Some people collect stamps, string, or stickers. Others collect mugs, DVDs, and anything made by Apple. I happen to have a rather extensive CD collection, but the collection I'd like to share today is (a small portion of) my quote collection. Yes, yes, how predictable that the writer collects words. What can I say? My "Quotes" word doc is like a scrapbook to me. I'm terrible at remembering to take pictures, so all I have to remember some of the best days in life are the absurd things people said while I happened to have a pen handy.
Caution: This post is rated PG-13. There's some ast*r*sk*d language and subject matter I wouldn't speak of in front of your small child/conservative Christian roommate. But as the following conversation with my supervisor would suggest, you can probably handle it, and who doesn't need a little hilarity to get their hump day off the ground?
That Narnia Girl: I think I could handle it.
Eramer: Handle what?
Me: Profanity.
Eramer: What the f*ck’re you talking about?
Me: Guess what.
JW: What?
Me: I love you.
Taz: Well that was an easy guessing game.
Me: i didnt say lineart was for neanderthals, just that it was a simple concept. if cutting your toenails is that difficult for you then you probably shouldn't be attempting lineart.
Guy outside the window: AOSIUFINEUIFHAEFJDSKFHDFIUGA!!!!
Me: (yelling out window) could you repeat that?
Guy: Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your long hair!
Me: OK! Just hold on a second!!
Jinx!! You owe me a blow job!!
Taz: I’ve been singing “I’ve been working on the railroad,” but I clearly have not.
Me: Is that a lobster… or a baby?
Mnomanoms: She wanted an adverbjective.
Taz: I’m notcho momma!
Me: I hate that sherbet doesn’t have an r in it
Jo-Yo: Yes it does
Me: No, look. S-H-E-R-B-E-T
Jo-Yo: It has an R.
Me: But it’s not SHERBERT.
Jo-Yo: But if it didn’t have an R it would be shebet
Me: Shibbit! It’s gibberish for sh*t!
JW: My eyes are peeing.
Rad: They sold it for, like, really expensive.
Plunging a toilet is like giving a hand job.
That Narnia Girl: Most Voltorbs are red.
Me: Yes, I know. I’m not an idiot. I watch Pokémon.
Kenya: So how was the movie?
Me: Um… good.
Kenya: Did you… watch the movie?
Me: .....no.
Kenya: Yeah, didn’t think so.
Me: If there was one good thing I ever got out of cosmo, it was no sexin’ with socks on.
Me: Ravin just asked me when Thanksgiving is.
Mnomanoms: It’s on Thursday. Like it ALWAYS is!
Me: You wouldn’t kill our child! Even if it was a tree!
Puddlesauce! – me and Mnomanoms
Taz: This is a sign that we MUST go to Canada!
JW: Surprisingly, chewing on my bones doesn’t feel good.
Me: You’re closer to the blind-cracker.
Taz: Take off your little Scottish hat, mon
Eramer: Rex, don’t leave me!
Me: What day am I not allowed to leave?
Eramer: Ever! Never leave me.
Me: OK. Don’t worry, I’ll never leave you. But you’re gonna have to hire me.
Peace, love, and peppermint steamers,
Miss Rex
Showing posts with label funny. Show all posts
Showing posts with label funny. Show all posts
Finals week post 2: Kicks and Giggles
Thank you, Gandalf, for those words of wisdom. However, before you all get back to studying, give your brain a break and have a laugh with me. The pictures below have, throughout the semester, given me cause to giggle, marvel, or simply shake my head in disbelief.
Check it out: I got a window sheet. Unfortunately this was truly all I had for privacy my first week or so back at school for the fall...
Somehow I don't think this is what your bros are thinking of when they talk about a stripper in a cake.
Just in case you need to make guacamole for an army:
Glad this wasn't my car some Tuesday/Thursday morning at 8AM as I was trying to leave for Skipping Stone...
Sugar cereal cemented with sugar glue: Just what the doctor ordered for Taz!!!
Of all the problems I could have, this one seems like a good one.
Peace, love and Bridezilla,
Miss Rex
A Letter to Voldemort
Dear Voldemort:
Normally I would write to someone nicer about this (perhaps Albus Dumbledore or Sirius Black), but, well, first of all, you've had them both killed, but second (and more importantly), I feel that you have a special kind of expertise in the particular matter that concerns me.
I am speaking of the matter of sinuses. Since you, my dark liege, lack the protection afforded by a traditional protruding nose, I thought perhaps you would know of a spell or potion to combat discomfort or infection of the deep nasal passages. It has been a recurrent problem since the days of my youth; so recurrent, in fact, that I can pinpoint the day it will befall me before I even show symptoms. Precisely 365 days ago Monday, I was hospitalized for an especially brutal case of sinusitis. This Monday, I was forced to retire early by a sharp sinus headache and heavy congestion. I am sorry for the graphic description, although I'm sure my liege has seen worse in his decades of malevolence.
I know that you are very busy being evil, but if you get a chance, I would really appreciate your help in this matter.
Love,
Miss Rex
Normally I would write to someone nicer about this (perhaps Albus Dumbledore or Sirius Black), but, well, first of all, you've had them both killed, but second (and more importantly), I feel that you have a special kind of expertise in the particular matter that concerns me.
I am speaking of the matter of sinuses. Since you, my dark liege, lack the protection afforded by a traditional protruding nose, I thought perhaps you would know of a spell or potion to combat discomfort or infection of the deep nasal passages. It has been a recurrent problem since the days of my youth; so recurrent, in fact, that I can pinpoint the day it will befall me before I even show symptoms. Precisely 365 days ago Monday, I was hospitalized for an especially brutal case of sinusitis. This Monday, I was forced to retire early by a sharp sinus headache and heavy congestion. I am sorry for the graphic description, although I'm sure my liege has seen worse in his decades of malevolence.
I know that you are very busy being evil, but if you get a chance, I would really appreciate your help in this matter.
Love,
Miss Rex
No Teabaggin'
This here's my Silversteinian request that tea bags be put in their proper place in the apartment. Yes, I have found them in all of the places named in the poem. Except the trash. In all fairness, they might appear there on occasion; I would not know, for I do not root through our trash. That's Garby's job. Garby is the imaginary dog Mnomanoms and I plan to adopt to be our garbage disposal, since at present there is no standard operating procedure for compostable materials....
You know, someone told me today that 80% of what people say is miscellaneous rambling. I would have to agree with this stat.
Peace, love, and Leviathan (more on that laters!),
Miss Rex
You know, someone told me today that 80% of what people say is miscellaneous rambling. I would have to agree with this stat.
Peace, love, and Leviathan (more on that laters!),
Miss Rex
Flashy flash flash
When I was 11, I got my first laptop. Yeah, I know: Spoiled. But I WAS in the middle of writing a novel; I suppose my parents justified it as their contribution to my child prodigism.
Not long after that, I got my first flash drive. This was back when flash drives were first invented and held, like, 256 megabytes of info (read: not a lot). It was always a hassle plugging it into the USB ports in school computers because the ports were set back farther than my drive would plug in.
But you know what? I'm still carrying that thing around, something like eight years later. I've had other flash drives along the way, but they always seem to disappear. Maybe I've kept track of this one because it's so big and ugly and useless.
Suffice to say, it is time to buy a new flash drive. One that holds more data. One that looks... cool.
For the days I'm feeling classy:
For the days I'm feeling kawaii:
For the days I'm feeling vintage:
For the days I'm feeling witty:
For the days I'm feeling rude:
For the days I'm feeling geeky:
For the days I'm feeling badass:
In my endless quest for epic, it seems pretty clear to me that I should go for the one that can simultaneously house my fantasy novel AND light things on fire.
Not to mention, I won't be able to afford a SWAROVSKI flash drive until AFTER said novel makes me sickeningly rich and famous. (Dreaming big is good, right?)
Peace, love and gigabytes,
Miss Rex
Not long after that, I got my first flash drive. This was back when flash drives were first invented and held, like, 256 megabytes of info (read: not a lot). It was always a hassle plugging it into the USB ports in school computers because the ports were set back farther than my drive would plug in.
But you know what? I'm still carrying that thing around, something like eight years later. I've had other flash drives along the way, but they always seem to disappear. Maybe I've kept track of this one because it's so big and ugly and useless.
Suffice to say, it is time to buy a new flash drive. One that holds more data. One that looks... cool.
For the days I'm feeling classy:
For the days I'm feeling kawaii:
For the days I'm feeling vintage:
For the days I'm feeling witty:
For the days I'm feeling rude:
For the days I'm feeling geeky:
For the days I'm feeling badass:
In my endless quest for epic, it seems pretty clear to me that I should go for the one that can simultaneously house my fantasy novel AND light things on fire.
Not to mention, I won't be able to afford a SWAROVSKI flash drive until AFTER said novel makes me sickeningly rich and famous. (Dreaming big is good, right?)
Peace, love and gigabytes,
Miss Rex
Now I know what Mom went through
If you ever want to know what your mother went through when you were a teenager, try losing your roommate.
As crazy as she is, Taz is a creature of habit. She goes to bed early, gets up early. She hangs out with boys but won't let them touch her. She's random, but not reckless. JW, Jo Yo and I invited her to come see Adam Ezra Group with us tonight, but she declined on the grounds that her sleeping pattern had had a rough week and she wanted to get to bed early.
She made plans to watch an Adam Sandler movie with Abs, one of JW's apartment mates who she might be crushing on a little bit. Last I saw her she was vacuuming our living room in anticipation of his arrival, which was not at all extravagant for her - she goes all out for her boys. She will make a wonderful girlfriend when she finds the right dude.
Fast forward.
Went to the show. Paid three times more than we should've for parking because there was an event at the Agganis Arena next door. Lost tickets, found Rob (bassist), got new tickets for free. Got deafened and danced upon. Didn't stick around for drinks because the show went so long that last call was already over by the time we got out. Came home at 2:10AM to an empty room.
I was just going to go to sleep when it struck me how very odd it was that Taz was still out. It would have been less odd if she hadn't specifically said she wanted to go to bed early... but it still would have worried me. So I did what my mother always taught me I should do at at time like this.
I panicked.
Cue frantic phone calls, texts to JW asking if Abs was in the apartment (his light was off and JW was worried he'd wake up the roomie, so we never did find out), midnight wake-up call for Mnomanoms, and (half an hour later) a last-ditch effort sprint to the dining hall. I expected Lane to be closed at such an hour, but it was the last place Taz had told anyone she would be and the last place I could get into without a key to search for her.
It was open. This was the first time I've ever looked at our dining hall as a beacon of hope, and will most likely be the last. Sure enough I found Taz and Abs sitting on a couch downstairs, just talking. Taz was quick to point out that my fly was down. I was quick to point out that I'd been halfway into my PJs before the notion struck me that she was probably floating face down in Coy Pond and I had better go find her.
So, Mom, this post is for you. For the random times I didn't make it home when I said I would, or somehow failed to communicate what time I would actually be home, and for all the times I was over friends' houses with no cell phone reception (which was usually, because everyone I know lives in dead zones)... I'm sorry.
Peace, love, and undead roomies,
Miss Rex
As crazy as she is, Taz is a creature of habit. She goes to bed early, gets up early. She hangs out with boys but won't let them touch her. She's random, but not reckless. JW, Jo Yo and I invited her to come see Adam Ezra Group with us tonight, but she declined on the grounds that her sleeping pattern had had a rough week and she wanted to get to bed early.
She made plans to watch an Adam Sandler movie with Abs, one of JW's apartment mates who she might be crushing on a little bit. Last I saw her she was vacuuming our living room in anticipation of his arrival, which was not at all extravagant for her - she goes all out for her boys. She will make a wonderful girlfriend when she finds the right dude.
Fast forward.
Went to the show. Paid three times more than we should've for parking because there was an event at the Agganis Arena next door. Lost tickets, found Rob (bassist), got new tickets for free. Got deafened and danced upon. Didn't stick around for drinks because the show went so long that last call was already over by the time we got out. Came home at 2:10AM to an empty room.
I was just going to go to sleep when it struck me how very odd it was that Taz was still out. It would have been less odd if she hadn't specifically said she wanted to go to bed early... but it still would have worried me. So I did what my mother always taught me I should do at at time like this.
I panicked.
Cue frantic phone calls, texts to JW asking if Abs was in the apartment (his light was off and JW was worried he'd wake up the roomie, so we never did find out), midnight wake-up call for Mnomanoms, and (half an hour later) a last-ditch effort sprint to the dining hall. I expected Lane to be closed at such an hour, but it was the last place Taz had told anyone she would be and the last place I could get into without a key to search for her.
It was open. This was the first time I've ever looked at our dining hall as a beacon of hope, and will most likely be the last. Sure enough I found Taz and Abs sitting on a couch downstairs, just talking. Taz was quick to point out that my fly was down. I was quick to point out that I'd been halfway into my PJs before the notion struck me that she was probably floating face down in Coy Pond and I had better go find her.
So, Mom, this post is for you. For the random times I didn't make it home when I said I would, or somehow failed to communicate what time I would actually be home, and for all the times I was over friends' houses with no cell phone reception (which was usually, because everyone I know lives in dead zones)... I'm sorry.
Peace, love, and undead roomies,
Miss Rex
Chapstick, Chapped Lips, and Things Like Chemistry
On my way back from chapel this morning, I caught JW on his way to class and said hi. Like any good girlfriend I gave him a hug and a kiss and said I'd see him later.
Not two minutes went by and I got a text saying, "Put on chapstick. I just took half a stick from you :)"
I smiled; JW always notices and pokes fun at me when I'm wearing Chapstick. Secretly, I sometimes use the mentholated kind on purpose because he's so cute when he can't figure out why his lips are tingling. But it made me wonder - what is it with me and Chapstick? I've had this crazy obsession with it for as long as I can remember. I keep three sticks of it in my purse at all times.
And I'm not even as bad as I used to be. I used to refuse to go to sleep without putting some on because (in the words of the monstrously over-quoted Napoleon Dynamite) "my lips hurt real bad."
Which has led to some interesting developments. Ravin and TPO will remember the first time Ex slept at my house, which was before we were together - in fact, it was the first time we'd even really hung out. The four of us were going to stay up all night but Ex and I got tired and decided to go to sleep. My lips were dry, so I put on lip balm, and BAM! Make-out sesh.
I really did want to sleep that night, too.
I think that was when I learned that you shouldn't put nice-tasting things on your lips if you don't want someone else trying to taste it, no matter how bad your lips hurt. Dammit, Ex. This is why we can't have nice things.
Even before that, at the beginning of college, I did a twelve-day orientation/survival stint in the woods sans soap, shampoo, and deodorant. I brought mentholated lip balm and all week long I just kept saying that it was the only luxury I had in the world. I would put it on and smack my lips and go "mmmm...."
I've thought about it all day, and I've come to the conclusion that Relient K is to blame for everything. Their 2003 album "Two Lefts Don't Make a Right (but Three Do)" was the first album I remember falling in love with. And track number one was all about - you guessed it - Chapstick.
They're also to blame for my subsequent obsessions with mood rings (track two), the 80's (track five), speaking in gibberish (track 13), Canadians (their lead singer hails from the great white north), and boys in plaid (said lead singer also wears plaid 95% of the time).
It's good to know that the things you love as a teen will affect you for the rest of your life.
Peace, love, and good-night sleep-tight don't-let-the-bedbugs-bite,
Miss Rex
Not two minutes went by and I got a text saying, "Put on chapstick. I just took half a stick from you :)"
I smiled; JW always notices and pokes fun at me when I'm wearing Chapstick. Secretly, I sometimes use the mentholated kind on purpose because he's so cute when he can't figure out why his lips are tingling. But it made me wonder - what is it with me and Chapstick? I've had this crazy obsession with it for as long as I can remember. I keep three sticks of it in my purse at all times.
And I'm not even as bad as I used to be. I used to refuse to go to sleep without putting some on because (in the words of the monstrously over-quoted Napoleon Dynamite) "my lips hurt real bad."
Which has led to some interesting developments. Ravin and TPO will remember the first time Ex slept at my house, which was before we were together - in fact, it was the first time we'd even really hung out. The four of us were going to stay up all night but Ex and I got tired and decided to go to sleep. My lips were dry, so I put on lip balm, and BAM! Make-out sesh.
I really did want to sleep that night, too.
I think that was when I learned that you shouldn't put nice-tasting things on your lips if you don't want someone else trying to taste it, no matter how bad your lips hurt. Dammit, Ex. This is why we can't have nice things.
Even before that, at the beginning of college, I did a twelve-day orientation/survival stint in the woods sans soap, shampoo, and deodorant. I brought mentholated lip balm and all week long I just kept saying that it was the only luxury I had in the world. I would put it on and smack my lips and go "mmmm...."
I've thought about it all day, and I've come to the conclusion that Relient K is to blame for everything. Their 2003 album "Two Lefts Don't Make a Right (but Three Do)" was the first album I remember falling in love with. And track number one was all about - you guessed it - Chapstick.
They're also to blame for my subsequent obsessions with mood rings (track two), the 80's (track five), speaking in gibberish (track 13), Canadians (their lead singer hails from the great white north), and boys in plaid (said lead singer also wears plaid 95% of the time).
It's good to know that the things you love as a teen will affect you for the rest of your life.
Peace, love, and good-night sleep-tight don't-let-the-bedbugs-bite,
Miss Rex
Reasons to love Facebook
1. Advertisements.
I try to ignore advertisements on most websites, but every so often I stumble across a Facebook ad that is pure gold.
I'm not sure what I posted that made them think I needed help being a parent, but I can assure you that baby Rex will not be coming along for a while yet.
I understand WHY I got this ad. I just don't understand who thought they could attract writers with that kind of grammar and unprofessional formatting.
2. Translation.
Ever since I got back from Italy, my Facebook has been in Italian. For a while it was because I wanted to learn the language. Now it's just because I'm too lazy to switch it back. Plus, I enjoy seeing other people's confusion when I check my Facebook on their computers and leave the log-in page in another language.
Translation fail.
3. Glitches.
Virtual anarchy: If the system messes with us, we'll mess with the system!
4. Every so often, someone amazing posts something life-changing, like this picture Ravin took of a real-life Caterpie:
Compare to:
POKÉMON DO EXIST!!!
Peace, love, and sleeping until lunchtime,
Miss Rex
I try to ignore advertisements on most websites, but every so often I stumble across a Facebook ad that is pure gold.
I'm not sure what I posted that made them think I needed help being a parent, but I can assure you that baby Rex will not be coming along for a while yet.
I understand WHY I got this ad. I just don't understand who thought they could attract writers with that kind of grammar and unprofessional formatting.
2. Translation.
Ever since I got back from Italy, my Facebook has been in Italian. For a while it was because I wanted to learn the language. Now it's just because I'm too lazy to switch it back. Plus, I enjoy seeing other people's confusion when I check my Facebook on their computers and leave the log-in page in another language.
Translation fail.
3. Glitches.
Virtual anarchy: If the system messes with us, we'll mess with the system!
4. Every so often, someone amazing posts something life-changing, like this picture Ravin took of a real-life Caterpie:
Compare to:
POKÉMON DO EXIST!!!
Peace, love, and sleeping until lunchtime,
Miss Rex
It was nice, knowing everything there was to know.
Senior year of high school, my present writing voice began to emerge.
I finally accepted who I was and where I stood in the social structure - completely.
I had a lot to say about the topic I knew least about: love.
I became a passionate person. I was passionately Christian, passionately angry at a lot of people for a lot of reasons, passionately counter-culture, and even passionately confused.
So I guess not a lot has changed. I'm just passionate about different issues, or the same issues but from different angles.
Words from my seventeen-year-old self:
ON FRIENDS:
Ravin said i had big feet, so Ash decided to try on my shoes, so i stole his, and then i drove him home, and when i pulled into my garage, i looked down and realized..... that i was STILL WEARING his shoes. i mean, they felt EXACTLY LIKE my shoes but on a slightly larger scale. which makes sense, because i HAVE the exact same shoes on a slightly smaller scale.
i know that there are some of you who... attempted to make me "tall and stout" one year because you didnt think i could look fat, but you know what, i have just one word for you..... snowgear.
Kim gave me pocky and koalas. i love kim.
saturday night after the semi, we went to shaws with Ravin and Lonewlf to get juicy juice, and Lonewlf comes running up to us with a huge package of pads and goes, "LOOK! TAMPONS!" and we had to explain that those weren't tampons.
i escaped to the kitchen to call Ash and ask him about his koto, which was in my house for half a week and i never told him about.
i told [Erny] i was ryan ross, who is really a member of panic! at the disco... little did she know that Wanda and i invented ryan ross the sophomore and were really referring to her sister the whole time.
Lonewlf decided to wear his "hot pants" and nothing else. Lonewlf's hot pants are a pair of girl jeans cut so short that you can see the ends of his boxers poking out at the bottom... [then he] pretended my emergency blanket was a cape. now i have to wash it because it has been on his mostly naked body.
ON PARENTS:
EVERYBODY says that about their parents, and I usually think theyre just exaggerating, but Im telling you, the guy is a total kangaroo.
on friday night, my mom and i frolicked in the church parking lot.
ON RELATIONSHIPS:
It all began with "…two North Dakota… three North Dakota…" in the darkroom.
i dont know. one minute we were talking about werewolves, and the next, he invited me to the prom.
I hate the way dudes just throw "I love you" around like beer in a mosh pit... If youve been dating somebody for a month, two months, in cara's case five days, or even a year or two, YOU DO NOT LOVE THEM. Okay? You dont. [Author's note: JW has proven me wrong on this point. Nuff said.]
Ash tried to be the psychologist and told me that i'm just jealous because i think i'm going to be lonely forever.
there are a heck of a lot of things i could do that i would regret more than not doing them, if that made any sense at all. but of course it didnt, because nothing makes sense anymore, and it feels like nothing will ever make sense again.
it's like happy rainbows are coming out my ears or something.
ON ART:
i'm sure there's an actual word for fear of hot glue guns. i mean there is a word for "fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of one's mouth." there's got to be one for glue guns.
[there was a photo] of a kid with a skateboard gazing contemplatively at artwork hanging on a wall. the picture he's looking at is of a hawk, and i insisted it was a reference to tony hawk and how the kid wanted to be just like him. my grandma didnt get it, but i dont think she knows the first thing about tony hawk anyway.
bar chords kill my wrist, which i think is related to the fact that my thumb is not really opposable. i hate my thumbs so much. i swear, one of these days i'm just going to shut it in a car door or something and hope that when it heals from being broken, it will be weirdly bent into a much less awkward position than.... whatever weird shape it is now.
please pardon my logorrhea.
i tend to have epic dreams when i sleep on my stomach... last night/this morning, i got the second half of a dream that inspired me to write a story, which i stopped writing because i didnt know where to go with it, but now i have a better sense of direction, so maybe i can get working on that. [Author's note: This dream, from an entry dated 2006, was the foundation for Before the Empty Moon. Yep, STILL working on that.]
ON SOCIAL GATHERINGS:
they have a mario kart tourney..... funniest thing since sliced bread.......
good goobers, maybe it's happened to me! -what they always say about kids getting addicted to the internet!! and myspace!!!
On our way to the club, this guy in girl pants pointed at my relient k shirt and got all excited and yelled "you're going to the relient k concert! Yay!" or something, and I just sort of watched his little outburst with internalized amusement and continued eating my ice cream like "hello, can't you see i'm busy here?"
i told the bride "happy wedding" (DDR reference, b/c i'm a dork), and when the pastor started speaking, all i could think of was the guy in the princess bride.
ON BABYSITTING:
i really have corrupted the girl i babysat for on saturday. i taught her the meaning of emo, and now she gives me weekly reports on how many emo kids she's counted.
the boy would not go to bed, and finally i said, "all right. i'll read to you some more. let me go find a book." and went and got my systematic theology book, thinking, "this will put him RIGHT to sleep." not so. that rebel child had me read ten pages of impossible-to-pronounce names and titles before he finally conked out.
trust me to deal with flying shards of flaming glass with "LET'S EAT ICE CREAM!"
ON HIGH SCHOOL IN GENERAL:
i'm so used to being on the fringes of the social structure that i can tell everyone i dont care if they reject me, but of course i do. nobody wants to be rejected.
Wanda and I sat on the floor during lunch again.
i used to come home in tears because i couldnt understand why nobody understood me. my word, i was emo all the way back in second grade. i should have known it was hopeless.
I was ignored, as usual. I should just not bother talking, ever.
Let's face it. Just like everything else about school this year, spirit week and homecoming are going to suck. But you know what? I'M GOING TO BE A PIRATE ANYWAY. AND I'M GOING TO WEAR MY 80S SHIRT ON 70S DAY. AND I'M ADDING A NEW SUPERLATIVE CATEGORY FOR MYSELF: Most Likely to Instigate Revolution. Take that, CHS.
today was so long that i looked down at my shirt this afternoon and thought, "mandii, you scrub, you wore the same shirt two days in a row," and then realized that it was still the same day.
never be too "cool" to be a fool or too "old" to be bold. those are lame excuses for thinking small.
i am sick and tired of putting up with the other editors in my independent study, one of whom does not even have authority of any sort over me except in her imagination where she dominates the world because she thinks she is that smart and talented and special.
BRENDON URIE came over and inspected the hot water pots, to no avail, obviously, since they were empty. And then I realized that he had a big Styrofoam cup of ramen in his hand, just like me, and I had to stifle a laugh. Poor kid. He's fueled by ramen, but apparently not today.
eating is so strange. i mean, think about it. theres something in front of you, and then you put it into this big hole in your face and mash it all up, and suddenly it isnt there anymore.
your self-help forum says, "go play in traffic." thank you, and have an EMO DAY.
yesterday was "Senior skip day." needless to say, i went to school and skipped through the halls with my friends and sang, "senior skip day! senior skip day!" everywhere i went.
Peace, love, and reliving the not-so-golden years,
Miss Rex
I finally accepted who I was and where I stood in the social structure - completely.
I had a lot to say about the topic I knew least about: love.
I became a passionate person. I was passionately Christian, passionately angry at a lot of people for a lot of reasons, passionately counter-culture, and even passionately confused.
So I guess not a lot has changed. I'm just passionate about different issues, or the same issues but from different angles.
Words from my seventeen-year-old self:
ON FRIENDS:
Ravin said i had big feet, so Ash decided to try on my shoes, so i stole his, and then i drove him home, and when i pulled into my garage, i looked down and realized..... that i was STILL WEARING his shoes. i mean, they felt EXACTLY LIKE my shoes but on a slightly larger scale. which makes sense, because i HAVE the exact same shoes on a slightly smaller scale.
i know that there are some of you who... attempted to make me "tall and stout" one year because you didnt think i could look fat, but you know what, i have just one word for you..... snowgear.
Kim gave me pocky and koalas. i love kim.
saturday night after the semi, we went to shaws with Ravin and Lonewlf to get juicy juice, and Lonewlf comes running up to us with a huge package of pads and goes, "LOOK! TAMPONS!" and we had to explain that those weren't tampons.
i escaped to the kitchen to call Ash and ask him about his koto, which was in my house for half a week and i never told him about.
i told [Erny] i was ryan ross, who is really a member of panic! at the disco... little did she know that Wanda and i invented ryan ross the sophomore and were really referring to her sister the whole time.
Lonewlf decided to wear his "hot pants" and nothing else. Lonewlf's hot pants are a pair of girl jeans cut so short that you can see the ends of his boxers poking out at the bottom... [then he] pretended my emergency blanket was a cape. now i have to wash it because it has been on his mostly naked body.
ON PARENTS:
EVERYBODY says that about their parents, and I usually think theyre just exaggerating, but Im telling you, the guy is a total kangaroo.
on friday night, my mom and i frolicked in the church parking lot.
ON RELATIONSHIPS:
It all began with "…two North Dakota… three North Dakota…" in the darkroom.
i dont know. one minute we were talking about werewolves, and the next, he invited me to the prom.
I hate the way dudes just throw "I love you" around like beer in a mosh pit... If youve been dating somebody for a month, two months, in cara's case five days, or even a year or two, YOU DO NOT LOVE THEM. Okay? You dont. [Author's note: JW has proven me wrong on this point. Nuff said.]
Ash tried to be the psychologist and told me that i'm just jealous because i think i'm going to be lonely forever.
there are a heck of a lot of things i could do that i would regret more than not doing them, if that made any sense at all. but of course it didnt, because nothing makes sense anymore, and it feels like nothing will ever make sense again.
it's like happy rainbows are coming out my ears or something.
ON ART:
i'm sure there's an actual word for fear of hot glue guns. i mean there is a word for "fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of one's mouth." there's got to be one for glue guns.
[there was a photo] of a kid with a skateboard gazing contemplatively at artwork hanging on a wall. the picture he's looking at is of a hawk, and i insisted it was a reference to tony hawk and how the kid wanted to be just like him. my grandma didnt get it, but i dont think she knows the first thing about tony hawk anyway.
bar chords kill my wrist, which i think is related to the fact that my thumb is not really opposable. i hate my thumbs so much. i swear, one of these days i'm just going to shut it in a car door or something and hope that when it heals from being broken, it will be weirdly bent into a much less awkward position than.... whatever weird shape it is now.
please pardon my logorrhea.
i tend to have epic dreams when i sleep on my stomach... last night/this morning, i got the second half of a dream that inspired me to write a story, which i stopped writing because i didnt know where to go with it, but now i have a better sense of direction, so maybe i can get working on that. [Author's note: This dream, from an entry dated 2006, was the foundation for Before the Empty Moon. Yep, STILL working on that.]
ON SOCIAL GATHERINGS:
they have a mario kart tourney..... funniest thing since sliced bread.......
good goobers, maybe it's happened to me! -what they always say about kids getting addicted to the internet!! and myspace!!!
On our way to the club, this guy in girl pants pointed at my relient k shirt and got all excited and yelled "you're going to the relient k concert! Yay!" or something, and I just sort of watched his little outburst with internalized amusement and continued eating my ice cream like "hello, can't you see i'm busy here?"
i told the bride "happy wedding" (DDR reference, b/c i'm a dork), and when the pastor started speaking, all i could think of was the guy in the princess bride.
ON BABYSITTING:
i really have corrupted the girl i babysat for on saturday. i taught her the meaning of emo, and now she gives me weekly reports on how many emo kids she's counted.
the boy would not go to bed, and finally i said, "all right. i'll read to you some more. let me go find a book." and went and got my systematic theology book, thinking, "this will put him RIGHT to sleep." not so. that rebel child had me read ten pages of impossible-to-pronounce names and titles before he finally conked out.
trust me to deal with flying shards of flaming glass with "LET'S EAT ICE CREAM!"
ON HIGH SCHOOL IN GENERAL:
i'm so used to being on the fringes of the social structure that i can tell everyone i dont care if they reject me, but of course i do. nobody wants to be rejected.
Wanda and I sat on the floor during lunch again.
i used to come home in tears because i couldnt understand why nobody understood me. my word, i was emo all the way back in second grade. i should have known it was hopeless.
I was ignored, as usual. I should just not bother talking, ever.
Let's face it. Just like everything else about school this year, spirit week and homecoming are going to suck. But you know what? I'M GOING TO BE A PIRATE ANYWAY. AND I'M GOING TO WEAR MY 80S SHIRT ON 70S DAY. AND I'M ADDING A NEW SUPERLATIVE CATEGORY FOR MYSELF: Most Likely to Instigate Revolution. Take that, CHS.
today was so long that i looked down at my shirt this afternoon and thought, "mandii, you scrub, you wore the same shirt two days in a row," and then realized that it was still the same day.
never be too "cool" to be a fool or too "old" to be bold. those are lame excuses for thinking small.
i am sick and tired of putting up with the other editors in my independent study, one of whom does not even have authority of any sort over me except in her imagination where she dominates the world because she thinks she is that smart and talented and special.
BRENDON URIE came over and inspected the hot water pots, to no avail, obviously, since they were empty. And then I realized that he had a big Styrofoam cup of ramen in his hand, just like me, and I had to stifle a laugh. Poor kid. He's fueled by ramen, but apparently not today.
eating is so strange. i mean, think about it. theres something in front of you, and then you put it into this big hole in your face and mash it all up, and suddenly it isnt there anymore.
your self-help forum says, "go play in traffic." thank you, and have an EMO DAY.
yesterday was "Senior skip day." needless to say, i went to school and skipped through the halls with my friends and sang, "senior skip day! senior skip day!" everywhere i went.
Peace, love, and reliving the not-so-golden years,
Miss Rex
While the rest of the world worries about acid rain...
One of the best and worst things about living in an apartment is cooking for yourself. On the one hand, there was rarely anything in the dining hall that was both vegetarian and appetizing, but on the other hand... well, let's just say my cooking skills are... rudimentary.
I've been using a lot of Parmesan cheese. It's great for the obvious (pasta), but also on summer squash or with garlic and crushed red peppers in olive oil as a dip for bread.
JW and Cripple were over at dinnertime the other evening and I offered to make pasta. Everything went fine until someone reminded me we needed cheese. I noticed the granules had clumped together to form a huge ball of Parmesan and started to shake the container.
Next thing I knew it was raining cheese.
I guess the lid wasn't shut very tightly. The worst part is that it was probably me who failed to shut it in the first place, since I use sprinkle cheese way more than anyone else around here. D'oh.
Peace, love and Parmesan rain,
Miss Rex
I've been using a lot of Parmesan cheese. It's great for the obvious (pasta), but also on summer squash or with garlic and crushed red peppers in olive oil as a dip for bread.
JW and Cripple were over at dinnertime the other evening and I offered to make pasta. Everything went fine until someone reminded me we needed cheese. I noticed the granules had clumped together to form a huge ball of Parmesan and started to shake the container.
Next thing I knew it was raining cheese.
I guess the lid wasn't shut very tightly. The worst part is that it was probably me who failed to shut it in the first place, since I use sprinkle cheese way more than anyone else around here. D'oh.
Peace, love and Parmesan rain,
Miss Rex
Sophomore Slump --> Comeback of the Year
I just found out that the website that hosted my OLDEST oldest blog, I mean the one I had even pre-MySpace, is now a website for porn. Which is really sad because I want to see the kinds of things I was writing in middle school and freshman year, although I'm pretty sure it was just more of the same hyperactive drivel and nothing of actual importance.
But to continue with my perusal of my past, we are on to junior year of high school, at which point some kind soul taught me to use the Enter key or MySpace improved their formatting to encompass spaces between paragraphs.
Things of note in junior year:
1. Obsession with bands, especially Relient K, continued.
2. While maintaining a facade of hyperactivity, I managed to get pretty down on myself, which isn't reflected in the quotes I'm posting here, or even really in the old blog. But I caught whiffs of it: brief references to being down or depressed or emo or wondering what's wrong with myself. I only ever quoted really depressing lyrics. And those whiffs reminded me of some of the circumstances and emotions that brought them about, and suffice to say that I just wasn't a very happy person as a junior. I remember Erny later telling me that she was worried about me that year. But I was happy when I was playing guitar.
3. I craved attention. A bunch of my posts mentioned some guys in my gym class/creative writing class who called me "Girl" because they couldn't be bothered to find out my real name, and even that was something I thrived on. I started to feel inadequate over the fact that no guys ever seemed to be romantically interested in me, either at school or at church.
4. I thought EVERYTHING was SCANDALOUS. Oh how things have changed. Penis.
----------------------
so this really cool guy at my youth group, yeah he's really rad and stuff and stuff and yeah, and i might be going to see switchfoot with him! switchfoot, who i love as much as i love relient k! with him! switchfoot! with him!
wow. that was an exceptionally long rant about virtually nothing. i hope you didnt actually read it. but if you made it this far.... thank you for caring, now go and get a life.
homework bites. erm, not literally, although that would be an excellent excuse for not doing it: "i couldnt do my research paper because it was vicious and kept biting my face!!!"
i definitely just almost washed my face with toothpaste..... nice.
i thought the holiday season was supposed to be cheerful but instead it just makes me want to curl up in a ball until its all over.
why am i so emo?
i called my neighbors to see if they had a witches hat i could wear for my macbeth presentation tomorrow, and my sister was over there when i called since she and the girl who live there are friends. well, i guess her mom told them all why i called, and the other little girl who lives there who's in like 1st or 2nd grade asked "why does she want that? is she going around kissing boys?"
i'm going to come down with a fever and have to miss school altogether, and then i will miraculously recover at 2:36 and start running around because i'll be on vacation.
well, i'm an oxymoron.
later that day i scored a point and so they finally decided to find out what my name was. which they found out by saying "hey, Girl, do you have a name?"
this way when i meet thiessen i can be like "sooo... i'm making a documentary of the night.... and now youre in it. any words of wisdom?" as opposed to, you know, just.......... drooling.
i hope i dont combust before the show. although it would be pretty awesome if i ran across the stage while on fire. well.... no, burning in a good way.
guess who was sitting in my creative writing class when i showed up.... pretty much the entire senior male population of my gym class. this one kid was like "hey!! it's girl! hi girl!" and i was like "hi, boy."
hahahahaha oh boy stalkers are great.
at least we have myspace to hold the world together when everything else falls apart, right?
Id almost been martyred in a relient k mosh pit.
Then me and Wanda had the bright idea of borrowing a swivel chair from one of the computer stations in the library, and we rolled each other down the hall in it at full speed. Wanda said she feels like a real rock band.
for the first time in my life, I HAVE a life
I pretended I couldnt hear until pat was like you should bring Girl to the prom, and john was like yeaaaah! and turned around and looked at me, and I was like nnnoooooo
I get to go places with COOL PEOPLE tomorrow. mostly one cool person actually. we wont elaborate further than that but if you know me well enough you probably guessed there was somehow a guy involved. pink monkeys.
the family isnt supposed to know I let Wanda drive me around to the music store and the mall and all that jazz. And Im not supposed to associate with ppl who have unnaturally colored hair.
whatever guys me and Ravin wind up with are going to have to live in our orb with us.
erny stopped swearing so much around me because i used to punch her every time she did.
purple. you know what i mean.
OOH I MADE AN UNDERWEAR REFERENCE!!!
i reproduce by budding, like cells.
---------------------
Peace, love and boobs,
Miss Rex
But to continue with my perusal of my past, we are on to junior year of high school, at which point some kind soul taught me to use the Enter key or MySpace improved their formatting to encompass spaces between paragraphs.
Things of note in junior year:
1. Obsession with bands, especially Relient K, continued.
2. While maintaining a facade of hyperactivity, I managed to get pretty down on myself, which isn't reflected in the quotes I'm posting here, or even really in the old blog. But I caught whiffs of it: brief references to being down or depressed or emo or wondering what's wrong with myself. I only ever quoted really depressing lyrics. And those whiffs reminded me of some of the circumstances and emotions that brought them about, and suffice to say that I just wasn't a very happy person as a junior. I remember Erny later telling me that she was worried about me that year. But I was happy when I was playing guitar.
3. I craved attention. A bunch of my posts mentioned some guys in my gym class/creative writing class who called me "Girl" because they couldn't be bothered to find out my real name, and even that was something I thrived on. I started to feel inadequate over the fact that no guys ever seemed to be romantically interested in me, either at school or at church.
4. I thought EVERYTHING was SCANDALOUS. Oh how things have changed. Penis.
----------------------
so this really cool guy at my youth group, yeah he's really rad and stuff and stuff and yeah, and i might be going to see switchfoot with him! switchfoot, who i love as much as i love relient k! with him! switchfoot! with him!
wow. that was an exceptionally long rant about virtually nothing. i hope you didnt actually read it. but if you made it this far.... thank you for caring, now go and get a life.
homework bites. erm, not literally, although that would be an excellent excuse for not doing it: "i couldnt do my research paper because it was vicious and kept biting my face!!!"
i definitely just almost washed my face with toothpaste..... nice.
i thought the holiday season was supposed to be cheerful but instead it just makes me want to curl up in a ball until its all over.
why am i so emo?
i called my neighbors to see if they had a witches hat i could wear for my macbeth presentation tomorrow, and my sister was over there when i called since she and the girl who live there are friends. well, i guess her mom told them all why i called, and the other little girl who lives there who's in like 1st or 2nd grade asked "why does she want that? is she going around kissing boys?"
i'm going to come down with a fever and have to miss school altogether, and then i will miraculously recover at 2:36 and start running around because i'll be on vacation.
well, i'm an oxymoron.
later that day i scored a point and so they finally decided to find out what my name was. which they found out by saying "hey, Girl, do you have a name?"
this way when i meet thiessen i can be like "sooo... i'm making a documentary of the night.... and now youre in it. any words of wisdom?" as opposed to, you know, just.......... drooling.
i hope i dont combust before the show. although it would be pretty awesome if i ran across the stage while on fire. well.... no, burning in a good way.
guess who was sitting in my creative writing class when i showed up.... pretty much the entire senior male population of my gym class. this one kid was like "hey!! it's girl! hi girl!" and i was like "hi, boy."
hahahahaha oh boy stalkers are great.
at least we have myspace to hold the world together when everything else falls apart, right?
Id almost been martyred in a relient k mosh pit.
Then me and Wanda had the bright idea of borrowing a swivel chair from one of the computer stations in the library, and we rolled each other down the hall in it at full speed. Wanda said she feels like a real rock band.
for the first time in my life, I HAVE a life
I pretended I couldnt hear until pat was like you should bring Girl to the prom, and john was like yeaaaah! and turned around and looked at me, and I was like nnnoooooo
I get to go places with COOL PEOPLE tomorrow. mostly one cool person actually. we wont elaborate further than that but if you know me well enough you probably guessed there was somehow a guy involved. pink monkeys.
the family isnt supposed to know I let Wanda drive me around to the music store and the mall and all that jazz. And Im not supposed to associate with ppl who have unnaturally colored hair.
whatever guys me and Ravin wind up with are going to have to live in our orb with us.
erny stopped swearing so much around me because i used to punch her every time she did.
purple. you know what i mean.
OOH I MADE AN UNDERWEAR REFERENCE!!!
i reproduce by budding, like cells.
---------------------
Peace, love and boobs,
Miss Rex
3 x 7 = How old I am today
Oh dear God, reading my old blog is EXHAUSTING. I was so freaking hyper at 14. And I knew it. And I think I knew it was obnoxious, or at least I said I knew it was obnoxious, but I’m pretty sure what I actually thought was, “I am freaking hilarious. Everybody listen to me being hilarious.”
My first blog was from back in the days of dial-up Internet, when MySpace was the place to be. Knowing how bad our Internet connection was, I can’t imagine how I was online enough to post as many as three times a day. And it was all. Useless. Drivel. I talked about Relient K every other word. But at least I had the good sense to know it was embarrassing that I had ever liked N*Sync.
Also, had the return key not been invented in 2004? Because everything I said was in one long, rambling block of text, which leads me to believe I didn’t pause to breathe a single time in the year 2004. For someone who was supposedly a “good writer,” I wish I’d had some idea what a run-on sentence was.
In honor of my 21st birthday today, I'd like to share some choice tidbits from my high school self, for your amusement (but even more so for mine). These are from sophomore year... more to come.
-----------------------
OK so how many gwapes can u fit in YOUR mouth? well i can fit 11 and so can my friend raven but my other friend spleen can fit 12, right before she bursts out laughing and they go flying all over the table and look really gross. who knows tomorrow maybe she'll bring smaller grapes and then she can fit 15. once i knew this kid who could fit 18 full-sized marshmallows in his mouth at once, and still say "fluffy bunny." and this other kid who could fit an entire clementine in his mouth and almost close it.
i need someone to talk to. i feel rather lonesomeful. hmm well i can go talk to my sis who i guess thinks she is a water fountain, please dont ask. oooooh! a lollipop!!
well jmae was reading my blog and decided that she was inspired to imitate an elephant. and now i guess she has a few words to type. hmm i guess i better proofread this... ok this is jmae:
emememememememem
ok i guess thats what she thinks an elephant sounds like.
i played volleyball on a moonwalk and the guy who came with the moonwalk was reaaallly cute so me and heather named him skittles.
what if somehow my brain got switched with my ex-boyfriend's brain? and suddenly we had to live each other's lives? i'd be RUINED i tell you! ...friends? idk maybe he could handle them... if he just shut up and pretended to have laryngitis... seriously i mean i dont hate him but we're polar opposites, i dunno how we ended up going out. (Author's note: I apparently feel this way about every ex-boyfriend I have. Is there a lesson I should be learning from this...?)
yay guess what my clock is all better. i think it caught my cold but i gave it some medicine and now its stuck at whatever time it was when i poured cough syrup on it... just kidding it says 3:48 just like it should.
yayy i got my yellow belt!!! and the creepy kid didnt tell me what i smell like!
and tristram, my sped buddy, was like 'mandii is the gay pride penguin' so i hit him with a ruler because i most certainly am not.
mr leary.... i know youre not reading this... but... YOU OWE ME A STAPLER AND I BETTER FIND ONE IN MY STOCKING ON SATURDAY!!! or i'll turn you into strawberry milk
we had a 2 hour delay cause of the snow... first i couldnt hear the bus go by on its way up my street, and i was in the kitchen when it went by the other way. it stopped by my house because my neighbor and i always have to catch it on its way back, and i pulled on my chucks without tying them and grabbed my backpack but no coat and ran out there in the foot-deep snow, but it drove away without me. so now my feet were cold and my chucks were soaking. so i tried to dry them off with a hair dryer but my mom told me I was being stupid and to wear different shoes.
i told heather she had a lima bean on her face, and then i decided it was a brussel sprout instead. even tho it was really just a piece of dirt or something. then i accused her of giving me foot cancer.
period 4 - health test. agh. I HATE SEX IT IS SO GROSS.
i hate math with a passion that burns like a burning passion of hatred. but today i am a mathlete.
my neighbor says... SQUIRREL!!!!!! SQUIRREL!!!!!!!!!!!!!! icky coconut GET OFF MY LEG I CANT FEEL MY LEG EEWWWW DID YOU WET MY LEG?????
dear diary today me and lily discovered how escalators REALLY work. theres little guys on bikes inside them.
then i accidentally shouted really loud in the library so i shut up and ran into the young adult room where i fell over a chair. it was such fun!
--------------------------
Peace, love, and legal indulgences,
Miss Rex
My first blog was from back in the days of dial-up Internet, when MySpace was the place to be. Knowing how bad our Internet connection was, I can’t imagine how I was online enough to post as many as three times a day. And it was all. Useless. Drivel. I talked about Relient K every other word. But at least I had the good sense to know it was embarrassing that I had ever liked N*Sync.
Also, had the return key not been invented in 2004? Because everything I said was in one long, rambling block of text, which leads me to believe I didn’t pause to breathe a single time in the year 2004. For someone who was supposedly a “good writer,” I wish I’d had some idea what a run-on sentence was.
In honor of my 21st birthday today, I'd like to share some choice tidbits from my high school self, for your amusement (but even more so for mine). These are from sophomore year... more to come.
-----------------------
OK so how many gwapes can u fit in YOUR mouth? well i can fit 11 and so can my friend raven but my other friend spleen can fit 12, right before she bursts out laughing and they go flying all over the table and look really gross. who knows tomorrow maybe she'll bring smaller grapes and then she can fit 15. once i knew this kid who could fit 18 full-sized marshmallows in his mouth at once, and still say "fluffy bunny." and this other kid who could fit an entire clementine in his mouth and almost close it.
i need someone to talk to. i feel rather lonesomeful. hmm well i can go talk to my sis who i guess thinks she is a water fountain, please dont ask. oooooh! a lollipop!!
well jmae was reading my blog and decided that she was inspired to imitate an elephant. and now i guess she has a few words to type. hmm i guess i better proofread this... ok this is jmae:
emememememememem
ok i guess thats what she thinks an elephant sounds like.
i played volleyball on a moonwalk and the guy who came with the moonwalk was reaaallly cute so me and heather named him skittles.
what if somehow my brain got switched with my ex-boyfriend's brain? and suddenly we had to live each other's lives? i'd be RUINED i tell you! ...friends? idk maybe he could handle them... if he just shut up and pretended to have laryngitis... seriously i mean i dont hate him but we're polar opposites, i dunno how we ended up going out. (Author's note: I apparently feel this way about every ex-boyfriend I have. Is there a lesson I should be learning from this...?)
yay guess what my clock is all better. i think it caught my cold but i gave it some medicine and now its stuck at whatever time it was when i poured cough syrup on it... just kidding it says 3:48 just like it should.
yayy i got my yellow belt!!! and the creepy kid didnt tell me what i smell like!
and tristram, my sped buddy, was like 'mandii is the gay pride penguin' so i hit him with a ruler because i most certainly am not.
mr leary.... i know youre not reading this... but... YOU OWE ME A STAPLER AND I BETTER FIND ONE IN MY STOCKING ON SATURDAY!!! or i'll turn you into strawberry milk
we had a 2 hour delay cause of the snow... first i couldnt hear the bus go by on its way up my street, and i was in the kitchen when it went by the other way. it stopped by my house because my neighbor and i always have to catch it on its way back, and i pulled on my chucks without tying them and grabbed my backpack but no coat and ran out there in the foot-deep snow, but it drove away without me. so now my feet were cold and my chucks were soaking. so i tried to dry them off with a hair dryer but my mom told me I was being stupid and to wear different shoes.
i told heather she had a lima bean on her face, and then i decided it was a brussel sprout instead. even tho it was really just a piece of dirt or something. then i accused her of giving me foot cancer.
period 4 - health test. agh. I HATE SEX IT IS SO GROSS.
i hate math with a passion that burns like a burning passion of hatred. but today i am a mathlete.
my neighbor says... SQUIRREL!!!!!! SQUIRREL!!!!!!!!!!!!!! icky coconut GET OFF MY LEG I CANT FEEL MY LEG EEWWWW DID YOU WET MY LEG?????
dear diary today me and lily discovered how escalators REALLY work. theres little guys on bikes inside them.
then i accidentally shouted really loud in the library so i shut up and ran into the young adult room where i fell over a chair. it was such fun!
--------------------------
Peace, love, and legal indulgences,
Miss Rex
Sky vom
We're going to skip the awkward "oh hey, long time no post" conversation. I neglected you again. I'm deeply sorry and will start in on my penance after I click "Publish Post." On to more interesting things.
A lot has happened since my last post, but tonight, being the night after the first day of classes, shall be dedicated to (drum roll, please) the first day of classes.
First things first. It has poured for three days straight now, and I have been completely unprepared. We were in the middle of a freaking drought. Why should I pack galoshes? But of course as soon as everybody moves back in to Go-Co everything turns to sky vom. I forget that this place does that.
By the time I got to chapel I had taken two showers; one when I woke up, and one on my way to the chapel. I literally wrung out my hair when we got inside.
Afterward, Jo-Yo and I decided to run our clothes through the dryer, which is now "free" to use (i.e. doesn't take quarters, but there's an $80 laundry fee tacked onto our room and board costs). But my skinny jeans shrunk in the rain and I couldn't get them off, so Jo-Yo had to undress me.
Then I finally managed to access my email for the first time all week and realized I was supposed to be at a meeting at 8:00 this morning, which obviously didn't happen. I feel that I've hit the bottom of some academic bell curve for missing my first obligation of the year. And I thought I was so good for going to chapel.
Before I left for my 2:10 class, I cut up a trash bag to make a poncho. Wouldn't you know it, the sky had ceased puking by that point and was only taking a tinkle on us.
My first class is a communication theory class. I wish I could tell you more about it, but when the prof described what we'd be learning, I had no idea what the flamingo he was talking about. Luckily he grades on a contract, which means that if you do everything you're supposed to do, you get a B, even if you don't do it well. I know what grade I'll be getting in that class.
My second class is a fiction writing class. We've already started working on dialogues and drafts. I am, for the first time in maybe forever, legitimately stoked for a class. I'm hoping to use this as an opportunity to workshop parts of my novel.
And that's all the classes I have this semester! I'm getting 4 more credits for an internship I'm doing with a company we'll call Skipping Stone Media, which doesn't start until the middle of September.
So I've got my reasons for being stressed and my reasons for being stoked. Although most of the latter are related to a) living in an apartment with Razzmatazz, Mnomanoms and Taz, which is b) upstairs from my marvelous boyfriend, who deserves a post all his own, and c) turning old enough to take part in my friends' drunken revelries, since up to this point I have, of course, abstained from ingesting any and all alcoholic substances.
And just for the record, Friday (my birthday) is slated to be sunny with a high of 75.
Peace, love, and ponchos,
Miss Rex
A lot has happened since my last post, but tonight, being the night after the first day of classes, shall be dedicated to (drum roll, please) the first day of classes.
First things first. It has poured for three days straight now, and I have been completely unprepared. We were in the middle of a freaking drought. Why should I pack galoshes? But of course as soon as everybody moves back in to Go-Co everything turns to sky vom. I forget that this place does that.
By the time I got to chapel I had taken two showers; one when I woke up, and one on my way to the chapel. I literally wrung out my hair when we got inside.
Afterward, Jo-Yo and I decided to run our clothes through the dryer, which is now "free" to use (i.e. doesn't take quarters, but there's an $80 laundry fee tacked onto our room and board costs). But my skinny jeans shrunk in the rain and I couldn't get them off, so Jo-Yo had to undress me.
Then I finally managed to access my email for the first time all week and realized I was supposed to be at a meeting at 8:00 this morning, which obviously didn't happen. I feel that I've hit the bottom of some academic bell curve for missing my first obligation of the year. And I thought I was so good for going to chapel.
Before I left for my 2:10 class, I cut up a trash bag to make a poncho. Wouldn't you know it, the sky had ceased puking by that point and was only taking a tinkle on us.
My first class is a communication theory class. I wish I could tell you more about it, but when the prof described what we'd be learning, I had no idea what the flamingo he was talking about. Luckily he grades on a contract, which means that if you do everything you're supposed to do, you get a B, even if you don't do it well. I know what grade I'll be getting in that class.
My second class is a fiction writing class. We've already started working on dialogues and drafts. I am, for the first time in maybe forever, legitimately stoked for a class. I'm hoping to use this as an opportunity to workshop parts of my novel.
And that's all the classes I have this semester! I'm getting 4 more credits for an internship I'm doing with a company we'll call Skipping Stone Media, which doesn't start until the middle of September.
So I've got my reasons for being stressed and my reasons for being stoked. Although most of the latter are related to a) living in an apartment with Razzmatazz, Mnomanoms and Taz, which is b) upstairs from my marvelous boyfriend, who deserves a post all his own, and c) turning old enough to take part in my friends' drunken revelries, since up to this point I have, of course, abstained from ingesting any and all alcoholic substances.
And just for the record, Friday (my birthday) is slated to be sunny with a high of 75.
Peace, love, and ponchos,
Miss Rex
You've just crossed over into the Twilight Zone...
Today has been weird.
It all started with this crazy dream in which I'd gone fountain-diving for change. When I surfaced, I decided I had better find a Coin*Star, but then my ex was there with a $25 bill and he said he'd trade me.
"Are you sure I even found that much?" I asked dubiously. He seemed to really want the change, so I dropped it at his feet.
"Just kidding," he said, but I was too quick and I took the bill from him. He wanted to fight me for it so I ran. Turned out it was actually a $220 bill. I realized I'd made out like a bandit and hid it in my pants, because that's what all good crooks do with their money. Please don't ever try to rob me.
Long story short, he chased me around for what seemed like hours. He caught up to me in an elevator that looked like the inside of a glacier. I pushed the button to go down to my car. He pushed the button for the top floor. The elevator started to go up. I was stuck.
Lucky for me, his half of the elevator suddenly dropped away as an automated voice said it had gotten too hot. Global warming for the win.
Some kids I found upstairs agreed to help me escape. My ex soon found me and I started jumping down whole flights of stairs to get away. I think the kids deterred him but I woke up before I could get to the car.
When I woke up, my alarm hadn't even gone off yet. Normally it's all I can do to roll out of bed after hitting snooze a couple of times, but today I couldn't even fall back asleep to finish the dream.
It was a dark, but thankfully not stormy, day at camp.
When I got there, two of the three other counselors I work with in the half-day program weren't in. All the older campers had gone on a field trip, leaving us with the run of the school, field, blacktop and playground. Eerie factor #1: Spending the day in a ghost school.
Then my boss randomly told us we're no longer allowed to help the kids in the bathroom, even the three-year-olds who can't always pull up their pants themselves. I'm sure some parent complained (that's fairly common in our line of work), but it seemed random in the context of random events that preceded and followed. That was eerie factor #2.
Then the fire alarm testing began (eerie factor #3).
We took the kids out to the playground because the noise was scaring some of them. I prayed to God it wouldn't rain. It stayed dreary and hot.
We were in the middle of setting up for our unbirthday bash - complete with hoodsie cups, party hats, and noisemakers - when, eerie factor #4, water started gushing out of a spigot in the side of the school. Not just any spigot, either - one at the top of the wall, just inches below the roof line. And not just any water - this shit was black.
It was all we could do to keep the kids from going to investigate, especially when our instincts were to do the same. After about 5 minutes it stopped, leaving a stinking black puddle on the blacktop. I started to wonder whether calling it "shit" in my mind was really such an inaccurate prognosis.
And THEN the seagulls showed up. A huge one landed right in the middle of the tables where we'd had our unbirthday bash. My co-worker's boyfriend had brought their kitten for show and tell and I was terrified the monster bird would carry it away. Good thing there was a wall of children surrounding the poor thing.
After my boss chased away the seagull, it perched on the corner of the building and watched us, calling to its minions every so often. That was eerie factor #5. Alfred Hitchcock, anyone?
By the time we went inside, seagulls were wheeling overhead and my kids were preparing to sacrifice me to them.
Needless to say, TGIF.
Peace, love and stupid frickin goddamn silly bands,
Miss Rex
It all started with this crazy dream in which I'd gone fountain-diving for change. When I surfaced, I decided I had better find a Coin*Star, but then my ex was there with a $25 bill and he said he'd trade me.
"Are you sure I even found that much?" I asked dubiously. He seemed to really want the change, so I dropped it at his feet.
"Just kidding," he said, but I was too quick and I took the bill from him. He wanted to fight me for it so I ran. Turned out it was actually a $220 bill. I realized I'd made out like a bandit and hid it in my pants, because that's what all good crooks do with their money. Please don't ever try to rob me.
Long story short, he chased me around for what seemed like hours. He caught up to me in an elevator that looked like the inside of a glacier. I pushed the button to go down to my car. He pushed the button for the top floor. The elevator started to go up. I was stuck.
Lucky for me, his half of the elevator suddenly dropped away as an automated voice said it had gotten too hot. Global warming for the win.
Some kids I found upstairs agreed to help me escape. My ex soon found me and I started jumping down whole flights of stairs to get away. I think the kids deterred him but I woke up before I could get to the car.
When I woke up, my alarm hadn't even gone off yet. Normally it's all I can do to roll out of bed after hitting snooze a couple of times, but today I couldn't even fall back asleep to finish the dream.
It was a dark, but thankfully not stormy, day at camp.
When I got there, two of the three other counselors I work with in the half-day program weren't in. All the older campers had gone on a field trip, leaving us with the run of the school, field, blacktop and playground. Eerie factor #1: Spending the day in a ghost school.
Then my boss randomly told us we're no longer allowed to help the kids in the bathroom, even the three-year-olds who can't always pull up their pants themselves. I'm sure some parent complained (that's fairly common in our line of work), but it seemed random in the context of random events that preceded and followed. That was eerie factor #2.
Then the fire alarm testing began (eerie factor #3).
We took the kids out to the playground because the noise was scaring some of them. I prayed to God it wouldn't rain. It stayed dreary and hot.
We were in the middle of setting up for our unbirthday bash - complete with hoodsie cups, party hats, and noisemakers - when, eerie factor #4, water started gushing out of a spigot in the side of the school. Not just any spigot, either - one at the top of the wall, just inches below the roof line. And not just any water - this shit was black.
It was all we could do to keep the kids from going to investigate, especially when our instincts were to do the same. After about 5 minutes it stopped, leaving a stinking black puddle on the blacktop. I started to wonder whether calling it "shit" in my mind was really such an inaccurate prognosis.
And THEN the seagulls showed up. A huge one landed right in the middle of the tables where we'd had our unbirthday bash. My co-worker's boyfriend had brought their kitten for show and tell and I was terrified the monster bird would carry it away. Good thing there was a wall of children surrounding the poor thing.
After my boss chased away the seagull, it perched on the corner of the building and watched us, calling to its minions every so often. That was eerie factor #5. Alfred Hitchcock, anyone?
By the time we went inside, seagulls were wheeling overhead and my kids were preparing to sacrifice me to them.
Needless to say, TGIF.
Peace, love and stupid frickin goddamn silly bands,
Miss Rex
Use your imagination...
Presenting the long-awaited cheaptickets.com commercial contest video, starring Miss Rex and The Pantsless One (conveniently clothed for this episode)!
We were shooting for 50 grand but we didn't even make it into the finals. Hard to believe, eh?
But hey, 'twas a learning experience. Now I know how not to light a green screen, but that a decent one can be made for under $10. I know that you should never use the on-camera microphone, but that decent sound effects can be made with a little resourcefulness and imagination. And look at all the fun costumes I got to wear! (Oh god, I nearly died in that snowsuit under all those lights...)
Now let's play a game. With the exception of the flute playing in the Paris scene, all sound effects were created right in my studio (read: bedroom) with everyday household items. Who can figure out what I used?
Peace, love, and not coconuts,
Miss Rex
We were shooting for 50 grand but we didn't even make it into the finals. Hard to believe, eh?
But hey, 'twas a learning experience. Now I know how not to light a green screen, but that a decent one can be made for under $10. I know that you should never use the on-camera microphone, but that decent sound effects can be made with a little resourcefulness and imagination. And look at all the fun costumes I got to wear! (Oh god, I nearly died in that snowsuit under all those lights...)
Now let's play a game. With the exception of the flute playing in the Paris scene, all sound effects were created right in my studio (read: bedroom) with everyday household items. Who can figure out what I used?
Peace, love, and not coconuts,
Miss Rex
Sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G
Wow. It really is true: Boys are the same across the board, regardless of age or religion or nationality.
Today my littlest, cutest camper was wearing a big, red ring on one of his fingers. One of my other kids told him that meant he had to kiss a girl, and the littler one accepted this without question. The bigger one then went on to coach him, helping him decide which girl to kiss and how to go about it.
Seeing as they're three, I saw no reason to put a stop to their scheming. Little did I know I was the selected target.
For the next hour I kept hearing, "Now, Shane!" This was invariably followed by a little kid barreling into my leg, wrapping his arms around it, and kissing my thigh (the highest he could reach) with a very loud and enthusiastic *smack.*
Now rewind about a month. It was my last night in Italy, and one of my companions had been pulling the 21-year-old equivalent of "Now, Shane!" for at least three days, trying to get one of the Italians we'd befriended to kiss me on the cheek.
Let it be known that I was more than okay with this plan. And he did finally go through with it. I guess the make-out sesh that happened afterward was where the situations varied...
But I'd say the evidence more than supports my hypothesis.
Peace, love and portobello mushrooms,
Miss Rex
Today my littlest, cutest camper was wearing a big, red ring on one of his fingers. One of my other kids told him that meant he had to kiss a girl, and the littler one accepted this without question. The bigger one then went on to coach him, helping him decide which girl to kiss and how to go about it.
Seeing as they're three, I saw no reason to put a stop to their scheming. Little did I know I was the selected target.
For the next hour I kept hearing, "Now, Shane!" This was invariably followed by a little kid barreling into my leg, wrapping his arms around it, and kissing my thigh (the highest he could reach) with a very loud and enthusiastic *smack.*
Now rewind about a month. It was my last night in Italy, and one of my companions had been pulling the 21-year-old equivalent of "Now, Shane!" for at least three days, trying to get one of the Italians we'd befriended to kiss me on the cheek.
Let it be known that I was more than okay with this plan. And he did finally go through with it. I guess the make-out sesh that happened afterward was where the situations varied...
But I'd say the evidence more than supports my hypothesis.
Peace, love and portobello mushrooms,
Miss Rex
Final thoughts on Rome, and VIDEO!
Rome may not be the center of the world anymore, but try telling that to the eight million tourists milling around the Vatican. For the number of people here and for the diversity of language and race, it’s easy to forget that all roads no longer lead to Rome. But the bustle of the city also begs the question: Has Rome been too commercialized? Or does it still retain some of the ancient magic that made it a cultural hub years ago? I think the answer is, “both.”
I believe it’s important for people to come here and see the artifacts and sites. It provokes a connection and sense of reverence regarding history that can only be gained in a hands-on way. It’s mind-boggling to picture a group of people more or less like me erecting hundred-foot-tall stone columns at their public forums or the thousand arches of the Coliseum, not out of aesthetic ambition but for practical use. Just as I walk to the dining hall and then to the chapel and then to the library each day without a thought, the ancient Romans worked, ate, worshiped, played and studied in these majestic structures every day.
Imagining a population for whom these sights were ordinary offers a moving peek into history that we are fortunate to have.
Beyond even that, structures such as the crumbling Coliseum remind us that no earthly empire is everlasting, no matter how vast or powerful. I am reminded of the poem “Ozymandias” by Percy Bysshe Shelley, which tells of a traveler who found the ruins of a huge statue. An inscription reads, “Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair.” Ozymandias thought his kingdom would last forever. In the same way, people thought Rome would never fall. Neither is with us anymore. It’s not hard to imagine tourists visiting the United States in a few millennia to see what’s left of the Pentagon or Mount Rushmore. It’s a sobering thought, but I think people need to grasp the transience of all we take for granted – not only so we can appreciate the good things we have, but also so we can learn to hold those things loosely, assigning greater value to the intangible qualities of culture.
Yet on the other hand, the commercialized aspect of the tourist scene makes me cringe, and it’s more than the pressing crowds that make me feel that way. It seems somehow wrong to “go see the Vatican,” a place that was built to be holy and honoring to God. It’s not a museum. It’s holy ground (or should be). I’m glad the Pope still used it for his weekly message and that pilgrims still worship there. In this way, it is still being used for its intended purpose. On the other hand, I think the builders’ original vision for some of the other monuments has been lost.
But then, we have progressed. Maybe it is too much to ask that a new culture in a new millennium cling to the values of a culture so old we can hardly understand it. To the ancient Romans, watching lions eat Christians was quality entertainment. It would turn our stomachs today. For us, it would be sick to reinstate gladiatorial fights in the Coliseum, yet I believe it is a good thing to use that space as the public arena it was meant to be. I heard there was recently a concert there. Surely the designers did not intend for power chords to resonate through the stone arches. At the same time, this use of the Coliseum holds true to a purpose the architects may not have intended, but which is nonetheless as old as the structure itself: spectacle.
The real disrespect is the way vendors and con artists have turned the historical and religious sites into marketplaces and stages for robbery. Walking out of the Vatican, souvenir shop windows display tacky gold souvenirs plastered with the face of the Pope as if he were some flamboyant celebrity. It makes me think of the Bible story about Jesus overturning the tables in the sanctuary. It’s an even greater shame that portions of the city, including some of the most ancient sites, bear the artwork and tags of vandals.
All else aside, the fact that the new Rome reflects aspects of the greater global culture can hardly be pegged as a bad thing. Global culture values green space. One can see this in the city of Rome. As a matter of fact, the Italians have valued green space for centuries. In the center of the city you’ll find the gardens of the Borghese palace, a sprawling grassy space with paths for horseback riders and knolls for picnickers. Trees are scattered about and green and yellow birds fight scrawny brown squirrels for branch space. The gardens have been there for six hundred years, way before the rest of the world had even begun to create the pollution we are now desperate to eliminate with our city parks and nature reservations. Rome does not just open a window on ancient cultures; it spotlights today’s in a manner that even the culturally semi-literate can comprehend as a good thing, in spite of what may have been lost in the sweep of time and tourism.
------------------------------
And now for the much-slaved-over video, for which my video partner Tyler went to great lengths to procure a firewire cable (which connects the camcorder to the Mac) and for which he was pick-pocketed in the process:
Peace, love, and jet lag,
Miss Rex
I believe it’s important for people to come here and see the artifacts and sites. It provokes a connection and sense of reverence regarding history that can only be gained in a hands-on way. It’s mind-boggling to picture a group of people more or less like me erecting hundred-foot-tall stone columns at their public forums or the thousand arches of the Coliseum, not out of aesthetic ambition but for practical use. Just as I walk to the dining hall and then to the chapel and then to the library each day without a thought, the ancient Romans worked, ate, worshiped, played and studied in these majestic structures every day.
Imagining a population for whom these sights were ordinary offers a moving peek into history that we are fortunate to have.
Beyond even that, structures such as the crumbling Coliseum remind us that no earthly empire is everlasting, no matter how vast or powerful. I am reminded of the poem “Ozymandias” by Percy Bysshe Shelley, which tells of a traveler who found the ruins of a huge statue. An inscription reads, “Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair.” Ozymandias thought his kingdom would last forever. In the same way, people thought Rome would never fall. Neither is with us anymore. It’s not hard to imagine tourists visiting the United States in a few millennia to see what’s left of the Pentagon or Mount Rushmore. It’s a sobering thought, but I think people need to grasp the transience of all we take for granted – not only so we can appreciate the good things we have, but also so we can learn to hold those things loosely, assigning greater value to the intangible qualities of culture.
Yet on the other hand, the commercialized aspect of the tourist scene makes me cringe, and it’s more than the pressing crowds that make me feel that way. It seems somehow wrong to “go see the Vatican,” a place that was built to be holy and honoring to God. It’s not a museum. It’s holy ground (or should be). I’m glad the Pope still used it for his weekly message and that pilgrims still worship there. In this way, it is still being used for its intended purpose. On the other hand, I think the builders’ original vision for some of the other monuments has been lost.
But then, we have progressed. Maybe it is too much to ask that a new culture in a new millennium cling to the values of a culture so old we can hardly understand it. To the ancient Romans, watching lions eat Christians was quality entertainment. It would turn our stomachs today. For us, it would be sick to reinstate gladiatorial fights in the Coliseum, yet I believe it is a good thing to use that space as the public arena it was meant to be. I heard there was recently a concert there. Surely the designers did not intend for power chords to resonate through the stone arches. At the same time, this use of the Coliseum holds true to a purpose the architects may not have intended, but which is nonetheless as old as the structure itself: spectacle.
The real disrespect is the way vendors and con artists have turned the historical and religious sites into marketplaces and stages for robbery. Walking out of the Vatican, souvenir shop windows display tacky gold souvenirs plastered with the face of the Pope as if he were some flamboyant celebrity. It makes me think of the Bible story about Jesus overturning the tables in the sanctuary. It’s an even greater shame that portions of the city, including some of the most ancient sites, bear the artwork and tags of vandals.
All else aside, the fact that the new Rome reflects aspects of the greater global culture can hardly be pegged as a bad thing. Global culture values green space. One can see this in the city of Rome. As a matter of fact, the Italians have valued green space for centuries. In the center of the city you’ll find the gardens of the Borghese palace, a sprawling grassy space with paths for horseback riders and knolls for picnickers. Trees are scattered about and green and yellow birds fight scrawny brown squirrels for branch space. The gardens have been there for six hundred years, way before the rest of the world had even begun to create the pollution we are now desperate to eliminate with our city parks and nature reservations. Rome does not just open a window on ancient cultures; it spotlights today’s in a manner that even the culturally semi-literate can comprehend as a good thing, in spite of what may have been lost in the sweep of time and tourism.
------------------------------
And now for the much-slaved-over video, for which my video partner Tyler went to great lengths to procure a firewire cable (which connects the camcorder to the Mac) and for which he was pick-pocketed in the process:
Peace, love, and jet lag,
Miss Rex
Defying woman's intuition
In my head, I have a pretty good sense of what's a good idea and what's not. You hear about a woman's intuition, and I definitely have it. Yet that doesn't stop me from doing a lot of things that I think are bad ideas. Why? I can't explain it. I guess it... generates writing material...?
Even as I'm goofing up, there's a little voice in my head by the name of Jiminy Cricket asking me what the hell I'm getting myself into this time. But what fun would life be if we didn't spend 90% of it defying our better judgment? Thankfully Jiminy is only a cricket, and easy enough to ignore; thus I continue to do the following.
1. Using Facebook. It's such a black hole. At any given moment that I am on Facebook I can usually think of at least fifteen better things I could be doing, yet how can I fight that kind of gravity...?
2. Procrastinating. If it's not due tomorrow, I'm not worried about it (blame #1). Then when it's due tomorrow I don't have enough time to do it. Vicious cycle.
3. Drinking coffee at night. I can only do this if I intend to stay up for at least six more hours, and even after six hours, going to sleep can be problematic. This means I am tired the next day and need more coffee. Another vicious cycle.
4. Foregoing sleep. I can almost get away with alternating nights of no sleep and 12 hours of sleep. Almost. But I'm not saying it's healthy.
5. Agreeing to nap with a certain friend of mine. You'd think by now one of us would have realized we have totally different definitions of napping. If I say I want to nap, it means "I didn't sleep last night. Unconsciousness is necessary RIGHT NOW. I am saying it's cool if you join me a) because you are comfy, b) because I am too tired to argue with you, and/or c) because I want to retain some hope in your half of the species." Somehow my intentions always get lost in translation...
6. Being the sober one. You'd think I'd regret being drunk more than staying sober, but the fact is I hate playing babysitter and I can't handle it when people barf. And I get tired and cold and hungry, which I don't think I would notice if I was drunk.
7. Breaking visitation. I'm not even sure what the consequences are for spending the night in a dude's room but I'm sure they are not pretty, regardless of what actually goes down in said dude's room (the handbook does not differentiate between hawt sex and watching movies about journalism).
8. Climbing buildings. It's a $400 fine if you get caught... but everything is more exciting at higher altitudes, and visitation hours don't apply to rooftops.
9. Playing the awkward game. Letting people know you have no shame is pretty much an invitation for them to try and make you feel uncomfortable. Case in point? I have this one friend who's been trying to wig me out by putting his face really close to mine, so last night I kissed his cheek, which freaked him the heck out. He jumped across the lobby and turned bright red. Funniest thing I've ever seen. So today he happens to walk by while I'm taking down the whiteboard outside my room, runs over, and kisses me on the mouth. And runs away.
Peace, love and true confessions,
Miss Rex
Even as I'm goofing up, there's a little voice in my head by the name of Jiminy Cricket asking me what the hell I'm getting myself into this time. But what fun would life be if we didn't spend 90% of it defying our better judgment? Thankfully Jiminy is only a cricket, and easy enough to ignore; thus I continue to do the following.
1. Using Facebook. It's such a black hole. At any given moment that I am on Facebook I can usually think of at least fifteen better things I could be doing, yet how can I fight that kind of gravity...?
2. Procrastinating. If it's not due tomorrow, I'm not worried about it (blame #1). Then when it's due tomorrow I don't have enough time to do it. Vicious cycle.
3. Drinking coffee at night. I can only do this if I intend to stay up for at least six more hours, and even after six hours, going to sleep can be problematic. This means I am tired the next day and need more coffee. Another vicious cycle.
4. Foregoing sleep. I can almost get away with alternating nights of no sleep and 12 hours of sleep. Almost. But I'm not saying it's healthy.
5. Agreeing to nap with a certain friend of mine. You'd think by now one of us would have realized we have totally different definitions of napping. If I say I want to nap, it means "I didn't sleep last night. Unconsciousness is necessary RIGHT NOW. I am saying it's cool if you join me a) because you are comfy, b) because I am too tired to argue with you, and/or c) because I want to retain some hope in your half of the species." Somehow my intentions always get lost in translation...
6. Being the sober one. You'd think I'd regret being drunk more than staying sober, but the fact is I hate playing babysitter and I can't handle it when people barf. And I get tired and cold and hungry, which I don't think I would notice if I was drunk.
7. Breaking visitation. I'm not even sure what the consequences are for spending the night in a dude's room but I'm sure they are not pretty, regardless of what actually goes down in said dude's room (the handbook does not differentiate between hawt sex and watching movies about journalism).
8. Climbing buildings. It's a $400 fine if you get caught... but everything is more exciting at higher altitudes, and visitation hours don't apply to rooftops.
9. Playing the awkward game. Letting people know you have no shame is pretty much an invitation for them to try and make you feel uncomfortable. Case in point? I have this one friend who's been trying to wig me out by putting his face really close to mine, so last night I kissed his cheek, which freaked him the heck out. He jumped across the lobby and turned bright red. Funniest thing I've ever seen. So today he happens to walk by while I'm taking down the whiteboard outside my room, runs over, and kisses me on the mouth. And runs away.
Peace, love and true confessions,
Miss Rex
Shameless plug for my buddy Adam Ezra
I posted this on my other blog, The Amandangle, and it's also on the Gordon College News Service blog. But I think it's an important story that needs to be seen by as many eyes as possible (especially Boston-area eyes, because you folks are within driving distance of this thing and therefore had better be there!)
---------------------------
When local folk rock band Adam Ezra Group sold out the Paradise Rock Club for their CD-release-turned-Haiti-benefit show in January, it was not the first or the last time the band would use their music for the good of others. On Sunday, May 2, AEG will play a concert to benefit Haiti through Partners in Health.
PIH is a Boston nonprofit organization that strives to establish working hospitals in Haiti and around the world, thus providing health care and job opportunities for indigenous people. It is the same organization AEG partnered with in January.
“They’re setting a standard worldwide for what you can do with a grassroots organization,” said Adam Ezra, singer, songwriter, and guitarist for the band.
Through his work with other nonprofits, Ezra has seen how difficult it can be to ensure the money goes where it’s needed, but he’s found that isn’t a problem with PIH. The band looks forward to sending all proceeds from their May 2nd show, the Ramble, directly to Haiti for relief efforts.
AEG isn’t the first band to play a benefit show, but the Ramble promises to be an utterly unique experience. In fact, it already is one. The band has been working with fans since winter to rally groups of 20 or more concertgoers. These groups will be shuttled to the venue, Blue Ocean Music Hall in Salisbury, MA, free of charge from all across New England.
“We’re empowering students and fans who care about not just the music but about doing good things,” said Ezra. “The show is less about the money we’re raising and more about the community we’re building.”
In the spirit of community, a pre-amble will take place on the beach outside of the venue starting at 4:00 PM. The Hall will serve inexpensive meals and the bar will be open for drinks to those who are over 21. Ezra hopes other local nonprofits will set up camp on the beach so fans can get informed and get involved.
There is even rumor of a fan-run cookie contest. Anyone can enter and anyone can try the cookies for free, but they must make donations to vote for the winner. Whoever raises the most money for Haiti will be declared the winner.
650 people packed out the Paradise Rock Club for the January benefit show, but Ezra’s hopes for the Ramble are still modest. “It’s an experiment,” he said. “We’re not sure what’s going to happen. But it will be a success no matter what.”
Charlene Bemis, Ramble coordinator, said that more than a dozen buses are already lined up. She estimated there would be about fifteen the day of the concert.
More information is available at GetRambled.com and on the Ramble’s Facebook page. Ezra hopes everybody will think about joining the party, and only marginally out of self-interest. It seems his real goal is to make friends with everybody in the greater Boston area while fighting together for a cause.
“If you love music and you love the beach and you love people and you love doing good things for other people, then you should check it out,” said Ezra. “And I can’t think of too many people who don’t fit one of those categories.”
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And that's the scoop! If you're at or near Go-Co, we've got a bus stopping here, so let me know and I can make sure you get a seat.
On a tangential note, I bought fresh blueberries from a farm stand and they are delicious. This is really weird but I eat them in milk. No cereal, just blueberries in milk. Try it sometime (it's even good with soy milk!)
On a furtherly tangential note, some of my friends put a toilet on top of a dorm last night. <3
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When local folk rock band Adam Ezra Group sold out the Paradise Rock Club for their CD-release-turned-Haiti-benefit show in January, it was not the first or the last time the band would use their music for the good of others. On Sunday, May 2, AEG will play a concert to benefit Haiti through Partners in Health.
PIH is a Boston nonprofit organization that strives to establish working hospitals in Haiti and around the world, thus providing health care and job opportunities for indigenous people. It is the same organization AEG partnered with in January.
“They’re setting a standard worldwide for what you can do with a grassroots organization,” said Adam Ezra, singer, songwriter, and guitarist for the band.
Through his work with other nonprofits, Ezra has seen how difficult it can be to ensure the money goes where it’s needed, but he’s found that isn’t a problem with PIH. The band looks forward to sending all proceeds from their May 2nd show, the Ramble, directly to Haiti for relief efforts.
AEG isn’t the first band to play a benefit show, but the Ramble promises to be an utterly unique experience. In fact, it already is one. The band has been working with fans since winter to rally groups of 20 or more concertgoers. These groups will be shuttled to the venue, Blue Ocean Music Hall in Salisbury, MA, free of charge from all across New England.
“We’re empowering students and fans who care about not just the music but about doing good things,” said Ezra. “The show is less about the money we’re raising and more about the community we’re building.”
In the spirit of community, a pre-amble will take place on the beach outside of the venue starting at 4:00 PM. The Hall will serve inexpensive meals and the bar will be open for drinks to those who are over 21. Ezra hopes other local nonprofits will set up camp on the beach so fans can get informed and get involved.
There is even rumor of a fan-run cookie contest. Anyone can enter and anyone can try the cookies for free, but they must make donations to vote for the winner. Whoever raises the most money for Haiti will be declared the winner.
650 people packed out the Paradise Rock Club for the January benefit show, but Ezra’s hopes for the Ramble are still modest. “It’s an experiment,” he said. “We’re not sure what’s going to happen. But it will be a success no matter what.”
Charlene Bemis, Ramble coordinator, said that more than a dozen buses are already lined up. She estimated there would be about fifteen the day of the concert.
More information is available at GetRambled.com and on the Ramble’s Facebook page. Ezra hopes everybody will think about joining the party, and only marginally out of self-interest. It seems his real goal is to make friends with everybody in the greater Boston area while fighting together for a cause.
“If you love music and you love the beach and you love people and you love doing good things for other people, then you should check it out,” said Ezra. “And I can’t think of too many people who don’t fit one of those categories.”
--------------------------
And that's the scoop! If you're at or near Go-Co, we've got a bus stopping here, so let me know and I can make sure you get a seat.
On a tangential note, I bought fresh blueberries from a farm stand and they are delicious. This is really weird but I eat them in milk. No cereal, just blueberries in milk. Try it sometime (it's even good with soy milk!)
On a furtherly tangential note, some of my friends put a toilet on top of a dorm last night. <3
Boss Fugly Bug
Sometimes when Taz and I are sitting around doing homework we hear loud crashes from above our room.
We live on the top floor.
The only possible explanation is that there is some kind of monster who lives in the space between the ceiling and the roof. I've popped my head through the ceiling tiles to look for him, but so far I haven't caught so much as a glimpse. However, we have strong evidence that what we are dealing with is a giant bug.
We call him the Boss Fugly Bug because he seems to be the last line of defense for all the flicky, fugly, flying insects that come to visit us when it gets warm, like the final boss that kicks your ass in video games.
We've never been sure what kind of insect our visitors actually are. When they fly, they're easy to mistake for wasps, but they're really harmless unless you squish them, in which case they emit the fugliest smell you can imagine. Hence they are "fugly bugs."
The thing we've noticed about these fugly bugs is that most of them are horribly mutilated by the time they get inside. They are supposed to have six legs, but we've found bugs missing two, three, even four legs.
Naturally this is because they had to do epic battle to get into our room. Or perhaps it's the border price. Seems it costs them an arm and a leg to come here (funny, it costs my family about that much to send me here, too).
One way or the other though, the Boss is responsible. Either the fugly pilgrims fight him to gain entry, losing legs in the process, or the Boss demands leggy payment and grants peaceful passage once the price is paid. Possibly the reason some are missing so many legs is that we bring them outside and they are forced to pay the border fee again to get back inside.
It's a fugly life for a fugly bug.
We live on the top floor.
The only possible explanation is that there is some kind of monster who lives in the space between the ceiling and the roof. I've popped my head through the ceiling tiles to look for him, but so far I haven't caught so much as a glimpse. However, we have strong evidence that what we are dealing with is a giant bug.
We call him the Boss Fugly Bug because he seems to be the last line of defense for all the flicky, fugly, flying insects that come to visit us when it gets warm, like the final boss that kicks your ass in video games.
We've never been sure what kind of insect our visitors actually are. When they fly, they're easy to mistake for wasps, but they're really harmless unless you squish them, in which case they emit the fugliest smell you can imagine. Hence they are "fugly bugs."
The thing we've noticed about these fugly bugs is that most of them are horribly mutilated by the time they get inside. They are supposed to have six legs, but we've found bugs missing two, three, even four legs.
Naturally this is because they had to do epic battle to get into our room. Or perhaps it's the border price. Seems it costs them an arm and a leg to come here (funny, it costs my family about that much to send me here, too).
One way or the other though, the Boss is responsible. Either the fugly pilgrims fight him to gain entry, losing legs in the process, or the Boss demands leggy payment and grants peaceful passage once the price is paid. Possibly the reason some are missing so many legs is that we bring them outside and they are forced to pay the border fee again to get back inside.
It's a fugly life for a fugly bug.
