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.
March 24, 2007
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!
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