Friday, December 31, 2004
I left work early today. I was tired. Up all night. If you don't know why, see the previous two postings. At some point my back started hurting.
I walk into my room to find my roommate smoking and watching Friends on his computer. I comment on the smoke, as we've discussed it before. Besides his having decided to quit because I was complaining and his girlfriend was complaining and his body was insufficiently strong enough to kick a certain bacterial infection in his lungs (Doc to roommate: "By any chance, are you a smoker?"), I have never allowed him to smoke in the room. Trust me, he has. Oh, and whenever he couldn't find an ash tray, he just used one of mine.
Bear in mind, I don't smoke. But to my roommate, any concave thing I own suffices as an ash tray.
After commenting on the smoke and opening the door and windows, I come over to my desk and see that my cd binder is open. I think, "Huh, I don't recall watching anything last night." And I close it up and replace it. My roommate, by this point, had made his way into the shower. He showers a lot. I think he uses showering as a defense mechanism. Or he's jerking off a lot. And while I was cleaning, it hit me that he would have had to download Friends to watch it and he's an extremely lazy person and he knows that I have most of them burned on to cd's. So, I moseyed on over to his computer and opened the cd drive and, lo and behold, one of my cd's.
I paused. I reflected as I looked at our small, dorm studio. I noticed the table which, after talking to him only a few days ago, he'd said, "Fine, that half is your half, this half is my half, and I won't put anything on your side" (I explained that I would not be able to support his behavior this past term in the next one because not having a place to study in my room definitely affected my performance), was covered in books and papers and crap. In fact, it was that way only hours after he decided to draw a virtual line down the table. I noticed that his clothes were, again, all over the couch. As they have been for weeks. I reflected on the smell coming from the kitchen. Wondering thatward, I meditated over the fact that he'd eaten my bread because the end piece was missing and anyone with any sense knows you save the ends to the end (no pun intended) to keep the loaf fresh. Of course, spoiled rich brats are famous for lacking sense.
And I flipped. And I waited. And when he emerged, sopping wet from the shower (having covered the entire bathroom floor in at least half an inch of water [I'm convinced he showers with the curtain drawn back]) I started. I opened with, "I'm done." That's getting to be my mantra. I explained to him how he is a completely inadequate person. That he's selfish and self-centered and disgusting. That the worst part about is that he claims to be a good person. The first time we had this talk, months ago, I said he has a compulsion -- to take without thinking. Or rather, to only think "Me! Need! Take!" He said that was offensive. And here we are, months later, and I'm still finding food gone, things out of place, things reeking of smoke (like the new scarf I started a few days ago). You would think he'd at least not eat my food knowing that I'm working two jobs to make ends meet an whenever he needs money he can just call daddy in Dubai. And like the useless, immature, loathsome creature he is, he couldn't handle the truth. He didn't defend himself. He just covered his ears and paced back and forth. Which only enraged me further.
And then I went onto his upbringing. I wanted to think that maybe it's just him. His girlfriend is also well off and Indian, but she's wonderful. She deserves much better, which shouldn't be hard to achieve considering what she has. And then there was the chip incident. Remember? Chips I found on my keyboard when I opened my laptop. When I finally asked him about it, he told me it must have been his sister. Who uses the laptop of someone they do not know and have never met and then leaves tortilla chips on the keyboard and closes it? Someone with absolutely no regard for others and others' property. Which is precisely what her brother has done all along. So it must have been the way they were raised. This I pointed out and finally my good ol' roommate grew a spine and stood up. Saying that I shouldn't say things about his sister or his parents. Maybe I shouldn't, but I don't care. The two of them are like this, they had to get it from somewhere. And when daddy tells him to get a job for the first time in his life to learn the value of a dollar, but then gives him money whenever he asks for it, and then doesn't seem to care at all when the boy gets fired from that job for rarely showing up and fucking up when he did, I have to think the parents didn't quite do their job right. And then he said that he could say things about me... and my family and clearly how they raised me. Let's make it crystal: I was not raised well. At all. And I let him know this. Said that he could say whatever he wants about me to me because I don't care, because I am a decent person who knows how to treat other people... or I have some idea at the very least.
I went onto say that what's most amazing to me is how he doesn't see it. He will demand his girlfriend be quiet because he needs to study, and then will be bothered when she won't go do something with him because she needs to work on her paper. He will whine like a petulant child because she won't bring him something when she comes over, but if she asks him to go get something for her he's tired or has a lot of work to do. He dodges his mother's phone calls for weeks because she wants him to come home, but he's only now decided to go home because he's bored here having nothing to do all day. And in all of this he said that I can't say anything about his sister because she didn't do it, he did it. No, first he said he had no idea who could have done it. And so then I asked, "You mean to tell me that someone broke into our room, came over to my computer, opened it up, ate chips and left some on the keyboard, closed it, and then thought it best to leave evidence behind and put their plastic bag that you later admitted to having purchased in the garbage for us to find and then left without taking anything?!?" And then he said that it was him. I don't believe. But it makes him a liar either way.
And he said, "Fine. I'm leaving tonight for Dubai, and I'll get a room change." First, he's too lazy to do anything. If it weren't for me, his paychecks would still be in the drawer at work. Secondly, room transfers were already done. The students have all already scrambled. I don't know that he can get out. But oh how I want him to. And then he started to say things to me, but at that point I decided best to be immature and said that I wanted nothing more to do with him. And got on my phone and proceeded to make phone calls.
And in all of this, what would it have been for him to say, "SWS2.1, you're right. I'm sorry. I am a bad person. You have very little, I have lots -- there's no excuse for me treating your stuff like this. And your asking me not to, is plenty of reason for me not to. And I was wrong to call you mean for not letting me use your coin jar lids for ash trays. And I will do better, and I will not use any more of your things," ? Apparently the world. Or very simple. Because, without the retraction of the "mean" comment, he's basically said that a few times before. Like I said, a compulsion.
And he's been gone for hours. I suspect that his synapses may have finally landed a bull's eye: I think he knows not to come back until after 8.45 when I will be heading down to Adam's for the NYE festivities, which he heard me saying to a friend on the phone. That or he's cowering in a corner somewhere. Or trying to buy a gun. Luckily I'm sure he has no idea where to buy a gun and, moreover, who's going to sell a jittery kid who looks like he's from the Middle East (because he is) a gun in New York City?
Thus concludes my rant.
promulgated by SWS2.1 at 19:50.
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So in what I'm calling "Desperation-palooza 2004!" I have done almost nothing besides watch Desperate Housewives for the past two days.
And something has been plaguing me: Where is this show supposed to be taking place? The houses on "Wisteria Lane" clearly indicate it's a backlot, but where are we supposed to think this is in America? I've been thinking all along California, but no one ever says anything about it and then I saw that the license plates (thank goodness for downloaded television) all say "Eagle State." To be certain, I didn't go crazy and zoom in, I was just watching very carefully (these details make TV pop for me -- like in an episode when I noticed the top part of a Whole Foods Market 365 milk carton peeking out of a grocery bag). I don't need "Reality TV," I need "Reality-Infused TV" that perfectly matches my schedule and is readily available to be downloaded should there be a conflict.
In any case, I finally decided to google "the eagle state." "eagle state" on it's own brought up too many spurious matches. At the very least, Mississippi precipitated from "the eagle state," but that's clearly wrong. And then I found this...
Yeah. It's too late for me, but save yourself. Or at least don't watch 10 episodes in 2 days.
promulgated by SWS2.1 at 19:38.
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How could no one have told me that Desperate Housewives is the best show ever?! Ever (second to Buffy, may she rest in peace).
P.S. - And ::gasps:: I think that, save for my gross lack of talents in and around the house (especially the kitchen), I'm in danger of becoming Bree Van De Kamp. Heavens!
P.P.S. - Jesse Metcalfe is by far the hottest thing on two legs. I'm willing to bet (and willing to try) that he'd probably make for the hottest thing on four legs given the right invitation.
P.P.P.S. - Metcalfe is so obviously gaie it makes my nuts quiver.
promulgated by SWS2.1 at 01:50.
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Here's a "New Year's" Resolution, for everyone: Don't wait for New Year's.
Do it now. Do it today. Do it as you're reading this. Multi-task.
And I realize that you could turn this around on me because I'm posting this on New Year's Eve, but it's only because New Year's talk is in the air. If you'd had me thinking on the subject in August, I'd have offered the same Resolution.
Is Brooke Shields waiting until 2005 to embark on whatever calls for coke or diapers? No she isn't. In 2005 ask yourself, "What would Brooke Shields do?"
promulgated by SWS2.1 at 00:14.
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Is it weird that I was stopped at work (Whole Foods) today by Brooke Shields and whoever she is dating when she posed the following question: "Do you sell coca-cola or diapers?"
Why is that the choice? Coke or diapers? Oh, Brooke...
promulgated by SWS2.1 at 00:11.
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Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Okay, we're going to jump around, so do your best to follow.22:49 I call my roommate. "We're done." I repeat myself, not to accent the syncopation of the moment, but because my phone sucks. "We're done."22:38 "Hey, I'm here," says A, from the other end of the mobile.22:40 I say to my roommate: "Hey, so I'm going to go get A. We're probably going to break up so if you could leave when we get back up here. Oh, and take your cell phone. It shouldn't take too long, and there's no point in your staying outside longer than you have to." Him to me: "Do you want to break up?" Me to him: "Eh, I'm not really the dating sort."22:52 I reference Irving Goffman (whilst thinking of Mr. Show) as a reason for crossing the street even though I was headed in the same direction as A.22:46 A says, "Oh, SWS2.1, you're so sweet... which is what makes this so hard," in response to my giving him his gift certificate card for Annual Gift Giving Day which I had mailed to him almost two weeks ago, but received back today as it had bounced back because I failed to include, "New York, NY 100xx" in the address, thus relieving my fear that he might not have come here to break up with me.22:50 I say to A, "By the way, I got A's on all of my finals." He responds fairly glibly, "Oh, yeah?", supporting my suspicions regarding myself, my new found successes, and his own anomic state.22:42 I notice that A looks exceptionally nice as we ride in the elevator up to my floor. Methinks he dressed to impress knowing what was impending.22:49:30 A asks, "Are you okay?" "Yeah, I'm fine," I reply. I notice his eyes are glossy -- wet and reddish. "Are you okay?" I ask. "Yeah, I'm fine. Break-ups are hard, that's all."22:55 I wonder if anal sex has changed in the past two months. Guess I'll find out soon enough.22:47 He says how that spark... that chemistry isn't there. Perhaps he wants to say, "No za za zoo" ? Part of me doesn't believe him.22:48 I say that I agree entirely. I say that, more than a lack of chemistry, I think it's mostly bad timing. He agrees. And I do think that it was mostly bad timing.Avez-vous compris?
promulgated by SWS2.1 at 23:06.
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Wednesday, December 22, 2004
Well, I'm back. I wish I could say that finals kicked my ass. I wish I could say that this week was my Vietnam. But, it actually wasn't that bad and I came out of it more cocky and conceited than I was going in.
But some interesting things happened to me and occurred to me while I was away. So, here it is...
The Week in Review
1. Finals.
I think that I did well, actually. What I thought would be the hardest exam was actually the second easiest and on what actually was my hardest exam I did pretty well.
On the eve of my East Asian final (the one that I thought would be hardest), I found myself hoping that there would be snow and Prof. S would be stuck in Queens or wherever he lives and not be able to make it. I woke up Monday morning and left the building to discover snow on the ground. I arrived at the classroom and, with other students, noticed the clock tick more than a couple of minutes past 9AM with no Prof. S in sight. Then entered our TA. "Prof. S was unable to come this morning, but here is your exam." Yay the power of positive thinking, but damn the cruelty of oversight!
Before going to my final final this morning, I woke up having slept the whole night and not studied a damn thing. With only 40min to go before the exam, I resigned myself to not studying, knowing that my teacher is more interested in an understanding of concepts rather than esoteric details, and I instead tried to figure out the least I could do and still receive an A for the course. Assuming I get all of the participation credit, then I could get an 81.75% on my final (that's a C/C+), and still pull off an A for the semester. Realizing this I felt an aberrant desire to just not really try on the test and see what happened. Luckily that desire faded as soon as I had the blue book in my hands.
2) I finally got around to adding A to my speed dial. He's 8. This is important because, for me, the speed dial placement is extremely important. For instance, Josh is 5. Why is my best friend 5, you ask? Because 5 is the easiest number to dial on the pad. It's in the center and the actual key itself is bigger than all of the rest (well, it is on my phone). In the same way, numbers 2, 3, 4 and 7 have all been taken up. The left side of the pad is all used up, as I'm a right-handed cell phone user. All that remained was 8 and the right side of the pad, numbers 6 and 9. 8 was the obvious choice, as it's easier for my thumb to move down than right.
3) I have discovered THE key to staying up all night to study for one's finals: Sex and the City. But only with friends. If my roommate's gf had not insisted on downloading the last season and watching it every 20min or so, then I would have gone to sleep long before I'd discovered why 1895 was a pivotal year for Korea, China and Japan and been able to give a perfect answer to that question on the final.
Oh, and while we're still flitting about the topic of finals: CRAMMING WORKS!
4) I've applied for a community service internship at Columbia. While I have no community service experience, I still wrote (according to some) a kick-ass application. If I get it, it would be essentially like working a third job. It means I'd have to drop Cheer New York, and maybe other things. It's paid, that's why I am interested in doing it. It sounds fun, that's why I want to do it. I know this semester I could have gotten all A's, but maybe not, because it wasn't just not going to class, it was also not having time between working two jobs and other things. But I want it.
5) For the first time in a long time (not counting Provincetown which was less a vacation and more a job) I will be leaving New York City, and not returning in the same day. I'm going to stay with a friend of mine in her hometown of Altoona, PA (although actually, she lives just outside of Altoona, but no one really needs to know that). A town that should be off the map and barely on the radar, but for the fact that most trains traveling in the NE must go through Altoona, as that's just the way the rails were built scores ago. So, come Thursday morning, we'll be:
Loadin' up the truck
And movin' to Dixieeeee...
PA, that is!
Swimmin' holes!
Coal mines!
6) Yesterday, at Job #2 (in Butler Library), we received a book in our department. It came with the note, "This book has no identification on it. We thought it might be yours." We didn't bother to save the box or envelope that it came in. The book said "Butler Library" on it, but nothing else that would indicate it belonged at Columbia. And then one of the women in the office was looking at it a little more closely and chose to regard the whole stamp: "Butler Library CF" on one line and "Minimum" below it. "Ha! Maybe it's a prison," she joked. "It says 'Minimum.'" Me: "But, 'CF?'" Then she gasped and calmly replied, "Correctional Facility." And indeed, a quick googling revealed that there is a Butler Minimum Security Correctional Facility in Wayne County, New York.
So, someone mistook a book that was intended for prison as being intended for Columbia? There's a joke in there somewhere. I just gotta find it.
7. Lastly, why will there be "scarey ghost stories" told with the "tales of the glories of Christmases long long ago"? That's always bothered me. Who tells ghost stories at Christmas?
The English, that's who. Thanks, Google.
promulgated by SWS2.1 at 13:24.
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Wednesday, December 15, 2004
promulgated by SWS2.1 at 18:14.
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Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Now it's not February, but I thought I'd post it anyway: Bid 'Em In.
promulgated by SWS2.1 at 10:09.
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Godspeed
There's a hum on the air.
It's swelling and ballooning.
It's growing, expanding, userping.
There's a crescendo on the make.
The basso ostinato has fallen away.
The music is hollowing, the music is hallowing.
There are hopes coming to bear.
Their forte is pounding and thundering.
Their force is barrelling this way, inconsiderate and unrelenting.
These are my finals.
On their backs ride my futures.
At their heels nip my fears.
promulgated by SWS2.1 at 08:59.
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A and I will not last very long if he does not change.
A and I will not last very long if I do not change.
My relationship advice to friends has often been, "Just break up. Why deal with it if it is not right?" I do not know that I want to do that now. I guess I will have to compromise?
I gotta sort this out, fast. Never before have I felt "compromise" to be a dirty word.
promulgated by SWS2.1 at 01:02.
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Monday, December 13, 2004
What makes for a great day?
Waking up after having slept a full six hours and not needing to do work in the AM
Going to class and receiving the last of the 6 mini-papers of the term back and the grade being 100%, which makes for 6-100% papers of 6 papers required
Going to another class and getting the paper back that you turned in a day late which you hated yourself for because your Prof. had said that the paper would be the thing to really bring your grade up after an uneven term and getting an A- with comments from the Prof. and TA being "Great paper and interesting thoughts," and "I really enjoyed reading your paper."
Finding an email in your inbox from your Prof. in yet another class saying that yes, you were right, the question on the take home final was miswritten and the way that you re-wrote it for the Professor is the way it should have been written the first time around and then there being another email in your inbox from the Prof., but this one being sent to the class as a whole informing them of the change that might have gone unnoticed had you not been using your noggin'
And then seeing another email from the boss at one of your two jobs (who you thought disliked you) responding to the email you sent about your schedule over the Winter Break and for the Spring Term and his saying that you are always so great and he is always willing to accomodate changes in your schedule because you always come to work on time and tell him well in advance if you will need to miss a day and you picked up on how everything in the office works so well and quickly and (without you having ever said a thing about it) is going to give you a $1 raise and wishes he could give more but it isn't currently in the budget
What ruins that day?
Getting into a fight with the guy you're dating because you have a need to tell people when you think they are fucking up whether or not they want to hear it and because he can't put pride aside and heed good counsel
Semi-spraining your thumb at cheerleading practice and being only barely able to type this post
promulgated by SWS2.1 at 22:43.
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Sunday, December 12, 2004
Two reasons for why my dictionary is so the greatest dictionary of all time (third behind the OED and the official, unabridged Klingon Dictionary):
1. Cruise: 5 to go about looking for a sex partner: said esp. of a homosexual
2. Cunt: 2 sexual intercourse with a woman 3 a) a woman (a term of hostility and contempt) b) any unpleasant or contemtible person
Thank you, Michelle, for getting me to dig my dictionary out from the archived boxes of crap and remember why I purchased it in the first place.
promulgated by SWS2.1 at 14:48.
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Saturday, December 11, 2004
While mobile phones have been around since the mid-80s, they only truly became a mainstay of American (global?) civil society in the mid-90s and now, here we are, just off the cusp of the turn of the century and children carry them around as yet another tool for safety (as all cellular phones are able to call 911, with or without a service contract).
And there are a few things that clung to the underbelly of the great cell phone beast and have also managed to stay. Additional etiquette guidelines. Endless fodder for (late night) sketch comedy. Blackberry.
But there is one thing that came and, effectively, should have left. And I pose to you the question now -- why is it still here? And that is: "Is that me?" This question could hardly have been a commonly employed inquiry prior to the advent of the phone (with the exception of looking back at photographs from times past and hair-do's divers), and it's perfectly clear how it is that it came to be so popular. So many phones, anywhere and everywhere, and all sounding precisely the same. Yes, even phones at the beginning of the cellular phenomenon's secularization had ring options, but of fourteen possible MIDI rings from which to choose, maybe only two were actually acceptable.
But it's 2004 and ringtones are the shizzle. Downloadable ringtones are a required component of any service package, even pre-paid plans. Moreover, ringtones can be set to specific persons or groups of persons within one's phonebook. So how is it that in a review session for one of my final exams, of the five people there (including the TA and myself), cell phones rang five times (the TA's twice), and with the exception of the TA, whose phone was in his pocket and thus he was able to feel the vibrations, all of the other students at first were shocked and puzzled to realize the phones ringing were their own and all asked, with sincere surprise, "Is that me?" Every ring was unique, yet apparently no one was able to recognize his or her ring by the first or second round.
Is that me? Yes, it is you. Now pick it up, decline the call, put it on "Silent" like you should have done before entering the room, and apologize to the class for the damned distraction.
promulgated by SWS2.1 at 19:11.
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Thursday, December 09, 2004
A and I recently hit a snag in our relationship... a pock mark on the blossoming prepubescent face-scape of our future... a wall.
More accurately, A hit my wall. The wall that is around my heart. Although, there are two things I see wrong with that statement: 1) I don't think there is a wall and 2) I don't know that I have a heart (for person-oriented sentimentality).
It might be even more accurate to say that A ran into the transparent aluminum barrier that encloses my heart space.
And I don't really know what to do about that. This was sparked by my, evidently, cold and seemingly automated quick response to a question he asked me. You need not know the question, but simply know that my answer (this was on AIM) was merely: "no." The word on the street is that typically people don't expect so direct and precise an answer to a question and that I should have used a more tactful response. In my opinion, "tact" is overly used and mostly just leads to miscommunication and, not uncommonly, hurt feelings.
It doesn't occur to me to think that a direct response need be "softened." If a question is put forth, one should expect a response. My response will be neither emotional nor inappropriate, and will be arrived at via the appropriate amount of consideration warranted by the interrogation. This idea of being "sensitive" doesn't jive with me.
Or in other words, DOES NOT COMPUTE.
promulgated by SWS2.1 at 23:49.
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So there is a class in which I'm dangerously close to performing very poorly. I did disastrously on the midterm, not because I did not know the material, but because I never went to class and my Prof's lectures are key to his exams (take-homes). What threw me off was that for too many professors/teachers, lectures merely supplement the readings/literature. You can never go to class, do all the homework, and still do very well. Prof. Eyal (yes, I give his actual name for a reason made clear below) actually teaches, so that, really, the readings just supplement his lectures. I realized this all too late and missed a great first half of the semester being taught sociological theory (which I love) from a professor (who's love of it comes through so clearly in his lectures).
I talked to him today, after he handed out the final take-home. I asked him to consider putting more weight on my final than on my mid-term, as I intend to perform remarkably better. He said that would not be a problem at all, but that I'd better do better.
On a whim, I decided to see what CULPA had to say about him. Typically, I don't regard reviews of teachers because if I'm choosing to take a class, it is because I have to take that class for whatever reasons.
And I was horrified to see what I read. Perhaps it's the case that in his other classes he is an entirely different person, like night and day, but I hardly see how that could be. But, moreover, the fact that the most vehement charge against him was that the reviewers could not understand him through his accent just angers me. Enrages me, to be more precise. There are teachers who don't speak English and there are teachers who speak it with an accent. Those who don't speak English should not be teaching here. Those who speak with an accent -- the accent should hardly be held against them. And, really, I feel like if one has done the reading appropriately, then the few (and it is only a few) words that aren't immediately comprehendable should eventually become clear because one should know what is being discussed.
Although, he is Israeli and I have some experience with Israeli accents, so maybe I'm in a better place than the reviewers.
But, either way, something about it just strikes me as offensive. It feels like arrogance run amuck. What do you think?
promulgated by SWS2.1 at 18:18.
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Sunday, December 05, 2004
Anyone who knows me at all, knows that I cannot stand receiving presents. I adore giving presents and chances are at one time or another I've given you a present that could not be marked as a birthday or Christmas gift, or it had to be marked as a very belated birthday or Christmas gift as months of searching failed to precipitate an item in a timely fashion.
I dislike receiving presents because it is a high-pressure, low-relief situation for me. The fact that someone has taken the time to think of me and to invest in something for me has the (hopefully) unintended affect of making me sweat bullets over the possibility of not liking the soon-to-be-revealed object. But, dammit, I am only human and if people elected not to give me gifts in order to cause me less stress, I'd then be driven to madness over the concern that maybe we aren't really friends/loved ones and perhaps we never were and how dumbass was I to search high and low (from Rockefeller to Orchard) to find them the perfect possession.
This year, I have no money. And no one else seems to have money. I am not expecting gifts and you should not expect gifts from me. But, my heart may get the best of my wallet. Yours may do the same. So, my Christmas Wish List is now a temporary mainstay of my blog. You shall notice it to the right. The brilliance of this is that, should you decide to get me one (or more) of these items, simply post such to my blog as "Anonymous" and I won't know who is giving it to me, just that it's coming (I trust none of you will abuse this to embarrass me). When you let me know, the item shall be striked out.
Genius.
promulgated by SWS2.1 at 16:05.
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Friday, December 03, 2004
I apologize. If around 4.29PM EST you heard a high pitched squeal, or, at the very least, your dogs started going crazy... that was probably me.
Because I found my planner.
promulgated by SWS2.1 at 16:29.
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Thursday, December 02, 2004
Tonight was, by far, the oddest experience I have yet to endure in any dining hall that I have ever been in, and that's not an entirely small number of dining halls.
Yes, odder than my first time in a dining hall at Harvard when, unbeknownst even to my hot fobbish host, it was Italian Night! and there was a band and delicate Italian pastries everywhere and brightly colored table cloths.
Yes, odder than when I was in a dining hall at Rutgers during Cheer Camp and I saw tiny girls from Lousianna who couldn't have been taller than 5'1" and couldn't have weighed more than 110lbs loading up plastic trays with towers of pastas, cakes, and pies (oh my!).
And yes, odder still than when just a couple of weekends ago I went to the dining hall, but was turned away because I (brace yourself) failed to RSVP, as it was "Thanksgiving" (the Sunday before, actually). As I left, dejected, I glanced in the window and saw that all of the tables had been covered with starched, white cloths and that there weren't any students hussling and bussling around, but all were seated because there were cater-waiters in tuxedos carrying platters and trays and dishes to and fro.
I arrived at the dining hall tonight and was given a plate... a "dessert" sized paper plate with three pieces of chicken, all differently prepared varieties. Huh? The kid in front of me echoed my thoughts: "So... will there be real food later?" The server's response, notably not dressed in the typical dining service togs: "That is the real food." And before we could voice our objections, a nicely stacked black woman with a Trunchbull-bun and a broche reminiscent of The Neverending Story materialized, threw up her hands, shouted excitedly, joyously, "THEY'RE VENDORS!" and melted away into the steam of dumplings being cooked by a local Chinese food restaurant.
Before I knew it food and merchandise were being thrown at me. By the time I made my way to a table, in the back room where I could eat in peace, my tray had been loaded with seven different varieties of chicken, four kinds of pasta, dumplings, salads, dressings, bubble tea, chilled latté, Reese's peanut butter pie, a Naked juice, two Naked lip balms, cookies, pie, Hershey's Strawberry Milkshake, granola, a Butterfinger granola bar, Kashi GoLean granola bars, a Stonyfield yogurt smoothie, a pull-cord insulated Stonyfield pouch with one of those rock-climbing clips (to clip it to my bag when I'm rollerblading to work as I'm sure the Stonyfield yogurt drink will give me the energy to do), a Nantucket Nectar juice, a Starbucks Doubleshot (in case the smoothie couldn't charge me up enough, I suppose), a bottle of some random brand of water to go with the Crystal Light "On The Go" tubular mix packet, and a Ghirardelli chocolate square with caramelized almonds.
What I couldn't eat just barely fit into my Naked bag.
promulgated by SWS2.1 at 18:02.
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Dear God, it's happened. My Gmail account has started receiving Spam. Somehow they've broken through. I suppose I should be happy -- I went over five months without a single piece of spam mail. I suppose I should be happy -- the spam goes straight into the "Spam" folder and I don't actually have to look at it.
Why aren't I happy?
promulgated by SWS2.1 at 06:11.
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A and I, unfortunately, had a very drawn out and long conversation about farting... during sex.
I think it's safe to say that our relationship is effectively over as I don't think either of us will ever be willing to touch the other one again...
without fear.
promulgated by SWS2.1 at 04:46.
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