get a tan or wind up in the backdrop of a Girls Gone Wild video or something. At SXSW, though, they can overindulge in things that sit with them better than MTV crews, shots of Jose Cuervo and topless blondes -- things like indie pop, cans of Lone Star* and girls wearing Chuck Taylors.

SXSW is a veritable smorgasbord of eye candy. Tonight I’m fixing my sights on Billy ”Not So Long As They’ve Got Viagra” Idol. Billy Idol had a major impact on my early impressions of what was sexy. In fact, I think his whole social purpose after Generation X was to serve as fantasy fodder for prepubescent girls. He sang one of the best songs about masturbation ever recorded, so of course he stuck in my impressionable young brain. Him and Shipwreck from the GI Joe cartoon.

I know I don’t have a chance with Billy Idol, but if I play my cards really right in these next few days, I could probably at least make out with someone marginally famous -– probably not anyone famous enough to earn me my Starfucker Merit Badge, though.

*For those not in the know: Lone Star is like Texas’ very own Pabst Blue Ribbon.

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New and Improved! Now with Lemon-Fresh Scent!
3/13/2005 12:30:08 PM

The new profile is up and ready for a test-drive.

I read all the comments, and took as many of them into account as possible. I’m still considering changing the headline, just because it’s been there quite a while, but in any case, I was wondering if you all thought this was a move in the right direction.

In essence, I’d like you to pick over this one like you did the last one, just uh…please don’t scratch the paint job, and keep your feet of the cushions –- I haven’t even taken the plastic off yet.

Addendum: I finally bit the bullet and added "serious relationship" to what I'm looking for. I mean, let's be honest -- while I'm not opposed to finding other things along the way -- that is what I'm looking for. And, hell, maybe it will scare off some people who would be no good for me, anyhow.

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Renovation Hardware
3/11/2005 10:46:02 AM

Ok, guys. I’ve walked it off, taken my deep breath and I’m ready to get back on the field. (So, more accurately I got real drunk on white Russians and microbrewery beer and bitched and moaned, but that just kills the sports metaphor.) It’s definitely profile renovation time. I made a few minor changes, but overall, I’m tired of this shit, and I bet people looking through profiles are, too, unless they are creatures of habit who fear change.

I have decided to follow Mark’s lead and ask for some feedback on profile tweakage. I’m not really emotionally invested in anything I have up there right now, so feel free to make any suggestions or comments. Also, I’d be interested to see which pictures you guys think I should keep or discard.

So, in summary, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to help me build a stronger, hipper, sexier personals profile in hopes of attracting people who don’t suck. Thanks.

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Bunny Boiling
3/8/2005 8:50:49 PM

I am pretty sure whatever may have been going on with Radio is over. There is a margin of error, since he hasn’t bothered to tell me anything one way or the other, but I have a good hunch.

I’m a little sad -- not beloved dog got run over by a truck sad, but dropped a coffee cup that had a nice weight to it sad. While I realize there wasn’t much substance there, there was a little sliver of something and all that possibility.

And, even if I would have cried on the phone or said something embarrassing, I wish he would have told me. I suppose he still could, but it’s after the fact now, isn’t it?

At one point, he had read pretty much literally everything I’d written here, but I’m uncertain as to whether or not he’s still reading. The point being, I’m trying really hard not to say anything malicious here or passive-aggressive. I’m trying to stick to the essentials of the situation, the things I would say in the real world, not just in the virtual one.

Whenever I come out of one of these things, I have a momentary reminder of how easy it might be to become a bunny boiler -- you know, that crazy girl, the one who drives past her ex’s apartment at 2 a.m., threatens to harm his pets and takes the restraining order as just another example of him playing hard to get?

Nobody ever thinks they’re going to be a bunny boiler, but at least half of my friends have dated one. One friend had an ex steal her blood pressure medication out of her apartment to force her to talk to him. She talked to the police instead.* I suspect he didn’t really think through how she might talk to him if she were, you know, dead or hospitalized.

I think the point I was getting at is that when someone disappears, there’s always this impulse to demand answers. I’m pretty sure that’s how people end up with their answering machines full of messages that include things like, “Please just talk to me,” or “Why haven’t you returned my calls?” I’m suppressing that impulse. I can’t make anyone tell me anything in the first place, and I might not want to hear it.

Or, maybe the point was I just really wanted to tell the blood pressure medication story, cause man, that shit’s crazy.

*This same guy once shot his load on my friend’s back and then said, “I just like marking my territory.” That probably should have been a red flag, but she (and those of us she told the story) really, really wanted to believe he was joking.

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His, Hers, and Mine
3/4/2005 4:00:00 PM

As brought up in the comments here: One of the problems with dating people is they take your shit. This can be a complicated issue, since one of the upsides of dating is occasionally taking someone else’s shit. Sure, it’s petty, but at some point, the agony endured should at least be offset by the knowledge that, while you’ve lost a companion, you’ve gained a sweatshirt.

I’m not much of a collector in this arena, but I’ve picked up a few paperbacks and a hoodie. I even have a rubric of items I will and will not keep. CDs, videos and special books are to be returned, as are nicer pieces of clothing and any electronics. Taking a crappy paperback someone read once is fine. Hijacking a highlighted, dogeared copy of “High Fidelity” is treachery.

Underwear is not to be returned, particularly to the dumpee. If I left my bra at your place two nights before you dropped me over coffee, I do not want it back. I want to forget that particular undergarment ever existed. Feel free to use it in the construction of a voodoo doll or for effigy-burning purposes, or really, anything that does not directly involve me. A friend of mine had an ex attempt to return a silk stocking months after he dumped her – as if she needed to be reminded that she wasn’t fucking him anymore, and what the hell was she going to do with a single stocking anyhow?

Probably one of the least fortunate breakups I’ve had was made worse by the fact that the boy in question had downloaded a bunch of music onto my computer. At the time, he had meant well – he was just trying to share something he loved with me. The problem was, the files cropped up on playlists for months after he was gone. There was no simple way to separate his and hers. I continued to find stray bits of his imported dance music until I replaced the computer a couple years later.

The baseline is I don’t just want my shit back at the end of a relationship, or entanglement, or whatever you want to call it -- I want my life back, just the way it was. A record is worth more than a phone call and a meet-up, in part because having it missing from my collection will be something I notice again and again, while the awkward interaction of getting it back will surely pass.

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Be Cool, Honeybunny
3/2/2005 8:34:46 PM

I’m a bit nonplussed about the whole dating thing right now. Radio is MIA, meaning the last I heard from him was last Wednesday. Attempts to contact him since then have been unsuccessful. Either he has vaporized, or he’s going to resurface in a few days with a horror story involving dismemberment, death, a busted water pipe or some other tragedy.

Past history has trained me to suspect the latter, so I am exerting Herculean effort trying to be cool, but frankly, I’m not cool. Ever. About anything. At this point, I’m trying to decide whether to deal with my uncoolness by crying, calling my mother, or going out for cake.

The thing is, he’d have to be a real shit to just vanish after four dates. And, he seemed nice…not like, “never tracks in mud, always says the right thing, knows which fork to use” nice, but like, “gives out compliments and is extremely punctual” nice. In any case, nice enough to not be a total shit.

Then again, I could be wrong. He could be running around kicking puppies and exposing himself to Catholic schoolgirls as we speak. In that case, good riddance, and I hope those schoolgirls kick his ass.

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