Friday, May 29, 2009

Chasing Beaver

I just had a conversation with ThePilot, one of my oldest friends. He lives in a very small town, grew up in another very small town, and the result is: 1) An innocence you don’t expect to see in a grown man, 2) a very large internet porn collection, and 3) conversations like this:

ThePeach: Yo. How was your day?
ThePilot: I was thinking about doing nothing all day, but ultimately I spent the afternoon chasing beaver.
ThePeach:…literal beaver, ThePilot?
ThePilot: Be honest. You know me. What do you think?
ThePeach: I think you spent your day in the wilderness frolicking with literal beavers. Maybe you splashed in a bubbling brook. Skipped some stones. And the like.
ThePilot: You would be correct. But it’s more fun to say it that way. I plan to post it on facebook and see what kind of reactions I get.
ThePeach: Please do.
The Pilot: What good are virtual friends if you can't ruffle 'em up every once in a while
ThePeach: So, let’s back up. Why were you chasing beaver?
ThePilot: I didn’t start out chasing beaver.
ThePeach: No one ever does.
ThePilot: I was just out for a bike ride…turns out this area is crawling with beavers.
ThePeach: heh.
ThePilot: Side note time -
ThePeach: Yay!
ThePilot: How the hell did beaver become an allegory for sex?
ThePeach: ThePilot, it’s an allegory for vagina. Not for sex.
ThePilot: Thank you, doctor. Now, answer the question.
ThePeach: Well, let’s think about this. Wait, is this really how I’m spending my Friday night? Sigh. Ok, that’s out of the way, back to the beaver! It’s dark. It’s hairy (ew). OH. IT EATS WOOD!
ThePilot: Hmm. I think you might have nailed…I mean, you might have correctly guessed it.
ThePeach: Also, my vagina can build small fortresses out of sticks and moss. So there’s probably that.
ThePilot: I also would have accepted ‘it’s a nice piece of tail.’
ThePeach: The beaver has so many levels.

That’s right. I haven’t posted anything in 10 days, and instead of updating you on my life in any capacity, I’m blogging about the beaver.
ThePeach.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

ThePeach vs. Public Transportation Part 2

ThePeach: *puts bus tickets into fare-collector*
Bus Driver: *nods*
ThePeach: *fumbles like a tool trying to grab transfer from fare-collector*
Bus Driver: You have to pull harder.
ThePeach’s Brain: THAT’S WHAT HE SAID.
ThePeach: Yes, sir.
Bus Driver: *nods*

Another day, another dollar.

Oh hey. I’m still unpaid.

ThePeach

ps – Milo just sneeze-barfed onto my coffee table.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Fabulous News!

Yesterday there was a midget in line right in front of me at Starbucks!! Although he could have been a dwarf...I never can keep those two straight.

In other fabulous news, today is my LAST DAY at the major radio internship. Thank you JESUS.

Oh hey, I have to work until 10pm though. 11 hour work day with no breaks? Joy to the motherfucking world.

ThePeach

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

I fully expected this.

Yesterday was interesting.

I felt like things were looking up at my internship. Last week was kind of rough, but when I showed up yesterday the producer gave me a t-shirt and a tote bag! I get paid in SWAG! And everyone was in a really good mood and, let’s face it, I had sex on Sunday so the world was all lollipops and motherfucking rainbows. And it seemed like the producers liked the piece I put together for the show on Saturday, so life was grand.

I was so happy that I even changed my facebook status to reflect my cautious joy. HotMess wrote me a message in response. Here is our exact conversation:

From HotMess
May 11 at 9:50am
Glad to hear things have finally turned around! Also I heard your pork story on the radio Saturday. It was really good! Tonight are we still on for a little bbq or just box wine? Yesterday I got drunk alone again. And then ordered pizza at 2 a.m. Please save me. I think I have problems.

From ThePeach
May 11 at 9:56am
You don't have problems. You're my hero! Ya, I want to come over for sure. I bought sausages to bbq haha. Gotta support the pork industry. I had a good weekend. I watched FauxHawk do a duathalon and then we had sex. Today is awesome. Guess I should work now...

ThePeach
May 11 at 10:16am
Aaand we're back to disastrous. I was compiling the list of winners for our trivia contest and realized that I accidentally deleted the show’s message from voicemail and replaced it with my own name, and now nobody left their names for the contest because they thought they had the wrong number. And I have to tell the show’s host that she has to re-record it.Help.


That didn’t take very long at all. 10:16am and I’ve already created a massive catastrophe. Perhaps I should explain. The radio show that I work for has a weekly trivia contest, where people phone in with their answers and leave them on voicemail. One of my jobs is to check the messages and make a list of everyone who gets the right answer. It’s a national show, so we get a lot of calls.

Right after I sent my message to HotMess at 9:56am, I started checking the messages. 40 new messages. I got my pen at the ready. Intern HO!

Message 1: *click*
Message 2: *click*
Message 3: *click*
Message 4: *click*
ThePeach: Wow, a lot of people are just hanging up this week.
Message 5: *click*
Message 6:*click*
Message 7: *click*
ThePeach: Weird.
Message 8: *click*
Message 9: *click*
Message 10: *click*
ThePeach: Man, I miss the Fresh Prince of Belair.
Message 11: *click*
Message 12: *click*
Message 13: *click*
ThePeach: IIIIIN West Philadelphia, born and raised, on the playground was where I spent most of my days. Chillin’ out, maxing, and relaxin’ all cool and shootin’ some b-balls outside of the school…
Message 14: *click*
Message 15: *click*
Message 16: Ummm…hello? The…Peach? ThePeach? I thought this was the number for the radio contest? Why does the machine say ThePeach?
ThePeach: *SCREAM!!!!!*

Oh jesus god no.

Of course I somehow deleted the radio show’s voicemail. My fingers shook as I checked to see what outside callers were hearing when they dialed the number for the show.

ThePeach: *dials number*
Phone: *ring*
ThePeach: Please, god.
Phone: *ring*
ThePeach: Please, god, if you’ve ever loved me.
Phone:…THEPEACH!!…
ThePeach: FUCK!!!!

So, to recap, anyone who called the radio show to enter the contest only heard an awkward silence while I waited for the beep that never came and then the sound of my voice shouting my name enthusiastically into the receiver.

National radio, folks.

I’m really leaving my mark at this internship. Maybe tomorrow I can clog a toilet or light something on fire.

You get what you pay for.

ThePeach

Thursday, May 07, 2009

ThePeach vs. Public Transportation

I have to take the bus to my internship every morning. It's only a 10 minute ride and it drops me off right in front of a starbucks a block away from my office. So for the first couple of days I thought I had the sweetest deal ever. A quick little jaunt downtown plus a grande Pike's Place? Yes, this works for me.

But as the week went on and I got progressively more exhausted and grumpy, my bus ride became less of a sweet deal. I started noticing people's smells. Like the girl beside me yesterday who smelled like scalp. And then I started getting pissed off by people who spend the entire ride talking on their cell phones. Like the teenager on Tuesday who was having the following convo with someone:

LittleBitch: UhHUH, YAH. YAH. We were together for eighteen days.
...
LittleBitch: UhHUH. We, like, were so in love, you know?
...
LittleBitch: YAH. Don't woooorry, I'm going to, like, get custody or something. UhHUH.
...
LittleBitch: He'll probably take me back after I, like, have the baby. YAH.

I resisted the temptation to tell her she missed the stop for degrassi street. Little bitch.

Ok, so anyway...where was I?

Right. The bus was starting to suck a little. It didn't help that this morning it was rainy and humid and the bus smelled like a sock. Also, I was really exhausted and extra grumpy. I was listening to my iPod but even that wasn't helping. But then...I discovered something wonderful.

I call it "the in my mind super crazy underwear bedroom dance party." And it helped. See, I do this...thing...in my bedroom. I dance like I'm warped on qualuudes. In my underwear. While listening to bad pop music. It always cheers me up. And today I focused really, really hard and visualized myself dancing while I was on the bus, and - miracle - I no longer wanted to leave cut marks up my arms.

Ah yes. "The in my mind super crazy underwear bedroom dance party" saved the day.

...do I sound crazy?

ThePeach

Hello, sir.

I don't know how to use the editing software. I'm out of groceries and am bringing crackers and a granola bar for lunch today. It's pouring rain and I have to get on a bus soon. My feet are bleeding from tramping around CapitalCity in corporate whore heels.

But it's worth it.

Because yesterday Jack Layton made eye contact with me and said "Salut!"

...santa?

ThePeach

Monday, May 04, 2009

I’m Ho-litical: Day 1

Crisis of conscience: I decided not to blog about my major radio internship. I'm too afraid of somehow getting fired. This shit happens to people all the time. Haven't you read "Sheeple"? I'm working for the biggest broadcasting company in Canada. That trumps blog. Sorry, bitches. I'll blog about other things. Like how hot I look in sweater vests.

ThePeach

Sunday, May 03, 2009

Off to a good start.

The sandwich meat I bought yesterday expired on April 21st.

Lunch FAIL.

ThePeach

ThePeach contemplates running away; Asia sounds nice.

It’s 9am on a Sunday and I’m awake because I have a ton of shit to accomplish before I start my most terrifying internship tomorrow – a political show at the most prestigious radio station in Canada. I just dry heaved from fear as I typed that sentence.

This internship really snuck up on me. I’ve been so busy editing and researching for my other internships - and watching season six of Sex and the City (I’m fighting with FauxHawk…I’m such a cliché) – that this one kind of came out of nowhere. Suddenly it was the weekend and I realized:

a) I haven’t read a newspaper in a month
b) I don’t really know what this radio show is all about
c) What is a hedge fund?
d) I need to buy bus tickets
e) I need to figure out which bus to take
f) I need to figure out where the radio station is. The sky? At the end of a rainbow?
g) What is a minority government?
h) What is a government?
i) What is a Harper?
j) I have nothing to bring for lunch for the next month.
k) I have no professional clothing for spring. Can I wear lulus and converse low-tops? Probably not.
l) I forget how to do radio.
m) I don’t own any pens.
n) What is a general motor?
o) I’m fucked.

I’m trying to take affirmative action so that I’m not labeled the worst intern ever. It doesn’t help that, for the last two weeks, the most politically savvy girl in my class was the intern at the same show. I don’t think you comprehend my situation, here. This girl was a Page in the House of Commons. She knows acronyms. She knows the sexuality of MPs. I’m probably going to show up on Monday and find out that she’s my boss. Actually, that would be awesome…she would be kind to me.

Anyway. I bought some smart-sounding magazines yesterday and tried to read them. Macleans and The Economist. I got through Macleans, but The Economist may never happen. It hurt my brain. I also downloaded many podcasts of the radio show and tried to listen to them. I got through two and a half. Not bad. I’ll listen to another today. I bought the Saturday Globe and Mail, but so far I’ve only read the travel section and then spent two hours looking up flights to Asia. Running away is a definite option. I bought sandwich materials. If I decide to run away I can pack a bagged lunch.

But there is still work to be done. I’m about to get in the shower, go to the mall, and spend some quality time with three-way mirrors, restrictive pants, and my nearly maxed out credit card. Bitch needs dress pants. If there is anything worse than trying on dress pants when you have PMS and a uterus that barely fits into your loosest, most worn out lulus, I’d like to hear it.

After the mall I have to take my Dad out for his birthday. We’re going out for Italian. White bread should help those pants fit. Then I’ve got a full night of learning about politics ahead of me.

I predict I’m on wikipedia by 10:00pm. Query: what is a politic?

Help me.

ThePeach

ps – have any radio show story ideas? Leave them in my comments. I’ll buy you a puppy if any of them makes me sound impressive.