Posted by: Alice Inc. | July 24, 2009

in lue of my loan payments, please accept these lifepoints.

I left you alone for one month, one single month, and look what you’ve done. I thought I could trust you, but no, I return to find GM auctioning off its bits like a multitasking hooker, the president pulling the race card for his homie from the hoo –arvard, and the king of pop in a relatively more severe state of death than he was when I left. You’ve really shit the bed, America. Next you’ll be telling me that there’s no more John and Kate. YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH WHEN YOU’RE TALKING TO ME.

That’s right, my gentle reader, I’ve just woken up from my month-long daydream that was Europeland. Like the many unemployed post-grad humanities majors that blazed the Ivy-ridden autopedescalator before me, I decided to put my hard-earned graduation gift-money towards exasperating my debt-pile while self-discovering in a slew of already forgotten dive bars, tourist traps, and many-a-hairy, smelly, non-english-speaking armpit.

While I never quite succeeded in discovering a primoridial-sized version of myself, spewing the answers to all my soul searching questions in the sangria-flooded streets of Pamplona, or in any and every bathroom in Prague (believe me, after consuming the au-de-fart flavored sausage in bulk, I gave each a thorough investigation), I did keep a diary of clues I discovered along the way — a sort of checklist of self-discoverlits that would confound anyone who dared to steal my iphone and open the Notes app. I’ve already considered its poetic genius, and I’m pretty sure Ginsberg would be all like, “No you di-int.”


Notes from Europe

To do: own money enough to buy flat in London. Do not: beat sister and mother in public space (hilar?) Truth: London porn stores are better organized, and owners = more polite. Inform Liana. I am a tourist who despises tourists. I call the pot black (wrong?). Good chance I am too big for London. Big ben = bell, big shannan = does not belong.  Tulip Skirts everywhere. Fish and Chips need tartar to add glory. I like outdoor markets. I also like Shakespeare, but not as much. Soho=wonderful in day, scary tall drag queens with track marks at night.

to do: Never be homeless. Increase sangria tolerance. name first born/cat Don Simon. Run faster.

If I learn to flamenco I will get laid. If I eat Churros and Doner Kebaps, I will not, but I won’t care. GOD Madrid sucks. Australians are an awkward people. Toledo day trip: I like cobblestone anything. learn to make mazapan and spanish cookies so someone will marry me. marry someone who can make mazapan. If all else fails, as long as I can stand still I can make money street performing.

Mallory and I plus 20 years and 1 sex change

Mallory and I plus 20 years and 1 sex change

Streudal, fart stick meat. make my own chocolate. Learn about: the eu, distillation process, bull fighting, ww1 and 2, get the mag the economist so i understand smarter people, start an online trading portfolio, watch layer cake, read/create blog about how to make money blogging. who is el greco? Europeans love terrible American rap. Become rapper in Europe.

Annddd Scene.

So, are we clear? No.

Truth is, I never expected to “find myself” in Europe. However, I whole-heartedly support using the self-discovery bit as a front for ensuring that you will never again suffer victory in a game of never-have-i-ever, and rather enjoy those long, drawn out pauses where you mutter, “what haven’t I done?” while holding your wine glass by the stem. I got to run with some bulls, sleep in a parking garage, drink a half a gallon of Hofbrau beer by the liter, and get crazier about my killer boyfriend. (Not OJ). I’m still in the red, but I’m definitely racking up the life points.

The other other crystal ball.

The other other crystal ball.

Also, I’m a little more relaxed now. I’m at least pretending I have a plan at this point. I’m planning to move to DC in September, hopefully live with a ladyfriend from college, and force myself on an employer like a rabbit in heat. Until then, I will suffer through another minor surgery, and celebrate my graduation with pin the insult on the inlaw and 3 hours of explaining to my aged grandfather that no, I don’t have a job, and no, I’m not going to bare children to make up for it. There’s nothing quite like adding cake to injury.


  1. Shannypants – I wanted to let you know that I see your life points and raise you leaving 3 jobs in a little over a year with no other plan than avoiding plans. I have about $20 to invest in your European flat, also, as I hear real estate is at an all-time low… on a planetary scale.

    Just thought I’d say hi, miss you, and that reading what you, Rob, and the others have pinpointed regarding humanity has made me feel like less of a trainwreck. For this, I thank you. Thanks, Shannon. Seriously. Let’s grab a beer next time you’re in the area.


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