User Profile

Here is some information about this information page(Oh boy, meta-information!). I rarely update or edit it, now clearly being an exception. So I might say how excited I am about my first pregnancy, and then in the next paragraph lament that my youngest is leaving for college. The live journal itself has slightly more up-to-date and accurate descriptions of my life, unless I feel like complaining about unicorns or something.


My autobiography, which TS Eliot will ghostwrite, will be entitled "Glaring Omissions." It will be filled mostly with advertisements.

"Gerund Janey" is the name I use while starring in grammar-porn flicks. You know how they go:
Sexy Linguistics Student 1: Let's go, right now, there's so much potential sexual ecstasy boiling between you and I!
Sexy Linguistics Student 2: Don't you mean you and me?
Sexy Linguistics Student 1: You're right, you've proved your point you sexy thing!
Sexy Linguistics Student 2: I've proved nothing. I've proven everything.
Sexy Linguistics Student 1: Take me fastly!
Sexy Linguistics Student 2: Fast doesn't need a suffix; it's already an adverb by itself. Some words are like that and you just have to remember the exceptions.
(Between films, it's Alaina. My hippy parents cursed me with a silent letter, so ignore the i and rhyme it with Madonna.)

I started this wacky experiment of online narcissism[LJ] as a venue to brag about how many four-leafed clovers I'd found on any given day; it was either that or spray-paint the number onto the sides of abandoned buildings. How this whole thing degenerated so quickly into an anti-Eisenhower diatribe I'll never know.*

I graduated from a small liberal arts college. I majored in philosophy. I'm flaky. Is that redundant? Oh well.

Do you like my tattoo? It's an owl. No, really, it is. See I designed it myself and...It's an owl.

I listed Miss Piggy as one of my interests, but "obsession" is more accurate. She's fantastic! I mean, seriously, she rocks so much. All hail Miss Piggy!

My life is extremely surreal. As a result, so is this particular chronicle of said life. 95% of the content is true, and the complete lies are usually indicated as such...Or are they??? No, they are.

This gay guy whose pants I used to try to enter--What a weird way to start a sentence. Anyway, he says that I'm the only person he knows who will, for purposes of storytelling, exaggerate to make herself look worse. Ergo am I slightly less incompetent than I come across in my own anecdotes.

I am a cheek-kisser and lap-sitter even when sober. Drunk, I'm like a prostitute at a seaport pub, but not in any sexual way.

My friends think I'm cool but since most of my friends are dorks I try not to let it go to my head. I've got good social skills; I can see beneath the blatant mockery and insults to the underlying respect they all have for me. It's subtle love but it's there if you squint.

If brevity is the soul of wit, I'm screwed. But hey, I've lived over two decades so I figure I'm allowed a certain amount of senile babbling. I will try to acquire some war stories and post them[War stories will not actually be mine or involve any historically accurate war].






*As of March 2, 2006, I've deleted my entire friends list as I have, like, no time to keep up with anyone else's journal and barely time to post in mine. If you want me to read about your romantic/financial/Tums-induced/seahorse-involving misadventures, email them to me at metafilia@yahoo.com. I promise I'll get around to laughing at you as soon as possible.