The magnetic poetry on our closet door reads: "We test sleeping in doubt. The room is made of chill."
There are two celebrities that I dislike above all others: Pete Wentz and Hayden Panettiere. I originally went into more detail on this, but nehhh. Oh lord, somehow that reminds me that I had the most frightening dream last night, involving, like, an unruly unicorn, and this guy I used to know. WTF, man? That doesn't have anything to do with Titanic, or Pommes Frittes and lemonade. Or deep-fried peanut butter & jelly at the automat.
What does one write in a blag, anyway? I feel like I'm starting to sound like Creed Bratton.
The word of the week is ridiculous. And by that I mean, ridiculous is the word, and not that the word has the quality of being ridiculous. I'm saying some ridiculous things, I think. I act ridiculously sometimes, also. Don't we all? Ridiculous people are SO off my buddy list. Stuff is tuff, let's all drink vitamin water and draw pretty pictures of butterflies. I was not meant to sound like an idiot right there either. Oh well!
September 15, 2007
August 12, 2007
Confessions of a Receptionist
Finally, finally done with temp work for the summer. It wasn't half bad, honestly, and now I have a printer and a MacBook Pro to show for it, plus a little stash of money to hide away to fund trips to Omaha or Portland or Sao Paulo --- if nothing else, it's a few dollars towards my dream house on the corner of 16th and Riggs.
And I'm actually a great receptionist, it turns out. Towards the last few weeks, I really started to enjoy being the girl that made the announcements, that made interviewees comfortable in their chairs and that kept the candy jar filled. It was fun giving the lobby a little bit of an edge, too --- playing Nine Inch Nails and Radiohead every once in a while, instead of the light ambient music that the office was used to hearing.
Washington is a nice city to feel competent in, to wake up too early and stride around in high heels before settling in your seat outside at Au Bon Pain and enjoying a last gasp of sunlight before settling in at the reception desk. I could never keep up with the Hill staffers, I'm sure, but sitting and watching those out-of-town interns race around with their watches perfectly set and attache cases firmly in hand, I wasn't jealous, either. Strange summer contentment is easy enough to find when you've got the nicest sunglasses five dollars could buy and the Decemberists singing you through the early Thursday humidity. Pretending to be a low-rent Sophia Loren of the people. It's a fantasy that soon falls to pieces when your days are spent responding like Pavlov's dogs to a phone that doesn't ring but rather wails impatiently with calls from Mozambique (did you they speak Portuguese there? Bom dia, senhor! Como vai a senhora? I'm learning so much this summer!) and demands from ill-tempered patrons of the arts.
But, like dear Pam Beesley on The Office, I had friendly faces to look forward to, and the satisfaction of watching people enjoy whatever confection I kept in the candy jar (chocolate only when morale was really low, gum drops when people were generally unpleasant). And, as always, I had the Metro for comfort. That's the one thing I'm not looking forward to about going back to New York in a few weeks: the shrieking trains that are never local when you want them to be, never express when you need them to be. I'm a Red Line girl through and through, it seems, though I'll always have a soft spot for the pilgrimage from Union Square through Brooklyn to Coney Island one makes on the Q. You'll have to make the trip with me sometime!
And I'm actually a great receptionist, it turns out. Towards the last few weeks, I really started to enjoy being the girl that made the announcements, that made interviewees comfortable in their chairs and that kept the candy jar filled. It was fun giving the lobby a little bit of an edge, too --- playing Nine Inch Nails and Radiohead every once in a while, instead of the light ambient music that the office was used to hearing.
Washington is a nice city to feel competent in, to wake up too early and stride around in high heels before settling in your seat outside at Au Bon Pain and enjoying a last gasp of sunlight before settling in at the reception desk. I could never keep up with the Hill staffers, I'm sure, but sitting and watching those out-of-town interns race around with their watches perfectly set and attache cases firmly in hand, I wasn't jealous, either. Strange summer contentment is easy enough to find when you've got the nicest sunglasses five dollars could buy and the Decemberists singing you through the early Thursday humidity. Pretending to be a low-rent Sophia Loren of the people. It's a fantasy that soon falls to pieces when your days are spent responding like Pavlov's dogs to a phone that doesn't ring but rather wails impatiently with calls from Mozambique (did you they speak Portuguese there? Bom dia, senhor! Como vai a senhora? I'm learning so much this summer!) and demands from ill-tempered patrons of the arts.
But, like dear Pam Beesley on The Office, I had friendly faces to look forward to, and the satisfaction of watching people enjoy whatever confection I kept in the candy jar (chocolate only when morale was really low, gum drops when people were generally unpleasant). And, as always, I had the Metro for comfort. That's the one thing I'm not looking forward to about going back to New York in a few weeks: the shrieking trains that are never local when you want them to be, never express when you need them to be. I'm a Red Line girl through and through, it seems, though I'll always have a soft spot for the pilgrimage from Union Square through Brooklyn to Coney Island one makes on the Q. You'll have to make the trip with me sometime!
August 1, 2007
July 8, 2007
Having reached the halfway point of the summer (O No!), I've also come to appreciate the subtle ways in which my life in Washington and my life in New York are very different.
Take, for instance, the grafitti. It's ubiquitous in New York, scribbled everywhere --- the majority of it examples of tagging, one name or alter-ego sprayed over another. On my way to work each morning in Washington, however, I'm treated to the spray-painted demands "BRING THE TROOPS HOME" and "NO BLOOD FOR OIL" and "DIE CAPITALISM," while the huge magenta "GO HILLARY GO" still remains my favorite. Less politically inclined, but just as striking was the assertion that "COWBOIES <3 BELLYACHING" that I saw in Starbucks two weeks ago.
It's also nice to be able to get dressed in my room and look out at the woods and chipmunks behind the house, rather than at half-naked painters making rude gestures in the apartment complex across the street.
Above all, summer back home reminds me that there is indeed a massive difference between diet Pepsi and diet Coke, and one is an essential summer-thirst-quencher. That would be diet Coke.
But the humidity here makes it impossible to complain or be that nit-picky. At some point in coming back here, I relinquished my straightener and embraced the fact that my hair would be tangled, would be curly of its own accord, would be a disaster --- but that's just a consequence of being here. The other receptionist at work, however, disagreed. She went to CVS on her lunch break yesterday to pick up some serum for relaxing her hair.
"Can I get you somethin'?"
"I'm just fine, but thanks anyway. I brought lunch."
"No, sweetie...can I get you something for your weave?"
My what???
She seemed amused to realize that I didn't use anything to keep my hair from curling in the summer.
"Nothing to straighten that shit out?" Nope!
Otherwise, everything's fine. Unremarkable, but really fine. It's beyond hot, and all you really need to survive here are a hammock (check!), a glass of lemonade (cooling in the fridge), and an iPod filled with amazing music (any recommendations?). Soon I'll post my July playlist. It won't wipe the sweat off your forehead, friend, but it'll come pretty close.
Much love!
Take, for instance, the grafitti. It's ubiquitous in New York, scribbled everywhere --- the majority of it examples of tagging, one name or alter-ego sprayed over another. On my way to work each morning in Washington, however, I'm treated to the spray-painted demands "BRING THE TROOPS HOME" and "NO BLOOD FOR OIL" and "DIE CAPITALISM," while the huge magenta "GO HILLARY GO" still remains my favorite. Less politically inclined, but just as striking was the assertion that "COWBOIES <3 BELLYACHING" that I saw in Starbucks two weeks ago.
It's also nice to be able to get dressed in my room and look out at the woods and chipmunks behind the house, rather than at half-naked painters making rude gestures in the apartment complex across the street.
Above all, summer back home reminds me that there is indeed a massive difference between diet Pepsi and diet Coke, and one is an essential summer-thirst-quencher. That would be diet Coke.
But the humidity here makes it impossible to complain or be that nit-picky. At some point in coming back here, I relinquished my straightener and embraced the fact that my hair would be tangled, would be curly of its own accord, would be a disaster --- but that's just a consequence of being here. The other receptionist at work, however, disagreed. She went to CVS on her lunch break yesterday to pick up some serum for relaxing her hair.
"Can I get you somethin'?"
"I'm just fine, but thanks anyway. I brought lunch."
"No, sweetie...can I get you something for your weave?"
My what???
She seemed amused to realize that I didn't use anything to keep my hair from curling in the summer.
"Nothing to straighten that shit out?" Nope!
Otherwise, everything's fine. Unremarkable, but really fine. It's beyond hot, and all you really need to survive here are a hammock (check!), a glass of lemonade (cooling in the fridge), and an iPod filled with amazing music (any recommendations?). Soon I'll post my July playlist. It won't wipe the sweat off your forehead, friend, but it'll come pretty close.
Much love!
June 30, 2007
Valentimes is serious times.
You know that clip where Spanky is trying to kill flies and babbling to Petey? The really painfully awesome one? Well, I haven't been able to stop watching it. It cheers me up like you would not believe. It doesn't even make sense, really. I mean, other than the lady at the end with wonderful dictation, this is the only dialogue that I can vaguely understand:
But anyway, so I can't stop watching this video, and I thought, what am I going to do if this one disappears like all the Little Rascals clips on YouTube did? OH THE HORROR! So I did a little bit of haxxorzing (actually, it was just a single Google search, I'm not that badass), and downloaded it to my computer. And not only that, but I happen to have this nifty little device called a video iPod. And if it can play videos, I thought, why not? So now, if ever I am traveling, or in class, or in bed, and I get a little sad, it's okay, because I have a portable Spanky and Petey for some instant cheer. And I don't even think it's sad that I'm watching this clip several times a day, because things this adorable don't really get old, and this is just how I am dealing with a painfully long disappointment of a summer. Okay, I don't actually spend all my time watching Little Rascals. I start a new job on Tuesday (working at the family business - oh lohdy!) and have been working on a few projects at a time, besides cold turkey/hot pastrami. Most notably, I've been doing lots of musicky things, like writing out piano arrangements to songs I can't find sheet music for, which is very gratifying, and it's pretty much convinced me that I need to bring my keyboard to school next year - if our closet is big enough, we can set up a little music station next to wherever we sit and talk on the phone, it'll be adorable, and I'm all about adorable things.
For real, I am looking forward to go back to school. I've decided it will be awesome, so I am excited. Maybe I'm excited a year too late, but hey, better late than never, I think. But anyway, I will deal with summer too, because all I need is my music, and my ducks, and a trip to visit Monica, because her phone call was wonderful, and my Little Rascals. Because Spanky and Petey are the only boys I need. Psh.
- "Petey, I will shoot that fly!"
- "I know baa-baa-black-sheep!"
- "HAH-HAAAAH!"
- "Oh look at the big bug!"
But anyway, so I can't stop watching this video, and I thought, what am I going to do if this one disappears like all the Little Rascals clips on YouTube did? OH THE HORROR! So I did a little bit of haxxorzing (actually, it was just a single Google search, I'm not that badass), and downloaded it to my computer. And not only that, but I happen to have this nifty little device called a video iPod. And if it can play videos, I thought, why not? So now, if ever I am traveling, or in class, or in bed, and I get a little sad, it's okay, because I have a portable Spanky and Petey for some instant cheer. And I don't even think it's sad that I'm watching this clip several times a day, because things this adorable don't really get old, and this is just how I am dealing with a painfully long disappointment of a summer. Okay, I don't actually spend all my time watching Little Rascals. I start a new job on Tuesday (working at the family business - oh lohdy!) and have been working on a few projects at a time, besides cold turkey/hot pastrami. Most notably, I've been doing lots of musicky things, like writing out piano arrangements to songs I can't find sheet music for, which is very gratifying, and it's pretty much convinced me that I need to bring my keyboard to school next year - if our closet is big enough, we can set up a little music station next to wherever we sit and talk on the phone, it'll be adorable, and I'm all about adorable things.
For real, I am looking forward to go back to school. I've decided it will be awesome, so I am excited. Maybe I'm excited a year too late, but hey, better late than never, I think. But anyway, I will deal with summer too, because all I need is my music, and my ducks, and a trip to visit Monica, because her phone call was wonderful, and my Little Rascals. Because Spanky and Petey are the only boys I need. Psh.
June 13, 2007
I'll baptize that piece of calamari!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=mPHdBuXrNFI
Watch this right before you have dinner with your family, then try to explain why you have orange juice coming out your nose. Todd Packer can do anything.
Watch this right before you have dinner with your family, then try to explain why you have orange juice coming out your nose. Todd Packer can do anything.
June 12, 2007
Where's the rent go?
There's a good chance I'm way behind on this, but I just discovered it, and it's probably my new favorite video ever. Unless I like this one better. I can't decide.
Well, I don't have any good stories about raccoons, or any animals for that matter, really. My ducks are gettin' big already. And two of them got eated by some douchebag animal. Unless it just, you know, thought they were so cute that it had to kidnap them and is raising them as baby foxes or hawks or whatever. But seriously, nothing makes me happy quite like baby ducks do. I've been sitting outside to keep an eye out for other hungry douchebag animals, and sometimes I bring out duck food, and all the ducks, including mommy and daddy, will come up and eat out of my hands and peck at my feet and step all over each other trying to get their share, going "cheepcheepcheep", which is duck speak for "ZOMGFOOD". And they're just these precious little fuzzballs climbing into my hand and letting me pick them up and tilting their heads to look up at me with their little duckbilled smiley faces and it's just like, Holy jebus, you guys rock.
So, let's see, what have I been doing. I'm still jobless and I think I might take an art class or something so that I don't feel so bad for doing nothing with my life this summer. 'Cause, you know, I kinda like drawing. I have also been reading and kicking ass in Final Fantasy III. Socially, it's been a combination of having nice hangout time with nice friends, trying to talk sense into silly friends, and being boisterous at the beach with crazy friends. Which is good fun, believe me. (You know you loved my phone call.) And I love summery weather. So, it's a good summer for the most part. Maybe not like, ideally ideal - y'know, bickering family members, frustrating people, confusing situations...but other than that, thumbs up. Like, last week I snuck out at 11:00 to go to the diner with a few pals (as for the sneaking out, it was more like...not waking up my parents to tell them I was leaving). And I got the most amazing chocolate milkshake I ever had, but that's not the point of the story. I could not explain to the pals why I was cracking up over the following: Basically, two pals were arguing over how much salt should be put on fries. Pal 1 gets his fries and puts a little salt on them. Pal 2 says: "Haha. Salt 'em more." And that's...all I'm going to say about that.
And now I will leave you with a very thought-provoking fortune cookie I got last week: ":) A nice cake is waiting for you. :)"
Well, I don't have any good stories about raccoons, or any animals for that matter, really. My ducks are gettin' big already. And two of them got eated by some douchebag animal. Unless it just, you know, thought they were so cute that it had to kidnap them and is raising them as baby foxes or hawks or whatever. But seriously, nothing makes me happy quite like baby ducks do. I've been sitting outside to keep an eye out for other hungry douchebag animals, and sometimes I bring out duck food, and all the ducks, including mommy and daddy, will come up and eat out of my hands and peck at my feet and step all over each other trying to get their share, going "cheepcheepcheep", which is duck speak for "ZOMGFOOD". And they're just these precious little fuzzballs climbing into my hand and letting me pick them up and tilting their heads to look up at me with their little duckbilled smiley faces and it's just like, Holy jebus, you guys rock.
So, let's see, what have I been doing. I'm still jobless and I think I might take an art class or something so that I don't feel so bad for doing nothing with my life this summer. 'Cause, you know, I kinda like drawing. I have also been reading and kicking ass in Final Fantasy III. Socially, it's been a combination of having nice hangout time with nice friends, trying to talk sense into silly friends, and being boisterous at the beach with crazy friends. Which is good fun, believe me. (You know you loved my phone call.) And I love summery weather. So, it's a good summer for the most part. Maybe not like, ideally ideal - y'know, bickering family members, frustrating people, confusing situations...but other than that, thumbs up. Like, last week I snuck out at 11:00 to go to the diner with a few pals (as for the sneaking out, it was more like...not waking up my parents to tell them I was leaving). And I got the most amazing chocolate milkshake I ever had, but that's not the point of the story. I could not explain to the pals why I was cracking up over the following: Basically, two pals were arguing over how much salt should be put on fries. Pal 1 gets his fries and puts a little salt on them. Pal 2 says: "Haha. Salt 'em more." And that's...all I'm going to say about that.
And now I will leave you with a very thought-provoking fortune cookie I got last week: ":) A nice cake is waiting for you. :)"
May 31, 2007
once in a blue moon
Let me set the scene:
11:10 on a snuggly-hot Thursday night. Everything smells like honeysuckle and new dirt. My parents are in bed, I'm downstairs, grateful for air conditioning, and my brother's celebrating the beginning of summer. It's not quite dullsville. It's comfy and home. It's amazing to realize I've been home four weeks today, and tomorrow we'll wake up into June. Where did May go?
Yet! We realize it's a blue moon tonight --- oh, don't be naive and be fooled like I was. It's actually golden-yellow. A blue moon apparently doesn't have to be blue, it just has to be the second full moon within a calendar month. Who knew? We sure didn't. A la The Notebook (oh man, talk about Weepytown Central, Population: whatever dummy decides to watch that movie), my broseph and I decide to lie in the middle of the street to wait for the blue to show up. Hey, we're patient!
Then WHAM! Out of the darkness! Scampers this little fellow! I know I ought to be thankful that it wasn't a car that interrupted our pre-witching hour reverie, but still --- imagine having that guy run right by your face while you're prone, helpless, and incapacitated by humidity and the potential to see the moon turn blue! It was more than a little startling.
And clearly, this could never have happened in New York City. Yes, I'm home in Silver Spring, and more in love with the D.C. area than I think I ever have been. Summer's been lovely to me so far, though I haven't had the pleasure of seeing ducklings every morning or making charmingly awkward phonecalls from the beach.
But attending three concerts in four weeks certainly is nothing to frown at --- especially when they were as massively varied as they were. A brilliant songwriter, an unstoppable herd of edgy electronic dance-rockers, and a glamorous (hah!) popstar --- each entertaining and excellent in their own ways. More to come on that.
For now, I'm well, and thinking of you all --- happy June eve, everyone! Watch out for those raccoons.
May 24, 2007
Whot? I can't hear you...
Summer so far? Among a few other things not really worth mentioning, our duck just hatched eleven little baby ducks.
All together now: one, two, three - AAAWWWWWWW!
May 6, 2007
Movin' out...call the UHAULL TRUCK! (Get it?!)
Oh, boy! An empty room! Boxes of stuff! It must be August 27th and I'm moving in! I can't wait to put up all my Dali posters- oh wait, I just took those down, and anyway it's not August, it's May. Could've fooled me!
No, but really, I'm sitting here anxiously waiting for my parents to call me and tell me they're almost here to pick me up. My laptop is the only thing left in my room because they might not be here for another hour, and get this: my keyboard is echoing. It's making me super uncomfortable. I didn't go to bed until maybe 3:30 because I was thinking of how on earth I was going to pack everything up (of course, some Insomnia Cookies helped ease my mind - sooo good!) and I've been Up And Atom since 8:00 this morning. Highly unnecessary? You bet.
I spent the rest of my Declining Dollars, but I still have 24 cents left, and I'm thinking there has to be something I can get with that. Maybe a gummy bear...maybe even two gummy bears?
I found some pretty silly things cleaning up. So much change I didn't even bother counting it, batteries, Lite Brite pegs all over the place (after a certain point I just started sweeping them up with the dust bunnies and throwing them out), and a ketchup packet under Monica's bed. Didn't you have a story about a ketchup packet? Was it a special ketchup packet or something? If it was, I'm sorry, I threw it out. Or, wait, am I just thinking of an episode of Doug, because didn't he save the ketchup packet he got from Patty Mayonnaise and kept it in a treasure box and took it out every now and then to admire it? Am I totally making all this up?
Oh, another thing: We used to have this little dry erase board that I got at the craft store for a buck a few days before I left. For the first few weeks we drew Kermits and Teen Girl Squad and a few other little things on it but after that it didn't get much use. Where on earth did it go? I seem to remember it on top of the dressers, and I'm wondering if it didn't fall down behind them and get stuck. I would love to see some of the things that end up back there. I can just imagine some housing employee finding our dry erase board and wondering, "Two stick-figure girls appearing to be in love with a man with a funny haircut holding a...stapler in jello? Who the hell lived here, anyway?"
Last but not least, they totally put up padding on the elevator walls. Scary.
No, but really, I'm sitting here anxiously waiting for my parents to call me and tell me they're almost here to pick me up. My laptop is the only thing left in my room because they might not be here for another hour, and get this: my keyboard is echoing. It's making me super uncomfortable. I didn't go to bed until maybe 3:30 because I was thinking of how on earth I was going to pack everything up (of course, some Insomnia Cookies helped ease my mind - sooo good!) and I've been Up And Atom since 8:00 this morning. Highly unnecessary? You bet.
I spent the rest of my Declining Dollars, but I still have 24 cents left, and I'm thinking there has to be something I can get with that. Maybe a gummy bear...maybe even two gummy bears?
I found some pretty silly things cleaning up. So much change I didn't even bother counting it, batteries, Lite Brite pegs all over the place (after a certain point I just started sweeping them up with the dust bunnies and throwing them out), and a ketchup packet under Monica's bed. Didn't you have a story about a ketchup packet? Was it a special ketchup packet or something? If it was, I'm sorry, I threw it out. Or, wait, am I just thinking of an episode of Doug, because didn't he save the ketchup packet he got from Patty Mayonnaise and kept it in a treasure box and took it out every now and then to admire it? Am I totally making all this up?
Oh, another thing: We used to have this little dry erase board that I got at the craft store for a buck a few days before I left. For the first few weeks we drew Kermits and Teen Girl Squad and a few other little things on it but after that it didn't get much use. Where on earth did it go? I seem to remember it on top of the dressers, and I'm wondering if it didn't fall down behind them and get stuck. I would love to see some of the things that end up back there. I can just imagine some housing employee finding our dry erase board and wondering, "Two stick-figure girls appearing to be in love with a man with a funny haircut holding a...stapler in jello? Who the hell lived here, anyway?"
Last but not least, they totally put up padding on the elevator walls. Scary.
May 5, 2007
May 1, 2007
it's the greatest day?
So, I'm going home tomorrow?
Big day. The last couple of weeks have been ridiculous. I've been packing all day and just now I'm having to face the fact that I'll sleep in my now-posterless room once more, then be home in sultry, sweaty D.C. for the summer.
How did freshman year go by so quickly? Time flies when you're having fun? And fun we've been having, but it's been that sort of rambunctious, highly, highly productive fun that results in comments like this, from two-time Grammy winner (and my professor!) Charles Potter:
Grade: A
Comments: This is a great moment for me - I want you all to know that this is the best produced piece of work that I can recall ever reviewing down here. And a great moment turns into what, a half hour show?...And your documentation is likewise superb... I appreciate the work that must have come into doing this. WOW!!
I don't mean to be braggy, but you understand just why that's kind of exhilarating, I hope!
Over the next couple of weeks, I want to make countdowns chronicling our year here in the City. I need themes, though --- suggestions are more than welcome! Because I'm unoriginal and kind of preoccupied with seeing my dad tomorrow, today I'm counting down my top celebrity sightings of freshman year!
Big day. The last couple of weeks have been ridiculous. I've been packing all day and just now I'm having to face the fact that I'll sleep in my now-posterless room once more, then be home in sultry, sweaty D.C. for the summer.
How did freshman year go by so quickly? Time flies when you're having fun? And fun we've been having, but it's been that sort of rambunctious, highly, highly productive fun that results in comments like this, from two-time Grammy winner (and my professor!) Charles Potter:
Grade: A
Comments: This is a great moment for me - I want you all to know that this is the best produced piece of work that I can recall ever reviewing down here. And a great moment turns into what, a half hour show?...And your documentation is likewise superb... I appreciate the work that must have come into doing this. WOW!!
I don't mean to be braggy, but you understand just why that's kind of exhilarating, I hope!
Over the next couple of weeks, I want to make countdowns chronicling our year here in the City. I need themes, though --- suggestions are more than welcome! Because I'm unoriginal and kind of preoccupied with seeing my dad tomorrow, today I'm counting down my top celebrity sightings of freshman year!
- Emily the Intern - from "The Hills," she made LC look like a total n00b! Oh man, I'm going to miss Monday's trashy television.
- Harvey Weinstein - he's arguably the most powerful man in Hollywood. He dresses like a homeless fellow. Curious!
- Haley Joel Osment - first meeting him at 2 am at Amore's Pizza was thrilling, but the awesome power of America's favorite seer of the dead wore off as I had my Writing the Essay lecture with him every Monday second semester. Nice fellow. Held the door for me twice.
- Mara Wilson - Matilda's all grown up! And signs people in at the gym.
- Natalie Portman - you guys have heard the report. Tiny, instantly recognizable voice, slouchy walk, baggy jeans. Takes her time going down the sidewalk.
- John Krasinski - FABULOUS. Warm and hilarious and has incredible taste in wool coats! Awfully nice guy! Aspiring director! Cast Ben Gibbard (of Death Cab) in his debut film! One of the best nights of freshman year!
Number one was a tough decision, between John Krasinski (it's Jim, for crying out loud!) and this fellow. But the top prize goes to my encounter with the glorious Sufjan Stevens. Beautiful eyes, walked at a leisurely pace next to me while crossing East 14th Street at Broadway. I was terrifically homesick, listening to "Chicago" --- and BAM! there was the troubadour himself. Magic, I swear, kids.
Time to finish packing! Big thanks go to Manhattan, the Staten Island Ferry, the Vermonster, magnetic boxes, laptops that break like nobody's business, Kennedy impressions, Popeye, Julia, Yummy House, and all the rest.
Much love!
April 30, 2007
Oh baa-ram-ewe...
We're done! Well, except for a couple of exams and papers and what have you. Isn't it nice? And a little crazy? And by a little crazy, I mean how the frick did we do that? Fo' reals. Seriously though, what a perfect day to be done with classes (well, except for the fact that I finished on Thursday). Wonderful weather and nothing to do all afternoon except eat Chinese from Yummy House on a picnic bench in Union Square. And the greatest naps ever, and diet strawberries & creme Pepsi, and some events with these clever dans. I am a happy, happy camper. Although yesterday I was a rather ill camper, after that Vermonster anyway. I mean, come on, 20 scoops of ice cream and an inhuman amount of toppings? And believe me, I'm a huge ice cream fan, but even sharing it with 8 people, that was just gross.
Also: Staten Island Ferry, the hat game, super lemonade, getting ready to go home, and Matchbox 20 - Bright Lights. Goooood stuff.
Also: Staten Island Ferry, the hat game, super lemonade, getting ready to go home, and Matchbox 20 - Bright Lights. Goooood stuff.
April 16, 2007
Aunt Jemima Ate All The Marshmallows
I posted this on friday night:
"Title: i love bastrkteetboys
i we went to amss trawnsit!!! it was awelsome and we thewn we rplad outbur4st and i turned on the showahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!! a-a0rently! CAN YOU BEWLIWEV IT?!?!!!"
Don't give me that look, at least I remember posting it. But, yes, we did go see Mass Transit, and it was awelsome. I was so thrilled, I don't think I've been so giddy since last time we went to the A Cappella Brawl, when nearly put me in tears from excitement (and missing singing so much). Oh well, I register this friday, please punch me in the face if I don't sign up for music lessons/theory, I'm going through serious withdrawal. On that note, I've also changed my mind again about what to minor in (I'd originally decided on music, then changed my mind to studio art, and now I'm unsure again). Oh dear! Also, although I'm 100% positive I'm going to minor in one of those two, I still haven't decided my major. D'oh!
So, uhh, classes are done in two weeks. Which would mean it's just about time to start thinking about packing up. Hey, wait a second, didn't we move in, like, last week? This must be some kind of mistake. Okay! It's all good, because we still have the rest of the year to get settled in and be college students. Sweet! But seriously, we're going to be sophomores and Palladium 10th floor is going to be the best. Cookies and mini-pies for everyone! (Please be our friends in exchange.)
Also: prom/dinner party this Saturday, Clever Dan is stupid, I wish I had a monkey (I wish I had a monkey...I wish i had a monkey...), and I'm really quite fond of Mass Transit, and please don't mock at me.
"Title: i love bastrkteetboys
i we went to amss trawnsit!!! it was awelsome and we thewn we rplad outbur4st and i turned on the showahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!! a-a0rently! CAN YOU BEWLIWEV IT?!?!!!"
Don't give me that look, at least I remember posting it. But, yes, we did go see Mass Transit, and it was awelsome. I was so thrilled, I don't think I've been so giddy since last time we went to the A Cappella Brawl, when nearly put me in tears from excitement (and missing singing so much). Oh well, I register this friday, please punch me in the face if I don't sign up for music lessons/theory, I'm going through serious withdrawal. On that note, I've also changed my mind again about what to minor in (I'd originally decided on music, then changed my mind to studio art, and now I'm unsure again). Oh dear! Also, although I'm 100% positive I'm going to minor in one of those two, I still haven't decided my major. D'oh!
So, uhh, classes are done in two weeks. Which would mean it's just about time to start thinking about packing up. Hey, wait a second, didn't we move in, like, last week? This must be some kind of mistake. Okay! It's all good, because we still have the rest of the year to get settled in and be college students. Sweet! But seriously, we're going to be sophomores and Palladium 10th floor is going to be the best. Cookies and mini-pies for everyone! (Please be our friends in exchange.)
Also: prom/dinner party this Saturday, Clever Dan is stupid, I wish I had a monkey (I wish I had a monkey...I wish i had a monkey...), and I'm really quite fond of Mass Transit, and please don't mock at me.
April 8, 2007
Easter Bunnies and Sea Monkeys No More
In case you all had been keeping vigil, the last two sea monkeys (monkies?) died last Sunday night. I buried them Monday evening, and now there's an empty sea monkey city on my desk. It's pretty apocalyptic.
March 24, 2007
Cold Turkey and Balancing Eggs
Five weeks left of freshman year? Impossible.
Spring break back in D.C. was fantastic, except for the jerk at the DMV who made my last day home torture by denying me my permit. A note to all y'alls out there: sometimes (often, like, all the time) bureaucracy sucks. You'll run around all over the city to a stuffy office to get a new copy of your birth certificate, which eats up two hours of a perfectly good day. Then you'll wait in line at the DMV until you go and take a super-cute picture for your permit, and you pass the test, and you declare yourself an organ donor, and then the doofus at the counter realizes that because you're 18, your mom can't pledge your residency. However, your husband can!
Oh, my husband? Excellent! He's just sitting in the car reading Wired. Let me go get him! Boy, I'm glad I got married so I have someone to sign off as proof of my Maryland residency!
Wait. Oh, that's right. I'm eighteen. The only thing I'm really married to is my commitment to chapstick and my iPod.
So no. I still can't drive. On the plus side, I can balance an egg on its pointy side. That talent earned me $20 this past week. But I haven't been paid yet. Don't let me forget! Jeremy owes me money for defeating gravity.
Work is amazing, speaking of defeating gravity --- despite having to wake up ungodly early and hightail it down to the edge of Manhattan, I haven't wilted --- and I'm getting a lot of nice amateur art and fantastic stories out of it. I look like one boy's ex-girlfriend, he said, with the same "ghetto booty." They ask if I've ever tried to assassinate George W. Bush, or if I miss my mom. Which I haven't, and I do.
And it's true, sometimes I do pilfer art out of the recycling bins there. One girl drew a huge crayon-and-marker picture full of hearts and easter eggs, and scrawled across the top "LOVE IS TUFF, BUT ITS WORTH IT." I guess seventh-graders really do know more about love than is expected. We certainly thought we did. Middle school was a terror at times, but those late-night romance-fests with the aid of Moulin Rouge certainly taught us a lot.
Tuff love and all, I think we're going to be okay.
Spring break back in D.C. was fantastic, except for the jerk at the DMV who made my last day home torture by denying me my permit. A note to all y'alls out there: sometimes (often, like, all the time) bureaucracy sucks. You'll run around all over the city to a stuffy office to get a new copy of your birth certificate, which eats up two hours of a perfectly good day. Then you'll wait in line at the DMV until you go and take a super-cute picture for your permit, and you pass the test, and you declare yourself an organ donor, and then the doofus at the counter realizes that because you're 18, your mom can't pledge your residency. However, your husband can!
Oh, my husband? Excellent! He's just sitting in the car reading Wired. Let me go get him! Boy, I'm glad I got married so I have someone to sign off as proof of my Maryland residency!
Wait. Oh, that's right. I'm eighteen. The only thing I'm really married to is my commitment to chapstick and my iPod.
So no. I still can't drive. On the plus side, I can balance an egg on its pointy side. That talent earned me $20 this past week. But I haven't been paid yet. Don't let me forget! Jeremy owes me money for defeating gravity.
Work is amazing, speaking of defeating gravity --- despite having to wake up ungodly early and hightail it down to the edge of Manhattan, I haven't wilted --- and I'm getting a lot of nice amateur art and fantastic stories out of it. I look like one boy's ex-girlfriend, he said, with the same "ghetto booty." They ask if I've ever tried to assassinate George W. Bush, or if I miss my mom. Which I haven't, and I do.
And it's true, sometimes I do pilfer art out of the recycling bins there. One girl drew a huge crayon-and-marker picture full of hearts and easter eggs, and scrawled across the top "LOVE IS TUFF, BUT ITS WORTH IT." I guess seventh-graders really do know more about love than is expected. We certainly thought we did. Middle school was a terror at times, but those late-night romance-fests with the aid of Moulin Rouge certainly taught us a lot.
Tuff love and all, I think we're going to be okay.
March 8, 2007
Some people are squirrel-handed.
Spring break! Tomorrow I'm heading back to the exciting state of connecticut, where we apparently talk funny. I was going to go into detail about how I miss my ducks and my electric blanket and driving around (oh man driving), but then I remembered I've been home more times that I can count already, including last weekend, when I went to the most underwhelming orthodontist appointment, ever. I noticed I've been using all sorts of variations of the word "whelmed" lately. Is whelmed even a real word?
whelm
(hwělm, wělm) Pronunciation Key
tr.v. whelmed, whelm·ing, whelms
E adesso mi sembra un'ottima opportunità per cercare di usare gli insulti che ho imparato. Conosco a qualcuno chi è un gran puttaniere. Veramente! Voglio menarlo, che sfigato! Che sciupafemmine! Figlio di puttana! Sgarbato, falso, egoista, stupido, scortese, antipatico, cattivo ceffo! Esci dalla mia testa, minchiuni! Madone de mia! See, I managed to incorporate a couple of sicilian insults too. My family would be so proud. Well to summarize this paragraph, take that, ya friggin' jerk. I'll punch you in the face! You know, I just realized I rarely say anything that makes sense.
Okay, so now that that's out of the way, let's talk about Little Rascals. If you haven't seen it, you should probably do that right now, because it's the best. You should also probably watch all of the old episodes from the original series. Seriously, you can't go wrong with adorable children creating all kinds of mischief. It's especially entertaining when you have no idea what they're saying. Petey, I'ma shoot that fly...just you wait! And while we're talking about adorable things, honorable mentions go to the dog that called 911, and the new superhero, Hangerman.
A few years ago a friend got me the "Mr. Right When You Need Him" doll. If you're not familiar with him, he's handsome and cuddly, and he comes with an owner's manual that tells you over and over how awesome he is. Best of all, of course, when you squeeze him, he'll say various things like, "It's not your fault...it's mine." (Damn right it is!) and "You look thin. Have you lost weight?" (As a matter of fact, I have!) I know, it sounds cool enough as it is, but I took him out of the box the other night for a little cheerin' up...and we discovered that Mr. Right's batteries were dying. Oh, the tragedy! He's dying! Each time we squeeze him his voice gets a little more staticky-sounding ("Caaanahhhtaaakeyoooo... shhhhhoe shhhhhhhhopping?") and now he sounds downright demonic. So now I have this demonic little doll of a man in a suit. Voodoo?! Is it voodoo?! VOODOO!!
I really hope spring break means it will get warmer out. I'm tired of my hair freezing when I leave in the morning. But either way, there is much to be excited about in the next few weeks. We will discuss this at a later point, because it's about time I hit the "publish" button. Or else Monica might kick me out.
whelm
(hwělm, wělm) Pronunciation Key tr.v. whelmed, whelm·ing, whelms
- To cover with water; submerge.
E adesso mi sembra un'ottima opportunità per cercare di usare gli insulti che ho imparato. Conosco a qualcuno chi è un gran puttaniere. Veramente! Voglio menarlo, che sfigato! Che sciupafemmine! Figlio di puttana! Sgarbato, falso, egoista, stupido, scortese, antipatico, cattivo ceffo! Esci dalla mia testa, minchiuni! Madone de mia! See, I managed to incorporate a couple of sicilian insults too. My family would be so proud. Well to summarize this paragraph, take that, ya friggin' jerk. I'll punch you in the face! You know, I just realized I rarely say anything that makes sense.
Okay, so now that that's out of the way, let's talk about Little Rascals. If you haven't seen it, you should probably do that right now, because it's the best. You should also probably watch all of the old episodes from the original series. Seriously, you can't go wrong with adorable children creating all kinds of mischief. It's especially entertaining when you have no idea what they're saying. Petey, I'ma shoot that fly...just you wait! And while we're talking about adorable things, honorable mentions go to the dog that called 911, and the new superhero, Hangerman.
A few years ago a friend got me the "Mr. Right When You Need Him" doll. If you're not familiar with him, he's handsome and cuddly, and he comes with an owner's manual that tells you over and over how awesome he is. Best of all, of course, when you squeeze him, he'll say various things like, "It's not your fault...it's mine." (Damn right it is!) and "You look thin. Have you lost weight?" (As a matter of fact, I have!) I know, it sounds cool enough as it is, but I took him out of the box the other night for a little cheerin' up...and we discovered that Mr. Right's batteries were dying. Oh, the tragedy! He's dying! Each time we squeeze him his voice gets a little more staticky-sounding ("Caaanahhhtaaakeyoooo... shhhhhoe shhhhhhhhopping?") and now he sounds downright demonic. So now I have this demonic little doll of a man in a suit. Voodoo?! Is it voodoo?! VOODOO!!
I really hope spring break means it will get warmer out. I'm tired of my hair freezing when I leave in the morning. But either way, there is much to be excited about in the next few weeks. We will discuss this at a later point, because it's about time I hit the "publish" button. Or else Monica might kick me out.
March 3, 2007
saturday in the west village
Ladybird289: i saw natalie portman!
sprite2248: you what?!?!
sprite2248: where?!
Ladybird289: i got lost a little bit and i ended up on this teeny side street
Ladybird289: and on the corner of washington and charles, i was looking around and i heard a really familiar voice
Ladybird289: and it was her!
Ladybird289: she was with two friends, and they asked her what she wanted from the deli
sprite2248: that's so exciting
Ladybird289: then she went down the sidewalk like two paces ahead of me!
Ladybird289: it was really awkward, because she was going slowly, and i wanted to pass her
Ladybird289: but...it's like natalie portman
sprite2248: but you can't just pass natalie portman on the street
Ladybird289: can you just zoom around her?
Ladybird289: exactly!
Ladybird289: and i thought if i slowed down, she'd be weirded out
sprite2248: like, anyone else you can scoff at and glare at for walking slowly, but it's natalie portman!
Ladybird289: because we were the only two on the street
sprite2248: ahahaha awkward
sprite2248: she probably would have been like...sigh, another intimidated fan
Ladybird289: whatevs
Ladybird289: her pants were too big for her
sprite2248: hahaha
sprite2248: how funny would it have been if natalie portman's pants fell down
Ladybird289: hahaha
Ladybird289: i could have pantsed her!
Ladybird289: they were all baggy in the butt
Ladybird289: and she has a strange swaggering stride
Ladybird289: i easily could have pulled them down
Ladybird289: take THAT, queen amidala!!!!
Ladybird289: or even better
Ladybird289: GO BACK TO GARDEN STATE, BETCH.
sprite2248: hahaha
sprite2248: think you're on the wrong side of the river, sweetheart
sprite2248: you what?!?!
sprite2248: where?!
Ladybird289: i got lost a little bit and i ended up on this teeny side street
Ladybird289: and on the corner of washington and charles, i was looking around and i heard a really familiar voice
Ladybird289: and it was her!
Ladybird289: she was with two friends, and they asked her what she wanted from the deli
sprite2248: that's so exciting
Ladybird289: then she went down the sidewalk like two paces ahead of me!
Ladybird289: it was really awkward, because she was going slowly, and i wanted to pass her
Ladybird289: but...it's like natalie portman
sprite2248: but you can't just pass natalie portman on the street
Ladybird289: can you just zoom around her?
Ladybird289: exactly!
Ladybird289: and i thought if i slowed down, she'd be weirded out
sprite2248: like, anyone else you can scoff at and glare at for walking slowly, but it's natalie portman!
Ladybird289: because we were the only two on the street
sprite2248: ahahaha awkward
sprite2248: she probably would have been like...sigh, another intimidated fan
Ladybird289: whatevs
Ladybird289: her pants were too big for her
sprite2248: hahaha
sprite2248: how funny would it have been if natalie portman's pants fell down
Ladybird289: hahaha
Ladybird289: i could have pantsed her!
Ladybird289: they were all baggy in the butt
Ladybird289: and she has a strange swaggering stride
Ladybird289: i easily could have pulled them down
Ladybird289: take THAT, queen amidala!!!!
Ladybird289: or even better
Ladybird289: GO BACK TO GARDEN STATE, BETCH.
sprite2248: hahaha
sprite2248: think you're on the wrong side of the river, sweetheart
March 1, 2007
Happy March! I am actually working on my Con West paper (and yes, it is 12:30 in the morning), but I got discouraged when I saw what little information Google had on the Platonic Journey, so I figured if I wrote a blag and listened to myself typing, I could fool myself into thinking I was getting work done...like, to someone who wasn't looking at the screen right now, it would sound like I was writing the most kickass paper ever. Which I will be...soon...I swear.
Since yesterday (or the day before, I suppose, since it's technically March now) was the 6-month anniversary of move-in day, and therefore our appointed Roommate Day, I'll take this opportunity to respond to Monica's entry. Don't listen to her! She's all wrong! I'm not the cool one. Monica is the hot one, and the nice one. I mean, who else was voted Resident of the Month twice in a row? (She claims the first one doesn't count, but whatever way you look at it, she rocks.) And for the record, that time at Trader Joe's, I emphasized the word roommate to impressive everyone that I was actually friends with my roommate. I get all smug when I hear other people's roommate horror stories, because the housing department was so nice to me. Dang! How warm and fuzzy. For real, Monica's the bestest roomie. And I'm really impressed (and thankful) that she stuck with me since move-in day.
As for current observations, there is a bit of broken glass on the floor from one of the Christmas lights, and I feel bad that my keyboard is so loud from when I spilled SoBe all over my laptop the other day, and my paper is still not getting written.
So, we've been in college half a year now (but if you look at the academic calendar, we've completed almost an entire year of college - that's wiggidy whack). Often when I'm walking down Broadway on my way to class every morning, I think "damn, I'm so glad I go to school here." Really, I probably wouldn't be completely satisfied with college no matter where I went, but I don't think I could be happier anywhere else, because I love it here a whole lot. So as a disclaimer of sorts, I'm very pleased with my choice (since I was this close to not even applying to NYU) and I wouldn't dream of transferring. That aside, I'm disappointed that I still feel like a senior in high school most of the time, in the sense that you could put me back in a classroom at AHS and I'd probably start thinking I was still a 17-year-old who was failing AP calculus and spent all my time thinking about Project Runway. (Don't get me wrong, I still love Project Runway.) And it's very clear to me why, too, so I suppose I just wait it out, but to quote Homer Simpson, the waiting game sucks, so let's play hungry hungry hippos.
Midterm week is our favorite. It's 1:15 in the morning and I'm wide awake and have a paper to write and two midterms tomorrow and have to get up in 5.5 hours. You'd think I'd learn after a while, right?! But it's okay, because I knew this would happen, and I know I'll write my paper and do alright on my midterms and I can look forward to taking a nap tomorrow afternoon. And holy bananas, spring break is in about a week! I'm a little frightened of it (why? shhh) but it'll be sooo nice to have nine days where I don't have to think about Dante's Divine Comedy or motion of human gait or relationship between parenting styles and attachment styles or direct object pronouns lo/la/li/le/etc. On a side note, did I really just say holy bananas?
A few final points:
1. Download Third Eye Blind - Motorcycle Drive By
2. I tried to put in a link but now it won't let me write anything that isn't undlerlined. Oh noes! But it's so random it's hilarious, so I shan't worry.
3. Catawba County? ROOOOO!
And now, my paper is calling. Write meee! Write meee!
Since yesterday (or the day before, I suppose, since it's technically March now) was the 6-month anniversary of move-in day, and therefore our appointed Roommate Day, I'll take this opportunity to respond to Monica's entry. Don't listen to her! She's all wrong! I'm not the cool one. Monica is the hot one, and the nice one. I mean, who else was voted Resident of the Month twice in a row? (She claims the first one doesn't count, but whatever way you look at it, she rocks.) And for the record, that time at Trader Joe's, I emphasized the word roommate to impressive everyone that I was actually friends with my roommate. I get all smug when I hear other people's roommate horror stories, because the housing department was so nice to me. Dang! How warm and fuzzy. For real, Monica's the bestest roomie. And I'm really impressed (and thankful) that she stuck with me since move-in day.
As for current observations, there is a bit of broken glass on the floor from one of the Christmas lights, and I feel bad that my keyboard is so loud from when I spilled SoBe all over my laptop the other day, and my paper is still not getting written.
So, we've been in college half a year now (but if you look at the academic calendar, we've completed almost an entire year of college - that's wiggidy whack). Often when I'm walking down Broadway on my way to class every morning, I think "damn, I'm so glad I go to school here." Really, I probably wouldn't be completely satisfied with college no matter where I went, but I don't think I could be happier anywhere else, because I love it here a whole lot. So as a disclaimer of sorts, I'm very pleased with my choice (since I was this close to not even applying to NYU) and I wouldn't dream of transferring. That aside, I'm disappointed that I still feel like a senior in high school most of the time, in the sense that you could put me back in a classroom at AHS and I'd probably start thinking I was still a 17-year-old who was failing AP calculus and spent all my time thinking about Project Runway. (Don't get me wrong, I still love Project Runway.) And it's very clear to me why, too, so I suppose I just wait it out, but to quote Homer Simpson, the waiting game sucks, so let's play hungry hungry hippos.
Midterm week is our favorite. It's 1:15 in the morning and I'm wide awake and have a paper to write and two midterms tomorrow and have to get up in 5.5 hours. You'd think I'd learn after a while, right?! But it's okay, because I knew this would happen, and I know I'll write my paper and do alright on my midterms and I can look forward to taking a nap tomorrow afternoon. And holy bananas, spring break is in about a week! I'm a little frightened of it (why? shhh) but it'll be sooo nice to have nine days where I don't have to think about Dante's Divine Comedy or motion of human gait or relationship between parenting styles and attachment styles or direct object pronouns lo/la/li/le/etc. On a side note, did I really just say holy bananas?
A few final points:
1. Download Third Eye Blind - Motorcycle Drive By
2. I tried to put in a link but now it won't let me write anything that isn't undlerlined. Oh noes! But it's so random it's hilarious, so I shan't worry.
3. Catawba County? ROOOOO!
And now, my paper is calling. Write meee! Write meee!
February 27, 2007
Happy Half-Birthday, 1109B!
So what might there be to celebrate today, hmmm?
It just so happens (and I only remembered this in the shower, so that proves how attentive I am to the date ---- but oh, the new Herbal Essences Strengthening Conditioner is so distractingly terrific! give it a shot, why don't you?) that today marks the six-month anniversary of our moving in to University Hall room 1109B, and thusly we've been college kids for an entire half-year.
This gives me an excuse to use the speech I wrote for the Academy Awards but never got to use: Thank you to Julia, for being a fantastic roommate and a wonderful person. We've said it before, but DANG! someone in the Housing Department sure got it right when they put us together in this ole room. And I'm not the only one who thinks she's awesome. An anonymous subject (drunk? drugged? leave it to your imagination) declared on Saturday night that I was "yeah, cute....yeah, but Julia's the HOT one!" And that was all the compliment I needed. Next to her, I'm shocked I even qualified for "cute!" And I don't mind that she was horrified (seemingly) when the cashier at Trader Joe's asked if we were sisters. "No! We're roommates!" she gasped.
In more urban news, New York is as it was six months ago: overwhelmingly but undeniably fabulous. As close to Europe as America can get. And it's finally seeming appropriate to begin hoping for spring. This despite the fact that it snowed flakes as big as toast two nights ago. I've been going outdoors with no coat! I've had dreams of daffodils! They've set up a miniature beach complete with lifeguard's chair and towels at Union Square! It's nearly time to start picking out sandals for late April nights and early May picnics. I took my coffee out to Washington Square Park this evening, sitting on a chilly bench but remembering how close we are to the tip of spring --- when the Strawberry Festival will come and stain the park juicy magenta, and when those traveling circus performers will come back to perform with their little dog, and when they'll turn the fountain back on, and we'll reclaim the sovereign republic of Greenwich Village just as those illuminated Bohemians did at the turn of the century.
So there's certainly much to look forward to. Spring break in two weeks? It sounds inconceivable. Home for summer vacation in two months? Beyond belief. But today and tomorrow and the hours after that will be entertaining and exasperating in the way that only Manhattan manages to be.
It just so happens (and I only remembered this in the shower, so that proves how attentive I am to the date ---- but oh, the new Herbal Essences Strengthening Conditioner is so distractingly terrific! give it a shot, why don't you?) that today marks the six-month anniversary of our moving in to University Hall room 1109B, and thusly we've been college kids for an entire half-year.
This gives me an excuse to use the speech I wrote for the Academy Awards but never got to use: Thank you to Julia, for being a fantastic roommate and a wonderful person. We've said it before, but DANG! someone in the Housing Department sure got it right when they put us together in this ole room. And I'm not the only one who thinks she's awesome. An anonymous subject (drunk? drugged? leave it to your imagination) declared on Saturday night that I was "yeah, cute....yeah, but Julia's the HOT one!" And that was all the compliment I needed. Next to her, I'm shocked I even qualified for "cute!" And I don't mind that she was horrified (seemingly) when the cashier at Trader Joe's asked if we were sisters. "No! We're roommates!" she gasped.
In more urban news, New York is as it was six months ago: overwhelmingly but undeniably fabulous. As close to Europe as America can get. And it's finally seeming appropriate to begin hoping for spring. This despite the fact that it snowed flakes as big as toast two nights ago. I've been going outdoors with no coat! I've had dreams of daffodils! They've set up a miniature beach complete with lifeguard's chair and towels at Union Square! It's nearly time to start picking out sandals for late April nights and early May picnics. I took my coffee out to Washington Square Park this evening, sitting on a chilly bench but remembering how close we are to the tip of spring --- when the Strawberry Festival will come and stain the park juicy magenta, and when those traveling circus performers will come back to perform with their little dog, and when they'll turn the fountain back on, and we'll reclaim the sovereign republic of Greenwich Village just as those illuminated Bohemians did at the turn of the century.
So there's certainly much to look forward to. Spring break in two weeks? It sounds inconceivable. Home for summer vacation in two months? Beyond belief. But today and tomorrow and the hours after that will be entertaining and exasperating in the way that only Manhattan manages to be.
February 25, 2007
"on our way from stockholm, it started to snow
and you said it was like christmas
but you were wrong
it wasn't like christmas at all."
Definitely ranking in the top three experiences I've had thus far in New York: watching snow fall from the eleventh floor. Really, there can't be many things more beautiful than this. It's just like living in a big snowglobe metropolis. It's enough to make me break out my Christmas playlist. On Oscar Sunday, of all nights!
So I've decided there are certain things you're never too old for. This weekend proved a lot of them true.
and you said it was like christmas
but you were wrong
it wasn't like christmas at all."
Definitely ranking in the top three experiences I've had thus far in New York: watching snow fall from the eleventh floor. Really, there can't be many things more beautiful than this. It's just like living in a big snowglobe metropolis. It's enough to make me break out my Christmas playlist. On Oscar Sunday, of all nights!
So I've decided there are certain things you're never too old for. This weekend proved a lot of them true.
- pillow fights
- LiteBrites
- play-doh
- "The Little Rascals"
- snow days (and consequently, snow dances and wearing pajamas inside out and all that glorious stuff)
Much love, kids. Enjoy the last days of February.
A Public Apology
Please excuse any bizarre behaviors I may have exhibited last night, such as:
-Posting gibberish in the blag (entry has since been removed);
-Quoting Borat, Homestar Runner and The Office excessively and loudly;
-Demanding high fives from everyone on the floor;
-Revealing unnecessary details about my love life and other personal matters;
-Insisting that I am NOT A SLUT;
-and any other instances of yelling, singing, crawling, hugging, stumbling, swearing, giggling, and bitter ranting.
Although I would prefer to blame my actions on extreme intoxication, I accept responsibility for any annoyance, awkwardness and other forms of trouble caused by my presence in the past twenty-four hours. I have no memory of any of the above incidents, but I offer my sincerest apologies. In fact, let's get rid of any evidence it ever happened, okay? Except first, let's all cheer for Monica, who took on the highly impressive task of not only putting up with me, but taking care of me in my drunken stupor. Hooray, Monica! Fortunately for everyone it'll probably never happen again.
In other news, look at all the snow! Snow day maybe? Please...?
In other other news, we're famous! There is actual video footage of our awesome afternoon pillowfighting in Union Square, and there we are, beating each other with pillows, in all our dorkiness. In all my dorkiness, anyway. Monica is not a dork. In fact, let's thank her again for being such a good sport to her dorky roommate. Three cheers for the Monica! (The Monica? Yup.)
I think Monica wanted to write about our evening in SoHo before that bit of vodka trouble. But to give a brief recap, we went to String Street (string like yarn!) on the subway (subway, like eat fresh!) and saw the tiniest puppy and bought Little Rascals. Ohhhtay!
In other other news, don't you hate stupid jerks? I sure do. Aren't they frustrating? Yeah, they sure are.
And now it's probably time to go to bed, so I can prepare for the hard work I'll have to do tomorrow, what with living down my embarrassment and salvaging my reputation and repenting for all I put poor Monica through. After all, she's the bestest. (In fact, why didn't I think to drunk dial Monica? That would have been the hilariousest.) Anyways, a Merry Oscar Night to all, and to all a Good Night.
-Posting gibberish in the blag (entry has since been removed);
-Quoting Borat, Homestar Runner and The Office excessively and loudly;
-Demanding high fives from everyone on the floor;
-Revealing unnecessary details about my love life and other personal matters;
-Insisting that I am NOT A SLUT;
-and any other instances of yelling, singing, crawling, hugging, stumbling, swearing, giggling, and bitter ranting.
Although I would prefer to blame my actions on extreme intoxication, I accept responsibility for any annoyance, awkwardness and other forms of trouble caused by my presence in the past twenty-four hours. I have no memory of any of the above incidents, but I offer my sincerest apologies. In fact, let's get rid of any evidence it ever happened, okay? Except first, let's all cheer for Monica, who took on the highly impressive task of not only putting up with me, but taking care of me in my drunken stupor. Hooray, Monica! Fortunately for everyone it'll probably never happen again.
In other news, look at all the snow! Snow day maybe? Please...?
In other other news, we're famous! There is actual video footage of our awesome afternoon pillowfighting in Union Square, and there we are, beating each other with pillows, in all our dorkiness. In all my dorkiness, anyway. Monica is not a dork. In fact, let's thank her again for being such a good sport to her dorky roommate. Three cheers for the Monica! (The Monica? Yup.)
I think Monica wanted to write about our evening in SoHo before that bit of vodka trouble. But to give a brief recap, we went to String Street (string like yarn!) on the subway (subway, like eat fresh!) and saw the tiniest puppy and bought Little Rascals. Ohhhtay!
In other other news, don't you hate stupid jerks? I sure do. Aren't they frustrating? Yeah, they sure are.
And now it's probably time to go to bed, so I can prepare for the hard work I'll have to do tomorrow, what with living down my embarrassment and salvaging my reputation and repenting for all I put poor Monica through. After all, she's the bestest. (In fact, why didn't I think to drunk dial Monica? That would have been the hilariousest.) Anyways, a Merry Oscar Night to all, and to all a Good Night.
February 24, 2007
As nice as we sound, we can be terrible people sometimes. Terribly hilarious, that is!
Actually, here's the thing --- my confession of the weekend. Sometimes when other people's mail comes into our mailbox, I'll take it. Particularly if it's magazines. It's such a nice surprise to open up the mailbox with little hope for seeing anything other than the empty metal walls, and POOF! there's the latest issue of Rolling Stone.
We never end up keeping them permanently --- that's just cruel. And as shocking as it may seem, we do have SOME morals. Instead we'll spend a day or so looking over the articles, enjoying the issue, then return it to the "Misdelivered" box in the mailroom.
Is that so bad? I keep thinking that the poor boy downstairs is hopping up and down, waiting breathlessly for his new copy of Rolling Stone to arrive, and that extra delay of 24, 36, 48 hours is positively painful for him. But maybe I'm just deluded, and he doesn't really mind that we're sharing the issue. I sure don't mind. But I'm starting to feel a little guilty.
Also, I just realized that what we're doing is probably a felony. And now I firmly resolve to cease and desist. Yikes. Now I'm all sheepish.
Actually, here's the thing --- my confession of the weekend. Sometimes when other people's mail comes into our mailbox, I'll take it. Particularly if it's magazines. It's such a nice surprise to open up the mailbox with little hope for seeing anything other than the empty metal walls, and POOF! there's the latest issue of Rolling Stone.
We never end up keeping them permanently --- that's just cruel. And as shocking as it may seem, we do have SOME morals. Instead we'll spend a day or so looking over the articles, enjoying the issue, then return it to the "Misdelivered" box in the mailroom.
Is that so bad? I keep thinking that the poor boy downstairs is hopping up and down, waiting breathlessly for his new copy of Rolling Stone to arrive, and that extra delay of 24, 36, 48 hours is positively painful for him. But maybe I'm just deluded, and he doesn't really mind that we're sharing the issue. I sure don't mind. But I'm starting to feel a little guilty.
Also, I just realized that what we're doing is probably a felony. And now I firmly resolve to cease and desist. Yikes. Now I'm all sheepish.
We're Giving It the Old College Try
What better time to start a blog than in the aftermath of the 2nd Annual Newmindspace City-Wide Pillow Fight in Union Square? We're both tired with giggles and giddy from taking one to many hits to the head with Joe Boxer pillowcases and inhaling vast quantities of feathers.
It's been a great day, though.
It's been a great day, though.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)