Buried treasure!

Isn't buried treasure great? I don't mean just the kind at the bottom of the ocean. I mean A bottle of Naked you forgot was in the fridge. $20 bills you didn't know you had (yep, I found one last week. It bought me a new pair of flats, which I would be thrilled to show off if it would stop freaking snowing already). A theatrical morsel you wrote but never published.

You guessed it - I found one of those, too! Enjoy and comment. Your literary critiques are more valuable than forgotten Naked. Maybe even more so than free money... convince me ^_^

(MARCUS and JADE walk into a messy bathroom. JADE has an empty grocery bag in one hand and is dressed/groomed nicely. MARCUS is wearing sweats, hair uncombed.)

JADE: Wow… everything looks exactly the same. It’s like I never left.
MARCUS: Sorry it’s such a fucking mess. My dad lives like a–
JADE: Like a frat boy. I know. Don’t worry about it; I just want to grab my stuff.
(She opens the bottom drawer. MARCUS stands in the doorway and watches, shifting his weight uncomfortably.)
MARCUS: I’d really like to clean this place up.
(Beat; JADE moves pajamas from drawer to bag.)
MARCUS: Dad just gets so pissed when anybody touches anything, y’know?
(Beat; JADE grabs a handful of make-up and throws it in the shopping bag)
MARCUS: But, y’know, he goes to New Orleans in February, so maybe then I can…
JADE: Yeah. (She throws a tube of toothpaste in the bag and shuts the drawer, stands up)
MARCUS: So you’re doing OK? School and everything?
JADE: Well, you know. I like it about as much as I did last year…. (Beat; then, brightly:) But I have an internship now.
MARCUS: That’s great! What are you doing?
JADE: Channel four news.
MARCUS: That’s fucking great!
JADE: Yeah, it’s been fantastic so far. How about you? Written any good songs lately?
MARCUS: No, work’s been kicking my ass. That's what sucks about Christmas. The post office looks like a fucking bomb went off. Hey, you wanna… go grab dinner or something? Catch up?
JADE: Oh, umm… Tonight’s not–
MARCUS: C’mon, I’ll treat.
JADE: With what, your Monopoly credit card?
MARCUS: Hey! I have real money.
JADE: (Laughs) I know, I know. But you like to save it. Don't go throwing it away on my account.
MARCUS: I got paid today. Come on, where should we go? You always like that place, what is it, that place in Gloucester. I’ll take you there.
JADE: (Breaks eye contact, pushes past him to go downstairs) I have to go. My boyfriend’s waiting in the car.
MARCUS: (Looks surprised, but tries not to miss a beat; follows her to the door) Oh. Well, we should hang out soon.
JADE: (Opens front door, faces MARCUS. A black car is parked outside, still running, with said boyfriend in the driver’s seat) Yeah. Well, uh, thanks for my stuff and, uh, take care….
MARCUS: You too. I’ll call you.
JADE: Sounds good. (Leaves, closing door behind her; chuckles softly) Sure you will.

Damage Report: cones up, power out, pants down

I am at Starbucks. Yeah, I know. I never go to Starbucks. They are overrated, overpriced, and don't even make very good coffee in my opinion. And apparently EVERY parent on the north shore takes their kids here in the morning... huh?? But the Go-Co has no power today, and thus all networks are down. Even here I can't get my email. And my battery still has 63% to go before it's fully charged, which it has to be before I go back because there is no electricity at Go-Co. Well... I guess there's the new science building in a pinch.

I happened to be hyped up on coffee when shit (and trees) went down last night and thus was compelled to run around campus playing private eye. I'm not sure when the adrenaline replaced the caffeine. It seemed like a sweet deal last night, but both have worn off now and Miss Rex is ready for naptime. But before I pass out, here's the scoop:

“It was a dark and stormy night” doesn’t even begin to cover it. 40-50-mile-per-hour winds lashed rain against the windows; students sitting nearby kept wary eyes on the glass. Here in the Fishbowl, Taz and I closed the blinds for protection after watching the glass bow inwards like mere canvas. Then, around 11PM, a tree fell near the chapel, taking out some wires and cutting off electricity across campus.

“We’ll definitely be without power until at least the morning,” Go-Po Officer Cherry said at about 1:00 this morning. “National Grid hasn’t even responded because it looks like a bomb went off in the next town.” Other officials estimate that we could be without power until Friday afternoon. Authorities decided to cancel classes for Friday, February 25.

Because of the fallen tree, the main exit from campus was blocked off with cones and traffic was redirected through what, under normal circumstances, is an entrance only.

Newer residence halls, such as Chase and the buildings on the hill, were fully lit by generators, but the HUD dorms were completely dark. Students living in road halls were re-located.

“We want to make sure all the dorms have heat and fire alarms,” said Cherry.

In addition to the tree by the chapel, a second tree fell on the Emery side of Jenks, breaking a fourth floor window and gouging the bricks. Some of the trunk has been cleared, but the ground is still littered with debris and one branch settled on the roof. Another tree fell in front of Frost. Three more went down beside the road that goes past Drew Hall.

The wind ripped the front right door off the chapel, exposing live wires that officials have since shut off. But most mysteriously of all, a chunk of the public safety building now lies in the middle of the school’s main entrance. No trees fell in the vicinity. “It’s like the wind just ripped a chunk of stone off the building and hurled it into the street,” said one officer.

The blackout brought out the best and worst of students. Some halls used it as an excuse to bond: students in Ferrin had homework parties in the generator-lit hallways and played games in the first floor lobby. Others went puddle jumping and streaking. One account even said that students were looting the dining hall, although this has not been confirmed. Apparently Go-Co students can get away with anything in a crisis, and those of us who are smart realized this and took full advantage. I'm not one of the smart ones.

This guy I befriended during my sleuthing adventure summed it up as poetically as he was able at 2:30AM, after a night that most of Go-Co will find hard to forget: “The wind came through, the trees came down, the cones went up, and the pants went down.”

Now I am going back to sleep, since I got about four hours before rushing out to the only place I could think of with WiFi to break the story to the school paper. In retrospect my mad dash here was pointless because no one on campus has the Internet to read the story anyway and most of the damage is pretty self-evident. It was also poorly thought out because Panera would have been open by now and their wireless doesn't cost money...

Excavations of Claymore: The Fighting Scot (a reconsideration)

At Michael's request, I returned to give the Fighting Scot a second chance (because God gives second chances, and so should we!) At first sip I felt the same as before, but at some point during the cold, windy, rainy walk back to Ferrin, the little sucker sucked me in. I sucked it down in about 5 minutes, which is an all-time coffee-drinking record for me since I usually burn my tongue.

You can taste the butterscotch if it's made right. Or rather, the Irish Creme doesn't rape your taste buds if it's made right. I might even go so far as to say that the Fighting Scot is now one of my favorite drinks. As is the case with most Claymore drinks, you just need to go to the right barista.

On the down side, I will now be unable to sleep until at least 2AM, and I think I will be hard pressed to find anyone who wants to have a dance party at such an hour. Instead I will watch the second season of Pokemon on Hulu.

So the morals of the story are as follows: 1) Go to Michael for your Fighting Scot needs, 2) plan the dance party before you down the magic caffeine potion, and 3) Pokemon is awesome.

Peace, love, and Pikachu,
Miss Rex

P.S. I'll be trying the Long Islander next - "chai with a hint of tiramisu!" Om nom nom.

Excavations of Claymore: The Fighting Scot

Thanks for your words of affirmation and love votes! The Fighting Scot got the most this week. For those of you who had no idea what a Fighting Scot might be, let me begin by saying that the seductively snarling lion-thing known as a fighting scot (pictured below) is our mascot. I'll let you decide which is mightier, the drink or the athletes. Or the lion-thing.

Have you ever seen a Punnett Square? Scientists use them to predict the outcome of cross-breeding experiments. Since some genes are dominant and others recessive, some are more likely to be expressed while their counterparts are repressed. Henceforth we are going to discuss the Fighting Scot in scientific terms.

The gene in question is the flavor gene. Today we'll be cross-breeding Irish creme and butterscotch. Remember that each parent brings two genes to the table. Since we have here pure Irish creme, which expresses a dominant trait, and pure butterscotch, which displays a recessive one, we'll be crossing FF and ff. The Punnett Square might look like this:

As you can see, the dominant (Irish creme) gene is present in all possible combinations of the two, meaning it is always expressed, while the butterscotch is always repressed.

Conclusion: The Fighting Scot tastes like Irish creme 100% of the time and butterscotch 0% of the time.

I came into this with an open mind, I really did. I know I don't like Irish creme but I gave it a fair shot. "Butterscotch is pretty strong," I said. "It'll balance out." But it just didn't work for me. (Well... the foam was really good. =P) I know The Addict likes her coffee dark and earthy, so if that's your thing you'll probably get on well with tonight's science experiment.

Sorry, Fighting Scot. I hope there are no hard feelings between us. I'd hate for you to be bitter.

OH WAIT, you already are!


Cast your vote for the next Claymore drink of the week! I know a couple people said the Irish Dream sounded good, but I need a week off from the Irish creme, so let's pick a different one this time, 'k?

Almond Joy
Cherry Cordial
Prickly Cactus
English Challenge
Rasp-LIMErry Fizz (clearly NOT coffee)
The Long Islander
Irish Dream
The Perfect Cap
The Orange Real
Tarzan & Jane
Platelet's Perfection
Kyle Lincoln
The Shortstack Chai
Fiona's Wicked Minty Apple Cider

Sandy Claws

Wouldn't it be nice if there was a summertime equivalent of Santa Claus? You could send the jolly man in red (that's sunburn red) your wish list, and just like magic, you'd wake up one morning to find that everything was amazing! Maybe I'm just let down because the sky went and dumped a foot of snow on us yesterday when the grass was finally starting to show; now all I can think about is how much the suck-o-meter will go down once the temperature goes up.

Fabulous summer Santa, if you're out there somewhere, snowed in and bored with nothing to do until June, maybe you could get a head start on my wish list. Here are the top ten things I can't wait to do:

10. Buy new flats.
9. Rock the heart shaped sunglasses. (I'll admit I've already done this in spite of winter's dominating presence. You might call it a sun ritual... or denial.)
8. Drive with the windows down and the music loud. (All right, maybe I've cheated on this one a little, too. Spaz can testify.)
7. Go stargazing on the roof.
6. Get lost in the woods.
5. Eat ice creemz at Captain Dusty's.
4. Walk to classes barefoot.
3. Play ultimate frisbee on the quad... barefoot.
2. Take a nap in the sun.
1. Go skinny dipping in Gull Pond.

What's on your summer wish list?

Excavations of Claymore: Tall, Dark and Lovely

A lovely drink for a tall and tired writer on a cold, dark night such as this...

...and every bit as cool and classy as the name card.

Hazelnut just can't help it. She's a fair lady on a white horse. She wears pearls. She never kisses on the first date (not that there's anything wrong with that... ^_^). Hazelnut is the Midas of coffees: every drink she touches turns to pure, 100% edible gold.

Tonight I met Hazel's bestie, English toffee, and it seems I waited far too long to make her acquaintance. She's the subtle sweet that amaretto and caramel could never quite live up to; they, respectively, trampled and tickled my taste buds so that I could not enjoy them in any combination. But I must say I hold onto hope for caramel, and at least for tonight she was osmotically cool by virtue of the hazelnut and English toffee upon which she was drizzled. The poor girl just hasn't found Mr. Right yet.

But English toffee doesn't NEED Mr. Right. She's like, the Jane Eyre of artificial flavor syrups. She's the lovely that rounds out the tall and dark. (Now that I've so fully characterized each of these flavors, I'm thinking I should write a play about them for my class.)

Grace à English toffee, je donne cette boive 4 étoiles.

And now (I know, this is the part of class that everybody hates) it's time for audience participation!! It's your job, darling reader, to choose my next caffeinated adventure. Drinks I have yet to review in Claymore:

Almond Joy
Cherry Cordial
Prickly Cactus
English Challenge
Rasp-LIMErry Fizz (clearly NOT coffee)
The Long Islander
Irish Dream
The Perfect Cap
The Orange Real
Tarzan & Jane
Platelet's Perfection
A Fighting Scot
Kyle Lincoln
The Shortstack Chai
Fiona's Wicked Minty Apple Cider


Peace, love, and milk raspberry rosebuds (<-- that's what the box-o'-chocolates treasure map calls them),
Miss Rex

Out of the frying pan...

I seem to recall promising to post a scene some time ago. Now, the one I wanted to post finally got workshopped last Tuesday and I decided it sucked as a theatrical morsel; it needed to become a full-fledged ten-minute play to be any good. So I'm not going to post that here. But I will post another morsel that will hopefully spawn some giggles and end your Monday on a good note. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you "Out of the frying pan."

OLIVER (11) is sporting a fresh black eye. He stands at the kitchen sink, dutifully scrubbing dishes and passing them to CALEB (15), who clearly thinks he has better things to do than dry dishes.

(CALEB has two pots and a glass measuring cup laid out in front of him. He’s drumming on them with a wooden spoon and a whisk.)
OLIVER: You’re supposed to be drying those.
(CALEB pauses and looks at OLIVER, perturbed at him for interrupting his beat. OLIVER places two dripping wet mugs in front of CALEB, who incorporates them into the “drum kit” and resumes playing.)
OLIVER: I’ll tell Mom.
CALEB: Relax, Liver. I’ll dry the dishes.
OLIVER: (Shouting over the noise) And I’ll tell her you’re calling me Liver, too.
CALEB: (Stops drumming) Jesus, Oliver. That’s your problem, you know.
OLIVER: (Sticks his chin out and goes back to washing dishes. Pause.) You shouldn’t say “Jesus” like that.
CALEB: (Incredulous laugh) Who gave you that shiner?
OLIVER: Ronnie Kent.
CALEB: What for?
OLIVER: I dunno. I was just getting a drink of water.
CALEB: (Talking over him) I’ll tell you what for. It’s cause you’re a pussy.
OLIVER: (Turns off sink, puts the metal strainer in front of Caleb and gives his brother full attention) What’s a pussy?
CALEB: It means you’re too good. Teachers love you. Parents love you. The principal knows your name, and not cause he caught you smoking weed by the dumpster. Christ, I bet you can’t even drop an f-bomb. You make everybody else look bad, see?
(OLIVER drops his eyes and goes back to washing dishes – sullenly now, and embarrassed)
CALEB: And what’s worse, you let people walk all over you for it. I mean, Jesus, Liver, you’re a smart kid; do yourself a favor and learn to sucker punch someone, yeah?
(OLIVER is silent, so CALEB goes back to drumming.)
CALEB: (Loudly over his own noise) I’d tell you to play dumb but it’s too late for that. They all know better. You dug your own grave, kid.
OLIVER: Shut up, Caleb. You’re just as bad as they are.
CALEB: I’m just sayin’! Man up or high school’s gonna suck monkey–
(OLIVER turns around suddenly and hits CALEB in the head with the frying pan – not hard enough to knock him over, but hard enough to make a loud clang.)
CALEB: Jesus, Oliver!
OLIVER: Dry the dishes, douchebag.
(CALEB turns away from OLIVER and complies, grinning.)

Help me out - what did you learn about the characters from what they say and do? What do they want/what motivates them? This one hasn't been workshopped and probably never will be, so I need your input! Thanks, my loves ^_^

Oh, and while you're being awesome, check out my new article on boston.com! This one's about a bluesy duo, Dwight & Nicole. Talking to the two of them and their producer was so much fun, and they gave me so many great quotes I could hardly decide which ones to keep. This was definitely one of the most fun articles I've written!

Peace, love, and trippy Anime movies,
Miss Rex
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