Everyone loves parties. It doesn't matter why you decide to have one, or where it's located; its mere mention drives people crazy. Sometimes people act wacky at parties by screaming, destroying items, or pissing aimlessly, but hey, those are the shortcomings. Maybe your idea of a party involves absolutely no nonsense, with an option for complete silence. Or gosh-darn, maybe your party includes chanting voodoo phrases while standing barefoot upon hot coals. Needless to say, it's your party, and if the situation calls for it, there's that song ” … and I'll cry if I want to.”
Basically, a party is whatever the party-takers make of it. Its standards of socially acceptable behaviors are set by the personalities of the attendees. And, as stated before, when people here the word “party” they expect a good time (there's just something magical that happens when one speaks of a party, instead of say, a gathering or a get-together). Simply put, you hear about a party, you want in. Heck, moms, dads, sisters, brothers–they all love parties!
And guess who else loves parties? That's right folks, Interns¿ love to party. We may not get paid to work, but if someone paid us to party, we'd own your ass. And when we party, we party pretty damn hardy. We Interns¿ get together and talk about interning, eat/drink items that only interns like, and listen to songs that only appeal to interns' ears. All of which, by the way, are very inter-esting. So, let us share the outcome of an Intern¿ party where your letters got handed out to interns from various places of employment.
First off I want to say your mag kicks ass! I am a fourteen-year-old boy who lives in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, and I'm writing you because everything here sucks. There are no mountains to ride anywhere close to where I live. My snowboard sucks, and I don't even have boots for it! I spend my time riding down my backyard, and it sucks. All I am asking from you is to please send me anything to make my life a whole lot better, or at least put this letter in your next mag. You guys rule, and keep up the good work!
Hi Curt, I'm Steve and I intern at DKJ, a graphic design firm. I hate interning. In fact, you might say I'm the angriest intern alive. Let me tell you a story. We have a printer that always breaks. The other day the ink cartridge exploded, and yours truly had to clean it up. Have you ever cleaned up a spilled ink cartridge? If not, let me tell you this. It sucks (just like your snowboard situation). And again, like your situation, I wasn't wearing any boots during clean-up. Because of this, I now have stained sneakers.
I feel sympathy, Curt, so I'll let you in on a little secret … your momma wears snowboard boots. Steal them from her bedside as she peacefully sleeps. Replace them with tennis sneakers. That's what moms like to wear. With your new boots, you'll have proper snowboard equipment, and friends will start hanging out at your house, and for once, the perceived notion that your momma is a boot-stomping, ass-whipping woman will no longer exist.
I am currently a freshman in high school. I am into snowboarding over my head. I just got one for Christmas and instantly caught interest. I am interested in being a snowboard designer. To feed this dream I started taking classes in drafting/CAD, keyboarding, and computer applications. I was wondering what classes I should take to increase my chances of getting hired in snowboard design.
You're taking all the wrong classes. Drafting? What the hell is that, some type of river-rafting course? Keyboarding? Who wants to snowboard on a set of keys? See what I'm saying? Cant you figure out the correct answer? All the greatest designers have mastered only one course. I'll give you a hint–it sounds like keyboarding, and contains similar letters. Want the answer? Turn to the cover of this magazine and read the word following TransWorld. That's the answer dum-dum. Frank D., accounting intern extraordinaire, over and out.
I'm a beginning snowboarder and I always go to the magazine stands to read your magazine. It rocks! Although, I don't have a board of my own, I can rent (sigh). It breaks my little heart to see all of the people in this magazine doing stunts that I can't do, but I can snowboard. I'm not the best, but I try. When I do go up the runs, all I do is ride and sometimes get some air and fall on my face. Help me please, I need a board so I can be good at this rapidly growing sport. Pretty, pretty, please.
Nanaimo, British Columbia
Josh, my name is Sylvia and I intern at Bushy's School of Cosmetology. At Bushey's School, there is one rule that all the interns live by: if we want to become a successful hairdresser, manicurist, and/or pedicurist, we must try and try until perfection is obtained. Basically, we improve our future actions with our past mistakes. Just the other day, for example, I totally messed up a client's hair. And when I mean totally, I totally mean totally. This guy wanted blond streaks, which I accidentally mistook for pointy peaks. Needless to say, I really f–ked that one up. However, the moral of the story is simple: if I keep screwing up all these people's hair, there will eventually come a day when someone steps off my chair completely satisfied. And just maybe, when that moment arrives, I can write into my favorite hair-styling magazine and ask them to send me free combs, gels, sprays, and curlers–for I will be the greatest stylist alive. You might say I have the potential to become part of the Forum 8 of hairdressers. Until then, however, I'll never write to magazines asking for product. Maybe a few more falls on your face, and you might be good enough to write back in and get what you deserve (maybe a leash, if you're lucky).
After the X-Games aired on ESPN, I've done everything to get my butt on the slopes. I'm fifteen and live in the middle of nowhere. The only board available is an “El Cheapo” Wal-Mart special! Your magazine is the only outlet for my snowboarding. This letter was written at 2:00 a.m. after reading your magazine. Later tonight I will lie in bed dreaming of waking up with two feet of snow to bring the Wally-World board out of my closet.
I'm Rick and I can't stand your letter. I intern at a local newspaper. My work isn't that bad, but the people there stink, really bad, too! One guy, Jeff, smells like bundt cake. I heard from another intern that he eats an entire cake during lunch break. That's gross, Tony. I want to tell you two things: 1) Don't eat an entire bundt cake and talk to people. 2) Snowboarding is stupid. And one more thing, I hate you, and your letter–and the envelope it came in. The stamp sucks, too! Also, don't write at 2:00 a.m., because your brain can hardly function, much less make sense, Mr. Bundt Boy!
I'm a fourteen-year-old boy and my parents are really being mean to me. They won't get me a new snowboard, and my old one is small and thrashed. They say I have to pay for a new one, and I can't afford the J.P. Forum board. I've been looking for a job, but can't find one because I'm underage. All of this because I got five Bs and three C+s. I was wondering if you guys could help me out.
North Vancouver, British Columbia
Shayan, I also have no job and hardly any money. As you probably know, I intern. Here's what I do for money: I help out the employees at a big-time record company. Needless to say, there are plenty of compact discs lying around. When no one is nearby, I grab some and sell them to various music shops. You wouldn't believe the amount of money people will pay for the crap I take from work. See, Shayan, selling off useless items has no age restriction. People just want a good deal. Since you e-mailed us a letter, it's obvious you have access to a computer. You probably own it, or at least your parents do. Sell this computer. When it was brand new, it probably cost a boatload of money, but with rapidly changing technology, it's probably worth no more than that J.P. thingamajigger you desire. Just make sure to highlight the key points of your com-poo-ter, like its kick-ass modem that transmits nagging letters to various magazine editors at lightening speed.
Share with us the outcome of any loser party where our column gets handed out to various losers. Send party favors to: The Angry Interns¿, 353 Airport Road, Oceanside, CA 92054. Our fax machine can't differentiate between loser and normal faxes, so submit faxes at will to (760) 722-0653. For the computer-losers, e-mail: firstname.lastname@example.org.