I'm famous by default again

Go undisclosed friend of mine!

www.palinaspresident.com

Dear guy from Japan who just googled the word "booooooooobs" and landed on my blog,

Thank you for making my day. 

smell ya later Shockoe Espresso

I'm off to another small town, where I'm sure I'll find another local coffee shop to terrorize on the internet. It's been fun.

Note to Self

When trying to return a really expensive outfit, and the lady behind the counter asks you if you've ever worn it, don't say yes.

Dear Retina,

I wanted to ask you this question today when you were helping me at the customer services counter at the Kroger on Broad:

Has anyone ever asked you if your name is pronounced the same way as the name for the light sensitive part inside the inner layer of your eye that is responsible for receiving light and transforming it into image-forming signals which are transmitted through the optic nerve to the brain?

Or is it Re-tina?

Anyway, I would have asked, but you seemed pretty irritated when you told me that next time I should just ask the normal cashier for stamps.

Get out of my head!

http://www.theonion.com/content/node/30007

Dear Family,

It has recently been brought to my attention that you and your friends have discovered my blog.

While the prospect of my closest loved ones reading my inner most thoughts, desires and fears should probably terrify me, I really couldn't be more elated.

I think the internet is the best thing to happen to us since the '92 Brost Family Reunion.

However - now that the cat's out of the bag - I feel like I have a bit of explaining/updating to do.

First, please don't be alarmed by the name of my blog. It really stems from an inside joke between my best friend and I from band camp and/or a church retreat a few years back.

It certainly has nothing to do with my success as a functioning member of society.

Now that that's cleared up ~ Hello.

How have you been? I hope everything and everyone has been well since I visited home last.

That Christmas party was one for the record books.

And since then, I've never been better.

As most of you know and/or saw, I recently graduated from a prestigious graduate program with a Masters of Science in Mass Communication.

Here is a picture of me you can put in your wallets to show your friends.





Last week all of the recent graduates also attended a two day recruiter session held at my school.

While I haven't received any formal offers yet, I do have a lot of great leads for companies that will pay me enough money to afford Christmas presents for all of you this year and maybe even postage for your thoughtful thank you cards.

However, I plan on staying in town until I find a job that pays well and won't compromise my quality time with you. (I at least want to make sure I'll have the time to call home every Sunday.)

Other than that, things have been great over here in sunny Richmond. I was able to sneak away from my computer for a few hours yesterday to enjoy a SPF45 friendly afternoon at the river with a few of my closest school friends - none of whom brought along a backpack full of beer.

Tomorrow I plan on going to Jamestown. If I'm lucky enough, I may see some historical reenactments and partake in family friendly activities such as making candles out of beeswax.

Again, I hope all is well in Wisconsin and that you continue to check my blog for updates every six to eight months. And please tell Grandma(s) and Grandpa I say hello.

All my love,

Pot

Di-orama

It started about 6 years ago with a sketch.

She wore pigtails and owned a wardrobe of three dresses - green, red and purple.

Some days, when she was feeling a little more adventurous than usual, she wore a dress with a pocket.

For the most part, she was a sad little girl. Where her sadness stems from, I'm not entirely sure - but I feel its at least partially due to her lack of facial features and hands.

Since her creation, she's popped up in my sketchbook on a regular basis, usually during the most inopportune times. Like when I'm inside on a sunny day trying to think of ideas to sell orange juice to mothers.

But sometimes she helps me out. A few years ago, she made her local debut in my first ad ever produced.

It was for a used record shop.

The last I've seen of her was about a year ago, when she starred in her own limited edition comic strip, "Bad at Life".

So, when it came time to start thinking of an idea for my portfolio website, the decision was easy.

I was going to take my sad little girl with no hands and make her famous.

A real internet star.

But to do that, I couldn't just do a sketch.

Oh no.

Her worldwide debut couldn't be reduced to a sketch.

It had to be something bigger.

Something that would be beyond my little girl with no hand's wildest imagination.

Like her very own place.

A sad apartment.

With sad walls.

And on her sad walls, she could hang her very own sad art.

But, most importantly, it could be sad three-dimensional art.

So I bought her a nice little space on the web, and started building.

And building.

And building.

My friends and I hosted nights dedicated just for building.

I even videotaped the building.

And, after about two and a half months of building, I stopped.

And started building in photoshop.

And, for the last 48 hours, I've been installing the wiring in her house using dreamweaver.

Finally, 6 long years of 2D slavery ended early this morning, when my sad little girl with no hands jumped off her piece of paper and into the world wide web.

Now, without further ado, I present to you (drum roll, clearing throat, etc., etc.)


Her website:





If you'll notice in the upper right hand side of the page, there is a large black box with a tiny box within it.

Now, I don't know much about "technology", but I'm pretty sure that tiny box is supposed to be a big picture. More specifically, a big picture of my sad little girl in her sad little room with her sad little art.

If anyone has a clue how to code for firefox, she would be much obliged.

After all, you have to be when you have no hands.

On Puppetry

I went to a local advertising award show on Friday night, and noticed that at the bottom of one of the credit lists was 'puppet maker'. And I thought to myself.....hey, I should really do that for a living.

Make puppets.

I feel like I would be really happy. And I know that everyone would support me in my choice because they know how much I love to build things.

But then I thought about it a little more.

Although they would be very supportive, I'm sure half the reason why my friends and family would encourage me is because they have never met anyone so fascinated by puppets. Or don't really know what it takes to be a good puppeteer. In fact, I'm not even sure I know what it takes to make a good puppeteer.

And, in reality, I'm sure there is this whole puppet world out there and people in it who have more talent and passion for the craft than I could ever imagine. And, I would realize this, as soon as I went on my first puppet interview, diorama in hand. I would see at least 12 other hack puppeteers/diorama makers waiting in line before me. But they all know how to sew, and they would be able to make 2 puppets a minute. And the ones who can't, would have parents who were famous puppeteers in the 80's so they are well connected and would get jobs as interns and move their way up the puppet ladder.

But what if I'm wrong? What if I AM cut out for the business? Surely the novelty of making puppets will wear off after a few years. And then what? I will have killed the only thing that has ever made me happy.

No.

No, I couldn't possibly enter that world. I had better stick to what I know. Copywriting.

And even if I feel like I don't want to do it sometimes, I just spent the last 6 years and way too much money to get a good job in advertising. I can't start over now.

Or can I?

If anyone has a good lead for an open master puppeteer's assistant position, you know how to contact me. Until then, heres a video with dancing zombie puppets.

Dear Strayer University Marketing Department,

Please refer to previous posting below. Except, instead of quitting your band, kill yourself.

All my best,

Diana - graduating in May

Dear Tony,

Quit your band.

You and your super perceptive powers would be much better suited for a career in super-perception. I think you would make a great super-perceiver.

All my best,

Diana from Richmond

ten and a half bowling ball shaped holes in my floor

Every big presentation day, I feel like I am standing in front of my class, completely naked, trying to explain how great my boobs are.

I never think about what to say about them beforehand, because I'm always too pre-occupied with putting on the final touches before their grand reveal, so when the moment comes, and I realize that everyone in the room, including my partner, is looking at my chest with a blank expression, I panic.

I start saying things like 'they're charming...or at least trying to be..ha ha ha!' and share embarrassing stories - from my time I was fitted for a training bra to the time I was felt up on the back of a bus during a band field trip.

And after I've finished talking, there is an uncomfortably long moment of silence.

As I fumble to put my clothes back on, the professor asks my classmates what they think of my work. Someone will inevitably raise their hand and comment on how one boob looks a little bigger than the other or politely suggest I consider a bra with a little more support.

The professor nods.

Blushing, I wander back to my seat, sit down, and spend the rest of the day wondering if nobody was interested in my boobs because they were just too tired, or bored from seeing so many boobs before mine.

Or, perhaps, they just speak for themselves.

And I'm blogging right now why?

Have you ever felt like you are trying to juggle a dozen and a half bowling balls, and you aren't really sure how or why you have these bowling balls in the first place, but you know that if you don't catch them all, something really bad will happen, so you throw them up in the air, all at once, and just try to catch as many as you can as they come barreling down, but you know deep in your heart that your efforts to catch even one is in vain and will ultimately result in a dozen bowling ball shaped holes in the floor of your bedroom because you never properly learned how to juggle, your right arm is tied behind your back and your left hand is horrifically mutated?

Me too.

I'm famous! I'm famous!

You can expect my book to hit bookstores this May.

new theory

But first, two questions:

1. What month were you born in?

2. What is your favorite time of year?


Before you answer, think long and hard.


....



If you are like me, (as Liz Gershman is) you would say that you were born in the month of July (more specifically July 20th, 1982) and that, while you appreciate all seasons, Fall, is most definitely, your favorite time of year.

Have you figured it out yet?

I've tested this theory on a handful of people, and, so far it rings true with everyone.

...

The month or season you were conceived is your favorite time of year.

Makes sense, right?

No?

Prove me wrong.

Regardless of your opinion, expect to see my book in a bookstore near you soon.

hack ghosts

A friend and I were walking late last night along the Canal Walk when we got into a discussion about the ghosts that haunt Richmond. According to folklore, there have been multiple ghost pirate ship sightings on the James River, vampires are buried in Hollywood Cemetery and a little ghost boy plays outside the Capital building every night.

Pirate ship? Spooky.

Vampires? Creepy.

A child's laughter at night? Terrifying

But all this talk of ghosts made me wonder... are there ghosts who aren't spooky? I'm not talking about Casper, the friendly ghost, but more like ghost's who are just inept. They would either have died in hilarious - yet tragic - accidents or have personalities/professions that just aren't conducive to being a good, old fashioned, cliche ghost.

Without further ado, I present to you the top eight best worst ghosts:

Drunk Sorority Girl Ghost.
Two words: ghost vomit. With the catchphrase "Boo....or whatever", drunk sorority girl ghost can usually be found crying in dive bar bathrooms around 2am.

Stripper Ghost.
Much like drunk sorority ghost, stripper ghost would always have to be high to haunt. She would say things like "Ooohhhhh...." or "Booooooooooobs" as sexy as possible while spinning her ghostly pasties.

High School Drama Student Ghost
Wanders empty high school hallways, over-dramatically reciting monologues from Our Town.

Social Networking Ghost
He/she would only do and say things according to what his/her online avatars would do or say. Very self absorbed and only interested in tagging photos of his/her orbs in friends albums.

Crazy Cat Lady Ghost
Still scary, but in the funny way.

Amateur Paddleboat Tour Guide Ghost.
Dressed like a civil war reinactor, amateur paddleboat tour guide ghost looks the part, but lacks knowledge of historical context.

Movie Theater Concessions Stand Ghost
Similar to high school drama student ghost, but with more pimples and a bow-tie.

Kirsten Klieman's Ghost
Always at least 45 minutes late for haunting hour and, instead of "Boo!" Kirsten's ghost says "Oh hi! hi! hi there!"

More to come.

this just in

Apparently, Regency Square Shopping Center of Richmond, Virginia thinks the Easter Bunny lives in a giant purple tea kettle.

And, during mall hours, the 'Easter Bunny' patiently sits outside the front door of his giant kettle house on a painted white bench, and waits for children to climb up onto his lap and talk to him about god knows what.

All the while, two of his other stuffed rabbit guests enjoy a cup of afternoon tea in his backyard.

I don't even know where to begin.

cold shops

I'm graduating in two months.

For the last six months, everyone has been asking me what agency I want to work for.

I don't know.

But I've narrowed my list down to the places I don't want to work.

In no particular order, I present to you the top ten agencies on the bottom of my list:

Burgle Turd and Shine
Chotchy and Chode
Farty McSmelliot
Benton and Bowels
Queef
Stodgy and Stodgy (formerly Crotchety and Crotchety)
Ogilvy
Mckibbles and Bits
925
Druga 5

Feel free to add on.

an open letter to Shockoe Espresso

Dear Shockoe Espresso,

I tried giving you a second chance because I felt kind of bad after writing a few mean-spirited posts, but now you've really gone and done it.

Don't you know who I am? I'm the daughter of the second best god-damned assistant manager in the tri-county area. His boss's wife's cousin could shut your business down with a flick of a pen.

So, listen up, because I'm only going to say this once:

If you don't bring back your cold, burny, hazelnut coffee by next week, you'll probably still see me, and I'll probably still be cordial, but know, that underneath my smile, I really don't give two shits about what flavor of the day monkey piss you're raping me for. Just as long as it has caffeine.

But your other twelve customers might.

So, knock it off already.

Brunswick Stew is People!

About a week ago, a professor at VCU Brandcenter - for anonymity sake, lets just call him Fark Menske - gave me an unusual gift.

A giant yellow can of stew.



Although a bit confused, I must admit I was more intrigued. I've heard great things about Brunswick stew. And, after trying it, I'm willing to bet money that Mrs. Fearnow - whoever she is - could take down Dinty Moore any day.

Much to my delight, I received another can of stew earlier this week.

However, after my third can yesterday, I couldn't help but start to wonder what was provoking this newfound stew-pushing.

I came to my conclusion today, after receiving the following insider scoop:

Apparently, every year, the professor in question rents a human-sized vat to make special stew for the annual Brunswick Stew Festival.

Thats right folks, 'human sized'.

My conclusion:

'Mrs. Fearnow' is the secret ingredient to last years stew.

'Fark Menske' is feeding me leftovers to plump me up for next years 'Ms. Brost's Delicious Brunswick Stew'.

Menske, if you're reading this, I know I'm not the best writer, but I like to think I've got, what they call in the biz, 'the Mox'.

Which also, coincidentally, makes for great seasoning.

Oh crap.


Please don't eat me.

Dear Writers Guild of America,

As an aspiring striking writer myself, I would like to voice a concern I've had for the last few months. What's up with your strike signs? As accomplished writers, I find it terribly ironic that your signs are so - how shall I say it - uninspired. You would think they would be the most clever signs in the history of strike signs. But I suppose that is the point of the strike in the first place - to stop giving away all of your clever ideas for free.

At any rate, I feel like the signs, although they served their purpose, could have helped push the negotiation date up by at least a month with a little creativity and better art direction.

Here is what I propose for next time:




You're welcome.


See you in 10 years,

Diana "The Body Copy' Brost



P.S. Congratulations.

spring is here!

my official first robin sighting of the season!



(photo courtesy of west nile virus)

a day in the life

(a 12 hour transcript of my super-duper tuesday at brandcenter)

8:30AM

arrive at school to this:



8:35AM

contemplate whether or not to wake up Derek



8:40AM

decide to take his picture instead

8:45AM

e-mail Fenske to see if I can sit in on his portfolio class this afternoon

9:00AM

go to my portfolio class

9:15AM

go off on a well-meaning rant about Walt Disney, the Walt Disney Corporation and the downfall of feature animation

9:30AM

Wayne: "I think this is just one of those things you have to work at really hard and figure out soon or just drop altogether"

9:30 - 11:00AM

sulk

11:00 - 12:00PM

lunch at Perly's

12:00PM

go to rooftop patio to 're-concept' for Disney



12:00 - 12:30PM

take pictures instead

12:30PM

talk to Micheal about ideas for my new website

12:35PM

Michael: "Jesus Diana! Those are people too!"



1:00PM

rick boyko comes out to patio

RB: (sarcastically) "Make yourselves comfortable!"

1:15PM

check my e-mail.

1:20PM

fenske finally replies/gives me permission to sit in on his 1:30 class ('if you even get this note on time') but warns me that I will probably be bored for the first 45 minutes

1:40PM

i get the note

Me: (to michael) "How does he know I'll be bored? I obviously asked to come to his class for a reason! And I can't believe he responded 10 minutes before class! If he wants me there now, he'll have to come out and get me!"

1:45PM

fenske's class comes out to the patio to enjoy the nice weather for 45 minutes



2:00PM

Natalie: "What happened to your shirt? I need to take a picture of this."




2:15

second creepy sleeping picture of the day



2:30PM

fenske's class goes back in

2:45PM

rick boyko comes back out

RB: "You've been out here all day!"
Me:"......Yup."

2:50PM

random first year comes out for a smoke break

RFY: "Copywriter?"
ME: "Yup....Art Director?"
RFY: "Yup..."

2:55PM

ME: "...Well, I have to go to monitor the lab now..."

3:00PM

in the lab I find a small group of students making monsters out of sculpty clay for a class project

3:01PM

my partner and i decide to brainstorm for disney while making monsters out of sculpty clay

3:05PM

Me: "So yeah, I really thing this whole 'magic' angle is sooo expected for dis...holy shit! Your snake looks wasted! We have to make him a beer bottle!"

3:25PM



3:30PM

Rob, my boss of sorts, walks up to our table.

Rob: "So....how is that Final Cut Tutorial that you were supposed to finish by monday going?

Me: "Well....I got half way through...then something weird happened...i don't know what....but I'm familiar with the way the program works now, the only thing I have left to learn are the tools...."

3:45PM



4:00PM

Leslie: "Oh my god....here comes (name deleted), pretend like you're talking to me about something really important..."

Me: "So, yeah...i think an underground campaign for disney would be really unexpected..."

4:30PM

Me: "I wish we had tweezers."

5:00PM

random first year girl comes up to our table

RFY: "Are you Diana? The printer is out of paper"

Me: "Uuuuuuuuugggghhhhh.......ok. But before I go, you have to check out the onions on this hotdog."

RFY: "Oh my god. How long did that take you?"

Me: "Like a half hour."



5:30PM

leslie leaves for another meeting

6:00PM

my shift ends/alex joins my table

6:30PM

EB walks up the table

EB: "do you need a ride home? I can wait for you to clean up."

Me: "Thanks, but I still have a few things to take care of before I leave"

7:00PM

Me: "He looks a little pigeon-toed, don't you think?"

7:30PM

Alex: "You know what he needs? A platypus tail."

8:00PM

my hunger finally gets the best of me, so I call it a night.




8:30PM

on my walk home, I realize that although I still need to come up with an ad campaign by next week, learn final-cut tomorrow, and grocery shop and do laundry tonight, for some reason, I haven't felt this accomplished in months.

you're welcome, laura and dan.

new theory

+








=

depressing quote of the day

spiteful words can hurt your feelings,

but silence breaks your heart.

mary poppins is a jerk

I've had this song stuck in my head for the last week.

But I think it's a good sign.



Also, I want to go back in time, marry Dick Van Dyke and have a million of his babies.

intellectual dodge-ball

I came to the realization today that choosing teams for class projects is just like choosing teams for elementary school gym class. As soon as the game (or project) is decided, everyone panics. Some people pair up with the person next to them out of convenience, others strategically scope out the room for their first, second or third choice, and the rest just try to look pre-occupied - without looking too pathetic - until they are called on.

I fall into the latter category.

However, I feel like I have the upper-hand this time around. Because what I lack in physical coordination and speed, I like to think I make up in mental prowess and stamina.

That, or the third choice was taken.

If any of my partners are reading this, I don't want to know.

Top Ten Reasons...

Why 7-Eleven is better than Shockoe Espresso:

10. 7-Eleven is open 24 hours a day. Shockoe is open 24 hours a week.

9. The coffee still sucks, but at least 7-Eleven doesn't try to pretend like anyone would actually want to buy it in bulk.

8. 7-Eleven never smells, tastes or feels like burning.

7. Although equally disgruntled, you'll never have to worry about 7-Eleven employees touching your pastries or making your sandwiches bare-handed.

6. 7-Eleven never plays 80s love ballads on repeat.

5. 7-Eleven has seven different kinds of flavored creamer packets and a do-it yourself flavored syrup station. Shockoe has a jug of sour half-and-half.

4. 7-Eleven doesn't rape you for a bagel or make you pay 10 dollars for a bottle of expired Naked juice .

3. 7-Eleven is a 'friend to the environment', their coffee sleeve told me so.

2. You don't have to feel bad about feeling bad about yourself in a 7-Eleven. Everyone is there because they hate themselves.

1. No slam poetry Sundays. Period.


Feel free to add to the list - these are just the first 10 thoughts that popped into my head.

Dear Sweden, Germany and Austria...

While I am flattered that you have shown such great interest in my humble little blog, I regret to inform you that when my great-grandfather came to America 80 years ago, he dropped the umlaut from our last name.

Therefore, 'Brost' no longer translates to 'Breast'.

I apologize for any confusion.

All my best,

Diana

Has this ever happened to YOU??!!

Have you ever been in the middle of a conversation with a friend/co-worker/boss and all of the sudden realize that you had a sexy dream about them the night before? And then did you get all flustered and embarrassed and wonder whether or not said person secretly shared the same dream about you? And also, did that said dream involve the other person being a superhero of some sort? More specifically, Super-Man?

Me neither.

my proudest moment

It happened four years ago when i was visiting home for the holidays.

I told my dad a joke.

While he was taking a sip of beer.

And he literally did a spit take.

It was like straight out of a movie - but even more priceless because it is very uncharacteristic of my dad to drink beer, much like beer out of a glass.

If I could just do that once more in my lifetime, I think I would die a happy woman.